“I’ll keep my ears open for a way to get you two free,” Hakan replied.
“No,” Emery snapped. “Save Megan.”
“And if I can you out first, then you’ll have to shut your traps and get saved.” He scowled, giving a stern glare first to Emery and then to Maska and then back to Emery again.
“All right,” Emery said, “but don’t take any chances. Megan comes first.”
Hakan hefted Megan over his shoulder and took a step.
“And, Hakan,” Maska said. “Remember to keep your mouth closed. One word from you and the whole Rol’dan army will hear.” A faint, teasing smiled hinted on Maska’s lips.
Hakan’s eyes opened with surprise. He snorted, holding back one of his bellows. “Now then, if I die, I’ve truly heard everything.” He shook his head. “Maska? Telling a joke?” He wagged his finger at Emery. “You just wait. We might get out of this yet. As you can see, the impossible can come true.”
Chapter Thirty-Four
THE SEA CRASHED against the rocks bordering Faylinn Castle. Daylight faded, painting the murky clouds blood red. No town surrounded the massive structure. No shops. No peddlers selling their wares. Just Faylinn, its vast walls, and the grassy field stretching from wall to the forest’s edge. For the first time, Nolan saw the great city for what it truly was: a prison.
Nolan closed his eyes, listening, pretending he was back home in Galva. He loved the sound of the sea. But he wasn’t home. In fact, he might never return home again. Tonight could be the last night he’d ever hear waves.
He took a slow, focused breath. Large square walls—much higher than the walls of Alton—jutted toward the sky. Along the wall’s edge, pairs of orange lights pierced the growing darkness, pacing back and forth, scanning the dark field. Nolan hid behind the trees, out of sight of those Perception Rol’dan. They couldn’t see him. For now.
As the sky darkened, the moon barely penetrated the black, twisting Nass. Nolan clenched and unclenched his fist, feeling the Strength in him lessen with the sun. Maybe they should wait until morning. The Dor’Jan were coming. He couldn’t see them, but the dirty ooze of them crept through his veins. They were out there in the forest—and crows, there were a lot of them. He’d never sensed anything like it. He pushed down bile and ran a hand over his chin. They couldn’t wait; Megan and Emery could already be dead.
Nolan wiped his shaking hands on his breeches and loaded a head-sized stone on a sling. Flaring Strength, he lifted the man-a-pult (as Rylan had so affectionately named it) and spun it over his head. The chain went taut with the boulder’s weight. He flicked his wrist and let it go—branches cracked as it soared into open space. He held his breath, following its progress as it slammed into the wall of Faylinn.
That should get their attention.
Maim, not kill. Nolan repeated the phrase in his head. Lieutenant Connelly, the girl he’d nearly killed at the ruins, had quickly switched sides once she knew she could leave the Rol’dan. Others could do the same.
Nolan loaded another stone—this one even bigger. He aimed for the dome and let it go. It cracked with a satisfying spray of debris. “Ignore that, Alcandor.”
Rustling weeds and snapping twigs rushed toward him. He grabbed a spike but relaxed when Lieutenant Connelly broke through the trees. A torch flamed in her hands, and the light danced off her bloodstained Rol’dan uniform.
“Forgive me for startling you, my lord,” she said. “The others are ready to move.”
Nolan shoved the spike into his belt. “Crows! I almost killed you.”
Her hazel, cat-like eyes smiled. “Well, it wouldn’t be the first time.”
Nolan cringed, remembering the wound in her chest at the temple ruins. “I’m almost ready. Is there a good place to get in other than the main gate?”
Her smile faded. “Not really.”
“Any suggestions?”
Her jaw tightened. “Kill as many as you can?”
“Maim, not—”
“Yes, yes. Although there are a few—”
Nolan leveled a gaze at her. “Tell the others to head to the gate once I make my move.”
“About that Deverell fellow,” she said. “He’s unstable. He should’ve traveled to Galva with the others.”
Nolan frowned. “I know. Believe me, I tried. But I couldn’t keep him away.”
Focusing his Perception at the gates, troops gathered—Speed users, he guessed. Kael’s familiar voice barked orders. Nolan’s stomach clenched. He’d been so focused on the king, he’d nearly forgotten about Kael.
