CHAPTER SEVEN
Awkward Silence
I woke up in an unfamiliar room. I lay in pitch darkness, broken only by a faint light shining behind the curtains. The sheets on my bed smelled freshly washed. I hazarded a movement, wincing as aches exploded across my body. Had they rescued me from the Angel? Was it still out there hurting people? I sat up, but the intense, pulsating throb in my head forced me to lie back down.
I remembered only bits and pieces of what had happened. There were bright flashes of light, sharp and searing bursts of pain, and a sensation that I was flying. But everything was blurred, like I was trying to recall a memory from long ago. What had really happened out there?
After a minute, I tried sitting up again. My head still hurt, but I managed to focus enough to notice the sounds of people walking outside my room. I also noticed that I wasn't wearing any clothes, only the metal key that still dangled around my neck. My cheeks burned. What had happened to my dress?
My chest of clothes was nowhere to be found. Gathering up the sheet like a robe, I searched the room until I found a pile of clothes folded on a wooden chair. A simple lace-up dress and a white shift constituted my wardrobe, the simple style of a bordertown servant. The dress was forest green, with brown designs that made me look like a tree. It fit well enough, though the lacing left my neck bare. That was another aspect of bordertown fashion.
When I was dressed, I spun in search of a mirror. After being pummeled by that Angel, my hair probably looked like a ransacked raven's nest. I found the sink and mirror in the adjoining washroom, and started to inspect the damage. My hair stuck up at odd angles, but no pieces of it were missing, and nothing had burned off. In fact, aside from the aches and bruises, I had no other injuries. No broken bones either, not even a burn. Had I imagined the Angel's flames burning my skin?
Once my hair was smoothed down to a reasonably acceptable style, I pulled on the soft leather boots by the door and headed outside. I was due for a new pair of boots now that I was this close to the forest, and these would do fine; their style matched one of the bordertown outfits I'd assembled for my first few days at the sagekeep.
I entered a hallway that was eerily calm, with no decorations on the walls, and started looking for my mother. She'd know what happened out there. Maybe the Angel was still attacking and needed to be stopped. Hopefully they'd found someone else to be their weapon, and I could return to piecing together my social life. In fact, if my mother saved the city from the Angel, perhaps my status as her daughter would be less toxic to making friends.
Soldiers strode by me in the corridors. From their uniforms, I could tell we were still inside the Vormund Order's part of the sagekeep. I smiled at one of them as he approached. "Excuse me, sir," I said, "can you tell me where Lady Andreya—"
He turned away without a glance. Another soldier gave me a single look and then quickened his step to walk away. Maybe they weren't allowed to talk to civilians. I followed them down a long hallway, lined with torches, until I reached the area my mother had taken me through yesterday. Or had it been yesterday? My stomach growled, causing me to wonder when I'd last eaten.
I passed the rooms that the soldiers had rushed me past. The alchemical lab, the forge, and the armory where my mother had given me the gauntlet. Oh, right, the gauntlet. Where had it gone? I walked inside to ask the armorer, but he rushed forward and shooed me out. "Begone with you," he said with a scowl. He had a scar over one eye that throbbed as he glared at me. Without any further explanation, he shut the door.
I wandered through the hallways, looking for my mother's tower keep. The library archives had their doors shut and locked, so I couldn't try to find a layout of the tower. I saw a group of three students, around my age, and waved to them. But they turned away when they saw me and walked off.
Now I knew something was wrong. Why the cold reception? Why did I carry a bubble of silence around with me wherever I went? Do they know that I tried to fight the Angel and lost horribly? That I, humanity's only hope, wasn't good enough? I found my way at last to the tower keep and snuck in, wondering if my mother's guards would haul me out. But for some reason, the place was calm. Men in the Order's black military uniforms sat at the wooden tables discussing reports. Others chatted quietly by the windows, gazing down at the city.
That's strange, I thought. If the Angel was still out there, why was everyone so calm?
"Miss Andresdatter," said a voice I knew from somewhere. Lord Valkegaard appeared on my left, walking toward me. I cringed at the thought that he'd seen me defeated by the Angel. His coppery hair was slicked neatly in place, and his uniform was pressed. Two soldiers flanked him, including the one with the blonde mustache. "Word has it that you saved my life."
I was embarrassed at the gratitude in his tone. "Well, it wasn't all me," I said, glancing down. My face started burning, and it had nothing to do with fiery Angels. "Signy and I both took you back. She probably did most of the work."
"Signy?" he asked, frowning. "How do you . . . know my rangir's name?" I paled a little, realizing that I'd truly spoken to her. I guess this confirms it.
"I must have heard one of the grooms say her name," I said, hazarding a smile.
He laughed. "Oh, all right. Anyway, there's something your mother wanted me to show you. Come with me."
