Flight of the King (31 page)

“Nature's claws,” the guard gasped, rattled. The animal lay still and lifeless—as did the Jackal. His face was a bloody mess of bites and gashes that extended down to his
neck.

But then, as Bailey and the guard watched, the back left paw began to twitch. Its front right leg moved, and slowly, terrifyingly slowly, the jackal's body lifted itself up and stood
facing the guard again.

“Ants,” whispered Bailey.

“What in Nat…” whispered the guard.

Bailey's hands shook. He'd been certain the dog was dead, but it stood before the Jackal's guard, snarling. Its head was covered with blood. It reared its body back with its
teeth bared, and the guard lifted the club to swing down once more. Bailey looked away and crawled quickly along the underside of the stage.

His whole body quivered. The Reckoning was happening all around him, and the violence was unimaginable. He had to stop it—but he needed help. Where was Tremelo? If he didn't appear
soon, Bailey knew he would have to destroy Viviana's machine himself. But the only machine he'd seen on the stage was the mechanical tiger, and it was nothing at all like the blueprint
Tremelo had copied. If he'd learned anything from Lyle's orb and Tremelo's music-making machine, then the Reckon, Inc. machine had to be near Viviana. His only chance to find it
was to get close to her. Perhaps, with Taleth's help, he could restrain her…if Taleth would still bond with him. He could see no other way. He took a deep breath, stood, and pulled himself
up to the stage.

VIVIANA WATCHED AS THE
two tigers fought head-to-head. The Dominance that she felt pulsed through her like stormy waves crashing onto a shore. And now
the white tiger—the beast she'd been searching for—had all but lain down at her feet. Its resistance to Dominance was remarkable, she had to admit. But it was growing weaker
minute by minute.

One of her guards ran onto the stage and approached her.

“The Jackal is dead, madam,” he said. “Killed by one of his own dogs. The mercenaries have scattered.”

Viviana smiled. Her demonstration had gone perfectly: her military power was terrifying. No enemy would dare stand up to her. After today, she'd never have to endure the protests of the
RATS or any other naive uprising against her. The people had seen that she could command their kin whenever she needed to.

“Time to rein in the troops,” she said, pressing the glowing red button on her controller.

Nothing happened. The light on the controller did not dim—instead, it began to glow more brightly. Viviana pressed the button again, and again. Still, nothing changed.

In the crowd, the screams of the people of Aldermere grew.

“What is happening?” she whispered. Her fingers buzzed with energy, almost as if the force she was sending through the Catalyst was flowing out of her without her control. The
animals did not stop attacking—but now that the Jackal's soldiers had fled, the animals attacked indiscriminately, snarling and biting at the citizens in the fairgrounds. Viviana backed
away from the platform edge. She threw the controller away from her. It bounced against the wooden boards under her feet and slid across the stage. The building intensity within her did not cease.
Her skin seemed to grow warmer and warmer, like a kettle over slow-burning coals.

“Are you all right, madam?” the guard asked.

“Of course,” she lied. On the fairgrounds, people fought off their own kin or tried to flee. She hadn't intended this—but she could not help the way her blood began to
dance in her veins at the sight of so much chaos, or the way her heart thrilled to see the furthest limits of her strength. “They will hate me for this,” she said, to no one but
herself.
But at least they will know never to cross me.

She looked at her fingers. They contained more power in them now than she had ever felt before. She smiled as she realized that, behind her, the automaton continued to fight, even without her
pressing the controls on Clarke's flimsy remote. No wires, she thought. Nothing but me and my will.

She turned, and that was when she saw the boy.

BAILEY GROPED FOR THE
Jackal's cane on the ground, fighting off the first of the Dominae guards to rush at him. He'd watched Viviana toss
away the brass controller, and it had skidded to a stop only a few feet from where he stood. The whirring he'd heard earlier had grown into a terrible pounding that came from the mechanical
tiger. He wasn't even sure it was sound at all—it felt more like a vibration or a heartbeat.

A feral cacophony rose from the fairgrounds: snarls and yips, screeches and hisses. People were fighting off their kin in shock. He saw a young girl, crying, protect her face with her arm as a
ferret leapt at her, its teeth bared. It was just as Gwen had said. People were terrified and confused. So many had been wounded, while others fought back against their kin, sobbing all the while
as they reluctantly defended themselves.

The automaton landed a severe blow to Taleth's right side, leaving four bleeding claw marks in her snowy fur. Bailey yelled out; he felt the splitting of her skin in his own side. He
winced, but felt grateful—if he could feel Taleth's pain, then she wasn't lost to him. He focused on her, concentrating all his hope in her direction.
Don't give
up,
he told her.
Don't lose yourself.
The energy of his bond radiated out from him—he could almost feel it. But with each blow from the automaton, he felt his connection
waver.

One of the Dominae guards seized Bailey's arm. The Jackal's cane was knocked out of his grasp.

“Who are you? What are you doing?” shouted the guard.

