“Go!” he insisted. “I don’t know how long this is going to take. Graylem and the others need a leader. They need you.”
His sister shuffled her feet. Indecision warred on her face.
“We need to use both our strengths,” Andreus said. “Mine is here with the lights. Yours is on the walls.”
He saw the shimmer of tears as Carys straightened her shoulders and nodded.
“I’ll find you on the walls when we’re done,” he said. “I promise. Go!”
She took two steps backward, then his sister turned and ran.
21
Dreus was right. There was nothing she could do to help him fix the lines. She knew little about the workings of the lights or the windmills and would only get in his way. She had to go where she could help those screaming in the night. So she ran toward the sounds of war and the crash of something that made the city shake.
The outside forces were ramming against the gates to break them down in order to get in.
Her heart pounded.
The whispers returned.
The gongs went silent and only the sounds of battle remained.
Screams.
Metal crashing.
Cries of death as men and women fought for life.
And the voice of the wind grew louder with every beat of her heart. Anger warred with the need for calm. The controllable force fighting against the many whispers that were desperate to break free.
“Graylem said we have to hold the gate!” men yelled as she rounded the corner.
Torches blazed. Dozens of guardsmen and merchants hefted a large beam to bolster the gate against the onslaught. Everything shook as the enemy on the other side slammed their battering ram against the iron barrier, trying to break through.
Fear filled the air. She could taste it as she pushed her way through the crowd of fighters.
A shudder traveled up her spine as the Xhelozi raked the night with their calls, followed by desperate shouts.
The raging whispers grew louder, begging for vengeance.
Something cracked against her head. Carys stumbled backward, and the wind howled its upset. She shoved someone aside and squeezed her way to the rungs embedded in stone that would take her to the top.
The wall shook as a battering ram slammed hard against the gate.
Men shouted.
Something cracked.
Flakes of stone rained down.
They wouldn’t be able to hold the gate for much longer. And if the gate broke—there would be nothing to keep the Bastian army or the Xhelozi from the people of Garden City.
The whispers urged her to set them free. They would fight for her. They would destroy her enemies.
The wind whipped her cloak.
Swords clashed near the gate, and Carys began to climb. She put one hand over the other, almost losing her grasp as the wall shook again. She heard the whoosh of a catapult. Sparks rained as a mass of burning tar flew through the night sky over the wall to the other side. Screams of pain and fear and death echoed, and she kept climbing.
She reached for her bow as she crested the top, willing the lights to come back on. To her untrained eye, the damage had appeared to be unrepairable, but she knew Andreus. If anyone could make the walls blaze with light, it was her brother.
She kept low as she hurried across the wall, so as to not draw the fire of the men on the ground below.
“What’s happening?” she yelled to the guards who were launching arrows into the Bastian forces. The men below fell atop others who had already met their deaths. The soldiers with the battering ram raced forward. At the flanks of the attacking force, hooked claws and long teeth slashed. Bastian men swung their blades and fired arrows into the Xhelozi while the monsters threw soldiers to the side like rag dolls as both forces advanced on the city.
Another group of Bastian guards charged toward the gate farther down the wall. The battlements shook, and the crack of the stone was louder this time. The gates would not hold for much longer.
The Xhelozi screeched.
The whispers howled, and she shook her head. There was something not quite right.
Far in the distance, she saw most of the Bastian army was retreating. Xhelozi coming from the mountains were angling toward them. Those below—some were ramming the gates, but the rest weren’t firing their arrows at those guarding the top of the wall or over it to hit the men holding the gate against them. Their weapons were aimed at the monsters still coming in packs from the mountains. The Xhelozi’s fangs and claws bit deep and split open the flesh of guardsmen around them, as they fought for their lives.
“Hold the catapults,” she screamed, scanning the chaos. Guardsmen relayed her commands. The whispering in her head returned with a renewed fury.
