Fireborn

by David Dalglish

  “This is our home,” Bree said. “We should never feel unsafe here.”

  Argus gestured to the sky, where the knight had just flown.

  “Then you know who to blame,” he said.

  They continued on, keeping close to the homes they passed in case another knight flew over. Bree saw up ahead the buildings stopped entirely, meaning they’d soon be traveling in open ground. It was not a prospect she was looking forward to in the slightest. Neither was Argus, by the looks of it, for he stopped at the very last home. He did not meet her gaze, only stared at the road splitting the tall grassland.

  “I want to be honest with you,” he said. “There’s a reason I want you with us tonight. You’re our backup plan, our secret weapon in case things go foul. Do you know what that means?”

  Bree wasn’t sure what she could be missing. It seemed to make sense, but his apprehension gave her pause.

  “I’m not sure I do,” she said.

  Argus turned to face her, his blue eyes shining a deep purple from the midnight fire.

  “It means I’m relying on your burning swords to save us. Your burning swords, which no other Seraph of Weshern, if not all the islands, has ever wielded before. In this midnight raid, you could be anyone...until you wield your flame.”

  A pit grew in Bree’s stomach, and she crossed her arms against a sudden chill worming through her.

  “If anyone survives, they’ll know I participated,” she said.

  Argus nodded.

  “The moment you bathe your swords in flame, and an enemy lives to tell the tale, your involvement will be without doubt.”

  “Which means I put my entire family in danger,” she said.

  The older man looked away.

  “You heard your brother’s words. He’s willing to share the risks.”

  “And my aunt?”

  “Theotechs will likely come for her, perhaps for information, perhaps as a hostage. But the risks...these risks are worth it, Bree. If Weshern knows you’re resisting Center’s unlawful invasion, it’ll give confidence to those too frightened to join. War is about more than casualties. It’s about morale, and about hope. That’s what you can be to us, Bree. You can be that hope.” He turned his gaze back to her. “This isn’t something I want you doing lightly, nor feeling like you have no choice in the matter. We need you, I won’t deny that, but we need you fully committed. The moment you fly afraid is the moment I watch you die.”

  Bree stood up straight, her bruised ego giving her the strength to meet his gaze.

  “I will never fly afraid,” she said. “And I’m keeping my fire hidden, at least until I can discuss it with Kael and my aunt.”

  “So be it.” He put a hand on her shoulder. “Surprise will be on our side tonight, so we should endure well enough without your fire.” He squeezed, then released. “I merely pray lives aren’t lost while we wait for you to make up your mind.”

  He paused, and she could tell he was waiting for her to make the first move. Swallowing down her nerves, she looked once more to the sky, then back to Argus.

  “Time is wasting,” she said. “Let’s go.”

  Breaking into a sprint, she raced down the dirt road, the former commander easily keeping up with her. They ran, the tall grass waving on either side of them from the soft breeze. They ran, passing through the red and orange world until Argus finally veered off onto one of several side paths. Up ahead was a barn, and Bree felt relief they’d arrived without being spotted by a patrolling knight. Despite the clear red sky, she maintained her run until reaching the whitewashed wood sides, and the huge doors cracked open a foot. Bree hesitated, waiting until Argus entered first.

  At some point the barn would be stocked from floor to high ceiling with hay for the animals in the coming cold season, but for now it was mostly empty, with only a third of the back wall blocked off by tall stacks of hay bundles. The rest of the open space was filled with Seraphs, men and women standing about in uniform, wing harnesses resting on the floor beside them. In the dim crimson light, Bree estimated thirty at most. Their idle conversations dwindled at their commander’s entrance, and more than a few eyes stared Bree’s way. Bree scanned for familiar faces, vaguely recognizing some from her lengthy drills prior to battle against Galen’s Seraphim, particularly those who had been members of Phoenix Squad.

  “We’re all here,” Argus said to them, garnering their attention with a single clearing of his throat. “So suit up. We’re taking back what is ours.”

  Argus turned to her.

