The Unseen Tempest (Lords of Arcadia) Page 15

  He said nothing, which was pretty much a big old yes coming from him.

  “What secret?” I asked Demain.

  She gave me a smile that was pure wickedness. “If I help your friends and tell you, you will then be in my debt.” I could see the gleam in her eye. “Agreed?”

  “Do not do this, Kane,” Ruber pleaded.

  I looked over at Hawk, trying his best to dodge Diablo’s attacks and knowing he couldn’t take that thing. He had been keeping something from me; they all had. I looked back at her and nodded. She held out her pinky. “You want me to pinky swear?”

  She nodded. “It’s an oath where I come from.”

  I hooked mine around hers. “It’s a game where I’m from.”

  A surge of power went through me, and I knew we had a binding agreement.

  “Very well, then, let me help your friends first,” she said, striding out of the shield toward Diablo. “Step aside, boy. This fight is over,” she ordered Hawk.

  Hawk looked over at her and was about to bitch her out when he saw her put a hand on her sword. Instead, he fell back quickly, telling Caerus to follow him.

  She drew the blade, and I could feel the power coming from it across the room. As she held the blade up high, the story came flooding from Hawk’s mind. There was once a great dragon called Vorpal who protected Aponiviso from all threats. So great was its power that no one dared move against the realm as long as the beast prowled its territory. After years and years of unchallenged dominance, the silver dragon’s ego began to swell. It rankled at the thought of humans ruling the lands that rightfully belonged to it, so it attacked the capital.

  All seemed lost since there were no weapons that could stand against Vorpal’s power. The royal archmage knew his spells were useless against the dragon’s protection and an outright attack would be suicide. Instead of focusing on defeating the creature, the archmage devised a way to magically bind it. After much study, he found a way to trap the dragon’s essence in a blade, trapping Vorpal’s soul within an obsidian sword. At first it was enraged to be brought down by a human, and the sword was locked away in case the dragon found a way to free itself.

  No one knows which queen decided to tame the blade, but the story was the ordeal drove her insane. Vorpal, realizing its error, vowed to serve the crown, defending the lands as it once had. Now the true ruler of Aponiviso could call upon Vorpal’s power once a day, unleashing the true power of the silver dragon.

  All that information was like seeing a whole movie on fast-forward. Your mind’s not quite sure what it’s seeing, but somehow you understand the gist of the story anyway. All I knew was that one second she was holding up a sword, and the next she was summoning a dragon.

  There was a flash of light, and suddenly an enormous dragon looking three different kinds of pissed stood in front of Diablo. Now let me tell you what fairy tales don’t tell you about dragons. First, they are huge: I mean bigger-than-houses huge. They are less lizards and more Godzilla big, which was impressive all by itself. What made this dragon even more so were the shimmering metal plates that made up its scales. Vorpal looked like the world’s biggest knight, with nasty Wolverine claws to boot. Second was the sound. Vorpal roared at Diablo, and I could have sworn an F-15E Strike Eagle had taken off right next to me. I was shaken down to my bones as Vorpal tried to intimidate the clockwork devil into submission.

  Diablo responded by breathing a huge wave of fire at Vorpal.

  Between the heat and the light, I cowered behind Ruber’s shield to keep from cooking or going blind. Vorpal’s scales lit up like a disco ball. I could barely see through the flashing reflections, but I could tell the dragon wasn’t budging from where it was standing. Diablo continued to spit fire for a full thirty seconds before it stopped, no doubt fully expecting to see the charred corpse of its opponent.

  Seconds passed silently. Vorpal and Diablo stared at each other without a sound. Vorpal made it crystal clear that the fire had done nothing to it. Diablo made it perfectly clear he was confused as to how Vorpal had been left in one piece.

  And then the dragon breathed fire at the devil.

