Season of Glory

by Lisa Tawn Bergren

  The bullets strafed our path, coming right between Ronan and me, an inch away from my boot. I rolled left and Ronan came with me, deeper into the trees. Niero and Chaza’el went right, just as the helicopter emerged above us. My eyes searched the dense underbrush, looking for a telltale sign of red or gray among the dark green. The man had said the helicopter was providing cover for the fighters moving inward, so they had to be here. Had to be. Why couldn’t I see them? Sense them?

  We dodged around a huge tree and under the sheltering leaves of a massive patch of giant fern, praying it would shield us from the helicopter moving slowly above us. The gusts cast down from the helicopter’s blades sent the tree branches swaying, as well as the leaves above us. Belatedly, we saw we would be exposed, if we hadn’t been already.

  “Move, Dri!” Ronan cried, just as gunfire rained down on us from above. He grabbed my hand and fairly wrenched me around the trunk of the tree as bullets pelted the other side, landing in the soft, fleshy wood. Another gun sounded—likely Vidar’s—and the helicopter rotated to return fire. We heard the thrum of bowstrings—perhaps ten at once—and saw a volley of arrows fly toward the open space of the helicopter. We heard a shout, and the pilot tried to move away. I knew at least some arrows had entered the compartment. And then Vidar opened fire again.

  “Dri,” Ronan growled. I looked his way and followed his gaze. Two Sheolites were on our left and two to our right. At the center were two more.

  Niero and Chaza’el charged the two Sheolites on the right flank, and we went after those on the left, pulling our swords as we went, glad they didn’t appear to be armed with guns. But we knew the Pacificans would be, and they couldn’t be far behind. Ronan reached the men before me, driving back the closest with a roar and strike of his sword then trying to plunge a dagger in the belly of the second. He missed, but I was right on top of him, managing to nick the Sheolite’s shoulder with my sword as he spun away. Thunder cracked, making me wince. Winds swirled around us, now from the clouds above as much as from the helicopter, which had moved off and appeared to be solely focused on our companions at the rocky outcropping. Swords clanged as Ronan and his opponent engaged, and steps away, a second Sheolite stepped toward him, and I knew he was in for a serious battle. Chaza’el and Niero engaged their own adversaries. But I stayed focused on the one before me, circling, making sure I had a secure footing before I moved, desperate not to fall. The man was about my size, and strong. He moved in, faster than I anticipated, striking once, twice, three times. I narrowly blocked each blow and waited for my opportunity.

  He continued to try and make me circle, hoping that I would trip or give him my own open flank, but I refused him. I feinted left, then left again, then right, and spotted my opportunity. He brought up his sword just a moment late as I brought my own down across his neck, dealing him a blow that would kill him in seconds. I leaped away and dared to glance about, wondering whom I would encounter next and how Ronan fared, when a blinding bolt of lightning came down and struck the helicopter.

  I ducked and rotated to my left, sprinting away after seeing the helicopter tilting sideways, the engine faltering. It sounded like it was falling.

  It took about five paces before I realized I couldn’t see anything, that I was crashing through the brush, blind. The lightning.

  I cried out, blinking, seeing nothing but white light as the hair on the back of my neck and arms stood on end. “Ronan!” I shouted, reaching out toward where I thought he’d been last. But my shout was lost among the fierce, howling wind and roar of the helicopter, clearly struggling to stay aloft. I crouched, feeling the welcoming ferns and praying that I was somewhat shielded by trees. If my enemies knew I was weakened so …

  Awful sounds of crunching metal and splintering wood filled my ears. I heard men cry out and scream, from above and below, and covered the back of my neck with my hands, wondering if the helicopter was coming down directly on top of me. I braced for impact. On and on it went, metal sounding as if it was bending, breaking, the whump-whump-whump of the blades slowing, cracking against trees. Finally, I heard the machine hit the forest floor and come to a rest. After the cacophony of noise, even the fierce wind sounded like silence.

