The Turquoise Tower (Revenant Wyrd Book 6) (27 page)

Eventually the noise stopped, and Jovian felt downy feathers growing on the tip of the wing he was now holding in place of a hand.

He sat back and opened his eyes, watching the feathers grow all along the exposed flesh of the eagle. When the entire transformation was complete, Jovian still sat there, watching Maeven to make sure he was okay. Only after he’d sat there for a long time, and was sure that the other man’s breathing wouldn’t suddenly stop, did he push shakily to his feet and out the door.

The hallway was long. Jovian was so lost in his own thoughts that he barely saw the small, cold lights that lined both the walls and the ceiling. There were times he thought maybe this wasn’t a city at all; maybe it was something else. But that was absurd. Most likely those thoughts could be attributed to how many times he’d hit his head that day, and how tired he was. If it wasn’t a city, what would it even be?

Jovian turned left, and saw that at the end of the hall a large door was held open, and he could look inside. His group was gathered around a table that seemed to be illuminated from underneath, the light shining dimly through the top of the table. Phaleco kneeled behind the table, facing the door, and his sisters sat to either side of the giant. Behind the red-head stood the other giants Jovian had seen during the fight, and he wondered if the city was all clean now.

Shelara and Caldamron stood behind and to either side of Joya, where he was used to seeing them. The light of the table dimmed the blush of green that languidly marred the surface of Shelara’s skin. Russel sat to the left of Angelica.

They all looked up at him when he entered.

“How is he?” Angelica asked, coming to Jovian’s side and helping him to a chair.

“He shifted, and he’s breathing. I can’t read energy well enough to know if he’s gaining strength or not,” Jovian said, allowing his sister to push him into a chair.

A giant came forth, offering Jovian a cup of some steaming liquid and a plate of food he barely recognized as fruit and cheese.

“Please,” Phaleco said. “Eat. We will discuss how you are to leave here.”

Jovian didn’t feel like eating. He felt like sleeping, but he fell into the plate with a hunger he hadn’t realized he had until then. The fruit was somehow fresh, and the cheese was creamy and pungent. He took a swig of the brew and didn’t recognize the flavor, but it was rich, thick, and warm, all of which he liked.

“You said you had a way for us to get to the tower quickly?” Joya asked. A plate sat empty before her, and she had her hands cupped around a mug like Jovian’s.

“Indeed,” Phaleco said, setting her mug down. “Have you ever heard of the groo?”

“Yes,” Angelica said. “They are supposed to be one of the three protections Aaridnay placed upon the realms so we wouldn’t be found by the outside world. The other two are these mountains, and the mist beyond.”

“That’s correct,” Phaleco said.

“But they are said to be only myth,” Shelara commented.

“To some people, you would be considered myth,” a giant in the background said. He was tall, dark-haired, and reminded Jovian of an ox.

“Just as these mountains and the fog beyond are myth?” Phaleco asked.

“That could be nothing more than natural phenomenon,” Caldamron said.

“Alright,” Jovian said, his head sinking into his hands. He tried rubbing away the ache, but it wasn’t working. “Could we focus on what Phaleco is trying to tell us?”

No one spoke until the red-headed giant broke the silence. “They are real, they are fast, and they would be willing to take you to the Turquoise Tower,” Phaleco said.

“Well that’s settled,” Jovian said. “When Maeven shows signs of improving, we’ll head for the Turquoise Tower.” But now that the end of their journey was so near, Jovian was dizzy with worry. He knew what was coming, he knew that facing Arael was inevitable, and he also knew that he and Angelica were their only hope of stopping the leader of the fallen angels, but he couldn’t help but think of that black cloud he had seen in his visions: how it was threatening to swallow him whole, and how he could see nothing beyond that point.

The meeting room burst into activity. Laphrael pushed Grace toward Sara, and the old lady stumbled into her sister’s embrace. Sara clung to Grace, holding her upright until the crone was able to gain her footing.

How can this be true?
Sara thought.
How can my sister be some embodiment of the Goddess?
But there wasn’t any time for further thought. The noise rippling through the city was a distressing note, filling all within the embrace of Lytoria with need and fear, urging them to protect the city at all costs.

“There’s a room through that door,” Laphrael said, pointing to an age-worn door in the back of the room. “Take her in there, and keep her safe.” He motioned to the High Votary. “Atorva, come. There’s much to do, and now that you don’t need to be protected, I feel your Goddess energy will be a great boon.”

Sara hurried Grace toward the door the fallen had indicated. “Atorva, in your house are the sorcerers and the small guard that came with us. They will be your greatest chance,” Sara called over her shoulder.

“We have city guards and sorcerers here as well. They are already springing to action, they know that sound.” But Laphrael was pushing Atorva out the door, cutting conversation short.

The building shuddered menacingly, and Sara wondered if hiding deeper within the basilica was a smart choice after all.

