Storm of Ash

by Michelle Kenney

  I grabbed the Diasord from Max’s side and took a couple of paces forward. They were a formidable sight, their oversized tapering canines protruding long below their jawlines, and black and white mountain fur jarring with our reddened surroundings. They were perfectly designed apex predators.

  ‘Oh, Eli, where are you when I need you the most?’ I whispered, readying myself.

  I was vaguely aware that he would never know how it ended. How I ended. I gripped the Diasord, and flicked out the cylindrical laser. The leader threw his wide head back in a snarl as he slowed to a wary standstill only a few metres from me. I stared in challenge, feeling my breath grow raspy.

  They all had her eyes.

  But they didn’t have her soul, I reminded myself, before snarling my response. They paused, confused, as the crowd fell silent. I was vaguely aware of August driving his aurochs at full pace towards the portcullis gate, of an authoritative command as the animals whinnied in terror and then the resisting creak of metal as the gate opened. I swallowed to ease the burn leaching through my gut, though I never wanted to vent my hurt more.

  He was abandoning me? And yet, what did I expect? Hadn’t I abandoned him first?

  I drew the Diasord through the air in a shaky semicircle, and snarled again the way Jas used to when faced with a predator.

  ‘Take it from me, I don’t taste that good,’ I added.

  But the cerulean eyes boring their way into my own seemed to disagree. The lights burned through the dusty air, creating an eerie hue as the crowd waited. I could feel their nerves, so many hearts beating, waiting for the first strike. And it felt strangely apocalyptical, as though this were an echo of the Great War Thomas had survived.

  Was this the reason they’d fought so hard against all the odds to survive?

  So I could stand here two hundred years later, the last of my kind, preparing to be torn apart by a pack of Pantheon’s hybrid monsters? Or was it retribution for my failure, for sending Max to his death, for denying August, for betraying Arafel, for giving Cassius exactly what he needed?

  An Arafel hunter believes in natural order, respect for his place in the forest, and in taking only what he needs to survive.

  The leader slunk down, preparing to strike. I squared my jaw. I wouldn’t stand aside, not while I had breath left in my feral body.

  ‘Where am I?’

  But Max’s whisper was lost to the leader’s roar as he sprang, his jaws stretched wide and Insider eyes filled with an archaic hunger. And I was vaguely aware of the crowd on their feet, of a different kind of shouting and yelling, of hands and feet scaling the arena fencing and of the bugle piercing the air with a different sound. It was a sound I knew like I knew myself, a call that reached through the air and squeezed my heart until tears of blood rained around my feet.

  Because it was the sound of Arafel’s ibex horn. The call of the hunters. Singing out across the dead landscape. Bringing the forest. Whispering that Arafel lived still, and had stolen like a ghost, through Pantheon’s walls. To bring me home.

  Which was all I needed to bring the Diasord up as brutally as I could, before the beast turned my world to darkness.

  Chapter 16

  The world returned as though inflated from the tiniest telescopic pinprick. Like the moment of its own birth. Only this birth had the weight of all the ages on its shoulders.

  I was conscious of a rushing, a drawing feeling in the pit of my stomach and then of a tourniquet being applied swiftly. A familiar voice. Aelia. Rushing. Pulling.

  ‘It’s OK … you’re concussed … your left arm has a claw wound … will need cleaning later. But you’re OK.’

  Her voice was rushed, and kept fading before it disappeared altogether.

  I lifted my aching head to see the arena awash with people, and blinked hard but they were still there. People I knew. And they were all fighting. Therry dived past followed by Saba, an Arafel friend I thought lost in the fires.

  My chest throbbed as I tried to croak her name, before spotting the collapsed sabre-tooth. It was less than five paces away, lying very still, a Diasord rammed in its chest up to the hilt. An acrid nausea threatened to climb my throat. Such a beautiful creature deserved a nobler death than as sport in a circus where all the real monsters were watching.

  I stifled a moan as reality returned.

  I was half-crushed and everything radiated pain. I sucked in a wheezy breath.

  ‘Max?’