Nolan loaded another boulder-sized stone and hoisted the sling over his shoulder. Lieutenant Connelly stepped back as he began the rotation overhead. The steady whoosh cut through the silence, building in momentum and intensity. Surging Speed, Nolan increased the pace. As the gates to the fortress opened, he released the stone.
The rock tumbled through the air and connected; the wall above the gates crashed, spraying rubble on a group of soldiers. Several torches and swords dropped to the ground as they covered their eyes. Kael glared in Nolan’s direction. At least he was still too far away for Kael to recognize him.
Nolan repositioned his spikes: fifty deadly projectiles that would soon find their mark. A vision of dead soldiers flashed in his head. His chest tightened. Maim, not kill.
Lieutenant Connelly stared at Nolan, awe pouring from her like he was some sort of nightforsaken god.
“Go,” Nolan said. “Get moving.”
She inhaled, her face half-shadowed in the light of her torch. “Yes, my lord.”
Nolan sighed. “And please, call me Nolan.”
“As you wish, Lord Nolan.”
She disappeared back to the Guardians, Vikas, and the other Speed users who hid at the other side of the woods. A row of Accuracy archers gathered on the wall. It was Nolan’s turn. He needed to clear the path so his friends wouldn’t become pincushions. As the last sunlight disappeared, he drew out his Speed and sprinted toward the waiting Rol’dan army.
The world slowed with Speed senses. Nolan cut across the empty field separating the forest and the wall. Grabbing his spikes, Nolan surged his Perception and focused on the archers. With Strength and Accuracy behind his throw, he flicked in rapid succession, and the spikes continued on what looked like a slow journey. He tore his eyes away as each spike jammed into the crook of their arms; they screamed and collapsed, dropping their bows and weapons.
Nolan thought of how many times they’d impaled him at the trials. Let’s see how they pull their bowstrings now.
His brief moment of elation fled as a cloud of hopelessness hit him full in the chest. He skidded to a halt; his arms relaxed, falling to his sides as a spike slipped from his palm and thudded into the soil. He jerked from the sensation, his head whipping to the trees. In a sea of dark robes, the Dor’Jan slid into the grassy field.
Ashen gray skin stretched, dried and sunken, over boney arms and legs. Walking corpses. Men and women, none he recognized, thank Brim. Hundreds of them scurried toward him, dark and tattered robes fluttering behind. One’s hood fell away revealing strands of gray, stringy hair. Nolan froze, his heart filling his ears.
Shaking away his shock, he pushed his powers just as they closed in. They reached with clawed nails and bony arms, surrounding him. The light of Brim ignited, and the creatures squealed and withdrew, avoiding the glow radiating around him. The hopelessness dropped from his shoulders like a wet cloak.
Shouts and orders of battle stopped; only the wheezing moan of the Dor’Jan filled the night air. Nolan stood in the center of the open field, a beacon surrounded by a swarm of writhing Dor’Jan. A platoon of Rol’dan stared, mouths gaped, as they waited at the open gates of Faylinn. Torches fell from their hands.
Nolan’s pulsed raced, his eyes darting from the monsters to the stunned Rol’dan soldiers. He snorted, despite his terror. Bet they’ve never seen that before.
Kael’s wide eyes met his. He tensed and straightened before turning to
his soldiers. “What are you waiting for?” he said. “Fire!”
Nolan brought forth Speed as a dozen arrows zipped toward him. Some came from the wall and others near the gate. Nolan caught a few, knocked the rest aside, and let loose the same number of spikes in return.
“Nolan!” Kael said.
He flared Empathy and felt Kael’s torn emotions. Confusion. Concern for … me? His stomach clenched. Crows! If he cares so much … why in Darkness is he trying to kill me?
Dodging, Nolan caught an arrow and sent it back with Strength behind the throw. Strengthening his light, he broke through the Dor’Jan. As they parted, cowering, he ran toward the open gate, not certain what he’d do when he got there.
Several dozen Rol’dan blocked his path, weapons raised as fear flooded from them. Glowing eyes of gold, red, and blue darted to the mass of animated death and back to Nolan again.
Nolan wiped a sleeve across his face and tightened his grip on his sword. So many. He could fight a few, but he couldn’t take them all. He glanced toward the trees. What is taking the others so long?
