Bree and Kael shared an incredulous look. It seemed they had an ally in their plotting, though hardly the one they expected.
“Do you, uh, have anything in mind?” Kael asked.
Saul grinned at him.
“Oh yes, yes I do. But first, we need one more Seraph, someone older than us recent grads. Got anyone in mind?”
“Chernor,” Kael said. “If I ask Chernor, I think he’ll help us.”
Saul emptied the rest of his goblet, red drops dripping down his neck to stain his white shirt.
“All right!” he said, wiping his chin with the back of his hand. “Time to go humiliate myself.”
A massive fenced-in garden filled with hedgerows, intricate wire animals made of flowers, and numerous secluded benches and gazebos surrounded the entire eastern half of the mansion. Perfect for meetings, gossiping, and drinking fine wine while gazing at the newly revealed stars. Tonight, it was also the perfect place for Bree and Kael to slip out while the patrolling guards were distracted. The two sat on a bench beside the spiked iron fence that formed the perimeter of the gardens. They’d shed their jackets on the bench and untucked their shirts, to make their Weshern allegiances less obvious. They’d carried their swords with them, and placed them beside the iron bars within easy reach.
“So say this works,” Kael whispered to her as they watched Saul pace before one of the large gates where two Candren guards were checking all who entered and exited. Weshern guests might be forced to remain on grounds, but there were more than a hundred high-class men and women of Candren eager to stargaze while discussing the upcoming treaty and war against Center, and to catch a glance at their former enemies. Bree had kept her head down and shoulders hunched, hiding lest anyone notice she was the Phoenix they all loved to gossip over.
“It will work,” Bree whispered back.
“All right. It works. Now how do we get back inside when we return?”
“We’ll dump our swords here through the fence and then go through the front gates. Security will be far more lax come morning. Stop worrying so much.”
Kael hardly looked convinced, but it was better than nothing. He kept an eye on Saul until Chernor exited the mansion nearby.
“Get ready,” he said.
Saul had been mostly keeping to himself, but when he spotted Chernor he began to guzzle his drink while drifting toward a group of three men, their eyes lit by the glow of their long pipes. They seemed to pay Saul no mind, at least, not until Saul directly bumped into the tallest of the three, spilling his wine across the man’s sleeve.
“Hey!” Saul shouted. “Watch where you’re going. Shit, you spilled my drink, too.”
The three looked flabbergasted by the sudden berating. Saul began muttering as he walked the pebbled path toward the mansion. The Candren man with the stained sleeve broke from his spell and hurried after Saul.
“Wait one moment,” he said with raised voice. “Weshern Seraph, I said wait!”
Chernor’s cue. The giant man intercepted Saul’s path and grabbed him by the shoulders.
“What the hell are you doing, Seraph?” Chernor asked.
Saul grinned up at him.
“Uh … walking?”
Either Chernor was a phenomenal actor, or he honestly was disgusted by how drunk Saul appeared to be. The Seraph backhanded him across the mouth, mixing a bit of blood with Saul’s wine.
“You’re a disgrace to Weshern,” he said. “Get back to your room this instant before I carry you there myself.”
All eyes were on the pair now, their focus intensifying when the Candren man arrived with his two friends in tow.
“A disgrace indeed,” said the man. “Will Weshern also pay to replace the garment he ruined?”
Kael tugged Bree’s arm, and together they rose from the bench and started walking alongside the iron fence. They kept their arms crossed and their eyes on the confrontation, pretending they wanted nothing more than a closer look at what was going on.
“Pay for what?” Chernor asked, spinning to face the newcomer. “It’s a few drops of wine on a brown coat sleeve. I’d hardly call that ruined.”
“Yeah, don’t get your pipe all twisted in a knot,” Saul added, a line they hadn’t rehearsed in advance. Chernor gave him a death glare.
“That’s enough out of you,” he said. “Now go.”
“Not before he gives me an apology,” the Candren man said, reaching for Saul’s arm. Chernor deftly stepped in, his voice lowering, his words deceptively calm.
