“We’re going to bake in here before we ever make it out!” cried Aries, wiping at her brow with her one good arm.
“Nonsense!” said Syrus. “We will be swallowed by the steel first.”
Etheil looked behind him and gulped. A wall of pulsing yellow and red was moving up the tunnel and picking up speed. Beneath their feet that dreaded river of slag kept flowing. There was no way they were going to make it all the way back to the Grimwatch.
“Syrus!” yelled Etheil. His side erupted in sharp pains. He grunted. “Syrus!”
“Yes, boss.” came the reply a few dozen feet ahead.
“Halt!” yelled Etheil.
“I think the fumes have gone to your head.” said Syrus, skidding upon the floor as Aries came to stop behind him, followed by Braken. A moment later the soldiers carrying Brandrir came upon them, and finally, Etheil himself.
Panting, Etheil tossed Braken a sword. He glanced behind him as he held his side. The wall of molten steel was moving quickly up the corridor, about twenty-yards down. “Cut the wall open,” said Etheil, finding it hard to catch his breath. He moved his hand from his side. It was covered with blood and drops hissed as they pattered on the grated floor. He leaned on his knees, huffing.
Braken looked at what Etheil had given him. It was Brandrir’s sword, Raze.
“Quickly,” panted Etheil.
“You okay?” asked Aries, placing her giant hand on Etheil’s back.
Etheil nodded. “Just, quickly, Braken.”
Raze hummed to life in Braken’s hand. He plunged the blade into the stone wall, the sword penetrating it as if it were made of nothing more than water. Braken moved the sword around, fragments of stone cracking and falling as he dug it deeper and deeper into the stone. He moved the sword around in a circle, taking out huge pieces at once.
Etheil coughed and spit a wad of blood. It hissed as it plunged into the molten, flowing river beneath him. He could feel his feet burning in his steel boots. He turned and looked down the way. That fiery wall was closing in fast. He looked back at Braken. The man was plunging the sword into the stone, waving it around as Syrus with his one arm helped dig out the debris. Chunks and fragments crumbled at his feet, splashing into the molten river beneath him. Still, they had hardly made it a foot into the wall. Etheil looked back down the way. Fifteen more yards. Two-minutes, tops. “We’ll never make it.”
Braken changed tactics, hacking at the wall. That was slower. He cursed and plunged the sword back in, waving it up and down and all around. Aries and Syrus dug the debris out. More chunks of wall fell, yet still they were hardly making any headway.
“Aries,” said Syrus. “Your broken arm, it still has a bomb, no?”
Aries looked at him. “Well, yes, but I can’t get it out.” Her limp arm made a grinding sound as she tried to work the mechanism to release the explosive sphere. Nothing happened.
“Cut it out.” said Etheil, still panting. Apollyon below, his side hurt. A steady trickle of blood hissed into the molten river beneath him and sizzled on his boots.
Syrus grabbed Aries’s broken arm and held it up. “Braken, cut!”
“Wait!” cried Aries. “If you cut the bomb it will explode!”
“Where is it?” asked Braken.
“Somewhere up in here,” she said, swirling her finger just below the elbow of the arm Syrus held.
“So do I cut here?” asked Braken.
Etheil looked back down the corridor as they continued to debate over where the cut should be made. The soldiers holding Brandrir grunted as they hoisted him back up, their arms starting to give out. Already they were pacing back and forth on their feet against the agonizing burning in their boots. The wall of fire was almost on them. Etheil could see the edges of the corridor spit and spew flame as the molten metal rolled forward. Intolerable heat from it began to wash over Etheil, ruffling his hair.
Etheil breathed deep. He groaned as he stood to his feet. He held out his hands as the wall raced toward him, picking up speed. Dust and fragments of the wall began to swirl around him, clinking and clanking on everybody’s armor. Aries screamed. One of the soldiers lost his bowels. And then the molten wall rushed over them all.
Blinding white light encased them. Aries shrieked and even Syrus and Braken screamed. The soldiers holding Brandrir fell on the floor, wailing.
