Calista reached beneath the chair with the knife and tapped his heel. Artemis broadened the space between his feet so she could slice the rope binding them together.
Artemis seemed to expand as he squared his shoulders and tensed his body, freed now from the binds.
“Nothing,” the larger thug said, whipping his hand around inside the nook. “Must’ve been a mouse or something. I don’t smell one, though.”
The smaller thug sniffed the air.
“I do,” he said.
He spun around and snarled at Calista.
She darted away just in time, turning as she landed on her back to watch the knife slice through the spot she had been occupying a second ago. The man flashed toward her, and his boot swung down, crushing her tail against the concrete. Calista yelped.
Artemis lunged off the chair, his weight slamming on top of her. Saving her. The smaller thug raised another blade he had pulled from his belt and wasted no time in attempting to stab the baker. But Artemis was quicker than he looked. He caught the man’s wrist before the blade could pierce his neck, and a wrestling match ensued. Calista could breathe again as Artemis’s weight was lifted off her body.
The bigger thug had turned around by then, still too shocked to react. His eyes went from the wrestling match to Calista, and then to the severed ropes on the floor. His face twisted into a look of rage for a moment before morphing into a grotesque, toothy, brown-furred mask. With a shriek, the chimpanzee sprang through the air toward Calista.
“Get away!”
She raised her arms to shield against the attack. The creature was inhumanly strong, with a large, flapping mouth, yellow teeth, and a coat of brown hair that smelled like dirt. Calista struggled to breathe as the chimp’s long fingers closed around her throat.
Calista heard another airy, foul-smelling burst as the man wrestling with Artemis phased into an animal shell. Calista tried to identify it, but the chimp hand around her throat was cutting off her blood and air supplies, darkening her vision.
A human face, its beard spattered with blood, rose behind the chimp. Artemis bared his teeth, much like an animal himself. Then the chimp was also rising, its head thrust back by the pressure of pale hands clenched around its throat. The creature tried to claw at the grip, but Artemis spun quickly and launched its furry body against a pile of flour bags. Powder shot everywhere.
Calista could see little through the haze, but what she saw terrified her. Artemis also looked taken aback by the sight in front of him.
A large, yellow creature skulked through the room. It tossed back its head and roared with a shake of its golden mane, disrupting the whiteness in the air. Calista was stunned to find herself staring at a fully matured lion.
Mastering this kind of shell was an incredible feat. Who were these men?
The animal launched itself forward and dug its claws into Artemis’s shoulder, Artemis swinging his face away to protect it.
The two opponents fell to the floor, locked in battle. Calista bit back a shriek as the lion chomped down on Artemis’s raised forearm. She would have sworn the baker would pull away a bloody stump, but he managed to punch the animal with his other hand, freeing himself before much damage could be done.
The chimpanzee—covered in flour and looking like an albino version of itself—got up, shaking its head and coughing. It threw itself in a hunched sprint toward the baker and the lion.
The basement filled with the shrieks of girl and chimp, the growls of lion and baker. Calista scrambled across the floor until her back was against the shelf. The chimp and the lion were now focused on Artemis, and Calista thought this would be a perfect time to run up the stairs and through the cellar door, never once looking back.
She reached for the nearest shelf to pull herself up, and her hand knocked something plastic off the shelf. Calista barely looked at it, though she knew immediately what it was by its smell—and knew immediately what she had to do.
Uncapping the plastic tube with her thumb, Calista’s mind raced. Fresh blood spilled on the concrete. It had to be the baker’s, who was trying unsuccessfully to keep the creatures away with a paint bucket. Sleeves of blood ran down his arms and dripped off his elbows. He was breathing heavily, fading.
Calista’s mind sharpened as before, any inkling of panic falling away. She poured a small pile of pepper into the palm of one hand. Then she calmly approached the fight.
“Over here, you stupid animals!”
The lion gave her an angry look. It opened its mouth to growl at her, but Calista didn’t let it finish. She lifted her palm and blew the pepper into the creature’s eyes. With a roar, the lion flung itself backward. It staggered on two feet like a man who’d been hit in the face.
