He chuckled. “Every moment I've spent with you has been worth a thousand more. I would fight.”
Throwing myself against him, I poured my heart into that embrace and spoke into his shoulder, “Follow Kyle and Carmine, keep them safe. If this works, I'll find you. I promise I will. If it doesn't...” We'd be dead. “I'll see you soon.”
There wasn't time for more than that. When I released him, he stood like a soldier, with his shoulders squared and his chin held high, but he wasn't emotionless or cold. He seemed proud.
“I'll see you soon,” he echoed. Without looking back, he turned into the flow of soldiers and pushed his way through.
I watched him go and felt a pang of loneliness. My eyebrows narrowed. I would not feel sorry for myself. I wouldn't pity either of us. If we died, we died doing our best. It was simple.
What are you doing, Kat? This is insane. It won't work.
I forced myself to turn around to face the Monarch. There was an empty ring of matted grass around it. Thirty feet of clear space, while everyone else stampeded to the narrow streets beneath the keep. How was I going to move through so many people running in the opposite direction? My horse, Florian, was in the stables on the opposite side of the field. To make matters worse, the members of the false orchestra surrounded the machine, protecting it until it fired. I wondered if they were Dragoons who were willing to die for their orders, or if they were infantry– those soldiers without Abilities. The latter seemed more logical. Margrave Hest always said, “Nothing is wasted.” Why send in a Dragoon to die if you can drain them first?
The Monarch's first pulse hit me full in the face, blasting my hair back and plastering my dress against my body. The sudden wind was so strong that I couldn't breathe. With it came a vibration so deep, it rattled my teeth and shook my bones. I should have been afraid. It was an excellent time for it. I wasn't.
The blast passed by and I pushed myself into action. Tugging at the chain attached to my waist pocket, I produced the engraved medallion.
Thunder rumbled in the distance and I let it comfort me.
“I hear you.”
I had to get through that crowd before the third pulse. Cupping the palm of my hand, I made certain that no direct light intruded. I flipped the medallion over so that the symbol that matched the one branded in Rune's arm showed face-up. Touching my finger to the metallic surface, I traced the semi-circle and curving line.
I wasn't left waiting. The skeleton of a horse leaped out of the shadowy balcony ground, its hooves clattering and scraping as it hauled itself out of the void. Darkness coated it, lashing on and snapping over its body until it appeared as solid as any living animal. I used the railing to hoist myself up onto its bare back, wrapped my fingers into its mane, and kicked my heels into its sides before the remaining soldiers could react.
I heard angry shouts behind me as my warhorse hauled us down the curving ramp to the courtyard. I hoped desperately that the Northern soldiers wouldn't fire at me with so many of their own people nearby.
Despite my not having reins, the warhorse obeyed the guiding pressure of my every touch. When we struck grass, plunging into the throng, we were forced to slow down to a trot. The warhorse snorted and bit at the people blocking our way, hurrying our course.
At ground level, the sunset-drenched keep was enchanting. If only those flashing lights beyond the outer walls weren't the harbingers of cannonade. The courtyard's multi-colored decorations remained brightly lit, flags still flapped, and lanterns still beamed, but instead of cheering, there were screams.
Folding my legs up against my mount as high as I could, I buckled over the warhorse's neck in effort to protect myself. Hands clawed at me as they went by, tearing my dress. Nails scratched my ankles. Someone had the idea that they should take my place atop the shadow-horse and wrenched at my leg. I shrieked, clinging on to the horse's neck as tightly as I could, but I was sliding.
The Monarch's second pulse pushed the crowd out as if it dared them to run. My warhorse arched its neck and strode on through the wind, but my attacker still dragged at me. Others noticed what he was doing and joined in trying to pull me down from my seat. They yanked roughly on both of my legs, ripping the top layer of my skirt to ribbons.
I don't have time for this.
“No!” I shouted at them, electrifying my body. They held on harder for an instant, locked in their grasp by mild electrocution, and then I let them go. Again, I charged my body, making sure that my Ability was visible to ward off other would-be horse thieves, but my charge was leached away.
