It appeared to be made of steel, like the rest of the box buried at their feet. The storage space inside it was huge, big enough to fit their minivan.
But it wasn’t a car that had been parked inside. Not even close.
“It’s some kind of carriage,” Emma said.
“Like in the drawings,” Milo added.
The front sloped down into a narrow tip. There was no engine that he could identify, and the wheels were tall and thin, like the ones on a marathon bicycle. There was no roof, only dirt-flecked seats that gave off a rubbery gleam. Milo was stunned when he saw what it was made of.
Not only was the vehicle shiny and clean—apart from bits of grass and soil that had fallen inside—but it also appeared to be made of solid gold.
“It’s a carriage all right,” Max said, placing his hands on his hips. “Designed to look like the chariots in the Icarian Races. But those are way longer, of course.”
The twins spoke together. “What are the Icarian Races?”
Alexandra grabbed the backs of their shirts and pulled them away from the hole. “You’ll see soon enough,” she said.
Max got down on his stomach, reached into the hole, and grabbed the side the carriage. He lifted it easily, though it must have been thousands of pounds of metal—a ton at the very least. The carriage groaned under its own weight as it emerged into the evening light.
“Back away,” he said.
Milo, Emma, and Alexandra took several steps back, though they were already standing a few yards away. They watched in silence as Max—still only using one arm to hold the carriage—spun completely around and gently set the vehicle down on the grass, as easily as if it were a chair.
“Is it really made of gold?” Milo said.
Max chuckled as he slapped dirt off his hands. “No, no, no. This one is made from something called Hyathean metal. It looks and feels like gold, but it’s a several times lighter, stronger, and not nearly as valuable. You can only find it on Astros.”
Emma spoke up. “Is that where we’re going?”
“That’s where we’ll have to go.” Max looked at his wife, who responded with a tight nod. “But first, we’ll need a levathon.”
Milo was on the verge of asking what a levathon was, but he stopped himself. His father kept throwing around so many foreign terms—Icarian, Hyathean, levathon—that Milo felt overwhelmed. He would get answers soon enough.
“Let me see that beacon crystal,” Max said. “It’s charged, right?”
“Always,” Milo said.
He handed it over. As Max aimed it up at the clouds, he recited a phrase like something out of a poetry book.
“Before the night, O winged savior, give me flight.”
A beam of green light, almost like a laser but mistier, shot from the crystal and disappeared somewhere inside the clouds.
“What are you doing?” Milo said.
“Opening a portal. I’ll teach you how to do it later.”
“Why can’t we just open it on the ground?”
“Smart boy.” His dad smiled at him. “But it’s been twenty years since we left Astros. No telling what’s been built on the ground. Safer to enter above the clouds.”
Max pressed the tips of his thumb and index finger to his lips. The whistle was strong and steady, yet different from any Milo had ever heard. It seemed to trill through the air like a musical note. Somewhere in the distance, a dog began to bark. It was joined by another.
“Look up,” Alexandra said. “First person to see it wins.”
“What are we looking for?” asked Emma.
“You’ll know when you see it. I don’t want to spoil the surprise.”
Max whistled again. “Any levathon without a rider, flying within a mile of that rift, will heed the call. With a carriage this light, we’ll only need one.”
“I’ll fly alongside,” Alexandra said, which caused Milo and Emma to frown at her in confusion. “Just wait and see,” she said with a hint of a smile.
It was small at first; a tiny speck that dipped and rose through the air like a kite. As it came closer, Milo thought it resembled a seagull. It had white wings, the span of which was several times wider than the creature’s height.
Emma let out a delighted gasp. “It’s a horse,” she said. “A flying horse. I don’t believe it!”
Milo squinted at the distant figure. Emma was right; the creature coming toward them at a downward angle was definitely a horse—only it had wings.
“Pegasus,” Milo said. “Like the horse god in Greek mythology.”
“They do look alike,” his father said, “but that creature is not a horse god, nor did it descend from a horse god. Levathons were created by the father-gods of Astros to be used in battle.”
