Harbinger (The Bleeding Worlds) (29 page)

Needles of pain shattered through Gwynn’s hand. Elaios spun on her heel, and swung Gwynn off his feet and sent him crashing against the far wall.

The air hammered out of his lungs and his hand let loose its hold on Xanthe. With their physical contact severed, the sword faded back into the ether. Gwynn heaved himself onto his knees. His hand was red, raw and swollen.

“I focus the flames out my hands.” Elaios said in a casual, lilting tone. “But the fire runs just beneath the surface of my whole body.” She looked at her hand and for a moment, it blazed so bright Gwynn had to shield his eyes. “Fire. It purifies and fights away the darkness. I know you think I take pleasure in this, but I don’t. If you could just see the bigger picture, you’d give yourself to this. The Fallen are cast as villains, but we are seeking to create a better world. All we want to do is purge the sins of our ancestors and return to the land God made for us.”

“You’re insane.” Gwynn coughed. He drew sparingly on the Veil, focusing the energies into his hand—just enough to dull the pain.

“The typical defense of the ignorant. We are saner than any of you lemmings. We face ourselves in the Veil and then use it to find and purge the sinful parts of ourselves.”

“What does that mean?”

“The Fallen are pure. Before we are given our angelic name, we must first eliminate all sinful versions of ourselves.”

“You mean you go to other worlds and kill yourself?”

Elaios smiled. “The first time is difficult. Then you realize that these aren’t real people, they are just shadows of yourself. We do them a favor by delivering them from the burden of their sins.”

“You are insane.”

Gwynn never took his eyes off her. Yet one moment she stood across the floor, the next, she smashed her fiery fists into his sternum and sent him spinning across the floor. He tasted blood. Was there any point to this? The tear had closed, yet the vortex still spun, ready to devour this world. He should run. He should find Pridament and find a new world. Maybe they could take Jaimie. Maybe Fuyuko would come too.

Elaios didn’t press her attack. “I can see it in your eyes, the desire to run. The first time I realized my visions came true, I wanted to do the same. Some of our kind would have you believe our powers are a gift, but they’re a burden. You’re just a teenager, and yet you carry the fate of a world on your shoulders. Even if you run, even if you manage to avoid being hunted down by the Fallen, you will never escape the weight of your failure here. And if my visions are right, and I’ve yet to be wrong, you will cause loss of life on a catastrophic scale. Whatever crimes you accuse we Fallen of, you will commit worse. We seek to return humankind to paradise; you will rob them of it. Is that what you want? Let me purify you. Let me make your end as quick and painless as possible. You will be a martyr, celebrated instead of becoming a villain, reviled and hated.”

Gwynn drew a deep, painful breath. He closed his eyes and hung his head.

“Good. I see why your father is so proud of you.”

Gwynn waited for the end. Would it hurt? Was he doing the right thing? Did that matter? It was too much to bear. He didn’t want to live with the guilt. He didn’t want to question every decision and wonder if it would steer into an apocalypse. Soon he’d see his mother and father. He hoped they wouldn’t be too disappointed in him.

Firm hands gripped his shoulders.

“Gwynn, what the hell. Are you all right?”

Gwynn opened his eyes. Before him stood his father. He wasn’t wearing Pridament’s face. It was the square–jawed ruggedness that he remembered from his childhood. The eyes looked much older, but everything else fit his memory.

“Dad?”

“It’s Pridament now, Gwynn.”

“Where’s Elaios?”

“Fuyuko’s trying to hold her off. She needs our help.”

On the other side of the floor, Fuyuko and Elaios performed a deadly dance. Fuyuko parried Elaios’ attacks with a shield, which to Gwynn appeared made of ice. Each blow Elaios landed on the shield battered and chipped it, making it clear it wouldn’t last. Elaios was relentless, leaving Fuyuko little chance to counter attack with her spear; what few attempts she made Elaios deflected.

Pridament got to his feet and made for the two women. As he did, Fuyuko lunged at Elaios with her spear. Elaios grabbed it in her hand. Time seemed to slow. Fuyuko’s eyes filled with confusion. Elaios appeared triumphant, smug. Her hands burned brighter and she twisted and smashed Fuyuko’s spear to pieces.

