Run.
“Lily,” Milo said. “Make a portable dome around us, but with elemental deflection.”
“What type? Are the beams fire or electric?” Lily asked frantically. “I can’t do them both at the same time!”
“Neither. It’s agitated luminether essence. They color it red to help ident—” He shook his head. “Doesn’t matter. Do fire.”
Lily recited a quick, breathless chant and wrapped the group in a protective shield that shimmered around them like a soap bubble.
“It’s time,” Pris called to them.
Holding out the bodies like shields, she spun through the door and into a shower of laser fire. The orphans followed. They cringed and ducked as the lasers thrummed against the dome and bounced harmlessly away at different angles.
Soon they were inside, standing in a chamber of torture and death, and the only voice Emma heard above the assault was that of the Archon.
“Cease fire! Cease fire!”
CHAPTER 46
“Damn it, men! Cease fire!”
The casters went silent. Emma allowed herself a breath of relief. Billowing smoke from the bursts made it difficult to see inside the chamber at first. In her memory, the space rose around her in perfect, horrifying clarity. Hopefully the horrors around them wouldn’t affect Lily’s casting, as the shield spell was the only thing keeping them from being incinerated if the beamcasters went off again.
Still shielding herself with the corpses, Pris sprinted toward the orphans. She tossed away the bodies before stepping through a seam Lily opened for her in the dome. They were all safe, at least for now.
“No one else has to die,” the Archon said.
Emma searched for him through the smoke. As it cleared, she counted ten wardens aiming beamcasters at them and four mercenaries brandishing short swords. The Archon crouched behind a row of consoles, his helmet blinking. Kellan and Garig had taken similar positions of cover. Emma had never seen Kellan look so surprised.
“Killing anyone else would be a mistake,” the Archon said. “So far, all you’ve done is defend yourselves. No one will condemn you for that.”
Pris walked to the edge of the dome and leveled her broadsword at him. “For those who don’t know my face, I am Pris Walksprite, direct descendant of Valcyona and demigoddess Champion. I tell you this because it would be futile to stand against me, and because any man in this room who calls himself a Sargonaut would do best to lay down his sword and join me as a brother instead of an enemy. The rewards would be far greater.”
Emma searched the faces of the remaining mercenaries. They stood with their mouths open. Clearly, they knew who she was. What Sargonaut wouldn’t?
The question was, did they care?
“I’m out of here,” one of the mercs said. “I didn’t sign up for this.”
He tossed down his sword and made his way across the room. The other three watched him, obviously conflicted. Finally, one shrugged, dropped his sword, and followed the first. This led to the other two following as well, all of them headed toward the exit.
“I’ll triple your pay to see this out,” the Archon called after them. “No—I’ll quadruple it.”
Seeing that his words had no effect, he tried another tactic. “Any man who walks out of this room will be hunted down and imprisoned.”
One of the mercs waved dismissively, while another grunted. Neither looked back.
“It doesn’t matter,” the Archon said. “I raised an alarm the moment you walked in. There are twenty more Sargonauts and twice that many wardens on their way now. You’ll never leave this place alive unless I give the word. Don’t be stupid.”
As he spoke, Emma nudged Milo. “You can’t see it,” she said, “but he’s wearing a luminotronic helmet connected to the fountains. It’s how he’s been able to…”
“I know,” Milo said. “But it doesn’t matter now. Stay close to Pris, okay?”
“I will.”
Emma watched as Pris lowered the sword. She stood proudly, with her shoulders thrown back and her eyes narrowed. If the woman had ever felt fear, one wouldn’t have known it from the way she dealt with her enemies. They especially wouldn’t see that fear now.
“Those beamcasters,” Pris said, “they use condensed luminether as fuel. A sorcerer who knew what he was doing could set each one off like a bomb.”
Milo raised his hands. Instantly, a beamcaster held by the nearest warden began to shake violently. The man tossed it to the floor and stepped back. The others, watching the steam rise from the shivering weapon, also threw their rifles away, either launching them across the room or kicking them as far as possible.
