Queen of faces, p.32
Queen of Faces, page 32
‘Who?’
‘Kaplen Ingolf,’ she said through clenched teeth. ‘A gentle, innocent Paragon student, who found himself at Lyna Wethers’s yacht party. After you freed her from prison.’
‘She hijacked him?’
‘He’s dead.’
Khaiovhe shrugged.
Ana’s eyes turned cold as a glacier.
Steam drifted from our cups of tea, Black Arrows shouting and trucks rumbling outside. The smell of rubbish kept fading in and out as the minutes stretched in silence.
‘A cruel plot is in motion,’ said Khaiovhe. ‘So deep and vast, I’ve only guessed a fraction of it. But I do know this: the Eldritch Guard is involved.’
‘And you’re the only genius who can stop them, right?’ I said.
‘I’m no genius,’ said Khaiovhe. ‘Just a fool who spat in the face of God.’ She smiled. ‘When enough people do that, even God must take notice.’
A Black Arrow burst into the temple, out of breath. ‘Ma’am. Movement on the radar.’
Khaiovhe stood, knocking over her chair. Dark flames poured from her fingertips, and her eyes turned pitch-black, two empty voids.
But she wasn’t looking at us. She was looking outside.
The rubbish smell flicked on and off again like a light switch.
Then I realised. The smell was an illusion. Ana was using magic.
But why?
I glanced at Gage. Ana’s body was changing before my eyes. Her pale grey hair grew longer, fuller, darkening into a raven black. The angles of her face narrowed, and the decay vanished from her olive skin. Her raincoat melted into a sheer turquoise gown, rippling like a tropical ocean. A pair of shimmering rubies materialised on her ears.
And her left eye glowed blue. The face from her second branch. The perfect, frightening beauty who’d stolen my breath. The ultimate form of intimidation.
Her eyes flitted upwards. And in a flash, her plan became obvious. There was a pattern to the magic she was using, lighting up her tracer in bursts of short and long. Dots and dashes. Telegraph code.
She was sending a message using her tracer. She was sending a message to Adam Weaver.
Anabelle Gage leaned back, sipping her tea.
‘God noticed,’ she said.
A force grabbed my shirt from behind and yanked me out of my chair. Ana flew with me, her arms flailing. The two of us crashed through a window and slammed on to the dewy grass outside.
Then the air quivered, and the temple blew up.
A yellow blur shot down from the grey sky. The roof tiles shattered. The crimson walls exploded outwards in a hail of splinters.
I blinked, and the temple was rubble.
Then I looked up.
A beam of sunlight cut through the clouds, shining behind the silhouette of a boy.
Adam Weaver floated over us, wearing a wingsuit. Healthy, spotless, like Ana had never sunk her dagger into his lung. A new chassis. Identical to his old body. Paragon must have paid a fortune to give him that.
Palefire flowed from his white-gloved hands, burning a hole in the clouds, revealing dozens of other hovering figures, dressed in blue robes. The Eldritch Guard. A whole army of mages.
Adam smiled, and they moved.
wes shoved me into the grass, covering me with his frame. Gunfire filled the air, a hail of smoke and bullets. Black Arrows opened fire with rifles. The tanks in the village aimed their machine guns at the sky. The Eldritch Guard scattered into the woods, their wingsuits a blur.
Professor Inwood darted into the open, a black key hanging round his neck. The key to the Aeon Scroll. He clapped his hands, then clenched them into fists. A loud pop echoed from inside one of the houses, followed by the cracks of bones snapping. His Physical Codex, I remembered. It let him compress the air around him, creating bubbles of extreme pressure.
Inwood relaxed his hands, and a cloud of crimson mist poured out of the windows. Blood. Another mage waved her hands, and a squad of Black Arrows dropped their weapons, crying out in pain as their guns turned red-hot, melting into puddles on the ground.
Then Headmaster Carriwitch landed in front of us. At least a hundred Black Arrows stared him down from behind sandbags, inside windows and on rooftops. Mercenary mages turned towards him, their hands glowing blue, and a pair of tanks rumbled down the street. He’d set himself against a small army.
‘Voidsteel!’ screamed the man up front. ‘Smoke the bastard!’
Carriwitch gave them a gentle smile, like the enemies before him were his grandkids visiting for a holiday.
