by Ben Hale
Tess almost managed to forget about the Harbingers and the Dark, and left breakfast to join in a massive snowball fight on the school grounds. Only the water mages came out unscathed, and the entire group moved to the leisure hall.
"Can I show you Stratos?" Warren asked Iris as they entered.
Iris groaned but finally relented. "If you stop asking I'll give you thirty minutes."
Warren beamed and led her to one of the game tables. The rest of them collapsed into the couches nearby. Unwilling to let the peaceful mood fade, Tess tucked a leg under herself and asked Derek about his past pranks. The afternoon passed quickly, and Tess laughed and talked with her friends for the first time in months. It felt oddly healing, like easing a dull ache.
The peace and calm endured into the evening, and Tess spent the bulk of the time watching parents arrive and join their children. She missed her own, but she couldn't deny the closeness she felt to her friends.
Warren kept trying to teach Stratos to Iris, but Iris kept trying to talk to other techno mags. Warren would just sit quietly, staring at Iris until she returned her attention to him. Derek and Tess smothered laughs every time, and even more when Iris glared at them. For once Tess's thoughts of the rising conflict were distant, and she breathed in the moment with desperate lungs. She only wished her parents had been able to make it.
As dusk fell she felt a pair of eyes on her, and turned toward the front doors. She caught a glimpse of someone stepping back into the snow, but not enough to recognize who it was. Her thoughts turned to the Swordsman, and she felt a pang of worry on his behalf. She hoped he'd made it out alive.
Chapter 42: Escape
The Swordsman counted the minutes, waiting for what he knew would be his sole chance to escape. Weeks of waiting and watching had led to this moment. To escape the lower tunnels, he'd used a cyclone spell. The dangerous enchantment had been his only option when he'd been trapped at the base of the wind lift. Released from its bindings, the cyclone had shredded the wind lift and carried him brutally to the ceiling. Designed to lift much more than a single person, it was never meant to be used indoors.
The cyclone had thrown him violently upward, and had crushed him against the roof. His survival had been due to the numerous spells he'd cast on his own body. Hooking a grip on the ceiling, he'd held on until the wind dissipated. Then he'd eased himself back into his initial hiding spot—the stalagmite that doubled as the light fixture for the shaft.
The moment he was out of sight he'd been forced to dismiss his spells. While thousands of mage soldiers sought for him, he'd huddled in the dark, trembling and sick. The shakes had subsided in hours, but the weakness had lasted a week. His burns and broken arm had taken even longer to heal.
He nibbled on the last of the reserves he'd stashed in his hiding spot, grateful that he'd had the foresight to pack the rations. He'd thought he would need them while waiting to get in, but now they kept him alive until he could escape.
Throughout his three weeks he watched the battlemages scour the lifts, the tunnels, and Vaults for signs of him. His own clothing made tracking by magic impossible, and he'd temporarily disabled the monitoring motes and lights when he'd ascended the lift. Even the Rayths had no idea where he went.
Unfortunately for him they tripled the security on the entrance to the tunnels, and continued to increase the patrols within the lifts and corridors. He doubted they would lighten security anytime soon, and he was getting hungry.
Reluctantly he'd settled on a different course to escape. To do so required him to be in peak condition, so he'd been forced to wait and conserve his energy until he was ready. He leaned at the edge of shadow and watched the cart roll its way from the main gate and onto the lift. With great care he timed his drop, and then leapt.
Enhanced with an agility spell, he caught the trailing lip of the reinforced cart and used it to throw himself underneath its blocky shape. He dropped the agility spell and used a strength spell to grasp the underside of the cart.
The two guards in front of it did not turn around, and the Swordsman nodded in satisfaction. He had not been heard. The cart contained some of the less valuable artifacts from the lower tunnels. Each week it was escorted up to a higher office in the Spirus, where mages were allowed to study a variety of items.
