Savant (The Luminether Series)

by Richard Denoncourt

  “I won’t,” he said.

  He broke into a sprint toward the edge of the barrier. He moved so fast that Emma didn’t know what was happening until it was over.

  The muscular, gray-skinned man carrying the hammer flew back. He’d been knocked backward by Sevarin’s punch. He fell with a loud burst against a pile of broken wall segments, his hammer landing with a dull thump next to him.

  A look of fury twisted Iolus’s face.

  “You’ll pay for that, Sargonaut. You think this is a game? You think I’m joking around? I’m here to kill you and your gold-winged girlfriend. In fact, I might just let Basher here pluck her feathers out, one by one, and make you watch.”

  “You just try that,” Sevarin said.

  Basher pushed himself off the ground. He peered at Sevarin through rage-soaked eyes and wiped his mouth. Elki gathered around his legs and joined him, snapping their jaws at the boy.

  “I’m gonna pound you into a bloody paste, Sargonaut. Then I’m going to smear your remains all over a canvas and call it art.”

  Sevarin started his own comeback, but Ascher stopped him.

  “Quiet, Sev.” Then he looked at Iolus. “You won’t get Milo. As you can see, he’s not even here. He’s somewhere far away and safe.”

  Iolus scanned the orphan’s faces. The floating sword was now running its point all around the shield, making a high-pitched keening sound like a fork scraping across a plate.

  Iolus frowned. “Let’s take a closer look, shall we?”

  He raised his right arm as high as it would go. His hand caught fire, and the flame grew in size and intensity until it became a seething, white-hot fireball. The sword buried its tip into the fire and pulled it up into the air, becoming a hovering torch that crept along the shield-bubble, illuminating the orphans’ faces. Their teeth chattered in the cold.

  “So it is,” Iolus said. “But that’s just fine. I’m sure you’ll tell me where he is, especially when I start plucking eyeballs out of your beloved orphans. Followed by their teeth, their fingernails, and finally their…”

  Iolus stopped. The smile dropped from his face.

  A sound had risen in the night. A thin rumbling in the distance.

  “What is that?” Sevarin said, looking around.

  Oscar, who had been holding on to his father (the man looked as though he might die of fright any moment now) pulled away from the group and approached the far edge of the bubble. He cupped his ear with one hand and listened.

  “It is men running,” he said in a whisper. “Many men running from there”—he pointed north—“and there.” He pointed south.

  “They’re flanking us,” the Pestilent woman said.

  Iolus backed away from the shield, his sword torch following him. The Dark Acolyte, the Pestilent woman, and Basher also backed away.

  “We’ve been set up,” the Dark Acolyte said.

  “Shut your mouth, Coscoros,” Iolus said, then turned to his soldiers. “They’re coming from the north and south. Ready yourselves for battle.”

  With a flap of his wings, Coscoros shot up into the darkness.

  “Acolytes, fly,” he shouted over the gathering of soldiers, which Emma noticed was much larger than she had originally thought. Black shapes darted up into the sky. Coscoros flew among them, shouting orders and dividing the Acolytes into those who would defend north and those who would defend south.

  The Pestilent woman shouted, “Ferals, phase,” and immediately phased into a huge, ugly gray wasp that made a buzzing sound louder than a tractor engine. She flew away, over the crowd, and Emma saw many others phase into giant wasps, beetles, and mosquitoes.

  Basher howled in a way that made him sound like he was speaking an alien language. The Elki surrounding him turned and sprinted off in different directions. He pointed at Sevarin, made a slashing motion across his own throat, then turned and disappeared into the gloom.

  Iolus grinned once at Ascher and then at Emma. The man’s toothy, razor-sharp smile made cold fingers tickle her spine.

  “I’m coming back for your children,” he said in that raspy, eloquent voice of his. “So don’t go anywhere.”

  When Emma looked again, Iolus was gone, and all she could see was the sparkling spread of torches in the distance. The lights trembled in the snowy darkness as forces clashed and the battle began.

  Chapter 70

  “Who are they?” Sevarin asked no one in particular.

