Ascension (The Circle War Book 3)

by Matt King

  Still holding on to the rough horns, Bear swung him to the ground. With as much strength as Meryn had given him, he pulled back on Talus’s neck with his foot buried in the monster’s shoulders. Little by little, Talus’s movements stalled. Bear cried out as he pulled. He could feel Amara’s energy inside the monster fighting to keep him whole.

  Then, like a tree breaking free of its roots in a storm, Talus’s head ripped away from his body.

  Bear stumbled back in surprise. His arms and chest burned like wildfire. Tears filled his vision. When he looked down, oily blood dripped from the bottom of Talus’s head, still gripped in his hands.

  The drums of the decadrome fell silent. The crowd looked on with disbelief as Bear stepped aimlessly backward toward the center of the arena. Finally, he looked up to the balcony where Galan and Meryn stood at its edge. Bear switched the severed head to one hand, clenched his tired jaw, and held it aloft for Galan and all of Pyr to see.

  It’s over. It’s over. He had survived. He could return to his friends again. The monster that had haunted them was dead. I’ll be there with you soon, he wanted to tell them.

  He dropped the head of Talus to the dirt floor. It landed on its side, two wide, unblinking dead eyes staring out at a sea of stunned Pyrians.

  Pandemonium returned like an angry wave. It started with a growing murmur, then came the drums again to stoke its fire. The pounding wasn’t rhythmic like before, but savage and harsh, sending vibrations through his chest.

  A cloud of blue-white mist seeped out of Talus’s body, just like he’d seen after besting Balenor’s champion. The realization hit him at once. Galan was claiming Talus’s energy.

  His would be next.

  He stood back from the body and waited. His eyes scanned the writhing crowd. Their cries were full of venom, all directed at him, and there was no escaping it. Instead, he tried to focus on Meryn. While Galan stood with his arm outstretched toward the stadium floor below, taking Talus’s energy, she sat in her chair, her eyes directed at her lap.

  Then, like a switch had been thrown, Bear’s breath stalled in his lungs. His body went rigid and his head throbbed like it might burst. Through watery eyes, he watched as Galan ripped Meryn’s energy from his body, tearing through his armor, leaving it in pieces on the ground. It felt like his muscles were being torn from his bones. He had no breath to scream even though the pain was blinding. Galan held him taut as he slowly claimed his prize.

  When all his energy was gone, Bear fell to the ground, dropped like the broken instrument that he was. He couldn’t fully catch his breath. His lungs burned, unable to take in enough oxygen from the thin air.

  It’s over, he thought again, but there was no longer any joy in it, no feeling of victory. Finally, he understood, and with it came a rising fear that boiled in his gut. His body had no power to heal. He stood on a world where a normal man couldn’t survive and his body was dying, like a fish dragged on shore and forced to die slowly, one shallow breath at a time.

  He stumbled and fell to a knee. A drop of blood fell from his nose. His eyes watered quickly, smudging the world around him.

  “He is all yours,” Galan’s voice bellowed to the Pyrians through the decadrome.

  The crowd responded in mayhem.

  Something struck Bear in the back. His hand rose absently as he brought it up to touch the tip of the green spear that protruded from his chest.

  Though his eyes failed him, he could hear what was happening. The crowd had turned savage. Somewhere, the drums resumed their crushing beat, giving song to the anger boiling over in the stadium. He thought he saw shapes pour over the edge of the barriers. He turned and saw more movement behind him.

  “Meryn?” he said weakly.

  Another spear struck him, this time through his leg. He wavered, nearly falling to the ground. A third spear came whistling toward him and struck just above the hole in his chest.

  Though the pain robbed him of nearly all his strength, he gathered what he had left and forced himself to stand again. He rocked on his feet, barely able to remain upright. His vision was totally gone, replaced by a hazy film of shadows and fog.

  “Meryn?” he croaked.

  The Pyrians drowned him out with their rage.

  “Meryn!” he screamed with the last of his air. “Meryn! DO IT!”

