by Keri Arthur
Three children, not two.
The original two had obviously survived the ferocity of the blast that had brought down the wall, but the third must have come in with the Adlin. And now they were all behind this wall, trying to get into the inner bailey. Because of the bracelet. Because whoever lay behind this scheme was so keen to get it back that they’d risk not only exposing the fact that they were working alongside the Adlin, but also risk the lives of at least four of their major weapons—because what else could Hedra and these three children be?
The images shifted abruptly, centering instead on the almost skeletal hand on which a silver bracelet gleamed. His fingers were pressed hard against a wall that had lost its black shine, and there was a three-foot radius of lifelessness around his hand. But even as I watched, it began to creep both up and down the wall.
They weren’t trying to blow this wall. They were creating a doorway—one big enough to fit the Adlin through. And with the entire outpost concentrating on damage done to the gatehouse and defending the breached wall, they could cause untold destruction before Blacklake was able to marshal its forces and fight back.
The screaming protest of earth, stone, and metal was growing stronger, a sound that suggested they were very close to achieving a break through.
I rose, then turned and raced back to the drawbridge. “Has communications been restored? Are you able to contact the command center?”
The nearest guard frowned. “No—comms and the earwig system remain down. We’re using runners—why?”
“Because the Adlin haven’t left. They’re still here, and about to break through the inner wall. We need to inform the commander immediately.”
“I can’t believe—”
“Believe it,” I growled. “And just do as I’m asking—now!”
“Nightwatch March, that’s impossible—”
So, he did know who I was. “So was them having the capacity to blow up the outer gatehouse and wall, and yet here we are, with both of them down.”
“Yes, but—”
“Trust me, and go. Now,” I added, when he hesitated. “Commander Stone’s anger at leaving your post will be nothing compared to the wrath that will fall on you for not doing as I ask in this circumstance.”
“There’s nothing stopping you—”
“Can you talk to the earth?” I bit back. “Convince it to heal the wound in the wall rather than break it? No? Then do as I say.”
He glanced at his fellow guard, then gave me a short nod and departed. I looked at the other man, but he held up his hand. “There will be hell to pay if we both left our post, especially if the Adlin are here.”
Which was a fair enough point. There might be no indication of other sleuths in the area, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t be nearby, readying a secondary attack. Someone had to be ready to raise the drawbridge and lock everything down should that happen.
Which meant it was up to me alone to delay the Adlin—at least until Trey and his people got there. Urgency pulsed as fiercely as my heartbeat as I ran through the gatehouse and up the nearest set of steps that led to the top of the wall, but it was the earth’s as much as mine. They were so very close to breaking through.
I unslung the rifle as I ran down the wall walk, making little noise thanks to the rubber matting that covered the walkway to prevent slipping during rain. As I neared the junction of the true wall and the false one, I slowed. The air stirred around me, bringing with it not only that foul stench again, but also a warning.
They knew I was there.
I stopped and leaned over the parapet. In the V-shaped space between the original outer wall and the recently raised false one over two dozen figures milled. I couldn’t actually see the children, because several Adlin were now leaning over the top of them, using their bodies to protect them. But the frantic pulse rising up through the stone and metal suggested they were still trying to breach the wall.
I raised the rifle, sighted, and then fired.
Several Adlin went down, their brains spattering across the faces of the others. The others roared in fury and several attempted to climb the rough wall. But even a wall devoid of life and energy seemed resistant to the power of their claws, and they fell back before they got very far. I kept firing, picking them off one by one.
Within seconds, there were at least a dozen dead, but the frantic pulse of the earth had now shifted to the dead wall, and it was breaking down, reforming into a wave of stone and metal that quickly arched over the space to give them a rough umbrella. I cursed, heard a separate rumble in the earth, and spun around. Trey and a half dozen others were running toward me.
“The children have formed a false roof to protect the Adlin and themselves,” I said. “You need to get back downstairs and brace the other side of the wall—they’re almost through it.”
He and his people immediately turned and headed back down the stairs. I made to follow him, but the air spun around me, urging me closer to the outer wall.
I frowned but obeyed. The wall still pulsed under my feet, but I could no longer hear the screaming of the earth. I stopped at the junction where the outer and inner walls met, and peered down. The newly created roof didn’t quite meet either wall at this section and the Adlin were visible far below. A soft glint caught my eye; after a moment, I realized what it was. Silver. Not from any sort of weapon, but rather a bracelet. Only this bracelet wasn’t on the children, but rather one of the Adlin. An Adlin who bore coloring unlike any I’d ever seen before. Large sections of his brown fur had been replaced by patches of lavender gray; he was stained. Just like those children. Just like me.
Despite my desperation to believe the Irkallan weren’t behind all this, the proof of it was standing directly below me.
And while Saska might have been certain that her much-feared queen hadn’t enslaved and impregnated the Adlin and was simply using them, there obviously had been some cross breeding happening.
The Adlin chose that moment to look up, and another chill went through me. Not because his eyes were as lavender as the patches on his fur and filled with an intelligence and awareness that was as rare in the Adlin as his coloring, but because his eyes were human.
