by Ben Hale
"Open fire!" Freezer bellowed at the same time Derek yelled.
"Reverse gravity wells!"
The leading edge went down under a combined attack—and then suddenly they floated off the floor. They flailed their arms and struggled to grasp the walls, but remained stuck just inches off the subway platform. Freezer took advantage of their stationary positions.
"Conserve your rounds!"
The rapid staccato of their fire tapered off to single shots, but each one found their mark. The second row of primates died frozen in the air. By then the swell pressing from behind drove them forward.
"We can't hold them!" Mike called.
"We have to fall back!" Freezer yelled.
"No!" Derek shouted.
He feverishly worked to finish a pair of his most powerful spells, and the moment they were done he darted to Mike.
"Unstable compression charms!" he yelled and tossed them into the air.
Mike turned and sent twin blasts of wind that caused the pulsing eggs of rock to fly over the primates’ heads. One went into the source tunnel, while the other bounced into the exit tunnel. In unison, the entire Order cast their final charms and ducked behind the pillars of the station. Seeing their reaction, Freezer did the same, and a moment later his team followed suit. Just as they did the compression charms imploded.
The rising wail overpowered even the hundreds of primates, and sucked them toward the two ends of the subway tunnels. Chunks of rock and concrete were peeled off the ceiling and walls, while the rails themselves bent upward at the charm's focal point. Then suddenly the tunnel closed. Like an eyelid snapping shut, the walls and ceiling slammed together, crushing dozens of primates caught in the middle.
As the pull from the charms faded, Derek rose to see that less than ten primates had escaped unscathed. With lethal accuracy, the SEALs killed them. When it was over, Freezer turned to Derek.
"Any more in the tunnels?"
"Mara?" Derek asked. He tried not to let his fatigue show. Compression charms were difficult, and dangerous.
Her eyes glazed and she mumbled to herself. Then her eyes widened, "They’re coming through a side tunnel between here and another station. The entire horde has shifted to go up to the next station."
Derek stabbed a finger at the subway car that Mara had moved to block the entrance. "We can use that. We'll lead the way and clear the track. Once we get there we can use the car to block the hole."
Freezer regarded him for several seconds. Blood from his foes covered his form, adding to the sense of menace, but ultimately he gave a curt nod.
"Do as he says," Freezer barked.
"Sir?" Tack began, but Freezer merely looked at him. "Yes, Sir," Tack said, and stepped to the stairs. Reluctantly the others followed him. As they piled onto the train, Brody, Derek, and the flyers leapt to the front. Freezer caught Derek’s arm.
"Don't get yourself killed, boy," he said.
"I don't plan to," Derek replied evenly. "I know what my team is capable of." Freezer almost smiled.
Almost.
"Don't make me regret this," Freezer said, and climbed on board the subway car.
Chapter 16: Hunting the Master
The Swordsman flew on his board over the southern Louisiana border. Indigo coasted beside him. Although they were a mile from the Gulf of Mexico, the sea battle commanded attention.
Explosions blossomed in the distance, belching smoke into the hazy sky. The rumbling from auren artillery reached them, echoing like distant thunder. Towering over the battle, the twenty-thousand-foot wall of dark continued to advance toward Mexico.
"Are you sure we can trust Robar?" Indigo finally asked.
He shot her a look. "He's my brother. I would trust him with my life."
"That's what we're going to do."
His brow furrowed. "He said he can find us a plane. Now we need a destination."
She sighed and changed the subject. "Just months ago I was carrying out a contract in China," Indigo said. "Everything was normal. How did it get to this?"
"Alice," the Swordsman said simply. "Whatever her failings, she is carrying through on her plan."
"If the oracle somehow destroys the Dark, I don't want to be an assassin anymore."
The Swordsman shot her a surprised look. "Are you saying that as Indigo, or as Inora?"
She smiled at the use of her real name. For assassin's it was the pinnacle of trust to reveal one's true name. Until the battle on Auroraq he'd been afraid to share his, and it had driven a wedge between them that would have been permanent. Now it seemed his sharing the secret had negated his previous reluctance.