  It wasn’t a normal-looking fire. It was pure silver and crackled like it was part electricity. Diablo staggered the moment it was hit by the attack, holding up one hand to shield its face from the onslaught. I watched in shock as the hand began to twist and bend, finally melting into slag. Vorpal didn’t stop, pressing the fire as it began to melt through the chest of the clockwork monster, melting armor, gears, and pulleys like they were ice cubes. Diablo gave a half-formed scream before it lost the ability to speak altogether. It slowly began to shrink under the fire as it disintegrated into a pool of molten metal.

  Vorpal stopped, taking a step back from the growing spread of superheated liquid.

  Caerus flew near the puddle and called out “Freeze!” shooting a beam of pale blue into it. Steam began to vent upward like a geyser as she brought the temperature to zero instantly. It had taken less than a minute, but Diablo was now just a six-foot-wide disk of melted metal frozen to the workshop floor.

  The dragon looked back at Demain, who was still holding the sword up, and gave the queen a questioning look. She nodded once, and the dragon flickered and vanished from sight like a hologram. I saw the dragon reappear, curl up around the sword’s hilt again, and go back to sleep. Demain looked back at me and smiled. We both knew she had fulfilled half of her promise.

  No one moved as we caught our breath.

  Except Molly, who didn’t need to breathe. “Someone help her!” she screamed. “She’s dying.”

  Hawk ran back over, and we knelt down next to Ferra. “I have no idea what to do, Molly.” She looked at him, and I half expected to see oil running down her cheeks like tears. “I’ve never seen anything like her kind before.”

  “I have,” Demain said, walking up all casual-like. We looked at her, and she shrugged. “She’s an ice giant—well, part ice giant, at least.”

  I stood up and grabbed the front of her top. “I’m done with you wanting to make a damn dramatic point. If you know how to fix her, do it.”

  It might have been the moment or my loss of temper, but I swear I could see fear in her eyes. “I don’t know, but my sister does. After all, the power of all ice giants comes from her.”

  “Lies,” Ferra argued weakly. “My power comes from Logos.”

  She gave a small chuckle. “Dear, I am not sure who this Logos is, but I assure you, all ice giants draw their power from my sister. She is the queen of the endless winter.”

  Ferra looked like she wanted to say something else, but she was just too weak.

  “Can your sister help her?” I asked, shaking her to get her attention again.

  “Can she? Yes. Will she?” She shrugged again.

  “Oh, she will,” I said, letting her go and moving toward Milo. “You need to get us to her sister’s realm.”

  “But I can’t,” he said, his eyes wide and teary. “This place is blocking me.”

  I knelt down and locked eyes with him. “You got us in here. You can get us out. Just concentrate.”

  Demain began to say, “You do know he didn’t get us—” But Hawk and Ruber shushed her.

  I ignored them, knowing they were hiding crap from me again. “Milo, you can get us out of here. I know it.”

  He looked like he was going to argue with me, but then he just calmed down and nodded. “You’re right, I can do this.”

  “The workshop is specifically shielded against teleports,” Molly announced, “I’m not sure how you were able—”

  “Molly,” Hawk said to her. “Now is not the time.”

  She quieted at once as Milo began to concentrate. He slowly edged a circle out around us with his foot, his front paw rubbing his watch the whole time. I didn’t care what everyone else was doing. I was just watching Milo, willing him to succeed. I couldn’t watch another friend die. I just couldn’t. Milo’s magic had to work.

  He reached where he ha
d started and paused. We looked at each other, and I gave him a reassuring smile. He closed his eyes and completed the circle as we all prepared ourselves to fall.

  Nothing happened.

  The rabbit moved his foot and closed the circle again, but nothing happened. His ears fell back as he looked up at me. “I’m sorry, Kane, I can’t.”

  Ferra made a sound, and I felt my throat begin to close up with emotion.

  “I want to get out of here now,” I screamed to the heavens, not caring if I looked like a spaz or not.

  Almost instantly, we fell through the floor into the darkness.

  I had a second to smile before I passed out.

  THE DIRECTEUR looked up at Ater. “You’ll never get out of here alive.”

  The dark elf didn’t even blink as he locked eyes with his captive. “Funny, I was thinking the same thing.”

