Powers of the Six (42 page)

“He appears to be alone.”

“Is he in range?”

“No, Your Majesty,” Kael said. “He’s using some sort of device, a sling of sorts. The archers can’t reach him.”

“Certainly one man is no match for your swordsmen.”

“Of course not, Your Majesty.”

“That is, if you have any left to send.”

Kael flinched. “We will dispose of him immediately.” He disappeared just as a fourth crash resonated, this time closer than the others.

Alcandor’s eyes shone orange with Perception, his brow furrowing into a furious scowl. “If you would excuse me,” he said, as if speaking to guests. He bowed and disappeared.

The thunder of another stone sounded against the fortress wall. Whatever was happening, it would keep the Rol’dan busy for a while.

“Sounds like someone is stirring up quite a bit of trouble,” Hakan wheezed. “Like my kinsmen.”

“Hakan?” Emery said. “Can you get away?”

Hakan coughed and a trail of blood dribbled down his chin, mingling in his beard. “Don’t think so.”

Megan, forgotten and unbound, cautiously stepped to Hakan, tore open the top of his tunic, and placed her hand on his chest.

“Lass, don’t waste time on me,” Hakan said.

“Oh, shut up.” She smiled, and with a deep breath, she let her Healing come forth. A line of blood soaked through the delicate fabric of her dress, and both she and Hakan arched as the Healing power came over them. She collapsed on her hands.

Hakan—pale yet quite alive—beamed. “That a girl.” He struggled to his feet. “Now, let’s see what we can do about our frie—”

His words were cut off as he flew across the room, crashed into a pillar, and crumpled to the ground.

Alcandor grabbed Megan’s arm and yanked her to her feet. He squeezed and she yelped. He then stuck his dagger into her side.

“Alcandor!” yelled Emery.

“Not to worry.” He removed the dagger and the wound closed. “As you can see, Healers recover quite well.”

He stabbed her in the shoulder and yanked it out; she screamed and began to cry as her wound closed.

“If I want to kill a Healer,” —he stabbed her again in the thigh— “the easiest way is to cut off their heads.”

“Leave her alone, you piece of filth!”

Alcandor’s eyebrows shot up. “Now is that any way to talk to your king? Of course, I couldn’t do such a thing. She’s too beautiful for something that horrific. Besides, dying quickly would be such a waste.” He stuck the knife in her chest slowly as he seduced her with his mind. Her screams quieted, and she leaned into the blade, flinching and sighing with pleasure at the same time.

Emery’s throat went dry.

“If one is to kill a Healer,” Alcandor said as he pushed the dagger up to the hilt, “one must leave the blade in.” He opened his palm, admiring the blade like a piece of art. She reached toward it, and he gently directed her hands away, shushed her, and then he released his mental hold.

Megan, coming into the shock of the moment, stared at the blade. “No. Please, no.” She wrenched against him; the bloodstain spread.

“Struggle if you wish. You’ll only die quicker.”

Megan’s face paled as her body became limp in the king’s arms. He relaxed his hold, ran his fingers through her hair, and placed her gently on the ground.

How many have lain there before?
Emery wondered.
How many more must there be?

A terrified soldier stopped near the door. “Your Majesty.”

The king ignored him.

The man rubbed his hands. “Your Majesty.”

“As you can see, I’m busy.”

“Y-yes, Lord Alcandor, but we are under attack.”

“And I assume you can defend us?”

“Yes, your grace. But … but …”

King Alcandor sighed. “What is it?”

“There are these things. Giant men. Glowing.”

Alcandor froze, and for the first time in Emery’s life, apprehension oozed from the king. “What did you say?”

“Two men and one woman with glowing swords. They’re huge, much larger than any man. And they’re setting the Dor’Jan on fire—”

“Shh!” Alcandor ran his hand across his brow, stood, and paced the floor, forgetting Megan completely. “No. No! It can’t be. They are gone.
GONE
!”

Alcandor strode behind the throne and removed a very large sword from the wall. Emery had always assumed it more of a decoration than actually something to use.

