“Let’s not fool ourselves,” Aisha said, and she patted a sword strapped to her waist. “There’s no outrunning them. We’ll fly as far as we can, and then we’ll die taking as many knights with us as we can. No one will capture us, or torture us for names. We’ll fall from the sky like soldiers.”
Jay bit his tongue. He would not argue, nor pretend there was any other realistic outcome. Saluting them both, he wished to God he’d vacated the contents of the academy days ago.
“The best of luck to the both of you,” he said, and he exited the armory before he might lose his calm. Once on the path, he hurried toward the western entrance. A pair of wagons approached along the dirt road, each pulled by a team of donkeys. Several knights hovered just overhead, while high above, four more circled like vultures over a battlefield. Once he knew they saw him he slowed his walk and put his hands into his pockets as if he were in no hurry.
“Who is in charge?” Jay shouted once they were within earshot. He stood directly in the center of the road, leaving them with no choice but to run him over if they didn’t stop. Stop they did.
“I am,” said a red-robed woman hopping out the back of the first wagon. Gold and silver chains rattled about her neck. Most notable was the gold dagger buckled to her waist, its hilt encrusted with five gems, each of a different color. Such daggers belonged to the Erelim, the highest-ranking members of the theotechs. Only the Speaker himself carried more power and authority. It took some effort for Jay to hide his surprise at someone of such importance coming to oversee the removal of their equipment.
“And you are...?” he asked.
She stopped just shy of him, arms crossed over her chest. No hint of cosmetics upon her face, just pale skin creased with lines about her lips and eyes. She’d spent her lifetime frowning, and they had left their mark. Her blonde hair was tightly braided, held together by thin gold ribbons. Though she still looked young, her voice was one of age and authority. Her red robes were smooth and vibrant, her silver-buckled black boots immaculately clean.
“Er’el Jaina Cenborn. I assume you are this academy’s headmaster?”
“I am,” he said. “And Eyan told me to find you when you entered. You’ll need a third wagon to cart everything out. He insisted that you send for another immediately, lest, and these are his words, ‘we be forced to sit on our asses all day waiting for it to arrive.’”
Jaina eyed him carefully, a gaze Jay didn’t like one bit. A sharp mind was hidden behind those blue eyes, of that he had no doubt.
“Where is Eyan right now?” she asked, cool voice revealing none of her inner debate.
“In the armory,” Jay said.
Jaina snapped her fingers above her head. One of the flying knights landed in a kneel beside her.
“Tomas, go confirm the request,” she said. She pointed past him. “The squat rectangle there, just beside the barracks.”
The knight thudded a gauntleted fist against his chest. His gold wings shimmered, and with a deep hum he shot into the air, straight for the armory.
“You know the layout of our academy?” Jay asked her. “I don’t remember you having been here before.”
“I haven’t,” she said. “But I have come here with a task to complete, and I did not do so blind and dumb. Given past experience, I’d argue those are more Weshern traits. Now step aside, Headmaster, before I have my wagons run you over.”
Jay did so, telling himself he’d done his best. The game was over. Weshern’s freedom would now be in the hands of others. Jaina walked alongside the wagon, and she gestured for him to follow her. He thought to disobey, but every second he played along might be the difference between life and death for the Skyborn twins. Keeping to the grass, they walked beside the wagons on the dirt road. Jaina’s gaze remained on him at all times.
“You’re a brave man,” she said, suddenly interrupting the monotony of the rolling wagon wheels. “It is not too late to repent and confess your sins.”
For decades Jay had lived his life as a soldier, and then as a teacher of students. That experience allowed him to keep his face passive when he answered.
“I do not understand.”
“I think you do,” she said as she stared at the armory. “My knight’s delay tells me all I need to know.”
Jay was about to plead further ignorance when Loramere and Aisha burst from the armory, remaining dangerously close to the ground as they streaked in opposite directions. Wings thrummed as knights immediately gave chase. Jay watched, trying to judge the separation between them and the knights. They had surprise on their side, but the knights’ wings were faster, and they had the height advantage. Perhaps if either could make it to a forest, and hide amid the trees...
