****
Amelia watched from the top of a hill as Parker and his team struggled across the field. Krystal, limping between him and another woman, looked like she had taken a beating. Knowing Parker was still alive gave Amelia a burst of energy, but then she saw the contingent of Arcadian soldiers following them.
When the Guards reached the middle of the field, Parker sent up the signal.
“Now!” Amelia yelled. Her small band of magicians, noble and Unlawful alike, sprang into action. They threw fireball after fireball into the field—everything they had—and watched as the dry brush and wood exploded.
Screams of anguish from the Arcadian soldiers reached her ears.
“Not half bad,” Roland said, leaning on his crutch by her side.
Although the attack was taking its toll on the other young magicians, he was still fresh. The man had more power than she had imagined.
Looking down the hill behind Parker and the others, she cursed. “Half-bad isn’t good enough,” she grunted.
Roland spun on his good leg and watched as dozens of men emerged from the fire, many of them dropping to the ground and rolling to put out their flames. Still more had skirted the inferno and were rounding the edges, ready to attack. A handful of Arcadian magic users were in the group, and they were putting out the fire around them.
“Scheisse, so damn many of them,” he said.
“You sound like the rearick.” Amelia’s eyes were on the enemy, who were pulling themselves together.
“Yeah, thought I’d try that one on.”
Amelia grinned and shook her head. “Doesn’t work for you.”
“Double scheisse.”
“No, really it—”
Before she could finish, she felt Roland grab her arm. She looked at him and then followed his eyes off to the left. Another troop, this one larger than the last, were breaking out of the woods on the east side of the tower. She grabbed Ida, the mystic who was assigned to her troop.
“Make sure Hannah knows about the attack. Let her know that I’m going to stay here and help clean up this mess before coming to join them.”
“You got it,” the woman said before her eyes turned white.
Amelia turned back toward Parker and his pinned troops. Roland looked at her, then yelled, “Let’s see how good a teacher you really are.”
Roland’s eyes turned black as he extended his hands in front of him, forming a ball of fire bigger than the others. Dropping his crutches, he balanced on his one leg, pivoted to his left, and launched the massive ball of fire. But it didn’t drop down toward the troops. Instead, it stopped thirty feet over the Arcadians’ heads.
Sweat dripping from his brow, Roland reached out his hand as if gripping an invisible object and held the ball in place.
“Now,” he screamed.
Amelia took her cue. With a twist of her wrist, a small glow of magical power formed in her right hand. She snapped her arm and launched the globe toward his flaming ball. It hit dead center, and Roland’s fireball burst into a million pieces, raining fire down onto Adrien’s men.
Screams filled the air and they ran, hopelessly looking for cover in the open field. She could hear Parker’s women cheering as they continued to pick them off.
“Scheisse,” Amelia sighed, glancing over at Roland, still balancing on his one leg.
“Damn straight.”
Amelia nodded at the troops approaching from the east. “What about them?”
“Looks like they’ll have their hands full.” Roland grinned as he watched the three rearick, axes held high, race toward the enemy. A crowd of warriors, proudly wearing their shackles from the factory, sprinted just behind them. The two forces collided, sending the sounds of clashing steel and the screams of death into the air.
****
Chaos surrounded Hannah as her forces engaged Adrien’s, but all her focus was on the mustache in front of her. His eyes held fear and rage as he fired wildly in her direction.
She ran fast, dodging his attacks. She threw another fireball in his direction as she got closer, this one smaller and more focused. It hit his rifle and he dropped it as the metal began to melt onto his skin.
Holding his sword in both hands, he glared at her. “That was a mistake, girl. A blast from my rifle would have been quicker.”
She smiled and put her hands together, then slowly pulled them apart, forming a blade of ice as long as his broadsword.
Then it’s a shame for you that I don’t use magitech. I only play with the real thing. Now, let’s see if I can’t keep my promise to you.”
