Storm of the Seven Sins, page 26
I hold my breath as I wait for his reply, but it comes without hesitation. “Of course.” He glances at Kilían, who’s regarding him with an unmistakable expression of pride. Gentian, I realize, looking between the two of them, has been his protégé. “She sent me to find you.”
My mouth falls open, and I start to frame a question. But before I can ask it, “Traitor!” echoes from the space between the trees, and the first blade wings its way out of the shadows.
It’s meant for Gentian, but it never reaches him. With a roar, the Bastarour he’s been petting rears up, twisting in midair. The beast takes the knife in its shoulder, then charges its assailant, bleeding and snarling. Its companions follow, and our army is right behind them, with the skúma and their familiars in the lead. The air is a blur of bullets and blades as black-clad bellators boil out of the treeline and our guards retaliate.
If the Mages need the skúma, then surely they will want them protected. But I can’t tell who’s hit and who’s not as I run for one of the paths that leads through the forest and into the Commonwealth proper, dragging Gentian along with me.
I’m meant to take Jaxon and Kennett. To take a complement of guards. But there’s no time for that. Just me sprinting with my blade in one hand and Gentian’s shirt clutched in the other, hacking at whoever looms up in front of me and shoving branches out of my way. Gentian is panting, trying to speak to me, but I can’t listen. All my focus is on keeping us alive. Until suddenly we’re stumbling out of the forest, unharmed, and into the meadow that lies between here and the training grounds. And by the Sins, I can feel Eva more powerfully now, her presence roaring through the bond.
“Where is she?” I bark at Gentian.
“Under…neath…Clockverk Square…” he gasps, doubling over, his face going red and white and red again. “With…Cordelia. There’s an…entrance…beneath the m-machine shop. L-locked. But I stole…the key.”
“Good,” I tell Gentian, pressing a blade into his hand. He’s a vet tech; he’ll know where to stab where it hurts. “That’s good. Now, run.”
We flee across the field toward the city, the pandemonium of the battle in the forest echoing in our ears.
Chapter 40
Eva
Traalf manages a single, gurgling scream, thick with blood, before he falls. But it’s enough to bring the other bellator stationed on the door running. I recognize him, too: Bellator Gaatlin, who worshipped Efraím Stinar the way the Houses kneel before the many-headed gods. He takes one look at Traalf, bleeding out in front of my cell, and levels me with a glare so filled with hatred, I can feel its weight on my skin.
“What have you done?” he snarls, spinning for the alarm button, on the wall within arm’s reach of Cordelia’s cell.
I cannot let him reach it. In desperation, I hurl the blade between our cages. It flies true, straight between the bars, skidding across the stones to land at Cordelia’s feet. She’s still chained, but she has just enough leeway to reach Gaatlin. I’m sure of it.
My mother doesn’t hesitate. In one fluid motion, she plucks up the blade, hauls Gaatlin against the bars with her chain around his neck, and plunges it into his carotid. Blood pumps from the wound as he slides down the bars, one hand pressed against his throat in a futile attempt to stem the flow. His body jerks, twitches. Then he is still.
The bellators are dead. The room smells like a slaughterhouse. But we live, one step closer to freedom.
“Can you feel your familiar?” My mother’s voice is steady, reminding me once again that she was born to lead alongside an army. That she is trained to fight.
I close my eyes, concentrating. The bond is on fire, filled with a rushing current of electricity that grows stronger by the moment. It prickles over my skin and inside my veins, a sensation almost too intense to contain. “Ari’s coming,” I tell her, gritting my teeth against it. “We just need to hold on.”
My mother’s amber eyes darken. “I name your wolf, Eva Marteinn-Navarro, blood of my blood,” she says, “I christen her Aelina the Brave.”
And then we hear it.
The thud of footsteps, pounding down the hallway outside our prison.
And then, the agonized screams.
Chapter 41
Ari
I have to use all of my knowledge of the training grounds to keep to the shadows as bellators march past us, just feet away, en route to aiding their brethren in the forest. Word must’ve gotten back to them that the Bastarour have switched sides, and who’s responsible, because Gentian’s name is on all their lips. He’s made himself a target, and I’ll never forgive myself if it results in his death.