Upon its exit and entry the cart was scanned carefully to ensure nothing extra was on it. He'd dismissed it early as an option to escape. Instead it carried him deep into the Rayth headquarters. From within the cart's shadow he watched the feet of guards shuffle and step aside as they passed. Magical barriers were taken down twice to allow the cart through, and after the second he searched for a place to ditch his ride. It came when the shapely legs of a female mage strode past them. The battlemage leading the cart stopped to chat, causing the Swordsman to grin. He released his grip and rolled away into the darkness. Wrapping himself in his damaged cloak, he watched the woman reject the man's advances and move on.
The other guard laughed when she had departed and clapped his friend on the shoulder. Then they took the cart into the recording office. The Swordsman knew from his previous research that the cart’s contents and exterior would be scanned again before returning the objects to their respective vaults.
The Swordsman’s attempt to escape through the Rayth barracks was daring—and only possible because of the holiday. Half the soldiers would be home with their families, and most of those that remained would not be as alert.
To his surprise the captain at the desk walked out with the other two. From their conversation it sounded like they were getting some holiday drinks and would then return to their work. The Swordsman took advantage of their lapse and darted into the office.
He was already deep within the Rayth headquarters, so the men undoubtedly thought their vigilance was not as necessary, especially on Christmas. Alone, The Swordsman delved into the notes that were accessible only to someone within secure offices of the Magtherian. In seconds he found the information on the Sword. His eyes widened as he noticed several key messages.
One came from High Chancellor Ranson's office, requesting that a certain sword be moved to an undisclosed location outside the city. The only reference to its new location was an allusion to an ancient volcano important to Greek mythology. The other messages were to and from the head of the Mage Technology Bureau, Keidon.
The Swordsman frowned. He'd hoped to get a clue as to who had betrayed him. Then he noticed another message. It requested a Rayth unit be dispatched to discover why some of their spies in the auren government had disappeared. The message specifically requested three 'special assignment' Rayths to carry out the mission. The note implied that someone else was attacking Harbingers, and he resolved to ask Hawk about it.
The Swordsman heard footsteps, and immediately dimmed the enchanted orb. Just as its light faded the soldiers reentered the room. Having been gone less than a minute the captain and his men returned to their labors. Wrapped in his cloak, the Swordsman clung to the rough hewn ceiling twenty feet above them. Once he was certain they were not aware of his presence, he began to climb.
Without a strength spell only a supreme rock climber could have made the passage. Even with the spell, his fingers and arms ached from the effort when he finally dropped to the floor on the opposite side of the chamber. In a burst of movement he darted into the walkway that led to the barracks.
On either side small sleeping chambers were darkened due to the hour. Snoring and rustling came from the many bunks, and the Swordsman strolled past on cat's feet. Reaching the end of the corridor, he cracked the door to reveal the kitchens, dark and empty, as was the cafeteria beyond. His stomach grumbled as he saw the bowls of distilled foods. He thought of his timetable and shrugged. He had time. Shouldering the door open he strode to a stack and collected a plate.
Gathering the ingredients for a sandwich, bacon laced potatoes, and cloud cake, he sent the plate through the enchanted cauldron. He caught the finished product from the opposite side
and nonchalantly began to eat. On the way to a table he paused to prop open a small metal hatch against the wall. Then he sat down.
Two minutes later the doors burst open and battlemages flooded the room. They kept their distance, wary after the last time they had tangled. To a man they gathered magic in their palms. A captain stepped out from their ranks, fire whips in both hands.
"We knew you couldn't have escaped, and so it was only a matter of time before you appeared. I must say you surprised us by returning deeper inside, rather than attempting the outer gates. You were a fool to enter our own headquarters. You must know that."
The Swordsman calmly swallowed his bite and then reached for the cloud cake. "Do you mind if I finish? I'm partial to the cake and eating distilled food isn't quite as good."
"A final request before we strip you of your powers and banish you? By all means," the man said with a sneer. "Enjoy your cake. It's the last you will ever have."
