Fracture (Book 1) Page 18

  The compound was dark. The exterior streetlamps and the remains of small fires inside provided what little light they could. The concrete floor was cracked in places and missing altogether in others. Bodies filled the corridor. Some were burnt and scorched, while others with gaping wounds lay in pools of water left behind from the melted ice blasts. Others didn’t have any noticeable injuries, but their cracked lips, odd skin coloring, and popped blood vessels in the whites of their eyes told Jaxon everything he needed to know. Magic had limitations, and they’d pushed themselves too hard.

  There was movement in front of him. Jaxon froze, watching the dark corridor intently. Someone had run through an intersecting corridor. Approaching warily, Jaxon peered around the corner. The person was gone, but Jaxon followed in silent pursuit. At the very least, this corridor should lead back toward the main entrance where Leira would be.

  The battle roared again as the respite ended. Jaxon continued on, ignoring the sounds of destruction and the cries of pain. He had his orders—find Jarrell. He rounded the corner and nearly tripped over a young fellow who was hunkered down behind a makeshift bunker. Another lookout waited across the hall. It was a trap, and they were waiting for someone to spring it on. Jaxon drove his knee into the first man, and a concussion of air exploded between his knee and the man’s chest, sending him flying down the hall. He’d learned the trick a long time ago. Air wielded with kicks, punches, and elbow jabs increased their strength tenfold.

  Jaxon spun on the other one, wielding more air just in time to smother a fire blast. Air could be just as effective as water at combating fire. The man fell to the ground, his jaw unhinged, after Jaxon landed another air-aided blow.

  Jaxon raced onward. Any magi within the vicinity would be drawn to him now. As if on cue, a group of magi appeared in the corridor in front of him. They stopped short, watching Jaxon in surprise. Maybe they hadn’t been drawn to him. Two men held up a third, his arms draped across their shoulders, his feet dragging on the floor behind him.

  Jarrell.

  Was he a wounded soldier or a captive? Did they know he was the spy? The way they dropped him to the floor suggested they did. How had he been caught? The man leading the group cocked his head to the side, weighing Jaxon. Reyland. His dark features against his pale skin made the man look like a walking corpse. He sneered at Jaxon with yellow teeth behind black lips and stepped forward.

  Jaxon didn’t wait. He was outnumbered five to one, and Reyland was as powerful as he was, maybe more so. And already, his muscles were cramping from dehydration. He wouldn’t win this battle. Jaxon shot five quick blasts of fire in their direction, and without waiting to see if they hit their target, he ran straight for the wall to his right and drove an air-aided shoulder through it. He found himself on the floor of a room lined with bunks. Jaxon quickly climbed to his feet and ran toward the door. A bolt of fire struck the bunk behind him, blasting the wood frame to pieces and igniting the sheets. Reyland wasn’t about to let Jaxon escape.

  Charging through another wall, Jaxon lost all sense of direction. He was in another corridor with a brick wall and windows overlooking the river. He tripped, fell, and rose to his feet. Something exploded above him. Thrown down the hall, he hit the floor with a crack and slid into a wall. Ears ringing, his vision blurred, Jaxon struggled to his feet.

  Embers fell from the ceiling, coming to rest on the shoulders of his compression armor, burning the exposed skin on his neck and scalp. Something else fell from the rafters. Cold. Wet. Water. A hole in the roof. What just happened?

  Reyland stalked toward him, smiling.

  Smiling. Jaxon gritted his teeth. With men like this, men who sought blood and enjoyed spilling it, there was no hope of mending their splintered Family. Reyland was a cancer, and the only way to cure it was to remove it or destroy it.

  Jaxon charged. His temper flared, fueling the fire pouring from his hands. How many times had he told his students to leave their emotions behind? Emotion led to death. It would burn him out, sap his body of everything it needed. But not today. A wall of flame filled the hall, spurred forward by Jaxon.

  Reyland stepped through it. The flames singed his body but were stamped out. By what? It didn’t matter. Jaxon was nearly on him now.

  Reyland prepared to wield.

