FARSTRYKE

Mayan and Corinne were given the ghost steed, and we cobbled together Flight spells for everyone else. Brand was chained to Addam through Telekinesis since he wouldn’t have the ability to direct the movement of the flying magic laid on him.

Bursting into the swamp from the tunnel Lord Tower had drilled was glorious, despite my aversion to flying. As we flew above the mire, the clean air of early evening and the drizzle of a light rainstorm sluiced away my sweat and dirt. We crested as high as skyscrapers, pivoted in a wide arc, and shot toward Farstryke Castle.

It didn’t last long, and I didn’t swallow any bugs along the way, which about summed up what I wanted most from attempting to give gravity the finger.

We descended toward a five-story rooftop in the museum and theater district, a section of city about two streets wide. I landed first, hitting the flagstone terrace at a bad angle. I rolled to a jarring stop against a stone cherub, which tipped over and snapped its wing. I disentangled myself as the ghost steed plunged through the roof, dipped into the penthouse level below, and then emerged back topside with a jump.

Addam used Telekinesis to slow his landing. He and Brand touched down as gently as if they’d stepped off a curb.

Judgment and a group of Arcana were gathered around a pedestal by the northeast corner, a vantage point that overlooked both the theater district and the nearby blotch of darkness that was Farstryke. I walked over to them and saw, as I got closer, that the pedestal was a tree trunk that had sprouted from the soil of the rooftop garden. Leaves were still unfurling from wayward branches, linked by wispy bonds to Lady World.

“Where are we?” Lord Tower asked, striding past with Mayan at his side.

Lord Judgment gestured to a map of the city. “All activity is here, almost three blocks away, by the front gates of Farstryke. Those closest to the gates are well-armed criminals. Those further out—standing in the block between us and them—appear to be less organized followers. None of them have entered the grounds yet, possibly because of the dangers involved.”

“Lady Time can’t handle haunts?” I asked. “That doesn’t seem right.”

“We never acknowledged her throne,” Lord Strength said, his lips curled in distaste as I named her. “She is not Time.”

Lord Judgment ignored that. “Lady Time is not on site, which may be why they hesitate.”

Lord Strength wasn’t done interjecting. “We should move on them now. They pose no threat to us—a mix of Warrens trash and Revelry addicts.”

Lady Death, leading her ghost steed, made a frustrated sound in the back of her throat. “Peace, brother. Many of them are as much hostages as supporters, whether they realize it or not.”

“That may be so, but they stand in our way.”

“No, Lady Death is right,” I said. My Adam’s apple bobbed as all the attention swung my way. “Those people down there follow Lady Time because we failed to give them someone else to follow. Hurting them will only make her stronger.”

“This is not a referendum on the Arcanum—it is sedition,” Lord Judgment said wearily. “For all we know, these people have murdered Lord Fool. We don’t have the luxury of debating the issue right now, anyway. Our enemy is Time. We must make our way to her as quickly as possible once she arrives. We cannot underestimate the danger she poses. She hails from an era when magic was at its height and Arcana were vicious.”

“As opposed to their modern puppy dog ways,” Ciaran said cheerily.

Lord Tower’s eyes flickered to him. “Lord Judgment, are you sure a forward assault is the best strategy? We already know she’s a match for five of us—five of us firmly under her thumb at Lady Death’s manse.”

“Then we’ll throw a dozen of us at her,” Lord Judgment said. “We end this now, and we end this quickly.”

“We should split into three prongs,” Lady Justice said. “Two flanks and a forward advance. We can hold until she’s spotted and focus on crowd control.”

“Someone needs to clear the main street,” I said. “Mobs can only work to her advantage. I’d like to take the forward prong.” I could find a way to do that which didn’t involve outright violence.

“We both will,” Lord Tower said. He gave a quick glance around the table. His eyes lit on Zurah and Ciaran. “I’ll keep my team intact. We’ve worked well together.”

“Fine,” Judgment said. “I’ll take left flank with Chariot, World, and Hierophant. The Magician is already on the street there. The Moral Certainties can take right flank. Lady Priestess, perhaps you would join them?”

“Of course. Bethan is with my mounted forces by the Bluegaerd Theater. We’ll circle forward through this alley here.” She put her finger down on a lane.

