The other balconies were filled with people, although they were official people. Guards, lawyers, the mayor and his entourage, ambassadors, and dignitaries from other continents were there, all distinguishable by their national flag and status symbol emblazoned on an armband each of them wore. Every nation's banner hung in vibrant colors from the front of the balcony where its representatives were seated.
This decision would affect their countries as well. Alayne's gaze jerked to a stop on the balcony to her left and six floors down.
Tarry sat in a padded chair, Simeon Malachi by her side. His scarred face was turned toward the floor of the atrium, and his beefy arms crossed over his chest, one hand rhythmically stroking a full bushy beard that had grown since the last time Alayne had seen him—in the secret hallway off Clayborne's gymnasium where he'd held her captive while Beatrice Pence had tortured Daymon.
Alayne hadn't killed him after all.
Malachi leaned closer to Tarry, whispering in her ear, his hand on her armrest. Kyle sat two rows behind them next to his mother, Beatrice Pence. The woman's lack of nose looked redder than ever. Another man sat on Kyle's other side. If looks were any indication, the man had to be Kyle's father. Same nose and full lips, same facial structure, same thick, blond hair, same freckles.
Behind them, in a row of four chairs, Alayne recognized the four soldiers who had accompanied Kyle the night he'd arrested her in the streets of the Capital. They stared straight ahead, their gazes unwavering, fixed in concentration.
Alayne jerked her elbow into Daymon's ribcage.
“Ow,” he muttered. “Watch your limbs, Layne, they're sharp.”
“Look, genius,” Alayne motioned subtly to the left.
Daymon's navy gaze swept the balconies, intensifying as soon as he found Tarry's balcony. He nodded slowly. “We knew Tarry would be here today. The Alliance flag is flying. I didn't expect Kyle, though.”
“You didn't?” Alayne felt the bitter twist on her lips. “He's the Alliance's lapdog. Of course he's here. Tarry's going to squeeze every last ounce of usefulness she can from him, and then she'll discard him.”
Alayne could tell from Daymon's tense jawline that he wasn't happy with the situation. Fear needled Alayne's stomach. Kyle knew her, knew her well. Could he see beyond black hair and eyeliner and recognize her before she could do what she was there to do?
“But that's not all, Daymon. The four Elementals behind them; they're the ones who are holding the Elements out of reach.”
Daymon's gaze sharpened on the men. “Are you sure?”
“Positive.”
Daymon's lips tightened. “Don't worry, Layne. When you need the elements, they'll be in reach. Just concentrate on what you need to do.”
Alayne's eyes widened. “What are you going to do?”
“They'll call the Court to order soon, and then you'll need to be ready. I'll—”
A booming voice interrupted him, and he sealed his lips as quiet settled over the atrium. “All citizens rise,” called the Court's bailiff.
A loud rustle swept the atrium as each person in the High Court stood. A red-cloaked figure entered the atrium floor, stepping up several sets of stairs to sit at a desk far above the other Justices.
Leader Blankenship. She wondered if he had any concept that his niece, Rachyl, lived just below where he presided over court every day.
The rustle of bodies moving again circled the atrium as everyone sat down once more.
“Now it begins,” Daymon whispered in Alayne's ear. “The Elemental Alliance is going to present their case first, and then, if my uncle is correct, dissenters will either be very few in number or not present at all. They only need three Justice dissenters to block the motion, though.”
On the floor below them, Alayne saw a petite blonde come to stand at the pulpit in the center of the circle, facing Leader Blankenship. It's Tarry. She glanced back at the balcony where Tarry had sat only moments earlier and realized her seat was empty, as well as Malachi's. Kyle still sat in his chair, flanked by his parents. She returned her gaze to the atrium floor, and sure enough, Simeon Malachi had entered and stood near the edge of the circle, his arms crossed over his chest.
