by Mary Fan
The patrolmen who normally stood around the Palace walls were absent. Flynn guessed that either they’d discarded their uniforms to join the Rising, or the Triumvirs didn’t trust Norms to guard them. Either way, their absence was a good sign.
He glanced back. From where he stood, he couldn’t tell how many people filled the area before the gates. But every available space was full, and the crowd grew tighter with every second. He stood at the very front. He’d be the first to reach the Palace when Calhoun gave the signal. Heat pressed down on him from the combination of summer air and crowded bodies. There had to be thousands present, and today, they were all Risers—Norm and Enchanter alike. The crowd flashed with bright bursts as people goldlighted in from every corner of the Triumvirate. Their voices joined in unison as they shouted protests at the Sentinels who guarded the Palace. Their words faded into an omnipresent buzz, but Flynn knew what they were saying: We are here, and we cannot be stopped.
Calhoun was in the middle of a rallying speech, and his magically amplified voice seemed to come from every direction at once. Flynn didn’t need the reminders of how horrible the Triumvirate was. The leader’s words only fed the fire that fueled him, and a reckless part of him urged him to forget the plan and go on a rage-fueled rampage.
Calm. We’ve got a plan, and it’ll work.
Flynn wondered how much longer he’d have to wait until Calhoun gave the signal. His legs felt ready to carry him toward the Palace with or without his mind’s consent. He’d spent so much time studying the map of the Palace, he could practically see the circular gate of the Source. He mentally ran through the turns he’d have to take to reach it. If the two grenades he’d brought weren’t enough to blow up whatever hocus-pocus comprised the Source, he’d have to improvise.
He adjusted the strap of the sheath holding his silver-bladed sword. If everything went according to Calhoun’s idea, he wouldn’t need it or the silver dagger tucked into his belt. But if there was one thing Flynn had learned during his months at the Citadel, it was that things never went according to plan. He just hoped the two pistols he’d brought would have enough bullets to take care of the gates and any razorbirds he might encounter. He’d brought extra ammo, but he doubted he’d have time to reload.
Kylie stood beside him with a bow in her hand and a deactivated Azur Shield strapped to her left arm. Her wide brown eyes betrayed terror, but her mouth was pressed in determination. Flynn wondered whether he should have done more to discourage her from coming. She was something of a paradox—the girl who trembled at the sight of a wraith, but had once wanted to fight monsters for the Triumvirate, and who had objected to breaking school rules, but now stood on the edge of a revolution. She looked so delicate, scarcely strong enough to pull back her bowstring. At the same time, he could appreciate the hidden strength that drove her, and he admired her determination. He still couldn’t understand why Aurelia had disliked her so much.
I guess, compared to the Firedragon, we’re all weaklings. A hollow feeling descended. No matter how many times he told himself that she had only been one part of the Rising, it seemed wrong to him that she wasn’t there. Wish you were here, Aurelia. I could really use your help.
As though summoned by his thought, Aurelia appeared before him in a bright flash of gold, double swords in hand. Connor Salvator stood beside her with a hand on her shoulder.
Shocked, Flynn blinked and wondered if he was hallucinating. The hell? Then, he noticed who stood behind them: Tydeus Storm, holding his black wand and scowling at the crowd. A powerful stench blasted Flynn, and he gagged. What looked like a hundred Defiants accompanied Storm, forming a line between the Risers and the Sentinels. Scattered among them were about twenty draugar. The reanimated corpses towered over their human masters, their decaying skin various shades of gray, falling off their bony frames in bloody patches. Each stood at least twenty feet tall. They approached the crowd, their heavy footsteps shaking the ground.
Flynn expected his wrath to fire up at the sight of Storm, but something stronger overpowered it. Dismay wouldn’t begin to describe the gust of shock and sorrow that nearly knocked him over at the sight of Aurelia among his enemies.
So this was why she’d left. All this while, he’d thought she was working out her grief over Tamerlane alone when in fact, she’d joined forces with the enemy. Flynn was too stunned by the betrayal to be angry.
