All this made sense, and yet none of it was understandable. Honroth could not fathom living stones or rocks that were sensitive and aware of magic. Yet here he laid in the middle of a castle on a bed entirely made of magic.
How he wished to see the sky, see the fighting, and his men—to offer them encouragement and to fight alongside them. Pain shot through him—or was it sorrow? Honroth made his hands into fists and labored for breath.
Caleth conjured a chair and sat beside the dying king. Closing his eyes, he ventured into the realm of magic and sought out their allies in the field—especially Heldon.
27
Verddra had not magicked the both of them too far from Honroth, so when the castle suddenly appeared, Heldon and Verddra paused, taken by surprise. The fortress continued to grow. Walls rose out of the ground around them, towers grew, and black stone floors cut across the grass.
Due to being raised in Athorim, Verddra knew the exact origin of this castle. She snapped out of her awestruck spell and struck out at Heldon with a fiery orb.
Heldon stepped back to find sure footing and braced himself as he lifted his handblade to block the orb. Instead of cutting around or bouncing off the sword, the orb was absorbed into the black blade, and the metal lit with magic. Heldon looked at the sword now fused with magic then looked at Verddra. Sneering, he charged at her, twisted, then used the momentum to whip the handblade through the air. An arch of fiery blue flew out of the sword straight at Verddra, blasting her back, but she spread out her arms and used magic to slow herself and regain her balance.
All around them and under their feet a tower grew, disorienting them. They moved, circling each other, to avoid the stone tile growing beneath their shoes. Higher and higher the tower rose until the cold wind whipped around them while smoke and cries ascended from the battlefield far below.
“Go back to your brother now, Heldon.” Verddra’s voice yanked his attention back to the sorceress, and he noticed how she did not carry herself as if taunting him with what she had done but rather stood confident and unconcerned of the outcome. “If you fight me now, I will be forced to kill you, and your death here and now will be meaningless.”
“As if Honroth’s death is any different?” Distorting his face in confusion and anger, he lifted his blade once more and yelled as he swung it at Verddra.
She conjured a sword and blocked his attacks, but he kept coming. Again and again, high, low, left, right, parry, riposte, strike, block, he fought and he fought, and their blades were a blur. Their footsteps moved across the floor as the tower grew taller and taller.
Finally, the growth of the tower stopped, rocking Heldon and Verddra on their feet by the sudden lack of movement, but they balanced themselves with crossed blades. Heldon scowled at her, but Verddra remained unaffected.
In a swirl of wind, she magicked a few paces away from Heldon and smiled a little when he stumbled because there was no more pressure on his sword. Nonetheless, he caught himself and sank into a fighting stance, and Verddra shook her head as she circled him. Her smile faded. “Honroth is different. Though he is a king, he is but a pawn in the grander scale of things.”
“My brother is no pawn!”
Verddra tilted her head then tsked her tongue. “That is what they all say, but you...you have potential.” She nodded. “You simply haven’t realized it yet. I could show you...” With a gesture, she opened a screen in the air, but it was blank as she regarded Heldon—ready to show him the future. “But only if you want.”
Snarling, Heldon dove for the screen and sliced through it with his handblades. “I have no need to see! You killed my brother.”
“Oh, for all the stars above,” Verddra rolled her eyes. “He is not yet dead.”
Heldon hesitated then recalled how Honroth had still been alive when Verddra had whisked him away from his injured brother. Still, he stood his ground. “Then go back to him—heal him!”
“I cannot...” She paused then reconsidered her words and shook her head. “Actually, I will not. You do not understand the consequences of what you ask.”
“And you do not understand the consequences of what will happen if you do not heal my brother!” He charged at her again.
Sighing, she sidestepped him then blasted him away, but he tucked in his knees then rolled to his feet straight into a low fighting stance.
He came at her again.