Fuyuko’s eyes widened in horror and the remainder of her ice shield melted away. Pridament yelled. Ripples of heat burst from Elaios, throwing him back. Pridament hit the ground, the severity of his injuries apparent. He turned back to Fuyuko and Elaios. Fuyuko was a broken doll—fear and loss painted across her porcelain face. Elaios wound her fist back preparing a deathblow.

Something in Gwynn snapped.

He
could
die. Maybe he
should
die, but he wouldn’t watch someone he cared about die again. His father. Sophia. He wouldn’t add Fuyuko to his list of failure.

He shot out his hand. He didn’t call it and he didn’t wait for it to materialize. Instinct said it would be there. Fighting the Gorgon had taught him everything he needed, always stayed with him, hidden just out of sight.

Xanthe’s dark blade cracked out like a whip. With no effort, the blade severed Elaios’ hand that held Fuyuko.

Gwynn didn’t wait. Even as Xanthe crossed the distance between himself and Elaios, Gwynn was on his feet following it. He swept across the space and hammered his shoulder into Elaios as she screeched.

The wall shattered as Elaios crushed against it. Gwynn held Fuyuko in his arms.

“Fuyuko, can you hear me?”

A glaze fell over her eyes.

“Bastard.” Elaios rose to her feet with a growl. “You took my hand.”

Gwynn turned. He raced to Pridament and shielded him and Fuyuko as Elaios’ flames flashed out of control. Glass rained down on them as every window shattered. Gwynn hadn’t been able to touch her without burning. He clamped his eyes shut and waited for the flames to incinerate them all.

The floor scorched around them, but something shielded them from the flames. Gwynn opened his eyes to see leathery wings spread out on either side of him.

The heat ceased.

Gwynn stood to face Elaios. The wings responded by folding behind him; their movement natural and instinctual—like another pair of arms.

Elaios’ eyes were two dark pits. She had become a fallen angel with flesh and wings of flame.

“And here stands the proof.” She bellowed. “The dragon all but revealed.”

“I don’t care what you say, I will save this world.”

She mocked him with laughter. “You think so? Let’s see you try.”

Elaios threw back her head and a fountain of blue flame erupted from her mouth tearing a hole through the ceiling. Her eyes challenged Gwynn and her flame wings carried her up and out.

Dark burns covered the entirety of the level. Pridament and Fuyuko were unconscious, injuries from previous battles apparent. Gwynn looked to the path Elaios had used.

“You should go.”

He turned just enough to see Adrastia out the corner of his eye.

“How can I?”

She gave a stifled laugh. “You do know you have wings, right?”

Gwynn tightened his fists. Through his clenched jaw, he hissed, “As if I know how to use them.”

She touched his shoulder.

“If you won’t trust yourself, then trust what she told you.”

“Who?”

“The seer. The one who loved you.”

Gwynn’s chest tightened.

“She said that when you took her hand, you would be ready.”

“How can I take her hand when she’s…dead.”

Adrastia gave him a pity–filled smile. “Think of what you just did to Elaios. What did you take from her?”

Gwynn turned back to the hole in the roof. “She believed in me, didn’t she? Even though I couldn’t save her, she trusted me to save everyone else.”

“Because she saw it. She knew what would happen to her. She chose that path because it would save you and this world. She sacrificed herself, the same as you need to right now. Kill the doubt in yourself. Sacrifice the broken child that has restrained you. Shed your nightmares and take flight. She believed in you Gwynn. She trusted you to do this when the time came. Don’t let her down.”

Gwynn closed his eyes and drew a deep breath. He summoned a memory of Sophia. She smiled and reminded him that there were people he needed to protect. That a world existed somewhere in which the two of them were happy and loving each other. Again, Gwynn sensed the greater part of himself within the Veil. His wings weren’t new. They had always been with him. Nothing in his powers was new or foreign. Xanthe, his wings, whatever else might come to him when he needed it; they were always present, just hidden. His wings were here now because he needed them. If he needed them, if they had come to his aid, then the knowledge of how to use them had to be there as well.

The wings didn’t feel foreign; instead, they were a natural weight on his back. He spread them out, tested flapping them. His feet left the ground.

I can do this…

Gwynn stepped beneath the hole in the roof. Elaios, flying in front of the dark vortex, burned like a star.

Elaios yelled, “Come blood of Odin. Even if I die, I’ll show you the monster you are.”

