The ice burst open with a gout of flame. It was hot enough to cast a wave of hot air, even many yards away. Kol threw himself to the grass between two small buildings. The backpack full of empty packaging and dirty cutlery slipped and bounced on his back.
He shoved the pack aside and looked up, expecting shapes to pour through the breach in the wall. He imagined mechanical forms forcing their way inside. He imagined the sounds of Thunderworks, the rumbles he’d heard in the endless hours he’d spent buried, with nothing but pain and Max’s voice against the backdrop of inhuman destruction.
The ice at the breach was chipped and jagged, white at the edges. It smoked. But nothing came through it but a terrible red glow.
Then Kol heard it, he sensed the power of the Eye of Balor. It was like a tornado beyond sight, an intense roaring, felt but too far away to be seen. The sense was clear in his mind. Something deadly and greater than his understanding was close.
And the noise was getting louder.
Kol found an older, balding man peering at him through the parted shutters in one of the nearest home’s windows.
“You’d best get back wherever you came from,” the islander said. “Something’s coming.”
“Thank you,” Kol said. “Are you--” But the man ducked out of sight. He pulled the shutters mostly closed and shut the window behind them.
Then Kol saw what the man had sensed. Three shapes flew through the breach. Their speed and unseen propulsion tousled the grass and stirred waves along the canals. Kol dove for the ground again.
One of the shapes stopped, hovering above the cathedral. It had a saucer head and a ten-foot cylindrical body. Barbed fins pointed out of the bottom, like an Eagle’s talons. Kol had seen Dactyl drones above Philadelphia, peering in windows and firing into scattering crowds during the march of Thunderworks.
Could he catch them with a shield from this distance? Trap them? They seemed to be only observing, a watchful holding pattern.
Kol didn’t try it. They were the first invaders, but they would not be the last. The battle would start. It could begin at any moment. Where would he be most useful, alone, wielding his Shaping, something that he still struggled to understand? Or would he be best with the Aesir?
Kol rose into a crouch and continued toward the ship.
* * *
Baron Helmont also sensed the raw, cosmic power that burned out from his ships, focused and regulated. It reminded him of the nuclear reactor buried deep beneath his broken holdfast, but with no restraints, just naked power. Feeling the Eye’s might was like wrapping his mind around a nuclear blast, but knowing it was held contained, commanded, controlled.
So this is the full power we will wield when the trove is ours again, he thought. He smiled to himself, but the expression was observed. All his knights and their students watched him. All the greatest Shapers of his school gathered around him, awaiting his next command.
“Still no feed from the first group of Dactyls?” Helmont asked.
“No, sir,” Drone Lead said. “No data of any kind leaves the wall, even with the breach. Without coded communications they will return to basic preset behavior. Observation and defense.”
Helmont tried to sense where the plane had fallen, to feel the unmapped survivors, if any lived. And there were some lives on the beach, some citizens of the island who might be recovered and become new citizens of the Liberty Corps.
“Before we proceed,” Helmont said. “I will speak to them again. As we approach, project my voice. If we were truly of the old covenant, I could seek single combat with their liege lord, rather than order a full conflict. What better way of ushering in our new era than defeating the past in its own traditions.” He gestured to the Communications Lead. “Broadcast!”
* * *
Orson watched Sir Merrill and his students fall away at the shattering sound and the explosions at the wall. The younger students cowered. Any training they’d had was broken in the face of true danger.
Orson really looked at them. He'd expected the pale complexion of the standard European scholar-sorcerer. Some had a darker complexion that made him wonder about the history of their fourth house, the island, and those who’d hid there for decades.
And he was surprised at how young they looked. Had Sir Merrill taken no students in the community’s early years? Or were his older students elsewhere, working with the evacuation? Orson knew too little about the island’s history and culture to understand those people, to predict them, or help them in a battle.
Another voice spoke before Orson could break the silence. It was muffled and distant, but loud enough to sound present - even there, in the rooms above the church sanctuary.
“I, Baron Helmont of the Liberty Corps, speak to you again,” Helmont said. “In eras before our own, the houses of your enigmatic covenant settled their disputes and territorial issues like civilized people.” The voice echoed from everywhere. Was this some effect of Helmont’s projection or the island’s roof of ice?
“What are we going to do?” Enoa looked at Orson with grim determination. Then she glanced back at the fearful students. She whispered. “If I’d come here with Archie, that would be me. Instead, I can fight.”
