by Mary Fan
But only a complete idiot would do that. Light would draw the monsters right to her. And not just the kind of monster that prowled the dark searching for prey … but the kind that believed they owned other people. The Sentinels—the Triumvirate’s most elite, loyal class of Enchanters—kept watch over the nation from the sky, as the patrolmen did from the ground.
And they were searching for her.
That meant that at any moment, one could fly overhead. It was bad enough that she had no way of muffling her motorbike, though that noise could at least be mistaken for the growling of monsters from a high altitude. Turning on her lights would be like painting a neon sign over her head that said “Hi, I’m the fugitive you’re looking for.”
The moonlight would have to be enough. There wasn’t much, since the moon wasn’t considerate enough to be full, but sight wasn’t her only sense. She used her others—from listening for movement to sniffing for weird smells that could indicate a monster—to absorb her surroundings and try to see what lay ahead.
A new kind of tension crept into her chest as she realized that in her attempts to throw off the patrolmen, she’d wandered off course. Slowing her motorbike by a few notches, she thought back to where she’d been in the city relative to where she should have gone. Williams’ map glowed in her mind, and she mentally charted a new course that would take her to the Way Station. It wasn’t perfect, but it would have to do.
With the revised image sharp in her head, she wound her way through the tangle of overgrown roads, ducking branches and swerving around roots. After a few minutes, a glimpse at a rusted sign sitting in a patch of moonlight told her she was back on track. The picture of a shield with the number 95 splashed across the center in white was unmistakable even in the darkness, and she exhaled, relieved that her zigzagging hadn’t gotten her lost after all. She twisted her handlebar, once again accelerating to max speed. The sooner she could reach the Way Station, the better.
The Rising was within reach, and with it, the promise of freedom—not just for herself, but for everyone, Norm and Enchanter alike. But with the Triumvirate hunting her and supernaturals lurking in the shadows, it could still slip through her grasp. A tingly mix of exhilaration and terror coursed through her as she pressed on. Danger lurked all around her, and it was only a matter of time before someone—or something—caught up.
A BLAST OF COLD AIR whipped Aurelia’s ponytail into her face, blinding her for an instant, and she tossed her head, more irritated by the stinging against her eyes than the lack of sight. There was so little light, it barely made a difference, and her ears absorbed every sound around her, picking out any noise not caused by the motorbike or the wind. So far, she hadn’t heard anything more than the rustling of leaves, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t danger ahead.
Realizing that she was bouncing more than usual against the rough ground, she brought the vehicle to an abrupt halt. She’d already made one wrong turn because she hadn’t been able to feel the difference between an old road—whose pavement hadn’t been maintained since before the Lord of the Underworld destroyed everything—and the forest floor beneath her wheels. It had taken her a good ten minutes to feel her way back onto the road she’d accidentally veered off, and she couldn’t afford any more delays.
It was a miracle the Triumvirate hadn’t caught up to her yet, and she wasn’t counting on her luck to last.
She jumped off the bike and crouched, pressing her hand against the ground. To her dismay, all she found was dirt and roots. No pavement. With a huff, she got back onto the vehicle and did a one-eighty turn. Her best bet for finding the road again was to go straight back the way she came—and slowly, so she wouldn’t miss it and cross over to the wilderness on the other side.
But although she noted every little detail as she moved forward, she could hardly make out more than a few skeletal branches. She tried to recall how long it had been since she’d definitely been on a road, which might give her an idea of how far off she was. The last indicator she could be certain of was an overgrown sign, though—one she’d nearly missed, since it had been built over a hundred years ago and left to rot since the Triumvirs took power. She’d passed it about a mile back.
A flash of panic flared through her. A whole mile off—and she hadn’t even been going in a straight line, since fallen branches and other obstacles had forced her to swerve. Her sense of direction was good, but far from perfect. What if all that twisting about had sent her in completely the wrong direction, with nothing to point her back? How was she supposed to find her way now?