  Forcing myself onto my elbow, I tried to ignore the way the arena folded in on itself, and scanned the chaos. Max was nowhere to be seen.

  ‘Aelia?’ I yelled fearfully, my vision swimming.

  She appeared at a run, her dark hair matted with fresh blood, wiping a short knife on her scarlet charioteer tunic as she knelt beside me.

  ‘I’m here, I’m here …’ she panted, ‘you’re OK … nothing punctured, not like last time. You’ll be bruised, but you’re OK.’

  ‘What happened? Where’s Max?’ I forced myself up to sitting, lifting my hand firstly to a roughly bound arm, and then my tight chest.

  Miraculously, the little dart tube seemed to have survived intact.

  She shook her head. ‘He’s OK … took off, a moment ago … Tal, you know Max can take care of himself. We have to get out of here now, for everyone’s sake.’

  I stared around in abject wonder, so aware the colour of the arena had completely changed in the last few minutes. It was awash with a myriad of Outsider faces and Prolets, challenging the might of Pantheon together.

  Hunters, Komodo, Lynx. There was a veritable blaze of outside scoring the bleached interior of the circus. Every cell of my body was convinced I’d awoken in some twisted parallel universe, but my heart soared all the same. And there were more Prolets scaling the wire mesh all the time. Joining us. No wonder I’d detected a mood among the crowd. Had they been waiting for some kind of signal all along?

  I shot a dazed look at Cassius’s balcony. He was still there, leering furiously, his face pale and violent as he gesticulated to the guards surrounding him.

  And I knew then without a doubt. This was no act of spontaneity triggered by events in the arena.

  This was rebellion.

  I clambered to my feet unsteadily, as Aelia pushed a Diasord into my trembling hands.

  ‘Y’know you’re OK … for a feral girl.’ She smiled fleetingly.

  I threw my arms around her, burning with so many questions that had to wait, before thrusting her away again.

  ‘Thanks,’ I muttered, so conscious of its inadequacy.

  But it was all there was time for. Outside the arena, guards were trying to restore order through brute force, appointing sentry positions through the tiered seats, and deploying new guard units to the circus archways.

  ‘The pack are regrouping,’ I whispered, sensing the change as the scattered beasts abandoned their kills to respond to the roar of another sabre-tooth.

  It was a second leader, taking control. I’d heard Grandpa talk about forest wolves self-selecting a new leader when the old leader died; it had to be a sabre-tooth behaviour too.

  ‘Cassius is opening the guard entrance,’ Aelia hissed, ducking an arrow. ‘we’ll be overrun before we know it!’

  ‘August?’ I interrupted, recalling the moment he’d careered from the arena.

  She shrugged, her eyes clouding before she ploughed on. ‘Cassius won’t be looking to take prisoners. Have you seen Raj …’

  And just as though he’d heard his name being uttered, Rajid slid out from behind the crashed chariot, his expression so disdainful it was almost comical.

  I suppressed a scowl. He appeared to be blessed with the devil’s luck.

  ‘How long have you been back there?’ Aelia demanded, as we all dived for cover from a shower of arrows.

  I looked from one to the other thinking firstly of Grey and then Servilia. Had they coordinated this together somehow? How many others?

  He looked contrite for a second.

 
‘No matter, we have to signal a retreat! As fast as possible!’

  ‘I like retreats.’ He grinned, pulling his white-handled blade from his waistband, his inked Cerberus salivating beneath the hot lights.

  Just what makes you so special?

  His words had haunted me until Cassius had shared his final bombshell, the fact his brother Thomas had bequeathed me a damned bloodline.

  Voynich chimera control.

  ‘Rajid!’ I yelled, levelling my Diasord as a guard sprinted in.

  Rajid reacted instantly, throwing his knife at lightning speed and dispatching him without so much as a murmur. The guard slid to the ground, his eyes glassy and unseeing while Rajid reached out and retrieved his blade. I exhaled painfully, he was an enigma but he seemed to be on our side for now, at least.

  ‘It’s raining,’ he warned, tipping his head curiously.