“I suggest we continue your fine tradition,” Helmont continued. “Meet me in single combat, Sir Merrill. If you best me in a duel to the death, my forces will depart. And if you perish, your citizens will become people of the Liberty Corps. I assure you I have forces enough to overwhelm you. The great will at work on your island was already bested by the relic I carry. I give you until sunset to decide.”
“They won’t honor any agreement,” Orson said.
“As if I should decide all your fates,” Sir Merrill said. “A single champion or tyranny under this man.” He stood up straighter and leaned away from Harper. “He learned the worst lessons from the times that were.”
“But you could defeat him,” Harper said without question. “You could show this man the real knowledge, both the swordsmanship and wisdom.”
“Perhaps,” Sir Merrill said. “I have not fought another person in nearly forty years.”
“It’s a little more recent for me,” Orson said.
“Let us reiterate your options.” Helmont spoke again, as though trying to sound kingly and kind. Orson rolled his eyes.
“You may still surrender,” Helmont said. “Or you may choose a last moment of glory and fight and die in combat against me. Otherwise, many of you will die, as I and my forces take your island and hunt your fleeing people across this world. By my count, you have less than two hours until sunset. Take your time. Meditate. Decide your fate.
“But I will resume hostilities at sunset. And until then you will make no effort to recover those who survived the plane crash. If you’d heeded my warning they wouldn’t be there. Now, many have died, as I’m sure you know. So I will send medics to care for the wounded.”
“No.” Another of Sir Merrill’s students stood with clenched fists. “He will not do this. We take care of each other, and we can’t let him stop that.”
“No, we can’t,” Harper answered. She slowly regarded Orson and Enoa. Orson watched her eyes linger on his sword’s hilt. Then she looked back to the students, most who still hugged the walls as if expecting a ceiling collapse.
“My forces will kill anyone who refuses their medical custody,” Helmont said. “And you would do best to restrain your people. Any individual who attempts war against my forces will die. Think on your choices, Sir Merrill. Answer before nightfall.”
“You have no choices now,” Orson said, as soon as the broadcast ended. “We have to fight.” He walked to Sir Merrill, where Harper still held onto him. He lowered his voice, so his words would not carry to the younger students. “We fight or we all die.”
“I could not protect them,” Sir Merrill said. “Everything I have done...”
“Come with me,” Orson said. “It isn’t too late. You know all your ignitions, right?”
“Of course he does,” Harper said. “What kind of fool question is that? He is our leader, the last and--”
“Good,” Orson interrupted. “Then get your sword. Come out with me. We’ll go to meet them.”
“No,” Sir Merrill said. “I will draw him in. Lure him here with the promise of my key, while you take everyone you can aboard your ship, Captain.” He grasped Orson’s arm desperately. “Save everyone you can.”
“I can’t fit that many people,” Orson said. How many could he cram aboard the Aesir? “I don’t want to choose who lives or dies... Well, except Helmont. I’ve made up my mind about him.” He restrained his best sarcastic grin – not the time, not the audience.
“He did not say that he will attack everyone,” Harper said. “Only those of us who interfere on the beach.”
“No, Child,” Sir Merrill said. “You don’t know what battle is, outside stories. You can’t know what danger means or the bloodshed. It has defined my life, even now. I do not wish that for any of you.”
“What if they do the helping?” Orson asked. “Me and my crew can do the fighting. Maybe we will be defined by it. I probably will be, but it’s a little late for me to worry about. Let me go out there. I'll take up the baron’s offer of a duel.”
“It doesn’t define me,” Enoa said defiantly. “They started it. If I have to finish it, then it’s not my fault.”
“They are strange people.” Harper held her Uncle by the arms again. “They do not understand us, but I am starting to believe that they do want to help. They don’t just want your key. They don’t just want to fight. They want to help us.”
“My home was destroyed by the Liberty Corps,” Enoa said. “I want to stop them from doing that to other people. I do want to help.”
“Warfare is not what I believe.” Sir Merrill sighed and sagged, like something precious was flowing out of him. “We all make our own choices.” He looked over his students. They responded to him. Some came closer. “Those of you who will oppose this baron, despite the danger, come with me. And Captain.” He turned to Orson. “I will not fight, but I may yet be able to help you.”
