by Mary Fan
“What’d you do that for?” Still clutching two trank guns, she elbowed Tamerlane. “Take me back!”
Tamerlane gave her an incredulous look. “I barely got you out! There’s too many, even for you.”
“What about all those people?” Looking around, Aurelia noticed that several other Risers had apparently been goldlighted back as well. Even though she knew Tamerlane was right, she hated giving up. “They’re in trouble because of us! We can’t just leave them!”
“We won’t.” Calhoun stormed down the staircase, a look of rage distorting his lined face.
“How did the Triumvirate find us?” she asked. “We were so careful!”
“We must have screwed up.” Calhoun stopped at the bottom of the staircase. “This is my fault. I should’ve known better than to target such a large city.”
Aurelia marched up to him. “What are we going to do?”
“Those people came to us because they believed in what we’re fighting for, and I’m not going to abandon them.” He turned back toward the stairs. “Nossiter!”
Nossiter rushed down the staircase, her black braids flying up behind her. “What is it?”
“I need you to lead a recon team,” Calhoun said. “It’s too dangerous to go back now, but when things clear up, I want to know where the Triumvirate’s taking those who were arrested at tonight’s rally.”
Calhoun turned to Tamerlane, and Aurelia knew what he was about to say. Tamerlane would goldlight back to the storage unit to try to get people out before the Triumvirate got them, and if she grabbed him as he did, she could go with him and keep fighting.
But then Calhoun gave her a sharp look, one that told her he knew what she was thinking. “If you go back there with him, you’ll just get yourself in a mess again, and Brooks won’t be able to rescue as many because he’ll be worrying about you. So stay put, got it? I can’t afford to lose another fighter, especially since you’re the only one I trust to protect Flynn.”
Aurelia gritted her teeth. She hated, hated, hated staying put when there were people who needed her help, but there was someone here who needed her too. And she couldn’t look out for Flynn if she were captured or killed. She gave Calhoun a disgruntled nod.
Calhoun turned back to Tamerlane. “Get as many out as you can, but whatever you do, don’t get caught.”
“Yes, sir.” Tamerlane vanished in a burst of light.
Aurelia stepped in front of Calhoun. “We’re not gonna let the Triumvirate get away with this, right?”
“Of course not, but we need a plan.” Calhoun looked her in the eye. “I’ll call on you once we do. This will be our biggest rescue operation yet.” He headed toward a group of Risers who had just entered the Citadel’s door.
Aurelia remained where she was, shaking with anger and frustration. We’ll free them all.
She wished she could do something right away instead of waiting for Nossiter to figure things out. The thought of all those people getting black-bagged made her anger flare. They hadn’t done anything, but apparently, in the Triumvirate, even listening could be a crime. The sooner we take them down, the better.
A powerful need to hit something erupted within her, and she ran up the stairs toward the tower. She had to be patient. That wasn’t her greatest strength, but she trusted Calhoun to make the right call. Thanks to him, the flame of revolution burned on despite the Triumvirate’s attempts to stomp it out. No one person could bring down an entire government, but Calhoun could bring together the brave and the furious, turning them into a force to be reckoned with.
This was just another setback. But it wouldn’t last.
The rebellion would flame on. The Rising would prevail.
Chapter 15
Chasing Nightmares
The draugr seeped through the concrete wall, its rotten limbs and gruesome face becoming visible bit by bit as it approached Flynn. Its empty white eyes narrowed behind the stringy black hair that fell across its face, and its torn, bloody lips curled into a snarl.
Tydeus Storm, a tall, imposing figure in a long, dark coat, stood beside it, holding his black wand above his head. Eerie moonlight illuminated his powerful face.
“Vivian, this way!” His low voice rang through the night.
Flynn turned. His mother ran toward Storm. The draugr lifted one giant, putrid hand and reached for her.
“MOM!”
But it was too late. Her scream filled the air.
She lay on the ground, staring up at Flynn with lifeless blue eyes, her limbs bent at unnatural angles. One moment, she’d been running. The next—dead.
