Fireborn

by David Dalglish

  “Stories of captive demons in the deep pits of Heavenstone,” Johan said. His blue eyes narrowed in the red dark. “Of knives cutting into their flesh, drawing out their blood to make the elements humankind needed to survive.”

  “Their blood?” Kael asked, thinking of how his blood regenerated the power of a light element, and his sister, a flame element.

  “Always their blood,” Johan said, nodding. “But that couldn’t be true, could it? The theotechs harboring demons while also preaching that God wiped them all away during the Ascension? Why, that would make them liars and deceivers. And if they know of the demons, then they’d know the true reason for the midnight fire, which they’ve always insisted they have no explanation for.”

  The bitterness and contempt dripping from Johan’s words was so thick Kael felt he could reach out and touch its hovering presence. Despite the underlying horror such revelations meant, Kael couldn’t help feeling excitement. He wasn’t alone. He didn’t have to hold on to such secrets and wonder at their meanings.

  “So you’ll tell the people?” Kael asked. “That’s what you do, right? Unravel the theotechs’ lies?”

  Johan stood to his full height, and he shook his head as he smiled sadly.

  “If I spread such stories, the people will believe as I once did,” he said. “They’ll hear nothing but fanciful tales told by a man doing all he can to smear and discredit the Speaker and his theotechs. We have no proof, Kael, and proof is what we need if we’re to shake the faith of the public. The grander the lie, the harder the people will cling to it over acknowledging their own gullibility. Right now, there is only one greater lie in all of the five islands.”

  “And what is that?” Kael asked.

  “That the theotechs care about the lives of their subjects.”

  Kael’s nerves retightened, his anxiety reawakening.

  “So we tell no one?” he asked. “We keep it to ourselves and let them get away with their lies?”

  “Only for a little while,” Johan said. “We’ll need to find a way to capture one of these demons if we’re to have any chance in persuading people to abandon the beliefs they’ve been taught since birth. Right now, we must remain focused on the task at hand: saving those the Speaker would execute tomorrow morning.”

  Kael felt a mixture of relief and disappointment. Part of him wanted to investigate the mystery of the demons. Part of him never wanted to see them again.

  “You’re right,” he said, heading for the ladder down. “I’ll leave you in peace.”

  “Peace is no preference to your company,” Johan said, and he smiled. “Sleep well.”

  Kael reached the stairs, paused. Something still bothered him, nibbling away at the back of his mind. Before leaving, he turned around.

  “Johan...there’s something strange beneath the Crystal Cathedral. I can feel it. And I know it makes no sense, but it feels like I’m being called back there.”

  Johan’s mouth twitched into a frown.

  “Is that so?” the man asked. “Do you have any idea what calls you down there, or why?”

  Kael shook his head.

  “I don’t. It’s a feeling I have, along with blurry dreams I barely remember upon waking.”

  “Interesting. If you happen to learn more, please, let me know. Now go rest, Kael. A monumental task awaits you tomorrow, but you’ve succeeded at the impossible once, and I believe you and your sister capable of doing so again.”

  When Kael returned to his room, Bree was quiet, her snoring ceased. He slipped into his blankets, trying not to wake her, but it was an unnecessary kindness.

  “Kael?” Bree asked from atop the bed.

  “Yeah?” Kael responded as he moved pillows about in an attempt to get more comfortable.

  “Are you all right? You were gone a long time.”

  “Just went to the roof for some fresh air,” Kael said. “I’m fine, really. Johan was up there, too, and he wanted to talk, so we talked. I...I told him about the creatures we saw, and the wall they’re behind.” He sighed. “Do you think that was a good idea?”

  He heard the bed squeak as she shifted.

  “I don’t know. I’ll trust your judgment,” she said. Kael suppressed a laugh. Trust his judgment? He hadn’t the slightest clue what he was doing. “Kael, did you tell him about what our blood can do?”

  He frowned.

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  Kael rolled onto his side, facing away from the bed.

