Ronad shook his head defiantly. “No way, I’m coming with you. Lojak knows what he’s doing—he’s been doing this his whole life. Plus, he has Garrik. Garrik has run jobs with this same mode of operation; we did this exact cloaking thing a few years back. If it goes south, he’ll be able to help. Relax, okay?” His voice carried a weird, hard edge. I got the feeling his reluctance stemmed from something more than his faith in Lojak. It reeked of Orfaio and the puzzle pieces.
The rebel horde was still safely in the distance as the last stragglers boarded their ships. Once everyone was inside, we fired up the comms and sent instructions to rise in formation. Bashrik implemented the cloaking mechanism, and a shimmering shield engulfed our ship and spread outward. We kept to the outside edge, with Lojak on the opposite side.
“Cloak in place?” Bashrik asked over the comms.
“Affirmative,” Lojak replied. Soon enough, everyone was within its cover.
“Stay low until the rebels have passed us, then we trail them at a safe distance,” Bashrik instructed, receiving replies from the rest of the pilots. The drone pairing had been stopped, each ship now flying in the hands of the citizen task force.
My heart jumped into my throat as the rebels neared, their ships swarming forward en masse. Even with the cloak, I was terrified they would spot us. It felt like everybody was holding their breath as Ezra and his army sailed over the terrain where we hovered. If they discovered us, we’d be done for. Twenty ships, including the Fed ship and Kaido’s vessel, would barely inconvenience them if they wanted to decimate us.
I breathed out as the ships passed us by, powering on toward Regium and the threat of the queens. Somehow, we’d managed to get away with it.
“Follow at distance,” Bashrik whispered, as though the rebels might hear him if he raised his voice.
“Copy that,” came the reply.
Slowly, we began to follow the rebel forces. On the control panel, I could see the formation of our fleet, tightly packed. There was barely ten feet of space between vessels. As long as nobody collided in the sky, we’d be fine. Still, that thought weighed heavy on my mind as we gave chase, keeping a good distance behind the rebels.
Reaching the familiar mountain range that circled Regium, we moved off to the right-hand side and lifted higher into the sky, where we could get a bird’s eye view of the battle that was about to take place. We’d been there barely a minute when the first shots were fired, thunderous blasts ricocheting from the defenses of the queens. Dragons weren’t something they knew how to fight, but the rebels were a different story. They weren’t shying away this time.
An imposing lineup of warships, smeared in silver, green, black, and red, hovered above the city limits, their guns raised. A blast whistled from the cannon of a vessel, hurtling toward the front line of the advancing rebels. It found its mark, exploding the rebel ship to smithereens. More followed, blast after blast pounding the rebel advance, piercing the shields and shattering the vessels into nothing more than falling shards of metal. As the rebel coldbloods exited the hatches of their vessels, the infantry flying straight toward the city, smaller ships emerged from behind the queens’ front guard. They sprayed mist from beneath, enveloping the infantry and any survivors who’d fallen from the exploded ships. After each spray, the small ships retreated. Clearly, the queens didn’t have a single drop of sleeping mist to waste.
The rebels fired back, but they didn’t seem as powerful as they’d once been. They made no attempt to block the incoming fire or use evasive maneuvers to escape it. Instead, they held their formation, peppering the queens’ armies with a barrage of artillery. Wherever the big guns were, the rebels weren’t ready to bring them out just yet.
“What are they doing?” I whispered to Navan.
“I think they’re testing the waters,” he replied, slipping his arm around my waist.
“You think they’re letting the queens tire themselves out?”
He nodded. “They probably want to know how easy the line will be to break. My guess is, they’re biding their time. They’ll start with artillery and move to explosives when the queens start to run out.”
Part of me felt like I should warn the queens, somehow, but they weren’t my responsibility anymore. Brisha had always been kind to me. If it hadn’t been for the bigger picture, I might have been tempted to get word to her. As it was, my loyalties didn’t lie with her anymore.
“I don’t know about that,” Bashrik replied. “It looks to me like the queens are freaking winning!”
