“Yes,” the magician said, “but it’s still far. I need your men to take the heat off us.”
“Done,” Alexandra said with a nod, and Emma could tell she was readying herself to take flight. She couldn’t bear the thought of losing her mother again.
“Mom, wait!”
Alexandra looked over at her. A smile crossed her face, only for a moment, but it was the saddest, most beautiful smile Emma had ever seen.
And then, it was gone.
Fear washed over her mother’s features, erasing the smile. She looked down at a piece of metal sticking out of her belly. The blade had gone clean through her leather armor.
“No,” she gasped.
Blood swept down, gathering in a dark stain on her thighs, and then all Emma could hear were her own screams, and her brother shouting curses at Iolus, who lay off to the side, watching his weapon do its work.
“Aikon!” Iolus shouted at Alexandra. “You remember him, don’t you?”
Alexandra looked up at her children in horror. “Run,” she said.
Emmanuel had to hold them back.
“Mom!” Milo screamed.
Alexandra summoned a healing spell that wrapped itself around both hands, but the blade jerked upward, and the spells fizzled away. She tossed her head back and howled.
“Don’t hurt her!” Emma shouted blindly, thrashing to get out of Emmanuel’s grip. “Let her go!”
Iolus stabbed the air with his rigid fingers. The sword obeyed his command and flew forward, cutting straight through Alexandra’s body. She cried out in pain as blood sprayed across the snow. Her body went limp and collapsed.
The sword floated above her, upright like a symbol, signaling its victory.
“You bastard!” Milo screamed at the sorcerer.
Iolus chuckled. He had gotten up and was clutching his half-healed wounds. “Felt just as good as I imagined,” he said.
Emmanuel cast another spell to fortify the shield protecting them. The floating sword flew toward them and bounced off its surface. They were safe, for now.
But her mother…
Her mother was dead.
“Mom…please get up…”
Emma blinked away tears and watched as a her mother’s body began to burn with white light, and the brilliance grew even as her mother shrank and became a small, standing thing, planted in the snow.
Just like Dad. She had died and become something else, just like Dad, when he turned into that tree back on Earth.
This time, it was a flower—a glowing red bud atop a green stalk. The bud blossomed into a rose as big as a Berserker’s fist. Red and green light splashed across the snow, over Iolus’s stunned face, as he staggered toward it.
“Don’t,” Emma whimpered. “Please.”
Iolus yanked the rose up by its stem. He studied its glowing petals with a hungry smile before stuffing it into his cloak. “We’ll pick this up next time,” he told Emma with a sneer.
Then, drawing his cloak tight around his wounds, he turned and limped away to be engulfed by the flames, his floating sword trailing after him.
CHAPTER 76
“Soldiers coming,” Oscar was shouting. “Up the hill!”
“Mom?” Emma said, feeling warm despite the freezing wind. She could hear the crunching of snow all around her, people talking in high tones, the crackling of scattered fires. One side of her face burned from the flames shimmering nearby. When she finally made sense of what was happening, she realized she was flat on her back, and that her wings hurt terribly beneath her.
“She’s gone,” Sevarin said, lifting her. “I’m sorry, Emma.”
“Let me go,” she said. “Take care of Ascher.”
Sevarin flashed her a dreadful look and went to assist Ascher, who limped along with Coral’s help. His Feral shell had been poisoned, and Emma knew he would never be able to phase again without dying. The poison appeared to have entered his human form as well.
“I’ll slow you all down,” she heard Ascher say.
“I don’t care,” Sevarin shouted, assisting him. “Come on, Pop!”
There was smoke and snow everywhere. The entire world had been reduced to these two basic elements, and each time she fell coughing from the smoke, she found herself suffocating in the snow. Milo was always there to pick her up.
At one point, Owen and Gunner slowed ahead of her and waved them in another direction.
“It’s this way,” Owen said. “Follow us!”
The smoke burned her lungs, but with Milo holding her up, she was able to slog forward. Oscar took her other arm, and the three of them half-ran, half-stumbled through the snow.
