by Kyle Prue
He heard the drinking song cease suddenly. That was odd. It wasn’t like the Taurlum family to leave a song unfinished, no matter how drunk they were. The silence was quickly followed by loud crashes and Michael’s ear perked up in interest. Did they all pass out drunk at the same time? He closed his eyes and waded through his sheets into the center of his bed. Suddenly the smashing grew louder and echoed down his hallway. “What the hell was that?” Michael muttered to himself.
Then he heard the racket closer to his bedroom and a rifle being fired. He threw his sheets off and leapt to his feet. These noises were not an after-effect of his family’s antics. Someone was in the house. He threw open his door and was instantly greeted by a volley of fire from a small squad of Imperial soldiers.
He stumbled backwards and toppled to the ground. One of the soldiers pulled a pin on a canister and threw it at his fallen body. As he staggered to his feet, Michael noticed that the canister expelled smoke at an alarming rate. He knew not to inhale, even in his intoxicated state. While holding his breath, he grabbed a bottle from his side table and chucked it at one of the Imperial guards. The bottle flew so straight and swiftly that it knocked the guard off his feet. Michael grabbed the table by one of its legs and charged at the soldiers. One managed to reload his gun and fire in time, but the bullet ricocheted off Michael’s chest and found its way into the soldier’s vulnerable neck. Michael followed up that maneuver with a swing of the table. The two remaining soldiers were knocked clean off their feet in an explosion of splinters, glass, and alcohol. Michael took a deep gulp of air as he teetered back and forth in the doorway, furious and confused. Why were they here?
He stepped out fully into the hallway, holding one leg of the table that had broken off. He heard a soldier on the floor groaning so he stepped on him. Michael turned to his right and realized he was staring at nearly ten Imperial soldiers who were trying to quickly reload their rifles. “Oh,” Michael said quietly as he dropped the leg and turned to face them head on. They were about thirty feet away and standing in front of a giant glass window.
The silence was nearly unbearable as they tried to load their guns with care. Michael picked up one of the unmoving soldiers by the foot and with a mighty roar; he hurled the body at the throng. One or two soldiers fell, but that was only the distraction. Michael began his charge. He barreled at full speed down the hallway before the soldiers even had a chance to regain their formation. He was going too fast to slow down, but that was okay. Michael didn’t want to slow down. One second he was running and the next he and three soldiers were falling from the third story window. He hit the pavement on all fours, crushing a soldier in between his iron skin and the street.
He stood up and looked back to see a few soldiers gathering by the broken window staring down at him. He vaguely remembered somehow being involved in a similar situation earlier that week. He turned to see the three soldiers in a broken mess on the street behind him. He scoffed and thought to himself: Good. That’s what they get.
He took a moment to readjust to the change in scenery. Glancing around the side of the house, he could see what looked like half the Imperial army leading members of his family into a wagon. They had some kind of strange collar around their necks. Michael wanted to race to their aid, but he was grossly outnumbered and still hadn’t escaped the rifle fire. A few bullets bounced off his back and he began to run in a panicked fashion. He glanced back at the mansion one last time, then bolted off into the markets for shelter.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
THE MARKETS
DARIUS TAURLUM
Darius kept his head down as he pushed through the crowded streets. He’d only been out of prison for a few hours and he wasn’t looking to go back. The markets were usually deserted after sundown, but tonight the alleys were packed with civilians. Maybe there was a riot. He readjusted the cloak he had stolen to cover his golden hair. If anyone here recognized him, he’d be thrown back in the dungeon for sure.
The Taurlum mansion was barely visible in the distance. Darius took a long look at it and sighed. There was no way he’d be able to live there anymore. He was a fugitive now. He’d have to hide out in the slums, or worse, the sewers. Never again could he enjoy the bathhouse with Michael, or have a drink with his father, or even feel the adrenaline rush of holding a hammer above his head.