Flynn rushed to her, tears filling his eyes. Both Storm and the draugr were gone. What had happened? He couldn’t recall anything between seeing the draugr and seeing his mother.
He crouched beside his mother’s body, devastated. “Mom, please…”
Suddenly, she grabbed his arm and yanked him down toward her. Her eyes became alert, and she bent her head up toward him.
“Tydeus Storm,” she whispered. “Tydeus Storm…”
Flynn woke with a start, blinking up at the wooden frame of the bunk above him, which was barely visible in the faint moonlight from the dormitory’s window. He’d experienced nightmares like that one many times in the three months he’d been at the Citadel. Other than the addition of Tydeus Storm, it was almost identical to the ones that had haunted him since he was ten. Every time he relived that night, the scene would skip from his mother running to her lying on the ground with nothing in between. Flynn’s back had been turned when the draugr had made its move, and he hadn’t actually seen it kill her. Which was good, since he didn’t need one more disturbing image tormenting him. Still, the skip made him feel as if a piece of his memory was missing.
No matter how many times he relived his mother’s death, he could never get used to it. Realizing his eyes were wet, he hurriedly rubbed them. He wasn’t ten years old anymore.
If I’d tried to fight the draugr, I could’ve saved her. He was the Untouchable One, and he’d taken down one of Storm’s draugar moments after learning that. If he’d at least tried to fight instead of fleeing like a coward, he would have won, and his mom would still be alive.
None of the reassurances he usually gave himself—that he’d been only ten, that his mom would have held him back if he’d tried anything, that he shouldn’t dwell on the past—helped. He could still see her lifeless body, as if the image were stuck in a haze right above his eyes. Meanwhile, the other Risers in the guys’ dorm slept soundly.
Flynn closed his eyes, but he doubted he’d fall back asleep. It was pretty amazing that he’d found slumber in the first place, considering that he’d be heading into the haunted forest outside the Citadel the next day. Despite having spent the better part of the past few weeks looking forward to the day Aurelia put him to the test, a dose of reality had tempered his excitement when she’d actually announced that the time had come. He’d been watching from a window when a bloodwolf had breached the perimeter. Apparently, the magic had worn down in one spot. The monster had nearly made it to the Citadel’s entrance before Tamerlane had stopped it with a spell.
Aurelia, who’d been watching beside him, had nudged Flynn. “Next time, it’ll be your turn.”
The words “cool” and “damn” had popped into his head at the same time. Much as he wanted to go out and fight for the Rising, monsters were still monsters, and they were scary as hell. Despite the turbo crash course Aurelia had given him, Flynn still didn’t feel ready to hunt down creatures that could tear off his limbs.
His heart raced. His thoughts turned from the nightmare of the past to the nightmare that awaited him. Neither would allow him to catch any more shut-eye. I should think of something else.
All thoughts surrounding the Rising seemed wrapped in tension—the things he wanted to do, the things he couldn’t do, the things he would
someday face. It was strange that a little more than three months ago, life had been uncomplicated. Back at the Academy, he’d seen his future as surely as if he’d been clairvoyant: finishing his Secondstringer days, getting assigned to some crap job, and falling into the routine of work.
“That’s not all there is,” Kylie had said once, after Brax had expressed similar sentiments. “You’ll find a place somewhere, become part of a community. It might not be exciting, but there’s nothing wrong with being happy with what you have. The fact is, we’re all trapped, and we can either stew about it or make the most of what we’re given.”
“We shouldn’t have to settle,” Brax had grumbled in response.
“Yeah,” Flynn had agreed. “I hear teachers tell the Scholars every day how they should tap into their potential. Why shouldn’t it be the same for us? We should be allowed to have ambitions too.”
“I wish I didn’t.” Kylie had sighed. “I wish I could just be content like everyone else. Then I wouldn’t keep wanting things I can never have.”
Knowing that Kylie longed to become a Defender but was thwarted by her Secondstringer status had stopped Flynn from arguing further.
