Kael’s heart was at full race now. What raid? And when did Bree reveal her presence? Had it happened while he was trapped in his room?
“You’re bluffing,” he said, wishing he actually believed that.
The left side of Marius’s face twitched slightly, like an echo of a smile.
“A traitor in your midst gave us the location of your camp,” he said. “My specters are already on their way to Aquila Forest. Your scouts have their eyes on the sky, I’m sure, but what about from within? What about from the ground, and the trees themselves?” Marius banged twice on the door. “Your rebellion dies tonight, Kael. Perhaps afterward we might have a semblance of peace, and a chance to keep your stubborn island from joining Galen beneath the ocean waters. Assuming your people can quit bickering with those of New Galen, of course.”
The door opened, and two theotechs stepped inside. Despite wearing no wings, they both had golden gauntlets on their right hands, connected to gold cylinders attached to their backs.
“Take him to the Crystal Cathedral,” Marius ordered. “Do not harm him. He’s a gift for Er’el Jaina.”
The three blocked the doorway, but under no circumstances was Kael going with them without a fight. He grabbed one of the blankets and flung it, hoping to screen his attack. He barreled straight for their center, thinking to slip through while catching them off guard. One reached for him, and Kael dipped below his grasp, but the other theotech swept his leg. As he dropped, the theotech jammed his open gauntlet against his chest. Lightning sparked from the palm. Kael tried to scream as pain ignited throughout his entire body, but his jaw locked shut. He couldn’t even breathe.
The pain subsided, the lightning ceased. Marius leaned over him, frowning as Kael gasped in air.
“You’d rather suffer needlessly instead of bowing to your superiors,” he said. “Just like the rest of Weshern.”
When the two theotechs grabbed him by each arm, Kael’s body went limp, his muscles unable to resist as they dragged him away.
CHAPTER
12
The former members of Weshern’s military guard snaked an uneven trail south toward Porth, the largest of the groups escorting a covered wagon. Bree watched from her perch atop the inner wall, nerves steadily fraying. It’d been more than twenty minutes since they’d last seen the angelic knight scouting the fort, and the waiting was killing even the most patient of Seraphs.
“It shouldn’t take this long to find a few patrols to help with an attack,” said a woman beside Bree. A small group had gathered around her on the rampart, joining her in staring north, where they expected the knight to return from.
“Maybe they know they have the time,” another offered.
“Or they’re bringing a whole army,” said the first woman.
“Let them,” Chernor called from beneath. He leaned against the interior wall, wing harness beside him, leg freshly bandaged. “Even injured and flying like a lame duck, I promise I’ll score at least one kill, and Bree and Argus are both good for two each. That’s nearly half a squad already, and we haven’t accounted for the ones you all might luck into killing.”
“Or the rest of Wolf Squad,” Bree said, nodding south, to where the remaining eight gathered atop the outer wall, surveying the military’s trek to Porth. “I’d say they’re good for a few.”
Those around her were smiling easier, their nervousness retreating ever so slightly.
“So is it true?” the man beside her asked Bree. “Will the Phoenix join us?”
She knew what he was asking, and she wished she had a better answer.
“I don’t know,” she said. “I guess we’ll find out when the time comes.”
Hardly the answer they were hoping for, and the smiles vanished as easily as they’d come. The guilt of it stung Bree like a wasp.
The first hint of the crawling darkness was peeking over the western horizon when they spotted the approaching force of knights. A knot caught in Bree’s throat. Nine angelic knights of Center, flying in formation, their wings shimmering a soft golden glow. They’d lost three Seraphs during the assault on the fort, meaning they’d fight at a three-to-one ratio. Despite the bravado she’d shown, she feared it wouldn’t be enough. They wouldn’t be catching these knights by surprise. It’d be a head-to-head battle, and even if they won, she feared they’d suffer catastrophic casualties.
“Form up!” Argus yelled. “Form up, now!”
Bree flew to join Wolf Squad near the front as the other two squads gathered between the walls. Argus spun, eyes dancing, counting, a plan forming in his mind.
