* * *
Veronyka watched from the sky as the soldiers formed ranks and the cavalry mounted up in attack lines. Behind them, wagons were unloaded and war machines unveiled.
After a quick count, Veronyka surmised they had about two hundred foot soldiers and fifty cavalry prepared to fight the northern attack, and beyond the murky middle of their lines, where dozens more bodies swirled and struggled to organize themselves in the chaos, Tristan likely had a similar amount. All told, it was a relatively small force, especially considering the additional empire troops trapped beyond the river.
But it was more than the Phoenix Riders had on their own. They might be the ideal match against the strixes, but they were too outnumbered.
After Veronyka spoke with the commanders and captains, they decided to set up several pinch points where Phoenix Riders could lure strixes toward awaiting catapults and nets.
The cavalry was harder to utilize. They were typically the more specialized and skilled of the empire’s military, but their speed and strength were undermined by the tight quarters of the battlefield as well as the fact that their enemy could fly. Still, they provided a useful focal point and diversion, running similar attacks and sweeps on the ground as the Phoenix Riders were in the air, leading the strixes toward preset traps of empire weaponry or Phoenix Rider ambush.
Veronyka looked around, at the rough Pyraean landscape and the smooth Pilgrimage Road, filled to the brim with soldiers who were, for the first time in her life, friends and not enemies.
Despite the circumstances, joy swelled in her chest, but her brief flare of hope was fleeting. They fought hard, on the ground and in the air, but this was a battle for their lives.
Riders were chased off course, patrols were split, and attack plans failed.
People were hurt. Phoenixes were hurt. And Veronyka truly understood what it meant to be a leader in a war.
She had reassigned her patrol after Tristan left, flying with Latham at her back while Lysandro and Ronyn paired off. They continued to sweep and dive, attempting to stop the strixes’ forward momentum, but their charges were no longer clean. Xephyra shrieked as a beak snapped at her wings, tearing out feathers, and Latham cried out as a talon raked his arm. Ronyn and Lysandro weren’t faring much better.
Though Val had relinquished some measure of control, she was pushing the strixes hard. Rather than simply dodging aside when the Phoenix Riders shot through, as they had previously done, the strixes started to slip past them, making for the empty space the Phoenix Riders had left behind. Fallon’s patrol—which continued to hold the rear—was soon bombarded, forcing Veronyka to tell Ronyn and Lysandro to abandon their sweeps and help retake the back line.
But Val would not be deterred and would gladly sacrifice dozens of strixes if it meant her victory. She forced them to fly with brutal speed and hold fast to their route, refusing to budge, causing collisions that rarely left both sides unscathed. It was in one such crash that Lysandro was thrown bodily from his saddle.
Veronyka had a single second to make her choice, and she did. She pulled hard on Ronyn’s mind, redirecting him and his phoenix midflight into a terrifying dive. They caught Lysandro just before he hit the ground, but their rescue had left Lysandro’s phoenix unprotected. No fewer than four strixes leapt onto the creature’s exposed back, snapping and tearing. A volley of arrows from Fallon’s patrol scared them off, but the phoenix was left smoking and lethargic. He half flapped, half fell into the trees, and though Ronyn pursued with Lysandro on the back of his saddle, Veronyka knew the moment the phoenix’s life winked out.
Her throat closed, and hot tears slipped down her face. Lysandro’s pain reached her, a second wave of grief, and it was all she could do to remain upright.
She had done this. Her decision had condemned that phoenix to die.
Her decision. Her fault.
She wasn’t Val—she didn’t need to control everything—and now she would not only have to see but feel members of her flock die without being able to stop it. Even if she controlled their each and every move, she was only human, and she couldn’t protect them all.
Fallon went down next, his shoulder slashed in a wound similar to what had happened to Anders, blood pooling in his armor and dripping down his side, while his phoenix attempted to fend off the crowd of strixes enveloping them. Veronyka and Latham launched arrows, but it wasn’t until Darius and his mount charged through, sending the strixes flying, that Fallon’s phoenix was able to extricate himself and make a rushed landing.
