Archangel's Enigma (Guild Hunter)(97)

The shaking stopped with a spine-wrenching jolt, but the clouds above had turned a silvery black that boiled across the sky, turning morning once more into midnight. In the distance, the land cracked, the lava that poured out of it a molten and angry red that crawled across the ground at impossible speed.

Andromeda felt her heart slam into her ribs, but her fear wasn’t enough to make her miss a simple fact. “The village!” she yelled to Naasir over the sounds of the violence. “No lightning strikes within! No sand spouts!” Even the earthquake hadn’t collapsed any buildings.

“Inside!” he yelled and they both retreated.

Shutting the window to cut down the noise, he shoved a hand through his hair. “Something has angered Alexander, but even in his rage, he hasn’t forgotten the wing brothers who protected him these many centuries.”

“Alexander was meant to love his people.” Andromeda’s fingers trembled as she fixed her braid. “Do you think he’s killing them?”

“We’ll have to wait until after this is all over to find out.” Naasir suddenly hissed out a breath. “In protecting this village, he’s put a beacon right over it. Lijuan will know to head for the eye of the storm, will be aware Alexander must be nearby.”

Andromeda picked up her sword. “We should go, see how we can help the wing brothers.”

Nodding, Naasir opened the door again and they walked out into the fierce dust-swirled wind. It didn’t take them long to find the Brotherhood—they were gathered in the large central meeting hall. Since they’d spotted no one else on their way here, not even a face at a window, it appeared the noncombatants had already been moved to safety.

“These are the portents for which we were told to watch,” Tarek informed them. “But it was meant to begin far more gently and be a process that took a year.”

Andromeda considered if she should take another weapon from the wing brothers’ stockpile, decided on a relatively light crossbow. “The enforced speed of the Ancient’s waking means he’s going to be far weaker than he should be when he rises.”

Tarek’s hand fisted.

“If we can distract Lijuan’s troops,” Naasir began, right as the wind and the lightning dropped without warning, the ensuing stillness eerie.

Shaking his head, Naasir started again. “If we can distract Lijuan’s troops, it’ll give him a little more time at least.”

Andromeda didn’t say anything, but they both knew Alexander would still be at a catastrophic disadvantage. From what Andromeda had read in the Archives, when an archangel rose this quickly, he or she was at less than half strength, with little endurance. Lijuan simply had to outlast him and she could kill him when he fell.

“Hide your men and women in the trees and shoot up,” Naasir said. “This assault is all about speed, about reaching Alexander before he gathers his strength—Xi won’t bother waiting for ground troops. It’s going to be nothing but air squadrons.”

“We have weapons for the air.” Tarek’s tone was ruthless. “Buried in the lands around the caves and the village. I didn’t want to activate the weapons with the sands twisting and the ground shaking, but it takes two hours for them to power up.”

Naasir chose his words with care, aware he was talking to a man who was used to running a lethal group. But Naasir had spent centuries working at the side of an archangel; he knew the value of the knowledge in his head. “I’d recommend you do it,” he said, holding the other man’s gaze. “I say that as someone who was in the battle in New York—I know how to fight a winged enemy from the ground if necessary.”

Naasir’s respect for Tarek grew when the leader of the Wing Brotherhood just gave a curt nod before ordering one of his men to start the process to activate the weapons. Turning back to Naasir, the other man said, “Tell us what else you know of fighting against angels.”

Naasir focused on how the wing brothers could maximize their assets—skill, knowledge of the terrain, and the element of surprise. He also told them to utilize their agility by rigging trap lines in the trees using wires so thin they were nearly invisible. Any angel who tried to land would get caught up in it, like an insect in a spider’s web.

“We stand a higher chance of success if we can keep them in the air, especially since you have ground-to-air weapons,” he said once Tarek agreed to the traps. “On the ground, you’ll be fighting one-to-one and Lijuan’s squadrons are full of old angels with unknown and dangerous abilities. Too old to be hampered by their wings.”

“If they do land,” Tarek told his men and women, “shoot for the heart or the head. No warnings. We have to incapacitate as fast as possible.”

“You do have one winged fighter,” Andromeda pointed out.

Naasir glanced at her. At that instant, he was more the experienced and honed commander of an archangel and less a primal chimera. It was a little intimidating.

“Your injuries?” he asked, and though his expression didn’t change, he touched a gentle hand to her primaries.

He was still Naasir, she realized on a wave of love. This was no false skin, just another aspect of his personality. “Healed enough to not be a problem.” Especially if they only wanted her aloft for short bursts. “I’m good with a sword in the air, but I won’t be able to do much damage on my own.”