by Rachel Aaron
“Who is this?” the man asked, looking Josef up and down.
“A criminal, Master Banage,” Miranda answered. “But one on our side, for now at least.”
Josef looked the old man over. So this was the Rector Spiritualis she was always going on about. He’d have to remind Eli to change his alias.
Banage arched an eyebrow at Miranda’s introduction and then moved on to business.
“Miranda, with me,” he said, dismounting. “The rest of you”—he looked over his shoulder at the waiting Spiritualists—“form a perimeter and wake the local spirits. This island is now under the Court’s protection.”
“Yes, Rector!” The shout rose from a hundred throats in unison, and the wizards began to dismount. One by one their creatures disappeared, flowing back to the rings on their riders’ fingers. Josef noted that the Rector’s own mount had vanished into the large oval of polished jade on his index finger. Banage didn’t even seem to notice. He and Miranda were already walking toward the sea wall.
“Hold it!” Josef shouted, leaving his poor, shocked sailors standing dumb on the road as he ran after the two wizards. “What are you, crazy? There are a thousand soldiers down there!”
“Shoo,” Miranda said. “Go back to the others. We’ve got it from here.”
“Got what?” Josef yelled.
“Young man,” Banage said calmly, not even looking at Josef as he walked. “A thousand soldiers are of little concern. Whom do you think you are dealing with?”
“A pair of suicidal idiots,” Josef snapped back.
“I see only one of those,” Miranda said, glaring at him.
Josef threw up his hands as Miranda and the Rector Spiritualis stepped out onto the edge of the storm wall. Gin sat down beside his mistress, tail lashing back and forth. Down on the beach, the enemy was regrouping. Soldiers from the boats were trading places with the men down the wall by Miranda’s wave. Meanwhile, a mass was gathering at the wall’s base with archers taking up position to cover the next push to retake the wall.
Josef cursed and reached to pull Miranda out of arrow shot at least, but she smacked his hands away.
“Just stand back,” she said, raising her voice over Gin’s growling.
Josef had a pretty nonkingly answer for that, but Miranda had already turned back to face the beach. She stood still a moment, feet pressed against the storm wall’s edge, her red hair blowing in the sea wind like a painted archer target. Josef cursed, but before he could yank her down to safety, dog or no dog, Miranda held out her hand and a wave of water exploded into the air.
The torrent poured down the storm wall, sweeping it clean. It blasted the soldiers into the sand before turning like a snake and rushing down the beach until it reached the northern cliff. There it shot up again, defying gravity in a geyser of white spray to knock off the soldiers scaling the cliff face, shucking them from the stone like barnacles before turning back toward the beach, knocking those soldiers who’d tried to stand back onto their faces as it rushed to clear the southern cliff.
But while Miranda’s water was sweeping the beach, the soldiers in the boats were on the move. Archers brought up their bows while those with shields gave them cover, and the air filled with the snapping of bowstrings. A volley of arrows launched from the water, whistling toward the two wizards on the storm wall’s edge.
Josef moved on instinct, raising his sword. He couldn’t cut all the arrows down, but maybe he could stop enough to keep the idiot wizards from getting themselves killed. But as he stepped into position, the Rector Spiritualis raised his arms, the ruby on his thumb glowing like a furnace. That was the last thing Josef saw before a blast of light drowned his vision.
A wave of blistering hot air caught Josef in the face. He stumbled away, cursing as he blinked against the swimming shapes the light had left on his vision. As his eyes cleared, he looked up to see a great ball of fire hovering in the air before Banage. Its edges burned like liquid gold, and its center was so bright Josef couldn’t look at it. The fire roared and twisted like a living thing, the flames turning until they settled at last into the shape of a great, golden bird.
The bird opened its mouth, roaring like a furnace as it devoured the arrows. The shafts were consumed instantly, transformed into a harmless rain of ash that pattered at the Spiritualists’ feet. When the last arrow had been consumed, the bird began to beat its wings. Each wing beat hammered Josef with a wall of heat, and with each flap, the bird grew larger until its fire filled the sky. The light was so intense now, Josef could barely see, but he could make out the shadow of Miranda crouching on the wall, her water surrounding her and her dog in a protective barrier against the heat. Banage, however, had no protection. He stood at the heart of the fire, a speck of black against the inferno. With a great sweeping motion, the Rector Spiritualis threw out his arms, shouting words that were instantly lost in the roar. The bird screamed in answer and fell, plunging down the storm wall in a river of fire.
