No Light (35 page)

             
"Oh my god, Sarah! I've been bugging them to let me see you."

             
She could only nod silently, as he leapt from his chair to hurry over to her. His hug was just short of painful, but perfect because he was alive. He was alive and talking, and moving, and gesturing animatedly about his activities for the past couple days.

             
She was not listening to his words, her eyes just taking him in. Still trying to wrap her mind around the fact that her brother was alive. John did not seem to mind her state of shock. He grabbed her wrist and pulled her over to the chair across from his, pushing her down into it when she did not move.

             
"This guy, Tradis, said I couldn't come up to see you. I tried to tell him that you were probably worried, but I got the, General-Farran-has-forbidden-it speech."

             
Sarah blinked at him. "John, how long have you been…" she trailed off and waved her hand at him.

             
He looked down at himself. "Two days?"

             
She sat back in her chair numbly. Her brother had been alive and well for two days and no one told her. She started to feel a twinge of irritation.

             
"That Farran guy said he told you, so-"

             
"What?" she interrupted. "He never told me you… Wait." Her mind quickly went over their conversation for the past few days, and she suddenly remembered what he had said about her brother. "Oh."

             
"Are you doing okay?"

             
She nodded absently. "Yes."

             
"When they couldn't find you yesterday morning, I kinda lost it." Her eyes rose to his, to see him watching her closely. "Are you really okay?"

             
Her answer was interrupted when the door opened. She turned her head to see a calmer-looking Tradis and serious Farran. His eyes locked on her, before moving to scan her brother. He raised an eyebrow.

             
"You are pleased with your gift?"

             
She rose from her chair, feeling the sting of tears, again. She hurried across the room to him, to wrap her arms around his waist. She felt him immediately raise his arms to hold her in place. She nodded against his armor.

             
"Hey, hands off my sister," she heard John growl, a minute later.

             
Farran tensed in her arms. "She is my marked and I will do as I please."

             
"It better please you to stop touching her, then."

             
Sarah sighed, as Farran pulled away. She looked up at him to see him scowling at her brother.

             
"You believe my touch is offensive to Sarah?" he asked dangerously.

             
Sarah took a step closer to him and turned to face her brother. "John, drop it."

             
"What? Sarah you don't know-"

             
She crossed her arms. "I know exactly what I'm talking about, John Mackenzie."

             
He clamped his mouth shut, but continued to glare at Farran.

             
She did not realize how tense she was, until Farran's hands rose to lightly stroke her shoulders.

             
John's eyes narrowed. "He steps one foot out of line and-"

             
Sarah snorted. "Okay, John."

             
"Just so you know." He raised his eyebrows at Farran meaningfully, and seemed to let the subject drop. He turned to face Tradis, who had moved to stand on his left.

             
"Report," Tradis said in a tone of vague irritation.

             
John straightened. "Private Eitad said the king's army is at the edge of the city, moving quickly." His eyes flicked to her. "He mentioned a battalion-wide perd."

             
Sarah gasped. "What? Why?"

             
"Something about the general shunning the king." He shrugged. "I'm not sure what that means, but it doesn't sound good." When no one commented, he continued. "The radio I found at City Hall has been spitting out evacuation warnings all morning."

             
"You have done well," Tradis said, sounding a little impressed.

             
John raised his chin. "Thanks." He jerked his head in her direction. "If the city is going down in flames, I'd rather my sister was somewhere else."

             
Sarah bristled, as everyone turned their eyes to her. "John, you know me better than to think I would hide."

             
He grinned at her.

Chapter Nineteen

Glory Rising

             
The sky held the slight flush of early morning. The clock on the courthouse said it was just past seven, but she was not sure she believed it. It seemed impossible to go to war so early in the day. She stuffed her hands deeper into the pockets of her coat and sniffed.

             
"Nice morning," John muttered from her right.

             
She glanced at him. "Mmhmm."

             
Her eyes quickly drifted back to the ground below them. From their vantage point on top of the hotel, Farran's army spread out like a sea of mercury, the sun glinting off the alien metal of the armor.

             
She squinted, just able to make out his blonde head amongst the others of similar color. It was his bearing that separated him from the rest. He carried an air of confidence, even when his head turned toward the king's approaching army.

             
She followed his gaze and gaped. The king's army dwarfed Farran's, one hundred to one, but Farran's soldiers did not appear afraid. Her eyes moved to the two Dems who stood a few feet from her. Their gazes were fastened on the approaching soldiers.