Darius watched him go, wild-eyed, and Veronyka sensed his intention to abandon the fight and chase after him. She couldn’t blame him, but he was needed here, and Fallon would be fine.…
There was a sudden, powerful tug on her magic. It came from Fallon, or maybe it came from his bondmate. In an instant, Veronyka understood.
The wound was not the same as the shoulder injury suffered by Anders. No, this wound was much, much worse.
Wait, Veronyka said, speaking to Darius. Anger sparked inside him, and he looked ready to object, until he followed Veronyka’s sorrowful gaze.
Fallon was slumped in the saddle, motionless, as his phoenix landed below. The creature was making low, mournful sounds, craning his neck, trying to get his bondmate’s attention, but Fallon didn’t move.
The phoenix spread his wings and lifted his head to the sky, his anguished cry piercing the night before he burst into flames, burning away to ash and taking Fallon’s body with him.
Veronyka bowed her head, swirling emotions buffeting her on all sides.
Darius, she said as soon as she could speak. The battle continued to rage, and Fallon was beyond their reach. This is your patrol now.
His face was a mask of shock, but at Veronyka’s words he looked around; their back line was in tatters, and the soldiers on the ground were paying the price. The strixes swooped and dove without obstruction, dragging their claws through the crowds and soaring back up again with bodies clutched in their talons. There were still lives on the line, still people they could help.
Darius ran a hand through his hair and nodded. As he shouted orders and brought his patrol back to order, Veronyka tried to get a grip on her own. They were down to three, and the emotions of the fight were starting to weigh on her.
She struggled to regain control, but her mental safe house was no longer protecting her. Her mind was awash in pain.
Torn flesh. Broken bones.
Lives snuffed out.
It didn’t matter if she was bonded to them or not—Veronyka was a shadowmage; she could feel every cry of agony and stab of grief, no matter who it came from.
This was the price she had to pay for this power, and she tried to remember why it was a good thing. Why she needed it.
But when Beryk went down, his bondmate pierced through by a strix-feather-fletched arrow, something inside her broke.
Several more arrows followed the first, riddling both Rider and mount as they fell from the sky. They crashed to the ground in an explosion that left scorch marks across the rocky earth and set the nearest strixes ablaze, their cries of anguish silenced by a volley of phoenix-fletched arrows.
Veronyka’s sorrow was raw, exacerbated by those around her—the other Phoenix Riders mourning the loss of their most senior warrior and mentor. She felt their hope waver.
Emotion, hot and visceral, pooled in Veronyka’s stomach, rising up her throat.
She intended to stifle it, to swallow it back down, but that’s what she’d been doing all along, and suddenly it seemed like exactly the wrong thing to do. The reason she’d accepted this position, this burden, was because with it came a powerful tool.
Heartfire.
Veronyka owed Beryk and Fallon and everyone else more than what she was giving. She owed them all of her strength, and everything she had inside. She was their apex, their leader, and her flock needed her.
Yes, these deaths were breaking her, but rather than try to piece herself together again, she
let herself crack wide open.
The spark ignited. Her fear had held her back, but now she let it go, and the heat inside her grew.
When a handful of strixes started tailing Alexiya, Xephyra followed hot on their heels, and Veronyka let the fire burn.
Ximn was flying as fast as Veronyka had ever seen her, dipping and rolling and looping around, desperate to shake her pursuers, but they persisted. Xephyra, too, was just barely keeping up.
Too slow, Nyka. Veronyka craned her neck to see Val watching from the middle of the battlefield, a vicious smile on her face. She had clearly targeted Veronyka’s other aunt on purpose. Making it personal. Goading her. It had also been Val’s arrows that had killed Beryk.
A pulse of anger, sharp and bright, ripped through Veronyka’s body. It made her powerful, and the heat inside Xephyra’s chest surged.
Val would regret provoking her.