"Would Ronin still want to be the Swordsman?" she asked.
He didn't answer for a while, and she didn't press him. Then he said, "I don't think so, but I don't know what else to be. I've been the Swordsman for half my life, and I don't even know who Ronin is. What would we even do?"
She shrugged. "The Assassin's Guild has existed for eons, and there were always seven. Rook and Elena are now dead, and Harry has switched sides. By the time this is over we might all be gone." She motioned to the desperate battle to the south. "Even if we win, do we really want to hunt and kill the survivors of this war?"
The Swordsman shook his head. "If we are alive when it's over, we'll talk."
Indigo nodded, and then dipped toward an inlet of Louisiana. "You think it's still there?"
"It's Kulldye Dreg," the Swordsman said. "The merchants won't close up shop until the Dark is at their door. Even then they'd probably sell to the Twisted."
Indigo issued a grunt of agreement. "You think he will talk to us?"
"Not by choice," the Swordsman said.
"What happened between you two?"
"He broke my rule," the Swordsman replied grimly. "I should have killed him."
A moment later they descended into a swamp and passed through an invisible barrier. The island of Kulldye Dreg burst into view in the center of a lake. Materializing as if from nowhere, the village's winding streets and shops remained unchanged. The two assassins dropped to the ground and flashed their tokens that would allow them entry. Then they strode through the jaws of the wrought iron dragon and descended into the village.
Seedy shops dominated both sides of the path. Each contained illegal wares for the unscrupulous clientele that favored the village. Nearly everything the Swordsman wore had been purchased in the Dreg. The moment they were free of the exterior enchantments, they leapt into the air and hurried toward their goal.
Wessel's Flyers, one of the few places in the world that sold air boards to non-flyers, sat between an apothecary and a tavern. Unlike most of the structures in the town, the tavern was relatively new. Over the last few years it had become a den of thieves, assassins, and aspiring mercenaries. Since the Dark had consumed most other places for them to hide, the tavern was packed. Raucous music and the rumblings of a fight came from within.
The Swordsman ignored it and stepped to Wessel's door. It was open, so he and Indigo strode inside. Wessel looked up from the counter with a sleazy smile—but it evaporated when he saw who it was.
"Get out!" he said, and retreated toward the back room. "I told you never to come back."
Indigo stepped in front, and purred, "We just want to know where the Master's lair might be."
The Swordsman suppressed a grin. With her bright eyes, blue hair, and perfect shape, she could have passed for an auren model. When she turned on the charm it tended to make men weak.
Wessel's eyes widened at her pouty expression, but he jerked his gaze back to the Swordsman. "I swore if you ever came back I would . . ."
"Do what?" the Swordsman said as he stalked forward. Then suddenly Wessel's fear evaporated. Cold, triumphant fury took its place.
"I would kill you," he said, and then reached to a rune hidden in the folds of the doorway behind him.
The Swordsman took one step before a section of the floor retracted. A roar from the darkness below vibrated the flo
or and caused the Swordsman and Indigo to retreat several steps. With the sound of wings flapping, a creature rose into view and alighted at the edge of the hole.
With the body and head of a small lion, the beast's features bore an almost human element. Powerful wings spread from its back, while a scorpion's tail had replaced its own. It tossed its mane and issued a snarl, revealing three rows of teeth in its jaws. Then the manticore began to stalk forward.
"Really, Weasel?" the Swordsman said with a frown. "You know we have to kill you now."
Wessel released a cackling laugh. "It cleans the streets of dead, Swordsman. Now it will rid the world of you. Not even you can kill a manticore." Then he darted out of sight.
"Go after him," the Swordsman said. "I'll take care of this."
"You sure?" Indigo asked uneasily.
The Swordsman drew his sword. "Go."
After a moment's hesitation Indigo leapt into the air over the manticore. Quick as lightning, the beast whipped its tail. She rolled to the side, avoiding the strike by inches. Then she banked through the door and disappeared from sight. The manticore made to follow, but the Swordsman scraped the tip of his sword on the floor, drawing its attention.