The chimpanzee seemed not to notice or care about its partner. One of its hands had closed around the dazed baker’s throat. The other rose quickly to punch him in the face, but it held back when Calista appeared at his side.
She fell to her knees.
They were eye to eye now. The chimp’s eyes were small and black, hateful as only those of an enraged animal can be. Its disgusting yellow fangs appeared as its mouth snapped open, its eyes going wild and every muscle cord in its neck tightening in alarm. It moved to sink its fingernails into her face.
Calista dove away before that could happen, one of her hands simultaneously rising. Pepper exploded in a dense cloud from the uncapped tube in her fist.
The chimp shrieked loudly enough to wake up the neighborhood. That sound was the last thing Calista heard before one of the creature’s flailing fists slammed into the side of her head, knocking her to the cold, concrete floor.
Something whistled inside Calista’s skull. Everything else was a dull roar. Her mind swimming, Calista caught human movement as Artemis dashed across the room toward the chimp. He locked his arm around the creature’s neck, then lifted its flour-coated body, causing its jaws to yawn open and then go limp as, with a snap, the baker broke the creature’s neck.
Artemis dropped the chimp and turned to the stunned lion, and Calista swore she saw a smile on the baker’s face.
CHAPTER 5
T he parade in Theus was unlike any Milo had ever seen. Instead of crude floats and mechanized platforms, the street and the space above it were filled with colorful, semi-translucent holograms of warriors and mages flinging spears and spells at each other, many doing so from the backs of levathons. Milo watched a pack of fighters in plate mail engage a one-eyed giant in a loincloth. The monster loomed over the crowd, drawing gasps from adults and delighted screams from children.
“Mighty,” Owen said next to him.
“Gods all mighty,” Gunner agreed.
“Give me a Tiberian sword, and I could take down that son of a…” Sevarin began, but his voice was cut off by a hair-raising growl. The giant had become enraged and tried stepping on the fighters as they bit into him with their swords. Instead of blood, however, the wounds they inflicted drew sparkling, brightly colored confetti that floated in every direction until the entire hologram dissolved and all that remained was the confetti forming words and phrases in the air.
10,000 YEARS A CITY
THE BIRTHPLACE OF A HERO NATION
THEUSIAN PRIDE!
Led by Emmanuel, the orphans stepped off the beach and onto a wooden dock. At the other end, a group of wardens awaited them. They wore blue-and-yellow, insignia-covered sashes over suits of padded, silvery armor and helms with glass visors that covered the top halves of their faces. Only their jaws, mostly square and grim, were visible as they watched the orphans approach.
“We’re not in trouble, right?” Sevarin said.
“You’re not,” Emma said, “but wait a while.”
Owen and Gunner chuckled at that. Sevarin smirked at Emma.
“Come along now,” Emmanuel said.
He adjusted the collar of his long, gray jacket and made his way along the dock toward the shore. Milo took Lily’s hand and led her along.
“Com
e on, and stay with me, okay?” he said.
She squeezed his hand. “You bet.”
One of the wardens stepped forward and saluted Emmanuel. “Light guide your step,” he said, and Emmanuel said the same. They spoke in low voices, and Emmanuel pointed across the ocean as if describing the way they had come.
They traded soldierly nods and parted ways. Emmanuel motioned for Milo and the other orphans to follow him up a broad, stone stairway set into the sand with huge rocks at its base. The stairs took them up to the avenue, where all through the inner streets, the parade was in full swing.
The cheering lifted Milo’s spirits. Lily’s hand, clasped in his own, was like an anchor; it kept him from sailing toward the waves of confetti rippling across the sky.
“Ten thousand years,” he said.
“I know,” Lily said. “I can’t believe this city is that old.”
“It doesn’t look like it.” He studied the tall, angular towers. The older buildings, he knew, were located farther back, built during a time when constant warfare made it necessary to keep the city at a distance from tsunamis summoned by battlemages.
“I wish Mom and Dad could see this,” Emma said.
