Light Wielder (Fire & Metal, #2) — Chapter 59

Chapter 59

ACKER

“She is magic,” Evelyns whispers, eyes alight as she watches her daughter

next to me.

I wholeheartedly agree. “She is.”

She did a better job than Fredrich and I ever could. Keeping the sword raised, I watch as she walks to the front of the line and the soldiers’ frenzy follows down the line with her. I move to follow her, but Evelyn stops me with a hand on my arm.

But even as she speaks, she doesn’t tear her eyes away from her daughter. “You need to spread the word to your men. On the count of ten, cover themselves with their shield or whatever they can find.”

Fredrich speaks up. “What happens after the count?”

Evelyn’s eyes slip to mine as she says, “Just make sure everyone knows to take cover.”

My eyes dart to Zion’s and he doesn’t need further instructions, disappearing into the fray. When I look back at Evelyn, she, too, is merging with the soldiers, and I quickly lose sight of the gold sword strapped to her back.

A piercing sort of pain shoots through the Bond that has me looking for Jovie, feeling her through the tether. She’s within view. Head tilted back to the sky, her eyes search the expanse of black above, looking for someone who won’t be coming.

Even as I think it, I don’t want to believe it, half convinced Messer will

swoop in and save the day.

Eat a troll or something.

Jovie’s pain is violent. And when she drops her gaze from the sky, there’s a new kind of determination in her stature. I can see her fury mixing with grief, a dangerous combination, but powerful as she matches the rage- filled energy of her men. Eyes blazing with the need for blood, teeth barring as she shouts her orders for the men to ready themselves. Their war cries are deafening.

But on the wind, there’s an answering call.

Looking to the city, the flickering firelight slowly creeps closer, the vibration in the land growing stronger.

I make to move toward Jovie, but Fredrich stops me with a hand on my shoulder. “I’ll stay with Jo. Don’t let your concern for her distract you,” he

says.

Impossible.

He gives me a pointed look. “I’ve got her.”

Knowing he means it, I jerk him to me in a swift embrace. “Let’s get

this over with, yeah?”

He grins. “Let’s.”

Jovie is staring into the distance when I come upon her. Snow speckles her hair, little flakes of ice against her red locks. The sword in her hand radiating a steady light. I say her name and it almost feels like she’s looking through me when her eyes meet mine. I cup her face in my hand, holding her stare until I see fissures begin to form in her icy exterior.

“Marry me,” I tell her.

There she is.

Relief floods through me as her mouth thins. She’s annoyed, yes, but there’s also a flicker of humor down the tether. She opens her mouth and I hear the answer in her mind, and I cover her mouth with mine before she can speak it. The kiss is a promise from each of us to fight until tomorrow, when we can look back at this in memory.

Pulling away, I cradle her to my front, forearm across her chest. I breathe her in. Wildflowers mix with the smell of ice; chin tucked into her neck as I watch the pinpoints of firelight descending on our position.

I love you.

I’m stopped in my tracks, registering the words she projects toward my mind. The worry I’ve carried since I first heard her fears of me obtaining Vad’s gift spikes before slowly melting into something completely opposite.

Placing my mouth against her temple, I send my own message back. Tell me tomorrow.

A quiet settles over the army and that’s when I notice the disappearing fire in the distance. One after another, the fires extinguish in a move reminiscent to the time Jovie arrived in Kenta. It’s a strategic move to make the incoming army invisible in the night air, swirling snow and clouded breaths creating a veil over their position.

“Put out your fires,” Jovie commands.

The order gets passed through the crowd and the light steadily wanes until we’re also cast in darkness. Jovie’s sword is the last to remain lit before she pulls her gift back. Removing two daggers from the strap across my chest, I move to Jovie’s side.

Other than the clank of swords against shields, shuffling feet, and heavy breaths, it’s silent as we listen for the incoming horde. It’s the calm before the storm.

Then, so very slowly, a vibration increases under our feet. Not the booming caused from trolls, but the kind from a flowing stampede. The yells of the men come next, their chorus coming in much quicker. We ready ourselves, anticipation coursing through the entire throng of soldiers.

It feels as if a wall of metal is coming for us. In their clothes, and weapons, and blood. So much iron that it makes my teeth hurt.

