A Poison Dark and Drowning (Kingdom on Fire #2)(36)

As dawn fully broke, Blackwood and I arrived near Hackney, descending into a sea of sorcerers. Squadron leaders whistled and herded stragglers into neat rows. Joined shoulder to shoulder, with hands upon staves in the customary “resting” position, the men stared at the barrier and awaited further orders. It never ceased to impress me how, well, orderly they were. When I’d first come to London, I’d met the sorcerers when they were mostly idle, taking tea and attending parties. The speed and grace with which they organized—we organized—illustrated the Order’s strength. I clutched the hilt of my dagger, hoping it would inspire confidence and ease. It did not.

While Blackwood and I walked past the rows, looking for our own squadron, I kept stealing glances at the barrier. The dark Fae had created it, and as such it was like something from a shadowy fairy tale, one used to frighten children on winter nights. Tangled thickets rose thirty feet high around us, rife with dagger-sharp thorns. Flowers bloomed with teeth glittering among the petals, and snapped if you drew too close.

We found Magnus and Dee near the end of the squadron lines. Dee was loosening up, running in place. Magnus was still, which was odd for him. “What do you think it is?” he asked.

Part of me wildly hoped that it was only a drill to test our formation time.

“Do you think it’s the Vulture Lady?” Dee asked. His right leg jiggled like mad. “I think she’s the worst one. Picture her swooping out of the sky and gutting you with her talons. Suppose she starts eating you while you’re still alive.”

“Thanks for the image,” Magnus said dryly as Valens arrived. There was a trace of stubble on our captain’s chin, and his eyes looked bleary and red. He counted the four of us, nodded curtly, then took out his stave and created a column of wind to lift him off the ground.

“Come along,” he said as he hovered. So we were going up and over the barrier. Glancing down the line, I waited for the other squadron leaders to order their men up and forward, but it didn’t happen. They were creating water glasses, as if they were planning to watch. Watch? Were we going over with no backup?

Still, I must obey my leader. So, knees shaking, I made a column for myself and rose. As I crossed over, the thorns snagged the bottom of my petticoats. I had to fight with my skirts as I floated down to the ground—landing in a dress was always a potentially immodest experience.

The boys came down alongside me, and we faced the rubble that had once been part of our city. Before the ward fell, this area had been shielded from violence. Now the remains of buildings stood crumbling around us. Walls of scorched brick loomed overhead, charred memories of homes, shops, and lives now lost. Down the street, a single staircase that had improbably survived destruction stretched up into the sky, leading nowhere.

“What are the orders, sir?” I asked.

“Practice,” Valens answered. “The Imperator wants to assess how these magician weapons work in battle. He thinks it better to start small, and I agree.” He pointed straight ahead at a two-story building that was still intact. “Familiars have been spotted nearby. Destroy them.”

They’d called the entire Order out to watch us battle some Familiars? Was there really no better use of sorcerers’ time or energy? Every sorcerer in London would witness our victory—or defeat. If the new weapons didn’t work, everyone would know, and all faith would be lost.

Whitechurch was a clever fellow. To think that Blackwood worried the man was getting soft.

“What kind of Familiars?” Blackwood asked.

I took my dagger out, determined to make the most of this.

“Ravens,” Valens said.

Ravens, eh? They weren’t the easiest to battle, but also not the worst. Still, my gut cramped with unease. Something about this felt too simple.

Valens retreated to the barrier—coward—as we strode forward, finding our way through the rubble. The dawn was blood red, lending a hellish tint to the area. Wasn’t there a rhyme about this sort of thing? Red sky at morning, sailors take warning?

I needed to find some more cheerful poems.

“At least it’s a lovely, brisk morning for a fight,” Magnus said.

The four of us clumped together as we came closer to the building. There was the call of a crow somewhere nearby. We stopped, my muscles tensing just to hear it.

Though I had to admit that standing shoulder to shoulder with the boys and waiting for something to come screaming over the horizon felt oddly like home.

Blackwood unhooked his corkscrew sword. Dee had the flute in his hands. I hoped we wouldn’t have to use that particular weapon.

Magnus stepped forward and turned in a circle, scanning the area. It was as quiet as a graveyard, and as heavy with death. Blast and hell, I needed to stop thinking that.

“At least there are no Ancients about,” Blackwood said, lowering his sword.

“Which is odd.” I fingered the whistle that hung around my neck. “You’d think R’hlem would be attacking us with all his might.” With an army at his disposal, why was R’hlem being so, well, cautious?

Blackwood looked back at the barrier. “London is still the greatest prize, and he doesn’t want to make a misstep. Especially not now that we have the chosen one.” He gave me a wry smile. “Once he knows our weak spots, nothing will keep him out.”

Wonderful.

Ahead, a pile of rocks fell. Something about the heaviness of the sound made me uneasy. Ravens wouldn’t make so much noise.