“Nice work, Banks,” Sevarin said, to which Milo responded by rubbing his hands together as if wiping dust from his palms.
One of the wardens, apparently an officer of some sort, grunted a command to the others.
“Blades out.”
The wardens drew their swords. Still, they looked uncertain.
Kellan’s voice filled the chamber. “Don’t worry. He can’t manipulate steel. Plus, he’s blind as a rootmole. Look at him. Useless.”
Milo raised his fists like a boxer. Searing heat and a crackling noise filled the dome as he ignited them.
“Walk over and say that to me,” Milo said. “Better yet…” He threw Lily an indirect glance, somehow aware of her general location. “Say that to our pet golem.”
Lily understood at once. She held her staff in a two-handed grip, head hunkered down between her shoulders, and channeled luminether.
“Gods of old and spirits of new, essence of all good and true—come forth and help me subdue, this golem of orange and blue!”
Hazy, colored lights swirled around the crystal as Lily finished her chant.
“Golem—protect me!”
A spray of blue and orange marbles skittered in every direction, parting harmlessly around their feet and finally sweeping inward to form her elemental golem, Rocky.
Milo channeled his own magic, the light pouring from an outstretched palm. It fed Rocky’s growth, maturing him at an astounding rate, until the golem stood as tall as a Berserker. The dome expanded to accommodate his height.
Rocky pounded his chest and released a violent roar that made the Archon and his men take a step back. Kellan responded differently. He stood without fear, exposing himself fully, apparently impressed by their new visitor. He walked around the console, headed toward the orphans.
“Kellan,” his father snapped at him. “Get back here. Have you lost your mind, boy?”
“Shut up, Dad. And take off that stupid helmet already.”
The Archon lifted his trembling hands and removed the helmet. He laid it down carefully, keeping his eyes on his son. Emma was amazed that Kellan could speak to his father like that and get away with it. Garig was also watching Kellan, though he looked confused. He rose cautiously, apparently not convinced that he should follow his friend.
As Kellan walked past the wardens, all Emma could do was stare at the cadet with a mixture of fear and disgust. There was no expression on his face, only a blank quality that gave her that slithering, anxious feeling again.
He reached up to scratch a spot on his chest. Emma’s frown deepened. Who would scratch an itch at a time like this?
“What do you want?” Kellan asked Pris. “And save the hero-speak. I mean truly, what do you want?”
He tilted his head, examining her the way one would a strange and exotic insect.
“You’ll never see the light of day,” Kellan continued. “My father wasn’t lying about the men gathering outside, so you might as well answer my question, woman. What do you want—besides a quick death for you and your children?”
Kellan scratched his chest again, making a circular motion with his fingers. It had to mean something. Why else did he keep doing that?
“Kellan,” his father said. “What—what are you saying? You’re not making sense.”
Kellan raised a hand to shush his father
, never once looking back, his eyes unblinking. It wasn’t simple anticipation that he felt; somehow Emma knew it was a different, more chilling emotion.
Hunger.
Emma did a quick search of her surroundings. Regardless of what sort of battle took place here today, she wouldn’t let herself die without at least trying to find her friend. If Barrel was trapped in this place, he wasn’t alone. He was just one of countless naked, emaciated bodies being stored in the tubular capsules lining the walls.
They looked just as Emma had seen in her vision—glass, man-sized capsules with blinking life-support hubs at their bases. Rows of them lined the walls, almost all containing a human victim floating in yellow-tinged liquid. Like urine. Each man, woman, girl, and boy wore a breathing mask that emitted a stream of bubbles, meaning they were alive.
That also meant Barrel was alive.