  I’m here, she said through his thoughts. I love you, John Lawson.

  “I love you,” he mouthed through tears.

  Footsteps drew close.

  “Now, Meryn. Please… Please…”

  Close your eyes.

  He let the world go dark and waited for the end to come.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  The familiar scent of fall coaxed Bear awake. He opened his eyes to see a bed of ochre and orange leaves beneath his legs. His shirt smelled like apples, just like it always had after trips to the orchards around Asheville. He stood slowly, looking around him to the oak trees lining the driveway. Where it met the road, a faded yellow pickup rumbled around the curve toward the western edge of Fairview.

  “John?”

  He turned and saw his mother standing beside one of her favorite flower beds, a figure in blue next to a blanket of goldenrod.

  “Momma?”

  She smiled, showing the beginnings of wrinkles around the corners of her mouth. She was exactly as he had always known her—brown hair mixed with gray, green eyes the same shade as spring grass.

  Behind her, his father stood. He put his arm around her waist. There was no cane to prop him up, only two sturdy legs that had walked their land since Bear was a boy.

  “Hello, Daddy,” he said.

  “Hello, Johnny. I’m so happy to see you again.”

  Bear let out a shuddered breath. His eyes brimmed with tears.

  His mother stepped forward and took his hand. She glanced over her shoulder to the open front door of their house. “It’s time for us to go now,” she said.

  “I know,” Bear answered. “But Momma, I’m so scared.”

  “There’s no reason to be, John. Not anymore.”

  Ray walked over and folded his hand over Bear’s. He had a warm smile that drove back the worries in Bear’s mind.

  “I missed you both so much,” Bear said.

  Ray patted his hand. “I know you did, son. We’re together now, and we’re going home.”

  They walked hand-in-hand past the beds of wildflowers as the sun set over the fields of corn. He kept his eyes fixed on the welcoming promise of the open doorway and held tight to his mother and Ray as the light of the world faded to darkness.

  Home, he repeated in his mind. Home at last.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  August fought without thinking about what was next. He imagined they all did, even though they knew what awaited them even if they managed to get past the thousands of Pyrians. Beyond them was an army of Ministers ten times their size and a hundred times more powerful.

  An explosion filled the horizon with a red blast of light. He couldn’t make out through the melee what it was. Visions of Ion or Cerenus meeting their end flashed through his thoughts. As he pictured it, a Pyrian rushed him from the side. August rammed the end of his sword through its throat, ending its wild cries. The thing cut its own fingers off as it frantically tried to pull the sword out. August took it by the crusted skin of its neck and slammed its face into the ground.

  Aeris charged directly into the fray. She sent a flaming fist through the teeth of a Pyrian, then gripped it by the mouth and tossed it into a group of oncoming fighters. The Horsemen made short work of the ones she knocked down. One of the brothers picked up a green-tipped spear from the ground and tossed it through the chest of a Pyrian trying to stab a fallen Orphii.

  A gang of three Pyrians came at August in a rush. His swords sang as he cut the legs off the first one, then divided the next into three pieces. The last Pyrian tried to thrust his spear toward August’s head. August knocked it aside, cut the weapon into splinters, and beheaded him with
a single swing.

  There was no release as he fought, no feeling that his anger had done anything but grow. Every time he thought of Ion or Cerenus—or Bear—he charged faster and hit harder. This doesn’t end for us now. I won’t let it.

  “August!” Aeris yelled.

  She broke right toward one of the smaller Orphii. It moaned as it fell, its body littered with Pyrian spears. He ran with her, cutting through the stony skin of the fighters as he and the Horsemen dismantled those that escaped Aeris’s fire. Nearby, the Mountain crushed a dozen Pyrians with its foot before unleashing a wide stream of searing flames from its single eye. The gray earth at its feet turned to a charred black as it reduced the Pyrians to dust.

