He was about to turn toward the ranch so he could take off his stupid, girly skates when a column of air next to him began to shimmer. For a tense moment, Milo thought he’d encountered a heat vortex spell. They were rare but deadly, and hot enough to melt a person’s flesh right off his bones.
Instead, Lily Breezewater rippled into view. She skated forward as if everything was perfectly normal—as if she hadn’t just stepped out of an invisibility spell, which was a Tier Four spell, among the most difficult to maintain for more than a few seconds.
“You have to stop doing that,” Milo said.
He stopped when he saw the look on her face. It was the sort of awestruck look a girl might give a boy upon finding out that he was actually a prince.
“I don’t believe it,” she said. “The rumors are true. You cast a fireball spell.”
Milo tried acting like it was no big deal. “You didn’t hear about that?”
She nodded, blinking her pretty green eyes. “But I didn’t believe it. I thought maybe—I don’t know, that maybe Kovax had cast the spell and you had simply reflected it, or that maybe that magician stalking the ranch—wait, no, that’s not right, only a sorcerer could—oh, wow, that means you really are a sorcerer. At such an early age—Milo, you don’t know how exciting that is. I’m so jealous. I mean, magicians can cast some interesting spells, but”—she brought her fists up to her chest and shook them—“when it comes to raw, luminether-fueled magical power, sorcery is the real deal. Oh, you have to show me a spell. Can you light a fire in your palm? Can you form a ball of ice out of the surrounding moisture? Show me, pleeeaaase!”
Milo’s mouth had gone dry. How could he possibly tell her the truth—that he didn’t know any spells whatsoever? He might have learned a thing or two about levitation, but lifting small objects was a Tier Two spell, nothing even close to what Lily knew how to do.
“What’s the matter?” she said.
He was rubbing the back of his head and frowning. Stupid, stupid habit.
“It’s just that—well…”
“You don’t know any spells?”
He looked away and shook his head.
Lily didn’t seem to care. She skated forward, close enough that Milo could have reached out and put a hand on her shoulder. Her eyes opened wide, and he could see the green-flecked brown of her corneas, like early spring grass. It was a little awkward, being this close to her, since she was a couple of inches taller than he was.
“Do you want me to show you a spell?” Lily said. “It’s a really easy one.”
Milo’s heart did a somersault. “Sure, yeah.”
“Give me your hands. Without the gloves.”
He pulled off his gloves and let them fall to the ice. Then he lifted his hands until they were between his chest and hers, and it was strange how warm her skin felt when she took his hands into her own.
Lily bowed her head and closed her eyes. “Concentrate on the lines of your palms, and repeat after me.”
“Okay,” he said. Then, for some reason, he added: “Lily.”
“Great,” she said. Tightening her grip on his hands but leaving them open so Milo could see his palms, she began to chant. “Oh, elegant strings that tremble in time…”
He repeated, “Oh, elegant strings that tremble in time…”
“Creating this fabric so bright and sublime…”
When he repeated the second line, the skin of his palms warmed the slightest bit.
Lily continued. “Dance to the song of my spiritual might…and give me the power to bear this bright light.”
Nothing.
“Again,” she said. “Again.”
Together this time, they chanted.
“Oh, elegant strings that tremble in time, creating this fabric so bright and sublime, dance to the song of my spiritual might, and give me the power to bear this bright light.”
Milo’s palms burst into radiant white light. Glowing cracks had opened on his skin, and yet he felt no pain, only a pleasant tingling sensation. This was what it felt like to hold pure light in his hands.
Lily let go, and Milo saw that her palms had also filled with light. As he watched, the light spread over her skin and then his, covering their hands like glowing white paint.
“It’s like a flashlight,” Lily said. “Your hands, I mean.”
She squinted down at the light, and Milo could sense her mind working. The light gathered into a single white marble at the tip of her index finger. She traced a word in the air. The light remained, forming letters.
MILO, she wrote.
He did the same and wrote LILY.
