She felt like she was standing at a cliff's edge as the wind whipped around her, staring at her own death. You made me what I am. You know I can't leave him! she screamed. You know I can't watch them do this. You made me!
Cobblestones flashed beneath her; when she reached the mob, she would die. It wasn't too late to stop.
Are You even worth it? she demanded. A God that orders murder? A God that laughs as He burns innocents? Who are You? I thought I knew You!
Fifty paces. Forty. She could still turn back. She could still leave Marlin to die. She owed him nothing, after all.
And when she turned away, who would she be?
Suddenly her rage fled. She was naked and weeping, and all was silence.
If You love Your daughter, she pled, keep her safe now.
Ten paces. It was too late to turn away. She had dropped over the cliff, begging her Father to catch her.
He didn't.
He gave her wings of flame.
v. Helix
Lyseira hurtled toward the mob, her hair a banner flying behind her. Helix wanted to speak, to scream, but his throat was closed. The world went still as he waited to watch her die.
Like a tree stump split by an axe, the mob parted. She shot through the gap without slowing.
"Lyseira!" Seth screamed. He vaulted off his horse, sprinting after her.
"What in Hel!" Harth roared.
Helix pointed, dumbly. "Lyseira..."
"Come!" Without waiting, Harth kicked into a gallop toward the inn.
Sick with terror, Helix followed.
vi. Lyseira
Her blood burned. Her heart sang. The people in the mob dove away as if she were a lightning strike.
She finally burst into the shallow space around the pyre, and her horse shied from the fire, whinnying. The priest she'd seen earlier stood twenty paces away, his face painted with shock. Even his Preserver looked surprised.
God had sent her for Marlin. She ignored them.
When she started for the pyre, the priest bellowed at her, pointing. The crowd didn't move; they were riveted. But the Preserver charged her.
She turned to him and prayed for Binding. The answering fire in her veins made her want to roar. He staggered. She started to turn away, certain he would fall.
Then he caught his feet and came on.
Impossible. Akir was with her. How—? Why...?
The Preserver leapt and spun, his kick flashing toward her neck like a scorpion's stinger.
Seth hurtled into him, slamming him to the ground.
Seth, she heard herself saying. Her tongue was fire in her mouth.
"Go!" Seth grunted, trying to hold his opponent down. The Preserver back-handed him, hurling him away, and snapped to his feet. "Go!" Seth shouted again, scrambling to block him.
Lyseira ran for the pyre, and Marlin's screams. The fire was livid and hungry; anyone sane would shy from its glare.
But she would not waste His gift. She embraced the flames, and they engulfed her.
vii. Angbar
They had made it out of the inn, just ahead of the tide of rioters, and crept into the alley to wait. The roar of the mob had grown ever more horrific, until the wash of firelight had come, and the screams had started.
Now Syntal was on the ground, her head in her hands, rocking. He wanted to hold her, to console her, but his own horror paralyzed him.
"Syn!"
Angbar jumped at the sound, his heart quivering like a rabbit. Harth and Helix were galloping toward them, two extra horses in tow.
Oh, thank God, he thought.
"Helix!" Syntal jumped to her feet. "We didn't know if—"
"Get on," Harth demanded. "We're going."
"Where's Lyseira?" Iggy said. "And Seth?"
"They went to help Marlin," Helix said.
Angbar's mind went white. "They... what?"
"They're dead," Harth snapped. "Come on!"
Iggy glanced at the pyre, then back to Harth, his jaw slack. "They're... in that?"
Syntal ran to the mouth of the alley, her eyes wide. Lyseira flickered inside the pyre's flames like a wraith: majestic and terrible.
"Blesséd sehk," Angbar breathed.
"We can't just leave them—" Iggy started, and Harth's face flushed with rage.
"Get on the sehking horse!" he hissed.
Iggy jerked, then glared. "Sehk on you!" he snapped.
There were two Preservers near the pyre, sparring. One of them was Seth. Father Calfon, the priest who'd incited the mob, advanced on them.
I don't know how they got in there, Angbar thought, but there's no way they're getting out.