My warhorse neighed in a voice too low to be natural, and then it did something very peculiar. It ignited.
Plumes of lightning sprouted from its shoulders, spines of light burst from its back, stripes mottled its sides, and threads wove over its face, giving it a sharp beak. The warhorse used my physical connection and the intense charge of my power to change its appearance, like a Shadow Chaser. It snorted, tossing its head, and I could see that its eyes had gone solid white.
Now the crowd moved out of our way. Our pace picked up to a loping canter, and the Monarch rose up above us, looking larger with every yard that we crossed. The woman's body in the foggy tube thrashed against the glass, pounding at the container. Steam blasted out from the war machine's sides, flooding the grounds with a suffocating heat. The noise of the thing hurt my ears, and its roar rose in pitch and volume, nearing the final note that would spell death for tens of thousands of people.
Just as the orchestra soldiers caught sight of me, I half swung, half fell from the warhorse's back. I'd rode in on one of their own mounts. If I were paying attention to them, I probably would have found that they didn't know whose side I was on. All that matters is they didn't shoot me as my knees buckled beneath me. The sound was too loud. I could feel it grinding through me, already resonating with my innate Abilities. It hurt between my skin and my muscles, between my bones and my tendons, between my eyes and my brain... but most of all, it hurt within the core of my chest, just beneath my circle of scars. It hurt like a memory.
I couldn't breathe, I could barely see, but I forced myself to get up. I stood facing the Monarch, watching the way its tubes twitched like a body filled with parasites and knowing I had only seconds to spare. My life didn't flash before my eyes. There wasn't time. I reached into my pocket, pulled the medallion free, and thought only of Rune.
The shadows were deep where I sheltered the trinket from the light of the warhorse, and remembering what Prince Raserion had told me, I traced the cluster of curling lines that made up the mysterious symbol.
“Simply draw this symbol in the shadows and cast the medallion at his feet. An unstoppable force will come, bringing him here to me, and your task will be complete.”
As the Monarch screamed in my ears, I pulled my arm back and threw the medallion as far as I could. It flew, chain trailing behind it like a tail, and landed at the base of the war machine. The moment it touched ground, the woman in the glass tube shook violently, the Monarch wailed, my heart nearly tore in half, and a gigantic beast launched from the wide pool of shadow that the medallion had landed in.
It came up from the darkness, like all of the other creatures had, but this one was larger than anything I'd ever seen. Its head was huge and round, with spiraling horns and a short snout. Long thin fangs protruded from its wide mouth. Its neck was wide and muscular and its eyes were white slits like crescent moons at midnight. Six arms reached out, all with heavily clawed paws. Its long body stretched as it threw itself at the Monarch, constricted around it in seconds, and dragged the entire machine with it into the shadows.
Just as the last lump of monster and machine dipped into Shadows Within Shadows, a dull explosion vibrated beneath my feet. It was the sound of a thousand books being dropped into a foot of dust. All of the shadows on the ground writhed as countless shadow creatures bubbled to the surface with wide white eyes, frantically struggling to break free and flee their world. There and gone, they san
k away and all went disturbingly quiet.
My warhorse began to scream. My lightning was gone from its body and again it looked like a regular black horse. The creature was terrified. It reared and bucked and kicked before bolting across the field into the crowd.
There were only two orchestra soldiers left. The others had been dragged down with the Monarch. Before they could train their flintlock rifles on me, I reached out with both my hands and lashed them each with a whip of electric energy. My Spark raced along the barrel of their guns, quickened by the conducting element and struck into the flesh of their hands. Calling off the Spark before it could kill them required as much speed and precision as attacking them had. Yanking my arms behind me, I stumbled back. My whips of lightning wrapped around my wrists and disappeared. The enemy soldiers collapsed, dropping their guns. They were still breathing, weren’t they? I could feel them when I’d struck their hands. It was like the Spark had joined in my sense of touch. Was I quick enough to stop it from killing them?
Their chests moved slowly with inhalation.
Thank gravity, they’re still alive.