From the corner of his eye Jay spotted Jaina moving. He felt pain in his stomach, felt warmth flowing down his abdomen. Jaina held him close with one arm around his neck, the other clutching the jeweled dagger pierced up to the hilt in his belly.
“It’s not lethal,” she whispered into his ear. “Not yet. If you behave, and do not struggle, you might survive this.” Then, louder, “Garesh, check the armory. Find Eyan and Tomas.”
Jay tried to strike at the theotech with his shaking hands, but she was too close, her grip too tight. The dagger was always twisting and shifting, sending unending waves of pain up his spine. His blood flowed, steadily draining him of strength. A long moment passed, Jay clenching his jaw against the increasing pain.
A knight landed beside them, and he looked in a foul mood.
“They’re both dead,” he said.
“The gear?” Jaina asked.
“Some taken, but not all. Looks like they didn’t have enough time.”
Jaina pressed her cheek against Jay’s.
“Time you were meant to buy them,” she said, her voice a seductive whisper in his ear. “You still have this chance. Plead to God for mercy, and tell me where they’re taking the harnesses. Tell me, and you will die quickly, and your soul will pass on to the golden hereafter without the stain of sin. Tell me, and I will give you absolution.”
The dagger slid upward, tearing flesh on its way to his rib cage. Jay tilted his lips to her ear, whispered back as if she were his lover.
“I’d rather burn.”
Jaina shoved him free. Too surprised to react, Jay staggered a few steps, mouth hanging open as a fresh spurt of blood poured down the front of his shirt. In that brief moment, he met Jaina’s gaze. He saw no anger, no frustration, just mild disappointment as the Er’el stretched her arm to the fullest, jamming that jeweled dagger of hers deep into his throat.
“A brave man,” she said as he dropped to his knees, upper body hitching in a hopeless attempt to draw breath. “Such a shame. Cowardice would have spared a great many lives.”
The dagger denied him speech as Jay collapsed to his knees, his vision turning white from pain. In one last act of defiance, he lurched forward, ensuring he bled all over those clean black boots of hers. Despite the blood, she did not shy away. Her next order echoed in his ears, the last words he’d ever hear.
“Weshern needs to learn the price of rebellion. Take all that’s left, then burn the academy to the ground. Leave them nothing but ash.”
Ash, thought Jay as he watched his blood trickle across the smooth leather. Is that my legacy of twenty years? Ash...
The boots pulled out from beneath his head. He dropped limp, felt something push him over. His eyes saw only blurry shadows. When the dagger yanked out from his throat, he felt nothing, for death had finally come to take him away.
CHAPTER
1
On their first-ever visit to the Academy, Kael and Bree had walked to the academy with nothing but the clothes on their backs, and now they left its smoldering ruin carrying only the same. Argus had offered to have his knights fly them home after rescuing them outside the academy wall, but Kael refused.
“We’ll be fine,” he’d said. “Get yourselves to safety instead.”
The long walk offer
ed the two plenty of time to talk, not that either felt like doing so. The growing smoke behind them was a giant pyre, burning whatever peaceful life they’d known.
“They must be more frightened than they let on,” Bree said after an hour of walking. She glanced over her shoulder at the smoke that blotted the sky. “They wouldn’t have torched the academy if they didn’t fear rebellion.”
“Or maybe they’re just spiteful,” Kael said.
“Spiteful?” Bree shook her head. “They’ve invaded our home. They’ve imprisoned our Archon. They don’t get to be spiteful.”
“Tell them that.”
The two wore their Seraphim uniforms, earning themselves many guarded looks from the few men and women on the road. With it only midday, most would be out in the fields, and Kael wondered what the people would make of the smoke. Would they think it a battle? Would they even know Center was responsible? If they didn’t at first, they soon would. Word would spread like wildfire in the many taverns. Lately there were only two topics of conversation: Center’s invasion, and New Galen.