* * *
“I will honor my proposal.” Helmont followed the amphibious landers’ approach to the island, the Muruch and the surviving support vessels – nearly 800 troops and dozens of mechanized units. “But I want a contingent placed near the breach to discourage any vigilante attempts to interfere. And enable the Morgawr to navigate the breach. I want an eye inside.” His awareness expanded to the rest of his forces, all the modified destroyers with their emitting eye-shards, the twin submarines in close patrol, all the manned and unmanned aircraft. They’d lost very little in their first failed approach.
"But now,” Helmont said. “It is time to establish a beachhead. I want the Muruch landed. Test all mechanized force propulsion. If Sir Merrill ignores my offer, then we will create more breaches and widen the first.
“Send our own survivors from their attack against the Merrow for the recovery at the plane.” Helmont could feel the fury of the crews aboard the small craft. They were prepared to fight and die to take that island. They wanted it. A little bloodlust was a useful thing. “If any of these natives attempt to resist, our troops will taste vengeance.”
“My lord.” Sir Ramon advanced. “Allow me to lead the force guarding the breach.” He wore his full armor and helmet, an elaborate design with interlocking plates that imitated the old Covenant Knights. He raised his sword’s empty hilt and knelt. Then his students followed suit, their own hilts held in both hands. “Allow me to hold the opening. I have spent my life studying people of this order. Let me be the one to face them. I will do you proud, my lord.”
Helmont rested his hand on the knight’s shoulder. He slid his finger into the thin gap between shoulder and breastplate. Ramon wore chainmail there, but the touch was close enough to sense more than he could without contact. He felt the resolve and ambition and fear beneath all. And he felt the strength of the knight’s mind and his body. Ramon’s arm would be true. He may not be a master of all the old forms, but he was a true knight who could best many from the covenant era of swordsmanship.
“I’d intended for all of you,” Helmont scanned the room again, “to join me in attacking Sir Merrill’s keep and claiming the key. But perhaps you’re right. Send our amphibious craft to recover whoever might survive on their fallen plane. Send a Saw-Wing Carrier, drone repair only.”
“Lead them, Sir Ramon,” Helmont added. “Take your pupils and claim Knightschurch for the Liberty Corps.”
* * *
Enoa let the procession of students guide her back to the cathedral entryway. Most of the smaller pupils and true children were taken elsewhere. The rest waited at the sanctuary doors.
“I hope they all find safety in the Temple of Learning.” Sir Merrill touched his hands to the knight figure on the double doors. The sword held in the image began to glow like the light of the other fire swords, a deadly emerald that seemed to move with the illumination cast from the wall sconces.
The sanctuary doors opened. The knight ushered them into a room of changing light. Enoa didn’t focus on the pews or statuary, all of ice. She looked at the windows whose images seemed to move as she did. She saw scenes of people, knights, old European cavalry. It was in not her culture. She felt no tugging nostalgia for it, but it was old Shaping. Something seemed to live there, like some force had lived in the rampart to defend the island. But had the Eye of Balor killed that life defending the island? Could the life in the church walls die the same?
Enoa expected broad Christian imagery, ties to Sir Merrill’s English roots, but besides an ornate cross at the raised altar, all the imagery seemed family-specific. This place was sustained history as well as a place of faith.
Enoa whispered to Orson as they walked. “It seems like they’re worshipping what they can do, more than anything else.”
“Not surprised,” Orson whispered back. “Some of those knights made the Hierarchia. And they sure weren’t pacifists.”
“How many of them have you met before?” Enoa asked.
“Enough. They left a lot of remnants.” Orson still faced forward as they walked between the rows of pews. “I’m just hoping the Hierarchia won’t have any still running around two hundred years after their last hurrah.”
New light caught Enoa’s eye, and her attention was drawn up and up and up, through the inside of the tallest spire. It was a hollow structure and she could see all the way to the point of the gap in the ice rampart’s ceiling – and to the sky beyond. The Eye of Balor had yet to reach it. There were thin spiral stairs that wound all around the spire, open and without railing.
All the levels below the spire were also open, lined with statuary and more moving windows. The light there made the statues seem alive. Runes glowed on knights’ scabbards and naked swords gleamed the same rich green.
“The preparations of my forefathers may be damaged,” Sir Merrill said. “But their works remain while the structures of this island remain. We may yet access them.” He stepped up to the altar. Harper followed after him and they walked into another room beside it.
