To Whatever End (Echoes of Imara Book 1) (39 page)

A voice called out from the trees and Pathius braced himself. A great roaring sound rose from the trees and a line of fireballs shot toward the building.
They brought Fire Wielders.
Excitement grew in Pathius as he stood, reached out his hands, and Absorbed the energy from the fire. The flames arced toward his hands, lines of fire reaching for him through the open air. The heat poured into his body, racing through his arms and filling his chest. He closed his eyes, arms spread wide, and let the heat sear through him.

Noises from below brought him back to the moment. There were shouts and commands as men scuffled through the trees. Another volley of fire flew into the air. Brilliant streaks of flame soared up, ready to come down and rain fire on the compound. Pathius paused, watching the raging orange balls flickering with heat and light. He gasped and a shudder ran through him. All that power. It was so beautiful.

He sucked in the energy from the fire, and the flames once again surged toward him. The heat burst into his body and nearly knocked him backward. He pulled in his arms, reveling in the scorching heat as it ripped through him. As he looked down at his hands, he could see shimmers of heat radiating away from his body. He couldn’t hold this much energy; he let it dissipate, knowing there was plenty more to come.

A volley of flaming stones streaked toward the trees, each landing with a loud pop as it hit. Number Four was below, helping Pathius mount their token defense. He shot out another scattering of stones, and the explosions reverberated off the trees. Number Five was on the other side of the compound and Pathius saw arrows firing, bending around the trees to find their targets.

Another set of fireballs arced through the air, this time aimed at the far ends of the compound. Pathius managed to drain the two closest to him, but the others hit the building, making it shudder under his feet.

More men stepped forward from the tree line and raised bows. The Fire Wielders lit the arrows and at a yell from their commander, they let loose. The flaming arrows flew toward the compound, many of them pointed at Pathius. He ducked down behind the ledge, as some of the arrows stuck into the outer wall. A few clattered behind him and he pulled in their heat, leaving nothing but withered arrows trailing lines of black smoke into the air.

He looked over the ledge to find the archers preparing for another volley. Two archers went down in quick succession, hit by Number Five’s arrows. Pathius centered on another one, reaching out his hand toward him. He concentrated, feeling the energy inside the man, and Reached for it. He got a hold of it and tugged, sucking in an abrupt burst of energy. The archer’s head and arms rocked back as if he’d been hit in the chest, and his body slumped to the ground.

Pathius trembled with all the energy he had pulled, the air around him shimmering as it dissipated. He hit another archer with his energy drain, Absorbing his heat, and watched the man hit the ground. Rogan’s men were shouting orders, pointing up at him. He ducked down and hurried across the roof, keeping low, and ran to the other side. Another clatter of arrows hit where he’d been standing.

Peeking out over the ledge, he could see Rogan’s line push out of the trees, the men forming up in the clearing. Archers hit the building with their flaming arrows, but Pathius let them burn. He reached his hand toward the nearest archer. Heat from the man poured into Pathius, a line of energy streaking from the man’s chest into Pathius’s hand. The man stood frozen, his mouth open in a silent scream as his skin turned blue and frost spread out from his chest. A crackling sheen of ice coated him and he fell to the ground, stiff.

Pathius breathed hard, the heat sending rivulets of sweat dripping down his back. The men below were yelling, pointing up at him while exploding bits of stone popped and sent sprays of dirt into the air. Another ball of fire exploded against the far side of the compound. Pathius briefly wondered if Number Five had fallen back or if he was caught in the blast of flame.

More of Number Five’s arrows streaked toward Rogan’s force just then, answering his question. The men below held their line and sent more fire at the building. The blasts hit with a boom, the sharp crack of broken glass and splintering wood ringing out through the air. The outer wall of the building burned, black smoke muddling the air.

Pathius pulled energy from the flames, if only to glory in the heat raging through him. His head swam with euphoria and his body felt light, as if he could leap off the building and hover in the air. He pulled the energy from another blast of fire and let it sear through him. The mix of pain and exhilaration was intoxicating and he found himself laughing, his voice ringing out amidst the din of the attack.

Holding so much energy threatened to unmake him, but he didn’t care. His skin tingled as the energy poured off him in waves and his hands almost seemed to glow. He reached out his hands and Pushed, feeling the heat rush through his body and out his fingertips. A blast hit the ground in front of Rogan’s line, sending up a burst of dirt and rocks. Pathius looked at his hands, his eyes wide.
This is new.

His mouth curled in a smile beneath his mask. He moved across the ledge and took up a new position. The flat roof was beginning to feel warm. He placed his hands on the roof and Absorbed the heat, sending a crackling circle of frost spreading around him. He sucked in a breath, glorying in the power that swelled within. Curious to see if he could do it again, he Pushed the energy out and let it surge from his fingertips. Another blast exploded in the clearing, sending rock and dirt flying.

His mind swirled with the elation of power that raged through him. The voices in his head seethed, their sounds mingling with the shouts of Rogan’s men, the roar of flames and the surge of energy churning within him.

Pathius glanced down through the haze of smoke. The line of Rogan’s force held strong. A man walked up and down the lines, shouting orders and encouragement. He wore no uniform, just leather armor with a black cloak streaming behind him. He held a sword aloft, pointing with the tip. He raised it and brought it down as the archers loosed, his head turning to watch the volley.
I know you.

Rogan himself. The new king. Pathius knew his father was dead. Nihil had told him years ago, probably as a means to tighten his grip on Pathius’s mind. It had been so long since Pathius had thought of himself as the prince that hearing of the new king had done little to affect him. But seeing him there in the flesh, standing tall amidst the battle and shouting orders at his men, made Pathius rage.

