Flynn Nightsider and the Edge of Evil

by Mary Fan

  “Why red?”

  “Red’s the color of revolution—always has been. It’s the passion that drives us, the dawn that awaits us, and the blood we must shed and spill. That’s the price of freedom: everything you’ve got, all your willpower and courage, your life and your friends’ lives, paid in advance. But it’ll be worth it.” Her gaze turned distant. “The way things are won’t last much longer… I can feel it.”

  It hit him that he’d been so busy trying to figure out what was going on—and being distracted by Aurelia—that he hadn’t fully appreciated that he’d been pulled into a revolution and that everything he’d ever known before was gone forever. He would never again be a disgruntled Secondstringer, drifting through life because he didn’t know what else to do. Now, he was part of something bigger. All the yearnings he’d had for change, all the desires for action could finally amount to something.

  Aurelia must have taken his lack of response for fear. “Don’t worry, Nighty. You don’t have to get involved in all this rebel business. We wouldn’t force you into a fight you don’t want to join. That’s what the Triumvirate does. Calhoun just didn’t want them to get their hands on you.”

  “How come?” Flynn realized that Aurelia and the others had put themselves in a lot of danger to save him, and he’d never actually thanked any of them. Damn, I must seem like a nosy, ungrateful jerk. “By the way… Um… Thanks. For saving me, I mean.”

  Aurelia held up her hand. “Trust me, it was my pleasure. I love messing with the Triumvirate’s plans.”

  “Firedragon!” Calhoun appeared in the doorway. “I’ll take it from here. Go train with the others.”

  “Yes, sir!” Aurelia ran back to the building.

  “Train?” Flynn said.

  Calhoun motioned for him to return to the Citadel. “Our missions can get messy. I need the Risers sharp. We prefer not to hurt anyone, but we must defend ourselves and prepare for the fight against the Triumvirate. They’re as cruel as the evil they claim to protect us against. I’m sure you’re well aware of that after what they did to you.”

  “Yeah.” Flynn didn’t need to be reminded of all the things he found wrong about the government. The more he learned, the more the Citadel and the rebellion it housed seemed like a haven from everything he’d despised about his life in the Capital. He had no illusions about the Rising being an easy path to take, but at last, he’d found people who stood for the same causes he yearned to fight for. Hard to believe that only a few days ago, his life had been so ordinary—and so meaningless.

  He regarded the shimmering enchantments guarding the edges of the Capital, and an unexpected twinge of sadness struck him. What he glimpsed was the outermost zone of the Fourth Ring—his old home, the place he’d lived his entire life, where everyone he knew remained, including Brax and Kylie. They seemed just out of reach, yet impossibly far. “I can never go back, can I?”

  “Afraid not,” Calhoun said. “You don’t have to stay here, but the life you knew is over. What were you hoping to accomplish in Everett’s office?”

  “I was looking for something.”

  “C’mon kid, don’t be vague. I’m the one who ordered your rescue, remember? You don’t have to be scared of me.”

  Good point. “I wanted to know what happened to my mom. She died when I was ten. Everett had this file, and I thought it could tell me what happened.”

  “Did you find what you were looking for?”

  Flynn nodded. “Tydeus Storm sent a draugr to kill her.”

  Calhoun let out a heavy sigh. “Storm is a dangerous man, but Vivian never gave up on him. She was too loyal for her own good, as was your father.”

  Flynn whirled to face him. “You know who my father is?”

  “I knew both your parents.” Calhoun’s white eyebrows tilted with sorrow. “Your father’s name was John Valerius, and he was a Sentinel.”

  “What?” Flynn stared in disbelief. He’d always assumed that his father was a Norm like Mom. It was forbidden for Enchanters and Norms to marry—punishable by life in the mines. They weren’t even supposed to think romantic things about one another. More than one Cadet had been transferred to the far-flung corners of the Triumvirate for exchanging longing looks with a Scholar. But Calhoun had no reason to lie, did he?