  I held my breath. Seconds later, there was the sound of battle resuming, at least in three locations. Shouts, grunts, and swearing. I blinked and blinked again, praying desperately that my vision would return. Half of me waited for a sword to slice through my neck or belly, or an arrow to pierce my heart. I crouched down, never having felt as vulnerable as this in my entire life. Even when I’d been taken captive by Sethos and Keallach … to not be able to see …

  I squinted, praying the Maker’s name over and over, desperately trying to think of his wing covering me. I kept holding my breath, trying to listen, to be able to anticipate and protect myself from others who might be coming after me. This inevitably led me to hyperventilating. Where was Ronan? I didn’t dare cry out, in case my enemies were closer than my Knight. But where was he? How far was he from me?

  I got even lower, splaying my hands out, reaching, and finding fern stalk after fern stalk. Apparently, I was below the giant fronds, which was probably why I still lived. I vacillated between continuing to move or staying still, praying that no one would come across me, hidden among the forest’s deep undergrowth.

  Bullets riddled the air, and I put my cheek to the damp soil, listening, listening. I thought of other ways we listened, saw and remembered seeing angels alongside Vidar, as well as demons, wraiths. I dug my fingers into the loamy earth, reaching for a connection with Vidar, desperate to see what he could. For a moment, I could see nothing but the ghostly white blur that had filled my eyes since the lightning struck, but then shapes began to take form … all dark.

  I held my breath, nearly passing out as one black form after another flashed before my blind eyes. At first I thought them all Sheolite, or wraiths, or demons in human form. But gradually, I began to note nuances between them. There were angels and demons among the forest for certain—I could see them all in fuzzy silhouette—but those of the Dark had grotesque growths along their necks and upper backs, like mushrooms growing among the crevices of trees. When they turned, battling the angelic beings that now ringed me, protecting me, I could clearly make them out.

  Gunfire sounded; men cried out. Maybe one woman too? I prayed Vidar was getting closer to me, noting the presence of heavenly forces here. Wouldn’t he be drawn to them? A shiver ran across my shoulders, and I fought the urge to stand up, to edge closer to the heavenly soldiers that battled for my safety. But I knew I had to stay engaged in the here and now, the present, the earthly.

  Because my earthly adversaries were still numerous.

  The trouble was, as I remained hidden from my adversaries, I also remained hidden from my friends. Would the Ailith be able to feel their way toward me?

  A roar sounded over the ridge, and I bit my lip until it bled, refusing to cry out, no matter how great my fear. The Pacificans and Sheolites surged as one, their black allies among them. In seconds, I would be overcome.

  “Dri!” I heard Ronan call. But he was far away. So far away …

  I dared not respond.

  “Andriana,” whispered someone much closer to me. Within ten paces.

  “Andriana,” he repeated, and then I knew him, both by presence and voice.

  “Ke-Keallach?” I choked out in a whisper.

  “Over here, behind the tree,” he said, his voice barely reaching me. “Come this way.”

  I paused, considering. Was it a trap? Some trick of the mind?

  “I can’t,” I said, clenching new fistfuls of soil in my palms. “I can’t see.”

  “You can’t see?”

  “The lightning—the helicopter,” I whispered. “I’m blind!”

  KEALLACH

  I paused. Blind. She couldn’t see. For the moment, a warrior, but completely vulnerable.

  I could take her, now. Lead her away from all of this. To safety.
I wouldn’t have my brother, but at least I’d have Dri. And maybe in time there’d be an opportunity to encourage Kapriel to join us.

  Was this it? Truly my only chance to win one of them?

  No. It was too soon. And there were things here, among them … things of the Ailith and the Community that I so wanted to know.

  I stopped short. Things I wanted to know for the good of the empire? Or for me?

  The Way was powerful. Being here, among them … as much as I wanted Dri, I had to admit, I wanted to be in the Community more. Fully accepted. To know what it meant to be a bonded Remnant, with the ceremonial cuff on my arm … and my gifting in full force. I wanted to know what it was to use my gifts as high gifts, rather than the low gifts that Sethos had trained me to use. To know power, as part of the larger Body, rather than in mine alone.

