Fracture (The Machinists) (31 page)

Chapter 23

C
rash!

Allyn burst from the tree line, dashing for the manor. Running under only the cover of darkness, he felt exposed. He focused on the back of the manor, where Liam said Lukas had positioned two magi guards on watch, ready to drop and hide in an instant or dodge an attack.

Graeme and Jaxon were with him, but the rest of their squad stayed hidden among the trees, waiting for their signal to advance. The back of the manor was dark and silent, an indication the diversion was working.

Crash!

Allyn imagined the diversion in action. Mason was hammering the front of the manor with ice like a battering ram. They had hoped Lukas would draw his forces together in the grand entryway, ready to repel their attack from a fortified position. As he did, Allyn and the others would slip in the back.

Allyn slipped on a rock and fell to the ground, catching himself with his hands so he didn’t faceplant into the soggy grass. Someone grabbed his arm and yanked him forward. It did little to help him regain his balance, but it kept him moving forward. There still wasn’t any activity in the back of the manor. The guards must have moved to the main entrance with the rest of Lukas’s force. Their plan seemed to be working.

Allyn was the last to make it to the manor, throwing his back against its stone exterior, hidden under the first-level windows, beyond the view of anyone inside. Graeme raised his fist into the air, giving the signal for the others to advance, and five more magi broke from the tree line racing for the manor.

With the next wave of magi approaching, Jaxon slipped up the spiral stairwell to the second-story balcony, valuing silence over speed. Allyn was close behind. They arrived at the back door as the other magi neared the manor. Inside, the room was empty. Sofas, armchairs, and a bar had once been arranged neatly around the living space, but the furniture had been used for barricades. There were no signs of the guards Liam had seen on his monitors.

Jaxon counted silently, and on three, he pulled the door. It didn’t open. Allyn cursed. Breaking into the manor wasn’t going to be as easy as they had hoped.

Crash!
Shouts echoed deep inside the manor. Allyn found the security camera protected under the eave of the roof and gave a thumbs-up. Liam said he could loop the feed so that anyone inside watching the monitors would see only old footage from before they had gathered on the balcony. Liam, however, would be watching the live feed.

I hope he knows what he’s doing.
Allyn had faith in the kid, but he wasn’t sure it was enough to trust him with his life.

“Noise,” Jaxon whispered, handing Allyn his cell phone. It was a product of the early century, a bulky flip phone without a touchscreen. A few months ago, Allyn would have been embarrassed to carry it around, but it had become his lifeline.

We need noise
, Allyn texted Liam.
Five seconds.

Moments later, a series of explosions and concussions pounded the night, drowning out the sound of shattering glass as Jaxon drove his elbow through the glass door. When nobody came to investigate, Jaxon stepped into the room.

Allyn looked down from the balcony, nodding to Graeme. The five magi waiting nearby ascended the staircase and streamed into the vacant room with Jaxon as the last group advanced upon the manor. As the group of twelve, including Nyla and Leira, closed in on the manor, Allyn entered.

How long until Lukas realizes the attack in front isn’t an attack?
No time for that.
The sooner they got their force inside, the less time Lukas would have to discover the truth.

Graeme led the last squad into the sitting room.

We’re in
, Allyn sent Liam, exhaling softly. They’d cleared the first hurdle.

The east and west wings are quiet
, Liam sent back.
Don’t know from there.

The security cameras only covered the entrances to the manor. It was the glaring flaw in their plan. Once inside, Liam was blind. Allyn showed Jaxon the message.

“East wing,” Jaxon whispered to Trevin.

Trevin nodded and led a team of five magi toward the east wing, where they would wait for the order to advance.

“We’ll take the west wing,” Jaxon said before turning to Nyla. “You’ve got the center hallway of the second floor.”

That meant Graeme would take the center hallway of the first floor, where he stood the best chance of encountering Lukas. There had been some debate as to whether that should be Graeme, but he had eventually won out. It was his Family, and therefore, Lukas was his responsibility.

Allyn sent Liam the final message:
Moving out.