Either the Adlin were evolving into a more human form, or they’d not only interbred with the Irkallan during the war, but also with humans.
That was a nightmare I didn’t even want to contemplate.
He roared, revealing teeth that were long, white, and every bit as deadly looking as that of a regular Adlin. It was a sound of defiance, and yet one that held the edge of command. As the sound echoed harshly across the silence, the remaining Adlin moved as a mass, flowing from the edge of the inner wall across to the outer one. The throbbing under my feet instantly muted, but the scream of the earth intensified.
The children, the air whispered. They attack the outer wall.
Which suggested the queen had given up her quest for the other bracelet and was now intent on escape. I ran across to the outer edge, peering down until I spotted Trey and two of his people. A brown-haired man stood on his left, and a woman with dark hair stood on his right. All three had their hands splayed across the wall, but Trey’s hands overlapped those of the other two.
The rest of his soldiers stood in a semicircle several paces farther back from the wall, their weapons held in readiness.
They combine strength to repair, the earth whispered. They will not hear you.
Combining strength… that’s what had been happening with the children. The one capable of earth magic had been using the strength of the other two to help punch a door through the wall.
And while it might be true that Trey wouldn’t hear me, the soldiers below still needed to be warned what was going on. We couldn’t let those kids be taken away—they were too damn dangerous, for a start, but we also needed to probe them more fully, to understand what had been done to them and perhaps even get some idea as to who was behind this whole stinking mess.
“Hey,” I shout
ed down, “the Adlin are now trying to break out through the curtain wall.”
A pale-skinned woman glanced up. I didn’t recognize her, but she was wearing the colors of a sergeant. “At what point?”
“Twenty feet before the place where to the two walls meet.”
She immediately spoke to one of her counterparts, then as he raced toward the smaller command center, she and the remaining soldiers ran for the drawbridge. I bent and forced my fingers through the rubber matting until I touched the metal. While I had no doubt there were easier ways to contact the earth, this had worked last time. I reached down to that inner part of me again, and said, Trey and the other earth witches need to know what is happening while they work to repair the wall. Can you please warn them?
As the earth agreed to do so, I thrust up and ran across to the main wall, stopping just above the point where the Adlin were clustered. I reloaded the rifle and aimed for the small gap between the false roof and the wall, and then fired everything the gun had. Sparks and metal flew as the pellets caught the edges of the wall, but a lot made it through. Three Adlin went down. The rest gathered up the bodies of the fallen and held them overhead, using them as shields. I swore softly. It was an effective ploy, because even if I reloaded, I’d only be shooting the already dead.
The klaxon sound of a siren began to ring out and, as I looked up, a full squad of soldiers raced toward the broken section of wall. They were fully kitted up, but even so, there were at least seven Adlin still alive down there. It would be a close battle, even with a full squad.
The earth’s screaming reached a fever pitch, the sound so loud and agonized it hurt my ears. As the wall began to vibrate and the metal under my feet grew hotter and hotter, I realized I only had minutes, if not seconds, to get off the damn wall.
I turned and ran.
The vibrations abruptly ceased and, just for a minute, I thought we were safe, that the children’s strength had finally failed them.
Then a whole damn section of the wall exploded upward, taking me with it.
9
I flew high, surrounded by shards of metal and stone that sliced through my flesh as easily as they sliced through the air. My uniform was shredded in seconds and my skin became slick with blood. I rose skyward for so long it seemed as if I’d reach the stars, but gravity soon reasserted itself, sending me hurtling back to the ground. It was a long, long way down, and there’d be little more than a red stain and a few flattened remnants of flesh and bone to scrape up if I hit it at this speed.
I closed my eyes and reached for the wind. She answered immediately, her cold fingers battering away the stones and metal that continued to rain around me even as she provided a cushion of thicker air to impede the speed of my fall. I hit feet first and hard enough to rattle my teeth, then staggered forward and fell with a grunt to my knees. For several minutes, I couldn’t do anything more than suck air into my burning lungs as I tried to ignore the pain reverberating through my body. Thankfully, the wind still battered away the wall remnants; they rained all around me, many of them hitting so hard the ground shook under the impact. But it wasn’t the falling pieces of stone and metal that provided the biggest danger right now; it was the Adlin.
Because with the wall smashed open, they were free of Blacklake and on the run.
I couldn’t see them, but I could feel them. Could follow their progress through the impact of their steps on the earth.
Some were running away.
Some were coming straight at me.
And my rifle was who knew where; I’d lost grip of it when the wall had exploded. Which meant I was about to see if the sword was as good as the knife when it came to the flesh of the Adlin.
I pushed upright. Sharp shards of stone dug into my foot; I winced and looked down. My left boot was missing. And while it was inconvenient, it wasn’t as deadly as the loss of the rifle might yet prove to be.
I drew the sword from its scabbard across my back. The thick glass blade gleamed in the pre-dawn darkness, but it looked wholly inadequate against the three Adlin racing toward me.
