Chapter Twenty-nine
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Fatal Minutes
The slaves were easy to persuade. After Wynne freed them of their restraints and devices, they took to him quickly, admiring his power and his compelling presence.
“An invasion is beginning!” He boomed. “Now is the time to rise!”
Countless different colored eyes stared back at him, each glowing like a spectrum of starlight. He drew them in with the mighty atmosphere he seemed to bring about, and they vowed their loyalty to him, to Denoras, and to the Enma, the essence that ran through each of their veins.
The faithful soldiers however, would not be convinced, glowering beneath their headgear.
“We owe you no allegiance, traitor!” One squad captain scoffed.
“Dispatch him!” Cried another.
There were dozens of them. They gave no warning before they charged at their opponent in unison, an uproar of cries erupting from them. Before they ever touched him, Wynne raised his palms, and they froze, their cries abruptly ceased in the halting of time. By his own will, the Enma behind him remained un-stopped, their numbers in the hundreds. The Ardarans, merely around thirty in number, stood congealed, mid-attack.
Wynne knew he could not allow them to live. This was war. “Do as you must.” He said to his comrades. “Show no mercy.”
He took a step back and the Enma surged ahead of him, emitting growls and hisses and the like, eager to exact their revenge.
Wynne looked away, unwilling to witness the slaughter. Xeila stayed beside him always, at his side as each Ardaran’s throat was slit, abdomen run through, eyes clawed out, having no ability to fight back, for stopped in time, the soldiers stood no chance. Still there were many more after them, in the lower reaches of the castle, mostly low-ranking privates on duty, at least five hundred on the floor below.
“Xeila.” He said mutedly, bending close to her, persistent to avoid looking across at the butchering so close to him. He was almost tempted to raise his hand to his eyes, but resisted. “Take them all outside the castle, and feign a riot. It will lure the rest of the guards outside. Then commence attack. Reinforcements are on their way.”
“But why?”
“The rest of the comrades lack your mapping skills and sense of direction. They don’t know the castle as the Ardarans do. Outside lies our advantage.”
“But you know the castle!”
“I must go to help Cinder. Maybe I can make sense of her vat controls before Orphenn arrives, yet more the advantage.” He sighed, and touched her shoulder. “This battle will be long. Now go! Lead them!”
Xeila did as she was commanded, and Wynne sped in the other direction to the containment unit as quickly as possible.
By the time he arrived, he could already hear the commotion outside, a battle several stories below. Xeila knew the castle better than he thought.
It appeared he came just in time. Ardara had gathered the energy to stand, starting to walk drowsily toward the tier.
Wynne acted swiftly. He dashed to the tier and blew from his palm the glittering sand which earned him Sven’s nickname. It snowed down on her like shining starfall, and had her back to sleep in seconds.
He had no time to specify its potency, so he had no way of knowing when she would wake again. He had to plan his actions.
It was then that a golden angel soared through the broken window.
“Orphenn,” Wynne beckoned, “I can’t decipher these controls-” He cut himself short in astonishment.
It had to be Orphenn, yet how could it be? An aura of some great gravity seemed to surround the boy, and his eyes were even brighter than the typical Enma glow. There was something in them that chilled the air. What was most shocking was that feathers had sprouted all about his skin, golden like his wings. They spackled his knuckles and the backs of his hands, some even poked through the fabric of his uniform. They were set on his forehead and circled his eyes, some mingled with strands of his hair, like some human bird of paradise.
Nonetheless, he understood Wynne’s intent and made for the tier, his face stoic and wordless. Slowly he scaled the steps, his hands raised up to touch the vat’s glass. Wynne could see he was rigid with power, clamped up within him, and he shivered when the boy’s fletched hands pressed against the glass.
Cinder looked down on her brother with hopeful, yet frightened eyes. What’s happened to him?
The vat began to shine and gleam, as if with an internal light, at Orphenn’s touch. It glowed brighter until it was almost blinding, and then it exploded in streams of gold. The blast of fireflies that had once been Cinder’s prison floated calmly, fading and dispersing halfway to the high ceilings.
Meanwhile, the uncontained plasma remained cylinder-shaped for a millisecond, then gushed out across the unit. Orphenn stepped back on the tier, and easily waded through it to get to Cinder’s inert form, wheezing and coughing up plasma.
Wynne, on the other hand, did not get out of the way fast enough, and the acidic liquid sloshed about him before receding down the waste drain. He hissed as the skin on his arms and legs was scorched, and began to swell with bloody blisters. Orphenn is unhurt because he shares DNA. He groaned. Just my luck.
Orphenn pulled off his trench coat and laid it across Cinder’s shoulders. She gratefully accepted the chance for modesty, and for warmth, as she was absolutely soaked with plasma and shivering violently. Her brother helped her to stand, then looked at Wynne. The feathers outlining his eyes glinted in the dim reddish light.
He came down from the tier and approached Wynne, his face unreadable. His expression was strange. He looked almost angry, and yet still blank and placid, as if he’d been possessed.
Wynne nearly feared for his life as Orphenn advanced, unable to be certain of the boy’s intent.