Is this how Mom felt when she ran away? Aurelia couldn’t imagine how terrifying the journey must have been for her mother, who hadn’t known where she was going or what lay ahead. At least Aurelia had a definite destination—if she could find it. But what if she couldn’t? She was in the middle of nowhere with both the Triumvirate and supernaturals to worry about. She didn’t have time to be lost… Especially when the longer she spent out here, the more likely she was to get caught.
Come on, Firedragon, this is no time to lose your cool! She gave her head a vigorous shake, reminding herself that she was a survivor, like her mom. And thanks to a lifetime of combat training, she was better equipped than Bridget Sun could ever have been. If her mom could make it, then so could she.
But the growing fear in her gut continued to twist through her, no matter how much she tried to ignore it. Then, just as it was threatening to explode into panic, her front wheel bumped up against something, and she stopped to see what it was. Another tree branch? Or something else?
Jumping off, she ran her fingers along the ground. Pavement! She sprang up, nearly letting out a cheer. Guess all that freaking out was for nothing, she thought, annoyed at herself. Wasn’t that far off.
But knowing how badly things could have turned out, she kept her motorbike at half-speed as she continued on her way. Though she wanted to reach the Way Station as soon as possible, going slower allowed her to observe more details from her surroundings—and notice if her wheels fell off the road again. Though her hand itched to turn the handlebar to max speed again, she’d already wasted too much time and risked too much danger because of her impatience.
While moving slower was the smarter thing to do, she still didn’t like it. Her blood churned with agitation, and it was all she could do to keep from jittering.
Minutes ticked by. Then, a dirty metal sign told her that she’d made it to Chesley Road … and was therefore only ten miles from the Way Station. She decided she could risk a little more speed now, and was about to twist the handlebar when an overwhelming sense of unease descended upon her like a shower of cold rain, soaking though her skin and flooding her every sense with its chill.
The motorbike ground to an abrupt halt as her hands automatically gripped the breaks, reacting to the warning. Though she hated to stop when she was so close to her destination, she knew better than to ignore the unease. Something was lurking nearby, and it would approach soon. She knew it. Maybe it was a slight disturbance in the air, or a faint scent wafting toward her—she couldn’t put her finger on exactly what had called her attention. But she’d find out soon enough.
She jumped off the motorbike and threw off her knapsack, listening for any telltale rustling. With a single, fluid motion, she pulled her swords out of the sheaths on her belt and held them up, ready to fight, though she didn’t know who her enemy would be. The uncertainty made her breaths quicken with nervousness, especially since she was alone in the dark. At the same time, fierce determination rushed through her blood. Whatever was out there, she wouldn’t let it stop her.
Something crunched the ground to her left and she whipped her head in that direction, but saw only blackness. That didn’t mean someone—or something—wasn’t lurking, though. Was it a beast? Or had the Triumvirate caught up to her?
Suddenly a flash of yellow light flooded her vision, its brilliance so shocking that it nearly blinded her. Through its glare, she could just make out a human
silhouette. An Enchanter, goldlighting onto the road before her. And a man, judging by his broad shoulders and barrel chest.
It had to be one of the Sentinels; no one else would appear in the middle of the wilderness like that. She didn’t know how they’d found her, but she didn’t have time to think about it. Knowing she had to attack first, she sprinted toward the shadowy figure just as the light of his magic faded. Her plan was to strike his chest with a running sidekick and send him to the ground, then knock him out with the hilt of her sword. If she could break his wand before he came to, then he wouldn’t be able to use his magic—either against her or to call for backup.
But she’d barely made it halfway before a low, resonant incantation rang through the night and a pool of blue light surrounded her. Her limbs froze mid-run, one toe striking the ground before her, the other foot still in the air. She commanded them to keep going, but no matter what she did, they remained motionless. Her arms were similarly frozen, with her swords stuck in her useless, paralyzed fists. Breath still moved in and out of her lungs, but, with her ribcage unable to expand, even that became shallow. Labored.
