“We'll have to get our hands on another plane somewhere that has fuel in it if they're out here or on the other islands,” Dragar said.
The Templar's unflagging determination impressed Evelyn. When one plan didn't work, they switched to another. They must be constantly thinking ahead to impossible scenarios and what-ifs.
It also wasn't difficult for her to see that the loss of Minna hit them all hard, on different levels. Dragar, the head of the Order, seemed especially solemn behind his take-charge demeanor.
She couldn't blame them for the loss of her sister; no one could have predicted Minna would separate and try to come in another way, or that the snakes would be waiting. All everyone could do was look forward from here and try to prevent any more death.
†
A red haze colored the window next to her seat the closer the plane came to touchdown. Lava boiled over the dark landscape less than a hundred feet away, swallowing brush and trees like a hungry, lapping tongue. The jet made contact with the tarmac and Evelyn pressed back in her seat, half afraid Roman was going to steer them right into the flow. She swore she felt the temperature inside the cabin rise; sweat broke out on her brow and along her arms under the light weight of the armored shirt.
The sharp application of the brakes tilted her forward right after, and she held onto the arm rests as the plane taxied away from the molten, fiery path, veering across a different strip of asphalt. No other aircraft were landing or departing, so she didn't fear a collision with Roman taking short cuts toward the terminal she knew must be up ahead.
When the first building came into view it was just a shadowy square in the night, still in one piece and thankfully not on fire. Yet.
Then it dawned on her that refueling the plane was a lot more dangerous than she first thought; once the lava reached the airstrip, it was likely to blow any gasoline storage sky high.
Roman brought the plane to a halt.
“Stay here with Alex,” Rhett said, before launching out of his seat.
“But I--”
“Stay here.” Rhett stopped once to meet her eyes.
Evelyn sank back into the cushion, acquiescing.
Dragar, Christian and Dracht followed Roman out of the plane. They took off across the tarmac, splitting off into two groups.
“What are they doing?” Alex asked. She switched seats, taking Rhett's now that he was gone.
“Getting the fuel and—well I don't know what the others are doing. Helping, I guess.” Evelyn craned a look out the little window and was frustrated to see that her vantage only encompassed a small section of the building and a hangar.
“We could see more from the door.” Alex didn't wait; she got up out of the seat and stalked forward toward the door and the stairs.
“Wait! Alex. Rhett doesn't want us going out there.” Evelyn vacated her seat and followed her sister. “How's your face? I see Dracht got the piece of wood out.”
Alex gave her a wry glance. “He yanked it out in the bathroom, the sneaky brute.”
“Because he knew you were going to keep stalling. It looks better already.” Evelyn had known better than to try and offer to take the offending splinter out of her sister's face. Alex always had to do that kind of thing on her own time, on her own merit. It had to be when she was ready and not a second before.
Not that Evelyn could blame her this time. That had been an ugly wound.
Coils of intense heat hit her skin when she sidled up next to Alex at the door. Stairs descended to the asphalt. The men were no where in sight.
A hissing, rumbling noise filled the air in the distance, screams peppered between. Evelyn tried to shut the sounds out. Nearer the bigger cities, the situation would be a lot worse. Out here where the private airstrips were located, there were fewer houses and buildings nearby, reducing the mayhem they were exposed to.
Just now, Evelyn was relieved. She didn't think she could take hearing the mourning wails, the pitiful cries and screams of the dying.
“They better hurry up.” Alex, looking off to the right, grew tense.
Evelyn, jerked out of her reverie, followed her glance. Lava ran parallel to the airstrip, coming at an angle that suggested it flowed from a hill or high point. She judged it to be roughly fifty yards from the buildings and hangars.
From the other side of the jet, she heard metallic clangs and Roman shouting instructions.
“They found the fuel pump at least. I don't know if they'll be able to fill up though before that reaches us.” Evelyn glanced at the lava, trying to judge how fast it was moving. Several inches every second, at least.
