Skybuilders (Sorcery and Science Book 4) (3 page)

“Isis is a nice girl,” he said. “She couldn’t kill someone if her life depended on it.”

“And Jason is a professional killer,” replied Ariella.

Silas shrugged. “Stranger couples have been made.”

Ariella sighed.

“How’s your own relationship going?” he asked.

“What relationship? Half the time, it feels like he hardly knows I exist,” she muttered.

“As soon as we get Hayden and Ian back, my next mission will be to thump Davin Storm upside the head.”

“Don’t get yourself into trouble on my account.”

“It will be worth it.” He flashed her his deranged smile. “But one crisis at a time. Let’s start with Precipice.”

CHAPTER THREE

~
Leonidas Chase ~

526AX August 18, Precipice

THE DULL GREY sea crashed against the rocky beach, sliding over jagged stones to lap at Silas’s boots. He ignored the watery intrusion and pressed on. His boots were waterproof anyway. Beside him, Ariella looked out across the water and shivered.

“I can’t believe Isis survived here for so long,” she said.

Silas didn’t laugh. Not that he wasn’t tempted to.

She rubbed her hands against her shoulders, trying to warm herself. “I would have transferred too.”

It was still August, but northern Elitia didn’t have a real summer. It didn’t have much of a spring or autumn either. Especially here at the Peaks. A bone-chilling gust blasted icy wind and water from the north down onto the shoreside kingdom.

“You transferred to Rosewater yourself, didn’t you?” he asked, tossing her a hat. She wasn’t wearing nearly enough layers.

She slipped the hat onto her head, and it slumped down, sliding over her eyes. She rolled the edge back far enough to see. “Yes, from Sundrop Loop.”

Sundrop Loop wasn’t much colder than Rosewater. “Have you ever even seen snow?”

Ariella planted her hands on her hips. “Yes, Silas Thorn. I have seen snow.”

He chuckled—then stopped as he caught a strong scent on the wind. It was coming from just over the hill. A potent mixture of spice and Winter’s Mint, the scent hung thick and heavy in the air. Silas could taste the burn of it on his tongue. Phantom. And not just any Phantom. Jason Chanz. Magus.

They ascended the hill, the electric spark of Magus’s resonance crackling across Silas’s skin. The kid certainly was a powerhouse of magical energy. But Silas had known that since the day he first saw him as a nine-year-old boy already more powerful than most grown Phantoms.

Behind Silas, Ariella walked along, oblivious to all but the cold. She hadn’t picked up on the assassin yet.

Magus stood at the top of the hill, two others with him. And to Silas’s surprise, Isis wasn’t one of them. To the assassin’s right stood the Rev mercenary he had worked with to track down Hayden and Ian. To his left stood Cameron Storm, King River’s younger son. The assassin had his work face on, which meant he wasn’t there to have fun. If he even knew how to have fun. Which Silas very much doubted. Well, Isis knew how to have fun. He
should
have been hanging out with her.

The assassin’s dark eyes honed in on Ariella like he’d selected his next target. Silas slid his hand over the hilt of the Everlast Ripper knife strapped to his chest.

Magus’s eyes shifted to the jagged-edged knife, one of Silas’s most intimidating weapons. “Wait. I mean you no harm.”

He lifted his hands. They held no weapons. So Silas allowed Ariella to press her hand against his knife, holding him back. But he did not relax. Blades were not the only weapons in a Phantom’s arsenal. Silas knew that all too well. He crossed his arms against his chest, keeping his eyes locked on the assassin. Magus did not miss a thing. He kept his knives sheathed, but his eyes hardened with cold dark fire. A fighting fire.

Silas grinned at him. “Any time, junior.”

As Magus’s eyes darkened further, Ariella stepped between them.
“Now, now. We’re all friends here.” She looked at the assassin. “We, too, mean no harm. Silas is just overprotective. It’s his bodyguard instincts kicking in.
One can never be too careful with the infamous Jason Chanz.” An embarrassed smile cracked her lips. “Ah, forgive me. It seems that even I slip at times. Magus.”

Magus surprised Silas by replying, “You are Isis’s friend, so you may call me Jason.”

Wow, the assassin has it bad
, Silas laughed to himself. But he kept the laugh contained, maintaining his hard glare.

