Chapter 51 Valerie
Val looked towards Traveller’s Arch with mounting dread.
Together with the others, Val had spent the last hour casing the alleys and laneways in the north of the city, ensuring Andreas’s assassins were not lying in wait, but as the full might of his army straddled the horizon, it became clear that Andreas had no intention of striking from the shadows today.
‘I’ve never seen so many Rose-bearers,’ muttered Anouk, from where they stood along Merchant’s Way, halfway between Traveller’s Arch and the Bridge of Tears.
‘Nothing your brother’s dragon can’t devour,’ remarked Nadia.
Val’s magic prickled, a familiar unease tapping her on the shoulder.
The sky started shrieking.
Strix poured from the clouds like spilled ink.
‘Did we know there were this many Stargrazers?’ said Tobias, shrilly. ‘Did anyone count?’
‘What the hell does it matter now?’ said Nadia, stumbling back as though she could outrun the monsters circling them. Bolts and arrows streamed across the sky as the Orders fired their crossbows, but for every Strix that tumbled from the sky, ten more pushed through the clouds.
It was a plague.
A horror.
Val was distracted, once more, by the hiss of her own magic. The ground trembled underfoot. Pebbles danced around her toes as she turned towards a sudden thunder of bootsteps in the east.
Fear boiled in the pit of her stomach.
Another regiment was spilling into the city through Hangman’s Pass.
There was no order to Andreas’s secret second regiment.
No banners or flags proclaiming peace. They came with their swords drawn, cutting down anyone who stumbled into their path.
Townsfolk screamed as soldiers ransacked taverns and churches, smashed windows and toppled statues, sowing chaos across the city.
Some broke off, shoving their way into homes and marching down alleys, where even the rats of Fantome fled in fear.
‘Hell’s teeth!’ cried Anouk.
Andreas was done playing games. He wasn’t here for Sera. He’d come for the city. And this is how he would claim it: by invading every inch of Fantome, terrorizing its people until they fell to their knees and surrendered their will.
It unfolded like a nightmare. Townsfolk flooded the streets, fleeing their homes before their doors were kicked in.
They carried all manner of weapons, rusted longswords and carving knives, ropes and axes, pitchforks and even the occasional stewing pot.
It might have been a stirring sight – all these people fighting for their kingdom with what little they had – if they weren’t dying so damn fast.
Andreas’s army was razing its way through Fantome with a brutality that made even Nadia, the most seasoned killer among them, quail. Swords came down with horrifying swiftness, blood splattering the cobbles as bodies were trampled where they fell.
If they didn’t do something fast, there would be no one left to fight for Fantome.
As Andreas stormed the north bridge with his first regiment, the saints of Fantome ran for the Bridge of Tears, upending their satchels and dumping every last jar of Lightfire into the Verne.
The fruits of Nadia’s sleepless night amounted to a month’s supply.
It was no small boon, but their plan had been so hastily cobbled together, and the recipe for their dilutant as yet untried, they had no idea how well it was going to work.
If it would even work at all.
‘Hurry,’ yelled Tobias, as the Rose-bearers closed in on them.
Without Caruso and Ransom, Val didn’t like their odds in hand-to-hand combat. But if they could break the prince’s compulsions, they might have a fighting chance.
The grey waters of the Verne turned gold as the Lightfire tricked through it. Paola climbed the railings and threw out her arms, calling on her power.
A nearby Strix dropped low, marking her as prey.
Nadia shoved Tobias across the bridge. ‘Come on, Saint of Beasts. Get to it.’
Tobias gripped the railings, his brows knitting as he tunnelled into the well of his own power. Val’s magic rippled in answer, sensing the threads of his magic reaching towards the sky.
He gritted his teeth as the Strix dived, as violent as a bullet. It stalled mid-flight, floundering a hundred feet or so above the river, as though it had forgotten how to fly. Its wings dropped and it listed towards the bank.
‘Good,’ hissed Nadia, steadying the boy by his shoulders.
Sweat poured down his face as he commanded the bird.
It pulled up sharply, stirring a brisk wind that carried the scent of rot.
