Nearby, his father cradled the storm orb in his lap. Leif had constructed a null shield around Esau, Mara and the three Councilors—Featherstone, Cowan and Jewelrose. They also crouched in the underbrush. The buzz of insects was the only sound.
Leif glanced at the moon again, estimating its position in the sky. The attack was scheduled for tonight. They needed to launch it at a precise time or risk ruining the resistance’s chances of success. What if Irys didn’t contact him? What if she was compromised?
It didn’t matter. Leif wouldn’t miss the deadline.
He sniffed the air, seeking emotions or any signs that a patrol was close by. Refraining from reaching further, he drew back to avoid alerting the garrison’s magicians that he was outside their walls.
The moon refused to move, or so it seemed to Leif. It clung to that one spot, just to annoy him. He suppressed a sigh and squirmed into a more comfortable position.
Leif, Irys’s voice sounded in his mind. We’re ready.
Cooling relief flowed through him. The soldiers? he asked.
They’re regaining their senses, but a few are stubborn and insist they have to defend against the Commander’s army. They might try to stop you.
Leif checked his tunic. Darts loaded with his sleeping draft had been threaded through the fabric. The rest of his team was similarly armed. Let’s hope by the time they figure out what’s going on, it’ll be too late.
He signaled the Councilors to secure the slingshot. Keep well away from the wall, he told Irys.
Will do. See you on the flip side.
He clamped down on a chuckle.
Once the slingshot was strung between two trees, Leif took the orb from his father. Councilor Featherstone pulled the rubber sling back and angled it. Leif hoped the man’s aim was as accurate as he’d claimed. A few other hopes followed in quick succession: hope that they were far enough back to avoid being flattened by the blast. Hope that no one was killed on the other side. Hope that they reached the main administration building before one of Bruns’s magicians could warn the other garrisons.
Leif shoved all those worries deep inside. He placed the orb in the sling. The others moved deeper into the woods.
He held up a finger, signaling to the Councilor. One. Two fingers. Three.
Featherstone let go. The orb sailed through the air. Moonlight sparked off the glass, and for a heart-stopping moment, Leif thought it would fly over the wall. But then it smashed into the marble. Lightning exploded, blinding him two seconds before a roar slammed into him.
The force of the storm picked him up, carried him a few feet and hurled him to the ground hard enough to knock the air from his lungs in one whoosh. Bits of greenery floated in the clouds of dust while dirt and pieces of stone rained down on him. When he caught his breath, he sat up. Every muscle ached, and small cuts peppered his arms and legs.
Then he remembered the others. Panicked, he stood on shaky legs, searching for Mara and his father. She materialized from the fog. Blood streamed from a gash on her shoulder, but she waved away his hand.
“I’m fine,” she said, reassuring him. “But your father’s been knocked unconscious.”
She led him to Esau. A nasty gash marked his temple. Leif felt his pulse. Strong. Thank fate. He rolled his father into a more comfortable position and covered him with foliage. “He should be fine. We need to go, or we’ll lose the element of surprise.”
They assembled and did a quick injury check. Councilor Featherstone and Leif had gotten the brunt of the blast, but nothing serious. The others had minor cuts and bruises.
“Stay close to me,” Leif ordered.
Every one grabbed a dart, and the team raced for the ragged hole in the garrison’s wall.
Bits of marble crunched underfoot as he led the others. Dust clouded the air, but fuzzy yellow dots marked the location of the torches and lanterns. Shouts and sounds of confusion echoed off the parts of the wall still standing. They climbed over the mounds of debris. Figures rushed toward them.
Leif aimed at the closest man, but Irys yelled, “He’s one of ours.” She strode into sight with a number of armed soldiers trailing her. Her long hair had been pulled up into a bun. Irys wore a generic Sitian uniform, but there was no mistaking the power in her emerald gaze, nor the commanding posture that only a Master Magician could pull off. She gestured to her men. “Provide cover.”
Her soldiers surrounded them in a protective formation. Sweet.
