by Mary Fan
So she rushed forward, her eyes fixed on the tentacle that sat curled on the ground. Chopping it off wouldn’t kill the beast, but she had to weaken it before she could attempt a fatal blow. And at the moment, the thorndevil was too occupied by Storm to realize that it had a second attacker. This was her best chance. She paused, watching, and right when the Enchanter threw another blaze at the monster, leaped at the flamed-tipped limb.
Her blade sliced through the scaly flesh, green blood spurting from the wound. The severed tentacle landed on the ground, its flames dying out, but almost before she could look up, a second fiery appendage was slashing toward her. She rolled out of the way just in time to avoid the poisonous spikes. Springing up, she caught sight of a tentacle crashing down and whipped both blades out before her, forming an X with them. The tentacle landed in the crook and she pulled her arms apart, slicing through it.
Sensing that something else was about to strike her, she jumped back just in time to avoid the stream of spit spewing from the thorndevil’s snout. And a good thing too—a thorndevil’s saliva was acidic, and could burn through your skin as easily as fire burned through paper.
A burst of green-tinted flames exploded in the corner of her eye, calling the monster’s attention, and its gaze shot back toward Storm. She darted forward, taking the opportunity to cross under its belly. Though she’d hoped to gut it, she realized right away that she was too short. Even a strong jump and outstretched blade wouldn’t reach its stomach.
Good thing I’m in the middle of the woods. Aurelia wasted no time in dashing toward the nearest tree—a springy evergreen with rough bark. That made the trunk great for climbing. The branches, not so much. The closest one was about fifteen feet from the ground.
She went for it anyway, leaping up with all the strength her legs could muster. In the middle of her jump, she tossed her right sword into her left hand, freeing up one set of fingers, which she dug into the bark. She clenched her knees around the narrow trunk and pressed the wrist holding both blades into it.
As she scrambled upward, she caught sight of another set of flames, accompanied by a low incantation. It had to be Storm, and though she hated to admit it, he was distracting the monster, which was helpful. But why was it attacking him when they both served the Underworld? Shouldn’t the thorndevil have recognized him as one of its own? And why was he fighting the beast when he could just goldlight away? Was he trying to prove something? Or was it because she was his ultimate target, and the thorndevil was just an obstacle?
What in the world would an evil Enchanter want with me?
Reaching the nearest branch, she pulled her body onto it and reminded herself firmly that just because Storm was kind of helping her out didn’t mean he was on her side. In fact, he probably didn’t realize he was helping her—just as she wasn’t really trying to help him.
They had a common enemy, which could slaughter them both. But that didn’t make them allies. By wielding the magic of the Underworld, Storm proved that he was evil, and not just power-hungry evil like the Triumvirate. Evil evil. Like the ferocious, spike-covered killer that thrashed its flaming tentacles against the tree she was climbing.
She planted both feet on the branch and, straightening, found herself at eye level with the thorndevil—except it wasn’t looking at her. Its attention was still fixed on Storm, which meant it was twisted away from her. All she saw was a back full of spikes, when its throat and underside were her targets. The rush of combat pounded through her veins; she needed to kill that beast as much as she needed air to breathe, and she couldn’t succeed when it was targeting someone else.
Recalling what Connor had told her about the swords, she decided now was as good a time as any to see if his magic was as brilliant as she believed it was. Clanging the blades together, she yelled, “Metal fire!”
Yellow light blazed around the twin black blades, which glowed glaringly against the night’s shadows, and the thorndevil turned toward them, its eyes glinting with hunger. Sensing a threat approaching, Aurelia—perched on a single tree branch—pressed her back into the trunk and whipped her left blade out without turning the rest of her body, as that would have sent her hurtling toward the ground. Though she hadn’t had a chance to look, she knew before her blade hit the attacking tentacle that she would meet her target. Its path had been clear in her mind, and her arm barely needed a command from her brain to act.
