A familiar face blocked the way deeper into the dungeon at the bottom of the steps. Vyros wore no wings, but he bore a thin gold cylinder on his back, attached to which was a heavy gauntlet. Fire swirled around the gauntlet’s focal prism, ready to be released. Both Kael and Clara shot lances of ice, but instead of finding purchase, they melted in a sudden flash of heat and light. Kael could barely see what it was, only knew that it came from the theotech’s gauntlet.
“You flail like children with your elements,” Vyros said. “You know nothing of true mastery.”
He spun his arm. Fire lashed out like a whip, bathing all four walls before rolling toward them. Kael had never seen fire move in such a way, never even known it was possible. He and Clara dove through the center of the wave, the only safe spot from the fire on all four sides. Vyros’s arm continued looping, and the fire tightened, cascading down as it closed in on them. Fighting off panic, Kael lowered his gauntlet and released a spray of ice straight down, forming a curved wall. He dropped behind, Clara following, as the hallway flooded with fire behind them.
“You Seraphim,” Vyros said, calmly approaching. “You fling your elements like arrows from a bow. Such limitations. Such lack of imagination.”
As if to show them, his next blast roared out in the visage of a dragon, teeth widening to bite. Clara shot a chunk of ice straight into its mouth, and as the fire scattered, Kael followed up with lances of his own. Vyros’s gauntlet was a blur as he intercepted each shot, bright flashes of yellow light scarring Kael’s vision. The lances lost their shape, splattering across Vyros’s robes as harmless water.
“After all our hopes, and all the potential your blood has shown in our reports, you’ll still die here, accomplishing nothing,” Vyros said. “How disappointing.”
He stretched out his hand, his fingers spread as wide as possible. Fire burst from it, enormous, widening out so that no space in the hall was safe. It looked similar to what Bree could do, only more steady, more controlled. Kael braced himself for the flame, baffled by the attack and unsure if his shield would be of any aid, but then Clara acted first, charging straight at the widening spray. She dipped at the last moment, sliding underneath the inferno, and then slammed her gauntlet to the floor. Blue light flashed. Ice spread wall to wall, and she flung her arm back as it grew from the focal point of her gauntlet into a rapidly growing barrier. The ice sealed Vyros off completely, but it wouldn’t stop him for long.
“Kael, run!” Clara screamed, but Kael had a different idea. Swallowing down his fear, he dashed straight toward the ice barrier. Orange light blossomed from its center, heat from the theotech rapidly thinning the wall. Kael leapt off his feet and slammed the throttle to his wings while readying his shield. He smashed straight through the weakened wall, shards exploding in all directions. Vyros’s fire bathed his shield, but it flared white, absorbing the fire, denying its power. Kael crossed the distance, not slowing in the slightest.
The two men collided, Kael’s shield ramming the theotech’s upper body. A spear of flame shot above Kael’s head, charring a black mark onto the pale wall. Vyros fell to his back while Kael continued on, wrenching his body a half circle so he towered over and behind the theotech. His wings killed his momentum, and in that momentary pause hovering over Vyros’s body, Kael braced his gauntlet with his free hand and let loose his ice. An icicle the size of Kael’s arm exploded downward, puncturing Vyros’s heart, the tip shattering against the stone floor as it pierced his body.
Kael dropped to his knees, staring at the theotech as he gasped in ragged breaths.
“Still disappointed?” he asked, frost falling from his gauntlet. Ice sheathed Vyros’s face, locking away his final death cry. A single iron key dangled from the dead theotech’s sash, and Kael tugged it free, stood, and twirled it in his fingers.
“Give you two guesses what cell this opens,” he said.
“I only need one,” Clara said, yanking it from his grasp and hurrying ahead.
