Fireborn

by David Dalglish

  There’d be no crowd this morning, not with the seventh five days away. They saw nary a soul on their walk to the cathedral, which was fine with Kael. The fewer around, the better. The last thing he wanted was innocent lives lost during Bree’s rescue.

  “Almost there,” Kael said as they passed through the tall grass fields on either side of them. “Are you sure you’re up for this?”

  “It was my idea, remember?” Clara said. “And don’t worry. Once the battle starts I’ll flee back to the mansion, and it’ll be easy to say my escort came back with me. So long as you do your part, I’ll be fine.”

  She made it seem as if she were in no danger, but Kael knew that was far from the truth. Even if all went according to plan, and any who witnessed Kael’s arrival with Clara died during the engagement, the timing of the attack coinciding with Clara’s arrival would still draw suspicion. Clara insisted the risks were worth it, and Kael knew better than to try changing her mind. He looked to the tall grass fields as they walked, searching for signs of movement. Hidden deep within the grass crawled Johan’s men, who had entered the fields during the midnight fire. Kael saw no unnatural wave of grass, no gap to signify the presence of a man, but he trusted them to be there, waiting for Johan’s signal to attack.

  Ahead, the Crystal Cathedral rose above the green in a splendid display of glass and steel. The front resembled a multilayered triangle, nearly every bit of it colored glass. The chosen colors were blue and white of varying shades, smoothly integrating together so the many jagged, overlapping glass sheets seemed one singular piece. The sheets rose out of the ground, on thick steel poles expertly camouflaged by the paintings that decorated the lower portions of the building. They depicted theotechs administering crowds and performing miracles while above them Seraphim battled red-eyed demons made of fire and frost.

  The only nonglass structures Kael could spot were the ancient wood doors painted white and the marble steps leading up to them. Four knights stood at attention, one for each corner of the pyramid-shaped structure, while two armored soldiers with spears and shields flanked the doors. Kael thrust his shoulders back, trying to make himself seem as tall as possible. He’d be young for a personal bodyguard, and while the tattoos and weapons helped, there was still the chance a soldier would sense something was amiss.

  “Have you come to pray, Miss Willer?” asked one of the soldiers as Kael and Clara stopped at the foot of the steps.

  “I have,” Clara said. “I fear for the salvation of my parents, and the safety of my home.”

  One guard looked to the other.

  “The family of the Archon is always welcome,” he said, and he pushed the door inward. “Come seek the angels’ guidance.”

  Kael kept his face passive lest his relief show. Could it truly be that easy? Clara nodded respectfully to the soldiers, then climbed the steps. Kael followed, trailing behind her and slightly to the side. His optimism plummeted the moment both soldiers crossed their spears before him.

  “Just her,” they said.

  Keeping in character as best he knew how, he glared at them while waiting for Clara to speak.

  “He is my personal bodyguard,” she said upon hearing their proclamation. “Would you deny me my safety?”

  “You are within blessed halls watched over by knights of Center herself,” the first guard said. “There is no place safer, not on this island.”

  “Where I go, Edward goes,” she said. “Or must I find Theotech Vyros and inform him of how you’ve disrespected me by wasting my time?”

  The mention of Vyros’s involvement removed their stubbornness immediately.

  “Very well,” the guard said. “But he leaves his shield and weapon here with us.”

  They’d anticipated such a request, and that was more than fine with Kael. The long spear and heavy shield weren’t the weapons he planned on fighting with. Kael glanced to Clara, waited for her accepting nod, and then handed his spear to the nearest soldier, followed by the shield off his back. That done, the guards parted, allowing Kael to follow Clara into the cathedral. Together they entered the main hall, where the cathedral opened up immensely.

