فصل سی و چهارم

Thirty-Four: Cal

I fall like a stone.

The useless, patronizing armor that never did anything but slow me down won’t protect me from a hundred-foot drop into raging water. It can’t save me, and I can’t save her. My hands claw through open air, reaching for anything to grab, but the fog just whistles through my fingers. I can’t even shout.

Debris tumbles with us, and I brace for the impact of solid concrete. Maybe it’ll crush me before I get the chance to drown. What a small mercy that would be.

I try to see her, even as the river rises up to meet me.

Someone grabs me around my middle, arms squeezing so tightly the breath is crushed from my lungs. My vision spots. I might be passing out.

Or not.

I howl as the river and the fog and the crumbling bridge disappear, swallowed up by a blackness. My entire body tightens, tensing up, and when I hit something solid, I expect all my bones to shatter into dust.

But nothing breaks.

“I didn’t know kings could scream like that.”

My eyes fly open to see Kilorn Warren standing over me, his face pale behind a friendly smile. He offers a hand and I take it gladly, letting him pull me up.

The Montfort teleporter looks on, panting slightly in her green uniform. She’s small, almost as small as Mare, and gives me a curt nod.

“Thanks,” I gasp, still trying to wrap my brain around surviving.

She shrugs. “Just following orders, sir.”

“Will we ever get used to that?” Mare says from a few feet away, still on her knees. She spits a little, looking a green in the face.

Her teleporter, the Montfort officer Arezzo, looks down at her with a smirk. “Would you prefer the alternative?” Mare just rolls her eyes. She glances at me and sticks out her hand, gesturing for help. Kilorn takes one side, with me on the other, and we pull her to her feet. She pats dirt from her own uniform, the bloodred color of the Scarlet Guard, if only to do something for a moment. She’s just as unsettled as I am, though she is loath to show it. I suppose you never get used to being plucked from the jaws of death, no matter how many times it happens.

“How many fell?” she asks, still not looking up.

I bite my lip and glance around, spotting a few Lerolan guards recovering alongside us. But teleporters can only do so much, and I had hundreds of soldiers on the Bridge, with even more below. My stomach churns with the implication. Gritting my teeth, I get my bearings and realize we’re back at the edge of the Square, embedded within Farley’s troops now rapidly fortifying the cliff. Beyond, a skeleton of the Archeon Bridge remains, collapsed in the middle, with the river boiling below. One of the Lakelander ships is pinned, sinking beneath the weight of a bridge support that fell like a tree in a storm, crashing down on the steel hull. Too heavy, even for the Lakelander queens.

Through the fog, I can’t see the far end of the Bridge, but I can only hope the bulk of my forces made it to one of the surviving edges. We didn’t have much of an army to begin with, but every life lost is another weight on my shoulders. I feel as if the burden might crush me already, and this battle is far from over.

Mare shifts to stand at my side, looking out as I do. Her fingers lace with mine for a second before she reluctantly pulls away. “I need to find him,” she whispers.

As much as I want to help her in such an endeavor, I simply can’t. Not unless I want to leave Nanabel in command or, by my colors, Julian. Neither is equipped to defend Archeon properly, especially in conjunction with Diana Farley.

“Go,” I tell Mare, putting my hand on the small of her back. With a heavy sigh, I give her the slightest push. Toward my brother. To kill him. “Be rid of him.” I should be the one to do it. I should have the spine for that.

But I can’t bear it. I can’t bear the weight of killing him. Not Mavey.

As she goes, Kilorn tagging along with her, I shut my eyes and draw in a long, rattling breath.

How many times do I have to say good-bye to him?

How many times have I lost him?

“The river!” someone barks.

I snap to attention, letting instinct take hold. I trained for years to be a warrior and a general, to see battle inches in front of me and from miles away. Immediately I try to picture the city in my head, split down the middle by the Capital River, now choked with the Lakelander armada. We’re cut off from the other side of Archeon, isolated here, with only teleporters for transport. How many, I don’t know. But it certainly isn’t enough if the Lakelanders decide to turn their attention on the cliffs and the people there.

Farley still holds her perch, a long gun slung over one shoulder. She presses her eyes to a pair of binoculars, looking downward, unmoving. Like a statue, silhouetted by mist and smoke.

“Is it still rising?” I ask, stepping up next to her for a better look. She passes me the binoculars without breaking her stare.

“And rising faster. Look downriver,” she adds, jerking her thumb to the south.

It isn’t hard to spot what she means. Whitecaps approach, waves breaking in choppy motion, as the Lakelanders pull in more and more water from the ocean. The river surges forward at a steady pace, solidifying into a wall of water like a single, unbroken ripple twenty feet high. I’d bet the river here has risen at least thirty feet so far, and it’s about to rise a lot more.

