Chapter 8

  Orent was lost to flame. The smoke of a thousand fires reached up like so many arms clutching at the heavens. The red sun was dead, and with no one to guide their movement, the stars, too, began to fall.

  The burning of their fire rained down upon the city, choking its streets in a cloud of ash, dust, and blood. But the fighting did not cease, a war of steel and sorcery.

  “Sophie!” Fia screamed, tearing down the cobblestone path.

  She ran blindly through the smoke, shadows flitting in and out of view. The flashing light of spellwork and ringing echoes of blades led her on. She needed to get down to the gates.

  “Sophie!” She screamed again, but her cries were lost in the chaos.

  Above the smoke rose the stone towers of the gatehouse. She was almost there!

  The square was littered with corpses. Through the haze, she could just make out the glittering golden collars of the King’s Magi. There were dozens of them scattered amongst the ruins.

  “No,” she gasped. Sophie wouldn’t be there, she couldn’t be.

  She ran to the closest mage, a girl, face down in the mud.

  Fia’s heart pounded as she rolled the girl onto her back. It wasn’t Sophie! It wasn’t Sophie. But there were so many more bodies.

  She ran between the piles, desperately searching. Each time she lifted a face or turned a head, the fear would rise up, threatening to consume her. And each time it was not her sister, she would collapse as waves of relief washed over her. But it was not just relief, it was guilt. She knew so many of the faces. Not by name; she had seen them with Sophie, they were her friends. They were all so young, barely older than herself. Fodder at the front while their elders, their teachers, cowered away in the Palace.

  Finally, satisfied that Sophie was not amongst the dead, she turned to the gatehouse; it had been shattered. Something very large had burst through. Something so powerful that a whole battalion of magi had fallen to its strength. It must have been a terrifying beast. And where was Sophie? Would she have pursued it? It would be heading towards the Palace, like everyone else.

  She cast her gaze one last time around the courtyard then turned, flying back up the road.

  Up ahead, she heard shouts. Shrieks in a strange tongue and bellowing responses. In the center of the road stood two figures locked in a duel.

  They were motionless, but around their persons whipped the light of dozens of curses and counter spells.

  Closest to Fia was a woman clad in black. She held a twisted, ashen staff, cackling with each cast.

  Facing her was a man Fia knew. It was Albrecht. His grey beard whipped in the wind as the Golden Shields of Anselm swirled around him, parrying the violent arcs of jagged blue light that struck at him.

  He was Sophie’s mentor. He would know how to find her.

  But the woman blocked her path, and slowly but surely, she was advancing on him. Each blow crashing against his shields pushed him further up the great hill. He was one of the Magistari, and yet he could do nothing to halt the advance of this sorceress.

  Finally, he stumbled, losing his footing in the sinking mud, and as he reached out to catch himself, his staff fell from his hand. A wide, arcing spear pierced his shield, tearing through his flesh and sending him crashing to the ground.

  A high-pitched laugh, shrill and terrifying. Then the woman began to skip down the road, staff abandoned, arms swinging carelessly in the wind. When she reached Albrecht, she placed a boot upon his head, turning it to face her. Then she kicked at him viciously before continuing her climb up the great knoll and disappearing into the smoke.

  When she was gone, Fia ran to him.

  “Albrecht?” she whispered

  His dark eyes flickered as he tried to focus them. “Fia? Fia, is that you?”

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  “Albrecht, where is Sophie?”

  A gurgling wheeze escaped from his lips. “My dear child… I couldn’t even tell you where I am now…”

  “But Albrecht!”

  “Hush, child, and let me die in peace.”

  With that, he closed his eyes, and no matter how she shook him, pleading for answers, he would not speak.

  She left him by the side of the road. Sophie would be at the Palace. She had to be!

  But was she even going the right way? The labyrinth of streets could be impossible to navigate even in the best of times. Now, as the city burned, every street seemed to melt together.

  “Help! Help me!” Yelped a high-pitched voice. “Father, where are you?”

  Down a small alley, she saw the glint of steel. A tattered flag fluttered weakly over a group of men. The white hawk. They were laughing. Huddled on the ground before them was a small girl. Her hair might have been black, but she was so covered in ash and filth that Fia couldn’t tell anything about her.

  “Teach her a lesson, Captain!” One of the men jeered.

  “A kick might kill the little thing,” the captain replied. “See how the soot weighs her down? We should clean her off!” He leaned over the child, spitting across her face.

  The dagger was already in her hand as she flew towards the men, their backs turned. But just as she reached them, the captain spun, and suddenly, she was crashing to the ground.

  “Looks like we caught another one, boys!”