The Swordsman shrugged and took his time. Just when he thought the captain would burst from impatience, he swallowed the last morsel and stood. "I'm afraid you'll have to clean my plate. I have an appointment to get to."
"You insolent—"
The Swordsman dived to the side. With his most powerful agility spell active, he used a chair as a springboard, touched the top of a cooking cauldron, and dived feet-first into the hatch he'd left open. His departure was so swift that not one spell was launched in his direction.
The Swordsman smiled as he fell. He'd known the moment he left his hiding place that they would find him. When he'd entered the meal hall he'd estimated he had at least a minute before they showed up, plenty of time to satisfy his hunger.
The trash chute led directly to a ball of fire that would incinerate him, but several vents along its path allowed for exhaust to escape. Spotting the first, he slammed his hands and feet against the walls. He screeched to a halt next to the opening. Grasping its lip, he levered himself out and dropped into open air. Screeching sentries erupted in a cacophony of warnings as he passed through the barrier.
The fissure he entered split Auroraq's base, and provided air to the tunnels below the Spirus. Ingress was impossible and was constantly monitored. He'd looked into it prior to making his attempt on the Vaults. Egress was another issue, and since they already knew he was escaping his discovery was irrelevant. Activating the air board from his boots, he flew into the cloudwall before any pursuit could be mobilized.
He had a message to get to Hawk.
Chapter 43: Alone
Hawk rose to his feet as he read the note, a rush of relief flooding him at the Swordsman's escape. In spite of the man's occupation Hawk considered him a friend. He would never have forgiven himself if the Swordsman had been stripped of his magic and banished because of him.
His elation faded as he gathered what he considered his options. Although the Swordsman hadn't known where the Harbingers meant, Hawk had known instantly. His instincts rang with certainty, and he prepared himself for battle. The question was, who should he take with him?
It was Christmas day and everyone was home for the holiday, so leaving immediately would have its advantages. There was a strong possibility that some of the Harbingers would be home as well. They still made an effort to keep up appearances. At the same time Hawk was loath to take his forces from their families and into battle—on Christmas. If any of them did not return . . .
No, he shook himself. He couldn't bring himself to risk that, so his thoughts turned to Tess. From Siarra he'd learned that this was something that she was meant to do, so he should take her with him. She was also powerful enough that she would stand the greatest chance. Nodding to himself, he strode from his private home in Auroraq and headed to Tryton's.
It was late, but he kept to the shadows anyway. After what he'd done to the High Chancellor's home the battlemages would still be searching for him. It would not do for them to attempt to catch him. He kept his pace casual, as if he were just out for a nightly stroll, and managed to avoid any undue attention.
When he reached Tryton's he slipped past the enchantments at the gate and headed toward the dorms. On the way he passed knots of students celebrating the holiday. As the only day that parents could freely visit Tryton's, many families had elected to spend the day on the school grounds.
Numerous children were crafting snowmen, which their older siblings cast spells on to make them fight each other. Snowballs flew thick in the air, and landed indiscriminate of teams. Parents protested when they were struck, but they were smiling and soon returned to their mugs of steaming chocolate.
Christmas music floated on the breeze, and came from several sources. The distinct songs somehow managed to meld together into a melody both beautiful and unique. Hawk felt a pang of sadness at the sight, and missed his beloved.
He reached the dorms and strode around the lake in search of Tess. On impulse he checked the meal hall, which was full of revelers and cookies frosting themselves with candy canes as spreading utensils. He didn't see her, so he moved on to the leisure hall.
He scanned the interior of the hall, and after a moment spotted her. She sat with a group of friends near the stratos tables. Steam from her mug obscured her smiling face. She sipped from the mint-chocolate straw and then laughed at something her friend had said.
