The Turquoise Tower (Revenant Wyrd Book 6) (25 page)

“It’s not something that comes and goes. If she is the Moonchild
now
then she’s always been the Moonchild.” Atorva was looking at her with a mixture of skepticism and reverence.

“How do we even know this is real?” Rowan asked. “Because Laphrael said so?”

“I can’t think of any better reason to believe it,” Azra said.

“Grace, is this true?” Annbell asked.

“That’s what I’ve been told,” Grace said, stepping forward to stand beside Laphrael. She felt amazingly small next to him, and not because he was a towering sculpture of muscular relief. His power was immense, and she could feel it wafting off of him like the rays of the summer sun.

“Who told you?” Atorva asked as though they were now finally getting to something, as if Grace had a test to pass.

“I did,” Laphrael said. “I noticed the power the moment she found me.”

“I’ve been having dreams,” Grace said because no one looked at Laphrael. They were waiting for an answer from her. “The Goddess has come to me in a dream; there’s a huge oak inside a field of many flowers. She has told me that I’m the embodiment of Her in the realms, and then she showed me many other incarnations. She said I was a Harbinger of Light, whatever that is.”

Sara looked at Grace, concerned, and Grace could sympathize. It was strange beyond words for either of them to hear terms they didn’t know, and “Harbingers of Light” and “Moonchild” were certainly foreign words to them.

“So what? They were only dreams,” Rowan scoffed. “You’re just as bad as Azra.” Rowan sat down and leaned back in her chair.

Grace nodded agreement. “That’s what I thought too, but strange things have been happening. I knew Laphrael at a glance, and I’ve felt the power of the Goddess grow in me with every dream.”

“No, she’s right,” Atorva said. “When votaries are chosen they speak of the same visions. The Goddess comes to them and chooses them. They see the field of flowers and Her Kingdom beyond, but never are they allowed to venture through the field; that is sacred only to the Goddess. Are you sure you were inside the field?”

“Yes, and under the tree. I was told it was
my
tree, and I could feel that was true.”

“Then it’s settled. I can do my work out amongst the fray,” Atorva declared.

“But there was more. Actually, when I ran into Laphrael tonight, I was coming to tell you about the most recent dream I had. The Goddess came to me and warned me that the attack by the alarist today wasn’t the last. There would be more, and before the angels are able to come to our aid,” Grace said.

“We knew that already,” Rowan said.

“No, actually we didn’t,” Annbell said.

“That’s why we were here tonight,” Sara reminded them. “We were trying to figure out when they would come.”

“So what do we do with Grace?” Aladestra asked.

“Keep her safe,” Laphrael said.

Pyang opened his mouth to speak, but before any of them could say a word, the air vibrated with a strange note of power. Grace placed her hands to her head and looked around at the assembled Guardians for indication of what was going on.

But she didn’t need to ask them. She knew already. The notes of the buildings that trembled with holy power in the light had changed. They were a warning: danger was coming.

There was a loud explosion, and Grace swayed on her feet. No, danger wasn’t
coming
, it had already found them.

“Jovian?” Angelica said, reaching out to touch her brother. But as if her words stirred him Jovian jolted upright, scrambling for his weapon, which was several feet away.

“Where is it? Where’s Maeven? What happened?” His eyes fell on Maeven, and he was up, stumbling across the snow in his befuddled state. He crumpled beside the dark-haired man and pulled him into his lap.

Angelica reached for Jovian’s shin-buto, unsure if she should touch it or not. After what had happened with the rephaim, Angelica was wary to place fingers to pommel. She was certain it was the effect of the two shin-buto blades combining in the center of the rephaim that had done the trick, but she couldn’t be sure. Finally, with a deep breath, she gripped the sword. Nothing happened. Quickly she took the blade back to Jovian and rested it beside him.

“Is he breathing?” Angelica asked.

“Very faintly,” Jovian said. “I can barely feel a pulse.”

“We can’t keep him out here in the cold,” Angelica said. “Even with his cloak, the cold isn’t good for him. What are we going to do?”

Jovian looked up at his sister, his eyes wild. “What will even happen to him now?”

“What do you mean?”

“He’s so weak, how will he survive?” Jovian asked.

“I really don’t know,” Angelica told him, hating the helplessness in her voice. “But we need to get him somewhere away from this coming storm. It wouldn’t be a bad idea to hole up here; we can stay the night and try to figure something out.”

“Help me get him into the vault,” Jovian said.

“I don’t think he can enter there,” Angelica said.

“Why not?” Jovian said.

“I think that’s a place for angels. Let’s get him into that tower there,” Angelica pointed to the building closest to her. The door was shut, but didn’t seem to be locked. “With any luck it’ll be warm.”

She grabbed Maeven by the shoulders, and Jovian took hold of his ankles.