A monster stumbled. Dozens of arrows were sticking out of the stringy white fur and scaly hide when it fell not far from the walls to the east. Another volley of arrows launched toward the monsters and that’s when she saw them behind the bowman.
Yelling orders from atop a rearing mount was Errik. Next to him was Garret. Both firing arrows toward the Xhelozi instead of the defenders of Garden City. Beside them a bannerman held a pike aloft . . . the symbol of the Bastians flew from the pole and atop it was a severed head.
Errik hadn’t come back to warn her about the size of the army. Instead, he had killed the would-be Bastian King.
The lights flared to life.
Andreus had done it!
Cheers floated up from the city streets. Carys blinked against the blinding white. The screams beyond the walls increased in number. The Xhelozi cries were closer. The spots in front of her eyes cleared, and she saw one of the monsters charge the wall, dig its claws into the white stone, and start to climb.
The lights were on, but none of the monsters were fleeing.
The bloodlust was too strong or the imbalance in virtue too great. The lights were no longer enough to drive them away, and soon the men outside the walls fighting for their lives would be dead.
Carys turned, pulled the bowstring taut, and let the arrow fly.
The Xhelozi screamed as the point pierced its eye. The monster lost its grip on the wall and slammed onto the frozen ground on its scaly back. For a second, Carys thought she had killed it. Then the Xhelozi moved. A clawed hand yanked her arrow free from its flesh and the massive creature let out a rusty scream.
The battlements below shook. Men cried out, and the monster charged the wall while several more Xhelozi followed close behind it.
The wind tugged at her cloak.
Carys fought for calm as she looked around at the guardsmen atop the walls. Two or three dozen guardsmen were armed with bows. There were at least that many Xhelozi fighting below, and in the shadow of the mountain, she could see more coming. They didn’t have enough men to defeat them, and the lights the city had always counted on weren’t pushing them back.
“Fire at the Xhelozi, not the men!” she commanded.
She saw Errik charge one of the Xhelozi near the wall. His sword speared its flesh, and just as quickly, he yanked the blade out and raced his mount away.
Her heart tightened. The whispers grew louder, but one was louder than the rest and Carys heard its meaning clear and strong. There was only one way to save those she loved. She had to give in.
Errik’s horse raced toward the gate and disappeared into the masses below.
Waves of arrows hit the monsters illuminated by the lights atop the wall.
Some stumbled, but none fell.
The wind pounded in her head. Fed on her fear. Pulled at her anger. Compelled her to surrender to its call.
She thought of Larkin, dead. She pictured Errik fighting for his life and then thought of her brother—who would always be her twin.
Men screamed as they slashed open throats and sliced across backs, and the Xhelozi continued to advance as the wind whispered that she was ready. She needed to surrender. It was time to set herself free.
The lights sti
ll shone.
The gongs went silent.
Triumph fueled him as he hurried toward the sounds of death and fighting to help his sister.
The city still held, but for how long?
Andreus stepped around a bloody man stumbling away from the melee and squinted at the top of the wall. In tandem, bowmen sent a volley of arrows into the darkness. The city trembled as a battering ram crashed against the gate that Graylem and the men he directed were trying to hold. He stumbled, grabbed hold of a broken cart to stop his fall, and realized the cries of the Xhelozi that grated above the fighting were louder than before. The lights were on, but the monsters weren’t retreating.
Dozens of torches flickered in the breeze as he rounded the corner. Men used their backs to bolster the trembling iron gate and shouted as the battering ram struck again. Stone trembled and cracked. Andreus was about to turn toward the ladder to join his sister atop the wall when he saw Errik’s face appear behind the iron grid. Blood dripped down Errik’s forehead as he dodged a spear from a Garden City guardsman. He shouted and Andreus shoved men aside to get close enough to hear what the man was saying.
“The Bastian King is dead!” Errik shouted again. “The men that remain from his army answer to me. We’re here to help.”
