Through the Ashes- The Complete Series, page 59
part #1 of Through the Ashes Series
A large hedge rustled to her left, tearing her from her thoughts. Irritated, she glared in that direction and was about to send her fae senses outward to find out who or what had interrupted, when Jaekob climbed out of the bush.
Brushing leaves and twigs from his clothes, he said, “The battle is over there.” He jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “When I saw you weren’t going that way, I thought I should follow you. Are you okay? Do you know this place?” He looked around, admiring the park. “It’s nice, here.”
Bells scowled at him and was thankful she didn’t have lasers in her eyes, or he’d be one to crispy prince. “What do you want? I asked you to stay behind.”
He shrugged and smiled, ignoring her glare. “Yeah. Actually, you told me, you didn’t ask. But the funny thing about that is, you aren’t the boss of me. One of the many perks of being a prince. Plus, we share a rider bond, but I don’t need it to see that something is bothering you.”
He obviously wasn’t going to leave her alone to think, but maybe she could convince him everything was okay and he’d leave her alone for a while. “Everything is fine. I just wanted to sit in a quiet place and think a bit before I go enslave another army.”
His eyebrows twitched and his smile faded. “You know, you aren’t really enslaving them. Sure, you take away their will, but just remember what their will was before you came along. Death, violence, conquest…”
Well, it had been worth a try. Short of using the sword on him, it seemed she wasn’t going to get him to leave. “Fine. You’re right, and they deserve to be turned into unwilling fae.”
Jaekob sat on the bench beside her, resting his elbows on the bench back and looking up at the sky. He looked so relaxed and casual, completely at odds with her own inner conflict. “You know I don’t agree with the fae setup, and you have my word already that, when I become the First Councilor, I’ll put an end to that practice. Your people will be free someday. Sooner than that if I can sway my father to do something about it. But what’s really bothering you?”
“I’m not sure. Honestly, I want to destroy the sword. I don’t want to enslave people. Or ‘take away their will,’ or whatever.” There, she said it out loud. Now it was real.
Jaekob’s eyes went wide for just a moment, and fear streaked through his aura brightly enough for her to see it without having to actually look. “You want to destroy it? I sense a ‘but’ in there, or you would have done it already. Am I right?”
Bells felt bile rising in the back of her throat, and she swallowed hard. If her hands hadn’t been resting on her lap, they probably would have trembled, just as her stomach was. “It’s that ‘but’ I question. And the answer is, I think the sword is right. If peace is to be maintained, then…”
As her voice trailed away, Jaekob put his hand on her leg. The only physical sign he gave that matched his aura’s clear turmoil were his flaring nostrils. “Then… what? Say it.”
She huffed and put her hands over her face. “Then, I have to burn away their will like so much deadwood, stripping away all the vile, disgusting traits people have to give them a better, peaceful world, but the price would be high.”
“Which price? The ability to kill each other over petty differences?”
“No,” she snapped. She took a deep breath, then continued, “Love, art, spirituality, all ripped out of them because it’s the only way to get rid of the hate, the destruction, the focus on self at the expense of all else. And yet, I clearly believe it is worth the price or the sword wouldn’t be with me. I think I know what I have to do, I just don’t want to.”
He had listened quietly as she spoke, his hand lightly rubbing her leg and maintaining that gentle, physical contact, but now he shouted, “No!” and clutched her leg tightly. “You’re wrong. Tell me you don’t really believe it.”
She ached to tell him what he wanted to hear, but she couldn’t. She looked away, blinking back tears.
“Saving the world that way will end whatever was worth saving in the first place,” he said. “If you ever trusted me at all, if you have any kind of feelings for me, then listen. You can’t do this.”
“And why not? Why do you care so much, all of a sudden?”
“Because not only will you destroy everything good in the world, but you’ll destroy the Bells I know… and love.”
Before it even consciously registered what he had just said, her head whipped around and she stared into his eyes, already shifting her sight to see his aura. How dare he lie, just to manipulate her—
Except that he wasn’t lying. Tears brimmed over, coursing down her cheeks, and no amount of blinking kept the tears at bay. She fought it, but the feelings washing through her were overwhelming, more a tsunami than a wave.
She leaned forward and buried her face in his chest. “After everything I’ve done?”
Gently, Jaekob said, “I believe in you more than you believe in yourself. You’re struggling with the fact that you’re a part of what is happening, but I believe that taking everyone’s wills and stripping away what makes them each unique isn’t necessary. Nor do you need to destroy the sword. We can find another way to make peace in this world, and I’ll prove it.”
He took her face in both hands and gently raised it up toward his to look at her with such intensity, it was as though he searched for her soul through the windows of her eyes.
She wondered what he would find, but no matter what, he was wrong about one thing. “The truth is that even you don’t think they’re worth fighting for. You’re happy to let me use the most potent weapon in the world to fight for your people—for all our people—but you don’t care enough or believe in them enough to fight for them yourself.”
Jaekob frowned. He even looked a little angry. “How many times do I have to tell you that I’ll fix many things? But only when the time feels right.”
