by Devin Hanson
Through Jules’s twisting shields, Andrew spun the threads of his Song. The heat of his fire Sayings burned white-hot, hotter than he thought alchemy could achieve. Armor melted on contact, flesh seared to char and bones splintered as marrow flashed into smoke and steam.
And the Salians died. Soldiers who thought they had already faced the worst that alchemy had to offer had their morale shattered. Mercenaries who gleefully looted the treasures of Andronath, confident in their military superiority, burned and died as they ran.
Lightning leapt from a shadowed alley and danced against Jules’s shield. Andrew swept the alley with fire, but the alchemist, Incantor or otherwise, was already gone. The attack brought Andrew and Jules to a halt. It was one thing to fight soldiers, but enemy alchemists were a different problem. Andrew cast about, trying to see into darkened buildings. Every window suddenly held the promise of danger.
Movement in a window caught Andrew’s eye and he flung fire toward the building, careless of what he burned in the process. Through the billowing flame, Andrew saw the swell of a shield, coruscating against the fire that wrapped around it. He had caught the Incantor! Andrew changed the focus of his Song and the stone walls of the building exploded outward, collapsing the upper story of the building down upon the alchemist.
Through the crawling flames and the tumble of stone, Andrew caught a glimpse of the alchemist within, holding a curved claw in one hand and concentrating fiercely. The sight struck Andrew and he hesitated. No Incantor would need a flux.
The hairs on his neck lifted and he slammed his will into a full shield, cutting off Jules’s partial protection, and not a moment too soon. The world outside the shield vanished in a wash of orange and yellow flame. Jules cried out in surprise and spun around.
A high, delighted laugh came from above Andrew and he looked up to see a second alchemist leaning out a second-story window directly overhead.
“Oh, well done Andrew!” the alchemist cried. “I was almost disappointed at how easy it was to kill you.”
Andrew matched the narrow face and curled mustache to the names of the Incantors Travis had provided. “You must be Arlen Dirksman.”
Jules tapped his shoulder and pointed across the street where another man had appeared in an alley, matching the description of the one Iria had confronted.
Two Incantors. Andrew felt his heart sink. He was fairly confident that he could take one Incantor, but two? At the far end of the square, the Salian soldiers were stopping their mad rush and turning around. The Speaker was a terrifying alchemist, but he was caught now and no threat to them any longer. Fear turned to anger and the soldiers crowded back up the street, shouting jeers at Andrew and Jules. They brandished their weapons and shouted threats, but even so, none were so brave as to approach the shield.
Andrew looked out at the soldiers mutely. He could burn the streets clean of the soldiers in a moment, but with two Incantors flanking him, dropping the shield, even a little bit, would be a death sentence. Jules pressed against him, her face serene, but the tension in her shoulders belied her outward calm.
They were trapped. Ava, he thought, pushing an image of the street he was on with his message, where is your help?
Chapter 27
To the Rescue
Meria watched the last cannon tower fall, blasted to rubble by a flurry of broadsides. Her stomach fell with it. There was nothing protecting them from the airships now.
For the last hour, Meria and her group of alchemists had been holding the road that led from the southern gate straight up the mountain to the Academy. With the assistance of the wardens, the defenders had held off attack after attack. The cannon kept the Salians from forming up an unstoppable force, but even so, things had been touch and go a few times. Without the cannon towers keeping the airships away from the city, there was nothing to stop the airships from flying over and blasting their cannon and barricade to dust.
“It’s only a matter of time, now,” Otto said. He looked weary. The fall of the outer wall had hit him hard, having been born and raised on the streets now overrun by Salians.
“Chin up, Otto,” Jessa encouraged him. “They haven’t got us beat just yet.”
A warden came riding down the street toward them. Meria didn’t recognize him, but the other wardens at the barricade snapped out salutes as he pulled his horse to a stop, kicking up sparks from the horse’s shoes on the cobbles.
