“But, the boy’s beacon crystal,” Xanthus said. “Our sightstones have been useless because of it.”
“This isn’t a sightstone,” Leticia said, crouching over the central hub, scorpion tail curling. “This is something else entirely.”
Basher, dumbfounded, stroked his braided beard and said nothing. Coscoros stood with his arms crossed, smirking in satisfaction. Both were acceptable reactions.
But Iolus…
The sorcerer just stood there, arms hanging limply at his sides, eyes lost in thought. He was staring at the bloodstone that powered the central hub.
When Iolus looked up and caught Kovax watching him, the sorcerer flicked his eyes away like he couldn’t have cared less.
A migraine was coming. Kovax swung his staff, flinging open the double doors with a bang.
“Out,” he said. “All of you. Get out now.”
His men filed out of the room, led by Iolus. With another flick of his staff, Kovax made the doors close with another bang that drove a sharp ache into his skull.
He waited a few moments. When he was sure no one could hear, he dropped to his knees with a gasp. Duo slid from his grasp and landed with a heavy clatter against the stone floor. Kovax struggled to maintain consciousness until, finally, the dizziness passed. He had never been so exhausted in his life.
Staring up past Sightwielder’s crisscrossing wires, he imagined all the sights to come, the knowledge he would glean from his experiment—and from the mind of a boy named Milo Banks, his greatest enemy now that Maximus was dead.
Old and tired as he was, Kovax fell on his side, laughing.
IOLUS RETREATED to his personal chambers alone.
The place was a mess from the night before. Pieces of women’s clothing were strewn all over the couch. Empty goblets littered the floor amid stains of nectarwine that covered the carpet. He needed quiet and some time to process what he had just seen.
But first, he needed fuel.
He went to the chest of drawers, in which a normal person might keep clothes and undergarments. But Iolus wasn’t a normal person. He yanked open a drawer and sighed with displeasure at all the darkened blood crystals piled inside.
“Curse the gods,” he said.
He dug through the crystals, causing several to spill over the edges and thud against the carpet. At the bottom was a charged crystal, its glow already injecting warmth and life into his cold heart.
He bit into his hand, opening a new wound among the many pink scars. Blood seeped out and a smell like heated copper filled the room.
He lifted the charged crystal out of the drawer and held it up, washing the bare wall with light. (He had removed the mirror above the chest months earlier.) Gazing at the crystal, he licked his lips and drew its power in through the holes in his hand.
It was over too soon. He would need more in the morning. He cursed Kovax, cursed him until his face erupted in flames, making Iolus resemble, in that moment, an elemental spirit from the legendary plains of torment. He let them die away, leaving only puffs of smoke.
The God’s Head bloodstone Iolus had seen embedded in Sightwielder would last him several months. He had to get his hands on a full one.
With an angry grunt, he tossed the empty crystal into the drawer and slammed it shut.
How would he get a bloodstone without Kovax noticing? They were more rare than Tiberian Steel, which sold for a million sorols a pound back on Astros. A bloodstone was easily worth ten million—double that at full charge. Not even Kovax had twenty million sorols in his treasury. It was enough to buy a castle to rival this one.
Surely Kovax had a spare, maybe even two or three. Iolus had seen a small chest on a table in the corner of the lab, though he had made sure not to look directly at it. Maybe that was where the low mage kept the others.
A presence in his mind scattered his train of thought. It was the voice of his master, entering as it always did when Iolus was alone and serious matters were at hand; the voice that had haunted him for over a decade, since the beginning of his dark experiment.
The low mage grows weak even as his power strengthens.
“He’s nothing,” Iolus said. “A pawn before your might.”
He is an obstacle you must overcome. But his inventions will prove useful.
“Give me time, Master.”
The master’s voice held no sympathy. Time? You ask me for time?
Iolus squeezed his eyes shut. “My mistake.”
Be quick about your plans. If you fail me, you will be nothing.
