by A. K. Wilder
“I’m holding you back, aren’t I?” After making it down the three-story-high building, I haven’t let go of Kaylin, forcing him to swing his blade one-handed. I’m wielding a short sword with my free hand as well, but even so…
He drops his eyes to where I cling to his sleeve. “You could never hold me back, lass.”
“Liar.” A dozen times already I’ve nearly been killed by the swinging blades of enemy phantoms and savants. Ousters slam us into walls and callers snatch our weapons away as quickly as we pick up new ones. Many of the warrior phantoms are short and strong-limbed, like Destan’s, and fast as snakes, armed with spears and blades, spiked balls and war hammers. The main boulevard is slick with blood. Puddles and streaks of it. The catapults knocked the strength out of us before we knew what was coming.
Kaylin motions to the south. “The other side of the field. By that line of trees near the stables. They’re moving off the road.”
The field is filled with phantoms and savants who fight each other around mounds of debris, twisted doors, upturned carts, and strewn bricks. “I don’t have your eagle eyes.”
“Trust me.” Kaylin takes my hand and we’re off.
We cut our way through, but by the time we reach the center of the field, the enemy closes in again. Kaylin loses his sword to an ouster and sends his other toward it, end over end, skewering the phantom through the middle. I cringe as it starts to gush ichor and more ousters step up, twitching their fingers, gathering air. My arm falls, aching as I use both hands to hold the thin blade in front of me. It’s not much of a shield. The ousters have a straight shot to us, and I can’t see a way out until spotting a flatbed wagon with big iron wheels. “There.” I point, meaning we can hide under it, but Kaylin has another idea.
He pulls the wagon around, tipping it on its side with some kind of leverage. I can’t see how he does it, but we jump behind as the first blast strikes. It blows off the wheels and flings them through the air like saucers. The next strike hits harder, pushing us back, wagon and all, as we brace behind the floorboards. Another hit and the metal straps rip from the wood and the whole thing breaks apart, leaving us exposed again.
“I’ll be right back.” Kaylin takes my sword and springs into the air, disappearing as I crouch low, covering my head with my hands.
The next blast never comes.
When I peek around the rubble, Kaylin is bounding back to me, a blade in each hand, face splattered with blood, smile bold as dawn.
“You got them?” I ask, taking one of the swords.
“And their savants.” He offers his hand again. “This way.”
“He’s quite talented with a sword.”
I fight for my life and this is what my inner voice wants to comment on? Where have you been?
“You seemed busy. I didn’t want to interrupt.”
I shake my head, too distracted to answer.
By the time we reach the other side of the field, we run without challenge, the battleground littered with bodies. The gates have fallen, and the stable is demolished, the roof gone. Rock, rubble, and blood cover the road. Broken bodies and crushed bones are everywhere. My eyes well and the tears fall unchecked. “Marcus?” I can’t see him anywhere.
“Over here.” Kaylin leads me around the corpses, but my boots don’t always come to rest on hard ground.
“Ash! Kaylin!” Samsen calls.
I see them! Off to the side of the road.
When we’re a few steps away, my hand goes to my mouth as my stomach heaves.
Marcus looks like raw meat. His phantom’s gone to ground, the ruin around us overwhelming. Belair lies unconscious with a terrible bleeding wound on his chest and face. Piper’s phantom has its double-headed fangs into both of them. I drop to my knees beside Marcus, not knowing where to touch or how to help. Tears well again as I hold his beautiful tapered fingers in my hand. His palms are full of holes and packed with blood and dirt. He is so badly harmed, I can’t make out where one wound ends and another begins. “Marcus,” I whisper and press my forehead lightly to his. He doesn’t seem to know I’m here. “Marcus, you’re going to be fine.”
I feel Kaylin’s hand on my shoulder and turn to look up at him.
“We have to get off the island,” he says softly, his eyes on Marcus.
“Retreat to the ravine,” Piper says. Her snake releases Marcus and Belair before entwining her neck. “We’ll make a plan there, out of sight.”