As the others plotted their route, Addam touched my elbow and gestured aside. We went to the edge of the roof, where Brand stood alone. Below us, blazing theater marquees flashed through the drizzle. I could smell roasting cashews, and a busker was playing Cyndi Lauper acoustically, barely audible from our height.

The expression on Brand’s face just about broke my heart. I could barely pull apart the currents of emotion flooding our bond.

“Brandon,” Addam said, and put a hand on his shoulder. “I understand.”

Brand kept staring off the roof. He said, “I didn’t know we’ve been spied on our entire life. How could you understand that?”

Addam squeezed his hand until he got Brand’s attention. When Brand glanced at him, finally, Addam said, “Because I protect him too.”

Understanding passed between them. Brand allowed that to go on for all of three seconds before he shuddered and shook it off.

“We’ve got a fight ahead of us,” he said. “I’m fine. Rune . . .”

“I’m fine too,” I promised, which was a lie, but it was the lie I meant to tell him, which was a form of the truth, so all he’d feel through the bond was my conviction.

Brand nodded. He gestured to the streets below. “It’ll all happen along this street. Procsal Avenue. Three block radius. There—” he pointed. “That’s the corner of First Street, by the gates of Farstryke. Lady Time has her fighters there—the gang members she took over in the Warrens, I bet. Just up there, the corner of Second Street. She’s put the Revelry followers in a group.” His finger slowly slid away from us, toward the right. “The corner of Third and Procsal? Unaware scions sitting there like fucking bowling pins, right outside the theater. I don’t think this woman does anything without a reason. This is a strategy.”

“It is,” Lord Tower agreed, stepping up to my side. “At least we can control things somewhat by taking the main street and clearing away Lord Fool’s former followers.”

“Hey,” I said. “You know that stuff we just heard? About these people being traitors, or trash, or addicts? Those words came out of the mouths of people who should know better.” The Tower remained silent, so I added, “I’m not going to be able to listen to much more of that before I get really, really loud.”

“I know,” the Tower said. “And perhaps I’m not inclined to stand in your way when that happens.”

He signaled to someone over my shoulder. I knew it was Ciaran before I even looked, because his footsteps always sound like a choreographed dance move.

“Apologies for volunteering you,” Lord Tower said.

“Wouldn’t miss the fun for anything,” Ciaran promised.

“I’ve always been most impressed with your stealth magics,” Lord Tower said. “I would be grateful if you scouted our path down that street.” He pointed. “We’ll try to diffuse the crowd as we move toward Farstryke.”

Ciaran touched two gems set in a cufflink. I felt the release of sigil spells, then Ciaran was rising above us. “I’ll circle back in ten,” he said.

“I can deputize you as an official representative of the Arcanum,” Lord Tower offered. “You will speak with our voice.”

“Maybe,” Ciaran murmured, “it’s time I do just that. Toodles!”

His body shimmered white and gray, then Invisibility hid him from sight. A whoosh of air announced his departure.

“What’s the plan?” Death interrupted, approaching us with the rest of our party. Her ghost steed neighed and trotted through a massive clay urn.

“We take the straight approach,” the Tower said. “Our main priority is to engage Lady Time as soon as she arrives. Until then, we’ll attempt to clear the streets of obstacles.”

“Or, put another way, we’ll attempt to save average citizens from becoming collateral damage,” Zurah corrected him. Firmly.

Lord Tower made a tired gesture with his hand, but at least it was one of acknowledgment.

“There!” Corinne shouted.

I followed her finger and saw a comet bearing down on us.

It came from the northwestern corner of the city. It wasn’t until it was within a few blocks of our roof that I could see the form of a person within a nimbus of golden light. The fireball circled above, slowed its approach above the boulevard below, and came to a halt above the people gathered before Farstryke Castle.

The rooftop shook. I looked over my shoulder and saw that Lord Judgment had lifted his staff of office into the air. A sheen of amber fire rolled along its surface. “Bring that woman to the Iconsgison in chains, siblings and children,” he called out. “For Atlantis and Atlanteans!”

Some of the more strident Arcana echoed the battle cry. I just looked at Brand and Addam. They were with me, and that was a source of infinite strength and infinite worry.

