Queen of faces, p.34
Queen of Faces, page 34
By the time reinforcements arrived, Paragon would be a smoking ruin.
Silence filled the prison cell, the silence of a corpse. The long quiet following a battle, as dust settled over the dead.
But this battle wasn’t over. The massacre of Paragon was just beginning.
I inhaled, out of breath. Outside the window, a fire had started on one of the neighbouring islands, engulfing a pair of cherry trees. One by one, their glowing blue lanterns went out, replaced by the writhing, all-consuming flames.
Paradise is burning. Soon, there would be nothing left but a gentle carpet of ash, encasing the city below.
‘All our work, and we just made things worse.’ Ana slumped against the wall. ‘They’re going to burn Paragon down, and we’re still trapped in this cell.’
‘Are we?’
We all turned to Nima at the sound of their voice. They clenched their fists, and purple light glowed over their four hands.
Everyone looked at them. They can use magic?
‘Our last injection of Null Venom was nine hours ago,’ said Nima. ‘But Commonplace killed the guards, so they missed our latest dose.’
I stretched my hand forward, reaching my Pith towards the grey wall. Green light swirled around my arm from the effort, and a headache swelled in the back of my skull. I clenched my fist.
The stone rumbled under our feet, then cracked like a dry biscuit.
A smirk played on my lips.
‘I’m not going to die in this cell,’ said Ana. ‘I’m not going to sit back and watch as Commonplace kills everyone I love.’
I nodded. ‘The students will fight. They’ve got quite a lot of magic pent up in these walls. But they’re going to need our help.’
Nima shrugged with both bodies. ‘Or we could escape.’
Everyone looked at them.
‘I’m serious,’ said Right-Nima. ‘I know we all hate Khaiovhe, but does anyone else recall the outcome of our last job? The fish market?’
Silence engulfed the cell.
‘If I don’t get that reward money,’ said Ana, ‘I’m dead. And if I don’t step in, Ori is dead. Do what you want, but I’m staying.’
I nodded. ‘This is my home,’ I said simply.
Left-Nima rolled her eyes. ‘Fine. I guess someone has to pull your asses out of the fire.’
She strode forward and slid her finger across the upper bars of the cell door. Narrow slices of the steel glowed orange, melting. She knelt, repeating the process on the bottom of the door.
Then she stood and rapped her knuckle on the metal. The cell door fell with a clang.
Ana grunted next to me. She bent over, clenching her teeth, veins bulging on her neck. A dot of blue light sputtered on her fingertip, then died.
Nima glanced at her. ‘Your decay is to blame, I’ll bet. Best guess, your liver processes Null Venom slower than the rest of us.’
‘When will my magic come back?’
Nima shrugged. ‘A few minutes, a few days, who knows?’
Ana scowled, and we all climbed out of the cell. As we passed the dead guard, Korin knelt next to him and closed his eyes. ‘Rest well,’ he murmured.
We jogged down a stairwell to the main room of the administrative building, a wooden entrance hall filled with chairs. I’d been sent here countless times for all manner of mischief: fights, arguments, cheating on tests. Now it was silent, blood staining the brass lamps on the counter.
A student lay on the rug, unmoving. Alistair Pakhem, Samuel’s brother in the fourth-year class. Another student lay next to him, a third-year girl.
I choked on my bile. I’d seen corpses before. I’d made quite a few. But this was Paragon Academy, the safest place in the world. These were students. Kids our age.
Gunshots rang in the distance. The stench of smoke drifted through the window, and outside, flickers of orange lit up the night.
Korin jogged to the cabinets under the counter, picking the padlocks. Nima’s four hands ripped them open, tossing aside papers and confiscated jewellery. ‘Got you.’ They grinned, pulling out a pair of short, fat revolvers: their shotgun pistols. ‘We’re late for the party. Let’s get dressed.’
We ripped open the other drawers and pulled on our gear. Raincoats and blades, and a crimson mask with an eye painted on. In this light, it looked like it was coated in blood. Ana tossed aside her cattle prod, eschewing the non-lethal option. My collar straightened itself, and the wrinkles ironed themselves out of my shirt. I cracked my neck.