Blinking, I spun in a half-circle to the sound of cheering. The nearest sections of the crowd had seen what I'd done and called out in support of my heroics. Northern soldiers clapped me on the back as they trotted in to retrieve the bodies I’d incapacitated, but no one relaxed just yet. Caraway was still under attack.
I walked ten paces away and rested my palms on my knees, giving myself a moment to catch my breath. Adrenalin crashed into me belatedly and my heart slammed in my chest. I'd just sent the Monarch, active and armed, to fire in Prince Raserion's own sanctuary. I didn't feel good about what I'd done. I'd come to appreciate Raserion's Shadow Chasers and warhorses. If the Monarch would make anyone with Abilities explode, what would it do to creatures made from Abilities? What would it do to that hidden world? And then there was the woman Lodestone. She was one of my own, an innocent from Haven, and there had been nothing I could do to save her.
Had I done the right thing? Kneeling in the grass, I drew the symbol of the Shadow Chasers in a small patch of dirt. They spouted out of the ground by the dozens, skittering over one another to escape. Many of them were missing limbs and tails. All appeared scuffed and scraped. There were so many of them, they pooled around my knees, crawling onto me like rats drowning in a stream. I jumped to my feet, shaking them free. I was repulsed by the number that had curled up and died, but most wriggled away into the grass to hide.
My concerns were confirmed. At the very least, I hoped I'd struck down Prince Raserion. I should have known he wouldn't hold to his bargain. He didn't care about being fair, and he didn't care about being honest with me. All he wanted was to kill his brother, and right now, the closest person to Prince Varion was Kyle.
Sirens sang out, and the ground shivered beneath my feet. I set off into the blazing city to find Rune and the others, and as I crossed the blood-spattered field, my dress tattered, and my nerves raw, I didn't feel very much like a hero.
Chapter 51: Can't Outrun Your Shadow
Across the courtyard filled with the trampled and wounded, up the raised balcony lift to the keep, past the nobility huddling in their finery, down the stairs that fed into the keep's corner column, and through an empty barracks, I followed Rune.
The thick walls of the barracks muted most of the sounds of outside. It was very recently evacuated. Bed sheets were rumpled and creased. Food still steamed on plates. I passed a broken window and saw flames leaping through the city, lighting up the night sky. It looked just like Wick's recording of Prince Varion's death.
Kyle.
Below, out on the street, I saw a troop of Hussars on horseback, charging into battle. The armor on mount and rider alike was magnificent, with colored streamers and banners lapping at the wind of their attack. They held their spears at the ready, and forked Dragoons off of their mounts as they collided. General... Lord Deasun was among them. His thick, ropey white hair was unmistakable. Beyond a picket line of Northern infantry soldiers, I saw Wick. He appeared to be issuing battle commands. Kyle shouldn't be out there. It was too dangerous. I used the Pull to find him, and my instincts led me away from Wick. The same direction that I'd been sent to find Rune. So, Kyle and Wick had separated.
Good.
I resumed my chase, following the Pull down into the basement of the barracks into what I assumed had been a secret tunnel for escaping the keep. A stone slab door rose up from the dusty basement floor, left ajar by my friends.
My lungs ached and my legs wobbled with exhaustion. Torn as my dress was, it was still heavy, and my torso was still locked into place by a corset. I was glad I hadn't laced it as tightly as Carmine. My ivory underskirt was ripped, exposing the stocking of one of my legs and the boots that I had continued to refuse to exchange for lady's shoes. Sweat dampened my brow, and my hair clung together in thick strands.
By the time I caught up to my friends, I was ready to have a coronary attack. The tunnel had come up in the back rooms of a closed tavern. We weren't far from the harbor. I could smell the sea and gunpowder. The intermittent cannon-fire sounded nearer.
I whimpered at the last few steps that led me into the tavern's great room. Although the windows were boarded up and signs read, “closed,” the place was finely decorated in billowing curtains, cushioned chairs, and smooth carpets, all in red. An ebony bar with tall matching stools filled the right side of the room. Starry lights hung from the ceiling, the only gold in a world of red and brown. It took my eyes a moment to adjust to so much of one color.