Etheil roared, his hands out before him. The slag flowed over them and beneath them. All around pulsing yellows and reds moved in swirling patterns as Etheil’s aura swept around, keeping the molten steel from touching them. Despite their protective bubble, the heat was intolerable and the smell of singing hair began to fill the air. “Hurry!” yelled Etheil, his arms trembling. Sweat sizzled as it dripped from his scalp onto his armored shoulders.
Without another word, Braken used Raze and lopped Aries’s arm off at the elbow. Out rolled a metal sphere. He plunged Raze as deeply into the wall as he could, then withdrew it. He hit the detonator switch on the bomb and rolled it down the hole he had just made. Everybody, save for Etheil, ducked.
KA-BOOM! There was a blinding, white flash. Cold air, like the breath of a merciful god, rushed over Etheil. He felt the floor beneath his feet give. He expected to feel molten steel encase his legs, but instead the side of the mountain slipped out beneath him. He opened his eyes. He saw the night sky. He saw molten steel and huge boulders and fragments of mountain thrown into the air above him. He was falling backwards, rocks and stones and fiery droplets hanging in the air around him.
With an agonizing effort, Etheil swirled up his aura. He felt bodies around him captured within it and pieces of stone and molten rain cast aside. There was a hissing noise and one of the soldiers screamed. And then Etheil slammed into the snow-covered earth, his armor sizzling and casting out billows of steam.
Etheil struggled up to his hands and knees. He felt his aura faltering, but with a roar he let all his power loose. Molten rain, enormous boulders and then the entire side of the mountain came tumbling down on him, all of it tossed aside. Tremors shook the earth as giant stones impacted all around. Etheil looked up. He could see the moon and molten steel twinkling like stars as it rained down, cooling quickly in the frigid air. His head spun. The night sky began to overtake everything, but then Etheil realized it was just his vision fading. He felt his aura give out, snow and debris swirling into a tightening, slowing spiral around him. He collapsed face-first into the snow.
His side didn’t hurt anymore. He felt a pleasant peacefulness laying there in the cold. There was nothing but silence and the sound of arctic wind coursing through his hair. “Solastron,” he whispered. The cold didn’t feel so cold on his flesh anymore. “I’ll see you again one day.” He thought about all the people of Duroton he had come to know and love. He thought about all the men and women of the Grimwatch he had fought beside over the years, and some that he would soon be meeting again. He wished he could see Aries smile one more time. He wanted to thank Braken for being his brother in arms, and to hear Syrus try to coax Solastron into talking. He wished he could speak to Brandrir one last time, to tell him that he was sorry.
And then there was only nothingness.
— 22 —
Fractures
A warm summer wind full of the scent of moist earth and wildflowers tussled with Karinael’s hair as Asteroth, Raziel and Sodiel came up to the edge of a swiftly flowing river. The sun beat down upon Karinael’s armor, warming it, but she could find no joy in the day. From the moment Ovid had told her that he was going to seek out Rook Gatimarian she had been torn in half by her duty and her heart. Duty lay in Duroton. Duty was to find Isley and a strange woman named Celacia who Erygion promised had the power to awaken the Sleeping Goddess. But her heart was here in Narbereth. Her heart wanted to find Rook—a man who had touched her life in so many ways, yet she had never once met him—and warn him about Ovid. But more, her heart was tainted
by the same blackness as the other Saints she was with, and a small part of her wanted to make Ovid pay for what he had done. It was that blackness that scared her. It was that blackness that had pressed her to urge the others to abandon this trip in search of Ovid. For two days she had tried her best and failed. Worse, she didn’t know if she had failed on purpose because part of her still wanted to warn Rook, and to see justice served to Ovid. She couldn’t help but wonder what Erygion would think; what Erygion would do right now. Actually, she did know. Erygion would not seek revenge. He would go to Duroton. He would follow duty. She let out a sigh that only Hadraniel who stood beside her could hear.
“He’s been through here,” said Saint Asteroth as he crouched upon the damp grass of the riverbank. In the mud nearby were deep impressions in the telltale shape of star-metal boots. Upon the opposite side of the river, some thirty-feet away, more tracks led up the grassy fields that ran up a tall hill which hid what lay beyond. “These tracks are no more than a day old.”
