Page 60 of Vanquished Gods
I scanned my surroundings. Swinging in the wind, the tavern signs displayed images of severed heads, of bones and bloodied swords. Centuries ago, when we still had kings, Ambrosias the Sixth had ordered a Pater to be assassinated. The murder happened in Dredbury, the Pater’s throat cut in his own Archonium. It had backfired for the king. The Pater became a martyr, and now his bones rested in a glass case on the altar. Pilgrims traveled there from all over Merthyn to pay their respects, and the taverns made as much money as they could off this connection.
The new Pater chose this place for a reason—a statement of pious sacrifice, of the endless power of the Order.
When the road opened into the town square, fear snapped through my nerve endings. We stood at the edges of the square, blending into the crowd.
In the center of the square, a stake had been set up on a scaffold. I found myself wondering how long they’d leave him there if our mission failed and he died, and if a vampire’s dead body would burn in the sun, regardless of whether they wore their pendant.
I forced myself to pull my gaze from the stake and my dark ruminations, instead scanning the square with a growing sense of dread. The townspeople had gathered in clusters, huddled around the square, watching for Maelor’s arrival. Their faces were pale, their eyes wide and mouths curved with a strange sortof giddy excitement. They were scared, waiting for us to arrive—the monsters they’d been warned about—and they’d be delighted to see us captured, as if the Order were keeping them safe. They had no idea who the real monsters were.
I turned my gaze upward, toward the balconies that ringed the square. Archers crowded the upper levels, arrows already nocked and aimed. The Luminari were ready for us, and when we gave ourselves up, there could be no missteps. The moment we used magic, the archers would loose hundreds of arrows.
I could hardly breathe. Maelor would die there if we didn’t get everything exactly right.
The new magister crossed before the scaffold, pacing. Sion’s replacement moved with a slow, deliberate grace, draped in black robes that marked him as the military commander. A golden sun pendant gleamed against his chest, catching the last light of the fading sun. He was much younger than I’d thought, far too young to carry that kind of authority. His blond curls framed a face that was almost serene, his expression calm. He had no idea he would also die young.
My pulse pounded. I could sense Sion beside me, coiled and ready to strike.
Sion leaned in closer and whispered, “When they bring Maelor out, we shift to the front of the crowd. When I give the signal, I will use shadows to darken the square. But it must all happen at vampire speed. The moment I fully unleash my darkness, you need to roll to a new position in case the archers identify us as the ones using magic. Then unleash your magic to kill the Magister and the soldiers around Maelor. Understood?”
I nodded.
Shadows began pooling more thickly, the sky now streaked with periwinkle.
The growing tension in the air was thick enough to choke on. My heart was a wild drumbeat in my chest, my hand sweatyaround the tip of my wand. But beneath the fear, determination coursed through my veins. We would not be leaving without Maelor.
An excited murmur spilled through the square, and I glanced at the opposite side, where the crowd was parting.
Armored soldiers were dragging Maelor across the town square, his arms bound behind him. A Luminarus walked backward before Maelor with a stake aimed directly at his heart. Maelor’s head hung forward, his dark hair covering his face. My stomach churned with nausea at the sight of him. They’d clearly tortured him, and I was sure hawthorn had been involved. He wasn’t healing.
Sion and I edged our way to the front of the crowd, giving us a clear shot at the scaffold. As we stepped forward, that also gave the archers a clear view of us. Would they notice that my armor was several sizes too large for me?
The Magister Solaris turned at the sight of him, straightening. I knew that as soon as Sion used his shadows, that stake would start pressing into Maelor’s heart. Mentally, I calculated how swiftly it would move, based on the angle, the closeness. I wouldn’t have long to shift position before using my magic.
“The man before you is Serpent-cursed, and his friends have chosen to let him die here.” The Magister’s voice carried over the square. “They are not loyal, even amongst themselves. This loyal Luminarus has been ordered to drive that hawthorn stake into the creature’s heart. I must say, I feel little guilt in killing a monster.”
The soldiers dragged Maelor up the scaffold. My heart slammed hard, and I felt Sion go taut beside me, the tension tightening like a noose around our necks.
I summoned my magic, my body thrumming with the dark power of decay. My gaze flicked to Sion.
“Now,” he whispered.
I let my yew wand drop from my sleeve into my palm just as a dome of shadows burst from his body, blanketing everything around us in darkness.
We rolled out of position, hoping to dodge the arrows, just as an officer barked the order to his archers: “Loose!”
Screams ripped through the town square, and the night swallowed us. Using my wand, I sent my death magic toward the scaffold—a large bloom of it in the general direction of the Magister and Maelor.
Arrows clattered nearby, slamming against the stones where we’d been kneeling just moments before. Screams pierced the air.
My blood roared. Apart from the vampires and me, everyone in the sphere of shadows would be dead now.
The question was, had we been fast enough to spare Maelor’s life? Had the Luminarus driven that stake into his heart, or had we killed him before he had the chance?
In the darkness, Sion grabbed my arm and pulled me off the ground. But as he did, I felt an arrow pierce my neck, and agony ripped through my throat.
I can’t breathe…
My breath faltered, copper on my tongue. Panic ripped through my thoughts, just for a split second, and then everything went quiet.