“Taleth!” Bailey cried. She lifted her eyes away from the mechanical tiger to meet his own. The mechanical tiger rammed its forehead into her injured side; she staggered. Bailey felt
his bond with her disappear, as though a cord had been snapped. She snarled and leapt at the automaton, and Bailey reeled backward into the guard, suddenly afraid.

The guard dragged Bailey toward Viviana. Like a bird of prey, Viviana swooped downward to him and took his face in her hand, forcing him to look into her eyes.

“The tiger is your kin, isn't she?” Viviana demanded.

Bailey said nothing. Viviana's violet eyes searched him, darting across his face with mad intensity.

“
You
killed Joan—you're the Child of War the Loon foretold.”

Bailey couldn't answer; he could barely think. Behind him, Taleth continued to fight. Don't give in
,
he thought, but he knew she did not hear him. At any moment, she could
abandon the automaton, and come after him. He looked around for the discarded controller—if only he could destroy it; perhaps that would stop all this.

“You die today,” Viviana whispered, tightening her grip on his cheek. “Once the Child of War is dead, the prophecy will die with him. And the people will accept me as the true
leader of Aldermere.”

“But you aren't their leader,” whispered Bailey, straining for air.

Viviana squeezed tighter.

“Oh, no?” she said, gazing out on the chaos she'd caused. “Then who will challenge me?”

GWEN GRIPPED HER SEAT
as Tremelo's motorbuggy lurched through the fairgrounds. The battle among the soldiers, the Jackal's mercenaries,
and the animals had made traversing the grounds impossible—but even now that the Jackal's mercenaries had dispersed, the crowds fleeing the grounds in the opposite direction did not
make the way any easier.

“We need to go on foot!” Gwen shouted, leaning on the back of the front seat so Tremelo could hear her.

“Too easy to lose one another that way,” Tremelo shouted back. “Too exposed!”

“But look,” she said, pointing to the stage. “Viviana has Bailey!”

“Ants,” growled Tremelo, peering over the mass of people and their kin. “Speed up!”

Tori sat on a thick book in the driver's seat; she pressed her hand down on the motorbuggy's horn and revved forward. In the vehicle's wake, Eneas and the Velyn marched as one
mass.

All around them was a scene of blood and confusion. Gwen felt as though her bond with her kin was evaporating, diluted and sullied by the pain surrounding her. Terror caused her to look away
from the stage, from Bailey's encounter with Viviana to the skies. For the first time in her life, she was afraid of her own kin. A woman began wailing as a snow-white rabbit bit at her neck
and face. She flung the rabbit away from her, and it fell to the ground, its body twisted. It righted itself and attacked once more. All around her, Gwen saw humans fighting off their kin, uttering
dismayed cries—these were their companions, their family. To hurt them was unconscionable, but they had no choice. Gwen did not feel like the Instrument of Change that the Elder believed her
to be. Instead, she just felt helpless.

“We're too late!” Gwen cried. “We'll never be able to stop this!”

Tremelo sat in the passenger seat of the motorbuggy, both hands on the machine, aiming the Halcyon's sound-horn at the stage. Fennel, wearing a metal collar attached to the machine, sat
next to him. A soft resonance issued from the machine, but the sound was too low, and not powerful enough to counteract the Reckoning from its position.

“Not too late!” shouted Tremelo, checking the round metal orb at the center of the Halcyon. “Just hasn't built up enough power to—”

“We have to help Bailey
now
,” Gwen yelled back.

In the seat next to Gwen sat Phi, watching the skies.

“The Halcyon will work,” Phi said, though her voice shook. “It has to.”

In the driver's seat, Tori was struggling—her snakes were winding their way up her arms, distracting her from driving.

“Oh, ants—help!” shouted Tori. She took one hand from the wheel and flung a snake off her. The car swerved and nearly knocked over a candied-apple stand. Gwen reached forward
and pitched away the other snake. She watched behind them as Tori drove on; the snakes coiled and uncoiled themselves in the muddy grass before slinking after them.

“Nature's teeth,” Tori cursed. Gwen could hear a breathless fear in Tori's voice that she'd never heard before.

“Where's Bert?” Tori asked.

“In my rucksack!” cried Phi. “I know none of us are Animas Iguana, but I didn't want to take any chances!” On the floor of the motorbuggy, Phi's pack
rustled.

They'd reached the center of the field between the exhibition tents and the stage. The ground below them was nothing but churned mud. The car stalled and lurched across the field.

Four Dominae guards appeared in the crowd, marching toward them. Tremelo rummaged at his feet, coming up with a crossbow.

“We need to get through this mob. Eneas!” He shouldered the crossbow, took aim, and shot at the approaching guards, skewering one's pant leg to the ground behind him. The guard
struggled for a moment, then ripped himself free. Eneas, answering Tremelo's call, ran between the guards and the motorbuggy with a flank of other warriors, their weapons drawn. At the sight
of the fur-clad fighters, the crowd became even more frenzied. Parents screamed and lifted their children out of the way, and many people who had been fighting gawked, and then took off
running.