She was caught in a freezer spell, unable to even blink, and a kind of fear she’d never known before raced through her as she realized that for the first time she could remember, she was truly helpless.
Through the spell’s pale glow, she could see the man who’d cast it approaching. He was tall; he had a good ten inches over her five-and-a-half feet. Piercing black eyes gleamed against a powerful, ebony-skinned face. With his knitted black eyebrows and strong jaw, he looked more intimidating than anyone she’d ever seen before.
She hated him instantly for robbing her of her abilities and refusing to face her. Only a coward would hide behind magic like that, instead of engaging in combat like a real fighter. Then again, she shouldn’t have expected anything better from a Triumvirate dirtbag like him. Monsters never fought fair.
“Firedragon.” Though his voice was quiet, it still shook her core.
How does he know who I am? she wondered, her heart pounding.
“Aurelia.” His tone softened, as if he thought using her actual name would relax her.
It didn’t. Her muscles struggled against their cages of frozen skin and paralyzed bone, but try as she might, she couldn’t move. Terror churned in her mind. What would he do to her? Would he leave her like this, to be prey to the supernaturals?
“Listen to me,” the man continued, taking a step toward her. “I know you mean to join the Rising, but I cannot allow that to happen.”
Typical Triumvirate crap, she thought angrily. He would probably subject her to a horrible lecture about how awesome the Triumvirate was and how evil those who challenged it had proven to be through their acts of rebellion. She’d rather die than allow herself to be brainwashed by their lies again.
“My name is Tydeus Storm.” The man stopped about three feet in front of her and pointed a black wand in her direction. It was etched with angular runes that glowed dark blue, their light so dim she could barely see them.
Though she didn’t understand the specifics of such hoodoo, Connor had told her enough about wands that she knew that the color of the wood reflected the wielders’ souls. Golden-brown—like those of all the students, including Connor—was neutral. Dark blue—like Everett’s—meant the wielder valued power above all else. Crimson—like Williams’—meant integrity.
And black meant dark magic. The kind that drew its force from the Underworld, dominion of all that was evil. The same kind used by monsters.
Such magic was too evil even for the Triumvirate. She’d almost forgotten that there were people out there more dangerous than the government, but the presence of Tydeus Storm reminded her why the Triumvirate could make people believe it was good. They were evil, yes, but there were those who were more evil. Those who wouldn’t even pretend to be good. Those who, like monsters, used the kind of power that could destroy the entire world.
New fear raced through her, and she struggled uselessly against the freezer spell’s bonds.
“I know what you’re thinking, and I am not an agent of the Triumvirate.” Storm’s brows remained furrowed as he spoke. “The Sentinels are my enemies too.”
Because you’re a Class A crazy person, and even the Triumvirate can’t stand you! Aurelia longed to shout the words, but her jaw, tongue, and throat were all frozen by the spell. All her strength and combat prowess were useless.
She hated him with ever fiber of her being for being too chicken to actually battle her. Any fighter with an ounce of pride would have let his opponent use her best weapons against his. If he’d defeated her that way, she might have grudgingly respected his skill. But he was just a coward, and he disgusted her. If she could just find a way to escape his dark magic, she’d rid the world of the slime ball once and for all.
“But the Rising is also my enemy,” Storm continued. “Destroying the Triumvirate will not bring about the world you so desire. While the Triumvirate is far from perfect, they are the lesser evil.”
She wished her hands were free so she could sock his jaw for spewing the same crap that had allowed the government to treat her people like garbage for so long. How many people, like her mother, had died because no one had taken down the “lesser evil” out of fear of a greater one? Despite what Storm claimed about the Triumvirate being his enemy, he sounded an awful lot like them.