On the battlefield, Vixen charged through the fight. She had to get to Ardenn—tell her that her mother was all right—then find Lorrek in this mess and somehow restore his memories so he would go to Honroth and heal him; she briefly wondered if Zoyra’s unlocking ability could be applied to the human mind, but she ignored this and kept running—dodging arrows, swords, spears, magical orbs, plasma blasts, and gunshots.
One of Roskelem’s men charged at her with his sword drawn back over his head, but she twisted—unsheathing four blades from her vest—and flung the knives at him as she completed the turn. She kept running—jumping over fallen bodies, eluding hand-to-hand combats with the Guardians and the rebel Guardians, and ducking under the clashing swords of enemies.
The contacts the scientists had put into her eyes identified each individual and their affiliation. Ignoring the green outlines indicating the Guardians, as well as the blue of those of Serhon, purple for Verddra’s people, and the yellow of Cuskelom, she noted the red for the rebel Guardians and orange for the Hunters.
One Hunter caught her attention. She shifted directions and came up behind a Serhian to disarm the man quickly.
“Vix!” Kilroth pulled back from almost striking her with his staff after she finished off the man he had been fighting.
Vixen nodded to him. “Tobias is dead. Aden and Lyston are back in Jechorm. Don’t expect them for backup.” She then saw Drathan coming up behind Kilroth, and she jutted her chin in his direction. “Behind you.”
Leaving the brothers to fight, not concerned about them killing each other because she knew neither one had the heart for that, Vixen took off back through the field in search of Haiken or Lorrek—whichever came first.
A black armored Guardian with a green hue around it came charging at Vixen, but she didn’t change directions. Reaching behind her back, she unsheathed the bladed-knuckles and ran straight toward him, but to her surprise, he sidestepped her and used a simple maneuver to throw her to the ground.
She landed hard on her back, blinked for a moment, confused by what had just happened. Once she became aware of her situation, she moved to leap back to her feet, armed and ready to spring on him.
“Vixen!” The Guardian snapped to get her attention. “It’s me—Theran.” He reached up and yanked his helmet off.
“Theran?” Vixen widened her eyes. “What—” She wanted to know what he was doing here and why he was wearing the armor, but they were in the middle of a battle. She frowned and lifted her hand up to him for him to help her to her feet, but he shook his head and pulled back.
“If I touch you, I will break your hand. That is the magical power of this armor.”
“The what...?” Before she could finish her question, she saw a man charging up behind Theran with his battle axe raised over his head. Very quickly, Vixen snatched two blades off her vest, and flung them at the man, striking him in the chest, causing him to sink to the ground, dead.
Theran looked back at the fallen man then turned to express his thanks to Vixen when he saw one of Verddra’s men tackle the assassin from behind. He sidestepped so as not to catch and accidentally hurt Vixen, and once she and Verddra’s soldier hit the ground and began to struggle, Theran grabbed the man by shoulder and heard a loud snap and pop as the shoulder bones broke. Howling, the man flung himself off Vixen.
Theran moved forward and snatched the man up by the throat, breaking his neck.
On the ground once more, Vixen stared wide-eyed at Theran’s display of power, and it disturbed her. When he glanced down at her as if to help her up, she scrambled back out of his reach then c
limbed to her feet on her own. She wanted to warn Theran against using his power too freely, but they were in the middle of a battle with threats coming at them from all sides.
Remembering she still had to find Ardenn in all this mess, she yanked out her two blades from the man she had killed for Theran and nodded to the prince. “I need to go.”
“Wait, Vix.” She turned back to him with a puzzled look, and he motioned to the strange black castle now on the hill. “What happened there?”
Vixen cast her gaze to the castle—a strange sight on the horizon. She had been too busy with fighting to notice it, but she knew it hadn’t been there a moment ago. What had been there was... “Honroth.” She snapped her eyes back to Theran. “He’s terribly wounded! Go to him, Theran. He’s dying. Go to him now!”
Theran widened his eyes when he heard this, but he nodded and put his helmet on. Nothing would stand between him and his brother. He took off running toward the castle.