Once again, the sensation of filth crept down his spine. The Dor’Jan closed in, trapping Nolan between them and the Rol’dan army. At least the creatures kept the Rol’dan from attacking.
Kael stepped forward and torchlight flickered around him, casting shadows on his hardened face. Anguish pulsed from his emotions as he drew his sword—Alec’s sword. “Crows, Nolan. I can’t let you. I just can’t.”
Just as Speed flared to life in Kael’s eyes, the air around them changed. The sneer on Kael’s face fell and his sword arm dropped to his side. He stared out, expressionless, toward the waiting dead horde. Nolan sucked in a breath. “No, Kael! NO!”
Nolan gasped as all five of his Shays wrenched against his chest, freezing his body in place. He increased his light, gasping as the sensation fell away. The soldiers weren’t as lucky.
The Rol’dan froze, some falling to their knees. A few staggered back into the sheltered walls of Faylinn. Several others dropped their torches and pressed their palms to the side of their heads. Their faces went blank … and then they stepped into the waiting Dor’Jan.
Nolan poured everything into the illumination around him. He grabbed Kael’s arm, yanking him into the circle of his protective Shay.
Kael wheezed, blinking, his senses returning to him.
“Stay with me,” Nolan said.
A scream sounded as a swarm of Dor’Jan enveloped a Rol’dan soldier. One of the creatures straddled the man’s torso, its fingers pressed into the soldier’s skull. The man convulsed on the ground, and his body withered as if emptied from the inside out.
The Dor’Jan shrieked, frustration and desperation oozing from its putrid emotions. Nolan yanked back his Empathy, his stomach rolling from the creature’s wretched desolation. The Dor’Jan screeched, raising the hair on Nolan’s head. It jumped on another soldier, emptying him as well.
Kael’s head jerked from one gruesome sight to another before locking on Nolan. “W-what happened to you?”
Nolan scanned the creatures and stopped on one face, his heart lurching. Dried blood still lingered on its lips. Its skin wasn’t sunken or gray; it was white, as if it had just tried on death. Nolan choked back the shock, recognition washing over him. Garrick. He reached for him, but Kael yanked Nolan’s arm away.
“Don’t,” Kael said. “The king took him last night.”
Brightness burst through the tree line, and the howls of the Dor’Jan escalated into frantic screams. Nolan pulled Kael through the chaos toward the shelter of the walls. The Dor’Jan, now desperate, circled Nolan, hunger gleaming in their black eyes. They dropped away as soon as they got close enough to the torches flooding from inside the gates.
More screams drew their attention. The Guardians, massive swords raised and golden armor gleaming, surrounded Vikas and the others, protecting them from a wave of Dor’Jan. They came straight across the field toward the open gates of Faylinn.
Kael spotted them, and the blood drained from his face.
As they neared the castle gates, Kael pulled back. The Guardians slashed with their glowing swords, and the Dor’Jan fell away, engulfed in flames. They plowed through the Dor’Jan like farmers sowing wheat. As they finally raced through the gate into the paved courtyard, the Guardians parted, and the small, determined band of resistance charged.
Kael flinched, a turmoil of emotions churning within him. A few of Nolan’s friends charged in Kael’s direction. Nolan shook his head and waved them on. However, Kael had already raised his sword.
“Kael, we can stop this,” Nolan said. “Call off the Rol’dan. We can defeat the king together.”
Kael’s eyes jerked toward him. “No one can defeat him, Nolan.” His voice quaked, finality on his tongue.
“Together,” Nolan said. “We can do it together.”
Kael’s mind shifted to a glimmer of hope. But the fire building in Kael extinguished with a glance. Any chance of Kael joining them came to a violent end.
Alec Deverell stood before them, his fist clenched on the hilt of a sword, and his eyes gleaming yellow with Speed.
Chapter Thirty-Five
NOLAN’S STOMACH DROPPED. No, Alec. Not now. He stepped between them, hands outstretched, one palm open to each of their chests.
“Get out of my way, Nolan,” Alec said.
Astonishment washed over Kael. “But you’re dead.”
“Oh yes,” Alec said. “I was quite dead … until Taryn healed me to life.”
“Taryn?” Kael’s face paled, nearly draining to the ashen gray of a Dor’Jan. “No. That can’t be.”