Enoa and Orson were left behind with maybe a dozen of the older students. Without the imminence of Helmont’s warning, the other pupils looked vulnerable, deflated.
“I only learned to fight because I went with you.” Enoa imagined herself, whisked away by Archie Grant in the aftermath of Aunt Su’s death. She imagined a year spent on this island, learning nothing but whatever was considered safe enough to be taught. She’d likely have learned no explosions, no bullet rain, none of the basics of staff combat that she’d begun. “I’d be hiding here. All of it... I have all of it because I waited, because I was too scared to read that letter. If we don’t die, then it’s almost like it happened a better way, this way.”
“Shit’s got a way of working out,” Orson said. “Uh, sorry. Stuff does. I have to remember to watch the way I talk. Sirona’d be really mad at me disrespecting someone’s religious place. I have to behave myself again. Anyway, I think it’s best what happened, except for poor Archie. Wish I could’ve helped him out, somehow. But who knows where I'd be either. Without you, Jaleel wouldn’t be on the crew. I would’ve had a harder time with Nalrik. I couldn’t have saved Littlefield alone. I don’t know what would’ve happened to Dr. Stan or the Maroses. Or what would’ve happened with Sirona and me. Maybe nothing. I don’t want to be selfish, but you’re right. If we don’t die, I think we all had a better time of it because you made the choices you did. You grew when you were ready.”
This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
Enoa reached for her staff, felt the warmth. That was her own inheritance, to fight, to defend the homes of others.
“If I’d left,” she said. “I would have taken my key. Nothing would have brought you to Nimauk then.”
Orson nodded. “My Nana used to say things happen the way they’re supposed to.”
“Is this your grandmother who talked about getting hanged?” Enoa asked.
“Yeah,” Orson said. “She had a lot of wisdom.”
Two of the students broke off from the group and met them. The first was the guard who’d comforted Harper. “Excuse me,” he said. “I’m Taric. This is Doug.” He had a low, accented voice, and he sounded more like Aneirin than Sir Merrill.
“We operate the perimeter.” Doug was taller by a hair. He carried no weapon, but he wore a sword belt.
“Nice to meet you.” Orson offered handshakes. Enoa copied the gesture.
“Even after the Eye’s damage,” Doug said. “We think the perimeter defenses will still work.”
“Like those ice columns?” Orson asked.
“Exactly.” Taric nodded. He talked fast, like he expected to be interrupted. “We’ll raise the defenses, make a solid perimeter to get everyone off the plane.”
“I like the idea,” Orson said. “Lemme guess, you want some kind of distraction to let that happen?”
“Ideally,” Doug said. “Yes.” He absentmindedly reached to his empty sword belt. He held it.
“We’re open to that,” Orson said. “First, I want to swing by my ship and coordinate with my crew. They’re used to trouble, and they’ll be useful in a plan.”
“Jaleel will have his own plan.” Enoa smiled to herself. “He probably knows five comic books and three movies where this exact thing happened.” Like always, Jaleel would be planning and still positive, no matter what.
“Or a couple video games,” Orson agreed. “Right now, once we get the survivors out of that plane, we need to come up with another plan. Priority one is taking out their baron.”
“We can coordinate.” Taric raised a Talking Stone. “I’ll have enough of us to coordinate the perimeter. We’ll send Doug to work with the beach group and my group here, who will be running the defenses.”
“How much of that can you do manually?” Orson asked. “It’d be pretty handy if you could send out a few of those lightning blasts.”
“I don’t know yet.” Taric frowned. “None of us do. More reason to keep some way of getting in touch.”
“Good idea.” Orson raised his bandana and slid one hand up on the inside. “I’ve been trying to get my comm working to check on my crew, but I think that Eye’s causing some kind of jamming. Or your own defenses are. I'm getting nothing.”
“You haven’t heard anything?” Enoa asked. “Nothing at all since the attack? Weren’t you parked right there at the runway?”
“They’re smart,” Orson said, seeing her expression. “That ship can take more than those missiles. And if we were in that much trouble, I think they’d be here right now. I do wish I still had the proper Talking Stone. I like the typewriter, but it’s not perfect.” Both students wore confused looks.
Sir Merrill returned to the sanctuary. He held the largest sword Enoa had ever seen. Its hilt was as long as her arm, with a reddish-purple gemstone set into the pommel. The blade looked almost as long as she was tall. And it was made of trapped emerald fire, green like the images at the door and on the complex windows.
