Anthem's Fall

Chapter Seventeen

Vengelis was reaching down to inspect a fallen Imperial First Class captain’s corpse when a young boy ran by, dragging an enormous wounded soldier across the street. The boy was covered in dirt, his face streaked with dried tears. Vengelis swallowed hard, immediately recognizing the boy as the son of Councillor Harken: a child of Royalty. The nearby blaze screeched and crackled, the wind spreading eager flames.

“My lord! You must escape, they are all around us!”

“Steady yourself, child.” Vengelis’s voice came out strong, confident.

The boy stood as straight as he could and saluted. He was younger than eleven. “Forgive my weakness, Lord Vengelis.”

Vengelis nodded with admiration. The child’s bravery filled him with a swelling pride. “Where are the machines?”

“They’re all around us, Lord Vengelis. They look just like us. The army has been fighting them since dawn, and I will die before I surrender.”

The boy was valiant, his Royal lineage obvious in his grit.

“Good boy,” Vengelis nodded. “But get yourself to the palace barracks and join the Royal families in the bunker. This is not your fight.”

“Yes, Lord Vengelis!” the boy called, but suddenly froze with fear. The boy began trembling, his chest convulsing in terror. Vengelis slowly turned and looked in all directions. Hysteria was rampant; men, women, and children were running every direction, many horribly wounded. None of them were soldiers. The fire was blazing out of control, and the entire block was immersed in raging flames.

A woman standing nearby, just below a broad tilted awning, remained unscathed. Her appearance contrasted strangely with the mayhem around them. She was thin and average sized, of Royal appearance, with blonde hair and bright blue eyes. Tattered ribbons of the awning and bits of orange cinders and ash blew all about her. She was smiling at Vengelis, her teeth white and perfect. Vengelis was taken aback.

Her eyes.

Vengelis squinted through the billowing ash and felt an eerie sense of disquiet surface within him. Her eyes were not quite right. There was a glowing property to her stare, as though her eyes were emitting a strange blue radiance. She was beautiful, but the serene way she was smiling in the midst of the madness was peculiarly horrifying.

“State your name and rank!” Vengelis called out.

The boy stifled a small cry as the woman’s smile broadened. Vengelis glared and turned his attention from her to the boy. In a corner of his mind he already knew he was speaking to one of the Felixes. She moved her unsettling gaze from Vengelis to the boy. The boy let out a terrible sob and released the soldier he had been dragging. The woman took a step closer to the child.

There was no longer any doubt in Vengelis’s mind.

The woman whirled into motion, dashing toward the boy and reaching for his throat. The boy flinched and locked his eyes shut, expecting instant death. But it did not come. He peered through his trembling eyelids after a moment passed. The woman was still reaching for his throat, though now just in front of him. Vengelis had closed the distance and grabbed her wrist with his left hand, stopping the strike in its tracks. Her fingernails were reaching out longingly, inches from the boy’s neck. The woman turned to Vengelis, her expression vacant.

“Huge . . . mistake,” Vengelis growled through gritted teeth, his knuckles white from the vice grip on her wrist. “Get out of here, kid.”