“I can lift us to street level,” Addam told everyone. “No need to waste extra Flight spells.”

“Do it,” the Tower said.

Addam held out his metal hand, the fingers flexing with unnatural acuity. A spell released from one of the discs on his belt, and the buoyancy of Telekinesis rushed among us, a feathery current of magic. Addam tightened his hold on our group, and I felt myself tugged gently off my feet.

It was a skillful display of magic, and I felt so proud of Addam that my shell-shocked heart finally began to beat back against the surprises of the evening.

Everything became more real as we floated to street level. I could hear the scattered buzz of theatergoers who had abandoned their tickets to watch the strange events. I could smell food carts and car exhaust. We landed on the sidewalk between Second and Third Streets, by the two-story silver globe in front of the Museum of History. It was a true depiction, showing both Atlantis and the other hidden islands of the world.

“Oh, gods, there are children here,” Addam said.

“What?” I looked until I saw what he saw. The scions behind us—the theatergoers—had children Anna’s and Corbie’s ages. None of them were moving toward the theaters—they were too engrossed with the spectacle of the protesting mob gathered at the other end of the street. “Why are there families out this late?”

“One of the new shows is a children’s ballet,” Corinne said. “Corbie asked to see it. This is not good, Rune.”

“Mayan,” Lord Tower said. “Please lock Operation Kansas to my command and alert all forces. And tell your team that I’m freeing the eagles.”

Mayan gave his scion a grim nod, then stepped aside to speak on his phone.

“What is Operation Kansas?” I asked.

“Something I planned in advance with Lord Judgment,” the Tower said. “First things first. We must—”

“Bear witness, Atlantis!”

Lady Time’s voice—raspy but strident—rolled down the street. The consonants had the sizzling reverberation of an amplification cantrip.

The glowing woman rose above the head of her underground followers. Her magic illuminated the gates of Farstryke Castle, two blocks away, its rusted finials beneath her shining feet.

“Look at them! In their finery and jewels. Dripping with sigils—the legendary source of our power, a legacy meant for all of our society. If you get close enough, you’ll smell the waste on them. The sheer gluttony of their petty magics. They use these sigils—Our sigils! Our tools of war and prosperity, our collective inheritance!—They use these sigils so that their fatty flesh smells like flowers. To keep the rain from their finery and hair. To keep the dirt of the city streets from scuffing the soles of their shoes. To make their lips and cheeks rosy, to hide the roundness of their well-fed bellies.”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Brand whispered to me. “It’s like she listened to one of your rants and wrote it down word for word.”

“She doesn’t mean any of it. This is all an act.”

“I’ve returned to find that my people are refugees from Atlantis, now living on this mean scratch of land, tied to an infant republic of humans. I’ve returned to find the average man and woman of Atlantis—our backbone and source of strength—choking beneath the grip of the Arcanum’s manicured nails. It is time for change. It is time for change!”

“Enough,” Lord Tower said.

He strode out into the street, and the ebb of anxious conversations flared and died in his wake.

Lord Tower held out a hand and snapped his fingers. He used a clever cantrip spell at the last second to magnify the sound, which hit the city blocks like a crack of thunder. In the echo that followed he said, his own voice as booming as Lady Time’s, “This is the Tower of Atlantis. The woman who speaks is a charlatan and murderess. Your Arcanum moves amongst you—stand down and let us handle the threat.”

The last word was barely out of his mouth when a surge of power washed from Farstryke. I called on my willpower and saw the rippling barrier spread over the crowd gathered closest to Farstryke.

“Barrier,” I said to Brand.

“Where’s the edge of it?”

“One block up. Corner of Second Street.”

“She’s divided her forces into two groups,” Addam said, confused. “The members of the Revelry are not within the barrier. They are exposed.”

“No, she’s kept the fighters by her side, and set cannon fodder before us,” Lady Death corrected furiously. “Look at them. Castoffs from the Revelry. They barely have real weapons. This is a badly baited trap, Anton.”

“Then we will attempt not to set it off,” he said. “Corinne and Mayan: keep the scions from following. Drive them into the theaters. Connect with Judgment and find how close the Arcanum soldiers are—we need them for crowd control. Everyone else, with me.”

