Glass Sword Page 2

  My brother shakes his head. “Not in one jump, it’s too far. And I’d rather run, save my strength.” His eyes darken. “Until we really need it.”

  I nod, agreeing. I know firsthand what it is to be ability-worn, tired in your bones, barely able to move, let alone fight.

  “Where are they taking Cal?”

  My question makes Kilorn wince.

  “Hell if I care.”

  “You should,” I fire back, even as my voice shakes with hesitation. No, he shouldn’t. Neither should you. If the prince is gone, you must let him go. “He can help us get out of this. He can fight with us.”

  “He’ll escape or kill us the second we give him the chance,” he snaps, tearing away his scarf to show the angry scowl beneath.

  In my head, I see Cal’s fire. It burns everything in its path, from metal to flesh. “He could’ve killed you already,” I say. It’s not an exaggeration, and Kilorn knows it.

  “Somehow I thought you two would outgrow your bickering,” Shade says, stepping between us. “How silly of me.”

  Kilorn forces out an apology through gritted teeth, but I do no such thing. My focus is on the jets, letting their electric hearts beat against mine. They weaken with each second, getting farther and farther away. “They’re flying away from us. If we’re going to go, we need to do it now.”

  Both my brother and Kilorn look at me strangely, but neither argue. “This way,” Shade says, pointing through the trees. A small, almost invisible path winds through them, where the dirt has been swept away to reveal stone and asphalt beneath. Again, Shade links his arm through mine, and Kilorn charges ahead, setting a swift pace for us to follow.

  Branches scrape against us, bending over the narrowing path, until it’s impossible for us to run side by side. But instead of letting me go, Shade squeezes even tighter. And then I realize he’s not squeezing me at all. It’s the air, the world. Everything and anything tightens in a blistering, black second. And then, in a blink, we’re on the other side of the trees, looking back to see Kilorn emerge from the gray grove.

  “But he was ahead,” I murmur aloud, looking back and forth between Shade and the pathway. We cross into the middle of the street, with the sky and smoke drifting overhead. “You—”

  Shade grins. The action seems out of place against the distant scream of jets. “Let’s say I . . . jumped. As long as you’re holding on to me, you’ll be able to come along,” he says, before hurrying us into the next alley.

  My heart races with the knowledge that I just teleported, to the point where it’s almost possible to forget our predicament.

  The jets are quick to remind me. Another missile explodes to the north, bringing down a building with the rumble of an earthquake. Dust races down the alley in a wave, painting us in another layer of gray. Smoke and fire are so familiar to me now that I barely smell it, even when ash begins to fall like snow. We leave our footprints in it. Perhaps they will be the last marks we make.

  Shade knows where to go and how to run. Kilorn has no trouble keeping up, even with the rifle weighing him down. By now, we’ve circled back to the avenue. To the east, a swirl of daylight breaks through the dirt and dust, bringing with it a salty gasp of sea air. To the west, the first collapsed building lies like a fallen giant, blocking any retreat to the train. Broken glass, the iron skeletons of buildings, and strange slabs of faded white screens rise around us, a palace of ruins.

  What was this? I dimly wonder. Julian would know. Just thinking his name hurts, and I push the sensation away.

  A few other red rags dart through the ashen air, and I look for a familiar silhouette. But Cal is nowhere to be seen, and it makes me so terribly afraid.

  “I’m not leaving without him.”

  Shade doesn’t bother to ask who I’m talking about. He already knows.

  “The prince is coming with us. I give you my word.”

  My response cuts my insides. “I don’t trust your word.”

  Shade is a soldier. His life has been anything but easy, and he is no stranger to pain. Still, my declaration wounds him deeply. I see it in his face.

  I’ll apologize later, I tell myself.

  If later ever comes.

  Another missile sails overhead, striking a few streets away. The distant thunder of an explosion doesn’t mask the harsher and more terrifying noise rising all around.

  The rhythm of a thousand marching feet.

  TWO

  The air thickens with a cloak of ash, buying us a few seconds to stare down our oncoming doom. The silhouettes of soldiers move down the streets from the north. I can’t see their guns yet, but a Silver army doesn’t need guns to kill.