Cambien smirked. “If you think this is winning, my friend, you have never seen the true devastation of war.”
Bashrik was right; the more I watched, the more it really did look like the queens were pushing back the rebel fleet. Their blasters were hammering full-pelt, exploding rebel ships left, right, and center, until there were less than a quarter of what they’d arrived with. The infantry had stopped trying to attack, retreating to the safety of the ships. However, I spotted a couple of sleeping immortals on the ground below us, curled up, oblivious to what was going on overhead.
“They’re… They’re retreating,” Ronad whispered, as though he couldn’t quite believe it. I frowned, trying to catch his eye, but his gaze was fixed firmly on the warzone. Had he seen a different outcome?
“Again, dear friend, I imagine you have never seen the true perils of war,” Cambien remarked.
Surprisingly, Jareth was the one to speak up. “He was in special ops for years, if you must know. He has seen plenty of wars and has been in the middle of battlegrounds so gruesome you wouldn’t believe the stories, even if he told you. My own son, his comrade, told me these tales, and I could not believe them. So, how about you keep your remarks to yourself?”
Cambien merely laughed. “I was simply trying to say that all may not be what it appears. Your kind are crafty—they do not behave in a predictable manner. You say they are immortal, yes?”
“Yes.”
“Maybe these were the sacrifice—a few nasty injuries, for the sake of information.”
Jareth whirled around, his eyes narrowing. “In Rask’s name, the scaly one is right.”
“I am rarely wrong, grayskin.”
“What do you mean?” I ran to the control panel in a fit of panic, before Cambien and Jareth could get into a fight over who had the bigger ego.
Bashrik pointed at the radar. “Oh damn. A fleet is on its way… a huge one.”
Sprinting for the windshield, I stared in disbelief as a ginormous force rumbled into view. They filled the sky, as far as the eye could see, forcing us to move higher to get out of their way. It seemed that Ezra and Aurelius had managed to recruit more soldiers after conquering Northern Vysanthe, and snatched up a healthy quantity of extra ships, too. Whether by force or by voluntary consent, it didn’t matter; their numbers had swelled regardless.
The queens’ army forged a ring around the mountain range, holding the line. I already knew it was too little, too late. The capital city was surrounded by rebel forces. There was no way they could eliminate so many.
“Hold tight,” Bashrik instructed. “We need to see how this plays out.”
“Copy that,” eighteen voices echoed.
“At least they’re all in one place,” I mused, my heart thundering in my chest. We were perilously close to the rebel fleet. Despite the threat they held over the city of Regium, I was glad they were distracted.
“What is that?” Nisha wondered, moving up to the very edge of the windshield, her nose almost touching the glass.
I frowned, joining her. “What?”
“That.” She pointed to the tallest spire of Gianne’s palace. The flags of the two queens were being taken down by stealthy hands. In their place, a single sheet of gray rose.
“They’ve surrendered,” Jareth gasped.
“So quickly?” It didn’t seem possible.
“Maybe they knew it was a fight they couldn’t win,” Cambien remarked. “I’ve seen it happen before. T
o save the majority, sacrifices have to be made.”
Whatever had urged the queens to back down, it didn’t matter. Ezra and Aurelius had officially won the war.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
It had all happened so fast, but I understood why the queens had done it—if they hadn’t surrendered, the rest of their army would’ve been easily decimated, all lives lost.
We hovered where we were while the rebel forces moved in, the queens’ defenses retreating to the hangars. The rebel vessels swept toward the glinting spires of the palace, setting down wherever there was space. Still hidden by the cloaking mechanism, we followed, careful not to get too close.
“What’s the plan now?” Jareth whispered.
“Ezra and Aurelius will draw a crowd,” I replied. “We wait until their numbers have assembled, and then we strike.”
This was a dangerous move, but it was the best opportunity we could have hoped for. The rebels were mostly gathered in one place, meaning one sweep of the congregation might rid the majority of their immortality. As long as we stayed in tight formation and kept out of the way, we might just get away with it. Only a few rebel ships remained in the sky. After all, there was nothing to fight for anymore. The war was won—nobody was going to retaliate. Well, nobody that they knew of.
