Trembles shuddered in the city. He thought about the position of Landmoor on the hill. When he had come with Justin through the fog, they had circled around the road leading up to the south gates to the base of the hill. The opening that led into the tunnels was there. If he remembered the view of the city, vague as it was, the governor’s mansion would help him place the location of it. Either way, they had to get out of the city before the dueling Sorian turned it all into a heap of debris.
Lantern fire blazed from the alley ahead of them, bathing them all in brilliance. Past the piercing light stood a wall of Bandit soldiers, crossbows leveled.
“Behind me!” Xenon snarled, shoving in front of Thealos. He whistled sharply, a battle cry. Blue light lit up the alley as the leaf-bladed swords came up.
The Bandits didn’t hesitate. “Loose!”
Thealos was faster than them all.
Knocking Xenon to the ground, he tugged Stasy behind him and charged the Bandits. The crossbow stocks shuddered as the bolts converged on him, but the Oath magic seethed inside and the bolts strayed to each side, clacking and spattering on the timber alley walls. He let go of Ticastasy’s hand so that he could surge even faster, whipping his blade around in a whirlwind. The magic swelled inside him.
How many soldiers were there? A dozen? More? He felt the razor edge cut through hauberk and skin, slashing, cutting, slicing as he whip-wheeled it through the maze of Bandit soldiers. The Silvan magic in it flared like a spike of sun. An officer in black and gold charged him, but Thealos caught the man’s hilt with his free hand and sheared his head off with a single stroke. Nausea rose up at the sight of his victim, but the wellspring swallowed the memory, taking his experience and adding it to the whole. Wolfsmen joined the fray, their leaf-blades slicing through the charge of bodies. Their howls filled the air and he felt part of them—as if their blades, in some small way, allowed them a feathery light touch on the wellspring itself. But their drink came in sips while his was a flood.
The wellspring gave it to him—all of it—the Way of Ice and Shadows. A fighting art that had existed since the Shae arrived on Safehome. As hard and impervious as a glacier crushing a mountain in its wake. As soft and subtle as autumn shadows beneath aspen trees. A combination of styles with a devastating effect. It would take years to practice all the motions, all the weapons, all the stances—to embed them all into his own mind without needing the wellspring. It could take a lifetime.
The wellspring warned him against the distraction of contemplating it too closely, and Thealos sidestepped a thrust towards his ribs and brought his elbow cocking into the man’s teeth, bringing him down to the cobbles and following with a strike that would leave him gasping for air.
The Bandits were dead, not a single Wolfsman lost.
Thealos felt the eddies of the Oath magic swirl and fade and his body shuddered from what it had just done. Muscles and joints screamed, his knuckles cut and bruised. He felt himself sway but managed to keep his feet. It took all his willpower not to vomit again. Too much magic. Too soon. Ban it, how am I going to get to the Crystal without using more?
Xenon stared at him, his eyes wide.
The secret was out.
A look of comprehension flooded the Wolfsman’s eyes. He recognized what he saw but it was incomprehensible to him.
“How?” His voice choked off. “How can you…fight like us? You are just a boy…you haven’t been trained. It’s not…it’s Forbidden. How can you know this?”
Thealos stared into his eyes, but he felt all of them looking at him. Even Stasy stared at him, mouth gaping.
What to tell them? What would they be able to understand? He was forbidden to discuss the Nine Oaths—even to mention them.
“It’s a different path than the one you’ve chosen, Xenon. But it came from the same source. You’ve only been taught a part of it.”
The Lor shook his head, his eyes clenching tight. “I have trained since before you were born! It is…unnatural.”
Thealos’ temper snapped. “Unnatural? I watched you fight, Xenon. If you only knew how much of your own Way has been lost because you’ve had to rely on someone’s memory to teach you. There is more of your Way than you will never know. Than all the grand Lors of your order can remember. It is more than memory, Xenon. You’ve tasted but the crust of it.”
The implications seemed to stagger the rest of them. Many looked at him with grudging respect.
He looked at Xenon, drained. “I can’t do this alone. If there are too many soldiers below, I won’t be able to defeat them all. No Sleepwalker can last forever. Our strength does fail in the end. I need you—I need you all. Let’s get down there before the Sorian destroy everything.”
Turning back, he watched a smile quirk Ticastasy’s mouth. Good job, Quickfellow, she seemed to say with her eyes. You put him in his place at long last.
He would have basked in that realization if his stomach weren’t churning so much. “When the dawn comes, we won’t be able to hide our movements. I don’t see a lick of fog this morning. There isn’t much time left.”
Another massive shudder jolted the city.
*