The throne.
Instead of firing a stunning spell at her, I drew a fireball into my right hand and hurled it like a baseball at the throne, screaming from the effort. The ball of fire streaked past the Queen’s face, igniting her wild eyes as she followed it.
The fireball struck the throne and exploded, bathing the tentacles, the seat, and the dais in fire. The tentacles writhed and screeched, the Queen shrieked, then she turned her mad gaze back to me. Great, I’d pissed her off. Now what, Izzy?
I ducked behind what was left of the column I’d been using for cover just as she hurled a bright green bolt of light at me. “What’s the matter?” I yelled as the rubble fell around my body. “Did I break something important?”
“You could have everything you wanted!” the Queen screamed. “We both could. If you took the throne, you could pull this city out of its wretched tomb and bring it back to Earth, where it belongs. Together we could rule the entire world from a throne of gold and marble, as it was meant to be.”
“I can barely rule my group of thieves and crooks, what makes you think I can effectively rule the world?”
“I can help you. I know how to unlock all of that potential sleeping inside of you because my soul burns within you. Nobody will ever be able to do for you the things I can do for you, or understand you the way I can.”
“I doubt that,” I said, creeping around to try and get a better view of her.
“No? I know exactly what it’s like to lose a parent and be neglected by the other. I know what it’s like to feel stuck on a mundane path to nowhere, knowing I am destined for greatness. You and I are more alike than you think. Why else would we both have been bound to the same Guardian? We are soulmates, Isabella Warden. Look inside yourself and you’ll know it’s true. It is your destiny to come here.”
That last part gave me a moment of pause. The magic had stopped, the marble wasn’t crumbling around me anymore, and the Queen wasn’t talking. This was the break in the fight I’d needed to catch my breath, my thoughts… but I hadn’t caught my thoughts—she had, because she was right.
I had always wished I was destined for more than what I had. Growing up, I truly believed I was going to be one of those people who, despite having the potential to do great, good things, would end up being forgotten by a world that didn’t care about people as much as it should.
I was exhausted, Oktos was injured, and I had no idea what condition Ifrit was in. One blast of magic, and I was done for, and she’d be able to take what she wanted… my body. But if I gave it to her willingly, then at least I’d give myself a fighting chance at finding a way back.
My heart hammered quickly against the sides of my head, but not as fast as it would’ve been if I didn’t have a hole in me. I touched my chest, and my hand came away soaked in blood. My shirt was soaked, too. The sight of it made me queasy. But then something happened. A light, soft and green, began to glow from the wound in my chest.
I watched the light radiate, felt the warmth of it move through me, and fill me. I’d felt this before. It was RJ. It smelled like him, felt like him. I could feel my strength rushing back to me, the blood in my veins regenerating once the hole in my body had healed. I made a ball with my fist and squeezed it tight.
They were with me. Somehow, my friends had found me, and I wasn’t alone anymore. I stood, emerging from the cover of the broken marble column. The throne was still on fire, and the light of the flames danced on the drowned Queen’s Amazonian body. But something else caught my eye.
Movement in the rubble to my right—bits of marble falling into each other, kicking up a cloud of smoke, embers, and a little tongue of fire. It was him. Ifrit. He was still there, still intact. I could feel him now, his thoughts, his intentions. He’d made himself small again to slip out of the mountain of rubble he’d fallen under without being spotted.
“I’ve made my choice,” I said.
“Oh?” the Queen asked.
I paused. “I’d rather live in the dirt among equals than live in your world as a ruler.” I angled my head to the side. “Ifrit, now!” I yelled.
The tiny flame that had wormed its way out of the rubble leapt into the air and transformed into a hulking beast of fire. He beat his chest, roared, and charged—not at the Queen, but at the throne itself. The Queen moved to try and stop him, but I sprinted toward her and brought her down to the ground with a shoulder tackle fitting of an All-Star line-backer.