“That poem,” Milo said as he watched the letters fade like moisture lifting off glass, “did you write it?”
She joined her hands behind her back and grinned. “Uh-huh.”
“It’s nice,” he said. “Perfect.”
Lily bit her lower lip. Her eyebrows rose in the middle, and Milo could see alarm growing in her eyes. Had he scared her? Was it something he’d said?
“What’s the matter?”
“I can’t,” she said.
“Can’t what?”
Her lower lip trembled. “It’s not you, Milo. It’s just that, where we’re going, we might not…”
“It’s okay,” he said, reaching for her hand to comfort her, because that was the right thing to do—right?
She twisted away from him. “No, it’s not.”
With that, she turned and sped away across the ice, leaving Milo speechless. The light in his hands began to fade. He recited the poem once more in his mind…
(“Oh, elegant strings that tremble in time, creating this fabric so bright and sublime, dance to the song of my spiritual might, and give me the power to bear this bright light.”)
…and was disappointed to see the light intensify for only a single moment before disappearing.
Someone was watching him.
He sensed it the way one senses an oncoming migraine. It began as a dull throb all over and intensified until all four of his limbs felt cold and loose. There had to be some sort of magic at work, and it wasn’t one of Lily’s tricks. Whoever it was, this person wanted Milo to know he was being watched.
When the beacon crystal began to grow hot in his pocket, he knew something wasn’t right.
He looked to his left, where the forest spread out toward the mountains. One look was all it took to confirm his fears—a man in dark clothing was watching him from the trees, and the man had black holes instead of eyes.
A voice spoke in his mind, and Milo listened. It sounded familiar, like his father’s voice.
He followed it across the pond and into the darkening forest.
CHAPTER 51
A lexandra awoke in a mess of sheets to the terrifying sight of five colored orbs hovering above her face. Resembling giant Halloween eyeballs from a joke shop, they washed her with their mechanical glare. Sometimes she would wake to find them eyeing her body, trying to catch a glimpse of her in a vulnerable state. She had tried to swat one away once. The shock had left her fingers tingling for days.
The dream slipped from memory and she could only lie there, on top of her broken wings, blinking at the orbs with a layer of cold sweat drying on her face. The drug they used to keep her healing abilities at bay left her feeling drowsy most of the time. She’d been sleeping a lot these days.
The food they gave her was nutritious but bland. Bread and oats in the morning, along with a few slices of fruit, then a sandwich and soup for lunch, accompanied by a tall glass of sour beetling juice meant to keep her skin and hair lustrous. Sometimes they gave her habbardon meat for dinner, but not often—a good thing, since habbardons were muscular beasts and their meat was stringy and tough. It was a whole lot better than what they had been feeding her in the tower, though. Iolus had sent orders to keep her healthy. He wanted her to be plump, even said he was going to roast her alive and eat her when he got back. It was a thought she tried to forget.
On this partic
ular morning, at exactly 6:30, a guard named Jeffrey came in with her breakfast tray. He was accompanied by two other guards, who stood by the door as usual, holding heavy crossbows loaded with energized steel bolts. Jeffrey was the only one she knew by name, because he was the friendliest.
“G’morning, my lady,” he said, looking her up and down, more to inspect her health than to admire her body. The man’s hair fell in chestnut curls around his pink face. He resembled a little boy, and he was in love with her.
His greeting brought chuckles from the other two guards.
“My layyyy-dee,” one of the guards said, prancing about in a little dance and flapping his hands.
The words angered Alexandra so much that she felt a sensation of prickly warmth wash over her face. She was not an impulsive woman, but today had to be the day—she had to act now.
“Jeffrey,” she said. “How are you, my love?”
Jeffrey’s mouth opened in shock. The guard by the door, the one who had done the little dance, frowned and said, “Hey, wait a minute…”
Then Alexandra was kissing Jeffrey and wrapping her arms around his neck. He put up no resistance. The tray fell to the floor with a clatter, and oatmeal splashed warm against her bare feet. Jeffrey put his arms around her waist and kissed her back. She could feel his body melting against her own. This was what he had been dreaming about for months now; his greatest fantasy. She could tell these things about men.