“Hundred paces,” I warn Jovie, Fredrich by her side. I run the back of my knuckles against the fist she has her sword clutched in and I can nearly sense her building anticipation through the Bond. “Fifty.”

Like an incoming thunder, the sound of thousands of men comes barreling down on us, their yells mixing with yells of our own right before the collision. The incoming men are barely visible in the night, their arrival bringing forth a gust of wind. My ears ring as metal bangs into metal, bodies into bodies.

Fredrich’s shield cocoons us, but not entirely. Unperceived threats sneak past the barrier, like the man stumbling into my front. I can’t tell who he’s aligned with, and I don’t want to kill our own men, but before I can react,

Jovie ignites her sword.

Except, it’s not just her sword.

It’s every sword within fifty paces that ignites with light.

Fredrich cusses and there’s a stunned moment where the fighting stutters, everyone stunned, some of our own men dropping their weapons in fear. I stare at Jovie in awe. But all she does is cut down the Roison soldier who found himself within our shield with a backswing of her sword. It doesn’t take long for the fighting to resume, our men using the newly quired advantage of blinding light to strike down their adversaries.

I flick a dagger to my right, the blade arching back toward me, slicing the man coming toward us across the throat. Been hiding that nifty trick, have you?

There’s a cocky edge in her expression when her eyes cut to me. I find myself smiling as I jab my dagger into an Alaha’s ribs, using my magic to shove the weapon through the front of his chest, out the back, grabbing the sword in his poised hand right before he crumbles to the ground, recalling the bloodied dagger in my other.

I hold the front line with Jovie and Fredrich and have the vague sense of Zion nearby.

The killing is mindless. I can feel my heart beating in my chest, hear it in my ears, but everything seems to calm in the sea of rage. Instinct takes over, an endless sequence of motion. My vision locks in sporadic moments, time caught in the span of breaths, in the pause of a blink. I watch as my sword splits a man open ear to mouth, his tongue visible on a scream I can’t hear. Swirling snow as I spin and throw my sword up against an incoming saber. Jovie’s blade spearing through the man’s chest. On and on it goes.

Stumbling over the fallen, we don’t stop. We don’t slow.

Then, the ground judders.

A violent shake that has everyone freezing in place, even our opponents as the tremor comes again, except stronger. The roar of a troll vibrates the air and everyone looks toward the bellow, as a growing figure emerges from the swirling snow. It’s the troll with one less eye and he’s hurtling through the horde of battle, feet hitting the ground with violent force as he stumbles over his own men. Their deaths end in abrupt screams.

When a second set of steps sound in the distance, Zion’s prayer is just about audible above the melee. “Mother help us.”

We move in unison to avoid being crushed to death under the foot of the troll. But every man around us has the same idea, Roison, Alaha, Kenta, and

Maile alike, all make for a congested escape out of the troll’s path. We’re not going to make it.

Jovie and Fredrich skid to a stop ahead of me, and I clutch the sleeve of Jovie’s leathers and yank her in the opposite direction. Toward the troll rather than away. Zion catches on. Faster than Fredrich and I both, he sprints toward the giant, sword raised over his head, a cry leaving his mouth as he slides underneath the falling footfall of the troll. He scores the bottom of his sole, sliding across the ground as blood waterfalls from over his head.

He barely escapes being smooshed as the troll screams. The sound is ear- piercing, but the giant stumbles to the side, creating an opening for the rest of us to get by.

He’s angry. He growls as he bends over, swatting a hand across the ground and taking out anyone in his path. Bodies fly, screams fading into the night sky. The giants are either too hard to control, or Wren really doesn’t give a fuck about his own men. Shoving Jovie ahead, I make sure she and Fredrich are clear of the troll’s rampage, I fall back. Jovie screams my name, but I don’t break concentration as I ready the sword in my hand like a javelin, squinting as I take aim. And when the troll bends to grab a handful of soldiers, I hurl the sword, pushing the metal through the air toward my target. His remaining eye explodes as soon as the sword pierces

it.

I make a run for it.

Blood and ooze rain down from above; the giant cries as he struggles to stay upright. A fight he’s going to lose, I realize, skidding to a stop. I meet Jovie’s eyes and shake my head when she makes to move toward me.