Xephyra pumped her wings, staying close on the strixes’ heels, but no matter her efforts, Veronyka could not alter their pursuit. She nocked an arrow and aimed her bow, but she couldn’t risk shooting at them and hitting Alexiya instead. Even if they managed to make heartfire, Alexiya would still be in the way.
They needed a new approach.
Tiya Alexiya, Veronyka said, as Xephyra slowed. Bank hard just before the trees and loop back around. On my mark, dive.
Alexiya did as told, though Veronyka sensed her panic. Any kind of turn would mean a reduction in speed and a chance for the strixes to trap or ambush her. What had happened to Fallon and Beryk was fresh in her mind, but Ximn was agile and quick, and Veronyka knew it was their best chance.
As Xephyra moved them into position, there was a feeling of anticipation fluttering between them. The heat in her chest had turned into swirling, pulsing energy—steadily building, drawing from deep within. From her heart. From her very soul.
Alexiya and Ximn slanted hard and swooped back around, flying straight for Veronyka and Xephyra and bringing the strixes with them.
Dive! Veronyka cried into her mind, and Ximn pointed her beak toward the ground, bringing them to a sharp, sudden drop.
Then it was just Veronyka and Xephyra facing the coming charge.
With a shriek that made her ears ring, Xephyra unleashed the power within.
Fire erupted from her beak in a blast that filled Veronyka’s lungs with heat and set the strixes aflame in brilliant, crackling crimson light. They exploded in a burst of sparks and blackened feathers.
Alexiya lurched in the saddle, shocked by the explosion and trying to hang on as Ximn regained her balance.
Despite the blazing heat she and Xephyra had just unleashed, a wave of cold swept over Veronyka as she watched the strixes burn up and blow away like ashes on the wind.
She had felt their deaths, and while this was nothing new, she had been blocking it until now. Ignoring it. But in order to unleash the heartfire, she’d had to embrace her emotions. All of them.
It wasn’t as painful as feeling members of her own flock die, but it wasn’t painless, either. Did Val feel the phoenixes dying too? And if she did, would that sensation slow her down or spur her on?
As their eyes met across the battlefield, she knew it was the latter. She also knew Val hadn’t missed her use of heartfire, and that the real fight had only just begun.
Perhaps I was meant to be here for this. Not to light the way, but to pass the torch.
- CHAPTER 58 - SEV
SEV WONDERED WHAT TIME it was outside the tunnel and what was happening in Pyra. From the tense expressions on Kade’s and Yara’s faces, he knew he wasn’t the only one.
The rest were likely entirely fixated on their bondmates, and they frequently stopped to tilt their heads or mutter quietly before moving on—sensing, reaching for their phoenixes as the physical distance closed between them.
Using Jinx’s eyesight to keep watch ahead, Kade called a halt to their progress, their panting breaths cutting through the silence as they ducked into an alcove.
Jinx’s glow dimmed, and as Sev’s eyes adjusted to the darkness, he saw a different flickering illumination up ahead. Torchlight. The end of the tunnel was capped with a set of double doors—one of four entrances leading into the circular arena from each cardinal direction. The torchlight was a good sign—clearly, soldiers were still posted, as they had been when Kade was here with Trix.
Back in Lord Rolan’s house, Theo had done a rough sketch of what she remembered of the inside of the training arena, and according to her, beyond the double doors was a narrow hallway that acted as an antechamber before another set of doors that led into the arena proper. From there, a curving hallway led left and right, wrapping around the circular inner arena and leading to the three additional entrances, plus various other rooms and hallways.
They knew the phoenixes were nearby, but their bondmates were having a hard time figuring out exactly where.
“They’re inside some kind of cell…,” said Dane.
“Made of stone, but barred in metal on one side,” added Joshua.
“Why are there cells inside the Phoenix Rider training arena?” Sev asked.
“There aren’t,” said Theo, blinking as she drew back to herself. She turned to the others, face lit with understanding. “It’s a hearth hall—the niches used for incubating eggs,” she added for Sev, Kade, and Yara’s benefit. “The general must have had them modified.”
