Undead Chaos (23 page)

“Why?”

I gritted my teeth and closed my eyes. “Because it is the reason why the Agents of Quaos are here.”

Alexander and Quinn both stared at me. Quinn spoke first. “Marcus?”

“Our captor said the only way to achieve harmony is through strife, right? That the true unity between Skilled and Normal societies will only be achieved when both sides are forced to face the nightmare together. Well, what better way to cause unspeakable horrors than by wielding the instrument designed
specifically
for that purpose?”

I took a breath and tried to find the right words. “I know in my gut this is what Quaos wants, and I’ve seen what they will do with it. The armory doors may hold them at bay, but what if they can’t? Our enemies have already penetrated the property’s defenses.” I shook my head. “The sword
has
to leave.”

Alexander stared at me, his mouth a grim line. After a moment he lowered his head.

“My boy,” he whispered in a raspy voice, “you ask me to break a solemn vow I made to your family generations ago.”

“I know, but this is the right thing to do. I can feel it in my bones.”

He fixed me with a withering gaze. “I pray you’re right.” Then, with heavy footsteps, he walked toward the vault, placed his palm against it, and spoke a complicated passcode. When the defensive spell vanished, the armorer unlocked the door with a small skeleton key. He heaved on the handle and the portal creaked open.

I paused long enough to absorb the levity of the situation. The vault was one of the few rooms within the Homestead I’d never visited. It was off limits to everyone except my father and Alexander, and was protected by even greater spells than the armory itself. Forcing down a twinge of excitement, I stepped into one of the only mysterious spaces left in the Homestead.

The vault was smaller than I’d expected. There was a long wooden table in the center of the room with burn marks all over it. The walls were lined with rows of cages that housed artifacts so powerful their magical signature pulsated with mind-numbing force.

Alexander walked to a locker on the far side and drew his long sword. He uttered a complicated phrase, tapped the cage on each end, and slowly inserted his sword into the defensive barrier. He uttered more phrases as he pressed the now—green-glowing blade through an invisible layer. Sparks erupted from the contact point and the little man pushed harder. Sweat formed on his brow, but with one final shove, he sliced through the defensive spell. It dissipated in a shower of small fireworks and flame, leaving the locker completely unprotected.

He sheathed his sword and inserted his key into the lock. With a twist he opened the padlock and swung the door open. The armorer sighed in resignation, then delicately removed Hexcalibur—the greatest weapon of mischief every created.

It was completely unremarkable. No longer than my own sword, its scabbard was dull and dented and its handle worn and faded. There were no fancy markings and no jewels to signify its importance. Had I not seen the level of security provided for the sword, I would have assumed that it was nothing more than commonplace.

And maybe that was the point.

The armorer passed the weapon over to me, then wiped his gauntlets as if he’d been handling something dirty.

“Thank you,” I said.

Alexander fixed me with an intense gaze. “
Never
draw it from the scabbard. It is a wholly unholy thing that has no place in this world.”

As I held it, I found myself agreeing with the armorer. It felt wrong, like a piano with several keys out of tune. The hairs on my neck prickled with alarm and a shiver went up my spine. Perhaps taking it was not the smartest idea I’d come up with, but I was flying by the seat of my pants.

My discomfort was interrupted by a muted metallic explosion followed by a vibration that felt much closer than before. I ducked my head out of the vault and peered down the center aisle to the armory’s main door. A small black spot had formed in the center of it. A moment later, another boom thundered and the spot grew a few inches.

“We have company,” I said.

Alexander shoved us out of the vault with surprising strength. “You must get out of here! That sword has the capability to cause more destruction than the three of us combined.” He quickly relocked the vault door and raised the defensive spells around it.

I slung Hexcalibur over my back opposite my own scabbard. “What’s the quickest way out?”

The armorer pointed toward the door with the expanding black circle on it.

“Awesome. Any other exits?”

“There is an old dumbwaiter shaft on the backside of the shooting range. It is used for ventilation these days, but the wooden elevator is still intact. It will take you up to the kitchen. From there, you will need to find your own way off the family grounds.”