For a moment the Empress’s army just stood there, staring at the blinding bird. And then, in unison, the invasion force turned and fled. The men on the beach threw themselves into the water, scrambling over each other to get their heads below the waves as Banage’s fire spirit swept over them. Everything the bird touched was consumed. Its heat was so intense it blackened the sand and boiled the surf. Those caught in its flames turned to ash in an instant while those who’d made it to the water began to scream as the bay itself became a scalding pot beneath the bird’s heat.
Out in the deep water, the landing boats rocked as the soldiers fought to turn them back to the crashed palace ships, but the ships’ men were pulling up the landing ramps in a desperate attempt to put anything they could between themselves and the fire. The men in the boats screamed curses, but their voices were drowned out by the roar of the bird as it flew low over the bay, sending the invaders leaping into the sea to avoid its fiery wings.
Josef stood on the wall, scarcely daring to believe his own eyes. Minutes ago he’d been prepared to die in Osera’s last stand; now he was watching from safety as the enemy fell over themselves in desperate retreat. He cast an almost sheepish glance at the Spiritualists. Miranda was on her feet again, holding out her hand as her water spirit returned, the cold blue tide vanishing into her palm. Banage was standing beside her with his fingers pressed against the enormous ruby glowing on his thumb, eyes following his bird beneath brows furrowed in concentration.
When every one of the infantry ships had been capsized, the bird turned and flew back to the storm wall. It grew smaller with every foot before finally vanishing into Banage’s ring with a puff of smoke. The Rector smoothed the stone with his fingers as the jewel’s glow faded.
“How high can Durn lift the bay line?” he said, voice calm and quiet, as though he were discussing a change in his schedule.
Miranda flexed her hand as the last traces of water vanished into her skin. “Three feet?” she said. “Maybe a little more.”
Banage nodded, moving his fingers from the ruby to a deep-green stone wrapped in delicate gold filigree on his thumb. “Three feet will be fine. Be ready on my mark.”
Miranda nodded and closed her eyes. A second later, the storm wall began to rattle under their feet. Josef cursed, but Banage didn’t even seem to notice. He was looking at the bay, eyes locked on the line of sunken ships.
“Steady,” he said, clutching his ring as the closing prow of the last palace ship locked into place. “Now.”
The heavy ring on Miranda’s thumb lit up with a green flare. Far in the distance, over the screams of the panicking soldiers and breaking waves, Josef heard the sound of stone grinding. He followed it and found himself staring at the line of sunken ships. That line was now churning, the sea bubbling like a boiling pot. Josef squinted, leaning out over the wall to see what was happening below the water. In the end, however, it was the sound that told the truth. The bay filled with the groaning of stone as the line of scuttled ships began to rise from the wate
r. Josef stepped back in awe, eyes wide as he looked at Miranda to see her clutching the enormous green stone on her thumb with her eyes closed, her face furrowed in deep concentration as sweat ran down her cheeks. Banage, however, was cool and collected. He stood steady, watching the rising line of ships, his fingers hovering over the green ring on his own thumb.
The grinding rumble went on and on until, at last, Miranda gasped and stumbled, catching herself on Gin as the green light faded. The moment her ring flashed out, Banage stepped forward, holding up his hand as his ring flashed to life, glowing like a green sun on his finger as the grinding of the stone gave way to a great creaking moan of splitting wood. Josef turned back to the bay, but he saw nothing. The sunken fleet was well out of the water now, resting on a line of exposed seabed. Even the two grounded palace ships were several feet higher, their front halves pushed up like matrons with their noses in the air. But that was all Miranda so far as Josef could tell. Banage was obviously doing something as well, but whatever it was, Josef couldn’t see. He could hear it though, and he kept his eyes on the bay as the sound of splitting wood grew louder and louder.