Lord Garret appeared at Errik’s side. The Xhelozi roared beyond the walls. Men screamed, and Andreus looked at the battered man his sister trusted from the first. If she trusted him, Andreus would, too.
As much as Andreus wanted to lash out at Garret, the man was not his uncle. Elder Cestrum would pay, but not yet. For now, the city needed all the skilled swords it could get. “Open the gates and fall back!”
The guardsmen looked startled, but every one of them followed his command. The beam barring the door was hefted off. The men on the other side pushed at the gates and poured in through the opening. Once inside, Errik shoved his way to Andreus.
“The Xhelozi aren’t retreating and it appears that more are coming from the mountains and beyond the plains!” Errik said. “There’s no way we can defeat them all. I don’t know . . .”
Wind gusted.
Errik’s attention snapped to the top of the wall. He pointed to the men coming down the ladder, bows clutched in their hands. “Carys must be sending them down.”
“She can’t,” Andreus yelled. “We need them to drive the Xhelozi back.”
“They aren’t going to retreat. She must think calling the wind is the only way. But if she does it wrong . . . I have to get to her.”
“Why?” Andreus grabbed Errik’s arm. “What will happen? Carys said she was struggling to control the magic. What will happen if she does something wrong?”
“The wind will choke the air out of her lungs. She’ll die.”
No. That wasn’t going to happen. “You deal with the men down here. As soon as they are through the gate, bar it shut and get them ready to hold the gates until dawn.”
Heart pounding, he ran toward the ladder. Andreus shoved the last of the men off the rungs and started up. He gritted his teeth and held tight as the wind pulled at his cloak. You don’t have to do this, Carys. You don’t have to stand in front of me this time. With the Bastian guard now on their side, they would find another way to drive the Xhelozi back. They would do it together.
He reached the top, pushed to his feet, and for a second couldn’t breathe as he took in the scene on the other side of the walls.
Hundreds of Xhelozi streamed toward the city while Errik and Garret’s guardsmen stormed through the southeasternmost gate. Dozens more elongated shadows were approaching from the south and west, getting closer with each heartbeat. The Xhelozi nearest the wall screamed as if in pain when they stepped into the light. But they retreated only a few feet before surging forward again.
The wind whipped around him.
Andreus pulled his eyes away from the monsters and caught sight of his sister near one of the lights. Carys stood completely still. Her black cloak fluttered behind her. The stiletto he had commissioned for his sister was clutched in one of her hands and her eyes were wide as she looked upon the horror below.
“Carys!” He lowered his head and leaned into the wind that was gusting harder with each step. The lights shined bright. “Carys! Errik took over the Bastian army. He and Garret are assembling the men inside the walls. They’re going to fight with us, and we’ll keep the Xhelozi back until the sun comes up. You don’t need to call the wind.”
His sister turned. Resignation and resolve shone bright from her eyes. “The sunlight will only slow them down. They will always be drawn to the darkness inside Eden. You will have to find a way to balance the darkness with light.”
A tunnel of air appeared in the sky.
The Xhelozi howled as they raced toward the open gate where the Bastian army was still streaming inside the city walls. Claws dug into the flesh of men bringing up the rear. Spears bit the leathery skin. And still more Xhelozi were coming from the mountains.
“You have to go, Dreus,” Carys shouted. “Get everyone away from the walls. I don’t want to hurt them or you.”
“I’m not leaving you,” Andreus yelled. “Not this time.”
He had left her to face the Xhelozi by herself so he could take the throne. He would rather die than leave her alone again.
“You have to leave, Andreus. You have to survive and become King.” The tunnel split into two, then split again as more tunnels appeared.
Andreus pushed against the churning wind, determined to reach his sister. He had to stop this before it was too late. “The throne doesn’t belong to me.” Curse or no curse, he didn’t deserve to rule. “I have no right to be King.”