The capsules were draining their victims of energy. That much was clear by the bright, sparkling red energy flowing through a mess of transparent tubes that snaked across the floor. The tubes connected the capsules to the hub of a larger, more imposing device in the center of the room, a circular tank rising to the ceiling, filled with energy that was blue instead of red—a deceptive, jovial blue like the essence that poured daily from the Archon’s healing fountains. The muffled, rhythmic pounding noise, apparently coming from the base, coupled with the energy’s upward current, confirmed Emma’s suspicion of what was truly happening.
The fountains weren’t just powered by cleverly disguised blood ether. They were drawing their healing energy from the very citizens they were supposed to serve. Innocent people like Barrel.
Then she saw his face among the rows.
It was Barrel, except he’d been transformed into a bony, grayish version of himself, fragile as the shell of an egg. His chest was so skinny she could count his ribs. The breathing apparatus was like an enormous, mechanical fist gripping his face, put there to torture him rather than keep him alive.
Frantic now, Emma’s eyes flitted from Kellan to Pris to Sevarin, and then to Milo and the rest of her friends. But everyone was frozen, watching Kellan as he did something with his hands.
He was pulling his shirt up over his belly. Then—incredibly—he was taking it off.
“Did I ever tell you how my father gained the knowledge necessary to build this machine?” Kellan paused, arms crossed over his belly, the front lip of his shirt raised above a taut abdomen. “It wasn’t from the fountains. Sure, he leached incredible knowledge from the people dumb enough to use them. That was his prime reason for purchasing the blueprints from the low mages. But that was after the fact. When this all started, he was a bumbling idiot with a bright idea. Then I happened to get involved, and let’s just say, I found my calling in life.”
“Kellan,” his father said, sounding afraid. The Archon had risen behind the console and stood frowning in disbelief at his son. “Why are you telling them this?”
Ignoring his father, Kellan removed his shirt and tossed it aside. He was surprisingly pale with narrow shoulders, unlike the rosy, chiseled flesh of his face, which Emma had once considered handsome.
But it wasn’t his build or coloring that made her cringe. It was the ugly, insect-like device embedded in his chest. It was like a fist-sized, blood-engorged tick that had planted itself against his sternum, making the skin around it pink and inflamed. A red light blinked on its surface, making Emma think of a pacemaker regulating someone’s heartbeat—only this pacemaker was outside the body instead of inside.
This time, Kellan winked at Emma as he reached up to scratch it. A shudder passed through her body as she recalled all those times he had scratched that spot, making her assume the movement was just a simple tic or the result of an uncomfortable shirt. But what was it? And why—now, of all times—did he feel like showing it off?
Pris spoke up suddenly. “This was all you, wasn’t it? But why? What reward do you get from it?”
Kellan shrugged. “Being the spoiled son of a wealthy politician can get old real quick, especially when all you can think about at parties is the look that comes into a person’s eyes when you’re choking them to death.”
He made a strangling motion and bared his teeth. Then, eerily, he let his arms drop and his head droop forward, his lips forming into a playful smile.
“He’s insane,” Emma said without meaning to. It was obvious, and yet she couldn’t help but repeat it. “He’s completely insane.”
“Stop it,” the Archon said, but he wasn’t talking to Emma. He was still addressing his son. “Stop talking and get back here. Now, boy.”
His words only served to amuse Kellan further. He chuckled at his father’s helplessness.
Emma felt restless. They had to do something. But when she looked over her friends’ faces, all she saw were looks of paralyzed indecision. Like no one could figure out what to do. Or like they were so curious about the device embedded in Kellan’s chest that nothing else mattered.
Lily peeked above Rocky’s arm sheepishly, the golem mirroring her terrified expression.
Milo wore a scowl of rage above flaming fists he kept raised like a boxer’s.
Sevarin was pacing from side to side, brandishing his short sword and glaring hatefully at Kellan.
Owen and Gunner stood like openmouthed statues behind Pris, who appeared to be studying the situation intently, waiting for an opportunity to reveal itself.
Emma was no better. All she could do was stand there and hope. In the meantime, while she and her friends gave Kellan the attention his twisted mind craved, Barrel was being consumed by the harvesters.
