The Way Into Chaos (5 page)

“Col!” Lar called happily. The prince’s friends swarm around them. The Freewell girl was there, and so was her older brother; Bittler had indeed brought him, but he hadn’t convinced them to wash. Still, someone who didn’t know them would have though them respectable.
 

Lar and the Freewell boy embraced as though they hadn’t seen each other in months. Tejohn hated to admit it, but Colchua Freewell did look more like a prince than Lar Italga: his face was broad and handsome, his smile bold. “We couldn’t let you make a fool of yourself without us to jeer from the crowd!” Colchua said.

“Thanks, Col,” The prince answered. “I can always rely on you.”

“Nervous?” The Bendertuk boy asked, grinning.
 

Lar nodded
yes
while he said, “Absolutely not. Why should I be?”

They laughed and talked about inconsequential things as a shadow passed slowly over them. A flying cart circled above the palace. It settled down on top of the Scholars’ Tower and, judging by a flurry of movement Tejohn could barely see, discharged a few men before floating away again.
 

The Freewell girl broke away from the group and stood beside Tejohn at the garden rail. The dais where the king and queen would stand was below them in the courtyard. It wasn’t proper for singers, actors, mimes, and clowns to stand on higher ground than the royal family, but the portal would open down there, in the usual place, so the rightful order had to be upended. Merchant families, palace servants, notable scholars, and honored guests lounged on balconies, or leaned out windows, or sat on the edges of roofs or promenades.

But there were no tyrs in attendance. Not the loyal ones, not the treacherous ones, none of them.
 

“Those men down there are palace guards, aren’t they?”

The Freewell girl pointed to a line of men standing fifteen feet behind the thrones. Each held a tall pole with a different colored streamer attached. “Those are athletes,” Tejohn answered, trying to keep the irritation out of his voice. There weren’t supposed to be any guards or soldiers in the yard when the portal opened, but of course, Kellin also had a duty to protect the king and queen. “They’ll be competing in the games.”

“I recognize them.” If that was true, she had sharp vision, and that made him even more suspicious. It wasn’t rational, but few important things were. “They aren’t carrying weapons, though, are they?”

“The Evening People can sense weapons, so no, the athletes are unarmed.”

“Then why... Oh! They’re each holding a pole and streamer, and I’ll bet there’s a sharp metal point at the bottom, right? A spear point?”

Tejohn wondered if she was trying to goading him somehow. “The metal tip allows the pole to be set into the ground. They are not weapons.”

“Right,” she answered. “And those skull-crackers you’re wearing on your wrists are just jewelry.”

There was a sudden flash of light, and a sound like far-off lightning. Tejohn jolted upright, startled. The portal was opening, and soon the Evening People would appear.

The servants who were not supposed to be in the courtyard rushed into the palace. Everyone else hurried to take up their positions, even the king and queen. The scholars, “athletes,” and servants accompanying the royal family--and even the scholars were considered royal bodyguards, although Tejohn was careful not to show his opinion on
that
--assumed postures appropriate for welcoming respected guests. In the garden, the singers, actors, and other wastrels pressed against the rail, crowding around the prince and his entourage for a proper view.

The flash of light returned, and the disc appeared. It hovered in the air on its edge like one of Twofin’s hoops, and the surface was like a pool of water with bright sunlight reflecting from it. At first, it looked larger than Tejohn remembered, almost as wide as two men lying heel to crown, but no, it was the same.
 

The Freewell girl shifted position, and he realized she was in a perfect position to fire an iron dart at one of the Evening People as they came through. Tejohn tensed, ready to slam his metal bracer onto her collarbone if she drew something from her sleeve or began to cast a spell, but her hands never left the railing.

He looked back down at the dais. Nothing happened. Tejohn realized he was holding his breath, and exhaled. Had it taken so long for Co, the leader of the Evening People, to step through the last time? He wondered if he misremembered the events of that day, now a generation gone.
 

Then there was a terrible sound, like an animal roar mixed with a man’s scream. Before it faded, monsters charged through the portal onto the dais.

Chapter 4

Without any warning, a creature burst through the portal, bounding onto the stone dais and sniffing the air. It was as large as a mountain bear, but its frame was almost human. Its long arms and legs both ended in monstrous hands, and it was covered with pale purple fur.
 

It roared at them, displaying the fangs of a grass lion.
 

Cazia glanced up at Treygar, absurdly hopeful that she would see him smiling as though this was the most normal thing in the world, or maybe a prank they played on the young folk every Festival, but he was gaping in stunned surprise like everyone else.

Someone screamed. The beast glanced around the dais, roared again, and launched itself onto a scholar. The man fell back as the creature sank its fangs into his arm, then tore it from his shoulder.

Panic erupted in the courtyard. Bear men began pouring through the portal like water from a leaking bucket. Guards in civilian clothes charged forward in a line, swinging their bracers at the creatures’ heads.
 

But the monsters knocked them flat like they were rag dolls. Men and women screamed as the creatures bit into them. More beasts bounded over the line, landing directly in plumes of fire erupting from the scholars’ hands.
 

The creatures fell back from the wall of flames, letting the scholars advance. Could the scholars push them back through the portal?
If only I could be down there with them, defending the king and queen.

Then one of the beasts lifted a guard over its head and threw him into the jets of fire. He struck two scholars, knocking them completely off the dais. Beasts charged through the gap and swarmed the scholars from all sides, tearing them apart with their teeth and claws. Goose bumps ran up and down Cazia’s whole body and she suddenly felt lightheaded.
 

Servants, merchants, performers, all of them mobbed the gates or jammed the entrances to the palace in panicked mobs. Screams came from everywhere.

