Eden Conquered

  “Prince Andreus!”

  He turned and smiled as Graylem and a dozen guards he had recruited stepped out of the shadows. They looked younger than he did, but their faces were etched with resolve. They would need it soon, he thought as he unhooked his yellow-and-white cloak and swapped it for the black cloak that Graylem handed him. He slung it over his shoulders and studied the lanky, dark-haired guard who now wore the one that marked him as a prince. It was a ploy inspired by his foray to the North Tower disguised as Graylem. Somewhere in the darkness, Carys was swapping her cloak with Larkin.

  “I always wanted to know what it feels like to be royalty,” the guard said with a smile.

  “It will feel like people are watching you,” Andreus said, passing over the yellow bag. “Keep your hood up and when possible stay in the shadows.” As long as no one had reason to believe differently, everyone would assume he and Carys were participating in the Trials. And once they were done removing the traitors from Eden, they would switch back with no one the wiser.

  He hoped.

  Graylem handed him a bow and quiver. He slung both over his shoulder and raised the hood of his black cloak over his head as the guard pretending to be him headed off to complete the Trials. When the yellow-and-white cloak disappeared into the darkness, Andreus looked at the others and said, “Let’s go.”

  He could still hear cheers and music in the distance as he crept through the darkness with his sword in his hand. Graylem moved at his side. The wind-powered lights atop the walls grew brighter the closer they got to the southern gates. Finally, he spotted someone in a black cloak coming out of the shadows.

  Carys pushed back her hood and stepped into the moonlight as a blue streak lit up the sky. Behind her, several men holding bows appeared—merchants who had been recruited by Larkin’s father—ready to do battle for their city.

  Andreus frowned and looked up at blue sparks bright overhead. “Larkin moves quickly. We will need to be faster. Did you warn her?”

  “Goodman Marcus and several of his friends stayed with her instead of coming with us. They’ll guard her back from Elder Jacobs and his traps until she returns to the palace steps.”

  Good. He hated to lose fighting men, but they had to cover all their bases. “Then let’s go.”

  Graylem quietly gave out orders. They split up into two groups, Graylem leading one from the right with Andreus and Carys fronting the one that would approach the first gate from the left. Graylem would give the signal and the two sides would move in to eliminate Elder Ulrich’s guards. Their own men were wearing bands of blue and yellow on their arms so none were mistaken for foe.

  Yellow sparks filled the sky. His double had made it to the second shrine and was now on his way to the third. Time was ticking away. His heart beat hard as he stood with his back to a stone wall around the corner from the gate.

  A whistle pierced the air and he raced around the corner with his sister keeping pace beside him—a bow notched and drawn in her hands. From the other side of the street Graylem and his men raced out of the darkness, swords flashing in the light of the wall.

  Andreus slowed as he spotted two guards seated near the gate with their helmets low on their foreheads. From a distance they might look like they were sleeping, but Andreus could see the bloody gashes in their throats and the pool of blood staining the ground.

  The guards he had come to the gates to kill were already dead.

  19

  They were dead. The two guards here at the gate. Two others with their throats cut just around the corner. The streaks of blood on the ground next to them had yet to dry.

  Someone had killed them and left the gate unmanned. And Carys had no idea why.

  Yellow sparks colored the sky.

  “The locks on the gate have been broken,” Graylem reported. “And there are two more dead guards in that alcove.”

  “We have to check the other gate,” her brother said.

  Carys turned to Graylem. “Leave the men you assigned to guard this gate here. The rest of you come with us.”

  Blue sparks shined above as they raced through the snow-filled streets to the next gate. It, too, had the chains that locked the lifting mechanism broken. Eight men in the uniforms of Eden were dead.

  “I don’t understand,” her brother said.

  Graylem squatted down next to each of the dead guards, studying them. His face was sickly white when he admitted, “The men I followed aren’t here. They weren’t among the dead at the other gate, either.”

