Page 274 of Swords of Soul and Shadow
Zeke. This was the road Zeke had lived on.
She knew where she was.
If she could just make it back to the nearby marketplace, she could find her way to the Jayde Center and back down into the Catacombs.
She fetched the pistol, a grimace on her face.
She could do this.
She would not let her panic assault her now.
Kissing Samuel’s head and shushing him best she could, she left the protection of the doorway.
Jove
THE CATACOMBS WERE TOO EMPTY. Many of the lower city citizens had returned to the surface, but Jove hadn’t expected the tunnels to echo so much as they traveled up through the passage from where he, Saldr, and his father had entered weeks ago.
It felt more like an eternity.
He needed to plan with the remaining City Council members now that his father was dead. With all of their cooperation, they could organize the city and find a way to rebuild. He’d need to contact the City Governors and others like his father-in-law, the Shield Marshal of southern Jayde. With the entire High Council dead, they were running blind.
First, they needed to handle the Cerls. Kase’s patrols had been helpful in keeping the flyovers minimal, and with Correa’s death, maybe the others would surrender. But that was only a hope, not a certainty.
If only Hallie Walker had restored the electricity, they would’ve been in much better shape. His father, for all his faults, had been a competent leader. He put his country first—just to the detriment of his family, but apparently, that had been the only way he could cope after so much loss. Now it was Jove’s job.
Hopefully Miss Walker and Kase returned soon.
And hopefully the world wouldn’t fall apart before they did.
Jove lost count of each step as he scaled the winding stone stairs, his lungs and legs struggling the further up he went. Saldr’s glowing orb guided them up the spiraling staircase. Jove touched the Cerl pistol holstered at his waist. Surely he wouldn’t need it.
He didn’t want to use it, not knowing the secret behind it—the secret his uncle had delivered to the Cerl queen—but he didn’t have a choice. He was rubbish with a sword. He wasn’t his father, nor was he Zeke.
He was Jove Harlan Shackley, and he would find a way to make this right. He would do what he could for his country and his family.
He had his family to protect and lead.
The closer to the surface they hiked, rumbling and thumping sounded above. Muffled clangs and distant roars leaked through the wall. Tremors rocked the door above. It was almost as if Jove’s ears were submerged in water.
Saldr looked back, fear widening his eyes. “Jagamot has come.”
Jove’s blood ran cold. “But I thought…wasn’t Eravin…”
Saldr nodded but said, “In the Dawn, he had many forms and an army of shadows. I fear…”
Clara was up there. And if those sounds were what he thought they were…
Jove charged past Saldr, drawing the pistol at his waist and cocking it with one smooth motion. He wrenched open the door at the top. Cold air, anguished screams, and the wet, hot smell of blood slammed into him like an ocean wave.
He caught himself on the doorframe as his eyes took in the destruction.
The city hadn’t yet recovered from the first attack, but what little progress they’d made had been undone. The screams of the dying rang even louder than they had that first time. There was no dragon today, but the gray shadows fighting alongside those with black veins crawling up their necks scared him more. A few necks boasted a triple diamond tattoo.
The back of Jove’s throat burned with bile, and a shudder rent his body. He couldn’t move, only stare at the horror in front of him. Saldr joined him, breathless. One of the shadow specters clawed at an older gentleman bleeding from the head and a gash in his neck. Thrusting his hand in his pouch, Saldr slung dust in their direction, shouting in Yalven.
Golden light burst from his hand and shot toward the shadow creature.
It burst into mist, and the older man slumped, the relief and pain overwhelming him.