He started walking towards them, and I blinked.
The army of Black Arrows froze. They dropped their weapons, staring at their hands in horror.
The man up front stumbled forward, and his leg dissolved. It crumbled beneath him, transformed into flower petals.
The others choked, their eyes bulging, tears streaming down their cheeks. A second later, their bodies melted into flowers. Their arms, torsos, weapons, clothes, all turned into a rainbow of blossoms, drifting on to the ground like confetti. The tanks fell apart like dandelions in the wind, cold steel turned to deep blue roses.
The men’s heads were the last to disintegrate, leaving only their eyes intact, rolling like marbles on the carpet of petals.
Carriwitch kept walking, his smile unchanged.
At the Brenby Fish Market, the Eldritch Guard had underestimated Khaiovhe, leaving the headmaster at home. But this time, I’d signalled Adam, and in turn told the Guard what I saw. Not just Khaiovhe, but an army. Guns and trucks and mercenaries, stretching down the road as far as the eye could see.
Today, the Eldritch Guard had brought dozens and dozens of mages. Hundreds of them, maybe. They’d brought Carriwitch. And they’d brought Adam.
The boy had wrapped himself in a glowing, white dragon made of Palefire, as big as a house and glowing like a second sun. He sculpted the flames into wings and talons, thick muscles and layers of burning scales. The fiery beast shot down the road, charging into the long line of enemies. Into trucks and mages and tanks. All of them vanished when they touched the dragon, one after the other, swallowed into nothingness like they’d never existed.
Men and women fired at him, but the flames erased every bullet. They dived off the road, but the sheer heat of his passage set the forest ablaze, blackening the road and boiling the floodwaters. Wind howled behind him, rushing to fill the vacuum he’d created. His Palefire erased even the air itself.
Cruel satisfaction jolted through my body. They deserved it. Every single one of them. Did Khaiovhe really think I’d join her side after what she did? I heard Kaplen’s voice in my head. Where’s Lyna? Where’s Lyna? I saw the black fire destroying the dam over my hometown.
A manic laugh escaped my lips.
‘You’re welcome, by the way.’
I glanced behind me. Nima crouched beside a ruined house, purple light swirling over their four wrists. Copycat. They’d just copied someone’s skills. And they’d pulled us out of the house. They’d saved us. Korin stood behind them, muscles bulging under his jacket. Wes and I ran into cover with them.
‘You followed us?’ said Wes.
Left-Nima rolled her eyes. ‘Obviously. You think I’d just nap while you idiots set yourselves on fire?’
Carriwitch waved his hands, and the rubble of the temple swept away like a pile of dry leaves. Corpses lay on the dirt: two dozen Black Arrows and a trio of mercenaries, with countless more in the village around them. But there was no dark evening gown. No Black Wraith.
‘Khaiovhe.’ I clenched my teeth. ‘She’s still alive.’
Nima yanked my shoulder. ‘Think about her later. We have to get out of here.’ Before either Commonplace or the Guard took an interest in us.
But as Nima spoke, Professor Inwood floated towards us, flicking his hand from above. Something jabbed into my neck, and I glanced down. A narrow syringe stuck into my vein, guided by an invisible hand. Another four syringes darted down like swarming wasps, aiming for the other members of Queen Sulphur. One of them stuck Wes in the shoulder, and he crumpled. I shouted a warning, and Nima tackled Korin to the ground, covering him with both their bodies. The needles jabbed both of them in the back, then slipped under their limp arms and injected Korin in the leg.
Korin and Nima went limp.
No, I thought. Dizziness washed over me, and I wobbled back and forth, the world turning blurry and distant. I fell on to my back, staring at the sky.
The last thing I saw was the smoke.
i woke in a stone prison cell, shivering and grey.
As cells went, it could have been worse. I had enough room to stretch my arms, with four thin mattresses pressed against the walls. The metal toilet in the corner looked less appealing, as did the steel bars blocking us from the hallway, and the thick Voidsteel lock on the door. While I slept, the decay on my skin had spread up my neck, grazing the edge of my jaw. Every part of my body ached. My lungs burned, and my eyes were dry. The room felt like a massive refrigerator around me, and my arms prickled with goose bumps.