  Other Guardsmen flee before us, sprinting down the avenue with abandon. For now, it looks like they might escape, but to where? There’s only the river and the sea beyond. There’s nowhere to go, nowhere to hide. The army marches slowly, at a strange shuffling pace. I squint through the dust, straining to see them. And then I realize what this is, what Maven has done. The shock of it sparks in me, through me, forcing Shade and Kilorn to jump back.

  “Mare!” Shade shouts, half-surprised, half-angry. Kilorn doesn’t say anything, watching me wobble on the spot.

  My hand closes on his arm and he doesn’t flinch. My sparks are already gone—he knows I won’t hurt him. “Look,” I say, pointing.

  We knew soldiers would come. Cal told us, warned us, that Maven would send in a legion after the airjets. But not even Cal could have predicted this. Only a heart so twisted as Maven’s could dream up this nightmare.

  The figures of the first line are not wearing the clouded gray of Cal’s hard-trained Silver soldiers. They are not even soldiers at all. They are servants in red coats, red shawls, red tunics, red pants, red shoes. So much red they could be bleeding. And around their feet, clinking against the ground, are iron chains. The sound scrapes against me, drowning out the airjets and the missiles and even the harsh-barked orders of the Silver officers hiding behind their Red wall. The chains are all I hear.

  Kilorn bristles, growling. He steps forward, raising his rifle to shoot, but the gun shudders in his hands. The army is still across the avenue, too far for an expert shot even without a human shield. Now it’s worse than impossible.

  “We have to keep moving,” Shade mutters. Anger flares in his eyes, but he knows what must be done, what must be ignored, to stay alive. “Kilorn, come with us now, or we’ll leave you.”

  My brother’s words sting, waking me up from my horrified daze. When Kilorn doesn’t move, I take his arm, whispering into his ear, hoping to drown out the chains.

  “Kilorn.” It’s the voice I used on Mom when my brothers went to war, when Dad had a breathing attack, when things fell apart. “Kilorn, there’s nothing we can do for them.”

  The words hiss through his teeth. “That’s not true.” He glances over his shoulder at me. “You have to do something. You can save them—”

  To my eternal shame, I shake my head. “No, I can’t.”

  We keep running. And Kilorn follows.

  More missiles explode, faster and closer with each passing second. I can barely hear over the ringing in my ears. Steel and glass sway like reeds in the wind, bending and breaking until biting silver rain falls down upon us. Soon, it’s too dangerous to run, and Shade’s grip tightens on me. He grabs Kilorn too, jumping all three of us as the world collapses. My stomach twists every time the darkness closes in, and every time, the falling city gets closer. Ash and concrete dust choke our vision, making it difficult to breathe. Glass shatters in a bright storm, leaving shallow cuts across my face and hands, shredding my clothes. Kilorn looks worse than I do, his bandages red with fresh blood, but he keeps moving, careful not to outpace us. My brother’s grip never weakens, but he begins to tire, paling with every new jump. I’m not helpless, using my sparks to deflect the jagged metal shrapnel that even Shade can’t jump us away from. But we’re not enough, not even to save ourselves.

  “How much farther?”
My voice sounds small, drowned out by the tide of war. Against the haze, I can’t see farther than a few feet. But I can still feel. And what I feel are wings, engines, electricity screaming overhead, swooping closer and closer. We might as well be mice waiting for hawks to pluck us from the ground.

  Shade stops us short, his honey-colored eyes sweeping back and forth. For one frightening second, I fear he might be lost. “Wait,” he says, knowing something we don’t.

  He stares upward, at the skeleton of a once great structure. It’s massive, taller than the highest spire of the Hall of the Sun, wider than the great Caesar’s Square of Archeon. A tremor runs down my spine when I realize—it’s moving. Back and forth, side to side, swaying on twisting supports already worn by centuries of neglect. As we watch, it starts to tip, slumping slowly at first, like an old man settling into his chair. Then faster and faster, falling above us and around us.