“Aurelia!” he yelled. “Whatever happened to ‘the Defiants are delusional anarchists?’ Forget that. How can you throw yourself in with the people who killed Tamerlane?”
Aurelia didn’t respond. Her expression appeared blank, as if her mind was a million miles away. She’d been brainwashed by Storm’s dark magic—that had to be it. It’s not her fault. She doesn’t know what she’s doing, any more than Connor or the others.
Connor—that must have been how she’d gotten involved. They’d been friends, close friends. She must have seen him among the Defiants and tried to get him out, only to be pulled in.
Come to think of it, she did sneak around a lot at the Citadel, like that night we were on guard duty, and she was acting all weird. I guess she was meeting with him, trying to get him to come to his senses. And then Storm found out and got her too.
Maybe if Flynn ran over and grabbed her, whatever spell she was under would be broken. There was nothing to stop him from—
Kylie grasped his arm, interrupting his thoughts. She stared at one of the draugar, trembling as she activated her Azur Shield with a whispered, “Activate.”
“Stay close to me,” Flynn said. “We’ll make it. We have to. The Rising is counting on us. And so is Brax.”
Kylie nodded. “We’ll make it.”
Flynn glared at Storm, whose long black cloak clung to him like a dark cloud. If that murderer was trying to stop the Rising, he was too late. Yet Flynn’s gaze kept wandering to Aurelia, and a powerful part of him urged him to go to her and free her from Storm’s spell. But as he knew from his mission to Ember, the Defiants carried guns. They could shoot him down before he reached her. If it were only his life at stake, he might have taken the risk. However, the revolution was depending on him doing his part, and he couldn’t jeopardize that. He forced his gaze away from her. I’ve gotta destroy the Source first. I can’t let the entire Rising down because of Aurelia.
Flynn glared at Storm, the monster who had not only murdered his mother and Tamerlane, but had now ensnared Aurelia in his net of evil. Storm glanced in Flynn’s direction, and Flynn suddenly remembered that he was supposed to be blending into the crowd. He lowered his gaze but kept watching the man with his peripheral vision.
Storm took a step forward and raised his wand to his throat. “Turn back!” he said, his voice amplified by his spell. “Or we will stop you.”
A whoosh passed over the crowd. Flynn glanced up. Several Sentinels soared over the draugar, trailing gold cloaks. Wands outreached, they shot beams of red light at the giant reanimated corpses.
Flynn glanced at the Sentinels, the guardians of the Triumvirate, then at the draugar, the undead weapons of the Defiants, and then at the Risers, the unstoppable wave of revolution. A three-way battle was about to take place. This is gonna get messy.
“No one can stop us now,” Calhoun said, his voice still amplified. “The Rising shall prevail!”
That was the signal. Zero hour had come.
“The Rising shall prevail!” Flynn repeated, along with the rest of the crowd.
Thousands of Azur Shields activated, and streaks of light in every color flew alongside the gunshots fired from the weapons of those without magic.
The chaos forced the Sentinels to break their formation, and gaps appeared in their gold shield. Everyone rushed at the Palace, and Flynn felt himself swept forward by the crowd, riding the wave of revolutionaries toward the Palace of Concord.
Chapter 30
The Palace of Concord
&n
bsp; Flynn shoved his way toward the line of Sentinels, surprised by how quickly the crowd had pushed past him. Several Risers had made it through gaps in the gold force field the Sentinels were creating. He recalled what Calhoun had told him about not letting himself get isolated and slowed down. Somehow, in the confusion, he’d ended up several yards back from where he’d started. All he could see were the gruesome draugar sticking out over the dense crowd. Between the heads of the people in front of him, he glimpsed the spike-covered gates, surrounded by the red glow of an enchantment. That was his target. He held on to Kylie’s arm, determined not to lose her in the chaos.
A draugr, close enough that its putrid stench nearly overwhelmed his senses, trundled toward the Sentinels. It zigzagged erratically, as though uncertain of which direction it should head. A wide opening appeared in the gold force field. The Sentinels in front of him must have scattered.