  We didn’t need another warning, and scattered as a second quiver-full of arrows skimmed our heads, and fell all around us. I watched as three buried themselves in the hindquarters of the dead sabre-tooth.

  Each impact seemed to make it twitch.

  I blinked. It continued to twitch.

  ‘It can’t be alive – you ripped a hole right through its carotid artery!’ Aelia whispered, following my gaze.

  And as if to thwart every rule of nature we ever held to be true, the creature started shaking, before suddenly rolling over onto its front. Slowly, it clambered back onto its feet, shook out the arrows protruding from its haunches and twisted its broad, blood-stained neck so my Diasord fell out with a thud. Then it bared its gruesome canines at Aelia in a way that left me in no doubt as to its full recovery. And I had the strangest feeling I knew why.

  ‘No!’ I forced, jumping to my feet, despite the aches and pains still ratcheting through my body.

  The beast hesitated briefly before sinking its head again, its fixed diamond stare telling me it more than remembered our last encounter.

  ‘Stand down!’ I added, thrusting out a hand.

  Aelia was eyeballing me; I could tell.

  ‘Tal …?’ she whispered, as though I’d finally flipped, and yet I could tell the beast was listening.

  It rolled its head to one side and padded forward, pausing in front of me before finally pushing its huge furry head into my hand, the way Jas might have nuzzled Eli.

  She gasped, as I took a moment to catch my own breath.

  ‘Chimera,’ I whispered, recalling my control over the chimera in Cassius’s temple.

  I stared down at the purring beast. The animal was a hybrid, not a classic chimera but its multi-genus status had to be enough. The control was in my blood. Hadn’t I proven it once already?

  ‘It’s incredible …’ Aelia muttered, backing off as the creature spun on the spot to face its own advancing pack, its haunches and tail slunk low in clear, protective mode.

  I raised my eyebrows and shrugged, aware our odds had just improved dramatically. She grinned as the pack hesitated, confused by the behaviour of their new leader. I scanned the arena rapidly, scores of guards were pouring into the hot battle-scorched dust now. Chaos was breeding chaos, and Max was still nowhere to be seen.

  Then a pack sabre-tooth chose her moment, sprinting in, head low and canines bared. Simultaneously, a thundering of hooves forced Aelia and I to dive aside as a loose indigo auroch galloped through from behind, bearing a charioteer.

  I knew instinctively it was Max, and watched as the auroch passed us and lowered its head, throwing the advancing sabre-tooth broad side with its horn. The creature whined in sudden pain, before flipping over and landing awkwardly. She retreated to the back of the pack, licking her wound, and I wiped the sweat from my eyes, watching Max slow his auroch in a turn.

  Was he assisting us? Or following orders?

  Aelia and I were on our feet in a heartbeat, the sabre-tooth’s injury creating doubt among the pack. I squared up beside my newly loyal animal, and hissed aggressively.

  ‘Always so reliably feral,’ Aelia muttered, before attempting to do the same.

  I suppressed a chuckle. ‘Says the fireside cat!’

  She only had a second to scowl before Therry sprinted past the rear of the pack, tossing something fresh and bloody at the creatures. They turned to give chase instantly, relieved to switch to an easier prey.

  I followed his progress anxiously as he sprinted through the dusty crowds, the frenzied pack on his winged heels, dividing the melee. But I needn’t have worried; his downy wings spread at just the right moment, raising him above the crowds, and scattering the pack once more.

  ‘Tal.’

  Aelia’s voice was low and urgent, pulling me back to the moment. And I knew it was Max before I saw him. A look of grey thunder stained his face. Not familiar or with us in any way at all, but furious. My hopes guttered as he advanced, the dust billowing up around each purposeful step.

  His Diasord was raised not as a protective homebound Outsider, but as a bloodthirsty gladiatorial combatant, adopted son of Pantheon. Coming straight for us. Horror and revulsion rocketed through my veins, making the arena spin like a winged maple seed.

  Then his gaze shifted and a slow smile spread across his face; an ugly smile that took my childhood memories and blackened them.

