Fiery Edge of Steel (A NOON ONYX NOVEL) Read online

  Here’s to a long life and a merry one;

  A quick death and an easy one;

  A pretty girl and an honest one;

  A cold drink—and another one!

  Rafe winked at both Fara and I during his toast, but he’d gotten us confused, winking first to me and then to her. And, typical of Rafe, he changed the last line to make it even more irreverent. It was supposed to be a purpose and a happy one.

  No matter, we all raised our glasses and drank. I began deboning my fish. There was much less spattering and splattering this time. The beginning of the dinner passed peacefully enough. Angels were good conversationalists and Ari, at least ever since I’d known him, had always been charming and gracious, even in mixed company. If I was the quietest member of our little group, no one remarked on it. Our dinner continued amid the softened tones of low conversation, the tinkling of silverware, the flapping of the sails, and, always, the lapping sound of the Lethe’s murky waters . . . somehow hypnotic and soothing and forlorn and lonely all at the same time.

  Around midmeal, we started to sense that something was wrong. We couldn’t see them yet, but all around us, we could feel them gathering. Always, at nightfall, the demons’ sounds were worse, but before, those sounds had been scattered around Halja’s countryside, like the low buzz of bees fertilizing a field. Now the low buzz was more like an angry hiss. It was as if, by choosing this route, we had inadvertently poked a hive. And now an aggressive, lethal swarm was on its ways to attack us.

  “Do you feel that?” I asked.

  Ari nodded, looking straight at me.

  “Nine of them so far,” Rafe said, gazing out into the still-empty, nearly dark rush lands.

  Fara narrowed her eyes. “Best to cast up,” she said, glancing at Ari. “I can cast at least three good shielding or cloaking spells and still have enough potentia for offensive casting.”

  If she’d lose the glamour, she’d have even more, I thought. But I didn’t say it. I had the feeling if things got dire enough we’d see the real Fara soon enough. We all scraped our chairs back at the same time and stood up. It was hard to know what to do first: rush to the remaining weapons chest, warn Burr and Russ, lower the sails, close and lock the shutters, arm the cannons with salt and shot . . . Before I could decide, however, I heard a new sound. And this one didn’t come from a demon, though it was infinitely more scary. Because that sound told me, even in the dark, exactly where we were going and how much danger we were in. It was the sound of rushing, gushing water—the kind that spins in a great big sloshing circle before gurgling out of sight into a deep, dark, watery maw.

  My signature zinged and I viciously clamped down on it. No way was I going to panic and go berserk like I had after the hellcnight attack. That would only make this worse. Hearing the sound of that churning, spine-twisting, lung-crushing water grow closer made me realize we’d never be able to pass through this river bend unharmed. I didn’t give a grand flapping sail what one addled Field Guide contributor’s fallacious advice was. No anchor would save us. There was only one way out. We had to reverse course—now!

  It would take the Angels a few minutes to “cast up,” as Fara had said. Most spells took time to cast and I didn’t want to waste it standing around having Rafe cast something stupid like Someone To Watch Over Me while we drifted closer to the heart of oblivion.

  “I chose the wrong branch,” I said in a rush. “This must be the Secernere. That,” I said, pointing out into the dark toward the front of the boat and the increasingly loud sound of rushing water, “must be Ebony’s Elbow. That’s why the rogares are coming. It’s a trap.”

  To their credit, no one else panicked either. Not that I expected them to. Fara’s glamour prevented us from seeing her unwanted expressions. While Ari must have felt as I did: that we still stood a chance of reversing Cnawlece’s direction and escaping. And Rafe, well, he just looked as carefully carefree as always, damn the man. Did nothing faze him?

  I grabbed Rafe’s arm.

  “Come on! You need to get to the engine room and slow us down. I’m going to tell Russ what’s going on so he can try to turn us. Ari, you should load the cannons and have Fara cast some defensive spells over you, Burr, and Russ.”

  “What about you?” Ari said. “Fara can cast Ascendancy and Impenetrable over you before you go.”

  Fara bristled and I winced.