Harper followed him, holding a small, ornate box in her hands. It was black but also shimmered green, in a pattern Enoa could not follow.
“I didn’t realize they came in triple extra-large,” Orson said. Harper scowled, but Sir Merrill chuckled. “They’d be in real trouble if you went out there.”
“I will do all I can to help the rescue of our people,” Sir Merrill said. “And I will lead the Liberty Corps to me if they enter this place. Lead them away from all of you. But I’ve already fought too much. I helped the lightning. I did more than I ever thought I would do again. I can’t take another step down the slippery slope.”
Sir Merrill took his hand from the sword when he reached them. The sword stayed suspended in the air beside him. It floated, perfectly still, the flame even, with no sparks or flashes of white.
“Taric,” Sir Merrill said. “I want you on the far side nexus, nowhere near this place.”
“But Master.” Taric bowed his head when he argued. “Sir, the connection runs deepest here. It will help us.”
“No,” Sir Merrill said. “I must stay here alone with the other bait.” He drew out his key. He pulled it, chain and all, over his head. “This box holds all the protections I know, and some my grandfather knew before me. Once the key passes in there, only extreme power will break through to it. If I should fall, this box may stand firm. You all need acceptance to open it. The key cannot be utterly lost if this Liberty Corps truly has found a way to bypass the Dreamside Door and travel to the farthest world.”
“The farthest world?” Orson asked. He looked to Enoa and she shrugged. What did she know about any of it? Every new layer was a new surprise with new problems. Harper raised an eyebrow. The other students looked at them quizzically.
“Please.” Sir Merrill held out his key. “This is the Key of Ascendant Fire. It recognizes the knowledge of Aether that raised my ancestors to power beyond mortal ken. It passed to me when my caretaker, Mistress Adelheid Gerwold, fell to the Hierarchia, to their Administrator Theta.”
Enoa tensed at the name. She should have expected to hear it. The woman had killed seven of the eight Key-holders and her parents and so many. Aunt Su had been the last of the original eight. Now, all of them were dead, but Theta was still alive. Like Orson had just said, the Hierarchia had left behind many remnants.
“I have protected this key for decades,” Sir Merrill said. “Now, it may pass to one of you, should I fall.”
Sir Merrill breathed and his students breathed with him. He held out the key on its chain. Harper reached out and touched her right index finger to the chain. Then Taric and Doug did so. Then all the gathered students followed.
“You as well,” Sir Merrill said. “Captain Gregory, Miss Cloud.” They stretched their arms between the students. Enoa forced her arm to the chain and held it with her finger.
Warmth raced all through her, as it did when she took up her staff. This warmth grew, until it was almost hot enough to bead her body in sweat.
“I hold this key only for protection,” Sir Merrill spoke at a measured pace.
“I hold this key only for protection.” His students repeated, as one. Then all stared at Orson and Enoa.
“I hold this key only for protection,” Enoa and Orson repeated too, fast enough to catch up.
Sir Merrill chuckled again. Then he continued. “I hold this key because someone must. I hold this key so evil cannot. I will defend it with my life. I will give my life for its protection.”
Each time they answered him, each time they repeated the words, waves of warmth passed from the key and all through Enoa.
“I hold this key only for protection. I hold this key because someone must. I hold this key so evil cannot. I will defend it with my life. I will give my life for its protection.”
Then Sir Merrill opened his eyes. He pulled the key away. Harper lifted the box, and its lid rose, revealing an inside that also glowed green. Sir Merrill dropped the key inside. Then the box swung shut with a puff of smoke.
“It’s done then,” Sir Merrill said. “Be wary, all of you.” He looked at them each in turn. “These protections have my additions, but the initial writing is not mine. And now that long-made structure protects the key, within the box and outside it, while it stays on this island. Ultimately, the protections will scrutinize your intentions, if you will defend or seek to wield. They will decide if you can be trusted. They may refuse any of you or all of you, but this is all that can be done.”
Orson frowned beside Enoa, as if to argue, but he said nothing. Sir Merrill lifted his hand and the box floated free, weightless.
The box passed through the sword of fire with a flash of white and a terrible hiss. But the box came through unharmed, but now haloed in green. The green light flashed in a circle of protection. The box stayed airborne.
