Her body tightened, her arms flexed, and her fingers tensed. Focus, Argus Summers had told her. Pour your anger and frustration into a single aspect. And so she did. Connection with the prism made, the fire began to release from the gauntlet. Her mind shaped it, molded it, bent every bit of her sheer will into demanding it obey. All her training, all her skills, she’d poured so much of it into her two swords, and now she stared at the one in her right hand with frightening intensity. Instead of burning wildly into the open air, the fire swirled up the hilt, enveloping the blade. Bree clanged her left blade against it, and the fire leapt to it as well, bathing the weapon in flame. In her mind, she felt a soft tug, the faintest of strain to keep the fire burning, and burn it did, surrounding but not consuming the metal of her swords.
For months, Bree had struggled to rein the fire in, to halt its flow after establishing connection with the prism in her mind. No longer. Let it burn. Let it consume. Steady. Controlled.
Eyes back to the sniper, Bree pushed the throttle to its absolute maximum. Wind tore against her, but she didn’t care. She needed speed, craved it. Twin trails of flame dripped off her swords as she held them out to either side of her. She tried not to think about what it meant, and instead on flying at such incredible velocity. The only other time she’d pushed her wings to their maximum was when she’d attacked Eric Drae, and something about the sensation of the air billowing against her, the harness pulling tightly on her entire body, felt perfectly natural as she reentered the carnage.
The sniper never saw her coming. His right arm extended, but only a single shot of lightning escaped before Bree came crashing in. She pulled both swords back, then swung as she flew past. Just before contact, the fire on her blades flared brightly. Bree felt resistance for only the briefest moment before her swords cut clean through, slicing his wings as if they were made of cloth. As the man tumbled to the ocean, Bree twirled through the air, righted herself, and overlooked the battle. She didn’t dare think, only act. Two Galen Seraphim flew nearby, and one spotted her alone and broke off for a head-to-head assault.
Grinning, Bree gladly accepted, her wings thrumming so loudly it was as if they were screaming. Her foe shot blast after blast of fire, but Bree shifted left, right, then twirled while rising slightly so she cleared the third explosion’s reach. Then they were too close, their paths ready for a collision. Bree pulled up at the last second, arms outstretched as she spun like a dancer. On the third revolution she felt a brief jerk as her sword cleaved her foe in half. Ending her spin, she looked about, saw several gold wings flying behind her on a course a hundred feet below. Diving as if into a lake, she zipped into an intercept course, then rotated so she fell feetfirst. With all her strength she plunged both her blades downward just before the moment of impact. Her knees curled to her chest upon contact, and she screamed in pain, but her swords plunged true. The dead Seraph’s body rotated wildly before she kicked off, separating so she might chase the rest of his squad.
Having realized they’d been ambushed, the remaining two righted their bodies and turned so they could brace their arms and fire. Bree danced through the shards of ice and stone, imagining the gaps of safety between them as rings on the obstacle course. Her two foes realized they could not hit her and turned to flee, but she had far more speed than they. Wings screaming, she cut one of them off, lashing out with her left hand as she flew past. The flaming blade sliced through his thigh, not lethal but enough to force him into a panicked dodge. Wrenching her waist to the right, she looped about at a sharper angle than the remaining member, cutting the woman off at the very end of her turn. Dipping downward, she chopped with both swords above her head, opening up the woman’s stomach and chest. Her foe’s body collapsed, the buckles of her harness broken, her wings careening wildly toward the ocean.
The vultures will be busy today, Bree thought as she watched her fall. To her left she spotted a vicious exchange and gave chase, arms back, fire trailing after her in twin streams for several hundred yards before burning out into black smoke. The battle had calmed down, for dozens of Seraphim had died on each side, but in some ways it had grown even more chaotic. With so many squadrons having lost members, and many more falling out of formation, the barrages of elements were more random and scattered. Bree weaved through it all as if right at home, giving no thought to the random blasts of ice or lightning that tore through the air. Never before had she pushed herself to such limits. Every single muscle in her body ached, but what did that matter compared to this? For once, she was free. Limitless. A bird on the winds.