“This way,” she said, breaking into a jog.
His team chased her. They headed straight for the administration building where the garrison’s high-ranking officers and magicians lived. A thick ring of guards two deep waited for them outside the building. They slowed to a stop. The defenders remained in position despite seeing Irys leading them.
Surprised, Leif asked Irys, “Is Cahil no longer on our side?”
“He sent his men on a mission, but Bruns ordered extra security, and he had to comply or risk being discovered.” She glanced at him. “Bruns suspects something is going to happen, but I didn’t tell Cahil which night, just in case.”
Smart, but it didn’t help with this obstacle. He looked over his shoulder, ensuring Mara remained right behind him.
Before he could stop him, Councilor Featherstone strode through their front line and approached the guards. “I’m Councilor Drake Featherstone. This is my garrison, and I’m in charge. Stand down at once.”
No one moved.
“What now?” Leif asked Irys. “The noise of a skirmish will alert the magicians inside, and they’ll send a message to Bruns.”
Irys smiled. “I’ve a null shield around the building.” She gestured to the guards blocking them. Two of them flew through the air and crashed to the ground. They lay still. “I’ve been wanting to do that for months.”
Ah, yes, so nice to be fighting with a Master Magician again. “Engage,” Leif ordered.
The soldiers surrounding them surged forward. He glanced at Mara. “Stay with me.”
“I’ve got your back,” she said in a firm tone, even though she trembled.
Irys remained beside Leif as they fought through the chaos. Using the darts, Leif jabbed them into arms and legs while ducking blades. It worked, at least until he faced an aggressive opponent intent on skewering him. Irys’s attention was elsewhere, so he pulled his machete to defend himself. Unwilling to inflict any major harm, Leif stayed on the defensive, searching for an opportunity to jab the man with a dart. Except the guard was smart enough to avoid getting too close.
Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted Mara. Distracted, Leif blocked left instead of right, and the man disarmed him. He backed away as the guard advanced. So focused on Leif, he didn’t see Mara until she’d stabbed a dart into his neck. The man cursed and rounded on her, but she kicked him in the groin. Hard. He crumpled to the ground.
Mara grinned. “Told you I had your back.”
Leif hugged his wife. “That’s my girl!”
Working as a team, they wove through the clumps of fighters. Eventually they reached the entrance. Irys joined them soon after with two others.
“The null shield won’t stop the magicians from using magic inside the building. I can’t tighten it and keep the guards off balance.” She hooked a thumb at the melee.
“I have a null shield around Mara, and I can construct another pretty fast if needed.”
“Good. They’ll be in the main command center on the third floor. Let’s go.”
Irys led the charge up the stairs. No one tried to stop them. When they reached the landing, the door was closed, but faint lantern light shone underneath.
Booby trapped? Leif asked Irys.
No. They’re too busy arguing.
How many?
Four.
Leif turned the kno
b, opening the door into a large area filled with tables, chairs, desks and file cabinets. Beyond that was another door. It stood ajar, spilling a yellow glow.
Inside, four people gestured over a glass cube sitting on a pedestal. Their voices were clear. “...null shield, you idiot. We need to take this to the roof.”
“And risk being shot by a bow and arrow? No thanks.”
“Bruns needs to know!”
Leif gestured for Mara and the two soldiers to wait. Weaving through the furniture, Irys and Leif crossed the room without tripping over anything. They paused by the door.
Allow me, Irys thought.
Go right ahead. This was going to be good.
Irys swept into the room, surprising them. They turned and then froze, held immobile by Irys’s magic. A number of big, comfortable-looking couches ringed the room, along with a few windows and doors.
“It’s safe,” Irys called to the others. “Leif, prick them with the darts, please.”
Happy to oblige, he yanked a couple darts and approached. The air smelled like black licorice. Deceit. The four magicians were an illusion. He spun, crying a warning just as four people seemed to step from the walls. Another illusion? One swung a mace at Irys, catching the Master Magician on the temple. She crashed to the ground and didn’t move. Not an illusion. And now the null shield surrounding the building was gone.