Rune, Kyle, Carmine, and Sadie were there, making their way through the middle of the room, heading for the front doors. “We should stay here a while. Find out. This place is as safe as anywhere else in the city,” Rune was saying.
Carmine was shaking her head. I could barely hear what they were saying.
Flattened against the wall for support, I called out weakly. “Wait... wait...”
Rune turned around first and a grin spread across his face. He was holding his forearm, covering the Dragoon brand as though it were painful. I wondered if something had happened to him when the Monarch had gone off. “Kat, you did it!” he said, elated.
Carmine and Kyle were on his heels as we all came together. I found a last reserve of energy, and it was enough to make me run to them. I half leaped on Rune, throwing my arms out farther to hug Carmine and tousle Kyle's hair. Sadie paced the room around us sniffing and looking beneath tables.
“You don't know how much it means to see you guys,” I told them, my voice shaking.
“Are you alright?” Kyle asked. “You're wheezing like a potbelly pig.”
“I don't think I've ever slapped a prince before.” As I released them, I couldn't keep from smiling. “I– uh– just need to catch my breath. Chased you– all the way here. You guys move fast.”
“Had to,” Rune said. “Deasun sent us here. The place may look wooden, but the outer walls are all solid stone. Our reinforcements are securing the barracks and this area as we speak. They should be here soon.”
“Vance took Wick with him as a diversion,” Kyle said, patting Sadie on the shoulder. “He's the most impressive machine I've ever seen. I hope nothing happens to him.”
“How are you holding up?” I asked him.
His crooked smile was wary. “We're all here, so I'm fine.”
Carmine's hand glided over his back and he looked about ready to fall flat on his face with contentment.
“We're not all here though, are we?” Rune said, growing more serious.
“We knew you would catch up, Kat,” Kyle said optimistically.
The absence of one beautiful and nasty blond boy was a gaping hole in our group. No one could irritate me the way he did. “Dylan.”
“Still missing,” Kyle said.
“And don't you think it strange?” Carmine asked.
“We're not leaving without him. I made a promise,” Rune said to Carmine.
“Wait– what do you mean leaving?” I asked.
Carmine huffed and rolled her eyes at Rune. “Well, our good deed is done, isn't it? Kyle went along with their little charade. I was paid handsomely by the good general for ferrying you all here. The ships have long since heaved off to Breakwater for aid, and there is a battle that could nearly lop all of our heads clean from our shoulders. One could ask for no better diversion. We gave them a prince, we got what we wanted, and now we go.”
“I see your point,” I admitted. We could still make a run for it after all.
Kyle looked uncomfortable. “She's right. I did what I had to. We can still go back to Breakwater. We can go home to Haven.”
I'd have been happier than anyone to get back on the Flying Fish and see this city behind us. “But what about Dylan?”
“He probably left for Breakwater on those ships. And if he didn't, there's no way he can find us now. It's not like we left a trail of breadcrumbs.” Carmine crossed her arms and tapped her fingers against them. “The longer we wait, the closer those reinforcements will come. This is our only chance to escape.”
“I swore that we wouldn't leave him here,” Rune said stubbornly.
My sense of urgency conflicted with my feelings for Dylan. I'd always wanted to believe there was some good in him. The evidence in our past didn't quite support that ideal. “Why would he leave without saying anything? Unless... unless he had something to hide. Why would he disappear conveniently the night before a Monarch shows up in the middle of Deasun's ceremony? Do you think... do you think he had something to do with it?”
Kyle frowned and turned to Carmine. “Didn't you say you saw him speaking to strangers last night?” Sadie sat beside him and curled her tail around his feet.
Carmine nodded. “They were whispering and handing papers to one another. After their conversation, they parted ways. Dylan saw me in the hall and I pretended I didn't see anything. We agreed to rejoin the rest of you for supper, and as we passed a hearth, I saw him throw the papers into the fire.”
Monarch (War of the Princes Book 3) Page 31