  “We have a set for you this way,” he said.

  She followed him to the far side, where atop the hay lay twin pairs of unclaimed wings. One had black lines painted on its silver wings and clearly belonged to Argus. The other was slightly smaller, and a chill swept through Bree as she touched its cool metal. Despite all that had happened, the skies were not yet denied to her. Beside the wings was a thick black jacket, and Bree slowly put it on. Sliding an arm through the harness, she hoisted it onto her back, put her other arm through, and settled it evenly on her shoulders. Immediately she felt more at ease than she had the past several hours.

  This was the life she knew. This was where she belonged. The planning, the strategy, the politics: all that belonged to others far more suited to those challenges. For her, she wanted an enemy in the skies before her, and her swords and fire to bring them down. Everything else was unwanted complication. Her hands flew over the buckles, tightening them about her waist, thighs, and arms, a preparatory act she could perform in her sleep.

  As she tightened the gauntlet about her right hand, Argus pulled a bag free from a clip on his belt and dipped his fingers inside. He pulled out a single fire prism, which pulsed a soft red. She reached to take it, but when her hand closed around it, Argus did not release immediately. His eyes met hers, and he spoke in a low voice.

  “Remember, only if you must, and only if you are truly ready.”

  “I understand,” she said, pulling the prism free, opening the compartment on her gauntlet, and sliding it inside. Element secure, she closed the compartment with a satisfying click. As Argus moved about, checking on others, offering them encouragement, one of the Seraphs came over to join Bree beside the hay.

  “We won’t be flying in formation tonight,” Olivia said. Her dark hair was tied tight behind her head in preparation for battle. The light of the midnight fire coming in through the high windows cast a shadow across her sharp features, adding an edge to her beauty. “We don’t expect much aerial opposition at first, so when knights do appear, we’ll already be scattered fighting ground troops or loading up the elements. Just stay with me on the way, then break solo when combat begins. Given how few of us there are, we should be safe from potential friendly collisions despite the lack of formations.”

  “Ground troops?” Bree asked, realizing it was a subject she’d never pondered before. “How do I engage ground troops?”

  Olivia gave her a look, then immediately softened.

  “Right,” she said. “I forget how young you are. If the Speaker had not closed the academy, you’d have studied air-to-ground warfare during your second year. Not much we can do now, so I’ll tell you the absolute basics. Arrows are a very real danger, so never fly in a straight line. Veer at all times. Beyond that, a braced soldier bearing a shield will not be deterred by your speed, and should you collide at even half throttle, you’ll break both your necks. Everything is hit-and-run. Bombard from above with your element, and rush in to use your swords only when you absolutely must.” The woman cracked a rare smile. “Which for you, I assume will be almost immediately.”

  Bree’s cheeks blushed, and she was glad it’d be all but impossible to notice in the barn. Despite her ability to bathe her swords in flame, she still lacked any control over her fire when used as a projectile. Instructor Kime had compared wielding fire to playing an instrument, and her as being tone-deaf. If that were true, her burning blades were a unique bypassing of her disability.


  “You’re likely right,” Bree said, trying to brush off the embarrassment.

  Olivia snapped her fingers.

  “Oh, and if you do encounter knights, and you try to melee one, be prepared for surprises,” she said.

  “Surprises?” Bree asked.

  “Not all knights wield twin swords. Some have halberds, chains, spears, even shields. They’re supposedly blessed by the theotechs, too, giving them strength beyond measure.”

  Bree frowned. “Is that true?”

  Olivia shrugged. “I’ve never fought a knight,” she said. “The only Weshern Seraph who has is Argus. As far as I know, it’s the God’s truth.”

  Before Bree could inquire further, Argus called out from the center of the barn, gathering them up. The Seraphs shuffled toward him, and Bree stayed at Olivia’s side.

  “I’m glad you’re here,” Bree told her.

  “Most everyone from Phoenix Squad showed,” Olivia said. “It seems you’re the inspiration Argus insists you are.”