“Ignore her.” Adrastia said. “She’s hoping to throw you off. She’s afraid. She knows that you’ll defeat her. She knows that if you live you’ll be strong enough to stop all the Fallen. Fulfill your destiny. Write the first chapter of the new gospel. Take flight Gwynn!”

He crouched down and drew strength from the Veil. He leaped up, through the ceiling and into the sky. Just as his body would’ve responded by walking if he wanted to move from one place to another, so too did his wings.

He swept up to Elaios’ level.

“Look upon this form boy.” Elaios said. “None who have seen it have lived to tell of it.” From the Veil, she drew a scepter and charged at Gwynn.

The scepter clanged against Xanthe. Elaios’ momentum pushed Gwynn back down toward the building.

Gwynn folded his wings behind him and rolled to his right. He passed through the flames of Elaios’ wings, sending her spinning. His own wings folded along his back protecting him from the blaze. Once she had passed him, he spread them out and soared higher into the sky.

A plume of flame grazed his shoulder sending a shock of pain throughout his core.

Elaios rushed toward him, an angel of death—beautiful, horrifying.

Sword met scepter in a flurry of blows. The scepter’s blows were so heavy, each parry sent painful shockwaves through Gwynn’s arms. Yet Elaios wielded it with an ease and grace despite having just one hand. His knuckles whitened as he gripped Xanthe with both hands against the punishing blows.

Gwynn’s arms strained up into his shoulders as he held back the scepter. Daggers of pain stabbed into the centre of his brain as Elaios crashed the flaming stump of her severed hand into his face.

He fell; the world a painful blur. He crashed into the pavement below and collapsed in on himself. But the Veil had him, and it wouldn’t let him die. Just as his body collapsed, a rush of energy, like a tornado filling a balloon, pushed through him and kept him whole.

Gwynn staggered to his feet. He kept drawing on the Veil. Bones snapped back together and he puked up fluid that shouldn’t have been loose in his system.

Move!
Something shouted in his mind. He fell to the left. Something struck where he had just been standing, sending chunks of asphalt into the air. A nearby car exploded.

He caught sight of Elaios. She swooped down between the buildings and charged straight at him.

Projectiles of flame shattered windows and destroyed vehicles around him. Gwynn let Xanthe fly. The sword clipped Elaios across her arm, but she didn’t react.

Xanthe snapped back just in time to clash against Elaios’ scepter. The asphalt buckled beneath him as Elaios’ momentum pushed him down.

“Why fight this?” Elaios howled. “Only minutes ago you were ready to lay down your life.”

Gwynn grit his teeth. “Someone reminded me of a promise I made.”

Elaios wore a smile as many parts madness as it was hungry. “What good are promises made in this world? Soon it will be wiped from existence.”

“Then at least I’ll die with a clear conscience. Can you say the same?”

Elaios drew back her scepter for another strike. Gwynn kicked off the ground and flew above her. She twisted and glared at him, her face a mask of disgust and hatred.

“I told you. I’ve cleansed my sins. Because you’re ignorant, I don’t expect you to understand. But we are doing righteous work. Nothing but glory awaits us.”

Xanthe struck out and bit deep into Elaios’ abdomen.

She swatted the blade aside, her wound healing in a small blaze of bluish flame.

“Do you have any idea how old I am?” Elaios screeched. “You may bring the apocalypse, you may not. But there is nothing you can do that will destroy me.”

“Tell that to your hand.”

Xanthe danced through the sky, landing numerous strikes against Elaios. Each wound closed as fast as he made it.

Elaios’ laugh verged on hysterics. “Do you see? What is the loss of this hand? Given enough time, the Veil will give me another.”

Gwynn dived.
Let’s see how you do without your head.

Elaios didn’t move. She stood still, her eyes locked on his. As Xanthe bit into the flesh of her neck, she was gone.

Something hammered into his side and sent him sprawling against a far wall. Masonry fell around him as the wall crushed under his force.

Gwynn stumbled to his feet. Elaios stood unscathed in the road.

“When will you accept it?” She asked. “There is nothing you can do. You’ve kept your promise. You’ve fought valiantly. At some point, isn’t it better to go quietly into the darkness instead of kicking and screaming?”

Gwynn kicked into the sky. He flew upward, trying to keep distance between them. He came up over the building where the Gorgon and tear had been. Through the devastated roof he saw Fuyuko, still unconscious, and Pridament, injured, bleeding. He scanned for Elaios. She stood on street level, watching him.