Fireborn

by David Dalglish

  “There is no time left!” Kael cried. He grabbed one of the thicker tubes and jammed it into his spine, crying out as his skin re-formed about the heavy material. Blood rushed into it, and Kael gasped as his strength left him. He felt himself withering, his height shrinking as his physical form reworked to match his waning strength. Fighting the weakness, Kael jammed another tube in, then another. The final one he marked with a great cry, for it was done. His blood snaked throughout the soil in hidden veins, and his awareness spread with it.

  “L’fae, our soldiers!” Barukh cried at his feet. “We must order them back!”

  Kael knew the same was happening all across the nearby cities. The eternal-born were too many, L’adim’s strength far too great. The ground rumbled, and Kael thrust his power into it. He touched the land with his mind, gripped it in a mental fist.

  “They fall not in vain,” Kael said as the land quaked. “For we rise.”

  Enormous crevices ripped throughout the battlefield, canyons forming and closing along the perimeter of the new land L’fae aimed to create. Seraphim rose higher, taking to the skies as the ground shook so terribly no man or woman could remain standing. Even Kael collapsed to his hands and knees, both of which struggled to maintain physical form as he screamed and screamed. Psychic ripples washed over him from both north and south, other lightborn shrieking out their pain as they acted as the hands of God lifting mankind up from earthly desolation.

  A single crack marked their departure from the rest of the land, one so great it deafened those nearest the edges. Slowly they lifted, Kael’s blood dripping downward, and he focused his power closer to the bottom of the new island rising up. Eyes closed, Kael refused to watch those poor few who’d been on the wrong side of the newly opened chasm, but his mind heard their screams as they were devoured by the furious eternal-born. Ocean water rushed into the newly created chasm, its roar audible as they flew.

  “Dear God in heaven,” Barukh said beside him. “What is it we have done?”

  Higher and higher the islands rose. Kael opened his eyes. Seraphim swarmed the outer edges of the island, unleashing every bit of their power to drive back the few eternal-born who’d managed to climb on prior to ascension. Slowly turning in all directions, Kael saw five other islands lumbering like sleepy creatures into the sky. Four appeared equal to Kael’s own, powered by the blood of a single lightborn. One was far greater in size, a tremendous beam of light roaring beneath it, the combined power of three lightborn working in tandem to keep the land afloat.

  “We have done what we must,” Kael said. His voice sounded tired, intoxicated even.

  “No,” Barukh said. “What have we done to you?”

  Kael closed his eyes, and he would have smiled if his face were capable of doing so. Already he felt small, his strength flowing out of him, his awareness shrinking, his senses dulling as if a gray cocoon wrapped about his mind. He sank deeper into the ground, seeking its comfort.

  “A heavy cost, my friend, but we pay it gladly.”

  One by one the islands drifted toward the ocean, great beams of light pulsing beneath the chunks of earth. As his own island hovered over the water, Kael turned to the east, looking with fading vision to the crawling shadow. It swarmed about the edge of the crater, interlaced with fire and frost as the various eternal-born raged impotently.

  And then Kael saw it, a face in the shadow, with blood eyes and a ghost smile. Hatred poured into him like burning bile. Breathing turned difficult. His vision swam. Those eyes glared, and amid the loathing he heard words, mocking promises as the entire coast was buried in smoke and shadow that withered every blade of grass and the leaf of every tree.

  You suffer for nothing, my brethren. Humanity will reach its end, even if I must wait centuries...

  * * *

  Kael gasped for air as he collapsed to his knees. L’fae’s finger withdrew, and Kael felt strangely certain that she’d only brushed his skin for a second. His stomach twisted and threatened to expel what little he’d eaten that morning. Adjusting to the limitations of his body was thoroughly disorienting. In the lightborn’s memory, his awareness had felt limitless, his life unending, his senses beyond any mortal man’s. Now he was fragile, small, and in a body slowly dying.

