The three of us step down the long aisle, the golden carpet glittering beneath our feet. Audience members rise to stand as we pass by their rows. Our walk ends at the raised platform that makes up the cathedral’s ceremonial space. It’s a large circular stage with an altar, two amber thrones, and a smaller chair set up for Maxon.
As the music finishes, Lincoln and I move to stand at center stage. Maxon takes his chair, with Hildy standing just behind him.
Once we’re all in place, Lincoln raises his arms in his classic ‘I’m the King and I have something to say’ move. The room falls silent.
“It is with great excitement that I greet you here today,” Lincoln announces to the crowd. “Ever since my Queen and I took the throne three years ago, we’ve worked to return Acca to its former glory as one of the most powerful and loyal houses in Antrum.” Lincoln lowers his arms and turns to me.
I continue the speech. “Today, the King and I will anoint new leadership for Acca, with all of you here as our valued witnesses. May the future Earl and Duchess guide this house along the path of strength, honor and good judgment.”
I pick up the small vial of oil that rests on the altar behind us.
“Will those to be anointed come forward?” asks Lincoln.
The Earl and Duchess step across the stage. I dip my thumb in the bowl of oil and wipe some of the sacred liquid onto the Duchess’s lips, forehead and palms. “May you speak truth to your people, rule with wisdom in your mind, and work hard with your hands for the future of all thrax.”
I hand the bowl to Lincoln, who repeats the ritual with the Earl. After that, we all turn to address the assembly.
“On behalf of thrax everywhere,” says Lincoln. “We introduce you to the new Earl and Duchess of Acca!”
The audience breaks out into a riot of applause. I survey the crowd and sigh. It’s been a long journey to reach this day but now, at last, Acca has new, loyal leadership.
A strange sound soon mingles in with the applause. It’s quiet, yet impossible to miss. A soft cracking echoes through the cathedral. I scan the space, trying to pinpoint the source of the noise.
Huh. I could swear it’s coming from the ceiling.
I turn to Lincoln. “Do you hear anything?”
“Yes.” Lincoln’s gaze is already fixed at the amber roof over our heads, his face set into stern lines. I know that look. Danger is near.
It’s an effort to keep my voice low. “What’s going on?”
“Someone’s casting a spell.”
My gaze snaps to the Striga royal guard. They’re already murmuring counter-spells to block the intruding magic. By the worried looks on their faces, they aren’t succeeding at their task.
“Why aren’t they stopping the spell?” These are the best casters in Striga, and twelve of them, no less.
“I’m not sure, unless—” Lincoln’s gaze stays glued to the ceiling.
My heartbeat kicks into overdrive. What kind of spell could bypass the Striga royal guard?
Lincoln reaches into his tunic for his baculum. “Damn. This is dark magic.”
I’ve heard of dark magic, everyone has. It’s what thrax parents use to scare their kids into behaving. Go to sleep right now or the dark magicians will get you. And sure, there were evil thrax casters, but they were all hunted down hundreds of years ago. Striga has tight controls over all that stuff now. Don’t they?
“There must be another explanation.”
“There isn’t.” Lincoln’s voice comes out low and deadly. “Take Maxon and run.”
Adrenaline instantly pumps through my body. Fast as a heartbeat, I bolt across the stage, scoop Maxon into my arms, and sprint down the center aisle toward the exit doors. I sense more than see Hildy running behind me. On reflex, my tail winds with Maxon’s, holding him tight to my chest as I race with every ounce of energy in my body. Before I know it, Maxon and I are halfway down the aisle.
That’s when the ceiling implodes.
With an ear-shattering boom, the roof above our heads collapses into thousands of tiny yellow stones. They pour water-like from above, surrounding everyone’s feet to ankle-depth within seconds. The enchanted stones melt, turning into gooey amber. I try to keep running, but my feet get stuck in the muck. In my mind, I call out to my igni.
Help me, little ones. Help your Maxon, too.
Instantly, thousands of igni appear about Maxon and me, swirling in a vortex that cuts through the stone around our feet. My muscles burn with the effort, but thanks to the igni’s help, I finally break through the gooey rock that holds me back. Clasping Maxon tightly in my arms, I take a few steps closer to freedom.