  ‘August!’ Max’s demand rose above the din of the arena as a Pantheonite charioteer wearing a winged gladiatorial helmet, the emblem of the Equite soldiers, charged past us as if we didn’t even exist.

  ‘August! Wait!’ I yelled in disbelief.

  But it was already too late. This was what they’d both been destined for – the charioteer’s challenge.

  The Commander General has had his orders.

  They were Cassius’s words, and his twisted game-playing at its finest.

  The Outsider against the Insider, each fighting for their unnatural, opposing side. There was such a warped beauty to it.

  Dark to dark. Blood to blood.

  Their Diasords met in a violent clash of diamond sparks, leaving no doubt as to their murderous intent. And the anarchy seemed to melt away, as every pair of eyes swivelled towards the leaders’ challenge circling near the centre.

  I threw a glance at Cassius’s balcony. His onyx eyes were fixed on our small group, a slow smile of ugly jubilation spreading across his face. And I could almost taste how much he’d pinned on this one vengeful moment. All to avenge a feral girl with a message about the outside. Because it was a truth he wanted to hide come what may.

  ‘No!’

  My yell pierced the blood-thick air, but neither combatant flinched. There was another clash of laser on laser, and then another and another, each thrust and parry getting faster and wilder as the fighting took on a rhythm of its own. And a hushed anticipation washed through the arena as thousands of eyes swivelled towards the two men, locked in their own muted world where nothing mattered except their own blind satisfaction.

  ‘August!’ I tried again, ‘Stop! Max … he doesn’t remember anything!’

  But his visor was down, and nothing but determination was written into the set of his jaw and grim smile. He didn’t even seem to know me. Terror slid down my spine, the kind that belonged to nightmares.

  He didn’t even seem to know me?

  ‘Tal …’

  There was a slim hand around my wrist, pulling me back towards the upturned chariot where we took shelter from a fresh volley of arrows.

  ‘Maybe … deep down … they’ve always wanted this?’ Aelia whispered.

  Her exhausted eyes begged me to understand she wasn’t giving up, that she cared as much as I did, but that this was loaded.

  I shot a look back at their unforgiving faces, at their circling, violent intent. To believe that on some subconscious level they actually wanted to spill each other’s blood was so fundamental. My throat felt tight and raspy, I wanted to deny it. But I couldn’t.

  Could this death combat be fuelled by more than Pantheon, by more than the vaccine?

  ‘That’s it
, isn’t it?’ Max fumed from my memory. ‘I’m just not him!’

  ‘They didn’t take your new dart tube though, the one shaped like a tiny treehouse?’ August asked.

  I stared into her iris-blue eyes, the same colour as August’s, as Max lunged again, giving August the perfect vantage to deliver a stinging blow to his shoulder. Max staggered under the impact, and the air filled with the unmistakable scent of burning flesh as a red welt opened up across the top of his indigo tunic.

  ‘No!’

  No more watching.

  Shaking off Aelia’s restraint, I leapt up and started sprinting towards them as Max reached up to wrestle August to the ground. Then they were rolling over and over, so it was impossible to intervene. First Max was on top, his Diasord rammed so hard into August’s neck I could see his vein pulsing to compensate, and then it was August’s turn to swing Max over with limb-breaking force.

  And in that moment my fear converted entirely to loathing. How could it have come to this? Two people who once meant the world, now eating dirt to kill one another.

  The arena around me started to blur with dust, blood and lies. Grandpa had entrusted the legacy to me, and Arafel had never seemed so far away.

  Why run when you can fly?

  The whisper carried from the roar of the rebellion in the crowd. I spun a look around, at the anarchy outside the arena.

  It was still burning.

  Pantheonites and Prolets were fighting alongside each other, fighting Cassius’s guards. Fighting back.

  My gaze swung back to Cassius, protected on all sides and yet watching like a vulture, because so long as there was fighting, there was still hope for the outside. Hope, not hopelessness.

  This was a war, not a fight.

  ‘Max!’ I roared, above the din, ‘You’re a hunter … an Outsider … a treehouse builder … for the love of Arafel you have to remember!’