“The peace treaty’s not signed yet,” he said. “I suggest you keep your hands off my Seraph no matter how badly you think you deserve an apology.”
With the veiled threat given, the two guards at the gate hustled to intercede, their hands on the hilts of their swords. Bree tugged Kael’s sleeve, urging them onward.
“Come on,” one of the man’s friends said. “It’s just a young brat with too much wine in him. Let it go.”
“Wise advice,” Chernor said. He looked to the approaching guards. “Come to escort these gentlemen away?” he asked them.
They certainly didn’t look ready to escort anyone but Saul and Chernor—exactly what Saul had predicted would happen. As both men began to protest their treatment at the hands of the guards, Bree slipped her arm around Kael’s, leaning against him as if she’d had a bit too much to drink herself. Unnoticed, they passed through the gate and out into the streets of Candren and cut immediately to the left. Casting a glance to the commotion, she saw Chernor and Saul yelling and flailing, their voices exaggeratedly loud. Every soul was looking their way.
Bree reached through the bars, grabbed their swords, and then together they dashed down the street. By the time the royal castle was far behind, Bree and Kael were laughing.
“I didn’t know Saul had it in him,” he said. “I’ve always seen him with a frown on his face and a stick up his rear.”
“Let’s just hope Chernor doesn’t get into an actual fistfight with anybody,” Bree said. “It might look bad for diplomacy if he breaks a few noses before signing the treaty.”
“Look bad here, maybe, but he’ll be a hero back on Weshern.”
Bree laughed again.
“Too true.”
She buckled her swords to her waist as she walked. The long road down the capitol hill awaited them. Her fingers tapped the hilts. Instead of feeling comforted, they made her only feel more exposed.
“We won’t be able to explain having these if we’re caught,” she said.
“Then we best not get caught.”
They kept to one side of the road, eyes open and ears attentive. The hour may have been late but plenty were still drinking at the castle. Others could be on their way home, and all it would take was a quick shout for their plan to be exposed. The road gradually sloped downward, and twice Bree and Kael descended one of the rope ladders to bypass much of the walk. At the bottom of the hill, they spotted the Clay Cathedral rising up from a perfect circle of cleared earth. As with the Crystal Cathedral, it bore no protective walls or fences. Getting inside, however, would be the trick.
“No outside guards,” Bree said as they neared.
“Good,” Kael said. “It’d be nice if something went right for once.”
Pride had convinced Bree that nothing could compete for beauty and majesty with the intertwining layers of glass of her home cathedral, certainly not something as meager as clay. But standing before Candren’s cathedral, she thought otherwise. The building was perfectly square, all four sides lined with massive columns cut from the earth. Some were covered with painted carvings, detailing miracles of healing by the theotechs, people in worship, and great crowds kneeling in prayer as they listened to the words of the Speaker. Bree wished she could look upon the breathtaking detail in the daylight instead of the dim starlight. Instead of pictures, other pillars bore lines and lines of text traveling in a tight, circular path down the pillar that seemed to echo the road down the capitol hill. Bree brushed the words with
her fingers, staggered by their density. They were divine words of various Speakers throughout the ages. Each carved recess was colored with paint, so that when Bree stood before the pillar the words formed the beautiful image of a pre-Ascension knight kneeling before a silver-winged angel.
“How long do you think this took to make?” Bree asked.
“It must have been years. Decades even,” Kael said.
The makeup of the cathedral was different compared to Weshern’s in that it had three entrances instead of one, grand double doors at the top of the steps on the east, west, and south sides. Kael tested one of them, not surprised to find it locked. No guards patrolled the grounds, either. The cathedral’s security likely remained inside, for how could one break through such grand doors? It was impossible.
Which was why they had no intention of breaking in.
Kael slipped to the side, while Bree rapped against the door with her knuckles. It took a dozen tries but finally a tiny window slid open and a young, tired face peered out.