He stared into the darkness. You’ll have your shot, Kylie. Once the Rising overthrows the Triumvirate, everyone can have whatever future they want.
He sighed, wondering if he’d ever see his friends again, especially Brax, who’d risked his own life to help Flynn find purpose in his. Though he was usually able to keep his head in the Rising, which mattered a million times more than anything he’d left behind, every so often, it would wander back to simpler times.
But there was no denying that the road ahead would be full of dangers, and tomorrow, he would find out firsthand just how much bolder the supernaturals had become. He wanted more than anything to prove to Aurelia that could handle himself and to show Calhoun he was ready for a mission.
He wanted to act.
But if whatever creature he encountered was of the same caliber as the ones that had breached the Capital’s perimeter in the past, his beginner skills might not be enough, and he’d have to be rescued like some helpless child.
That’s not going to happen, he told himself firmly.
Flynn sat up in his bunk. Evidently, his mind wasn’t going to let him go back to sleep. He patted his bunk’s bedpost, feeling for the cloth bag he kept there. Finding it, he reached in, pulled out a small flashlight, and twisted its end. A dim yellow beam shot through the darkness, landing on the ceiling in a mottled circle.
“Flynn?” Tamerlane, who had the bunk above his, peered over the edge of the mattress. “Why’re you up?”
“Can’t sleep.” Flynn made his way toward the door. Hearing a noise behind him, he glanced back.
Tamerlane climbed out of his bunk. “Hey. Don’t worry about the test. Firedragon won’t let anything happen to you. Neither will Calhoun. And neither will I.”
“Yeah, I know,” Flynn said, though he wasn’t nearly as confident as he tried to sound. “That’s not what’s bugging me.”
“What is it then?”
“Nothing. Go back to bed.”
Images from his nightmare flooded his mind—the draugr, Storm, his mother’s death. Why had they returned? Why did they always return? They were shadowy predators, stalking him and ambushing him when he least expected it.
Flynn shook his head, trying to think of something—anything—else. He stepped out of the room. As he started to close the door behind him, something caught it. Surprised, he looked back and saw Tamerlane holding the edge.
“This isn’t the first time something’s kept you awake.” Worry creased Tamerlane’s brow. “I’ve heard you get up and pace around every other night since you got here.” He shut the door. “What’s your nightmare?”
Flynn raised his eyebrows. “What makes you think I’m having nightmares?”
“We all do. If you’re a full-time Riser, something bad must’ve happened.”
“Okay, what’s yours?”
Tamerlane shifted his gaze and walked past Flynn. He took several slow steps down the corridor, his expression tight. He stopped and leaned against the wall, staring at the ceiling. “Remember how, your first night here, you asked why I joined the Rising?”
“You said your girlfriend was black-bagged for protesting the Triumvirate, and you want to continue her fight.”
Tamerlane let out a heavy sigh. “I lied. It’s an easier story to tell than the truth. I never had a girlfriend at university. It was my brother’s wife who got black-bagged for protesting. He loved her so much—would’ve done anything for her. He searched for years, petitioned through every government channel he could find, but the Triumvirate treated him like he was invisible. One day, something in him snapped. He stood outside the Palace of Concord, pointed his wand at himself, and cast a fire spell. I was there—saw everything but couldn’t stop him. Now, every night, I see him again in my nightmares, his body burning, his desperation and rage soaking the air. As the flames swallow him, I hear him scream, ‘Can you see me now?’”
Damn. Flynn didn’t know how to react. What do you say to a person who’d watched someone he loved die so horribly? He just stared, feeling like an idiot for his lack of words and a jerk for having asked about it.
Tamerlane sank to the floor. “I was so complacent—trusted the Triumvirate like everyone else. I mean, I had a comfortable life, and I was too absorbed with my own stupid world to question anything. The whole time my brother searched, I did my best to talk him out of it and get him to accept that what happened to his wife had been justice. I can’t believe I ever thought that way.” He closed his eyes and drew a breath. “Maybe the Triumvirate didn’t open their eyes because of him, but I did. It took my brother’s death to make me realize how wrong the Triumvirate’s ways are. They buried his story, like they buried countless others. So there you go. That’s my nightmare.”