The view caused Hawk to pause and reconsider his course of action. Was he so ready to rip her from this moment of peace? Happiness and comfort radiated from her expression, causing his heart to soften. Prophecy or no, he couldn't bring himself to do it. Before he was spotted, he retreated from the hall.
Outside he let the snow fall on his face, considering his choice once more. He could probably handle it by himself. He was a phoenix after all. Suppressing the sliver of doubt, he departed the school. Ten minutes later he was winging his way east.
He flew hard and used magic to speed his travel. It was almost on the other side of the world, and he flew with the night. It was still dark when he passed above the Black Sea, and soon his destination came into view. Towering over its sister peaks, the tallest mountain in Europe pierced the sky. As he neared, it became clear that the single mountain bore two summits.
Layered in ice and snow, the mountain was virtually inaccessible for aurens in the winter. Known for its brutal winters and heavy winds, it was a popular site for climbers in the summer. Avoiding the lower level cable car, Hawk flapped hard in order to gain the height he needed. As he neared the summit, he became more cautious.
He circled the peaks, searching for sign of his goal. It didn't take him long to spot it. Nestled in the saddle between the two peaks a roaring white fire blazed. The surrounding ground had been cleared of snow and ice, leaving a wide, comfortable region of cleared rock.
A wall of stone rose on the north side and abutted the incline that rose to the higher summit. Both helped to shelter the fire from the freezing gusts of wind. Opposite the wall, a single structure had been erected. Obviously built by mages, the architecture was sweeping and bright, as if the earth had burst from the ground and solidified into place.
A dull light reflected off an object in the fire. His eyes pierced the distance, and the image clarified to that of a long, slender blade. Recognizing it as the Sword of Elseerian, he used his heat vision to check for anyone in the vicinity. He hesitated when he saw no one, but he could not resist taking advantage of the lapse. He banked toward the summit and alighted near the fire.
His intuition pinged when nobody appeared to engage him, but he didn't hesitate. His greater form melted away until he stood as a man, and he strode to the fire. Reaching his hand in, he yanked it back when the icy flames froze a line of blue across his skin. Frowning in annoyance, he swept a hand to diminish the fire—but a rumble from the greater summit caused him to turn.
Snow and ice cascaded off the peak and tumbled downward like an avalanche—except it stopped short of reaching him. Rising from the summit, the massive wings lifted into the air and beat a single stroke downwar
d.
Hawk recoiled from the blast of icy air, chilled to the bone. His heart sank as he saw the great maw and enormous head rise with the wings. The scars across the snow-white form were unmistakable, and marked its eye, wing, chest, and back. Filled with gray ice, the wounds appeared dark against the frost covered body.
Dread and fury surged into the forefront of his thoughts as he recognized the killer of his nest. Unable to stop himself, he took a step toward the icebird—but the iseonix was quicker. Sweeping its wings toward Hawk, it sent a hurricane of frost at him.
In phoenix form he might have been able to withstand it, but not as a man. The magical snow curved around him and solidified at his feet. The chill sank into his tissues, tendons, and bones, holding him fast as the ice climbed up his body, entombing him all the way to his chin. His teeth chattering in his skull, he strained to bring his might to bear.
"Saraaq!" a voice barked.
The tumultuous frost came to an abrupt halt, and when the snow cleared Hawk saw the massive creature's toothy jaws a foot from his nose. Like an unholy mix of a frost dragon and a phoenix, the ice blue eyes burned in fury. Its maw opened wide, and the iseonix issued a thunderous screech of fury. For the first time in six thousand years, Hawk felt fear climb within him.
"Return to your nest, Saraaq," the voice said.
The iseonix reluctantly turned away. With a single flap of its enormous wings, it flew back to the greater summit of the mountain. Upon reaching the peak, it spread its wings wide and settled its bulk onto it. Then it wrapped its wings around the top and extended its great head onto the peak. Even when Hawk knew where to look, he could not discern the icebird's shape.
"I'm disappointed, Hawk," Ranson said. "I expected you to put up a fight."