Nodding, Iolus stood and faced the closet in the corner of the room. He beckoned and watched as the doors unfolded and his sword, Aikon, floated across the room, still in its sheath. It pinned itself to Iolus’s back, and he fixed the straps to hold it in place.
Grabbing a half-empty goblet of nectarwine, Iolus splashed a bit of it on his lips and chin as if applying perfume. He made sure to let droplets fall onto his shirt.
None of it entered his mouth. Truth be told, he couldn’t stand the taste of it. He strolled out of his room to see what troubles he—the token playboy of the court—could stir up tonight, while his mind made plans for the future.
CHAPTER 2
P hasing was like standing up in a cool waterfall.
At least, that was how Calista thought of it. But this time, turning into her cat shell was not nearly as pleasant. Now, it was like jumping into a freezing lake with no clothes on while her friends laughed at her.
The cold, earthy air of the vault whistled past her newly sharpened ears, tickling her fur and bending her whiskers against her face. She shot through the open door and raced across the hallways while the other orphans stayed behind, starry-eyed with dreams of battle. They would never understand her. They would never truly care.
Calista had only one friend now—one place to which she fully belonged.
Valestaryn.
“HERE WE ARE,” Coral said with a weary sigh.
After a day of underwater travel, the shuttle lifted out of the ocean with a light rumble, casting off sheets of water, to land on a sunburnt coast. It was about time; Calista had barely slept and was the first one out of her chair. The other orphans yawned and stretched as they came awake. A few of the younger ones remained asleep in their seats, heads resting on each other’s shoulders.
Emmanuel had programmed the shuttle to take them to a region where the emperor’s men did not patrol as often and people still had some semblance of freedom. Calista looked through the window and saw only empty shacks half-hidden among the trees lining the shore. This was a fisherman’s village, but there was not a single fisherman in sight.
“It’s deserted,” she said as the door slipped open and a ramp extended from the shuttle.
Coral gave a hum of displeasure. “We were supposed to go farther inland. The shuttle must have detected something wrong.”
“It’s okay,” Calista said. “I’m good here. I know the way.”
Coral was desperate. “Come with us, Cali. Our next stop is Ayrtoros. We’ll be cared for by the Forge. You can’t just go out there alone.”
Calista let her shoulders slump. It was too late to turn back. She knew it, and Coral knew it. “There’s someone I have to see here in Peleros.”
Defeated, Coral put a hand on the back of Calista’s head and stroked her long hair like a mother might do to a daughter. Calista would miss this woman, more than anyone else at the ranch.
“You know, Cali, someday you’ll realize that these orphans are more than just friends.”
Calista looked away in shame.
“They’re family. You won’t get through this if you don’t realize that.”
“I know.”
Coral sighed. “Do you?”
Calista moved through the door, letting Coral’s hand slide off her shoulder. She looked out at the empty shacks again, a sinking sensation in her stomach. She wanted badly to run in her feline form. But there was a stretch of water between her and the shore, and cat
s hated water.
Good thing she could fly.
She cut through the freezing air above the clouds in eagle form.
It was perfect for long-distance flying. Her eyesight was incredible. She took in the grand sight of Valestaryn hills, mountains, trees, and streams all sprawled out in front of her like an endless landscape of toys.
Several days and nights passed like that, and not once did she phase back into her human shell. When she needed water, she used her powerful eyesight to scope the land for streams and lakes. When it came time to eat, she would touch down on land, phase into her cat form and eat mice and other critters, conscious only of instinct running its life-preserving algorithms through her brain, all human thoughts set aside for now. When it came time to sleep, she would phase into her hawk form and perch, half-aware of the world around her but enough to react in case of danger. The whole time, she was more animal than girl.
After six days of slicing across the skies of Valestaryn, she was home. The town was called Peleros, and Calista had grown up here—the first fourteen years of her life, anyway. Now, at seventeen, she didn’t plan to stay long.
She flew down as an eagle but landed a human girl. Always a thrill, phasing in mid-air.
