Siege and Sacrifice (Numina)

by Charlie N. Holmberg

  Hepingya. Sandis mouthed the word. So that was what the symbols on the top of the astral sphere said. He-Ping-Ya.

  “What Kazen did to you and the others was wrong,” the Angelic continued, pressing his hands against his knees. “That is the true blasphemy.”

  Sandis turned away from him, new tears tracing the paths of the old. Her heart thudded hard as a realization struck her.

  Evil things had been done with her, but she had never been evil.

  She breathed deeply, as though a leaden cloak had fallen from her shoulders, letting her lungs expand fully for the first time. She wasn’t bad. The symbols on her back weren’t bad. Ireth wasn’t bad.

  She had only ever been special.

  She turned back to the Angelic. “Why tell me this?” She took in his deep wrinkles and off color. “You’re dying.”

  “Not in the sense you think, child,” he replied, again offering her that ghost of a smile. She didn’t think she’d ever seen the holy man truly smile before now. “I tell you because you understand, and you must know the truth before this great battle commences.”

  Sandis waited, tense.

  A long, pained sigh escaped the Angelic. “Hepingya has fought the traitor called Kolosos. And he has lost.”

  Sandis backed away until her knees hit the concrete bench. She sank onto it. “What?”

  “In the ethereal plane. The Celestial sought to protect all of us, but his strength has failed.”

  Sandis’s throat was raw. “The . . . Celestial . . . is dead?”

  But the Angelic shook his head. “He is immortal, my child. There is only one way to truly kill him.”

  Her thoughts spun back to Triumvir Var’s basement, to the men surrounding her as she chanted an ancient spell. General Istrude had held a knife, just in case.

  She licked her lips. “Then . . . he will recover.”

  The Angelic’s face grew even more ashen. “I do not know. I fear it is not so simple. Regardless”—he passed a sad glance toward High Priest Dall—“we will not.”

  “No.” Sandis stood. “We have a chance. If you just believe in us, in Rone—”

  “It is not a question of faith, my child.” He met her eyes. His were so dark they looked like coal. The candlelight from the windowsill reflected in them. They were the eyes of a man who had seen much—a determined man. But determined to do what?

  He continued, “I have been intimately familiar with the Celestial for many years. I understand his power. His fears and his desires.”

  Sandis nodded. She understood Ireth’s, too.

  “It was his fear of Kolosos that led me to seek out you and Rone.” He sucked in a slow breath, held it, and released it all at once. “I’ve felt his fear ever since. I felt it when he tried to best Kolosos in the heavens. I felt it when he fell, until I didn’t feel it anymore. Only resolve. Only acceptance.”

  Sandis brushed hair from her face. “I will not accept defeat.”

  “You misunderstand me. It is his defeat he accepts, and what must be done next. Hepingya and I are of one mind, my dear. Your battle has yet to unfold. But we will give you a chance to succeed.”

  Sandis might not have understood, had it not been for the soft choking sound to her right. She’d nearly forgotten High Priest Dall still lingered in the room. One of the few who knew the truth. Would he be the next Angelic, when Adellion Comf’s reign ended?

  It struck her then. There wouldn’t be another Angelic. There could be no vessel for a numen who no longer lived.

  Lightning crackled up her limbs. “No,” she whispered.

  The Angelic nodded. “It must be you or me, child, and the correct choice is obvious. The Celestial is weak, but he can still protect us. As can I.”

  New tears stung her eyes.

  Adellion Comf meant to make an amarinth.

  She had never been close to the Angelic, but she loved his son. And despite becoming a vessel, despite the way Kazen had used her, she’d never lost faith . . . and in a sense, she still hadn’t.

  “No,” she repeated, clutching handfuls of her skirt. “There has to be another way.”

  This time Adellion Comf offered her a full smile. It changed his face completely. Made him human, brightened his eyes and cheeks. Made him look like Rone.

  “My dear.” He reached out a hand and took Sandis’s, gently easing her fingers from the white fabric. “Sometimes we have to sacrifice what is dearest to us to save what is dearest to others. I have done it once before. I will do it again.”