They came to a place where the air was clean, the sounds of battle far away. They were in a forest, and Emma saw light, frozen white light, coming from the bark of all the trees around her. She couldn’t believe it; trees like glowing ice pillars in a forest palace of the gods.
“Are the trees—glowing?”
Barrel appeared at her side. His hood had fallen back and the light washed over his pale, sweating face, making it shine.
“They’re Caemyri trees,” he said, his breath steaming in the air. “They glow whenever spells are being cast. In this state, they are completely immune to magic.”
Milo ran into the forest to inspect the area. He returned to Emma’s side, crunching snow underfoot and panting. There were dark smudges on his white suit.
“We have to keep going. The vault is this way.”
Sevarin appeared, holding a panting, exhausted Asher. “What vault?”
“Emmanuel’s vault. It’s underground. We’ll be safe there.”
Emma touched her brother’s arm. “Who is he?”
“You don’t know,” Milo said. “I didn’t tell you.”
“Know what?”
“He’s our uncle. Dad’s older brother.”
Emma’s mouth hung open in disbelief. “Dad’s…brother?”
Ascher scolded them weakly. “Not now, kids. The others are waiting.”
“He’s right. The Berserker’s coming,” Milo said, turning away to lead them through the glowing forest.
“The guy with the hammer?” Gunner said.
“No, idiot,” said Owen. “The guy with the chopsticks!”
Milo looked around. “We need Lily. There’s no way we can outrun him.”
They found the rest of the group in a grove of trees flooded with pale light. When Lily saw Milo, she ran to him and threw her arms around his shoulders.
“I’m so scared,” she said.
“We all are,” Milo said, gently peeling her off. “Lily, I need you to do something.”
“What is it?”
Her eyes shone a radiant green in the Caemyri light. She was holding the staff Milo had given her against her right shoulder.
“I need you to summon your rock golem. A Berserker’s on his way.”
“But your mother,” Lily said, glittering tears forming in her eyes. “She’s—she’s…”
Milo looked away. “Later. Not now. I need you to use your staff and summon Rocky.”
Coral came running over in a panic.
“Ascher’s sick,” she said. “He won’t last much longer. Where should we go?”
Milo motioned with his chin at Emmanuel. “He knows. He’s my uncle, Emmanuel. One of the Champions.”
Coral looked back at the man, who was casting a spell that involved shaping a foggy purple ball around a small blue crystal suspended in the center. The ball grew spikes and began to swirl. His glasses reflected the light from the spell, and Emma could see his face set tight in concentration.
Milo put his hand on Lily’s arm. “The golem. Now.”
BRRSHHT!
The sound of a tree exploding not far away was followed by a terrible pounding, like an elephant being chased through the forest, coming toward them.
Coral screamed and pushed the orphans back into the grove, where a deathly ill-looking Ascher stood leaning against a tree, close to collapsing.
Another bursting sound as a tree was shattered, followed by another, and another.
BRRSHHT! BRRSHHT!
Lily closed her eyes and began charging her staff. Emma gave her brother a questioning look.
Milo answered her, even though she hadn’t spoken. “He’s immune to my elemental spells. And Sevarin isn’t strong enough for a Berserker as old as Basher.”
Sevarin, who had been listening with his arms crossed, glared at Milo. “And how do you know that?”
Milo gave Sevarin a cross look. Emma was surprised to see that her brother was almost as tall as Sevarin now, and it was obvious he was no longer afraid of the Sargonaut.
“You’re not my enemy,” Milo said. He pointed in the direction of the Berserker’s approach. “They are.”
BRRSHHT! BRRSHHT! More trees exploded as Basher’s warhammer shattered them. His footsteps pounded toward them.
Emmanuel, still weaving the spell, shouted, “Hurry it up!”
Lily stepped forward, looking bulky in her winter clothes but still as majestic as the day Emma had first met her. The girl began her strange summoning dance, raising the glowing staff Milo had given her. In the blue-white radiance of the Caemyri trees, she looked like a pop singer in the middle of a dance number. Mist rose up from the snow, encircled her as she began to chant.