  My eyes focused on Dri again, among the ferns. To do this, I’d have to think of her only as my sister, not my love.

  My sister. My sister.

  ANDRIANA

  “Keallach?” I whispered, terrified that he’d left me. But I thought I sensed him nearby. Why was he hesitating?

  We fell silent. Not ten paces away, men surged past us, closing in on my Ailith kin in the protected alcove. Startled, I found that while I could see nothing else, I seemed to be able to see those of the light and those of the dark, at least in silhouette. Ironic, I thought. In blindness, I see fully for the first time. Was this what it was like to be Vidar? To have his second sight?

  Two turned my way, as if they’d sensed me. I froze.

  The two shook their heads and moved on, chasing after the others before them. Had Keallach compelled them onward, away from me?

  Sounds of gunfire rattled in the distance. For a moment, the forest grew quiet about us.

  Keallach reached me at last, falling to his knees. “Dri?” He took my hand. “Can you really not see?”

  “Keallach,” I said, confusion warring in my heart. It was such a relief to not be alone, but of all the people who might’ve come to my aid—“How did you get free?”

  “We have bigger things to worry about,” he said, squeezing my hand harder. I heard him turn, as if looking about and scouting an escape route.

  “Tell me!” I insisted in a frantic whisper. “How did you get free?”

  I felt his agitation, then his anger at me questioning him. “I willed a guard to do so. When I saw the helicopter come down, yet heard the ongoing battle, I couldn’t bear it any longer. I had to come to your aid. All of you,” he added hurriedly.

  “And yet it is me you are with,” I said dully.

  “I found you first. And you’re alone. The others have one another.”

  “And Ronan?” I asked tightly.

  “He’s alive. Searching for you. But Niero dragged him off, narrowly keeping him from becoming surrounded.”

  “Can you help get me back to the others? There will be more Pacificans and Sheolites coming this way. If we can find Tressa, maybe she can heal me.” Again, I waited and wondered if this would be when he confessed, told me the truth—that this was all a ruse and he was dragging me back to Palace Pacifica.

  “We’ll find her, Dri,” he said, his tone bearing an oath.

  I swallowed my surprise.

  “Come,” he said, gripping my hand, helping me rise. “It’s good timing now. Hurry.”

  I hesitated.

  “Dri? Come on! We have to move!”

  Still, I waited. And I felt like everything came to a standstill about me.

  As if this was a moment of decision I’d remember forever.

  “Keallach …” I said breathlessly, looking up and about at the angels with their backs to us and then to this … brother. They’d let him in. Let him come beside me. “The truth. You must tell me the truth.” I covered his hand with my other, focusing everything on reading him. “Did you really come to answer the Call? After all this time? Have you really turned away from everything—and everyone—in Pacifica?” A shiver ran down my neck remembering Lord Jala, Fenris, and the others.

  He took a deep breath. His grip changed as his hand settled more fully between mine, and then he laid his other on top. “Search me, Dri,” he said urgently. “Know me. You tell me if I am your brother or your enemy.”

  I did, then. I reached out, and in that moment, it was as if we were in the old days and I could give him an X-ray, from head to toe, and see his emotions on that film. And what I saw was commitment. Connection. Love. Hope. Passion.

  I took another breath. And then I squeezed his hand.

  “Get me to Tressa, Keallach,” I said.

  “I will,” he promised.

  CHAPTER

  25

  ANDRIANA

  The storm was still swirling overhead. I could smell the mingled aroma of rain and lightning on the wind, but no rain fell. The winds were fierce, though, threatening at times to tear Keallach and me apart and making it hard to breathe. Clearly, Kapriel was using it as a weapon against those who closed in on the Ailith at the outcropping, sending gales in every direction. When I fell for the third time, Keallach grabbed hold of me and pulled me close, shouting in my ear. “It’s no use! We can’t get to them this way! We have to go around!”

  I nodded and followed him, glad to be able to take a breath when we gained some distance. “Can you get me to Ronan, at least?” I asked. “He’ll endanger himself looking for me.”

