by Lani Lenore
The city was falling. It could not be stopped.
2
Sophia had never been a lady. There were times in which she did not even think of herself as a woman, but a ghost in a world of men, slipping through, unnoticed.
Today was not a day for those things. Today, she was not a ghost, but the spirit was inside her. She was an able body. She had a need to fight, and she was seeking revenge.
“I won’t stay here and hide. People out there need help!”
Words to her father. Perhaps she had not convinced Nathan to fight at her side, but she would not stand by while the very man who had brought her up in this life insisted that she stay hidden while he and others cleared the streets. She knew he only loved her—of course she knew that—but he would not tell her what to do anymore. She had been preparing for this. It was time.
Sophia had fled from the tavern while her father was still making plans with other men who had gathered. She had known many of them since she was a girl, and yet she envied them her father’s respect. She would have thought that by now he would have considered her to be something more, enough to be included, but she would never be what her brother was in his eyes. That was clear now. She had to get out.
The streets were mostly deserted, the walkways across the waterfront, partially collapsed. There had been destruction here, but too long a time of hiding had caused that action to pass from her. Sophia would have to seek it out if she wanted a piece of it.
She moved through the streets she knew so well, where on sunny days she would visit the market, and on some nights would sneak out to watch ships pass. This city was home—always had been. Could she let it go? She had let her mother go when she’d died from consumption; had let her brother go when he’d been murdered by nymphs. She had let Nathan go as well, even though she thought she could have loved him. Life was all about loss, then moving on.
Clicking sounds along an alley caused her to hide herself against a wall, pressing her back in firmly, disappearing like a shadow. She clenched her gun and waited for the thing that would emerge, though she did not know whether it would be human or beast.
She held her breath as the creature came forward, and it was very unlike the nymph she had seen on Nathan’s ship. It seemed to have grown a second body with six great clicking legs. She peered around the corner with one eye, and the longer she stared, the more she was able to make out. The nymph had not grown, but was riding the back of an enormous armored beast that resembled a crab, guiding it with reigns as if it were a horse. It was on patrol, looking for any stray humans who had ventured out into the streets, ready to cut them down.
The thought enraged Sophia.
Aiming the gun, sweat beading on her brow, she took aim as she had practiced so many times. She drew back the hammer of the gun, waited until she had a clear view, and fired. The sound pierced the night. She could not see the bullet that sailed forward, but she saw the result. The nymph seized. Without even a cry, she fell off her mount and onto the street. The unattended beast wandered on, unbidden, and when it was gone, Sophia finally caught her breath.
The nymph did not move, and once she thought it was safe, she crept out of her hiding place and made her way toward it. When she had come close, she could see the small hole in the side of the nymph’s scaly blue head, her glowing eyes open and hollow. Sophia could hardly believe what she had done, but she felt a rush of adrenaline that she could not deny.
I did it. That was one—my first one. Not counting the dying creature she had killed on the boat. That had been a heartless gesture. This kill had counted. She was a warrior now. A slayer of nymphs! Treading carefully, she collected her thoughts and rounded the corner, looking for her next enemy.
Then she saw her, a nymph riding atop a crustacean, who had a spiraling crown on her head. Her skin was like a soldier’s armor, and she carried a jeweled halberd with three prongs. Her mount passed leisurely as if taking a stroll. She was a general observing all that her army had done, but it was clear to Sophia that she was heading toward the palace. She was the one that had brought this on. She had promised war. She had given the order to attack her brother’s ship.
Perhaps Sophia had gone mad, but she was filled with an impulse of fury that she could not hold back. If her father had been with her, perhaps she could have kept it in place, but it had been welling inside for so long and she could not keep it back now.
She stood frozen, holding the handle of her gun, her hands quaking with rage.
3
The Mistress rode high through the streets atop her mount. She had warned the human king to evacuate his city, but she was glad to see that he had not. She had not wanted this victory to be unearned, and she needed the lives of these men. She’d been craving war.
Her warriors were faring well against the human soldiers, and the Leviathan hailed wrath down upon them. The blasts ripped through the buildings, raining down rubble, but she was not afraid. She could not be touched. This was her war, and she would not look on from a distance. There was a place for her here, and one thing left to do. She wanted to confront the king who had not taken her seriously, look him in the eye and tell him how foolish he had been to think that he could stand against her. She would tell him in his own language, just before she cut out his heart.
This ascension was as glorious as she had imagined. If only the old ones could see her now.
The palace was not far. It was not difficult to spot, towering over all other buildings, a stone structure worthy of their mother and father. She did not fear the humans or the sirens either one. She had been blessed by the sea, and no threat was a concern to her.
I will have it. I will sit on his throne in my own queendom. She was nearly salivating for the thought.
Lost in the expectation of her own glory, the Mistress was surprised when a lone figure rushed out in front of her—one insignificant human with long brown hair. A girl. She was holding a weapon, some small silver thing, but the Mistress was not intimidated. She had withstood a hundred spears and faced the most vicious creatures of the sea; she would not be blown away by this. But she was interested.