  “Your parents were brave,” Calhoun went on. “They didn’t let the Triumvirate stop them—eloped one day and never looked back. Why do you think Vivian never told you about your father? It was for your own safety. No one knows what the Triumvirate does with the children born of illicit marriages, only that they’re taken and never heard from again.”

  “Where is my father now? How did you know him?”

  “Your parents were two of the first people to join me in the Rising. We had a shared dream, and we’re so close now… I only wish…” Calhoun trailed off. “There’s no easy way to put this, kid. Your father was captured by the Triumvirate and executed as a traitor shortly before you were born.”

  Calhoun’s words landed like a slab of stone. My father’s dead? All his life, Flynn had wondered who his father was, but at the moment, he almost wished no one had told him. As long as he didn’t know, he could hold on to the hope that somehow, someday, he would find him. A heavy pain sat in his chest, and he wondered how he could mourn someone he’d never met, whose face he couldn’t even picture. He almost wished Calhoun was lying, but knew in his heart that it wasn’t true. Some instinct had always told him that his father was dead, especially with the way his mother used to tear up in silence. She’d never talked about what made her so sad, but a part of him had known it was about his father.

  Now, his past made a little more sense, and he could accept that she’d been a member of the Rising. That seemed to fit with what he’d known about her. His mom’s nighttime activities hadn’t just been about stopping Storm. She’d been fighting for the Rising as well.

  Calhoun put a hand on Flynn’s shoulder. “Your parents were good friends of mine. I fight every day for what they stood for and against those who murdered them. The Triumvirate killed your father, and the Defiants killed your mother. I only hope that the day the Rising triumphs and both are defeated, John and Vivian can finally rest in peace.”

  “Is that why you saved me?” Flynn asked. “Because you knew them?”

  “You can’t imagine what it’s taken to get to where we are now. We’ve lost so many on the way, and our journey’s not even over.” A distant, mournful look filled Calhoun’s eyes, and he suddenly seemed weary.

  Flynn wanted to point out that Calhoun hadn’t answered the question, but that didn’t seem like the thing to say. “I appreciate it, by the way.” His words felt limp. How could a simple thank-you be enough for what the Rising had done for him?

  “You don’t have to thank me, kid.” Calhoun shook his head. “You don’t owe us anything, and I don’t want you feeling like you do. If you don’t think what we’re doing is for you, I’ll send you to a safe house in one of the Triumvirate’s remote districts. We’ll change your identity, and you can start a new life in anonymity. Or if you possess the same courage as your parents did, you can join our cause and stand with us against tyranny.”

  Flynn gazed at the Scarlet Citadel, and all the anger he’d carried flamed up at once, burning at his core. There’s something profoundly wrong with the Triumvirate.

  His parents had fought for a new world, a better world, a world without rigid hierarchies and lies. He felt as though the rebellious seed growing within him was a torch passed down from them. His blood cried out for action, and here, at last, was the meaning he’d been looking for, a way to make his life count for something bigger, something that really mattered.

  “I’ll stay,” he said with more certainty than he’d ever felt before. He had a chance to change the world, and he would seize it—and never look back.

  Chapter 9

  Untouchable
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br />   Stepping into the Citadel after making his fateful decision made Flynn see it in a new light. Before, it had been a strange and unknown place, an unfamiliar other he’d ended up in by accident. Now, he was a part of it. Within its walls, he would fan the flames of revolution, plotting with the Risers and preparing for the day when they’d finally take their nation back from the tyrants who ran it.

  He followed Calhoun toward the staircase, wondering what it meant that the rebel leader wanted him to go up to the training room in the Citadel’s tower right away. Not that he had any problem with diving right in. He was more than eager to prove himself. But the excitement glinting in Calhoun’s eyes seemed disproportionately bright, considering how little Flynn had to offer. He wasn’t exactly the Firedragon.

  “Calhoun?”

  Calhoun spun to face him, his pale-blue eyes boring into Flynn’s face. “You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting for you.”

  “What does that mean?” Flynn asked, surprised by how much he had to hustle to keep up with the old man’s rapid pace.

