by Erin Rhew
“Vespa?” Grant, close on Rex’s heels, stepped into view. His face lit up with joy, but Vespa hid against her brother, pressing her cheek into his chest. Nash understood Grant’s first impulse, to scoop Vespa up into his arms, but the Vanguard hesitated.
“Vespa?” Grant said her name again with less exuberance.
“Who are you?” She yanked on her brother’s shirt. “Nashie, do I know him?”
Though his mother had just told him about the Alteration, Nash had not grasped its full implications. The Vespa he’d left behind had been bubbly, intelligent, and deeply in love with Grant. The Vespa that stood before him now resembled a young child.
“What happened to her?” Grant’s question loomed, a truth better left undiscovered but, based on his pained expression, knowledge essential to his very existence.
The air rushed out of Nash’s lungs. “Jesper performed some sort of Alteration.” Vespa grinned up at him with simple innocence, but he detected no hint of a sound mind.
Grant fell to his knees in the dirt, his head in his hands. “Can we help her?”
“I don’t know.”
Vespa pulled on Nash’s sleeve, much like she had when they were children. “Why is Mama hugging that man? Where’s Daddy and Wil?”
“Vespa, this is my friend, Grant.” He gestured toward the stricken Vanguard hunched over on the ground.
Grant jumped up and stuck out his hand, playing along. “Hello, Vespa. I’m Grant.”
She took his hand, but her gaze darted back and forth with a nervous shyness. Pain etched itself across Grant’s face, yet his smile never wavered. Fighting the lump in his throat, Nash nodded encouragingly at his sister.
“Grant is going to take care of you while I go look for Daddy and Wil.” Nash forced the word “Daddy” out. To call Jesper Daddy or Father seemed blasphemous. “Ok, Vespa? So, you will stay here with Grant, right?”
She nodded. “Do you like games, Grant? Because I like games.”
Nash strode over to his parents, still locked together. He hated to break up their reunion, but he needed answers. “Mother, what has he done to her?”
The queen let go of Rex and stepped back. Her face, which had only moments before been glowing with elation, fell.
“He removed Grant from her mind—memory by memory. You know how invasive that is. She’s been childlike ever since.”
His mother, who had always been so strong, broke down into tears. Nash drew back in surprise, but Rex stepped forward to place an arm around her. She leaned into him, a grateful smile shimmering through her tears.
“Can you reverse it?” Though he knew his mother would have already tried, Nash had to ask. He’d never felt so helpless.
“No. He Locked her mind. Only Jesper’s death could Unlock it.”
“Well, I’ll just have to kill him then.”
“No.” His mother yanked on his arm with unnatural force. “He freed us.”
“Look at Vespa, Mother. Does she look free to you?” He cursed himself for raising his voice. Jesper deserved his rage, not her. Softening, he apologized.
Rex cocked his head to the side. “Do you hear that?”
Sansolena and Nash stopped talking and listened. The faint clomping of hooves wafted from the distance, growing closer. In unison, they looked toward the open Northern Gate, though their position obscured most of it from their sight.
“Horses approaching…a lot of horses.” Nash pushed through the throngs of his father’s soldiers to better see across the river. To his dismay, he caught sight of Vance and his army only about a half mile away. He raced back toward his father.
“It’s Vance. Ready the men.”
Rex nodded, his face grim. “He’s come to attack Jesper. I bet he has no idea we are even here.”
Dawning rained down upon Nash. “He’s attacking, and Wil plans to do an Alteration. It will be a massacre. I have to stop my brother.”
“I’ll go with you.”
“No. I need you to keep mother and Vespa safe. My sister may have the mind of a child, but she can guide you and your men through the maze. If I am able to stop the Alteration, attack from the west. No one will expect it.”
“What if you can’t stop it?”
“I won’t be affected, but the rest of you will. Once I reach Wil and stop the Alteration, you should recover and still be able to fight.”