  “I don’t know,” he said. “Never had reason to, I guess.”

  A long pause.

  “Until we know what it means, or what we even are, can you keep this between only us?”

  “Of course,” Kael said. “Whatever you want.”

  Another long pause.

  “Thank you, Kael.”

  “Don’t mention it.”

  He closed his eyes in an attempt to sleep. It wasn’t long before he heard his sister’s breathing slow and the first inklings of snoring resume. Exhaustion clawed at his own eyes, but every time he felt sleep coming to take him away, the blue-white doors with gold runes and painted wings flashed into his vision, hovering over the darkness, calling him, demanding he return and enter within.

  CHAPTER

  22

  Marius entered New Galen in the early morning mist, flanked on the ground by four of his most trusted knights and several more hovering in the air above. Er’el Jaina Cenborn walked alongside him. None of the news she’d come to share was good.

  “Breanna’s blood was everything Er’el Tesdon hoped for when he began the program,” she said, shaking her head sadly. “Her escape is most disappointing.”

  “Is there any way of replicating the results?” Marius said as they passed posts pounded into the ground, long red strips of cloth fluttering from nails at the tops.

  “Not in the short term,” Jaina said. She smoothed an errant strand of hair away from her pale face. “Perhaps not even in the long term. When we last tried, the casualties from the blood implantation were catastrophic. Liam and Cassandra’s survival bordered on a miracle, and given our lack of explanation as to why, we might as well accept it as nonrepeatable.”

  Marius refused to let his frustration show. At all times in public he kept his head high, his shoulders back, and his lips in a smile. Exuding confidence was a vital aspect of maintaining the persona he’d so carefully crafted. People mustn’t doubt his authority. They mustn’t wonder at his capabilities of handling even the most difficult of situations. Despite trusting his knights completely, he lowered his voice and leaned even closer to Jaina as he spoke.

  “Demon blood may be lethal, but the gift emerged in the second generation,” he said. “What if the blood of the Skyborn twins is far more suitable for transfer than anything we used previously?”

  Jaina tapped at her lips as she thought.

  “Interesting,” she said. “But we’ve used Liam’s blood in transfusions before. We never discovered any latent gifts in the recipients.”

  “We’ve also never seen what Breanna Skyborn’s blood accomplished, either,” Marius said. “The idea is worth pursuing, at the least.”

  “It is,” Jaina said. “But first we must capture one of them alive.”

  The street broadened, the town center of New Galen nearing. Already Marius heard the murmur of the gathered crowd.

  “Do you know who rescued Breanna from the Crystal Cathedral?” Marius asked.

  “We’ve only guesses. It was a male, bald, likely a member of Johan’s rebel ministry. He wore a stolen harness from one of our knights as well.”

  “A disguised male,” Marius said. “One who flew far beyond the distance my knights felt comfortable traveling. Kael Skyborn’s affinity was of light, and if his sister’s blood can revive an emptied fire prism, it’s not much of a stretch to assume her brother is capable of doing the same with a light prism.”

  There was no hiding the excitement blossoming in Jaina’s blue eyes.


  “If that’s true, and Kael was the rescuer, then the two likely survived,” she said. “Why didn’t you post a watch for their return?”

  “I did,” Marius said. “But Weshern has hundreds of miles to its border. It’s not unreasonable to assume they managed to slip onto the island without being spotted.”

  “Then we must find them and bring them in,” she said. “Both of them. They’re the key to Tesdon’s dream. I only scratched the surface of what we might learn prior to Breanna’s escape. With the two of them together, and with more time...”

  “Patience,” Marius said, and he gestured before them. “For now, we focus on the task at hand. Those who would spit on all the good we’ve done must pay the price.”