  “Do you know why Enchanters and Norms are forbidden to marry?”

  “Because the Triumvirs are a bunch of bigots? What does that have to do with anything?”

  “I’m getting to it.” Calhoun rubbed the back of his neck. “The ban on intermarriage was the first law Blue Triumvir Moreau enacted almost a hundred years ago, and it was due to a much deeper fear than mere bigotry. Shortly after the Lord’s defeat, a powerful Precog—that’s Precognitive One, someone who can see the future—had a vision. All her previous prophecies had come true, and after this one was confirmed by all manner of divination, it was treated as fact. One day, there would be a child born of an Enchanter and a Norm who was immune to the effects of magic, and all the Triumvirate’s spells would be worthless against him. He would be able to see and hear the enchantments, but he could walk right through them as though they were nothing more than air. Supernatural beasts would be no different than wild animals to him, and spirits would be as harmless as mist. He would be… untouchable.”

  Untouchable? Flynn suddenly recalled how he had entered Everett’s office so easily, and memories of the explosion flashed through his mind: how Brax had been knocked out and injured, how the office’s contents had been charred, and how everyone had choked on the smoke—but not him.

  “It’s me, isn’t it?” Even though he spoke the words, his mind couldn’t seem to absorb them. All his life, he’d considered himself to be ordinary in every way—not confident like Brax, not smart like Kylie—just a mediocre Secondstringer who was so insignificant, he barely existed. And now, it seemed, he’d been a chosen one of sorts this whole time, the fulfillment of a prophecy the Triumvirate had spent a century trying to stop. His very existence defied their laws. “I’m… this prophesized person.”

  “Yes.” Calhoun stopped and twisted back to look at Flynn, his eyes glinting. “I knew it the moment I heard about what happened in Everett’s office. There’s only one way you could have come out of that explosion unscathed, and that’s if magic had no effect on you. You can bet the Triumvirs know it too. You’re the Untouchable One.”

  “Well… That’s a hell of a thing.”

  “It’s a damn miracle.” Calhoun continued up the stairs. “Can you imagine what it’s like to spend decades looking for someone who might not exist? You could change everything. The Triumvirate had good reason to fear you. I didn’t tell you at first because I didn’t want to influence your decision to stay with the Rising. If you were to fight with us, I wanted it to be your choice. But now that you’re here, you’re the key to our victory.”

  I’m Untouchable. So much that hadn’t made sense finally came together. No wonder the Gold Triumvir had given orders to treat Flynn as a special case, and no wonder the Rising had mounted a mission just to save him. Without their magic, even the Triumvirate’s most powerful enchantments would be useless.

  Flynn followed Calhoun up the stairs, contemplating what the old man had said. He’d spent his life witnessing the ways the Triumvirate manipulated people into agreeing with them and obeying them, and he was glad the new leader he’d chosen to follow valued freedom. The Rising clearly needed Flynn, and Calhoun could easily have strong-armed him into joining by pointing out that he had nowhere else to go and that without the Rising, he’d be back in the Triumvirate’s clutches in a heartbeat. But there had been none of that. Instead, Flynn had been given the choice to leave. He wanted to stay, and that choice had been his alone—and probably the only real choice he’d ever made. After spending his entire life wondering if there was any hope for the future, he’d finally found the good guys.

  “What can I do?”

  “Right now? Lie low here while things get figured out.”

  “But I thought—”

  “I appreciate your gusto, kid, but just because you can walk into the Palace of Concord doesn’t mean you should. What good would that do without a greater plan in motion? When the time’s right, we’ll rally the people, march on the Triumvirate’s seat of power, and demand that the Triumvirs step down. And you’ll be at the vanguard, breaking the enchantments.” Calhoun’s eyes brightened. “The Rising shall prevail.”

  Flynn’s head seemed too full of new revelations to piece together a suitable response, so he only nodded. An hour ago, he hadn’t even known what the Rising was, and he still didn’t know where he fell in Calhoun’s greater plan. Also, being Untouchable had its downsides. It made him a target, and he’d spend the rest of his life wondering if someone was after him because of it.