She hardly felt any pressure as the sword cut through the tentacle, but the thorndevil’s ear-splitting cry told her she’d succeeded. Once again its eyes fixed upon her, and this time she didn’t want anyone to distract it. She needed it to face her and get closer. That was the only way she could reach its weak spots and kill it.
“Hiiii monster,” she taunted in a singsong voice. It was about ten feet in front of her—too far to reach with her blade as long as her back was pressed against the tree trunk. The branch was too thin for her to go forward, though, which meant she needed the thorndevil to attack her if she was going to reach its throat.
Its long snout turned to point right at her, and it bared its sharp teeth, which dripped with yellowish-green acid. In the corners of her eyes, she could make out the remaining tentacles curling behind it and the serpent-like tail beating angrily against the ground.
“La, la, la,” she sang, holding her stare. “Come get meeeee—”
The thorndevil took the bait, just like she knew it would. And the moment it moved to snap its jaws at her, she used the tree trunk as a springboard to launch herself forward, stretching both swords out in front of her. As she shot through the air, her scalp brushed the creature’s chin. Then the blades pierced its throat, spewing hot liquid onto her face.
She slid downward, cutting through the creature as she went, and relished the sensation of winning. More blood spilled form the lengthening gashes she created, and the monster’s gurgling cries shook the air.
By the time she planted her feet on solid ground, the thorndevil was dead. It remained upright for about three seconds, then collapsed onto its side. A great thud shook the forest.
I win, monster. Aurelia lifted her chin with satisfaction. No matter how many beasts she killed, each victory tasted fresher than a swig of water on a hot day. She swung her blades by her sides, silently thanking Connor for giving her the best present a fighter could ask for. They’d not only made the monster turn to her at just the right moment, but cut through the thorndevil more cleanly than any normal blades would have. In fact, they’d kind of saved her.
Her fight wasn’t over yet, though; there was one more monster to face. This time, she wouldn’t be caught by surprise. And once she’d knocked Storm out, she’d snap that evil wand of his like she originally planned, so he couldn’t use his dark magic against her again. Then she would wake him and demand to know what he wanted with her.
She met his glare, which glinted from the light of his glowing wand. Her own eyes, she imagined, were also sparking from the light of her glowing swords. This was the moment—now, when he was still off-balance from the fight with the monster.
Before she could make her move, though, a flurry of brightness flashed before her. Six Sentinels—identifiable by their Triumvirate-issued gold cloaks—were goldlighting onto the scene.
Knowing her glowing blades would draw their eyes, Aurelia rushed to stick them back into their sheaths, causing the light to vanish before the Sentinels materialized. Even she would have a hard time defeating half a dozen magical opponents. But if they couldn’t see her, she’d have a better chance at getting away.
A woman’s stern voice cut through the night. “What’s going on here?”
Another flash briefly lit the darkness as Storm tried to goldlight away, but the woman shouted a spell and aimed her wand at him, stopping him before he could vanish. He doubled over as though struck by a fist, then straightened.
“Don’t test me, Sentinel.” His voice was frightening in its calmness.
Aurelia took a tentative step back, hoping the
presence of an evil Enchanter would be more interesting to the Sentinels than the crunch of the forest floor. She couldn’t let them catch her and drag her back to the Triumvirate—especially when she was so close to freedom. If they got her, they’d lock her up for running away, then probe her mind to find out where she was going. And once their spells dug the answer out of her and revealed that she was trying to join the rebels, they’d kill her.
It was escape or die.
She kept her hands on the hilts of her double swords, ready to strike again if she sensed danger coming.
They must’ve seen the light from the fight and heard the ruckus, she realized. They must’ve thought they’d be saving the day. And that’s what they’ll tell everyone, for sure. She rolled her eyes, already seeing the headlines in tomorrow morning’s newspapers. The Sentinels would claim credit for her victory—again—and the Triumvirs would probably praise them for their valor when they hadn’t done a thing other than lie. That was how the Triumvirate worked—glory went to whoever the Triumvirs favored, rather than those who deserved it. She clenched her teeth to suppress a snort.