“I will take care of this,” Alcandor said, “once and for all.” Shoving the soldier out of the way, he left.

The soldier cast them a curious glance and followed his king.

“Giant, glowing men?” Maska said. “What is this madness?”

“I don’t know,” Emery said. He had hoped Nolan had caused the commotion, but now he wasn’t sure.

“Whoever it is,” another voice said, “it sounds pretty lively out there.”

Emery turned, as best as he could, and saw Hakan limping over. He staggered to Megan, carefully removed the dagger, and tossed it aside. Pale green light sealed her wound.

Emery laughed. “I thought you were done for.”

“Nah. Been knocked around by my brothers more than that.”

“She’s alive,” Emery said with a sigh of relief. “Take her away, Hakan. Get her out of here.”

Hakan wiped a nasty wound on his forehead with his sleeve and cringed. “And where do you suppose I go? Especially with giant, glowing things and flaming Dor’Jan hanging around.”

“Use your powers. Hide. You can hear when anyone gets close. Use your senses, like when we had escaped Alton. It’s nearly dark. Use it to get away.”

“Emery is right,” Maska said. “Go while you can.”

“I’ll keep my ears open for a way to get you two free,” Hakan replied.

“No,” Emery snapped. “Save Megan.”

“And if I can you out first, then you’ll have to shut your traps and get saved.” He scowled, giving a stern glare first to Emery and then to Maska and then back to Emery again.

“All right,” Emery said, “but don’t take any chances. Megan comes first.”

Hakan hefted Megan over his shoulder and took a step.

“And, Hakan,” Maska said. “Remember to keep your mouth closed. One word from you and the whole Rol’dan army will hear.” A faint, teasing smiled hinted on Maska’s lips.

Hakan’s eyes opened with surprise. He snorted, holding back one of his bellows. “Now then, if I die, I’ve truly heard everything.” He shook his head. “Maska? Telling a joke?” He wagged his finger at Emery. “You just wait. We might get out of this yet. As you can see, the impossible can come true.”

Chapter Thirty-Four

THE SEA CRASHED against the rocks bordering Faylinn Castle. Daylight faded, painting the murky clouds blood red. No town surrounded the massive structure. No shops. No peddlers selling their wares. Just Faylinn, its vast walls, and the grassy field stretching from wall to the forest’s edge. For the first time, Nolan saw the great city for what it truly was: a prison.

Nolan closed his eyes, listening, pretending he was back home in Galva. He loved the sound of the sea. But he wasn’t home. In fact, he might never return home again. Tonight could be the last night he’d ever hear waves.

He took a slow, focused breath. Large square walls—much higher than the walls of Alton—jutted toward the sky. Along the wall’s edge, pairs of orange lights pierced the growing darkness, pacing back and forth, scanning the dark field. Nolan hid behind the trees, out of sight of those Perception Rol’dan. They couldn’t see him. For now.

As the sky darkened, the moon barely penetrated the black, twisting Nass. Nolan clenched and unclenched his fist, feeling the Strength in him lessen with the sun. Maybe they should wait until morning. The Dor’Jan were coming. He couldn’t see them, but the dirty ooze of them crept through his veins. They were out there in the forest—and crows, there were a lot of them. He’d never sensed anything like it. He pushed down bile and ran a hand over his chin. They couldn’t wait; Megan and Emery could already be dead.

Nolan wiped his shaking hands on his breeches and loaded a head-sized stone on a sling. Flaring Strength, he lifted the man-a-pult (as Rylan had so affectionately named it) and spun it over his head. The chain went taut with the boulder’s weight. He flicked his wrist and let it go—branches cracked as it soared into open space. He held his breath, following its progress as it slammed into the wall of Faylinn.

That should get their attention.

Maim, not kill
. Nolan repeated the phrase in his head. Lieutenant Connelly, the girl he’d nearly killed at the ruins, had quickly switched sides once she knew she could leave the Rol’dan. Others could do the same.

Nolan loaded another stone—this one even bigger. He aimed for the dome and let it go. It cracked with a satisfying spray of debris. “Ignore that, Alcandor.”