Ana patted her chest twice. At the same time, I thumped mine, along with Korin, and Nima with a three-fingered claw. The heartbeat salute.
‘As one,’ I said.
We swept out of the front door. The witch, the exile, the copycat and the bombmaker. The parade of freaks who’d crawled out of the mud together, who’d made something deadly of themselves.
We emerged into chaos.
Half the islands of Paragon were burning, orange flames licking over stone columns and stained-glass windows. Howling winds blew in our faces, and the cracks of rifles echoed in the darkness.
My breath quickened. Commonplace was slaughtering my former classmates like livestock. In a few hours, there wouldn’t be any of us left.
I peered through the guard’s binoculars, scanning the rest of Paragon’s islands. Black Arrows and mercenaries swarmed over stone bridges, throwing fireballs, firing guns and knocking down blue lanterns. Groups of students fought back to back in the rubble, slinging icicles and lightning bolts.
Through it all, a small, dark figure soared from island to island, hurling streams of black fire like a dragon. Khaiovhe. On a neighbouring island, a cluster of students raised a dome of rubble over their heads. A jet of dark flames blasted into it, and the bricks glowed a bright orange from the heat. Screams rang from within.
‘Ori,’ said Ana, her voice choking. ‘Where’s Ori?’
I squinted through the binoculars towards Corvus Hall, a hundred feet down on the far side of Paragon. A blonde student lay on the slanted roof of the dormitory. Faint moonlight shone over her closed eyes, the slow, laboured rise and fall of her chest.
I knew that face. I’d been wearing it before my Ousting.
‘There,’ I said. ‘She’s unconscious.’
A figure stepped on to the roof, striding towards my replacement. A tall, slender woman with high cheekbones and scarlet hair. A designer chassis, wearing a blue pearl necklace and a black suit.
‘There’s a woman with her,’ I said. ‘Some tall ginger.’ She strode towards the unconscious Ori, drawing a knife from under her black coat.
Ana grabbed the binoculars and looked through them. ‘Clementine,’ she breathed.
Ana’s former boss. A witch of the coin.
I squinted down at my replacement. When I looked back, Ana was already sprinting. She charged down a stone staircase, making her way towards her friend. ‘Ana!’ I shouted. ‘Wait!’ She was barrelling forward without a plan, without an escape route. Straight into the fire. This was Lyna Wethers all over again.
I thought of the tapestry of her mind, an immaculate vision I’d glimpsed for a fraction of a second during our swap. Cold, beautiful lips on mine. A shaking fist thumping my chest, like I was the last island in a drowning world.
Damn her. I sprinted after her. Korin and Nima followed. We ran through clouds of smoke, past burning clubhouses and crumbling towers, making our way towards Corvus Hall. Smoke filled my lungs, and I coughed, wheezing as tears filled my eyes. Streams of Darkfire shot far above our heads, and even from a distance, I could feel the heat on my face.
And the bodies. So many bodies. Students and teachers and Black Arrows. I saw Chester Sutcliffe from my first-year maths class. Caelia Peirce, my hallmate in the dorms.
We sprinted past them all on to a wooden bridge, Ana ten steps ahead of me, Korin and Nima ten steps behind. Racing to save a girl I loathed.
The last time I’d walked these halls, such a concept would’ve been laughable. How much I’ve frayed these last few months.
A column of Darkfire slammed down between me and Gage.
Darkness filled my vision, a raging pillar of indigo flames. It crashed into the bridge, shearing through wooden planks and the latticed support beams underneath. The heat blasted my face like a hot poker, and my coat ignited.
The bridge crumbled beneath me, and I plummeted into the depths below. I tumbled through a cloud of smoke, limbs flailing, and slammed on to an oaken support beam, knocking the wind out of me. I clung to the wood under the bridge, gasping. Flames licked up my coat, eating into the wings folded beneath. No, no, no. I extended my magic into the air, draining the oxygen away, stifling their fuel as I batted at myself. The flames weakened, but didn’t stop burning.
I gazed down into the dark clouds. The city of Elmidde looked tiny, hundreds of feet below. The wood groaned beneath me, and I clung tighter to the beam, splinters digging into my palms. Your wings are burning. My eyelids felt as heavy as rocks, every breath like fire in my lungs. If I fell, things would get ugly.