Not many grains left in the hourglass, I thought.
I coughed, gazing round. Wes, Korin and both Nimas sat behind me in the cell. Outside a window, I saw curving stairways, floating islands and rows of blue lanterns hanging from trees. Paragon. The Eldritch Guard was holding us in Paragon.
The sun descended, grey and distant behind a veil of clouds. The city of Elmidde spread out below us, police lights flickering up and down the mountain. The riots had grown worse. Out on the water, the battleships of the Caimorian Home Fleet had drawn closer to the city, guarding the bridges and ports.
Lady Ebbridge stood in front of our cell. The admiral of that Home Fleet, flanked by two mages and Headmaster Carriwitch.
Wes stared at his mother, his eyes burning with something I couldn’t quite place. Rage, or fear, or awe. His entire body seemed to get smaller in her presence, his shoulders hunching, his limbs folding in.
I reached for the admiral with my Pith, piercing the cold sensation of my tracer.
A splitting headache erupted at the back of my skull, and my soul stayed locked in my body. Null Venom. The guards must have injected it in us while we were sleeping. None of us would be able to use magic for the next few hours at least. I jerked my gaze back to Nima and their bodies. If their two halves couldn’t communicate with each other, then—
‘Relax,’ said Nima. ‘Null Venom doesn’t split my bodies from each other. I’m alive. For now.’
‘Anabelle Gage, 516-R, Nima Qasemi, Korin Nameless.’ The admiral’s eyes narrowed. ‘You have committed crimes of illegal magic, theft, breaking and entering, attempted murder and assaulting officers of the law. Adam Weaver has suffered permanent damage to his soul.’
The knife in his lung, I thought. The blood loss and brain damage must’ve warped his Pith. According to Wes, that’s what I’d done to his fiancé, Samuel, when I’d shot him in the leg, making him lose a pair of toes.
I stuffed down the twinge of guilt. We had bigger problems.
The admiral continued. ‘Some in the Eldritch Guard believe you qualify for a life sentence.’
Wes stared at his feet, silent.
‘This is absurd,’ said Carriwitch. ‘These young mages are heroes. Miss Gage enabled our entire assault on the village with her tracer. She should be getting medals, not handcuffs.’
Gratitude surged through me. Evidently, the Eldritch Guard hadn’t learned of his involvement with us.
And if the headmaster was standing with us, I was going to stand with him.
‘They’re dangerous,’ said Admiral Ebbridge. ‘There’s a reason we don’t allow rogue mages.’
My finger stump ached. ‘Your son risked his life to fight Khaiovhe. Is this your gratitude?’
‘I have no son.’
Wes closed his eyes, slouching over.
‘And I’d be fascinated to know who these heroes were working for,’ she said. ‘Who was paying them to commit a multitude of crimes.’
I made sure not to look at Carriwitch. ‘That’s not relevant right now.’
The admiral shrugged. ‘If that’s all you have to say in your defence, I think we’re done here. A judge will have words with you, I imagine, and a mage will transfer you to a high-security prison.’ She turned to leave.
‘Wait,’ I said. ‘Wait!’
She kept walking.
Left-Nima shouted. ‘I know where she went!’
The admiral stopped.
‘Let me guess,’ said Nima. ‘You didn’t find Khaiovhe.’
‘That’s classified,’ said the admiral through gritted teeth.
‘You didn’t find her,’ said Nima. ‘But here’s the thing. I used my Praxis Codex, Copycat, on Khaiovhe before her temple blew up. She was looking straight at me through that window, and I took the opportunity.’
Admiral Ebbridge raised an eyebrow. ‘Our records are incomplete on your abilities. What does your Codex do?’
‘It copies skills,’ said Nima. ‘I can steal passwords, talents and anything else in someone’s procedural memory. But it takes time, and I only got her for a second or two.’
‘Where are they going?’ said Admiral Ebbridge. ‘What are they planning?’
‘I don’t know,’ said Nima. ‘Are you going to throw us in prison?’
‘That depends on the quality of your information.’
Nima took a deep breath. ‘I saw only a few blurry images. She must have been visualising them over and over. But the clearest one, the loudest one by far, was a wheat field.’
‘A wheat field?’