Feeling the pressure of the crowd behind him, Flynn sprinted toward the Palace. He entered the space between the Sentinels and the Palace’s outer wall and looked around at the other Risers. Calhoun had ordered him to remain close to the protector team meant to keep the Underworld monsters away once he opened the gates, and he had to make it inside alive if he was to break the enchantments guarding the Palace. Glimpsing Nossiter, he caught her eye. She waved her arm, motioning for the others on the protector team to follow him.
Kylie’s scream cut through the air. Flynn whirled then followed her frightened gaze. A draugr stood a few yards from Flynn, its white eyes fixed on him. A revolting grin spread across its rotten face. It raised one bloody, crumbling arm and pointed at him.
An instant later, a gold flash appeared before him, and a dark-haired woman materialized before him. Flynn recognized her as one of the Defiants he’d evaded in Ember.
“There he is!” She pulled a gun out of her belt and aimed it at him.
She fired, but Kylie reached around Flynn with the Azur Shield. The blue force field swallowed the bullet. Before the woman could fire again, one of the Risers hit her with a wand blast. She cried out and goldlighted away.
It all happened so quickly that Flynn barely had time to register that he’d nearly been shot. He turned to thank Kylie for saving him, only to see a man with a wand appear in front of him. It was the same man who had tried to stop him in the Ember cornfield, the one he’d knocked out. Flynn made a fist and punched hard. The blow landed on the man’s throat. Coughing, the man staggered back. His eyes fell closed, and he crumpled to the ground. For a moment, Flynn was confused—his punch shouldn’t have knocked the guy out—but then he saw Nossiter standing behind where the man had just been, holding a firearm. Since it was a dart sticking out of the man’s back and not a bloody hole, it had to have been a trank gun. Flynn noticed a pair of guns strapped to the man’s belt and was glad Nossiter had fired when she had.
Kylie pushed Flynn aside and blocked another gunshot with her Azur Shield. The madness made his head whirl, and he glanced around quickly in case anyone else tried to attack him.
Meanwhile, the draugr still had its dead-white gaze fixed on him, and it didn’t move even though several Sentinels blasted it. Between the pointing and the non-magical weapons, Flynn realized the Defiants were after him specifically. Either they know I can get the Risers into the Palace or they hold a helluva grudge.
Fortunately, enough people surrounded Flynn that the Defiants seemed to have trouble spotting him, even with the telltale draugr’s directions.
“Look out!” Kylie cried.
Flynn ducked. Something whizzed over his head. He turned to see where that shot had come from. A woman walked toward him, gun in hand. She had to be with the Defiants. Flynn grabbed one of his pistols. He didn’t want to shoot anyone, but he’d do what he had to. If only I’d brought a trank gun!
Before he could fire, the woman fell. Someone else must have hit her.
“Nightsider!” That amplified voice was Calhoun’s, wherever he was. “Open the damn gates! We’ll take care of the Defiants!”
Flynn straightened. He looked around for Kylie but couldn’t find any sign of her. She’d been right beside him. Where had she gone?
He shook his head. So much chaos surrounded him; he could hardly have been surprised that he’d lost her. But everyone had to go through the gates. Once he opened them, he might have an easier time finding her. Besides, the mission came first.
The next few minutes were a blur of violence—Sentinels raining blasts down on the Defiants, Defiants commanding draugar against the Risers, Risers attacking the Sentinels. Still holding the pistol, Flynn pushed his way forward, taking any opening he could find. Somehow, through shoving and ducking, he managed to get through the crowd, which looked like it was pressed up against an invisible wall a few yards from the Palace’s stone wall. An enchantment had to be blocking them, but he ran right through it and toward the glowing red gates. Finally, some space.
He aimed his pistol at one of the crystals and pulled the trigger. The crystal shattered into an explosion of red shards. He turned and fired at the other. The second crystal shattered, and a swell of triumph ran through him. He’d nailed both on his first tries. All that target practice had been useful after all. The doors faded into an ordinary brown color, telling him that the enchantment had disappeared.
