Birthright-The Technomage Archive (26 page)

“
Jaronya,” it said.

She blinked. “Swinton,” she said without moving her attention in his direction, “did you hear that?”

“
More like felt it,” Swinton replied.

“
Yeah,” she agreed. The thing’s voice had been loud. But it had also been primal and powerful. It was like its voice was bypassing her ears and going directly into her brain. “Jaronya.”

The creature narrowed its eyes as it looked at Harlo. Its voice came out harder, more stern now. “Jaronya,” it said again.

Then with no notice whatsoever, the creature flew away from the campsite, Harlo in its arms.

Harlo would have screamed, but it would have done no good. The thing had flown out of earshot all ready. While carrying a person. In maybe three seconds.

She had also not expected that reaction to her attempts at communication. She yelled at it and struggled against its grip. “Hey! Where do you think you're taking me? Why did you come for us this morning? Was it something I said, he said, we did?”

It paid no attention. It just watched its path ahead and wound silently through the mountains, around outcroppings, all the while never tightening or loosening its grip on her.

“
Jaronya?” she asked, yelling the word as though it were a password that would make it stop its flight.

“
Jaronya,” it agreed and continued on its way.

Harlo sighed and resigned herself to silence. There was nothing she could do. She resented being taken like this, not just because of her fear and uncertainty, but because her medical and research supplies were back at the camp with Swinton. She hoped that if Swinton came searching for her, he would bring them. She hoped that she wouldn't need medical supplies, but she was pragmatic enough to know she probably would.

***

While Harlo resigned herself to being kidnapped by a giant, purple angel-creature, Swinton just took a moment to deal with what had happened. When his shock subsided and his brain was once again able to make sense of the world, he began to pack up camp. They hadn't made a fire, but he folded their foil blankets and packed them away in the supply bags. His soldier training had kicked in like Bryt always said it would, and he realized that despite being stuck here alone in Purpleland, he had been taught what to do in this kind of scenario.

Well, not this scenario specifically, but in a no-win scenario in hostile territory. He must have missed the classes on how to respond to giant angels making off with his teammates one by one, but he figured that he would improvise and make a win-win situation out of it all.

It took him less than three minutes to grab all their supplies and buckle them together. As he finished, Swinton realized that Harlo had none of her gear with her, and he frowned. He prayed she wouldn't need it.

Giving one last glance to make sure he had not left anything lying around that could lead one of those things to him, he set out toward the kidnapper. He knew that he was too slow to do any real good in the short term, but he hoped that he could find them all eventually. Maybe that would count for something.

Chapter eighteen

“
I’ve never killed anyone before.”

Ceril didn’t know how to respond. The correct answer was probably not
I have. You never really get over it
, so he just looked at Saryn, sitting in front of him dumbfounded and in shock. It had been at least two hours since they had shot and killed the angels that had kidnapped them, and Saryn and Chuckie hadn’t made any progress toward coping with what had happened.

Ceril wanted to say something, needed to say something, but without the right words, all he could do was smile wanly at her.

Chuckie said, “Me, either, Saryn. Not really. I’ve shot at people, done a lot of simulations and combat exercises, but what happened with those angel things…” He paused and looked at his gun. “It was them or us.”

“
Don’t recite clichés at me, Chuckie.”

“
I’m not. I’m just saying that it really was them or us, you know? They came out of nowhere, snatched us up like we were nothing and flew off with us. I don’t think they were taking us home to meet their parents.”

“
I know,” she said. “I know. It’s just…How did you deal with it, Ceril?”

Should he answer her? What could he say? “I, umm, what?”

“
I know you don’t like talking about Ethan Triggs, Ceril. I know, and I’m sorry I brought it up, and this isn’t even close to the same situation, but how did you deal with, you know…” Her voice trailed off.

“
Killing someone?” Ceril finished for her. “Taking someone’s life? Watching and feeling another person bleed out in front of me?”

“
Yeah,” said Saryn, sheepishly.