             
"Can we win?" she asked softly. It seemed to startle Eitad.

             
His head jerked toward her, eyes dark. He nodded. "Of course." He sounded sure, but his eyes did not meet hers.

             
She felt the knot tighten in her stomach, as she watched him turn back to watch the coming battle. The king's soldiers streamed between the buildings in an unending river. Even from a block away, she could see they carried the weapons they had brought through the portal.

             
"What will happen if we don't?" she whispered.

             
"We probably die," John muttered. He did not look at her, but she saw his jaw tense.

             
"The general does not lose battles," Eitad stated.

             
"Not even against a king?" She watched the Dem's lips twitch.

             
"A king does not yield," he answered, glancing at her for a moment. She thought she saw something in his eyes, before he looked away.

             
The army grew closer, close enough for her to see the king's white-blond hair on the front line. She watched his head tip back to look up at her. Even though she could not see his eyes, she imagined they were black with anger. She shivered.

             
"Are you cold," John leaned down to whisper.

             
She shook her head.

             
He gave her a long look. "You don't have to watch, you know."

             
She raised her chin, turning back to the dawning battle. "Yes, I do."

             
He fell silent in time to watch the two armies pause a few hundred feet from each other. The king stepped forward and waited for Farran to do the same. As she watched him walk toward the king's massive army, she licked her dry lips.

             
A part of her wanted to look away, to hide in the hotel where she could not see what was sure to be carnage, but most of her was afraid not to watch. She knew there was nothing she could do during the battle, but maybe if she kept her eyes on Farran he would somehow come out unscathed.

             
The meeting of the two leaders, pulled her from her thoughts. She watched closely, as the king held out a hand to his brother. She could not hear their conversation, but she saw Farran shake his head. His back straightened and he seemed to loom over his brother. A chill went down her back at the slashing motion of the king's hand.

             
The two turned away from each other, and she watched the king stomp back to his army. Farran's head turned toward her for a brief moment, then he bellowed something. A roar rose from the smaller army, as if victory had already been achieved.

             
She glanced at Eitad and Ambrac, the brunets wearing twin smirks. "What is happening?"

             
"The general has refused to submit to his perd," Eitad answered without looking at her. He sounded almost excited. "The battle will begin."

             
Sarah eyes widened. She jerked her eyes back to the street at a flash of movement. The two armies surged toward each other, the silver armor clashing and mingling. The alien weapons boomed like miniature cannons, echoing against the buildings of downtown. She lost sight of Farran in the fray.

             
Both armies roared in anger and pain, as more and more of the silver became covered in thick crimson. She bit back a gasp at the brutality of it. The wounded fell to the ground to be trampled by the others, the battle continuing beyond the level of carnage a human battle could withstand.

             
Her eyes searched the soldiers frantically. The longer it took to locate Farran, the faster her heart beat. He had to be there. The thought that he was one of the fallen, buried beneath the battered bodies of the others, made her breaths come quick and harsh. She shook her head at herself.

             
Farran does not lose. The thought repeated over and over in her mind, until her eyes landed on a familiar blond head. He did not look at her, completely focused on shoving his way through the tangled mass of bodies. She searched the soldiers around him, feeling a rush of relief at the sight of Tradis and Motlin.

             
Farran yelled something she could not hear over the din. She saw a quick movement to his left, then his head disappeared. She let out a cry of shock, throwing herself toward the edge of the roof. It was only John's arms around her waist that stopped her forward motion.

             
She struggled against him, even as her eyes desperately searched the crowd where Farran had disappeared.

             
"Sarah!" John was yelling in her ear.

             
She shrugged him off and lunged forward, stopping just short of the long fall to the ground. Her hands balled up in her pockets, her nails digging into the old scars on her palms. He had to be okay. She sensed Eitad on her left, but she could not tear her eyes away from the battle.

             
He should have risen by now. Her breaths stuttered out of her lungs, as she felt herself begin to shake. He cannot die, she continued to tell herself. It did not help. She saw him writhing in pain, in her mind's eye, trapped beneath the weight of a dozen soldiers. She shivered violently.

             
Suddenly, he rose from the battleground. Every one her muscles clenched in shock at the blood that covered him. His left arm wrapped around his middle, as if it were the only thing keeping him together. His head slowly turned to fix on a point not far from him. She followed his gaze to where his brother fought with one of Farran's soldiers. He did not seem to feel his brother's attention.