  Jaxon jumped, driving the bottoms of his air-aided feet into Reyland’s chest, crushing his ribs. The impact threw Reyland onto his back and whipped his head into the concrete floor with a crack.

  Landing on the floor on his side, Jaxon rolled to his feet, ready to attack again, but Reyland lay motionless, staring through the open expanse in the roof with lifeless eyes, his chest caved in with the shape of two bootprints. Jaxon spat and stepped back into the bunk-filled room, making his way for the hall, ready to find Jarrell.

  The detonation shook the building to its foundation. The floor rolled, nearly buckling. Windows shattered, and people dove for cover as air ducts and metal piping fell from the rafters. Over it all, Allyn heard a scream. It shook him more than the explosion did.

  “Kendyl!” he shouted, darting out of the room in the direction of her voice. Someone called after him, pleading with him to wait, but Allyn barely heard. The part of him that did didn’t listen. The hallway became a dark tunnel as the world around him disappeared into shadows. He ran blindly, using only his ears to guide him. “Kendyl!” he called out again. No answer. But somewhere ahead of him, he heard the scraping of labored steps. Then voices. A whimper. A shush. He pushed forward.

  Allyn slid around the corner, barely catching sight of a group of people. He didn’t recognize all of them, but he did her.

  Kendyl wasn’t chained or bound, dragged or pushed. She followed the group like an abused pet, out of fear, not loyalty. Her dark hair, normally bordering on black except for a warm-brown sheen in direct light, was knotted and faded as though it hadn’t seen a brush in weeks. A gaunt face with bloodshot eyes looked at him and… nothing. She had no expression, as if she didn’t even see him. Her face heavy and slow, she watched him like someone who’d taken too many painkillers.

  This wasn’t the Kendyl he knew. That Kendyl, his real sister, was a warm, inviting person. She didn’t bring just sunshine into a room; she brought the sun. She burned with positive energy, warming even the worst of days. She didn’t get down. She didn’t get depressed. She smiled and waved at the difficulties in her life. It would take true horror to turn her into the cold, lifeless shell of a person that Allyn saw.

  They disappeared around the corner.

  He stormed ahead, rage filling him, burning so hot that he could feel his body growing warmer. The pain from the splinters in his arm, the ache in his back that had never quite healed since the fall, and the dull headache from the building stress all faded as the burning anger swelled through him. He felt almost as if he could grab it.

  “Kendyl!” Allyn rounded the corner.

  They stopped and turned to meet him. Lukas arched an eyebrow. He wasn’t what Allyn remembered. He was shorter and skinnier. His curly hair was thinner, but he held his shoulders high and his back straight. His chin was slightly elevated, exuding supreme confidence. If it weren’t for the pulsing aggression inside him, Allyn might have wilted under such confidence. Lukas pushed Kendyl behind him, and one of his magi took her by the shoulders.

  Kendyl watched Allyn, recognition slowly forming in her eyes.

  She still doesn’t believe it’s me. What have they done to her? They were back in the barracks hall of the compound, outside Lukas’s room. He’s trying to slip out the back door. Allyn cursed himself; he should have left a couple magi behind in case Lukas returned.

  “Allyn,” Lukas said, his voice a soft tenor. “I wish we could have met under better circumstances. Your sister has been kind enough to tell me so much about you. Defender of the weak, protector of the innocent, speaker for the voiceless. It�
�s ironic for a silent man like yourself, is it not? Or has Graeme finally unlocked the power that resides in you?”

  “You’re a liar,” Allyn said. “I can’t wield, and you know that. That was never your game. You used me as a pawn to distract Graeme while you built a coalition behind his back.”

  Lukas raised an eyebrow. “I’m many things, but a liar isn’t one of them. That is your problem, Allyn. You don’t believe. It’s easier for you to believe in an evil master plan than it is for you to believe that you’re something special.”

  Footsteps rang down the hall, and Allyn turned to see Graeme, Nyla, and the rest of their squad racing to catch up. Was I really that far ahead of them?

  Lukas took a step back, shielding himself behind a couple of his bodyguards as the squad gathered around Allyn. They outnumbered Lukas two to one.

  “Let her go, Lukas,” Graeme said.