He waved away the soldiers, and I followed him out into the hall. "So . . . what happened back there?" I asked. He didn't answer. I swallowed. "You look like you're all right. Must have just been a bump to the head, right?" He nodded and looked away. We didn't speak the whole time we walked, and I noticed that his mouth was set firmly whenever he looked at me. Of all the silences this morning, this was the most peculiar. He'd talked to me a minute ago—why not now?
We reached the room where I'd awakened, and he shut the door behind us. "Miss Andresdatter, do you know what this means?"
I stared at him. "What what means?"
He shook his head. "We can't talk about your abilities in public. You have to be careful not to let anyone know that you're the one who . . . you know."
"The one who what, Lord Valkegaard?" I asked, feeling frustrated from the lack of answers. "What happened back there? What happened to the Angel?"
"You don't remember?" He stepped over to the window and threw back the curtains. He gestured down at the ground below. "See for yourself." One of the warehouses had collapsed, a segment of its frame charred black. A massive crater marred the ground beside it. At its center of it was the outline of a man, burned into the ground.
"Where's the Angel?" I whispered.
Lord Valkegaard gave me a curious look. He took something off of his belt and handed it to me. It was the gauntlet. "Gone," he said. "I'm not sure how to explain it. They woke me up when people sighted you and the Angel fighting outside the sagekeep. It was just like in the archives, just like everything I'd studied, but . . . still, I wasn't prepared to see it myself."
I took the gauntlet and turned it around in my hands. I put it on, and a flood of memories rushed into me. It was like coming up from the water for a breath of air, or being jolted out of a dream into consciousness. Power surged through me, and I woke up.
I remembered everything clearly now, back to that moment when the Angel had thrown me into the building. Fire consumed me, like my skin and bones would burn away into ash. But then something had happened. The memories flashed by, all jumbled and vying for my attention at once.
When I hit the building, I stopped screaming. The blaze singed my clothes and skin, but I stood anyway, the gauntlet bursting with energy. I exploded with light, and the air crackled around me. My skin changed to a bluish white color, pulsing and sparking, reminiscent of the affect my touch had generated in the relic that morning. I stared back at the Angel. He raised his arm for another blast of fire, but this time, I leapt aside. The fire scorched the building behind me as I flew out of the way.
I floated in the air, streaking from one spot to another. My own speed defied my senses. I moved like lig
ht itself, or like a bolt of lightning; here one instant, there the next. The Angel shot a wave of liquid flame at me. I flew over it and appeared behind him. I grabbed a fallen pillar from one of the buildings and lifted it into the air. The Angel turned, a walking blaze whose flame I was somehow immune to. I brought the pillar down on its head, smashing it into the ground. Pieces of stone flew everywhere, burying the Angel in the rubble. I glanced around for signs of movement. The pieces of the pillar lay there, unmoving.
A hand made of fire shot up through the pile of stone. The Angel emerged, streaking toward me with its incandescent blade. I dodged aside. He struck again. I moved without thinking, as if this was a dance I'd been taught years ago and just remembered. I knew the steps, I knew when he was going to strike with his sword, and I knew how to outmaneuver him. I also knew how to beat him. The next time he swung at me, I planted a kick in his chest, knocking him back. The ground shook and sizzled as he fell. I grabbed a jagged piece of rubble from the pillar, extending my energy through it.
The Angel struggled to his feet. I stepped on his stomach, knocking him back to the ground. The Angel's eyes widened behind his helm. In fear? As I raised the jagged piece of stone, I saw my reflection in his eyes. A girl-shaped bolt of lightning stared back, sparking and pulsing with energy. I brought the stone down straight into his heart. The weapon smashed through his fiery armor and exploded through his body. A burst of light filled my eyes, and the vision of memories ended.
I'd killed him. I'd transformed into a monster of lightning, and I'd killed an Angel—just like my mother had said I would.
"So you remember," said my mother's voice, causing me to look up. I'd been sitting on the bed, with Lord Valkegaard standing beside me. My mother stood by the closed door. As usual, she wore her pristine black uniform and regarded me with her icy eyes. "From now on, you will not leave the core city of Kant Vakt without my express permission. You are not to venture into the forest, and you are to tell no one of your ability to resonate with the Weapons. Do you understand?" I understood nothing, but I nodded anyway. "Very well. Once you have recovered, you should begin your training."
"Training?" I asked.
My mother arched an eyebrow, like she did when I was missing something that should have been obvious. At this point, my mind was still reeling from these memories, and from the knowledge of my powers. "You are the only one who can do this. A Witch is born once a century. You alone hold the power to fight the creatures that threaten the world. Your safety is of utmost importance to me, as is your proper training." She gestured outside. "This will not be the last Angel you destroy. There will be more. I expect they may even walk among us. Be ready."
