The House of Grey- Volume 6 (8 page)

Grayson did not say anything else, but only pointed to the giant domed stadium on the horizon.

Casey’s voice resounded before anyone else could voice
their
thoughts. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Roman soldiers–hundreds, maybe even thousands of them–surrounded the stadium where Coren University played its football games. Down below, dragons and the members of H.U.M.A.N.E. fought a three-way battle with the Midday Darkness and the Roman Legionnaires. There was no semblance of strategy, only survival under the combined pressure of mystical beings. Monson watched as members of H.U.M.A.N.E. and their large, scaly companions fell one after another to the gargoyles.

“You fear the suffering of others,”
a voice echoed from the depths of his mind.
“Why does one such as you concern himself with the struggles of lesser beings?”

Monson wanted to say that he was surprised by the observations and that the voice of whoever was speaking was not familiar to him. Such was not the case
, however; He was very much aware of who was speaking.
Monson
responded
.

And you’re the one who determines who is lesser and who is greater
?

“It is not a manner of determination but of predestination. Those with power crush those who are not so lucky. This is something you are born with and which will be useful to you, but only if you use the gifts given you. To gain true power, one must embrace the natural self—only then will the heavens open.”

Now you’re not even making sense,
Monson replied.
I have to embrace my natural self? Haven’t I always embraced my….

The wordless conversation stalled as a memory came to him: a room from a dream…a room of death and gore. He spoke his next words aloud.

“A flash of grey, a flash of silver, a flash of gold that come to a head in blades of black and white.”

Monson gulped, but continued. “I strike this man but come to know, that I cannot win nor overcome…as this man…is me.”

Monson closed his eyes, searching for Gi’s presence, scrambling for answers.

Who is the man?
Monson screamed in his mind.
Is it Baroty? What’s with the flashes, the blades? What does it all mean?

The backs of his eyelids twitched and burst with color as a voice echoed and the images of four different swords paraded across his vision.

The blades lingered briefly, as Gi parted them while uttering a simple phrase.

“The blade, little one
;
forget not the blade….”

Monson opened his eyes. “I’m going to have to forge that blade.”

Casey slapped Monson’s back. “This is no time to be crafting
Ninja Gaiden
strategies. I thought we were going to save Cyann?”

Monson returned Casey’s slap twofold. Casey winced but starting laughing at the same time. “Ouch dude, that hurt.”

“Good. You deserved it. Hey, Grayson.”

“What’s up, Mr. Grey?”

“Do you have any idea where Cyann is yet?”

Grayson looked over his shoulder and pointed out towards the Battlefield and its warring factions. “Kylie last saw her and her captor moving towards the same place that Baroty and his goons escaped to.”

“Captor? There was only one?”
asked Monson.

“Yes. He was transporting her and blasting his way through. Be
careful.”

“Can Legon get us on top of the roof away from the fighting?”

“Your wish is our command, O Being of Seven Bloods!”

“I really wish you’d all stop call-ing….”

Monson’s words rushed upwards with his breath as the great Dragoon Legon dived towards the ground, and the fighting below.

***

The next few minutes were tense as Legon, with his human cargo strapped to his back, pulled out of the dive a mere twenty feet from the ground. He skimmed the scalps of their enemies as he leveled out and then shot forward like a bullet. Before any of the Legionnaires or gargoyles could react to their presence, Legon emitted a blistering plume of flames. The fire consumed everything in its path, which was a sizeable
amount considering the number of Roman soldiers and gargoyles mixed in among them. It was not enough to have a real effect on the battle, as the numbers of soldiers and magical creatures seemed to be increasing by the second, but the flying fire maneuver did give the members of H.U.M.A.N.E. a much-needed morale boost. They cheered with raised weapons as Legon pulled out of the maneuver, angled up slightly, and stopped right above the edge of the roof of the field. Beneath the roof was a hallway, which, assuming they could get to it, would hopefully keep them from having to fight their way through the ranks of soldiers as they made their way towards the inner parts of the
Battlefield
.

“Let us off here,” yelled Monson as he prepared to descend from Legon’s back. “We’ll take it from here—you should go and support H.U.M.A.N.E..”

Grayson forced a smile. “Thank you for traveling Air Dragoon; watch that first step and y’all come back now, ya hear?”

The three boys threw their weapons onto the roof and slid carefully off the back of the dragon, rolling as they landed. The bounced up quickly as several airborne gargoyles flew in to confront Legon. Monson gestured forcefully to Grayson.

“Go!”

Grayson waved and made to turn, but hesitated as he made eye contact one last time with Monson.

He mouthed the words, “Stay safe Grey. Stay safe and find her.”

Grayson urged Legon forward and flew off, ready to face the onslaught of flying creatures.

Monson, Casey and Artorius attempted to find their bearings as the sounds of clashing swords and howling creatures flooded their senses. The crashes and clattering briefly held them spellbound as they looked out upon the scene.

“We need to get moving.” Artorius said. “We need to get to Cyann.”

“How are we going to do that?” asked Casey in a loud voice that was nevertheless barely audible above the clamor below. “How are we going to get into this building from here?”

Monson took a deep breath. “Leave that to me.”

Casey and Artorius exchanged meaningful looks. “What does that mean, Grey?”

“It means that whoever took Cyann is going to be in for a very rude awakening. You guys are going to want to stand back.”

Casey and Artorius again exchanged looks before taking several large steps away and staring as Monson started to call upon his magic.

“Combat Spell Eighty: Flame Funnels!”