We tussled across the floor of the ruined temple, a tangle of flailing hands and swirling hair, each trying to pin the other to the ground. The Queen was bigger than me, and more muscular—I was at a disadvantage—but Ifrit was getting to work on the throne, tearing tentacles apart with his bare hands and tossing them across the room like they were made of paper instead of marble.
The Queen rolled on top of me and pinched my windpipe closed with her hands, removing my ability to breathe. Her eyes were wild with madness and fire, the eyes of a killer, a powermonger; the eyes of a person past the point of all morality. She didn’t want to help anyone but herself, and she was willing to kill me to do that.
“I gave you a chance,” she hissed, “Now you’re going to watch while I bring your world to its knees.”
I struggled with her, but she was stronger than I was, her grip vicelike. I could feel my throat crushing under the pressure of her thumbs, and no amount of pulling at her arms was going to get her off me. Panic filled my mind, killing my ability to form a spell—any spell, even a small, stunning spell.
I could feel the life bleeding out of me, the corners of my vision starting to darken. Then something large, wet, and on fire thudded against the floor near my head. It was one of the throne’s tentacles, once made of marble, but now very much fleshy, and thick. I reached for it, my fingers stretching, and when I grabbed it, I flung it against the side of the Queen’s face with a loud slap.
The impact was enough to shake her grip from my throat. Hacking and coughing, desperate to catch a breath, I rolled onto my side, scrambling to get away from her, to get back on my feet. She was standing before I was, and already rushing toward me. I was still stumbling forward, using my hands and legs to keep myself from hitting the ground entirely.
She grabbed my leg, yanked hard, and sent me sliding toward her. Her hand flew toward me, a lazy finger pointed directly at the space between my eyes. “You are no heir of mine,” she snarled, “A true heir would’ve put up more of a fight.”
Light erupted from her fingertip, but my own hand came up in response. I didn’t block the spell, but instead sent my own spell crashing into hers. The two beams of light met in the space between us in an explosion of crackling lightning and sound. Her eyes widened, not in anger, but in disbelief. I couldn’t believe what was happening either; I hadn’t formed a spell in my mind, I hadn’t even reached for my magic, but the Tempest was working through me all the same.
The Queen’s eyes narrowed, her face twisting with hatred. She pressed the attack, the lightning flying from her fingertips intensifying. It made the pressure building against my own hand almost unbearable. Any longer, and I worried it was going to snap off.
Something struck the back of the Queen’s head, and shattered into a hundred smaller pieces—among them, small, black toe bones. Oktos swooped into view behind her, his wings beating mightily. Snarling, the Queen stretched her other hand toward him and unleashed a torrent of purple lightning tearing through the air.
I watched, powerless as the Queen’s magic struck body. He started convulsing, arcs of light leaping from bone to bone, causing them to crack and break apart until all that was left of him was a shower of black feathers falling softly from the air.
“Oktos!” I screamed, “No!”
A wave of anger filled me, and I rode that wave all the way through until my magic pulsed harder and more vibrantly than the Queen’s. By the time she turned her face to look at me again, she’d lost the fight. My magic struck her hard against the chest with enough force to se
nd her flying across the throne room and into a marble column, where she fell flat on her face, her body singed and smoking.
I stood up, panting and gasping, surrounded by falling feathers. My chest tightened, and my eyes stung. He was gone.
Ifrit roared again, pulling my attention toward him. He had reduced the throne to little more than a mass of burned, shriveled tentacles barely able to keep themselves standing upright. I watched him tear into the writhing mess with claws made of fire and tear it to pieces, leaving nothing behind.
“You did it…” I said, trailing off, my voice low.
My Guardian didn’t immediately turn around. Instead, he stared at what he’d done, almost as if he’d been waiting a very, very long time to do it. I realized then, there was so much more of him, and the soul I carry within me, that I didn’t know, and probably wouldn’t ever find out—not after today.
“Isabella!” Ifrit yelled, reaching for me.