She nodded to Lord Valkegaard and then turned on her heel and left the room, shutting the door behind her. The prospect of training sounded ominous, especially with a full load of classes at the sagekeep. If I wasn't supposed to tell anyone that I was training to fight Angels, then I would be expected to continue my schooling, a noble's legal responsibility. What would I tell my classmates? Perhaps she relied on my inability to make friends in her calculations. At least she could buy me clothes to replace the ones I'd lost.
We sat in silence until Lord Valkegaard cleared his throat. "I know all of this must be new to you," he said. "Your mother cares about you very much."
I sighed. "The truth doesn't bother me, Lord Valkegaard." I didn't need to be treated like a child.
He frowned. "She talks about you all the time."
"She does?" I asked.
"She has told me a great deal," he said, setting his hands on one of the bedposts. "She did ask me to train you."
"Really?" I asked, feeling a smile begin to sprout. "You're going to train me, Lord Valkegaard?"
"Yes, I am," he said. "And to make our conversations less cumbersome, would you mind calling me Galen? Your mother always refers to you as Kaybree, so I admit that it feels odd to call you Miss Andresdatter."
I tried to contain my excitement. "As you wish."
He frowned again and stroked his chin. "I've never trained a Witch, but I've studied about the Angels my entire life. I'll make sure you're prepared to fight them. We have to be careful, though. If others knew you were our Witch, then the king and the sages would both try to use you in their own schemes."
"Okay, Galen," I said, trying out his name on my lips. It had an ethereal quality, elegant and refined. "But who else knows?" I thought about the messenger who'd given me the key I wore around my neck. "The people in the Vormund Order?"
He shook his head. "No one except your mother and me. And it needs to stay that way." His voice took on a stern tone. "Don't speak to anyone here. They are under strict orders to keep their work secret, so I doubt they'll talk to you on their own." So that explained the frosty reception I'd received. "You may need to visit occasionally to check in with us about training or your missions. Your mother will tell the guards to let you report to her about your studies, so you should be able to use that as a cover."
I gave him a weak smile, but my heart sank like shoes into a snowdrift. The only relationship my mother wanted was a smokescreen for giving orders to her secret weapon. It didn't surprise me; that was my mother's nature. Having seen the threat the Angels posed to the innocents of the city, I understood why. Saving the world was more important than family, friends, or anything else. And it looked like even if I was their secret weapon, I still didn't belong in their Order.
Lord Valkegaard walked over and rapped on the windowpane. "You should also know what the Order is officially saying about the Angel attack. As far as the king and the sages know, the attack was repelled by the combined efforts of the Vormund Order, and the exact methods are being kept secret for security reasons."
"I understand. But I'm still not sure how any of this works. I remember lifting a pillar, but it must have weighed twenty stone. And then there was the whole lightning part, and the explosions, and how did that gauntlet make me transform anyway?"
"I'm not sure myself how Witches work," he said. "I can explain some to you when we start your training. Tomorrow morning, perhaps?"
"But I have school."
"Right. That may complicate things. Of course you still have to attend, since that's why you supposedly came to Kant Vakt. The day after tomorrow, then."
"But I have school that day too."
"On Vision Prayer day?"
I stopped and looked out the window. The next Prayer day wasn't until the weekend. "Um, how long was I asleep?"
"Three days."
"Three days?" No wonder my stomach ached and my vision swam when I tried to walk. "Is this going to happen every time?"
Galen started to answer but scowled out the window instead. I followed his gaze. The Knights of Valir marched through the streets, Father Traum at their head. They stopped to speak with a group of workers that was rebuilding the road where my fight with the Angel had broken the cobblestones.
"With Traum here, you must be particularly careful," Galen said, his jaw set firmly. "He will use any excuse he can to get in here and see what we're doing."
"But we're protecting the city. Won't the sages want to help us?"
"I wouldn't count on it." He turned from the window. "I'll see you on your first day of training. Get some rest."
After he left, I noticed that someone had brought in a plate of food—a couple of biscuits, a pitcher of water, and some spinach soup. I dipped one of the biscuits in the soup and chewed on it, letting my eyes wander about the room. A note was curled up next to my bedpost, slid into the space between the post and the frame. I plucked it out and unrolled it. It was written in flowing script, and contained only a single sentence:
I hope you didn't lose my key.
I abruptly remembered the messenger, and my eyes shot to the window in reflex, but I saw nothing. The parchment was crisp and the ink dry. He must have placed this here while I was asleep. Or had he snuck in while I was looking for my mother? Whatever the case, he knew who I was, and he wasn
't working with my mother or Galen. I touched the key around my neck, wondering what else it opened, or if he'd wanted me to find the journal in the first place. I gazed out the window, watching Traum and his entourage weave their way through the streets of Kant Vakt.
And wondering what I'd gotten myself into.
Kaybree Versus the Angels Page 7