“Come back when it is daylight, child,” the theotech said. “No matter your deeds the angels will wait to hear them.”
“But I won’t be able to wait until daylight,” Bree said, leaning closer and speaking quickly lest the man close the window. “We return to Weshern come the morrow.”
This seemed to catch his attention.
“Weshern?” he asked.
“I … my name is Breanna Skyborn,” she said, feeling a shiver of nerves at revealing her identity. “I wish to pray for the angels’ guidance, for much has been placed on my shoulders and I fear to make the wrong decision.”
“Skyborn?” the theotech asked, his eyes narrowing in the dim light. “As in the Phoenix of Weshern?”
She meekly nodded.
“Well then, that is a different matter entirely,” he said. “Have you any proof you are who you claim to be?”
They’d worried whoever greeted them might not believe their identities, especially since they were dressed in plain clothes and not their official Weshern Seraphim uniforms. Kael had come up with the simple answer, an ability only the Phoenix could possibly perform. Bree told herself to remain calm as she drew her sword. The theotech stepped back, clearly frightened. Bree ignored his reaction, pretending she was unaware of a reason for him to be worried. She carefully pricked the tip of her middle finger, nothing deep. She only needed a single drop of blood.
“I am the Phoenix,” Bree said, sheathing her sword. “For who else might I be?”
The trickle of blood swelling across her finger shone a dull red in her mind. She focused on it, igniting the lurking demon blood within. The drop ignited, a softly flickering flame like a candle. Bree held it for only a second before extinguishing it.
“Who else indeed?” the theotech breathed. He was pretending to be calm but she saw the heightened fear and excitement in his eyes. “Please,” he said. “Come inside.”
Bree steeled herself as Kael sank farther back into the tiny alcove beside the door. They’d prepared an alternate plan should she be rejected, but this was their desired scenario. The door creaked open a few feet, granting narrow passage. The young theotech gestured for Bree to enter. She stepped just inside the door, ensuring it could not be closed. Open space greeted her, but it was dark compared to the Crystal Cathedral.
“Please, no swords,” commanded the theotech.
“Of course.”
Bree unbuckled her swords and placed them against the wall, purposely keeping herself between the theotech and the door so he could not close it. Done, she smoothed her clothes and stared at the vaulted ceiling far above her. Dozens of lanterns hung from wires so thin they seemed to float in the air. Still she refused to move.
“If you would, take a seat,” the theotech said, and he gestured to the three different sections of benches that faced the raised center dais. Bree could sense the impatience in his voice. Another good sign. The best, though, was the way he kept his right hand close to his side, and the faint glint of steel he failed to hide among his red robes.
Exhaling slowly, she bowed her head and walked past him. She kept calm, her body relaxed. Unsuspecting. She did not hear his footsteps following her, for they walked upon thick red carpet, but she could imagine the eagerness in the young theotech’s eyes. Here was the blasphemous Phoenix of Weshern, alone and on foreign soil. What fame might he receive should he bring her low? What reward would the Speaker offer for such a kill?
Bree halted abruptly in the middle of the aisle, knowing it would both surprise him as well as spur him into acting. She didn’t turn or brace for the coming blow. Her trust in her brother was absolute.
She heard a gurgle and Bree turned to see Kael’s left hand pressed against the theotech’s mouth, the right jamming a sword through his posterior ribs and into his heart. Kael held him still until his last shudder and then gently lowered him behind one of the benches.
“Here,” he said, handing over her swords. “Keep a lookout for more while I shut the door.”
Bree belted her swords around her waist and then quietly dashed to the dais. The cathedral bore entrances on three sides, but she could now see two more. One door to the left of the dais stood slightly ajar, probably dorms for lower-ranking theotechs and servants. The other was carefully hidden from view of the pews behind the dais and locked shut. She suspected this door led to the secret passage that would eventually take them down into the bowels of Candren. If it were anything like the Crystal Cathedral’s, it would first lead to rooms for the theotechs, followed by bunks for the angelic knights stationed on guard. After that would be the true secret rooms, places like where they experimented on her. Most important, there should be the grand door Kael described housing the lightborn within.