“Our soldiers are almost safely hidden in Porth with the supplies,” their commander shouted. “But many are still on the road, and we need to buy them time. Center has sent her knights after us, and we’re going to hit them head-on. Don’t try to conserve your element, and don’t hesitate or doubt your aim. Unleash hell on that first pass, because if we don’t thin their numbers, we may not get a second. Am I understood?”
Scattered affirmatives greeted his question.
“Good,” he said. “Now get in the air. We need those knights coming after us instead of our men on the road.”
Wings hummed as the Seraphs took to the sky. Bree flicked the toggle, but stopped when Argus called her name.
“Chernor, Bree, with me,” he said. Bree walked over, and she had a feeling she knew what the man wanted.
“What you need?” Chernor asked, burly arms crossed over his chest.
“I need you to lead Wolf Squad,” Argus said. “Keep our Seraphim above the fort, and charge only when the knights are within elemental range.”
“And where will you be while I’m doing this?”
“That’s my own business—now fly.”
Chernor thudded a fist against his breast, then kissed it.
“Always wanted to be in charge,” he said, grinning. “Might as well lead when we’re flying against the toughest sons of bitches in the skies.”
He punched his throttle and shot into the air, silver wings glimmering brightly. Bree watched him leave, not wanting to meet Argus’s hard gaze.
“So where do you wish me to go?” she asked.
“Nowhere,” Argus said. “I want you here with me.”
Bree’s temper flared as she turned to face him.
“What, so I’m nice and safe in case we lose the battle?” she asked. “God forbid something happen to your precious mascot.”
“Watch your tongue, Seraph,” Argus snapped. Bree retreated, her face and neck flushing. Her commander grabbed the front of her jacket and yanked her back, free hand pointing to the distant gold shimmers that were the angelic knights.
“Nine,” he said. “I’d hoped they’d come in haste with only four or five, but there’s nine. We have no hope of winning a prolonged battle. We must end this quickly, and that’s where you and I come in.”
“You and I,” Bree said. Her tone had softened, and she felt embarrassed for her outburst. “As in you and the Phoenix.”
Argus let out a long breath as he clenched his jaw and fought to cool down.
“The three squads up there will appear to be the entirety of our forces, and when they unleash their elements, they’ll convince the knights of our desperation. Center is arrogant, and I’m betting our lives that they still underestimate us. When they circle around after the first pass, you and I can hit them from below, fast and hard. We don’t need to kill many, just two or three to ensure our numbers advantage remains strong.”
So not safe and hidden, but quite the opposite. Bree saw the wisdom in the plan, but there was the obvious need of her burning weapons.
“You said you’d never force me,” she said. “You said the decision to bare my fire would always be mine.”
“And it still is. I’ll attack alone if I must. Come with me, or remain here, your choice.” Argus stepped closer, spoke softly. “Bring your fire. Stop hiding, and show the world what you can do.”
Bree drew her swords and clutc
hed them tightly in her fists. Her left thumb tapped against the throttle, itching for speed. Eyes skyward, she watched the Seraphs and knights begin their volleys. Weshern’s was by far the greater, all four elements flashing outward, illuminating the encroaching dark with fire and lightning. The knights’ offensive lasted only a heartbeat before they flung up defensive walls of stone and veered out of formation to dodge. The fierceness of the attack had to have caught them off guard, and Bree pumped a fist upon seeing first one, then two knights plummet to the ground.
With reaction speeds bordering on superhuman, the knights flung their gauntlets to the side and blasted lightning and ice at the passing Weshern Seraphim. Three Seraphs died in an instant, and several others veered off injured. Argus twisted a knob on his right gauntlet, arming the ice element within. Bree thought he might offer one last argument, but that wasn’t Argus’s way.
“Decide,” he said simply, then burst into the air with a sudden flash of silver. Bree flicked the throttle, felt power flood through the silver wings. In the end, her decision was no decision at all.
She ran, throttle easing forward until she leapt into the air and punched it to its fullest. Her arms stretched out to either side, swords pointed out and away like a second pair of wings. Momentum had carried both forces farther apart, but now they curled back around for another exchange. The knights’ backs were to her and Argus, and they were not yet up to full speed. Wings screaming, air billowing across her body, Bree knifed upward on an intercept course, trailing just behind Argus.