His father nodded, accepting his limited role with surprising humility. “Be safe, son.” Leaning in, Rex pulled Nash into a brief hug before heading into the maze.
Nash turned to Grant. “Go with them, and please help keep my family safe.”
“I will,” Grant vowed, placing a first over his heart.
Chapter Thirty
Wil
When he saw the Northern Gate lying open, leaving Etherea vulnerable, Wil almost called off the rescue attempt. To be faced with this decision—between his family and his kingdom—left him fumbling for the right choice. Wil would never have selected this plan had he known his father planned to hold the gates open, leaving hundreds completely frozen, vulnerable. But he hadn’t known, and now if he had any chance to save his mother and sister, he had to continue despite the risk. He chastised himself for putting innocent people’s lives in danger, yet he couldn’t stand to lose his family.
Wil glanced toward the Northern Gate and back to the gallows. Did he have enough time to drop the gate and still perform the Alteration? He didn’t think so. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, seeking clarity amidst the heavy weight of his decision.
He swallowed hard as he made his final choice, one he knew he’d regret on some level for the rest of his life. He gave a slight nod to Layla, hoping she remembered to guard her mind. Shaking his head and ignoring the nauseous feeling in his stomach, Wil cleared his own mind and focused on the crowd below. He could feel their hum of consciousness. Grabbing onto that, he projected a vision. Wil didn’t want to scare his people like he did with Vanguards in battle, just limit their awareness.
Layla
Layla perched atop a low-lying wall, close to the gallows. She stuck to the shadows to avoid being spotted by the king or any of the guards. Though she tried to keep her vision straight ahead, Layla found her gaze wandering up to the sky. Gray skies…
The doors below opened and the prisoners stumbled out. Her nerves frayed at the sight, releasing her Vanguard beast, which she struggled to contain. Vespa and Queen Sansolena. Jesper dressed them in their finest but threw dirty sacks upon their heads. When the guards pushed them roughly toward the gallows, Layla clenched her fists to keep from leaping off the ledge early. How dare those men treat the royals with such disregard?
She looked toward Wil squatting on the rooftop directly across from her. He gave her a slight nod, and Layla erected her mental walls. Though she’d practiced with Wil, she had never before tested her ability in actual combat. What if she couldn’t maintain it during her rescue attempt? Layla resolved not to falter. Vespa and Sansolena’s lives depended on it.
Layla’s cue—the glazed look that fell over the crowd—propelled her into motion. She leapt from the wall, landing nimbly on her feet. With a sword in hand, Layla raced toward the scaffold, reminding herself to hold the mind guard.
Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed King Jesper stand. Wil’s Alteration had not affected the king, just as they had feared. She kept her eyes fixed on the queen and princess, undeterred by his movements.
“What are you doing?” Jesper’s shout lingered amongst the frozen crowd.
Layla didn’t answer. She kept moving toward the prisoners, checking her mental shield.
“Stop!” Jesper called to her. “You don’t understand.”
Nash
Nash constructed his toughest mind guard and ran along the wall toward the open Northern Gate, toward Layla and Wil. When no one made an attempt to impede his progress, he realized Wil had begun the Alteration. What would become of the group he’d left behind in the maze? He scanned the riverside,
where he’d left the few soldiers who asked to stay behind. They stood like statues. Nash bit his lip in frustration, but he propelled himself forward. If he could just get to Wil and Layla, he’d feel much better.
As he approached the gate, Nash checked across the river, gauging Vance’s proximity to the castle. Instead, something else caught his attention—Volton Mars struggling with a much larger Vanguard at the defense horns. Wil must have sent the Volton to man the horns. If that awful noise didn’t pierce the air soon, Vance’s whole army would breach the Ethereal land. All those Ethereals under Wil’s Alteration…they would be slaughtered.
He looked back and forth between the gate and the horns. Should he make a run for the gates and close them? Or should he stop the approaching army with defense alarms? The gates took him closer to Wil and Layla, but it also meant leaving the Volton to certain death. Making a quick mental calculation, Nash decided he could make it to the horns faster than the gate. He raced toward Volton Mars, though every fiber of his being cried out for him to run to Layla.