  The man was visibly shaken, but he continued to try to talk his way out of it. “All I have to do is call for help, and you’re both dead.”

  Ater pressed the knife a bit farther into the man’s neck. “Try it. Please.”

  “Whatever you’re going to do, do it faster,” Kor said from the doorway. “I think someone’s coming.”

  “What now, oh great assassin?” the directeur mocked. “Kill me and you’re both dead.”

  Ater pulled a needle out of his pocket and jabbed it into the directeur’s neck, letting the man go. The struck man pulled the needle free and looked, confused, at the dark elf. “Really? Sticking people with pins? How childi—”

  His eyes went wide, and his body seized up as he fell over, paralyzed.

  “Boring conversation anyway.” Ater sniffed, walking toward the door.

  “Did you kill him?” Kor asked, sounding surprisingly unconcerned about the answer.

  “There are many things worse than death. Our friend over there just met one.”

  Kor wanted to ask what Ater meant, but from the way the directeur was shuddering on the ground, he thought better. “So, exit plan?”

  “First things first,” Ater said as the sound of footsteps running toward the throne room got louder and louder. “We need to deal with that.” He pointed to the door.

  There was a pounding from the other side and someone called out, “Directeur, we are under attack. There are forces outside.”

  As if to accent this fact, the entire mountain shook as if struck by a giant.

  “What the…,” Kor asked, trying to keep his balance.

  “Sir!” the voice called from the other side of the door. “The people are panicking.”

  Ater growled in frustration as he kicked the door. “Your people have tracked us down, and they are going to kill every single person here.”

  The color drained out of Kor’s face as he realized Nystel had found a way to track them after all. “But she wants us,” he reasoned. “If we give ourselves up—”

  “They will still kill every single man, woman, and child in the city,” Ater finished for him.

  The sounds of panic could be heard through the door, as well as more pounding and shouting for the directeur. “But they haven’t done anything.” Even as Kor said it, he knew it wouldn’t matter. These people had strayed from the path of light, and there was nothing left to do but kill them. They were abominations in the eyes of the church, even though Kor had thought they looked like refugees.

  The pounding on the door became frantic as the man on the other side tried to break it down.

  Ater slid the crossbeam out and threw open the door. A malnourished dark elf stood there, the look of pure panic on his face turning to terror when he looked at Kor and Ater. Before the man could give a cry for help, the assassin pulled him into the room and slammed the door. The page stumbled forward, tripping over the prone form of the directeur.

  “Do not scream,” Ater warned him. “If you scream I’m going to be forced to stop you and, I’ll be honest, I don’t know many ways that don’t involve breaking something.” The page covered his mouth with both hands, still shaking like a tree in a hurricane. “What is going on?”

  The page moved his hands and said in a mumbled rush of words, “There’s an army outside with siege weapons, and they are demanding someone to parley.”

  Kor looked down at the twitching form of the directeur and sighed. “I guess he isn’t up to it anymore.”

  Ater ignored him and knelt down next to the unconscious man to pat him down.

  “What are you looking for?” Kor asked, confused.

  Ater didn’t answer but instead pulled a golden coin out of the directeur’s pocket. He held the coin up to the page. “You recognize my authority?” The page nodded so quickly it looked like his head was going to fall off. “Start evacuating the civilians through the tunnels. We will buy them as much time as we can. Pass word forward that someone is coming to parley and that we need more time.”

  The page threw open the door and ran down the hall as fast as he could.

  “What is that?” Kor asked, pointing at the coin.

  “Symbol of power,” Ater answered, slipping it into his pocket. “If you can take this coin off of whoever’s in charge, then you get the power.” He began walking toward the door. “Come on. We need to give these people as much time as possible to escape.”

  Kor followed behind him. “You know there is no talking my people out of attacking.”

  Ater nodded. “I am fully aware of how overwhelming the light of Koran can be. All we’re doing is stalling for time.”