“Gods of old and spirits of new, essence of all good and true—come forth and help me subdue, this golem of orange and blue!”
A shimmering ball of light leaped out of the tip of her staff and flew toward her other hand, where it spun against her palm, its color alternating between fiery orange and crystalline blue. The colors blinked all over her body.
BRRSHHT! BRRSHHT!
More shattered trees, the clomping of heavy steps. The Berserker shouted, enraged now. Emma could feel the ground trembling as he pounded toward them.
Lily raised her arms, facing the part of the forest where the Berserker would appear any moment now. The flickering orange and blue sphere was like a star above her head.
“Golem, protect me!”
She slammed the flickering sphere into the snow, where it shattered, tossing orange and blue marbles in every direction. A vibrant humming accompanied the spell, loud despite the sounds of the Berserker and the bursting of trees.
Emmanuel’s voice: “Are you ready, Milo?”
“Ready,” Milo said.
Emma looked back at her brother. He was studying the blue and orange orbs now zipping back toward the center, the elements that would form Lily’s pet golem, Rocky.
A disheartening thought came to mind.
“It won’t work,” Emma said. “Rocky’s too small!”
Lily had come out of her trance. She turned to face Milo.
“She’s right,” Lily said. “He’s only a pup.”
“Not for long,” Milo said. “He’s about to have a growth spurt he’ll never forget. Step aside, please.”
The girls stepped back. Milo looked over at his uncle, who had finished shaping the spiked energy ball. Strands of electricity crackled over its surface like jagged white wires.
Emmanuel tossed it over to Milo, who caught it easily and held it up with one hand.
BRRSHHT! BRRSHHT!
The Berserker was getting closer, bringing with him the darkness of shattered Caemyri trees. The orange and blue lights from Lily’s summoning spell had come together in a brilliant clash. The light died down, leaving in its place a small, muscular golem who rose from his crouch and stared at them.
“Rocky,” Lily said. “Good boy. Look at me.”
The golem, as big as an infant, looked up at its mother.
“Rar rar rar,” it said, lifting its stocky arms.
The Berserker appeared, a silhouette against the glowing trees, a walking tank that pushed aside so much snow it left trenches. His warhammer was a black cross against the glowing background.
“There you are, kiddies.”
His beard was filthy, and there were streaks of blood on his face that looked black in the dim light. His lips opened in a grin of pure, greedy delight. He was looking at Sevarin.
“Now!” Milo said. The spiked ball of energy became brighter in his hand.
He tossed it, and Emma shielded her eyes as the ball slammed into Rocky. But instead of knocking the golem back, it broke apart over his body, showering him with purple light that splashed against his rock skin and seeped into the cracks.
The Berserker watched the display with a look of dumbfounded curiosity. With a growl, he snapped out of his reverie, lifted his warhammer, and pulled it back to strike.
By then, Rocky had grown to the size of a Berserker, with powerful broad shoulders and a chest like a barrel. He shone with blue and orange light—blue where the stones of his tightly packed body were frozen, and orange where they were blazing hot. Steam poured upward from his bulky frame.
The warhammer connected with the golem’s fist.
BAM! A flash of light. The golem, head bowed, arm extended like a boxer’s, slid back a bit from the impact, but was unharmed.
Basher pulled the hammer back and held it against his chest, stunned.
“I’ll be damned,” he said.
“RAAAWWWRR!” came the golem’s ear-shattering reply.
The orphans pulled back from the fight, which had become a boxing match of sorts. Sevarin stood a bit closer, shadowboxing along with the golem’s movements, ignoring Coral’s calls for him to stand back.
BASH! The Berserker’s fist connected with Rocky’s face, turning his stony head.
THUMP! Rocky retaliated with a punch to the Berserker’s stomach that left him reeling. There was another, sharper THUMP as the golem executed a heavy-handed uppercut that sent Basher flipping backward into the snow.
Basher rolled to his right, grabbed the handle of his warhammer, and folded himself into a crouch. He kept his eyes trained on the golem. Rocky stayed back, fists pumping the air, knees bent in a defensive stance.