  With some effort, the Angelic stood, releasing Sandis’s hand as he did so. “I want you to have it,” he said, not meeting her tear-filled gaze. “You, who comprehends its power. Who would use it for good. You, Sandis, who may understand me better than anyone else.”

  She trembled. “It will kill you.”

  “The Celestial is weak. And you will do what needs to be done before he has the opportunity to hurt my body.”

  A thousand protests rose in her throat, strangling her. I can’t do it. I’m not strong enough. What if I fail? We should talk to the triumvirate. You’re in mourning. You’re not thinking straight.

  Her gaze moved to her hands. She flexed them. Opened and closed her fingers. Remembered Bastien squeezing her ring finger and pinky in the sitting room. Sandis recalled how her hands had ached as she clutched Rist while Mahk flew through the city. The feel of Rone’s hair beneath them. The way they cut through the air as Arnae instructed her in seugrat. She remembered the weight of her rifle as she lay across a rooftop with Sherig, waiting to strike Kazen’s lair. Lowering her hands, she felt the material of Priestess Marisa’s dress.

  Her protests died, leaving her thoughts clear and her memory sharp. Her hands formed fists at her side. Strong, ready.

  Lifting her head, she whispered, “I’ll save them.”

  A familiar warmth burned in her skull. Closing her eyes, she prayed, Ireth, help me. Give me the opening I need. Don’t let me waste this chance.

  The Angelic nodded, seeming at peace. “Azul?”

  The morose priest pulled from his robes several golden coils. “It’s ready, as you requested.”

  Sandis’s pulse danced. Was this really happening?

  The Angelic turned toward her, again taking up her hand. This time, he clasped it between both of his own. His hands were warm, but his fingertips felt ice cold. “I want you to be the one to do it.”

  Her ears buzzed. “Take . . . your heart?” Her throat closed around the question.

  “It should be bloodless, as our dear scholar guessed. Azul will be here to help you.” He leaned in close, holding her gaze. “Sandis, you asked me to trust you, and I do. Will you not also trust me, in my last moments?”

  A painful lump in her throat swelled so large she couldn’t swallow it. She nodded.

  “Then we have no time to waste.” He motioned to High Priest Dall, who walked over and stood just behind Sandis.

  “Heaven be with you always,” the high priest murmured.

  “Heaven be with you always,” the Angelic repeated with a sad smile. He pressed his right hand to his forehead and closed his eyes. Two heartbeats later, he opened them, focusing on Sandis.

  “Tell my son I love him.”

  Sandis nodded, and the Angelic recited the chant.

  Bright-white light filled the church.

  Chapter 28

  Rone.

  Rone glanced up from the crystal ground beneath him. He knelt on a single knee, fingertips brushing the cool glass that reflected Ireth’s fiery mane and tail, his white halo.

  “Is there not enough time?” Reaching into the mortal plane made him fuzzy. He didn’t want to be fuzzy when Kolosos struck.

  Ireth shook his dark head. Something is wrong.

  “What?”

  His tail swished. Something has changed. The atmosphere is different. Wrong. His dark eyes locked on Rone’s. Is your strength adequate? We must hurry to the epicenter. I believe that is where Kolosos will be.

 
Rone stood. He felt . . . all right. He was hungry, but rest had done him some good. “I’ll survive. The epicenter? Of the columns?”

  Ireth nodded. That is where the planes will first merge. Where Kaj will be. Where we will strike.

  Rone turned from the fire horse and looked out over their small, obscure army. It had grown again. If he counted each numen as five men, they had a decent retinue.

  I cannot carry you.

  Like he’d forgotten. “I can run.”

  And he did.

  Sandis held a god in her hands.

  She cradled it in her palms, the brilliance of its shining center sending sparkles of light across her skin. It reflected off her tears, no matter how many times she blinked her eyes.

  High Priest Dall knelt before her. They stood just outside the room where it had happened. Where the Angelic lay lifeless, without a heart. Sandis closed her hands over the amarinth, hiding its brilliance. She thought she could feel a pulse between its golden loops.