We moved forward. My adrenaline level spiked, tunneling my vision. I saw Brand snapping the flanges of his dart-bow open. Addam grimly pulling his sword. Corinne pulling a razor-knuckled gauntlet over her fist.

I did not feel good about this.

Arcana were accustomed to solving situations by revealing who they were. I was accustomed to doing that. But that was the worst possible way to handle this situation, because who we were was the problem. I should have been more forceful on the roof. I should have pushed back harder on their dismissal of the mobs. Our attention was so focused on the woman with the match that we didn’t see the gasoline spreading around our ankles.

And then, suddenly, there was no time to speak.

The ragged crowd of followers locked outside Lady Time’s barrier had grouped together with homemade weapons—boards with nails driven into them, corroded hammers, chipped old swords. I was close enough to hear their anxious murmurs, close enough to smell their sweat and the musk of unwashed clothes.

Lord Tower brushed a hand across one of the links of his chainmail. Writhing blue energy began to swirl around his hands. But just as he began to hold his hand toward the crowd, Zurah shouted, “Anton!”

“A Stunning spell only,” he said.

“Don’t,” I said. “She’s right, don’t. Don’t do it. We need to try talking to them before—”

A block away, the windows of a building imploded. On the other side of it a fireball rose, its black smoke underbelly roiling. That was our right flank—the Moral Certainties team.

The followers saw it too, and the fear was stark on their face. They drew together but didn’t lower their weapons.

Behind us, Corinne and Mayan were barking commands at the theater crowd, which only added to the tense smog of the moment. A food cart was untended, and the odor of burning popcorn filled the air. Mayan ran back to us while hooking a communication device over his ear. “Right flank is ambushed. Judgment is at the foot of the barrier on the left, and they’re working to bring it down.”

“Helpful but unnecessary,” the Tower said. “She wants to engage. This delay is all part of her theatrics.”

“Then we make a new plan,” I said.

Lord Tower flicked his wrist, and the Stunning magic dispersed. “You have thirty seconds, Rune.”

I licked my lips and thought what to say, so Brand helped by placing a hand in the small of my back and pushing me in front of them.

I recovered from the stumble with both arms outstretched. I kept them like that, palms held outwards, a sign of nonaggression. “Please,” I said, raising my voice. “Please listen to me. I am Lord Sun. Many of you wear the colors of the Revelry. I’ve been to your home—I’ve seen the graves. We followed the route you walked into the Warrens. We saw what you lived through, and I must believe, I must, that you know in your hearts you’re not being told the entire truth.”

“She just wants her home!” one of them cried. “That’s her home, isn’t it? Can you deny that?”

“This is not about her home,” I insisted. “You have not been stranded here, on the other side of that barrier, because she wants her home. This is a strategy. You are being used in the most vile way possible. This is an attack on our city.”

A short wildfire of conversations spread among them. I heard the word barrier. I wasn’t sure they could even see it or understand the significance, though.

Then the angry man yelled, “We don’t have the same city you do. It’s not our city! It never was! That’s what she wants to change!”

“I saw the graves,” I repeated. “The bodies at the Revelry. Did you know them? Were they your friends? Your family? What, exactly, did Lady Time want to change about them?”

That was when the moment fell apart.

Someone in the crowd threw a bottle with a lit rag stuffed into it.

The crowd pushed away from the person, surprised.

Blue energy burst around Lord Tower’s hands.

I heard the whistle of a projectile and saw the dart-bow in Brand’s hands.

And lastly, but most dramatically, a glistening, fractal wall of light sprang up between us and them. The Molotov cocktail exploded harmlessly in the air. Ciaran flew down from the sky, his hands still gloved with the Shield magic.

“We are not the enemy,” Ciaran said.

“Ciaran,” one of them said, and then, louder, “That’s Ciaran.”

“You know me,” Ciaran said. “I’ve met some of you before. I have drunk your wine, and danced around your bonfires. And I swear to you, I am not the enemy. Nor is Rune Sun. He is trying to save you.”

“They just shot someone!” one of them yelled back.