It was Wolf Squad, Bree noticed as she neared. Of their initial nine, six remained, though three had their swords drawn. They must have been out of their element, not a surprise given the continued length of the battle. Argus guided his six as two separate squadrons of four chased, one on each side. When he tried to veer one way or the other, a squad unleashed fire and lightning, guiding them back, penning them in. Despite it, Argus weaved through the danger with incredible ease, but even he would fail in time. Pushing the throttle harder as if to squeeze every last bit of speed out of it, Bree shot after the closer of the two groups.
Like a comet she crashed into their center, catching them completely unaware from behind. She sliced upward through one man’s legs, twisted her body half a rotation, and then plummeted back down next to his squad mate, fire flaring about her blades as she cleaved the Galen Seraph’s wings in half. Neither hits were fatal, but they’d pose no threat as they both plummeted toward the ocean. The remaining two began evasive maneuvers, but she could tell they were baffled as to how to react. One drew his blades. The other lifted his right arm to fire. Bree charged the one with swords, praying the closeness would prevent the other from taking a shot with whatever element he was proficient with.
Her gamble proved right. Bree slowed down to half speed as she engaged the enemy Seraph. The man crossed his swords and moved to block, and she almost felt insulted. With all her strength she swung her own. She felt another tug on her mind, a steadily increasing strain as the fight wore on, but she would endure. Her burning blades cut straight through the man’s block, each one crushing a collarbone before continuing downward into ribs. Her momentum carried her into his body, and she put her feet against him, knees to her chest, before leaping off.
The last remnant of the squad unleashed his element as his former squad mate fell, dead, to the ocean waters. The man wielded fire, and he let it out in a wide stream, far too wide for her to dodge. So instead she circled him faster than he could turn, staying just outside the reach of his fire. He turned as he followed her, keeping the air around her full of smoke and flame. Arching her back as far as it might go, she continued to curl as he hovered, giving him no respite. At last he tried to cut her off, blasting an enormous explosion of fire and smoke ahead of her path. Instead of rising above or diving below, Bree turned off her wings completely, twisted her body until her wings were pointed the opposite direction she’d been flying, and then punched the throttle. It hurt like hell, much like it had when she broke Argus’s record on the obstacle course, but she could endure a little soreness.
The Galen man rotated, bringing his gauntlet around to bear. A much smaller streak of flame roared out toward her. Bree dropped low, then pulled back her shoulders and raced upward, left-hand sword swinging. She cut him at an angle, right hip to left shoulder, and far too deep for any hope of survival. As she soared into the air, she turned, seeking another foe, but then the sound of horns reached her ears. She froze, and it took her a moment to realize what it was: the call of surrender.
Lessening the power of her wings so she only hovered, Bree let her swords drop, and at last she ceased the flow of flame from her gauntlet. The fire faded away as if it had never been. Surveying the battlefield, Bree looked for the blower of the horn, and she found him in a red jacket in flight toward the island of Galen. Relief filled her chest. Galen surrendered. Weshern had won.
“Bree!”
She looked up
to see Kael flying down toward her. A smile was on his face, but it looked forced. His eyes were wide. Shocked, she realized. Peeled raw by the sight of battle. In many ways she felt the same, for as the forces of Galen flew away, her comfortable numbness dissipated. The pain in her muscles was no longer an ache but a steadily growing fire throughout her body. She sheathed her swords, undoing the hooks that kept them secured to the cords attached to her wrists, and then opened her arms to accept a very tired embrace.
“I’m glad you’re safe,” he said.
“So am I.”
As she pulled back, she looked over his shoulder at the flood of red-robed men flying in from Center with their gold wings, slowly diving toward the Endless Ocean. The vultures, come to collect treasures from the dead. The ocean would not deny them, for a safety measure built into the harness somehow allowed the light element to keep it afloat. Even if the bodies were not recovered, their wings would be. It made it hard not to know which were more important to the theotechs.