Captain Dickerson charged, swinging his sword two-handed in a vicious arc. But Hannah was ready for him. She remembered her training with Karl and let the man’s size and anger work to her advantage. She ducked the swing and brought her magic up in front of her. The thin blade of ice sliced through the gap in his armor right under his armpit.
He screamed once in pain, then stumbled backward. She walked forward, raising her ice blade to finish him off. As she was about to impale the captain, hooves thundered in her direction. She turned as a noble on horseback crashed into her.
She spun and hit the ground hard, her magic blade shattering. She closed her eyes for a second, pushing every thought away. She was exhausted; the work she had done with Laurel had taken a toll. But there was still plenty of fight left, and she would need every bit of it.
Drawing the knife given to her by Karl months ago not a hundred yards from this spot, she rose to her feet. But the captain was gone. She cursed out loud, then ran into the fray.
Bodies were everywhere. She leaped over several who were familiar, now dead and gone to the Beyond, if such a place actually existed. The first living creature she encountered was a man in Guard armor standing over one of Karl’s men. As she got closer, she saw that the person on the ground was a kid from the Boulevard. He had been friends with her brother Will.
“Time to die, scumbag,” the Guard said as he drew back his spear.
The kid raised his arms in a futile attempt to defend himself. Before the man could strike, Hannah’s knife ripped across his neck, tearing through flesh and the man’s jugular. Gripping his throat, the man dropped to his knees.
Hannah stared him down. “Yes, scumbag, it is time to die.” She kicked him in the chest and knocked him off her brother’s friend.
“Th…th…thanks,” the kid stuttered.
“No time for that. Get up.” She dropped her hand in his direction and pulled him to his feet.
Directing her eyes to where the trees and grass met, she considered telling him to run and hide. But the opposing forces were too great, and they would need him.
“Stay close.” She picked up the Arcadian’s spear and handed it to him. “Use this instead of that dagger. It will keep them at a distance.”
He eyed the weapon as if he’d never seen one.
“And look for men who are already engaged in battle. Strike hard, fast, and dirty.”
“Got it,” he croaked as they turned to the fight.
Two men the size of ogres broke off from the fight and advanced on them. They had the swagger of Hunters, and their eyes turned black as she readied herself for a real fight.
“It’s her,” one shouted as both of his fists burst into blue flames.
The other raised his hands, and a purple light began to form.
“Down,” she screamed, pushing the kid into the dirt. She raised her hands and created a shield. The blast of magic careened off her outstretched palms and into the distance. She separated her hands, flipped them palm-up and pulled them in toward herself. A fallen log rolled toward her, taking out the two Hunters at the feet. They both fell over backward.
As they stumbled to their feet, Hannah looked down at the body of a fallen archer. She grabbed two arrows out of his quiver and with a twist of her wrist and a flick of her fingers, launched the shafts at the men. One arrow caught the fire caster in the eye. The other Hunter dodged his, and with a wave Hannah
pulled it back toward her again, impaling the man in the back.
“OK, that was badass,” the kid at her side remarked. “Wish I’d gone to the Academy!”
Hannah nodded, then looked past him toward the melee. “Been there, kid. They don’t teach anything so useful.” She pulled him to his feet again. “Let’s go. Follow my lead and keep that spear ready.”
He nodded, and they ran into the crowd.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Karl stood shoulder to shoulder with Garrett, a pile of corpses surrounding them.
Blood was plastered across the rearicks’ faces, and none of it was from the Heights. Their eyes narrowed as a group of Arcadian fighters came at them.
“Wanted to have a little contest, old man? Count yer kills?”
Karl scoffed. “Only an insecure twat needs to tell ‘is friends the size of ‘is cock.”
Taking his eyes off the enemy for an instant, Garrett cocked his head in confusion. Laughing, Karl said, “Don’t count ‘em, just kill ‘em.” They both raised their axes. “Now!”