Her commander lifted his right gauntlet, and blue light flared from the focal point in his palm as he shot shards of ice at the nearest knight. The shards were small and sharp, barely perceptible in the growing darkness. Most broke against the golden armor, but two found the soft flesh of the knight’s abdomen and neck. His body went limp, and his final death flails sent him careening leftward. The now-falling knight had been at the rear, with no one to see his death, and Argus drained power from his wings to keep back and shoot at another.
Bree made no such hesitation. Foe in her sights, she released the power of her prism, then clanged her swords together. Fire bathed over them, and that flash of light was the only warning her target received. She flew past, sword slicing through his body and severing his arm. It would have been his head had he not dodged at the last moment. Bree twirled in the air, attacks from her fellow Seraphim screaming past either side, and then dropped to follow another knight who’d flown alongside the first. The woman’s golden wings thrummed as Bree chased, the two streaking toward the ground like meteors.
The knight twisted about to face her, wings shutting off as she brought her gauntlet to bear. Bree weaved left, then rolled right, avoiding two thick blasts of lightning. Their light burned red in her vision. Bree punched her throttle to its absolute maximum, closing the distance between them. The knight rotated back and reactivated her wings, but she couldn’t accelerate in time. Bree crashed down on her, burning blades hacking through her wings and harness like butter. The ground now frighteningly close, and getting closer, Bree kicked off, screaming in pain as she shifted her trajectory upward, the buckles of her harness digging into her skin as she arched her back. The knight, with her own wings damaged, could not follow. She slammed into the ground, then rolled, limbs snapping wildly as her body twisted like a rag doll. Teeth clenched, Bree fought against the pain as she missed the tall grass by mere feet before rising into the air.
The sky was full of silver wings, the remaining four knights now terribly outnumbered and surrounded on all sides. Bree flew into the center of the chaotic battle, swords leaving thin trails of flame. Lightning exploded on either side of her, and she saw a plume of fire rising from beneath, but she raced through. The crawling darkness covered half the sky, and against such a backdrop the knights’ golden wings shone like beacons as she chased. Her chosen target was a knight weaving side to side, the two Weshern Seraphs on his heels alternating blasts of stone and plumes of fire. They always missed, but never by much, leaving the knight with no chance to retaliate.
Bree flew in from the knight’s left side, the streaks of her swords easily visible to her fellows giving chase. They ceased their attacks, allowing Bree to close without danger. Wings thrumming a constant chorus in her ears, Bree shifted her angle once, then again, cutting the distance between them to next to nothing. Her prey spotted her from the corner of his eye, and he jolted into a hard right. The two original chasers appeared to have predicted such a reaction, and a combination of stone and lightning blasted into the knight’s path, striking him down.
Arcing away, Bree scanned for the nearest foe, saw but one left. Darkness nearly covered the world, but even in the dim light she recognized the black line on Argus’s wings as he chased after the fleeing knight. Bree forcing her wings to their maximum, relishing the feeling of speed. No matter how fast she went, it never felt like enough, and she pushed harder against the throttle. Fire dripped behind her as she flew, her blades hungry in her hands. Her vision narrowed down to that lone knight and Argus, weaving together in a deadly dance. Argus fired lance after lance of ice, a careful stream that never seemed to hit.
Bree grinned when she realized what Argus was doing. If allowed to fly straight, the knight could outpace them all with his superior wings. Argus was carefully, expertly guiding the knight’s path, shifting it back toward her so he couldn’t flee. Coming in from the side, Bree would have one brief opportunity of attack before shooting past. Vowing not to waste it, she judged the distance, tweaked her aim, and closed the gap. Too busy focusing on Argus behind him, he never saw her coming.
Bree shut off her wings just before impact. Shoulders and waist twisting, she spun in a circle, wrists together, twin blades forming a wall of fire at her command. She sliced straight through the knight as he passed, fire bursting with power the moment before the steel made contact. Her blades never felt a single moment of resistance.