Vixen watched him go—before two separate shouts caught her attention. Realizing the two warriors were coming at her from different directions, Vixen balanced her blades in her hands then threw one at the man in front of her, hitting him in the throat, and then twisted and threw her other blade at the man who came behind her, striking him near his collarbone.
Without waiting to make sure they were dead or for any others to attack her, Vixen spun on her heel and took off running. Her eyes zeroed in on the cluster of red outlines in the battlefield—the rebel Guardians. She ran straight for them.
Haiken and the others found a rocky position on the hill and held their station there. Anita, Ardenn, and Jarovit watched for attacks coming from above the hill while Haiken, Zoyra, and Priam guarded against Guardians and Hunters. He knew the Senate preferred more action in the Guardian Games, but with so many against them they agreed to a defensive position until the tide had turned in their favor.
“Another Hunter!” Zoyra’s shout yanked Haiken out of his thoughts, and he saw a Hunter racing up the hill with agility. He could tell by the grace in her steps that this assassin was female.
Priam lifted his hand ready to make a fist, but he looked at Haiken. “Want me to blind her?”
“No—no, not yet.” Haiken shook his head, looking closer. This Hunter was familiar, and he narrowed his eyes trying to figure out why. Then he saw her throw a knife at someone charging at her, and he sat back with a sigh of relief. “That’s Vixen.” He signaled for them to stand down but then noticed a soldier racing up behind her then paused to take aim at her with his bow, yet she didn’t notice him because she was too busy climbing over the rocks.
Frowning, Haiken stepped out of the safety of the rocks as soon as the soldier released his arrow. He stretched his hand out and constructed an invisible shield between Vixen and the arrow then watched the arrow burn up on contact with his shield.
Vixen, who had noticed what was happening, looked up at him with gratitude and climbed up the rest of the way. “Ardenn?”
Haiken motioned back behind them. “Up there with Anita.”
Nodding her thanks, Vixen moved to pass him but then paused and looked at the three rebel Guardians before her. “There’s another Guardian down there you shouldn’t harm—Theran. He is prince of Cuskelom. He is a wearing black Guardian armor. Keep an eye out for him.” With that, she brushed past Haiken to go to Ardenn.
He watched her go but decided against asking how a prince of Cuskelom had gotten a Guardian suit. In all this chaos Vixen wouldn’t know the answer to that, but Haiken glimpsed at his fellow Guardians, and they all gave him a solemn nod. This could not be good.
Climbing up the rest of the way, Vixen called out to Ardenn and finally came to her side, and the girl rambled, hysterical.
“Vixen! Mom—she was taken. They took her! Is she safe? Is she all right? They stuck me in this armor, and they’re saying I’m not human, and I—”
“It’s all right. It’s all right.” Vixen grabbed her by the arms and gave her a firm look—only to see her own reflection in the visor of Ardenn’s helmet. Not letting herself be disoriented by this, she pressed on. “Calm down. Your mother is safe. I freed her myself, but she’s back in Jechorm. She is going to—” She was cut off when Jarovit jabbed her in the rib cage. Enraged, she shot the Guardian a glare, but Jarovit merely shrugged.
He pointed to the drones in the sky. “They’re filming everything and can hear everything, so I wouldn’t say anything important if I were you.” With that, he mounted his gun on his shoulder and blasted at one of the drones, sending them scurrying around only to reform at a greater height, which caused Jarovit to grunt.
In the news station of Jechorm, the reporter Galvin exclaimed when he saw Jarovit shoot at the drone, and then he laughed and slapped the desk. “Wow—shooting at the filming drones. This is certainly more entertaining than the regular Guardian Games, don’t you think, Meka? I don’t think we’ve ever had a rebel Guardian try to shoot the drones.”
Meka watched the footage off-screen then pressed her lips together and shook her head. “Well, if you recall, the traditional Guardian Games never took place in such a massive arena with so many competitors. In the normal arena, they have an obvious audience seated around the arena, and they never notice the drones because they’re too busy fighting other Guardians.”
