“Make way!” Liam ordered. The group of nonwielding magi cleared, allowing Liam and Andrew to lay Rory on the ground. “Fetch some water,” he said to no one in particular. “We need to get a splint on that leg.”
Andrew nodded. They found two branches that were mostly straight and butted them up against the sides of Rory’s leg. The way they’d laid him down, it was mostly straight, though bent slightly to the side at the knee.
“Hold him steady,” Liam said.
Andrew held him by his shoulders.
Liam exhaled softly and took Rory’s foot, placing his other hand above Rory’s kneecap. He lifted it about six inches above the ground and rotated it. Rory’s knee twisted without resistance, nearly making Liam sick. Rory barely moved, his unconsciousness acting as a natural anesthesia. Once the knee was in place, they repositioned the branches and bound them together with their belts.
Exhausted, Liam sat back.
Pepper, a young boy whose hair couldn’t decide if it wanted to be light or dark, returned with water.
“We need to clean his wounds,” Liam said. The boy paled.
“I’ll do it.” Joyce stepped forward. In her early thirties, her hopes of wielding had died long ago, and with them, so had her dreams of becoming a cleric. But she had found her place in taking care of the clerics’ wounds as they healed. She took the canteen from Pepper and gently poured its contents over the wounds on Rory’s arms, slowly washing away the dirt and debris.
Rory might live, or he might not, but he stood a better chance than he had at the base of the manor. And if he didn’t survive, at least he would die with Family.
“I don’t like that look on your face,” Andrew said.
“There’re more,” Liam said. “There were two more fallen outside the doors on the landing.”
“I can’t let you do that,” Andrew said. “It’s suicide. I’m supposed to protect you.”
“Unless you tie me up, there’s nothing you can do to stop me,” Liam said. “If you want to protect me, come with me.”
Andrew eyed him, weighing him. “Fine. But we need to get them in one pass. We can’t be running back and forth. It exposes us too often and might invite an attack.”
Liam smiled. “Do we have any more volunteers?”
The vase in the alcove above Allyn’s head shattered. He retreated down the hall as colorful hand-blown glass peppered the wall. The table was next, tossed aside like a twig in a windstorm, the rest of its contents crashing onto the floor, leaving Allyn exposed.
“Here!” someone called from the bedroom across the hall. Ren beckoned Allyn toward her while sending fire, ice, and more fire in quick succession toward the enemy at the end of the hallway, where Lukas’s group was using the McCollums’ own fortifications against them.
Under Ren’s cover fire, Allyn darted across the hall and into the room. “Thank you,” he said, his voice almost a whisper. He leaned against the wall, exhausted and short of breath. Ren stood above him, continuing to attack. Her compression armor was torn in places and burnt in others, but she didn’t seem to notice.
The grand entryway was just beyond the enemy magi at the end of the hall. Equal in number to Jaxon’s squad, they were fortified behind the bunkers while Jaxon’s unit was split up and disorganized, with four magi in three different rooms. Carefully made plans had been thrown to the wind the moment the first fireball flew. Once Lukas realized his enemy was in the manor, he had quickly dispatched his own squads to repel them.
Caught off guard, Allyn had watched helplessly as Christopher, one of the magi at the front of the squad, took an ice blast in his chest. He was still on the floor, bleeding. The rest had dove into nearby rooms as discipline was replaced momentarily by self-preservation.
“I need cover,” Allyn said. “Something to keep them down as I make for Jaxon.”
Ren nodded and counted silently. On three, she stepped into the hall, sending a volley of air-propelled ice blasts that spread through the hallway like birdshot from a shotgun. Though they were perhaps too small to kill a man, they would knock him unconscious if they struck him in the head. Lukas’s people ducked behind the barricades.
Allyn dashed into the hallway, running to Jaxon’s room, which was two doors down and on the other side of the hall. Jaxon saw Allyn rushing toward him and made room for him to slide inside.
“This isn’t going well,” Allyn said once he was inside. The sounds of Ren’s attacks stopped after Allyn was safely in Jaxon’s room. “We need to get to Lukas before you drain yourself. What can I do?”
“Make me invisible,” Jaxon said sarcastically.
“I think I can do that.” Allyn smiled at Jaxon’s confused expression. Blackout, Allyn texted Liam. They’d purposely left the lights on prior to their assault. Shutting them off would have alerted Lukas to their attack. “Liam is going to kill the lights. When he does, you’ll be invisible.”
A fireball sailed past the door. It was bright enough to destroy any advantage the darkness would provide.
“Hold!” Jaxon shouted. His squad’s attacks stopped almost immediately. The enemy’s followed suit shortly after. An eerie silence fell over the hallway, broken only by the sounds of battles in other areas of the manor—not as many as Allyn had expected. Only two of the other squads had encountered resistance. That meant two had not. Why?
Ten seconds, Liam texted back.
“Be ready.” Allyn showed Jaxon the text.
Jaxon took a series of deep breaths and rocked his head from side to side, stretching his neck. There was a distant click, followed by a brief hum, and then the room went black. Allyn couldn’t see Jaxon, but he felt him slip past, like a massive predator seeking its prey.
