White Heart of Justice (20 page)

I placed the dove's feather gently in the palm of my hand and incinerated it, blowing the ashes toward the
monstrum
. I'd risked our lives on this theory. That the
monstrum
was never meant to be. That it had only been created because I'd destroyed the scale while it was still measuring, birthing some abysmal, heinous alloy of blood, metal, and ashes from a bird of war. I'd risked our lives on my hunch that the ashes of a bird of peace would neutralize this
monstrum
.

Was I right?

Luck intervened one final time because instead of blowing the ashes every which way, the wind blew them straight into the
monstrum
. The effects were immediate. The ashes did what our magic couldn't. It was almost like watching the
monstrum
being born in reverse. It shriveled up, twisting and untwisting, turning itself in, then out, finally breaking apart into its small, harmless building blocks: copper pieces from the smashed scale and Rafe's silver bracelet.

The ashes and the blood were gone.

I picked up the silver bracelet. Its etchings were still intact. I handed it to Rafe. After a moment's hesitation, he accepted it and put it back on.

Regardless of how bizarre this trial by ordeal had been, Rafe had won. Hopefully double jeopardy and Rafe's promise to me would prevent any future trials.

Now, if only ice basilisks could be defeated as easily . . .

Chapter 18

D
estroying the
monstrum metallum
with a puff of ashes invigorated Rafe and me. Our predicament was nearly as dire as before, what with the below freezing temperature, our lack of proper gear, the agonizing pain in my chest, my weakening magic, and a swarm of winged ice basilisks on its way to attack us, but there was no denying that eliminating at least one enemy had a heartening effect. That is until I felt a waning magic signature I recognized at the head of the swarm—Brunus Olivine.

Immediately, I felt even weaker and almost violently ill. It would be impossible to forget the rotten feel of Brunus' signature. And Brunus' presence meant that Peter Aster wouldn't be far behind. Well, that explained why the basilisks were following the Old Trail. They were following Brunus and Peter. But what I couldn't tell was whether Brunus and Peter were controlling them—or trying to outrun them.

With my heart in my throat and my eyes on the barely visible horizon, I yelled to Rafe. “It's not just the basilisks. Brunus and Peter are headed here too.”

The sky was leaden, as if it were full of smoke, but I knew it was snow. Above the Old Trail, less than a mile away, was a dark spot of what looked like spilled oil. It writhed in the sky, black laced with the iridescent colors of a prism. The basilisks. And, beneath and ahead of them by a few hundred yards, were Brunus and Peter.

In many ways, they looked as Rafe and I had probably looked traveling that stretch of the Old Trail earlier today. They wore similar clothes: heavy cloaks, fur-lined hats, and dark spectacles raised above their eyes so they could see in the darkening twilight. They traveled on a sledge similar to ours and they too were battling wind, snow, and uneven terrain. But whereas we'd been racing
toward
something, I saw now that they were clearly running
away
. It was immediately obvious that Brunus and Peter weren't controlling the basilisk swarm; they were trying to outrun it. Which might have caused me to be the slightest bit sympathetic toward them but for the other difference. Instead of barghests, their sledge was being pulled by an exhausted, abused, and terrified yeti. Brunus was using magic to control it and—knowing Brunus and seeing the yeti's pitiful condition—I couldn't help but feel more sorry for the beast.

Under normal circumstances the yeti would have inspired a healthy dose of fear in me. What it lacked in magic, it made up for in size and ferocity. Nearly four times my height, it was covered with spiky white fur that stood up on end as if it had been electrocuted. Its light-colored fur made its mouth and eyes appear as if they were giant black holes, two windows and a door into the beast's dark misery. It roared and then snapped its jaws shut, clawing the air as it ran as if it were trying to gain traction from it as well as the ground.

As the basilisk swarm flew closer, its iridescent shimmer grew more pronounced and individual shapes could be discerned from the dusky snow blowing around it and within it. Winged ice basilisks look a bit like drakons but they are a lot smaller and lack the hind legs and lance-like shoulder bone extensions that give drakons their dangerous yet regal appearance. These creatures looked like tiny black-winged snakes. But their diminutive size didn't fool me. If hornets, wasps, and scorpions were but a bit bigger and possessed deadly magic, they'd possibly be able to take on a swarm of neonate ice basilisks. But those weren't neonates headed toward us. They were full grown and full of lethal fire and poisonous spit.