“And the fact that these rebels have actually banded together is unusual.” At Galvin’s gesture, images of the different rebel Guardians appeared on the screen. “Haiken, Priam, Jarovit, Anita, Zoyra, Ardenn, Noden, and Pelkin. Very interesting cast we have here.”
“Where are Noden and Pelkin?” Meka swapped out the screen of the names for another of the battlefield then spread out her fingers to zoom in. “They’re not with Haiken and the others.”
Galvin frowned. “Hmm...it’s very hard to see with so many people fighting. Is that them?” He pointed to a pair of Guardians but then shook his head. “No, hmm...where are they?”
“Well, if any of you viewers spot them in the arena, call in. We’d love to hear from you.” Meka smiled at the camera.
“What about that Hunter helping the Guardians?” Galvin sat back in his chair, swirling it around to face his partner. “That’s peculiar.”
She furrowed her brows. “You mean the one they called ‘Vixen’?”
“Yes, that one. That has never happened before. Do you think she’s planning to backstab them once everything has calmed down?”
Hearing this, Ceras glared once more up at the holographic screen as she stood in the security center where she had run into Vixen long ago. “You obviously don’t know Vixen,” she said to the screen as if the reporters could hear her, but then she tore her attention away to the room around her.
At her feet were the bodies of several security guards, and in one chair sat the slumped body of a guard whose neck she had broken. She reached over the body of the officer and began typing on the computer.
Footsteps sounded in the hall, and Ceras snatched up the gun from the man’s holster and twisted to aim at the door while keeping the majority of her focus on the computer. The individual came to the security room, and Ceras almost squeezed the trigger but then realized it was Aden. She scowled at him, set down the gun and resumed typing with both hands.
Aden stepped into the room then grimaced when he noticed all the bodies. “Was this really necessary?” He motioned to the corpses as he made his way around them.
Ceras shrugged. “I was angry—annoyed and perturbed.”
“You sound like Vixen.”
She leaned her head back and smiled at him. “Why do you think she and I got along so well?” She then straightened and looked back at the screen and frowned as she took in the information. “It was such a pity when she quit working for the Houses and began working with you.” She slid Aden another glance as he came beside her and leaned over the control panel. “You seem to have tamed her.”
He raised his brows and shot her a look then chuckled and shook his head. “No—th
at wasn’t me. That was Loroth.”
“Her husband.” She recalled Vixen mentioning him—and now that she was thinking about it, she was still peeved that she hadn’t been there for the wedding. “Tell me about him.”
“Not much to tell. Kidnapped him once then worked with him a few times, and that was it.” Aden pulled his gaze from the holographic computer screen to look down at Ceras. “Now what exactly are we trying to do here?”
“Ceras has given me access to their full database and all their security,” Lyston sounded in his ear, and Aden startled, having forgotten the comm was still on. “In a few minutes I should have complete control.”
“So we can shut down those broadcasting idiots?” She shot the news coverage of the battle a glare, and Lyston chuckled over the comm.
“Yes, ma’am, and I’ll even give you an opportunity to tell them—and all of Jechorm—what you really think of the Guardian Games and the entire Guardian program.”
“Ah, that would be just wonderful.”
While Ceras and Lyston conversed, Aden pulled away to watch the news. It displayed the battle once more, and he narrowed his eyes as he sought for anyone he could recognize in the chaos. He saw who he thought was Aradin and Dustal running with a group of other thieves—particularly Kedessa and Pravin. By all the exaggerated body language between Kedessa and Dustal—throwing their hands in the air, sometimes turning their weapons onto each other, and the sharp gestures—Aden guessed they were still arguing.
His gaze shifted a bit to where Queen Sidra fought with her legendary archery skills. He noticed how she was coming up behind Roskelem’s main force. “No doubt looking for her husband,” Aden mused then scanned the field for the man himself.
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