Basher flipped a handful of snow into Rocky’s face. The snow had little effect on the golem except to delay him for half of a second. But that half second was all Basher needed to swing the warhammer and catch Rocky square on the side of the head. The golem’s thick arms went limp. He fell to his knees, obviously dazed.
“No!” Lily screamed, and Calista had to hold her back.
Emma looked over at her friends and caught sight of Barrel pulling something shiny out of his robe.
“What are you doing?” Emma said.
He was shivering uncontrollably. “S-Sargonauts and Buh-Buh-Berserkers have a w-w-weakness toward Nausika root extract. It b-b-blinds them.” He held up the flask and showed her the tumbling green liquid inside. His hand shook like he was trying to mix it. “Nausika r-r-root is the main inguh-guh-gredient in Manaris Brew.”
“Can you throw it?”
“No.” He held it out to her.
Emma grabbed the flask and shouted, “Oscar!”
Oscar swung around to face her. Emma tossed him the bottle. He caught it easily without blinking, despite not having been warned.
“Throw it at the giant,” she said. “In his eyes!”
Oscar’s tail swished behind him once, and then he was gone. He sprang to the front line, alongside Sevarin, and lobbed the bottle.
Many things happened in the half-second it took for the potion to fly through the air and smash into the Berserker’s face:
The Berserker readied his warhammer like a baseball player at bat.
Oscar danced back into his original spot, while Sevarin pushed Emma and Calista down into the snow. He fell on top of them to shield them.
Lily had fallen to her knees, one arm stretched toward Rocky. Milo rushed to her side, grabbed her, and yanked her back. They sank into the snow, his body over hers.
Everyone was safely out of harm’s way.
Except Barrel.
Broken shards of glass glittered in the light as the bottle burst apart with a green splash. The warhammer,
which had been about to crush Rocky’s head, slipped from the Berserker’s grasp and flew, head over handle, toward the orphans.
Barrel put up his arms, and Emma caught sight of the boy’s fragile, shaking wrists as the sleeves of his cloak slipped down to his elbows.
She wanted to scream, “No!” and “Get down!” She wanted to leap forward and pull Barrel down into the snow, even if it meant risking her own life, so the warhammer would fly over him and land somewhere else—anywhere else.
But it was too late.
The hammer smacked into Barrel, flattening him against the snow. He didn’t have a chance to cry out.
Sevarin reached out and caught the weapon with one hand before it could roll into the group of orphans. Disgusted, he flung it away as easily as if it were a toothpick.
Emma heard a voice shrieking and realized it was her own.
“Barrel, oh God, Barrel!”
The Berserker pawed at his face.
“ARRRRGGGGGH!” he roared, bending over and scooping up handfuls of snow to rinse his eyes.
Rocky pushed himself off the ground, pulled back his left arm, and swung in a glorious uppercut that took the Berserker on the chin and sent him flying several feet up into the air. His head smacked into a branch and snapped it clean off. He fell back to the snow with a dull crunch and didn’t get up.
Emma rushed to Barrel’s side.
“Barrel! Are you okay?”
Lily and Calista followed her. The three girls knelt over Barrel’s limp body. He was so small inside his cloak that it took them a few seconds to uncover him.
When they saw his face, and the damage that had been done to it, they pulled back in horror.
“Bastard!” Emma shouted, tears gushing from her eyes. It was the first time she had ever used that word in anger. “Look what you did,” she sobbed. “Look what you did to him!”
The Caemyri trees darkened the slightest bit, as if in mourning. Emma’s anger fizzled out as a strange gripping sensation took hold of her mind.
A moment later, her hands exploded with light—
EMMA WAS in a dark cavern made of stone, where a lake filled with ink-black water made gurgling sounds by her feet. The only light came from a tiny hole somewhere overhead, a hole that let in a blurry shaft of light. She was deep underground.
Savant & Feral (Digital Boxed Set): Books 1 and 2 of the Epic Luminether Fantasy Series Page 42