  No one answered. He stood halfway between the group of orphans and the edge of the shield bubble, staring off at the battle down the hill. Men wearing dark armor and carrying swords and shields had come through the forests to swarm Iolus’s fighters. Emma’s heart swelled with hope.

  Sevarin turned to the group. “What now?”

  “Now,” Ascher said. “We wait. Whoever brought this army is trying to protect us. We have no reason to lose hope just yet.”

  “I’m cold,” one of the orphans said.

  “Ascher,” Coral said, “the children will freeze.”

  Sevarin scowled. “We just sit here? No way. Let’s get as far away as possible.”

  “We can’t run,” Ascher said. “We have nowhere to go. We’ll freeze to death if we go into that forest.”

  Sevarin was shouting now. “That’s better than sitting here and waiting for Lily’s shield spell to break! They’ll come back for us!”

  Andres spoke up in his broken English, keeping one hand on his son’s shoulder. “Sevarin is correct. We should to be running.”

  Ascher looked at Lily. “How’s the shield spell?”

  Emma studied her friend’s face. Lily’s eyes were closed. Her brows hung low in a look of deep concentration.

  Barrel answered for her. “She’s good for now, but I’m almost out of these Manaris Brew potions. As it is, she’s had too many. She’ll lose consciousness if I give her more.”

  Ascher shuffled over to where Lily was standing.

  “What would we do without her?” he said, smiling down at the girl magician. “Well, if the shield breaks, at least we’ll have one more line of defense.”

  “And what’s that?” Sevarin said in his snotty way.

  “This.”

  Ascher stepped back from the group and grabbed the lapels of his fur-lined winter coat. He cast it off and let it drop to the snow-covered wooden boards of what had once been the dining room floor.

  The orphans gasped at what they saw. His clothes looked normal—a simple brown outfit made for the winter—but it wasn’t his clothes they were staring at.

  It was his tail.

  “A Feral,” Oscar said. “Que chévere!”

  Ascher spread his arms.

  “I love you, Coral,” he said to his wife.

  Coral spoke in a sudden rush of emotion. “My love.”

  Snow swirled around Ascher’s legs and became a tornado that swallowed up his massive body, stinging the faces of those around him. His long hair and dangling, curly beard were swept to one side as the wind enveloped him. It swept the artificial lenses out of his eyes, leaving them a golden orange.

  The transformation was sudden, but Emma noticed the details as if it were happening in slow motion, such was the intensity of her concentration. Ascher’s head and limbs grew stockier and longer, and the skin on his face darkened as brown fur appeared in tufts. His eyes blackened and reformed themselves into round, marble-like pebbles. His hind parts thickened as he dropped on all fours.

  Emma gasped. Ascher let out a deep roar, no longer a man but a grizzly bear the size of her mother’s minivan.

  The orphans stepped back in fear. The bear sniffed a few times and raised its head. A pair of rounded ears twitched as it scanned the crowd of orphans. It was Ascher, without a doubt. It even looked like him.

  “Pop?” Sevarin said. He ran forward and threw his arms around the enormous creature. Ascher raised himself on his hind legs and wrapped his arms, each ending in a set of long black claws, around the boy’s torso. A gruff sound worked it
s way out of his throat, sounding like laughter.

  Calista and Oscar stepped forward, their tails swishing behind them.

  “I don’t believe it,” Calista said. “All this time.”

  The sounds of battle rang down the hill, adding urgency to the situation. Emma found herself thinking about Milo again. Where was he?

  A vision flashed in her mind of men with torches and swords running up the hill, Elki loping beside them.

  “We need to leave,” Emma said. “Now!”

  “Damn right we do,” Sevarin said, taking her hand.

  Then Lily began to cry.

  The shield spell had broken.

  Chapter 71

  The grizzly bear swung its snout in the direction of the forest to the west. Ascher was trying to tell them something.

  Barrel was the one who spoke.

  “To the forest!”

  Then Emma heard the worst sound she had ever heard in her life: the wheezy gasping and snorting of hungry monsters.

