“No, wait!” Della Porta rushed over.
Nekhbet looked at him quizzically.
“You can’t leave yet. The Outcast Angels, the Plague project—” Della Porta spluttered.
Nekhbet waved a dismissive hand. “None of that matters anymore,” she told Della Porta. “Not now that we have the pathgem. It’s not important who wins this little battle. The Lost War has now begun—and that will change everything.”
Nekhbet reached over and touched an armored finger to the pathgem, speaking an enchantment as she did so.
The three figures faded from view, leaving Carracci and Della Porta behind.
Della Porta was the first to react. He turned to Carracci. “It may not matter to Nekhbet who wins and who loses today, but it certainly matters to us. Let’s get the rest of those children onto the ship.”
Della Porta scowled. “And while we’re doing that, you can explain exactly what the demon meant by ‘mischief going on behind my back’!”
ONE HUNDRED AND SEVENTY-ONE
The Academy of Secrets, Naples, Kingdom of Naples, 8.35 a.m. Wednesday June 23 1610
Chrymos landed lightly on the path just outside the back door to the Academy, dismissing her wings. She was pleasantly surprised to find the area deserted and sent a mind-message to her father bringing him up-to-date.
In return, Shamar reported on the current state of the battle out front.
Chrymos attempted to open the back door, which had given her so much trouble the last time she tried to enter—was that truly only two nights ago?—and was in for yet another surprise. The door was unlocked.
I could have brought Adric with me after all. Chrymos had deliberately left Adric to make his own way back from the catacombs, despite his angry protestations. I didn’t think it would be safe here. Looks like I was wrong.
Chrymos quietly let herself in through the back door. There was no sign of anyone around, so she began to explore the whole ground floor.
The main mortality room itself was deserted. Clearly, they left in a real hurry. Bed covers were roughly pulled aside, as if the occupants had been speedily evacuated, and furniture and furnishings were simply scattered around the room.
Chrymos was desperately anxious for the children. She hurriedly searched the room until she found a set of keys. Then she headed towards the rooms that led off the main chamber.
Most of the doors that she tried were unlocked and the rooms empty. In desperation, she crossed herself and offered a prayer to the Lord, even though as an Outcast Angel she now knew she should not expect a response. Almighty God, please give me the power, the strength, and the wisdom to save the children. Protect them and keep them safe, I beg You, Lord.
There were three doors left to try. Chrymos tried the first door. Locked. She fumbled with the keys until she found one that fit. She unlocked the door and peered hopefully inside the room. Empty.
The second door was unlocked and, as expected, was empty. One more.
Chrymos tried the third door. Unlocked. She almost didn’t even bother looking inside, until she thought she heard some sort of noise from within.
She did go inside, cautiously—there could be Alchemae in here—and saw, to her delight, that she had finally found Madalena. The poor girl was tied to the bed, with a gag around her mouth, but otherwise seemed unharmed.
As soon as Madalena saw Chrymos, she went wild, thrashing and turning in the bed, making unintelligible sounds through the gag and flashing her eyes.
Chrymos began to cross the room towards Madalena—and then, for no apparent reason, Chrymos had an almost overwhelming urge to summon her wings.
ONE HUNDRED AND SEVENTY-TWO
The Academy of Secrets, Naples, Kingdom of Naples, 8.50 a.m. Wednesday June 23 1610
Chrymos immediately rejected the idea—Madalena is already terrified enough. What will she think if she sees me sprout wings?—but the urge was so strong that it could not be denied.
With extreme reluctance, Chrymos called her wings from the aether—and as they sprang into ectoplasmic reality, the edges of the wings collided with an unseen presence behind Chrymos.
She spun around, knocking whatever was behind her to the ground as she turned. The invisible presence, momentarily disoriented by the fall, flickered and revealed itself to be Father Carracci—and the priest was armed with a long knife.
“I should have known,” Carracci snarled as he regained his footing and started to turn invisible again. “All that self-righteous behavior—that’s so rich, coming from a cursed Outcast Angel. Let’s see how an angel manages against cold steel, shall we?”
Before Carracci could completely vanish from sight, however, he was hit from behind by a glass vial. The vial instantly shattered, outlining the nearly-invisible priest in a coating of red powder.
Chrymos looked up to see Adric, freshly arrived from the catacombs, launching himself across the room at the red spectral Carracci.
The priest began to utter an enchantment that would give him the upper hand. “Pēḥēt rēšhēhē zayinhē. Dālet—” Before he could complete the spell, Chrymos whacked Carracci across the head with her right wing. Not quite the treatment I gave Ezequeel, but very satisfying nevertheless.
Without his enchantments, the priest was no match for Adric and although they fought briefly over the knife, the outcome was never in doubt. Carracci was quickly gagged with bandages before he could enchant his way free.
