Nightsworn | The Whispering Wall #2

Eighty Eight: Control

The Caelumese were almost through the front doors. Jordan and Yddris waited for them at the base of the stairs, and the foyer around them was deserted. The soldiers that hadn't been deployed to the west courtyard hid down the corridors at either side of the staircase, partly to lull the Caelumese into a false sense of security and partly for their own safety.

Jordan clenched and unclenched his fists, sweaty inside his gloves. The pain of every injury in his body throbbed with his pounding heart.

Koen appeared at his side, breathing hard. They looked at each other. They nodded. No words felt sufficient.

The end of the battering ram burst through the door and stayed there. Just beyond it, flashes of silver swarmed forward in the rising dawn light. With a soft whoosh, both Koen and Yddris went up in halos of green flame. Yddris drew a gleaming emerald sword seemingly out of nowhere, so quickly Jordan hadn't seen him draw the runes.

"Concentrated bursts," Yddris reminded him in an undertone. "Never longer than a few seconds. We're looking to make them hop in their boots, not cook them alive. Stay between Koen and I at all times so we can cover you."

Jordan nodded again. His neck felt wooden with tension. He hadn't told Grace what he was doing for fear that she'd try and get involved, but a part of him wished he'd had a chance to say goodbye first. The two Unspoken raised their flames higher, creating a wall that buzzed in his ears and teeth. He allowed his own magic to dance across his arms, ready and waiting.

When the soldiers flooded in, Koen and Yddris let loose.

Their flames held little heat – just enough to cause a panic – and the reaction was instantaneous; Angels dived left and right under the onslaught, tripping over each other and crashing to the floor in rattling tangles. The second wave saw it coming and peeled away from the ranks to dart around them, only to meet the hidden lines of Harkenn's soldiers. The air filled with shouting and clashing metal, and it wasn't long before the cloying tang of blood filled his nostrils. He forced himself to keep moving, keeping in line with Yddris and Koen as they marched steadily forward.

The panic seeped in when he looked behind him and could no longer see a clear path back to the castle. The doorway was a cluster of struggling bodies, wings and swords. There was no way out except through, and it was then that a soldier came hurtling at him from the melee through the gap that had been forced between him and Koen.

Flames erupted from him without thought in his terror. Last time he had been in this situation he'd thought he was doomed. He watched his magic hurtle towards his assailant as if outside himself, heat unmoderated, a killing inferno.

"Boy, get a grip!" Yddris yelled somewhere nearby. Jordan blinked. The world came back into focus. Three soldiers were screaming in front of him and he could smell burnt hair.

It's like the lessons with Usk, he told himself, dragging his magic back in with a wrench and hurrying in the direction of his tutor's voice. He didn't dare look back. He drew his short sword. It's just practice. Just treat it like practice.

Something cut into his leg. He yelled and struck blindly back, accompanying the clumsy swipe with a burst of flame. There were winged bodies everywhere; he could no longer see where Yddris was, or pull together the focus to locate him. He was in a circle of shifting winged bodies and he couldn't see a way out. In his panic the magic was building to a crescendo that was starting to burn him instead.

Another soldier noticed him and raised a sword. Jordan fumbled a needle from its pouch and almost dropped it. He didn't know where the weak points in the armour were; why hadn't he asked?

A hand grabbed him by the shoulder and yanked him back. Yddris met the soldier's sword with his own. It didn't clang when it met the metal, only hissed faintly. Dazedly Jordan marvelled that he could even hear that through the chaos.