In spite of the Scarlet Guard fortifications, the cliffs take a beating, pieces of rock shearing away as another volley of missiles hits home. I duck, raising an arm to block the debris as it sprays over us. Farley simply turns her head.

“Julian’s running the infirmary at the barracks with Sara Skonos. Better get some runners ready,” I instruct, watching as a few soldiers turn away from the cliffs, their faces bloody.

“And Anabel?” she replies. Her tone is forcibly neutral.

“War Command.”

“With Samos?”

I hesitate, thinking about what Evangeline told me before my coronation. That Julian and Anabel were scheming to kill him. Remove the Rift from the equation. And maybe buy us some peace with his corpse. If that’s the price, I won’t stop her.

“Perhaps” is all I can manage before I try to change the subject. “What’s your plan?” I ask her. I’ve never known Diana Farley to strike without some kind of idea, maybe even an outright trick up her sleeve. Especially not with someone like Davidson backing her, not to mention the entire Scarlet Guard. “You’ve got one, right?” “We might,” she replies. “And you?”

“We were trying to clog up the armada, trap them maybe, force a cease-fire, but those nymph queens are unbeatable on the water.” “Are they?” Farley narrows her eyes at me. “I think that Iris gave you a good scare back in Harbor Bay.” I try not to think about it. The crushing weight of water, pulling me down faster than I thought possible. “Perhaps.” “Well then, we should return the favor.”

“Fine. I’ll take some oblivions, some teleporters, see if we can—” To my surprise, she waves me off. I flush, taken aback by her dismissal. “There’s no need for that,” Farley says, turning away from me. She raises her radio and twists the knob to some corresponding channel. “Premier, how’s your side of things?” Davidson’s voice filters back in reply, and I hear echoes of gunfire on his end. “Holding steady for now. Some Piedmontese tried the cliffs, but they didn’t expect to run into us. Sent them back.” I imagine Piedmont soldiers in purple and gold, falling from the bank. Split apart by newblood troops.

“What about your end, General?” Davidson presses.

Farley grins. “I’ve got the more reasonable Calore with me here, and Barrow is going after the other one.” “Premier,” I say into the radio, “I have a few hundred Silvers of my own spread between the Bridge ruins and still fighting down on the ships. Can you give them cover?” “I can do you one better. They need to get off the water, and I’ll send my teleporters in now,” he replies.

“Mine as well,” Farley clips back. “Grab as many as we can before things really heat up.” I glance at her, brow furrowed. “Another wave of ships?” Her smile spreads. “Something like that.”

“Now isn’t really the time for surprises.”

“Honestly, it’s like you’ve forgotten what we’re capable of,” she chuckles. It’s an odd sight, to see her laughing against the backdrop of war and destruction. “We had to wait until the water was high enough. And luckily for us, those nymph queens were happy to oblige.” I look at the water again, along with the surge now breaking against the ships, raising their hulls until they’re level with the lower cliffs. A few more surges and we’ll be staring right into their teeth, with every missile and shell pointed our way. Somehow I don’t see how that’s a desirable position to be in.

Farley looks amused by my confusion. “I’m glad you decided to see things our way, Cal.” “The right way,” I reply. “The way it should be.”

Her smile fades, but not in displeasure. Surprise, maybe. For the first time, her touch is gentle, driven by compassion. Her finger graze my shoulder.

“No more kings, Calore.”

“No more kings,” I echo.

Instead of Farley, the missiles, the ships, the water, the scream of wounded soldiers, I hear my mother’s voice. The voice I think she had.

Cal will not be like the others.

She wanted a certain path for me, just like my father. She wanted me to be different, but she still wanted me to be a king.

I hope my choice would make her proud.

“Speaking of kings,” Farley mutters; her demeanor changes in an instant. She straightens and points at a figure crossing the Square. “Is that—” His black cape flutters in the fog, snapping back to reveal limbs coated in perfect, mirrored armor. His steps are sure and quick as he moves through the crowd, soldiers jumping out of his way to let him pass. Without breaking pace, he steps onto the crumbling Bridge.

“Volo Samos,” I breathe, gritting my teeth. Whatever he’s about to do won’t end well for us.

But he doesn’t slow, even as the Bridge beneath him becomes more and more precarious. The ships, rising on the forced tide, are almost directly beneath him. And still he doesn’t stop.

Not even at the edge.

Farley gasps when he plummets, his body falling slowly, his cape and armor unmistakable through a gap in the fog.

I turn away, unable to watch him break himself on the steel below.

Across the Square, I spy my grandmother, standing resolute, her battle uniform aglow in red and orange. She stares at me through the fray of soldiers.

At her side, Julian hangs his head.

I don’t think he’s ever killed someone before.