The guards by the door cursed and entered the room. The one who had mocked Jeffrey put his hands around Jeffrey’s shoulders and tried to pull him back. The other grabbed Alexandra’s folded-back wings and pulled.
Alexandra’s mind raced. She spun and threw the palm of her right hand into the guard’s face, smashing the bridge of his nose. He bent over and snorted out blood. The security orbs began to flash and wail in alarm. Jeffrey let out a grunt as the other guard grabbed him by the hair. In a flash, Alexandra kicked Jeffrey’s attacker in the groin, and when he doubled over, grunting and squeezing his eyes shut, she went ahead and plucked the crossbow out of his hands and pointed it at him.
“You bitch,” the guard said, clutching himself between his legs and baring his teeth. His cheeks and forehead had turned a light shade of red.
She shot him in the shoulder with the crossbow, sending him backward with a dog-like yelp.
The guard with the bleeding nose tackled Alexandra and knocked her on top of her wings. She struggled to break free, thinking the whole time of her husband, of Max, who might still be watching from a distant realm, where demigods went after death. She had never believed in an afterlife, but it comforted her—no, it gave her strength—to imagine Max standing over them, watching her battle these weak men.
She managed to draw her knee up against the man’s abdomen and roll him over. Then she slapped and scratched at his face. He yanked her hair. She bit his hand and kneed him in the groin. Jeffrey used the butt end of the crossbow to strike the guard’s head and knock him out.
“Bastard!” Alexandra said, punching and slapping the man. “You godless bastard!”
Rough hands grabbed her shoulders. She spun around, ready to strike but stopped when she saw Jeffrey’s pleading eyes.
“I’m dead anyway,” he said. “Follow me. I’ll get you out of here.”
An overhead alarm shrieked inside and outside the room.
“I’ll take you with me,” Alexandra said. “My people will keep you safe.”
Jeffrey forced a smile. His face was pale and sweaty. Alexandra grabbed a crossbow and tossed it at him. She picked up the other one. Together they ran out of the room.
She peeked into the corridor, checking her left first, then right.
No guards—not yet, anyway.
“We need a window,” she said.
Jeffrey was at her side a moment later. His face was white with fear.
“We’re too high up. And your wings.”
“I can’t fly,” she said, “but I can break the fall. Trust me, Jeffrey.”
“Okay, m’lady.” He nodded, pointing with his chin to the corridor down the right. “Here.”
She followed, the crossbow heavy in her hands. It had been decades since she had held one. She could hear the clatter of footsteps as more soldiers rushed down the halls. There were no windows in this corridor. The door at the end of the next one over suggested some sort of advanced security measure, probably imported from the high-tech city of Theus.
Jeffrey produced a small, glowing keycard. “I got this off the head guard.”
“You’re wonderful.”
They ran the length of the corridor. Jeffrey was the first to reach the door, a big, heavy-looking block of steel. It would have taken more than a few Sargonauts to smash it open.
It didn’t matter—they had the key.
Jeffrey slipped the card into a slot with a glowing red light above it. The light turned green and Alexandra almost wept with joy. The door beeped and slid up into the ceiling, revealing another corridor up ahead, again without windows. Red lamps had come on overhead, washing the walls with the color of blood. The alarm wailed.
“Down here,” Jeffrey shouted.
Side-by-side, holding the crossbows up by their chests, they ran to the end of the corridor and turned the corner. She hadn’t heard the footsteps because of the alarm.
The men stared at her through slitted eyes, their teeth bared, four of the gruffest, meanest-looking guards she’d ever seen. They ran, boots pounding against the floor.
Jeffrey fired his crossbow. One of the guards, painted red by the warning lights, fell back as the bolt struck his leather armor. The energy that poured out of it made his eyelids flutter and his body twitch.