  An Angel’s first duty is to their ward. That’s who they take the oath to protect. So it’s unfair to ask them to deplete their potentia on someone they’re not assigned to protect. On the other hand, it happens all the time. There’s no rule saying Angels can’t cast spells over someone who isn’t their ward (so long as that person agrees). But, since Angel’s recoup their potentia with time and rest, it doesn’t usually happen when you’re facing twenty-nine demons and a watery grave. Plus Ari’s statement was as good as saying Rafe’s spellcasting was useless.

  The problem was, I wasn’t sure I disagreed. Compared to battle spells, Rafe’s silent hand gestures were mere parlor tricks, and while there was no denying he could smother a fire and heal someone, those weren’t the sort of spells you wanted your Guardian casting when you were facing a demon horde or death by drowning.

  I looked up at Rafe. For once, he didn’t look carefree. He looked angry.

  “Load the cannons,” he said to Ari. “I’m going to see if I can reverse our course.”

  And then he was off without even a glance in my direction. Some Guardian he was.

  I dashed after him, biting the inside of my cheek, hoping I’d live to see the day when Ari chewed me out for not letting Fara cast some useful spells over me before I took off to warn Burr and Russ of the danger we were in.

  A few minutes later Cnawlece had full knowledge of her predicament. Russ informed me that turning in these waters would be impossible. Cnawlece was too big, the current was too strong, and the water too littered with unseen rocks. If he tried to turn us now, the boat would get snagged, list, fill with water, and sink. The best we could hope for was to reverse the engine. As if on cue, I heard a tremendous rumble and the deck shuddered beneath my feet. A moment later, we hit our first rock. The bump tossed me against the wall.

  I regained my footing and ran upstairs, shouting for Fara. She met me at the top, looking finally, just the least little bit, in dishabille. Her chain-mail jacket was gone and her long, blond hair was now caught up in a ponytail. Salt dusted her face, arms, and shirt.

  “Can you cast Impenetrable over Cnawlece?” I asked Fara breathlessly.

  “The whole boat?” she said incredulously, looking around its upper deck and then down the stairs. She paled as she considered, wrestling with some internal decision. What could possibly be worse than a pack of rogares and a giant whirlpool?

  “Yes, the whole boat!” I said. “It will prevent the hull from being ripped to pieces by the rocks and the decks from being overrun with demons.”

  She shook her head. “Even if I could cast it over the whole of Cnawlece, it wouldn’t keep an army of rogares off for more than a few minutes. Maybe with Rafe’s help—”

  I rolled my eyes. But Fara shook my shoulder. “He knows more spells than you think. Ask him!” She glanced back over her shoulder toward Ari and the cannons. He was loading one with shot and salt. I felt another bump as a watery mist hit my face. At first I thought it had started raining again, but then—with my heart lurching up to my throat and my stomach falling to my knees—I realized we must be close enough for me to feel the gurgle and spit of the Secernere in the watery mouth of the bend.

  Along the banks, I felt the rogares numbers swell. Water wraiths, I thought. There had to be at least fifty of them out there by now. Their shrieking cries pierced my ears just as their collective signatures started to smother mine. Instinctively, I pressed back but it was like being the shortest person in a packed bar—one that was going to catch fire soon. Panicking a little, I pulsed my signature. That’s when the shrieking turned to hoarse braying and roaring.


  “Stop!” Ari yelled from across the deck. “Don’t engage them yet.” The back of his shirt was wet with sweat and he barely had time to give me a glance as he finished loading the last of the cannons. Fara stood in the center of the deck mouthing the words to Impenetrable. I hoped the spell wasn’t a long one . . . How much of the boat could she cover on her own?

  A hideous yowl rose up to my left. They’re on board! I thought, nearly sending a blast of fire to the source of the sound. But then I saw it was Virtus, finally living up to his name. He stood on Cnawlece’s bow like a living figurehead, scowling and snarling at the advancing army of wraiths, who were now wading into the water toward us.

  As the water wraiths got closer, I got my first glimpse of them. Cold dread raced through my limbs like water sluicing off a melting icicle. If I hadn’t grabbed the railing, my knees would have buckled. Their fire was the first thing I focused on. It wasn’t warm and golden like the waning magic fire I was used to. Instead, it looked sickly and malignant in shades of glowing green and sulfurous yellow. Each wraith carried a fiery war club or a blazing spiked flail. Their skin was little more than an ash-tinted membrane stretched taut over a skeleton of sharp bones and grisly innards. And the size of them. Each one of them was easily twice Ari’s size. Their webbed, clawed feet sank in the mud under their weight, but that didn’t slow them. More of them appeared on the horizon. I’d never seen this many demons before. Knowing Halja was full of demons and seeing them were two totally different things.

