Chapter 48
You Are Not Prepared
A whirlwind whipped into existence, centered on Val and her wind-scarred minions. Arrows, daggers and axes were thrown into a frenzied blur of motion, slicing through people and walls alike. The wind tugged the cowl free from the other wind-scarred, revealing a young woman's face. Ezra squinted. In fact, from up here, the two of them almost looked like...
“Twins,” Sarah muttered in disbelief. “A matching pair of scarred twins in her pocket the whole time.” She began to fiddle with the scope. “Hold on, I'll try to get audio from inside their windstorm.”
Ezra saw Val reach up to catch her hair as it blew wildly around her head. “Kiril,” she said in sharp reprimand.
The wind elementalist glanced back toward the seated woman. “Apologies, lady,” he said softly, never letting the air that danced around him waver in its intensity. A rebel who had managed to slip through the ring of guards was abruptly caught up in his working and hammered through a pile of firewood. Within the insanely whirling funnel of air, however, the breeze died down until Val's hair was barely fluttering. She took another sip of tea, seemingly oblivious of the chaos and carnage taking place around her.
“Kirin,” the male wind-scarred, Kiril, murmured in his soft voice. “Archers on the rooftops.”
“Busy,” his twin chimed lightheartedly. Her hands moved in elaborate motions, swirling as if holding a large ball before her, pulling it to the side. With a smooth flick of her wrists she extended both arms toward the back of the tavern, where Ernest had taken cover behind the bar. A pressurized blast of air exploded through the room, catching tables, chairs, the bar, and the bartender in a wall of force and fury. The back of the little tavern erupted in a rain of torn and splintered wreckage as the barkeep bounced a few times then landed in a boneless heap. The wind-scarred woman nodded in satisfaction, then sang out, “Rooftops you say, brother dearest?” Kiril paid her no mind and she laughed a musical laugh, her hands gathering the wind for another strike.
Ezra watched as an archer took careful aim and managed to hit one of the guardsmen, only to be swatted from his post on the roof in an explosion of cracked tiles and irresistible force as Kirin's attack dented the building beneath his feet.
“Blight and thunder,” Mat whispered in shock as the chatter of automatic weapon fire began to ring through the town square. The small army Val had brought with her formed up, using their superior weapons and training to brutally turn the tide of the sortie outside the twisting wall of wind. Ezra counted two of them on the ground, not moving. Another one was grimly pulling an arrow from his leg, murder in his eyes.
And still the townspeople fought, madly trying to make it through the guards. Those few who did were flicked away by concentrated blasts of air or torn from their feet mere steps from the fire-kissed's back and tossed around like toys. Val poured herself another cup of jasmine tea, holding it up to her nose and inhaling the scent serenely.
Something was nagging at the back of Ezra's mind. “Um... why are their guns working?” He turned to Mat, who looked at him in surprise, then narrowed his eyes at the courtyard.
“I don't know,” Sarah hissed between gritted teeth, furious. “They shouldn't be. It doesn't make any sense.” She slammed a fist down next to her as one of the men who had tailed her and Mat was gunned down mercilessly.
“It's gotta be because the fire-kissed is so blighted calm,” Mat said slowly. “That was probably the whole point of this.” He clenched his fist tightly. “Those guns look brand new. I bet this whole thing was a setup so that the little kissed princess down there could see how well her Sanctuary-made firearms work when she's around.”
“Thundering hell. Get out of there, kid,” Sarah whispered softly. Ezra turned back toward the three elementalists, and watched as Jeremiah made his uncoordinated way out from under a table, inside the circle of calm. He looked around shakily, and then miraculously pulled up a cocked and loaded crossbow from the tangled mess of furniture. Kirin trilled out a merry laugh and rounded on him, only to come up short as Val raised one hand, setting her steaming cup down carefully.
“Oh, don't be like that,” the fire-kissed pouted at the terrified young man, velvety voice caressing the words. “Wouldn't you rather come join me for a nice little... chat?” Ezra gulped as the promises implicit in that enticing voice pricked the ears of his inner neanderthal and set it beating its chest.
“I-I don't have nothin' to s-say to you.” The crossbow waved wildly as Jeremiah trembled in fear. “Nothin at all!”
