by A. K. Wilder
“Realm?”
“Northern Aturnia flags and…” I should have told Yuki about the encampment under Mount Bladen, specifically about the twin sun flags they sported. Because here they are again, one atop every ship, beating down our door. “Twin suns.”
“How many ships?”
“A hundred or more, if there’s one.”
“All with catapults,” Belair adds.
“The docks are taken. The enemy’s landing.” Cyres’s voice is shrill, her face streaked as she watches through her phantom’s eyes.
“The nearest catapults are lighting pitch.” There is a thud, and Jain staggers backward. Her face goes slack and she falls to the ground.
“Jain!” Cyres shouts. “Her phantom was hit.”
Zarah checks the girl’s pulse and shakes her head. “It’s too late. Hear me,” she says, shouting over the frantic cries in the streets. “We must block the main road. That’s our first line of defense.” She points to the yards and paddocks near the stables where the equestrians are mounting up. “Warriors, take weapons from the racks. I want you there with your phantoms. Others will join you soon.” The students race off and Zarah turns to me. “How many have reached the shore?”
“Dozens are landing with at least fifty rowboats coming up behind.”
Zarah nods. “Bring your phantom back, get your weapons. Belair, you too. Defend the road below the stables. Don’t let them into our temple grounds.”
Belair and I drop to our knees and bring our phantoms back. A second later they roar out of the ground in front of us. When my eye catches the ruined library, I hesitate again.
“Marcus, to the stables,” Zarah says firmly. “If we can’t defend the Sanctuary, it will matter little if your recorder is dead or alive.”
She lives, De’ral rumbles in my mind.
Nausea rises to the back of my throat and my eyes burn. “You can’t know that.”
“Marcus Adicio!” Zarah cries. “Go!”
I clap sword on shield and take off at a run.
53
Ash
Kaylin holds me under the archway, the only structure around us that hasn’t crumbled. Fog and dust obscure the entire boulevard, and all I can think is, What in all the B’dakin blazes just happened?
Only moments ago, I sat at my library desk, putting the last touch on the records. Yellow-robe savants, the both of them! I nearly gushed with pride, recording that. And then my inner voice blasted in my head “Get out!” the same instant Kaylin thundered up the second-story steps and into the room. The look on his face launched me from my seat. He threw the records into my bag and raced me out of there so fast I thought there was a fire. The whole time, he shouted at everyone else in the library to run.
I literally flew out the door and across the street, he moved so quickly. We ducked under this very arch as a massive rock smashed into the library tower, toppling it to the ground.
I cover my head with my hands as more rocks plummet down. Kaylin does the same, leaning over me. When the dust clears, I see the temple proper, farther up the broken street. The doors are crushed and the courtyard fountain… It’s gone. My eyes fill with tears at the rush of muddy water bubbling over piles of rubble. That’s when it hits.
“Marcus!” I cry and try to run to the training field. I whimper when Kaylin pulls me back.
“Not that way.” For the first time, my sailor looks shaken. “We have to get off the island. An Aturnian fleet attacks.”
“Aturnians? Attack?”
“Aye. A hundred ships strong.”
“We’re under attack?” I say it again but still don’t comprehend.
“Let’s go.” He makes to pull me along.
I dig in my feet. “We can’t leave without the others.”
“Why not? They’re warriors.”
“So are you.”
“Aye, and I’m using my skills to get you to safety.” He tries to shuffle me along again, but I won’t budge.
“No,” I insist. “They’re our people.”
He looks confused.
I grip his forearms so tight his hands must be losing circulation. “Kaylin, we don’t leave our people behind.”
He stares at me for a long moment. With how protective he is, I’m afraid he’ll just toss me over his shoulder and flee the island. Maybe he sees my desperation, because finally, he relents. “Where’re Piper and Samsen?”
Thank the bones. I release his arm and pull on my coat, then secure the satchel straps onto my back. “They were watching the game, I think.”