‘A burning wheat field. Dark flames washing over it, roasting all the plants. Houses and villages, crumbling to ash. And the fires, spreading in every direction.’
The blood drained from Admiral Ebbridge’s face. ‘What else did you see?’
‘A mountain,’ said Nima. ‘A mountain shaped like a molar tooth, with a river leading to a dam, perched over a small village.’
The world blurred. My knees drew up to my chest, shaking. This couldn’t be happening.
The Eldritch Guard had its rotten apples. Cold, heartless bastards like Wes’s mother. Cruel brats like Adam Weaver. But Commonplace could not be forgiven. Not for the innocents they killed. Not for Kaplen. And not for this, their masterstroke.
I knew that mountain, that river. I’d looked at them thousands of times. Adam Weaver had saved me from the river when Khaiovhe herself had blown up the dam. The village was Stemford, my hometown. It sat at the heart of the Agricultural Islands, surrounded by miles of farms. Just off the southern coast of Caimor. Darkfire, burning fields and spreading flames. The puzzle fitted together in my mind.
‘Khaiovhe plans to burn down the Agricultural Islands,’ I said. My home. My mother’s home.
The monster was coming back.
‘what are you talking about?’ I said.
‘The Agricultural Islands.’ Ana spoke in a monotone, her eyes flat. ‘My home, just off the southern coast of Caimor. They produce nearly all of Caimor’s food supply. Khaiovhe and Commonplace are going to set them on fire.’ She stared out of the window.
‘I don’t understand.’ A nervous chuckle spilled out of me. ‘Commonplace wants a revolution. They want to tear down our castles and steal our money. They don’t want to burn down the whole country.’
‘You heard her back in the village,’ said Ana. ‘She wants to push Caimor to the breaking point. That’s how she gets her revolution. Sow enough chaos, and the social order collapses.’ She swallowed. ‘Or maybe she just wants us to burn. Maybe she’s desperate, now that Adam crushed half her army.’
My mother bit her lip, massaging her temple. For a good minute, no one spoke a word.
Finally, she stood up straight. ‘Watch them,’ she snapped to the other two mages. Then she speed-walked down the hallway, her shoes squeaking on the polished wood. Carriwitch followed her.
We all sat in the cell, hunched over. My fingers tapped against my leg, fidgeting.
Twenty minutes later, a symphony of footsteps echoed down the hallway. My mother and Carriwitch rounded the corner. Following them were at least two dozen men and women, a mixture of Humdrums and the Eldritch Guard. They stopped in front of our cell, crowding in the narrow passageway. Some of them looked dazed, and everyone’s hair was mussed. My mother and Carriwitch must have flown them here from all over the city.
My mother gestured to the man beside her. ‘This is Vice Admiral Rentis of the Royal Navy. Next to him is Acting Chief Redmond from the Eldritch Guard, Violet Swenden, the Minister of Agriculture, and –’ she shook her head – ‘no time for introductions. Mr Lockwood, can you hear us?’
A sweaty secretary dragged a black phone through the hallway, the cord trailing behind him. ‘Yes, Admiral [],’ a voice crackled from the speaker. ‘I’ll relay this meeting to the prime minister.’
‘Excellent,’ my mother said. She turned to Ana and Nima. ‘Now. Repeat everything you just said.’
They did as she asked. With every sentence, the minister of agriculture tensed, her face darkening. When we finished, the suits muttered among themselves.
‘Well?’ said my mother. ‘Are they telling the truth?’
‘Anyone can lie,’ said a tall, reedy woman. ‘They could be working for Commonplace. But I doubt it. Not after they helped us wipe out one of their strongholds. They’ve been fighting the bastards all year.’
Another woman spoke up. ‘Herwig Naval Base is the closest force we have in the south. They’re not responding to telegrams or radio. Neither are local police on the islands.’
The navy man scowled. ‘High winds and heat mean firestorms. And Khaiovhe’s flames will be strong.’
‘Violet?’ My mother turned to the minister of agriculture, who’d been silent all this time. ‘How many days would it take to burn down the Agricultural Islands?’
The minister swallowed. ‘Hours.’
The hallway fell silent. A cloud passed over the sun, shrouding us all in grey.
‘Hours?’ my mother stuttered. ‘Surely you can’t be—’