A thick cloud of smoke enveloped the far side of the bridge, blocking off my view of Ana. I gazed above me. A swarm of mercenaries descended over the island I’d just stepped off, flinging bolts of lightning at Korin and Nima. Korin threw a handful of smoke grenades into the air, and they detonated, vanishing him and Nima into a thick grey cloud.
When the smoke cleared, I froze.
Anabelle Gage was hanging off the far side of the bridge, her arms and legs dangling in the air. She was choking in the grip of a black-haired woman wearing a dark dress.
Khaiovhe’s eyes were an empty void.
A blue light fizzled and died on Ana’s fingertip, another failed attempt at magic. Her knife was nowhere to be seen. Her crimson mask had been torn off.
I had to save her. Drag myself up there. Attack the Black Wraith, avenge my father, do something. Anabelle Gage was sinking beside the towering Star Prophet ruin, writhing and choking as I watched, frozen.
But I did nothing, hidden under the bridge as it burned. A cough rose in my throat, and I clamped my hand over my mouth, keeping myself hidden.
Because I knew. I had breathed in enough smoke to kill the average person, and was barely staying awake. The Null Venom from earlier was still wearing off, weakening my magic. And my wings were on fire. My years of combat experience, my instincts, my logic, were all screaming the same thing. If you fight Khaiovhe, you will die. If you go up there, you will die.
If you try to save Ana, you will die.
So, I didn’t move. Hidden, burning, stiff as a corpse. I did nothing as Khaiovhe’s fingers tightened round Ana’s neck. I did nothing as my friend wheezed, gasping for air.
And I did nothing, as Khaiovhe let go, dropping Ana into the abyss.
i fell.
My belly tugged as I dropped through the sky. My limbs flailed helplessly. Air whipped across my face, swallowing my gasp. Wes and Korin and Nima were nowhere to be seen.
I extended my Pith into my clothes and pulled up. A headache exploded at the back of my skull, and blue light swirled around my body. The Null Venom had finally worn off. Partly, at least. Still, I kept accelerating downwards, too weak to slow myself. I tried again, and the headache tripled, evidence of the strain on my Pith.
Fly, I told myself. Fly. But I had no wings, and not nearly enough power to lift my own body weight.
My gaze flitted left and right. The floating islands of Paragon blurred around me, burning chunks of rock suspended in the night. Dormitories on fire, torn bridges and corpses, lit by cold moonlight.
It felt like the end of a long nightmare. If I just closed my eyes, I would wake up in my bed, all the way back home. I could almost feel it. The breeze rustling through the wheat fields, the smell of fresh pancakes wafting from downstairs. My mother’s voice, welcoming me home.
But this was no dream. This was death, rushing towards me like a tsunami.
All my tricks, all my gambits, and I’d still lost. I couldn’t outsmart gravity. No amount of sweat or blood or tears would change my fate at the bottom.
My long battle had finally ended. So, I relaxed my mind and let Rainbow Veil take over.
I silenced the howling wind, the blood rushing in my ears. I wove lavender and incense into the air. And I pictured my true face, one last time.
Black hair drifted around me, long and silken. A sundress flowed from my shoulders like a waterfall, blue and red and stitched with branching patterns. It looked like a pair of butterfly wings, folded and wrapped over my body. And in the air above me, I saw the faintest reflection of my slender face, of the dimples on my olive cheeks and the smile in my eyes. I couldn’t make the aches vanish, couldn’t alter my sense of touch. But I could dream.
I would die as Ana, not Edgar, with the face from my happiest memories. After the last decade, it almost felt like mercy. Most caterpillars die in the cocoon.
I closed my eyes.
And strong arms wrapped round my back.
I blinked, clearing the illusion.
Wes gazed down at me. His wings were spread wide above him, burning from end to end. Flames licked over the white paper, eating holes in the material.
But brighter than the flames, stronger than the fire, were the twin bolts of lightning. Green electricity, shooting from his shoulders, searing over his wings and arcing into the night. Each of them split at the end, spreading like veins on a leaf. Spreading into two distinct branches.
Wes’s second branch.