Twenty minutes later, two figures appeared on the royal balcony. The entire rebel horde crowded the palace walls, eager to see the faces of their triumphant leaders. In every available space surrounding the palace, rebels were cramped. I noticed that the true citizens of Regium kept to their houses, a few peering from windows to see what was going on. I imagined they didn’t want to come out, in case the rebels started to round up dissenters. It would happen soon enough, but nothing was going to get in the way of Ezra and Aurelius’s announcement.
The only members of the queens’ territories that emerged were the surrendered forces, who were being frog-marched out of their vessels and made to stand with the rebels. A sign of power and superiority.
“To my troops and to those who have surrendered, I welcome you to a new era!” Ezra bellowed, his voice amplified to reach the crowd. “We’ve fought long and hard, but the war is finally over. While those of you who have fought for the queens may fear what’s to come, I urge you to accept your new rule with open arms.”
The rebel soldiers knelt, shoving their enemy counterparts to the ground. “Ezra, Ezra, Ezra, Ezra…” the chant started small, growing in volume.
“It will be a time of change!” Ezra roared. “It will be a time of prosperity! There’ll be no more fighting, no more squabbling between petty queens. Instead, you will all be pushed into the future with a strong, guiding hand—a hand that knows the supremacy of Vysanthe, and wishes to see it fulfilled!”
Aurelius looked sheepish, evidently wanting to say a few words of his own. With Ezra stealing the show, that didn’t seem likely. I could sense the friction between them. Yes, they might have won the war between the rebels and the queens, but it was clear there was still a conflict brewing between the rebel leaders. The fact that the crowd was chanting Ezra’s name would only make things worse. Aurelius had gone from one position of submission to another, without even realizing it.
“Now,” I urged.
Bashrik nodded, opening up the comms. “Move to release. Follow my and Lojak’s lead.”
“Copy that,” nervous voices replied.
Still cloaked, we moved toward the kneeling crowd, ready to release the anti-elixir. I knew our tanks of the stuff wouldn’t successfully cover all of the rebels, but I was certain we could get most of them. If we covered enough ground and kept the storm going, putting in evasive maneuvers where necessary, we could do this. Ultimately, our plan was to create a snowstorm that froze in the Vysanthean air, flakes drifting down in a powerful barrage that they wouldn’t be able to escape. The sleeping mist had contained some kind of antifreeze, but we hadn’t been able to come up with one in time. There were too many factors involved, and Jareth hadn’t been sure we could antifreeze without ruining the potency of the anti-elixir. So, it would be a snowstorm—the likes of which the rebels had never seen before.
“Inform my Pyros, and those who will go to ground with the sprayers, that they should prepare to jump,” Cambien said.
“Pyros, prepare to defend. Task force, pick up your sprayer guns and prepare to jump. Spray anyone who tries to leave,” Bashrik instructed.
“Understood,” the pilots replied. All around, the hatches opened, and faces appeared at the edges, along with hands clutching the spray guns tight. Being inside the shared cloak bubble, we were able to see our mist-ship neighbors. The Draconians were hard to miss, their bright colors shining.
“Hold,” Bashrik insisted.
“With this historic triumph, we welcome in a new way of life!” Ezra bellowed. “This is a happy day. One that shall cement our prowess in the universal annals, for the rest of time! Look upon your neighbor and see the truth in my words. We come bearing the gift of immortality! If you do not fight this new future, you shall receive the same gift. This we promise you!”
“Release now! Sprayers, wait for my instruction!” Bashrik barked, pushing the ships down over the crowds.
Still cloaked in formation, our fleet triggered the dispersal mechanisms. A moment later, it began to snow, heavy flakes surging downward in a blanket of silver-tinged flurries. It was so dense that it made visibility nearly impossible, though we could still make out the figures on the royal balcony through the video feed Bashrik had playing on the screen. Sheets of snow danced in front of the rebel leaders, and the rebel forces lifted their faces toward it, letting the cool flakes soothe their skin. I could hardly believe it. There was no surprise. Nobody was running. Nobody feared it. I realized then that nobody understood what it was… How could they?