  “Then where are they? And who killed these men?”

  “Someone must have learned of the men’s treachery and killed them,” someone offered.

  Carys shook her head. “The locking mechanisms are broken. The Bastian army can still gain entry without resistance.”

  A set of blue sparks went up. The trial marched on even as they stood here.

  Carys looked down at the dead men. “Elder Cestrum spoke to me before the Trial,” she explained. “He said something about making lots of friends so that even when he loses he still wins.”

  “I thought he wanted to put Lord Garret on the throne. Do you think Elder Cestrum has thrown his lot in with Elder Ulrich?” Andreus asked.

  “I don’t know.” Maybe he had, but she doubted he would give up his ultimate goal and allow the Bastians to win. But he wasn’t one to stand to the side while others were looking to take away his power. “But I know a way to find out.” It was time for the Elders to pay for all they had done.

  It took time to decide which guards would stay and which would go with Graylem to the next gate to make sure it was secure.

  “Do what you have to in order to keep the gates closed,” Carys said.

  “On my word,” Graylem said quietly, “while I am living no one shall pass.”

  More sparks flew into the air—once again of gold—as Carys followed her brother through the dark city streets. He led them down narrow alleys and around the backs of stables and taverns. Despite having grown up in the city, she would have been turned around and lost if not for her brother’s sure-footed guidance and the sight of the Palace of Winds growing closer with every step.

  Gold streaked across the sky again. Carys stumbled as a knot formed in her chest. “Have you seen blue sparks recently?”

  Andreus stopped running and put his hands on his thighs. Breathing hard, he looked up at the sky and shook his head. “The last two have been yellow.”

  “Something has to be wrong.” Elder Jacobs had said that he was going to make sure Andreus won. Carys tried to remember how many sets of blue sparks she had seen launched into the sky. Three? Four?

  “Larkin will be fine,” Andreus insisted. “Even if Elder Jacobs set a trap, she has her father and his friends to protect her. They won’t let her come to harm.”

  Clinging to that thought, she followed her brother toward the Palace of Winds. Even if she knew where to look for her friend, there was no time, she told herself. She had to trust Larkin and those with her to see that she made it through the trial safe.

  Still, worry cut deeper with every step. Carys clutched a stiletto tight in one hand and the hood of her cloak with the other as she followed her brother’s lead to a winding path south of the main palace steps that led to the royal stables.

  Finally, sparks of blue shimmered above. Relief burst from her lungs and evaporated into smoke in the cold air. Andreus gave her a grim smile as they reached the slope that wound up the plateau to the stables. There they found their palace lookout waiting for them.

  “Prince Andreus!” Max called, then clapped a hand over his mouth as he raced toward them. His eyes were wide with excitement and fear. “I followed Elder Ulrich like you told me. After the trial started, he went up to the battlements. Then Elder Cestrum came with two guards and they had one of the Masters of Light with them.”

  “Elder Cestrum was there with Elder Ulrich?”

  Max nodded. “I heard him say something about Elder Ulrich owing him. I could
n’t hear what Elder Ulrich said to him, but before Elder Cestrum left he said that he wasn’t worried because he always got what he had coming to him.”

  “Where are they now, Max?” Andreus asked.

  “Elder Ulrich stayed on the battlements. Elder Cestrum went back inside the palace. I would have followed him, but I had to come tell you.”

  “You did good,” Andreus said, starting toward the palace. “If Elder Cestrum helped find one of the Masters, I’m betting they are working on reattaching the orb.”

  Carys pulled her hood tight around her face as she raced beside her brother and Max. High above, the orb flickered with light, then went dark just as quickly. Fear lodged in her throat. With the locks broken, the Bastian army would not face opposition when they lifted the gates and entered the city.

  But the Bastians might not have seen that quick flash of light, she told herself as they ran. There could still be time for them to prevail.