  The men roared with laughter.

  What had happened? She couldn’t open her eyes, couldn’t lift her head.

  “Looks like you broke this one.” A voice called. “Better put her out of her misery.”

  “That’s the trouble with these girls, they break too easy.”

  Fia groaned, straining with all her might, and finally, her eyes opened just a crack.

  The soldiers stood around her now. One of them had unsheathed his blade and was pointing it at her neck.

  “No…please…” She couldn’t die here. She still had to find her sister.

  From behind the men, there was a burst of light, and the smoke scattered in a gust of wind. A woman stepped forward, dressed in white. She held a great staff aloft, and as she raised it higher, golden spears of light formed of the soldiers.

  They didn’t even scream. The spears fell silently, passing through each man and nailing them to the stone, their faces frozen in cruel, ugly laughter.

  Fia knew that spell. Recognized the staff. She closed her eyes, feeling the warmth surround her and the pain melt away. All would be well.

  “All you alright, miss?”

  There was a tiny hand prodding at her face.

  “Sophie?”

  “My name is Lina. You rescued me!”

  “Where is Sophie?”

  “You mean the ghost?” the little girl waved her hands. “She’s over there.”

  Fia struggled to her feet. Standing a few yards away, wearing all white save for the golden collar, was a mage. But it was not Sophie.

  “Who is that?”

  “The ghost.”

  “You have my sister’s staff,” Fia cried. “Have you seen her?”

  “She doesn’t talk,” whispered Lina, tugging at Fia’s robes. “I thought she would be scary, but she’s nice. Her name is Sophie?”

  “No, no! That’s not my sister!”

  “Well, she has to have a name.” Lina crossed her arms. “She looks like an Ella!”

  She didn’t have time for this; Sophie could be injured or worse. Why was her staff here?

  “Lina, listen. Do you know where the Palace is?”

  The little girl nodded.

  “Good. can you take me there?”

  Lina shook her head as tears filled her eyes. “I have to wait here for Daddy.”

  “No, Lina, it's too dangerous here.”

  But Lina stomped her feet. “I have to wait here!” She yelled.

  Fia couldn’t just leave the girl, she would die on her own. But she couldn’t waste any more time!

  “I am going to take you to your father.”

  Lina sniffled, rubbing her eyes. “Really?”

  “Yes, he sent me!”

  “Okay!” She broke out into a huge grin, giggling with excitement. “Can Ella come?”

  “Yes, of course.” Fia turned her head. “You’re coming, right?”

  The mage stood silently, face etched in stone.

  “She’ll be right behind us,” Sophie promised, grabbing Lina and lifting her into her arms.

  For such a young child, Lina had a surprising understanding of the city’s streets. Soon, they had passed through the second wall into the upper wards, and now she could see the Palace gates.

  There was no fire up this high. But the people on this level had not been spared. She covered Lina’s eyes as she ran. No child needed to see such horror.

  In the shadow of the gate crouched a being. It was the size of a man, but it moved like a beast. Hunched over, bounding on all fours. As they grew closer, Fia could see that it was feeding. It was a horrifying creature; matted fur stained a deep red over a mangy hide. Its gaunt frame huddled over fallen soldiers, hairless fingers clawing at their flesh. Behind it, a long whipcord tail twitched endlessly.

  “We need to find another way.”

  The beast froze, slowly turning its head to reveal a snouted maw and rows of needle-thin teeth. Behind the snout were its eyes, not the dark eyes of an animal but bright and curious, human eyes.

  “Lina, do not look,” she commanded.

  This was no place for a child. She turned to Ella. “You can fight this?” She asked.

  The mage stared blankly and then slowly nodded.

  “Good. If you see my sister, tell her I’ll be in the shop. In the saferoom.”

  Ella stepped in front of them, her staff slowly forming in her outstretched palm, and Fia turned and ran.

  Behind them, the beast howled as golden light rained down on it, but she did not turn back. She ran, through the fire and ash, through the chaos and death, back home.

  Sophie would understand. She was going to get the girl killed. They would hide in the safe room. That had always been the plan. Fia would wait for her, and when it was safe to come out, Sophie would find her.

  She tucked Lina into her bed. Wrapped in its warmth, the poor girl cooed, sleeping peacefully, one of Sophie’s many charms hanging just above her head.

  But Sophie never came back. She waited and waited, watching Lina as she slept. And Fia cried. Cried for a life lost, cried for a city burnt to ash, and cried for a sister she would never see again. She closed her eyes, wiping the tears from her face, and when she opened them, she was all alone.

  Cycle: Fia 1-7004