Flynn Nightsider and the Edge of Evil

by Mary Fan

Perhaps if I had brought two draugar, I would have succeeded. He eyed the headstones before him. Each draugr took much effort to create, but controlling two at the same time was well within his abilities. But even if he attacked the Scarlet Citadel again, he would not succeed. The goal was to obtain Flynn Nightsider, but if the boy was loyal to the Rising, there was little chance for success. None of Storm’s powers could persuade the Untouchable One to come with him, and the Risers outnumbered him too greatly for a kidnapping. In addition, the last attack on the Scarlet Citadel had nearly led to the discovery of Storm’s hidden base. If the Underworld weren’t growing in power, he wouldn’t have been able to throw them off his scent.

  There would be no second attack on the Scarlet Citadel. Calhoun needed two things to succeed, and Storm had one of them. As much as Storm wished Nightsider were under his influence, not Calhoun’s, battling the Risers again was far too risky, particularly since Nightsider had destroyed Storm’s wand. The boy probably didn’t even realize how crippling a blow that could be to an Enchanter.

  He tapped a dark-green wand against his hand. It was Sayare’s, and its magic felt clumsy, but he’d been forced to use it since Nightsider had broken his own. It would take time to build a new one, especially one as powerful and attuned to his commands as the old one. Sayare’s would suffice for his present purposes, but he’d need his own if he was to defeat Calhoun.

  He approached a tall, cross-shaped tombstone, which marked the grave of the one he’d selected to become his next draugr. White mist swirled above the magical symbols he’d drawn in the dirt three nights ago, and the crystals he’d placed over the grave glowed green. He closed his eyes and raised his wand, feeling the power of the Underworld course through his veins. So many had warned him against using such magic, but it was only classified as dark because it was unknown. But I am more familiar with the power of the Underworld than anyone else. Why should I fear to harness it?

  “Rise!” The ground trembled. In his mind’s eye, his vision narrowed into a point of light focused on the spot that would mark the very center of the corpse’s lifeless heart. “Rise!”

  The ground quivered. Noises pounded, disturbing the otherwise quiet night, and the air around him vibrated with power.

  Storm inhaled, channeling the magic within. “I command you, rise!”

  A burst of energy surged through his veins then shot down his arm and into his wand. He opened his eyes. The dirt above the grave danced, and the ground shook harder. Mist spiraled over glowing green crystals, which remained in their places despite the movement of the earth.

  The ground stilled. Storm watched the grave, waiting.

  A great crack cut through the air, and a hand erupted through the ground, the rotten flesh falling off the white bones.

  Chapter 13

  Checks and Balances

  Though Flynn couldn’t make out all of Calhoun’s words through the assembly room’s door, he’d heard enough to get the gist of the Risers’ next mission. Three weeks had passed since he’d first arrived at the Citadel, but he still hadn’t been invited to attend any of the meetings. His job, as he’d been reminded several times, was to stay safe and keep training with Aurelia. But while he couldn’t take part in whatever the Risers were planning, he still wanted to know.

  From what he could hear, the Risers were plotting to infiltrate a secret Triumvirate library to obtain a map of the Palace of Concord, which would allow them to plan the details of the eventual invasion.

  Someone poked Flynn’s back. “Boo!”

  He whirled. Unsurprisingly, it was Aurelia.

  She jerked her head at the door. “Eavesdropping?”

  He shrugged, figuring there was no point in denying the obvious. “Yup.”

  She turned her ear toward the door. “Oh, they’re going after the Palace map again. We’ve been trying to get our hands on something that could give us all the dirty details of the Palace for ages. Too bad Calhoun took me off mission duty to train you, though our last attempt was no fun. About two months before you got here, we tried to intercept the map on its way to the Archive, where the Triumvirate keeps their most precious docs, but we couldn’t get around the Sentinels’ abracadabra. It’s all fun and games until you’re caught in a freezer spell.” She grimaced. “Anyway, break’s over in five. See you in the training room.” She sped toward the staircase.