Rustling weeds and snapping twigs rushed toward him. He grabbed a spike but relaxed when Lieutenant Connelly broke through the trees. A torch flamed in her hands, and the light danced off her bloodstained Rol’dan uniform.

“Forgive me for startling you, my lord,” she said. “The others are ready to move.”

Nolan shoved the spike into his belt. “Crows! I almost killed you.”

Her hazel, cat-like eyes smiled. “Well, it wouldn’t be the first time.”

Nolan cringed, remembering the wound in her chest at the temple ruins. “I’m almost ready. Is there a good place to get in other than the main gate?”

Her smile faded. “Not really.”

“Any suggestions?”

Her jaw tightened. “Kill as many as you can?”

“Maim, not—”

“Yes, yes. Although there are a few—”

Nolan leveled a gaze at her. “Tell the others to head to the gate once I make my move.”

“About that Deverell fellow,” she said. “He’s unstable. He should’ve traveled to Galva with the others.”

Nolan frowned. “I know. Believe me, I tried. But I couldn’t keep him away.”

Focusing his Perception at the gates, troops gathered—Speed users, he guessed. Kael’s familiar voice barked orders. Nolan’s stomach clenched. He’d been so focused on the king, he’d nearly forgotten about Kael.

Nolan loaded another boulder-sized stone and hoisted the sling over his shoulder. Lieutenant Connelly stepped back as he began the rotation overhead. The steady whoosh cut through the silence, building in momentum and intensity. Surging Speed, Nolan increased the pace. As the gates to the fortress opened, he released the stone.

The rock tumbled through the air and connected; the wall above the gates crashed, spraying rubble on a group of soldiers. Several torches and swords dropped to the ground as they covered their eyes. Kael glared in Nolan’s direction. At least he was still too far away for Kael to recognize him.

Nolan repositioned his spikes: fifty deadly projectiles that would soon find their mark. A vision of dead soldiers flashed in his head. His chest tightened.
Maim, not kill
.

Lieutenant Connelly stared at Nolan, awe pouring from her like he was some sort of nightforsaken god.

“Go,” Nolan said. “Get moving.”

She inhaled, her face half-shadowed in the light of her torch. “Yes, my lord.”

Nolan sighed. “And please, call me Nolan.”

“As you wish, Lord Nolan.”

She disappeared back to the Guardians, Vikas, and the other Speed users who hid at the other side of the woods. A row of Accuracy archers gathered on the wall. It was Nolan’s turn. He needed to clear the path so his friends wouldn’t become pincushions. As the last sunlight disappeared, he drew out his Speed and sprinted toward the waiting Rol’dan army.

The world slowed with Speed senses. Nolan cut across the empty field separating the forest and the wall. Grabbing his spikes, Nolan surged his Perception and focused on the archers. With Strength and Accuracy behind his throw, he flicked in rapid succession, and the spikes continued on what looked like a slow journey. He tore his eyes away as each spike jammed into the crook of their arms; they screamed and collapsed, dropping their bows and weapons.

Nolan thought of how many times they’d impaled him at the trials.
Let’s see how they pull their bowstrings now.

His brief moment of elation fled as a cloud of hopelessness hit him full in the chest. He skidded to a halt; his arms relaxed, falling to his sides as a spike slipped from his palm and
thudded
into the soil. He jerked from the sensation, his head whipping to the trees. In a sea of dark robes, the Dor’Jan slid into the grassy field.

Ashen gray skin stretched, dried and sunken, over boney arms and legs. Walking corpses. Men and women, none he recognized, thank Brim. Hundreds of them scurried toward him, dark and tattered robes fluttering behind. One’s hood fell away revealing strands of gray, stringy hair. Nolan froze, his heart filling his ears.

Shaking away his shock, he pushed his powers just as they closed in. They reached with clawed nails and bony arms, surrounding him. The light of Brim ignited, and the creatures squealed and withdrew, avoiding the glow radiating around him. The hopelessness dropped from his shoulders like a wet cloak.