Marcus stirs and turns toward me, and I’m forced to swallow back tears. “Where’s my sword?” His voice is gravelly, his eyes swollen to little more than slits. I am certain he can’t see a thing through them.
“You’ll not be needing it just now,” Samsen says. He and Piper pull Marcus up and walk him toward the deep ravine to the right of the road. I grab his sword while Kaylin hoists Belair over his shoulder as if he were a sack of feathers. At the bottom of the narrow ravine, we stop to assess.
“I suggest you take the Heir back to his realm as fast as you can,” Kaylin says. “Aku has lost this fight.”
“Agreed, but how?” Samsen asks. “We’ve seen the docks and the southwest shore. They’re ringed with warships.”
“We could work our way north and hide, but without supplies, stretchers to carry them…” Piper doesn’t have to finish her thought.
“Aye, Aku’s besieged,” Kaylin says. “But I know a way off the island, if we go now.”
We all stare at him.
“The leeward cove, one bay over from the main docks. There’s a small sloop there, not heavily guarded.” He tilts his head skyward. “Send your hawk to confirm, but I guarantee it’s the only way out.”
Piper looks from Kaylin to Samsen. “The road’s swarming with enemy phantoms, and the beaches are full of savants.”
“Trust me,” Kaylin says. “I can secure the ship.”
“With Belair over your shoulder?” I ask.
“I might have to put him down for a moment.”
Samsen and Piper seem skeptical but relent. “What choice do we have?” Samsen asks.
“Follow along with Marcus as you can.” Kaylin adjusts the unconscious Belair. “I’ll have the ship ready.”
“I’m coming with you,” I say.
Kaylin nods and we take off toward the leeward cove.
58
Marcus
I wake to throbbing pain consuming every inch of my body, and Piper and Samsen conversing over my head.
“…already two transfusions. He’ll survive, but…” Piper’s voice trails off and I can’t yet open my eyes to see her expression.
“He mustn’t raise his phantom again,” Samsen says. “Not until we find a red-robe warrior who understands this sort of problem. What I saw—”
“Samsen, he’s coming to.”
“I need a red-robe-level healer?” I feebly pat at my body, trying to make sure I still have all four limbs.
“Your body isn’t the problem, Marcus.”
I blink at Samsen as he speaks, his face grim.
Piper brings her phantom in as she and Samsen lift me to my feet. The world spins and nausea sweeps through me in waves. I nearly throw up.
“Easy, Marcus. We’re going to get you on a ship.”
“Yuki,” I say, but they take it for a grunt and carry on.
They hurry me down the ravine until a sweet call fills the air. The next moment, Samsen’s blade is gone, ripped out of his hand. It arcs toward the stables at high speed along with abandoned weapons on the road. There are multiple thwacks, followed by screams. Piper’s long knife flies out of her free hand as well.
“What’s happening?” I choke out the words, trying to stand on my own.
Samsen points to his phantom circling above. “It’s Tyche.”
“She disarmed us?” Piper asks.
“Aturnians ha
ve her cornered on the other side of the stables. She’s calling weapons to impale them.”
“Help her.” I manage to speak more clearly. “Leave me. Go help her.”
Samsen calls in his raptor to hover over me and runs back up the hill. Piper drops to raise her phantom and then follows on his heels. I stagger behind them. “Where’s my sword?” I ask my phantom.
With Ash, De’ral says from the depths.
It’s impossible. I haven’t seen Ash since walking her to the library this morning. How could she have my sword? I remember Samsen telling me that she survived the attack, but…where is she?
With the sailor.
It disturbs me that my phantom has more awareness of what’s going on than I do right now.
When I reach the stables, I stop short and blink, forcing my eyes to open wider. At least two Aturnian guards are on the ground riddled with weapons. Samsen pulls his blade from one’s back. Piper retrieves her long knife from the other’s chest. Tyche stands in the corner of a roofless stall, her hands in irons, her little impala phantom trembling.
“It’s all right,” Piper says. “You’re safe.”