  Little by little, the Pyrians began to thin out. August jumped off the body of the fallen Orphii to spear one of the retreating creatures through the chest. As he pulled his swords free, he found Aeris behind him, shooting a stream of fire through the bodies of a pair of fleeing Pyrians. The Horsemen looked around at the dead bodies at their feet as they stood in a triangle, ready to fight, but with no challengers.

  Only a handful of Orphii laid dead on the floor of the Void, but even one was too many. August counted close to twenty dead in all.

  The remaining Orphii closed ranks around the Alliance. The planet grew strangely still.

  “The Ministers aren’t fighting,” August said.

  Aeris glanced around at the dead Orphii. “They didn’t need to. The Pyrians were expendable.”

  As soon as she said the words, he felt the ground tremble. The Mountain wasn’t moving, so he looked across the battlefield instead. A solid wall of gray-cloaked Ministers marched toward them with Polaris and her bodyguards in the center. There were too many to count. Those in front formed their energy staffs.

  August whipped his swords, ridding them of the remains of the Pyrians’ blood. The ground shook harder. The Orphii wavered, getting restless.

  “We need to delay them somehow,” Aeris said. “We cannot withstand these odds.”

  Almost like it had heard her, the Mountain stepped forward and aimed its eye toward the oncoming Ministers. It let loose with a loud, crashing beam that struck the earth in front of Galan’s armies. The Void split like an egg, the ground disintegrating where the Mountain’s beam struck it. Smoke and fire billowed out of the pit.

  Aeris smiled at the sight.

  The smoke was too thick to see through, but the blast should have taken out enough Ministers to buy them some time. August switched to infrared. Beyond the still burning fires, he made out a shifting wall of blue, laced with threads of yellow light. The wall disappeared into the fissure like water rushing across a dam.

  After a pause, the mob of light reappeared, growing larger by the second.

  “They’re still coming,” he said.

  “What do you mean?” Aeris asked. Her bewildered eyes searched the cloud of smoke.

  When the blast finally settled, all it had done was form a speed bump on the Ministers’ march. They filled the hole with the first few rows of their ranks, using them like a human bridge to cross the gap.

  Aeris cursed. She looked to the sky, but there were no gods to save them.

  There aren’t enough of us. We can’t win.

  It was a sickening admission. He could feel part of his fire going out. His breaths quickened as the Ministers closed the distance. Aeris fanned the flames of her fire, her face resigned. She closed her eyes for a moment like she was saying a prayer, then turned to find him. The air between them vibrated with the sound of the rushing Ministers.

  There were so many things he needed to say, and no time to say them. He wanted her to know that he regretted the time not spent with her in his life, that he never wanted to leave her again, that he was happy to at least have her at his side when he died.

  Aeris extinguished the fire in one hand, taking his fingers between hers. Together, they faced the rushing tide.

  Galan’s machines were nearly upon them.

  “I wish things had been different…” he said to her.

  She held his hand tight. “I know.”

  With a crack of thunder, a wide synapse appeared to the right of the wall of Ministers. Aeris dropped August’s hand and reignited her flames. The machines stopped their rush as an enormous portal formed, reaching nearly the length of the army’s column.

  “Please tell me that’s Soraste,” August said.

  Aeris took in the immense size of the synapse. “For our sake, I hope so.”

  The surface of the portal morphed from its milky face to a hazy picture of blue skies and green fields. Something about it was familiar.

  A fast-moving wave of darkness approached the opening. Like a shot, the tide tore through the membrane, racing into the battlefield.

  August couldn’t believe his eyes. “Shadow?”

  But it wasn’t Shadow. It was an army of her kind, tens of thousands of Elosions, each with scaly bodies, shaggy manes covering their chests and shoulders, and faces like dragons with wild orange eyes. One of the larger beasts jumped on top of a small mound and roared. Its eyes settled on August and Aeris before focusing on the Ministers. It bellowed a thundering roar, stoking the charge of its pack.

  A flash of light preceded Soraste’s face forming in the sky overhead, opposite Anemolie and Tamaril. She looked down at them with soft yellow eyes.

  August couldn’t help a brief smile beneath his mask. Aeris matched him.