  Kael gaped at the ceiling, unable to help himself. The many layers of glass ended at random intervals as the four sides approached the focal point of the cathedral. The sunlight filtering through the various colors blended them together into a seemingly singular ceiling. Theotech tradition declared all sermons must be given in open air, and it was above the raised dais where the four thickest and longest glass plates came to a halt, leaving a gap barely a foot wide for sunlight to stream down in a thick beam. The floor was marble painted green, the benches an earthy brown. Instead of theotechs and crowds, trees and sprawling bushes full of blooming flowers were painted across the interior walls. The many layers of glass were expertly weaved together while leaving narrow passages so that a gentle breeze blew throughout the building. The wind was always chilly, fueling rumors that ice elements were embedded deep within the glass. The overall effect was a feeling of being in an open field with a clear blue sky, the sun shining directly down upon the lecturing theotech as he spoke the wisdom of the angels.

  Clara traveled down one of the rows splitting up the benches, chose one near the center, and took her seat. As he’d been instructed during their preparations, Kael sat in the row directly behind her, crossed his arms, and stared vacantly ahead.

  “So far so good,” Clara whispered while pretending to pray.

  Kael didn’t acknowledge her, only casually glanced about the cathedral. He saw several robed young men and women at the outer walls, carrying buckets and rags as they cleaned the glass. They wouldn’t be any threat when battle came. Behind the dais stood a single knight guarding what appeared to be steps downward. From where he sat, Kael could barely see the top of a metal door. The rest of the complex was built underground, just as Johan had predicted. It was from there Kael expected reinforcements to emerge when Johan attacked. He’d need to be patient, and Johan’s timing equally perfect. Telling himself it would all be fine, he fought against his growing nerves. Just sitting there, he felt so exposed, so vulnerable.

  Kael heard Clara speak his name, and he brought his attention back to her. It hadn’t been meant for him, though, as he realized she was praying for real. Asking for his safety, as well as Bree’s rescue. Hearing her worried plea, hearing her fears expressed so personally, made Kael feel like an intruder. Worse, he could do nothing to comfort her, not even something as simple as touching her hand, without potentially exposing the charade.

  Time dragged on. The door in the back opened, and an older theotech emerged. He spotted Clara and immediately made his way over the dais and then down the aisle toward her. The bushy white of his beard and eyebrows contrasted sharply with the extreme dark of his skin. He sat down on the bench directly ahead of Clara and turned to face her. Clara sensed his arrival and pulled up from her prayer.

  “It’s always a pleasure to see members of the ruling family within our crystal halls,” the theotech said. “Is there something heavy on your heart you’d like to speak with me about, Clara?”

  “No thank you, Jorg,” Clara said. “I need no advice or counsel. I only wish to express my fears over those I love.”

  Jorg coughed, wet and full of phlegm.

  “As you wish,” he said. “Know I am close, and always willing to lend an ear. The wisdom of the angels was meant for all, but it is most important for those of the Archon’s blood to hear and understand. Your decisions shape the hearts of your people, and right now, I fear Weshern’s faith is tenuous and brittle.” The theotech chuckled. “Then again, it is the gardener who must accept responsibility for the state of his garden, and no one else.”

  “Who is the gardener, you, or my family?” Clara asked.

  Jorg smiled at her as he rose from his seat.

  “I meant my order, but I suppose your family’s hands are in the soil as much as our own.”

  The old man was four steps down the
aisle when Johan’s army attacked. A boulder smashed through the ancient wood doors at the entrance, crushing the bones of the two guards along with it. Crackles of lightning flashed in the sky above, shining through the blue paint of the glass. The young cleaning the sides of the cathedral stood shocked and confused as to what was happening. Kael joined Clara’s side as Jorg rushed to the door behind the dais. They ducked down below the bench; Kael removed his house guard tunic.

  “Get out of here the second the fight shifts away from the cathedral,” he told her, handing over his tunic. Should he be caught, he needed to reduce every possible link to Clara’s involvement.

  Clara grabbed the top of his shirt and yanked him close enough for a kiss.

  “You come back to me, you understand?” she said, breath coming out rapid between her lips. “You get your sister, and you get out.”

  Her iron stare made it seem like she believed she could will it to be with a mere order. Kael yanked off the glove of his right hand and brushed the side of her face with his palm.