I want to point out that safe is the last thing any of us are, but I don’t have the strength.
The girl stares at the bodies. “I killed them.”
“You defended yourself,” Piper says calmly. “Well done. Are you injured?”
Tyche shakes her head.
“Do you know where Yuki is?” Samsen asks.
“Dead,” Tyche says in a small voice, her eyes dry and hollow.
“Peace be her path,” Samsen says gently. “How did it happen? Boulders?”
“A red-robe.” Her eyes look away.
“Which red-robe?” Samsen asks
“Tann, High Savant from Sierrak,” I answer for her.
Piper gasps and she and Samsen swing around. “What are you doing? Marcus, you’re in no condition—”
“Destan told me,” I say. “Tann leads the attack on Aku.”
“Tann,” Tyche says in a hollow voice. “He marched me into Yuki’s hall, his ouster clearing a path for the brown-robes—”
Samsen swings back around. “Wait. He brought initiates here?”
She shakes her head. “Cowled savants, not children. Couldn’t see their faces, but the ousters and warriors guarding them were fierce. They carried a chest.” Her brown eyes are vacant, even as tears spill down her cheeks. “Tann said if I called the first whistle bone, he’d let Yuki live.” She bows her head. “I did what he asked, but once he had the Crown of Er…”
“Aku’s first whistle bone?” Piper asks.
She nods, sobbing. “He cut her throat, filled the chest with her blood, and locked the bone inside.”
I can hardly believe what I’m hearing.
Piper lifts her to her feet. “Tyche, listen to me. It’s not your fault.”
“Now he’s after me. After all the callers on Aku!”
Tann is after callers? My head spins, on the edge of understanding, but I can’t quite grasp why.
“We’re going to keep you safe,” Samsen assures her.
“Call the key to these irons, and a warm coat.” Piper looks down. “Boots, too. We have to hurry.”
She doesn’t respond, but the phantom sings, and moments later an embroidered, mid-length coat flies to her, along with brown leather lace-up boots. From the coat pocket spills a little bean-stuffed toy, a replica of her impala small enough to fit in her hand.
“Imp,” the girl whispers and picks it up, red eyes turning to Piper. “Yuki made this for me when I was born. She knew what my phantom was before anyone saw it.”
Piper’s expression breaks, but she’s quick to pull herself back together. “Come now. Up you get.” She lifts the girl by the armpits, drapes the coat over her shoulders, and does up the top button like a cape. She pushes the toy deep into the pocket, knots the bootlaces together, and slings them over her head. “The key?”
Tyche shakes her head. “I don’t know what it looks like.”
“Shh!” Samsen hushes us at the sound of advancing boots. He motions toward the ravine. “Keep to the cover,” he whispers and picks up the child.
“Her manacles?” Piper says.
“No time.”
Piper glares at me and turns me around. “You were supposed to wait.” She wedges herself under my arm and limps me to the edge of the ravine.
I lean heavily on her. “How are we getting off the island?”
“Kaylin has a plan.”
I groan but keep moving. “I hope it’s a good one.”
59
Kaylin
“I see guards,” Ash whispers to me as we crouch behind tree cover. I love how she leans in to share her observations. The westering sun is behind her, magnifying the red in her hair. She catches me looking and tugs the knit cap down, smiling shyly. “The guards?” she asks.
“Aturnian soldiers left behind to mind the sloop.”
“We aren’t worried?”
I shake my head and hold a finger to my lips.
She nods, pressing her lips together. Her cool, turquoise eyes are calm, and she’s recovered from her shock of battle. I have to get her off this Isle, away from the enemies of both land and sea. I wish there was a better plan, but the sloop is all we have.
The little ship rides high in the water, moored at the end of the pier. It’s large enough to sail us over the channel yet not so big I can’t handle it on my own. Remembering them all on board the Sea Eagle doesn’t give me much hope of seaworthy assistance. I shift Belair’s dead weight and gaze at the docks.
