Part of the altar, perhaps.
She didn't glance down to see if she could make any of the engravings out. It didn't matter. All that mattered was grabbing the Seal and getting out of there.
Maybe they were going to have their first stroke of good luck after all. In an optimistic upswing, she stepped up to the altar, fighting through a nauseous fit, and reached for the paper and the Seal.
The Seal, with depictions of battling warriors on the front, was broken in half.
†
Ignoring the pinching, stinging wound on her face, Alexandra held her sword between both hands, gaze swinging back and forth from one huge tree to another. She didn't like this whole set up and she knew she wasn't alone. Any time the enemy hid out, or disappeared, it always meant bad things.
She wasn't fool enough to believe that they just set the Seal down and walked away, no matter how remote and strange a location this was.
Long ago, she remembered hearing about these kinds of places, where groups and cults gathered for their yearly rituals. They celebrated earth, death, life; the entire human cycle. Not always in the most honest, upstanding ways, either. The unease in her stomach told her that this was one of the locations where sacrifices took place, where innocents were brought to slaughter for the gratification of others. It had obviously been here for decades, the natural, unusual size of the Redwoods providing a ripe, mystical atmosphere to enhance the gatherings.
She wouldn't be sorry to leave.
Christian stood six feet to her right and three steps in front. The rest of the Templars were between her and the altar with Dracht on her left, covering their flank from that side. With the same impatience Evelyn showed, Alex almost broke from the group to go get the damn Seal herself. She understood Rhett's hesitation and caution and had no compunction going in Evelyn's stead. Just as she would have done so, Evelyn approached the altar.
Alex paid special attention to the forest flanking each side, expecting an attack, if there was going to by any, to come from there. She sensed the heightened tension in Rhett and Dracht both.
Hearing a gasp from Evelyn, Alex at first didn't understand what happened. Rhett didn't seem to be waiting to find out from her lips, either; he dropped his shield, burst into a run, and snatched her away from the altar in one smooth motion.
She wasn't sure what made him react like that unless he thought touching the Seal was going to trigger some kind of reaction or attack.
Before she could call out, an arm snaked around her throat, around her hips, and yanked her backwards. The sword clanked to the ground at the same time she hit the water. Shock and the quickness of the attack didn't leave her a chance to get a good breath of air.
Pulled under, Alexandra saw the dark gray sky and the tops of the towering trees ripple across the surface and fade.
Her chest burned. Wrenching and twisting, she clawed at the arms that pinned her. Bubbles of precious air escaped her lips.
She needed to breathe.
No matter how many centuries she'd already lived, Alexandra wasn't ready to die.
The attacker clamped his arm tighter around her throat and she gasped, flailing when her lungs filled with water.
The tiny pinpoint of light that was her beacon to the outside world winked out.
Chapter Sixteen
Like scenes from a nightmare, Evelyn caught glimpses of Alexandra being pulled underwater while Rhett spun her away from the altar. A scream, her own, split the day in half.
“Alexandra!” To lose her last sibling was unthinkable. Evelyn struggled against Rhett, prepared to dive in after them and fight to the death to save her.
“No, no. Dracht's got her,” Rhett said near her ear, clamping his arms around her middle. His sword stayed clear but he didn't let it go.
“Alex!” Evelyn fought for freedom anyway. Her struggles were met with a steely tightening of arms.
Dracht, sans shield and sword, dove in mere seconds after Alex disappeared. He vanished with a splash. At the same time, other figures rose up out of the water like the waking dead, armored with their weapons in hand.
Rhett pushed her behind him and drew out his dagger with his left hand. In a fluid step-and-throw, he whipped it at one of the Servants. The Servant saw it coming and knocked it away with his arm, the armor deflecting any kind of injury.
“Shit,” Rhett muttered.
Arrows flew through the air—zipzipzip—right in a row. Khyamaeus loaded the bow faster than Evelyn could keep track, firing with deadly accuracy.
