A Poison Dark and Drowning (Kingdom on Fire #2)(54)
“That’ll happen,” Mickelmas said. “Boys, raise your hand if you’ve a headache.” The room was silent, then I heard the magician grunt. “Right. Two of you. You must use these weapons sparingly, in practice and in battle.”
“Why do they have this effect?” I asked, sounding quite plugged up.
“No idea, but prolonged exposure can have disastrous consequences. Shifts in personality. So do as I ask, and be careful.”
I opened my eyes, and the world settled once more.
Blackwood had gone over to the table with the weapons and picked up the softly glowing lantern.
“Don’t even think about it.” Mickelmas plucked it from the boy’s hands and put the lantern back, checking on the latch. “Remember what I said earlier? Never open that unless you must.”
“Why?” I asked. I’d missed that particular instruction.
“It’s a way to summon the beasts to you,” Mickelmas grumbled, tossing a piece of cloth over the lantern. “Strangewayes called it an optiaethis. It’s not merely an object from another world—it’s a living piece of it.”
My skin crawled. I wished I’d left the damned thing at Strangewayes’s.
“What about the bone whistle?” I looked at the object lying on the table beside the lantern.
Mickelmas shrugged. “No idea what that one does. Never saw any mention of it in the book.” He picked it up. “I’d recommend caution.”
“Do you think we’ll be ready in time for the next attack?” Magnus asked, crouching to one knee and twisting his sword just so. He handled it better, but not perfectly. It sounded like nails scraping down a piece of glass.
“Probably not.” Mickelmas took the sword and demonstrated again. “But there’s always a silver lining: if you fail, you’ll be too dead to be embarrassed.”
—
OVER THE FOLLOWING WEEK, WE SNATCHED every stolen hour we could to train with Mickelmas. There were battles to be fought ten miles outside the city, but those battles were for the army, not the London guard. This gave the five of us time to work quickly. Once we’d got a handle on the weapons, we didn’t need to practice as much. That meant the side effects became less frequent as well.
Magnus’s arm healed more every day. Soon the bandages would come off, and he’d be sent back to the navy. Once our group dissolved, it would be harder than ever to get the Imperator to change his mind. We needed one more chance to prove ourselves, and we needed it soon.
Then, eight days after Mickelmas had begun to train us, the warning bells chimed once more.
Dong. Dong. Ding dong ding dong. Ding ding, dong, ding. Dong. Dong. Dong. Attack. North. Ancient. And the three large chimes at the end signaled Callax.
So we were to meet the Child Eater at last.
When Blackwood and I joined our squadron north of the river, it was clear that fewer sorcerers than usual had answered the summons. In fact, there were probably no more than a hundred all told. Perfect—our first sighting of an Ancient on the city’s border in months, and it had to happen when our London ranks were diminished. Yesterday, Whitechurch had sent several of our squadrons to the border of Devon, answering a call for reinforcements. Zem was supposed to be down there, rampaging through the countryside, and our southern forces were taking a beating.
We’d played directly into R’hlem’s hands, leaving London more vulnerable than usual. Blackwood had said the Skinless Man would choose a moment to test our weaknesses, and now was the perfect bloody time. If he found us lacking today, tomorrow he might decimate our last defenses—and our queen—in one fell swoop.
My heart was in my throat. We could not fail.
Those of us left assembled directly behind the barrier, four rows deep, twenty sorcerers per row. The trick was to have multiple lines of attack, one right after the other. The first row might use fire, for instance, then bend down and strike with an earthen onslaught while the second row continued the fire assault.
Above us, the air brewed with a storm that two squadrons were creating. Blackwood and I waited as Valens passed by, counting off the people in his division. We had prayed he wouldn’t pay us any special attention, with our larger weapons barely concealed. Thankfully, he did not, and I let out a breath as he passed.
“Stay here,” I whispered to Blackwood. Balancing on a column of air, I flew up to gaze over the barrier into the no-man’s-land beyond. There was no movement on the road ahead, but the air felt weighted with anticipation. Water-glass mirrors were suspended on either side of me, tracking Callax’s movement.
“There you are,” someone said. I was shocked to find Wolff balancing on a column beside me, his clothes and face spattered with mud. Had he grown even taller since we’d last seen each other? At the very least, his black hair was longer and unkempt, and traces of a beard graced his cheeks. He grinned. “Wondered when I’d see you.”
“Wolff! I heard you were in Manchester.” I wanted to hug my friend, but that might topple both of us to the ground.
“I was until two days ago. We’ve been experimenting with shielding. Zem’s fire burns hot enough to crack most wards, so we’re trying to strengthen our magic.” Wolff watched the area ahead with a keen eye. As a warder, he was called upon to provide extra protection when an Ancient attacked. Light shone faintly on the curve of his otherwise invisible shield. “I heard about your weapons. I’m sorry they couldn’t let you use them,” he said.