“Marcus and Belair?”
I close my eyes and try calling to De’ral.
He doesn’t answer in words, but I receive a clear picture in my mind of where he is, high on the lookout, gazing back toward his class, still on the field.
“Near the stables, with Zarah,” I say.
“All right.” He takes my hand and leads me into the chaos. “Let’s go get our people.”
54
Marcus
I’m numb inside, my heart frozen solid, yet somehow, I move. How did this happen? Aturnians bombard the sacred Isle of Aku? For what possible aim? There are no answers on offer and only Zarah’s command to follow. “Defend the road. Let none pass.” I go through the motions knowing I will either succeed or die trying.
Belair and I take cover among tall hedges beyond the stables. The gate and the road beyond are nearly invisible in the fog as I split my vision between De’ral’s perspective and my own. Nothing moves in either direction but the rolling, silent mist.
“It doesn’t make sense,” I whisper to Belair. “We saw them land.”
Belair nods, keeping his eyes fixed between parted leaves. “They should be here by now.”
The High Savant’s phantom is nearby, taking the form of tumbleweed and wedged in the low fork of a tree. The members of the Aku High Council, those who are left after the first air attack, position their phantoms around the perimeter of the Sanctuary to keep watch on all borders. Some of the students’ phantoms are also manning the lookouts, their savants’ perspective in them as well. We have a panorama of the siege if nothing else.
Siege? Is that what this is?
“Have you seen Samsen and Piper?”
“They waved to us from the sidelines before the last play.” Belair wipes his brow. “I think they had young students with them.”
I can only hope they made it to safety, but as I look skyward, I’m not sure where that safety would be.
“It was Destan, wasn’t it.” Belair isn’t asking.
“If so, may his path be snapped in two like a stick.” I spit as I say the words. “Was he communicating with the Aturnian fleet somehow?”
“What red-robe leads them?”
“I don’t know.” I move more into De’ral’s perspective. “They can’t stay in the harbor forever.”
“Maybe they have an endless supply of boulders.” Belair lets the shrub go. Like me, he holds a war sword and keeps the tip low. I can just make out the orange and red glint of his sun leopard stalking down the far side of the road, fog rippling over it like a gray stream.
“It’s not a bad tactic, for them.” I send De’ral to the middle of the road. He puts one knee down and presses both hands into the packed dirt, like a sprinter ready to take off, feeling for vibrations. The warrior’s muscles twitch, a response mirrored in my body involuntarily. We walk a razor edge, ready to smash the first enemy wave, and the second, and the third.
Nothing coming this way. The words echo in my head, but I don’t know if it’s me or De’ral who speaks, our senses are that entwined. With each word, my head throbs.
“Listen.” Belair points skyward. “I think they’ve stopped firing.”
He’s right. I hear the rhythmic crash of waves onto the rocks below and the crumble
of wreckage and cries behind me, but no more boulders whistle through the sky. I look over my shoulder, watching the dark coils of smoke rise from the fallen buildings, chased by tongues of bright orange flames. The fires look tiny from a distance, like candles set around the rubble.
I pull my focus back to the road, imagining the path from the harbor up to the heart of the Sanctuary. “They have to come this way.” Sheer cliffs on either side of the island guarantee it unless they send phantoms flying over the tall headlands. The only way in for this horde is up the road and through the gates, which are locked tight.
“Should I send my phantom farther down?” Belair asks. “Have a better look?”
I nod. “Do it.”
He moves off in a crouch, swallowed up by the fog in three steps.
I wait, rolling the hilt of my sword back and forth in my hand. When sunlight breaks through the fog, the blade mirrors a stream of refractions that pierce the gray-washed world. The light glances off a form coming up the road. I narrow my eyes and peer through De’ral’s gaze. It’s Belair, his shoulders hunched and limbs jerky. He’s scared, like all of us.
“Anything?” I call to him.