Fredrich stops her with a hand around her arm as I backtrack, my feet fighting for purchase across the wet ground. Blood and guts and trumpeting feet have created a muck of mud. The troll careens toward the earth, blocking my view of them as his body falls, the resulting crash shaking the earth and sending a burst of wind in every direction. Anyone within a hundred paces hits the ground.

Lifting myself up, I shake the gunk from my hands. I feel for Jovie, the tether leading me to her location on the other side of the fallen giant.

Men scramble toward the troll as he fails on the ground, taking their chance to put him down permanently.

A resounding scream has me looking over my shoulder, the other troll’s anger evident as he roars into the night air, and this one unfortunately has both of his eyes. Both of which are set on me and he’s already headed in my

direction.

Fuck.

I run along the length of the fallen giant for cover, but it’s quickly evident that I’m not going to be able to outrun this troll; the booms of his footfalls closer too fast, the ground quaking underneath my feet make my knees rattle. I trip over the fallen, sliding in the muck. Scrambling onto my back, I pick up every piece of metal I can sense on the ground around me

and hurl it at the troll looming ahead.

A useless endeavor.

What little connects barely wounds. Most he’s able to swat away. The giant makes a fist, and with his fallen brethren at my back, there’s nowhere for me to go as I wait for when he brings it down onto my head.

But something stops him.

Someone.

I sense bitterness of the blood. I see Wren, standing amidst the fray of battle behind the giant. His focus isn’t on me, but the troll, hand outstretched, brow furrowed in painful concentration. His attention is so wholly focused that he doesn’t see his son. Like he’s been waiting for this moment his whole life, he comes from behind and slices his father’s neck in one swift motion, splitting his neck open.

I look up and the troll’s eye is rolling back, the white of his eye only visible as he sways in place. I think he may be … falling asleep?

I don’t wait to find out.

I turn toward the fallen troll. The tatters of his tunic hang from his form, and I wrap my hands around the material, using them to climb atop his body. There’s a rush of air from behind me and when I turn around, the troll is on his side—snoring.

When I look back toward Wren, he’s face down on the ground, and Kai is long gone. Chaos reigns as the fighting continues. The casualties litter the ground, getting smothered by mud as they’re trampled over. It’s messy and stomach souring. Out of all the battles I’ve witnessed, this is by far the most depraved.

Worst of all, I see most of our own in the fallen. We’re being fucking slaughtered.

The snow has slowed, just a few tufts of white floating to and fro, the overcast sky thinning just enough for the sliver of moon to be visible through the clouds. It affords me just enough light to have an unfettered view of the battlefield, stretching as far as the eye can see in every direction.

My eyes lock on Jovie. Fredrich and Zion have their backs to her as they fight off any incoming threat. Her gaze is set on something in the distance and as I follow it, I see a flash of gold wings. The first of many. Like a flower blooming amidst death and horror, gold butterflies emerge. Their flight draws the attention of the sea of men, heads tilted back, mouths agape at the sight. Sam stands on the edge of the box he’s just opened, mouth moving as he yells to men below. I can’t hear it, but as our men below yell in unison, the message travels on the wind, barely a whisper as it reaches

my ears.

Light Wielder.

My chest caves as I realize the chant is the count. When I look back at Jovie, she’s already looking at me. And on the next count, I join, the chant

proud on my lips.

Light Wielder.

It’s as if the wind stills as the chant continues to grow in volume.

Almost as if the Mother herself has stopped to listen.

Light Wielder.

I call for a discarded shield, catching the weight of metal in my hands.

Light Wielder.

The fight at temporary impasse, Fredrich drops his sword to his side,

mouth moving in time with the chant.

Light Wielder.

And as the count grows to encompass the entire battleground, Jovie ignites her sword, eyes still locked on mine. I wasn’t exaggerating when I said I’d serve at her feet. I’d bend my knees at this very moment if I was

standing before her.

Light Wielder.

And as the count narrows down to the final three, she ignites her sword in a burning glow, rotating it with her wrist as she readies herself.

Light Wielder.

Then she aims her sword toward the butterflies fluttering.

Light Wielder.

There’s a flurry of crashing metal sounds as all our men lift their shields over their heads to take cover, myself included.

Light Wielder.