One Servant's face showed surprise seeing a Fallen attacking them, moving against them, and two fell under the onslaught of arrows. The third ducked when he saw his brethren go down and bolted forward, sword swinging, to take Christian on.
Christian met the charge with a fierce look in his eyes, sword up, walking forward until the Servant was within striking distance.
Both opponents swung and clashed, blades locking.
Their battle had begun.
†
From the trees, what appeared to be large leaves peeled away from the branches, sprouted wings and claws, and swooped into the clearing. The trailing feathers on the wings appeared ragged, like skinny strips of material, fluttering in the windshear. The birds, crows or ravens—or something else altogether—were longer than a man's arm with a wingspan of at least four feet.
Unnaturally large.
Their eyes, beady lanterns of yellow, looked especially bright against their black bodies.
A murder of crows. The thought flickered through Evelyn's mind when she saw the dive bombing beasts, taking her attention off four more Servants lurching up out of the water.
Somewhere under there, her sister was fighting for her life. Angst and impatience warred within her; Evelyn wanted to charge the pond, to hell with the threats and the Servants, and dive in there to help Dracht get Alexandra out.
But there were Servants between her and the water. Birds—or bird things—between her and the pond. Rhett, too, strode forward with malicious intent to confront the dripping menace slogging up onto solid ground.
Dragar clashed with another, sword flashing in the gray half-light, a freakishly large bird diving in with its talons extended. He ducked and spun on one boot, the other leg flashing out to trip up the Servant. All it did was momentarily cause a stumble.
The bird, misjudging Dragar's move, crashed into the Servant, a flurry of odd wings and a gnashing beak. It gave Dragar time to cut the sword around the other way and take the Servant's head clean off.
It lopped to one side, the body fell to the other. The bird squawked and lifted away.
Galvanized, Evelyn broke into a run, ignoring the shout Rhett spat at her back. He would have to curse her this once. Three Servants stood between her and the pond. Evelyn, knowing her chances of getting past one, much less three, were slim, advanced anyway.
Gone was the shaky kneed, afraid of confrontation issue that turned her knees to jelly. Like the moment at the castle when she'd seen the Fallen dragging Rhett across the ground, all that mattered was doing what needed to be done so she could help a loved one.
Bringing the sword up, she cracked it against the first Servant's. His strength against her own caused a reverberation to ripple up the blade, through the hilt, into her wrist and up her arm. It hurt so bad she wanted to drop the weapon right then.
She was done if she did that and she knew it. The Servant, with heavy features, a prominent brow, and a wickedly grinning mouth, slashed his sword around and down, making hers slide right off.
He knew she wasn't any threat, no real challenge. Maybe it amused him that she even thought to try.
The whole time, images of Alex underwater spurred her on, making a war cry spill from her lips when she cut her sword for the Servant's knees. There was a break in the armor there, a vulnerable spot Rhett had pointed out during one of the flights. He'd spent an hour or two going over fight strategies—just in case. Trying to help her overcome her natural fears. Giving
her pointers if she found herself in a situation where there was no other recourse than to take a Servant or a Fallen head on.
In the middle of the swing, something hit her from behind. It wasn't the sword of the Servant, which was slicing down and to the side like a pendulum to block her blow. It was something else. The bird knocked her forward into the Servant, their swords both going askew. Talons grazed her scalp, missing a deeper purchase when it was forced to pull up or collide with the much taller Servant.
For a change, being shorter than the giants helped.
Amidst Rhett shouting her name and the sounds of battle all around, Evelyn staggered, catching her balance, and rolled outward away from the Servant. He backswung his blade, the whistle alerting her it was coming. Instead of ducking, scared he might take her head off by accident, she braced for impact.
The sword slapped her straight across the back, blowing the air right out of her lungs. She went face down in a hurry, landing so fast and hard that dirt and debris flew out around her. Each searing gasp of a breath hurt to the point that tears coursed down her cheeks.