Without warning, a wall of green erupted down the line of scuttled ships. It started at the edges where the bay met the cliffs, leaves exploding from the sunken runners as a line of oak trees sprouted from the raised seafloor. The trees spread across the bay like green fire, their canopies popping open like paper lanterns before Josef’s eyes until a wall of dense foliage cut the bay off from the sea.
But as the trees’ growth slowed, the sound of splitting wood grew louder than ever. Josef scowled, confused, and then a flash of motion pulled his eyes north, toward the first palace ship, and he gaped in disbelief. The grounded ship was moving, its enormous hull rising up as graceless as a bull on its hind legs. Soldiers slid off the decks as the front half of the ship’s hull rose out of the water, pushed up by an enormous tangle of tree roots. The same thing was happening to the second palace ship on the other side of the bay. The tree roots dug under the ships’ broad bottoms, forcing them up until their noses were in the sky. Finally, with one last, enormous crash, the two palace ships slid backward, off the roots, out of the bay, and into the ocean. They landed in the open sea with a crash, both ships slamming into the water and then sinking almost immediately as the ocean surged in through the shattered hulls.
But that was all Josef saw. The moment the palace ships were dislodged, the trees surged in. Huge oaks shot up like arrows to fill the gap, branches exploding from the trunks as the new canopies spread until the ocean was completely obscured behind a wall of solid green.
The men in the water, those who remained after Banage’s fire bird, swam frantically to the line of trees and began to climb, picking their way through the branches and throwing themselves into the ocean beyond in a desperate attempt to escape. Banage watched their struggles with a smile before turning to Miranda.
“Well done,” he said, helping her back to her feet. “I’m going to provide some cover. Lend me your mist?”
“Of course, Master Banage,” Miranda said, reaching to touch one of her smaller stones. It flashed blue the second her fingers passed it, and Josef smelled the clean, predawn wetness of a mountain valley as a thick mist filled the air. Meanwhile, Banage rubbed his fingers against a white stone set in a thin band on his wrist, and a second smell, salty and cold, joined the first as a thick sea fog rose up from the bay. Fog and mist rose together, intertwining and expanding until the bay vanished beneath a thick, gray blanket. But the fog wasn’t finished. It spread up the stairs, around the tower, and along the cliffs, spilling up the mountain toward the mainland. By the time Miranda and Banage finally stepped down from the sea wall, the entire island of Osera was shrouded in cloud.
“That should buy us a little time,” Miranda said, glancing at Josef before her eyes darted to something over his shoulder. Josef turned to see his soldiers standing on the storm wall behind him, staring in amazement at the two wizards who, in a little under five minutes, had completely reversed Osera’s fortunes.
“Not much time,” Banage said. “The fog gives us cover, but they don’t need to see to launch war spirits. Frankly, I’m surprised Osera isn’t knee-deep in them already. We need to speak with Queen Theresa immediately.” He turned to the gathered soldiers. “Who’s in charge here?”
The men looked at each other, and then at Josef.
“I am,” Josef said with a sigh.
“Don’t be absurd,” Miranda scoffed. “I don’t know what kind of scam you people are running, but we don’t have time for your games. Where’s the queen?”
“In the palace,” Josef said coldly. “Won’t do you any good, though. Queen Theresa is dead. I’m king of Osera now.”
Miranda’s face went very pale. “If you think for one moment I’m going to buy that load of—”
“He’s speaking the truth, ma’am,” one of the soldiers interrupted, standing a little straighter.
Miranda blinked. “You’ve got to be kidding!” she roared. “Do you know who this man is? He’s a wanted criminal! A thief! A bounty hunter, pride fighter, and right-hand man of the most notorious—”
“That’ll be enough,” Josef said, putting enough edge in his voice to ensure that it really was enough. Miranda snapped her mouth closed, but her scowl only grew deeper.
“How are you king?” she said at last.
“Because my mother was queen,” Josef answered, turning around and walking toward the tower. “And as I said, she’s dead. Now come on. If our time’s limited, I don’t want to waste it on things that don’t matter.”