  Had this been what Armageddon had been like? I thought crazily, momentarily giddy with my own battle response. How amazing would it be to control something like this? The Angels had never stood a chance. But, as the wraith horde drew closer, I realized how foolish my thoughts were. I couldn’t control this. No one could ever control this. Staring out at the sea of evil and anger, at creatures with claws the size of grappling hooks and horns as wide and sharp as two-bladed plows, I realized the Host’s immense mistake. The Apocalypse was Cnawlece sailing the Secernere. It was me pressing back against the wraiths’ smothering signatures. It was Virtus standing at the bow, snarling. It was us, the Host, poking a hive—a hive full of demons that was still buzzing two thousand years later.

  I raced downstairs to look for Rafe. By this time, Cnawlece was shaking so severely that I nearly fell down the stairs. I gripped the rail, climbed down into the hallway, and put my hands up to steady myself. Below deck, Cnawlece’s hallways were empty. Burr was likely still lowering the sails and Russ was probably in the engine room with Rafe. I didn’t want to go in there, for fear my waning magic might make whatever engine problems we were having worse, but I had to get close enough to yell to Rafe so that I could get him back up top. If he didn’t help Fara with Impenetrable soon, it wouldn’t matter whether we could reverse course or not.

  I stumbled down the hall and opened the small door at the end. Behind it was a circular stair leading down into darkness. Did I dare try to light a small fireball to see? Yes. For once, fire was not my top concern. Five steps from the bottom, Cnawlece hit another rock. I slipped and fell. My fireball went out and I landed in an inch of water, my head banging against the metal steps behind me. I pulled myself up, rubbed my head, feeling the sticky squish of blood, and relit my fireball. Shaking now (and not just from Cnawlece’s shuddering), I sloshed my way to the engine room door and pounded on it.

  “Rafe!” I called, my hand stinging from the force of my pounding. The roar of the engine down here was much louder. Could he even hear me? Now the water was up to my ankles.

  “Rafe!” I shouted again, pounding louder. I had my hand on the knob to open the door when it suddenly opened. Rafe stood there, covered in engine oil.

  “What are you doing down here?” he yelled. “Get away from the door. You’ll just make things worse.”

  Could things be any worse?

  I grabbed Rafe before he could disappear back inside. “You have to come upstairs. Russ will have to figure out the engine problems by himself. You have to help Fara cast Impenetrable over Cnawlece.”

  “Over the whole ship?”

  I nodded.

  “You don’t do things by halves, Onyx.” But there was a look on his face that hadn’t been there before. A spark of humor. He grabbed my arm and led me away from the engine room. “We can’t reverse,” he yelled to me as we walked. “Cnawlece’s engines weren’t designed to fight a current like this. The best we can do is try to hold our position while we figure out another plan.”

  “Can’t you cast a spell? Something like Reverse or Backward or something?”

  Rafe’s spark of humor turned into a full-fledged laugh. Only Rafe could laugh at a time like this.

  He didn’t bother answering. It had been a stupid, desperate question anyway. If Rafe knew any spells that would help, he would have cast them. Besides, casting spells in an engine room was only slightly less risky than using waning magic would have been. Damn machines. Problem was, they’d been designed by man, not Luck or the Savior.

  “So what spells can you cast?” I asked Rafe once we’d climbed up out of the circular stairwell into the middle hallway.

  “Offensive or defensive?”

  “There’s an army of wraith rogares out there,” I yelled, equal parts exasperated, incredulous, and scared. “Offensive, Rafe.”

  “Nouiomo Onyx,” he said, almost to himself, “is asking me for offensive spells. Hmm . . . well, you didn’t seem too impressed by them during Voir Dire but I can offer you Painfall, Damage Cascade, and Hemorrhage—”

  “Those are Holden Pierce’s spells,” I said, cutting him off. “Rafe, can’t you be serious for once?”