“
It wasn’t like this. Not at all. Not even remotely. I don’t…feel bad for those angels. Chuckie’s right: they were going to hurt us. But they were still people, or we have to assume they were, just like Ethan. How did I deal with it? Years of beating myself up, trying to repent somehow for what I did, trying to take it back. I worked my ass off on the
Sigil
because of it. I’ve had Roman and Bryt breathing down my neck ever since, pushing me to work harder, think faster, fit just one more class into my schedule.

“
And you know what? I did. I worked harder. I thought faster. I took every class and training session and Instance mission they gave me. I never complained. Not once. At least not to them. I couldn’t. Everything I’ve done in the last five years has been to try to make up for that one second of lost control. That one second where
this
,” his Flameblade appeared in his hand as he spoke, its golden blade flaring brighter than it ever had, “pretty much started to dominate my life.” He bounced the sword from one hand to another, which made both Saryn and Chuckie shy away slightly.

“
So how did I deal with it, Saryn? The best that I could.” The Flameblade disappeared and with it, the eerie illumination that had surrounded the trio.

“
I-I’m sorry, Ceril.”

“
Me, too,” he said. “I didn’t mean to—”

“
Yeah, you did, boss. It’s cool,” said Chuckie. “You’ve probably had that bubblin around inside you for a while. I don’t want you to think we’re making light of what happened to you. It’s just that…we don’t know how to handle this.” Chuckie’s shoulders sagged as he said it. “All the training in the world can’t really prepare you for when you actually have to pull that trigger.”

Ceril stood up and looked around him. It was dark, and by his count, they had spent more than two hours hunkering under an outcropping a short walk from where they had shot and killed their winged kidnappers. “There’s nothing I can say that will make any of this better,” he said. “I kept myself busy for the last five years so I could keep my mind off what happened. And given our current circumstances, I think that’s the best thing we can do here, too. So you want my advice on dealing with this? Push it down until you have time. Right now, let’s see if we can find Harlo and Swinton.”

Saryn stood up and brushed herself off. “You’re right, Ternia. Thanks.”

“
Yep,” he said. “Chuckie, it would make sense that Harlo and Swinton would come to find us, right?”

“
As much as anything, yeah. They probably followed the angel guys’ path into the mountains.”

“
So if we’re looking for them, then we need to backtrack. Which way is that from here?” Ceril knew which direction it was. He could have just given the order to move out and start walking, but he wanted to make sure Chuckie and Saryn felt needed, like they were able to contribute to something other than killing of their kidnappers a few hours prior.

Chuckie pointed. “That way, I think, boss. May take a little winding around if you want to head directly back, though. I don’t think these mountains have anything straight through em.”

“
Thanks, Chuckie. Let’s try to make it as quick as we can to the plains. We can always pick up their trail from there if we don’t meet up with them,” Ceril said. “Saryn, what do you think the odds are that Harlo and Swinton went into the mountains before dark fell?”

“
Oh, they’re in a cave somewhere, Ternia. After the day we’ve had, there’s no way they’ll be anywhere out in the open.”

“
Lovely,” Ceril said. He was thinking the same thing, but he hoped that someone else might be able to convince him differently. “Then keep your eyes out for anything that might indicate where they are, and listen in case they’re talking or making enough noise that we can find them that way. If they’re in a cave, or even under an outcropping like this one, it’ll be easier to walk by and miss each other entirely. We can’t have that. Chuckie, you take point.”

“
Always, boss.” It wasn’t insubordination or even sarcasm. Chuckie was simply the best person to have leading the squad, and they all knew it. Ceril took up the rear, ready to summon his Flameblade at the first sign of trouble.

***

It made sense, when Ceril thought about it later, that the angels would be waiting for them. Just moments after the trio had set out from their hiding spot, four purple-skinned men descended out of nowhere directly in front of Chuckie. The winged men stood stock-still, at perfect attention, shoulder-to-shoulder, and blocked the rocky path Ceril and his companions had been using.