  The murmur was now a rumble. Hundreds of people, massed together in New Galen’s market square. Many were Galen refugees, but Marius had ordered a significant amount of Weshern natives to be herded inside as well. All four roads leading into the square were blocked off by soldiers forming a solid wall of shields and spears. A dozen knights stood in a ring at the center, forming a perimeter around the enormous pit he’d had his soldiers dig over the last twenty-four hours. It was ten feet across and thirty feet deep, the very bottom lined with jagged stones. Four tall beams of wood, one at each corner, held aloft crossbeams that formed an X above the pit. Hanging above the pit by ropes tied to those crossbeams were the nine men and women waiting to die.

  The bodies softly swayed in the gentle morning wind. Their hands were bound behind their backs, their ankles tied together, and their chests carefully wrapped. All three loops were then connected to a single major rope attached to the beam, the only thing that held them aloft. Their mouths were gagged, for there was no need for repentance or confession, only execution. Some were conscious, others not.

  Marius recognized several, particularly those who’d been involved with the Weshern Seraphim academy. Rebecca Waller glared at him from where she hung, her eyes never leaving his. Marius smiled at her, pleased by the woman’s fiery spirit. Capturing her had been the second-most important success of the raid on the Aquila Forest. She was the intelligence of the resistance, the hidden bones holding it all together. Near her was a former instructor, Randy Kime, if Marius remembered correctly. One of his hands was missing from an old injury, and it had required an even trickier set of knots to keep his arms pinned behind his back. Between them was a smaller woman with copper skin and dark hair. The academy’s librarian, though Marius couldn’t recall her name.

  In the center of the X hung Marius’s most prized capture, and the one death he knew would reverberate throughout all of Weshern: a fully gagged and blindfolded Argus Summers.

  “A shame such a legend must die this way,” Marius said, pausing before the pit. “Reports say Argus was surprised and taken down without a chance to fight back.”

  “And it’s for the best,” Jaina said, frowning at the hanging man. “How many more knights might we have lost if he’d been given that chance?”

  “A great many,” Marius admitted. “Argus deserved a better end to the legend he crafted, but that is his own failing. I did not force him to rebel. Misguided loyalty and pride did that, and neither will save him from the drop.”

  An elevated wood platform stood on one side of the pit, and Marius climbed its stairs, Jaina at his heels. Another dozen shield bearers lined the front of the platform, separating Marius from the rest of the crowd. Two men waited for him atop the platform, Lance and Edwin Willer, come at his request to grant legitimacy to the executions. Not that he needed it. This was about sending messages. The people would see Lance and Edwin beside him, calm, silent, and most important of all, obedient.

  “I’ve never seen tensions this high before,” Lance said, accepting Marius’s offered hand and shaking it. “Half the crowd looks ready to kill the other half.”

  “And both halves wish to see us dead,” Edwin added, shaking his hand as well. “I know you brought plenty of knights, Speaker, but I wish you’d brought even more.”

  Marius beamed his widest smile, his well-trained response for when he wished to frown in public. Lance was a hot-blooded fool drunk on his own importance. He’d do anything Marius asked so long as it allowed him to believe Weshern remained loosely under his control. Edwin was more troublesome, his tongue sharp, his eyes always laughing. Thankfully that one had shown no inclination to work with Argus’s crumbling resistance.

  “We are quite safe, I assure you,” Marius said. “I have with me twenty of my best knights, each worth a dozen Seraphim from any minor island. We are safe from any threat.”

  “It’s not rebel Seraphim or Johan’s deluded disciples I’m worried about,” Lance said. “It’s the hundreds of people ready to tear each other limb from limb. No offense, your holiness, but I have a feeling they’d do the same to you if they got the chance.”

  “They’re welcome to try,” Jaina said, listening to the conversation even as her eyes never left the nine waiting to drop. “Spoiled children throwing tantrums, that’s all they are. Beat them hard enough with a switch and they’ll behave.”

  “Today’s not about punishing the guilty,” Marius said, taking in every fearful glare, every muttered sigh, to gauge the temperature of the crowd. “If I wanted that, those hanging there would have been dead days ago. I’m here to enlighten the misguided and warn the foolhardy.”