The Mistress did not have to stop, but she did halt her mount, intrigued by this human who had dared to stand in her way. Why was she alone like this? Where was her keeper? She smiled when she remembered that she did not have to wonder. She could simply ask.
“From what my eyes have seen,” she began, “most human warriors are men. So what is it that you want?”
“Are you the leader of this army?” the human female demanded.
This made the Mistress’s lip curl.
“All this time and I still have no name?” she sneered, shaking her head. “Yes. I am the Mistress of all these before you. Do you wish to fight? Your effort will do no good against me, human female. Step aside before I cut you down.”
“I gain nothing from moving,” the girl said boldly. “I want only one thing: revenge against you.”
Revenge? What could this feeble little child possibly need revenge for? Had she struggled to keep a people alive for decades? Had she watched as her society had slowly gone to ruin? Had she seen others try to claim more and more of the sea for their own? No, this one standing here was nothing—nothing at all but an instrument for birthing more of those she hated.
“Revenge?” the Mistress asked, still curious, if not full of contempt. “I understand this concept. For what?”
“My brother!” the girl shouted, unable to keep down the emotion in her voice.
This surprised the Mistress.
“Your…what?” The magic Bliss had put into her mind translated the word. “A man? You are threatening me over a man? One of so many, special to you but not so important. Men are so little, but they think they are great. Hear this lesson child: in all things there are predators and prey. He served a purpose—for us.”
The girl’s eyes grew wide with fury, and the Mistress smiled. The human female lifted her pistol and fired, but her aim was off. The bulle
t merely grazed the crustacean’s shell and did not hit the Mistress at all. As she had suspected, she was invincible.
She pulled at the reigns of her mount, urging the creature forward. It took action against the human, swiping with its massive claws. It missed the girl and hit the side of a building, cleaving away stone. The girl wrestled with a sword at her belt, but the crustacean delivered another mighty blow which knocked the girl from her feet.
“Don’t you see how weak you are?” the Mistress chided. “You are such a little thing in the face of all this. Turn away.”
“I will not!”
The beast swung a mighty claw and hammered down on the girl, pressing her into the ground. The human cried out, fought against it, but she was not strong enough. She would be crushed, just as all the Mistress’s enemies would be crushed beneath her.
She was unstoppable now. This was one more small victory. Hereafter, all victories belonged to her.
4
Sophia could not help but imagine it then, as if she had not thought of it many times before. Her brother’s panic, falling to the fight against the waves and the nymphs, the way it must have felt to have chunks of flesh ripped out from his throat, devoured alive, responding to a trance that made him desire death like a warm body. What a cruel fate that he’d not sought. He’d not tempted it or been prepared, and yet it had come for him. This one had come for him.
The pincher clamped down on Sophia’s arm, digging in, cutting into her flesh, but it was not as sharp as it was forceful. The bone snapped long before the skin broke. Sophia screamed for the pain that burst through her as her arm collapsed and her hand lost all motion.
The Mistress’s glowing eyes were filled with glee as she raised her spear, a knowing smile on her monstrous face. She had a clear shot. Sophia was helpless to stop it, and she was almost driven to pray—to beg for some deity to reach down and deliver her.
If you are there, she thought. If you’ve ever been there…
Her eyes moved toward the heavens, and above the dark shadow of the nymph, she noticed something in the sky. Specs were emerging in the red dawn—dozens of them—and she could see the movement of their powerful wings. Angels had come down. No; Sophia did not have to guess, nor did she have trouble believing her eyes. Nathan had been right. The sirens were real, their purpose true, and they were coming to aid them in this fight.
A blast of the Leviathan’s light shot into the flock of sirens, blowing several of them apart before they reached the city, but not all. At the brightness of the flash above her head, the Mistress looked up, seeing what descended upon her, and she screeched in rage. She pulled at the reigns, urging her mount to turn, forgetting about the lowly human on the ground before her.
Sophia clenched her ruined arm, groaning through the pain, but her eyes were wide and alert. She wanted to see.
The Mistress did not retreat. She sat firm atop her mount and hit an oncoming siren with her halberd, a mighty blow that knocked the bird aside and into the wall. Another swooped in, and she struck it through the chest like a pheasant ready to be cooked. This Mistress was a fierce warrior; Sophia could see.
Though the pain had caused her to sweat and swoon, Sophia was aware enough to drag herself out of the way, and with much better timing than she was aware. From around corners, more nymphs began to gather, ready to counter the oncoming sirens, but Sophia’s eyes remained glued to the Mistress, awaiting that vicious one’s fate.
Through the aerial assault, the Mistress held her own. She defended with her spear, deflecting a blur of reaching claws, but it was not long before a siren clamped talons along the post of the javelin, wrestling it away from her. They fought, the Mistress inattentive to her mount as she battled for her own life. Perhaps the Mistress had been a great warrior in the depths, in the sea that was her own terrain, but her greed had clouded her judgement. She was near helpless here, and had been too blind to realize that.
