by Anne Zoelle
“To help?”
“He's skipping essential rest for the All-Layer Combat Competition—the premiere event for every university in the magical world, the only thing that gives him any challenge, and the event that he is, or was, likely going to win—in order to court incarceration and ruin by exiting the Magiaduct tonight? Running afoul of the men who want nothing more than to have him under their thumbs?”
“Er, when you put it that way it sounds sketchier.”
“Yes,” Will said baldly, taking over. “If the person taken was one of the combat mages, then it would be a non-issue.” He splayed his fingers. “They wouldn't rest until their comrade was found. That's what they do. But he doesn't know Olivia personally at all.”
“Maybe I'm one of his people?”
Will looked skeptical. “They've been fighting together—life and death—for years.”
“Well, I'm going after Olivia, and I've only known her for two terms,” I said aggressively.
“Yes,” Will said anxiously, expression edging to panic. “And we are going to do the same. You don't have to be fighting together for years to make bonds. You are right.”
My shoulders slumped. They were posing questions for all the right reasons. And playing Olivia's role as Devil’s Advocate, a role to which Will wasn't suited. “No, you are right to put forth an argument. I'm sorry I snapped. I just don't know. I can't do this on my own—a truth I've painfully accepted. And he is coming whether I want him to or not. Is there harm in having him along?”
“Well, your odds of survival greatly increase,” Will said frankly, anxiety erased with my reassurance, like so many things were in Will's accepting nature. “Like tripled or quadrupled. But...if you get caught together...”
“Why is together worse?”
Delia broke in, obviously irritated. “Do you know what a Bridge Mage could do on a battlefield? A warrior Bridge Mage? A combat mage already as gifted as Axer Dare?”
I imagined it. Dare standing in the middle of a melee. Magic flying in arced beams directly into and out of his control. Freezing his opponents in place—with them unable to do anything. Magic seeping into him from all directions, refreshing him and draining his opponents. A battlefield full of puppets. Or batteries. Unlimited control.
“Huh. Yeah. Okay.”
Delia leaned forward. “Now imagine a mage capable of manipulating the fabric of the reality that we exist inside—the worlds that were created for us to populate and live within—and imagine that mage under the direct control of the mage who could control everyone around him if he releases his powers—what could a mage like that do with the world and all its inhabitants under his direct control?”
I swallowed. “I guess it's a good thing he's not a Bridge Mage,” I said lightly.
Delia's brows drew tight. “Whether he is or isn't—they've been trying to pin him for years. And, I saw Kaine's expression, heard his words. They believe. And they saw a link between you. Any government would want the power of you both under their control. You, you are specifically what the Department was created for. They exist above, separated from all governments, in order to secure layer safety. They cannot allow such powerful mages to be free of their control.”
My heart was beating double time.
“Pretty sure Dare's actively seeking to make sure neither of us get caught.” Top Circle had made that pretty clear. Not that I could tell any of them about the vine. I rubbed the side of my curled finger over my mouth.
“You can't get caught, Ren,” Mike said, expression dead serious. “If you do, that little incident on Top Circle will look like a toddler's warm-up in comparison to what will happen.”
“You'll drop your student status, Kaine will grab you, and you'll disappear.” Magic appeared in Will's hand, then he fisted it closed. When he opened his fingers, there was only air.
Disappear like Raphael...maybe only escaping when I was just as insane...
“Understood,” I said.
Will leaned forward. “You have to be quick about getting out, then getting back. I mean, not even five seconds can pass after you reach the time limit, Ren.”
“Understood.”
“They are professional kidnappers.”
“I got it, Will.”
“They will have nets.”
“And pickling jars, yes.”
“Ren—”
“Will!” I grabbed his shoulder. “I'm trying not to freak out.”
“Okay, okay.” He grabbed my hands and took a deep breath. “Me too.”
“Where's dessert?” Delia said. Her fingers were shaking too hard to make the knot she was trying to form.
Mike jumped on the subject change. “Got some.”
After eating some hastily obtained chocolate, more planning, helping Delia work her magic, talking to the other delinquents via our new communication stream, and some silent bonding, I reluctantly re-packed my things. I touched my new memorial armband. Between Lifen and Delia, we all had them now—it had been the most popular memorial piece decided upon across campus. The little metal mountain plaques securing them glinted in the room's lights.
Currently, ours only had an extra auditory feed. We would hook more spells in tomorrow.
No one said anything about these not having the leeching capability of the scarves—a feature only Olivia and I had been aware of until the assault on campus had begun.
Neph touched mine. “It will be fine. Everything will be fine.”
The problem was, I could see no one really believed that.
Chapter Fourteen: In Memory of the Fallen
Tendrils of magic arced up and away from the Magiaduct then pulled sharply back to curve into the stones at the top of the structure, swiftly traveling through the stone arches that decorated all nine levels of the Magiaduct before shooting down into the base of the superstructure.
On the side of Top Track that faced the upper slope of the mountain, the same light show was playing, encompassing the entire giant stone doughnut of rock and light, impaling it with the combined Community Magic of fifteen thousand students.
