Chapter 51 Declan
Despite my best efforts at juggling between shielding the Mages’ tower and blasting the troops pouring into the city, my strength, and that of Saltstone’s normally peaceful Mages, was not enough.
Plumes of smoke rose for leagues as abandoned houses and shops were looted and burned.
Fighting around the Merchants’ Guild and Army Compound turned orderly ranks into a brutal tangle of swords, blood, and death.
Hundreds of Kingdom soldiers lay unmoving, but thousands of Melucian defenders slept underfoot.
Thousands upon thousands.
Roads and fields already covered in muddy slush were now slick with blood, and the reek of death and excrement carried far on crisp winter breezes.
The white-tipped mountains of the Spires snapped on their fields of deep green as Kingdom banners rose throughout the city. As if screaming the capital’s last act of defiance, the sword, quill, and Phoenix still soared above the Mages’ tower, despite the dead throughout most of the city.
“We are done, son. You are barely able to stand. Step out of the circle so we can surrender the tower.” Arch Mage Quin’s head rose as he groaned from the doorway.
“You said we can’t surrender the tower. We can’t give them its power, or that of the vein below.” I strained to maintain my shield around the edifice.
The raging river beneath the tower could have fueled me throughout eternity, but my human body could only channel so much power before needing rest. I had crossed my limit hours ago and was only standing thanks to the exhausted Mages crowded around me.
“I know—but it is over, Declan. We have lost. They executed General Vre and Guildmaster Burner an hour ago.” Quin looked up and met my eyes. “They burned them alive. Their screams were heard across . . . No one could . . . I could do nothing.”
The Arch Mage stepped forward on wobbly legs. A single tear fell down his cheek. I had never seen the man so ashen—or so frail.
“My Mages are exhausted. None of us has the strength to hold off their army. If we surrender, the Queen may let us live to help rebuild.”
“He is right, Declan. I know you don’t want to give up, but you are too important to die in this battle. We need to flee so we can fight another day.” órla’s voice echoed through my head, somber, yet still powerful. She flew from the window to my shoulder, then nuzzled my neck.
Weary tears of mind, body, and soul escaped to roll down my cheeks.
As I began to lower my arms and release my magic, the tower shuddered, knocking everyone off their feet.
The shield fell as I struck the floor.
“What the Spirits was that?” My eyes darted to Quin as he struggled to stand.
The Arch Mage gripped the back of his head. His hand came away coated in blood. His voice shook when he spoke. “I do not know. Nothing should be able to shake this tower, especially while your shield stands.”
Another violent tremor knocked me onto my back.
“Everyone out!” the Arch Mage shouted.
Wide-eyed Mages scrambled to their feet and toward the stairway.
Neither Quin nor I moved.
“Declan, go. I will defend the tower,” Quin pleaded. “My place is here. If we are ever to retake our country, the people will need you. Go!”
The sound of men screaming below filled the chamber, and Quin’s eyes lowered.
He stood slowly and hobbled to the center of the circle, motioning for me to step aside.
The gold-and-silver symbols embedded in the floor flared to life.
Quicksilver light swelled around Quin, bathing him in a brilliant, shimmering aura that oozed with a life of its own.
His eyes blazed, renewed, and his form straightened to its full height.
He uttered one final admonition before starting an incantation whose words strayed well beyond my understanding.
“GO!” Quin’s quiet voice now boomed and echoed through the chamber.
As I left the circle, órla launched from my shoulder and out the window.
I started back, then turned toward the doorway.
As I reached the opening, I ran headlong into a tall woman in black riding leathers and a black cloak.
Lustrous black hair trailed down her back, and the golden-threaded Phoenix on her chest glittered, though no sun shone where she stood.
She sneered at me, then swatted me aside with a silver staff.
I lay stunned against the wall.
“Velius, it is so good to see you again. I was but a child when last we met.”
The woman spoke in pleasant tones, as if she had just returned home from a long holiday.
She raised a palm, and fire bloomed, forming a head-sized ball.
It danced and crackled as if begging for release. She stepped to the edge of the circle.
To my ears, Quin’s voice sounded strangely distant, yet also roared in the small chamber. “Who are you, witch? Why do you threaten this sacred place?”
The woman laughed. “Oh, Velius, really? It has only been a thousand years. How could you forget me so quickly?”
I pressed myself against the wall and crawled toward the door.
“Irina?” Quin staggered back, his eyes wide. “How . . .”