He signals negative.
“Come back.” I motion with my hand and direct De’ral to check the rest of my classmates. They are watching, like us, determined, ready for battle, though their eyes are wide, bodies taut. A small part of me hopes this is our final examination before gaining yellow-robe level, some grad test for High Initiate. But it can’t be. The catapults were not an illusion. The library fell. Halls and buildings were crushed with savants inside them. Aku is meant to be invincible, as old as the ocean and stronger than the rock that supports it. But I saw the buildings crack, smashed to the ground before anyone escaped, people buried beneath stones… Ash gone…
De’ral sends me an image of an ancient tree whose roots cover all of Amassia. She’s stronger than you imagine.
A sliver of hope that she might have survived finds its way in, but before I can ask more, Belair nudges my side.
“Did you see that?”
“Where?”
“Phantom eyes.” He nods toward the sun leopard. “Movement. Middle of the road.”
I put my thoughts of Ash away and move further into De’ral’s perspective as he stands up to his full height. “What is it?”
“There,” Belair whispers.
Then I see. Not a stone’s throw from my warrior, the mist flickers and plumes. It’s subtle at first, but growing, expanding up and down the road. To see better, I take full phantom perspective, leaving nothing behind. I’m deeper than I’ve ever gone into De’ral’s view, even though part of me screams a warning against it.
“A savant must keep ever present in their own body. A savant must always stay in control.”
My lectures are not forgotten. But I ignore the tenet, shouldering my way in until I hear a snap, like a door slamming shut. And through De’ral’s eyes I finally have a full view of the mist coursing over the road and around my legs. It picks up like a storm at sea, rising and falling in violent waves. Frothy streams blow off the crests until the ground fog takes form, congeals, and shoots straight toward me.
“Defense!” I shout, but the sound roars out of De’ral’s mouth, booming up the road to the other students. “Attack on the road!”
I’m inside my phantom completely when he, when I, am struck full force. I raise a phantom fist to ward off the blow, but searing pain smashes me out of De’ral and back into my own body. I gasp, and De’ral roars, echoing my agony.
“To the stables!” I order De’ral and the others, grabbing Belair’s shoulder. We must regroup to assess and warn Zarah. I turn to Yuki’s phantom and shout, stealth no longer important. “The enemy approaches, hidden in the fog.”
We have to form a blockade, keep them from winning through to the Sanctuary. But I am running toward shrieks and chaos. Impossible! They have not yet passed.
A girl’s voice cries out above the others. The sound arcs overhead as her body comes into view like an awkward, flapping bird. Cyres flies above the mist and snaps to a stop midair as if an invisible rope around her reaches its length. Her neck cracks and she falls to the ground. I struggle to comprehend until the realization roots me to the spot. “The enemy is the fog,” I tell De’ral. “Phantom fog!” I shout to the others. “The gates are breached! We’re surrounded!”
At the same moment, outlines emerge all around us, hundreds of them. They form into crouched figures with armor and swords, teeth and claws, all advancing.
“To Zarah!” I yell as I face the High Savant’s phantom. “Yuki! See this. Alter phantoms breach the Sanctuary.” They continue to materialize in multiple forms—gaping maws, giant insects, bears without fur, gruesome winged predators leaping to the sky, and ghostly forms, each controlled by the marching savants suddenly appearing on the road unchallenged.
Defense! De’ral hollers in my mind.
I push back into my phantom and survey the enemy phantoms and savants. Behind them, a long line of foot soldiers march, rank upon rank all the way from the docks, their vibrations through the ground now palpable. But De’ral isn’t cowered. He’s fighting hard, surrounded by dozens of their fallen, broken bodies, but for every soldier he puts down, another ten rise out of the fog to take its place. The phantoms come at De’ral like ants crawling past their dead, swarming over us, pinning us down, taking us apart, limb by limb.
Belair gasps for air. “Their phantoms have been here the whole time.”
