Season of Glory (18 page)

But Bellona had used the tracker's momentary distraction to draw an arrow and send
it through the air toward his heart. He whirled, and the arrow did little but tear
through his red cape. She pressed forward, picking up a Sheolite's sword and
bringing
it down toward his chest. He narrowly parried in time, holding off her press with
gritted teeth until he could lift a booted foot and shove her backward. Ronan drove
forward, taking over as Bellona regained her footing. But just as he neared the
tracker, more bricks rained down—one catching the tracker dead center on his forehead.
He staggered backward, dazed, blood trickling between his eyes and along his nose.
Another hit him on the shoulder, and as he wheeled about, still another hit him on
the head again. He slumped to his knees.

Vidar, his sword in both hands, turned and brought his blade down across our enemy's
neck, making certain he wouldn't rise to track us ever again.

I looked away, up, to see several old women and girls, bricks in hand, eyes alight
with glory. “Run, Remnant!” cried a girl. “Run! We'll try and keep them from you!”

“Come on,” Bellona said, taking the lead. “This way!”

We pounded over the cobblestones after her, not arguing. If Sethos had brought more
than just his forward forces of Sheolites—if there were Pacifican soldiers approaching
too—and if the Sheolites had gotten to Lord Darcel, we had to convince him to remain
true.

CHAPTER
19

ANDRIANA

W
e'd wound our way through the streets—Bellona and Vidar just a block ahead of us—when
an
arrow
pierced Bellona's shoulder. She cried out and spun to one side, and Vidar immediately
turned to scan the rooftops. Another arrow narrowly missed him, and Ronan shoved
me around the corner. “Take cover!” he cried.

But around that corner was Sethos, again, along with three scouts. I stared at him
in horror. How on earth had he found us again? We'd taken turn upon turn.

Ronan drew his sword, as did I.

“Come now,” Sethos said soothingly. “Put down your weapons, and you both shall live
to see tomorrow.”

“I'd rather die than return to Pacifica with you,” Ronan said.

“As would I,” I said.

“Oh, I'm not offering to take you back with me, Knight,” Sethos said. “I'm offering
you one more sunset before you are impaled in front of Zanzibar's gates. That shall
make an appropriate example for your new . . . followers.” With two fingers, he waved
the others in to capture or kill us.

I could feel the chill throbbing in my armband and knew that the dark ones were in
their company too. I imagined wraiths streaming through the city streets, circling
us, choking us.

We had to make our escape. Fast.

I glanced over my shoulder and saw there were four more Sheolites who had just turned
a corner and spotted us. “Ronan, we have company back there too,” I muttered.

I caught a wave of despair and frustration from him as he attacked, taking down one
scout in a remarkably swift move, then immediately turning to the second. I waded
in with him, doing battle with the third while Sethos hung back, watching in a fairly
disinterested way.

The man I battled was strong and matched every strike and swing I tried. He grinned
at me, realizing my strength was failing, and drove me backward. I nearly tripped
a couple of times, and he nicked my shoulder, but I held on, confident that he had
orders not to kill, but to capture. But they clearly had no such orders about Ronan.
The other Sheolites gathered behind me, creating a barrier that I doubted I could
escape, while still more arrived and closed in around my knight.

Fear took hold of me.

I was going to lose this night.

Ronan.

My freedom.

They would take me to Pacifica and force me to marry Keallach—he could compel me
through the vows—or Sethos would see me die before the gates, alongside my Knight.

Do not fear,
came Niero's voice in my head. I looked around as I swung my sword wildly,
but I could not see him.
The moment you begin to fear is the moment you doubt your
Maker's love. Do you believe he loves you? Cares for you? That he is with you, even
now?

Was this really the time for preaching to me?

Where are you, Niero? We need you!

I grimaced and ducked, narrowly avoiding the side of the Sheolite's sword from bludgeoning
my chest, then I grabbed my dagger from my calf sheath and stabbed it into the Sheolite's
thigh. He screamed and staggered backward a few steps.