Chuckie reacted first by dropping to one knee and simultaneously grabbing his rifle. He cocked it and yelled, “Saryn, get down! Ceril, cover me!”

Saryn listened immediately. She dropped to a crouch and quickly surveyed her surroundings. She lunged for a rock a bit to her left, did a somersault, and sprang forward to land with her back to the rock, safe from the winged quartet—even for just a moment.

Ceril heard Chuckie call for cover, and he instinctually called for his Flameblade. The problem with that approach, however, was that their assailants were far enough away that there was no way he could do any good with a melee weapon. So, as soon as the sword materialized, he let it dissipate, and instead reached for his sidearm. He started to fire as soon as it was lined up with the attackers. His fire sprayed in a cone in front of him, striking the large, purple men blocking their path.

At least two of his shots struck each of the angels. He doubted any of them would die from his attacks—he had not been able to aim precisely enough for that—but they would suffer enough wounds that they should be slowed. As Ceril fired on the furthest left angel, Chuckie fired on the furthest right. They hadn’t had time to coordinate, but because they had been trained by the same people, their fighting styles meshed well enough that Ceril’s cover fire kept Chuckie from getting killed while he did the real damage.

Or he should have done the real damage.

Ceril and Chuckie both stopped firing when they realized that they were having no effect on the angels in front of them. Stoic as statues, the winged men shimmered slightly as the bolts struck their skin. Even Chuckie’s more powerful rifle shots weren’t affecting them.

“
What’s going on, boss?” Chuckie demanded. “These guys should be meat by now, like the others were.”

Instead of responding, Ceril charged at the quartet. He holstered his pistol and summoned his Flameblade, this time letting it fully materialize and flare purple-green. If the creatures were surprised by the appearance of the weapon, there was no indication. They were as stoic as ever. It was as though Ceril and Chuckie’s barrage against them had never happened, nor was there a determined young man running at them with a flaming sword.

Their disinterest almost made Ceril angry. He pushed himself to run as hard and fast as he could, while he hefted the newly materialized sword in both hands. He could feel himself automatically distribute its weight in his hands as he lifted both arms for an overhead attack. Sure, such a move would leave him open to a counterattack, but the four creatures had made no indication they were going to fight back, anyway.

When Ceril was close enough to strike, he brought the weapon down hard on the left creature’s shoulder. Or he should have. Instead of cleaving through sinew and bone, pushing the blade down through whatever resistance the purple man’s torso would have, Ceril found himself rolling forward on the ground, his weight suddenly and awkwardly distributed.

After maybe a second, he noticed that he no longer held his Flameblade. He found his bearings and looked at the four purple people he had been trying to attack. They had moved, but barely. Instead of a disinterested forward stare, all of their heads were cocked downward and they focused on him.

“
Boss?” Chuckie’s voice sounded distant. “You okay, boss?”

“
I think so,” Ceril mumbled as he stood up. He locked eyes with the angel he had tried to split with his Flameblade. “What did they do to me, Chuckie?” He paused and then said to the angel, “What did you do to me?”

“
All I saw was your sword go poof and you rolling on the ground. I couldn’t tell nothin else from back here.”

“
Me, either, Ternia,” Saryn called. “You just kind of…fell.”

“
What did you do to me?” Ceril asked again. The angels just stared at him, their heads still slightly cocked to the side. If he could just take them by surprise, then maybe they would all get out of this okay. He was scared, mad, and frustrated at the situation, but those feelings wouldn’t do any good unless they were focused. He tried to focus them on the one thing he needed more than anything else: his Flameblade.

He thought about the weapon, saw it in his mind, could almost feel the weight in his hand. He visualized the golden blade appearing out of nowhere in his hand, and he imagined it slicing that smug indifference off those purple faces. Ceril zeroed in on the fear, anger, and frustration and did his best to make his visualization real, to call his Flameblade back from wherever it had disappeared to.