  Marius beckoned one of his knights closer, the armored man hovering close from a perch near the rooftop behind the platform. A dark beard covered much of his face, and that which wasn’t covered was the color of coal. Hanging from his back, locked in place between his two wings, was an enormous chain flail. A patch on his shoulder identified him as a knight lieutenant, one of the most skilled of all his knights.

  “What is your name, Knight Lieutenant?” Marius asked him.

  “Beograd, your holiness,” the man answered.

  “Is the area secure?”

  “It appears so, though with so many people in such a wide area, we can never be sure.”

  That was good enough for Marius. He knew this performance was inherently dangerous. All important things tended to contain some measure of risk.

  “The angels will not take me until my time has come,” Marius said. “But keep close, and keep your eyes open. I have no intention of giving the angels a reason to hurry.”

  Beograd saluted, then hovered back into the air, positioning himself between two other knights who watched the row of homes behind the platform. Marius ran the opening few sentences of his prepared speech over in his head. Project, he told himself. Dominate. Their ears are yours, so captivate them with your charisma.

  All the while, he kept a calm smile on his face. No matter what doubt or concerns were inside his mind, he would never, ever let the public see anything other than complete confidence. Deciding the time was right, he stepped to the edge of the platform. The crowd immediately hushed, as eager to hear the words of the angels as Marius was to speak them.

  “Citizens of Weshern,” Marius began, spreading his arms wide as if he were to embrace them. “Survivors of Galen. I greet you as voice of the angels, servants of our mighty Lord. I wish the message I brought was one of joy, but that cannot be. Turmoil is the norm, and even on this island the risk of collapse remains. The Ascension was to save us from the trials of the old world, but the evils have followed. Under such a threat, we must have the strength of unity to endure. We must be one voice decrying the darkness. But instead...”

  He spun to face the hanging nine.

  “Instead we have liars and warmongers!” he shouted. “Instead we have those who would seek death over union, destruction over safety, and the bloodshed of war over the sanctity of peace!”

  He thrust an accusatory finger their way.

  “They have decried my authority. They have spread falsehoods and denied the very words of the divinity spoken to me by God’s angels. For their pride, and their bloodlust, they risk the fall of Galen being repeated here in Weshern.”
>
  The very mention of Galen’s fall sent a ripple through the crowd. Many bearing red armbands tilted their heads and raised a single fist. The pose was both a solemn remembrance of their fallen homeland and an undeniable demonstration of defiance. It was a sentiment Marius wanted to both tap into and end forever.

  “These nine are not the reason I have come,” he said. “These nine are not why I have dug this pit in New Galen’s square. Daily I receive word of the conflict born in these streets. Galen’s memory is not to be forgotten, nor her people dissolved into dust. But let all old grudges fall with the island. Let all bitterness and regret sink beneath the waters of the Endless Ocean. Galen and Weshern, you are one people, one race, one existence. The conflict between you ends now. I will not let it stand. I will not endure it, nor let it risk all the good I have sought to build during my time as your Speaker for the Angels.”

  Marius stepped closer to the edge of the platform. All eyes were upon him, and he let it add power to his voice as he gave his decree.

  “The segregation must end,” he said. “The killings and violence must stop. This pit is far too large for these nine, but by God, I will fill it if I must. Peace, my children. We shall have peace, no matter the cost.”

  “The Speaker is right!” shouted a man, his voice rumbling over the crowd like thunder. “There must be peace between the people of Weshern and Galen, for you are not enemies.”

  Marius scanned the crowd for the shouter, but he was not among them. From atop a distant rooftop he emerged. He wore a long brown robe and a hood covering half his pale face. Marius’s heart leapt at the sight.

  “Johan,” he whispered. There he was, the phantom whose name spread fear and bloodshed throughout the remaining islands. The man who would bring every piece of order and stability crumbling down into chaos.

  “The army of Center is your true enemy,” Johan continued. “Their authority over you ends today. All islands must rise up and demand true freedom and prosperity. Chains of bone bind you, and only blood will set you free.” Johan pointed a gloved hand right at Marius. “His blood.”