Of Blood and Smoke

Chapter 51

FIFTY-ONE

Josiah

The use of higher magic wouldn’t have been so vehemently discouraged if there had been no reason for the Ancients to be afraid. The bond between myself and Ezra had to be completely broken.

I copied my old mentor’s earlier motions after returning my sword to its holder. The energy built up in my hands and I focused my emotions, concentrating on his betrayal.

The act was one of many I was positive I’d been unwillingly ignorant of until now. My loyalty had been so strong the thought of utilizing their magic or learning their power had never crossed my mind until after I left. Micha had hinted at our indoctrination, but I’d always shut him down.

Sorcerers had been banned from the High Court, or their magic drained by the collective before I’d dealt with them. Their kind were few and far between and a distant memory of Micha and I pressed at the edge of my consciousness.

I recalled the man I called my closest companion urgently whispering in my ear, telling me to open my eyes. He’d tried to tell me there was more and that we’d been fooled. With shame, I remembered I’d soundly reprimanded him and lectured him on faithfulness and loyalty before throwing him out of the room. I’d refused to listen to any criticism of my leaders.

I had to wonder how many souls’ magic fueled the five men I’d been in service to my whole life. Perhaps the Collective’s power would’ve been minor without the stolen talent. Now that I possessed the forbidden knowledge of how they’d risen, Ezra would do anything to prevent me from leaving, fearful the Court’s secrets would be released. The group of five could lose everything.

I looked down at my hands before I thrust more gathered energy toward my opponent. Ezra dodged the missive, whirling around and sending it back before I had a chance to react. The sphere hit my shoulder and sent me tumbling to the ground. It felt like I’d been struck by lightning. I rolled with the pain and sprung back up, grasping my sword once again.

Some of the wraiths and soldiers snuck glances at us as we fought, becoming distracted by the novelty of someone fighting an Ancient. In my lifetime, this had never occurred before. Such was the reverence and worship of the older beings—no one dared stand up to them. My age had been forgotten over the years, but I knew I was somewhere around seven hundred or so. Ezra and the collective were over a thousand years old; only they knew how long they’d been in existence. Only they knew for certain how much power or knowledge they contained.

“Surrender, son,” Ezra spat angrily. “I don’t want to end you.”

He was gaining ground, slowly forcing me across the room while he continued to lob all manner of sorcery at me. I’d been shielding myself with quick twists of my blade, attempting to return the orbs but the onslaught he sent was unceasing.

My shoulder ached with twinges of razor sharp pain every time I moved. Every swipe of my blade felt like an amputation, the poison in the old curse infecting my muscles with its sickness.

My ankle hit the edge of the dais and there was nowhere to go.

“You think to take over? You mean to take my place in the Collective?” Ezra slowly glided forward, glancing between the balls of lights forming above his palms. “Foolish boy.... If only you had done your duty.”

I hopped backward, pointing the edge of my blades forward. “I only mean to protect Della, I’m not here to save the world.”

“Who’s going to protect her once you’re gone?” Ezra sneered, just as another stab of pain tore through me. “You should’ve picked a bride. You know where your loyalty belongs, its built into you.”

“My Lord,” a voice rumbled behind my attacker.

My gaze darted up to meet Micha’s liquid silver eyes as Ezra twirled around. I hadn’t expected him to show up and was pleasantly surprised. I seized the moment and lifted both my swords, my arms screaming in agony before darting forward. The blades crossed through Ezra’s neck.

His head rolled off to the side and Micha ducked to grab the man’s long, blond hair, stopping its progression. The cavernous room fell into complete silence, the candles and torches lining the walls snuffing out at the same time. I returned my swords to the holders on my back and waved my hand through the room, relighting the smoky wax.

“Thank you, my friend,” I nodded to Micha as my adrenaline began to taper off.

He nodded back and turned from me, examining the motionless soldiers and the wraiths awaiting further instructions. “May I?” he asked, grinning at me as his canines descended. “I’ve been waiting a long time.”

“Enjoy,” I replied, returning the smile.

Micha descended on the soldiers, his nails elongated and with a glittering blade in his palm. He was vastly outnumbered by the uniformed men, but my worry was minimal—I’d be joining him in a moment.

I rolled Ezra’s body over with my boot, pausing a quarter of a second for my own fingernails to extend. Lowering myself to a squat, I leaned over the man’s body and shoved my hand into his chest and pulled out his still beating heart. A soldier was staring at me, his skin paling as he watched me. It was an odd response from one who’d seen this same brutality time and time again. Until I remembered.

No one in this chamber had ever witnessed one of their gods’ demises. I’d dared to do the unthinkable.

Licking my lips, I bit into the juicy organ, shuddering as Ezra’s sweet, magic filled blood trickled down my throat. He was getting exactly what he deserved and delivering me what I was owed. Vengeance was delicious. No one would interfere with Della and I without facing my wrath.