They rushed, swinging their battle axes as they went, leaving two of the fighters headless. Following through, Karl spun, slamming the ax into the leg of another. The man screamed in agony as he stared down at his half-severed limb. Karl pulled a six-inch blade from his boot and ended his misery, driving the knife into his skull from under his wooly chin. Without pausing to consider the kill, he dropped two more before he heard footsteps approaching from behind.
A crude hammer swung toward his head, but Karl grabbed the shaft in mid-flight. He recognized the weapon instantly as one of his men’s. Amelia and some of the other nobles had been able to turn wood and stone into metal, so Mortimer showed them how to piece together simple weapons for his men. Sharpened sticks were turned into steel spears, and stones tied to branches were turned into iron hammers. They weren’t pretty, but they were better than nothing.
Karl pulled the weapon out of his attacker’s hands and raised his ax to strike. The fool who attacked him raised his hands in defense, and Karl noticed the metal shackles adorning the man’s wrists.
“What the hell, Alex,” he shouted at the soldier, whose eyes were wide.
“Sorry, thought you were one of them, only a short one.”
“Yeah, screw you too. Watch where you swing that thing.” Karl snorted as he shoved the hammer back into the boy’s hands.
“She told me to swing at anyone who—”
“She?”
The figure next to Alex spun left and right, using a combination of magic and weapons to mow down the enemy. Turning, Hannah saw her friend and smiled. “Good work down here, shorty.”
“Aye, lass. He grinned. “Yer lucky I’m saving all me kickass for these pricks.”
Flipping the butt of his ax toward the sky, he caught a man under the chin before finishing him off with the business end of the weapon. He looked over at her as she threw the knife he had given her. It tore through a Guard’s soft belly.
“Hey, careful with that thing,” Karl shouted, pounding an attacker with his left fist. “Paid fifty coin for it. Was my favorite before I gave it to some defenseless little girl.”
Hannah held her empty palm out and smiled as her eyes flashed red. The knife pulled out of the Arcadian’s gut and flew back to her in time for her to take another soldier down. “Eh, this old thing? I can’t seem to get rid of it.” Winking at him, she turned back to fight.
The battle continued, and although they were outnumbered and clearly the less-trained hands, they had passion and the home-field advantage. The rebels started to push Adrien’s army down the hill toward the stand of trees. Soon enough the enemy began to peel off and run for safety. As they did, Amelia’s magicians lobbed balls of fire after them, hoping to finish a few off and ensure that they didn’t re-engage.
With their makeshift weapons raised high, the men from the factory and a group of rebel nobles shouted in victory.
Karl slammed his hand on Hannah’s back, nearly knocking her over. “I’ll be damned, lass. I wouldn’t have bet on this group of asshats, but I think we beat ‘em.”
Hannah nodded. “We won the first fight.”
“And crippled ‘em,” Garrett added, “worse than old Mortimer over there.”
They followed his line of sight and found Mortimer leaning on his ax, its blade chipped and covered with blood.
The cheering continued, shouts of victory echoing off the tower walls and back down the hill, until all at once they stopped.
When Hannah heard the hum, she knew exactly what it was. She had heard that sound in her dreams every night since the Battle of the Boulevard.
“Adrien!” she screamed as her eyes searched the skies.
****
Ezekiel’s face was resigned as he watched the airship come in quickly. Adrien’s attack with the magical death machine hadn’t been out of the realm of possibility. In fact, he had expected it sooner than now. Perhaps it was only to show that he cared little for the lives of the Arcadian soldiers, or, more likely, that the power stored up in the tons of amphoralds fueling the ship was more precious than Arcadian lives.
But Hannah and the others had beat back Adrien’s troops, which forced him to play the trump card. Ezekiel prayed that his own ace in the hole would work.
Planting his staff firmly on the roof of the tower, he concentrated. His eyes burned red as he reached out to Julianne. He’s here. Send the order, and tell everyone to spread out in the woods. We need to save as many of them as we can.
Done, she responded. Get out of there, Ezekiel.