With nothing but the occasional squeak from the hardwood floor or creak of a hinge, the magi squads filed out of the room. Jaxon waited for the rest to shuffle out before nodding to his squad and leading them to the western wing. Allyn brought up the rear while Leira fell into position behind Jaxon. This was a stealth mission, and they would rely heavily on Leira’s ability to silently incapacitate enemy magi.

The western wing of the manor was made up largely of bedrooms, bathrooms, and a handful of sitting rooms. They had intentionally closed the doors when they were fortifying the manor, and they had remained closed. Jaxon had the rooms searched anyway—he didn’t want anyone sneaking up behind them—and after discovering them empty, they continued on.

A sharp gasp was followed by muffled scream, and then silence. Jaxon walked back through the hall toward Allyn, their first victim slung over his shoulder. He carried the man into one of the bedrooms and gently laid him on the bed, more for the sake of silence than respect. Allyn knew what came next.

Jaxon placed his hand over the man’s chest and buried ice through his heart. The man lurched chest-first into the air, eyes bulging, and Jaxon held him down as he thrashed and cried. Then, as quickly as it began, it ended. His body slumped, going motionless, as his eyes glazed over.

Allyn swallowed the bitter taste in his mouth. The man would have killed them, but something didn’t feel right about killing a man in his sleep. Jaxon didn’t look as though he had enjoyed it, either. He patted the man’s chest and whispered something to him—a final goodbye between Family.

Jaxon closed the door and stepped past Allyn. “It had to be done.”

“I know,” Allyn said.
But that doesn’t mean I have to like it
.

Allyn had barely recovered when the manor shook under the thunder of explosions. He braced himself against the wall as boarded-up windows shattered. Dust fell from the high ceilings, and a painting crashed to the floor in the distance. Shouts of alarm were followed by more giving orders. One of their squads had met resistance. The time for stealth was over.

Liam ordered the magi reserve unit forward, marveling at his sudden rise in influence. Yesterday he’d been an outcast and a symbol of their dwindling power. Today, he was their hope—and commander. That power also meant he was ordering men to their deaths. He wasn’t sure how he felt about his newfound respect. Sometimes, reality struggled to live up to the dream.

Mason led the reserve unit out of the forest in a frantic charge for the front of the manor. Light flashed behind obscured windows, and the sound of explosions was muffled by the stone walls of the manor. Wisps of smoke rose over the roofline from the south end of the manor. A soft breeze kept the sweet smell away, but Liam would have to keep an eye on it. If it grew too thick, he would have to signal a retreat—a fire could kill more than a battle with Lukas. And if they lost the manor to fire, why continue to fight?

Mason and his squad dropped behind the protection of the garden’s retaining wall and waited for Liam’s signal. The three-foot-tall concrete wall rose with the stairs up to the double-door front entrance, giving the elevated entryway its own lush garden full of shrubs, flowers, and small trees.

Liam checked the security feed. Once the battle had begun, the cameras had done little to aid them, but some eyes were better than none. And sometimes, knowing where someone
wasn’t
could be as important as knowing where they
were
. The entrances were quiet. Nobody was trying to sneak out the back door, so Liam waited. His signal was really a
lack
of one. By doing nothing, he told Mason that he was clear to proceed. If Liam ordered someone to blast the entrance with more fire and ice, then Mason was to hold his position.

Five seconds passed, then Liam watched Mason storm the stairs. Fortunately, they weren’t met with resistance, which was a sign they hadn’t been seen. Liam didn’t see how he did it, but he
heard
it. Louder and more powerfully than any of his previous attacks, Mason blew the double doors off their hinges.

From the distance, Liam couldn’t see inside the manor, but he did see Mason dive to the side, narrowly avoiding an enemy attack. The man behind him wasn’t so fortunate. It sent him sailing through the air, landing unnaturally on the concrete at the base of the stairs.

He didn’t get up.

Liam’s stomach churned.
Who was it? Kevin? Rory? Anderson?
The motionless body was too far away for him to tell. A strong hand grabbed him by his shoulder.