“We need enough to get us to the mainland.” Alex trotted down the steps to the ground and bent to glance under the belly of the plane. “Yeah, he's got the fuel going. Where are the rest of them? I only see Christian or someone with Roman.”
“Maybe to check the hangars for more planes?” Evelyn suggested. Warily, she kept half an eye on the lava. Tiny flecks of ash rained down from the sky, swirling like heavy, less pristine snowflakes.
An explosion rocked the island, nearly knocking Evelyn off the top step. She stumbled, grasping onto the edge of the door frame to steady her balance.
“What was that?” she called down to Alex, who was just rising from a crouch.
“The volcano again? Another one? I don't know,” she said.
Roman started shouting something about locks and pins and latches.
From the building, Dracht and Rhett burst out the door, arms filled with items Evelyn couldn't make out. They ran through the ash, swords banging against their thighs.
“Alex, Evelyn, inside!” Rhett shouted.
Ash fell in heavier waves, coating the tarmac and the men. Alex had a layer of it in her hair that she brushed out with her fingers on her way up the steps. Evelyn retreated back to her seat but didn't sit down; the small window gave her a clear view of the lava—which looked thicker, hotter, and was only twenty or so yards from the closest building and the asphalt the plane sat on.
“Tell Roman we need to start taxiing for the runway!” Evelyn had her doubts even now that the lava wouldn't catch up to them and burn the rubber right off the tires.
Alex got out of the way as Dracht and Rhett entered, dumping bottles of water and packages of vending machine food onto a seat.
“They're closing it up right now,” Rhett said. Sweat poured off his brow. Dracht's, too.
Dragar vaulted up the stairs and inside, shaking the last of the ash off his head. “The only plane left in the hangars that we can even attempt to fly is a small Cessna. There won't be room for all of us to fit.”
The lava reached the building, buckling the corner. It lapped over the edge of the tarmac, smoking, creeping ever closer. They had maybe three minutes to get the plane out of the way.
“Where is Roma--”
“I'm here. Pull up the stairs.” Roman lurched into the cabin with Christian right on his heels. He veered straight into the cockpit, plopping into the seat.
Christian pulled up the stairs with Dracht's help and they latched the levers to lock it in place.
Rhett snagged two bottles of water and urged Evelyn to sit. He handed her a bottle. “Here. He'll get us out in time, don't worry.”
The engines fired up. Evelyn took the bottle and sank into her seat. “It's right there, almost on us.”
“He'll get us out,” Rhett insisted quietly.
The jet rolled forward, picking up speed. They hit a bumpy patch; water jostled out of the bottle and sprinkled down the front of her armored shirt.
“Hang on,” Roman said over the intercom.
Dragar, standing in the open cockpit door, swore under his breath and stalked back to a seat just as the jet swerved onto the runway. Roman didn't wait; the plane eased into a sprint and then into a gallop, the velocity pressing everyone's back into the cushions.
Out her little window, Evelyn watched the lava eat the buildings, the runway and keep going toward a stand of houses where a few lights still flicker
ed in the windows. The angle Roman took, one wing tilted, allowed her to really see the utter devastation the volcano wreaked on the island. Thousands, millions would be affected.
They climbed into the clouds, leaving the fiery ruin of Hawaii behind.
Chapter Fifteen
California was burning. Night broke, leaving the day cast in its usual cloak of gloom. And fire. It charred thousands of acres inland beyond the coast, billowing black smoke for miles. Businesses, huge housing tracts, schools, whole cities. There weren't enough people to fight it—or not enough people in the right frame of mind to fight it—and it burned out of control.
The cloud cover spawned no rain to help the Californians deal with the disaster that could have started from a powerline, a forgotten cigarette or a stove accidentally left on.
Maybe even lightning during the storms.
From their height, Evelyn could see people everywhere. Driving, fighting, running, packing. There were broad miles of land that weren't burning yet that the citizens were trying to get away from, fleeing in any direction that might send them right into a clog of traffic escaping some other fire or into the fire itself. The streets looked to be littered with debris of all kinds; clothes, belongings, looting rampages, boxes, carts, abandoned cars, dead bugs from the pestilence. Papers, trash, a broken hydrant.