“Hey!” someone shouted, and Darius turned to see someone running toward him holding a weapon. For a split second, he was sure he’d been discovered, but then realized the person charging at him was none other than Michael Taurlum.
“What the hell’s wrong with you?” Darius exclaimed, putting up his hands to stop his brother.
Michael stopped in his tracks. “Darius?” He looked confused. “Is that you?”
“Of course it’s me!” Darius pulled off his cloak and revealed his hair. “Who did you think it was?”
“I don’t know,” Michael offered, looking weary. “You shouldn’t walk around here with your face hidden like that. People will be suspicious. There’s been an attack.” He was still looking at his brother skeptically; as if he wasn’t completely sure Darius wasn’t a threat. “I thought you were in prison.”
“I made it out,” Darius quickly explained. “There was an attack?”
“Yeah.” Michael looked up at the mansion as he spoke. “The emperor. He brought an army. I think he got everyone except me. And you, apparently.”
“Everyone?” Darius gasped.
“They’re not dead,” Michael reassured him. “I saw them being taken away, probably to the dungeon.”
Darius slammed his fist into a building. The bricks shattered loose with a crunch. “Why would someone do this?” he yelled, attracting the attention of everyone around him. An Imperial soldier at the other end of the street turned his head toward them and began shoving through the crowd.
“Darius,” Michael hissed, yanking his brother’s cloak back up over his hair. “Run!”
He didn’t need to be told twice. The brothers took off down the street, shouting and waving to startle people out of the way, diving around corners and zigzagging through alleys, trying more to lose the soldier than to actually get anywhere. Their noise attracted more attention, which in turn attracted more soldiers. Arrows began to fly; one of them bounced off the back of Darius’s head, missing a pressure point in his neck by inches. “We have to hide!” he screamed, putting on a burst of speed. Michael roared and slammed his ringed fingers into a building, effectively blocking the alley with a good amount of debris.
Michael was falling behind though. “Where?” he yelled back.
“Orchards!” Darius replied and pointed to the grove of trees a quarter mile down the road.
“Why there?” Michael panted.
“Trees!” Then Darius was out of breath. He couldn’t manage more than the one word, but Michael understood. Trees were easy to climb, easy to hide behind, easy to use as shields. They raced for the orchards, Imperial soldiers hot on their heels. A volley of arrows slammed into Darius’s back. He reached around, still running, to feel for blood, but his impossible luck held out and the arrows missed his vulnerable points.
They reached the edge of the orchard. “I want to try something,” Michael said, slowing to a stop.
Darius dove into the forest gasping and pulled himself up into a tree. “What are you doing?” he hissed. Michael had knelt to the ground and pressed his palms against the dirt.
“I just want to try.”
Darius realized what was going to happen only a second before it occurred. “Have you been practicing?” he shouted. “Michael! Can you control it?”
Michael grinned. “Nope.”
The earth began to shake. Fissures erupted in the ground, beginning where Michael’s hands touched the soil. Darius’s tree shuddered. The soldiers came closer, almost there. They were going to catch them—
And then a cavern opened in the ground and swallowed the guards. Michael’s earthquake ripped through the ground, sending
trees toppling into the chasm, crushing the Imperial soldiers. Darius held on tightly to the branches of his tree, praying it wouldn’t fall.
Then it was over. The earth closed up, and Michael, sweating profusely, dusted off his hands on his cloak. “There,” he said casually, as if he hadn’t just killed a handful of men.
“Damn, Michael,” Darius said, sliding down from his tree. “That was insane.”
“I don’t think I could do it again,” Michael admitted. “It took a lot out of me.”
Darius pulled off his cloak and said. “We can’t stay here.”
“I know.”
“Where can we go?”
Michael suggested, “The sewers, maybe? Like Uncle Nicolai did?”
Darius snorted. Nicolai Taurlum, according to legend, had attempted to murder the previous emperor. He’d been successful, and when the soldiers pursued him, he’d escaped into the sewers where he had supposedly been living ever since. “You know that’s just a story, right?”