Unintelligible and confused, whispers from the enemy magi carried down the hall. Good, Allyn thought. There was a shout of alarm and—
Flash!
Jaxon leaped over the barricade as something blue shattered against the ceiling. Someone cried out in pain, and the hall went dark.
Flash!
Jaxon’s fists, wrapped in air, drove into a magi’s face. He crumpled against the wall. The darkness came again.
Flash!
Jaxon’s air-aided fists discharged light as he struck an enemy magi.
Flash!
Two more magi slid down the hall toward the rest of his squad, Jaxon’s hulking body a distant shadow.
Flash!
An orange ball of dim light flickered in Jaxon’s hand as he wielded fire, illuminating the dark hall. Bodies were strewn around him like petals circling the center of a flower. The way Jaxon fought embodied elegance. No extra movement. Nothing unnecessary. He did what he had to do, and he didn’t relish it.
“Let’s go,” Jaxon ordered. His squad emerged from their positions, falling in line behind him. Leira immediately checked Christopher’s vitals then shook her head solemnly.
The hallway ended in a landing directly above the grand entryway. Bodies littered the floor, but the darkness made it impossible to tell how many were theirs. Allyn swallowed the bile in his throat. The smell of fresh death lacked the potency of decay, but it was enough to make him gag. It hung heavy in the air, sticking to him like thick syrup. A different smell, something sweet and familiar, undercut it.
“Do you smell—” Allyn flinched, catching sight of an ice blast flying toward them.
Jaxon saw it, and a wall of fire formed in front of their squad. When it dissipated, Jaxon blindly launched a concussion of air into the center of the entryway, scattering bodies toward the walls.
Below, four magi using a makeshift bunker battled Trevin, Nyla, and Mason’s forces. The interlopers were outnumbered but held a better position than Graeme’s magi did—or they had until Jaxon’s squad had arrived. Pinned between the two squads and forced to battle a new force with
an elevated position, Lukas’s squad retreated. Sending a volley of wild attacks, they raced down the center hallway deeper into the manor.
Graeme was supposed to be in that hallway.
Mason’s force chased after the retreating magi.
“Hold!” Jaxon shouted.
Mason held up a fist, and his force stopped, watching the deserted hallway, prepared for another battle to flare up.
The floor was slick with blood and melted ice as Allyn stepped over a host of bodies and into the entryway. Most had gaping wounds in their stomachs or chests. None were scorched or blistered. Their methods were the opposite of those they’d used during their assault at Lukas’s compound, where most of the dead had burned to death.
The magi squads filed into the entryway. Each bore the marks of battle. They had lost seven people, most coming from Mason’s squad, who had attempted to enter the manor before enough of the other squads were in position. He had lost more than half his men.
“Where’s Graeme?” Jaxon asked.
The rest looked around as though they expected to see him behind them.
“How many did Liam say he saw enter the manor?” Nyla asked.
“Between twenty and thirty,” Allyn answered.
“There aren’t enough bodies,” Nyla said. “There’s twelve, maybe fifteen in here. Where are the rest?”
Allyn’s phone vibrated in his pocket. It would be Liam. Probably wondering if they had won since the fighting had stopped.
“Something isn’t right,” Mason said.
“Arm the barricades!” Jaxon ordered.
Allyn pulled his phone from his pocket and looked at the message. Run!
Before he had a chance to say anything, a fireball, bright and raging, streaked into the room. Caught off guard, they couldn’t extinguish it. It struck the underside of the staircase, and flames leaped from its center, climbing the wall. Another fireball struck the opposite wall, splashing like liquid. In an instant, the entire entryway was aflame. More raced across the walls as though they had been doused with accelerant.
The smell. They put something on the walls!
Coughing, Trevin rushed outside with two magi on his heels. Allyn followed. Scrambling onto the patio, Allyn tripped, and something sailed over his head.
Allyn fell on top of Trevin. Ice poked him in the chest. It stuck out of Trevin’s back. The other two magi lay beside him, each with fatal wounds.
Allyn frantically crawled back into the entryway. “Trap! Run!”
They didn’t have a choice. They ran deeper into the manor—into the flames.
Chapter 24
Liam watched helplessly as ten of Lukas’s magi stood in a semicircle around the base of the manor, hurling fire inside. It had happened so quickly. He had been checking his phone, ready to turn the power back on, when they had appeared out of the forest. As the manor burned, they killed anyone who attempted to escape. It was a massacre.
He had already done what he could to help by telling Allyn to run. He hoped Allyn had received the message in time. Not knowing what else to do, he did the only thing he had left. Punching buttons in quick succession, Liam sealed off the library. It was climate controlled, sealed below the manor itself, and designed to withstand anything short of a natural disaster, but Liam wondered if it could withstand the weight of the manor collapsing on top of it. He was about to find out.
Who am I saving the library for? he wondered. Within minutes, the manor would be reduced to ash. He and his Family were homeless. Nowhere to sleep. Nowhere to hide. Nowhere to protect their history. And the police would return. I’m handing them the evidence we have fought so long to keep hidden. Our identity. Our history. It made Liam sad, sick, and angry. A people’s history belonged with them, not in a storage facility, where it was catalogued and hidden from those who needed it. But it was better than the alternative.