  “We’re not dying here,” he said. “Not today.”

  Jorg reached the back door, flung it open, and began shouting for reinforcements to come and aid the battle outside. Kael kept low, watching armored soldiers arrive from the far door, some bearing spears, others bows and arrows. They rushed the broken entrance, shouting orders as they exited. Three knights followed, emerging single file in their golden armor and glimmering wings. With professional calmness they marched to the exit. Kael kept his eyes low and his body crouched next to Clara’s, praying the three didn’t notice them hiding there. They didn’t, not with the battle outside occupying their attention. Upon reaching the gaping hole that was once the front doors, the knights flooded light into their wings and took off.

  With the knights outside, the sounds of battle heightened tenfold. Kael kept crouched, legs tensed for a sprint. It would be any moment, and he’d have to act quickly. Jorg had returned to the inner door, standing before it while talking to two soldiers positioned beside him. Everyone’s attention was on the outside, but those three might be an issue if he weren’t fast enough...

  Even though they expected it, the shattering of the Crystal Cathedral’s eastern ceiling was still an overwhelming spectacle. Two stones blasted through, smashing the blue glass into a thousand shards that fell like rain upon the tiles and benches of the cathedral’s eastern portion. The roar of its fall was deafening. The stones struck the floor, cracking marble as they shattered into pieces. The pieces rolled, mist leaking off them as the stones already began the gradual process of fading away into smoke and dust. Kael looked to the newly opened gap and saw a man wearing the brown robes of Johan’s disciples flying above. He held a huge bundle in his arms, silver wings sticking out from one side. The man dropped the pack unceremoniously through the gap, then took off, a blur of gold and red chasing after.

  Kael sprinted the moment he spotted the pack. It fell at a strange speed, about half of what should have been normal. The two soldiers with Jorg stood dumbfounded at the damage to the ancient cathedral, their surprise giving Kael the time he needed to reach the pack as it softly thudded atop one of the benches. Kael tugged at the rope holding the pack together, removing the knot and yanking aside thin burlap to reveal his harness and wings. Tied to it was the enormous shield, newly painted so that the blue sword of Weshern hung over a black background, two white wings spreading from either side of the blade’s base. Between the wings and shield was his sword belt, along with a single sword. The light elements of both shield and wings were activated, allowing the disciple to carry it in the first place, as well as fall without taking damage.

  Skipping the wings, Kael thrust his right hand into the gauntlet, flicked the knob to arm the ice element inside, and then whirled on Jorg and the two soldiers. One was running toward him, the other standing confused beside the theotech. Kael sent a lance of ice straight through the neck of the far soldier, a second shot trailing a heartbeat behind to smash the theotech’s ribs. Both dropped, dead or dying. The final guard lifted his shield to protect his body, but Kael lowered his aim and widened his palm far as it could go. His mind shaped the shot, turning the ice into a spray of frost that painted the tiles. With his shield and heavy armor, the charging soldier had no chance to keep afoot, slipping and falling painfully onto his back. He lay there, groaning, as Kael jammed his arms through the harness and hoisted the wings onto his back. Next came the sword belt, which he looped around his waist and then yanked the buckles tight. His left arm slid through the strap of the shield to grab its handle, and despite its size, it lifted as if it weighed less than a pound.

  “Here we go,” Kael whispered, breathing out a nervous sigh.

  Kael flicked the throttle while jumping. He rose into the air and curled his body so that he rolled forward, then killed the throttle, going upside down. His momentum kept him sailing toward the inner door, and he thrust his gauntlet out as he soared over the prone soldier. The man pulled his shield up from the floor, but not fast enough. A thin shard of ice jammed through his eye, ending his movements. Kael curled more, somersaulting to a standing position and then punching power back into his wings just before his feet touched ground. It jarred his knees, but not as bad as it could have. Kael sprinted toward the open door upon landing, weaving around the bodies of the dead and then dashing down the steps into the hidden recesses of the theotechs’ cathedral.