Luckily, there’s a basement entrance into the skol that takes us into the tunnel system. After we flee the training grounds, we retreat to the tunnels, taking one fork after another, following the magnetic pull of the bond that ties me to Eva. Thank the Architect for it, because we can’t risk using a flashlight, and below ground like this, Gentian has no idea where we’re going. Ultimately, though, we have to surface, emerging in the basement of the vet tech building and crawling through the vent system to reach the machine shop, adjacent to Clockverk Square. It’s dusty up here, and at one point Gentian has a coughing fit that I think might be the end of us. But by a miracle, we’re not overheard, and at last the pull of Eva’s presence is so strong, I know we’ve come to the right place.
I let myself down first, then steady Gentian as he jumps, dragging him away from the arched windows that overlook Clockverk Square, where the bellators patrol. High Priest Erlich, who once made me kneel in the sanctuary all night with a bar of soap between my teeth, is with them, conspicuous in his red robes. As I watch, he disappears into the Great Hall, across the square from the machine shop. It’s the largest space in the Commonwealth, built to house all 10,000 citizens. I’m sure they’re in there; the windows are boarded up. They must be terrified.
I don’t see the Mages or the Executors anywhere.
The bellators’ patrol passes, and Gentian tugs at my sleeve, guiding me down a narrow hallway. “Here,” he mouths again, pointing at a door labeled ‘Hazardous—Keep Closed.’ It’s marked with a skull and crossbones, a lightning bolt beneath them for good measure. “This is one way down. The other is through the Executor’s chambers.”
He pulls a small brass key from his pocket and slides it into the lock. The door swings open, revealing an empty chamber, and Gentian tugs me inside. Then he presses a button, and a secondary door slides shut, closing us in.
“What in the—”
“Shhhh,” Gentian says, pressing a button embedded in the wall. The chamber jolts, then careens downward. I brace myself, glaring at him.
“You could have warned me,” I hiss.
“It’s called an elevator,” he whispers back, grinning. “I’ve never seen you c-caught off-guard before. It’s entertaining.”
As the cursed box continues its freefall, I clear my throat. “Kilían told me all you did for me. You might’ve saved my life.”
Gentian reddens. “That’s not—I didn’t—”
“Of course you did. It was brave. And I’m grateful.” I steal a sideways glance at him. “I want to make sure, though, that you’re not risking your life again right now for the sake of our friendship. Or not just for it, anyhow.”
Gentian straightens as the elevator creaks and slows. “In the beginning,” he says, “s-sure, that’s all it was. If you spoke to Kilían, then maybe he told you how I used to…well.” His cheeks are flame-broiled red, and I shrug, not wanting to embarrass him.
He clears his throat. “I think it was what they called a c-crush, in the Before. One thing hasn’t changed, though: I admired you. I still do.”
Now it’s my turn to blush. He ignores it.
“But Ari, you know I never fit in here, or accepted the Commonwealth’s c-cruel methods. I just didn’t have a way to fight back, other than saving the odd creature here and there, and even that backfired.” He winces, and I’m sure he’s thinking of the time I took the whipping for him. “The Brotherhood gave me something I never had before,” he says, meeting my eyes. “Power. It gave me a way to fight back, and I will not lay it down.”
Pride in who he’s become flashes through me. And then the elevator judders to a stop and the door slides open, revealing the two bellators flanking either side.
I recognize them: Johannes and Paulsen, four years ahead of my Choosing. While they weren’t good enough to qualify for the Thirty, they’re not weak, either.
“Halverson.” Johannes frowns. “You’re not supposed to be here.”
“I know. But I brought a g-guest,” Gentian says, one hand gesturing into the elevator and the other stuffed deep in his pocket, where he’s stashed the blade I’ve given him.
Johannes has brows like parentheses, framing his eyes and drawing attention to his dark gaze. As I watch, they lower in puzzlement. “Who?”