“Pull back to the next ring wall,” he cried and repeated the phrase in Maari.
“What of the cannon?” one of the guards asked.
“Mine it. There’s no time to bring it with you, and we can’t let the Salians have it.” With his instructions delivered, the warden wheeled his horse and galloped away to the east, presumably to the next barricade.
Meria exchanged a look with Jessa. If they were falling back, things weren’t looking good.
“You heard the Captain,” a warden cried. “Get that cannon mined.”
The cannon crew set about their task uncertainly. “We’ve never had to destroy one of our own cannon before,” the crew chief commented when Meria came over to watch.
“What do you need? Is there a way I can help?”
“Just cover us while we work.”
“That I can do.” Meria crouched next to the barricade, keeping one eye on the sky.
“What’s taking them so long?” Jessa asked, crouching down beside Meria.
“They’ve never mined their own cannons before,” Meria answered.
“No, not them. The airships. Why haven’t they attacked this barricade yet? We’ve been holding the Salians back for an hour. You’d think we’d be a priority.”
Meria shrugged uneasily. Now that Jessa brought it up, it did seem strange. “Maybe they don’t know? The airships have been far away from the city since the fighting started.”
“That’s a comforting thought,” Jessa said. “I like my enemies confused.”
If only they would stay that way, Meria thought fervently. She knew, though, that Otto had been right. It was only a matter of time.
Leon leaned against the doorway to the Academy Archives and tried to remember the sense of importance he had felt three days ago. The shielding built into the wall was still a shattered mess of rubble and the entrance hall still bore the marks of pitched battle. The flagstone floor was shattered in places, while other areas had been scorched by alchemical fires.
That the Archives was important to the enemy was undeniable. But did it really need two of the best combat alchemists guarding it? He stole a look over at Aidra. She had stopped pacing, at least, and was straddling a chair, idly thumbing through a book with her chin on the chair’s backrest.
The Archives was far underground, but the roar of the cannon still came through as distant basso thumps, and the occasional explosion made the dust dance between the seamed flagstones. The battle for Andronath was happening right now. They could be helping fight the invaders!
Aidra groaned and flipped her book shut. “I’m so bored!”
“It’s the nature of combat,” Leon said. “Hurry up and wait.”
Aidra rolled her eyes. “I bet the Speaker isn’t waiting somewhere. Or the other alchemist teams. They’re all busy fighting!”
Leon tilted his head out toward the entrance hall. “They say the Speaker killed a hundred men in less than a minute out there, and Professor Milkin died defending the Archives. They must have wanted the Archives really badly to have that many men down here. It’s important that it be guarded. Without the entrance shield, there’s nothing protecting it.”
“From all those Salians,” Aidra looked around pointedly. “I don’t see any Salians here. Besides, it wasn’t Salia that attacked the Academy last time. It was Trent Priah and his rebellion.”
“Baron Priah is with the Salian fleet,” Leon argued. “It stands to reason whatever motivated Trent to sacrifice over half of his family’s strength to get to the Archives is still driving him. You don’t throw away a small fortu
ne then just forget about it.”
“Or he learned his lesson and attacking the Archives again would just be throwing good money after bad. Besides. There’s a whole army between the Academy gates and the Archives now. There’s no way someone could just sneak in here. And even if they did, what could they accomplish?” Aidra rapped a knuckle against a bubble of pureglass covering a dragon knuckle with the talon still attached. “There’s nothing here worth stealing that could be stolen.”
“Some of the plinths were destroyed during the attack last time. It isn’t impossible to steal the fluxes, just difficult. The rebel alchemists could return.”
“Oh come on, you don’t even believe that yourself. The Speaker put us here to get rid of us. Admit it, you’ve had the same thought.”
Leon hadn’t, actually, but now that Aidra suggested the idea it seemed possible. Probable, even.
