Apostate: Forbidden Things

by Nikki Mccormack

  “A few more solid hits like that and the wall will come down. Do you have a group you can put to work behind the inner wall so this group can move back?”

  Ian glanced back at the adepts. The struggle they were putting up was plain in their pained expressions. The young creator sighed as though the fate of the world rested in his hands. Too much responsibility for one so young, even someone as strong as Ian. Turning away from the adepts, his eyes swept back past them and came to rest on the Grey Army, nearly invisible again in the fallen dark.

  “I have a group that can manage long enough,” he answered.

  Yiloch nodded. “You’ve done well, Ian,” he said, trying to counter the defeat in the creator’s voice. In these dismal circumstances, the fact that the other man even put out the effort to be supportive made Adran love him that much more.

  Ian ducked his head in an evasive semblance of a nod and turned away. “I’ll get the others going so we can retreat.”

  Theron cleared his throat as Ian walked away and they turned to him.

  “I have a few adepts on the warship that might be able to add their strength. They have the right skills in their repertoires.”

  “Will they work with our adepts?” Adran asked.

  Theron met his gaze, recognizing the issue. His eyes were full of steely determination that Adran had to work not to flinch away from. It must be worry for Indigo that drove him to offer up his own resources to their cause. Strange how she managed to bring help to them, even when she was miles away. Jealous as he might be of Yiloch’s love for her, he had to admit that it had proven beneficial at times.

  “They will if I tell them too,” Theron replied.

  “Captain Leryc,” Yiloch called to the young captain just down the wall.

  Leryc hurried over, his eagerness to serve Yiloch written plainly over his fine features. His gaze caught Adran’s for a few seconds, a sad smile touching upon his lips before he focused on their leader. “What can I do, my lord?”

  “Leryc, I need you to tell Hax to sound the retreat to the inner wall. Then gather an escort to take Lord Theron down to his ship and back.”

  “Yes, my lord.” He gave a quick nod and turned to Theron. “Lord Theron, if you would come with me.”

  As Theron and Leryc started down the stairs, the wall trembled again. Loud cracking rent the air and dust billowed as stone ground together. Adran caught himself on the parapet and took hold of Yiloch’s upper arm with his other hand to help balance him. Both Theron and Leryc were knocked off their feet, but managed to catch themselves before toppling down the stairs. When the dust cleared, the two men were already on their feet again. They both glanced up at Yiloch, perhaps to reassure themselves that he too was still standing, before resuming their hasty descent.

  “Perhaps we should also head down,” Adran suggested, releasing his hold on Yiloch’s arm.

  Yiloch turned and stared out over the night-shrouded fields beyond the wall. Behind them, the retreat sounded. Adran balled his hands into fists, hating the sound, hating the meaning behind that sound. Yiloch turned away from the field and stared down at his retreating troops, a small force still waiting below to escort him in. In a motion so fluid and silent it was almost dreamlike, Yiloch drew his sword, spun and swept it down. The created blade, backed by his ascard-enhanced speed and strength, cut into the pale stone and a large corner of one merlon dropped to the ground with a solid thud.

  Whether he meant to take the first piece of the wall himself or the action was simply an outlet for his anger was unclear. Adran wasn’t about to ask. He longed to help in some way. To save the city they both loved and ease the fury and anguish in Yiloch. Right now, it was ascard power that dominated the battlefield and that put it well outside of his expertise. Every soldier in the army probably shared his frustration at this point. Knowing that didn’t make it any easier to deal with. Unless the adepts and creators back at the palace working to find a weakness in the barriers came up with something, the best they could do was try and get out of this with their lives.

  Yiloch’s ascard users were trying. Ian had been checking back with them all through the day and into the night to see if any of their ideas or discoveries would prove useful. So far, none had. The young creator was also working on the problem at all times, the glazed eyes and furrowed brow attesting to the fact that he was wielding ascard in some way every free moment. If only he could find an answer, anything at all to get them out of this hopeless position.

  A hand rested on his shoulder and he met Yiloch’s eyes. So much misery in those beautiful eyes. Adran had to fight a sudden painful tightening in his chest. There was nothing he wouldn’t give to see Yiloch succeed, he’d proven that in the past, but this situation left him helpless.

  Yiloch’s expression changed, a gentle smile touching his lips and eyes for a moment. “Come, my friend, it’s time to go.”

  Adran nodded and they headed down the wall.

  Back inside the inner wall, they handed off their mounts and found Ian standing in the middle of the vast, crowded courtyard. He and the young woman next to him were both staring at nothing, their faces masks of deep concentration. They stood close enough that their shoulders touched. Hundreds of soldiers moved around them. Aware of the importance of their work, everyone left the two a buffer of several feet of open space so as not to disturb them. They all understood that their fate, the fate of all Lyra, was in the hands of ascard users at this point.