“You see how Vysanthe smiles on us?” Ezra bellowed. “You see how she sends us this sign of her gratitude? Snow has long been a sign of change, of rebirth. This storm is no different. It’s a welcome emblem, to seal our future in hope!”
The crowd cheered, lifting their hands to the falling flakes.
Holding our nerve, we moved all across the city, the anti-elixir drifting down. The rebels continued to cheer its presence, Ezra and Aurelius grinning on their balcony. With our ships cloaked and the clouds blackening overhead, I guessed they presumed we were snow clouds, releasing the sign that cemented their glory.
The snow itself was strangely beautiful, cascading downward in a silent curtain, blanketing the city below. It gathered on rooftops and roads, covering parks and ships, melting into the skin of the victorious rebels. It coated them, soaking their clothes, seeping into their bloodstreams. The anti-elixir didn’t take long to work. Soon, everyone would be on a level footing again, the rebels’ advantage snatched away.
I remembered something Lazar had said, so long ago now: Vysanthe is a savage beauty. He was right. In the oddly calming drift of falling snow, I had never seen it look more striking.
“We should target Ezra and Aurelius,” Navan said. “We can’t give them the chance to escape.”
I nodded. “While the other ships release their manual sprayers, we can head for the palace.”
Cambien cleared his throat. “Might I suggest an alternative?”
“Make it fast.”
“Myself and the Pyros will take care of those in the palace,” he said firmly. “They have taken much of what is ours, and we plan to repay them for that in kind. This is the moment we have been waiting for, Riley—do not rob us of our vengeance again.”
I smiled at him sadly. “The palace is yours. Just make sure you get those bastards, okay?” I jabbed a finger at the video screen, where Ezra and Aurelius were still basking in their glory, oblivious to the effects of the anti-elixir.
“Instruct my Pyros to prepare for battle,” Cambien said, turning to Bashrik. “Request that a small group remain behind, to protect the sprayers.”
Bashrik nodded, and relayed the message. A chorus
of “copy that” came back to him, the Pyros readying themselves for a fight. Now that the rebels were no longer immortal, it was a fight we could definitely win. Perhaps Orfaio’s timing hadn’t been off, after all.
“For tonight, we will celebrate the changes of our great nation!” Ezra went on. “But come tomorrow, the hard work will begin. If you’re not with us, you’re against us. We offer you eternal life, but if you won’t accept, then you will face the opposite—a life cut short. Follow us and your lives will go on in happiness and prosperity. Defy us, and you will die! Long live Vysanthe!”
“Long live Vysanthe!” the rebels roared back.
Jareth shook his head. “I wish Lazar could see this so he would know the kind of evil he had allied himself with.”
“I think he always knew, Jareth… He just hoped for something better,” I replied.
“Are we ready?” Bashrik asked.
My heart thundered in my chest. “I think so. Cambien, you might want to get into position.”
“Of course.” The Draconian disappeared into the main space of the ship, with the sound of the hatch opening coming a second later.
“In five, four, three, two, one… Pyros and sprayers, go, go, go!” Bashrik shouted.
A swarm of winged individuals plummeted from the ships around us, the Pyros melding seamlessly into their impressive dragon forms in midair. While the gun-wielding task force took to the ground, spraying anyone in sight, the Draconians flew to the palace. A small group remained behind, protecting the sprayers and exploding the last defensive ships from the sky, as promised, but a mighty horde headed for the spires. They took my breath away, slicing through the sky with their powerful, streamlined bodies. Every color of scale shone brightly, and I knew those scales might be the last things many of these rebels saw. I certainly hoped it would be the last thing Ezra and Aurelius saw—a shimmer of rusty red before death descended.
Hotbloods 8: Stargazers Page 38