  Spells wouldn’t be a problem for me. Flynn eyed the door to the assembly room. If I’d been there, I could’ve helped.

  The door flew open, and several Risers walked out, a fierce kind of determination and purpose shining behind each person’s eyes. It was a familiar sight, one Flynn had seen many times during his time with the Rising. He envied them. While they spent their days finding ways to undermine the Triumvirate and bring freedom to the nation, he couldn’t even leave the Citadel’s perimeter. He was starting to feel trapped, and it was time he did something about it.

  He made his way toward Calhoun, who stood on the platform, talking to Williams. “Calhoun!”

  Calhoun held up his hand. “One moment, kid.”

  Flynn stopped before the platform and crossed his arms, waiting.

  “I’m afraid the search for Storm has led to nothing but dead ends,” Williams said to Calhoun.

  “Keep looking.” Calhoun’s voice was soft, but it crackled with intensity. “We need that Orb. And we can’t let him stop us.”

  For the millionth time, Flynn wondered what was so special about the Orb. The question scratched at his throat, itching to be asked, but he knew by now that letting it out would only lead to disappointments and bad moods. If word gets out too soon, the truth will become a rumor, he reminded himself, repeating Calhoun’s oft-repeated words. And if the truth becomes rumor, then no one will believe it, even when the evidence is sitting right in front of them. And since the success of the Rising hinged on people believing whatever the Orb contained, Calhoun refused to risk that happening. Flynn’s sense of logic agreed, but the rest of him still clamored with curiosity.

  As the professor vanished in a flash of light, Calhoun faced Flynn. “What can I do for you, Nightsider?”

  “There’s an easy way to get the map you’re after.” Flynn stepped onto the platform, meeting the old man’s gaze with a firm look. “Send me.”

  Calhoun shook his head. “Sorry, but I can’t risk it.”

  “The reason the Risers can’t get the map is because they can’t break the Sentinel’s enchantments, right?” Flynn jabbed a finger at his own chest. “I can walk straight through those. What’s the point of having the Untouchable One around if you’re going to make me hang around the Citadel instead of letting me help?”

  Calhoun knitted his white brows. “This isn’t a war, kid, and you’re not a soldier. It’s not a case of sending everyone out onto a battlefield. Most Risers spend their days as ordinary citizens, only showing up once in a blue moon when they’re needed, and plenty have never even been to the Citadel. You’ll have enough to do once we storm the Palace.”

  “Am I supposed to just wait around until that day?”

  “Think, Flynn!” Calhoun rapped his knuckles on Flynn’s forehead. “Every Sentinel in the Triumvirate is hunting for you. If you’re caught before the Palace invasion, we could lose our only chance at taking down the Triumvirs. I know it’s not easy, wanting to do so much and being confined to this miserable place. Trust me, I know what it’s like to be trapped.” A dark look crossed his eyes. “But I’m not deploying you unless it’s absolutely necessary.”

  Flynn was silent for a moment, absorbing the leader’s words. Much as he hated to admit it, Calhoun had a point.

  The old man’s expression softened. “Look, I appreciate your enthusiasm. And I’ve actually got a few things in mind for what we could use you for. But you’re not ready yet, and I can’t risk losing you because of your inexperience.”

  “Inexperience?” Fl
ynn gestured in the direction the Risers had left in. “As far as I can tell, they’re all volunteers who learned as they went along. What makes them more ready than me?”

  Calhoun pinched his lips. “I’ll be blunt. The Rising needs people, and we can’t afford to be picky. The nation’s not exactly bursting with brave souls willing to risk their lives for a secret war that’s stretched on for twenty years. But horrible as this sounds, if we lost one, we’d recover. You, on the other hand, are irreplaceable. There will never be another Untouchable One, which is why I won’t be sending you out unless I’m sure you can make it back.”

  Flynn didn’t like that he was being singled out for special treatment but bit back his protests. Calhoun was right. He’d never again be like everyone else, now that it was known that he was a chosen one of sorts. More like an anti-Chosen One, since I’m special for not having abilities.