Thin blue torches of fire shot from his palm and instantly started to melt the rock, brick and metal around them. Satisfied, Monson started to spin in a circle, rotating several times before flicking his wrist to disperse the spell. He jumped from the spot right as it caved in, leaving a perfect molten-edged hole where he had been standing.

Casey and Artorius walked right up to the hole, grinning. Casey bent down to feel the warmth of the melted rock. “Flame funnels, huh? Going to have to remember that one.”

Monson was back on his feet. “Come on—we have to get going.”

He dropped down into the hole with Casey and Artorius right behind him. They each rolled as they hit the ground and were quickly on their guard, ready for an attack that thankfully did not come.

The surrounding area was quite eerie, a great deal quieter than it should have been considering the raging battle just outside.

“Could this place have a spell on it?” Casey whispered. “Could Baroty have some reason to magic this place up?”

Monson shook his head. “Who knows? I hope not. I don’t want them to know we’re coming.”

“They aren’t waiting for you, anyway.”

The three boys jumped as a fuzzy, distorted voice sounded. They fanned out, searching for the source, but saw nothing except destroyed rock and crumbled white marble; they heard the voice a second time
and
paused.

The sound actually came from Casey, who seemed to grasp what was going on and quickly unzipped his silver jumpsuit. He revealed from an inner pocket a small, strange device, black and completely uniform, like a piece of obsidian. The device spoke with the same distorted voice.

“I’m not gonna lie, you guys looked really dumb just then.”

Monson was unable to stop himself; he looked around again, and once again saw nothing of consequence. Artorius placed a hand on his shoulder and pointed up. Monson’s eyes followed his finger to see a security camera pointing down at them.

Casey held the device up to his lips. “You’re hilarious, a true comedian. Did you contact us for a reason or are you just trying to annoy me?”

“Ooh, touchy,” responded the voice. “I contacted you because there are plenty of soldiers in the Battleground, but they aren’t sticking around to stop you from moving forward. I don’t know what they’re doing, but it must be something that’s draining a lot of power—all the electrical equipment is totally fried.”

Casey cocked the eyebrow. “Then how are you seeing us now?”

Monson actually heard the shrug in Kylie’s response. “Magic.”

“Do you have a location on Cyann?” asked Casey.

The answer came with some reluctance. “Yeah, and if you run you might be able to catch them. Last I saw, she
was
below you a couple of floors, moving towards the main field.”

“We’re on it,” said Casey, already putting the device back in his suit. “If there is anything we absolutely need to know, contact us. Otherwise, radio silence.”

Kylie’s response contained more than a touch of sarcasm. “Roger that, sir! Over and out.”

Artorius chuckled. “I think you pissed her off, Case.”

Casey shrugged. “She’s always pissed off. I swear she’s on a twenty-four seven period. I feel sorry for any future boyfriends.” He pointed down the hallway. “Come on. Let’s go save Cyann.”

The boys half-ran, half-sneaked down the hallway, connecting with the white marble in a heel-toe sort of step that Artorius said would minimize sound. It worked pretty well when the boys were not slipping and falling and dropping their weapons in the silent hallway. This happened several times before they gave up on the heel-toe idea.

As they moved closer to the main chamber of the Battlegrounds, they curbed their speed and proceeded with a silence that would have made any midnight burglar proud. Still, they found no one guarding, patrolling or waiting for them. The halls were empty and quiet. No one spoke until they were right outside the main doors of the Battlegrounds, and as always, Casey was the one to break the silence.

“So what’s the plan, O Fearless Leader? Do we bust in, guns a’blazin’?”

Monson started to answer but stopped to ask, “Hey, wait just a minute. Why am I the leader?”

Casey shook his head. “Because you’re the only one with a cool title—the Being of Seven Bloods and all that.”

“Very true,” agreed Artorius. “Until Casey and I get cool names like that, neither of us can be the leader. It’s in the rule book.”

“So all I have to do is give you names and then one of you can be leader? Hmm…I’ll have to keep that in mind.” Monson’s expression became serious. “OK—any ideas on what to do? Because I’m drawing a blank. I gotta think that there’s a better way than just busting in like this.”

Artorius flicked his head at Casey. “What about the locker rooms? There’s a point of entry right at ground level.”

Casey rubbed his face in contemplation. “Now that’s an idea, but I don’t think we should all just go in on the ground floor, just in case they have like magical snipers or something.”

Monson cocked the eyebrow. “Magical snipers?”

Casey nodded vigorously. “Yes, magical snipers. And don’t raise that eyebrow at me. That’s the least weird thing I’ve said today, or did you forget that we just rode a dragon here?”

“Dragoon.”

“Whatever.”

“Strange occurrences aside,” interrupted Artorius. “I think Casey has a point. We should go in at different levels and vantage points. I’ll hit the press box; it should be isolated enough to call in the cavalry and get some help without being detected.”

“I’ll go in at the top and try to give you some sort of cover while you’re down below.” Casey unzipped his jacket and handed Monson the small device he had been using to converse with Kylie. “Artorius and I should be able to give you some direction—just turn it on low, and we’ll use it only if absolutely necessary.”

Monson took the device but instantly saw a problem. “What about you? Doesn’t that leave you sort of blind?”

Casey shook his head. “Your concern for little ol’ me is overwhelming, Mr. Grey. You’d better be careful or I might tear up.”

Casey pulled out a second device before Monson could reply to his comments. “I brought a second one just in case something like this happened. I
am
a Boy Scout, after all, and we’re always prepared!”

“Case, a week in
Webelos
doesn’t make you a Boy Scout. How many times am I going to have to tell you that?”