  “And then?” Kor asked as they made their way back into the main hub of the city. Masses of people were gathering their belongings and fleeing the city. They moved quickly, but it was an orderly evacuation, one that had obviously been rehearsed.

  “Then if you still want the right to kill me, I’d do it quickly, because I think there’s a line.”

  As they reached the city entrance, the guards were arguing with each other about who was in charge and should go speak with the army outside. Ater walked up and pulled out the coin. “I am in charge, and I’ll go talk.” The guards got quiet instantly. “Have you lowered the siege gate?”

  “We can’t do that without orders,” one guard answered.

  Ater sighed. “Then you have the order. Wait until I walk out and drop it behind me.”

  “You’re going alone?” Kor asked him.

  Ater nodded. “They only need one person to talk.”

  “Just drop the gate, and let’s go with the rest of the city.”

  The dark elf shook his head. “The moment that gate drops and no one is talking to them, they will attack, and these people are dead. I’ll buy them as much time as possible.”

  “I’m going with you,” Kor insisted.

  “No,” Ater said with a grin. “You’re not. I need you to pass a message along.”

  “What? To who?”

  “Tell Hawk and Kane that I sent you. They’ll need your help.”

  “Who? Help doing what?”

  Ater pulled a small gem out of his tunic and put it in Kor’s hand. “Saving Arcadia.” He folded Kor’s hand over the gem. “I’m sorry for Pullus, I truly am.” Before Kor could answer, Ater said, “I’m ready to come back.” And the gem began to glow in the elf’s hand. The dark elf took a step back as the magic engulfed Kor and took him back to the Crystal Court.

  As soon as the glow faded, Ater turned back toward the gate. “Wait until I am clear, and then slam it shut.” He looked back at the guards. “And then run as fast as you can.”

  No one argued with him as he stepped out into the sun.

  He shielded his eyes, fully expecting to hear Nystel’s arrogant tone ordering him to raise his hands. She might have for all Ater knew, since the sound of siege gate falling was deafening. He took a few more steps out and held his hands up. “I am here to negotiate surrender.”

  A figure moved toward Ater. A hand lashed out and grabbed his throat. The assassin tried to struggle, but the unmistakable male voice stopped him cold.

&
nbsp; “I owe you this.”

  And a fist slammed into his face. The sound of his nose breaking could be heard yards away.

  Ater looked up, dazed, not understanding what he was seeing.

  Oberon’s face loomed over his. “Now, you will tell me where my useless slug of a son is, or I will personally break every single bone in your body. One at a time.”

  Interlude

  ONCE UPON a time there were three girls.

  Three sisters, each born with tremendous magical ability. The first sister, Olim, was gifted with the ability to sense beginnings and where certain paths would take people. Her eyes could see the way the universe unfolded and could weigh the effect of the tiniest action in the great web of That Which Begins. The middle sister, Inmediares, was born with the knowledge of any event anywhere at any given moment. No matter how far away or how hidden, Inmediares could retrieve the knowledge of the Now at will. The youngest, Demain, was born with the gift of Endings. No matter how long or how convoluted a task or a life might become, she always knew the nature and time of its ending.

  Born in the realm of Tokpewa, they and their kindred called themselves the People and were considered by beings in the other eight realms to be gods. This was a misconception the People never bothered to correct. Tokpewa was the highest realm of the world tree and was the source of all magic in the multiverse. Nearly immortal, possessing great powers, the People began to think of themselves as caretakers of the world tree. Some species called their kind angels, others Devas, while most just called them deities. Sworn to protect but never to interfere, they maintained the balance for millennia.

  This is where the sisters enter the story.

  At first their abilities were used by the other beings to regulate and guide the lower life forms on the path that kept universal peace. Olim watched and noted each and every significant person who was born, the ones who would start the great changes. As they grew, Inmediares would keep close watch on their actions, making sure they followed their path. The path that led to the ending that maintained the delicate balance that kept the world tree flourishing. The People would step in from time to time to nudge or threaten a lower life form back on their path, appearing to the humans out of nowhere and possessing knowledge of their future and what would occur if they strayed.