Milo gave her a hopeful smile. “They can, and they do.”
“You really believe that?”
“Why not? Anything seems possible here.”
“Where’s the food at?” Sevarin broke in, smacking Milo’s shoulder. “Am I the only one who could eat a whole cow right now?”
Owen cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted, “Hey,” to one of the wardens, who frowned at him. “Are there food carts around here?”
The man pointed at the crowd and said something, but the cheers drowned his voice.
Barrel pulled a glass tube out of his cloak. The liquid inside was a deep brown, almost black.
“What’s that,” Milo asked, “a hunger-alleviation serum?”
Barrel shook his head. “Just coffee. I added a little something to keep it warm.” With a quick shake, he popped off the cork, releasing a wisp of steam, and took careful sips as they walked.
A carriage passed overhead, pulled by a string of levathons. Milo hadn’t seen a levathon in months. Still haunted by the sight of Iolus holding up Vastanon’s severed head, he was glad to find these creatures healthy and groomed, even dressed in capes bearing impressive designs and colors. The levathon was the national symbol of Ayrtoros and was even on the country’s flag. He watched the carriage sail into a wide street and disappear around a building.
“Beautiful,” he heard Emma say.
Flanked by a dozen wardens, the orphans followed Emmanuel along the busy avenue. Lily had left Milo’s side to chat with Emma. Sevarin took her place.
“Hey,” he said, keeping his voice down. “What do you make of this?”
“Of what?” Milo said.
Sevarin jerked his head to indicate one of the wardens. “Those guys. Do we really need ‘em? They’re watching us a little too close for comfort, in my opinion.”
“You think they’re spying on us?”
He shrugged. “Well, there’s nothing dangerous here, right? Aren’t we famous in this city? The cream of the crop?”
Milo thought for a moment. “Maybe they’re here as guides. Or they’re keeping us safe from crazies. Not everyone likes us, you know.”
Sevarin’s face was grim, his shoulders tense. “I don’t like it. They’re carrying beamcasters.”
“Really?” Milo studied the nearest warden. How had he missed that?
“Right thighs,” Sevarin whispered. “You see ‘em?
He was right. On each warden’s right thigh, held in place by magnetism, was a laser rifle the color of polished zinc. Called “casters” for short, only the warden who owned the weapon could detach it, making it almost impossible to steal once harnessed.
Milo had read about them in the library back at the vault. Fueled by luminether cellpacks, they fired energy beams that could stun an enemy or burn a hole straight through his chest.
“They’re city guards,” Milo said. “Of course they carry weapons. And with the whole parade going on…”
“Still, though, I don’t trust them.”
Milo scoffed. “You’re Sevarin. Since when do you trust any authority?”
They came to a store occupying the bottom of a four-story building. The smell of baked bread and pastries wafted out of the front door as a woman swaddled in bright linens stepped from the shop leading a small boy by the hand. The boy was chomping into a pastry covered in a sugary shell dotted with sprinkles.
“There we go,” Owen said, licking his lips. “That’s what I’m talking about.”
Emmanuel had them wait outside as two wardens entered the bakery to buy snacks. This confused Milo. Why couldn’t the orphans do their own shopping? The wardens really were keeping them on a tight leash.
They came out with paper bags covered in oil spots. The smell of sugary pastries wafted over the orphans’ faces, and they greedily ate what they were handed, which was more than enough to fill their bellies.
“Want to see the parade?” Emmanuel asked the group.
Buzzed from all the sugar, Milo and his friends beamed at him. The wardens disposed of the trash in tubular receptacles that slid out of the ground and sucked the trash into the city’s underground waste disposal system.
“Look,” Gunner said when they arrived, standing on his toes to get a better view over the crowd. “Academy students. You can tell.”
Milo followed his gaze. Across the street, three boys about Milo’s age stood at the forefront of the crowded sidewalk. They wore the close-cropped hair of male cadets (girls wore theirs in tight buns) and white uniforms with red sashes draped across their chests, each decorated with badges representing their academy accomplishments.