“On this sixteenth day of July, 782 Post Deluge, the Elemental Alliance wishes to recognize that it has attempted, by all means possible, to dwell together in harmony with CommonEarth's ungifted members.” Tarry's voice was clear as her tones resonated all the way to the top of the atrium so everyone could hear. “At some point, we must ask ourselves: how much is too much? When will the cross-breeding stop? Too often, we have mixed Elemental and Natural families, and too often, we've seen children born of those unions with no gifts whatsoever. Over time, we have seen a growing threat to pure Elementals—the Natural Human population growing by leaps and bounds. They threaten to overwhelm us utterly and completely,” she paused for dramatic effect, “unless they are stopped.”
Alayne glanced over at Daymon. “They've hashed all this out already, haven't they? The court's already on her side,” she whispered.
“Mostly, yeah. She has to present a summary first for the records. Then they'll have a dissenter come out and state his case, and then the Justices will confer for a while before they announce their decision.”
Tarry's voice droned on and on. Alayne glanced across at Kyle again and jerked when she saw his gaze sweep across the observation deck. Daymon followed where her attention centered, and he pinched her as she slid a little lower in her seat, ducking her head.
“Skies, Layne, make it a little more obvious that you don't want to be seen, would you?” Daymon hissed. “He can't recognize us yet or the whole plan's shot.”
Tarry's voice had stopped. Alayne risked a quick look over the rail.
“The Elemental Alliance has presented its case,” a black-robed Justice intoned. He sat to the right of Leader Blankenship. His hairless head shone in the lights of the atrium. “Dissenters, please state your case.”
Alayne's pulse thudded in her ears. Not long now. A declaration of war seemed inevitable, and when it came, she needed to be ready.
“Nobody's stepping forward,” Daymon murmured.
“Didn't Manders say there were three Last Order Justices?” Alayne demanded. “Where are they?”
“Gone. See?” He pointed. Sure enough, there were three holes along the Justices' bench. Alayne angled her head downward toward the court, remembering the teardrop camera.
The stand where Tarry had stood only moments before remained empty. Whispers began to slide across the atrium from the Justices as well as the onlookers. The noise built into a buzz, like a newly-awakened hive of bees.
Leader Blankenship rapped his mallet on his podium, the harsh knock of wood-on-wood echoing across the chambers. “Silence. Silence, please.”
The buzz quieted.
Leader Blankenship stood, his red robes rippling magnificently around him. “Where is the dissenter for this case?” His eyes swept upward, and Alayne jerked back instinctively before peering over the rail again.
A nervous-looking man dressed in all black with a black hat perched on his balding head scurried out from the door on the side. “Apologies, Leader. So sorry for the delay.”
Leader Blankenship jerked his head toward the man, impatiently tossing down his gavel. “What's the meaning of the delay? Is there representation for the Naturals? I was informed that Justice McCloud had planned to dissent. Where is he?”
The man in black trembled. His hands twitched as they adjusted his hat, straightened his suit coat, smoothed a wrinkle in his pant leg. “Justice McCloud was just found, sir. At his home. He—he was—hanged.”
Silence wafted across the atrium; all noise disappeared into a black hole of stillness.
“Hanged?” Leader Blankenship slowly sank back down onto his seat. His gaze pierced the little man.
“Y—yes, sir. And that's not all.”
The Leader stared at the man. “Yes?”
“Justices Lynker and Cats
wold were drowned in a boating accident not two hours ago.”
Pandemonium ensued. Everyone was shouting. People in the balconies stood, leaning over the edges, yelling at the Justices below. A chant formed, a repetitive beat that thudded against Alayne's eardrums. She glanced nervously at Daymon. He nodded his head a fraction of an inch. “Get ready,” he whispered.
“Go to war, go to war, go to war, go to war.” The words bounced off the balconies and walls and decks of the atrium. People pounded their fists against marble railings; the atrium practically shook with the force of the chant. Justices had come off their bench; the open floor was a whirling dervish of black-robed bodies as they shoved their way through their fellow members of the bench to talk to other members.
The guards stationed at the heads of the staircases leaned over the railings, their focus on the pandemonium below.