“Prepare to move.” He and Andrew withdrew into the clearing, where the rest of their group waited. After rescuing Rory, Liam and Andrew had brought back four more. Each had serious injuries, half of which were likely fatal if they didn’t receive treatment soon. Joyce had done what she could, but her skills could only accomplish so much.
“You can’t be serious,” Andrew said.
Liam beckoned him closer. “They’ve torched the manor. The battle is over. We lost. We need to get the rest of them to safety.”
“Look at them.” Andrew surveyed the group. “They won’t last a mile.”
“They don’t have to,” Liam said. “The injured can’t walk. We can’t carry them. And if we are somehow able to retreat into the forest, they won’t receive the medical attention they need.”
“What are you suggesting?”
“They stay behind.”
“With who?”
“Me.”
Andrew shook his head. “If Lukas comes looking, you’re signing up for a death sentence.”
“If someone doesn’t stay behind, then I’m sentencing them to one,” Liam said, looking at Rory. Joyce held a canteen to his lips, willing him to drink. He wouldn’t last an hour. “If we win this battle, we’ll need someone who knows where you are.”
“I thought you said the battle was over.”
Liam sighed. “It’s not looking good, but I’m not going to give up.”
“If you’re staying, then I’m—”
“But,” Liam said, interrupting, “if we lose, they will need someone to protect them.” Andrew gave him an appraising look that said he still wasn’t entirely convinced. “They’re important, Andrew. I know they don’t look it, but they are our future.”
“Fine,” Andrew said, “but at least allow someone to stay behind with you. Help you look over the injured.”
Liam agreed and pulled Joyce aside. He wouldn’t order her to stay behind, and thankfully, he didn’t have to. She volunteered.
“It’s my duty,” she said, her voice tight with fear.
Courage grows from the ashes of fear. Another one of Jaxon’s favorite sayings.
Since the wounded were staying behind, preparing the magi to move was done in short order. Liam organized them into small groups, dividing the children evenly among them and assigning each a guardian. After giving his initial orders, Liam allowed Andrew to take over. Liam thought it best to wait until the last moment to tell them that he and the wounded were staying behind. When the time came, the group put up the fight he’d expected, and like his short argument with Andrew, Liam eventually won. More volunteered to stay behind with him, and though he was tempted, he rejected the idea. He needed to get as many as he could to safety.
“Where are we going?” Andrew asked.
Liam blinked. He had been so focused on locking down the library and organizing the magi’s departure that he hadn’t thought of where to send them. They could return to the homestead, but that meant being outdoors for an extended period of time, and some in the group were already concerned about the elements. That plan also relied on the idea that someone would return for them. If they lost the battle, or if Liam fell before he could get word to the survivors, then his group would wait at the homestead until one of their own decided it was time to leave.
They could make for the city, but what would they do when they arrived there? They had no one to take them in. Having the group walking the empty streets late at night didn’t feel like a legitimate alternative to leaving them at the homestead.
“Liam?” Andrew prompted.
They want an answer. “I’m open to suggestions,” Liam said quietly to Andrew.
“I thought you had a plan?” Andrew asked loudly enough for his voice to carry to the group. A few turned to look at them.
“My plan,” Liam said in a forceful whisper, “is to keep you safe, and I’m trying to decide the best way to do that. We don
’t have a lot of options, and I was hoping you could think of something I couldn’t.”
He couldn’t, so Liam sent them back to the homestead. There was some grumbling about how they had just left there, but Liam did his best to ignore it. “Wait until midday tomorrow. If nobody arrives… do what you think is best.”
Andrew nodded.
The plan wasn’t very good, and Liam was sure that given enough time, he could think of something better, but time was another thing he didn’t have.
The group filed down the trail and deeper into the forest. Liam gave them what he hoped was a reassuring smile. “I’ll see you soon.” Watching them disappear, Liam was left with a new worry.
What now?
Allyn’s lungs were on fire. Each breath was agonizing as the thick smoke burned him from the inside. He coughed. It made the pain worse. In the middle of a coughing fit, he instinctually took a deep breath, which only made him cough more. It was a vicious cycle.
Holding on to the wall for guidance and stability, Allyn stumbled down the hall. He was moving too slowly, and the flames were spreading too quickly, already racing ahead of him. Bodies littered the floor. Too many to only belong to the enemy. Allyn stepped on something—a hand. He bent down to help the person up, but the arm was limp. Whoever it was wouldn’t get up ever again. The body would burn to ashes with the manor, buried under its rubble.
Someone pushed him. Allyn was only faintly aware of the others jostling around him, trying to escape the inferno, each too absorbed in his or her own misery and will to survive to worry about others.
Allyn slipped and fell in something wet. Nobody stopped to pick him up. They ran over his back, trampling him, pinning him to the floor. The force drove the air from his lungs. He took a slow, timid breath, expecting the pain, but he was welcomed with cool air. In disbelief, he drew in another. He wasn’t hallucinating. The air was still tinged with the taste of smoke, but it was faint. He started to stand, then stopped.
Fracture (Book 1) Page 27