Harper hugged her uncle. They held each other. The other students gathered close. When they parted, Sir Merrill looked to Enoa.
“Enoa, if only your father were here,” Sir Merrill said wearily. “We all could escape by his power.”
“What?” Enoa gasped. The students stared at her, but she ignored them. How would the exiled knight know Micah Holt, her father, a carpenter, a man who’d lived his whole life in Nimauk. “How could you—”
“I’m sorry!” Sir Merrill shook his head vigorously. Then he took another long look at her. “You’re Sucora’s niece. I’m so sorry, Dear. I remember her at your age. I saw more of her then, and you look so much like her. I’ve been thinking of her late husband, also gone these many years. Forgive an old man on this dark day.”
“You never mentioned your uncle.” Orson said with hesitation.
“He died a long time ago,” Enoa said. “Before Aunt Su adopted me. There were still some pictures of him, but she never wanted to talk about him. He must’ve been a Shaper too.”
“He was,” Sir Merrill said.
“She didn’t even tell me she was a Shaper.” Enoa couldn’t keep the edge from her voice. “She definitely wasn’t going to tell me about her dead husband.”
Enoa had not followed Sucora’s wishes. She’d trained herself and trained ahead when she was supposed to go to Knightschurch. She’d used Aunt Su’s films how she needed to, not how she was supposed to. And now she could fight. She would.
“Then Godspeed,” Sir Merrill said. “We are all protectors of the key now. If one of us survives, and one of us takes it, then it may help you hold it against even their Baron Helmont.” He walked through the pews. The sword and box followed him, still suspended in the air.
When he reached the altar, Sir Merrill joined his relics. He lifted his feet, as if stepping onto an invisible platform. He crossed his legs and floated in the air, his eyes closed.
Some of the students broke off and formed a group beside Orson. Enoa scanned the crowd and found Harper standing on tiptoe, kissing Taric, their arms wrapped around each other. Enoa looked away. She let them have that small privacy. Harper soon joined the rest of the group with Orson.
“Is this everybody?” Orson asked. “Alright, Aesir first. Then I think I'd like a little walk on the beach.”
* * *
Kol could see the Aesir in the distance when he heard the high-pitched whine of the returning Dactyls. The ship sat two canals away, but the last bridges across them waited in the open. There were no buildings or terraced hills that might hide him from the drones.
He crouched low again, as the three drones skimmed above the rooftops. They didn’t stop, but there was little for them to see. Most of the islanders had left or were hiding. Without the residents, the massive island interior looked empty, a monument of colossal engineering, mysterious and abandoned.
Something met the Dactyls at the breach in the ice. It was a curved ship, a relative of the Saw-wings that Kol had not seen before. It had the same curved, boomerang-shape, with cockpit at the center, but this ship was massive. Its curved wingspan was greater than the island’s airliners’. The ship was too broad to fit inside. It hovered at the entrance, near the break in the ice.
Kol sprinted for the nearest bridge. His booted feet landed soft in the grass, but they seemed to thunder when they reached the wooden bridge’s decking. He stayed low, eyes flicking between the carrier and the Aesir.
Two of the Dactyls docked with their carrier, the way remoras stick themselves to sharks. The last wobbled in the air before it could reach the break in the ice. Kol saw the drone shake and heard the gunshot at the same time.
The drone angled its fins and swam through the air toward a rampart guard with a raised rifle. The man fired again, but the drone rocketed aside. It bore down on the wall and the man atop it.
Kol remembered the energy fire from the drones and the sight of the charred bodies they’d left in their wake. He ran again. He could not fight the machine in the air, but he could protect the guard if he kept him in sight.
Kol raised a shield in front of the man before the Dactyl fired at him. Kol felt a heat when the energy fire struck his shield. It warmed his arms as if he held the shield in his hand.
He kept running, and he crossed another bridge. This one led to the final ring of land beside the breach, but it took him even further from the Aesir, leaving him in the open. He had no defense but his own Shaping.
The Dactyl swerved and spit light again. Kol was close enough to hear the man scream, but also close enough to see him, the figure cowering at the top of the stone wall. The drone flew around the guard, searching for a gap in the shield. Kol moved his projection, wrapping it above and around the man, leaving nowhere undefended. He felt each strike, but they were no worse than the blasts from Geber’s Shapers at the Pinnacle. Kol had faced that barrage for weeks. He was strong against it. He was ready for it. The Dactyl would not take the guard.