  “Run!” Coral shouted, gathering a few of the smaller orphans into her arms and taking off toward the forest.

  Emma and Calista grabbed Lily, who in her weakened state looked ready to faint, and pulled her along. Oscar had allowed Barrel to climb onto his back and was carrying him through the knee-deep snow as quickly as he could.

  “Where are we going?” Barrel said against the howling wind.

  “I don’t know,” Coral said. “Oh, gods, Ascher!”

  Ascher, still in grizzly bear form, had stayed back to engage the chasing Elki. Emma looked back and screamed at what she saw. The Elki clung to Ascher’s fur like attacking wasps, and the growls being torn from his throat were so loud they overtook the clamor of the battle down the hill.

  Then another figure—this one shaped like a person and dark of skin—began to dance around the grizzly bear, swinging and punching as it moved. Elki were tossed aside like stuffed animals, their wounds gushing blood all over the snow.

  Sevarin.

  “Get off him!” he shouted, stabbing at the creatures. The Tiberian blade flashed in his hand.

  Owen and Gunner ran sideways so they could watch.

  “Yeah, Kill ’em, Sev! Kill ’em!”

  Sevarin managed to break Ascher free from the Elki. As father and son ran back toward the group, the grizzly bear raised its front paw. Sevarin reached over and victoriously slapped the giant paw in a high-five.

  Up ahead, the forest was black. The trees were heavy and white with snow. Emma fell several times. Each time, she thought she’d rather get eaten by Elki than enter that shadowy forest.

  “Stop!” Owen shouted. “Everyone stop! Elki in the forest!”

  The group stopped as one, many of the orphans falling forward into the snow. At first they saw nothing but the darkened forest in the distance. Then, among those dark trees, a galaxy of red stars blinked to life as hundreds of Elki opened their glowing eyes. Low growls left their throats and rumbled across the field, sounding like an avalanche.

  “No,” Coral said. “Oh, gods—no!”

  Ascher ran ahead of the group and let out a deep, bearish growl. It did nothing to stop Elki from sprinting out of the forest toward them.

  Then the sky turned on.

  That was how it appeared, anyway. The snow was suddenly awash in artificial white light, accompanied by a blast of wind that caused the orphans to shield their eyes and melt into crouches.

  Something swooped over them and flew toward the forest.

  A spaceship!

  Or maybe not a spaceship, but some kind of ship. It was a boxy thing with stubby wings that looked like it was meant to carry cargo. It hovered before the forest, casting down its beam of light and scaring the Elki back into the trees.

  Two figures descended from the craft, carried by an invisible force, too far away for Emma to identify them. But she could tell it was two men. One was a bit shorter than the other. They were dressed in white, which made it difficult to see them against the snow.

  Her heart flipped inside her chest. Could it be Milo? Maybe it was him and that man she had seen in her vision.

  Then, watching the two men—and it was clear they were two men, not a man and a boy—she came to the conclusion that it couldn’t possibly be Milo. Even the shorter one was too tall to be her twin brother. And to make her even more doubtful, the shorter one began to cast a fireball spell that Milo could not possibly have learned in only two days’ time.

  “Who are they?” Coral said.

  “Magic users,” Lily said. “From Theus.”

  Lily no longer looked tired. She was peering at the two men through narrowed eyes and shivering.

  The taller of the two men had cast a glowing spark up into the night sky. Its light was weak at first; it resembled the orange spark that shoots up before bursting into a fireworks display. But as it hung in the sky, it grew brighter and brighter.

  Then the shorter one cast a spell of his own. He sent a glowing stream of energy, like a concentrated burst of steam, toward the orange spark, and when the two met, the orange one, with a popping sound, split into what appeared to be a dozen fiery asteroids. They left hellish streaks across the sky as they shot toward the forest.

  “Whaaa…” Owen said.

  Barrel shouted, “By the gods!”

  The balls of fire landed in the forest.

  BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

  It was as if the sun had peeked its head over the horizon; all was bright as day, but only for a moment. The fireballs exploded in an earth-shaking tantrum of fire and heat.