The king stood between the queen and the creatures, swinging his heavy chair in a powerful downward stroke. At the same moment, a jet of bright fire shot from the queen’s hands, so focused that it cut one of the creatures in half. The long spears of the so-called athletes in the yard suddenly thrust through the confusion, stabbing into the monsters surrounding the king and queen. A scholar, wounded but still alive, created a huge stone block--bigger than any Cazia had ever seen--between the royal couple and the beasts.

It didn’t matter. One of the bear men, though punctured with three long spears, knocked the king aside with a swipe of its claw. He fell into the surging mass of creatures. The queen stepped backward, fell off the dais and landed on her neck.

“MOTHER!” Lar screamed. Cazia saw the shock and anguish on his face. For a moment, the pain was so clear in his expression that he looked as if he had been murdered, too.
 

Treygar grabbed hold of him to stop him running out of the garden into the melee.
 

Cazia realized she had been frozen in place, watching the chaos and brutality as though it was just a mime. The king had vanished. The queen lay still in the dirt. The creatures bounded from the dais into the yard with the speed and grace of grass lions, running down those too slow to have escaped. Cazia had to do something. Anything. She was in danger.
Her friends were in danger
.
 

“My prince,” Treygar shouted, “we must retreat!”

“I can help!” Lar shouted back.
 

“
We
can help!” Colchua said.
 

“NO!” Cazia shocked herself by the force behind her response.

“My prince, we are overrun!
You must withdraw
!”

Timush and Pagesh grabbed Lar’s arms as though they were about to drag him away. Cazia heard scuffling on the stone below the railing and began the motions for a flame spell of her own. Out of habit, her hand motions helped bring out the correct clarity of thought, the colors, the swell of emotion the spell required.

One of the beasts reached the top of the railing, pulling itself up and roaring. Cazia finished just in time, feeling the flame rush from the space between her hands into the creature’s open mouth.

Treygar spun, moving much faster than she would have thought possible for such an old man, and slammed his bracer down on the creature’s head.
 

The beast’s gray blood splattered over them both.
These creatures are full of magic. I can feel it.
For one absurd moment, Cazia was overwhelmed with dismay over her ruined dress, then she glanced over the rail. The creature was still plummeting to the paving stone below, but two more were climbing up.
 

She turned back to the others but didn’t have to say anything. Her brother seemed to read her mind. He and Timush grabbed the ends of a stone bench and lifted.

Treygar grabbed the prince’s arm again. “No!” Lar said. “I can’t abandon everyone!” Colchua and Timush dropped the bench over the railing. Painful yelps and heavy crashes followed soon after.
 

“Lar!” Cazia shouted at him. “Stoneface is right! Do what he says or you’re going to get us all killed!”
 

Treygar pointed at Pagesh. “You’re in charge of the little girl! Let’s move!”

Pagesh scooped up Jagia, who immediately burst out crying. The courtyard was filled with screams, prayers, and monstrous roaring. Treygar began to run eastward through the garden, heading toward the promenade and the graveyard menagerie. Did he plan to go into the palace and escape through the Sunrise Gate?

“Stop!” Cazia called. “We can’t go that way; they’re already inside the palace. We have to go there.” She pointed toward the Scholars’ Tower, pulling Lar and the others after her.

Treygar didn’t argue. He pushed forward, letting the young people run ahead. Col and Timush led the way, sprinting toward the tower door. Lar ran just behind them, with Treygar close on his heels. Pagesh was a strong runner, but not when she had a hysterical child to carry. Treygar glanced back at her, clearly worried, but he didn’t pause to help. Cazia ran last, regretting her decision to wear this big, beautiful dress and ignoring her hat when it blew off her head.

I am running for my life inside the Palace of Song and Morning.
 

This was happening. It was happening right now. Cazia almost stopped to look around;
 
she’d just seen the king and queen murdered, and she might be next. This was a moment for histories, songs, and plays, and she was actually living it. She felt strangely detached and incredulous.
 

The servant girl who had tried to dump dirty water onto her feet—an Enemy—ran by them, her eyes wild with terror.
 

“Don’t you shut that door!” Col shouted. A weedy-looking scholar was pushing the heavy door to the Scholars’ Tower closed. His eyes bulged in terror, and for a moment it seemed he wouldn’t obey. Treygar shouted at him, and he hesitated long enough for Colchua to throw his shoulder into it and fling the door wide.
 

“To the top!” Treygar yelled. Good. He’d already figured out why Cazia had chosen the tower. A pair of frightened old scholars demanded someone Explain Everything Immediately, but Timush shoved them aside. They all ran for the stairs.
 

“Bar that door!” Cazia yelled back at them. Doctor Whitestalk’s desk was empty. “Shutter the windows!”

“Wait!” Pagesh shoved Jagia into Cazia’s arms. Her eyes were wild and a little sad. “I’m going to find Zilly.” She sprinted out of the tower, shouting, “Bar the door behind me!”
 

One of the old men slammed the door and threw the bolt. Lar, Col, and the other boys had already vanished up the stairs. No one but her and Jagia had seen Pagesh go. Zilly? It took a moment for Cazia to remember that was the name of her maid.

Jagia’s face was uncomfortably close to her own: the girl had stopped crying, but she looked pale and stunned.

Cazia set her down. “Can you run?” She nodded. “Go! I’ll be right behind you.”
 

“My prince!” a voice farther up the stairs shouted. “What can we do to help?”

The girls caught up with the others in the administration chamber, and Cazia was the last to push inside. The speaker was Doctor Warpoole, the Scholar Administrator for the entire empire. She was more of a functionary than a spellcaster, but she had been formidable in her younger years. Cazia didn’t much like the woman but she hoped to be her someday, or at least serve the empire in her place.