A pang of guilt gripped her stomach. They were both so hopeful that the Free-Wielders would help them. From the start, Aurelia had been honest and said she didn’t know if they would, but she did nothing to dispel their overly enthusiastic outlooks on the topic.
The three of them finished plucking the birds and stoking the fire. They placed the birds on some sticks over the flames and sat.
“So,” Ion said seriously, “what’s the plan?”
“We have to get through the city. It’s the only way to the southernmost point,” Aurelia said.
“And once we’re there?” Ion pressed on.
“My people had a saying: ‘Sail west to the sea, until you cannot see, on the darkest night, with the brightest light, on the path you will be.’”
“A poem? Really?” Ion sounded doubtful.
“Not a poem,” Aurelia snapped and her cheeks flushed. “It was a nursery rhyme my father used to tell me.”
“And that makes it better?”
“Obviously, I have more information than just that. My father was one of the very few who used to make trips to supply the Free-Wielders. He would go as far south as possible, then turn due west from that point at dusk. Once it is nothing but darkness, the light of a bright moon would show him the path.”
“But the moon is dark until the end of the month!” Kuba exclaimed as he kneeled over the fire to check on the meat.
“But we have a bright light—we can go any time,” Aurelia said, smirking at Kuba.
“He hasn’t been able to do it yet, though,” Ion said, folding his arms over his chest.
“He will,” Aurelia said, turning with a smile towards Kuba. They had practised a couple of times. The connection with the Godstone came quite naturally to Kuba, but he would often succumb to his panic. He was still a long way off being able to summon lightning from so far. At this point though, Kuba needed encouragement, so Aurelia decided to lie. “He’s close.”
“And if he can’t?” Ion asked.
“We have to try,” she replied. “If it doesn’t work, we will go back into the forest and hide out there. We don’t want to hang around in the open for too long. Then we can come back on a brighter moon or when it is safe.”
Ion nodded hesitantly.
“I think they’re ready,” Kuba said as he lifted one of the birds-on-a-stick off the fire. He leaned over to Ion to hand him the meal.
“Shhh!” Aurelia instructed, covering her lips with a finger.
“What is it?” Kuba whispered, looking around.
“Get down!” Aurelia ordered as she lay on her stomach. Ion followed suit, but Kuba was too slow. She grabbed onto his shirt and pulled him to the ground. “There is something near,” she whispered.
Aurelia could hear the soft sound of footsteps in the distance; her ears were more attuned to the sounds of danger than theirs were. She looked around and couldn’t see anything, but she knew she was not mistaken.
“There!” A voice projected across the open cliffs.
Aurelia bolted upright, spinning around frantically to find the source of the voice. Ion and Kuba quickly jumped to their feet as well. Aurelia could hear the clatter of armour; she whipped around to find the source of the noise.
Behind them, on a higher cliff to the north, stood over twenty soldiers. They were fully armoured, but were missing the signature helmets of the Elevenths. If they were Firsts, she could take them. But is was doubtful, as firsts did nothing more than patrol the streets. She narrowed her eyes trying to make out the partial Highwings on the capes of their uniforms. It was too small to see, but as one of them turned around, she caught a glimpse of the larger symbol on his back. They were Sevenths. She could maybe take out a few, but conjuring enough fire for them all would take more energy than she had.
The three of them stood no chance.
“Run!”
Chapter 17
Spearield, 11th Day of the Month of Warmth, 1114 A.F.F.
Rohan hopped out of his rowboat, exhausted from his journey. He pulled the old wooden boat farther onto shore. Dawn was just breaking on the island. He walked across the sand, his cape dragging in it. From a distance, the island looked like a large rock breaching out of the ocean. But as he reached the southern edge of the large rock, the rest of the island came into view.
The tropical island was long and shaped like an arrow, the rock side that faced the mainland mimicking an arrowhead. On the opposite side of the rock, the land narrowed and stretched far out into the ocean, but the very centre was a tropical paradise. Beautiful palm trees erupted into the sky and lush bushes covered the land.