“Me,” I say cheerfully, stepping out of the infernal box right behind him.
He spins to face me. The look of horror on his face would be comical if I wasn’t certain we were about to come to blows.
“Westergaard,” Paulsen says, his voice rattling from the barrel chest that made him shine at underwater training. “Always with the bad choices.”
I smile at Paulsen, my most irritating grin. “You’re here. How bad a choice can it be?”
He lunges at me, which is what I’ve been waiting for. Control when an opponent comes at you, and you have a much higher chance of controlling them. I duck, harnessing the increased speed that comes from being so close to Eva, and slash the tendons behind his bad knee—the one he once took a throwing star to in training. Then I spin my blade, take the butt of the knife, and slam it into his kneecap. He howls, blood spurting, as his leg crumples, and I head-butt him in the stomach, sending him flying into the wall. He hits with a thud that shakes the building, the back of his skull colliding with the plaster, and falls, out cold.
I spin to find Johannes barreling toward me, Gentian clinging to him like a barnacle. He’s huge, though, and manages to drag Gentian with him like my companion is no more than an annoyance. “You’ll pay for this,” Johannes growls, sverd outstretched.
Grabbing his arm with both hands, I slam it against the wall again and again, trying to dislodge his grip on the sverd. He fights me, jabbing an elbow into my gut, making a sins-damned racket that could wake the dead. And then his face goes comically blank and he topples, knocking me to the floor.
I look up to find Gentian grinning at me. “Mnemosyne,” he says, holding up a syringe he must’ve been concealing in his pocket. “He’ll be out for two or three hours, and when he wakes up, he’ll have no idea what hit him.”
By the Virtues. “What in the nine hells did Kilían do to you while I was gone?” I mutter as I roll Johannes’s heavy body off me.
“Nothing I didn’t ask for. I’m still me,” he says in reassurance, giving me a hand up. “I could’ve killed him, after all.”
“True,” I say, looking down at their crumpled bodies. Why isn’t anyone else coming? If this is the level where Eva and Cordelia are being guarded, where are the rest?
“Come on,” I say, disarming the bellators, dividing their weapons between us, and then making my way down the hall, my sverd in one hand and my dagur in the other. Gentian follows, trying to be quiet, but I swear he’s as loud as a stampede of Bastarour.
“Down here,” he whispers, gesturing for me to take the right fork when the torch-lit hallway divides.
I creep right, hugging the wall. And then I smell it: the unmistakable, coppery tang of blood, followed by the outhouse reek of death. At the end of the hallway, a door’s cracked open, and behind me, Gentian gasps.
“That’s where they’re being held,” he says. “Ari, I—”
Whatever he says is lost as I sprint, blades in hand, down the hallway, bursting through the open door. And then I stop short, so suddenly that Gentian smacks into me.
I’m in the luxurious room I recognize from my vision. On the floor lie two dead bellators, blood pooling around their bodies. And in the middle of the room, in cages, are Eva and a tall, amber-eyed woman who can only be Cordelia.
Chapter 42
Eva
Ari’s filthy, covered in dirt, grass stains, and fresh blood. But his face is the most beautiful sight I’ve ever seen, just the same. The prickling electricity crests within me, breaking over my skin, a current undammed and free to flow.
I can’t stop smiling.
“How—” Gentian says, goggling at the two dead bellators.
“The natural-born gifted me with a blade in my eggs,” I say, never taking my eyes off Ari. “From there, it was just a little bit of trickery.”
He breaks into a grin. “Lorne came through? I was s-sure she’d be too frightened.”
“Time enough for reminiscing later,” Ari says, inspecting the keypad. “Eva, tell me you know how to crack this thing.”
“I do,” I say as Cordelia’s eyes widen. “Thanks to Gentian’s help, the bio-ID was disabled. Traalf had to input the code, and I memorized it.”
I hold my breath as Ari inputs the numbers, hoping I haven’t made a mistake. But the locks give way, and the moment they do, Ari leaps for the door to my cell, yanks it open, and envelops me in a fierce hug. His heart pounds against mine, and his burnt-sugar scent fills my lungs. I want to hold onto him forever. To press my lips to his and claim him as my own.