“What do you think happened to him?”
“They probably caught him and killed him. He’s not living in the sewer. That’s ridiculous.”
Michael said, “They never caught him. He’s still at the top of the most wanted list.”
“Then he died some other way. You can’t survive in a sewer for twenty years. It’s not possible. We’re not hiding there,” Darius said sitting on the trunk of one of the fallen trees. “We have to save everyone else. That assassin girl, she broke me out in less than a day.”
Michael stared at him, “What are you talking about?”
“Someone sent a girl to assassinate me. She broke into my cell so I was able to escape after I kicked her ass.”
Michael leaned against the trunk and closed his eyes. “So go find the assassin girl,” he suggested wearily. “I’ll wait here.” The night’s events, coupled with the energy to create an earthquake had exhausted the warrior.
Darius snorted. “I don’t need her. If she can do it, I can do it. I’ll have them out by the end of the week and then we’ll leave. We’ll go outside the wall. Start a new life far away from here. Live in the savage’s tribe or something.”
There was no answer from Michael other than a faint snore. Darius pulled his cloak up over his head. “Fine,” he muttered. “Sleep for now. But tomorrow we have a family to rescue.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
IMPERIAL PALACE
CARLIN FILUS
Saewulf pushed open the large door with his mind and stepped back to allow the emperor to enter first. “I swear you do that just to show off,” Carlin muttered, bringing up the rear.
Saewulf smiled serenely. “If you could do what I do, you’d show off, too.”
Carlin put his feet up on the large war room table. “Yeah,” he admitted. “Probably.”
The emperor stood at the head of the table and contorted his face into a grin. It made Carlin wince. “Tonight was a success,” he announced to his panel of soldiers. "There were a few holdouts, a few—mishaps—but on the whole, I am very pleased.”
Every eye in the room flickered to Carlin’s bandaged hand. He scowled and hid it under the table. Saewulf nudged him. “Did you ever find out who shot you?” he asked.
Carlin repressed a growl. “No, and I don't intend to search. It was just an accident.”
Saewulf smiled slowly. “Of course. An accident.”
Carlin clenched his teeth. “Are you suggesting it was not an accident?”
The servant said. “I don’t presume to know anything about your army.”
“What if it wasn’t an accident?” someone asked. Carlin whipped his head around. His eyes widened as they found the man who had spoken.
“Virgil? I … what do you mean?”
Virgil stood. “Every man in this army took an oath to protect the emperor," he said. "But none of them took an oath against the families. The Celerius did good things for Altryon. One of them formerly led this army.” He paused. “Some of the soldiers have loyalties to the families. Maybe one of them wanted to protect the girl you were trying to kill.”
Carlin looked down at his bandaged hand. “You think we have a traitor?”
“I do. And I hope you will let me uncover him.”
Carlin looked thoughtful. “Find this traitor,” he told Virgil. “Interrogate every man who was there that night. And if none of them seem suspicious,” he added, glancing at Saewulf, “we will know it was only an accident.”
Virgil took his seat, and the emperor regained control of the room. “Only a few people escaped us last night,” he said. “They are all children. Three of the Vapros, two Taurlum, and the Celerius girl.”
How do you like that, Saewulf? Carlin thought bitterly. You let three of them get away. I only lost one.
“We have the houses in our possession,” the emperor continued. “We are seizing control of their assets. The plan is working. The families are no longer a threat to my rule.” A light applause went up from the table. “And as for the ones we failed to capture, they will be hunted. They will be caught. They will kneel before me, and they will be killed.”
The emperor addressed the men at his right. “Saewulf and General Carlin, you will track down the rest of the children. When the final one is executed, we will have not only eliminated the families, but their legacy as well. They will be scrubbed from the history books. No one shall ever speak their names again.” The gruesome smile stretched across his face again. Chills flew down Carlin’s spine. “Their time playing God is over.”