  “My child.” The priest cupped his larger hands over hers. His eyes glimmered with sadness, but hope limned them, giving her strength. “Time waits for none, even God. I beg you with all that I am: don’t let this sacrifice be wasted.”

  Sandis nodded, a final tear splashing off her cheek. “I promise.”

  High Priest Dall pinched his lips together and stood, moving aside to reveal her path. Sandis took the stairs down slowly. She needed to hurry, but her bones . . . they couldn’t. An awed reverence had worked its way into them, her blood, her muscles.

  Cleric Liddell and Priestess Marisa waited at the bottom of the stairs. Cleric Liddell opened his mouth to speak, but after seeing Sandis’s face, he didn’t. Sandis wondered what her countenance looked like.

  Sandis pushed past them, clenching her fingers to hide the power clasped between them. She pushed toward the front of the church, out the door, and into the night.

  Cool air whisked by, carrying the promise of autumn.

  From the church, Sandis could see much of the city; the ground here was higher than farther west. She couldn’t make out the Innerchord, but she knew how to reach it without Oz.

  She’d promised to save them.

  Dots of black moved against the city streets that had once glowed with lamplight. The evacuation? From here they were all shadows, merging together. Shadows that feared the monster lurking in a plane so intimately connected with theirs.

  It was no wonder they hated her. Feared her. If the occult had been snuffed out years ago, Kolosos would not be here. He’d be trapped in that ethereal place alongside the other Noscons. Alongside Ireth, who must so desperately want freedom. Just as Sandis did.

  Squeezing the amarinth, Sandis prayed. I need your help, Ireth. I promised to save them. Save them, and you, too.

  And she would, or die trying.

  She wasn’t afraid anymore.

  Slipping the amarinth into her pocket, Sandis undid the button holding together the collar of her dress and rent the garment down the back.

  Elfri folded her arms across her chest as her men passed firearms down a line, arming Riggers and citizens alike. Elfri had promised the citizens that the act of bravery would earn them protection after the war, presuming they survived. The rest of the beleaguered city folk had joined the ongoing evacuation, which was crowded and slow, since only one exit had been cleared through the rubble that was once Dresberg’s great wall. But at least Elfri needn’t oversee it anymore. She just didn’t have enough of her to manage it.

  “Go!” she barked when a boy no older than sixteen ogled his newly received gun, lifted from Helderschmidt’s firearm factory. The place was weakly guarded; it had been easy to infiltrate. The boy snapped to attention and ran with the others toward the center of the city, where Kolosos’s red light burned. This would be the quickest battle of their lifetime—roughly half an hour for them to stop the monster.

  Pete and Rufus galloped up, the former towing Elfri’s mare behind him. He left the reins hanging for her. She grabbed them but didn’t mount. Not yet. She’d see all her people off first. It might be the last she ever laid eyes on them.

  She didn’t like their odds, but if Sandis believed there was a chance, it was either take it or admit defeat. And a Rigger never cried defeat.

  Admittedly, Arnae Kurtz had helped bring Elfri around to the idea. He approached her now, a gun strapped to his back. He preferred to use his hands, but every man needed to be armed. The bullets did nothing to the monster, but they’d take down its servants just fine—servants so enslaved to Kolosos’s will they’d die for it.

  “Move!” she shouted as the remaining men got their guns. “Go!” She followed the last one, but Kurtz stopped her with a hand clasped on her shoulder. They almost saw eye to eye; Elfri was just a hair taller.

  “See you on the other side, my friend.”

  Elfri snorted. “I don’t plan to die tonight.” But there was no way to avoid watching the death. How many men would she lose? Oh, for Celestial’s sake, don’t cry.

  Kurtz smiled and dropped his hand. “Then we’ll reunite tomorrow.”

  Tilting her head to one side, Elfri said, “You don’t strike me as a man interested in the mob.”

  “Not in the mob, no.”

  Elfri blinked once, smirked, and pulled her rifle from the sling on her back. “Get moving, or we’ll miss our chance.” She didn’t clarify what she meant. She swung up into her mount’s saddle and, with a jerk of her head, ordered Pete and Rufus to follow her into the fray.