  Adran followed Yiloch over to stand before the two and they waited, the soldiers widening their berth and offering respectful nods to their emperor as they passed. They were arranging in ranks and units as much as possible in the limited space. Their expressions were bleak, but determined. If the enemy protections came down, they would be ready to attack. Archers lined the walls, waiting for the sound that would signal them to let their arrows fly, hoping against the odds that it would still come. That determination filled Adran with a sense of pride, though hope evaded him. Glancing at Yiloch, he saw the emperor also scanning over the troops and the activity on the walls, his lips pressed in a grim line.

  “They are strong and brave,” he muttered. “I hate to let them down.”

  “I believe they feel the same way about you.”

  The two adepts before them animated suddenly, eyes regaining focus as they shifted a few steps apart. Ian seemed unsurprised to see them, though the woman’s eyes widened and she inclined her head in a hasty show of deference, making the tiniest dip with her knees as though tempted to curtsy, but unsure if it was appropriate.

  “My lords,” she breathed.

  With the faintest of nods to acknowledge the woman, Yiloch rested his intense gaze on Ian. “Any progress?”

  Ian frowned, gazing at the woman for a long moment with a certain thoughtfulness in his regard. “Terea said she noticed a small change in the barrier, but there isn’t anything now.” The woman gave him a sharp look and he amended. “All I can sense is that the barrier seems a touch stronger. Perhaps they pulled another few adepts into the link.”

  Yiloch considered the woman for a moment and she held her head up as if trying to appear confident in defense of her observations, but her entire form leaned a touch back from him.

  “What are your primary ascard skills?”

  “I…,” she trailed off, something in Yiloch’s gaze making her glance away. She focused on Adran as though finding comfort there and he noticed that she had pale amber eyes that reminded him of Eris. “Masking mostly and some illusion.”

  “You’re a creator?”

  She nodded, her gaze still locked on Adran as she shuffled her feet back a fraction. Eris, with a wild smile and mischief flashing in her amber eyes appeared in his mind. He wished the woman would look away.

  “Keep investigating, Creator Terea.” Yiloch’s tone was gentle now, suggesting that he had noticed the effect he had on her. “See if you can find the source of this added power.”

  Finally, she looked at Yiloch, her eyes
not quite meeting his. “The masking on the new power is very thorough. I can no longer separate it out from what was already there. I’m sorry.”

  A flicker of a smile, laced with bitter hope, touched Yiloch’s lips, the faintest upward turn at the sides of his mouth.

  Following his thoughts, Adran asked, “You say it was masked?”

  She looked at him again and he had to struggle not to turn away. “Yes, very well. I’ve never seen such superb masking.”

  “I’m changing my orders,” Yiloch declared. “Don’t touch the new power. Don’t even acknowledge it. If you do, we may all regret it.” Her eyes widened and she shuffled back another inch. “Keep searching for anything else, some weakness in the barrier. You’ve done well.”

  “Yes, your highness.” She glanced at Ian who nodded once. Without another word, she bowed her head to them each and hurried away.

  “Ian, why would they mask any power going into their barrier? Have they masked anything else that you’ve found?”

  “I can’t think of a reason and Terea would have noticed it if they had. She’s very good. The guiding adept has done everything very openly, almost to the point of boasting.” Ian’s expression brightened the tiniest bit. “You don’t think?”

  “It seems like a remote chance, but we haven’t got many options left. If there is any chance at all that she’s out there trying to do something, we don’t want to be poking around drawing attention to her.”

  “Agreed. I’ll see to it. I’m going to go check on the adepts up on the wall.”

  Yiloch nodded. “We’ll come with you.”

  A group of riders charged in through the partially closed gate as they prepared to climb the stairs up onto the inner wall, Theron and Leryc among them, which meant that the three other Caithin men were the adepts. They waited at the base of the wall as the five riders approached and dismounted.

  “Good work Leryc,” Yiloch acknowledged. The young captain gave a tight smile and inclined his head. “Go tell Hax to make sure everyone is ready to move if we get a chance to fight.”

  “Yes, my lord.” He glanced once at Adran, his gaze overflowing with longing. Given the uncertainty of their future, Adran shared his yearning. If only they could afford a moment to be together, but this wasn’t going to be that moment.

  Leryc trotted away and Yiloch turned to Lord Theron and his men, all of whom bowed.

  “Emperor Yiloch, this is Adept—”

  Theron broke off. A cry of pain drew their attention to the adepts on the wall as one slumped over, rendered unconscious with the efforts of his exertions. Yiloch took the stairs two at a time with Adran and Ian following on his heels. Before they reached the top, a loud rumble shook the ground and dust billowed out in a massive cloud at the far edge of the city as the front section of the outer wall collapsed. Ian sprinted to the slumped adept, then turned and motioned to Theron. The emissary went over taking his adepts with him and the group fell into intense discussion.

  Adran stood beside Yiloch, staring out at the cloud of white dust beyond the city that glowed in the moonlight like a ghost of the wall. As the dust began to settle, they could see Grey warriors already moving in to clear the debris and make an easy path into the city. They were now at their last line of defense. The Grey Army would be in the city soon and they were running out of adepts who could block their attacks. One way or another, the waiting was almost over.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  One after another, Indigo created links to each foreign adept, her physical body fading from her awareness as she moved along weaving an increasingly complex web of destruction through the Grey Army’s ascard users. She was the barrier now, indistinguishable from the creation the adepts had made, and she was the web along which the power of that creation would blast back upon them when it was destroyed. When the links were finally all in place, she did a second pass through them and discovered, with a pang of disappointment, that the warlord had no connection to the lead adept and therefore wouldn’t suffer with the others. Someone else would have to deal with him when she finished. Even if she survived, she wouldn’t have the strength.