“That man wasn’t one of you,” Brand said loudly. His dart-bow was still pointed at the man he’d shot—or sedated, knowing Brand. It was the one who’d thrown the lit bottle. “Look at him. Dirty face, clean chest holster and new boots. He was planted in the crowd to stir violence. Tell me I’m wrong.”

Overlapping words and shouts—some agreement, a lot of fear.

“Is Brandon wrong?” Ciaran asked them. “That man—the one in the tight pants, rolling on the ground—is he familiar to you? Do you trust him?”

“Doesn’t mean anything,” one of them said stubbornly. “We’re only here to help her reclaim her home—which she is gonna share with us.”

“She’s lying,” Ciaran said simply. “She’s been lying all along. She’s only using you to get power. She has no intention of honoring her promises.”

And of course, another flaming bottle arced through the air, likely from another plant in the crowd, which got everyone riled and brought the conversation back to zero—even as Ciaran smothered the projectile in a small Shield.

“ENOUGH!” Lord Tower shouted, rising into the air. He looked down on the crowd before us and said, without amplification, “This delay is costly.”

Ciaran waved a hand at Lord Tower and snapped his fingers. A sigil spell rippled from him, and then the Tower was falling. He jerked to a stop before hitting the ground—Addam, arm outstretched, had caught him in a Telekinetic grasp.

“Apologies, Dagger Throne,” Ciaran said. “But I’m afraid your approach is costlier.”

He turned to the crowd as his Aspect rose around him.

All magic in his presence began to shine like quicksilver—the barrier, the surge of Telekinesis, my sabre, the ghost steed. I heard the roar of a River as the color washed out of everything except my proud friend—his red lips and blue-green hair, his sodden white cape and his outfit’s blue leather.

“It’s time for proper names,” Ciaran said. “It’s long, long past time for proper names. The city owes you more than it’s given. You deserve an advocate on the Arcanum. The moment—this moment, this vitally important moment—demands it. And I can provide that, can’t I? You all know me. I’ve walked among you. What you don’t know is that I am, as I have been for a very, very long time, the Magician of Atlantis. I am the true Hex Throne. And I ask you now to step from the path of this bloodbath that Time seeks to drown you in. When the dust of this conflict has settled, I swear, I will remain at your side. I swear this upon my name, and my name, and my name.”

The force of the vow rang outwards.

Brand’s eyes cut toward me.

“My gods,” Lady Death whispered.

And Lord Tower’s jaw dropped. His mouth was agape. As weapons clattered to the ground, the Tower rose to his feet, staring hard at Ciaran. Slowly, he lifted his hand, and made a visible demonstration of snuffing the magic that gloved his fist.

Lord Tower was about to say something else, but people cried out. The crowd’s attention swung to our rear, where single-file lines of scions were pouring from the theaters and moving toward us. They were unnaturally silent, their faces slack of emotion.

“What are they doing?” someone called out, as another person said, “There are children there.”

“Compulsion,” Ciaran murmured. “This is one of her tricks.”

Not far from the front of the approaching lines, I spotted Mayan and Corinne. Their weaponless hands hung limply at their sides. Their eyes were fixed on the shoulders of the people in front of them. My own anger flared—but it was a candlewick against Lord Tower’s sudden fury.

He strode away from us, and I followed. None of the scions in the front rows even glanced at him. Lord Tower marched up to Mayan and put a hand in front of his chest. Mayan didn’t resist or attack, and the people behind him—including Corinne—merely walked around.

Lord Tower put his hands behind Mayan’s head and drew their foreheads together.

“Mine,” he hissed.

Mayan sucked in a deep breath and began coughing. “Mother fucking horsefire shit!” he gasped. “I couldn’t . . .”

Brand grabbed Corinne by the arm and pulled her out of line. She didn’t react; she just weakly tried to tug herself away.

“I was . . . there was a party. There’s a party ahead. We’re late for a party,” Mayan said. He grimaced. “That’s all I could think. She’s leading us to Farstryke.”

“She may be planning to feed the scions to the haunts,” I guessed.

“She’ll have to let the barrier down,” Zurah added.

“We can’t wait,” I said. “The closer they get, the more we’ll need to divide our efforts to protect them, fight her soldiers, and attack her.”