Rohan sighed loudly, his broad shoulders heaving. Every time he witnessed the beauty of this island, disappointment welled up inside him. He yearned to live here, with the others, in peace. That would never happen, though. Not unless he could convince Elara to do the impossible, to fight Apollyon.
Rohan continued his trek through the sand. As he worked his way farther inland, towards the inside of the large rock shield, the ground became harder as the sand slowly transitioned into a clay-like soil. The resistance-free ground gave Rohan’s tired body some relief. He threw his hands overhead and stretched out his back, standing straight. A long night of rowing had done its damage. He marched onward to the large rock structure and the building built up against it.
As he approached, a rustling from the forest caught his ear. He whipped around instinctively, his hand reaching for the handle of his sword.
“Rohan! Rohan!” A young, wild-looking child came sprinting out of the forest. Rohan’s apprehension faded and the sight of the young girl brought a smile to his hardened face.
“Novella!” Rohan bent down on one knee to be at her level. The child sprinted right into his arms, almost knocking the large man off balance. “Hello there!”
“I’m so happy to see you!” she said, pulling him in tight. She tugged at his long mane. “Your hair got long.”
“It did.” Rohan laughed with the young girl as she twirled his long brown hair around her fingers. “Yours did too.”
Novella laughed, her smile bringing a light to his heart. She adjusted herself so she was sitting on his knee. “Do you have any more stories from the mainland?”
Rohan chuckled, “Well—”
“Novella! I told you not to run off!” a man cried, running out of the palm trees. Rohan picked Novella up off his knee and plopped her on the ground, standing to greet him.
“Gentry!” Rohan exclaimed, his arms spread wide in excitement.
“Rohan! Getting brazen with these journeys I see. Not a bright moon in sight,” Gentry said as he approached, his bald head covered in sweat.
“The journey is much more difficult without the light, but I manage. Good to see you.”
Gentry walked into Rohan’s open arms and wrapped him in a tight hug. The two men patted each other on the back as they embraced. “It has been much too long, my friend.”
“It has,” Rohan said, his sadness at not being a permanent resident of the island welling back up inside him. “Novella has grown so much in just a few months.”
“She most certainly has,” Gentry responded with the smile of a proud father.
“I have!” Novella added, puffing out her chest.
“She’s also gotten in the habit of running off.”
Novella huffed and crossed her little arms.
“Novella? Never!” Rohan said with a laugh, the hard lines on his face softening with his smile.
“Yes, and running off to ask everyone for stories. I wonder who taught her that?”
“Certainly not I!” Rohan responded, puffing out his chest in hopes of making the young girl giggle.
“Yes, definitely not Rohan!” Novella said, catching on and giggling under her breath.
“Hmm, fine,” Gentry said, crossing his arms and winking at his daughter. “Now run off and go find your father—he was worried.”
“Do I have to?” she whined, her shoulders slumping towards the
ground. When that reaction didn’t work, she intentionally puffed out her lower lip, causing Rohan to chuckle as she tried to play her father.
“Yes, little lady,” Gentry said, jokingly scooting her along.
Novella groaned and rolled her eyes. As she turned, she dragged her heels in the dirt.
“Say bye to Rohan!” Gentry shouted after her.
“Bye, Rohan,” Novella grumbled back, raising her arm in the air unenthusiastically, completely ignoring her father.
Rohan chuckled. “Bye, Novella!”
When Gentry finally stopped waving, he shrugged. “Six-year-olds.”
“She’s worderful,” Rohan responded. He remembered when he had first rescued her two years ago, after her birth mother had become a Wielder. Hectar had instructed him to kill her after her mother resisted joining the army, but she reminded him so much of his own daughter that he couldn’t do it.
“She is. Robert and I are so thankful to you for bringing her to us—we had always dreamed of having a child.”