Rafe turned to me with a grim look on his face. “What do you think about riding Telesto and Brisaya now?” he shouted.

I glanced at the yeti. Brunus was blasting it with a bolt of waning magic shaped like a whip.

Is that what it would take to control Telesto and Brisaya?

I couldn't imagine doing that to a beast that wasn't threatening me and didn't even have any magic to defend itself.

“Where would we go? They'll catch up to us eventually. Here, at least we've got partial cover and we're not exhausted from running.”

I guess, under different circumstances it might have seemed adventurous or possibly even romantic. Like we were the hero and heroine of one of those ancient Haljan legends about two lovers facing impossible odds. Problem was those lovers were always
doomed
.

And
they were lovers . . .

But my wayward thoughts gave me an idea. I just hoped our fate would be different than the two people who had inspired my most recent survival strategy.

“The jail cells,” I shouted. “We can hide in there.”

This time, there was no joke about me not doing things by halves. We both knew digging a path through the rubble of the destroyed bailey gaol to the stairwell would take more time than we had. And, having just narrowly escaped the
monstrum metallum
, we were both only too aware that we were treading on Luck's good grace to expect another such positive outcome so shortly after the first one.

Rafe and I started digging through the debris like dogs as Brunus, Peter, their abused yeti, and the ice basilisk swarm grew closer. Just as I was wondering if Brunus would even try to stop the yeti's crazed flight in order to make a stand at Corterra with us, their sledge caught a snag. It stopped abruptly, sending them and all of their gear into the air. I watched with mixed marvel and dismay as they sailed forty feet or more into the air and then landed not ten feet or so from where we'd been digging.

Brunus' fall must have severed his hold on the yeti. With renewed fervor, it snapped the leather reins that had tied it to the sledge and turned to face the incoming basilisk swarm. Clenching its fists defiantly, it emitted a roar that sounded almost demon-like. The rumbling feel of it in my feet and ears galvanized me. I whistled to the barghests to help us dig.

Brunus and Peter survived their falls. They rose, shaken, and joined us at the edge of the bailey gaol's pile of rubble. Peter's gaze locked with mine and a look of shocked awe crossed his face. In that moment, Peter's near-white coloring, marble-sculpted features, and slight smile made him look beautiful. But as his gaze took in my sweaty, sooty, unkempt state, the blood under my fingernails, and the barghests and other Angel at my back, his joyful look turned first peevish and then angry.

I switched my gaze to Brunus, who was casually taking our measure despite the fact that, behind him, a war raged between one overgrown beast and several hundred winged demons. His confidence had grown along with his magical prowess.

“Nouiomo Onyx,” he said, his voice as rough as the wind, “we thought you were dead.” It was obvious from his expression that he
wished
I were dead.

Was his surprise and disappointment due to the fact that he'd been told I was dead or because he'd been the one to try to make it so? Had Brunus shot the cursed arrow tip toward my heart that day at Kalisto's Crystal Palace? Or had it been Vicious?

Or some other overzealous, law-breaking, would-be Laureate?

I quirked a smile at Brunus, not trusting him for a single second.

“You'll be the one to die if you don't start digging,” I growled. Brunus glanced at the barghests and then the yeti and the basilisks. I estimated that we had about fifteen seconds to find the stairwell's entrance before we found ourselves under direct attack.

“Help us find the bailey gaol's dungeon entrance,” I shouted above the wind, “and I
might
let you in it.”

Three heartbeats later, we were all trying to dig our way out of certain death. Once again on an assignment I found myself flanked by two Angels, but this time one of them definitely did not make me feel safe, which should have been odd since he'd been my closest friend for the first twenty-one years of my life.

“Guess you found a way to search for
Album Cor Iustitiae
after all,” I said to Peter. He stared up at me with a stone block in his hands and a hateful look in his eyes. I hoped the look was for the basilisks and not me. I should have known better than to expect contrition from Peter Aster. I don't think I had ever—in my life—heard Peter say he was sorry or that he'd been wrong about something.