Bree placed her ear against the unassuming door. Soft breathing and muted conversation could be heard from the other side. She bit her lip as she pondered a way to catch them off guard.
At least two, she mouthed.
Kael tapped her shoulder, alerting her to his arrival. She wordlessly nodded, then gestured to the door. It bore no decorations, only a long, dark iron handle and a slender hole for a key. He crossed his arms and frowned at the door. Bree let him think. Hopefully he’d have a better idea than hers, which was to simply knock and hope they answered.
Suddenly Kael waved a finger, mouthed he’d be right back. He vanished up the steps. Bree shifted her weight from foot to foot, growing more anxious with each passing moment. When Kael returned, he sported a wide grin. Bree raised an eyebrow to communicate her curiosity, and in answer, he twirled his right finger, spinning the thick steel key on its metal loop.
Dead guy had it, Kael mouthed to her. He slowly drew one of his swords, careful to prevent any noise, as Bree did likewise. She braced herself before the door, both blades at ready. Kael shifted to the side, inserted the key, and then looked to her.
Ready?
She nodded in affirmative.
Let’s do this.
Kael turned the key. A heavy, satisfying click marked the opening of the mechanisms. Before the guards on the other side might think anything of it, Kael pulled on the iron handle, flinging open the door.
Two soldiers stood opposite one another, leaning against the sides of the long, stone hallway, their arms crossed over their chests. On sight, their boredom vanished instantly, their hands scrambling for weapons. Bree assaulted the man on the left, jamming the tip of her sword into the base of his throat. She continued inward, pulling the blade free while spinning to face the other. Her left hand swung, but the soldier reacted in time, his sword parrying away the strike. He pressed her, taller, stronger, his blade hammering down upon her swords. Frantically she dove aside, unable to endure. The tip of the soldier’s sword cut across her arm, splashing blood across the dark stone floor.
The soldier moved to follow but stopped, howling in pain. Kael had struck him from behind, his thrust cutting through a gap in the chain mail at his armpit. Now flanked on both sides, the m
an realized his doom and lunged at Bree with a desperate overhead chop. She ducked low and spun away. Kael’s sword sliced the man’s heel, dropping him to one knee. The guard swung his fist wildly behind him, trying to chase Kael off, but missed. Bree feinted an attack, retreated instead. It stole his attention once more, and Kael ended his life with another stab through the back.
The body collapsed to the floor, metal rattling against stone. Bree winced at the noise as she collected her breath. Together they waited perfectly still for alarms, doors opening, angered men rushing their position. Nothing. Only silence.
“Luck’s with us tonight,” Kael whispered, grinning nervously.
“Says you,” she whispered back, looking at her injury. The cut didn’t appear too deep, thankfully. Trying her best to ignore it, she gestured for Kael to take lead. He’d been inside the Crystal Cathedral twice, while she’d been there only the once, blindfolded and drugged for much of it. Kael started off at a slow walk, then sped into a quiet jog. Bree followed, her hands on either hilt to prevent her swords from rattling. They passed closed door after closed door, none apparently the correct one.
The hallway lowered at a steady slant, the ceiling lit with soft glowing light elements embedded into tiny holes surrounded with runes. After several hundred feet, it hooked to the left. Kael slowed at the corner, and after listening a moment, looked around it.
“Hurry,” he whispered, gesturing for her to follow.
Bree turned the corner to see an immediate junction. The path traveled both left and right, continuing on to doors and rooms best left undiscovered. Before them, though, were the grand double doors, exactly as Kael had described the ones in Weshern. The ceiling vaulted suddenly, making room for the marble opening. Golden runes lined the sides, some she could read, most not. They were terribly imposing, these gates sealing away a giant otherworldly being. Most frightening were the sensations of awe and power emanating from the other side. Even without Kael’s stories, she’d have sensed something incredible within.
Shadowborn Page 9