Part of me is aware of him by my side. My body is safe, but De’ral is falling to the ground. When Belair asks what to do next, I can’t answer.
“Marcus, you’re bleeding.”
Phantom wounds rip through me as each of De’ral’s gashes bloom blood-red through my robe. I try to bring De’ral in, but there’s too much pain. I can’t focus. My phantom has fallen to all fours, his powerful hands pinned to the ground, pierced by a dozen spears. Huge ripples of rage flow over his massive body. The warrior shrieks, trying to tear his hands free. His feet dig up piles of dirt from the road, pushing hard, seeking purchase. Slowly, De’ral’s hands slide up the spear shafts as mine curl in on themselves, dripping blood, but the weapons penetrate at different angles.
Still trapped! my phantom roars. Cut me free! The last is directed straight at me.
Blood flows from his wounds, sending dark rivulets down the road. I watch, horrified, as my own hands are rendered useless, my sword clattering to the ground. “No!”
De’ral responds, defiant, rage spiking like hackles down his back.
My awareness lurches from him to me, back and forth in excruciating bursts. Fractured. Searing pain. I’m anchored in both bodies, his torture mine, too.
And still, the enemy advances. Weapons! I see my sword lying on the ground and try to grasp it.
Before I can open my wounded hand, Belair lets out a war cry and sprints toward De’ral. His sun leopard runs from the other side of the road, same destination. Chunks of dirt and rock fly up behind him. Belair’s assault takes the enemy’s attention as the sun leopard rears back on its haunches and swipes the air. Its fully extended claws slice the spears between the ground and De’ral’s huge palms. One hand free! Blood and wood chips spray the road as my phantom pulls his hand back. But the soldiers circle, nets flying over him. Pinning him down. Driving the big cat back.
“Retreat!” I yell to Belair before he is taken, too.
De’ral tries to gain his feet, crushing the enemy beneath him like bugs, but a ring of soldiers hem him in. Belair darts to the rear to attack again where a giant dragonfly phantom awaits him.
“Not that way!” I yell, my throat on fire.
The Tangeen warrior lops off its wings and limbs as the insect spits corrosive liquid at his face. I fall to my knees, powerless to help, the cold inside me growing deeper.
More spears impale De’ral, the backs of his hands and forearms skewered to the earth. I feel the slice and drive of each one, unable to close the door to my phantom’s perspective. Unable to get out.
“Ousters!” Belair shouts as the enemy advances up the road, blasting open the gates.
Curse the bones… I redouble my efforts to arm myself. To free De’ral.
The ousters whirl their long, thin arms, sending an invisible wind that burns flesh like lava. It leaves great rents in De’ral, each strip and cut shared with me. But my warrior phantom doesn’t struggle. Instead, he locks eyes with me.
I gasp at the sheer intensity, the agony forgotten. Heat builds up in my chest, melting my frozen core, feeling as if my heart will explode through my ribs. A current pulls me like a raging torrent. It grows stronger and stronger as De’ral continues to stare.
Stop fighting me! We speak at the same time.
Severed bodies rain from the sky. The sun leopard slings soldiers high into the air, blood spraying in a sparkling red shower as the rest of my classmates rise to the defense. I barely notice, as in me a terrible rage builds. A force uncontrollable. It emanates from the depths and shoots out through my eyes, my mouth, ears, taking the pain away with it.
I laugh to myself.
Or is De’ral laughing at me?
It’s the sound of madness, my mind snapped in two. I have enough awareness to know that. Ash is dead; Aku invaded. There is nothing left to lose. I slam the rest of my being into my phantom, leaving my own body falling to the ground. The union complete, I, Marcus-De’ral, open my mouth and thunder a war cry. Through wild phantom eyes, through burning ropes and torn flesh, I spot my true enemy, Destan. The challenge we send cracks through the sky and rains over the entire Sanctuary.
55