“There’s nothing you can do.” Andrew stood a head taller than Liam. With closely shaved blond hair and the patchy beginnings of a beard, he was only a few years older than Liam, but he always made Liam feel like a child—something made worse by the fact that Andrew was the only magi whom Graeme had ordered to stay behind to protect Liam, the children, and magi who were unable to wield. He pulled Liam back into the cover of the forest.

When did I step out from the trees?

The fallen magi remained motionless, and no one came to his aid. Someone should have helped him. All of the clerics were inside the manor.
But someone should do something!

“I know,” Liam said. “I just wish I knew who it was.”

“Would that make it any easier?”

Liam sighed. “You’re right.” He let Andrew pull him deeper into the trees, where the rest waited nervously. Mostly children and adolescents, they were gathered in a semicircle, sitting on fallen logs, pacing, or crying while the few adults in their group did their best to calm them.

Liam struggled to get the image of the fallen magi out of his head—the way his leg was folded unnaturally beneath him and how his arm was bent awkwardly at his side. Liam hoped that despite the odds, the man was alive, but that also meant he was dying alone.

Slapping Andrew’s hand off his shoulder, Liam darted back to the manor. Andrew yelled for him to stop, but Liam charged ahead. Family didn’t leave Family behind. They didn’t run away when things looked bad. A Family fought with each other, for each other, and for as long as it took, until victory was at hand. He broke from the trees into the open and, without having to worry about tripping over the underbrush, pushed forward with renewed vigor. Andrew cursed behind him. So he
was
following him.
Good.
Liam would need his help dragging the fallen magi to safety.

A fireball sailed through the air above him. Mason’s squad was having difficulty entering the manor. They were lined up against the exterior, shooting quick attacks inside before ducking behind the wall. Two more magi had fallen.

Liam cursed. Was he going to carry them to safety, too?
One thing at a time. Grab the closest one first. Get him to safety. Then worry about the rest.

Liam slid to a stop beside the fallen magi. It was Rory. He was worse than Liam imagined. He’d taken a fireball to the chest; his face and arms were red and blistered, and the edges of the burns were dark and crispy. His tattered shirt was completely missing below his chest.

But he was breathing.

“Damn it, Liam,” Andrew said, closing in behind him. “What are you doing? You’re going to get yourself killed.”

“Help me.” Liam took Rory below the armpits and waited for Andrew to take his legs. “He’s alive. We need to get him back to the forest.” Andrew harrumphed but grabbed Rory by his waist. Rory’s broken leg swayed nauseatingly under him. “I couldn’t leave him.”

Carrying Rory through the forest proved to be more difficult and slower than Liam had expected. Liam’s feet seemed to catch every root, vine, and rock. He almost fell twice, once bouncing Rory’s bad leg off the ground. Rory stirred at that, moaning and rocking his head back and forth. Liam winced, apologized, and kept moving.

“Make way!” Liam ordered. The group of nonwielding magi cleared, allowing Liam and Andrew to lay Rory on the ground. “Fetch some water,” he said to no one in particular. “We need to get a splint on that leg.”

Andrew nodded. They found two branches that were mostly straight and butted them up against the sides of Rory’s leg. The way they’d laid him down, it was mostly straight, though bent slightly to the side at the knee.

“Hold him steady,” Liam said.

Andrew held him by his shoulders.

Liam exhaled softly and took Rory’s foot, placing his other hand above Rory’s kneecap. He lifted it about six inches above the ground and rotated it. Rory’s knee twisted without resistance, nearly making Liam sick. Rory barely moved, his unconsciousness acting as a natural anesthesia. Once the knee was in place, they repositioned the branches and bound them together with their belts.

Exhausted, Liam sat back.

Pepper, a young boy whose hair couldn’t decide if it wanted to be light or dark, returned with water.

“We need to clean his wounds,” Liam said. The boy paled.

“I’ll do it.” Joyce stepped forward. In her early thirties, her hopes of wielding had died long ago, and with them, so had her dreams of becoming a cleric. But she had found her place in taking care of the clerics’ wounds as they healed. She took the canteen from Pepper and gently poured its contents over the wounds on Rory’s arms, slowly washing away the dirt and debris.