Everywhere I looked, students had memorial bands wrapped around their arms, wrists, or necks. The silver plaque on top had an imprint of the outline of the mountain, and magic zipped around it. The magic could be set in different ways—most bands had a scrolling feed of magic on the outer edge with the names of each victim in that mage's signature color. Each name completed a circuit, then morphed into a new name.
Eight-hundred-and-thirty-two students had died. Twenty-six hadn't been revived in time.
Those twenty-six names were as etched in my memory now as they were etching the edges of the plaques.
Some mages had chosen to display only the flashing colors around the edges. And still others eschewed the individual remembrances and just had a single silver font that wrapped the plaque. Excelsine United.
The intricately wound knitted threads of the bands were as individual as the mages wearing them, but the aesthetics were secondary to the main design, which was unified across every one.
Like the Lightning Festival—a New Year's Eve remembrance for all things—the tone of the vigil was serious. Unlike the Festival's more cathartic expressions, though, most here were pinched and drawn—the pain too raw.
Down a ways, a number of people were standing on the outside edges of the stone barriers that bordered both sides of the track. My breath caught as I looked at their feet. Familiar paper roses were dotted between them. Three were mine, while the others were channeling magic that felt intensely similar—a copy of the feeling that I'd imbued in their threads.
What did that mean?
The mages were arcing magic to each other, then back again, spreading a canopy of aqua light over the section of track between the two small groups. I didn't know what the magic was doing, but from the expressions on the people who passed underneath, it was something lovely and peaceful. A number of people turned for a second pass.
“What stops anyone fr
om jumping?” I murmured to Neph, watching the display and how close to the edge the mages on each side stood, emotion clogging my throat.
Especially on a night like tonight...
“There's an enchantment that keeps people from jumping. And the lockdown grid will further prevent anyone trying to get around that enchantment.”
It was easy to forget the grid was even there. The lockdown grid had become transparent as soon as all the squares had connected.
Stepping to the edge of the Top Track, I placed my hands on the cold, gray stone, then reached out and touched the air at the edge. The air shimmered in iridescent waves, then turned clear again.
Keeping us in. Protecting us. Encapsulating us.
I looked down. The Legion, dressed in black, with a red pin to the left center of their throat, stood in formation along the length of the Fifth Circle as far as the eye could see. Interspersed between them were troops from other locales and countries—personnel who had volunteered to help sweep the mountain, and were now participating in the vigil and memorial.
Protecting us from any threat still left on campus. Or making sure none of us escaped.
Down in the distance, I could see the Midlands—the tenth through twelfth circles of the mountain—swirling with white gloom. Troops were heavy there—dots of black disappearing into and out of the perimeter.
Dare and I would be breaching that border shortly.
“Madness,” I whispered.
“It's what you specialize in.”
I'd felt him approach—a slight tug on the connection that bound us. He wasn't trying to hide.
I glanced up at Dare, standing alongside me. His expression was battle ready as his gaze tracked quickly over the landscape. A memorial armband was strapped around his bicep, the metal plaque glinting.
A shifting in the shadows below caught my eye. Looking down, I could see the shadows moving, bulging in place, then thinning back to normal size. I concentrated on the path of expanding and contracting darkness. Thirty feet, twenty feet, then Kaine stepped out of the convexly forming shadow underneath the tree nearest to our position.
I pulled back automatically, fright response engaged. Stopping my jerk, I inhaled deeply, then leaned forward again.
He was nine stories below us, but I could make him out as easily as if he were in front of me. He was staring up, smirking. Wanting me to see him. Wanting us to see him.
Dare was looking down as well, his fingers gripping the stone. A small anti-listening spell was pinned beneath his first finger.
Neph ran a fingertip down the bridge of her nose, then touched the back of my hand, giving me a temporary protection against eavesdroppers. It would disrupt any spells already on me for a few minutes, giving the listener bursts of static mixed with other conversations pulled from the general vicinity. She then slid into the crowd behind us.
“You don't...you shouldn't come,” I said to Dare, as I stared at the Legion members below, keeping my gaze away from Kaine. I had seen the awaiting horrors in Kaine's dead eyes as he'd looked at Dare. This plan was more than madness.
I was used to working at a fast pace. I was used to working when traumatized. However, my trauma with Christian had been enveloped within my determination to bring him back, and in all the tasks involved therein. Today, still in the midst of a new trauma, with everything so fresh, I felt like I had stepped onto a tilt-a-whirl ride at the county fair—and I couldn't step off.
Dare gave me a look that fully communicated what he thought of staying behind.
I gripped the stone harder. “This is my mess—”
“This is our mess.”
“I—” I shook my head, unable to finish the thought that maybe we should wait. Maybe Kaine would grow bored and leave after a few days.
Olivia's rescue couldn't wait for Kaine's boredom, though.
I needed to rescue Olivia, but I didn't want to sacrifice Dare to do it. I swept a hand over my torso, and the bulk of my connection threads. I needed all of them safe.
I needed me safe too, so that they all wouldn't be stupidly heroic and sacrifice themselves for me.
“The papers. The vine. Kaine will find them.”