  They raced up the steps she had climbed hundreds of times before—Andreus breathing harder and limping a bit more with every step. His face was glistening with sweat when they reached the top.

  “Are you okay?” she whispered as they stepped out onto the battlements and looked up at the North Tower where the orb now blazed with light. They were too late.

  “I’m fine.”

  The raspy sound of his voice told a different story.

  “Andreus . . .”

  Blue sparked against the black of night. The Trials continued. The orb was shining, and an army could at this very moment be marching toward them.

  Carys drew her stilettos and ran across the snow-caked stone beside her brother. His breath was still labored, but he was keeping pace beside her.

  The torches inside the stairwell were lit, making the steep stairs easier for Carys to climb, but with every step her brother slowed a bit more. The stress and the cold and the exertion of the night had triggered one of his attacks. If Andreus pushed himself any further, the curse could overtake him. And without his medicine or time to rest, her brother could die.

  Fear and anger burrowed deep in her chest. The Elders had taken enough from them. They had taken their family and their trust. They were not going to take her brother’s life.

  “Stay here,” she said, drawing her other stiletto.

  “No.” He pushed away from the wall and lifted his sword. It was steady in his hand. “We will do this together.”

  Before she could object, he pushed the door open and together they raced through.

  She heard the footsteps before she saw the guardsman’s blade. Andreus lifted his sword, and steel clanged against steel. Another guardsman raced toward her. He slashed at her with his sword. She ducked, pivoted, and dragged her blade across the back of the guardsman’s calf. His scream rang loud and the guard stumbled to the ground. She didn’t hesitate before plunging her blade into the man’s back. Seconds later, Andreus’s foe fell to his knees onto the cold stone.

  Together they turned toward the wide stone pedestal in the center of the tower. Atop the pedestal, the orb shone bright.

  She spotted an older man in a gray Masters of Light cloak huddled on the ground on the other side of the tower. Blood streaked his pale cheeks and beard.

  “I didn’t have a choice,” the man called.

  “Of course, he did.” Elder Ulrich stepped out from behind the wide pedestal. The light from the orb high above glinted off the knife in his hand.

  The wind grew louder in her mind as she faced the man who had plotted against her family—had killed her father and brother—had destroyed her mother’s mind and had shattered everything she had believed in. There was no question of his guilt now. No one else would seek to restore the orb’s glow. No one else would have a reason to do so.

  Her cloak fluttered.

  The windmills creaked.

  Inside her head, the wind howled.

  Her brother lifted his sword. Carys cocked her stiletto back and Elder Ulrich grinned. “Go ahead and kill me. You overcame death once, Princess.” He shifted the gaze of his one eye onto her brother. “And you, Andreus. You wanted so badly to be King that you fell into Imogen’s hands. Micah had to be convinced, but you were easy. Imogen laughed at how simple you were to seduce. You were so ready to turn on your own sister and so willing to turn the entire kingdom against you all for the promise of a throne and a woman who would never really belong to you.”

  Snow started to swirl.

  “I was a fool,” Andreus yelled. “But you are a traitor.”

  Despite the cold, heat built inside her.

  “I am loyal to the true ruler of Eden,” Elder Ulrich called. “The Bastian King is returning, and there is nothing you can do to stop it. The orb has signaled them forward, and when my men finish you won’t see the army coming. Stop fighting me, and I will convince the Bastian King to allow you to live.” He stepped forward. “Elder Cestrum says you are both too stubborn to save yourselves. So filled with your own importance. He doesn’t see that his nephew is the same. That you are all worthless as leaders. You are all like your father.”

  Rage bubbled. The wind pulled at Carys’s cloak.

  “Micah was even worse,” the Elder taunted.

  Her heart pounded. She clenched the stilettos in her fists as the wind howled.

  “I was glad to have a part in seeing him dead.”

  Carys couldn’t breathe.

  Then the Elder lifted his knife and charged.