Meanwhile, the rest of the cathedral collapses into total chaos. Everywhere, people are screaming, weeping, and trying to escape. Maxon’s head is pressed deep into my shoulder. He clutches at my Scala robes, sobbing two words over and over. “Mommy, no.” Each syllable tears at my heart.
More amber pours from the ceiling. The magic is growing in power.
Maxon, Hildy and I struggle on until we reach the end of the aisle.
We have to make it. I won’t give up.
At last, I can set my palm against the exit doors. My heart leaps into my throat.
We’re going to do it. We’ll actually escape. My thoughts start to wander toward Lincoln and the others, but I refocus my mind on Maxon’s escape. Once my baby’s safe, I can worry about everything else.
An avalanche of gemstones tumbles from the ceiling, quickly forming a box that surrounds Maxon, Hildy and me. Once the shape is fully in place, the stones re-solidify into amber, creating a makeshift prison around us. Thousands more igni come to my aid, winding into what looks like a giant drill. Working in concert, my igni attempt to grind into the wall of our prison. They don’t make a dent.
Behind me, Hildy starts casting rapid-fire style. Purple puffs of smoke and mist slam into the same yellow surface where my igni drill away. Nothing helps.
I command my igni to bite into the prison at a faster pace. They follow my orders, their drill shape turning so quickly, it’s nothing but a cone-shaped blur. No matter how fast they move, my igni can’t even scratch the prison walls.
“Keep going, my little ones. Please!”
But my command is useless. My igni’s tiny silver bodies start disappearing the moment they touch the wall. Soon, they’re all gone and I’m knee-deep in gooey stone. Through the translucent walls of our prison, I see Xavier in full archangel mode, his body glowing with white light as he hacks against the amber walls with his baculum sword. The rest of the cathedral is nothing but a blur. I can only make out Lincoln standing beside my father, hammering at the surface with his own angelfire weapon.
My heart sinks. Even Dad and Lincoln can’t make a dent.
Turning around, I slam my right fist into the amber wall that separates me from the exit. My blow bounces harmlessly off the smooth yellow surface.
Damn, damn, damn. There must be some trick to this magical prison. I just need to think.
That’s when I hear it. A low chuckle, and it’s coming from right behind me.
Fresh adrenaline charges through my bloodstream. I’d know that voice anywhere.
Bit by bit, I turn around to face the noise’s source. On the opposite wall of my amber prison, the goopy floor oozes up to into a familiar but stomach-churning shape. Before me stands a humanoid demon seven feet tall with gangly limbs and a long face that holds a blade-like nose and unfeeling eyes. He’s missing an arm and stands at an angle to favor his hip, both signs of injuries from his last battle with my father.
My voice comes out as a whisper. “Armageddon.”
The gemstone version of the King of Hell waves in my direction. “Miss me?” He turns to Dad, who’s hacking away at the other side of the wall. “I know he did.”
“How did you leave Hell? I locked you away with my igni.”
“I haven’t left. Not technically, anyway. This is a magical body double. Like it?”
“Leave now
and I won’t kill you.”
“Such brave words from a trapped rat.” Armageddon chuckles, his voice low and smug.
“The last time I was a trapped rat, my father sliced off your arm and skewered your hip, so watch your mouth.”
“And you’ll pay for that.” Armageddon pats his empty shoulder socket and snarls. “And to make good on my promise, I have brought along a friend.”
Next to Armageddon, another amber figure rises. The intruder has a potbelly, receding hairline, and a turned-up nose.
Aldred is here. Unholy Hell.
My heart pounds so hard, the whoosh of blood sounds in my ears. It’s one thing to suspect that one of your ex-subjects is in league with the King of Hell, but it’s another to see him standing side-by-side with Armageddon. Maxon whimpers and grips my robes in his tiny fists. I clutch my baby more tightly to my chest.
