Authors: Maria Violante
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You were wrong
, thought Alsvior.
He fingered the dagger around his neck and closed his eyes.
He only hoped he wasn't too late.
#
Golden turned to stare at De la Roca.
"It is a raging pity that I need to keep you alive, Cleopia.
Yes, that's right, I know
exactly
who you are.
I don't understand.
Did you think, perhaps, that I wouldn't recognize you, even after all these years?
What do you take me for?
How
dare
you come here?"
The wheels in her mind were turning furiously, yet she could feel the inklings of a plan.
"No, I would never - I just didn't know how - " De la Roca felt Laufeyson's aghast stare upon her.
She walked towards Golden, slowly, her arms open in a show of being unarmed.
"I didn't know what to say.
I didn't know how to start.
At first, I didn't remember, and when I did, I felt so trapped - it was already so late."
THIRTY-FOUR
T
he Mademoiselle watched the scene with interest.
She didn't believe De la Roca was Cleopia, not for a damn second, no matter how alike the two looked.
Even if she had not remembered the time when De la Roca appeared on her doorstep, nameless and without a whole mind, she still wouldn't have believed it.
They were different, different in the way they stood, the way they brushed the hair from their faces, the way they held a weapon, sighed, yawned - they were different, wholly and completely, and to believe otherwise was folly.
And even if - even if De la Roca somehow
was
Cleopia, what did it matter?
Cleopia before may have been a decent mercenary, but she wasn't near the artist of death that De la Roca had shown herself to be.
Cleopia fought out of necessity and a sense of duty, a need to follow orders.
Later, when she had joined the Movement, the feelings were no different - just the master had changed.
And De la Roca?
De la Roca killed because she wanted to, she
needed
to.
Even now, the Mademoiselle could see the way her forefingers trembled, the way she
itched
for the chance to shoot Golden.
Maybe not just Golden.
The Mademoiselle had a feeling that given the leeway, De la Roca would probably kill everyone in sight.
Sobering thought.
Still, Golden seemed to be falling for it.
The Mademoiselle could see the way his lip barely trembled, the tension and pain hidden in the frozen corners of his eyes.
De la Roca approached him slowly, her arms open embracingly, and although the Mademoiselle knew she should be working on a way out of here, at least half of her mind was on the scene in front of her, teasing her with the possibilities of this interaction.
Could it really be this simple?
Would a bit of empathy work?
De la Roca was close enough now that she could reach out and touch Golden on the face, and still, the angel had given no sign of moving. And then the Mademoiselle noticed it, a slight twitch in the mercenary's back leg.
She's going to jump for it!
Faster, faster then her eyes could follow, Golden's arm whipped out with a terrifying violence.
It smashed into De la Roca's torso, sending her flying backwards in the cell.
Laufeyson caught her, and the Mademoiselle flinched.
While that was probably best for the mercenary, it was probably the worst for them all.
Laufeyson had just risked Golden's anger to save De la Roca, and she doubted the angel wouldn't connect the dots.
"Traitorous wench!" Golden bellowed, his chest heaving.
His eyes burned with hatred, and the Mademoiselle almost thought she could see a reflection in them, like the sparks of a fire.
For some reason, it reminded her of the pyre they had burnt Kalima's body on, and she shuddered.
And then the other angels poured into the room, filling it shoulder to shoulder, with Golden blocking the door.
THIRTY-FIVE
D
amn,
thought De la Roca.
She wasn't sure how Golden knew she was about to leap.
His blow could have been a coincidence, even.
But her heart was falling in her chest.
I missed my only chance to clear the door so we could get out of-
-we?
The word rang oddly in her mind; it had been a long time since she had been concerned for any "we", except of course, for Alsvior.
The thought of her mount stung, and she forced the issue out of her mind, concentrating instead on Golden's perfect, gleaming teeth.
"Now that everybody is here," he laughed, "I think it's time for the festivities to begin."
He waved his hand once in a line between the door of the cell and the door to the room.
The army of angels drew swords, the noise loud enough to drown out any thoughts of escape.
We are stuck.
And then, from nowhere, came the wind.
It was scented like cinnamon and pine, a strong, Earthy smell that that overwhelmed the nostrils and reminded her of …
Alsvior?
She saw the angels react with mild confusion, their heads tracking for the source of the scent.
She saw a man appear in the door, face to face with Golden.
Before the angel could react, the newcomer slammed it shut.
"Waypoint!" he screamed at the Mademoiselle.
Alsvior!
"I can't in here, the cell is insulated!"
Golden had finally seemed to recover from his surprise.
He unsheathed his sword and stuck it through the bars; Alsvior whipped aside in the nick of time, flashing from one place to the next so fast he
flickered.
So fast
, thought De la Roca.
It didn’t make sense to her, and then she caught sight of the string around his neck, a golden thread like the one she had seen looped around the end of the dagger that the Oracle had traded him.