Glimpsing a flash of gold out of the corner of his eye, Flynn instinctively threw an elbow behind him, not really caring where it landed. It hit something hard, and someone cried out. He whirled. The man he’d apparently elbowed in the face staggered backward—a man in a gold cape with a wand: a Sentinel. Flynn was glad he’d made his move first.
Before the Sentinel could recover, Flynn kicked him in the stomach, pushing him back toward the Risers. A flash of gold and the Sentinel vanished. Another flash and he reappeared behind Flynn, who spun around and raised his arm for a right hook. His fist impacted on the man’s temple, and pain shot through his hand.
The blow did its job, and the man fell unconscious to the ground.
Kylie’s voice called through the noise. “There you are!” She reached through the crowd, and he grabbed her hand so he wouldn’t lose her again. She may have been assigned by Calhoun to protect him, but he was equally determined to protect her, the one true friend he had left. Besides, he had every intention of seeing Brax again, and he could hardly face his old buddy if he’d let something happen to his girl.
Meanwhile, the crowd surged through the gates. When had they opened? Someone must have shoved them while Flynn had been distracted. He had little choice but to go with the current, and he kept his grip on Kylie tight.
Flynn raced across the wide, flat area between the gate and the Palace of Concord’s courtyard. All he knew was that he had to keep running. The sooner he took out the Source, the sooner the battle could end. He kept his pistol in his hand, knowing he’d soon need it again. Kylie ran beside him, her Azur Shield glowing blue against her left arm.
A familiar, terrifying screech tore through noise. Flynn looked back, his chest tightening. He’d known the Triumvirate would release the supernaturals under its control, but now, it was real. He glanced at Kylie and quirked his mouth in an attempt at bravado. “Here come the razorbirds.”
The crow-like creatures emerged from the outer wall behind him. Though he’d faced them before, they could still end his life with a flap of their wings. Fear chilled his bones, but stronger than that was his fiery determination to see them fall. He aimed his pistol upward and fired. The shot missed, and several black knives shot down toward him. He jumped back, barely avoiding them.
He cursed, but before he could take aim again, an arrow pierced the creature. It fell to the ground, dead. Beside him, Kylie lowered her bow. She’d just saved his life. She reached for another arrow from the quiver on her back but stopped and raised her Azur Shield over the both of them, blocking another razorbird’s deadly projectiles. She grabbed the arrow and shot it down
. Her wide, quivering brown eyes spoke of fear, but behind it burned a ferocity Flynn hadn’t know her capable of.
More razorbirds poured out of the Palace of Concord’s outer wall. Flynn fired his pistol at them. Several fell, but he couldn’t tell if that was because of him or the other Risers. His ears rang with the sounds of gunshots, wand blasts, alarmed shouts, and razorbirds’ piercing cries. A chorus of howls joined the commotion—bloodwolves.
Anger sizzled in Flynn’s blood. He seized his sword from its sheath. With his pistol in one hand and his blade in the other, he looked around. From the noise, he could tell that the Risers had already engaged the sharp-toothed monsters.
One of the ferocious, red-furred bloodwolves zoomed at Kylie. She was too busy firing arrows at the thinning flock of razorbirds to notice. Alarmed, Flynn stepped in front of her. He fired his pistol several times, hitting the bloodwolf in the side, but it kept running despite the dark blood pouring from its body. The bloodwolf leaped at Flynn, its gaping maw wide open.
Flynn dropped the pistol and held up the sword with both hands. The creature landed on top of him. He fell backward onto the hard ground, knocking the breath from his lungs. The blade stabbed through the bloodwolf’s stomach. The creature’s weight pressed down on his arms, but he managed to keep them straight. It stood over him on its hind legs, clawing at him with the front ones that were too short to reach the ground and tearing the skin of Flynn’s arms. Flynn gritted his teeth, doing his best to ignore the stinging pain. His arms buckled. Knowing he couldn’t keep this up, he released his left hand from the sword and grabbed his dagger. His right arm shook under the impaled bloodwolf. He thrust the dagger in his left hand up at the creature. His sword arm gave, and the creature swiped a claw at him.