Pulling two gleaming daggers from her waistband, Hildy places herself in the center of our prison, making her body a human barrier between us and Armageddon. Her lips move silently as she casts spell after spell. More bursts of purple light and mist shoot from her palms, this time heading toward Armageddon’s head. All of them fizzle and disappear before they get anywhere near their intended target.
With my right hand, I pull my baculum from my waistband, holding Maxon to me with my tail and left arm.
Armageddon touching my baby? Over my dead body.
The King of Hell’s mouth stretches into an impossibly large smile. “Now that we’re all here, you may speak the words, Aldred.”
My brain races. Aldred needs to ‘speak the words.’ Nefer’s warning echoes through my mind as well. Aldred has something of value for Armageddon. So, what of value needs words? Incantations are based in language. Same with passwords, directions, and family secrets. But how could any of those help Armageddon?
Aldred offers Armageddon a simpering grin. “Once I say the words, you’ll keep your side of the bargain. Right, my Lord?”
The King of Hell sets his bony hand on the place where his heart would be. “You have my promise.”
“And you won’t hurt the boy, either?” asks Aldred. “I don’t want the nobility to think—”
“It’s a little late to worry about your legacy,” snarls Armageddon. “Speak.”
Aldred bows low. “I grant the rights from Sakura to you, My King.”
Sakura? What in blazes is a Sakura?
Leaning forward, I pull on Hildy’s arm. “Lincoln said something about black magic. Is that what they’re talking about?”
“I’ve heard rumors that some of the lesser houses dabble in black magic.” Hildy’s heavily-lined eyes dart wildly about as she tries to remember something useful. “Nothing this powerful, though.”
Aldred bows deeply. “I did as we agreed, my King. Now, keep your side of the bargain. Set my soul free.”
Armageddon chuckles, his voice deep and evil. “Set you free? So you can do what, exactly? Haunt castles and rattle chains?”
“That’s not your concern. You promised if I did this, you’d let me go.”
“Did I?” Armageddon purses his thin lips. “Well, now I’ve decided to imprison you for all eternity. Go.” The King of Hell snaps his fingers and Aldred melts back into the ground.
With Aldred gone, Armageddon rounds on me, a red light shining in his amber eyes. “Where were we, then?”
Hildy’s hands become wrapped in purple mist as she casts spell after spell. Nothing works.
“Get behind me, baby.” I move Maxon to cling to my back while igniting my baculum as a longbow. I summon an angelfire arrow into my weapon, and shoot it straight toward Armageddon’s chest. The projectile bounces right off his rib cage.
Armageddon strides toward me, his good arm swinging to slap Hildy out of his path. His fist glances off at the last second, like it’s hit an invisible barrier. The King of Hell groans in disgust. “It seems the magic I wield here is powerful but limited. Unfortunately, there’ll be no killing or casting for either of us.” He steps around Hildy and moves closer to me.
“No!” screams Hildy. She tries to attack Armageddon from behind, but can’t get anywhere near him. It’s like the invisible barrier now surrounds me, Maxon and Armageddon.
The King of Hell steps closer.
I change my baculum into a long-sword and swipe the blade at Armageddon’s skull. The weapon ricochets harmlessly off its target. The force of my failed blow sends my baculum tumbling from my hands.
No, no, no!
Maxon sobs behind me. Crouching down, I grip his trembling body against my torso. “It’ll be alright, baby. Hold on to Mommy.” My boy weeps into my shoulder; every cry cracks my heart more deeply.
Armageddon grins. “I’ll take what’s mine and leave, thank you very much.”
Panic spikes through my limbs. He can’t take Maxon. He won’t. I angle my body away from Armageddon, shielding Maxon by the prison wall. My son’s tail grips my waist so tightly, it’s hard to breathe. Armageddon’s hand winds about me.
There are few options open to me now. My baculum are gone. Hildy, Dad and Lincoln can’t get anywhere near me. I can only plead for mercy. “Take me, Armageddon. Leave my son alone.”
A hungry gleam flares in Armageddon’s amber eyes. “Wish I could, but no.”
The world seems to move in slow motion as Armageddon’s long, opaque arm reaches closer. I’m vaguely aware of the bursts of light from Hildy’s casting and the flares of angelfire as Lincoln and Dad hack away at the amber walls. Only one thing can really hold my attention.