  Keallach hesitated. “Do you sense that, over there where they are? That’s them, isn’t it?”

  I turned and looked over my shoulder. I still could only see a pearlescent landscape, a blank page, with no bodies—angelic or demonic—in view. But that wasn’t what he meant. He meant I could sense the Ailith, as he could too. And he was right. In one direction was a fierce concentration of them—likely Kapriel and the rest—and in the other was likely Ronan, Niero, and Chaza’el. The trouble was that there were also strong numbers of our adversaries in both directions.

  “I know that you came out here to fight,” Keallach said, pushing hair back from my face.

  I stiffened at his touch, and he dropped his hand.

  “But Ronan would want you safe. And to trudge into either of those battles would do nothing but endanger you. You bear a weakness in feeling everyone’s emotions as your own—you’ve learned to deal with that. But are you really ready to go in blind?”

  “I don’t know,” I whispered, utterly confused as to what was wise.

  Just thinking about nearing our enemies felt foolish and paralyzing. I’d come so close to being killed in the woods. If it hadn’t been for Keallach …

  “You’re trembling,” he said, his voice tender. Compassion swirled through him, and sensing that in him made me want to cry. “Come here,” he said, pulling me close.

  I entered the circle of his arms reluctantly, stiffly, but gradually relaxed. He stood with his back to the full force of the wind, and we leaned against a tree. Protected on two sides, I felt the first measure of hope I’d felt in some time.

  “Are you cold?” he asked, rubbing my back a little.

  “No,” I said, pulling a little away and rubbing my eyes. “It’s only this blindness. It’s terrifying.” I turned and looked outward, willing my vision to return, praying that the Maker would restore it.

  I can’t fight without sight, Maker.

  You are blind? Raniero’s voice cut into my mind like a burst of sunlight entering a dark cave. I’d forgotten! Since the accident, I’d forgotten one of the best tools the Maker had given us—this means to communicate.

  You have what you need within you, Andriana. It has nothing to do with what your body can or cannot do. Where are you? We’ll come to you.

  My first thought was panic. Defense. If Niero and Ronan found Keallach with me … I’m safe. I can’t see, but I have … a guide. Tell Ronan I’m safe. I will meet you at the Citadel.

  Stay where you are. Kapriel is turning the Pacificans back. Together, we are sending the Sheolites away. We’ll come fo
r you if you can just remain hidden for a bit longer.

  No. I must be away. Someone is with me. He’ll get me safely to the Citadel.

  He was then silent. Because he was busy killing Sheolites and demons? Dark angels? Were all trackers really dark angels in disguise? Something told me that Sethos would have used his skills of persuasion to bring others along his dark path, and I shivered again.

  Keallach moved closer, wrapping me more tightly in his arms. “Dri—”

  I squirmed away. “Don’t do that. It’s too … intimate.”

  I felt his irritation, his frustration, even without touching him.

  “I only meant to keep you warm. To comfort you,” he said.

  “Well … don’t. Just get me back to the Citadel alive, will you? It’s the best thing you can do for me. I think Niero will get Tressa and all the rest of the Ailith back to the fortress as soon as he can.”

  He paused. He knew what I also knew, that to return was to face judgment for his escape. He would have to admit he had used his gifting—limited as it might be—to bring down his guards in order to do so. Even though he’d used the opportunity to come to our aid, how would the elders react? How would the Ailith respond?

  “Come,” he said, lacing his fingers around mine. “The faster we can get away from this place, the better. Can you see anything? Anything at all?”

  “The spiritual realm, nothing more.” I winced, feeling a chill enter my armband.

  Keallach paused, contemplating. “That won’t help you avoid rocks on the path.”

  “No, it won’t,” I said, my heart beginning to pound as I recognized this particular degree of cold.

  “Will it help you escape a tracker?” asked a man from above and behind me, startling us both. Keallach whirled, and I could hear the sound of a sword exit its sheath, even as Keallach shoved me behind him.

  “Dri, give me your sword,” Keallach hissed. “I am unarmed.”