The building shuddered beneath him and Pathius had to stumble to keep his footing. The lower levels must be burning. It was almost time. He looked back over the side of the ledge. Rogan walked further down the line, his stride sure and his bearing tall. Pathius let him go. He wanted to face Rogan man to man, not strike at him from afar like a filthy assassin. His father would have railed at him for throwing away the chance to kill an enemy. But Pathius was not his father, nor did he wish to be.

The smoke thickened, obscuring Pathius’s view of the force below. A clear whistle called out from the courtyard behind him, the signal to retreat. He stood up and threw his hands out to the sides, pulling heat from the ground just in front of Rogan’s men. A thick line of cracking ice erupted, running across the ground in both directions. Sparkling frost spread as weeds and scrub withered and died along the line. Men shouted, jumping back to avoid the spreading ice and pulling each other out of the way.

Pathius turned, reluctant to leave the fray, still buzzing with energy. He ran toward the trapdoor in the floor of the roof, pulled it open, and dashed down the steps. Smoke crept into the interior of the building, billowing in from the front. Nihil would be pleased; the fire would make their job easier.

He raced through the courtyard to the other side of the compound and flew down a hallway that led to the cellar. Number Four and Number Five were ahead of him, already heading down the steps. Number Five peeled off, angling toward the lower stairs that led into the tunnel. Pathius followed Number Four into the cellar.

Originally a storage area designed to hold supplies, the now-empty cellars spread out beneath the compound. Nihil’s men had already knocked down most of the walls, leaving the entire building held up by only a few beams. Pathius raced toward the far end and spun, looking out over the pillars that bore the weight of the building above. Number Four waited at the other side and gave him a quick nod.

Pathius darted forward and brushed his hands against each beam as he passed, Absorbing enough heat to send a snapping sheen of ice and frost spreading across them. The building above shuddered the pillars weakened, dust and debris clouding the air.

He raced past Number Four, leaving the rest to him, and flew down the stairs into the tunnel system. The passageway branched off, heading south toward the city. He’d be running directly beneath Rogan’s army, but if he and Number Four did their job well, Rogan’s forces would never be able to sift through the remains of the compound to find the tunnel entrance. Part of him wished he had a view from up above. He had to give Nihil credit—this was going to be spectacular.

Booms from above shook the ground and debris cascaded down from the roof of the tunnel. Pathius’s heart raced as he staggered backward. Number Four darted down the stairs, tossing flaming stones behind him as he went. The ground shuddered again and Pathius moved back. He had no desire to be buried in rubble.

Nihil and the others had already fled down the tunnel, so he nodded to Number Four. Grabbing more pebbles from his pouch, Number Four heated them with his hand before he tossed them into the space under the building. Pathius backed up, his feet slipping on the rocky ground, as more dirt and dust fell from the ceiling. The pebbles popped, bright explosions hitting the supports. Number Four threw a few more, sending bright flashes of flame under the building as they backed away. The weakened pillars snapped as Pathius and Number Four fled further into the tunnel.

A great rending groan cut through the air and the ground shook. Dirt poured over them and they raced ahead, Pathius’s heart beating wildly in his chest. His swell of energy diminished, but adrenaline pushed him forward as the supports cracked behind him. A loud boom echoed through the tunnel and he pushed Number Four to the ground. Pathius dove down and they both curled up, covering their heads, as a huge blast of dirt and rock surged through the tunnel. The sound of the collapse tore through his ears.

Pebbles clattered down from the sides of the tunnel and dust swirled in the air. Another creak sounded behind and a puff of dust blew around them. Pathius brushed the dirt and bits of rock from his hooded head and blinked against the grit in his eyes. He got to his feet and shook off the dirt. Number Four rose and brushed the dirt from his arms and head. Pathius shifted his mask back into place as his eyes watered.

The tunnel behind them was completely collapsed. A precarious wall of debris was stacked, floor to ceiling, cutting off the entrance to the compound. If they had done their job, the entire compound had caved in, crashing and sinking into the ground, leaving nothing but a gaping hole with a pile of smoking debris.

Pathius turned toward the city, away from what had been his home. A sense of buoyancy spread through him, despite the heaviness of his limbs as the last of his energy dissipated. Destroying the compound put another crack in the chains that bound him to Nihil. He had every intention of putting a wedge in that crack and pounding it until the chains finally shattered.

Number Four followed, trailing just behind his right shoulder. Pathius took his time, reveling in the booms that echoed down the tunnel, the aftershocks of the compound’s collapse. He wondered if Cecily had managed to free Number Fourteen. Judging by Fourteen’s demeanor of late, he doubted she would have much luck bringing him back to himself. He couldn’t decide whether he hoped Cecily could help him recover or not. A part of him hated the thought of Cecily in the arms of another man, even if that man had once been her husband. But the blow it would cause Nihil to lose Number Fourteen was worth the pangs of jealousy. His only regret was that he was unlikely to make it to their stronghold before Nihil realized Number Fourteen was gone. The look on Nihil’s face when he discovered his prized subject was missing was something Pathius would have loved to see.

The tunnel shuddered again and dust drifted from the ceiling. Pathius walked on as the next phase of his plan snapped into place in his mind. He glanced back at Number Four and knew the man would come to his side when the time came. Nihil had taught him to lead better than his father ever had. Soon he would no longer be taking orders from a man in a stolen magister’s robe. He would be the one giving them.

40. WHAT ONCE WAS LOST

Dust hung in the air, drifting through the pale light of glowstones. Cecily had led them through the interior of the palace, down into a deserted storage cellar deep below. The wide room was mostly empty, nothing but a stack of old barrels, a few crates, and some furniture covered with old cloths. Pathius’s note had described the route, but as they stood in the dank room, Cecily wondered if she’d understood the directions correctly.