  “Hold on to me,” Shade shouts over the din, adjusting his grip on us both. He wraps his arm around my shoulders, crushing me to him, almost too tight to bear. I expect the now unpleasant sensation of jumping, but it never comes. Instead, I’m greeted by a more familiar sound.

  Gunfire.

  Now it isn’t Shade’s ability saving my life, but his flesh. A bullet meant for me catches him in the meat of his upper arm, while another strafes his leg. He roars in anguish, almost falling to the cracked earth beneath. I feel the shot through him, but I have no time for pain. More bullets sing through the air, too fast and numerous to fight. We can only run, fleeing both the collapsing building and the oncoming army. One cancels out the other, with the twisted steel falling between the legion and us. At least, that’s what should happen. Gravity and fire made the structure fall, but the might of magnetrons stop it from shielding us. When I look back, I can see them, with silver hair and black armor, a dozen or so sweeping away every falling beam and steel support. I’m not close enough to see their faces, but I know House Samos well enough. Evangeline and Ptolemus direct their family, clearing the street so the legion can press on. So they can finish what they started and kill us all.

  If only Cal had destroyed Ptolemus in the arena; if only I had shown Evangeline the same level of kindness she showed me. Then we might have a chance. But our mercy has a cost, and it might be our lives.

  I hold on to my brother, supporting him as best I can. Kilorn does most of the heavy lifting. He takes the bulk of Shade’s weight, half dragging him toward a still smoking impact crater. We gladly dive into it, finding some refuge from the storm of bullets. But not much. Not for long.

  Kilorn pants and sweat beads on his brow. He rips off one of his own sleeves, using it to bandage up Shade’s leg. Blood stains it quickly. “Can you jump?”

  My brother furrows his brow, feeling not his pain but his strength. I understand that well enough. Slowly he shakes his head, his eyes going dark. “Not yet.”

  Kilorn curses under his breath. “Then what do we do?”

  It takes me a second to realize he’s asking me and not my older brother. Not the soldier who knows battle better than us. But he’s not really asking me either. Not Mare Barrow of the Stilts, the thief, his friend. Kilorn is looking to someone else now, to who I became in the halls of a palace and the sands of an arena.

  He’s asking the lightning girl.

  “Mare, what do we do?”

  “You leave me, that’s what you do!” Shade growls through clenched teeth, answering before I can. “You run to the river, you find Farley. I’ll jump to you as soon as I can.”

  “Don’t lie to a liar,” I say, trying my best to keep from shaking. My brother was only just returned to me, a ghost back from the dead. I won’t let him slip away again, not for anything. “We’re getting out of here together. All of us.”

  The legion’s march rumbles the ground. One glance over the edge of the crater tells me they’re less than a hundred yards away, advancing fast. I can see the Silvers between the gaps in the Red line. The foot soldiers wear the clouded gray uniforms of the army, but some have armor, the plates chased with familiar colors. Warriors from the High Houses. I see bits of blue, yellow, black, brown, and more. Nymphs and telkies and silks and strongarms, the most powerful fighters the Silvers can throw at us. They think Cal the king’s killer, me a terrorist, and they’ll bring the whole city down to destroy us.

  Cal.

  Only my brother’s blood and Kilorn’s uneven breathing keeps me from vaulting out of the crater. I must find him, I must. If not for myself then for the cause, to protect the retreat. He’s worth a hundred good soldiers. He’s a golden shield. But he’s probably gone, escaped, having melted his chains and run when the city began to crumble.

  No, he wouldn’t run. He would never run from that army, from Maven, or from me.

  I hope I’m not wrong.

  I hope he isn’t already dead.

  “Get him up, Kilorn.” In the Hall of the Sun, the late Lady Blonos taught me how to speak like a princess. It is a cold voice, unyielding, leaving no room for contest.

  Kilorn obeys, but Shade still has it in him to protest. “I’ll only slow you down.”

  “You can apologize for that later,” I reply, helping him hop to his feet. But I’m barely paying attention to them, my concentration elsewhere. “Get moving.”