Its rider cried out, yanking hard on the reins, but the Saint of Beasts had woven his spell and the Strix now answered to him.
He sent it soaring over the bridge, towards the harbour, where it bucked at the crack of its rider’s whip.
One down. Hundreds more to go.
Further north, a flock of Strix were circling Traveller’s Arch. It looked as though a feeding frenzy had broken out, the squall of black feathers swallowing the arch and, with it, Sera, Ransom and Caruso.
Val’s heart gave a painful beat. Ransom would die to protect Sera, but who would look out for Caruso?
Tobias drew a steadying breath as another Strix came. This one he scrambled in half the time. Soon, his hair was sodden with sweat and the blood vessels in his eyes had burst. The Strix were not just beasts but monsters.
To get inside their heads … to stay there…
‘He can’t do this much longer,’ said Anouk. ‘We need to get off the bridge.’
Val paced, watching the advancing Rose-bearers. ‘Paola, hurry!’
The Saint of Storms couldn’t hear her. She didn’t notice the Rose-bearers coming for the bridge or the monsters diving from above.
Her eyes – and her magic – were on the river.
It lifted in ribbons of fine gold mist, the water level dropping as clouds formed like a skim along the top.
Lightfire glimmered. It was not yet a lightstorm, but it was a start.
The surface receded, revealing tendrils of plants sprouting from the riverbed, and the debris that had gathered there over the years: stone and refuse, broken furniture and clothes, sunken boats and lost coins.
Pale gold clouds formed a canopy, pushing the Strix higher. The wind stirred, carrying Paola’s storm – and all that raw heaving magic – over Merchant’s Way.
Not a single Rose-bearer looked up or stopped to contemplate the golden sky. When the rain fell in fat glittering drops, they didn’t notice that either. Not until the Lightfire plinked off their helmets and slid down their faces, sprinkled their cheeks and pooled along their lashes.
It was only then that they blinked. And frowned. Returning to their senses with such quickness their swords clattered in the streets.
Val’s relief was short-lived. It was raining across Merchant’s Way, but there were soldiers on the bridge. Still compelled. Still armed.
Anouk crushed her fists, wrenching a lamp post from the ground.
It fell at the foot of the bridge, flattening two Rose-bearers.
Their swords flew across the cobbles, and Val lunged to grab one.
Nadia swiped up the other. The bridge trembled as Anouk fought to gain control of her magic.
More Rose-bearers charged, too far from the cleansing effect of Paola’s storm. Too enthralled to reason with.
Try it, urged the old voice, and Val found herself running headlong towards them, pushing ahead of her friends.
She swung at the nearest soldier, beating him back. With fire in her eyes and magic on her tongue, she hissed, ‘Listen well to the Saint of Truth!’
The soldier froze.
‘You are destroying the city you once swore to protect. Think for yourself! Act for yourself!’
The soldier lowered his sword, blinking dumbly. With a hiss of satisfaction, Val watched the colour return to his cheeks, the blue of his eyes deepening as the haze cleared. ‘My head …’ he said. ‘There was such a fog.’
Val was already pushing on, towards the next pair of Rose-bearers, who looked intent on decapitating her. She cried the same words, ripping the veil from their eyes before their longswords struck.
More converts.
Again, she waded, further into the fray, crying out her message of truth. It wasn’t enough to turn the tide of war, but soon there were five soldiers thinking for themselves, then seven, ten…
Paola’s magic battered the city, Lightfire falling from the skies like liquid gold.
Soon, the Saint of Storms was all but spent, the last wisps of Lightfire rising slowly from the river.
The clouds over Merchant’s Way were misting in the wind.
But so too was the fog of war. Andreas’s second regiment had succumbed to the rain.
As they returned to their minds, they turned their swords on those who still fought on, defending the good people of the city.
The saints had regained control of the south quarter, but trouble raged up north. Too far from the rain, Andreas and his first regiment were ravaging the city. The skies there belonged to the Strix.
Val had nothing to offer but the voice of truth, yet in the face of Andreas’s silvered lies her magic was a unique weapon. Potent. Vital.
Steeling her courage, she left the Bridge of Tears and went north, into the heart of war.