Dire Sparks (Song of the Aura, Book Five) (17 page)

He wore a long, flowing black coat with a high collar and bronze-spiked shoulder armor. His boots were studded with spiked gold, and his bare chest was tattooed with swirling, diving golden symbols that seemed to glow in the red light. A transparent ribbon of dark cloth was wrapped around his eyes, making it hard to see his expression. Strapped to his back was his curved white sword in a gilded sheath… and somewhere beneath his clothing was the Midnight Dagger he had stolen.

Halfway up, Elia staggered, struck by both weakness and a cringe-inducing thought.
What if S… the Golden One suspects?
Instantly she quieted her thoughts, concentrating on nothing but the feeling of awe she had at actually surviving the final test.

Finally Gramling knelt at the top of the stairs, just below the dais, motioning for Elia to do the same beside him. Taking a deep breath, he spoke in a voice that boomed out over the arena, deeper and louder than mortally possible, aided by some unnamed facet of his gifts.

“
O Master of the Golden Sepulcher, I present to you this day… Elia Treele!”

A single, vibrating shout shook the arena as every Pit Strider in attendance pumped their fist once, calling out
“Skore!”
with unified voices. Afterwards, Gramling continued.

“
She has been broken, O Golden One, and forged in your likeness, as have we all. She has learned discipline and fortitude, loyalty and ruthlessness. Fury is her blood and terror her blade. She comes to you a new being… entirely ready to serve you, in any capacity you might wish. She is yours. May your will never leave her!”

“
Skore!”
roared the throng of Pit Striders.

Silence fell. It stretched over the entire arena like a suffocating noose, drawing tighter with each second. Then the Golden One spoke, in a voice like thunder and shards of ice, and the noose snapped close, vanishing.

“
Rise, Elia Kinn. No longer are you your own. Now you stand as one of the Golden Nation… powerful beyond compare, and glorious as only I can make you in all this world.”
With trembling fingers, Elia pushed herself up, standing, acutely aware of the tattered, bloodstained testing uniform she wore. The Golden One continued.

“
Step forward, Elia Kinn. You have received the mark of the Pit on your flesh, carved by the claw of one of my own. Now prostrate yourself before me, swearing fealty to my ways, and you will receive the mark of the Pit… on your soul.”

Elia had unsteadily approached the throne, and at his word she fell to one knee… shocked. She had not thought swearing to the darkness would be taken to such… literal… levels.

Her heart beat faster.

“
All the way,”
Gramling hissed behind her. That he had even spoken told her what danger she was in. She had to lie down and swear… or it was the end.

I wouldn’t have to mean it. I could pretend to swear, but in my mind stay loyal to the Aura…
It was a pleasant thought. But… she knew it was false. This swearing would mean more than the words. It would
bind
her, as it had bound Gramling and all the others. It would be an indelible part of her being… a betrayal of the Aura, and, by extension, the Creator Himself!

Her heartbeat reached a fever pitch.

“
Please…”
pleaded Gramling.

The arena was silent as a tomb, waiting on the outcome. The Golden One’s face was unreadable, but he shifted forward in his throne, and his color-shifting eyes seemed to glow with new intensity.

“
Fall, and swear,”
he ordered her, deathly quiet.

A bit unsteadily, Elia rose to her feet. Her sense of survival screamed at her to abandon this foolish notion, and do as he asked… but her heart told her otherwise.

“
No,” she whispered.

Thunder crackled overhead, though there were no clouds in the sky. Then… silence.

“
No…”
murmured Sheolus, seeming to muse over the word.

What are you waiting for?
Elia told herself.
He’s going to kill you! At least put up a fight!
She was about to summon a Fellspark when a hollow scream interrupted her. She jumped in fright as Gramling bolted past her, falling on his knees before Sheolus.

“
Don’t,” he panted, shaking. “She can be taught! I can still bring her to heel! She doesn’t realize… just give me…”

Sheolus didn’t move a muscle, but suddenly Gramling was flung to the side, suspended in midair as bonds of flowing wind wrapped him and gagged him a yard above the dais. In the split second before she could move, Elia saw his eyes bulge… not with fear, as she’d expect, but
urgency
. He’d planned this, and somehow it would help them. She just had to distract Sheolus.

Now,
his eyes said.

Elia whipped her arms forward, summoning a Fellspark, just as Sheolus raised his scepter. The stone at her feet seemed to come to life, surging upward and inward as if it wanted to consume her. Manacles of air slammed shut on every muscle in her body, slowing her movement and trying to crush her with their immense strength.

For a moment Elia was stabbed with fear. The godlike powers of the Aura and their dark counterparts, the Legion, gave them total control over all the physical elements. How could she hope to win against such odds? But she was no ordinary Strider, and this was no ordinary Stride.

Time slowed. The stone sprung up in tendrils of grasping death, and the air thickened around her, but not before she had raised her hands high enough to unleash the power of her Stormspark.

The spark jumped from palm to palm, agonizingly slow… then time returned to normal, just as the blue-white inferno burst from her hands, blasting away the stone and air that assailed her, engulfing Sheolus with the twin rage of Fire and Sea. To the side, Gramling’s eyes grew wide, but his struggles were still useless against the Golden One’s bonds. Despite her crushing fatigue, Elia held the Stormspark steady for almost half a minute, during which not a soul of the gathered Pit Striders moved to intercept the duel.