“And you are hers, or is it more than that?” she asked.

Even lovestruck, Magus’s face was unreadable. Silas couldn’t help but be impressed. It had taken him centuries to perfect his own granite mask. Jason was just a kid and he put it on like it was his only face. And Silas really would have thought it was—if only he hadn’t seen the way the assassin looked at Isis.

“In any case, you may call me Ariella.”

“Ariella, I would like to speak with you for a moment.” Magus looked at Silas. “Alone.”

No.
Silas drew his knife, a Bloodfire whose blade shone as obsidian as the assassin’s eyes.

“I’ll be fine, Silas.” Ariella turned to Magus. “Let’s take a walk, Jason.”

But before Silas could protest, they turned their backs on him and took off on a spiraling path up the hill and out of sight.

* * *

526AX August 18, Precipice

Ariella was gone for a long time. Too long. Silas knew that she could take care of herself—and that it was very unlikely the assassin would try to kill Isis’s kindred—but chitchatting with the assassin was a waste of time. They had things to do. Silas was just about ready to run up the trail after her when she appeared around the bend.

She and Magus were chatting as merrily as one could with an assassin. They were a dour bunch, those assassins. There was a time some years ago that Silas had been tempted by the lure of an assassin’s paycheck, but he was glad he’d taken the position of Ambrose Selpe’s bodyguard instead. The pay was just as good, and he was permitted to retain his sense of humor.

Once they reached the bottom of the hill, Magus wasted no time in rushing off with his two comrades, the Rev mercenary and Cameron Storm. Silas had spoken to them while they were waiting for Magus and Ariella.

He liked the Rev named Everett. He was a funny man with an appreciation for money. And, more importantly, for earning his money. He also had a satisfactory familiarity with weapons, something he’d demonstrated as he looked over Silas’s knives, especially complimenting the frightening effect of the saw-toothed knife that shimmered blood red, a cross between a Bloodfire and an Everlast Ripper. Silas could not help but like a man who truly appreciated blades—and the utility of mentally disarming his opponents.

Cameron Storm had impressed him as well. Silas didn’t think he was nearly as helpless as he put on. His balance was too honed to make him anything other than a superb swordsman. If only Magus would bother to put a sword in the kid’s hand once in a while, Cameron might surprise him. Considering the sort of unsavory people after him, sword training’s the first thing Silas would have pushed on Cameron once he could walk. But Silas could forgive Magus’s oversight. Nefarious reputation or not, he still was, after all, hardly more than a child himself. Five years as an assassin did not change that.

Silas and Ariella continued down the hill. Looking toward the front entrance of Precipice, two grey wooden doors set inside an opening in the grey rock, Ariella gasped. Like all Elition temples, it was unique, perfectly suited to the surrounding area. Precipice had been built into the mountain. Even its eight spiked towers, the only things protruding from the lumpy rock face, were cut from the same grey stones.
 

“You have never visited Precipice?” he guessed.

“No.”

He wouldn’t say he was at home there, but he certainly knew his way around. He pushed through the double doors and led her down the first staircase to the prison. It was three floors below the entrance, but small round windows chiseled into the rock along the ocean side, coupled with wall torches, brought in sufficient light to navigate the winding halls. They came to a dead end, a dark corner illuminated by a single torch.

An Elition with a long rose-gold beard leaned back in his chair before the prison block gate, one leg crossed over the other knee. The man was old
—
really
old. Even Silas hadn’t yet aged enough to grow facial hair. That usually didn’t start to happen until an Elition reached well over seven hundred years old. So considering the belt-length cascade of the man’s beard, he had to be closer to one thousand. That was nearly unheard of amongst Elitions, whose longevity tended to be cut short by either recklessness or insanity. And the more immersed they’d become in the trivialities of the Selpe and Avan Empires, the worse the problem had gotten. Nowadays, many Elitions didn’t live much longer than humans.

Dull orange firelight danced across the bearded Elition’s sea green eyes as he looked at them. He crossed his arms, and a wide smile broke across his face. Still, he said nothing.

“We’re here to see Leonidas Chase,” Ariella told him. She waited for him to respond. When he didn’t, she added, “The human.”