Windows in the ceiling gave the pair their only light as they continued downward. At the far end was a heavy iron door, and Clara yanked it open. Light flooded into the darkened space, and as it did, Kael grabbed Clara by the arm and pulled her back. A single knight guarded the cramped passageway, and he raised his gauntlet to fire. Kael braced his shield, flinching as a blast of lightning struck its center. More light flashed about the metal of the shield, shimmering a rainbow of colors as it rapidly dissipated. The knight prepared another shot, looking equally baffled and unnerved by the shield’s ability to protect against lightning when it should have conducted the electricity straight into Kael’s heart.
Clara never gave him a chance. Though she couldn’t fly over Kael’s head with the ceiling so low, she could still lift up above his shoulders. Twin lances of ice shot from her palm, one puncturing the knight’s unarmored abdomen, the other opening a gash in his forehead. He dropped, gasping for air as he bled out.
“Did you know your shield could do that?” Clara asked as she settled back to her feet.
“Not for lightning,” Kael said. “Glad I guessed right.”
Clara looked torn between amusement and horror. If circumstances weren’t so dire, Kael would have laughed.
The two hurried deeper into the dungeon, Clara staying as close as she could despite their wings.
“Who gave you that shield?” she asked.
“Johan. He said it belonged to one of Center’s knights.”
“I’ve never seen a knight wielding anything like that. Are you sure Johan told you the truth?”
Kael shook his head.
“Of course not,” he said. “But given the situation, there’s not much choice but to trust him.”
They left the few windows behind as they entered the dungeon. Their only light came from the focal points of their gauntlets, which they both kept shimmering the faintest blue. They passed one empty cell after another.
“Mom?” Clara shouted, adding her voice to the quiet that had been broken only with the sound of their footfalls. “Dad? Where are you?”
The voice was deep and startling in the quiet, but it put a tremendous smile on Clara’s face.
“Here.”
She dashed ahead, stopping before one of the cells and jamming in the key to the lock. Kael kept his gauntlet high, giving her light to see with. The lock clicked, the door swung open, and Clara sprang inside, wrapping her arms around the tired, pale, dirty royal family of Weshern. They were both dressed in plain white robes that covered them from neck to ankle. Isaac’s blond beard, which had once been neatly trimmed close to his mouth and chin, was now ragged, a faint shadow of it growing all across his face. Avila’s long hair was pulled back behind her head, wet and matted as portions of it clung to her neck.
“Clara!” Isaac exclaimed as he hugged her in return as best he could due to her wings.
Avila pulled their daughter free of him so she could embrace her fully, kissing Clara’s forehead as she held her tight.
“You foolish, reckless, wonderful girl,” Avila whispered as tears trickled down her cheeks. “I never thought I’d see you again.”
Kael kept his gaze to the stone floor, feeling like an awkward interloper to such intimacy. Isaac would have none of it. He exited the cell and offered Kael his hand.
“I suspect you deserve equal blame for this idea?” he said.
Kael shook his hand, and he fought for words. Cell or no cell, bare robes or not, this was Weshern’s Archon, and Kael tried his best not to be intimidated.
“Johan’s, actually,” he said. “I just do what they tell me to.”
Isaac’s face twitched at the mention of the name.
“So we have thrown our lot in with him and his disciples. I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. Desperation results in a lot of strange bedfellows.”
Clara kissed her mother’s cheek, hugged her again, and then finally pulled away.
“We’re getting you out of here,” she said, sniffling as she pushed her emotio
ns down to resume a more dignified demeanor. “Follow us.”
They left the dungeon, returning to the mansion and then hurrying through the halls. The few soldiers they passed raised their spears and shouted in excitement, with several taking up escort as the royal family exited the mansion. Kael squinted as they stepped out into the bright sunlight, a welcome change from the horrible darkness of the dungeon. Smoke rose from the mansion behind them, many of its windows broken. Dead bodies littered the grounds. Chernor waited beside the entrance, bandages wrapped about his chest. Nearby, Saul and Aven stood over the corpse of an angelic knight.
“Two knights on patrol,” Chernor explained, leaning on his weapon. Blood dripped from his bandages. “Never stood a chance.” The big man bowed his head low. “Great to see you two alive and well.”