But the thrill didn’t last. As Calista neared the town center, a chill tightened the muscles running up her back. Sharp as they were, her eyes simply had to be lying to her.
Peleros was empty. From the looks of it, there wasn’t a single soul anywhere.
She phased into her eagle shell again and flapped toward the sky. From her new vantage point, she studied the buildings and streets of her hometown. Deserted. Everyone was gone, yet the houses and roads all seemed intact. For a whole village to just disappear like that…
There.
Movement.
She spotted the tiny, pale-brown shape scurrying across the street as if it had jumped out at her. Bringing her wings in, she dove toward it, the air screaming past her. It was a man. Bent over, hunched and draped in a thick cloak, he ran as if the town were a war zone where he could catch a stray arrow at any time.
Calista landed on a rooftop, talons gripping the edge. She opened her beak and released a shrill cry, one that any Feral would understand. A question: Where are you going?
The man turned, saw Calista, and narrowed his eyes against the sunlight to better see her. A tattered gray beard hung down his chest, quivering in the hot wind. When he lifted a hand to shield his eyes, Calista noticed the massive sweat stains beneath his arms.
Then she noticed the familiar freckles dusting his skin, the eyebrows she had always thought were too thick, much in need of a good trim. She hadn’t expected to recognize this man and was only now taking a closer look at his face. Yes, she knew him all right—knew him the way most girls knew their own father.
It was Artemis Sol, a man she had known simply as “the baker” in what felt like a whole different life.
“Who are you?” he shouted up at her.
Calista phased back into human form, the spell that would keep her clothes in place unraveling instantly in her mind. It was second nature, like breathing. She had always been adept at this sort of thing, but Artemis had been the first person in her life to encourage her abilities.
Tears blurred her vision as Calista jumped down and landed softly but firmly on the dirt road. Artemis recognized her, and his eyes went wide.
“Calista,” he said and raked in a deep breath. “Oh, gods. You’re okay.”
They embraced in the middle of the road.
“Artemis,” she said, pressing her face to his chest. The man smelled terrible—rank, like old fruit and wet dirt stepped on by too many bare feet.
“Come on.” He motioned for her to follow him toward an alley. “Let’s get out of the open.”
“What happened here?”
He glanced back at her, his face grim. “Remember what I used to tell you? What is the thing I always saw whenever I looked into your eyes?”
“Tiberian,” Calista said, her voice cracking. “Tiberian Steel.”
He nodded. “And I hope you haven’t lost it. Now come along. The Forge awaits.”
He led Calista into the ghost town.
CHAPTER 3
A mechanical thrumming woke Milo.
The dark, cramped space of the shuttle startled him at first. He had expected to wake up on his cot back in the vault. Emmanuel stood straight-backed at the controls. Milo watched him slide his fingers upward along a lit panel. The shuttle rose through the deep ocean and filled with light as it broke the sunny surface.
“We’re here?” Milo said.
Emmanuel turned to him. The magician wasn’t wearing his glasses, and his frosty eyes blinked as though the man had just emerged from a trance.
“Almost,” he said. “Did you get some shut-eye?”
Milo glanced down at his left shoulder, where Lily’s head rested. She was deep asleep and snoring lightly.
“Just fine,” he said.
Lily woke and pulled away, blinking at her surroundings in confusion. She looked at Milo and smiled.
“Hi there.”
“Hey. Sleep okay?”
“Mm hmm,” she said and yawned.
The pulsing sound came again from the console. Emmanuel fiddled with the controls, studying a display showing coordinates and measurements. The other orphans began to wake from the sound.
Milo searched the seating area for his sister. She was asleep on Sevarin’s shoulder, one of her wings wedged between them as a sort of pillow. Sevarin caught Milo looking at him and nodded mostly by thrusting his chin.
“Your sister snores,” he said. “Did you know that?”
Milo smiled. Emma came awake with a start.
“I do not,” she said.