Despite the festive atmosphere, each cadet wore a stern, militaristic expression that matched their buttoned-up outfits. The one in the middle looked the grimmest. He was shorter than the others but broader of shoulder. His face was pale and freckled, and his flaming orange hair had been shaved into a dense mat on the top, then faded to almost nothing on the sides, giving his head a square look. He studied the crowd with the same displeasure of a drill sergeant checking a line of unkempt soldiers.
When his gaze fixed on Milo, his eyes narrowed ever so slightly, as if he recognized him and suspected him of being up to no good. Not looking away, he nudged one of his buddies and thrust his chin in Milo’s direction.
Milo tensed. “Who are they?”
“Just students, I guess,” Gunner said.
“They’re looking at us funny,” Owen said. “Sevarin, go show them who’s boss.”
“Can anyone read lips?” Sevarin asked. “They’re talking about us.”
“Now all three of them are looking at us,” Gunner said. “You think they know who we are? The heroes of the Battle of the Ranch?”
Butterflies rose in Milo’s chest. “Guys, we can’t pick a fight on our first day here.”
The cadet with the orange hair said something that made his buddies laugh. It seemed one particular orphan had occupied their attention.
“Milo, they’re giving you the dirty eye,” Sevarin whispered into his ear, challenging him.
The butterflies froze solid and dropped. Now, Milo felt sick to his stomach with dread.
“Not me,” he said, glancing to his right, where Emma was engaged in conversation with Barrel and Oscar. “They’re looking at Emma.”
They weren’t just looking, but leering at her like hungry wolves. Emma had no idea this was happening; she stood with her golden wings tightly pressed together behind her back, as if to make them less visible. And yet they stood out like gold coins in a mud pit compared to the other Acolyte wings. Some were dyed assorted colors—blue, red, green, orange, even rainbow-colored, but not a single pair was golden. Except Emma’s.
“He’s coming over,” Owen said.
Sevarin lightly smacked Milo’s shoulder. �
��Here we go.”
The orange-haired cadet had broken away from the crowd and was making his way across the street. He maneuvered around a passing carriage full of girls in flamboyant dresses tossing flower petals. His academy buddies realized what was happening and followed with anticipatory smiles.
Milo’s arms went tight with the urge to cast a fireball spell. Already, he could feel the dreamy tingle coursing along his skin.
“Hey, you,” the orange-haired student shouted, thrusting his finger at Emma. “Goldenwings!”
Emma halted mid-sentence and searched for the source of the nickname. Oscar, Barrel, and Lily paused whatever debate they had been having and followed her gaze.
Milo’s arm tingled. He couldn’t give in to the urge. Not here…
“Goldenwings! I’m talkin’ to you!”
The cadet had stopped at the sidewalk’s edge, now flanked by his two friends. Milo went to stand between him and Emma. Gunner grabbed his arm and pulled him back.
“Get a grip,” he said, eyes alight with fear as he looked down at Milo’s hands.
Milo hadn’t even noticed the spell he’d cast. Ghostly yellow flames engulfed his hands, a mere quarter of the intensity he was capable of summoning, but still enough to be threatening. They made scorch marks against his pants before he extinguished them, embarrassed. The crowd was too thick for anyone to have noticed, except for a small boy who had been licking a popsicle and now stood gazing up at Milo, wide-eyed.
“Mighty,” the boy said with a grin. He turned and slipped away into the crowd.
“Don’t do anything dumb, all right?” Gunner said to Milo, who only nodded once, keeping his eyes on the cadets.
“Goldenwings, talk to me!”
“What do you want?” Emma said.
Lily held her staff down by her side, the crystal brightening. She shot Milo a questioning glance. Milo shook his head.
“Name’s Garig,” the cadet replied, “and you’re not from around these parts. You got a name?”
“Yes, I do,” Emma said. She turned away, as if to resume the conversation the cadet had so rudely interrupted.
Savant & Feral (Digital Boxed Set): Books 1 and 2 of the Epic Luminether Fantasy Series Page 49