The levathon kicked its feet as if running on air, its white mane rippling. Unlike a regular “Earth” horse, this creature was lean and slender, probably to make flight easier. It veered toward them. Milo couldn’t wait to pet it.
The sky shook, and a fearsome crack rang across the field.
They all cowered as a bolt of lightning—blood red and jagged, like an infected vein—leaped out of a cloud and struck the levathon. The creature spiraled toward the earth, its body charred. It landed with a wet thump.
Emma shrieked. Alexandra wrapped her arms around her daughter. They both sank to the ground, Emma crying and covering her face.
“Damn them,” Max growled, searching the sky.
A group of flying figures hung silhouetted against the evening redness. As they neared, Milo was able to identify five Dark Acolytes and a carriage pulled by a quartet of levathons. One of the passengers was certainly the low mage who had approached Milo in the bathroom at school. He could almost feel the man’s cruel gaze searching the field.
“Over here,” Max said, motioning for his wife and children to come closer. He toppled the carriage onto its side. “Get behind this. Use it as cover. Milo, I need you to do something for me.”
“Sure, Dad. Anything.”
“Use the beacon crystal to call another carriage. It’s not difficult to do. Just hold it in both hands, close your eyes, and say the name ‘Asceranon,’ three times. He’s the friend we were supposed to meet on the other side.”
Milo nodded and took the crystal. Then, ominously, his father’s expression changed. His face seemed to tighten and swell with emotion.
“What’s wrong, Dad?”
Max put his hands on Milo and Emma’s shoulders. His tone was alarmingly sad, like he was saying good-bye and desperately wished otherwise. “No matter what happens, always protect each other. Maybe someday, you’ll give hope to these troubled realms.”
“Dad, what are you saying?” Milo protested. “Are you leaving? You can’t leave!”
Alexandra held him back, but he continued to reach for his father. The crystal dropped from his hands.
Emma ran to her father. He picked her up, kissed her several times, and whispered something in her ear that made her cry out, “But why?”
Max lowered her to the ground. He turned and faced his attackers, who were about to land. “Get behind the carriage,” he said. “And do as I’ve asked.”
Milo and Emma ran to the carriage and hid behind it. They were not tall enough to look over the topmost edge, but Milo added a few inches to his height by stepping on the undercarriage. Emma did the same. Their heads peeked over the side.
“What’s happening?” Emma said.
Milo gripped the edges. “They’re going to fight.”
The carriage landed first, followed by the Dark Acolytes. Milo saw that he was right about the men in the carriage; one of them was indeed the low mage.
Their parents stood together in the field.
“The kids,” Max said, gripping Alexandra’s arms and shaking her. “Go back!”
“But you can’t.” She grabbed a handful of his shirt. “You love me, don’t you? Let me fight with you. Like we used to.”
“We’ll see each other again. I pr
omise, Allie.” He gathered her in his arms and kissed her. “Now go, my love. Take care of the kids. Use the crystal.”
Alexandra turned away from her husband and ran for the toppled carriage. When she arrived, she put her arms around the twins and pulled them close. Milo struggled to get out of her grasp. He wanted to see; he had to see. But then, a terrifying thought seized hold of him.
The crystal. It wasn’t in his pocket. He had dropped it somewhere.
But he didn’t have time to search. His dad might need him! He couldn’t just run like all those times he had wanted to run from bullies. This was too important!
The enemy carriage landed, its wheels spraying dirt. The levathons resembled the one Milo’s father had called earlier, except these had black fur and eyes that glowed bright red, like the eyes of demons. The Dark Acolytes landed and folded their wings.
There were two men in the carriage, Kovax and a short, brown-skinned, muscular man with orange eyes and a furry mohawk bisecting his otherwise bald head. Gold hoops hung from his ears, and there was no hair anywhere on his body except for the mohawk and a long, oiled beard that had been twisted into two braids. There were purple lines all over his skin; grisly tattoos of skulls and blades painted on his muscles.