  Celestial speed that they survived the hour.

  Sandis walked toward the center of Dresberg.

  She couldn’t run. There were too many people for that. Sprinting, riding, crawling through the dark. Packs on their backs. Animals on leashes. Lamps swinging in their hurry, casting dancing light across abandoned buildings. The breeze swept across her exposed back, but it didn’t raise gooseflesh or invite shivers. It warmed her.

  Sandis’s gaze floated over them, as though it could peer through the flats and factories that surrounded them. As though she could see all the way into the charcoal heart of the city. The Innerchord. She clung to that destination like ice to an eave. She felt every dip in the cobblestones under her worn shoes. Smelled sweat and kerosene on the breeze. It tousled her hair, her skirt.

  The amarinth sat heavy in her pocket and yet weighed nothing. Its concealed light burned like a hot poker against her leg. She felt it like the promise it was.

  “Hey, stop!” someone called to her. A man about her age. He slowed, only to be knocked forward by another evacuee behind him. Stumbling past her shoulder, he said, “You’re going the wrong—”

  And then his voice cut off completely. Sandis knew why. She paused and turned toward him, not to hide her exposed script from his eyes, but to meet his stare head-on. To look into his dark gaze, so much like her own.

  His gaze moved sluggishly from her back to her face, disbelief widening his features.

  Yes, I’m one of them, she thought, the words cocooning her in a loose blanket. I’m one of them. And I am not afraid.

  “Hurry,” she whispered. The sounds of footsteps, murmurs, and wagon wheels nearly swallowed her voice. Someone else bumped into the man’s shoulders. Oddly, no one collided into Sandis.

  Eyes still round, the man nodded once, then vanished into the crowd.

  It felt like a dream.

  Rone ran over a world made of glass, one brick in a wall of monsters charging over the stars. Their presence gave him energy, focus. His legs pumped beside Ireth’s and Grendoni’s. Iihedoh flitted almost directly overhead, as though protecting him from threats from above. He could hear Drang’s hot breath as the wolfish creature panted. Mahk’s song floated nearby, reserved and reassuring.

  We are nearly there.

  Rone looked up, barely registering the change in terrain in time to jump as the ground dropped down. He blinked, and the monster was there, his red light reflecting off the hardness of the plane. His back was to t
hem—or that’s what it looked like. Rone was still too far to—

  The light narrowed and brightened into a crimson pillar, and Kolosos vanished.

  He has descended! Ireth called. Surround the epicenter!

  The numina growled, sang, roared, chirped. Surged forward with renewed vigor to the place their captor had just stood.

  Rone, stop.

  Rone nearly kicked himself in the ankle at the command. He stopped, chest already heaving from the exercise as he turned toward the silvery beast beside him.

  “What’s wrong?”

  Ireth tilted his head, as though listening to something. She will need me soon.

  “You can fight until she does.”

  Ireth nodded. But I want you to watch, Rone. I want you to be our eyes, to see what Kolosos does in the mortal realm. You will need to stay close to me.

  Rone nodded, trying to ignore the cold fingers of fear walking up his ribs. He pushed questions and doubts out of his mind. If he just focused, just did what Ireth said—

  Come. Ireth galloped forward, nearing the circle the other numina had formed around the epicenter—a place they’d somehow recognized despite the fact that it looked no different from the rest of the ethereal plane.

  Ireth’s back right hoof circled the glass. The image of a starry sky swirled and parted, revealing a half-molten monster descending upon Rone’s homeland.

  “Sometimes,” the Angelic’s voice curled in Sandis’s memory, “we have to sacrifice what is dearest to us to save what is dearest to others.”

  A tear escaped her eye as she marched forward. The heavy truth bore down on her heart like a hundred grappling hands.

  It had to end this way, didn’t it? And she’d known. She’d always known.

  To save the others, friends and strangers alike, she had to sacrifice Anon.

  When she’d found him in that building, she’d been struck by the fear in his eyes, the gauntness of his body—death would be well met. She didn’t know her brother as a man, only as the twelve-year-old boy who had gone missing mere days before her own capture. Where had he been? She would never know.