             
Farran took one unsteady step toward him. He paused, as if he were judging his ability to continue. She watch him raise himself up to his full height and stalk through the battle toward the king, his body tensed in fury and pain. He bellowed something she could not hear, and his soldier immediately stepped away from the king.

             
The battle froze, some soldiers pausing mid-swing, to turn and stare at Farran. She could not make out the king's expression, but his rigid posture spoke volumes. She turned her head toward Eitad, not looking away from the strange impasse.

             
"What's happening?" She saw Eitad shake himself and glance her way.

             
"A challenge," he said with obvious awe.

             
"For what?" She watched the soldiers form a circle around Farran and the king.

             
"Power," Eitad answered simply, as if that explained everything.

             
She stared at him. "What kind of power?"

             
"Over the kingdom."

             
His matter-of-fact answer made her blink. "Can he do that?"

             
He sent her an odd look. "He is crown prince. He may challenge for his rightful place."

             
"Oh." The knowledge tumbled around in her mind, as she glanced back at the battle. "What happens if he wins?" she murmured, watching the two brother's face each other from either side of the circle.

             
"He will be king, and the army of the nation will answer to him."

             
"Just like that?"

             
He gave her a sharp nod.

…

              The wound was painful, but he had experienced worse. He could feel his innards already repairing themselves, as the gaping hole in his abdomen closed. His hand dropped away to reveal nothing but torn armor and smooth skin. He raised his eyes to his brother.

             
Lonan watched him carefully, his eyes a little wider than usual. For a moment, he saw Lonan as he had been as a child. All wide-eyed curiosity and near hero-worship of his older brother. Farran felt a twinge of remorse, but quickly shoved it down.

             
That was long before his father had poisoned Lonan's mind. This was not the innocent child or the young tag-along. That Lonan had been replaced by the man who would break a Marking bond to achieve his goals. It was abhorrent, and though a part of him regretted what had to be done, he narrowed his eyes at his brother.

             
"You would challenge me for the throne?" Lonan asked.

             
"You said it yourself, the throne is rightfully mine." He watched his brother's eyes flick to the surrounding Dems. "I would think you would relish the chance to return it to me."

             
Lonan scowled at him. "If you want it, you have to take it." His eyes drifted up and to the right, where Farran knew Sarah stood. "I know that human is the only reason you would stand against me."

             
Farran shook his head slowly. "You are wrong." He took a menacing step forward.               "I challenge you, because there is far too much of our father's darkness in you."

             
A buzz rose from the surrounding soldiers. He ignored it, to stare at his brother's face. Grief flashed briefly, before it was replaced with determination.

             
"I accept your challenge."

             
He gave him a curt nod. "King draws first blood," he stated formally. He watched Lonan swallow hard, but nod.

             
He paced toward him, seeming to hesitate the closer he came. His body visibly vibrated with tension. Farran raised his chin and waited. Lonan's eyes shadowed, moving from his face to the surrounding soldiers. He seemed to steel himself. Then, he struck.

             
The blow glanced off of his chest plate, but it was still powerful enough to make him sway. Regret filled Lonan's eyes, before he looked away.

             
"First blow has been dealt," he stated, taking a step back. "Blood has yet to be drawn."

             
Farran nodded his understanding, as was custom. He watched Lonan eye him. His little brother struck between one blink and the next, and the second blow was enough to draw a surprised huff from him. Lonan's fist slammed into his jaw. He thought he heard something crack.

             
The thought was wiped from his mind by the flurry of blows that rained down on him, striking his head and neck more often than his armored body. He tasted blood in his mouth, warm and a bit sweet. He was vaguely aware of Lonan stepping away from him. He raised his arm to drag the back of his hand across his lips. His eyes rose from the bloody smear to fasten on his brother. Lonan visibly swallowed.

             
"First blood has been drawn," Lonan almost whispered.

             
Farran nodded silently. He glanced to the roof of the hotel to see Sarah watching the proceedings. Her hands were pressed over her mouth, her shoulders slumped, as if she were pulling into herself. He felt a swell of anger at his brother for putting her in that situation.

             
"You will yield to me, brother," he growled dangerously.

             
Lonan tensed. "We will see." Before the words had a chance to fade, Farran leapt at him.

             
He put aside his indecision towards his brother. He set aside everything, but the sight of Sarah's distress. The vision of her still body inside the cage. He held up the two images to fan his rage, to do what needed to be done. Lonan's yell of surprise was drowned out by his own cry of fury.