The tattooed man stepped off the carriage. He walked several paces ahead of the Dark Acolytes and stopped, his orange eyes burning with hatred. Milo noticed his tail; it was a long, dancing whip that gleamed with a metallic luster, reminding him of a mosquito’s feeding tube.
Kovax leaned forward in the carriage, holding a staff with a red crystal embedded in its tip. He stared at Max through narrowed eyes. “I could have destroyed that school. I almost did, just to spite you.”
“You’re going to die here,” Max said, squaring his shoulders. “Is that what you want, low mage?”
The tattooed man cracked his knuckles. Milo could hear each sickening pop across the field. The five Dark Acolytes glared at Max, their faces twisted with hatred.
“Kill them, Dad!” Milo wished he could feel that tingling fire again. Something told him it could help, if only he could summon it, understand it, and bring it out into the world. “Just kill them and come back!”
“You’ve made your choice, then,” Kovax said, leaning back and lifting his staff. The levathons snorted and kicked their hooves into the dirt, red eyes burning. “You wish to challenge me here in front of my men? You want your children to see what it looks like when a demigod dies?”
“You can’t kill me,” Max said. “You don’t even have a Berserker with you. Turn around and we’ll save this battle for another day, just you and me and any three men of your choice. I’ll be alone. It’ll be fair that way.”
A disgusted snarl crept up Kovax’s face. “You bring honor into this? Don’t you know that it was your cowardice that caused this? You abandoned the Forge like a craven fool, and now the rebels are too weak to even show their faces in public. But arrogance—that will be your downfall.” He made a rolling motion with one of his bony fingers. “The daggers.”
The Dark Acolytes looked at each other, nodded, and pulled out daggers with black blades. The tattooed man removed one from his belt. Thin, gray smoke fell from the metal and splashed against the grass. Milo saw his father tense up.
“Daggers made from Tiberian steel,” Kovax said, “and dipped in Cebron blood to better pierce your Sargonaut skin and poison you, not to mention the paralysis, which will drain you of your strength. I call them ‘demigod killers’.” Kovax gave Max his most menacing look. “Being the second most powerful man in a kingdom has its perks.”
“You’ll have to go through me,” Max said. “Think about what that could cost.”
“You had best think about it, too. Surrender, and your children won’t have to watch you or their mother die. I’m doing you a favor.”
“This ends here,” Max said.
Kovax nodded and said a single word. “Drone.”
“Yes, my lord?” the tattooed man said.
He was so broad of shoulder he looked like a bull. The man suddenly broke into a sprint. He charged toward Max, his tail whipping hungrily from side to side.
Max fell to a crouch and punched his right fist into the earth. His arm began to churn the soil in search of something. As Drone approached, the Dark Acolytes leaped into the air. Finally, Max found what he was looking for. He lifted a large rock out of the hole he’d made and dropped it, then reached in and pulled out a second, a third, and a fourth—so fast his arm became a blur of motion.
He threw one of the rocks at Drone. Before it could connect, he had already bent down to pick up another. He threw the rocks one after another with the speed and force of a machine gun.
Drone ducked, though he had not been the intended target. Max had aimed at the Dark Acolytes instead. They had tried to circle the pair, probably to attack Max from behind. He prevented that by taking two of them down with rocks. They fluttered to the ground and lay still. The remaining Acolytes halted their flight and hung back, dipping up and down as their wings beat the air. They scowled at Max, apparently too afraid to attack.
Running faster now, Drone sliced the air with the dagger, leaving smoky trails. Max backed away in large leaps, keeping a constant distance between them. The field had become a giant arena.
“Come on, Dad!” Milo shouted.
Emma cupped her hands around her mouth. “You can do this! Beat him!”
Drone slashed and stabbed. Max ducked and lunged to avoid the blade. At one point, he kicked the ground, sending a shovelful of dirt into Drone’s face. Drone leaped a dozen feet in the air, transformed into a giant hornet, and flew away, then morphed back into his human self and landed in a crouch. Eyes bloodshot, he looked more enraged than ever.