“That makes sense,” Sev said, though the idea of it turned his stomach. They would have been designed to handle high heat, but they couldn’t be large enough to comfortably hold full-grown phoenixes, let alone give them room to fly and move about. “Where are they?”
“There are four hearth halls, interspersed between the four entrances,” answered Theo.
“She’s close,” whispered Clara, eyes blazing. “I can feel her.”
“The soldiers are posted here, so it all adds up,” Sev said, his heart kicking against his ribs in anticipation. “Do we know how many?”
Theo shook her head, a note of frustration in her voice. “It’s hard to tell. They seem to see only two guards at a time.” The others, probably trying to confer with their own bondmates, murmured their agreement.
“And there’s two outside the door,” Kade said. “Could that really be it?”
“I doubt it,” said Yara. “There are surely other guards nearby, even if they aren’t actively on duty. We should be careful and make as little noise as possible. With any luck, we can incapacitate them before they get a chance to raise the alarm.”
Sev nodded, turning to Theo and Kade, who had taken up their weapons—Kade with his recurve bow and Theo with a dagger pilfered from Lord Rolan’s armory. “Ready?”
Theo unhitched herself from the wall and strode purposefully forward. She was dressed as an empire soldier again, and it wasn’t long until she was hailed by someone at the other end of the tunnel.
Jinx was perched out of sight, eyes fixed into the distance, and Kade was connected with her, watching, waiting, his bow ready.
The voices at the end of the tunnel grew louder; there was the sound of scuffling and someone cried out. Kade stepped around the corner of the wall and loosed an arrow into the darkness. There was an echoing whistle and a thump, and then a heartbeat later, the ringing of a blade unsheathed and a cry of pain quickly stifled.
Kade glanced at Jinx, then waved the others out of the alcove. “Let’s go.”
They ran the distance to the double doors, Sev and Kade leading the way, with Jinx soaring alongside them.
Theo was there, unharmed, and digging through the clothes on the limp bodies on the ground before a jingling sound reached their ears. Keys.
She held them up, frowning. Only two keys sat on the old metal ring.
The first set of double doors was already open—the two men had clearly made themselves comfortable in the small anteroom, with a table and chairs and assorted crates of supplies—so Sev shuffled down the hall to the second set of doors and slipped one of the k
eys into the lock. It fit—which was good news, Sev supposed, but it posed a different problem.
He glanced about the hall, checking the table’s surface for containers and the walls for hooks.
They had two keys for two sets of doors, but they didn’t have keys for the phoenix cells inside.
“Still have your picks?” Kade asked, sidling up next to him.
Sev grinned. “Since Ferro, I never leave home without them.”
As the captives filed into the antechamber, he bent to retrieve his picks from his boot. He still had the same improvised picks he’d made from a saddle’s belt buckle in Ferro, plus some proper picks he’d scrounged together during his time at Rolan’s estate in Stel.
It was smart not to leave keys to the cells down here—surely the guards could feed the phoenixes through the bars—but Sev hoped that was as far as the general’s caution went.
Their group was filled with mounting excitement, eager to press on, and Theo was just calling for them to hurry when a bell started clanging out of nowhere.
Sev whirled around to see one of the downed guards tugging on a rope pull, and though Yara stepped forward to silence him, it was too late—thundering boots echoed from somewhere directly overhead. That’s when Sev noticed a stairwell next to the exterior doors that must lead to a barracks or guard room on the floor above.
“Inside!” Yara shouted.
It was a mad scramble through the second set of doors as Yara slammed the first set closed and threw down the latch.
It might slow the soldiers, but it wouldn’t stop them—they would surely have keys of their own. Still, Sev didn’t speak this thought aloud, and moved forward with the rest until Yara closed the next set of doors with a resounding bang.
There was a very good chance they were going to have to fight, and soon, and as Sev looked around at the captives’ tense faces, he knew it would not be an easy battle. They needed to arm themselves, but they also needed to free the phoenixes as quickly as possible.
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