Harth had lost patience. "Stay if you want. I'm leaving. Our window is closing fast, and I'm not dying for this." He wheeled his horse toward the far end of the alley—
—and drew up as a cluster of clerics and Justicars cantered in.
He spat a curse and spun back toward the square. At the mouth of the alley, Syntal was chanting. Father Calfon spilled to the ground.
When Syntal turned, her eyes were more real than the fire.
"No," Harth breathed. "Oh, God—"
"Syn!" Angbar called. "Your eyes—!"
From behind them, a Justicar roared. "Witch!
"There's another witch!"
viii. Lyseira
The heat billowed over her face; the flames licked at her hair. She was walking unharmed in a dragon's throat.
She picked her way across the shifting wooden boards until Marlin hung before her, shrieking, sizzling like a pig on a spit.
He was melting.
His bonds flaked to ash as she sawed them open. He collapsed, tumbling down the pyre: a piece of roasting meat. She chased him and dragged him roughshod out of the fire, then started beating the flames out with her cloak.
The crowd was still holding back. Something—Awe? Fear? God? —held them. And the priest had fallen; she didn't know how.
But his Preserver was still trying to get past Seth. He wheeled toward him in a series of spinning kicks. Seth ducked the first two, then blocked the third with his forearm and pushed, staggering his enemy. He pressed the advantage immediately, dancing forward to take the fight away from her.
She tore her cloak away. Marlin had stopped burning, but his skin crackled and smoked. His body was a ruin. The smell was nauseous.
But he was still breathing. She leaned over him and called on her God.
Night became day; the stars burst into suns. Marlin was nearly gone—nearly—but there was a sliver left, a spark of life. She seized it and stoked it, refusing its death by infusing it with holy fire.
His blackened skin sloughed away. His breathing evened. Pink and raw, he opened his eyes.
She sagged backwards, her head spinning with heat and brilliance. Marlin said something she couldn't understand. Her ears were ringing.
The Preserver was still coming.
He darted sideways, sliding like a snake. Seth spun in to intercept the attack, landing a solid blow to the shin. But when he moved to follow up the strike, the Preserver flipped extravagantly backward. He launched himself easily ten feet up and back, his robe snapping behind him as he twisted in the air.
He landed clutching a wicked barbed chain. Its full length clattered to the stones behind him.
Through the clamoring stars in her vision, Lyseira saw Seth glance left and right, his eyes dancing with panic.
The Preserver swung the chain. It whipped around once, twice—then leapt, snapping like a viper.
Seth dove beneath it, rolling forward. As he came up, he drove his fist into the Preserver's gut. The man hurtled backward, bowling into the gawking crowd.
The chain skittered across the cobblestones.
Seth ran back to Lyseira. "Go!" he roared, pointing at the horse.
"You take the horse!" Lyseira said. "Take Marlin and—"
Seth lifted her into the saddle, an argument she could not rebut. "I'll catch up. Get on," he ordered Marlin.
T
he Preserver scrambled from the mob, his eyes blazing. As Marlin climbed onto the horse's back, Lyseira prayed again for Binding. Her enemy stumbled once and shook his head.
Then he kicked into the air, hurtling toward them like a falling star.
Seth slapped the horse's rump, sending it into a panicked gallop.
"Seth!" Lyseira screamed. She craned her head back to see her brother launch upward and smash into the Preserver. They spun in the air as they bore down, clutching each other like dancers.
Then they crashed into the churning mob and were gone.
ix. Angbar
The three Justicars charged.
Iggy drew his bow, smoothly nocking an arrow. Helix leapt down and pulled his sword, scrambling in front of his cousin. Syntal stumbled backward, eyes wide.
And Angbar froze. His friends' reactions played out like a conversation overheard in the next room: vaguely interesting, but ultimately irrelevant. With brutal certainty, he realized he was going to die.
The first knight smashed into Harth, shoving his mount against the wall and nearly spilling him from his saddle. The second flinched as one of Ignatius's shafts ricocheted off his helm. Helix gutted his mount with a lucky swing, and he tumbled to the stone.
The third came for Angbar.