Asteroth stood up and held out his hand. It began glowing with Caliber light, and a moment later a number of white orbs coalesced and floated in his palm. He cast them to the wind and they drifted across the river like the cottony seeds of dandelions, following the tracks up and over the hill. “We’ll find him. He’s close.”
“You think he killed those poor fools?” asked Sodiel.
Asteroth surveyed the opposite bank. Four bodies floated face-down, sloshing at the shore, trapped in a tangle of cattails and reeds. He shook his head and pointed to the bodies. “Some have arrows in their backs.”
“Look.” said Raziel.
The river bent as it flowed around the hill, and floating upon its surface came a dozen more bodies. Asteroth peered up at the blue skies, shielding his eyes from the sun with his hand. In the distance were great plumes of clouds that drifted upon the warm summer winds. His eyes focused more keenly until he became aware of something. “Smoke.”
Karinael looked to where he was pointing. After her eyes had time to adjust for the sun that was already into the western skies, she could see a smear of dark gray being washed across the clouds.
“You said Rook and Gabidar are from a city named Bellus?” asked Sodiel.
Karinael nodded.
“I’ll bet that smoke is from Bellus.” said Sodiel.
“And Ovid’s there.” said Raziel, pleased anger oozing from his voice. He watched as the bodies floated past them, carried upon the river’s strong currents. “Death and destruction always follow him. He might not have killed these people, but I’m willing to bet he had a hand in it somehow.” Karinael watched as he took out an injector and a small, glass vial from his hipsack. Asteroth had given it to him two days ago, after Leviathan Hydra was killed. They had stuck around for many hours as Raziel clawed at the wet earth, certain he could dig her up. It was useless, they all knew, but there was no consoling Raziel.
Karinael frowned and turned away as he plunged the syringe through the cork stopper and took up what little remained of the Evanescence. “He’s going to pay,” spat Raziel as he stuck the needle through the leather of his bodysuit, right in the crook of his arm. “He’s going to pay for Gadrial’s death.” He exhaled deeply as he sunk down the plunger.
“This is wrong.” said Karinael. “Erygion wouldn’t want us to seek out vengeance. Raziel, I don’t know the pain you’re feeling, but let it go. Honor Gadrial by continuing our path to Duroton.”
Raziel’s ruby eyes turned fiery as he scowled at her. “I’ll honor her by taking Ovid’s head.” he spat.
“Saint Ovid betrayed us all.” said Asteroth. “Because of him, Gadrial and Baradiel are dead. Because of him, Erygion is dead. He must pay for his betrayal.” The large Saint turned to Raziel and placed a hand on his pauldron. “In Bellus, if Ovid’s death does not soothe your wounds, there will be more Evanescence. I think we could all use some.”
“Hadi,” hissed Karinael. “Say something to them. Please.”
Hadraniel looked at her and frowned. He turned to Raziel. “You know the rules. As Saints of the Final Star, we have renounced such things. No more Ev, for any of us. Let Ovid’s death be enough.”
Raziel fixed Hadraniel with his eyes. “How do you know what will be enough for me?” He walked up to Hadraniel and flicked the silver hair from Hadraniel’s face, revealing the burn scars that twisted his cheeks. “Had you been just a little less lucky that night, you too would know my pain.” He turned his gaze to Karinael. “You’d be dead, just like Gadrial. And he’d be alone, just like me.”
Hadraniel cringed at that.
“Erygion didn’t die so that we could abandon our vows to him.” said Karinael. “He gave himself, body and Caliber, so that we could go on. If we start seeking out vengeance and taking Ev, we have let him die for nothing.”
“Let’s not argue among ourselves.” said Sodiel. He looked at Karinael, his brown hair and eyes like sparkling tourmaline in the sun. “Let him have his Ev, just for now. He suffers a wound worse than any sword could deliver. Let’s not judge his pain.”
Karinael puffed out a breath and frowned, shaking her head.
“To Bellus.” said Asteroth. “Once Ovid is dead, then we go to Duroton.” His golden Caliber flared around his body as he leapt over the river’s entire expanse. Sodiel followed close behind, and then Raziel.