“We need that barrier down,” Brand said. “The Arcana need to hit her now and hit her hard.”

“I can clear my friends from the streets,” one of the Revelry members said. “And we can try to pull the children from the line.” Some of his people had edged close behind him, close enough to hear. “Do it! Try to pull the children from the line! Something isn’t right about this—help the children!”

“Two of us can get across now,” Lady Death said. She reached up and put a hand on the ghost steed’s glistening hide. I noticed, in shock, that her eyes were pinched in exhaustion. The steed was powered by her Majeure; she was pouring a constant stream of living energy into the ghost steed to keep it corporeal.

“Me,” I said.

“Rune,” Lord Tower said quietly. “Zurah and I should—”

“Me,” I said again. “She has my people. My kids. I need to know if they’re up there.”

He sighed. “Rune and I will advance. No arguments, Brand,” he added before Brand could even marshal a response. “There’s only room for two. While Rune looks for your people, someone needs to distract Time and disrupt her influence on the crowd.”

“Let the steed dissipate as soon as we’re off it,” I whispered to Zurah. She started to protest, but I raised my voice louder. “Let the steed go. You and Lord Tower brought a barrier like this down once—you can do it again, especially if Judgment is working on the problem, too.”

She nodded.

I didn’t have to worry about a clumsy mount. Lord Tower climbed up first and offered me a hand, and Addam helped lift me with Telekinesis.

I hoisted myself on the horse’s ass and grabbed the Tower’s chainmail waist for balance.

Lord Tower must have ridden one of the ghost steeds before. He galloped us through the barrier, jumped the curb, and phased into a building. Using that as cover, he cut a path parallel with the street. We rode through a bookstore, a card shop, a closed bakery. At the end of the string of shops, he jumped back through the wall, and slowed about one hundred yards from the gates of Farstryke.

Lady Time’s forces had already engaged in battle. A contingent of guarda must have been either driving or moving within a block of Farstryke when the barrier rose. They were locked in a scrum with the Warrens gang members that Lady Time had recruited.

Lady Time herself floated above a dry fountain before the gates, over a small, open courtyard just off the sidewalk. In the corner of the paved square was a group of people.

I made out Vadik’s scaled costume and Max’s white-blond hair.

Everything began to narrow with the pinpoint focus of rage and urgency, because Vadik had been one of my torturers, and he was with the children. The man who had once tortured me stood with my children.

One of the guarda’s green and amber patrol cars screeched down the street, aiming for Lady Time. Lady Time lifted her palm and lowered her head. The shining light around her flared, and the patrol car began to fall apart. The metal shell darkened and dissolved into flakes. The guarda officer inside clutched the now-rotting upholstery of his seat as sharp pieces of rust sliced his body open. He hit the asphalt at ninety miles an hour. What rolled to a stop in front of the old fountain was barely meat.

“Listen to me, Rune,” the Tower said before I could start running toward Max. “I planted explosives in Farstryke days ago. I intend to destroy it once the barrier comes down. It will unbalance her, and we’ve seen before that her hold loosens when she rages. The Arcanum will hit her with everything when this happens. Hold nothing back. It is not certain we will get this chance again.”

“I need to get the kids now,” I said, while channeling willpower into my sabre hilt. A molten, garnet blade began to form.

“Do it quickly,” he said. He put his hand on my shoulder, squeezed, and began to step backwards. He touched one of the sigils in his armor and faded from sight.

I began to run toward the stage as the damp air created sizzling wisps along my sabre blade. I crossed the street, and another car—a beat-up old Saturn—drove over a curb and smacked into a light pole. My brain was telling me that it looked a lot like my car, even as I saw Queenie’s wide-eyed expression behind the steering wheel.

I ran toward it as four of the armed Warrens thugs advanced on the car. One of them spun around as I approached, and I cut his hand off, which fell to the ground with his dagger.

The back door of my car exploded off its hinges. Diana Saint Nicholas climbed out. She grabbed a gang member in a Telekinetic hold and threw him into the side of a nearby building.

The remaining two thugs suddenly stiffened, dropped to the ground, and began to spasm. I was able to track the magic back to Layne, who had a box cutter in one hand. It looked—bizarrely—like they were wearing leg warmers on both arms. As I watched one of them soak up blood from a cut, I understood the purpose. Infection and blood powered their necromantic abilities.