Traded him for my freedom,
she reminded herself.
Golden, evidently figuring that speed was not his strong point here, started to push, and while the door didn't
fly
open, it was definitely moving.
On both sides, their muscles stood out like cords, but the door slowly crawled towards Alsvior.
"Use the stone!"
Laufeyson's outburst made no sense to De la Roca.
He whipped by her, smashing into the door just as it began to crack wide enough for an arm.
It flew closed again, the combined force of Alsvior and Laufeyson stronger than Golden alone.
De la Roca sprang into action, running to assist the other two.
Yet the three of them against a thousand?
"And what?
Find the other stone? Remember something?
" screamed the Mademoiselle.
Golden whistled, and the angels suddenly ran to assist him, unsheathing their swords.
While it might be fairly impossible to hit Alsvior, both Laufeyson and De la Roca were only as fast as their captors, and they
would
be decent targets.
"
Yes
! You have to
remember
making a waypoint!"
De la Roca felt an odd vibration in the cell, and for a moment, her hopes soared.
Yet it faded as quickly as an echo.
"I
can't
!" screamed the Mademoiselle.
"I'm not strong enough!"
As the angels bore down on the door, the words rang in De la Roca's head.
"Get ready to rush the door!" called out Golden.
"One!"
Power
.
If nothing else, she had power.
She had been pushing power around since the death of Thyrsus, power that while she couldn't use … maybe the Mademoiselle could.
She focused it into a ball, feeling the stone hum awake and create the familiar pool of warmth.
"Try it again!" she screamed to the Mademoiselle.
"Do what Laufeyson says!"
"Two!" yelled Golden, his voice ringing with triumph.
Now or never.
The world was becoming clearer, more focused.
She could feel the Mademoiselle straining to open the waypoint around her, sense the energy of the cell blocking her.
She concentrated on the stone in her gut, and it blazed with an angry roar of power.
And then, she
pushed.
It was like leaping, the feeling of her muscles compressing and releasing as her body sprang forward.
She threw the power towards the Mademoiselle, her body crying in want and emptiness as it left her.
The Mademoiselle screamed once, and then they heard the crackling whir of a waypoint springing into existence.
"Three!" yelled Golden, and the angelic horde smashed into the door.
It swung in, moving faster than the eye could track, and all three of them went flying backward through the air.
She saw the Mademoiselle spread her arms wide, and the waypoint expanded suddenly, catching all three of them in the membrane.
The Mademoiselle jumped, the angels hot on her heels, and then with a wave, the whole thing closed, plunging them into darkness.
THIRTY-SIX
H
is quarry suddenly gone, Golden screamed, his hands plunging into his perfect hair, tearing out handfuls.
"What should we do now?" asked Anann.
She had moved through the crowd to stand next to him, her gentle calm a stark contrast to the conflagration of his anger.
Overcome with wrath and frustration, he whirled on her and plunged his sword into her side.
She screamed, and for the first time, he saw ugliness and anger supplant the normal expressions of her face.
She will live
, he thought, his anger fading,
although not without a scar
.
"We find them."
THIRTY-SEVEN
A
fter the chaos of their escape, De la Roca found the silence and darkness of the waypoint's destination unnerving.
"Where are we?"
The Mademoiselle waved her hand, and a tiny globe winked into view.
As her eyes adjusted, De la Roca could make out the wisps of fog that materialized with each breath, a ghostly testament to the cold.
She gasped, though, when she saw the Mademoiselle.
Great streaks of grey were running through her hair in wide shocks, and there were new wrinkles around the corners of her eyes and mouth.
"Doesn't look so great, does it?" cackled the Mademoiselle.
"I can feel the energy draining out of me, even the giant burst you sent.
We need to find out where we are going, and fast; I won't be able to hold us in this bubble for long."
"Bubble?" asked Alsvior.
"It's a world between worlds.
I have brought us halfway to a destination - Pico, on Earth.
It's an easy one for me."
"I didn't even know you could do that," said Laufeyson.
De la Roca glanced over at his eyes, and what she saw was … wonder?
"Yes.
The journey between two worlds is a linear thing.
I can stop along the path, but I won't be able to hold it for long. I can feel myself growing weaker by the second, and pretty soon, I'm going to need to drop us.
Unless, you can give me more?"
De la Roca searched inside of herself, but the Thyrsus stone pulsed lazily in her gut.
She knew it would not give her any more power, not yet.
"No."
"Damn.
Okay, the question is, drop us where?"
"What does it matter?" asked Laufeyson.
"We could choose Earth, Hell, or any one of a thousand such worlds.
They will find us, and quickly.
The only one who could stand up against that onslaught is God himself, and who knows where he is?"
"Actually, I do," said the Mademoiselle.
The faces of the other members turned towards her.
In the dim light of the globe, De la Roca could see astonishment etched upon each one, astonishment that mirrored her own.