When the drone moved again, it spun away from the guard. It reoriented itself straight backward at Kol.
It flew at him firing.
Kol made a new shield, right in front of his own face. A volley of energy blasts exploded against it, one, two, three. Each blast shoved him back toward the canal.
The strikes got harder as the drone grew closer, until it was almost on him, and he heard it clearly. There was a rumbling sound beneath the usual flight whine, a noise he’d never heard before. It sounded almost like muffled, guttural speech.
Kol filled his lungs and dove sideways into the canal. A chunk of edging exploded in a shower of dust, peppering him as he plunged into the water.
The canal was deeper than he thought possible, falling away into darkness. He couldn’t guess how far it went, but he forced himself lower. Explosions struck the water behind him. The noises were muffled. They sounded very far away, but the water churned all around, as if trying to spit him back out. The water stung his eyes, but he still saw the yellow flashes of energy fire in his periphery.
Then the yellow flashing suddenly stopped. Kol looked up and saw a new blast of colored light. Everything glowed a deep blue, and he heard a greater explosion that shook the canal and the earth around it. Then all fell silent.
A searing had begun in Kol’s lungs. He could ignore it briefly, hiding for his life. With everything quiet, he took his chance. He swam back toward the light. He surfaced, spluttering and gasping. He blinked the water out his eyes and saw a blurry, billowing shape running along the side of the canal.
“You alright?” Orson asked. He knelt and lowered his arm. Kol took it and braced his feet along the canal’s edge. He pushed, and Orson pulled him back up onto the grassy edge.
“Thank you.” Kol still fought to catch up with his breathing.
“You’re welcome.” Orson said. “We saw some of your fight with that robot. Quick thinking. It’s a good thing you took a half hour to walk back.”
“I was trying not to lead them to your ship.” Kol blinked again and saw the remains of the drone, only yards away. It was split in two, the edges blackened.
“Let’s get you back there.” Orson reached toward him, until he saw Kol could stand. “How many changes of clothes did you get back at the lodge?”
“Two,” Kol said. He found a whole group following after Orson. About a dozen of the students in their tunics were there. Enoa took up the rear, but her attention was only on the break in the ice. “Are we fighting?”
“Yes.” Orson led the group around the edge of the canals toward the Aesir. The end of the long runway sat empty to their right. The breach gaped ahead. Orson pulled up his hood and bandana but did not turn toward the massive ship floating outside the beach. “We’re thinking they can’t see what’s happening in here.”
“The distortions should still limit their view.” One of the students advanced until she walked even with Orson. She was Sir Merrill’s niece, but if Kol had heard her name he didn’t remember it. “However, I sense something. I feel the presence of individuals who broke off from the main attack force. They have landed on the shore. I believe they intend to enter here.”
“Knights?” Orson asked.
“One is a notable power,” the niece said. “He is trying to feel us, and only what remains of the outer defenses is stopping him from finding us.”
Kol watched the jagged opening. He saw the SawW-class vehicle, drones attached. And he saw a glow behind everything, a red pulsing light, that beat in tempo with the distant howling of the mental storm he’d been sensing since the wall was breached.
“Huh.” Orson nodded. “Looks like we’ll have a fight pretty soon. Let’s figure things out with my crew, and we can form a welcoming committee for them.”
“They will meet Knightschurch.” The niece pulled an object from her belt, hidden beneath her baggy tunic. It was a small, sheathed dagger. When she drew it, the blade glowed green.
“Harper!” Another of the students shouted. “Does Master Lucas know you have that?”
“He does now,” Harper answered. She walked away toward the breach. The other students tentatively followed after her. “I will tell Taric to encircle the beach. Meet us, Captain.”
“Heirs are always so damn pushy,” Orson said. “Uh, except you, Enoa.” Her attention was still absorbed by the broken ice, but she smiled faintly in answer. Orson waved to Jaleel when the Aesir’s door slid aside.
“Where were you?” Jaleel shouted. “We’ve been trying to get you forever. Kol, you’re an awful delivery man! Why did the lasagna run take you an hour and a half?”
“I ate there,” Kol said. “I’m not about—”
“Stay inside!” Enoa snapped back to the present. She ran ahead of Orson and Kol came to a stop beside the door. “The Liberty Corps is here!”