“They burning our homes?” an elderly woman shouted at them from the open window of her home. Kael looked to her, torn as to how to answer. In the end, it didn’t matter. The woman understood his look, and she spat. “You’ll make them pay, won’t you?”
“We will,” Bree answered. “I promise.”
That gave the woman satisfaction, and she ducked back into her home.
“Shouldn’t make promises you can’t keep,” Kael said.
“I’ll keep it or I’ll die trying,” Bree said. “If I fail, I won’t be around to care.”
“I will. What if that old lady comes to call you a liar at your funeral?”
“Let her holler until she feels better. It’s the least I can do.”
Kael almost felt guilty for laughing. Jay Simmons was likely dead, the same for the veteran Seraphs Loramere and Aisha, and now the academy was burning. But he was alive, as was his sister, and if dark humor could counter the ever-present feeling of dread that hovered over their shoulders, was that really so terrible?
They reached the junction of Winged and Fountain Roads, and they turned south, toward home. More than halfway there, the eight miles between Aunt Bethy’s place and the academy felt painfully long. Perhaps having spent the past year soaring through the skies made traveling such a distance on foot feel that much longer. Sadly, flying anything faster than the sets the fishermen used would instantly earn the attention of the angelic knights. The golden-armored men were a constant presence now, as common as clouds in the blue sky. Bree resigned herself to spending a great many future days with her feet planted on the ground.
As they traveled south, they passed by several streets whose junction with Fountain Road was marked with a pole pounded into the ground, then topped with a red ribbon or cloth. Kael caught his sister staring at each one from the corner of her eye, her displeasure as obvious as it was intense.
“I know,” Kael said at the fourth one. “I don’t like it, either.”
The poles marked the farthest extent the members of New Galen were allowed to travel beyond their newly established town in the far southwest of Weshern. The boundary wasn’t official, and certainly not endorsed by Center, but any red rags or ribbons the knights yanked down were quickly replaced. Similar vigilante tactics forced all former citizens of Galen to wear red loops of cloth around their arms or wrists, a reminder of their fallen home. Anyone wearing such a cloth beyond the accepted limits invited robbery, beatings, or far worse. Over the past two weeks, Kael and Bree had heard of the Speaker’s growing dissatisfaction at Weshern’s treatment of New Galen’s residents.
“They shouldn’t be here,” Bree said. “The punishment doesn’t make any sense.”
“We’re the ones they claim caused Galen to crash into the ocean.”
Bree shook her head.
“Not us. Galen’s people. Putting them here, among us, is a cruelty to those who’ve suffered enough already.”
Kael shrugged.
“Maybe the Speaker’s hoping to teach us to get along?”
“Then he’s doing a piss-poor job of it.”
Another fluttering piece of red cloth. Kael’s mood sank even further.
“Where else were they to go?” he asked. “Whose land should have been given to them instead?”
“I don’t know,” Bree said. “The only easy answer’s at the bottom of the ocean.”
The hour passed, and with bittersweet relief Kael stepped into his hometown of Lowville. The main road ran through their quaint market, and Kael debated circling around it to avoid the growing crowd. With the afternoon approaching evening, people were beginning to filter in from the fields, clothes soaked with sweat, hands worn and caked with dirt. Kael swallowed his nerves and kept his head held high as they walked through the stone booths covered with thick cloth tarps held aloft by wooden poles. Passing through the market unnoticed would have been fine with him, but there was no chance of that, not with his sister at his side.
“Phoenix!”
Two little boys came dashing over, weaving through the crowd like Seraphim avoiding blasts of ice and fire. They each wielded a pair of thin sticks, undoubtedly the sharpest of blades in their minds. When they jolted to a halt before Bree, they smiled up at her with unabashed awe.
“Can we see your swords?” the first asked.
“Yeah, your fire swords? Where are they?” asked the second.
Bree blushed, and she glanced at Kael as if expecting him to rescue her.