  “Who was that?” Kael asked as he shuddered. “Who was that at the very end?”

  “When he was our brother, we knew him as L’adim,” L’fae said. Her emotions shifted, an alternating aura of confusion, anger, and sadness. “We were meant to protect your kind, yet we failed. One of our lightborn turned against us. He is the shadow that swallowed the world. We were to stop him, yet we could not. We chose this punishment willingly. This is our penance for our inability to save humankind, our suffering for allowing the destruction of so much we were entrusted to protect. Our blood keeps the islands afloat. Our strength powered the dome shielding you away from the evil creatures that would destroy us all.”

  Kael slowly pushed himself to his feet. The image haunted him, staying there before his eyes, a shadow with a face. The hatred and ugliness emanating from its body had been a river compared to the faint trickle of grace he felt from L’fae.

  “What of the rest of them?” Kael asked. “The demons, they were so many. Where did they come from?”

  L’fae’s eyes lowered, her shoulders stooping as her chains clinked and rattled.

  “That, too, is our shame,” she said. “We brought them into your world. We showed your kind how to bridge doors to worlds of fire and frost, to the eternal dimensions from which we also came. We believed their blood would allow your primitive race to rise up from the dirt, and for a millennium we were right. You built towering cities spanning miles, created wonders of steel and stone now lost below the ocean waves. Neither the great skies above nor the deep caves below were beyond your reach. But as your race’s hunger grew for the elements, so too did the number of eternal-born we enslaved. So many. Too many.”

  She closed her eyes for a moment, and Kael heard the softest whisper of a sigh in his ears.

  “And then L’adim betrayed us. He declared humanity no better than the fireborn and iceborn we enslaved. He...changed. Became what you saw. His shadow swallowed the world, and with it, a legion of eternal-born. Your great monuments are now ash and ruin. Your history is an echo. We fought, and we lost, and the islands in the sky were the last hope we had for your race to survive. But even in the sky, we did not feel we were safe, and so we created the dome.”

  Kael thought of the shimmering field of light he’d touched far beyond Weshern’s edge.

  “That was you?” he asked.

  “All of us,” L’fae corrected. “My brethren are within the other islands, all enduring the same, giving our strength to the Beam, our blood for your Seraphim. And yes, we powered the dome, at least, until it fell.”

  “Galen,” Kael said, the pieces clicking into place. “Galen fell because someone killed the angel within.”

  L’fae slowly nodded.

  “Ch’thon was my brother, and though we cannot speak with one another so far apart, we still sense each other’s presence. His death was...taxing. The strain of keeping the dome intact against the nightly assaults was beyond our abilities. It fell, and we have not the strength to re-create it.”

  Waves of sadness now, and strong enough tears built in Kael’s own eyes.

  “We failed you again,” L’fae said. “Despite everything, we failed. The shadowborn has come. His creatures burn the last sacred lands. There is nowhere left to flee. Forgive us, Kael. Please forgive us.”

  L’fae sank down ever farther. The chains didn’t bind her, Kael realized. They supported her, for she had not the strength to stand. The only thing imprisoning her there was her guilt, and the knowledge that leaving would doom the entire island of Weshern.

  Kael stepped closer, and he countered the sorrow wafting over him with his rage.

  “No!” he shouted, his voice a pathetic echo in the enormous room. “We’ve not lost yet. We destroye
d the demons who fell upon our land last night, and we’ll do the same to any others who try. We’ll fight, L’fae. We’ll fight to our dying breaths.”

  He didn’t know what his insistence meant to a creature as ancient and powerful as an angel, but it must have meant something, for she stirred, voice rising in volume in his mind.

  “In the decades of our isolation, I have forgotten how proud and stubborn humans can be,” she said. “Yes, Kael Skyborn, fight against the shadow that would consume you as well. Do what you must, and see if fate is kinder than it was to the billions lost those centuries ago.”

  She rose to her full height with a rattle of chains.