The three others attacked Mara and the soldiers with such speed that by the time Leif yanked his machete, they were unarmed. Realizing his options were dwindling to nothing, Leif swiped the glass super messenger off the pedestal. Thank fate it was real. He hefted it in one hand.
“Stop, or I’ll smash this into a million pieces.” Leif hoped they didn’t have another one nearby.
Rika Bloodgood pressed a knife to Mara’s neck. “Put it down gently, or I’ll slit her throat.”
He met Mara’s gaze. She mouthed the word no. But Leif couldn’t sacrifice her life. Not even to stop a war. It was selfish, and they’d probably die regardless. His heart twisted with anguish as he set the messenger back on the pedestal.
“Now drop your weapon.”
Leif released his machete. It clattered to the floor, making the same hollow sound that echoed in his chest. He gestured to the walls. “Nice trick.”
“Not a trick, but skill and talent. I fooled a Master Magician with that illusion.”
Modest, too.
“Now move away from the messenger.”
He obeyed.
28
YELENA
Crouched near the Citadel’s southern gate, I waited. After twenty-three days of fretting, we finally moved into position after the sun had set. In a few short hours, we would launch the orbs and storm the castle...er...Citadel. Valek had decided a strike in the middle of the night would be more effective. Roused from sleep, the soldiers would be disoriented and disorganized. It had worked for the Greenblade garrison, but this time the garrisons had some warning and wouldn’t be as scattered.
Fisk’s helpers reported that the supply of Theobroma to the garrisons had trickled to a stop. But was it in enough time? A list of worries cycled through my mind. Had Valek reached Owen? Would the other teams be successful? Would the blood really work? Opal had assured us it would, but maybe the Harman sap would be strong enough to overpower the blood. It wasn’t like we could experiment. I envisioned everything that could go wrong, and I was quite imaginative.
By the time we traveled to the Citadel, my desire to just get it over with pressed on my skin from the inside out. And I was about to burst. In this mood, I could bring down the walls with my bare hands—no storm orb needed.
Fisk strung the slingshot between two tree trunks. Bavol and Councilor Shaba Greenblade watched for patrols. They’d increased in frequency the closer we traveled to the Citadel. However, Shaba’s magic was just strong enough to sense them, giving us enough time to avoid the soldiers. Hopefully Phelan’s crew had also avoided the patrols and was now getting ready to target the northern gate.
When the appointed hour arrived, Heli placed the storm orb in the slingshot and, together with Fisk, drew it back and aimed at the Citadel’s south gate. It had been barricaded closed, and no one should be around it at this time of the night. It was also the second-closest gate to the Council Hall. Remembering what had happened to Valek’s back when we blasted the garrison’s wall, I tried to get Fisk and Heli to scoot back a couple...okay, more like twenty feet. Heli assured me she’d be able to direct the storm’s energy around them.
I crouched behind a tree as Fisk and Heli launched the orb. The moonlight reflected off the glass as it sailed through the air. The impact rattled my teeth as sound roared to life, ripped through the barricade and blew chunks of the Citadel’s walls in every direction. Bits of marble and dust rained for a few minutes. However, a bubble of undisturbed vegetation surrounded Heli and Fisk.
“Wow. Teegan wasn’t kidding,” Fisk said in a hushed whisper. “That’s...the coolest thing I’ve ever seen! Is anyone else’s ears ringing?”
“Move now, marvel later,” I said. “Those patrols are all making a beeline straight for us.”
“Right.”
The five of us dashed through the hole and into the Citadel. Businesses and factories occupied most of the area, but a few had been converted into apartments. People were already peering through the windows and coming to investigate the damage. Fisk led the way, and soon we disappeared through the alleys that he knew so well.