“Well, Phoenix?” Kael asked. “Where are they?”
“I don’t have them with me,” Bree said, kneeling down before the two. “I only carry them when I’m in danger, but I’m not in danger here, am I? Not with you two here to protect me.”
They beamed, and they thrust out their chests and pulled back their shoulders.
“That’s right we will!”
Bree laughed as she poked one in the stomach, then rose to her feet. Her smile vanished upon seeing a woman, apparently the boys’ mother, rushing over.
“Don’t mind them,” she said, grabbing each by the wrist and pulling them away despite their protests. “They’re just so proud knowing you came from our town.”
“They’re no bother,” Bree said, tilting her head in a vain attempt to hide her face with her short dark hair.
“None at all,” Kael added, and he put a hand on Bree’s shoulder to guide her forward. More people were gathering, forming a loose ring of onlookers, and he wanted to get his sister moving before she locked up completely. The two boys shouted “Bye!” waving the sticks in their free hands as their mom pulled them back. Kael led the way through the market, the onlookers parting. Murmurs followed their every step, and always amid them was that single word: Phoenix.
“They’re all staring,” Bree muttered, shifting even closer to him. “What are they hoping for?”
“For you to shoot fire out of your fingers, maybe,” Kael said. “Just keep moving.”
Thankfully pleasant calm greeted them once they reached the market’s exit. Picker Street wasn’t far, and when they turned south, a lump grew in Kael’s throat. How long had it been since he was home? How long since he’d seen his aunt? A year, he guessed, but it felt like a lifetime. He’d left as a student hoping to not fail out of the academy. Now they returned having fought in battle and taken the lives of others. The person he’d been felt so distant and unrecognizable. No, not the person. That wasn’t it. Just...that life. Of waking without responsibilities beyond long, tedious hours in a field. Of living without believing anyone’s life was in his hands beyond his own. Of sleeping without reliving the same battles over and over.
“So strange coming home,” Bree said, and Kael wondered if her thoughts mirrored his.
“You don’t have to tell me.”
Upon reaching Aunt Bethy’s home, they found the door locked, and the inside quiet.
“Think she locked the windows, too?” Bree as
ked, staring up at the second floor.
“Only one way to find out.”
Kael took a running start, jumped, and caught the windowsill. When he pulled himself up, the shutters opened with ease, and he climbed inside. He dropped to the floor with a thud, and just like that, his old life returned to him. He was in his room. There was his bed, still made, as if waiting for him. A trunk of his old belongings sat in the corner, and the half-open closet still contained his civilian clothes. Being there felt so good, so peaceful, he plopped down on his old bed and let out a sigh.
Bree’s voice interrupted his relaxation.
“Kael?”
He chuckled.
“Yeah, give me a second.”
Grunting, he pushed himself off the bed, hurried down the stairs, and unlocked the front door. Bree stepped in, elbowing him in the side as she passed.
They took turns changing into their old clothes, with Kael annoyed by how tight the dark pants were about his waist and the pale shirt around the collar. He knew he’d grown, but surely not that much in one year...right? It almost made him want to put on his uniform, but with Weshern’s Seraphim disbanded, keeping it on invited potential trouble from Center’s knights.
The two sat at the kitchen table, a pot set to boil, when Aunt Bethy stepped inside. She froze in the doorway, clothes dirty from the field.
“You’re home,” she said, a smile spreading across her face. Kael rose from the table so he might accept her embrace.
“We made you supper,” Bree said. “You hungry?”
“Not at all,” she said, moving to hug Bree next. “But if you’ll sit with me at the table, I’ll eat every bite until it is gone.”
Given how little time they’d had to prepare, the soup wasn’t much of a soup, but the warmed potatoes and carrots still tasted divine on Kael’s tongue. They ate while Aunt Bethy rambled, filling them in on everything that had happened over the past year. She told them about who’d married whom, and the elderly who’d passed on, but inevitably she came to the subject of New Galen.
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