  More nervous blushing. It was bad enough that someone as skilled and famous as Commander Argus was talking about her, but claiming she was an inspiration? For who? The other Seraphim? The people of Weshern? She didn’t know, and she didn’t want to know, so she kept her mouth shut and just smiled meekly.

  “I’ll try to make this quick,” Argus began once all were gathered. “From what we can tell, the wagons are making their way toward the western docks. By midday tomorrow, they will be off our island, which means we must attack tonight. My hope is that we catch them unprepared. We’ve been Center’s puppets for a long time, and they may not realize the lengths we will go to achieve true independence. But even with surprise, don’t expect an easy fight, nor a short end to this war. The theotechs have held on to power for centuries, and they will not relinquish it kindly. If we want Weshern pried free of their grasp, we’ll need to start cutting fingers.”

  “My swords are ready to do the cutting!” a Seraph near Argus shouted, and the rest laughed. Argus grinned at him, a wolfish gleam in his eye.

  “I hope all of you get your chance tonight,” he said. “The wagons stopped outside the town of Melisand. For those of you who don’t know where that is, it’s fifteen miles west of the academy grounds, following Angelic Road. In a fortunate break for us, the Er’el traveling with them rented a room in town, meaning many of the knights will be away from the wagons to act as bodyguards. As for the rest who remained behind, we hit them hard, and slaughter them while they’re unaware. After that, we press our numbers advantage, secure a quick victory, and then move out before reinforcements arrive.”

  Their commander slowly turned, letting his gaze sweep over them.

  “Once the battle ends, flee to Aquila Forest. It’s there we’re building the infrastructure of Weshern’s rebellion. Those already there know of tonight’s attempt, and they’ll be watching for returning Seraphim so they may signal you to safety. Just make sure you’re not followed. The moment Center realizes where we are, the Speaker will bring his entire forces to bear against us. We’ll all be dead.”

  Argus pointed to several men and women, listing off their names as he did.

  “You will be responsible for obtaining the elements and carrying them to safety,” he said when finished. “Everyone else, you’re their guards. Clear out any knights you encounter and any ground troops that might be stationed on defense. Do whatever it takes for us to secure the elements. Is that clear?”

  A chorus of nervous cheers was his answer, Bree included. Fighting Seraphim of Galen, whom Weshern had a long, storied history of conflict with, was one thing. Battling the elite angelic knights of Center? That carried a hint of fear, of the impossible. Bree was about to engage with the best of the best, and potentially without her fire to aid her. It was terrifying, if she gave it too much thought, which is why she joined the others in cheering instead.

  “Very well,” Argus said, and he bowed low in respect. “It’s time we fly, and we fly unchained.”

  “We fly unchained!” cried the rest.

  Like a stirred nest of hornets, the Seraphim flew from the barn, keeping low to the ground to hide from distant knights. If they were spotted on the way, and their surprise ruined, then the entire assault would be over before it began. Bree flew a few yards to the left of Olivia, treating her like a squad leader even if she wasn’t. The land whirled beneath them, just a blur of grass and hills. Argus led the way, and he kept the group dangerously close to the ground, so that they had to rise and fall with every hill. After a few minutes, Bree realized he was guiding them on an indirect route, avoiding any villages between them and Melisand.

  Bree’s stomach slowly cramped with each passing minute. It was like her first battle all over again, and no matter how much she berated herself, she couldn’t remove the growing worry.

  This is where you belong, she told herself. You’ll remember that when it starts.

  It’d been the same with the other two engagements. When combat began, a change came over her. The world slowed, and all her tension, all her nerves, eased away. Worrying was impossible with her mind focused on the present, reacting on instinct, dancing a primal killing dance in which she excelled. Pulse pounding in her neck, Bree stared ahead, hands bumping against the hilts of her swords, seeking reassurance from their presence.