Miranda and Banage exchanged a tight-lipped look and followed.
Down in the bay, hidden by the fog, the last of the Empress’s soldiers climbed through the wall of trees and dove into the sea, swimming through the waves and toward the line of palace ships waiting on the other side.
CHAPTER
24
Banage stopped them at the foot of the tower to hear reports from the other Spiritualists, but Miranda was too enraged to listen. Josef Liechten? A king? Of Osera? It was absolutely impossible. This had to be one of Eli’s scams. How he could trick an entire kingdom, queen included, Miranda had no idea, but she intended to find out. That thief could not be allowed to meddle with something this big.
By the time they entered the tower, Miranda had worked herself into a cold fury. For all his talk about not wasting time, Josef set a maddeningly slow pace. They climbed the winding tower steps carefully, stepping over the wounded as they went. The gristly scene only sharpened her rage. She wasn’t sure how, but she was positive Eli was somehow to blame for all this. And while she couldn’t actually pin the Empress’s sudden appearance on him, she was absolutely sure Osera would have been in a better position to defend itself if he hadn’t been here running whatever con he was running.
The stairs finally ended at a large watch room ringed with windows. There were wounded here too, but the half of the room overlooking the bay was clear, though the view of the bay itself was completely obscured by Allinu’s mist and Banage’s fog spirit. She could feel her mist straining to keep the island covered against the light of the setting sun and the stiff wind from the sea, and Miranda sent a small pulse of power down to Allinu’s ring. The strain eased a bit, and she turned her full attention back to the task at hand.
A large table was set up under one of the bay-facing windows. Beside it, an older man in an officer’s coat was waiting with a map, which he handed to Josef. Josef took it and leaned over the table, seemingly forgetting about them entirely. The older man looked stricken for a moment by Josef’s indifference and then stepped forward, bowing before Banage.
“Rector Spiritualis,” he said. “On behalf of all Osera, please let me thank you. You arrived in the nick of time.”
Banage nodded. “It was our duty.” He paused.
“Admiral Hawthorne,” the man supplied in a hurried voice. “Commander of her majesty’s navy. His majesty’s now, of
course,” he corrected himself. “Though there’s not much left of it.”
“Wouldn’t be any left if these two hadn’t shown up,” Josef said, standing. He looked Miranda in the eye, then Banage. “Thank you,” he said, his voice surprisingly sincere. “I really thought that was the end. Thank you for the fog as well. Maybe it’ll buy us enough time for the Council reinforcements to arrive.”
“Don’t count on it,” Banage said. “Product of nepotism he may be, but Myron Whitefall’s an experienced general. His objective is the preservation of the Council, not Osera. He won’t waste time sailing troops out here when he can use your fall to buy the time he needs to fortify the continent.”
Josef’s face grew very dangerous. “If that’s how it is, then why are you here?”
“Because we are not the Council,” Banage said. “Much as some would like to claim otherwise, the Spirit Court is an independent body with its own priorities, and right now those include stopping the Empress’s advance. If you are indeed king of Osera, then we are prepared to offer you our full cooperation toward that end.”
Josef nodded. “What have you brought?”
Banage began to rattle off the Court forces—the number of Spiritualists, the capabilities of the spirits at their command, so on and so forth. Miranda stopped listening almost immediately and began scanning the room. There were many prone shapes lying in the dark around them. Miranda examined each of their faces, looking for the boyish, infuriating one. If Josef was here, Eli couldn’t be far away. He was probably watching right now…
Even as the thought crossed her mind, she spotted a familiar shape. At the far edge of the room, a small bundle lay pressed against the wall. Miranda had spotted it only by chance, and even now, when she was turned to look straight at it, the bundle seemed to fade into the shadows. But nothing could hide the white, feminine, skeletally thin hand peeking through the folds. Miranda sucked in a breath. She’d know that hand anywhere. It was the same hand that had dug into Gin’s back in Mellinor, and considering Josef was standing a few feet away, there was no doubt in her mind. It was Nico, and if she was there—Miranda’s eyes jumped to the lanky soldier sitting slumped beside the demonseed, his unruly black hair falling down to hide his face.