“Be careful with him,” Jovian said. Angelica nodded, and she lifted Maeven’s weight. She had never thought the man could be so heavy, but he was completely limp, and that was making it harder to move him. Slowly they reached the building, and Angelica looked for a knob. She couldn’t find one, and she looked all around, realizing now that the door was a single piece, not anything that looked like it could open up as she wanted it to. Remembering what happened with the glass when Jovian touched it, Angelica laid her hand to the door, and it sprang into action, hissing open, lifting up out of her way like a curtain on a stage.

When the door opened lights flickered on inside, as if in response. They were in a hallway, which branched off to several rooms with similar doors barring their way. Angelica picked the first one, slapped her hand to it, and the door hissed open.

“In here,” she said, realizing the space had a bed in it. “It feels warm.” Outside Angelica could hear the first gust of wind howling around the towering peaks of Vorustum-Apaleer. With the wind came the sound of snow and hail pelting the metallic walls just outside the room.

“Alright,” Jovian said, carrying Maeven inside and resting him on the bed. “Now what?”

But Angelica didn’t get the chance to answer, because outside they felt the quiver of wyrd, and saw the darkness of unnatural night falling around the clearing.

The verax-acis was dead, and the spirits Cianna had summoned were awaiting her command, swarming around her in a chattering silver miasma. She clung to her cousin Joya, peering into the gathering darkness, wondering what was coming. The wind tore at her, and the hail and snow made her turn her face away from the night and toward Joya.

But the ghosts whispered to her of what came. They were scared, and they conveyed to her their terror, their fear of what it was. On the darkness she could feel power, and it spoke to her senses, called to the part of her that was Arael’s daughter.

“Fallen,” Cianna whispered to Joya. Her cousin nodded.

“That’s right!” a disembodied woman’s voice said. “You found us!”

“Or rather, we found you,” another voice said out of the darkness, this one male. “We’ve been looking for you.”

“Master wants you,” the woman said again.

“He can’t have us!” Joya said, stepping away from Cianna. Her hands began to glow pink.

“So futile,” the woman said, and then laughed. “You honestly think your wyrd can harm us?”

“I would rather die trying than be taken by you,” Joya said, her voice nearly lost in a forceful gust of wind.

“That can be arranged. Honestly, he doesn’t care a bit about you, only his daughter and your brother and sister,” the male said.

Joya flung her hands forward and pink lightning shot forth, fading into the blackness oozing toward them.

“Again, that won’t hurt us,” the woman said.

“I know something that will,” Angelica said, joining them, drawing her shin-buto. Jovian was there with her, his sword in hand, looking around him. The darkness had completely swallowed them at that point; there was no way they could see through it. An arrow whizzed by Cianna’s ear, and Shelara and Caldamron stepped out of the darkness.

“The whole group! What a treat!” the male said.

“Are we going to talk all night, or are we going to get on with this already?” Jovian wondered.

Lightning, black and glowing, lanced out of the darkness and straight for Jovian. But before the darklight could strike him and condemn him beyond the Black Gate, a pink shield jumped into being before them.

From the mountains there came a rumbling, and the earth shook directly behind Cianna. She wasn’t sure what was happening, but she feared that with all the fighting there might be an avalanche. She’d seen the damage that could cause back at the Guardian’s Keep, and she didn’t want to be caught out in it. But when no snow washed her over the edge of the highlands, she breathed easier.

There was already a wyrded battle happening, Angelica trading fiery blows with the fallen sentry that had found them.

Out of the darkness loomed a large figure, male, taller than Cianna, but not by much. Something in her recognized him, recognized his energy. He stalked toward her, throwing his energy over the pink orb that held them as if he were covering them with a blanket of power.

The darkness settled around the orb and started pressing down. The shield began to shrink in on them.

“I can’t hold it much longer,” Joya said. “That’s darklight; we’ll all be done for!”

The pull of wyrd came to Cianna’s ears, and the sound of a dog barking. She knew instantly who it was:
Altavius.

“What in Arael’s name is that?” a female voice said from beyond the veil of darklight spread over the pink orb.

“A ghost wolf,” the male said, and it must have distracted him, because Joya gave a great heave with her wyrd, the pink orb bubbling back out and casting the darklight off like molten oil. Where it fell on the fallen angels, their skin smoldered and melted. They screamed, but the darklight didn’t have the desired effect of carrying them beyond the Black Gate.

Cianna caught a glimpse of the ghostly wolf before it darted behind the female fallen and started barking. But the angel knew the same thing Cianna did: Altavius couldn’t actually harm them, he could only distract them. He had already done his best.

From behind them came the sound of something large moving, and Cianna turned to see what it was. There were several giant forms materializing out of the storm behind them.

The shield reverberated with power behind Cianna, and she turned back. Angelica wasn’t making any impact on the fallen, and Jovian seemed too addled to be of much wyrded use.

Cianna gathered the ghosts to her, forming them into wyrd, and lanced out with the silvery force. Lightning issued forth, taking the female fallen in the chest, spinning her into the air and slamming her into a building. There Cianna held her, her face twisted in a mask, and she stepped forward, twisting her hands, pulling at the wings of the fallen with the ghost lightning that pinned her in place.