“At least Brunus is motivated for the right reasons,” he spat out, as if I were the one responsible for getting him into this mess. “He knows who he is and what he wants.”

“I know what I want, Peter.
You're
the one who thinks I should want something different.”

He glared at me as he tossed the brick he'd been holding aside and reached for another. “You really want to become this year's Laureate so you can work for a Hyrke riverboat captain?”

“Well I sure as hell don't want to spend next year in places like
this
with people like
you
.”

“Onyx,” Rafe called, somehow managing to make his voice sound like a drawl even above the wind. “Fight with Aster later. Dig
now
.”

But it was already too late. The war between the yeti and the basilisks was over. The basilisks had won and now they were zeroing in on their next target—
us
. Brunus turned toward the swarm and formed a fiery bow and arrow. With cold precision, he shot at least a dozen out of the sky before they were upon us.

It galled me to have to stand and fight beside someone like Brunus, but dying would serve no purpose. And while proverbs like
the enemy of my enemy is my friend
had always sounded stupid to me, ones like
there's strength in numbers
didn't. There were scores of basilisks and only six of us.

I fired up a sword but it soon became clear that, though my sword fighting had improved dramatically in the past twelve months, I was no match for the basilisks. And the effort of maintaining the sword's shape and strength made me feel as if someone had repeatedly stabbed me in the chest with an ice pick laced with lightning. In a pain-induced fugue, I experienced the next four minutes or so as a violent maelstrom of beating wings, lashing tails, razor-sharp claws, and poison-laced teeth.

I'd seen Brunus fight before and Rafe and I had fought side by side many times. But Peter and the barghests were new battle companions for me. I was relieved to see that Telesto and Brisaya were better fighters than the yeti had been. They lacked magic, but either Haljan evolution or Linnaea's breeding had turned their jaws into lethal basilisk traps. They managed to kill at least a dozen of the miniature winged beasts before being bitten themselves. Peter was, quite frankly, scary to behold. He seemed to take perverse pleasure in zapping the basilisks out of the sky. I knew we were under attack—and I knew it was kill or be killed—but it was disturbing to see how much he seemed to enjoy it.

How had I missed this side of him during childhood and adolescence?

For my part, I was doing badly.

I knew if I lived I'd hear hissing in my sleep for months. In fact, after this, I probably wouldn't be able to sleep. At all. Ever again. Each basilisk was like a small winged snake and the sky seemed to be full of hundreds of them. I'd no sooner cut one or two or four down and ten more would swarm me. Every scale on their skin was barbed so each time one of them grazed me, it slashed or scratched. Before long it felt like someone had scrubbed every inch of my exposed skin—my face, neck, and hands—with steel wool.

The pain in my chest was nearly intolerable and I wasn't sure how much longer I'd be able to stay on my feet. Rafe had found the entrance to the bailey gaol dungeon, but it looked like he needed a few more minutes to dig a hole big enough for us to squeeze through. It was a few minutes we didn't have.

Which is probably why Brunus and Peter decided not to make a last stand with us.

Ordinarily, I would have been relieved to be rid of them. Problem was, they'd had the same thought as Rafe had earlier—that riding the barghests might be the best way to escape this place. I watched in horror as Brunus leapt on Telesto's back. He reshaped his bow into a fiery whip and cracked it next to Telesto's ear. Telesto reared, snarled, and clawed at the air. Brunus held on by grabbing fistfuls of his hide and then rammed the butt of the whip into Telesto's rump, urging him to flee. This directive, no matter how forcefully issued, was so contrary to Telesto's natural instincts to stay and fight alongside Brisaya that he rolled his eyes back in his head and tried to shake Brunus off. But Brunus' patience had run out. He reshaped his magic yet again into a small knife. When I saw him raise it toward Telesto, I instinctively reshaped my own into a similar weapon and threw it toward him. He easily deflected it.

My breathing became labored. The cold outside seemed to seep inside my body. It felt like my blood was turning to ice—that it was now so thick and near solid that my heart was having trouble pumping it. I fell to my knees just as Brunus sliced one of Telesto's ears off. I opened my mouth to shout but no words came out. I could barely breathe. I coiled all of my hatred of Brunus and his brutality into a
dark
fireball and threw it at him.