Chapter 42
Rodrigo arrived on the walls to find Altun standing at the center of a complex pattern drawn in chalk and salt, her arms raised, her voice chanting in an ancient language. The air around her shimmered with heat and power.
Julian stood guard over her, a rifle in his hands and two dead mercenaries at his feet. His expression focused on anything that might threaten his sorceress.
Nearby, Kon faced the burning wall, his own power manifesting as a cloud that pushed back against the green flames, trying to smother them.
Sweat streamed down his face, his muscles trembling with effort, but the unnatural fire was slowly retreating.
Athena was standing guard and looked ready to tear the faces off anyone who tried to mess with him.
"I can feel the djinn," Kon said through gritted teeth, his voice strained. "It's ancient and angry. It doesn't want to serve him."
"Can you use that?" Rodrigo asked hopefully.
"Maybe. If I can reach it, convince it we're not its enemy…" Kon's face contorted with effort. "The binding is strong. Unfortunately, Serapis does actually know what he's doing."
Another wave of green fire crashed against Kon's defenses. He staggered, nearly going to one knee before catching himself.
"He's pushing harder," Altun replied, breaking her chant. "He knows we're resisting. Kon, I need you to draw his attention. Make him focus on you while I work on weakening the binding."
"I'll try." Kon closed his eyes, and the temperature around him spiked. The air shimmered, heat mirages dancing across the terrace. When he opened his eyes, his pupils were blown out until his eyes were black.
The green flames responded, surging toward him with renewed fury.
"It's working," Julian reported, his rifle firing again as he dropped another attacker trying to breach the terrace. "The fire's concentrating on Kon's position. The west wall defenders are getting some relief."
Rodrigo's comms crackled in his ear, "Rodrigo, this is Silas. The pressure's easing on our sector. Whatever you're doing, keep doing it."
"Acknowledged. Hold your positions."
Through the gunfire and haze of heat, Rodrigo watched Altun work. Her face was drawn with concentration, sweat beading on her skin despite the early morning chill. The patterns at her feet began to glow with a soft, golden light.
"The consecration isn't just blocking the gūl," she murmured, her voice threading through the chant. "It's a foundation I can build on. Reinforce it against the djinn's influence."
The golden glow spread outward from her feet, racing along invisible lines of power.
Where it passed, the unnatural shadows and green fire retreated, and the whispers faded.
The compound's ancient protections were somehow being strengthened by Altun's magic.
She swayed, her face going ashen, her chanting faltering for a moment.
Julian was at her side in an instant, one arm around her waist, steadying her even as he kept his rifle trained on the approaches. "Easy, love. I've got you."
"I can't… break the binding," Altun gasped. "He's too strong, but I can block him. Keep his magic from penetrating the sanctified ground."
"Then that's what we do," Rodrigo said. "Hold the line. Buy us time."
The battle raged for what felt like hours.
Rodrigo left the walls and moved between sectors, coordinating defenses, plugging gaps, and making tactical decisions that could determine whether they lived or died.
Vincenzo's professional soldiers were good, but they weren't prepared for the compound's fortifications or the lethality of the defenders.
Giana kept her promise and alerted him to any new threat before it descended on him.
Dario held the east like a man possessed, acting like a rallying point for their loyal men, his booming voice cutting through the noise to direct attacks and coordinate movements.
Frederica fought beside him, her guns singing death with every shot, her movements so fluid and precise that even mid-battle, Rodrigo caught glimpses of Dario watching her with something that might have been admiration.
Silas commanded the west with quiet efficiency, his experience showing in every tactical decision. Athena and Kon left Altun to handle Serapis and became a two-person wrecking crew, moving between hotspots wherever the fighting was fiercest, leaving bodies in their wake.
Through it all, the gūl waited at the perimeter, silent and patient, their dead eyes gleaming in the growing light.
An hour passed. The magical assault weakened first with the green flames flickering, the shadows retreating, the whispers fading to nothing. Altun had done it. The sanctified ground held.
With their magical support failing, the conventional attackers began to lose heart.
Giana used the moment and sent a message across all the enemies' comms announcing that Vincenzo didn't have the money to honor their payments.
The coordinated assault devolved into desperate pushes and hasty retreats.
By the time the sun fully rose over the Tuscan hills, the ones who could still flee were gone.
The gūl remained.
"They're not following them," Leo reported, his voice exhausted but relieved. "The surviving attackers are falling back beyond the tree line, but the gūl are still there. Just standing there and watching."
"They can wait," Altun said weakly. She was seated on a stone bench, Julian hovering protectively beside her. "Serapis won't waste energy maintaining them indefinitely. Once he retreats to recover, they'll collapse."
"And he'll be back," Rodrigo said flatly.
"Yes." Altun met his eyes, and she looked more pissed off than he had ever seen her. "This wasn't a serious attempt to take the compound. It felt more like a test to annoy us and see how we defended it, or…" Altun broke off mid-sentence and was suddenly on her feet and running.
"What the fuck?" Dario asked.
"Follow her!" Rodrigo called, but Julian was already racing after her.
They found her down in the holding cells, swearing loudly in Turkish.
Rodrigo gagged as the smell of burned flesh hit him.
Luca, Conti, the men who had attacked him on the road, as well as the handless torturer, were all dead.
They were curled up in odd kneeling positions, their eyes and mouths open in silent screams.
Rodrigo's body broke out into a cold sweat. "What the hell is this?"
"This is why Serapis sent a siege to distract us," Altun growled. "They all knew something that they shouldn't."
"Ew, that's some creepy fucking shit," Athena said, looking into Luca's silently screaming mouth. She poked at his cheek, and his body crumbled into ash. She squeaked in surprise and said, "I didn't do it!
Kon picked her up and lifted her out of the ash around her so she didn't walk through it. "You just had to touch it," he said in mock disapproval.
"Hey, Dario, I'll give you fifty euros if you eat some of the ash," Frederica said, making Dario dry heave. She cackled in glee.
"If they all knew something that Serapis wanted them dead for, then we have to find out what it was," Dario said finally, his face still a little green.
Rodrigo nodded grimly. "Then we need to find the old bastard and get to him before he tries to take us out again."
Rodrigo left them in the cells and went to inspect the battered but still-standing compound. They had survived a battle, but they hadn't won the war. Not until Vincenzo and Serapis were dead.
His comms crackled, "Rodrigo?" Giana's voice, steady despite everything. "Leo says the attack is over. Is everyone okay?"
The tension in his chest eased slightly at the sound of her voice. Alive. She's alive.
"There is some weird shit in the cells, but our casualties are light, all things considered," he replied.
"Then get back here. We need to talk about what comes next. We haven't had eyes on Vincenzo, but I'm onto it. Maybe if we find him, we find Serapis."
What comes next. Rodrigo looked toward the perimeter, where the gūl still stood their silent vigil, and thought of Serapis. Their enemy, whom they had thought dead, was now not only alive again but was in possession of more powerful artifacts than the Edgeworths had found in his Russian base.
What came next would be a fight unlike anything they had faced before, but as he made his way back toward the villa, toward Giana, Rodrigo found that the prospect didn't fill him with dread.
They had survived the first blow. They would survive what followed.