Flynn blinked, still not knowing what he was supposed to say. He’d never thought about what it must have been like for someone like Tamerlane, who’d led a privileged life before joining the Rising, to give up everything for a cause—or what would have driven him to do so. “Why’d you tell me?”
“Probably because I’m so sleepy I barely know what I’m saying.” Tamerlane’s attempt at offhandedness fell flat. “I also get the feeling that whatever’s haunting you is just as bad and that you won’t talk about it unless you’re blackmailed. So I confessed my darkest secret. Your turn.”
Flynn leaned against the wall opposite Tamerlane. Suddenly, his past seemed like just another sob story. “Mine’s not a secret or anything. I relive the night my mom died. Felt like the end of the world, but everything else kept going like nothing happened.”
“The world has a tendency to do that.”
“Yeah.” Flynn stared at the ground. “It’s gotten worse since I found out what I am. All I had to do was touch the draugr to save her.”
“Blaming yourself never helps. Trust me, I know.” Tamerlane leaned forward. “If you’d attacked that draugr, the Triumvirate would’ve identified you as the Untouchable One, and you’d probably be dead. Your mom wouldn’t want that.”
“I guess. I wish she’d told me about the Rising, what she and my father were fighting for.”
Confusion crossed Tamerlane’s expression. “What are your parents’ names, again?”
“Vivian Nightsider and John Valerius. Why?”
“It’s probably nothing, but… I’d never heard of either before you came.” Tamerlane shrugged. “Then again, Calhoun’s mentioned them plenty of times, and he’s the only one left who’s been around since the very beginning. Everyone else who knew them must be gone. We have a pretty high turnover rate here.”
“Yeah, no one else I’ve talked to seems to have known them either.” Calhoun’s reluctance to talk about anything surrounding Storm’s betrayal had preven
ted Flynn from learning much about his parents’ past, and he’d turned to some of the older Risers in hopes of learning more but had come up empty.
The thought of Storm sparked Flynn’s anger. He hated that the man who’d killed his mother and led his father to his death remained free. “I wish I’d offed Storm when I had the chance,” he muttered, mostly to himself.
Tamerlane gave Flynn a sharp look. “That wouldn’t have changed anything. Revenge never ends well.”
Quick footsteps padded toward him from the staircase. Flynn recognized their speed and lightness as Aurelia’s, and when he turned, his guess was confirmed.
Aurelia stopped. “Is this the can’t-sleep club?”
“It’s the nightmare club,” Flynn said dryly.
“In that case, I’ll fit right in.” Aurelia approached. As she drew closer, Flynn noticed that her golden complexion had faded into a sickly pallor, and her eyes betrayed a deep-seated fear. He’d never seen her so shaken before.
“What’s wrong?”
“It’s probably nothing. One of those random night terrors, you know?” She leaned against the wall next to Flynn. “You’re making me paranoid, Nighty. You suck so much, you make me worry about the Underworld all the time, even in my sleep.”
Despite her attempts to be her usual smart-mouthed self, Flynn could tell Aurelia was hiding something. For the first time since he’d met her, she seemed scared—truly scared. He wished he knew how to help. “Okay, what did my dumbness do? What’s your nightmare?”
Aurelia bit her lip. “I see the Lord’s return. The Portal to the Underworld is opened, and he flies out and destroys everything. I see his monsters tearing people apart, and I can’t stop them. I know it’s only a dream, but… it feels so real.”
Flynn reached toward her then thought better of it and withdrew his hand. “The Portal remained sealed for thousands of years before the Lord was released. It won’t be reopened overnight.”
Aurelia sighed. “I keep telling myself things like that, but the nightmare keeps coming back. Wish I could control my brain when I sleep.”