“How do we get past them?” Ash follows my eyes to the hundred or more warships across the channel.
“First things first,” I whisper.
“The sloop?”
“Exactly.”
“Again, how?” she asks.
I’m about to explain, then shake my head. “It’ll be easier for me to show you.” As we creep forward, I hum my favorite battle tune to myself.
She gives a nervous laugh. “The world’s in ruin and you’re enjoying yourself, aren’t you?”
Heat needles my skin. Did my lass hear me or is she just that sensitive to my expressions? “This is not the world in ruins, lass. Nothing close.”
Her smile falls, and I regret my words, wondering how I can undo them.
“You see the flag?” She lifts her chin to the banner tied to the mast. Like the ones from the camp, it has a white background with two stylized spheres—the large one bright orange and smaller dark red. “The twin suns. Is that the new Aturnian emblem?”
“Tann’s, I’d say, given he leads this fleet.” I give her a wink to lift the mood. “I won’t be long.”
The guards are not terribly alert. Dressed in Aturnian coats and sheepskin boots, they aren’t geared for the sea, either. But some are savant. I lift my face to the phantom birds circling overhead, mixing with the gulls, terns, and cormorants.
“Oh,” she whispers, looking up as well.
There are also three hounds at the base of the pier—tall, liver-colored dogs with tan legs and pointed ears. Their hackles are up and their long faces snarling. They smell us already. One of them breaks into a series of deep, throaty barks.
“We have to wait for the others.” Ash checks back up the hill for them.
I study the bay, spotting a rowboat full of savants pulling their way through the water, heading for the dock. They could reach it before I do. “I don’t think we can.”
She sighs. “I was afraid you’d say that.”
I shift Belair higher on my shoulder and we hurry down the hill, crouching low to stay out of sight.
“Kaylin!” A lilting voice sounds in my head.
“Salila?” For once, I am not opposed to the Mar woman’s presen
ce…that is, if I can persuade her to help.
60
Salila
The surface breaks as I leap out of the water, air flowing over my skin, tickling my toes, making every pore gasp at the shock. It’s a sensation I don’t mind, but now’s not the most conducive time to linger in it. “There you are…” I dive straight back in then dart to the surface to watch.
He runs half crouched toward the pier, carrying a body—dead or alive, I can’t tell. “What are you doing? The Isle’s in flames, or haven’t you noticed?”
He’s not answering me, but then, he probably can’t hear much with his feet on dry land. I swim in circles under the surface, waiting. Once he’s in the water, I’ll grab him. We can shoot under the hulls and across the channel, none the wiser. I stop suddenly, my hair floating away from my face. Was that the girl running with him? Still alive? “Can’t you get a single thing done right anymore?”
I roll on my side and break the surface just enough to have a better look. “Kaylin!” If I were prone to cursing, this is where I’d release a string of them. It is her, alive as the day she was born. Does he know the tidal wave of trouble he’s bringing down on himself? No one crosses Teern.
I frown at that. There have been one or two instances in the past, resulting in mixed levels of success, but almost no one crosses Teern, certainly not the favorite son who bears the Sea King’s trident.
I stream toward the pier, rehearsing how I will talk sense into him, but find I’m not alone. A rowboat, oars dipping and pulling through the chop, parallels me, riding low in the water. It’s overfull of savants. “Ha!” I run my tongue over my teeth. Nothing like a good complication to push the point along, or points, in this case.
Kaylin wants the sloop, that’s obvious. But he’ll need help with this mob on their way. I smile at the little boat’s hull, wondering if these landers ever learned to swim. In my experience, not many have. “Kaylin, if you’re listening, you owe me for this.” I divert my course, straight toward the little boat. The current ripples over my body, and bubbles escape my lips as I laugh under the waves. This will be fun.
The oars continue their rhythmic dips in and out of the water, two on each side working in perfect harmony. The boat makes good speed. They’re already shouting to the soldiers on the dock, alerting them of their approach. Good idea if they don’t want to be mistaken for Aku savants and end up full of arrows.