Then Orphenn touched him. Wynne flinched, but Orphenn did nothing more than place his hands on the other’s arms. Light glowed beneath his palms, making visible the red in his fingertips, like touching a bright light bulb.
Wynne marveled as the light traveled to every hurting place on his body and destroyed it. Not only were the burns from the plasma and electrocutions completely healed in less than a second, but every other bruise, scrape and cut on his skin disappeared, followed by the ache in his left leg, which before had left him limping. Now it all was gone, and Wynne felt new and ready for anything when Orphenn pulled away.
“Orphenn.” He said, in his voice like iron. Cinder wobbled over to stand beside them, and before Wynne could say “Thank you,” she had wrapped her arms around him.
While they enjoyed each other’s embrace, Orphenn spotted movement in the darkness. He stared as the shadows rose, eyes becoming angry and intense. He gasped silently when he saw Ardara’s drowsy lethargic figure.
Without preamble, he took up the fabric of the others’ clothing in both his fists and pulled them apart. To their amazement he leapt several feet into the air and swooped out the broken window with them both in tow.
He soared above the wasteland, Wynne and Cinder dangling from his hands in shock. They both had caught a glimpse of Ardara trembling in rage just before Orphenn took flight, and they now witnessed the flashes and jolts of angry lightning flickering about the tower. Neither of them demanded an explanation for Orphenn’s sudden retreat.
They gazed up at him, casting about the land like a hawk on the hunt, feathers, hair and uniform curling around in the wind.
“Orphenn!” Wynne shouted above the gale. “What’s happened to you?” He’s carrying the weight of two others without a single drop of sweat.
The boy gave no reply.
“It’s the essence.” Cinder whispered to him. “Ardara injected him with tainted essence…It changes him…”
Orphenn swerved to the right, his great wings across the sky like a shining banner. Clattering and screaming and various cacophonies of battle could be heard as they drew closer to ground level.
“The battle has already begun.” Orphenn said, his first words since he left the White Herons’ ship.
They flew above the battlefield, a gut-wrenching sight. Seven allied airships, including the mighty Day Star, hovered overhead and let fall missiles, bombs and gases on the enemies. Each ship had carried as many refugees from the camp at Denoras as possible, any individual old enough and healthy enough for battle. Ardaran vessels came to combat them, just as formidable.
“Cinder!” Wynne called. “Port us back inside the castle!”
“What!” She screeched. “Are you crazy?”
“Xeila has just signed to me from below! Rebels still await me in the throne room! Hurry!”
Nyx piloted the Day Star, shouting at the helm, the others engaged in the fight along and inside the ravine.
Where water once flowed, now only grayscale dirt and stone remained-ideal battle conditions. That is, of course, until it began to rain.
Sven glanced across the gorge for his squadron as the Day Star shot down an opposing ship. It plunged to the rock, throwing up dust and debris for miles, and collapsing in on itself in an explosion of noise.
Sven was sure there would be no survivors on that ship. He caught sight of Eynochia and Dacian, fighting side by side like old friends, their teamwork unavoidable. Dacian, forming his poisonous crystal lance into two lethal blades, slashed with toxic potency at any enemy within reach. The poison bubbled on the wounds and left none who faced it alive. Eynochia bit and clawed savagely in her anthropomorphic state, silver fur flaying in a mane down her neck and spine.
Xeila, evidently, was nowhere to be seen, thanks to her flawless camouflage, but could sure enough be spotted by a keen eye when soldiers were beaten by an invisible opponent, and footprints trailed in the dust.
Then the ground rumbled in answer to Jeremiah’s powerful blow. It tore the ground apart. He threw boulders, and remnants of airships and bomb casings, to fall on target in the center of the enemy’s battalions, deathly, absolute. He was fierce and brilliant, so like his diamond armor.
Suddenly Sven lunged to the side and fired his shotgun into the chest of his opponent, who he almost forgot about. Not lookin’ so good. Apart from Jeremiah, none wore armor and scarce had weapons. Before he became too discouraged, a breathtaking event came to uplift him.
A giant darkness had gathered at the center of the battlefield, a portal taller than any man. At first there was nothing. In the next second, Orphenn came gliding through the blackness on golden feathers, carrying Wynne on his back, Cinder behind them on her own freed wings. After them, hundreds stormed outward, pouring into the ravine to join the fight. The portal swirled closed behind them. They charged with the collective ferocity of wolves, and attacked with a maelstrom of ability.
Sparks literally flew, every gift and power put to use in these fatal minutes.
Sven was immediately placed in good spirits. “Whooo!! Look at that!!” He cheered, firing two pistols triumphantly. “What now?!”
An enemy battalion advanced on him, cutting short his one-man rally.
“Ah.” He chuckled. “Time to get down to business then.”
Orphenn dropped down onto the ravine’s left bank, Wynne stepping down from his back, trying to calm his heartbeat.
“Wynne.” Cinder grabbed his arm. “There is still one prisoner yet to be released.”
They looked at each other for one sharp moment, and then, once again, were taken by Cinder’s darkness, into the heart of Ardara’s dungeon.