The fire grew over his flapping green coat, but still, he kept flying. Blood stained his dark brown hair and the long, narrow scar on his face. His usual smirk had faded, and his entire face was lit up like a firework. He was a key being fitted into a lock, the last brushstroke on a painting. Woven starlight flowed through his veins, burning in his eyes.
He’d never looked more beautiful.
Then the sky went dark, and the moon vanished.
A curtain of Darkfire filled the heavens. A black fireball shot towards us like a bullet.
Wes angled his burning wings and dodged it. The flames grazed the edge of his raincoat, and heat seared my face.
The two of us flew forward, past burning islands and crumbling bridges. Wind and smoke whipped across my face.
And Khaiovhe soared after us, her black gown flapping around her, volleys of Darkfire searing from her hands. Wes did his best to dodge, curving round towers, darting and weaving in the moonlit darkness. Oddly, the black flames moved slower than usual, crashing into bridges and islands, but none of them struck us.
I glanced over Wes’s shoulder. Green light flickered around Khaiovhe’s body. She’s straining her magic. The Black Wraith, after fighting half of Paragon, was finally starting to grow tired.
As Wes flew, he darted past bridges and stairways, past mercenaries and Black Arrows. And my deck of silver playing cards fanned out around him, propelled by magic. As we flew past clusters of enemies, the cards shot at them like bullets, punching through them, slicing like daggers, darting like a swarming flock of birds.
His second branch. Before, Wes could only sharpen paper he was touching, limiting him to objects like his sword. Now he could enhance every card in that deck at once. And he had fifty-two blades at his disposal, all of them fast as an arrow.
The cards cut left and right. Again and again, from one floating island to the next. He burned, and he flew, and he killed, even as the Black Wraith blazed a trail of Darkfire close behind.
He clenched his jaw, rounding the corner of a floating island. Directly across from Corvus Hall. We rocketed forward, swathed in flames, straight towards the dormitory’s roof. Towards Ori and Clementine.
Ori lay on the darkened roof, utterly still.
My heart jolted. I couldn’t see her chest moving.
Clementine spun to face us, knife held high in her hand, surprise etched on her face.
It happened in an instant, so fast I could barely register it. My former boss took one look at Wes, with his green lightning and burning wings and storm of playing cards. And she ran. She turned away from Ori and sprinted to the edge of the roof, unfurling her black wings under her arms. Her legs kicked off the edge of the dormitory, and she dived into the darkness.
Wes’s feet skimmed across the rooftop, and we slammed on to the tiles, rolling. The green lightning faded. The burning wings finally crumbled, and Wes tore off his raincoat, swatting at himself. He slumped over, gasping for breath. His shirt and vest were blackened, and burns crisscrossed his skin.
I doubled over, shivering, and coughed until my throat ached. I crawled to Ori and pressed my fingers to her neck.
For a moment, I couldn’t feel anything.
Then a faint pulse thudded under her skin, and she gasped, coughing, her eyes still closed.
Relief flooded my body, and I exhaled, wiping away my tears. ‘She’s breathing,’ I said. ‘She’s alive. She—’
A pair of feet landed on the rooftop behind us, calloused and swirling with Darkfire. I spun.
Khaiovhe stood before us, catching her breath. Her raven hair blew in the howling winds, coated with sweat, and a large scroll floated behind her, wrapped with black leather.
The Aeon Scroll. The most important text in the world.
My throat tightened. If she was holding that document, she’d slaughtered the elite professor who was guarding it. Many professors, probably. Maybe that was why Khaiovhe had attacked Paragon. Now its power would be hers. Its secrets.
Khaiovhe strode towards us across the rooftop, slow and patient. We had no wings. No hope of escape. I felt the air twitch around us, the Black Wraith using magic to sense the space around our bodies, probably searching for any illusions I might cast.
Wes stood up, coughing, placing himself between us. Soot covered his cheeks, and his breaths were ragged. He looked ready to collapse. A walking corpse, too stupid to realise it was dead.
But still, he didn’t budge. Didn’t flee.
Instead, he lifted his bloody sword, clenching it with both hands. The deck of cards fanned out behind him. His arms shook, and he bent his knees into a fighting stance.