Heavy, thumping, a boot landed square between her shoulder blades, exacerbating the pain. She was no match for the Servants, much less the Fallen. Few humans were. Her immortality wouldn't help her against their supernatural strength, their centuries of experience in fighting. All the while she stared out over the shimmering pond, wondering where Dracht and Alexandra were.
As far as she'd seen, they hadn't surfaced.
No.
Fighting for breath, Evelyn grabbed her dagger out of the sheath. It hurt to move, every twist and torque wreaking new agony in her chest. She rolled and twisted the second the boot moved off her back, bringing up the dagger to stab it into the break in the armor at the knee.
A howl of pain was her reward.
Reaching down, the servant grabbed her by the hair and pulled her to her feet. She lost the sword when he used his own to bang it out of her hand. A stab to the knee wouldn't fell a human man, most likely, much less a Servant.
Still. She wouldn't just lay there and die. He lowered his face toward hers, teeth showing and clenched, sweat beading his brow. The stab wound wasn't pleasant, that much she got out of his reaction.
An arrow pierced him through the throat, sideways, spraying blood across her cheek, nose and forehead. With a yelp of surprise, she tore out of his lax grasp. The Servant collapsed to the ground, twitching. Evelyn's gaze snared on the archer—not Khyamaeus, but Rhett. Bloodied, sword on the ground, he lowered Khyamaeus' bow. They stared at each other while Templars and Servants of the Fallen battled, blurs in her periphery. The moment hung suspended in time, like they were in their own personal bubble, just Evelyn and Rhett connecting across the twenty-feet that separated them. Fierce determination made the pale green of his eyes sharper.
It couldn't have been more than a tick on the clock, just one, but it felt like an eternity to her. He tossed the bow on the ground and took up his sword, breaking into a run to engage a Servant that was getting the better of his father.
Evelyn stooped to grab her own sword, rising just as two rag-tag birds swooped in with a high pitched squawk. Swerving her head and shoulders out of the way, she took a swing; one she cut out of the air. The second, she missed.
With a ruffle of strange feeling feathers—a cross between suede and silk—the bird hit her in the chest, talons raking her neck above the protective collar of the armored shirt. Not a deep, artery slicing wound, but a rake of skin that stung nevertheless. Its wings battered her around the head and shoulders and she beat at it with a fist. It was too close for the sword and her dagger was still lodged in the Servant's leg. Screeching, the bird tore away, taking more of her skin with it.
A small price to pay to have it gone.
Breath burning in her lungs, she took a quick survey of the scene.
Rhett, Dragar and Christian were battling a Servant. Khyamaeus and another were head to head, swords clanking and cracking, their fight just begun.
And on the ground near the pond's edge, Dracht loomed over Alexandra, palms layered over her sternum while he tried to pump life back into her body.
†
Evelyn would never forget the way the Knight, dark hair dripping wet, broad shoulders hunched in his armor, looked in that moment. Knees spread, he stopped palpitations to fix his mouth over Alex's and blow two breaths in. He worked diligently, counting two-three-four in short huffs, pausing to shout her name before mouth to mouth again.
Dracht had sustained several attacks by the sinister birds, talon scrapes along his temple and cheek, blood dripping down from his scalp. It didn't appear he'd stopped to deflect them while working on her sister.
Breaking into a run, she hurdled a downed Servant, took a swing at an incoming bird, and slid to her knees near Alexandra's head. The sword clanked to the ground.
“Alex! Alexandra! Don't you dare leave me.” Evelyn cupped each side of her sister's head while Dracht feverishly administered first aid. He didn't look up, didn't address her, didn't pause for a beat in his counting and breathing.
Two-three-four.
“Alex!” Evelyn was a wreck. Pale, not-breathing, lips shaded blue, Alex already looked beyond CPR's reach.