  Still, he was too restless to accept that he’d have to remain hidden for the foreseeable future. “What would I need to do to prove I can make it?”

  Calhoun gave him an appraising look. “I’ll think about it.” He stepped off the platform.

  Flynn followed the old man out of the assembly room. The call to action that had been churning in his blood since he’d first heard Storm’s voice at the Academy grew louder, and it was with renewed determination that he headed up to the training room. The sooner he could absorb everything Aurelia was teaching him, the sooner he could prove himself.

  He entered the tower and glanced around but found no one. That was odd. Aurelia should have already been there. He wondered if she would actually go through with her threat to catch a monster and stick it on him when he wasn’t looking. Truth be told, he was more afraid of pissing her off than facing off with a fleshsnake. Fleshsnakes didn’t sneak up on you, whack you with a stick, yell, “Dead again!” after you landed on your knees, and then demand that you get up and do drills. He was pretty sure he’d received more bruises in the past few weeks than in the rest of his lifetime combined.

  A soft noise caught his attention, and he whirled. Aurelia stood in the doorway with a mischievous grin.

  “I’m a hellhorn!” She rushed at him.

  Flynn grabbed a practice sword from the rack and held it up, ready for her. She leaped at him, and he stepped out of the way. She landed, and before she had a chance to make her next move, he jabbed her lightly in the chest. No matter how many times she insisted that she’d rather him accidentally injure her than hold back—and despite the fact that she had no qualms about injuring him—he simply couldn’t bring himself to actually hit her.

  “Gotcha!” He lowered the practice sword.

  Aurelia rammed her head into his stomach. Startled by the blow, he doubled over. To add insult to injury, she rapped her knuckles on his head. “Dead!”

  He straightened. “I got you right in the heart!”

  She raised her eyebrows. “That’s bloodwolves, dummy. I said hellhorn. With hellhorns, you’ve gotta cut their throats!” She drew a finger across her neck.

  Dammit! He couldn’t believe how dumb his mistake had been. I should go straight for decapitation. That always works.

  “Sorry,” he mumbled.

  “Put that thing away.” She nodded at the practice sword. “We’re going empty hands today.”

  That’s a first. Flynn approached the rack on the wall. “Why the change?”

  “Underworld creatures aren’t the only monsters we’ll be facing.” Aurelia kneeled and tightened the laces of one of her black boots. “The Palace will be guarded by people too—Sentinels definitely, and maybe patrolmen. Chances are, you won’t get close enough for hand-to-hand combat, but I want you to be prepared for everything. Besides, it never hurts to know you can take care of yourself even if you’re unarmed.”

  “Makes sense.” Flynn put the practice sword back on its rack.

  “Alrighty, before we begin, let’s practice some footwork.” She stood. “You could have the greatest weapon in the world, but if you don’t have a solid foundation, you’re not going to get much out of it. Punches, kicks, blades, guns—none of ’em will do you any good if you stumble.”

  He nodded, ready for anything.

  She approached a wooden beam about a yard long and four inches wide that lay on the floor at the back of the room. A wide black trunk sat beside it. She kicked the beam, causing it to slide into the center of the room, opened the trunk, and retrieved a plate-sized white disc covered in glowing purple symbols. Flynn recognized the disc as an Expander, which he’d seen the Cadets use back at the Academy to enlarge objects.

  Aurelia placed it on the end of the wooden beam and swiped her finger across the symbols. “Activate.”

  The beam grew to about ten yards in length, and a twinge of envy ran through him. Being Untouchable meant there were a lot of things he couldn’t do. At the Academy, the Secondstringers had been forbidden to touch anything magical, but no such limitations existed among the Risers. It wasn’t easy, seeing all the things Aurelia could do with an enchanted gadget and an activation word but knowing he would never be able to use any of the devices. Not for the first time, being Untouchable felt more like a permanent disadvantage than a special ability.