He charged across the cobblestones, a vision of flying death. The wings on his helmet splayed out like a bird of prey swooping down for the kill.
This is what Matthew saw when he died.
Then a flash of light caught him in the shoulder. He snapped sideways, yanking his horse off balance. With a shared scream, they both collapsed.
Harth was locked in a clumsy grapple with the knight that had pinned him to the wall. Iggy aimed his bow at them, flinched, and switched targets to the clerics at the far end of the alley. The shots went wide.
Syntal chanted again, and the priests he'd shot at pitched from their horses like sacks of wheat.
Harth shoved his attacker away. The Justicar clutched at a dagger sticking from his neck. His horse reared, its eyes rolling.
The last Justicar, near Helix, was pinned beneath his animal. Helix stumbled away from him and clambered back to his horse. "Syn!" He circled in front of her and pulled her into the saddle. "The south gate!"
"No!" Harth wheezed. He was holding his side; blood seeped from his fingers. "The plan's changed. I'm not bringing this sehk to Jacob." He winced. "Angbar, with me."
Angbar had lived. Somehow, they had survived an attack by three priests and three Justicars. It had happened too fast. Was it really over?
He climbed up, behind Harth. They tore down the alley. Angbar glanced back to make sure the others were coming.
Behind them, bathed in bloody torchlight, Calfon's mob spilled into the alley. They saw us, he thought numbly. They were waving torches or weapons; some threw stones.
Thank God for the horses. As the mob fell behind, Angbar turned forward again.
They slanted west, onto a broad street. People dove out of their way.
They were in a canyon carved of buildings, towering on either side. Alleys gaped like mouths, echoing with bloodlust: the splintering cries of bugles, shouts of "This way!" or "The west gate!" An instant of relief seized him every time they passed one, but another gap always loomed ahead. The next one leered with torchlight—more than any of the others.
Look out! he tried to scream, but the words froze in his mouth.
Harth had seen it. He screamed something incoherent and leaned forward, pushing them faster. Angbar should've done the same. Instead he twisted to gaze into the alley.
As it flashed past he saw a still portrait of a horse bearing Lyseira and Marlin, galloping their direction. A trio of riders in pursuit, with torches. Behind them, three archers. And two arrow shafts, one of which shattered the illusion of a picture as it tore the hairs from his head.
He yelped and ducked, far too late to save his life if the arrow had been a degree to the right. "Lyseira!" he shouted to Harth. "In the alley! They're chasing her!" If Harth heard, he gave no sign.
Angbar glanced back to see Lyseira and Marlin burst into the street, falling in with the others. The torchlight from the alley behind them grew until the three riders exploded from it, banking to keep up the chase.
He was powerless. He had no weapon, and couldn't aim it if he had. Harth will lose them before we reach the gate. He has to.
Turning forward again, that hope died. The west gate loomed. The portcullis was closed. Ten soldiers blocked it.
"Halt!" one screamed, hefting his weapon.
"Witch!" Harth shrieked. "Behind us! Help! God, help!"
Angbar's stomach dropped. "What? What are you doing?"
"What do you think?" Harth snapped. They shot past the soldier who had shouted the warning, and the other guards closed to protect them.
x. Helix
Harth disappeared behind a wall of guards, and Helix sucked air as if he'd been kicked in the gut. Traitor! he screamed in his head. You sehking—!
A hail of arrows rained from the battlements. He just had time to see Iggy, ahead of him, go down before his own horse tumbled forward, snapping its leg. His face smashed into the frozen cobblestones; a knife of pain flared in his jaw.
He dragged himself clear of his animal and staggered to his feet. Half of the soldiers at the gate swarmed forward, three falling on Iggy before he could gain his feet, the other two rushing at Helix. Syntal snapped a chant, and a bolt of light hurled one of them back, cracking his skull against the wall. The other soldier fell back, eyes wide, just before she treated him to the same.
Iggy thrashed beneath the swarm of soldiers. Helix exploded into them, his weapon flailing. One of them fell back, clutching at his chest. The other two retreated a step, and Helix caught a glimpse of the bloodied mess that had, a moment ago, been his friend. Then an arrow tore into his thigh, dropping him to his knees, and a second speared his shoulder. Behind him, Syntal screamed.