While Adric restrained Carracci, Chrymos quickly untied Madalena. As soon as the gag was removed from her mouth, Madalena almost shouted. “There’s no time to lose, they’ve taken Olivia and Sirus to the lake.”
ONE HUNDRED AND SEVENTY-THREE
The Academy of Secrets, Naples, Kingdom of Naples, 8.57 a.m. Wednesday June 23 1610
Chrymos sent a hasty mind-message to her father as she raced out of the Academy’s back door and along the path to the lake.
Chrymos ran frantically towards the lake, and then realized that it would be much quicker for her to fly. Out of practice, she thought as she summoned her wings and soared into the air.
She stayed low, conscious that there were still armed Academy thugs and New Phoenicia pirates roaming around the estate, but even so, she was able to cover the remaining distance to the lake in less than two minutes.
As she rounded the final corner, Chrymos was so shocked by what she saw that she almost lost the concentration necessary to maintain her wings.
Beneath the giant statue of Neptune, a large section of the cliff wall was gone and the lake water poured through the gap thus created.
Not only that, but an overloaded boat packed with children was about to disappear through the gap as well.
ONE HUNDRED AND SEVENTY-FOUR
The Academy of Secrets, Naples, Kingdom of Naples, 9.00 a.m. Wednesday June 23 1610
Chrymos didn’t even stop to think. She drove her wings faster than ever, chasing after the boat as it plunged into the gap.
Just in time, too. The gap began closing as soon as the boat had passed, and there was only enough room for Chrymos to slip through at full wingspan.
The underground watercourse
was dark, of course—a far too familiar situation for Chrymos by now—but the boat carried flaming lanterns at front and rear, so at least she had a clear target to follow. But she could see that the tunnel grew narrower as it went along. At this rate, I won’t be able to fly in here much longer—there won’t be enough room for my wings.
Chrymos accelerated towards the boat and reached out to grab hold of the stern section, the transom. The boat can pull me along.
The moment that Chrymos touched the transom, she felt herself bombarded by the same types of enchantments that protected the Tower. “Let go, leave or die, beware, doom, death.”
Chrymos almost lost her grip. The enchantments were relentless, drilling into her head, warning of pain and torture and unbearable despair—but Chrymos had a far greater inducement to hang on tight. I can see the heads of the children in the boat. I’m sure that’s Olivia—and that must be Sirus.
In the end, concern for the children was enough to sustain Chrymos. She dismissed her wings and held on tightly as the boat followed the underground waterway down under the Capodimonte hill, all the way to a hidden exit that led into the Naples harbor.
The boat emerged into the harbor at speed, still maintaining much of the momentum from its downward plunge.
The boat’s captain, previously crouched in the bow watching for obstacles ahead, turned around and started shouting instructions for his crew—two servants from the Academy—to start rowing. He stopped short when he saw the bedraggled Chrymos clinging to the transom.
Chrymos froze as well. The man at the helm was Giambattista Della Porta.
ONE HUNDRED AND SEVENTY-FIVE
The Harbor, Naples, Kingdom of Naples, 9.20 a.m. Wednesday June 23 1610
Della Porta reached down into a box by his side and pulled out a loaded pistol. As he cocked the trigger, ready to fire, Chrymos tensed. I have to time this just right.
Della Porta squeezed the trigger. At precisely that instant, Chrymos threw herself backwards. She simultaneously summoned her wings and used them to propel herself deep down into the water, another trick that her father had taught her when she was a child. A fragment of a long-ago-and-far-away conversation slipped through her mind as she swam. Da-da, look at the gannets, what they doing? Dear child, they are plunge-diving into the sea and using their wings to swim around in the water catching fish.
A few seconds later, Chrymos reversed direction, powering herself up, up and out of the water. She adjusted her flight so that she hovered near the bow of the boat.
As Chrymos had hoped, she had not given Della Porta sufficient time to reload his pistol. In fact, he hadn’t even tried. Instead, he stood still, waiting for her. He held out both his hands as if he was about to clap.
“Well, this is a day of surprises, Chrymos. Who would have guessed that you were an angel? And would you have guessed that I can do this?”
Della Porta raised his eyebrows ever so slightly—and suddenly held a raging ball of white fire between his hands. Chrymos could feel the intense heat from several feet away.
Della Porta smiled tolerantly. “Yes, I have powers too. Now we all know, Chrymos, that you can probably dodge this fireball fairly easily—but the children here can’t.” His expression hardened. “And while as an angel you might not care too much about human children in general, you and I both know that there are some children on this boat that you do care about. I’m not sure which particular children they are—Father Carracci concerned himself with all that—but I want you to know that I can incinerate them all with this fireball faster than you can stop me.”