  CHAPTER

  18

  The hallway was wide, and clearly designed for winged knights to pass through comfortably. The walls were clean, undecorated marble. The hall descended for at least a hundred feet without a turn. Doors lined either side, many of them thrust open. It should have been dark, down so deep away from the sun, but soft lights embedded into the ceiling shone across everything. Light elements, Kael realized as he passed them every few seconds. Smaller than normal, and set into slots carved out of the marble. Strange runes marked all four sides, and Kael could only guess as to their purpose.

  Kael wiped the paint off his face as he walked. With his paint and tunic gone, and his remaining clothes nondescript, he’d hopefully appear as nothing more than one of Johan’s attacking Seraphs. When Kael passed the first door, he glanced inside, his shield and gauntlet ready. A soldiers’ barracks by the looks of it. Four beds pressed against opposite walls, the remaining space used for racks of armor and trunks of clothes, both of which were scattered about, reflecting the frantic nature of their defense against Johan’s assault. Kael checked a door on the other side. Another empty barracks, also lit by a single light element shining from the ceiling like a ghostly stalactite.

  Kael continued deeper into the complex, his footfalls echoing in the dreadful silence. He checked each door, ready to fire his ice element should he encounter resistance. One door revealed a far nicer room with a single bed instead of bunks. A knight’s quarters, he assumed. The bed’s stained oak frame and silken crimson sheets looked like they belonged to royalty rather than servants of Center. An empty stand stood in the corner, a holder for the knight’s golden wings. Kael spotted two more such rooms on his way down the hall. All of them, thankfully, were empty.

  As Kael approached a turn, he paused, swearing he heard footsteps. Standing there he heard nothing, no footsteps, no distant calls, but he didn’t trust the quiet. Carefully he neared the corner, then stopped, waiting. It was faint, but Kael heard it, the distinct rattle of armor from around the corner, but how far? Holding his breath, Kael slowly crept closer, soft blue light wafting from the focal point of his gauntlet as his nerves stretched tight. One tiny step, followed by another, and then he stopped. Listened. Absolute silence. He didn’t buy it.

  Kael leapt around the corner, twisting his body so his shield covered all but his head and everything below the knees. A winged knight waited in ambush, sword in his left hand, gauntlet spread wide in his right. The sword smacked against the shield, not even scoring a dent, as a ball of flame burst from the gauntlet. It splashed across the sh
ield, then dissipated with a puff of black smoke, its energy expelled on the thick steel. Kael’s momentum carried him shoulder-first into the wall, and he cried out. The hit spoiled his aim, his thin spike of ice shooting past the knight’s head and shattering against the ceiling.

  Before he could fire a second the knight hopped backward to gain space, braced his hand, and released a torrent of flame. Kael lifted the shield knowing it was hopeless. The fire stretched near floor to ceiling, its center focused right at his chest. It was a rolling inferno that made a mockery of his shield’s cover. Kael tensed, anticipating the fire’s heat on his skin, but his shield flared with light the moment the attack hit. Kael felt a tug on his mind, a pull on the element akin to when he released the ice element from his gauntlet. The fire swirled against the shield, but it went no farther, the enormous burst crackling and breaking into plumes of black smoke that hung in the cramped corridor.

  Kael’s foe looked just as stunned as he was. Refusing to lose what advantage he had, Kael jumped toward the knight while flaring his wings, his shield leading the charge. Kael thumbed off the switch to the shield’s light element just before impact. Immediately he felt the weight on his arm, pulling him forward and down with its momentum. It slammed into the knight, who’d braced against the impact. His strength meant nothing against that thick, heavy steel. The knight toppled, Kael landing atop him, the shield crunching armor and pinning his limbs. Kael reactivated his shield’s element, rolled off him and onto his knees, and yanked his sword free of its scabbard. The knight started to move, but Kael lunged with his sword. The tip jammed into his throat, scraping across spine on its way to clack against the stone floor.