The shots had come from the gate, not the battlements. Three of the five soldiers still guarding the portcullis had drawn shortbows.
"Syn!" Helix called. "At the gate! Archers!"
They were nocking new arrows. Taking aim. The gate was just behind them. So close, Helix thought.
Then Harth grabbed an archer from behind and locked an arm around his neck: his victim jerked and pitched forward, coughing blood. Angbar tackled one of the others and they toppled into the last, making his shot go wide.
"Syn!" Helix shouted again. He cast about and saw her. One side of her face was a sheet of blood. An arrow jutted from her ribcage, another from her chest. She spat a spell and staggered once, then collapsed.
Three of the remaining four guards at the gate crumpled. The last was scrabbling with Angbar. Harth knelt, grabbed his hair, and expertly cut his throat. Angbar scrambled backward, his face covered in blood. Harth disappeared into the gatehouse.
A moment later, the portcullis began a ponderous climb upwards.
A second flurry of arrows lashed from the battlements. Helix staggered for the gate, trying to reach cover, but something struck his head. The street lurched sideways. Angbar caught him before he fell.
"Stay here!" his friend shouted, and Helix stumbled against the wall. Behind a crimson curtain, the world spun and caught, spun and caught. He closed his eyes to escape it, but even the darkness whirled. His leg felt too thick, crammed with pain; his shoulder sparked with agony whenever it moved. He heard screaming horses and the whistling of arrows.
I need... to do something. Syntal was out there. Iggy and Lyseira. They needed him.
He opened his eyes and saw Iggy crawling toward the gate, leaving a smear of blood across the stones. He wanted to help him.
The darkness grabbed him, pulling him into a black spiral. The world retreated, and he fell... until fire caught him, and warmth flooded his limbs.
Lyseira was before him, a smear on a window pane. His eyes wouldn't focus on her.
"Can you stand?" she said, from a
million miles above.
He could. She turned away, and slowly, images crystallized around him: Lyseira praying over Iggy, Harth cutting some of the soldiers' horses loose, Angbar helping Syntal mount up.
Harth gestured at the portcullis, which was just high enough to ride under. "There are still archers on the walls," he said. "I blocked the door. It should hold them up there, but they'll fire at us. We've no choice. We have to get out of here."
The door blocking the archers gave a sudden jerk; the tip of an axhead peeked through the wood. On the street, a host of new riders careered toward them.
Beyond the wall, a long, snow-shrouded road stretched into the dark.
"This will never work," Harth muttered, and kicked his mount into a mad charge through the gate.
Chapter 16
Before the Storm
i. Syntal
When Uncle Kevric had told her that her parents were gone, a pit had opened in her belly. It was black and bottomless. There was nothing inside, forever.
But she had tiptoed around it. All summer she'd been waiting for her parents to take her home. She had turned her back on the pit, and kept on waiting.
At the funeral, the pit had widened. She'd nearly fallen. But they'd only buried one body, and it was unrecognizable. The ceremony had felt like a rehearsal.
She hadn't cried. There was no need.
Any day now they'd find out it was a mistake, that the wagon lost in the flood hadn't been her parents'. Any day, Uncle Kevric would get word from Dad, asking him to bring Syntal home. Any day, she would hear a knock at the door and find them standing there, beaming and open-armed. Dad would say, "There's my girl!" and Mom would crush her in a hug and marvel at how much she'd grown.
But every night she fell asleep in the Smith's house, that hole gaped a little wider. Every morning she woke alone, it turned a little blacker. She was still balancing, but it was hard, and when Seth stole her book in the cave—the book she had found, that she had been trying to pull out—her footing slipped.
He had pushed her in.
She clawed for the lake surface as the darkness pressed in. It was everywhere. It was unrelenting. When her breath ran out it would suffocate her.
Rage pounded in her constricted lungs; grief burned behind her eyes. The sun stretched down, its arms shimmering in the lake's depths, and she reached for it like a sinner for deliverance.
Children of a Broken Sky (Redemption Chronicle Book 1) Page 28