  Lukas ignored the command, keeping his attention on Allyn. “Let me guess. He’s had you searching for lineage. Building family trees, tracing your ancestry, trying to find out what you can do by finding out where you came from.”

  Allyn frowned.

  “I’m not surprised,” Lukas said. “Graeme believes we are who we were. It’s simple that way, but that doesn’t make it true. You are who you are because of you, not because of the dead and buried. Each of us is different, and we can change. We live in a new age, Allyn. The world has changed, and we have along with it.”

  “Do all of your followers believe in empty words?” Allyn asked. “Because you do a great job of saying a lot without actually saying anything at all.”

  “The ability to wield isn’t hereditary,” Lukas said. “If it were, our numbers wouldn’t be shrinking.”

  “Our numbers decline because we forsake our old ways,” Graeme said. “We’re too quick to embrace new ideas, new cultures, new technologies. They make us forget who we are.”

  Lukas waved his hand. These were tired arguments between adversaries.

  “If you’ve unlocked the powers of the universe,” Allyn said, “then show me. What can my sister do that I cannot?”

  Lukas grinned. “You really are a lawyer, aren’t you? Always needing proof. I’ll show you what I’m talking about. We’ll conduct a little experiment. You can be my guinea pig, if you don’t mind, and I’ll let your sister go. You can take her and leave without ever having to worry about me again, but you have to do something for me first.”

  “What?”

  “Wield.”

  “I already told you, I can’t.”

  “And I already said you could.” Fire sprang to life in Lukas’s hands.

  Graeme leaped forward, wielding his own fire, ready to strike.

  “Give me fire.” The fire in Lukas’s hands was replaced with ice. “Give me water. Give me air. Heal someone in your group. Do anything. Just prove me right.”

  Allyn watched him, unsure what to do. Something needed to be done quickly, while they had numbers, before Lukas did something desperate. Attacking would risk hurting Kendyl. Maybe if Lukas saw him try and fail to wield, he would finally understand that it wasn’t possible and that he and Kendyl were normal. At the very least, it would distract Lukas so Allyn or Graeme could formulate a better plan. Allyn closed his eyes, ready to try. And fail. Again.

  “I know you can feel it,” Lukas said. “Something inside, something you’ve never felt before, a writhing storm, a torrent of emotion. Harness it.”

  Allyn frowned. The truth was he did feel something. It’s my anger. Anger and adrenaline could do strange things to the body.

  “Stop trying to talk yourself out of it,” Lukas said. “It’s there. It’s real.”

  Against his better judgment, Allyn focused on it. He was enticed by it, mesmerized by it, and drawn to it. He poked at it, prodded it, approaching from different directions, never able to get any closer. It slipped from his grasp like water through his fingers. After a time, it dissipated, growing smaller and harder to find. He focused harder and tried to excise his emotion, but it still withdrew until it was entirely gone.

  He opened his eyes.

  Everyone was watching him. Even Graeme watched with renewed interest. He didn’t believe Lukas, too, did he?

  “Pity,” Lukas said. “I might be wrong about you.” He turned to Kendyl. “About both of you.”

  He’s going to let her go. Allyn took a couple steps forward.

  Lukas’s eyes narrowed in thought.

  Do it. Don’t talk yourself out of it. “Let her go.”

  Lukas shook his head. “I’m sorry,” he said. “This is too important.” He turned to the magi holding her. “Kill them.”

  He pulled Kendyl away from the bodyguard and pushed her into his chambers.

  Chapter 16

  “No!” Allyn screamed, rushing forward. He knew there was nothing he could do, but he was tired of that excuse. He was going to get his sister back, or he was going to die trying. He wasn’t going to lose her again. Someone caught him by the neck of his compression armor, trying to pull him back, but he was too strong and too determined. He heard a curse, and then he was free, stumbling forward.

  The bodyguards took a defensive stance, guarding the door, wielding. A concussion of air detonated in front of Allyn, flattening the four enemy magi against the wall. They slumped, dazed. One coughed as if he’d had the wind knocked out of him. The others threw wild attacks from their knees.