It’s not going to be enough,
she realized. Just then, a mad, cackling laugh broke from the midst of the blaze… and she faltered.

The Stormspark flickered out, and a gauntleted hand broke through the tempest of ice and fire, seizing her face with white-hot metal claws. She would have screamed, had the sudden piercing pain not been so great that she merely dropped limp, shaken like she had no bones. Then Sheolus lifted her bodily into the air, a hiss of fury escaping his garbled lips. His golden face had melted from her attack, dripping and sliding in a grotesque mockery of a smile.

The heat of his clawed grasp was too much to bear. She felt herself breathing far too quickly, then far too slowly, then not at all. Her vision grew dark, but through two of the massive armored fingers, she saw Gramling. He was free, creeping up behind the Golden One with the curved bone dagger…

…
Then Sheolus seized her head in both hands, and the white-hot claws pierced her eyes…

…
She shrieked in agony, losing consciousness from the sheer shock of the blow…

…
And the world went dark forever.

Darkness. Pressure. Cold. Pressure. Wind inside her. Pressure.

“
Breathe, Elia. Breathe. Come back…”

She was… alive. The realization slowly dawned on her, and with it, an overwhelming sense of peace. She could be captured, or worse… but she was
alive
.

“
G… Gramling? Is that you?” She had heard his voice, that much was sure. But why was it so dark out? Were they in a dungeon? She could feel wind on her skin, and there was no echo. A faint crackling sounded on the edge of her hearing, but she paid it no heed. Why couldn’t she remember coming here? Her memory was all too hazy.

“
It’s me, Elia.” It
was
him. “I got you away from the battle, and I healed your wounds.” Though it was still too dark to see, she felt him pressing a flask of something into her hands. “Drink this. It’ll give you strength. You’ll need all you can get, for the journey.”

Journey?
She was too tired to question. Fumbling a little in the dark, Elia uncorked the flask and put it to her mouth. Liquid fire seemed to pour down her throat: she gasped in pain and pleasure as a surge of energy swept through her, burning and healing at the same time. When she had drained the small flask, she felt Gramling take it back. Her head clear again, Elia became aware of an acute aching in her head, neck, and back.

“
Ow,” she said, twitching. Then, “Gramling, where are we? It’s so dark I can’t see.” She heard a sharp intake of breath, as if Gramling didn’t want to answer. After a pause, he did.

“
We’re… outside the Sepulcher. Far outside.” In the darkness, he helped her to her feet. His next words were laden with worry. “We need to go. It… the Sepulcher is burning, and
he’s
looking for us.”

Elia stopped dead. “He?”

Gramling sounded exasperated now, as he tried to pull her along. “You remember, Elia. Him. He’s coming. It’s been almost six hours. We’re out of time. I can’t hide us forever.”

She
did
remember. ‘He’ was ‘Sheolus.’ They had been going to…

Oh no. It had failed, then. They were
fleeing
. Oh, Aura above…
no.

She let him pull her. Sand and stones at her feet kept surprising her, as if they should not have been there… but every time she stumbled, he kept her up.

“
Gramling… why can’t you light a flame?” her voice wavered, as an evil suspicion slid icy fingers into her chest. “I can’t see a thing in this night.” He didn’t answer. She tripped over a stone, almost sprawling before he managed to haul her back up, increasing their pace. Elia felt like crying, but no tears would come. “Gramling?” She whispered, now.

“
It’s not night,” he said hoarsely. He slowed, then stopped.

“
Wh… what do you mean?” she said, pressing hands to his chest to assure herself he was there.

“
When you stood up to Sheolus… I used the distraction to stab him with the Midnight Dagger.” His voice was thick with emotion. “But… not before he hurt you. Badly. I tried to heal it… but…”

“
But
what?”
she almost shrieked.

“
You… you’re blind. I restored your eyes… but they don’t work. I’m not skilled enough in Pit Healing, or I could’ve done it. Maybe. I just… just…” He seemed on the verge of tears.

Blind. Elia trembled. The implications didn’t bear thinking about. Her mind pounced on the first distraction that came.

“
Then… Sheolus is dead?” she asked uncertainly.

“
No.” Gramling sounded bitter. “The Dagger wasn’t powerful enough. It slowed him, and it may have made him permanently weaker… but that’s not saying much, is it?”

“
No.” she trembled. “But that was our hope! Without it… the rebellion…” She was shaking, and he was trying to comfort her. She did not
want
comfort… she wanted to
die
.

“…
will fail?” She heard him laugh mirthlessly. “It already has. It was always going to. Sheolus knew the whole time.”

“
He… he…
what?”

Gramling’s voice grew soft. “I told him.”

Elia felt her heart turn to ice, and shatter. “No.”

“
Yes. I told him… but I told him so that he would trust me. So that in the last minute… he wouldn’t suspect me.”

All thoughts of her blindness fled as Elia seized the nearest piece of Gramling’s clothing she could feel, shaking as hard as she could.

“
Why
should I believe that?”

He removed her hands easily, speaking in a hard tone. “Because I did it to save you.”