  Calhoun picked up his pace, and the staircase spiraled. They must have been heading to the tower. “There’s one last piece missing before we can mount our attack. It’s a secret that the Triumvirate knows would end their reign if it ever got out.”

  Flynn recalled how Everett had said, “If certain information ended up in the wrong hands, everything could be destroyed,” and what he’d learned from listening to that conversation. “It’s about the Lord of the Underworld, isn’t it? He wasn’t really destroyed, and the Triumvirate’s been lying to everyone since the day it was founded.”

  “Yes, that’s right. The very event that catapulted the Triumvirs and their followers into power will be their undoing. The Lord lives on, and there’s much more to that story than anyone suspects.”

  “What does that mean? And how do you know?” A chill engulfed Flynn at the confirmation that the Lord was still out there. “If the Lord of the Underworld is still alive, where’s he been for the past hundred years?”

  “Trapped in the Underworld. The Triumvirs say they destroyed him, but in truth, they just put him back where he came from and locked the door. Saying they killed him outright makes for a better story, especially since it makes them sound more powerful than they actually are. As for how I know about this, well, when you’ve been fighting the Triumvirate as long as I have, you learn a few of their secrets. And I’ve learned how we can let the whole nation know not only that the Lord lives on, but something far, far more damaging.”

  “What is it?”

  “Let me worry about the master plan.” Calhoun stopped and faced Flynn. “I’m sure your head is buzzing with questions, but I’m afraid I can’t spill all my secrets to a new recruit. You’ll find out when you need to know.”

  Flynn started to protest but stopped and swallowed his disappointment. After all, Calhoun was the leader of an underground rebellion, and he had no reason to trust a stranger who’d only been at the Citadel—conscious, at least—for an hour or so.

  His gaze fell on what was behind Calhoun, and he realized that in his confusion, he hadn’t paid attention to where they were going. He faced a circular room illuminated by a lone magic-suspended spherical light that gave off a yellowish-white glow. Mirrors covered the walls, and several weapons—swords, rifles, crossbows—hung on the racks. A large punching bag stood on the far side near a tall
window that revealed the dark sky outside.

  Calhoun gestured at the room. “We use the basement for melees. That’s where most of the others are now. But this is where the operatives usually train.”

  Flynn walked along the edge of the room, examining the weapons. Blunted swords sat on racks, bows hung from hooks, and firearms lay on shelves. “What do the operatives do?”

  “Right now, mostly intelligence-gathering and recruiting. We also don’t have Defenders or Sentinels to guard us against the supernaturals, so we deal with them ourselves. But neither monsters nor the Triumvirate can stop us now.” Calhoun glanced out the window with a distant look in his eyes. After a moment, he shook his head. “Anyway, as much as I’ve enjoyed making your acquaintance, kid, I’ve an underground revolution to run. Wait here. I’ll send someone to show you the ropes.”

  He rushed down the stairs before Flynn had a chance to say anything else. Flynn considered going after him but didn’t want the rebel leader to think he was helpless and clinging to the nearest authority figure.

  Not knowing what else to do, Flynn continued walking along the room, allowing the firestorm of information that had been thrown at him to percolate in his head.

  Yesterday, I was just a Secondstringer with big ideas about breaking into the principal’s office. Now, I’m an enemy of the state, a fugitive, and a freedom fighter. My mom was killed by an anarchist, my dad was a Sentinel who betrayed the Triumvirate, and they were both revolutionaries. And I’m immune to magic, which means the Triumvirate is so afraid of me, they passed a law to keep me from being born. But they failed, and I could be the key to bringing them down.

  Flynn shook his head. The statements sounded ridiculous in his head. Everything had changed so fast, and he would never be safe again. Just by existing, he was violating the Triumvirate’s laws, and the fact that he’d chosen to join a rebellion meant that if he ever fell into their hands again, his fate was sealed. The future was a big black wash of uncertainty, and he couldn’t plan for anything. The rest of his life would be a fight for survival.