Armageddon’s outstretched hand.
I try to grip Maxon more tightly, but a purple light flares along my skin. Fresh magic. This new spell turns my limbs rubbery and useless. All I can do is hunker down, curling my own larger body around Maxon’s tiny one. The cold amber wall presses onto my side, hard and unbreakable. My throat tightens with fear and grief.
This can’t be happening.
Armageddon’s long, three-knuckled fingers grip Maxon’s shoulders. I’m powerless to move as the King of Hell tears my son from my lifeless arms. My boy screams, his tiny features contorted, his face flush with terror. Armageddon clutches Maxon under his arm, like my boy is a sack of flour instead of a weeping child. Maxon reaches for me, his small voice howling ‘Mommy’ over and over.
I sob, I scream, I try to move. No sound comes from my lips. My arms don’t do much as twitch under my command.
Together, Armageddon and Maxon slowly seep into the earth, a pair of bodies trapped in amber quicksand. Soon, I can only see little hands reaching for me, and then, nothing at all. A howl of pain echoes through the air. It takes me a moment to realize that I’m the one who’s screaming.
“No, baby, no!”
I’m vaguely aware of Hildy gripping my shoulders. Some part of me knows I should be happy that the magic has set her free, but I can’t seem to care.
“Myla, listen to me.”
I can’t make eye contact with her. I can only stare at that terrible place where my son disappeared and repeat the word ‘no,’ over and over.
Hildy shakes my shoulders roughly. “Pay attention. This is about Maxon.”
My brain finally snaps out of its daze. “I’m listening.”
“Whatever happens, do not wake me up. Promise me that.”
“I don’t understand, Hildy.”
“I haven’t finished casting the spells to link Maxon and me, so I can’t pull him out of Hell. But I can make sure he remembers nothing of it, at least for a while. I can take over his mind for a day or two. So, don’t wake me up. Promise me.”
“Yes, I promise.”
Hildy’s eyes turn white and roll back into her head; she crumples into a heap on the floor. I kneel at her side, touch her throat, and check her pulse. She’s alive. I pull back her eyelids. The pupils are still all white.
Hildy’s connected to Maxon, protecting him.
I exhale in relief and look upward. Bad move. The amber ceiling is melting, dripp
ing quickly down on me in long, gooey sheets. It takes only seconds for Hildy and I to be completely covered up to our necks. I struggle under the coating of rubbery stone, but I can’t move a muscle. The liquid amber covers my mouth and eyes, and then the world around me fades into nothingness.
For what feels like years, I dream of meandering in the darkness, looking for Maxon. His cries are always just out of earshot. Every time I close in, I hear Armageddon’s laugher as Maxon’s screams fade away and the process starts all over again. Soon, my eyes are sore from crying and my body trembles with the need for sleep. Through it all, I keep stumbling through the all-black dream world around me, repeating one phrase, over and over.
“I will save you, sweet baby.”
# # #
When I become aware again, I find myself lying on a cold floor, curled onto my side. My mind is a jumbled mess. I press my eyes closed tight, trying to recapture the thread of my last thought.
It was night and I was looking for something in the darkness. What was I searching for again?
Familiar fingers run through my hair, bringing me back to the present moment. “Myla, come back to me.”
My eyes flutter open. I’m lying on the floor of the Amber Cathedral. Looking up, I meet Lincoln’s gaze. His eyes are red-rimmed.
“There you are, Myla. Thank Heavens.” Lincoln leans forward and kisses me gently on the temple. “You were catatonic for almost an hour. Some kind of reaction to the dark magic. They wanted to touch you—cast spells and things—but I wouldn’t let them. I was so afraid they’d make things worse.”
“I must have passed out.” I hoist myself up into a sitting position. “That magic was—” It all comes back to me in a rush.
The Anointing. Armageddon. Maxon. Hell.
I jump to my feet, gasping for breath, my head lolling from side to side as I look around the empty cathedral. “Where is everyone? Where’s Maxon?”
Armageddon (Angelbound) Page 8