We arrived down the street from the Council Hall. Sliding into a shadow, we watched the main entrance. Soon after, a man raced up the steps and disappeared inside to report the blasts. After a few moments, guards streamed into the street. They split into two teams and raced off, leaving only a few behind at the entrance.
Bavol, Shaba and I stepped from the shadows. We climbed the stairs at a stately pace. By the time we reached the door, the four guards pointed swords at our chests.
“At ease, men,” Bavol said in a commanding tone that promised pain if disobeyed. Impressive.
“You don’t give orders,” one man protested.
“I am Councilman Bavol Cacao Zaltana. This is Councilwoman Shaba Greenblade. We do indeed give the orders. Stand down. Now.”
The tips of their weapons wavered.
“Fetch Bruns Jewelrose,” Bavol ordered. “Tell him we await his immediate presence in my office.” Bavol strode into the Council Hall without waiting for an acknowledgment.
Shaba and I followed him. We made it as far as the middle of the lobby. Bruns stood on the stairs amid an impressive array of armed soldiers, Cilly Cloud Mist and a few other magicians. A sly smile spread on Bruns’s face.
I sucked in a breath. Showtime.
Cilly met my gaze. She pressed her lips together, and I sensed a light touch of magic in my mind before it was swallowed by the baby. Confusion creased her expression before she smoothed it out.
Baby, one. Cilly, zero.
“Ah, there you are, Bruns,” Bavol said.
“Bavol, what a...surprise. You shouldn’t have come. It’s much too dangerous for you here.”
So he was going to act civilized. At least, for now.
“Nonsense. This is where I and the rest of the Sitian Council should be. Don’t you agree?”
“No. The Commander has spies and assassins everywhere.”
“We accepted that risk when we were voted by our people to oversee Sitian affairs and protect our citizens. Thanks for stepping in, Bruns, but you’re dismissed. Councilwoman Greenblade and I will take it from here until the others arrive.” Bavol swept a hand out, indicating the crowd. “Everyone, report back to your stations until further notice.”
No one moved.
Bruns clapped. “Bravo. A very convincing performance. However, you don’t know your audience very
well. All of them are loyal to me. No Theobroma needed.”
It made sense, but we’d hoped at least a few had been coerced and were beginning to wake up. Time for plan B. Glancing over my shoulder, I confirmed that all the guards were focused on the action happening inside the hall. Then I reached under my tunic and withdrew a glass storm orb. My baby bump diminished by half the size.
Holding it high above my head in both hands, I said, “Surrender now, or I’ll blow us all to bits!”
Many of the soldiers took a step back, but Bruns said, “She’s bluffing. She wouldn’t kill herself or her baby. This is truly pathetic, Yelena. What do you hope to accomplish?”
“Aww, shucks, Bruns, you saw right though me. You’re right. I’m not going to kill us all. I just wanted to distract you.” I tossed the orb at the staircase and grinned when they all flinched.
It shattered and released a thick white fog. The smoke swirled without direction for a second, but then raced up and down the steps with enough force to knock people down as they tried to flee. Heli stood near the door. She focused on controlling the air while Fisk and his helpers entered.
“The gas won’t last long,” I said over the roar of the wind. “Prick them with the Curare. It should work.”
The kids moved like scavengers over the bodies. But there were two missing—Bruns and Cilly.
They hadn’t come down, so they must have gone up to one of the upper floors.
“Bavol, stay here with Shaba. When the reinforcements arrive, you need to convince them you’re in charge,” I said. “Heli and Fisk, come with me.”
Fisk pulled his knives, and I loaded my blowpipe. We sprinted up the steps, being careful not to step on anyone.
“How do you want to do this?” he asked. “Room by room?”
“Is there another exit?” Heli asked.
“The Masters’ entrance,” I said.
“This way!” Fisk cut down an empty hallway.
Why was I surprised Fisk knew about it? Little scamp enjoyed ferreting out little-known facts like that. At the end of the hall was a stairway to the ground floor. I paused a moment to listen. Not a sound. Not even the pounding of boots. Good or bad?