  A fireball flew forward, striking the chest of the man who had held Kendyl, throwing him through the door he was charged with protecting. His skin was charred and blistered under singed clothing. He didn’t get up.

  Allyn slid under another wave of enemy attacks. This time, they were more precise, forcing Graeme’s magi to dive for cover. Painful screams filled the hall. Someone hadn’t been quick enough. Reckless and desperate, Allyn tackled the magi nearest him, wildly throwing his fists into the magi’s face. Someone grabbed him from behind. Allyn turned just in time to see a blast of ice drive through the man’s temples. He fell on top of Allyn, pinning him to the magi he’d tackled.

  After another concussion of air and another crash, the hall fell silent, save for the scraping and clawing of Allyn struggling to untangle himself from the enemy. Someone pulled the dead weight of the fallen magi off him, and he rolled free. The last enemy magi remained on the floor, holding his hands up in surrender, warily eyeing his fallen comrades.

  Allyn rushed inside the room, Graeme at his shoulder. The magi who’d held Kendyl lay just inside the door, his wound steaming, black clothing still smoldering around the wound like a burning cigarette. Cold, fresh air blew in through an open window where Lukas was trying to push Kendyl onto the fire escape. She saw Allyn and planted her foot against the window frame. As hard as he tried, Lukas couldn’t force her through the window.

  That’s the sister I know, Allyn thought. Give him hell.

  Lukas let go of her and stepped away. She fell, crying out as she landed on her shoulder. Favoring it, she rolled onto her knees, cupping it with her hand. She seemed unable to move it.

  “Step aside, Allyn,” Graeme said.

  Allyn complied, throwing himself against the wall. Graeme and Lukas stood face to face, ten paces from each other, each waiting for the other to strike.

  Lukas struck first. A flash of blue light streamed toward Graeme, too quickly for Allyn to tell what it was. Blue was usually ice, but the burst looked alive, like blue flame.

  Graeme blew it aside with air. The blue flame hit the wall behind him, blowing a four-foot hole in the sheetrock, leaving flames around its edges. Graeme retaliated with his own attack, and the duel began in earnest. Red and blue flashes of light illuminated the tight confines of the room as each man attacked, defended, and retaliated. Loose paper from Lukas’s desk blew into the air when one of Graeme’s fir
eballs struck it, leaving behind the sweet smell of smoke as they gently fell to the floor.

  Keeping to the edges of the room, Allyn tried to work his way around the two men and get to Kendyl, but they were all over the place, diving in all directions, narrowly avoiding each other’s attacks. Another of Graeme’s errant fireballs nearly struck Kendyl. She screamed as it flew over her shoulder, striking the brick wall behind her. Fallen bits of brick and mortar rattled against the ground, where she sank down, pulling her knees close. She watched the two men, flinching each time a blast shook the room.

  Graeme and Lukas fought with an intensity Allyn had never seen. They wielded faster, with larger blasts of ice and fire that burned brighter. The brightness, it seemed, was related to power—the brighter the attack, the more powerful.

  A fireball burning as brightly as the sun shot toward Lukas. It was mere inches from his chest when a ribbon of water appeared between his hands, dousing it. It hissed, but something inside continued forward, striking Lukas in the shoulder. He stumbled backward, holding his shoulder where a sliver of ice protruded from it. He must have wielded fire, because it quickly melted, leaving behind a small hole that bled onto his white shirt.

  His confidence growing, Graeme pushed harder, unleashing attacks in quick succession. With his left arm pinned against his chest and useless, Lukas struggled to ward Graeme off. He was being pushed back—toward Kendyl.

  Allyn took a tentative step forward, and when Lukas paid him little heed, he took another and then another. Within moments, he was halfway across the room. He caught Kendyl’s eye and nodded to the side, silently telling her to move. He hoped she understood. She slid to the side, narrowly avoiding Lukas’s feet.

  Just a couple more steps. Allyn warily looked in Lukas’s direction. Graeme had him pinned in the corner. This was the moment he was waiting for. He leaped forward, grabbing Kendyl’s outstretched hand, and yanked her to her feet. He didn’t wait or glance in Lukas’s direction. He pulled Kendyl behind him, running for the door, toward safety.