To one side, faint ripples of water lapped onto land. On the other side, men fought valiantly for their lives, swords slicing and slashing, growls mixing with grunts and shouts. Black birds circled and dove, circled and dove, squawking incessantly, adding to the chaos. Thousand year old Redwoods, eerily carved totems and the slab of the altar played background to it all.
Evelyn only saw it in strobe flashes and blurs, a peripheral apocalypse on a scale that only promised to grow larger with the breakage of the War Seal.
“C'mon, Alex! Don't you do this, damnit,” Dracht shouted. Tireless, he performed mouth-to-mouth again, focused only on his task.
Alex lay motionless, lips slightly parted, lashes fanned down over her alabaster cheeks.
Evelyn didn't know how long they'd been under, or how long Dracht had been here on the ground administering compressions and breaths. Time became warped in the midst of battle, though she didn't think it could have been more than ten minutes total since Alex first hit the water.
Time enough to drown. More than enough.
A sob wracked Evelyn's throat. Hands on each side of her sister's head, she pleaded silently for her sibling to wake up.
†
Rhett narrowly missed having his throat slashed open. Yanking his head back, he saw the Servant's blade whiz by less than an inch from his chin. Even with three of them attacking from different sides, the Servant was able to keep them at bay. Barely. The skill this particular one displayed made Rhett believe he'd been alive longer than the others. Combined with an unusual quickness and strength, he was difficult to defeat.
He had more of the Fallen qualities than some of the others Rhett encountered and knew how to use each one fully.
A frustrated snarl erupted from his throat before he timed an assault with Christian, cutting his blade up while his brother attacked from the side, spinning low and stabbing for that vulnerable spot under the armpit where the armor didn't reach.
Dragar pulled himself off the ground after being knocked down. Blood ran from his nose.
The Servant swerved out of the way of Rhett's sword, leaning right into the stab of Christian's. He howled in pain when Christian rammed the sword halfway in and yanked it back out.
Fresh blood dripped off the polished steel.
Rhett heard Dracht shouting and cursing at Alexandra. He knew things didn't look good for the girl if his brother had resorted to that. During the few seconds he had of the Servant's surprise, Rhett arced his sword around, catching the Servant in the juncture of the neck and shoulder.
It didn't take his head off, but the wound was mortal nevertheless.
Staggering back, the Servant clutched awkwardly at his throat, falling into a writhing heap a moment later.
Around the
m, the ground was littered with bodies.
Khyamaeus felled the Servant he battled with a sword instead of arrows, leaving the body twitching at his heels.
After a quick check of his father and brother, Rhett jogged toward Dracht and Evelyn. Alex lay on the ground, still. Lifeless, as far as he could tell.
Shit.
The remaining birds split away into the gloom, flapping back into the obscurity they'd sprouted from. Dracht, who rarely showed any deep emotion, looked distraught when he got there. Evelyn pleaded with Alex while his brother compressed the girl's chest, urging her to come back with single minded intent.
Rhett went to a knee beside Evelyn, a blood spattered hand settling on her back to do what he could to soothe her. Beyond her shoulder, he saw Khyamaeus standing at a small distance, staring at him.
Maybe reminding him of the deaths he'd known were coming. A confusing mix of relief, sorrow, regret and frustration ran through him. Relief that Evelyn hadn't been the second to go, and frustrated that anyone else had to die at all.
Dracht was going to take it especially hard.
Curling a fist up by his mouth, Rhett wondered when someone would have to tell his brother to stop. No one looked ready to give up yet, including himself, but he could foresee an ugly situation for the person who finally decided enough was enough.
There was only so much any of them could do.
Dragar crouched next to Dracht, out of his way, and set a hand on his shoulder. A light touch that didn't inhibit the resuscitation attempts.
Dracht wouldn't let anyone else try to revive her, either, that much was clear. It was him or no one, all or nothing, life or death. Rhett read those clues in his brother's eyes, his posture, his urgent persistence. Dracht never had liked to lose. Or give up.
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