  “Tell the people of our existence,” she said. “Tell them of our suffering, and of the price we pay so they may live. Most of all, tell them of the shadowborn’s approach. Humanity must be ready. They must prepare for the struggles ahead. Can you do that, Kael? Can you bear that mantle?”

  Kael swallowed down his fear.

  “I don’t know,” he said. “But I’ll try.”

  Her face never moved, but Kael swore he saw the faintest hint of a smile in her golden eyes.

  “Then go, my words on your tongue, my hope in your heart. In these skies, we can hide no longer. Tell your people to ready their wings and sharpen their swords. War comes on shadowed wings, and this time, the only escape left will be in the embrace of death and the eternal lands beyond.”

  CHAPTER

  32

  Bree sat on the outer steps of the cathedral, clothes stained with Nickolas’s blood. His body had been rolled off the steps to the grass. Parts of his skull were exposed from the fire that had consumed his face. She tried not to look at it, tried not to remember the ugliness in his eyes. She kept a cloth pressed against her left palm, stanching the wound.

  “Another knight lieutenant slain by your blade,” Johan said, sitting beside her. “Your legacy will soon eclipse Argus’s, if it hasn’t already.”

  Bree looked away, refusing to take pride in the kill.

  “He was my friend,” she said.

  Johan’s smooth finger touched her chin, guided her gaze back to him.

  “He was a servant of Center,” he said, blue eyes shimmering. “He was never your friend, no matter what he said or did. You don’t climb to that high a rank without devoting your heart and soul to the Speaker, and the Speaker alone.”

  Bree nodded but did not respond. The heavily robed man rose to his feet, and he clapped his hands, one of which still bore a gold gauntlet. His disciples approached, numbering at least fifty.

  “Rest,” he said to Bree. “You’ve earned it.”

  She watched as he began ordering his disciples, setting up perimeters and stationing more than a dozen to protect the interior doorway. Bree ignored them, instead staring out at the road winding through the grassland toward the cathedral. Word of Center’s defeat appeared to be spreading. People from nearby Castnor had begun flocking toward the cathedral, spilling out across the grass on either side of the road. They were hoping for information from their Archon, an explanation for the demonic creatures falling from the sky. Or perhaps they just wanted to believe they were safe again, that Center’s defeat meant the end of the conflict. Bree watched them come, but was so tired that she felt no inclination to move. Every muscle in her body ached, and the desire for sleep nearly overwhelmed her. She envied Kael’s brief nap back at Johan’s safe

  house.

  “Kael?” Bree wondered aloud, bolting upright. She’d not seen her brother since the battle started. She glanced about, seeing him nowhere. The giant Chernor sat in the grass nearby, a bloody towel in his left hand, which he kept pressed against his face. Bree rushed down the steps to his side, fighting down a growing panic.

  “Have you seen my brother?” she asked him.

  Chernor lowered the towel so he could stare at her. A vicious burn spread from neck to forehead across the left side of his face, blackening his already dark skin and peeling away a large chunk of his long black beard. The burns edged up against his eye, turning the deep brown into a milky white.

  “I haven’t,” he said. “You checked with Clara, yet? If he’s anywhere, it’s with her.”

  Bree shook her head.

  “Do you know where she is?”

  He gestured west.

  “Went to escort her father. Kael might even be with her, in case you’re as nervous as you look.”

  Bree forced a smile.

  “I’m sure you’re right,” she said. “I’ll leave you be. It looks like you need the rest.”

  “We all do,” Chernor said as he collapsed onto his back. “But right now, I’d prefer a brand-new face instead. The old one hurts like hell.”

  Bree wished she had any sort of condolences she could offer that wouldn’t feel hollow, so instead she saluted the man and climbed up the cathedral steps. If Kael was with Clara, they’d return soon enough. No reason to panic. No reason to think the worst...