“The Selpe spy,” his smooth voice said. “Yes, we’ve had a lot of excitement since his arrival.”

“What kind of excitement?” Silas asked. “Did he try to escape?”

The man’s smile grew wider as he shook his head. “Oh, no. He knows he’s safer in here. He has, however, accrued quite a fans at Precipice.”

“Let me guess. He tried to seduce one of the women,” Ariella said.

The old man held up eight fingers.

“Eight women?” she gasped.

“Two priestesses, the librarian, three guards, and two of our students.”

“Was he successful?”

“For the most part, yes. The scoundrel has a silver tongue.”

He sounded amused. Likely, it was the most excitement Precipice had seen in years. Silas wasn’t surprised to find an Elition so old there. In that dull temple, the man would die of boredom long before he had the chance to do anything even remotely reckless.

“We need to see your scoundrel now,” Silas told him.

“I recommend you don’t leave him alone with your friend,” he replied, winking at Ariella.

“She has proved herself immune to his powers.”

The man shrugged, his beard scrunching up. Then he stood and grabbed a hold of the clank beside the door. As he turned it, metal creaked and screeched in a deafening symphony of age-old rusted parts. The sounds bellowed down the hall, bouncing off the stone walls, and scraped the inside of Silas’s eardrums. He gritted his teeth and waited for the end to come. Finally, the gate rose all the way into the rock and clunked into place.

The guard extended his arm forward, and Silas and Ariella passed under the open gate. The passageway was so narrow that Silas’s elbows brushed against cold rock as he moved forward. There were but two cells here, and only one was occupied.

Inside, two wall torches lit either side of the small chamber. An extravagant carpet woven from shades of brilliant blue lay upon the floor before the cell door. In the corner to the left was a feather bed with lush multicolored blankets layered high. To the right was a beige-toned wooden desk with a neat stack of leather-bound books atop it. The blue and green curtains had been drawn to either side of the window. There was more color in that cell than in all of Precipice put together. In fact, it wasn’t so much a cell as a suite. Leonidas had chosen his targets of flattery well.

The spy sat upon a red cushioned chair, a book in his hand. His dark brown eyes were not focused on its pages, however; he was looking straight at Ariella.

“The lovely Ariella Steele!” he exclaimed, shutting his book with a wide smile. He stood. “And Silas Thorn.” The smile remained, but his eyes betrayed a hint of fear. “How lovely to finally have visitors from the outside. What has brought you to my doorstep?”

“You lied to us,” Silas said.

Leonidas’s smile waned. “And so you have finally come to throw me out of this window?”

“I was not done. You lied to us. And you betrayed your rightful emperor because his mother happened to be Elition. I want to know if you’ve reconsidered your prejudice.”

Leonidas paced three laps around his tiny cell, his heels clicking against the rock floor. Silas watched his feet. The spy had managed to convince them to let him keep his shiny black dress shoes. He squeaked to an abrupt stop and looked Silas in the eye.

“Emperor Hayden Selpe is half-Elition. I don’t like it, but I won’t make a move against him.”

Which meant he would do nothing to help Hayden. Only his need to protect Marin would compel him to join them. Or at least that’s what Silas was betting on.

“Do you hate us all so much?” Ariella asked.

“No, not you, my dear.” He shone his white teeth at her. “But Elitions are a mixed bag. You have your psychotic killers and lovely ladies.”

“Just like humans,” Silas observed.

“Perhaps, but Elitions have certain abilities that make those of you on the devious end of the spectrum far more dangerous than any human could be.”

Silas wasn’t so sure about that. Lady Cassandra, the Selpe aristocrat who had spearheaded the death of Ambrose Selpe and the abduction of his sons, was human, and she’d nearly disrupted an entire empire with her masterful manipulations.

Ariella closed her fingers around the steel bars. “An Elition once wronged you.”

As soon as she said it, Silas knew it had to be true. Leonidas’s eyes confirmed it. This was no propaganda-slurping fool. He was a man with a personal grudge.

“There was this Elition who hung me out of a window. Twice,” he added, glaring at Silas.

“No, this is not about me.” He caught the flash of an ivory-colored skirt and knee-high brown leather boots. “It’s about a woman.”