“Which is why you will make a good one.” The wind shoved him back. He stumbled and his sister turned to face him. Her eyes were clear. “Don’t you see? You are neither from the line of Ulron or the Bastians. Both had legacies of darkness. You will have a choice of what your legacy will be. You can make it one of light.” She stepped toward him, cloak billowing, and held the hilt of her silver stiletto out to him. “Give this to Errik. He will understand why.”
A gust shoved him back another step. The tunnels in the sky looked like fingers as they started to descend.
“This is wrong,” he yelled. “You shouldn’t have to do this. It should be me.” He wanted it to be him. He had earned the right to finally be the one who got to be strong. He wanted to make the sacrifice.
“I don’t belong behind these walls, Dreus. I never did.” Carys turned to face the horror beyond the walls and shouted, “It’s time you let me go. It’s time for me to be free.”
Andreus clutched the silver stiletto tight in his hand and took a step backward. A weight settled in his chest as he looked at the face of the sister who shared not his blood, but had always shared his heart. She was tired of fighting. He could see it. He could feel it. And he had to let her go.
Swallowing tears, he yelled, “May strong winds guide your steps, sister.”
She mouthed something to him that he couldn’t hear. But in his heart, he understood as he dropped to his knees. He crawled to the ladder, the wind whipping round and round, faster and faster, pulling at him like greedy hands desperate to gain hold. He slid his legs over the side of the wall and climbed down the rungs as the tunnels of air roared above. Stone and branches and bits of the city dropped on top of him as his feet hit the ground and with each gust he pictured his sister standing atop the white stone. Head high. Shoulders straight. Heart strong.
The lights grew brighter. Pulsing with the power of the wind. The power of his sister.
The blast sent him to his knees. Sparks flew in the air as the light above him burst. The next light down the wall exploded. Then the next, as bright, shimmering white sparks launched into the air and circled the city.
When the last glimmer faded into black, the gusts of wind had calmed and were now a gentle breeze.
All around him people stood. Some cried. Others shouted questions as Andreus once agai
n slowly climbed the rungs to the top of the wall, bracing himself for what he would see.
Only there was nothing.
The lights were gone. All evidence of the battle beyond the walls had been swept away. The remaining Bastian soldiers, the bodies of the fallen, and the Xhelozi with their hooked claws and long, pointed teeth had disappeared. As had his sister.
After being trapped for so long behind these walls, his sister had left them for good. Through his tears, Andreus looked upon the countryside of the kingdom he and his sister had fought for and hoped she was finally free.
22
“An Adderton messenger arrived, Your Majesty,” Lord Errik said, executing a low, almost mocking bow. “Princess Xaria and the rest of the Adderton court will arrive tomorrow.” Lord Errik smiled. “I think your sister would approve of your betrothed and everything else you have done.”
Andreus’s heart tightened even as he smiled. “The fact that I have agreed to marry a woman sight unseen would amuse her the most.” Errik had negotiated the betrothal as part of the treaty that ended the war between the two kingdoms. King Ulron had caused the war by taking Andreus’s mother as his queen and now Andreus had ended it.
Andreus just hoped Princess Xaria was as appealing as Errik claimed. More important, Andreus hoped she wouldn’t mind the time he spent at the walls or on the battlements working with the Masters of Light. There was still much to do in order to restore all the lights and the lines that Carys’s powerful wind had carried away. The Xhelozi were gone for now. He was working on restoring the balance of virtues, but men could not be counted on to keep their oaths. The Council of Elders and their schemes had proven that as had Elder Cestrum’s trial, which was held on the steps in full view of the city.
The Elder had denied all claims and counted on his nephew to speak on his behalf. Lord Garret proved him wrong, instead revealing Captain Monteros’s treachery on his uncle’s behalf at the Village of Night and how the captain was under instructions to keep Garret from the battle until all claimants to the throne—Andreus, Carys, and Errik’s uncle—were dead. Elder Cestrum had been playing all sides against each other in the hopes of eliminating them and clearing the path to the throne for his own blood.