“It’s going to be okay, Stranna.” I don’t say we’re going to live or we’re going to win the battle. I say only what I know to be true.
She rests her hand on the edge of the wall. It trembles. “Erik told me you were killed.”
“I was. At least, my Nightmare form was. My body is at the Adelphoi house now.” I want to tell her the kids are tucked in, the cow is okay, the laundry is done—anything, even trivial, to set her mind at ease.
She grips the stone with pale fingers. “You just . . . left.”
“I know. I’m sorr—”
Stranna leans over and kisses my cheek. “You smell like cinnamon rolls.”
“Ha!” I bark a laugh, but then process what she said. “Do I really?” Any other life and it would be a bit weird hearing these words. But here, next to her, facing battle . . . it’s the most inspiring thing she could have said.
She winks. “With extra frosting.”
With that, the mysterious night flames burn low, and Luc’s army charges.
My hand searches my belt and pockets for any sort of weapon. Nothing. I turn around and see the courtyard filled with kids from the Adelphoi house. They don’t seem afraid. In fact, they seem to be bracing themselves. Only now do I see that the gates to Castle Ithebego are blocked from the inside with beams and stones. The moat is filled with alligators and even schools of piranha.
I can see the kids’ touch on all the preparations—like a castle instead of a fortress prepared for a battle of blood and death.
Maybe it’s better this way.
But Luc’s army is airborne. The moat and the braced door aren’t going to do much to stop them.
Small wooden catapults dot the corners of the castle wall with piles of stones next to them. My eyes widen. These are manned by Erik and Jules. Children stand in groups of three or four next to huge crates strapped closed with leather or cages of falcons, hawks, eagles, and even a horned owl—all irregular sizes compared to the real thing.
Adults I don’t recognize stand with each group of children. They wear Adelphoi swords at their sides or hold javelins. This must be Jeremy and his crew. The longer I look, the more unfamiliar children I see. Although I do recognize the father and his two daughters from my first fight in the Arena.
Why aren’t there more useful weapons? Modern or magical ones? Are we still limited by the Roman setting created by Galilei? I don’t see him with the army—with his son.
“We used everything we could.” Stranna seems to read my mind. “Every strand of light we could find in the rocks.”
“Wheat kernels work too—worked.” I am dismayed and yet encouraged to see that none of the children hold swords or bows and arrows. They shouldn’t have to kill, but they also shouldn’t have to fear being killed. They need defenders.
“Luc got to the field before we could.”
“Is there any light left?” I ask almost desperately. “For me to use?”
Her cringe says it all. “We thought you were dead, Cain. I’m sorry. Like I said, we used everything we could find.”
Maybe there’s another hope. “Did any adults come from the coliseum? With a rhinoceros?”
She shakes her head.
I try not to show my distress. Heidi’s mother and the other Tunnel escapees must have been caught. Killed on sight or dragged back to the Arena. How will I break the news to Heidi? I scan the courtyard below, but she’s not there.
At that moment, Erik yells, “Fire!” and releases a giant stone from the catapult. It strikes one of the pterodactyls from the sky. Jules takes down a second. Both tirones crash to the ground but regain their feet. Before they can return to their army, a third pterodactyl breaks formation and dives toward the two grounded tirones.
It pierces one through the chest with its beak.
Mouth open in shock, the man collapses. The pterodactyl lands and sets to eating its victim. The riding tiro leaps off the savage pterodactyl’s back and slices its head off to try to save his comrade. I look behind me, glad the children cannot see what’s happening.
That is the difference between nightmist and creating something from light. The nightmist will serve you until it wants to devour you.
The full swarm of pterodactyl riders streams overhead. I watch helplessly, wanting a gun, a sword, a grain of light . . . something. All I had was my phoenix and she was killed, or rather, she burst into flame.
Luc’s tirones are upon us, and they swing down toward the courtyard, bringing their pterodactyls with them. The children throw open three of their cages, releasing the birds of prey as a pterodactyl goes after Everett.
I time a jump from the wall and land on the beast with a hard jar to my bones. The pterodactyl swivels its head toward me, its long neck twisting like a length of rope. It snaps, revealing sharp pointed teeth within its beak. I lurch back, then grab it around the beak and twist. It overcompensates to spare its neck and topples over.
“Cain!” Everett calls out and tosses me a javelin. I release the pterodactyl’s mouth to catch the weapon midair, then ram it through the creature’s wing and into the earth between the cobblestones. The beast roars but can’t pull free.
A light falcon screeches and attacks the pterodactyl, clawing at its eyes and throat. I leave them to their fight, trusting light will win. The pterodactyl seems only able to get a few snaps in before it has to shrink away from the more colorful creature.
“Everett!” I shout. “What else do you have?”
“Slingshots!” He tosses me one.
I catch it with one hand. Better than nothing, though I can’t account much for my aim. Small leather buckets of rocks sit every few yards along the inside of the wall. I grab a handful, giving them a quick glance to see if any hold light threads in their crevices. No, just regular rocks.
And yet . . . they were enough for David against Goliath.
The difference is, he had practiced with his weapon. I can’t do much harm without a bullet or trigger.
I run back up to the wall where Stranna is reloading a spear bolt into the catapult device. All the pterodactyls have attacked and engaged in battle inside the castle with the light beasts while the dismounted tirones go after the children. The small group of Adelphoi adults fights them off, but this is only a distraction.
We’re outnumbered.