Powering her wings back on, Bree watched the two separate pieces of the knight fall to the field, and she smiled bitterly.
The vultures spent centuries coming for our dead, she thought. Will they know what to do when retrieving their own?
Bree banished the fire about her blades. The battle was won, the Weshern soldiers safely arriving in Porth, carrying weapons and armor on their way to various safe houses established throughout the island. Adrenaline pounding through her, she surveyed the area, saw her fellow Seraphim joining into squadrons for a retreat back to the Aquila Forest. Bree did not go with them. Instead she flew straight up into the air, swords still in hand. Thankfully none of the other Seraphim tried to follow her. She didn’t want to explain, and in a few moments, she wouldn’t need to.
Higher and higher she climbed, thumb rammed down on the throttle. The island receded beneath her, nothing but a black blur as the darkness complete crawled across the sky. When it was at its darkest, the moment just before the midnight fire lit the west, she ceased her ascent, rotated her body, and ignited her blades. Flame burst to life about them, and she punched the throttle to her wings. Swords held wide to either side, she burned a trail across the blackened sky.
Silver wings shimmering, she streaked over the island of Weshern, wind gusting across her body as she left the rest of the Seraphim behind. Her fire burned and burned, unmistakable in the night. There might not be stars, but there would be twin red lines, the mark of the Phoenix, and all who saw would know. This was her promise to them. This was her open rebellion. Once word of the attack on Fort Luster spread, a single name would be assigned blame. Argus insisted she could give the people hope, and she prayed it was true as she twirled, twisting the burning lines together. Let the people believe her unafraid. Let them see her dance.
Far off in all directions golden wings took flight, their glow easy to see in the darkness. Knights spotting her during their patrols of distant towns. Despite it, Bree grinned. It would take several minutes for the nearest to reach her, and that was only if she remained sti
ll...something she had no intention of doing. She shifted her aim eastward, a path leading between two separate far-off knights. Behind her, the midnight fire continued its crawl across the sky. Bree kept her throttle punched to its maximum, and she veered north, then south, ensuring the few she saw rising from ahead would still need time to catch up.
Despite the danger, despite knowing that at least nine angelic knights raced after her, Bree felt free for the first time since meeting with Argus at Glensbee. No more hiding. No more debating the proper course of action. No more denying fire from her swords. She was Weshern’s Phoenix, and she would fight for them, and if she must, she would die for them.
Bree glanced up, saw the midnight fire nearly overhead, and curled her back so she rose steeply. It would be tricky timing, but she trusted herself to pull it off. Higher and higher she climbed into the clouds, into the sky beyond. Weshern grew more and more distant, and the chasing knights had to shift their aim ever higher. They’d be watching her, chasing the trail of her swords and the silver shimmer of her wings, both easy to spot when outlined against the darkness.
But the darkness was at an end.
Bree veered so she flew through the heart of a gigantic stretch of clouds, then shut off her wings and banished the flame from her swords. The midnight fire crossed high above her, bathing the world in red. Wings and swords dormant, she’d be nothing but a speck amid the rippling, uneven fire. Eyes closed, she fell, felt the wind blow her hair, felt it push against her arms and legs. The knights would be searching for her, scattering, thinking her fire blocked by the burning sky or the silver of her wings hidden by the clouds. Let them look. Bree had done her part. Weshern knew, as did Center. The Phoenix was now an enemy of the Speaker and all who served him.
Twisting her upper body so that she faced the approaching ground, Bree angled her head downward into a dive. She acted as if her wings were already awake, and she spread her arms, pretending to be a bird descending upon its prey. Weshern approached, vague clusters becoming towns, purple veins becoming rivers and lakes. Bree waited as long as she could, then thrummed her wings back on. She kept the power low, trying just to slow herself as she shifted to fly parallel to the ground instead of straight at it. The change hurt her back, but the power of the wings could not be refused. She skimmed along the ground, so close she could sometimes reach down to brush the grass with her fingers. A glance over her shoulder showed none following, the knights still searching the skies high above. Gradually Bree upped the throttle, and like a shot she raced toward Lowville.
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