She cackled again. “I vowed to repay each of you for your . . . kindness. As I recall from your lessons, Mages keep their promises.”
Without warning, she threw her arm forward and down, slamming the flaming ball into the circle at Quin’s feet.
At the same time, her Telepathic Gift screamed in discordant notes that somehow made it into my mind.
I was sure they reverberated in Quin’s head.
“You stole my parents, my friends, and my life from me. Now I will take everything from you!”
The tirade seemed to disrupt the normally unflappable Arch Mage.
His quicksilver shell evaporated.
Irina stepped forward and ripped the connection to the river of magic from his grasp. It roared up through the tower and flooded into her. The bloody gems of her crown glowed like seven gory suns, and the walls of the tower shook.
With her right hand, Irina gathered liquid flame and thrust it back into the tower’s center. It raced over Quin, devouring his body with ravenous hunger. What magic remained within the Arch Mage swelled, and in one last act of defiance, exploded outward, knocking Irina off her feet.
The force of the blast and quaking of the tower threw me through the doorway. I tumbled feet over head down the winding stairs, gaining my footing midway down and staggered the rest of the way until I fled the building.
I gaped at the horrific scene before me.
Kingdom soldiers raced from building to building, herding Mages in their cerulean robes like cattle. I ached at the look of resignation in their eyes as they gathered.
Hundreds of bodies lay broken and bloody, scattered across the grounds.
“Declan, run! You have to get away from the tower!” órla screamed.
I hobbled as quickly as my aching, wounded legs allowed.
The groaning and grinding of stones dogged my every step.
Fist-sized rocks and razor-sharp shards rained down, forcing me to use the last of my magical reserve to shield my head.
My heart felt each stone that battered my shield.
I made it to the courtyard between the Mages’ Guild Hall and Academy before my strength gave out.
I fell.
All I could do was lift my head and watch as massive fissures formed in the Mages’ tower. Light, fire, and raging power flooded through each crack as magic strained against its chains.
I looked around at the bodies, the blood-slick stones of the walkways, the death-masks now worn by men I’d called brother or uncle. Anger and grief warred within, despite my body’s refusal to rise.
I lay helpless.
I lay hopeless.
I wept.
And then my soul found peace.
A glorious, painless moment of tranquility that descended from . . . I didn’t know where.
My eyes fixed on soaring wings high above the city.
órla circled once, then an explosion of magnificent Light spread across the sky, as if magic itself had burst apart in some world-ending blast. Blue, white, and silver light shot from the owl in massive waves until the sun and clouds cowered behind her brilliance.
I blinked a few times to clear my vision. When I could see again, I could scarcely believe what my eyes witnessed.
Where órla flew only heartbeats before, a massive Phoenix soared across the sky. Its wings and tail dripped blue flame and spread so wide they blocked out the sky.
Its cry . . .
Dear Spirits.
The cry of the Phoenix stilled my heart.
Even the Kingdom soldiers froze in their frenzy and gaped at the sky.
órla’s voice was the raging of a river, the fury of a storm.
“BOND-MATE, ATTEND! Now you see me for the first time. And I see you. I always have.”
I shuddered as a wave of raw power streaked through my body.
As the world stopped to witness the rebirth of the Phoenix, a thunderous crack, as though the world itself was torn asunder, exploded from the peak of the tower.
The roof burst apart, sending stone in every direction, as Irina’s volcanic flame streaked high into the air.
The walls of the summoning chamber fell away, and she stood alone in the open air, high above the vanquished city.
When her head snapped to the Phoenix, and she let out an angry, otherworldly cry, men below fell to their knees and covered their ears.
Turning from her ancient foe toward the city, fire burst from her palms.
Buildings and homes shattered apart like toys.
Men in blue and green screamed as liquid fire clawed, grasped, and consumed everything in its path.
Her anger burned for leagues, and once-proud Saltstone withered as a dying vine before her fury.
“Stop her, órla. Please.” My plea was a whisper.
The Phoenix’s head snapped toward the tower’s perch, her sharp beak pointing toward her prey. Powerful wings propelled her beyond the speed of any living being as she streaked toward her goal.
Still distracted by wanton rage, Irina’s head was turned away when a talon thrust forward.
At the last moment, Irina threw herself to the stones of the circle.
A massive clap echoed as órla’s talons snapped closed.
Irina had escaped her grasp. She rose to her feet and screamed curses toward the sky, daring the Phoenix to return and fight.
órla ignored her cries.