“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” Aidra said, walking over to lean against the shattered archway across from Leon. “I can read you like a book. We’ve been tossed aside. Hidden in some backwater dead end where we won’t see a moment’s combat.”
“The Speaker–”
“Piss on the Speaker.” Aidra shoved off the wall angrily. “I signed up to fight! Not to nanny some dusty old book collection.” She strode into the entrance hall before spinning back around to face Leon. “You coming? Or are you going to stay here like a good little sycophant?”
There was only one possible response to a challenge like that. Leon gave the Archives one final look before turning and following Aidra up to the surface. The noises of battle he was expecting never seemed to materialize. By the time he emerged into the fading light of sunset, he felt a little silly. Of course there was no combat here. The people walking by moved quickly, but they were walking.
Even the old professors were moving with a sense of urgency. Anger stirred in Leon’s chest. These people weren’t even willing to fight, yet they had duties that were important. Aidra was right. The Speaker had stuck them in a corner where they would be out of the way. He had the urge to track the Speaker down and give him a piece of his mind.
“What are you two doing up here?” Professor– no, Master Kilpatri asked.
Leon hesitated, but Aidra spoke up, her voice tight with anger. “We’re going out to fight.”
“Weren’t you assigned to the Archives?” The guild master rubbed his forehead. He seemed distracted and kept glancing to the south where the Speaker had set up his command.
“Why should we be stuck underground when we could be helping with the fighting?” Aidra demanded.
“Right. Well, as you say.” Master Kilpatri nodded, almost to himself, a bitter smile on his face. “Don’t let me stop you. Who cares about the Archives, anyway? Two thousand years of history, but not a page of it is worth defending.”
Leon opened his mouth and glanced back the way they had come. It did seem childish to think their assignment was purely punitive. The Archives did need defending. He started to turn, to head back underground, when Aidra spoke up again.
“We’ll defend the Archives,” she said, “when there’s a threat to it. Why wait when we can bring the fight to the enemy?”
“Why indeed.” The guild master looked around as if lost, then walked off to the north, muttering angrily to himself and shaking his head.
Leon watched him go. The guild master had been in his new position for not even a month, and the worst disaster in the Guild’s history was sitting on their doorstep. He didn’t seem to be handling the stress very well.
“I guess that gives us permission, as if we needed it,” Aidra commented. “What are you waiting for? There are Salians to fight!”
Leon nodded. He wanted to fight, he reminded himself. He had volunteered for it. And now he was getting his chance. “Right behind you.”
By the time they reached the south entrance to the Academy, they were moving against a constant stream of wounded. A few stumbled along under their own power, but most were carried on stretchers. Leon watched them go by in horror. What was going on in the city? How far had the Salians advanced?
It was a simple thing to head toward the sounds of combat now. The clash of steel, the shouting, the screams and the occasional flash of alchemical fire pointed the way more clearly than a sign. He passed Aidra; he had broken into a jog without even realizing it. People needed his help! Now!
He turned a corner in the twisting street and stumbled to a halt. He had never seen a battle being fought before. There was so much going on that he didn’t even know where to look. A barricade had been hastily constructed from stacked barrels and an overturned cart, and then further reinforced by collapsing the adjacent buildings into the street. It seemed like hundreds of people were fighting in the close street and even more were picking their way over the barricade to join the fight.
Wardens, easily identified by their flowing dun robes, danced through the press, weapons dripping red. A team of alchemists was embroiled deep in the center of the fight. Fire and ice blasted from the trio, precise, controlled, with no waste of vitae, and intermingled with constantly changing shields.
In the Academy, Leon had been at the top of his class in the mock duels they had fought amongst each other. The duels were tests of wit and skill, and even some of the professors couldn’t beat him regularly. Leon had assumed that the fighting would be something similar. One opponent at a time, perhaps two if the enemy was feeling courageous.