Kael cleared his throat, and when she turned back, she caught him glancing at her swords.
“Bree…,” he started to say, but then several horns sounded, calling them to form up. Argus himself flew by, shouting as he did.
“Skyborn! At my side.”
Kael gave her a look, a mixture of jealousy and pride.
“You know he means you,” he said.
Bree nodded, punched her brother playfully in the chest, and then edged the throttle higher so she could join Argus and his Wolf Squad. Everyone was scattered about, and they flew at a leisurely pace compared to their arrival. Bree settled several yards behind the others with Argus, and she felt strangely worried about how he would react to her previous display. All around her, now in a wide array instead of their tight V formations, flew the survivors. Part of her wanted to count, but a larger part feared to know the true number of the dead. We’ve won, she told herself. Let that be enough for now.
But what exactly had they won?
Curiosity overcoming her exhaustion and nervousness, she poured a bit more power into her wings so she might fly side by side with the nearest member of Wolf Squad.
“What were the terms?” she said, shouting to be heard over the blowing of the wind.
“The what?” the man asked.
“For our victory. What was this for?”
“To kill them in battle,” the Seraph explained as if it should have been obvious. “The theotechs wouldn’t accept a surrender until a quarter of their numbers were lost.”
Bree frowned. That was it? A battle whose sole purpose was to kill the others, with no greater objective than that? What was the point?
“What if they hadn’t flown out to fight us?” she asked.
The elite Seraph shrugged.
“Then we’d have torched Galen’s countryside until they did.”
Such a realization chilled her to the bone, and she slipped farther back into the crowd. She’d joined the Seraphim expecting battle, expecting bloodshed, but knowing her first battle might have been against civilians from afar? That she might have partaken in a slaughter as they destroyed homes, fields, and cattle? It unsettled her deeply, and she had to conjure Dean’s smiling face to banish it with a fresh sense of justified rage.
Though the flight to Galen had felt like it lasted an eternity, flying home seemed to take all the longer. Bree checked her light element once along the way, glad to see that despite how greatly she’d taxed it, she had by her estimate a quarter of its power left. Easily enough to make it back to the academy safely. When they flew over Weshern’s edge, the beautiful Crystal River flowing over the side into a magnificent white spray, Bree was nearly overwhelmed with relief. It felt so good to be home, she never wanted to leave again. At the same time, she heard the echo of the elite Seraph’s words, this time played out in reverse. If Galen’s men had come, and Weshern’s Seraphim not come out to meet them, then the beautiful hills below, the fields of grain and winding rivers, would all be pummeled with fire, stone, and ice.
This is what we protect, she thought as they flew over a small town whose name she didn’t even know. Its residents waved and cheered at the sight of them. These are who we serve.
When they returned to the academy, Argus directed them to the apothecary. Bree landed, and she crossed her arms at the waist as it seemed the entirety of Weshern’s forces landed about her in a circle. Too many eyes were upon her, she wished she could slink away, but such a desire was impossible when Argus landed before her, his blue eyes piercing into hers. Before he could address her, Headmaster Simmons stepped through their ranks, the Seraphim respectively parting so he might reach Argus.
“They were ready for us,” Jay said.
“It didn’t matter,” Argus said. “We crushed them.”
“Not Galen, Candren. They assaulted Sothren the moment our Seraphim left Weshern. From my early reports, our allies suffered a massive defeat.”
Argus nodded his head, and it seemed to make his stone face all the harder. Turning away from the headmaster, he approached Bree, and something in his eyes made her wish she could turn invisible.
“How many?” he asked. No dancing around the issue. No discussion, only a number. Bree cleared her throat, and she met his gaze, telling herself not to be prideful, not to boast. Just say the number.
“Seven.”
The commander stepped closer, face still unreadable.
“Show me your swords.”