You’re welcome, jerks.
“Arrest him,” the woman said in a steely tone.
She’d barely finished speaking before Storm threw up his wand with a shouted incantation. Green-edged fire shot toward the woman, who met it with a spell of blue sparks, stopping it halfway. The other Sentinels sprang into action, throwing blasts in Storm’s direction, but he wasn’t about to go quietly. Twisting, he sent his magic shooting toward the others in a brilliant arc. The Sentinels didn’t scare easy, though, and they fired back ruthlessly. Colored light blazed from seven different wands, wrestling for dominance over the surrounding blackness.
It was a spectacular sight, but Aurelia wasn’t about to stay and watch. With her enemies busy fighting each other—and apparently forgetting that she was there—she had a chance to get away. She’d have to travel the last ten miles to the Way Station on foot, leaving her motorbike and knapsack behind. They were too close to the battle, and it wasn’t worth the risk of being seen to fetch them. She could do without.
Step by tentative step, she walked backward, allowing the shadows of the forest to swallow her. She moved deliberately, doing her best to avoid making noise. Loud as the Sentinel’s fight against Storm was, she didn’t want to risk alerting them to her absence. She hoped to be long gone before the confrontation ended.
But even if she could escape this time, she didn’t think Tydeus Storm and his dark magic would give up so easily. He’d been seeking her, after all, and though she didn’t know what he wanted, she was sure it couldn’t be anything good. Not only did he use the same magic as the monsters, but he’d said that the Rising was his enemy. If he didn’t side with the Triumvirate and he didn’t side with the Rising, that meant he supported the one enemy that could unite both sides: the Lord of the Underworld. It was the only explanation, since he used the Lord’s magic.
Aurelia reached one arm behind her, feeling for obstacles, but kept her eyes on the fight. Though she moved slowly, she couldn’t completely silence her boots, and her heart leaped into her throat as a twig snapped beneath her heel. She froze, holding her breath and half expecting someone—maybe Storm, maybe a Sentinel—to goldlight to her location.
But bright spells continued flaring beyond the trees; the battle was still going on, which meant both her enemies remained distracted. She exhaled, but relief wouldn’t come. An uncomfortable feeling gnawed at her gut as she realized that if the Sentinels hadn’t come, she’d be the one fighting Storm. And as much as she wanted to believe she could have taken him, she might have gotten paralyzed again.
The Triumvirate was, in a way, shielding her from true evil. If the Rising defeated them, would the new leaders be able to keep back the power of the Underworld? Would they have guardians of their own once they defeated the Sentinels?
These were questions she’d have to ask once she found the rebels. It already disturbed her that she was thinking along the same lines as the Triumvirate. The Underworld—with the dangers it presented and the fear it inspired—was the reason they’d been able to choke off freedom, after all. And now it was causing her to question the cause she’d risked everything to join.
I won’t fall into that trap, she thought, gritting her teeth. There will always be supernaturals, and the Triumvirate’s counting on that to keep themselves in power. But they’re not the only ones who can protect people. She was living proof of that. So was Williams, with his shielding spells and knowledge of monster weaknesses. And there had to be more; the rebels had been around for twenty years, after all.
The Rising was her one hope against both evil magic in the form of Tydeus Storm and evil power in the form of the Triumvirate. They stood for the freedom—not power and control, not dark magic and the Underworld. That meant they were only ones on her side, who cared about and were willing to fight for the same things she yearned for. She had to reach them before her enemies caught up to her.
Spurred by that thought, she bolted through the blackness.
AN ENTIRE ERA MUST HAVE passed since the last time Aurelia had seen daylight, and yet dawn was nowhere on the horizon. She had no idea how long she’d been walking through the wilderness, clinging to the edges of the ancient road that would lead her to the Way Station, but it felt like forever.