“You won’t even fight for my people, actual victims and slaves right now. Why should I believe you when you talk about ‘someday’ making it right?”
“So, we disagree on what to do and when to do it. How does that mean I don’t value the people?” His voice rose an octave and he leaned toward her as he spoke, eyes faintly glowing.
She had hurt his feelings, but it had to be said. She found herself almost shouting at him though they sat only a foot apart. “This is simple, but I’ll spell it out for you. You refuse to believe people are worth saving and you’re their leader. If you don’t believe it, then I can’t believe it either. Since we both won’t believe they’re worth saving, the sword was right all along.”
Even as she said it, she heard the fire in her voice. It started as a smoking ember, but by the time she finished, her voice had grown into an angry bonfire.
The heat of that fire dried her tears better than any tissue.
She shook his hands off her and stood facing him with her hands clenched into fists. “This time, listen to me when I say don’t follow me. I have a city to save, but it’s only the first of many, and I have no idea how long it will take me to finish the sword’s work. Maybe you’ll be here for me when I get back, or maybe you won’t be able to look at me. Creation knows, I won’t be able to look at myself. Goodbye, Jaekob.”
She turned and began to run, heading back toward the action, toward the fighting. She couldn’t bear to look at him, to see his confusion and hurt, and the realization that she mirrored his feelings was enough to nearly drive her mad.
A part of her was relieved when Jaekob didn’t get up to join her in the mission. She didn’t want anyone she cared about to see what she was going to do, much less someone she loved.
Heading north toward the docks fighting, a tingling sensation rang through Bells’ mind and she opened herself up to whoever was trying to contact her. Ah, it was a familiar guest. “Hawking. I can’t talk now, I’m—”
Yes, I know. You’re headed toward the docks, but the attack there is only a diversion.
“That can’t be. A diversion for what?” She stopped in her tracks, though. Hawking wouldn’t have contacted her without believing he had a good reason.
There is fighting going on at the manor. That has to be the real attack. You have to get back there. Run!
“But the docks—”
Forget about the docks. The Guardians there are holding their own just fine. The Black Khan found some way to get his forces directly into the Dragon District, into the manor itself, bypassing the Wards.
“Oh no… Thanks, I’m on my way there.” Bells pulled away from the contact, severing it. She turned and ran.
On her way to the manor, she passed a unit of trolls and another of weres and elves who had already been turned loyal to her by the sword. She grabbed them from their startled officers. One tried to fight her, angry that a fae dared talk to an elf that way, and he pressed his attack hard. She just had his unit detain him while used the sword on him. By the time she got to Mikah’s property, she had the better part of a platoon running behind her.
The first thing she noticed was that there were no Guardians out front. The second thing she noticed was the sounds of battle echoing through the shattered front door. Hawking had been right. It had to be the mirror. The mystery of its purpose was solved.
She ran through the front door without slowing down. A spear zipped toward her face and she ducked at the last moment. A cry behind her showed one of her trolls hadn’t been as fast as she was.
Trying to duck down while sprinting wasn’t wise. She tripped and tumbled forward, but rather than landing on her face, she rolled over her shoulders, coming up on her knees and thrusting her sword through the belly of an elf wearing Black Khan colors. She yanked her blade clear and continued across the foyer.
On the other side, two trolls came through a doorway armed with their massive compound bows already drawn, and they wasted no time in launching their arrows. Neither were aimed at her, though, and down went two of her elves. Her trolls threw their spears in retaliation and ended the threat.
She burst from the exposed foyer into the hallway beyond. It was less exposed than the large, empty foyer, but hallways were dangerous places with no place to hide. As if reading her mind, an elf leaned around the corner with a bow and fired, then ducked back. Bells frantically held her sword in front of her and cringed, looking away. From the corner of her eye, a troll’s large club swooped between her and the arrow and there was a loud thwak as the arrow embedded itself into the club.
Bells’ troops flowed around her, charging forward. At every doorway, every intersection, the fighting was brutal. As she traveled down the hallway, however, she used the sword to recruit every enemy she could, and her troop count managed to stay about the same, or even grow a little, though it was hard to tell with any certainty in all the chaos.
When she reached the largest conference room, a familiar place to her now, she found Mikah and his chief of security, along with much of the household guard, exchanging arrows and gunfire with whoever was inside. She shouted, “Is that where the mirror is?”
Mikah shouted back, “Yes, but get back. We can’t afford to lose you, and they’re using guns of all things.”
She wasn’t surprised, actually. The Black Khan wouldn’t have gone through so much trouble and expense merely to assassinate Mikah. That might have been one goal, but not the only one. She shouted back, “They mean to get a beachhead inside the Wards.”
He shouted back, “They’re certainly sending enough troops for it.”
Brandon, the Chief of Security—basically, Mikah’s general—said, “Thank Creation you’re here. Use that sword and get us some more troops. We’re running low.”
Bells looked around for Jaekob but he was nowhere in sight. She called across the entryway to Mikah, asking.