“Stop thanking me. You and Robert are the most deserving parents I know,” Rohan said with a soft smile. He had known Gentry for years, from back when they lived in Azanthea. Gentry and Robert had both been Wielders with the Elevenths, but their relationship was discovered during the conquering of the North, so they fled for fear of prosecution. Wielders were not allowed to be in relationships with other Wielders. It was a hard rule Apollyon loved to enforce. But Gentry and Robert were here now, and they were safe. And although Rohan was extremely glad for their happiness, he envied them even more. They had everything he wanted: a life with a spouse and a happy child.
“How’s Libby?” Gentry asked, cutting off Rohan’s train of thought.
Rohan’s stomach lurched at the sound of his daughter’s name. It had been months since he had seen her, and even then it was just in passing.
“She’s still in military training.”
“I’m so sorry,” Gentry said, placing his hand on Rohan’s shoulder. “The fact that they force children so young into training is despicable.”
Rohan closed his eyes tightly, he had had no choice. “She doesn’t even know who I am anymore, it has been so long. Last time I saw her, she was beaten and bruised from her training. Sometimes I wonder if death would have been the merciful choice.”
“Never say that,” Gentry said, clutching both of Rohan’s arms, forcing him to stare him in the eye. “You did what you could to give her the best life she could get. And it won’t be like that forever.”
“You’re right, it won’t. I have news,” Rohan said, excitement piercing through his intense sadness. “Vallich is gone.”
Gentry’s jaw dropped.
“He fled without a word and they’re are calling him a traitor. The Elevenths are leaderless right now and—”
“The most powerful Wielder is gone,” Gentry finished, his face awe-struck. “There will be an Ascension Trial?”
Rohan nodded. “All eyes will be on Azul. This may be our opportunity. We haven’t had one since the Battle of Burrath, and this may be the last chance we will get—”
“What is the last chance?” a beautiful voice sang from the distance.
Rohan and Gentry both turned. Elara had floated up behind them while they were talking. She stood barefoot in the dirt, her long, white dress dancing in the wind. Her shiny black hair was pulled into a braid that loosely fell down to the curve of her back, a pink flower tucked behind her ear. Her fawn skin glistened in the morning light.
Rohan paused for a moment to take in her beauty. “To take back Azanthea,” he said, his eyes not moving off the beauty in front of him.
Elara pursed her thin lips at the statement. “You must tell me more,” Elara said and motioned towards the house off the rock. “Shall we discuss?”
Rohan walked up to Elara, sliding his hand into hers. He immediately felt warmed upon her touch.
“Alright, I’m out of here,” Gentry exclaimed, giving Rohan a knowing look.
“Will we see you later, Gentry?” Elara asked.
“You will,” Gentry said with a smile. “See you later, Rohan!”
“Bye, Gentry,” Rohan responded softly, his eyes still hovering on Elara.
“Shall we?” Elara turned to Rohan with a bright smile.
He nodded. “But first,” he whispered, pulling Elara towards him. He pressed himself as close to her as he could. Her heart was pounding fast against his. Her flirtatious giggle brought a smile to his face. He gently placed one of his hands behind her head, tangling his fingers into her long tresses of woven hair. From up close he could see a few silver hairs sprinkled throughout the rest and he loved it. Elara looked wise. She was wise. And he loved her for that.
He pulled his face closer to hers, taking note of every thin line on it. Each had its own story and he wanted to know every one of them. He slowly brought his lips down onto hers, barely brushing them together.
“I missed you,” he whispered into her lips, hovering close.
“I missed you too, my love,” she said, pressing her forehead onto his. “It has been so long. I was growing worried.”
Rohan kissed her forehead. “I am so sorry—I just couldn’t get away. With the search for Vallich, we are constantly on duty.”
“Clearly, we have much to discuss.”
“We do. But first, I want to say a proper hello to my wife.”
And with that, Rohan scooped Elara into his muscular arms and walked towards their house.