She had to be getting close now. The last road sign—which she’d nearly missed because it had fallen to the ground and been covered in weeds—told her so. On Williams’ map, the sign had been so close to the Way Station, it looked like you could cross the span in two steps. In real life, considering the scale of that piece of paper, she probably had about a mile to go.
A mile is nothing, she thought, picking up her pace as she ran through the darkness. Stupid things like aching feet and sore muscles hardly mattered when there was a big picture to consider. Freedom, she reminded herself. No more fighting for a government that looked down on her, or fearing that one wrong word could destroy her life. The Rising was within reach, and she wondered how long she’d have to wait at the Way Station before Williams could get a message to his rebel pals telling them to meet her there.
She hadn’t seen any sign of the Triumvirate since her encounter with Storm, but she knew better than to believe that she’d gotten away. They were hunting her still, and she couldn’t rest until she’d made it to the safe house. So she kept moving as fast as she could without wearing herself out.
She’d been running forever, it seemed, and despite the cold air, heat radiated from her body. Since the knapsack was gone, she’d strapped her swords to her back. They felt almost like a shield, since they were all she had to protect herself from any threats, and she was so used to having weapons there that their presence were as familiar as the shirt on her back. Though that made her somewhat glad to have ditched the bulky bag, she wished she could’ve kept the bottle inside. Her throat itched, demanding water, and she swallowed hard in an attempt to silence it.
Suddenly a chill—icier, even, than the winter wind—wafted through the air, and she stopped abruptly. Something dangerous was coming, and the slight tremor in the ground beneath her confirmed it. Another freezing gust blasted toward her, causing the trees to shake and their bare branches to rattle. Beneath the gale, she heard a woman’s faint voice calling, “Hellooooo, little giiiiirl...”
A specter. Its voice seemed to have come from all directions at once. Shuddering, Aurelia seized her swords and held them out to her sides, swinging them quickly in hopes that the silver blades would force the spirit to back off. There wasn’t anything else she could do to fight a spirit. Fear pricked at her, but she swatted it away. Specters fed on fear, drawing strength from its energy. She wouldn’t give it that advantage.
“Helloooooo,” the specter said again, and this time its tone carried a cruel laugh.
Aurelia looked around wildly, searching the dark and hoping she wouldn’t find anything. The more visible a specter was, the more po
wer it wielded, which meant the weakest were as transparent as the wind while the most powerful looked almost solid. As long as this specter wasn’t strong enough to materialize, she stood a chance of escaping before it hurled her into a tree, or heaved a boulder at her head, or found some other way to kill her. Dread clawed at her insides, and she fought to keep it down.
Then an abrupt, resounding crack shot through the night, and she sensed something huge coming at her. Realizing it was a falling tree, she leaped out of the way just before the trunk crashed into the ground. The snapping of branches peppered the air like gunfire, and she ducked as one came barreling toward her.
As she sprang back up, her eyes caught a horrifying sight: A faintly glowing, translucent woman in a blue dress that hung in tatters from her skeletal figure, which was loosely covered in torn, gray skin. Her face was so distorted that Aurelia wondered how it had ever been human at all. One eye looked as if someone had grabbed it and its surrounding flesh, yanked it down next to the nostrils, and then filled the resulting space with an enormous gray boil. The lips appeared to have crumbled away, leaving a ragged hole around the eternal grin of a skull’s teeth.
But she didn’t have time to take in any more details; she had to strike first, or she might not get another chance. Whipping one blade before her, she launched herself at the specter, slashing through its ghostly shape. A piercing wail rang out as the specter’s form splintered, but Aurelia knew it wouldn’t take long for the spirit to rematerialize. She raced in the other direction, leaping over the fallen tree. Though she hated running away, the specter was something she couldn’t fight. She could spend the rest of the night swinging her blades and forcing it back, but it would always return, and all she’d do was wear herself out. If that happened, she’d be vulnerable, and the specter could throw her around like a ragdoll until nothing was left of Aurelia but crushed bones and pulp.