Pushing wet hair out of my eyes, I stalked up to them. There were scorch marks on the hood of the car—not from the impact. It looks like they’d been trapped within the barrier and had tried to drive through it.

“The girl is missing, we had no choice,” Diana said calmly before I could ask why the fuck they were there.

“Anna left behind a note saying she was going to ‘save those dumb boys,’” Layne added anxiously. “We dropped Corbie off at the Pac Bell and came here.”

“Then she may be near the gates with the others,” I said. “Diana, retreat. Go there—try to get in that shop there.” I pointed to a shuttered bodega on the nearest corner. “I’ll get them there.”

A car exploded about fifty yards away, sending a knot of guarda and gang members flying.

“Go!” I shouted and began to run for the small plaza in front of Farstryke.

The fighting provided cover—I was almost sure I hadn’t drawn Lady Time’s interest yet. I ducked low as I ran, occasionally having to cut off arms and hands. The gang members were victims of Lady Time; I tried to spare their lives even while using quick and brutal methods to drop and disarm them.

I was close enough to the staging area that I would have been able to meet Max’s eyes if he looked my way. Anna and Quinn were with him.

Above me, the barrier flickered into the visible light spectrum. Spreading tendrils of hoarfrost began to climb toward the apex. My friends were breaking through.

Lady Time lifted higher into the air, a small star of energy. She raised her arms toward the sky, and the clouds above the barrier began to blacken and churn—a storm in fast-forward. Weather magic. She was using weather magic, because of course this day needed to get worse.

The optical effect of rain hitting the barrier and smoking into steam was dramatic. A barrage of lightning—fiercer than any island storm I’d ever seen—began to strike the ground outside the force field. No Atlantean would fly in lightning, not without custom-built shields. She knew the barrier would fall and was stalling the approach of reinforcements.

I ran harder.

Ahead of me, one of the guards had grabbed Quinn by the collar of his shirt. Max jumped onto the guard’s back, knocked him down, and began to punch him in the face. Vadik saw this and lifted into the air while forming a ball of fire in his hands.

I touched the Companion symbol on my belt, released a Shield spell, and clapped it around Vadik. In the air, Vadik jerked, his arms locked at his side. He fell hard to the concrete and cracked the pavement. I was close enough to hear him gasping for breath as my Shield tried to squeeze and shatter his own Shield.

Lady Time spun around and saw what was happening. She began to float toward the disturbance just as the barrier overhead shattered under the Arcanum’s onslaught. A sheet of water fell down, and forks of lightning began to strike lampposts and buildings. I watched a gang member caught in a burning, magnesium flare. His smoking body landed in a wet gutter.

Eight stone birds screamed down from the clouds. Lord Tower had said, I’m freeing the eagles. These were the long-dormant gargoyles atop the Pac Bell building, one of the Tower’s secret defenses.

As Lady Time battled with the constructs, I raced to where Vadik was still struggling to breathe under the force of my magic.

The children saw me. They saw the look on my face. They drew together, and Max was yelling at them to pull back.

I landed on Vadik’s chest, straddling him. I released the Shield and let my sabre blade dissolve into fat sparks that burned through the hood of his snakelike leather.

As I put the hilt against one of his eyes, I felt cold metal under my fingers. An amulet had slipped from Vadik’s concealed neckline. It was a gold sunburst—one of the sigils from my father’s personal armory—sigils bound only to him that could have been seized during his defeat.

My magic faltered for a split second. Before I could steady my willpower, Vadik vanished, dropping me a few inches to the pavement.

I looked up just in time to see Lady Time floating toward me. The wreckage of the stone eagles was already scattered around the small square. She spread the fingers of her hand and made a slicing motion.

Telekinesis ground me into the courtyard tiles, while a spreading wave of energy sent everyone else flying. I watched the kids skid away down a sidewalk—jerking to a buffered halt as Diana Saint Nicholas caught them in a Telekinetic hold of her own.

“You,” Lady Time said to me. “I did warn you, didn’t I? Now you’ll see what comes next.”

“I don’t think he will,” a voice said behind her.

