Of Silver and Beasts (12 page)

“Let’s carve something into that pretty face,” he says.

Struggling against his hold, I swing my sword left to right, trying to make contact. He pulls my back to his chest and captures my sword hand.

I scream and snap my head backward, clocking him in the forehead. My skull splinters with pain, but I ignore the ache and send my heel into his groin. He releases me. Spinning, I turn my blade flat, and hack his head from his body.

The Otherworlders look up and snarl. I run the back of my arm across my face, wiping it clean from blood and sweat.

Two race at me as the remaining two jump inside the machine and order the vehicle forward. Its wheels turn as it lurches into a grinding and clanking motion. I know I can’t allow it to leave with the captured inside, which means I have to end these two quickly.

I lift my sword, preparing for the impact.

A rumble quakes the glass windows of the building beside me and I freeze. The Otherworlders halt their advance, and I look up. An army Cury-craft ripples the air around us as it lowers from above. It lands behind the Otherworlders’ war machine. Protectors spring from the side of the Cury as a low hum intensifies to a piercing whir. Then a zip of blue light blasts the back of the Otherworlders’ machine.

The giant vehicle tips and rocks, smoke billowing from its back. The protectors surround it and then pry the metal doors open. They pull the Otherworlders from the hull and fight them to the ground as they evaluate the people. I’m lost in the chaos, have forgotten about the Otherworlders before me until one growls and rams into my side. He knocks me to the road and I skid to a stop, pain blooming in my chest, dirt caking my mouth.

The Otherworlder with a red armband moves behind me, and the other with black teeth stands in front, caging me in. I pick myself up and hold my sword angled from my body. My breath hitches as the sharp pain spreads, and I force my lungs to take shallow breaths.

They attack at the same time.

My blade meets the black-mouthed Otherworlder, but I’m too busy fending him off to wonder why Red Armband hasn’t already ran me through. Then I hear grunts and metal on metal, and thank the goddesses that one of the protectors has come to my aid.

With renewed determination, I trade blows with the snarling Otherworlder. He quickens his strikes, and I rebound, blocking until I find an opening and stab his side. He howls, and I slice his throat, silencing his gurgling cry.

I kick dirt at his body before turning to help the protector behind me. My stomach drops to my feet and spiking fury needles my chest as my eyes sweep over the prince.

Hell
.

Groaning, I flank his backside. I cut the Otherworlder down by his knee and the prince drives his sword through his heart. After the mongrel falls to the dirt, we look at each other.

“You disobeyed orders,” I say through my teeth.

“You disobeyed orders and now you have the chance to save those you care about.” He sucks in a breath, straightening his back. “Unless you missed it back there, I wasn’t asking for your permission. This is as much Perinya’s war as it is Cavan’s.”

I exhale heavily. “Don’t do that again.”

“What? Save your life?” He raises his eyebrows.

Glaring at his cocky smirk, I manage a low, “Thank you.” Then quickly add when a hint of a smile hikes the side of his face, “But, prince, this is not your place. You’re as likely to end up staked at the end of my sword as you are to help me.” I shake my head. “You’re too impulsive.”

He laughs. “Are all female protectors so pissed off and violent?”

My mouth parts, ready to correct his ignorance, but he doesn’t give me a chance to counter as he takes off running.

Grumbling, I follow after him. His heart is in the right place, but he’s not a soldier. Fiery revenge and a sense of justice are all good, but it won’t keep him alive. He’s too headstrong and willful.

“Wait here,” I call out to him.

When he stops and turns back to stare after me, I sprint toward the Cury-craft. “Where’s General Corvin?” I ask one of the protectors.

“He’s aboard his Cury, ma’am,” he says, motioning one of the freed citizens into the side of the craft.

“Will this Cury meet with the general’s at some point? I have orders from the Council to assist Corvin with the evacuation.” I glance around warily, and add, “And where are you going now?”

His dark eyes meet mine. “Our orders are to pick up as many citizens as possible and get them to the west border. We’re a part of General Corvin’s convoy evacuating to Laryn, ma’am.”

“We’re joining you then.” I wave the prince over. “Has the Barrel Quarter been evacuated yet?” My heart jolts inside my chest, waiting to hear if my mother is safe.

He shakes his head. “No, ma’am. Not yet.”

Prince Caben stands beside me and I usher him inside the Cury-craft. “Then that’s our next stop, protector,” I order, and climb in behind the prince.

The protector lifts his chin toward the driver in the front compartment. “Barrel Quarter!”

A nauseating twinge of guilt hits my stomach at having pulled rank to order their route. But I have to know my mother is safely out of Cavan before I can move forward on this mission. I grip the leather handle above my head and brace myself as the rest of the protectors file into the craft and we lift up.

White light illuminates the bottom of the craft, rippling the air beside me as the engine rumbles, hovering us higher and closer to the middle of the buildings. From here, I can see nearly all of Cavan. Smoke billows from the domed rooftops, and the setting sun reflects off the glass buildings, washing the city in a dusky, fire-orange hue.

I close my eyes to shut out the glare and see Carina’s lifeless body in my mind. I wish we could’ve had more time to figure each other out. Whatever issues she had with the councilor, I know that she had vital information that I need. We might have even been friends. We just weren’t given enough time.