The Swordsman drew in a breath, and then cast speed and agility. Facing such a foe he would have preferred to add more, but lately he'd been combining too many spells at once. The craving to use magic was already difficult to suppress.
The manticore lunged—and the Swordsman sidestepped. Even with magic enhancing his speed he failed to avoid the beast's claws, and they raked across his arm. Annoyed at the lapse, he darted to one of the air boards on display. Catching it as he drove past, he swung it to cover his back. It shuddered from a blow, and he felt the board yanked from his grasp as the manticore retracted its tail.
The Swordsman rebounded off a wall and leapt at the enemy. Momentarily distracted by the air board stuck to its tail, it didn't realize until too late the Swordsman's proximity. It roared and retreated, but the Swordsman scored a line across its flank and dove away. Infuriated, the manticore charged after him.
For several furious seconds it was all he could do to avoid being killed. Endowed with blazing speed, strength, and agility, the creature had claws, a poisoned tail, and jaws to attack with. The Swordsman dodged and deflected, struggling to keep the attacks at bay, but in the midst of the fury he recognized the truth. He could not win—not here.
Within the tight confines of the shop he could not maneuver. He needed more space, and something to distract it with. Then an idea sparked in his mind and he darted to one of the walls. Spinning to face the manticore, he dropped his agility in favor of strength. The manticore lunged for him, its jaws open to take the Swordsman's head. Instead the Swordsman leaned back and punched it in the face.
The manticore recoiled, more from surprise than injury. Then its humanlike eyes narrowed, and the snarl it issued raised the hair on the Swordsman's neck. The message was clear.
How dare you . . .
The manticore charged, and the Swordsman dropped to the ground. Unable to halt its momentum, the heavy creature crashed right through the wall and tumbled into the space beyond. Tables, mugs, and people were knocked sprawling as the winged creature rolled into the tavern.
Wood and bone snapped as the manticore climbed to its feet, the harsh sounds mingling with the curses and shouts rising from the thieves in the room. Magic blossomed from a dozen sources as they all sought to punish the manticore for the intrusion.
Fire splashed across its flank, but the manticore merely snarled at the offender. Its tail lashed out, piercing him in the chest and tossing him away like trash. A flyer soared above and tried to blast it with an asunder hex, but the manticore leapt into the air. Catching the flyer's foot with its jaws, it brought the screaming man crashing through the bar.
Brown magic coursed from a trio of animal mages attempting to subdue the enraged creature. The attempt succeeded in drawing the manticore's ire, and it lunged at them. They scattered, but it dragged them down with its claws. Roaring at the pitiful attempts to destroy it, it did not see the Swordsman.
Activating agility once more, the Swordsman rebounded off a table to catch the railing of the balcony. Then he swung himself up. Racing to a position above the manticore, he jumped. Catching the whipping tail on his way down, he slammed the scorpion point into the manticore's back. Its thick hide may have been able to withstand blows from ordinary weapons, but not from its own flesh.
It roared and flailed, sending the Swordsman crashing into a rack of bottles. Glass and liquor poured on him as he climbed to his feet and retreated. This time the manticore did not let him go. Pursuing with single-minded ferocity, it trampled those in its way.
Bloodied and wounded, the Swordsman wove between the pillars that held up the balcony. Each shattered in his wake as the manticore plowed through them. Catching the last, the Swordsman swung around and leapt in the creature's face. The manticore braced to stop and opened its jaws, and the Swordsman drove his blade into the opening.
Issuing a strangled cry, the manticore tossed its head, sending the Swordsman crashing into a table that had survived the carnage. Too drunk to move, the table’s occupant somehow retained the awareness to lift the bottle so it wouldn’t be broken. The table disintegrated as the Swordsman crashed into it.
The Swordsman rose to his feet and the man raised the bottle to him. When the Swordsman shook his head, the man shrugged and took a swig. The weakening sounds of the manticore caused the man to issue a snort.