Chapter 18
The Redcliffs, 11th Day of the Month of Warmth, 1114 A.F.F.
Aurelia’s feet carried her across the jagged rocks. She peered back over her shoulder; the soldiers were closing in on them. She refocused on the path ahead of her, paying attention to each step. One wrong move and she could be down the side of the cliff or fall through one of the cracks. Kuba and Ion ran alongside her. They were all slow on the unfamiliar terrain, which frustrated her.
“Jump!” Aurelia shouted as she leapt over a gaping gorge from one cliff to another. Once she landed safely, she turned back to look at the brothers. The sooner they could get off the cliffs and on to flat land, the better chance they had at fleeing.
Ion was the next to make the jump. He took a few running steps and leapt across the gorge easily. He landed softly on one knee. Aurelia lent him her hand to help him to his feet.
“Let’s go, Kuba!” Ion shouted across.
Aurelia watched as Kuba prepared to run and jump, the soldiers closing in even faster. Kuba sprinted at the gorge fearlessly. His feet moving frantically as he picked up speed to make the jump.
Crack!
The place Kuba had pushed off of had given way and the small edge of the cliff tumbled down the gorge. The slip was enough to throw Kuba off his momentum. He wasn’t going to make it.
Aurelia snapped into action, lunging towards the edge of the cliff. She extended her arm into the air and Kuba flailed, reaching to grab onto her. His fingers brush hers, but they somehow managed to slip through her grasp.
Kuba fell against the side of the cliff, banging his chest and chin on the hard rock. His hands frantically grasped for something to cling to as he slowly slipped. Aurelia fell to her knee quickly, arms outstretched. But Ion was already there, flat on his stomach, both hands locked onto Kuba’s wrists.
“Hold tight!” Ion grunted, struggling to keep a hold.
Aurelia knelt down, grabbing one of Kuba’s wrists with both her hands. “Ready?”
Ion nodded, moving both his hands to Kuba’s other wrist.
“Pull!” Aurelia shouted and they heaved together.
It took about three good pulls before Aurelia and Ion were able to pull Kuba fully onto the cliff.
“Thanks!” Kuba huffed, rolling onto his back. His chin was bleeding.
“Get up,” Aurelia said, jumping to her feet. The soldiers were less than a hundred feet away. “I said, get up!”
Aurelia looked from Kuba, who was bleeding even more now
that he was standing, to Ion. She cursed under her breath. “They’re too close, we have to fight.” She reached into the pouch she kept wrapped around her waist and pulled out a blade in a sheath. “Here, Ion. Take this.”
“Right,” Ion said as he took the sheath off the foot-long blade.
“Hide it for now,” she said. The soldiers were fifty feet away; it looked like there were even more of them up close. “Kuba, you need to try to summon some lightning. Follow my lead.”
Kuba clutched his Godstone, making sure to keep it hidden from the soldiers. Aurelia saw him closing his eyes before she turned her attention back to Apollyon’s men.
“Is there something we can help you with?” she said, turning to face the first of the arrivals.
The soldier was armoured in thin chainmail instead of the traditional plated metal, probably to help with the heat. “You fit the description of known fugitives,” the soldier said, drawing his long sword from the sheath strapped to his back.
“Oh, and what do these fugitives look like?” She was trying to buy Kuba some time. She glanced over to the boy, who was still clutching his hands and closing his eyes; he wasn’t close enough yet.
“Don’t pester me, girl,” the soldier said, stepping forward. More of the soldiers were arriving. “Come now, willingly, or be put to death.”
“I choose death,” Aurelia said without hesitation. She quickly closed her eyes and pictured the fire they had started earlier, back at camp. In an instant, the flames were flying through the air at her outreached palm.
Aurelia knew her eyes were glazed over, but she could see more clearly than ever. The guards were surrounding them on all sides of the cliff. The fire danced in front of her outstretched hand, so close she could feel the heat.
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