My heart leapt into my throat. I heard movement, and when I turned, the Queen was charging toward me, her eyes wide, her expression pure fury and hatred. With her hands splayed, she grabbed my throat and threw me to the ground, but my head didn’t hit concrete—she pushed it into a pool of dark water and held it under.
I could hear her anger, her rage. She wanted to kill me, was going to kill me, and there was nothing I could do to stop her.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Izzy stirred, her eyes opening slowly. Axel pulled her close to him, holding onto her as if letting her go would cause him physical pain. They kissed, their lips locked and tightly pressed together. When the kiss broke, Izzy drew him close, burying her face into his collar and… sobbing. He’d never heard her sob before, but he held her through it all the same until the moment passed.
“Thank you,” she whispered, “Thank you.”
“Is it over?” Axel asked.
“We did it. The throne is gone.”
Izzy pulled away and smiled a tearful smile. The relief in her eyes was profound. It looked like she’d just woken up from a nightmare she’d been living for years, and for all Axel knew, that was exactly what she was feeling.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you smile like that before in my life,” Karim said from across Axel’s shoulder. “I can’t say it suits you.”
Izzy smiled at him, too. “Oh, shut up,” she said, rolling her eyes. Then she looked over at RJ, and stretched her hand toward him. “You saved my life, for like the hundredth time.”
“Don’t mention it,” he said, “When I checked your vitals… you were dying. We didn’t know if the magic would work for sure, but I’m glad it did.”
“I remember it.” Izzy looked up at Axel. “I remember everything. The memories aren’t going away.”
“And the Queen? Is she gone?” Axel asked.
“Yeah… we destroyed the throne, that was the seat of her power in the Tempest.”
“I don’t mean to cast doubts,” Danvers said, “But I sensed a huge energy spike just moments before you woke up. I don’t know what it meant, or where it came from, but something happened somewhere.”
“That’s really specific,” Karim said, “Well done.”
“Did you sense anything, mister big shot Necromancer?”
“Well, no.”
“Exactly. I don’t know how to explain it, okay? But it’s probably something only Tempests could sense, so it has to be related to what Izzy did.”
“Let’s assume that it is,” Neeve said, “And let’s also assume we can’t do anything about it, because we can’t. We need to get you all out of here.”
Izzy sat upright and looked around, then she saw the body laying on the floor in a pool of blood. “Axel…” she said, the word spilling out of her mouth.
Axel’s eyes darkened, images of his fathers’ last moments alive flashing before his mind. Kill or be killed, he thought as the wave of grief, rage, and relief broke against the shores of his mind. He could’ve switched it off with a single flex of his willpower. If he had wanted to, he could’ve put a mental wall up to protect himself against emotions he neither needed nor wanted.
But that wouldn’t have been right. He needed to feel, otherwise how would he grow?
I’m starting to sound like you, Phades, he thought.
You could do worse.
“He’s gone,” Axel said. “We don’t have to worry about him anymore.”
Izzy nodded. “It’s for the best, I guess.”
“Right… but we do need to get out of here. The Magistrate is outside; they want to conduct a thorough investigation of the compound to find out what Asmodius had been up to all this time.”
Axel stood upright and helped Izzy get to her feet. “Where’s Becket?” she asked. “And who’s this?”
“Back at his place. The Magister thought it would be a good idea for him to make himself scarce before the rest of the cavalry arrived. He might not make us too nervous, but we seem to be exception instead of the rule. This is Neeve, a Tribune. She helped us get to you.”
Neeve waved. “Hey.”
Izzy nodded, then scanned the room she found herself in. She suddenly went quiet for a moment, almost like she was lost in thought. Then she shook her head nodded again. “Let’s go.”
“Izzy, wait,” Danvers said, her eyes widening.
“What is it?” Izzy asked.
Danvers pointed at the crown. “Look.”