Karinael looked at Hadraniel. She shook her head. “If this is all it takes to break our constellation…”
Hadraniel embraced her. “I know the pain Raziel must feel. I touched upon it that night Ithuriel almost took you from me. Let them have their revenge, and then we go to Duroton. In Duroton we’ll find Saint Isley and we’ll find this Celacia and it will all start to come together.”
“I hope so.” said Karinael. Hadraniel leaned in to kiss her but she rebuked him.
“Hadi,” she said, peering into his silver eyes. “If I were to die, would you go back to how you were? Would you take Ev again?”
Hadraniel looked away from her. “I don’t know. I don’t know what I would do.”
She grabbed his arms. “Tell me you wouldn’t. Tell me you wouldn’t do Ev. Tell me you’d still go to Duroton and seek out Isley and Celacia.”
He returned his eyes to her and brushed his hand through her amber hair. “I would,” he said, “but that won’t happen. I won’t let you die.” He took her hand in his. “We’ll make it. We all will. Erygion’s death won’t have been for nothing.” He pointed across the river. “Come on, we better catch up.”
She held Hadraniel’s arm firmly. “Talk to Raziel. Tell him no more Ev.”
“I will.” he said. Then together they shined their Calibers and leapt to catch up with the others.
Atop the hill the meadows rolled out before them upon a gradual, downward slope that went on all the way to the blue horizon. They could see the city of Bellus in the distance. It was nestled in a valley a few miles away, surrounded by rolling hills where a pair of heavily trafficked rivers crossed paths. From this distance not much could be made out other than some buildings were ablaze. The rivers were also choked with ships, some of them fleeing but many others stuck as the ships ahead of them sank as their sails and masts went up in flames.
“I wonder what’s going on.” said Sodiel, leaning upon his bo-staff as he gazed out toward the valley.
“Whatever it is, it’s bad.” said Asteroth. “Could be an uprising, could be something of Ovid’s doing. Whatever it is, one thing is certain: there will be Saints there to quell the unrest.”
“Saint Ertrael was sent to Narbereth.” said Karinael. “Do you think he might be down there?”
“If he is, we might have another ally.” added Hadraniel. “He worked with me and Karinael a few times when he was apprenticing with Adonael.”
Asteroth looked at Karinael and Hadraniel, his golden hair and eyes sparkling in the sun. “Even if he is there,
we have to approach him cautiously. There’s no way to know if he’s with us until we talk to him. For all we know, he likes his new station.”
“Agreed.” said Karinael. “But no matter what, we all stick together. We all stay close.”
Asteroth nodded his agreement.
“And if we can help the people, we do it.” added Karinael. The other Saints all gave her uncertain looks. “I mean it. If we are truly what we say we are, we help people. We don’t leave them all to die. If we can help, we will do so. If this trip is about revenge, then we also make it about redemption.”
Raziel shook his head and sighed. Sodiel bit his lip and looked away. Asteroth looked Karinael in the eyes. “Only if we can help. We’re here for Ovid. Anything else is up for debate.”
Now it was Karinael’s turn to shake her head and look away. Already she felt the team was crumbling. Back in Jerusa she did not have to live with Asteroth, Raziel or Sodiel. They would help deliver shipments or meet up for brief councils and then be on their way. She had believed that none of them were doing Ev, and that they were all focused on helping, just like her and Hadraniel. But more and more, Karinael was realizing how foolish she had been to assume that they were all like her and Hadraniel. They helped when and where they could, but helping had not been their sole focus. They had all been carrying out their duties and taking Ev in between the brief encounters she had with them. She wondered if their true motives were simply to get their sanguinastrums, just like Ovid.
Despair set in. How would they ever make it to Duroton? Would they all make it to Duroton? After they found Ovid, would a single one of them stick around? Karinael found herself wishing Erygion was here. She was supposed to be leading this constellation, but more and more it was Asteroth who was taking the reins on everything. None of them respected her or Hadraniel the way they respected Asteroth. Karinael knew that the loyalty of the others all hinged on him alone. If she were to lose Asteroth, the rest would follow quickly, if not at the same time. She looked at Hadraniel. He didn’t say anything.
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