Real combat was nothing like he imagined. The trio of alchemists were fighting ten, twelve, maybe even fifteen soldiers at a time. Every time they cut one down with a blast of fire or a well-placed shard of ice, two more soldiers took the place of the fallen. They couldn’t possibly hold against that press of enemy.
Leon broke into a run and fumbled his flux from its pouch as he neared the fighting. A soldier crested the barricade, presenting a clear target, and Leon cried out, “Igan’anir!” A great rush of orange fire shot from his hand and blasted the soldier backwards. Leon felt a rush of adrenaline. He had arrived! He had put a bit too much vitae into the blast of fire in his enthusiasm, but too much was better than not enough, right?
Now that he was in range he slowed his headlong rush and started looking for isolated targets. He wasn’t so sure of himself yet that he thought he could shield and fight at the same time like those other alchemists were doing, but he could get some work done while he still had the freedom to pick his targets.
He unleashed another blast of fire, more controlled this time, and picked off a soldier fitting an arrow to his bow, and then a mercenary in mismatched leathers and a shield. He was getting into the roll of things now, the Sayings coming quickly from his lips, his diction clear and crisp. He was good at this! Why, he had only just joined the combat and already the tide was turning.
Look, the Salians were retreating! He cheered, pumping his fist at the sky. He should have left the Archives earlier. If he had lent his skill to the defense at the wall, surely it would never have fallen.
“By the tiny gods,” one of the alchemists cried, “who are you? What are you doing here?”
Leon flashed his brightest smile. The alchemist was quite cute, if a bit young for his tastes. “Leon. Leon Barkley. Looks like I just saved you there.”
The alchemist looked at him, her eyes wide in admiration. “Leon? You’re that reject that got thrown from the training, right?”
Reject?! Leon looked more closely at the alchemist. Her face wasn’t filled with admiration like he had thought at first. Her eyes held a weight of scorn that jarred him from his adrenaline-fueled celebration. How could she call him a reject? Why, she was just a girl still in her teens. How dare she?
“Look, there’s no need to be jealous–”
“Jealous!” The girl spat at his feet. “You may’ve just killed us all with your idiot display. The airships will be on us any second now. I hope you know how to shield.”
Leon looked around, the tableau taking on a different cast. The Sali
ans hadn’t retreated. They had backed out of range to let an airship deal with the alchemists. His huge blasts of fire must have lit up the darkening sky like a beacon. But no, it couldn’t be. Nobody could watch their comrades being seared to the bone by alchemical fire and still have the nerve to continue the attack. The girl was wrong. It was fear that had driven the Salians back.
A bird whistled and the girl gave one last exasperated roll of her eyes before leaving him. The street was emptying out, even the wardens were abandoning the barricade!
Burn them! Leon strode forward. They might flee before the enemy, but someone would make a stand! The Salians were overrunning them because nobody had the nerve to hold fast. But he was here now. There would be no more retreating this day!
Stars overhead winked out as a dark shape interposed itself between them and the lone man standing on the barricade. If Leon had looked up he might have seen the airship move into position, but he was too busy shouting challenges to the Salian soldiers. Leon never saw the cannonball that came hurtling down out of the heavens. He did see the flash of light from the cannon’s muzzle peripherally, but paid it no mind.
Later, after the airship had finished pulverizing the barricade, the advancing Salian troops saw nothing resembling a man amongst the rubble. If it had been light out, some might have caught the glint of wetness down amongst the shattered timbers and stones. But as much of the street ran red with blood, they would have paid it no mind.
Meria coughed with her face pressed into the crook of her elbow. The collapsed building above her shifted with a groan, freeing a fresh cascade of rubble and another cloud of dust. Gingerly, she released her shield and prepared to throw it back up again, but the building seemed to have finally stopped falling in on itself.
Plaster dust made her hair white and saturated every scrap of clothing she wore. She had lost track of Otto and Jessa during the last few minutes of hectic scrambling for cover as the airship fired shot after shot into the buildings surrounding the barricade.