They were too far north to see Los Angeles, but even the smaller, coastal towns of northern California had devolved into complete mayhem. What they needed up here was one of the big storms to let loose a downpour. Put out the fires that raged as far as the eye could see.
Roman turned them up the coast, giving her an ever expansive view of the terrain. Ahead somewhere were the majestic Redwoods. Evelyn hoped they too weren't engulfed in flames.
All they needed was one more obstacle to overcome.
†
Smoke choked the air, rolling in from a fire line that hadn't quite reached the Redwoods. Ten miles or less separated the raging inferno from the desolate road Roman set down on. He got them as close as he could to the destination Khyamaeus had given them, a place not found on any map.
He assured them it was there.
Evelyn glanced at the sky, sword in hand, dagger in its sheath at her waist. The smoke loitered above the treetops, skimming past on a breeze that even now carried the fire closer.
Bone weary, she settled into a jog behind the others with Christian bringing up the rear. The roads were all empty, no houses or businesses in sight.
Khyamaeus informed them this was a private thousand or so acres accessible only to a select few at certain times of the year. They wouldn't see anyone coming or going—unless it was the Fallen or their Servants.
The Redwoods were sparse here, the enormous trunks as broad as a small car, others as thick as several trees put together. They towered over the landscape, almost surreal in their primal beauty. An ancient feel clung to the land here, as if it had been untouched by man for centuries. Some parts probably had. Small boulders jutted up from the earth next to sprigs of foliage and other flora indigenous to the area. Between the trunks there was plenty of room to maneuver and run, and run they did.
Just as a stitch started to crimp her side, Khyamaeus came to a stop ahead. He held his hand up to indicate a halt and silence.
Almost on cue, each of the Templars paused. Evelyn stopped next to Alexandra, gripping the hilt of the sword tighter, scanning the woods for signs of the enemy. For anything that moved. She heard the sounds that Khyamaeus heard before any of them; twigs snapping, leaves rustling, needles being tromped over.
Something was running—correction, somethings were running—right for them. The Templars immediately made a circle around the girls, one Knight at each point on a compass, swords, shields at the ready. Evelyn stood in the middle with Alex, peering into the pewter day, wondering what hell the Fallen would unleash this time around and whether they would survive it.
Khyamaeus cocked his head, walking a perimeter in front of the group to the right where the noise originated from. He had his bow out and an arrow notched, the tip pointed down at a slight angle.
More pounding, running, crashing noises joined the first. Whatever it was, there were many.
Tension made Evelyn's shoulders ache. By now, she'd forgotten to rely on the mantra she'd started out with what felt like an age ago. The pep talk over confrontation. She realized her knees weren't shaking and that her breath wasn't out of control yet.
Some time between one of the fights and now, she'd come to terms with the idea of facing off with an adversary and it didn't lock her up. It was a small epiphany that she didn't have the time or the energy to celebrate. The ability had come at an extraordinary cost.
From between the trees, hundreds of deer, foxes, coyotes and other animals emerged. They burst onto the scene in frantic leaps and bounds, eyes crazed, hooves flashing over the ground. A badger scrambled past, hardly paying them any attention.
The deer tried to lurch out of their way, swerving or jumping. Rabbits scurried like their tails were on fire, flitting past so fast she couldn't see them all. It was an exodus of mass proportions, fanning out through the trees around them until the initial wave passed and only a stray animal or two tore by in their wake.
“Half expected them to turn on us while they went by,” Christian muttered, straightening out of his crouched posture.
“I did too, actually. Berserker deer.” Rhett grunted but didn't put his sword away.
Khyamaeus lowered his bow and began walking them onward again once they knew the threat wasn't the kind of threat they needed to fear.
Evelyn lowered her sword and fell into step next to Alexandra. They glanced at each other and she knew what her sister was thinking.
They were both expecting the worst.