He switched the fireball to his left hand and then used his right to point behind her. “See that ship over there? That’s where I’m going, with these children, and if you know what’s good for them, you’ll get out of my way. In three. Two. One—”
Della Porta didn’t need to finish the count because Chrymos had flown up out of reach. She flew fifty feet up into the air and mind-called her father.
Shamar’s reply came back quickly.
Chrymos sent one word, and then cut the connection.
She ignored Shamar’s frantic attempts to reconnect. If I let him through, he’ll just tell me how dangerous this is, especially in a shallow harbor. I know that, Dad, but this is my best—and probably my only—shot.
Chrymos flew higher and higher into the sky, well aware that Della Porta and his boat would be drawing ever nearer to the Spanish galleon.
Then, satisfied that she was as high as necessary, Chrymos turned and plunged down, down, down, heading towards the small target far below. She tried not to think about what had happened when she had last attempted this stunt, at Alepotrypa.
Down, down, and then she was nearly there and the small boat grew larger and larger until it occupied all her horizon. And then she moved, so slightly, and missed the boat but plunged into the nearby water at an impossible speed, her impact generating a massive splash that rocked and soaked the boat—and, more importantly, extinguished the fireball in Della Porta’s hands.
And Chrymos desperately flapped her wings underwater to reverse her plunge but the bottom grew closer and closer—
And then there was just, only just, enough room and time for her to alter her trajectory and curve round, scraping the very bottom of the harbor and head back towards the small boat, snatching Della Porta out of the boat before he had a chance to resist.
One of the older boys seized his chance, grabbed Della Porta’s fallen pistol, and pointed it menacingly at the two servants still manning the boat. The pair immediately leapt overboard and frantically began swimming towards the Spanish galleon.
While this was happening, Chrymos had lifted Della Porta straight up into the air, higher and higher. Fifty, one hundred, two hundred feet.
Della Porta struggled to get free. Again, he summoned a fireball, presumably intending to burn Chrymos. But after a quick glance downward, he realized that harming the woman with the wings would not be a good idea while they were so far from the ground.
Higher and higher Chrymos flew, until Della Porta gasped for air.
“Some Outcast Angel bodies are adjusted so that they don’t need air to breathe,” said Chrymos. “Mine,” she gasped, “is not—but I can hold my breath longer than soft and pampered scum like you!”
That last line fell on deaf ears. Della Porta was unconscious. If she’d had any breath left, Chrymos would have given a sigh of relief. Instead, she managed a slight smile as she started to descend.
What should I do with him?
In the city below, the most visible building that she could see was the Chiesa di Santa Maria del Carmine. The church’s bell-tower was the tallest in Naples. She deposited the unconscious Master at the top, near its highest spire.
“It's more important for me to get the children to safety than to deal with you right now,” she told the oblivious Della Porta, “but don’t go anywhere.”
ONE HUNDRED AND SEVENTY-SIX
The Harbor, Naples, Kingdom of Naples, 9.40 a.m. Wednesday June 23 1610
By the time that Chrymos had flown out of the city and back over to the harbor, the Seintespirit had begun moving into position to challenge the Spanish galleon. It looked likely to be a very one-sided battle. Shamar gave Chrymos an update.
Chrymos swiftly flew over the harbor, searching for the small boat packed with children. She found it making good progress towards the nearest wharf, four of the oldest children manning the oars. Sirus, she was delighted to see, was one of the rowers.
The boat was still screaming out its enchanted threats so Chrymos opted to leave the children to steer the boat to safety. She flew down to the dock that was the boat’s intended destination, landed lightly, and dismissed her wings. As she watched and waited for the children, she belatedly noticed that once again her clothing was soaking wet.
At least it’s a sunny day, she observed.
A short time later, the boat docked at the wharf. The children quickly scrambled off and gathered shyly near Chrymos—except for Sirus and Olivia, who threw themselves into her outstretched arms and hugged her tightly. Any harsh words previously spoken in anger were forgotten and forgiven.
ONE HUNDRED AND SEVENTY-SEVEN
The Harbor, Naples, Kingdom of Naples, 11 a.m. Wednesday June 23 1610
Chrymos and the children huddled together on the wharf until the LOA team arrived to take the young ones under their care. Even then, Sirus and Olivia flatly refused to leave Chrymos, so they remained with her until Shamar drove up in an Academy carriage with Adric and Madalena.
“Come over here with me for a few minutes,” Adric said to Sirus and Olivia, “Chrymos needs some time alone with her father.”
He took care of the wide-eyed children—who were astonished to learn about Chrymos’ father—while Chrymos and Shamar embraced and laughed and cried and chattered and mind-talked, all at once. It was the sort of reunion usually only seen in Heaven.
Finally, Chrymos had the chance to ask her father the question that she had been avoiding all morning. “What about Mother? Is she okay?”
Academy of Secrets: From the Outcast Angels Christian Fantasy & Science Fiction series Page 37