“Ari,” I whisper, “I’m so sorry.”
He tenses against me, his grip tightening. His head lowers, and for an instant, I think he’s going to kiss me. But instead his grip loosens, and he steps back, letting me go. “I’ll tell you one thing, apprentice mine,” he says, in the tone he uses to hide what he’s really feeling. “I’m getting damned tired of having to break you out of prison. Let’s not make a habit of this, yeah?”
My face falls. He came to rescue me, but that doesn’t take away from how we left things. I try to tell myself it doesn’t matter, that if we survive whatever comes, we’ll fix this. Fix us. But still, feeling him pull away from me hurts.
Eva, he says through the bond, his mind-voice pained. Eva, I—
“Westergaard.” My mother’s voice is hard, interrupting whatever he was about to say. Gentian must have gotten the keys to her shackles off Gaatlin or Traalf, because she’s unchained, standing next to the two bellators’ bodies. “How many are with you?”
Through the bond, I feel the warrior’s calm settle over Ari, feel him set his emotions aside. He gives a quick rundown of the situation, and I return the favor as my mother kneels, stripping Gaatlin of his weapons and leaving his comrade for me. I am only too happy to relieve Traalf of his blades.
“I g-got the message to Dresda, like you asked,” Gentian tells me. “Or at least to one of her minions. But I don’t know if she believed me. I had to leave, to wait in the woods with the Bastarour. Otherwise they would’ve k-killed Ari and the Houses’ army.”
So the Houses did come. I wish we knew whether the Mages were on our side. Whether Gentian succeeded in persuading them. But that’s out of our hands now. “You did incredibly well,” I say. “If it weren’t for you, Ari would be dead and Cordelia and I would still be caged.”
Gentian rewards me with a huge smile as my mother straightens. “Was Deveraux Adelman with you when you invaded?” She doesn’t bother to disguise the hope in her voice.
“He was,” Ari says. “But we split up in the forest, with the Bastarour. I don’t know where he is now.”
“I’ll find him.” My mother spits on Gaatlin’s corpse, strapping his weapons belt around her waist. “But now, we have to get out of here, before someone comes looking for these brainwashed lackeys and the ones that you killed. Or before the Mages come to collect Eva. If they get their hands on her, the battle’s lost.”
She heads for the door, leading the way. Sparing a final glance for Ari, I follow.
Chapter 43
Ari
As we flee down the hallway past Johannes and Paulsen’s fallen bodies, I can feel Eva’s wariness, her fear that we’re somehow broken. That even though I came for her, I can’t forgive her for Sebastían and her stubbornness about meeting the Mages in the woods.
I want to tell her she’s wrong. To kiss her until neither of us can breathe, Panther of the West be damned. But we can’t afford distractions, and I’m afraid if I start, I might never be able to stop. So instead, I pour all my energy into staying alive. And a good thing, too, because we emerge from the machine shop into chaos.
Clockverk Square is a battlefield, thick with the stench of death. The bellators from all six Commonwealths, alongside the exiles, fight the Houses’ guards and the skúma on the stones. Blood courses from the bodies of the fallen, trickling downhill to pool around our feet. The world is a cacophony of clashing blades, growls, and the crack and hiss of bullets, the uproar amplified by the buildings that surround the square.
The Bastarour prowl the stones. Their heads rise as one when they scent Gentian, and they charge straight for him, surrounding him. It’s the best protection he could hope for.
I search for our allies and find Riley and Layla at the edge of the square, eviscerating two bellators. In the midst of the crowd, I glimpse a flash of Sebastían’s gleaming teeth as he brings down a third. High overhead, the falcons swoop through the cloudless sky, searching for targets. I don’t see Kilían, Jaxon, or my father. Cordelia has disappeared, on the hunt for Councilor Adelman. The battle has swallowed her whole.
The Mages are conspicuously absent. As is the Executor. But I’m sure it’s just a matter of time until we have to deal with both.