I watch from beneath the armor across my back as Jovie unleashes her light toward the golden butterflies in a beam of pure brilliance. Its radiance hits their wings, and the light is immediately reflected back, compounding with each beat of their wings before being redirected toward the ground in a stunning view of dancing shafts of light. I can’t help but think to myself in this moment that light burns brightest after the dark.

Wren’s men don’t know what hits them.

Not until the light scores their flesh do their cries begin. A chorus of anguish as they burn from the outside in, skin melting from their bones as the light continues to shift and dart across the battlefield. It scores the faces and heads of anyone who didn’t know to keep cover. It dances over me, its heat searing over the plate of metal on my back. I close my eyes from the blinding light, covering my head, praying to the gods that a beam doesn’t come at me at an unfortunate angle.

It goes on for what feels like an eternity but is likely no longer than a few minutes. The smell of burning flesh fills my lungs. By the time the heat abates, and I dare to open my eyes, there is just a handful of beams left.

Carefully peeling away the shield over my head, I look out over the valley.

Cleared of enemy forces, either by death or surrender. Heat rises from the scored flesh and earth and into the air, steam billows around us.

And in the center stands Jovie, chest heaving, sword down by her side as she takes in her doings with wide eyes.

I sling myself off the troll, staggering on my feet on the soiled ground.

Our soldiers rise from their makeshift shelters, stunned and off-kilter as they take in the suddenly quiet battlefield. Bodies lay in waste, their flesh still bubbling and sizzling, some of their skin sloughing from their bones as I step over them in my haste to get to Jovie.

Sam is already with her. He tells her he’s proud of her. That it had to be done. Evelyn pulls her close next, but I can tell she’s overwhelmed. And when her eyes meet mine, I feel her calling me toward her, the Bond pulling

at the tether. Once I’m within reaching distance, she yanks me to her, and I bury my face in her hair as I cradle her against me.

I feel her shock.

“It’s over, Jovie,” I tell her.

And she repeats after me. “It’s over.”

The sound of soldiers cheering erupts all around us and it seems to pull her out of her daze. The men throw their fists in the air, shouting to the sky.

It lasts about as long as it takes to realize there’s an enemy soldier who somehow managed to escape with his life. Their cheers die as they move out of the way as the one soldier in particular walks through the throng of men with his hands raised in surrender, blonde hair escaping in tendrils

around his face as he comes closer.

Kai.

A soldier rushes over and kicks his legs out from behind him, sending him to his knees. He catches himself with a hand before straightening, expression unreadable.

Stepping from my embrace, the rage Jovie had depleted returns with a vengeance. “How dare you show your face,” she sneers, the sword in her hand trembles, the metal still hot to the touch.

Her skin begins to glow.

“Jovie,” I say, a touch of warning in my tone. “Easy.”

She looks down, taking note of her radiating heat, but she continues.

“Where’s Messer?” she demands. “What did you do with him?”

“I don’t know,” he says.

She stomps forward and I’m impressed by his ability to not flinch in the face of her ire. “Did you know? What your father planned to do? Kill Messer? Nearly doing the same to me?”

He shakes his head once. “No,” he says, voice sallow. “He found out I’d been moving men into the city, and he basically disowned me. Said I was a waste of an Heir.”

Her light flashes across her body. “I don’t believe you,” she says, eerily calm.

“Jovie,” I say, placing a soft touch to her shoulder, the warmth nearly painful as I gently turn her toward me. “He saved my life.”

This gives her pause, brows furrowing as she struggles to make sense of the words. “What?”

I tilt my head toward him. “If he wouldn’t have stepped in,” I tell her. “I wouldn’t be alive right now.”

A soldier in the distance yells something, interrupting, but it’s difficult

to make out.

“What did he say?” Zion asks.

Fredrich responds, “It almost sounded like he said—”

“—the captain of the Alaha is dead!” the soldier yells again.

Jovie looks at Sam, not needing words to give him the order, and he disappears in an instant.

“It’s true,” I say, drawing their attention. “Wren is dead.”

“How do you know?” Jovie asks me. When my gaze shifts to Kai, her eyes snap toward him. “You killed your own father?”

The first flicker of true emotion ignites behind Kai’s eyes. “I did.”