Another siren dove in, and the force knocked the Mistress from her mount. Through the fog of pain, Sophia saw her chance. Scrambling forward, she seized the nymph’s own spear and rushed in as the Mistress was trying to climb back up, but she was not swift enough. Sophia pushed forward with all the weight behind her uninjured shoulder, ramming the spear into the nymph’s armored side. The prongs slid between her scales and into her flesh.
The nymph queen screeched and Sophia’s ears were full of piercing pain. She felt that her head might split open, and a warm trickle ran down the side of her face, but she did not stop. She twisted the spear and cleaved a large chunk of flesh free of the Mistress’s side. It was justice enough—enough to keep the Mistress down so that the angels could reach her.
The sirens flocked to the fallen sea nymph as Sophia crawled away, her eyes ever forward. They clawed out the Mistress’s eyes and ripped her to pieces like birds disemboweling a fish, exposing her ribs as they took out strings of her guts. The shrieks of the Mistress were near deafening, and Sophia tried to shield her ears with her shoulders and her good arm, until finally it stopped. The sirens did not feast on the remains, but they did not halt until the Mistress had been ripped apart completely, hardly any bit recognizable.
Sophia raised herself up, wide-eyed, but she wanted to remember this. This was a violence she had never seen, but it was as close as she would ever get to what had happened to her brother. She would need to keep this with her. No matter what the rest of her life brought, she knew her purpose was to keep this thirst for vengeance in her heart.
“Sophia!”
The shout reached her ringing ears, echoing from the alleyways. She could see the light of torches reflecting off the stone walls, and several men emerged, led by her father. They had assembled themselves—finally—and had not moved on without her, despite her brash behavior. Her father came forward to support her as she held her broken arm close.
No doubt Gideon saw his daughter’s wound, just as he saw the mass of winged creatures that were now forcing themselves on the other nymphs and tearing into the giant crustaceans, cracking their thick shells.
“Come,” her father said. “There are too many of them. There is only to help those who will flee. The city is gone.”
Sophia had been willing to die for this cause, and yet now it seemed that living was the only true fight—for others, for herself. She let her father’s urgent hand pull her along as a burning light tore through a nearby tower, flinging chunks of rubble. From above, heavy rain began to fall.
Chapter Twenty-Nine:
Waves of Circumstance
1
Nathan held fast to Treasure’s hand, rushing through the dark, keeping to the outskirts of the city.
Great missiles of light crashed down upon Ilsa, shattering buildings and raining debris. When this began to happen, men and women who had formerly been hiding in corners began to spill into the streets, screaming and running for their lives. Nathan had his own to care about. Above, flashes illuminated the heavens like lightening, but he and Treasure did not stop. Together, they ran and did not look back.
Nathan did not know where he intended to go, but he knew that they needed to get away from the shore, away from the city, and out of sight. There were many obstacles, but what would they be if they didn’t try? Dead and apart. He’d already been on that path, and he was through with that. They had to keep moving.
His mind was already beyond this city, thinking on to the next step, even as the rain began. He was not sure if they would make it to the next town on foot, but he guessed that they would need to take whatever shelter they could find along the way. This battle was a threat, but there were more to come. Who knew how far the Mistress’s campaign would reach, and there was an even greater threat to Treasure. If the sirens were after her continually, they would have to stay sheltered and on the move. Would this work? Was there any chance at all that they would survive this? He tried not to think of those things, focusing on the task at hand. Now, they needed to flee, and flee was what they would do, in its simple
form.
The streets were without light, many of the passages blocked by chunks of rock from the shattered buildings. When they met with an obstacle, there was only to turn away. As always, Treasure was silent, but he wondered what was going through her mind. Was she frantic as he was, or did her trust keep her sane? He could not let her down.
They pressed on, out of breath, but unceasing. For a moment, he thought he caught a glimpse of Sophia and Gideon rushing through the stone-littered streets, but he could not offer them a second glance. They were a part of his life that he had left behind, just like his father’s house, the Blood-Red Siren, and Ellister’s palace. The only thing he had left was running behind him now. He would not let her go.
Nymphs were in the streets—a place he’d never expected them to be. How had they been so unprepared? Had Ellister ever known what he was doing? He should have evacuated the city days ago, but no. He had to stand for this battle, and now this had happened.
Nathan recalled a story from a sermon that had been one of his father’s favorites. It was about the destruction of a great and wicked city that God hated, and only one man and his family were allowed to flee, but once they left, they were not supposed to look back.
Run, he told himself. Run and don’t look back.
He did what his mind persuaded him. The ground shook and the earth rumbled, but Nathan pressed on—and then Treasure had pulled him to stop.
He thought she had fallen, and turned quickly, only to see her tugging on his hand. Didn’t she know that they couldn’t just stand here?
“We can’t stop. Not now,” he insisted, but there was urgency in her own eyes. She was pleading with him, but for what, he did not know.
Lifting his eyes, Nathan looked past her for the first time, seeing the others on the street. People, just like him, but perhaps less capable, were trying to clear the area—only trying to get to safety as structures collapsed on each other and light opened the flagstones. Others were in full panic, crying and screaming, unsure of which way to go.