  “I am,” he said quietly, and despite all the noise, I finally heard him. “Pierce doesn’t own those spells. He just listed them on his CV. I know all the spells on Lambert Jeffries’ and Melyn Danika’s too, if you’re interested.”

  It was a moment of time we didn’t have. But I couldn’t help it. I stared at Rafe, realization dawning. Raphael Sinclair should have been ranked first out of eleven.

  “Why didn’t you—”

  “Why didn’t I say something? Why should I have? The last thing I ever wanted was a ward. It wasn’t until—”

  BOOM! The firing of the first cannon nearly deafened me, knocking me right off my feet. I fell against Rafe and he caught me under my arms. He quickly righted me and pushed me to my feet. I heard Ari yelling to Fara and footsteps heading in this direction. No doubt Ari was frantic to find me by now.

  I ran up the stairs to the sundeck, pulling Rafe with me, worried that we’d already wasted too much time below.

  Emerging onto Cnawlece’s upper deck was like coming up out of a cave into the middle of an active battlefield. Although Russ and Burr’s efforts had managed to slow Cnawlece, we were now close enough to see the gaping hole of water we were headed for. The spray was relentless. Standing on deck was almost like standing under a waterfall. Fara was manning the cannons and Ari was throwing fireballs. In the time it took me to reach him, he threw three separate blasts, which killed two wraiths and mortally wounded another. Still, they kept coming. I saw immediately that our priority was keeping them off the boat. If anyone had ever questioned whether feeding Virtus all those pounds of fish had been worth it, they now had their answer. He paced the edges of the deck, snarling and spitting at any wraith that got too close. This was how Ari knew who to fire at next.

  I turned to Rafe.

  “Fine,” I said, more to myself than him. Make me more deadly. “I want you to cast them all over me: Painfall, Damage Cascade, and Hemorrhage. Then you and Fara work on trying to cast Impenetrable over as much of Cnawlece as you can.” Maybe if we held out until dawn, we’d make it. I tried not to think about the fact that dawn was seven hours away.

  If Rafe had any reaction to my request, he kept it to himself. He locked his hands together and then beneath his breath, he calmly murmured a series of words. One by one, I felt the spells settle into place. M
y signature suddenly felt longer, stronger, and slicker, like I was wielding a flaming scorpion tail whip. The next time Virtus snarled at one of the wraiths, I ran over to him.

  There it was. In the water, not three yards from us.

  I shaped my magic into a fiery sling and then used it to whip a fireball directly into the wraith’s chest. I didn’t know how Rafe’s spells would work and I didn’t want to take any chances so I’d thrown my magic hard and fast. The effect was more than enough. More than I wanted to witness. The wraith burst into flames, shrieking, and then collapsed into a liquefied puddle of demon stew. On deck, Fara shuddered and reached for her Book. She knelt down with Rafe and together they tried to cast Impenetrable over all of Cnawlece.

  It didn’t work. The wraiths started throwing fireballs that looked like radioactive will-o’-the-wisp. Some of them reached the deck. Fara screamed and I turned from my disgusting wraith blasting to put the fires out. After the smoke cleared, I saw Fara lying on the ground next to Rafe. He had her head in his lap and was stroking her hair, murmuring something to her. I ran over to them.

  Fara was horribly burned. Over much of her body. In fact, it was hard to imagine she’d gotten this injured from the hot, but brief, fires I’d just put out. And that’s when I realized it wasn’t recent burns I was looking at. As I’d predicted earlier, things had finally become so dire that Fara had been forced to drop her glamour. This was the real Fara. At some point in the past, Fara Vanderlin had been consumed by fire and then had been unable to heal herself or reach a Mederi.

  I’d utterly and thoroughly misjudged her. My guess was Fara’s glamour kept more than emotional scars at bay. Looking at her writhing in pain now, I could only imagine that her daily glamour also helped her deal with some lingering physical pain as well.

  I looked at Rafe, grievously ashamed of all the times I’d accused Fara of being fake.

  “She’ll be okay,” he said. “Her potentia’s gone, but Impenetrable is up, at least for now.” He pointed toward the sky. Two iridescent green glowballs exploded in midair. The sparks rained down over our heads but then fell to Cnawlece’s side, like they’d hit a great big clear umbrella. I seized the moment, clutching at this tiny sliver of hope, only to have it shatter in the next second.