“I’m merely glad for daylight,” Isaac said. “Where is General Cutter?”
“Most of the soldiers have already begun scattering to nearby safe houses,” Chernor said. “They don’t have the benefit of wings to carry them out of here before Center’s forces show up royally pissed. As for Varl himself, he’s near the front gate, preparing you an escort.”
Avila pulled on Isaac’s arm, keeping him moving.
“Come,” she said. “Our soldiers and Seraphim died to free us. If we don’t escape, their deaths will have been in vain.”
The others hurried down the stairs to the main gate but Kael hesitated at the top with Chernor.
“Will you be all right?” he asked.
“I’ll be fine, I promise,” Chernor said. “Now go with the royal family. Keep them safe, you hear?”
Kael nodded, smiled at the big man, and then hurried to the main gate. A dozen soldiers waited, spears in their hands and shields on their backs. General Cutter stood among them, red-faced as he shouted out orders. Kael thought his head looked ready to pop off.
“There you are,” Varl said when he realized Isaac and Avila were with him. “About bloody time the Seraphim got you out of there. I’ve an escort ready to move, the finest men available to me.”
Isaac glanced over the soldiers, then shook his head.
“We’ll never cross Weshern unnoticed with so many,” he said.
Varl scratched at his long black beard, and the redness of his face only worsened.
“If you’re spotted, I’d rather you have a fighting chance than no chance at all,” he said.
“Give me an escort of Seraphim instead,” Isaac said. “I need speed and stealth now, Varl, not spears.”
Varl turned his head away to hide the rolling of his eyes.
“Where’s Chernor?” he said, then cried louder toward the shattered doors of the holy mansion. “Chernor! Get your ass over—”
He stopped. A Seraph sped in from the west. Kael saw him too, and a surge of unease shot through his veins. The lone Seraph surely came from the battle in New Galen, where the Speaker had meant to hold his public executions. The Seraph easily located them at the gates of the holy mansion and dove to the ground.
“I’ve come from the executions,” he said, dropping to one knee before Isaac. “Dozens of angelic knights are on their way. We need to get you to safety immediately.”
“Is Bree all right?” Kael asked, unable to contain himself. The Seraph glanced his way, nodded.
“She battled as I left, but I saw her trails of fire in the distance long after. I believe she is well.”
“What of our sons?” Avila asked. “Are they safe? If Marius knows we’ve escaped, they may suffer in our stead.”
The Seraph frowned, and he hesitated a moment before carefully addressing the both of them.
“Archon, milady, Edwin was arrested and taken away by knights, but Lance...perished during the battle. I’m sorry.”
Isaac’s hands balled into fists and Avila looked as if stabbed. Kael looked to Clara and took her hand as he saw the first of a few tears trickle down her face. She squeezed his fingers to show him her appreciation, then went to her father’s side.
“Now’s not the time for mourning,” Clara said. “If knights are on the way we won’t be safe for much longer.”
“I know,” Isaac said, shaking his head. His voice trembled, but only a moment. “We’ll have to stay grounded until we’re in the clear, keep low, and find homes to hide in as we travel.”
“It’s a long way to New Galen by foot,” Varl said.
“Which is why we’ll have an escort,” Isaac said, and he nodded to Chernor, who had finally limped the distance to join them. “Seraphim to protect us.”
“I won’t do you much good myself,” Chernor said. “But the rest here should still be at your side.”
He made a quick signal above his head, bringing in the remaining three Seraphim. Aven landed beside the Archon, his silver wings sparkling. Another Seraph landed beside him, a man Kael had met only that morning named Sig. Last was Saul, who walked instead of flew, and kept farther back from the others with his arms crossed.
“These five will keep you safe,” Chernor said. “Even from knights, I’d wager.”
Archon Isaac turned in place, and even in his worn clothing he commanded their attention and respect.
“My life, and the lives of those I love, are in your hands,” he told them. He hesitated only the briefest moment on seeing Saul. “Honor that, and do not let me down.” The Archon then turned to General Cutter. “It’s time to scatter. Send soldiers out in all directions, and get them hidden.”
