War Storm
Page 130

“Rise, red as the dawn.”
The spiraling passage choruses with the battle cry.
We’re almost running, Maven struggling to keep up with Tyton’s pace. Farley matches his speed, her long strides eating up the white marble beneath our feet.
“Rise, red as the dawn.”
Kilorn’s voice joins the din.
“Rise, red as the dawn.”
The lights overhead flicker in time with my heartbeat.
I look back, searching through the ranks of red and green, Scarlet Guard and Montfort. The range of faces, skin every shade, blood both colors, all speaking in shuddering unison. Some raise their fists or weapons or both, but no one is silent. Our voices are so loud I can barely hear my own.
“Rise, red as the dawn.”
I call to lightning, call to thunder, call to all the strength left in my body. I’m not a general or commander. The only things I have to worry about topside are myself, Kilorn, and Farley, if she’ll let me. That’s all I have the capacity for.
And Cal, wherever he might be. Leading his army, fighting in vain against a greater force. Defending a city from almost inevitable ruin.
Tyton is first through the great doors of the Treasury, vaulting out into the spiraling rain with Maven in tow. The younger prince skids, his shoes sliding over the wet tiles of Caesar’s Square, but Tyton keeps his grip. I follow, half expecting Tyton to kill Maven on the spot, already shivering in the rain. We never planned on letting Maven survive the battle. And we don’t need him anymore, not really.
It could be over right now.
I feel tugged by both ends of the decision. As if it’s really my decision to make.
The other electricon never loosens his grasp, almost holding Maven down. Tyton isn’t as temperamental as the rest of us. He is slow to fury, even now, with Maven in hand. He’s a good jailer for someone the rest of us despise so much.
“Do it,” I hear Maven grit out, head still bowed. He extends his white hands and I watch his fingers tremble in the rain. Like me, he knows where this road leads.
Behind us, more and more of Farley’s forces flood into the Square, still cheering the words of the Scarlet Guard. They fill the space with color, uniforms of red and green standing out starkly even in the wet fog. I focus on the fallen king, now shuddering a hundred yards from his own palace. Even the rhythmic thud of gunfire and explosions barely penetrates my awareness.
“I said, do it,” Maven snarls again. Trying to goad Tyton.
Or me.
Above us, the storm clouds churn. I feel the flash of lightning before it crackles across the sky, purple and white, an emblem of our presence. Let Cal know we’re here.
“You don’t have any more use for me.” Rainwater drips down his face, tracing familiar paths. “Be done with it.”
Slowly, he raises his eyes to mine. I expect sorrow, or defeat.
Not icy anger.
“Ty—” I start, but the word is hardly out of my mouth when a shell strikes true, exploding over the columned walls of the Treasury.
The force of it blows us sideways, falling over already slippery ground. My skull cracks against the tile and I see dizzy stars for a second. I try to stand and fall again, colliding with an equally disoriented Tyton. He holds me down, pushing me flat against the Square as a leaping tongue of flame passes over us, singing the air directly above our heads.
“Maven!” I scream, my voice lost in the surge of battle. Against the guns, the missiles, the mortar shells, the wind and the rain, I might as well whisper.
Beneath me, Tyton tenses, pushing up on his elbows. His head whips back and forth, searching the crowd around us for a gray form and black hair.
I roll to my knees, cursing, the twists of my hair already coming undone. Purple strands drift, unfamiliar. Kilorn skids to a stop at my shoulder, his face already sweaty and flush with exertion.
“Is he gone?” he pants, trying to help me up.
As my head clears, I manage to get my feet underneath me. My muscles tighten, ready to dodge another flaming blow. Not that I need to. That isn’t his way. Maven isn’t a warrior.
“He’s gone,” I hear myself hiss.
I can choose to hunt him down. Or I can make sure we finish what we’ve started. I can keep my friends alive.
With a burst of determination, I force myself to turn, face the gates of the Square, and the Bridge beyond. “We have work to do.”
Though it’s still shrouded in fog, I can just make out hundreds of soldiers spanning the Bridge, with the looming hulks of Lakelander ships below. In the sky, airjets give chase, with wings of yellow, purple, red, blue, and green swooping like deadly birds of prey. I can’t make out anything beyond the river. The other half of the city is entirely obscured. At least Farley and the officers have their radios. They should be able to communicate with Davidson on the far side.
Extending a hand, I take Tyton by the wrist, hoisting him to his feet. His face darkens as he scowls, disgusted with himself.
“I’m sorry,” I think I hear him whisper. “I should have killed him when I had the chance.”
Spinning on my heel, I make for Farley. “Join the club,” I mutter, sending another angry bolt across the sky.
In the fog, flashes of blue and green pulse, as if in reply.
“They made it across,” Kilorn muses, pointing out the distant lights. “Rafe and Ella. Davidson’s army.”
In spite of Maven’s escape, my lips twitch, wanting to smile. A small burst of triumph blooms in my chest. “Well, that’s something.”
More than something.
Caesar’s Square contains the center of Nortan government—the palace, the courts, the Treasury, and War Command—but the bulk of the capital is on the other side of the river. Our side might be more valuable, but East Archeon is larger, with a greater population. Red and Silver. They won’t be left to fend for themselves against the Lakelander assault while Cal’s army concentrates on the armada.
Farley stares down the gullet of the Bridge, standing tall and stoic, a statue against the soldiers moving around her. Her lieutenants bark orders, organizing their troops into predetermined formation. Half form a shield wall of bodies facing Whitefire and War Command, where some of Cal’s own Silvers could still be. The others face out, looking down the cliffs to the river or blocking this end of the Bridge.
Essentially trapping Cal between this side of the water and the other, suspended over the armada below.
We reach her without delay, the Scarlet Guard and Montfort soldiers parting to let us pass. Tyton is quick to get to work, hurling his blinding-white darts of electricity at the ships below. The steel leviathans seem impenetrable, even for magnetrons. Blue rumbles in the clouds, before one of Ella’s storm bolts hits the prow of a battleship with the keening scream of tearing metal. I squint over the walls of the cliff edge, searching the river. It should be hundreds of feet below, but it seems closer than I remember. My mouth goes dry when I realize the Lakelanders must have raised the river to allow their largest ships to sail this far.
“It’s still rising,” Farley says over her shoulder, making room for me on her perch. “We won’t be able to escape the way we came.”
I bite my lip, thinking of the tunnels beneath us. “Flooded?”
She nods. “More than likely.” Her eyes waver, looking between the river and the silhouettes on the bridge. Smoke spirals with the fog, black against the white and gray. “We made it through just in time.”