I glanced around, looking for a more suitable place to make a stand. Although the immediate area was littered with huge chunks of stone and large sheets of metal, none of them were of much use when it came to cover. Not when I had to have the room to swing a sword. Now, if they’d formed a rough semicircle, it would have at least curtailed their attack options….
The thought had barely crossed my mind when the ground heaved and the big chunks of stone began to roll, gently at first but with increasing speed, into a half circle formation. The earth had heard me. It seemed that a direct connection, be it hands or feet, was the answer when it came to summoning her power—for me at least, anyway.
As the Adlin’s battle cry reverberated across the night, I spun and ran into the newly created circle. The space between the two curved ends was small enough that only one Adlin could run through at a time. It gave me time to react and kill; whether or not it would make a difference was something I’d learn in little more than a few minutes.
Because in truth, by restricting their avenues of attack, I was also restricting my escape options.
I gripped the sword tightly with both hands and waited. In the distance, through the opening in the stones, I could see the fleeing Adlin. The stained one was carrying three small bundles under his arms, and was pulling away from the other Adlin. He was protecting the children—saving them—at the possible cost of his companions.
That wasn’t Adlin behavior. They hunted and fought as one, no matter what their numbers. I’d never heard of any Adlin providing a rearguard service to ensure one of their number got away. But that one Adlin was under the control of whoever was behind this madness, and he held sway over the Adlin as a whole. Unusual or not, it was obvious they would obey their leader no matter what.
The battle cry of the Adlin bit through the air. I swung my attention back to them and took a deep, steadying breath.
I could do this.
I would do this.
The first Adlin launched himself through the gap and slashed wildly with his claws. I sidestepped quickly and swung the blade. Its sharp tip sliced across the creature’s torso, opening him up from underarm to hip. As his blood sprayed through the air, he hit the ground, rolled back to his feet, and came at me again. At the same damn time, another Adlin came through the opening. I swung the blade at the first one, forcing him to twist in midair and fall away to avoid having his head chopped off, then grabbed a fistful of air and threw it at the other. As he was punched backward, knocking the third Adlin off its feet, I ran at the first, raised the sword high above my head, and chopped it down. The Adlin twisted away, but he wasn’t fast enough. The blade hit his skull, slicing through bone and brain as easily as butter, and swept down, cleaving him from head to stomach before the momentum of his desperate leap had his body falling away from the blade’s touch. A roar of sheer fury had me instinctively ducking. The claws that would have taken my head off instead sailed over the top of it. I swung the sword again; the side of the blade hit the Adlin’s arm and cut it clean away. Blood spurted across my face, momentarily blinding me, and the wind screamed. I threw myself sideways, hitting the ground so hard that the air was forced from my lungs. I gasped, struggling to breathe, struggling to see, and all too aware that death in the form of an Adlin’s claw would be my fate if I didn’t damn well move. I twisted around. Saw, through the blood and gore matting my eyelashes, an Adlin high in the air above me. Its companion was running through the gap and had death in his eyes. I tried to get up, to scramble away, but my strength, it seemed, had fled me just when I needed it the most.
Death might be damnably close, but it didn’t have its claws in me yet, and there was no way known I’d go down without fighting to my very last breath.
I again called on the air and flung it at the running Adlin. Pain tore through my head, making my eyes water and momentarily blurring my vision. Which was probably a good thing because
it meant I couldn’t see the face of the Adlin above me. But I could feel its fury and sense of triumph.
I raised the sword.
The Adlin saw it and twisted in midair, trying to avoid it. At the same time, a gunshot rang out. The Adlin’s head exploded even as the sword skewered him. His remains thumped down on me, forcing the air from my lungs a second time. This time, the pain was a blanket that all but smothered me. Darkness closed in and I knew no more.
I woke to the itch of wool against my skin and the brightness of sunshine flooding the room. For a minute, confusion stirred, but I’d barely opened my eyes when Trey stepped into view.
“How are you feeling?” He pulled a chair up beside the bed and sat down. His warm, rich scent teased my senses, filling every breath and stirring to life a fierce awareness.
I did my best to ignore it and lifted the blanket instead. It appeared I’d escaped both the explosion and the Adlin with little more than a smattering of bruises and a few healing cuts. “I’m good, considering I should probably be dead.”
“Mace thinks you’ve charmed the gods, because there’s no other possible explanation for you surviving two Adlin attacks and a wall being blasted out from underneath you.” He reached over to the small table sitting against the wall and picked up the glass oft murky-looking liquid. “He also said you have to drink all of this.”
I pushed up into a sitting position. The various muscle groups twinged in protest, but all in all, I’d come out of the whole thing better than I should have. I accepted the glass Trey offered, but the slight brush of his fingertips against mine had delight skipping through me. That weird hypersensitivity seemed to be back, and yet it lacked the overwhelming power of before. Was that because I’d gone through the ceremony of Gaia with Trey? Or was something else happening this time?
I frowned and sipped the drink; it was warm rather than cold, and tasted faintly of lemon, ginger, and an earthy but slightly bitter dash of ginseng. “I take it this is one of his potions?”