Val made a fascinating little sigh of disappointment. “I was so hoping you and I might be friends. Come, sit,” she cooed. “Tell me about the fire-kissed who burned this valley to the ground. I should very much like to meet someone like that.” She tossed her hair and cocked her head toward the boy, arching her back ever-so-slightly. Ezra could imagine it having a devastating effect on someone in front of her. “Wouldn't you like to tell me?”
The crossbow stopped wavering and settled on Val's heart. “You won't lay a finger on Stephen, you blighted witch,” the awkward teenager whispered fiercely. The weapon twanged as the arrow shot forward.
And exploded in a burst of flame.
“The arrowhead,” Sarah gasped as something tumbled free from the cloud of fire that had been a crossbow. It bounced once on the table in front of Val. There was a distinct clink as it hit the cup of tea. The steaming cup tipped, wobbled on its edge, then fell, spilling the hot liquid across the little table.
And directly into the fire-kissed's lap.
Val gasped, pushing away from the table and looking down at her dress in disbelief. “How dare you!” Her voice rang with pure outrage. Jeremiah stumbled to his feet, hands and face burnt and blistering. He leaped over a fallen chair and started running for all he was worth.
He managed to take two steps.
A pillar of white hot flame shot up where the gangly teenager had stood, bathing the embattled town in heat and light. Mat and Ezra were forced to step back, shielding their faces, as Sarah cursed and jerked away from the scope. The fire burned for a heartbeat then vanished, leaving a blackened circle and nothing else. Everything went silent and still.
“Bad things happen,” Mat almost prayed, fear etched in his face as he stared down at the golden elementalist.
The sounds of fighting were quickly replaced with screams as the townspeople began to run for their lives. Ezra looked on in horror as the guards lifted their guns, lining up shots on the fleeing people. A trigger was pulled, accompanied by a loud clicking sound but no bullets. The guard holding it looked down at his weapon in confusion as his neighbor's gun exploded, tearing into the face and arm of the man who had tried to fire it, eliciting shrieks of pain as he fell to the ground.
Through the scope's audio beam the team heard Val snarl as she gestured absentmindedly toward the ravaged guard. He went up in a ball of fire, leaving only blackened bones behind. The rest came suddenly to attention, although several dropped their weapons in the process. “Kiril, Kirin, round them up,” Val shouted to the two wind-scarred. Mat pushed Ezra to the ground as one of them took to the air after the faster villagers. “Check the blighted houses,” the Besmirched screamed at the guards. “I want all of them out here, now!”
The surviving townsfolk were pulled, prodded, or dragged into the town square in a frenzy of activity, lined up, and pushed to their knees before Valerie Estavon. Sarah eased back into position with the railgun, and the fire-kissed's voice abruptly sounded in their ears. “–and I don't want to spend any more time in it than I have to,” her previous throaty purr had given way to an authoritative voice as she paced before the assembled town. “So, I'm going to ask you a question. You will answer it quickly and honestly, and I will let you all live.” She stepped up to a battered man at one end of the line. Ezra recognized him even from a distance as Ernest, the barkeep, bloodied and bruised but somehow still alive. Val stroked the side of his face in an almost soothing
gesture. Her fingers slid around the back of his neck and tangled playfully in his hair. “Where is the fire-kissed?” she cooed.
Ernest wobbled a bit and coughed. Val's fingers tightened in his hair, pulling his head back sharply. “Where is the fire-kissed?” Val repeated more slowly.
The beaten man spit at her, only to have his act of defiance caught by the wind and thrown back in his face. Val let his head drop and began walking to the next person in line. As she did, tendrils of flame wrapped around the broken man. He screamed and thrashed, trying to escape, but the fire continued to slither over his flesh like a burning serpent. As his cries became more and more desperate and his voice cracked in terror, the elementalist grabbed the chin of the old woman Stephen had helped, pulling her face around roughly. “Where is the fire-kissed?” she asked again in the same maddeningly gentle tone.
Ezra felt his fingernails bite into the palm of his hand, arms shaking in anger.
“Whazzat... wha's goin' on,” Stephen slurred as he startled awake, bound legs kicking weakly.
Val's head snapped around, her golden eyes fixing directly on the bell tower.