Behind him, Ronan fell and rolled as his own adversary struck at him, again and again,
his sword narrowly missing Ronan on the stones each time.

What do you believe, Andriana?

The Sheolite I faced wrenched out the dagger from his thigh and flung it to one side.
Then he came after me with renewed vengeance.

Niero. Now's not the time . . .

I blocked the next scout's first blow.

If you died this day, what would the Maker say to you? What is the truth in your
heart?

Irritated, I cried out, whirled, and missed the Sheolite with my blade. I tried to
concentrate, to figure out what Niero wanted me to see.

I believe I was created to serve the Maker.

Truth, indeed. What else?

I believe the Maker loves me and wants me to live through this . . .
I parried a
blow and then punched the Sheolite in the throat, sending him reeling back, clutching
his neck, eyes bugging out. Another stepped forward to take his place, face
alight
with glee. And I was so tired, then. I knew my strength alone would not be enough
to carry me through. Nor Ronan's.

That he is with us even now, in this desperate moment . . .

Yes, he is.

Niero dropped down from the rooftops between Ronan and the Sheolite, in a deep crouch.
The surprise of his arrival gave my Knight a chance to gain his feet again. In two
breaths, the scout was dead. Niero whirled, his ivory wings lifting in glorious fashion,
taking down the man who threatened me too. I gasped at the glory of him, the wonder
of him, as mighty and powerful as that night in the barn when Ronan was saved.

He moved past me so quickly that he was a blur and killed all four at our back flank
with one perfect strike after another. My heart soared in praise for the One who
had sent this one to walk alongside us, fight alongside us.

But a low, foul hiss behind me made me turn. Sethos.

The dark master's eyes were on Raniero. “You dare to unfurl your wings here, before
me? A dove before the wolf? I'll have you begging for your life.”

Raniero turned, panting slightly, and tossed his bloody sword to his other meaty
hand. He seemed bigger than he normally did, as if he bore the strength of ten men
inside his body. And perhaps he did. “You, my once-brother,” he said to Sethos, “are
the beggar at
life's
door. But that passage was closed to you long ago, forever.”

Sethos turned, a swirl of red fabric, and I saw then the black wings emerge. I staggered
backward as the two tall men came together, swords clanging, and tried to believe
my eyes, yet chastised myself for not seeing it all along.

Of course. Sethos was a dark angel, just as Niero was one of the Maker's loyalists.
Everything about them seemed
heightened, brightened, larger, in every sense of the
word. Even as I absorbed the truth of their order, I couldn't quite rectify how I
knew both of them in memory with how they appeared now, before me. And I was very
glad that Niero had arrived before Sethos revealed himself. Because Sethos was the
most frightful creature I'd ever seen.

He was Death, personified.

Niero sent Sethos stumbling back with a fearsome strike, and turned to us. “Run,”
he said under his breath. “Get back to the palace. Now.”

He turned to meet Sethos's next blow, his massive arms trembling under the force
of it.

“But you—” Ronan began, blinking as if he could force himself to see things as they
once were, not as they were now.

“Go!” Niero bit out through clenched teeth, swinging again at Sethos, once, twice,
three times in rapid succession.

I took Ronan's hand and pulled him toward the alleyway again, and eventually he shook
off his amazement enough to really put himself into our escape. We moved so fast
we felt as if we were lifted by angels. And perhaps we were.

We made it past Third, to Second, and were almost to First when I saw them—the first
of the men in red, running by on the main road. I ducked into a doorway, and Ronan
pulled me close, under the crook of his arm, the two of us gasping for breath. More
Sheolites ran past the open mouth of the alley, a swath of red, with three patrols
of Zanzibian soldiers in pursuit.

“It's all right,” I whispered, looking up at him in the deepening shadows, “they're
running away. The Zanzibians—Lord Darcel has stuck to his word! They fight for us!”