"It's 'bout time that thing was kilt."
His chest heaving from the battle, the Swordsman strode forward and yanked his blade free. Flicking the blood from the weapon, he sheathed it and strode from the room. Once outside, he pulled a small vial from his side and took a swig. Drawing on his own strength, the distilled healing magic knit the deeper wounds. He turned when a figure alighted next to him.
"It's good to see you made it," Indigo said.
The Swordsman winced. "Barely. What happened to Wessel?"
Her expression darkened. "He didn't make it."
"Did you get what we need?"
Indigo nodded. "You aren't going to like it."
"Why?"
"Because it's inside the Dark," she said, and told him the coordinates.
The Swordsman sighed. Was it ever an easy kill? He'd tracked all types of targets, but never one so elusive as Alice. He clenched his fist.
"Let's go."
"Where?" Indigo said as they lifted into the air.
"Auroraq," the Swordsman said. "Robar was right. We're going to need a plane."
Chapter 17: The Master of Flesh
"Robar's asking for a plane," Iris said again.
"He still won't say what it's for?" Jack asked, distracted.
"Nope."
Jack made a motion of dismissal. "If we can spare one, give it to him. Then give me a full status report on the east coast. The western dawn is in a few minutes, and I want the east locked up tight."
Jack listened to Iris report the host of breaks and responded appropriately. Then he strode to the other side of the map. The entire eastern line could crumble at any moment, but it merely comprised half the battle. With the western dawn approaching their attention would be divided, and even small mistakes could turn into a rout.
"Notify all western generals to prepare for imminent attack," Jack said, “and send the briefing regarding what we learned from the first few hours of battle."
Iris's eyes glazed. "Perry, Branson, Nancy, Janson, and Breaker, we estimate two minutes until the western dawn—yes, I know they prefer last names, but I don't. Just make sure they read the memory I'm sending now." Her eyes focused and she turned back to Jack. "What next?"
Jack turned to her. "Have we caught the rest of the Harbingers?"
Iris flashed a faint smile. "Whoever branded them knew what they were doing. Most chose to fight, but none escaped alive."
Jack allowed a moment to consider h
er answer. It was possible Alice had done it herself in order to lull them into a false sense of security, but Jack doubted that. The sheer volume of betrayed Harbingers implied that someone else had intervened. Regardless of the reason, he had no intention of lowering his guard.
"Connect with Tess," he said. "I'd like to know her status."
As Iris worked on that, Jack turned his attention to the western front . . .
***
Breaker listened to the briefing and issued terse orders to his forces. As he did, he kept his eyes on Shorn. Placed at the rear of a flyer formation, the young man rose into the air with his team. The father in Breaker wanted to find fault with the boy, but the soldier in him found none.
Focused and determined, Shorn glided forward, ready to fight. If he was afraid he did not show it, and he stayed with his team like he'd been a battlemage for years. Breaker's forehead creased as he thought of Shorn's relationship with his daughter. The depth of her affection for him bordered on serious. But would he fight to protect Rox?
An image of an seven year old girl swimming in the ocean came to mind. In spite of sharks and storm-driven waves, Rox had laughed and cruised underwater, searching for fish and coral. She'd just had her birthday, and Breaker had taken her to see the beach for the first time. Her joy was only matched by the wailing when it came time to leave.
Breaker would have smiled at the memory, but now it served as a reminder of how strong his daughter was. His eyes flicked to Shorn again. He had proven to be respectful, but was he strong enough?
"Sir?" Lance asked, drawing his attention back to the present. "Everything okay?"
"We'll see soon enough," Breaker said, his gaze still on the formation of flyers. Then he turned to watch as the beach gradually brightened.
From his vantage point on top of the seaside cliff, Breaker had an unbroken view for miles to the north and south. Mages and auren soldiers lined the beach behind sand cast barricades, arrayed in a phalanx that protected a large gap in the cliffs. From on top of the cliffs, auren missile launchers and tanks were positioned to fire down onto the beach.
