Still, she remembered the broken man, the smoky daemon. Tylar was no longer the knight she knew. He had been broken and re-formed. Who was he now? Did she have the strength to find out? Would they ever have the time?

The woods opened before them. More of the castillion appeared in bits and pieces. The rain fell harder.

Reaching the edge of the myrrwood, they saw what lay ahead of them. Torches sputtered throughout the Eldergarden, illuminating brighter pools in the stormy gloom and shivering shadows. The far side of the Eldergarden stirred with dark shapes. Some wore the livery of the castillion guard, but such finery was shredded and torn. Most were naked to the rain.

Ilk-beasts.

All of them.

“He’s transformed the entire guard,” Gerrod said. “Even the house staff.”

“An ilk legion,” Rogger mumbled.

Tylar faced them with his one sword. Kathryn read the despair in his eyes. His daemon was useless against the writhing throng that awaited them. His sword could strike only once before it vanished back to shadow and light. And in the thick of battle, there would be no chance to replenish the blade. How could Tylar even defend the god-child?

Still, behind the despair, a weary determination shone through.

Then the skies over the castillion opened, the clouds parted. A dark shape lowered from the storm, aglow with soft Grace. Then another appeared… and another. Flippercrafts. A half dozen dropped around the towers of castillion. Lightning crackled along the clouds, highlighting the flags mounted atop each ship.

Kathryn stared and knew all was lost.

The flags were black. Each emblem crimson.

The Fiery Cross.

Kathryn pictured the slain young knight on the stone floor. His heart cut out, his blood spilled. She smelled again the burned bones of the charnel pit.

Lit by the fires below, the belly of each flippercraft opened above the towers. Ropes tumbled out, uncoiling, snaking to battlements and terraces.

Figures flowed down the ropes, ravens in a storm.

“Tashijan must have been summoned,” Gerrod said.

Kathryn slowly nodded.

And the Fiery Cross answered.

24

FALL FROM ON HIGH

The six flippercrafts emptied over the towers and battlements. Shadowknights flew down scores of ropes, dropping to stations throughout the castillion and grounds.

Tylar lost count of the number. Over two hundred.

“The Fiery Cross has come to defend Chrism,” Gerrod said.

Lightning crackled in a mighty arc across the belly of the clouds, threatening the airships. It was foolhardy to ride a lightning storm. But such was the determination of Tashijan.

The winds gusted harder. Rain pelted like hail. One flippercraft brushed too near a tower. Starboard skimmer paddles snapped, sheared away. The ship hove up on its side, fighting for balance.

The damaged flippercraft swung away from the castillion-toward them. It wobbled. A pair of unlucky knights fell from the dangling ropes, jostled loose by the sudden canting. The two plummeted into the gardens, wings of shadow billowing out. They disappeared, their fates unknown.

The ship fared no better, dropping swiftly. It belly crashed through an old garden wall. The cracking splinter of wood sounded like thunder.

“Seems a bad day for flippercrafts,” Rogger mumbled at Tylar’s side.

The ship skidded between their party and the castillion, rolled half on its side, port aeroskimmers high. Bluish fires spat up from the stern end. Rain turned to steam, shrouding the craft.

But not enough to hide the rush of knights and crew escaping the ship.

Behind Tylar, another of the myrrwood trees erupted, gouting flames high. The heat rolled over them. Too near. Fiery branches rained down around them and out into the main gardens.

They had to move or be burned.

“This way,” Tylar said and led them from the flaming forest. “Stay low.”

“Where are we going?” Rogger asked as they headed into the gardens.

“To the stoved ship,” Tylar said. “We’re too few. We need to convince those others to aid us.”

“And how are you going to do that?” the thief asked. “Your face isn’t that pretty.”

Tylar nodded to Kathryn. “She’s still castellan of Tashijan, second only to Argent. Shaken up, the few knights here may listen to her.” He lifted his sword. “And if they don’t, we have this.”

Rogger shrugged. “Don’t mind me if I hide behind you, then.”

Tylar took the thief’s words to heart. Their chances were poor.

The group marched through the gardens, trudging a direct route through bushes and flower patches. The rain continued to pour, turning dirt to mud. The crashed flippercraft towered ahead of them.

Tylar stopped by a low stone fence. There was no reason to risk all. “Everyone else stay hidden here. Kathryn and I will go forward alone.”

No one objected. Only Eylan met his gaze.

“Keep the others safe,” Tylar said to her, letting his concern for them ring clear. “That will serve us all best.”

Eylan glanced to the two girls, then nodded. The others had already sunk down and leaned against the wall, seeking some shelter from the wind and rain.

Tylar glanced to Kathryn. She nodded her readiness.

They set off down a gravel path, bordered by hedges and pocked with dancing pools of rainwater. They moved swiftly, falling into an easy rhythm, as if this were any rainy night and they were returning from some engagement together. Still, Kathryn fingered her diadem, the symbol of her station. It might be all that stood between them and a sword through the heart.

She glanced to Tylar, eyes shining with powers drawn from the shadows. There were words behind that gaze.

Tylar feared for them to be spoken aloud and turned away.

He gripped his sword. Its hilt remained warm, flowing to fit his fingers, throbbing slightly under his palm like a heartbeat. He stared down at it. What was he carrying? What was this Godsword?

Lightning crackled brilliantly, drawing his attention. The gardens flashed in stark silver. Darkness shifted. A shadowy shape rose, as if from the path itself, blocking them. A sword threatened.

“Hold!” Kathryn boomed out.

Tylar jumped, surprised at her firm authority.

The knight’s sword lowered slightly.

“I am Castellan Vail,” she continued, not letting the other collect himself. “Take me to your foreknight or whoever’s in charge.”

The sword lowered farther.

But before more could be managed, a deep growl erupted from the left. Something huge ripped through a thorny tangle of elderwytch.

Ilk-beast.

Tylar flew back, sword ready.

It crashed through the neighboring hedgerow, thrusting right through it, hardly slowing. Nothing could be discerned but its dark muscled bulk.

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