I nodded, but paused as I examined the vault. The defensive spells shimmered and hummed with impressive power. I frowned as the presence of the strength of the barrier pressed against my senses.

For the first time since arriving at the Homestead, I began to question why I was so intent on taking the sword, especially when it was so well protected. But the more I thought on it, the stronger the urge to get it the hell off the property.

I turned to tell Quinn we needed to go, but the words were cut off by a thunderous explosion that knocked the three of us to the floor. I held on to the assault rifle and quickly scrambled to my knees. The thick armory door was bent nearly in half and hung by a single hinge. Smoke filled the entrance, but through the haze I could see a number of Quaos agents rushing into the room. Without thinking, I swung the rifle to my shoulder, clicked the safety to “Semi,” and opened fire.

The armor-piercing bullets worked like a charm. The rounds zipped down the aisle, slicing through two madmen as if they were wet paper.

They made no noise as their blood splattered the walls behind them, but merely dropped unceremoniously to the ground.

My attack did nothing to slow the remaining assailants. Agents poured into the room, fanning out on either side of the racks.

One charged directly at us, swinging his staff like a baseball bat. I felt the power of his spell building, so I pumped three rounds through his chest. He staggered and fell face first onto the stone floor, sliding to a halt a few feet from me.

Despite the ringing in my ears from the noise of combat, I still heard the scuffle to my left. I turned and saw Quinn engaged in a hand-to-hand battle. She was warding off two attackers by herself, countering spell after spell, but was unable to make an offensive move.

I couldn’t get a bead on the one closest to her without the risk of hitting her, but the second attacker was more exposed. I aimed and squeezed the trigger several times. Two rounds went wide and splintered a wooden box on a shelf, but a third caught the man in his leg. Meat and bone shattered and he collapsed, screaming in pain and ecstasy.

The relief was all that Quinn needed.

She spun beneath her assailant’s glowing knife and stepped inside his swing. She wrapped his arm in hers, then lifted as she brought her free hand down on the elbow. It broke with a sickening snap and the man cried out. As he dropped to his knees, Quinn swung her new blade overhead and drove in down through the man’s chest. He dropped lifelessly to the ground.

Several agents slid between racks, launching spells through the gaps. I pumped the remainder of a magazine in the direction of the closest agent and heard the thump of a body hitting the ground among the cacophony of shattering wood.

The spells lightened from that direction, but Quinn had her hands full keeping the agents on her side from flanking us.

Someone cursed behind me. I turned and found an enemy impaled by Alexander’s huge broadsword. The attacker seemed shocked at his defeat, but Alexander was completely unfazed. The short armorer simply removed the blade with a jerk and saluted the man as he toppled face first to the floor. The body twitched once, then lay still.

“Hardly a worthy opponent,” Alexander sniffed. “But still I honor thee.”

I raised my eyebrows. “Nice work.”

The man saluted me with his bloody sword, then spun to impale another agent. “’Tis not my first fight, young lord,” he said, placing his metal boot on his victim’s chest and shoving to free his blade.

There were distant shouts from the outside hallway and the unmistakable sound of feet pounding on stairs. With the way our luck was going, it was more agents, and not our allies, coming to the rescue.

“We need to seal that passage,” I growled, hauling myself behind the metal table and taking aim on the doorway. Alexander tucked in beside me.

Quinn’s final enemy went down in a heap of flame and screams and she trotted over to my position. She knelt on my other side and wiped her bloody sword on her pants.

The armorer clapped me on the shoulder. “Do not waste time down here. I can handle myself.”

“Maybe, but I can’t ask that of you. Besides, the last thing we need is to have these idiots running free down here with all these toys.”

Alexander glanced at the racks of damaged boxes and nodded. “What do you suggest?”

Red robes filled the doorway once more and I opened fire. Two agents fell, but a handful more penetrated the entry. I drilled one, but Quinn beat me to the punch with another. An overhead light went dark as Quinn yanked the electricity from the fluorescent bulb and directed it toward our foes. Lightning bolts arced from her sword, plowing through boxes and racks without slowing. The electricity hit the lead man, hurling him backward into his buddies. The air instantly filled with static and the sickening smell of burnt flesh.