Nash crashed into the Vanguard scout, pouring all his pent up rage into the hit. The man flew off Mars and landed on the ground with a hard thud. Before the Vanguard could regain his bearings, Nash straddled him and drove his sword straight through the other man’s heart.
Nash bolted over to the Volton and then fell to his knees beside his tutor. Blood seeped from a gaping wound on Mars’ head. With shaking hands, Nash ripped a piece of his shirt and pressed it against the wound.
“Volton.” He shook the man gently.
“Nash?” Mars’ eyes rolled around. “A scout attacked me before I could sound the alarm. Please, I can’t hold my mind guard much longer.”
“You have to, Volton. We need you.”
Nash stood and grabbed hold of the crank as the first wave of Vance’s men careened across the river, their horses rising up the river bank toward the scaffold. He spun the lever with all his might until the horns, with their awful noise, pierced the air. On the other side of the river, the rest of Vance’s men writhed on the ground in agony. Nash whipped his head around, counting thirty horses riding toward the still frozen Ethereals.
Beside him, Volton Mars struggled to his feet and staggered over to the crank. “I’ll continue to sound the horns. You go help your brother.”
“Are you sure?” Nash asked, hesitant to leave the Volton, yet desperate to get to Wil and Layla.
Mars smiled—the same confident, gentle smile Nash had known all his life—and took over the crank. “Of course.”
Nash grabbed the dead Vanguard’s battle axe and ran toward the gallows, his sword in his other hand, easily wielding both weapons at once. He charged ahead, just a few paces behind Vance and his band of thirty, though his lack of a horse quickly lengthened the distance.
Wil
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Layla jump off the wall and into the crowd. She moved toward his mother and sister. Why had his father put sacks over their heads? If this plan went awry, he may never again behold his mother and sister’s faces. He wished he could look into their eyes and reassure them. He wanted them to know he and others fought for their release, but his father had robbed them all of that. Anger welled up inside him.
A slight movement caught his attention. Jesper rose and stalked toward Layla. Though Wil knew his father would most likely withstand the Alteration, he had held out hope that the king would be affected. His father yelled, but Wil couldn’t hear the words. Another sound overtook his senses—the defense horns. They whined, sending their deafening power across the river.
Layla seemed to observe the incoming army at the same moment Wil did. When she turned to look up at him—probably to warn him—she froze, and his heart stopped along with her. She had dropped her guard.
“Layla!” he screamed, terror and agony tangled up in her name.
Wil severed his connection to the collective psyche, releasing everyone at once. He scrambled to the side of the wall. Vance’s men descended upon the unaware crowd—a crowd that would take at least a minute to disengage from the Alteration. The worst possible situation had occurred, playing out like a bad dream in front of him.
Wil grabbed a rope he’d secured to the rooftop. Throwing it over the side of the wall, he inched down it with great haste. Wil prayed he’d be able to make it down to the ground before Vance arrived. As prince and future king, he should be worried about his people, and he was. But three people dominated his thoughts as he slid down the rope—his mother, his sister, and…Layla.
Nash
As he ran, Nash saw Wil flip a rope over the wall and scurry down the side of it, but he couldn’t see Layla through the throngs of people standing around. She must have jumped into the crowd to free the fake Vespa and Sansolena. Adrenaline swirled through him, fast and furious, as he absorbed the scene before him: a whole crowd of unmoving Ethereals. Though his lungs and legs protested, Nash’s love for Layla, Wil, and their kingdom propelled him forward.
When he reached the site, people began to awaken from the Alteration, but Vance’s men had already cut down several unsuspecting Ethereals. From the looks of it, they’d gone straight for the biggest and strongest. Vance’s men focused so intently on the Ethereals, they failed to notice Nash.