He opened his mouth to continue, but before he could, a sudden roar—an earthshaking blast of sound edged with vibrating, high-pitched overtones—slashed through the air. It was the unmistakable cry of a hungry monster, and Storm seemed to realize it too, because he widened his eyes and spun, holding his wand out before him.
The spell around Aurelia vanished as he did, and she dropped to the ground, startled, but still managing to land on her feet. She exhaled, glad to be free of the spell.
Her relief was short-lived. Something dangerous—dangerous enough to frighten a dark Enchanter—was approaching.
The ground shook beneath her as the creature came into view, lumbering down the road before both her and Storm. Two powerful front legs, tipped with claws as long as Aurelia was tall, dragged a thick, muscular body that tapered into the scaly tail of an enormous rattlesnake—except with flames in place of a rattle. The fire was so intense in the blackness that Aurelia could make out the lime green edges that indicated the dark magic of the Underworld. It was hard to see, most of the time. But in the dead of night with almost no other illumination, she could see it clearly. The blaze threw light over the rest of the monster, which stood as tall as the trees. Black spikes covered its brownish-green body. Six tentacles—also covered in spikes—stuck out of its sides between the tail and the front legs, and supernatural fire ignited the ends of each as it took another step forward.
Its glowing red eyes, which topped a scaly head with a long snout and sharp, protruding fangs, fixed on Aurelia. It opened its mouth to let out another roar, and she stared down its throat—a ridged, brown cavern lit by a green fire and lined with teeth big enough to crush her skull in a single bite.
She recognized the beast at once: a thorndevil. She’d learned about them for Williams’ class, but had hoped never to face one. Not only was the thing gigantic, but its thorns were poisonous, and it wielded the flames of the Underworld. One spike through her skin would paralyze her, leaving her as helpless as Storm’s spell had. And supernatural fire burned hotter and faster than anything earthly; a single flame licking the hem of her jeans would turn her to ashes in seconds.
But she refused to be scared. Though she’d never faced a thorndevil before, she’d learned about its kind and knew its vulnerability, while it took her to be just another human.
That gave her the advantage.
Any monster could be killed by beheading, of course, but the thorndevil’s neck was too thick to be severed by a swing of the sword—not that she could reach it anyway. Even with Connor’s claim that her enchanted swords could slice through anythi
ng living, the blades simply weren’t long enough to sever the creature’s head in a single cut. And she’d only get a single shot if she wanted to attempt it; one of those tentacles would grab her before she could try again.
She remembered suddenly that it had another weakness: its underbelly. No spikes covered its throat or stomach, and spilling a thorndevil’s insides would kill it. That was her best shot.
But the creature wasn’t the only enemy before her. Tydeus Storm stood just within range of a sturdy round kick, his eyes fixed on the thorndevil. He seemed to have forgotten that she was there. Suddenly, a shouted incantation and a burst of flames shot through the air: Storm throwing a spell at the beast. Green light edged the flames bursting from his black wand, and Aurelia suppressed a gasp of surprise.
If she’d had any doubt that he used the same kind of magic the thorndevil did, that spell erased it. Green flames meant dark magic. And that made Storm nearly as dangerous as the monster he was fighting.
But between him and the giant, spiked creature towering over her, the latter was more of an immediate threat.
Storm’s fire spell did little more than irritate the enormous monster, which let out an earth-shattering cry and stomped one leg in fury. It swiped a tentacle toward Storm, but the Enchanter vanished in a flash of light, then reappeared behind the thorndevil, just inches from the tip of its flaming tail. The thorndevil twisted back to face him, turning away from Aurelia, and she spotted her opening—it was distracted, and it couldn’t see her from its present angle.
She had to take it. Her instincts—skills that were as much a part of her as her bones—sprang into action. A faint voice in the back of her mind chirped that she could let the thorndevil and Storm battle it out while she got away, but that could mean letting a monster live … which she couldn’t do. If the thorndevil struck again when she wasn’t around to stop it, and someone died because of that, then it would be her fault for not stopping the creature when she had the chance.