A Pestilent. He was a Pestilent, like the drawings Milo had seen in his father’s book. But even a Pestilent was no match for a Sargonaut’s strength.
But that blade… He was still holding that blade.
The remaining Dark Acolytes joined the fray. They launched themselves through the air, surrounding Max and the tattooed man. Daggers raised, they hung, waiting to swoop down on their prey.
Alexandra bounced impatiently on her feet. “I can’t hold back anymore.”
“Go, Mom,” Milo said. “I’ll watch Emma.”
Alexandra darted away from the carriage, stopped suddenly, and tipped her head back, as if surrendering herself to a presence in the sky. Her body began to glow, faintly at first, then with more intensity, until every patch of exposed skin was as bright as a fluorescent lamp. Her feet left the ground as her body was lifted by some invisible force.
Something grew behind her, attached to her shoulder blades. The light was almost too bright to gaze upon. Milo squinted until he made out what it was—a pair of wings that suddenly unfurled from her back, each one twice as long as her arms.
The light faded. Alexandra dropped to the grass.
“Mom,” Milo said in breathless wonder.
He glanced at his sister and saw tears running down her face. Alexandra flapped her wings and flew upward like a missile. His father’s voice rang across the field.
“Zandra, no! Go back!”
She cut across the field and dove into the tattooed man, who had been about to stab Max with the dagger. The man slid across the grass, arms fumbling to grab Alexandra. She flapped away before he could grab hold. He no longer held the dagger. Alexandra had taken it from him.
She spun just as one of the Dark Acolytes reached her. With a single swipe, she sliced the creature’s neck open. Milo heard a liquid gasp as the Acolyte spun, clutching his throat, and plummeted to the ground.
“Yes,” Milo shouted. “Do it, Mom!”
There were two of them left. One—apparently the leader—shouted at the other.
“Let’s grab her. She’s no match for us both!”
The other Dark Acolyte nodded. The two began to fly toward Alexandra, but the one who had spoken suddenly held back. He shifted his attention d
own to where Max and the tattooed man had begun to circle each other.
While Alexandra fended off her lone attacker, the one who had spoken switched tactics. He pulled back his arm, aiming the dagger down at Max.
“Dad, watch out,” Milo and Emma cried in unison.
Just as Max was about to punch Drone into smithereens, the Dark Acolyte threw the dagger. It hit Max in the shoulder, throwing off his attack. Max yanked it out, grimacing, and went to stab Drone—but something was wrong.
His arm went limp. The dagger fell from his fingers. Max looked surprised at his sudden loss of strength. Alexandra killed the Dark Acolyte with a flurry of stabs, and then stared openmouthed at her husband.
Max bent to pick up the dagger. Drone charged him and sent him flying backward.
“It’s over,” Kovax shouted across the field.
Alexandra flew to her husband. She was distracted, and the remaining Dark Acolyte took advantage. He dove toward her. They collided, and the man wrapped an arm around her neck to strangle her, his other hand wrestling the dagger from her grip. He tossed it away as they plummeted.
The impact of the fall left Alexandra dazed. The Dark Acolyte managed to crawl onto her back, one hand reaching for his pants pocket. He pulled out a white handkerchief and slapped it over her nose and mouth.
Alexandra’s eyes rolled up in her head. Milo and Emma shouted for her to break free. They shouted for Max to help her, but Max had begun to stagger around the field like a drunk. He looked terrified and confused.
“Poisoned,” Drone barked at him. “Weak as a human. Give up and I’ll grant you a quick death.”
“Coward,” Max said, panting heavily.
The tattooed man dove toward him. Gusts of wind flew from his body in every direction, flattening the grass at his feet. A split second later, the man was gone, leaving only a giant scorpion that wriggled toward Max.
Savant & Feral (Digital Boxed Set): Books 1 and 2 of the Epic Luminether Fantasy Series Page 11