  She moved her presence to the peak of the invisible barrier and drew on more ascard, pulling in as much as she could handle. When she had collected everything she could, she realized with a cold despair that it wasn’t going to be enough. The creation of the web and the ascard she had been using to mask all of her activity drained her to the point that the power needed to bring down the barrier was now out of her reach. A scream rose in her throat, but the distance between physical body and awareness was enough to make the reaction dissipate.

  Focus.

  All she needed was access to another inner aspect. Someone else’s strength that could help gather and hold all the ascard she needed for this to work. It seemed like such a simple problem. Power was all around her, with the hundreds of adepts in the web, but if she tried to force control of someone’s inner aspect, they might resist and the lead adept was certain to feel the change. The only answer was to draw on someone outside of the army, but it would require a good supply of energy to make the reach into the city and mask it along the way. There was no one there, not even Ian, with the strength necessary to make up the difference. To make it work she needed someone within the army to willingly link with her along the connections she’d already created. If they worked together, they might be able to break the lead adepts binding and bring down the barrier before he could react.

  Seeking out the proper thread, she moved cautiously back into Myac. Someone else controlling his power had to be driving him mad and he was no fool. He had to know that the death of the lead adept would free him. If only he would let her show him what she meant to do. The only real drawback was that, if she linked with him in that way, she would have to protect him from the backlash as well or suffer it through their link.

  She touched upon Myac’s inner aspect, careful to avoid the binding of the foreign adept. She allowed him to feel her presence, knowing he would recognize her power after all the encounters they’d shared. There was a ripple of tension through him that she hoped the strange adept wouldn’t notice or would perhaps dismiss as a reaction to the assault on Yiroth. Pulling back a fraction, she remained still for a moment, when there was no change in the flow of the insidious ascard, she touched on Myac again.

  Would he even figure out what she wanted? His own connection to his power was reduced to a whisper. Still, if he let her connect through that, she was sure she could use that connection to free him from the other adept and take advantage of his considerable power to help destroy the barrier before the man could do anything. If Myac fought her, however, the other adept was going to notice and everything could be lost.

  First, she broke the link she’d created that tied him into the web. Then, tugging at that whisper of ascard that was still his, she drew him with her, letting him ride on her power so she could show him the web she had woven. He would have to translate what it all meant. The slow process of moving his restricted power picked at her patience. She yearned to move into her physical body and open her eyes to see how much time had passed, but she was too far removed and deeply enmeshed in the barrier to risk such a maneuver now.

  Finally finishing the tour of her web, she moved them both back into his inner aspect and released him. She waited for a short time. When he didn’t react in any way, she tugged at the thread of ascard again to try to prompt a response.

  Myac! It must be now.

  She tried to impart the urgency through the touch of her power. If he thought it over for too long, someone might notice the spider’s web of destruction she had woven into the barrier. It would take very little to destroy the web that she had spent hours creating.

  That small bit of power he still controlled embraced her with sudden desperation and he opened his inner aspect to her power. Without hesitation, she wove her ascard into him, meshing their power into one force. Then she took hold and pulled on his inner aspect, ripping it fro
m the other adept’s grasp. Power akin in strength to her own flowed into her, the ascard signature of Myac blending perfectly with her own. So much glorious power.

  Struggling not to be swept away by the intoxication of so much power, she used it to draw in more ascard from outside the barrier. The ascard that coursed through her now numbed her physical senses, bringing with it a feeling of elation and invincibility. Somewhere in the trees, her lips curved in a euphoric smile.

  The moment was now.

  Surging all of that ascard power up into the barrier, she blasted it apart. The ascard in the barrier itself and the ascard she had used to destroy it all surged through the web. For mere seconds, she let herself feel the backlash sweeping out, then she broke away, taking Myac with her. With the last little flicker of strength, she unwove herself from Myac and fell away, plummeting back into her physical body and continuing a spiral down into darkness.

  •

  Yiloch could see the group of adepts now blocking the attacks in the faint light of predawn. Dark circles formed under their eyes and the Caithin men were becoming almost as pale as their Lyran counterparts in their fatigue. Most members of the group were strong adepts with a good mastery of the necessary skills, but a distinct racial tension added stress to the blend. Even with that, they had managed to hold off the assault for over three hours. There were no more among their ranks with the skills necessary to block the enemy attacks. Those who had defended the previous day weren’t recovered enough to pull off a long stretch of blocking and the wall wouldn’t hold up to the army’s unblocked attacks for long. This was their last stretch of defense for the wall and they still had no better plan. Whatever Terea had sensed before, nothing had come of it. The brief hope was gone and now rage and frustration pulsed through him like a poison.