It was like she’d forgotten she had been wearing it. She reached for it slowly, then carefully plucked it off of her head and stared at it. Something was happening to it. The shine of the metal was starting to dull in places, and in others, red-brown spots of corrosion were forming.
“What the hell?” RJ asked. “What’s going on?”
“I don’t know,” Danvers said, “Maybe I can stop it—”
“—no, don’t,” Izzy said. “Let it happen.”
The crown started to crumble in her very hands. Pieces of it snapped off and fell to the floor, exploding into little clouds of fine dust upon impact. The rest of the dust pooled in Izzy’s hands. Without giving it much of a second thought, Izzy clapped her hands together, ridding herself of the dust and letting it fall harmlessly away from her.
“I guess that’s that,” she said.
“Good riddance,” Karim said, “That thing’s been nothing but trouble.”
“Guess we won’t be raiding the drowned city’s coffers for treasures after all, huh?” Danvers asked.
RJ placed a hand on her shoulder. “This stopped being about treasure a long time ago.”
Danvers patted his hand. “I know, big guy,” she said, “I know.”
“You alright?” Axel asked.
Izzy nodded. “I’m fine with it,” she said, “We didn’t need it anymore, anyway.”
“Couldn’t you just summon a new one with the scroll?” Karim asked.
“I could, assuming the scroll hasn’t also decomposed to nothing. But I don’t think I would want to, even if I could. I don’t ever want to go back into the Tempest. This is where I belong.”
Axel nodded and took her hand. He then led the rest of the group out of the compound. The group had worked well tonight, and he could say he was proud of all of them. Not only had they shut down an entire criminal organization, they had also brought its leader to some kind of justice—even if Axel was the one who would bear the weight of that decision for the rest of his life. Kill or be killed. You didn’t have a choice. He didn’t give you a choice.
The Magister was waiting outside, his entourage of cloak wearing, broody looking Legionnaires loitering around him. Neeve joined Eliphas and Dexius, who looked a little worse for wear, but otherwise alive.
“It’s all yours,” Axel said to the Magister as he walked past, hand in hand with Izzy.
“Uh, one thing, Mister Barlow,” the Magister said.
Axel stopped, turning his head slightly. “Yes?”
“I surely hope the apple has, in this case, fallen far, far away from the tree
?”
“I think that I’ve more than proved to everyone here that I have no interest in following legacies. From now on, my family name will mean something good, for a change.”
Eliphas instructed his Legionnaires to move in and begin their work, leaving Axel and the rest of the group to get the hell out of that place.
He spent the rest of the drive back quietly contemplating the night’s events, trying not to focus too much on the negative, and think about all the positive that had come of it. The Queen was gone, the drowned city would remain drowned forever, and Asmodius… he was gone too, and as much as it meant Axel was now officially an orphan, he understood it had been necessary.
By the time they reached Becket’s place the sky was already starting to show the first pinks of a fresh, brighter morning. The air was crisp and cool, the breeze welcomed on Axel’s tired face. He would get some much-needed sleep tonight. They all would. And tomorrow? Shit. Tomorrow. He hadn’t given that any thought.
Now that the Queen was dealt with, now that Ashelor was where it belonged, what happened next?
Izzy squeezed Axel’s hand and gave him a comforting smile. “Penny for your thoughts?” she asked.
“It’s nothing,” he said, shaking his head.
“No, tell me. I want to know every little thought buzzing through that brain of yours.”
Axel frowned. “Okay… I’m thinking about my father. About tonight. About tomorrow.”
“What about tomorrow?”
“Well, our team doesn’t have to be a team anymore. We’ve been through hell and back together, but the mission is over. So, now everyone goes their separate ways.”
“Everyone?”
“Maybe not everyone…” Axel paused as the car rolled to a halt just outside of Becket’s place. “I guess I’d gotten used to having everyone around. I hadn’t felt like I had real family for a long time, but you’ve all become family. Even Karim.”
Heir to the Throne (The Wardbreaker Book 4) Page 15