He whipped his head around, searching for Layla. He spotted her, but the whole courtyard separated them. How could he protect her from so far away? She stood completely still. His leg shook so hard he stumbled. She had yet to recover from the Alteration, leaving her vulnerable, and he could not reach her.
“Layla!” His shout gave away his position.
Several Vanguards whipped around at the sound. Spotting him, they hesitated. He looked enough like a Vanguard to confuse them. Behind the soldiers, Nash watched as his father and the group of faithful Vanguards surged in from the west. He hoped their diversion gave Layla enough time to recover.
“He’s an enemy.” Vance’s high-pitched whine rose from the chaos, his finger pointing in Nash’s direction.
“Your father is coming, my king.” A guard jerked his thumb toward the incoming group.
“How will we know which men are ours and which are with your father?” A second soldier, with wide, panicked eyes absorbed the scene.
“Just kill everyone you don’t recognize.” Vance’s cold-hearted answer rose up from the fray.
Two men on foot bolted toward Nash. Inflamed with a deadly mixture of adrenaline, worry, and protectiveness, he rushed forward to meet them. With a battle axe in one hand and a sword in the other, Nash swung. The sound of metal meeting metal rang out in the air.
Layla
“Layla!” A scream pulled her from her pleasant vision.
She shook her head to clear it. Before she had a chance to prepare herself, a Vanguard soldier fell upon her. Layla raised her sword out of instinct and blocked what would have been a fatal blow. She shook the man’s weapon off with the tip of her own and lunged. The feeling of sharp metal slicing through flesh vibrated up her arm. Without remorse, she yanked her weapon out as the man slumped to the ground.
Layla looked up to see Wil heading in her direction, shouting her name. He appeared to be fending off attackers as he went, but she knew his worry for her clouded his judgment. Given the Vanguards’ strength, he would need his full attention. She glanced around to find soldiers dragging the two prisoners back into the building, apparently unharmed.
“I’m fine, Wil. So are your mother and sister,” she called to him, hoping the news would help Wil focus on his own safety. She reminded herself to put up her mental guard. Though most of the Ethereals ran around, too preoccupied with escape to focus on performing Alterations, she wanted to be prepared. This time, she wouldn’t allow it to drop.
One of Vance’s men raised a crossbow and took aim at King Jesper. Though she had no great love for the king, Layla ran toward the bowmen. She crashed into him just as the arrow released. Landing on top of the man with a grunt, she recovered and leapt up. Layla stabbed him on
ce in the stomach. As she pulled her sword out of his body, she glanced up at the platform where Jesper stood.
The king staggered around, an arrow sticking out of his heart. Layla surged toward Jesper, knocking down every man that stood in her path. She arrived at the platform just as the king stumbled backward, slumping down in his chair.
“My king.” She knelt before him, examining his wound.
“I’m sorry, Layla.” A drowning gurgle bubbled in his throat, his breath ragged. “I’m so sorry for everything. Make sure my family knows that—all of them, even Nash.”
“Wil!” Layla screamed.
Amidst the sea of bodies and clanging noises, she saw Wil making his way toward the platform. Though he wasn’t a Vanguard, his height and natural strength gave him the ability to hold his own. She wanted to jump down and help him, but she couldn’t risk leaving the king exposed in his condition. As much as she disliked Jesper, he remained the king of Etherea and Wil’s father. She fended off the few men that managed to straggle up to the platform.
“Layla.” Wil called up from the bottom of the platform.
“Your father—” She hitched as the words stuck in her throat.
Wil scrambled onto the stage, his eyes wild. Layla stood, giving up her spot beside Jesper to Wil. She blocked the two men with her body, prepared to defend them both.
Wil
Wil tried not to stare at the arrow pointing up from his father’s chest. He grabbed Jesper’s hand, squeezing it. Jesper’s eyes fluttered open, though the life ebbed from them at a slow, measured pace.
“I’m here, Father. You’ll be fine,” Wil whispered false assurances.
“Wil…I’m sorry.”