  Aurelia tossed the Expander back in the trunk. “Let’s start with balance. Balance makes all the difference when you’re kicking things.” As if to prove her point, she approached the heavy bag and threw a sidekick. The sound of the blow reverberated through the room, and a visible dent appeared on the bag. She planted her foot on the ground and turned back to Flynn. “Most people who tried doing that would topple over when they finished, giving the bad guy an opening. So you’ve gotta keep yourself upright.” She gestured at the beam. “Let’s see where you’re at. Just walk across that thing.”

  Won’t it go back to being miniature if I try? Flynn stepped onto the beam, and it remained at its newly expanded size. Guess not. He wasn’t sure why some things that had been transformed by magic would go back to their original forms when he touched them and others wouldn’t. Williams had once given a convoluted explanation about fundamental properties—how some spells actually changed things and others only superficially affected them. There was also the matter of what counted as “touched.” Apparently, Flynn’s bubble of non-magic included the things he wore or held, like the blunted sword he’d used to cut through Storm’s shield during the attack on the Citadel, but he couldn’t take someone else through a force field the way an Enchanter could goldlight another person.

  He walked across the beam, and for once, he didn’t feel like an idiot. Keeping his balance was one of the few things he actually could do. He ran the rest of the way with ease and jumped off the other end then spun toward Aurelia, hoping she’d be at least mildly impressed.

  Aurelia raised her eyebrows. “Guess we can skip to the actual kicking part.”

  He smiled. “So there’s something I don’t suck at?”

  “Maybe.” She glanced at the trunk. “I’ve gotta do a little setup for the drill I have in mind. Can you run down to the kitchen and get us some water?”

  “Sure.” He left the tower, the smile still stuck on the corner of his mouth. Knowing her, that “maybe” counted as top praise.

  Who knew my stupid games with Brax would actually come in handy? Back at the Academy, he and Brax used to challenge each other to daredevil competitions—see who could climb higher up the side of a building or run faster along the edge of a concrete wall. Because of that, he was actually decent at things involving balance.

  As he descended the tower’s spiral staircase, he recalled how, four months ago, Brax had decided to up the game.

  “We’ve done everything there is to do with the Secondstringers’ dorm,” Brax had said with a mischievous glint in his eye. “I say we take on the Academy’s parapets.”

  Flynn shook his head as he continued down the staircase. Prior to the office br
eak-in, pretty much all the bad ideas had come from Brax. Man, I miss that guy.

  Over the weeks, the initial pangs of missing his friend had dulled, but every so often, they hit him with renewed force. Once the Rising’s war was won, though, he’d find his friend again. And man, I’ll have some stories to tell!

  He let his memory take him back to some of the better times he’d had at the Academy, recalling how he’d readily accepted Brax’s challenge. One afternoon, they’d made their way to the roof of Building C, which was part of the Cadets’ section of the Academy.

  Flynn had never realized how tall the brick building was until he found himself looking down at the school’s courtyard from the top of it. The icy winter wind had stung him through his jacket, and he’d felt its crisp chill in his lungs. Above, the silver shimmer of the protective enchantments covering the Capital had been barely visible against the gray afternoon sky. Below, the statues of the three Triumvirs stood back-to-back in the courtyard’s center, and the one depicting White Triumvir Janik seemed to stare right at him.

  Flynn had noticed, for the first time, how much paler the White Triumvir’s statue was than the other two. “Random question,” he’d said to Brax, who’d been standing beside him. “What did they do with the first White Triumvir’s statue after they replaced it with Janik’s?”

  “You’re right. That is random.” Brax smirked. “Distracting yourself from chickening out?”

  Flynn shot his friend an irritated look then regarded the stones of the courtyard below. “This is a spectacularly bad idea.”

  “Yeah.” Brax climbed onto the parapet, a three-foot-tall, five-inch-wide slab of gray stone sticking up from the roof’s edge. “Don’t tell Kylie.”

  He stuck his arms out beside him for balance, took a few steps forward, and quickened to a run. He made it all the way to the building’s corner before stopping abruptly. The parapet ended where the next section of the building, whose roof was about two yards lower, began.