He replied, “He went to fetch reinforcements. We were about to fall back, abandoning the property, until you showed up. Now we have a chance to stop them.”
Bells peeked around the corner into the conference room. Two trolls and at least half a dozen elves had passed through the mirror. It now looked much larger than she remembered it. The troops in the room were preparing to charge, and at least two elves had filthy human weapons. Guns were deadly, but they rendered anyone carrying them immune to magical aid and vulnerable to magical attacks. Carrying a gun was a critical weakness.
She had to duck back as the elves sprayed bullets at the doorway, narrowly missing her. She brought the sword blade up to her forehead and concentrated. She focused on the vulnerable, rifle-wielding elves and felt no resistance at all.
Inside, gunfire rang out, along with lots of screaming. She ran into the room without thinking, using her sword to turn a troll who was running for the exit, then an elf doing the same. One of the gun wielding elves lay dead on the floor, a troll spear through his chest, but the troll who killed him was also dead, a bullet hole in his forehead.
To her new soldiers, she called out, “Secure the portal!”
An elf dropped his sword and picked up a rifle off the floor. “We were coming through in waves, each wave larger than the last. Leave the room until we can secure it for you.”
She fled, heading around the corner into the hallway. Behind her, there was a whoosh and then blue-black flames followed her out through the doorway for a moment. She peeked her head back around the corner and saw her troops, dead and burned. Pouring through the portal was a pack of at least six weres. She ordered her troops in, and they engaged the weres.
Bells waded into the battle, too, turning one were after another.
The cycle continued, and the fighting grew more desperate. She kept touching the newcomers with her sword. Many died immediately, but many more joined her army and fought back.
Despite the sword’s recruiting, she slowly lost ground. First, she was backed out into the hallway, then to the foyer, and finally, she and her troops were pushed back through the front door. Of her original trolls and elves, only a couple remained, and she kept them near her side as bodyguards.
Once they were outside and the enemy had room to maneuver, the fighting grew more intense. Her troops were pushed back toward the street. She was hanging on, staying in the fight long enough to allow Mikah to escape, or at least, she hoped since she had no idea where he had gone to. But the fighting was so fierce and so desperate that her troops were getting killed as quickly as she could turn them.
Bells’ arms ached from swinging her sword, and in fact, her whole body was wearing out, while using its power so often drained her mentally. A cramp was forming in her right leg, too. As long as the enemy kept throwing troops into the battle, she realized, she would eventually wear out, and then her troops would, even as the enemy piled fresh troops through the portal.
One of her bodyguards said, “Bells, you must run. We’ll hold them off for you. Fight another day and gather another army.”
She dodged a blow aimed at her head and slashed back at her attacker, sending him reeling to the dirt. “No. I’m staying.”
Those three words were all she had the energy or the breath to say. She would have kept arguing, but all of her focus and energy was taken up by merely staying alive. For how long, she didn’t know.
Oddly, not knowing if this was her last day didn’t bother her as much as she thought it should. If anything, deep down, she embraced the possibility of death. She was tired, so tired, and life had become far too complicated, too painful, with too many doubts and too many fears turned real. She’d never be able to just go back to her simple farm life, as much as she truly wished she could at that moment.
Perhaps dying in battle with an evil enemy, clutching a sword she barely knew how to use, could be the next best thing. Even though she was breathing hard to suck down air like a forge’s billows, she stood straighter and swung harder despite her physical exhaustion. This was as good a day to die as any. She cut down another elf as her frustrated grimace disappeared, replaced by a wan smile.
A dragon fighting beside her, one of the few left alive from the manor, ducked below his opponent’s attempt to shove a spear through his head and, rising up to stand tall again, cut the spear in half with his sword and followed up with a mighty kick to the elf’s chest, sending him reeling backward to knock over two of the elf’s fellow attackers. The dragon grinned wide at her in the brief pause he’d created and said, “Today, you became a real warrior. Now I’ve seen everything—a fae whose heart beats dragonfire in battle!”
Bells backed away from a renewed onslaught while two dragons rushed forward to fill the gap she created. It gave her a moment to look around again and catch her bearings. Situational awareness, Jaekob would have called it. That thought brought him to the front of her mind, and her fierce war face lost its grin. If she died today, she hoped Creation would bless her with the chance to at least see Jaekob once more.
She snarled back, “I just realized I might die here with you, today, but accepting that was almost liberating.”
The dragon let out the deep, resonant, bass-filled rumble, a dragon’s battle cry, then he and two now-friendly elves rushed into a sudden gap in their attackers’ battle line, and the abrupt, pain-filled screams that followed told her the surprised move had been effective.
She was almost tempted to look for an opening of her own to charge through, but alone, that would be suicide. In the heat of the moment, that idea didn’t seem so bad, but only she could wield the sword that was their only hope of containing the attack long enough to find a way to close the portal. She had to hang on.
As Bells took stock of the situation, she realized she was less than a dozen feet from where she had first met Mikah, the very spot where he defended himself against his would-be assassins. That seemed like a lifetime ago, and in a way, it was.