Varl dipped his head.
“Yes, my lord,” he said. Immediately he rushed away, bellowing orders.
Chernor said something to the messenger Seraph, then turned back to the Archon.
“Allen here will help me get to safety,” he said, bowing low. “Safe travels, all of you.”
“Fly well,” Isaac said. “And fly unchained.”
Chernor soared into the air, the messenger Seraph escorting him and aiding him in keeping balanced. Isaac took his wife by the hand, then led them down the road.
“We’ll need to stay off the streets until nightfall,” he said. “We’ve several safe houses nearby, and one has a hidden cellar large enough to hold us all.”
Kael looked west, saw the distant gold dots. Knights, coming in search of the Archon. They were many, so many...
“We don’t have much time,” he said, turning back around.
“Then it’s best we run,” Isaac said. “I have no intention of returning to that cage.”
CHAPTER
24
Bree was on her way to the rooftop when she found Devi Winters hunched in a chair, candle burning on a table beside her. A stack of papers lay on her lap. Ink stained her fingers.
“Shouldn’t you be asleep?” Bree asked her.
“Can’t,” she said, sounding so very tired. “I’m chronicling the dead.”
“How many?” Bree asked.
Devi rubbed her forehead and closed her eyes.
“Too many. Always too many.”
Bree let the sober comment hang in the air as she climbed the stairs. After that she ascended the ladder and flung open the hatch, stepping out onto the rooftop of Johan’s New Galen hideout. Arms crossed, she walked to the edge and watched the fire burn across the black sky. The ferocity of its rippling disturbed Bree greatly. It reminded her of when Kael put his hand upon the dome to the far east, revealing the laughing, biting things lurking on the other side.
“It seems you and your brother share many things in common,” Johan said, startling her. “A penchant for staring to the sky when in thought is one of them.”
“Solitude hasn’t been easy to find,” Bree said, glancing over her shoulder to see the man exiting the hatch. “Not since entering the academy.”
Johan joined her side and pulled back his hood, revealing his many scars. Whereas the rippling flame made Bree nervous, the strange man smiled up at the midnight fire as if comforted by the sight.
“How are your injuries?” he asked.
“They hurt, but the
y’ll heal,” Bree said, downplaying how much they actually bothered her. During her battle against the knight lieutenant he’d nicked her twice with the sharp, flanged edges of his mace, once on the right arm, another on her left leg. Luckily for her, neither had been deep, though they’d bled plenty before she could finally have them stitched. They pulsed with pain, and when they weren’t hurting, they were itching. Thick cloth was wrapped around each, both stained with dried blood.
“I’m glad they weren’t worse,” Johan said. “And you are lucky indeed to escape with such minor wounds. No, not lucky. That belittles your accomplishments.” He closed his eyes and breathed in deep. “You were incredible out there today. A true beauty. It’s rare for any Seraph to match a knight in battle, and you took down several, including a knight lieutenant. I cannot adequately express my pride in your accomplishments.”
The praise left Bree feeling more awkward than flattered. If she’d not taken so long battling the skilled knight lieutenant she might have saved Instructor Kime instead of cutting him free to fall into his grave.
“Thank you,” she said.
He opened his eyes and glanced sidelong at her.
“I also saw you unleash fire from your gauntlet between exchanges with your swords. Perhaps rumors were wrong, but I was under the impression you were unable to wield flame in the conventional sense.”
Beyond awkward now. Bree crossed her arms and kept her eyes on the burning sky, debating an answer. Prior to the battle, she’d spent time in the warehouse where Johan stored his various weapons and harnesses, examining the gauntlet Jaina had strapped upon her hand. She’d learned how the needle and tubing worked, and despite the pain, forced it back into her skin. At no point had she told anyone what she was doing, or why.
“I’m...learning,” she said. “Not much, but I believe I can release a blast or two in battle without exhausting myself completely.”
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