  “Mare, if you think we’re leaving you—”

  When I turn on Kilorn, I have sparks in my hands and determination in my heart. His words die on his lips. He glances past me, toward the army advancing with every passing second. Telkies and magnetrons scrape debris out of the street, opening the obliterated way with resounding scrapes of metal on stone.

  “Run.”

  Again, he obeys and Shade can do nothing but limp along, leaving me behind. As they clamber out of the crater, scrambling west, I take measured steps east. The army will stop for me. They must.

  After one terrifying second, the Reds slow, their chains clinking as they halt. Behind them, Silvers balance black rifles on their shoulders, as if they were nothing at all. The war transports, great machines with treaded wheels, grind to a screeching stop somewhere behind the army. I can feel their power thrum through my veins.

  The army is close enough now that I hear officers bark orders. “The lightning girl!” “Keep the line, stand firm!” “Take aim!” “Hold your fire!”

  The worst comes last, ringing out against the suddenly quiet street. Ptolemus’s voice is familiar, full of hatred and rage.

  “Make way for the king!” he shouts.

  I stagger back. I expected Maven’s armies, but not Maven himself. He is not a soldier like his brother, and he has no business leading an army. But here he is, stalking through the parting troops, with Ptolemus and Evangeline on his heels. When he steps out from behind the Red line, my knees almost buckle. His armor is polished black, his cape crimson. Somehow he seems taller than he did this morning. He still wears his father’s crown of flames, though it has no place on a battlefield. I suppose he wants to show the world what he’s won with his lies, what a great prize he’s stolen. Even from so far away, I can feel the heat of his glare and his roiling anger. It burns me from inside out.

  Nothing but the jets whistle overhead; it is the only sound in the world.

  “I see you’re still brave,” Maven says, his voice carrying down the avenue. It echoes among the ruins, taunting me. “And foolish.”

  Like in the arena, I will not give him the satisfaction of my anger and fear.

  “They should call you the little quiet girl.” He laughs coldly, and his army laughs with him. The Reds remain silent, their eyes fixed on the ground. They don’t want to watch what’s about to happen. “Well, quiet girl, tell your rat friends it is over. They are surrounded. Call them out, and I will give them the gift of good deaths.”

  Even if I could give such an order, I never would. “They’re already gone.”

  Don’t lie to a liar, and Maven is the grandest liar of all.

  Still, he looks unsure. The Scarlet
Guard has escaped so many times already, in Caesar’s Square, in Archeon. Perhaps they might escape even now. What an embarrassment that would be. What a disastrous start to his reign.

  “And the traitor?” His voice sharpens, and Evangeline moves closer to him. Her silver hair glints like the edge of a razor, brighter than her gilded armor. But he moves away from her, batting her aside like a cat would a toy. “What about my wretched brother, the fallen prince?”

  He never hears my answer, for I have none.

  Maven laughs again and this time it stabs through my heart. “Has he abandoned you too? Did he run away? The coward kills our father and tries to steal my throne, only to slink off and hide?” He bristles, pretending for the sake of his nobles and soldiers. For them, he must still seem the tragic son, a king never meant for a crown, who wants nothing more than justice for the dead.

  I raise my chin in challenge. “Do you think Cal would do such a thing?”

  Maven is far from foolish. He is wicked but not stupid, and he knows his brother better than anyone else alive. Cal is no coward and never will be. Lying to his subjects will never change that. Maven’s eyes betray his heart and he glances sidelong, at the alleys and streets leading away from the war-torn avenue. Cal could be hiding in any one, waiting to strike. I could even be the trap, the bait to draw out the weasel I once called my betrothed and my friend. When he turns his head, his crown slips, too big for his skull. Even the metal knows it does not belong to him.

  “I think you stand alone, Mare.” He speaks softly. Despite all he’s done to me, my name in his mouth makes me shiver, thinking of days gone by. Once he said it with kindness and affection. Now it sounds like a curse. “Your friends are gone. You have lost. And you are an abomination, the only one of your wretched kind. It will be a mercy to remove you from this world.”

  More lies, and we both know it. I mirror his cold laugh. For a second, we look like friends again. Nothing is further from the truth.