  Andreus raised his sword, but Carys cocked her arm back first and let the stiletto fly. The wind raged. The blade punched into Ulrich’s stomach, lifting him off his feet and then sending him crashing backward into the stone column. His eyes went wide as he slid down the stone pedestal to the ground below. The wind gusted again, angrier than before, and something cracked.

  “Carys! Look out!”

  Tunnels of air pulled at the pedestal. Bits of stone broke free and crashed to the ground.

  “Carys!” Her brother shook her, and she tried to breathe. “Carys!”

  She gasped for air and stumbled back as her brother pulled her into the stairway just in time.

  For a second, the orb—Eden’s beacon of hope and virtue—seemed to float in the circle of air before it fell on top of Elder Ulrich’s unmoving body and shattered.

  20

  The orb was broken. Elder Ulrich was dead, and his sister . . .

  “I couldn’t stay calm,” Carys whispered as they hurried down the steps. She stumbled at the bottom, as if her legs had given out. Andreus steadied her as they stepped out onto the dark battlements. It was then he saw the blood running down her face.

  “I-I couldn’t control it,” she stammered as they started across the battlements. The wind was calm again. The windmills no longer churned. The gusts that had appeared as if by magic . . .

  Magic. “You . . .”

  Andreus pictured her standing with the wind swirling around her. She had been still as death itself as the tunnels of air appeared and lashed out with their power.

  The air had attacked. Like in the stories. At the very moment his sister had thrown the stiletto, the wind had struck. Just as it gusted when she appeared on the steps to reveal she was still alive, and swirled again when she vanished from view.

  He stopped in his tracks. “You caused the wind?” It seemed impossible. He knew his sister, and yet he could not deny what he saw then and now. “How?” How could he have not seen this part of her? How could she have not shared it with him, especially now when they needed all the strength and power they could muster?

  “The Tears of Midnight,” she said as she pressed a piece of her cloak to her nose and shivered beside him. “Mother knew what I could do. The Tears erected a wall between me and the wind. Once I stopped taking them, I could hear its call, but I am still learning to control it. It’s dangerous when it is done wrong. I have to be careful or I could . . .”

  Yellow streaks of light brightened the sky. He and Carys turned, and his heart stopped as
one by one the lights on the wall went dark.

  “Elder Ulrich said no one would see the army coming,” Carys whispered.

  “One of his men must have cut the lights.”

  Crowds in the city cheered. They were focused on the Trials. No one in the streets was looking for trouble from beyond the walls.

  “Carys . . .” He pointed to the darkness beyond the city. Men with banners riding and marching in the dim light of the moon. Thousands of them. Right toward Garden City.

  “We have to sound the alarm.”

  He held fast to his sister’s arm as they raced down the steps and across the battlements.

  “Oh Gods, no!” his sister cried. Andreus went still and followed her gaze toward the mountains to the east. Long shadows were racing down the mountains and through the foothills. Dozens and dozens of them, moving like an avalanche. They must have been watching the walls of the city. Waiting. And now Elder Ulrich’s people had cut the lines to the light. The Xhelozi had seen the darkness. It called to them, just as the orb had called to the Bastians. Now, both were coming.

  “Come on!” Andreus yelled as the wind kicked up again. He tugged at his sister and they both started once again to run. “We have to fix the lights.”

  The lights wouldn’t stop the army from coming to the gates, but they would slow the Xhelozi’s attack. If he was fast enough, maybe the Xhelozi would turn on the attackers moving toward Garden City instead of moving on the city itself.

  Side by side they raced down the uneven stone stairs. Pain shot up his leg and grew worse with every step. His chest tightened. Every breath was less deep, but he refused to let the curse slow him down. His sister knew how to fight, but she didn’t understand how to reconnect the lights. The city needed both him and Carys to use their skills if everyone was going to survive, and he wasn’t about to let them down.

  He fought to pull air into his lungs. As they reached the main floor, he asked, “Do we go to the Hall or the courtyard?”