Alexandra fired her crossbow at another guard before the first even hit the ground. The bolt zipped across the corridor, a tiny red flash that took him down instantly. The two remaining guards lifted their crossbows and aimed. Jeffrey sidestepped in front of Alexandra.
“No!” she shouted, pushing him away. The force of the push sent her into the opposite wall. The bolts flew between them, missing them both by inches.
Without planning it, Alexandra rushed forward and tackled one of the guards. Jeffrey did the same with the other. A wrestling match ensued.
She had killed men before. They had been her enemies, of course, and it had always been on the battlefield. But this time, she faced a reality she had never before encountered—a fierce, face-to-face grappling that seemed more real than anything from her past. She could smell the man’s sweat and feel his hot breath on her face and see the bits of food stuck between his teeth. She wanted to scream and cower in fear but managed somehow to hold her ground.
The guards were Humankin. If they had been Sargonauts or Feralkin, she would already have been dead. She managed to get the guard she was fighting down on his stomach. She put her arm around his throat and strangled him until he lost consciousness. It seemed to take forever, and she was worried about Jeffrey. He was behind her, where she couldn’t see him, but she could hear him grunting in pain.
As soon as the guard was out cold, she rolled off and got up. The other guard had rolled Jeffrey onto his back and was punching his face, leaving it bloody. The alarm wailed, screaming at her to move fast.
She pulled the guard off Jeffrey, and together they beat the man until he was no longer responsive. Alexandra didn’t hear the snap as her left hand broke against the man’s head, though she felt the shiver of pain run up her arm. She cried out and squeezed her eyes shut.
Jeffrey reloaded two crossbows and pulled her up. He pushed a crossbow into her good hand and together they half-ran, half-stumbled down the corridor until they reached a sort of lobby where two guards stood watch. Alexandra fired her crossbow and took one guard in the throat. Jeffrey fired his crossbow and missed.
“Duck!” Alexandra shouted.
The rest happened in slow motion, or so it seemed to her. The man lifted his crossbow and fired at Jeffrey. Alexandra held her breath, her heart
pounding so hard she thought it might burst.
The bolt flew. Alexandra waited to hear the ting indicating that it had missed and hit a wall instead. She didn’t hear the sound, but at the same time, she didn’t see Jeffrey weaken. The force of the bolt would have knocked him onto his back.
Jeffrey was looking down at his crossbow. He had reloaded it, which surprised Alexandra. He had done it so fast. He was more skilled than she had given him credit for. He had looked so much like a scared boy when she first saw him that she’d forgotten how resilient and well trained a man—especially a Humankin—had to be to qualify for service in the Royal Guard.
Jeffrey’s next shot toppled the guard. There was light—natural light!—at the opposite end of the corridor.
“There!” She pointed.
The window was high above the ground, too high for even the fittest guard to jump and climb up. She pointed at a chair next to the registration desk and Jeffrey nodded. He grabbed it and ran over to the window as Alexandra fired a bolt upward and shattered the glass. It fell, sparkling like snow in the light.
The next few minutes passed in a blur of mad fumbling. They were both sweating and panting. Jeffrey stepped onto the chair and pulled her up. She marveled at his strength. He managed to press her broken hand in the process of picking her up, making her shriek. It didn’t matter, and they both knew it. If they succeeded with their insane plan, there would be much more pain to come.
“I’ll hold on to the ledge outside,” she said. “When you fall out, grab onto me.”
“But…”
She yanked him close by his armor. “Trust me, Jeffrey!”
He lifted her. She broke away the remaining shards of glass, cutting her right hand badly in the process. Then she slid through the window into blinding daylight. A freezing cold wind stung her face.
She reached back with her good hand and grabbed the edge of the window as her legs slid out. It took all her strength to hold on. She caught a glimpse of the world outside the castle and estimated that they were a good seventy or eighty feet above ground. The wind beat against her wings, and then she was outside, hanging from the edge with one hand.
Savant & Feral (Digital Boxed Set): Books 1 and 2 of the Epic Luminether Fantasy Series Page 30