“You killed me,” Alec continued. “And she gave me her life. You killed her!”
“No.” Kael’s jaw twitched and his face reddened. “I didn’t kill her; the stupid girl made that decision on her own.”
“Get out of my way, Nolan,” Alec said.
“If you had fought like a man,” Kael said, “she’d still be alive.”
“Nolan!” a voice cried.
Nolan swiveled, looking for the frantic voice.
Alec dodged around Nolan, swinging his sword.
“Alec! No!” Nolan yelled, but it was too late. Kael blocked him with a resounding clang, and the battle between them erupted.
“Nolan!” the voice called again.
Nolan tore his gaze from Alec and Kael in time to see Vikas fighting two Rol’dan. Another group of soldiers surrounded the Guardians, swords swinging.
Nolan hesitated then looked at Alec and Kael; the two dodged and parried and sliced their way toward an empty practice field. His heart twisted, but there was nothing he could do. Nolan prayed, hoping they would both come out of this alive.
He turned, pulled several spikes, and threw.
The two Rol’dan fighting Vikas fell.
Vikas immediately worked his way back to the Guardians.
Nolan grabbed two more spikes on his leg, then another pair, and another, and soon what was left of the attacking Rol’dan fled.
Greer inhaled, healing a deep gash on his arm that dripped with shimmering, silver blood. He held his glowing sword to his face, his eyes blazing with white light. And with a small bow, he gave Nolan a grateful salute.
The sound of fighting faded into an unnatural hush. All eyes rested on the doors to the castle. A Guardian, larger than Nolan had ever seen, emerged.
The Guardian wound through the awe-struck courtyard. Black hair hung, smooth and silky, down to his wide shoulders. His sharp features scowled with hate. He wore full plate armor the color of tarnished copper. In his fist he gripped a gigantic sword; it swung slowly at his side as the crowd gave way to him. Though he radiated light, it was dirty and stained. Even his eyes glowed gray, not the typical pure brightness of the other Guardians. His stare made all stop and hold their breath. He walked purposefully through the crowd, and every Rol’dan—as well as Nolan’s friends—stopped and bowed. Nolan felt it, too: the forced awe. He shoved it
aside. He was not dealing with just another Guardian.
Greer, Malik, and Sanawen didn’t move. They stood taller: the posture of challenge.
“I should have known,” the dark Guardian said. “Greer. I left you for dead.”
“Did you, Alcandor?” Greer said.
Alcandor? The king is a Guardian? No. It can’t be. Nolan searched the crowd. Stupid, giddy admiration was planted on their faces.
Everything made sense—all of Alcandor’s powers, how he never aged. Now Nolan knew what he was truly up against: a Guardian who enjoyed killing humans. Kael was right. How in Brim’s light can we defeat him?
A crooked smile hinted at the corner of Alcandor’s lips. “I won’t make the same mistake this time; I am more powerful than before.”
“You stole those powers,” Greer said.
“Brim took my powers!” Muscles tensed on Alcandor’s neck. “He gave me no choice. I simply took back what was rightfully mine. Lay your head down, Greer. It will come off one way or the other.”
He motioned toward a group of Rol’dan and then pointed to Malik and Sanawen. “Bind them. Do what you wish with them but don’t kill them. I will do it myself.”
The Rol’dan cheered in frenzied madness, and a mass of Nass shot from them into the dark sky. They swarmed forward, and within a few short seconds, the two Guardians were overcome.
“And this one” —Alcandor motioned toward Greer— “is mine.”
Alcandor swept his sword in a menacing arch and lunged toward Greer. In a flash of white light, Greer’s blade met Alcandor’s. They paused, sizing one another up, and then the battle erupted.
Nolan froze at the sight. He’d never seen Greer so fearsome. Yet, however hard Greer fought, he couldn’t match Alcandor’s Speed and power. Greer would lose; it was only a matter of time. Malik and Sanawen were already overcome.
A twang of bowstrings sounded, and Nolan dodged the arrows. He reached for the spikes at his forearm, but the bracer was empty. His belt was empty as well. He found some on his thigh holster, dodged several more arrows, and let the spikes fly, thudding perfectly into the two men firing into the courtyard from the wall above.
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