A sound like moving waves came from behind them. When Kol turned aside he caught a glimpse of a figure in white standing at the breach, before the edge of the stone rampart obscured the man from view.
“People of Knightschurch.” A deep voice bellowed from the knight, like he spoke through a bullhorn “I am Sir Ramon. I am here to keep the peace. You will not intervene on the beach. I will not bring my forces inside until sunset, but you also may not leave.”
Orson said nothing until he was within earshot of the ship. “Jaleel, we might not have comms while we’re in here, so listen fast. It looks like those drones they’ve got will be directed from the big carrier floating there. I bet they’ll try to remote control a drone attack in here. So take out that carrier, once I've had a talk with the knight. If too much of the battle group’s power is absorbed by the Eye, destroying the transmitter might shut down all those Dactyls at the same time.”
“Aye-aye.” Jaleel saluted. “Ready to do a Phantom Menace whenever you are.”
Orson ignored the joke. He walked back to Kol and clapped him on the shoulder. “Get changed fast. If you’re still ready to fight your old friends, now’s the time.” He started back along the wall without another word, but he reached over his shoulder and unlocked his sword in its sheath.
Kol arrived at the Aesir. By then, Max and Dr. Stan were also waiting at the door. Jim was still on the couch, but he was now napping in his helmet. Any greeting Kol would have offered was interrupted by an electric shriek.
Kol wheeled back. Sir Ramon had advanced to the edge of the stone rampart. He was partly visible beyond the lip of raised stone. And if he turned aside, Sir Ramon might see them too and the infamous shape of the Aesir. The knight now held a gleaming object in his hands, a weapon blurred by the distance. It blazed in silver and gold.
Harper and the other students blocked his path. She held her dagger and a green fire burned in front of her, an ignition technique like the one Helmont had used. Two of the other students had drawn daggers of their own, but these did not glow.
Kol tracked Orson too. He moved at a controlled, steady pace. His coat did not billow and he was too far away for his footsteps to be heard.
“You will not leave,” Sir Ramon said. “Come no closer, or I will give my own pupils permission to enter this place. It would be a terrible thing to kill you when we could soon stand together.” He hefted the gleaming weapon, his attention only on the students.
“I’ve given you my name,” Sir Ramon said. “Honor has it that you tell me yours.”
“Hi, Sir Ramon.” Orson arrived at the break in the stone. His own voice was deepened and distorted and loud enough to be heard back at the ship. He stood between the knight and the island’s would-be defenders. He drew his sword and added its blue glow to the color at the breach. “I’m Orson.”
* * *
Baron Helmont did not sense Sir Ramon when the armored figure reappeared between the broken ice and became visible on the Balor’s viewscreens. He had only a moment of confusion before he saw the blue light sticking from the knight’s back.
Then Helmont did sense something. He knew the sword and its fire. And though he could not sense the wielder, Helmont knew who he would find.
The knight’s body fell from the blade and dropped to the sand. Orson Gregory stood in clear view on the beach. The bridge erupted in shouts, but Helmont did not join them. He’d already faced his shock and confusion, and he looked to his maps. Only seven Liberty Corps Shapers shared the beach with Gregory, four of Sir Ramon’s hard-light class and three close quarters ferrant specialists. The rest of the landing force hadn’t yet reached the shore.
Gregory knelt beside the body of the fallen Sir Ramon. When he stood again, his voice projected through the bridge of the Balor.
“Can you hear me, Grover?” Orson Gregory asked. “It’s lucky I learned a little about your comm system while I took my tour of your Pinnacle, last week.”
The knights yelled again. “Deactivate Ramon’s comm!” Sir Vergil shouted. “He is speaking to the entire fleet. Communications Lead, what are you--”
“Belay that.” Helmont rose his hand toward the knight. “Let them hear what our enemy has to say.”
“You thought you’d tricked me, didn’t you, Grover?” Orson Gregory laughed. “Guess what? We’ve been here since this morning!”
“I want—” Helmont began, but he still had no chance to act, when the Aesir appeared from the breach and peppered the SawW-carrier with light and fire and sent it spiraling down toward the sand. Helmont felt the pilots die, but didn’t see the ship strike the ground. A whole row of ice columns exploded from the shallows, one against another, encircling the entire breach side of the island. They blocked the beach from view and from the approaching landing craft.
Only the Aesir could be seen, flying above the ice, blasting apart the circling Dactyls. They had beaten him to Knightschurch.