He grinned to himself and replied, On my way now. I will see you soon.
The mystic was a beautiful woman, one he could have fallen for as a younger man. Ezekiel cared about her and respected her, which was why he felt a little badly for lying to her.
He watched the ship move into place, and he could see the power pulsing through its magitech cannon. In seconds, it would unleash hell upon his people. Ezekiel took a deep breath. Although he had saved his power for this moment, he knew the spell wouldn’t last long.
Stretching his arms toward the battlefield, his eyes turned red and his arms trembled. A giant shield formed, stretching out in front of him just as the airship opened fire on his friends.
The cannon blast crashed into the magician’s defenses. He gritted his teeth as blue streams of power exploded against the translucent purple dome.
It’s up to you now, Gregory, he thought for a moment before returning his focus to the magical power pouring out of him. He would give them as much time as he could.
****
Gregory leaned over his machine and checked its parts over and over again. He kept telling himself that if the ship came in, it would work. It would have to work.
Hannah had suggested they give it a test first—use a small portion of the amphoralds, just to see if it would fire—but he refused. Launching the oversized spear was only half the battle. The projectile needing enough velocity to not only make it up to the ship, but also pierce its metal hide.
“So many variables,” he said aloud as he worked. “So many damned variables.”
A voice from behind him broke his concentration. “I see you still can’t work without talking to yourself, shithead.”
Gregory spun to his feet, grabbing a metal spear. It quivered in his hand, his only defense against the enemy.
“Well, well, well, look at the mighty warrior. You never were much with magic. You think you’re any better with that?” the young man, Gregory’s age, said to him.
It had only been a matter of weeks, but with all that had happened, it took Gregory’s brain a beat to place him. Morgan was the ass who had sat behind him in the Introduction to Physical Magic course. It seemed he had healed well enough from the “accident” at the Winter Ball, when Hannah had shoved him out of the third story window of Gregory’s parents’ house.
Morgan had never liked Gregory—few students at the Academy did, but he was the most v
ocal in his disapproval of the Chief Engineer’s son. But the look in his eyes as Gregory faced him was different. The young man had been a cocky ass before, but now his eyes shone with pure evil. He’d been turned, influenced by the Chancellor’s vitriol, and Gregory could read it on his face. He had come here for blood.
Gregory leveled his spear toward his former peer and the two men who flanked him on either side. “Back off, Morgan. I have a job to do.”
The man laughed. “Me, too, dipshit. And my success means your failure.” He threw a set of magitech cuffs at Gregory’s feet. “So be a good chap and slap those on for me. Careful, though, looks like those wrists of yours will snap with a bit of force.”
Gregory looked at his machine and then back at Morgan. “Not a chance. You’ll have to kill me first.”
A sneer grew on his face. “I hoped you’d say that.” Nodding at one of his lackeys, Morgan said, “Cut him open. I want to see this wimp weep while holding his own entrails.”
The man raised a broad sword and took a step before pitching forward and landing hard on the ground. Thick vines grabbed his feet and were slowly working their way up his legs and around his torso. Shouting curses, the man’s face turned red as the vines began to twist and constrict. Veins popped out on the side of his neck. All of them stared in disbelief, including Gregory. And then the vines retracted, pulling the Arcadian across a hundred yards of rough ground before he disappeared into the woods.
“What the hell?” Morgan spat.
He turned in time to see a leather cord sail in their direction, the metal blade at its end sinking into his remaining partner’s calf. He screamed in pain.
The girl in the green cloak pulled the cord back toward her, causing the man to hit the ground with an oof. Before he could even attempt to rise, she landed a boot to the side of his face, knocking him out. As she turned, two blasts of power landed at her feet.
“Don’t bloody move,” Morgan said with his magitech weapon trained on the girl. He tilted its nose toward Gregory and his machine. It shook as adrenalin coursed through Morgan’s body. “Next to Brainiac over there, now.”
Revolution - C M Raymond & L E Barbant Page 21