  “Once more?” she said.

  “After you.”

  With the Orphii storming behind them, August followed her into the fight again. He screamed as they charged into the Minister’s troops, adding his voice to the sea of raging Elosians.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  As Cerenus flew across the back lines of the charging Ministers, he half expected Tamaril to shoot past him and attack the rest of the Alliance in an effort to draw him away from Galan’s war machines. Instead, the godclone hovered next to one of the towering pyramids, daring Cerenus to face him as his mirrored mask reflected the red light of the machine’s weapon. His hands glowed hot at his sides.

  Cerenus slowed. Beneath him, rows of Ministers waited to enter the fray. Domed vehicles with red rings dotted the landscape, but none fired. They must have been told their weapons couldn’t hurt him. If possible, he wanted to take out at least one of the pyramids before he fought Tamaril. Without them gone, the Orphii were vulnerable against their long-range weapons. Tamaril must have known he’d go for them first. He guarded them like a protective pet.

  All right. Well if you’re not going to come to me…

  Cerenus set his sights on two of the domed tanks beneath him. He reached out with his mind to pull one into the air, then slung it toward Tamaril. The godclone deflected it into the red sphere of the pyramid, where it disintegrated on contact.

  Damn. He wasn’t supposed to do that.

  Tamaril came for him like a rocket. With no time to think, Cerenus lifted two more tanks off the earth and smashed them together, sandwiching Tamaril between them. The resulting explosion sent Cerenus reeling into the sky. He tumbled toward the faces of the gods looking down on him, finally gaining control before he reached their heights.

  The pyramids stood unguarded. Without looking to spot Tamaril among the wreckage still burning on the ground, Cerenus sped toward them. He aimed himself directly at the red sphere floating at the top of the machine. He could feel the heat from it as he got closer. He drew his clenched fist back, ready to strike.

  As he launched his fist forward, the face of the weapon disappeared, replaced by the black, warbled membrane of a synapse. He didn’t have time to stop. He streaked through to the other side to see a field of massive rocks floating around a small moon. His momentum stalled as a hand took him by the leg and threw him into the face of the icy satellite, asteroids exploding as he crashed through the rings. He came to an abrupt halt when his body hit the side of a mountain and crashed through, taking the entire rocky peak with him. Jagg
ed chunks of ice flew through the air as he came to a skidding stop.

  Pain blurred his vision. He stood gingerly, brushing the snowy dust from his armor. He tried not to let on how badly his body hurt. When he looked back, Tamaril floated down to the ground. Behind him, just beyond the moon’s orbit, the first clouds of nebulas began to form, birthed by the presence of the gods.

  “An awful lot of effort just to get me alone,” Cerenus said. “I’m flattered.”

  The godclone’s cape ruffled around his legs. “I’m doing this as a courtesy, Cerenus. It’s not too late. Let them fight the war if they must. There’s no need for either of us to die.”

  “I wouldn’t say that. I can think of plenty of reasons for you to die.”

  “You’re smarter than this.”

  Cerenus laughed and shook the dust from his hair. “No, I’m just smarter than you.”

  He pulled as many of the rocks down from the moon’s rings that he could handle, aiming them at the spot where Tamaril stood. They came from all directions, trailing streaks of fire as they entered the weak atmosphere. Tamaril spun around and knocked the first aside, but he couldn’t stop the rest. They pummeled him into the earth, crashing one by one until the fire from the explosions reached dizzying heights. The flames raged out of control.

  Then, like it had been trapped in a sudden whirlpool, the fiery cloud began to coalesce into a rotating sphere, flattening as it gained momentum. Tamaril appeared at the center of the storm, his arms outstretched to control it. He thrust his hands toward Cerenus, sending bolts of fire slicing through the air.

  There were too many to stop. A stray volley slammed into Cerenus’s shoulder. The bolts hit like they were made of stone, breaking through the metal of his armor. He threw all his energy into a wall of energy to shield himself. The storm of hail fire pushed him back with its force.