Less than a quarter mile of a hike later, the Redwoods grew dense, the tree trunks growing within two or three feet of each other. Overhead the branches intertwined to make a thick canopy of leaves, nearly blotting out the brooding sky. They had to pick their way more carefully here, moving between trees and around big rocks colored red and gray.
Khyamaeus brought them to another halt at the edge of a pond. It stretched a hundred feet across, perhaps two hundred feet long. On the other side, a clearing opened up from the water to a stand of immense Redwoods almost side by side. The bases were so thick a medium sized car could be driven through.
What got Evelyn's attention were the carved, wooden chairs and totem poles carved with faces standing two stories high just in front of the biggest trees. It looked like a meeting place of the Gods, ethereal and tranquil, all except the altar with a slab across the surface that made her think of sacrifices.
Sitting atop the altar was the Seal. She could see it from there, a faint speck of ivory and clay.
Like at the temple, there was no immediate sign of the Fallen or the Servants. Sporadically, deer and other forest animals darted through the scene, bounding away from the encroaching smoke and flames. Evelyn could smell it thicker now but couldn't hear the sizzle and hiss of fire.
Alert like the others, she chose to stay with Rhett when the Templars broke off into two groups.
Dragar, Christian and Khyamaeus went to the left, she, Rhett, Alex and Dracht went to the right. They edged around the pond, taking it slow.
Rhett, ahead of her by three feet, panned his head left and right, seeking, searching. There was a predatory hunch to his shoulders and knees, a prowling advance that painted him deadly against the backdrop of eerie totems and too-tall trees. Evelyn walked almost in his footsteps, knowing he was always aware of her presence.
Dracht, like his brother, approached the other side of the pond with increasing wariness. The men were edgy, hyper-alert, eyes darting here and there. Everywhere. Evelyn caught their expressions in glimpses when she wasn't looking for the danger herself.
Any second, things were going to burst from the woods, snarling, howling, vicious things with claws and long teeth.
Thirty fee
t from the altar.
Twenty.
On the other side of the pond, they came together as a group again. Nothing attacked them from the trees, nothing slithered up out of the ground.
The closer they got, the more nervous Evelyn became. Seeing Khyamaeus in his own high state of caution didn't help her feel any better.
There was a different grace to the way the Fallen walked and hunted. Smooth in a way the humans never could be, so fluid that she half expected she wouldn't see him strike out against an enemy until the enemy was already dead. It was more than confidence that bled off Khyamaeus; it was ageless experience, tried and true battle skill that he'd only honed over the years instead of let get rusty. All of the Fallen had this kind of presence about them and she was never unaware he was different than the rest of them were. It took some time to get used to. Evelyn and Alex had a leg up in this area over the Templars because of their longstanding experience with Ashrael.
Fifteen feet from the altar, Khyamaeus brought them to a stop. His bow raised, he scanned the trees lining the area; the Templars did the same. Behind her, Evelyn heard Alex exhale a slow breath.
Everyone was feeling the strain.
“Evelyn, go get the Seal,” Khyamaeus said.
“No,” Rhett interrupted. “I'll do it.”
Evelyn glanced between Rhett and Khyamaeus. The Fallen didn't stop purveying the clearing, turning a full circle with his bow and arrow half raised.
“We need your eyes, Rhett. She won't be as quick to see any motion in the trees and not as quick to react. Evelyn.”
“...I said, I'll do it.” Rhett didn't seem to be swayed by Khyamaeus' reasoning.
Khyamaeus shot Rhett a dark look. Rhett paid it no attention.
“This is ridiculous.” Evelyn took matters into her own hands. The Seal was right there. It wouldn't take her but a second to grab it and get back to the protective circle. She broke into a jog for the altar, hearing Rhett hiss a sound of discontent.
A sinister sensation hit her just before she reached the slab of stone. Like she'd trespassed into sacred, wicked territory that was never meant for humans to see. Old death lurked here, clinging to the altar and the ground directly around it. Each footstep cracked over dried needles, raspy leaves and something harder, different than the earth. Some kind of engraved cement that she could feel under the soles of her shoes, half buried by forest debris.
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