  Hills became fields of farmland. They flew so close above the rows of corn, Bree could brush the tops of the stalks with her fingertips if she wished. Argus kept the entire pack moving at a blistering pace, throttles pushed nearly to full. Up ahead, a cluster of small squares marked an approaching town. Bree didn’t know Weshern well enough to recognize it on sight, but the way they streaked toward it instead of veering told her they’d arrived at their destination.

  Hit hard, and slaughter them while they’re unaware, Argus had commanded, and all around Bree, the Seraphs activated their gauntlets, eager to do just that. Bree kept her eyes peeled, searching for Center’s supply train in the glow of the midnight fire. At such speed, they’d have little time before...

  And there it was, a circle of three wagons at the outskirts of town. Instead of slowing, Argus’s wings shimmered with silver light, and he sped out ahead. Bree pushed her throttle to its maximum and wished she had greater control of her fire so she could attack at range. At such a speed, she could only watch as they made their first pass over the theotechs’ camp.

  Ice and stone led the way, blasting through the wagons and smashing craters into the ground as if the wrath of God had been unleashed upon the hapless camp. Bree saw no knights, just a dozen or so men in armor standing in a circle about the wagons. They lifted their enormous shields, the overwhelming volley smashing against them and beating them down. Fire followed, wide swaths encircling the camp and setting every wagon aflame. There would be no fleeing, not without enduring the inferno. Those with lightning picked their targets more carefully. Bree saw two soldiers die on their way to their weapons, arcs of lightning tearing through them so that their bodies collapsed unmoving.

  That had to have gotten them all, Bree thought as their Seraphim broke in two groups, one veering left, the other right, both looping around for another pass. This approach was slower, each group taking more care to aim, and Bree quickly saw how wrong she’d been. The rest of the troops had awakened, joining those who’d first been on guard. Not nearly as many had fallen against the barrage as she’d expected, and they lifted dented and scratched shields toward the sky. Others beside them lifted bows, and Bree jerked to the right as she saw one aiming her way. The arrow sailed wide, and then a ball of flame crashed down between the two in response, the protector’s armor and shield mattering not. Bree pulled higher, seeing no reason to risk her life if she wasn’t ready to engage in melee. She climbed above the others, watching them strafe the camp, a barrage of ice from Argus smashing the lone remaining wagon into pieces. Bree winced, hoping the elements they sought could withstand the punishment.

  Rotating in air, Bree spotted a hint o
f gold to the west, the glint locking her body in place. There, between the camp and the town...

  A barrage of ice and fire unleashed toward them as two knights suddenly burst into the air, their golden armor gleaming in the night.

  Their camp was separate from the others, Bree realized as she angled toward them.

  Two Seraphs died, caught unaware by the ambush, one knifed through the stomach by a lance of ice, the other bathed in fire from the waist up. The dying man flew wildly, blind and burning, until crashing into one of Melisand’s homes with enough force to crack the stone of its walls. Bree tried to pretend she didn’t see, and was glad she could not hear the sound of impact over the roar of battle and wind in her ears. The rest of her group turned about to find their new attackers, but only Bree had seen them coming, so she would reach them first.

  Swords drawn, she smiled and pushed the throttle to its maximum, eager to engage. Against ground forces she was of limited use. But here in the air?

  In the air, she could dance.

  Thin balls of fire flew like comets toward her, and Bree twisted her body with her waist and shoulders, twirling through without slowing in the slightest. They passed so close she felt their heat on her skin. How well the knight had predicted her path cracked her veneer of confidence. Veering hard right, she avoided a thick lance of ice that had meant to cut her in two. Bree veered immediately back, twirling as two more comets burned below her, and then she was close enough to strike.

  The knight wielding the ice arced away, as if daring her to chase, but instead she closed in on the one still flinging fire. He’d hovered in place, left hand holding his right wrist to brace his aim. Bree saw his palm spreading open with fingers stretched, knew what he intended, and banked at the last second. A wide spray of fire shot toward her, covering a great swath of air as it rolled outward, and she just barely skirted its edge. Bree hooked toward him, left hand shooting out to cut with her sword. She almost bathed it in flame. Almost.