  Eyes west, Bree waited for a sign of the Archon. It came in the form of a wagon lumbering along the road, escorted by a host of soldiers and a dozen Seraphim flying overhead. No doubt the Archon and his wife were inside, come to address the crowd. A trio split from the pack, flying ahead to land near the top of the steps. Clara, flanked on either side by Seraphim.

  “Clara,” Bree said, joining her.

  “Oh, Bree,” the pale woman said. “I saw a little bit of your fight against the knight lieutenant earlier. You were amazing.”

  “Thanks,” Bree muttered, glancing away as she said it and wishing people would stop congratulating her for it. “Do you know where Kael is?”

  “We were separated when I lost sight of him entering the cathedral.” Her eyes widened as she realized what Bree’s inquiry meant. “You don’t think...”

  “I’m sure he’s fine,” Bree said, wishing she believed her own words. “I’ll find him.”

  “All right,” Clara said, frowning. “Just...promise me you’ll send him my way when you do, so I know he’s all right.”

  “Will do,” Bree said, hurrying up the stairs. She pushed open the doors and found the way blocked by a trio of Johan’s disciples. They held short swords in their hands and refused to move.

  “I’m looking for my brother,” she told them, peering past them at the pews strewn with glass. “Let me through.”

  “No one enters,” said the middle disciple. “Johan’s orders.”

  “That’s ridiculous,” Bree said. She pointed to the distant door leading to the underground complex he’d rescued her from. “Kael must be down there. Step aside so I can find him!”

  “I’m sorry, Bree, but no one goes down there,” Johan said behind her. “Not even you.”

  She turned, inhaling deeply to keep herself calm. Johan stood in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest. He was smiling, but that smile felt like a lie.

  “Why not?” she asked.

  “Down there are the machinations that keep Weshern afloat and her people supplied with fresh water,” he said. “As such, we must take every precaution necessary to ensure that what happened at Galen is not repeated here.”

  Bree couldn’t swallow down the irony in silence.

  “You sound like Marius,” she said.

  A shadow darkened Johan’s face.

  “I will send my disciples to search for him,” he said. “Until then, I suggest you remain outside the cathedral with the rest of the Seraphim.”

  He gestured for her to go. Bree kept her head up as she exited, not bothering to hide her glare.

  More Seraphim had gathered on either side of the steps, the Archon’s wagon nearly arrived. Soldiers spread out, clearing space through the crowd of people. Bree remained at the top, keeping watch by the cathedral doors. If Kael were found, she wanted to be there the moment he exited the cathedral.

  The wagon rolled to a halt, and the royal couple exited. Avila Willer stepped out first. She’d cleaned herself up from that morning, hints of powder and blush on her pal
e face. Her silver dress resembled the one she’d worn to the winter solstice dance, only less extravagant and without the many diamonds on black ribbons she’d looped throughout her hair. She extended a hand, helping her husband step down.

  Isaac wore the uniform of a Seraph, and Bree wondered if the black jacket was there to hide the bandages all across his arms and chest. Even the sling on his left arm was barely visible. His hair was combed, his face cleaned of the sweat that had covered it while he lay in his bed. But, despite all the attempts to hide it, the Archon was clearly in pain, leaning his weight on Avila as he gingerly climbed the steps of the cathedral, stopping halfway up. Clara joined them, carefully taking her father’s hand and kissing his cheek.

  “Don’t overdo it,” Bree heard her tell him.

  “I’ll try,” Isaac said, smiling at her.

  The crowd crammed in closer, surrounding the cathedral steps in a half circle lined by a wall of spears and shields. Isaac turned to face them, and he separated from his wife so he might stand on his own.

  “People of Weshern!” Archon shouted despite the obvious pain it caused him. The crowd hushed, eager for his words. “My people. My beloved people. Last night was a horror, and you come for answers I do not have to give. All I can promise is that we shall not respond to this travesty with obedience. We will not bleed and die for nothing.” He rose up to his full height. “Let these words echo throughout our home: Weshern declares war upon Center and her Speaker.”