Owen and Gunner were the first out of their seats. They came to a stop at the console and gazed out at the land in the distance.
“What do you think they serve for breakfast?” Gunner said.
“You’re thinking about food?” Owen said, putting his hands against the window and staring out. “Oh man, I can’t wait ‘til we get there. I hear the girls in Theus are so hot.”
“Don’t be crude,” Barrel said, rising gracefully from his seat. He threw back his silky blond hair, looking somewhat like a movie star, and stretched. “Food and girls. Do you buffoons ever think of anything else?”
Sevarin chuckled. “Like what, Professor? If it wasn’t for food and girls, none of us would be here.”
Milo and Lily gave each other knowing smiles. The same thought was passing through their minds: Here we go.
Oscar leaped up from his chair and rolled across the floor, his tail whipping.
“Oye,” his father said, clearly concerned.
Oscar turned and grinned happily at them. “I was having a dream of hunting,” he said. “Very real.” He kneaded his hands together like he was suddenly anxious. “Are we almost out of this thing?”
“You want to be back in the woods, huh?” Sevarin said. “I get it.”
Oscar nodded. “I hate small spaces.”
“You and me both,” Emma said, rising and spreading out her wings. Even in the shuttle’s dim light, the wings resembled a sunrise.
Clearing his throat, Emmanuel turned to face the orphans. He had put his sunglasses back on.
“It’s around one in the afternoon at our destination,” he said. “No matter how tired you are later, I want you all to sleep normal hours tonight so we can be ready to start our day bright and early tomorrow.”
No one seemed bothered by this. If anything, the other orphans looked ready to move on from this tiny shuttle regardless of how much sleep they would or wouldn’t get. Milo just wanted to eat something and use a bathroom.
“How much longer?” Sevarin said.
Emmanuel turned to the window. A majestic city sprawled across the distant coast.
It was Theus, capital city of Lightonia, a nation that took up a quarter of the continent of Ayrtoros. Lightoni
a was the most technologically advanced nation on the planet—and that included any nation he had known back in the alternate dimension in which he’d been born.
Gazing out at the shining skyscrapers and oddly shaped temples, he was reminded of home.
“It looks almost like New York City,” he said.
Emma stood beside him. “New York City a hundred years in the future, maybe.”
“You read my mind.”
Soon, the orphans had gathered to stare at it. Emmanuel broke the silence.
“I want you all to know one thing, and never forget what I’m about to tell you.”
Milo gave his full attention to his uncle. The other orphans did the same. Emmanuel gave them all a fatherly smile.
“There are no limits to what you can accomplish here, except for the ones you set for yourselves. Understand?”
Milo nodded, and so did the others. He couldn’t imagine what limits his uncle spoke of, but the words felt right. Emmanuel’s glasses flashed as he regarded the sunlit city.
“Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise,” he said grimly.
The window darkened. Two flying planes, shaped like wedges and obviously designed for combat, dropped out of the sky to hover in front of them. The console hummed.
Emmanuel touched a flashing red spot on the display. A stern voice filled the chamber.
“Identify yourself.”
Emmanuel crossed his arms. “This is Emmanuel, son of Sargos.”
“Pilot, you must be joking. Identify yourself at once.”
Emmanuel gave Milo a knowing glance, a hint of a smile. Milo swallowed a pang of fear. He knew this might happen. His uncle had warned him that the people of Theus were a paranoid bunch, especially now that Kovax’s empire had spread across two of the five continents on Astros.
The fighter jets tilted this way and that, matching the shuttle’s speed. Their metallic bellies opened and a pair of turrets descended from each one.
Lily tugged Milo’s sleeve. She gave him a fearful look. Milo shook his head to indicate they were safe, though he wasn’t so sure.
“Put your weapons away at once,” Emmanuel said. “This is a shuttlecraft.”
Savant & Feral (Digital Boxed Set): Books 1 and 2 of the Epic Luminether Fantasy Series Page 47