As the Cury-craft hovers over the Baltique Quarter, my stomach drops with a sickening free-fall. Hundreds of bodies lay mutilated, abandoned. Otherworlders scurry like roaches down the streets, ransacking homes and dragging citizens behind them. They’re taking the people they think will gain them the most profit and killing the rest.

Corpses of children are thrown into a pile like discarded trash. A hollow burn consumes the air in my lungs and I fight for breath. My hand grips the handle tighter as I watch an Otherworlder set the bodies aflame. I turn my head . . . and meet the prince’s eyes.

The flames and scorching sun ignite the deep rivers of his blue eyes. I imagine they see past my layers of uniform and skin, to the fiery magma coursing through my veins, as they flick over my face. Then his lips part, but I jerk my head sideways before his words form.

There is nothing anyone can say.

Not right now.

The Cury-craft rumbles to a halt, and then we descend slowly to the earth. It lands with a hollow
boom
, and the protectors take up their swords and hustle out the side.

I spring from my crouched position and land on both feet. Relief floods my limbs as I run toward my road. It doesn’t look like the Otherworlders have attacked here yet.

Thank you, Alyah
.

“Which unit is yours?” Prince Caben asks, joining my side.

Clamping down on my annoyance, I press my lips together and point to the building next to mine. “Help the protectors evacuate there.” And I head toward my home.

I don’t look behind to see if the prince has listened. Instead, I pump my legs harder, racing toward my rusted metal door. Behind me, the battle has caught up with us.

Cannon fire echoes against the panes of glass, but I push on. The clink of swords meeting swords and the soft exhale of blood exiting bodies after being run through fills the air, but it fades into the background noise of the battle as my whole being races toward home.

Jumping over an overturned potted plant, I cross into the tiny manicured yard, and suck in a breath as I reach the door. I grab the knob and immediately yank my hand back from the blistering handle. Panic rips through me.

Bracing my arm over my nose and lower half of my face, I rear back and kick the door. It groans but doesn’t give. I kick harder, and it flies open with a sickening whine. I’m blasted backward by a gust of hot air.

Covering my face, I lower into a hunch and creep inside the unit. “Mom!”

Flames lick the paneling. The walls are covered in long dark slashes where the fire has scorched. The tiny three-legged table we’ve owned forever smolders, its legs slowly burning into fire-red embers.

I blink the smoke from my eyes. “Mom!”

A hand yanks my arm, pulling me out of the apartment. “She’s gone—” the prince says.

My eyes search his face. “How do you know?” I cough the smoke from my lungs and he slaps my back. I jerk away from his touch. “How do you know?”

He nods his head toward the second Cury-craft that’s landed next to ours. “All the units in this building and the next are empty.” His eyes narrow. “General Corvin ordered your protectors to move on to the next quarter.”

I shake my head. “I’m checking anyway.” I step around him.

His hand catches my wrist. “Otherworlders are storming us right now!”

Whipping around, I shout, “Then
go
.” I pull away and attempt to head back into my home.

There’s a loud groan followed by sizzling
pops
, and the second floor falls into my living room. I stagger back. “Goddess—” I scream and kick the doorframe.

She’s safe
, I tell myself. Emily got her out and on to a Cury-craft quickly after the news hit—and she’s safe. She’s safe. Only my thudding heart can’t bear to leave my home behind without knowing for sure.

Prince Caben rests his hand on my shoulder and I drop my head. “Come on, protector. There’s nothing you can—”

I look up as his words choke off and draw my sword too late.

Something knocks the back of my head.

Darkness covers me.

A thick chain drags across my body, and I freeze. Its weight presses down on me, and I sit up and lift my shackled wrists, then glance down the long line of others hooked to the chain. Three Otherworlders stand before me, swords aimed at a woman with blond hair clutching her tunic closed.

“Sit down,” one of them orders her. “Put out your hands.” The Otherworlder clanks the cuffs together, eagerly awaiting the woman to stretch out her arms.

When she does—reluctantly—her tunic drops to her waist and she shivers. The night air in Cavan is disgustingly humid, and I know she’s not cold but terrified. And embarrassed. I reach for my sword to plant it into his disrespectful abdomen, but it’s not there.

Of course.

I’ve never solitarily prayed to the goddess of war, but I now search my muddled mind for the right words to whisper to Rae.

Cavan is a distant glow against the skyline, lit up and flickering as the fires still burn. There’s a muted echo from war machines and destruction, but from here, it feels as if the battle is dying down.

I pray that General Corvin got his convoys out safely. I pray that my mother is with them. I pray that the Council is halfway to Laryn with Empress Iana by now—that they are already planning retaliation strategies to retrieve the relic. My heart aches for them all. For
us
.

A tremor of fear quakes me.

The prince?

Searching the line of prisoners, I spot his now blood-stained and tattered cream uniform. He’s five people down from me and unconscious. I say a quick thank you to Alyah for at least sparing his life, then look down at my binds, trying to reason a way out of this.

The chains are rusted and old, and possibly weakened. I pull on the cuff, but am yanked to my feet before I can test its strength. An Otherworlder with dreads reaching past his elbows sneers and tugs the chain, forcing me to turn and face the front of the line.