Daymon nudged Alayne. “Go. Go now!” He stood, and the silver knife he'd stolen from Green-Eyes flashed in his hand. Alayne froze, her breath lurching to a stop in her lungs.
The blade whirled silently from his hand, through the air between balconies, and lodged firmly in the arm of one of the four Elementals behind Kyle.
The man jerked in his seat, the balance tipped, and all four elements snapped back into place on the harp with an ear-ringing crack that echoed through the atrium. The pandemonium paused for a split second as everyone froze, and then, it broke out in even more violent form. People on every balcony pushed and shoved to see over the edges. Tarry's four specialized Elementals were flooded by an angry, terrified, and morbidly curious mob in their balcony. An unfortunate victim slipped from the balcony and fell through the air into the center of the turmoil below—Daymon's targeted Elemental, the knife still impaled in his shoulder.
Desperately, Alayne grasped the air element. She wasn't sure yet what she should do with it, but she wanted to make sure the elements didn't go out of reach again.
Daymon turned back to Alayne and jerked his head toward the pandemonium below, his message clear. Move, Alayne! Then he took the steps out of the observation deck in three easy strides.
Alayne swallowed hard. She looked once more over the railing. Leader Blankenship pounded his gavel on the podium repeatedly. The stick broke at last, and he angrily tossed it over his shoulder.
He raised his hand, and an arc of fire shot from the end of it, exploding in a thousand pinwheels near the top of the atrium, far above the observation deck.
Alayne ducked toward the stairs, past the guards, and raced down the steps as fast as her legs would go.
The chaos was only slightly diminished. Leader Blankenship's voice boomed across the atrium. “Receiving no dissent to the motion, the High Court of this Continent hereby declares war on the insurgent group otherwise known as Last Orders. There will be no shelter, no harbor for those who claim membership with this organization, nor for anyone, Natural or Elemental, who associates with it. This High Court finds the prosecution justified.”
A shout from behind Alayne added wings to her feet. She glanced over her shoulder; both guards had noticed her progress as she disappeared down the first curve of the stairs. They leaped down after her, gaining swiftly.
A moment more, and Alayne would be a prisoner. Drawing in a deep breath, she grasped the railing and launched herself into the air far above the Justices' bench.
Chapter 14
The air element slid through Alayne's fingers as she hurtled through nothingness. The faces below her jerked skyward, their expressions startled. In a fraction of a second, the ground cleared, and Alayne tightened her fingers around the element, slowing to a halt just before hitting the floor. Her heart was pounding, and she didn't release her touch on the element's harp.
Leader Blankenship's mouth hung slack, the folds of skin below his chin melting into three, four lines.
Alayne pulled herself to her full height, her gaze flickering to the balcony where Kyle watched. She wondered if he recognized her, and then she wished desperately that she knew where Daymon was.
Leader Blankenship found his tongue. “Who are you?” he demanded through the absolute stillness of the atrium. His voice played off the marble walls, rumbling like thunder.
“I am Alayne Worth.” Gasps of surprise followed her words. “I am CommonEarth's only Quadriweave, the possessor of the Vale for almost the entirety of my life, and the Last Order's advocate for Natural Humans all over CommonEarth. I stand for their rights, Leader Blankenship, and I won't sit back and watch you and the Alliance overrun them.” Cameras ranged up the massive pillars surrounding the Justices' bench, eight, nine, ten per pillar. Every one was pointed at her.
Good, this is what the Last Order wanted. She returned her gaze to Leader Blankenship. Daymon could come any minute now. Any second, really. She balled her hands into fists at her sides, hiding the trembling.
The Leader regarded her. The rest of the Justices surrounding her seemed to be waiting to hear his verdict.
“Miss Worth.” He leaned forward, gripping the edges of his podium. “You're famous in the High Court.” He shook his head, the fat below his chin shaking with the motion. “You're too late. The High Court has already declared war. And that means that you, Miss Worth, are under arrest.”
A slow smile spread across his lips, and Alayne heard the guards close in behind her.