PART TWO
TWO MONTHS LATER
THE FUGITIVES
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
HOME OF QUINTUS
NEIL VAPROS
Neil was about to push his hand through his hair and groan in frustration when he saw it—an open window. He smiled and nudged his brother. “Look who decided to enjoy the night air?” he whispered, nodding at the opening in the wall. The window was small and a little too high to climb through, but it was enough.
“Thank God something’s open,” Rhys said. “I’ve never tried to materialize through a solid wall before.”
Neil poked his head around the corner and waved to catch his sister’s attention. “We found a window!” he mouthed, and she abandoned her post and materialized next to her brothers. Smiling, Neil looked up at the window. “Two months since the raid on our house,” he said fondly, “and see how much our army has grown!”
He turned to face his army, which still consisted of only Rhys and Jennifer. “You’re hilarious,” she said with an eye roll. “Has anyone ever told you you’re hilarious? Because you are.”
Neil bowed. “Well it’s not just us,” Rhys said. “There’s Robert too.”
Over the last two months Robert Tanner, Victoria’s old boyfriend, had begun recruiting anyone he could find to grow the revolution. Unfortunately, he made himself hard to find, which was a detriment to his allies when they needed his help. He was most likely spending his evening preaching to starving people and tearing down the Emperor’s new propaganda posters. It was getting easier to get citizens to join the revolution every day, mostly because the emperor’s attempts at seizing the Lightborns’ businesses had resulted in economic collapse. While the empire struggled to reestablish the businesses, many were out of work, and thus more willing to share their disdain for the Emperor in public.
“Okay,” Neil said seriously. “Recap time. When we get inside, we take out the guards. Once they’re taken care of, Jen and I will provide Quintus with a necessary show of force.” Jennifer reached up to tighten her ponytail. “Rhys, you get to the front doors as fast as you can and let our friends inside. Don’t let them out of your sight. They’ll ransack the treasury and split the money with us.” He looked at Rhys and repeated, “Make sure they split the money with us.” Rhys nodded. “I’ll find Quintus and have a conversation with him.” Two months of spying, bribery, and trading rumors had revealed that the emperor’s advisor had played a major role in the att
ack on the Vapros bunker. “Rhys, when you’re finished in the treasury, meet back up with us by this open window. We won’t leave until we’re all together.” He pulled up his hood. “Got it?”
Jennifer and Rhys both whispered, “Yes.”
“Then let’s go. Good luck, everyone.” Neil materialized up to the roof and then, with a deep breath, jumped off. He kept his eyes fixed on the tiny open window. Just before he fell past it, he materialized through the opening and appeared inside with a light thud. Jennifer followed a second later. She hit the floor soundlessly, landing in a crouch like a cat. Rhys was not quite so graceful. His landing made the loudest noise of all, echoing down the hallway and startling a sleeping sentry to his feet.
“Who’s there?” the watchman slurred groggily. Neil slid a knife into the nape of his neck and neatly severed the spinal cord. The sentry died without another sound. Jennifer reached out and gently closed the guard’s eyes before turning his body into dust. She’d become less ruthless since the night her sister died. All her life, she’d been trained to look at her targets as just that—targets. But now, Neil thought, now she couldn’t help seeing them as human beings who could breathe and laugh and hurt, just like Victoria. Gone was the merciless assassin whose eyes blazed when she killed. The only thing filling Jennifer’s eyes nowadays was grief and revenge.
“Are there any more?” Rhys asked, looking up and down the hallway. It appeared to be deserted, and Neil told him so. “I’ll go open the doors, then,” he whispered and started down the hallway, materializing every few steps. Neil watched him go.
“Quintus’s door,” Jennifer reminded him. He turned. She pointed at an extravagant double door made of marble. He reached for the handle. Jennifer opened her mouth and then quickly closed it.