Judgment, the leader of the Arcanum, dropped the magic that concealed his stealthy advance at the far side of the square, and pointed his staff of office at Lady Time. Whatever powered her levitation failed, and she hit the ground with a short, quickly muffled scream.

Lord Judgment swiped his staff—a powerful device that could focus and amplify his magic—in an upward arc. The mauled clouds above us began to break, showing weblike threads of moonlight.

Lady Time staggered to her feet and limped toward him. Lord Judgment aimed his staff at her again—and it detonated into burning splinters that made him cry out and cover his face.

He looked like he was about to shout something. I saw his lips moving at least. Then Lady Time reached him. She put one hand on the side of his neck and another on that same shoulder. Defense spells blistered her flesh and made her sleeve catch fire.

She tore Judgment in half. His head and shoulder went one way, and his split torso another.

While shaking the blood from her hands, she calmly patted out the fire on the cuff of her gown.

“You will not win,” she said to me.

“We will,” I promised, but my voice cracked in shock, in anger, in outrage.

She began to point to me—and Farstryke Castle exploded.

The Tower stood by the fountain, his mobile phone in his hand, his finger poised above a button.

For a long, long second, Lady Time froze and stared at the rising hells-cape of flame and smoke. Her hands fell to her side in shock.

It was our moment to attack, and I didn’t hesitate. Her grip on me had faded, so I raised my sabre at her and aimed for a headshot. At the same time, beads of mercury-like magic formed around the Tower’s cocked arm.

Lady Time screamed.

Her power was in the sound. The ground underneath us buckled as an earthquake spread outwards in a blast radius. A crack of stone—the loudest sound I’d ever heard in my entire life—was followed by a falling building to my far right. A wall of dust and debris blew toward us like a nuclear cloud. Lady Time screamed again, and the dust reversed course and flowed backwards, toward my advancing allies. Toward Brand. I felt Brand coming toward me, an angry and inexorable force.

And again Lady Time screamed. It felt like my body was being pulled apart. Nothing should be that strong; nothing should have that much power.

On the other side of the square, the Tower had been knocked to his knees as well. Our eyes met across the shaking city.

He gritted his teeth, bowed his head, and called on his Aspect.

True night spread from him. It swallowed every source of light—the glow of a burning car, the flagging bolts of lightning, the electrical fires of the fallen building, Lady Time’s glowing nimbus. It felt like the end of the world. It felt like the end of all creation. It was one of the most terrifying things I’d ever seen or felt, and all my emotion flatlined into a single feverish note of fear.

The Tower stood. He walked toward Lady Time, and the emptiness of the universe walked with him.

“You found . . .” Lady Time said, then coughed blood onto the ground beneath her. “You found the masks, didn’t you?”

Lord Tower looked down at her.

“It upset you,” she laughed. “I saw. Your pet is your weakness, just like that castle may have been mine.”

She turned her head and looked straight at me. She winked a wrinkled eyelid, a grotesque parody of coyness.

The world broke apart into gray and white static, and I broke with it. The last thing I heard was Brand screaming my name, and strong arms grabbing me from behind.

Smell.

First was smell, a single sense from a body with no identity. I could smell wet grass and burning wood.

And that thought—I could smell—was a brick of consciousness. A piece of who I was. With it came touch. My fingers were grasping wet, muddy turf. Everything ached, including my eyes. They felt dried and gummed as I forced them open.

“Rune?” someone moaned.

I rolled to my left and saw Addam. Had he shouted at me? Or was it Brand? I couldn’t feel Brand. I couldn’t feel Brand. Was Brand . . .

Against the protest of sore muscles, I rolled to my other side, which revealed a new slice of lawn. There was a small building at the end of it. The grass was short and rough, the type you saw by shorelines. I rubbed my hands in my eyes, trying to clear my blurred vision.

Things came into focus after that, and I saw something that didn’t exist. Not with fresh paint. Not without wood rot, not without missing shingles and a scabrous roof. It just wasn’t possible—the carriage house had not looked like this in decades. It wasn’t possible. It wasn’t.

A man stood outside the building smoking a cigarette. He faced the ocean, his back to me.

The silhouetted tips of a hare mask rose above his head.