There was only one thing he could mean. Bree drew them from their scabbards, and she felt a moment of panic. Could she replicate the feat? She’d bathed them with flame in the midst of combat while fearing for her brother’s life. Such panic proved unfounded, though, for as she triggered the flame of her element, she found that having something tangible to focus it on made all the difference. Fire swirled about her twin blades, and tiny globs of it dripped down to the pavement as if it were a liquid. After a moment, Bree ceased it, let it fade away into black smoke.
Argus shook his head in disbelief.
“I want fliers in all directions,” he said, addressing the rest of the Seraphim. “Don’t let our people dwell on the sour news from Sothren. Instead, tell them of our victory over Galen’s forces. Tell them our island will not back down against those who would intimidate us.” He turned back to Bree. “And most of all, tell them of the seven kills by the Phoenix of Weshern and her twin blades of fire.”
The cheers of her fellow Seraphim washed over her. Bree stood in their midst, unsure what to do, what to say. For the first time since discovering her inability to master her element, she felt like she belonged. Overwhelmed, she dropped to her knees, tears dripping down her cheeks as one name rolled off their tongues, a legendary creature from an age long past, a name now all her own.
Phoenix…
CHAPTER 27
It had been a long day, and Kael was glad to finally see its end.
“God, that took forever,” he told Brad as he slumped down onto his bed, an arm across his forehead.
“Can’t have been that bad,” Brad said, leaning against the interior of the doorway to his bedroom. “Besides, aren’t you, like, heroes now?”
Kael snorted. He didn’t feel like one. After coming back from the battle, he’d been stuck waiting for his turn for debriefing. He’d spent more than an hour just killing time in the library until Devi called him to come into a private room on the third floor. Inside was a slender table, and seated there were Devi the librarian, Headmaster Simmons, and Argus Summers. As Jay directed the questioning, Devi jotted down nearly every word he said. They asked him for his own recollection of the battle, if he’d scored any kills, or if he remembered anyone else doing so. They also asked him to estimate enemy numbers, the length of the battle, if any particular tactics performed by their enemy seemed unusual, and so on. Kael couldn’t imagine how so many mundane details could prove useful, but he answered the questions as best he could.
By the time they finished, Kael had asked only one
question in return.
“Is Bree all right?”
“Better than all right,” Argus had said, the commander remaining quiet through most of the debriefing and chipping in only to help clarify something Kael couldn’t easily convey given the absurd difficulties of tracking chaotic aerial combat. “By the end of today, every man, woman, and child of Weshern will know her name.”
In Kael’s opinion, that hadn’t answered the question at all, but he’d pretended it did and gladly accepted his final dismissal.
“So what was it like?” Brad asked.
“Dull,” Kael said, still thinking of the debriefing. He caught his roommate’s strange look and realized his error. Shaking his head, he quickly backtracked.
“Sorry,” he said. “Misunderstood you for a second.”
“No worries,” Brad said. His friend came into the bedroom, and he sat down beside him on the bed. He was unnaturally quiet, and Kael couldn’t blame him. It’d likely be another year or two before Brad would experience combat for himself, and he was both curious and frightened by the prospect. Kael wished he knew what it was his friend desired from him. Did he want to know how terrifying battle truly was? Or did he want comfort, to be told it wasn’t really that bad, all so he might sleep and train and live without the looming fear weighing on his heart?
“I’m not sure I could ever describe it right,” Kael said quietly as he sat up. “Thinking back to it is like trying to relive a bad dream. It’s just… there’s so much happening all around you. People are dying, others are in danger, and you’re in danger, too. But you can’t think about that, because there’s too much else you’re responsible for. I just… I just followed Olivia and did all I could to hang on. It’s weird, Brad. I’ve never been more afraid in my life, but at the same time, it didn’t seem to matter because I had no time to dwell on it. Despite so much happening at once, I felt like I saw all of it… and yet also felt like there were a hundred things I couldn’t follow, and each and every one of those things could get me killed.”
Skyborn Page 30