Ronan closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the wall behind him, relief
wafting from him into me. “We're safe
for the moment. Which is good,” he panted,
looking down at me. “I'd rather not see another man in red this night.”

“But tomorrow would be all right?” I said with a grin.

“Oh yeah, tomorrow,” he returned with a huff of a laugh. “Tomorrow, we can each take
on another hundred. As long as Niero's with us.”

“Agreed,” I said with a slight smile. Our bravado, even false, gave me a measure
of comfort.

He paused a moment. “Dri . . . how long? How long have you known that Niero was .
. . other? Over these last weeks . . . I think I've known all along. But didn't.
Does that make sense?”

I gave his hand a squeeze. “I knew he was different the night we reached the Hoodite
cave. His ability to heal . . .” I shook my head, remembering his broad back, the
hundreds of scars, and how his bullet wound looked months old, rather than just days.
“But he didn't fully reveal himself until the night we almost lost you after our
escape from Palace Pacifica.”

“He revealed himself? To everyone?”

“To me. And to you, but you weren't quite coherent. After that, it was like whatever
cloak kept him hidden from Vidar's eyes was removed, and he knew too.”

“How is it that Vidar didn't recognize him before? Or Sethos?”

I shrugged. “I don't know. Maybe angels have the choice whether to reveal themselves
fully to those around them. Vidar knew Niero was a force of good, just as he knew
Sethos was a force of evil. Just not how . . .
deep
either man delved into each side.”

“You know I'm going to have to tease him about that,” he said with a grin.

I grinned back. “I think that would only be appropriate.”

We stilled, and Ronan pulled me closer as we heard more boots running down the street
just ahead of us. But it was a patrol of twelve Zanzibian soldiers. Still, we held
back. Even if they were our allies now, we weren't quite ready to trust them completely.

“Ready to try and get to the palace?” Ronan whispered, once they'd passed.

“Yes.”

We took off again, slowing at the corner of First and peering in both directions.
The street was dark and quiet, many of the citizens likely cowering indoors, waiting
out the fighting and wondering what the morning would bring after so many changes
and such a threat.

As did we.

CHAPTER
20

RONAN

W
e ran directly up to the palace gates. There were no guards outside, but the doors
were
barricaded.
Six guards peered down at us, each holding a torch against the gathering dark.

“We are Ronan and Andriana of the Valley!” I called, agitated that we weren't immediately
recognized and admitted. “Let us in, quickly!”

The guards looked grimly down first and conferred together for a moment, their hesitation
making me want to scream. I wanted to get Dri inside, to relative safety. The Sheolites
might be on the run at the moment, but . . .

“It's all clear! Let them in!” one finally called over his shoulder, down to those
below on the other side of the gates.

We heard the slide of the crossbeam, and again I looked down the street, both relieved
and unnerved by the total silence and emptiness of it. The guards cracked the door
just enough to allow
us entry and then quickly barricaded it again. We were ushered
by two grim-faced soldiers inside the palace, where we found our companions in a
public room near the front, clearly waiting on our arrival. Lord Darcel, Lady Shabana,
and the baby were with them.

Quickly, we greeted one another.

“Where's Niero?” Vidar asked.

“He sent us on,” I said to him, knowing that among all the Ailith, he'd be most likely
to understand what had truly transpired. “He saved us from Sethos. As did the people
of your city,” I went on quickly, turning to Lord Darcel. “If it wasn't for them,
raining down bricks upon the Sheolites, and your soldiers, chasing others, we might
have been captured. Or worse.” I cast a grim look to Dri, and she nodded, even as
she accepted a goblet of water from Tressa.

“We must get you out,” said Darcel. “Before the Pacifican politicians come.”

“They're coming?” I asked. “You know this?”

“They've sent word,” he returned. “We did not reply. I'll deal with them when they
arrive at our gates. For now, we have the remaining Sheolites trapped in the southeast
corner of the city. We will make sure every one of them dies this night. But we only
have an hour, maybe two, before their reinforcements arrive. You must be away.”