“Certainly it won’t take all of us,” Rowan said, latching the door behind them as Azra and Pyang wyrded lights into being. There were no windows in the room, and Sara wondered what the function of it was.

“Do you ever stop bitching?” Azra asked.

“Ladies, that’s enough,” Aladestra said. “We need to protect Grace.” Though precisely what they were going to do to keep Grace safe in a shelter without windows and only one door, which was only accessible once the attacker had gone through the entire basilica, Sara wasn’t sure.

The building shuddered menacingly again. At once the Guardians began working, and Sara could feel as well as see the opalescent protective orb that was springing up all around them. Once the shield was in place, Sara took a spot on the floor.

But the building shuddered again, and a loud pop sounded overhead.

“What was that?” Rowan asked, jumping to her feet, and gazing up.

“Shh,” Annbell said. They all fell silent, and then they could hear it: the sound of pebbles tumbling and dust falling on the ceiling above them.

“I don’t like the sound of—” Pyang started, but just then there was a deafening crack, and the ceiling fell apart, showering down on those within the room.

“I worry about them,” Flora said, taking a sip of tea. Like Dalah, the other lady wasn’t able to sleep. It was a rough night, and there was tension in the air. Despite the reassuring hum of energy around them that eased everyone throughout Lytoria into peaceful slumber, Dalah and Flora weren’t soothed.

“I’m sure they’ll be fine,” Dalah reassured her. “You trained them as best you could. They’ll make the right decisions.”

“But it’s not the right decisions I’m concerned with,” Flora said. “I’m sure they’ll make the
right
decisions. But Dalah, you lived through the Splitting of the World, just like me, you understand that it’s the
hard
decisions that make or break a person. They’re all so young.”

Dalah nodded, and sent out a lick or wyrd to stoke the fire higher. “True enough,” she agreed.

“At any rate, when do you think an attack will come?” Flora asked.

Flora was worried that her pupils wouldn’t survive this coming battle, and it was true they might not. Flora had been shaken since the alarist attack days before, and she’d started confiding in Dalah not long after that.

“It’s anyone’s guess, I’m sure,” Dalah told her. But the vibration of the energy changed just then, and Dalah was filled with worry.

Flora leapt to her feet, casting glances around the room. “What’s that?”

A warning tingled across Dalah’s skin, just as she was sure it hummed over Flora’s flesh. Before she could speak, a deafening pop reverberated through the air nearby, and the sound of hundreds of pounds of stone falling to meet the earth came to her ears.

“Outside!” Dalah said, worry prickling her flesh. She pushed past Dalah and dashed down the hall, pulling her yellow silken robe tighter around her body. She pushed the door to the Votary House open in time to see the dust and debris rising out of the basilica. Dark shapes glided through the air above the basilica, hooting and hollering into the near-dawn twilight.

Dalah stepped back, her hand fluttering to her mouth as the peaceful vibration through the city ground to a halt, and panic settled in.

A dark shape plummeted out of the sky directly in front of her, folding its black wings behind it with a flutter. The figure stood to reveal a raven-haired man in black leather armor. A shout of surprise was yanked out of Dalah and she released a pulse of wyrd, blasting the creature back. The fallen angel flipped backwards, slammed into a wall, and crumpled limply to the ground. Dalah knew she hadn’t killed it, but it was stunned at least.

“What is it?” Flora asked, coming to her side, and then gasped at the sight of the basilica falling around its foundations.

“Get back,” a voice said. Nerves already frayed from the destruction outside and the fallen attack, Dalah barely had time to control another pulse of wyrd when she realized it was High Votary Atorva. He ushered the women back inside and slammed the doors behind him. Flora jumped at the noise. Already a group was gathering in the entrance hall, rubbing sleepy eyes and looking harried.

“Quickly,” Atorva said, flicking his hands this way and that, as if trying to scatter dogs out from under foot. “Shutter the windows tight. Dalah,” Atorva said, pulling her closer. She was surprised he remembered her name. “Flora, come. Laphrael is outside right now, fighting against the legion in the sky. I’m sure it isn’t their full force, but we need to make a stand here. We’ll figure out more when reinforcements come. I need your wyrd to spread my prayers.”

The two women nodded, and he led them over to a couch. He sat down and lit three silver candles on the table before it. Dalah bowed her head to the candles, which represented the three aspects of the triple Goddess. She made the holy star over her chest, praying that the Goddess would protect them all. Sinking to his knees, Atorva gripped their hands and began to pray. Dalah had been privy to prayers before led by votaries and bishops, but none of them held the absolute power that Atorva’s did.

Dalah grabbed onto the ripples of his power and amplified them, weaving her wyrd through them, forcing the power of his prayers into an orb which she pulled and expanded with her will. She could feel Flora’s mind enter the weaving as well, and she pushed outward with her wyrd, inflating the prayer circle to include the house they sat in.

As long as they were inside, they would be safe.