She whirled around, her hand outstretched. Instinct demanded she protect herself, but the element strands responded far too explosively to her touch. Fire shot from the ends of her fingers, enveloping three Justices who had moved too close. They screamed as the flames ate at their robes and moved to their skin.
Alayne's eyes widened in horror. It was happening again; she couldn't control it.
She felt someone else's movement on the harp of elements, and a moment later, water burst from every door that surrounded the benches. It shot through the entryways and flooded the court floor with white foam. The overwhelming current leaped past the Justices and raced toward her, a watery snare meant to trap her. It rose up and over, ready to crash down.
Alayne tangled her hand in the wind element, savagely yanking it from the element harp. Crippling gusts circled her body with a shriek and burst through the enclosure of water above her. Fire shot from her fingertips again, and she hurled it through the wind, which carried the flames to the top of the atrium in a fiery vortex, illuminating the horrified face of every person on every balcony in the towering structure.
More guards crashed into the area. They flooded the floor, pushing back the Justices as they scrambled toward Alayne, splashing through the water. Blankenship stood screaming at his podium, hurling fireballs at random into the crowd, clearly attempting to restore order and failing miserably.
Air-Master guards had launched themselves from the balconies; they hovered above Alayne. She could feel her escape hatch narrowing. Panic raced up her spine. Where is Daymon? She could go; it would only take a few seconds, but the window of opportunity was closing, and she refused to leave without Daymon. She looked around, sweating with concentration as the element strands whipped relentlessly in her uncertain grasp. She arced another path of fire and wind, pushing soldiers back into the melee.
Suddenly, Daymon was there. His wind shrieked though the pandemonium and circled her vortex, throwing the hovering guards against the walls and balconies. His arm closed around her waist, and they shot upward.
“Don't let them escape!” Leader Blankenship's strangled scream brought more guards shooting up after them. Kyle's slack-jawed face flashed past as Alayne flew upward and the ceiling drew near. The sun filtered through the clouded glass, a warm calm on chaos below.
As the air currents lifted Alayne and Daymon, the windows on every side of the atrium shattered with the force of their ascent. From the earth, plant roots from deep beneath the surface cracked the marble floors, tearing into the chambers like the dead rising. Heat shot out from Alayne's hands in a complete circle, melting the support beams of the atrium, and slowly, in a great
crumbling, teetering mass, the structure keeled to the side.
People screamed and hurtled toward the exits. Element bursts exploded everywhere as people sought to protect themselves.
Above them, the only remaining pane of glass approached fast. Daymon hit it first, his forearm taking the impact. The glass shattered into thousands of shards, hurtling down upon the swirling confusion. Alayne and Daymon were out over the city, and behind them, with a rumbling, shrieking, thundering roll, the entire atrium of the High Court collapsed in a cloud of rubble and dust.
The Air-Master guards who followed them cleared the roof, too. Daymon wrapped his other arm more securely around Alayne. The Air-Masters were closing the distance, using Daymon's stream of wind along with their own.
“Daymon, I've lost control again.”
“That much is obvious,” Daymon yelled. “Distract them anyway.”
Alayne swallowed her hesitation. The elements still snapped out of control on the harp. She grasped one, hurtling a blast of air behind her. Her wind clashed with the incoming force of the Air-Masters, and a clap of thunder rent the air.
Alayne strained against the elements, but they had gained a mind of their own. She couldn't release the element harp, and she couldn't control anything anymore. Moisture in huge droplets formed in the air behind them, slowly building a massive black cloud that roiled far above the middle of the City Centre. The enormous mass foamed. Alayne desperately tried to grasp another element, not even certain which one it was. A mushroom cloud of fire burst from the top of the cloud. Electricity zigzagged beneath it, snapping at the Air-Masters behind them.
A man fell, twisting and somersaulting in the wind as he plummeted toward the city. Alayne couldn't watch him land. Another burst of lightning forked the sky, snagging another Air-Master.
Alayne smothered a scream with her hand. “It's no good, Daymon,” she half-sobbed. “The Vale is taking over; it's beyond my control!”
Guardian of the Vale Page 18