A spell flashed overhead and exploded off the defensive barrier protecting the vault. Sparks and colored flames flittered down on us. I paused long enough to bat at an ember that burned a hole in the shoulder of my shirt. Staring at the hole, I was struck with inspiration.

“Quinn, cover the door for a second!”

She nodded and blasted the archway with a handful of lightning bolts. Alexander launched several powerful spells of his own toward the enemy. More cries erupted from within the darkened corridors.

I set the rifle down and pulled the small bag of marbles from my cargo pocket. I found the color I wanted and spun around to face the doorway. I heaved the green Focal Stone and watched as it slammed into an agent that stepped in the way. A tidal wave exploded, smashing him and his buddies backward with alarming force. Boxes were ripped from the racks and crushed to splinters, scattering their contents across the floor. The wave continued until it hit the doorway and thundered up the stairwell.

“Dammit! Green is
water
! Who color-coded these stupid things?”

I rummaged through the bag again and settled on a brown stone. Nodding at the small marble, I heaved it toward the entrance as well. It bounced twice and detonated just as two agents appeared, slipping on the wet floor.

Marble ripped from the flooring, and I touched the spell just enough to shape it the way I wanted. A wall five feet thick, as wide as the center aisle and as high as the ceiling, grew from the earth and smashed against the doorway with tectonic force. The impact shook the very foundation of the Homestead, and several containers clattered to the ground. The thunder of the collision echoed off the interior walls for several moments.

When the dust settled, it was alarmingly quiet.

“Wow,” Quinn said, staring at the newly constructed barrier. “That’s impressive.”

I looked down at the little bag of marbles, then up at Alexander. “These are
awesome!
”

Alexander nodded, staring at the wall. “That is going to be a pain to fix.” Then he turned to me and burst into laughter. “They always said you lacked subtlety. Now I know why!”

“Who?”

“Everyone!” the armorer cried.

Quinn tapped me on the shoulder. “Marcus, we should go. There’s no telling how long that will hold.”

“That should keep them out long enough for this whole mess to clear up,” I said to Alexander, “but there’s no telling what power they have on hand. On the off chance they break through, Hexcalibur needs to be elsewhere.”

“I understand, good sir. Fear not for this old knight. I have more surprises up my sleeve if they choose to enter my domain.”

There was a groan from the surviving agent and we all turned to face him. Blood pumped from his leg and his hands shook as he tried to cover the wound. Already a large pool was forming beneath him.

“What of the villain?” Alexander asked. “Shall I finish the job?”

The dying attacker groaned and my stomach lurched.

He was maybe nineteen with bright blond hair, an ashen face and a thin, malnourished body. Tears streamed down his gaunt cheeks as he stared at me in raw terror.

“No,” I replied, running over to him. “Get me some medical supplies.”

Alexander nodded and vanished into a side room while I knelt and ripped the pant leg to expose the wound. The bullet had blown a large hole through the thigh, and blood gushed from it like a fountain. I grimaced and shoved my hand against it, wincing at the all-too-familiar feeling of hot liquid flowing between my fingers. I focused on the shattered meat, murmuring the few Healing spells I knew.

Unlike Jethrow’s infected injury, the kid’s was quick to respond. After a moment I removed my hand and saw that although it wasn’t sealed, it was seeping less blood than before.

Alexander returned a moment later with supplies. I tore gauze from a package and fashioned a compress as best I could. When I was finished the boy’s leg was wrapped up like a mummy. It wasn’t pretty, but he’d likely survive. I wanted to do more for the guy, but didn’t have the training. Even if I did, I was already getting lightheaded from battling Skill exhaustion. My makeshift patch would simply have to suffice.

“So we allow him to live?” Alexander asked.

“Yes,” I said. “At least for now.” I stood and turned to the armorer. “I have a feeling there’s no more fight left in him, but even so, guard him well. If he moves,” I added, gazing down at the boy, “end him.”