The papers had Dare's magic in them too—they'd sucked some of it in when they'd touched him the afternoon he'd given the papers to me. And the vine—who knew what it held.
Okai. The items would go where my magic was strongest. Guard Rock and Guard Friend, and all our projects... Will would be toast. The rocks would be locked away, or destroyed. We'd, all of us, be thrown into cells, or shackled by a collar around our necks.
I nodded. It was a shakier action than I wished it to be.
“Princess? You've got five.” Trick's spelled voice came from the plaque's enchantment, zipping through my skin and into my ear—along a slim, opened pathway of magic that Neph and I had spent an agonizing hour untangling.
I nodded at Dare, this time more firmly.
“Let's go.”
Chapter Fifteen: Shadows in the Night
We walked toward the stairwell where Dare's crew was standing. Camille's gaze was frosty as she looked at me, but she said nothing. None of them did. Camille, Lox, and Greene maintained their positions, but Ramirez folded out of his and followed us into the stairwell.
Patrick, Asafa, Neph, Mike, and Will were inside. The usual expressions were on their faces—Patrick looked manic, Neph was exuding calm, Will looked panicked, and Mike was trying really hard to exude support.
Ramirez said nothing, just looked at each person in the stairwell, gaze taking in each.
Trick put a finger to his lips, then motioned for me to twirl. Used to this now, I slowly followed his direction. He scanned me with his device and pulled off the spells one by one, then dropped them in a soundproof bag. He pulled the enchanted drawstring tight and thrust the bag at Asafa.
“Loudon, Adrabi, and Peoples have secured the entrance below, and the combat mages are above. We have one minute.”
“You are certain of their ability to hold the entrance?” Ramirez asked in a low voice. It was rare to hear him speak at all.
“You don't know the half of it,” Trick said, shaking his head, a small grin pulling up one side of his mouth. “They'll hold it.”
I remembered Trick's words during the attack. About never again messing with Loudon.
Ramirez stared around the group for a long moment, then he circled a finger in the air, as if encompassing the group. An invisible grip tightened against my forehead—enough to make me gasp—then Ramirez snapped his fingers and a duplicate of Dare bloomed beside him.
No one said anything, but there was an undercurrent that I could only partially read. Ramirez had done something to us. I tried to verbalize it in my mind, but couldn't. He had mind whammied us so we couldn't talk about what he had done after.
His ability to duplicate Dare meant something big then—either about Ramirez's magic or about his past.
Saf and Trick exchanged a glance, and Mike swallowed, gaze not leaving Ramirez's for a few seconds. Saf broke the stalemate and motioned to Neph. She nodded, then visual enchantments bloomed all over her and I wasn't just looking at her, I was looking at us. She had become both of us, standing side by side.
Neph and Ramirez had both created doubles, but they had done it using completely different magic.
“Hiding in plain sight, Ren.” Trick gave a rakish grin to cover up whatever nerves had gripped everyone. “Muses. You are so very, very scary,” he said fondly to Neph.
I looked at Ramirez. He was not a muse. Then what...?
Trick was pinning something on my shirt and talking to me, making me tune back in. “—will be looking for the markers they placed on you and won't look further,” he said. “Give them what they are expecting to see, and they become complacent in their tracking. These are neutralizers. Should dampen down your magical signature.”
“But we won't be able to use these same tactics twice,” Trick said, expression going serious. “Not on the s
ame board of play. So use your thirty minutes well. It's all we can give you, and not a second more.”
Saf held up a finger to regain silence, then carefully put the spells from the bag into place around Neph's double image. He left one in the bag and tied the strings tightly. “I'll throw that one into the crowd. Crown, you have to stop letting them put listeners on you.”
“Yeah,” I said, sighing. I motioned to the other me and to the other Dare. Both doubles looked at me. “That's a little freaky.”
“But effective.”
We had gone over the plan earlier and I'd been told that creating a double was not something that was easy to do. That it required a specific type of bond or mage.
“Okay. In order for the fireworks to get through,” Trick said, a hologram blooming between his fingers. “There are localized blasts allowed through the grid panel closest to the charge. With all of the personnel below, these won't be monitored quite as closely—who's going to do anything with the Legion staring up at you?”
Dare nodded and his battle cloak whirled into view. He withdrew two things from his pocket, then the battle cloak whirled out of existence again.
“We have created a very special firework.” Saf ran a hand over his elevated hair. I'd never seen him make that gesture, one full of nerves. “It will attract their attention. No one will look away from it for ten seconds, guaranteed. You have ten seconds to get through this open grid panel”—he pointed to a spot in the hologram—“and into the tree line. Givens?”
Mike held out his hand; two small white boxes were on his palm. “Wind streamers. You can ride them into the trees.” He placed the boxes in my hand. “Set them on the stones, activate them, then hold onto the box. Don't let go. Don't lose concentration. Don't lose the boxes. You must detach them before the grid flips back into place, or the alarms will sound.” He speared Dare with a glance. “Are you sure you can get back in?”
“Yes.”
Mike didn't look happy, but he nodded, then gripped my shoulder once for good luck. Will followed suit.