Yes, that’s what they were—harvesters that chewed people up like crops.
Now, she was angry.
“Would someone just kill him already?” Emma shouted. “Wardens, do your job. He’s insane. What if it was you, or your wife, or one of your kids dying in these machines?”
The wardens acknowledged her with little more than furtive glances. Not surprisingly, they were more interested in Kellan, who had begun to tap the device on his chest.
“Killing me wouldn’t be smart,” he said. “Should my heart ever stop beating, this machine you see behind me”—he threw a glance at the central tank—“will detonate, killing everyone inside this room. But first, it’ll release a virus into the tubes, infecting anyone who uses the fountain for the next several days. Pretty clever, huh? The best part is, you don’t even have to kill me for it to work. If I say the secret word, it’ll hear me—and boom.” He made a bursting motion with his hands. “Say good night to Baraltimus, all his unfortunate neighbors, and several thousand people on the surface.”
“Gods,” the Archon said, a hand going to his mouth. “Kellan, what have you done?”
Kellan looked back at his father, still smirking as if this were all a fun game he’d been waiting to play with them. Emma shuddered; not even Iolus, the man who had murdered her mother in cold blood, could make her skin crawl like this.
“Sick bastard,” Pris said.
Kellan yawned, lightly scratching the device. Was he getting bored? Would he detonate the machine just for kicks?
“He’ll kill us all,” Milo said, “warden, cadet, friend—even his own father.”
Hearing this, the wardens shifted their attention away from Emma and her friends, who were no longer the biggest threat. They scowled openly at Kellan with their swords raised. Even Garig was giving his friend a poisonous look.
“What do you want,” Milo asked the Archon’s son, “besides the thrill of all this? What are you aiming for?”
Kellan strolled toward their protective dome, lightly scratching. Constantly scratching… and smiling. “Glad you asked, Banks. I’d like you to kill your sister while I watch. Do that, and I’ll turn off the device. Then you can go ahead and kill me, or whatever you have planned.”
Sevarin stiffened at the words. He tried to step forward, but Pris held him back with an outstretched arm. Milo’s face remained unchanged.
Kellan clapped his hands in mock applause. “You understand me, Banks. Finally, someone who does. I know my pop never did.”
The Archon dropped to the floor and sat there looking defeated. Garig backed away as if he thought the man’s cowardice would infect him.
“You know, Banks,” Kellan said, pacing around the group with no visible fear of retaliation, the metal device gleaming on his bare chest. “You and I are a lot alike. Self-absorbed, not so great with people, smarter than our peers give us credit for. In a slightly different life, we could have been friends, comrades on the battlefield.”
Kellan halted in front of the group. He looked up at Rocky, clearly amused by the golem’s barely contained anger.
“Down, boy.”
Rocky raised his fists and growled at the boy. Lily shushed him, and the golem lowered his fists, though not all the way.
Grinning, Kellan positioned himself in front of Milo and waved a hand in front of his face.
“You really can’t see me, huh, Banks?”
Milo tilted his empty gaze away. “Does that amuse you?”
Kellan dove into yet another monologue about how much he and Milo were alike. Emma searched the harvesters again for Barrel, but stopped when she noticed a strange look on Garig’s face.
The Sargonaut boy was staring in dumbfounded surprise at the tank rising in the center.
Emma followed his gaze, careful not to make a show of it. What she saw inside the tank, in the curling streams of blue energy, was a familiar form taking shape.
A human face.
CHAPTER 47
Emma tried not to make her fascination obvious.
She snatched covert looks up at the tank. The face being shaped inside it was made not of flesh but of pure energy. A hint of arms and shoulders took form beneath it, a human torso being carved out of the essence. Another face emerged at a slight angle above the first, as if this second one was coming up from behind. Both visages were clearly human—and they just as clearly belonged to two young men Emma immediately recognized.
Savant & Feral (Digital Boxed Set): Books 1 and 2 of the Epic Luminether Fantasy Series Page 104