  The orphans screamed and fell to the snow as heat washed over them. Emma looked over at Calista and Lily. Calista looked stunned, as if someone had slapped her across the face. But Lily—

  Lily was smiling.

  “Milo,” she said, clutching her hands together against her chest.

  The men sprinted toward the orphans. They had become silhouettes against the blazing forest fire, and yet Emma instantly recognized the shorter one’s awkward way of running.

  “It’s true,” she said. “It’s him!”

  Milo reached the group first, but he was a different Milo, not the twin brother she had spoken to yesterday morning, and definitely not the skinny, waifish boy she had grown up with, always complaining about his height or his lack of athleticism.

  No—this Milo was a few years older and broader of shoulders and chest. His hair was a few inches longer and fell in wavy layers around his head. He had put on weight—mostly muscle—and he was so much taller than she remembered.

  “Emma,” he said, and despite the slightly deepened voice, she knew at once that it was him.

  He wrapped his arms around her and hugged her the way a brother hugs his sister when he hasn’t seen her in years. He pulled back, and Emma saw tears in his eyes. She found it odd that he could miss her so much when she didn’t miss him at all. (How could she? She had seen him just two days ago!) But the look he gave her was so full of affection that she could only respond by hugging him again and shouting, “Where were you?”

  He released her and looked over the faces of the orphans, who had gathered around to stare at him. He had to shout over the whines of dying Elki in the forest, and the ringing of battle out in the field.

  “You’re safe now! We’re gonna get you out of here!” Then Milo looked at the grizzly bear. “Ascher?”

  The bear tipped its head back and snorted.

  The man who had accompanied Milo ran with difficulty through the snow and was huffing and puffing by the time he reached the orphans.

  “Let’s get to the shuttle,” he said. “Everyone follow us!”

  Milo pulled something out of his bag that caught the light of the fires with a wooden gleam. It look delicate, like a well-preserved antique—the leg to an old wooden table, maybe, except it had a bluish crystal stuck to one end.

  “Lily!” Milo called out.

  Lily ran up to him. “Yes, Milo?”

  “You’ll need this.” He
held it out to her.

  Lily took it gently into her hands. Her eyes went wide as she inspected it.

  “A short staff,” she said. “Where did you get…”

  A loud growl interrupted them. Ascher loped past them, following the magician, his enormous hind legs kicking back snow. The orphans set off after him toward the craft, which turned out to be much bigger than Emma had thought. She was able to breathe more easily now. They were going to make it after all.

  “HOLD IT!” The voice had been deep, monstrous.

  Whoever he was, the man had shouted with such primitive rage that Ascher skidded to a halt, throwing a flurry of snow forward. The orphans crunched to a stop as well.

  It was the big, muscular man with the gray skin and the enormous hammer, flanked by Coscoros and the Pestilent woman. A fine layer of ash from the torches barely hid the scrapes, scratches, and blood streaks all over their armor.

  Basher lifted the hammer with two arms and brought it down into the snow. The ground trembled from the impact.

  Coscoros and the Pestilent woman walked around Basher to approach the group. The light from the ship reached their faces and Emma saw blood on them. They were panting from battle, weapons held at their sides. The Pestilent woman held a crossbow while the Dark Acolyte held two short swords, one in each hand.

  “Milo Banks,” Coscoros called out. “Stay right where you are!”

  Milo balled his hands into fists. “It’s you!”

  The magician accompanying Milo wove his hands through the air. Green light scampered over his fingers and leaped off the tips.

  “Now,” the magician shouted.

  The Pestilent woman, the Dark Acolyte, and the Berserker slogged toward Milo, lifting their weapons in preparation.

  Milo brought his hands forward, made his fingers into claws. His hands faced each other, as if holding an invisible ball, and within that orb of space, a twinkling orange spark was given life.

  Emma knew at once what was happening.

  “Do it, Milo.”

  The spark became engorged with blazing orange and white light until it filled the space between his hands and made silhouettes out of his fingers. Light washed over his face and the moist ends of his hair, and his eyes were black with anger.