Page 47 of Tomb of Ancients
She had just turned toward me when the first Adjudicator dropped out of the sky, hurtling toward us with two golden axes raised high. Finch had to be among them, I thought, but it was impossible to sort them out from the giant, floating phalanx of gold. That was the signal that broke the restless peace, and soon giants swarming with bees and screaming six-winged demons surged toward us across the field.
For an instant, it was so startling, so terrifying, that I froze. But then there was Father.Blood, he helpfully reminded me.Moreblood. No, came my answer, less blood shed by my friends. The only way to get through this was to protect my companions, no matter the cost. Mother had at first refused to assist, but at my nudging, she’d agreed to do what defensive spells she could. She stood closest to the house, in the shade of the overhang outside the kitchens. The ground all around us trembled and shook, then hundreds of hidden roots burst from below, rising high into the air before twining themselves together, forming a thick fence.
I heard the Nephilim giants rush up against the roots, fists striking, little wasp wings a symphony of furious frustration. The root fence did little against the winged enemies that soared above and then quickly dipped back below. They came a hundred across, a golden lancethwippinginto the ground beside me. The lances. Of course.
At once I fell to work, feeling the anxious blood gather in my face as I took up knife after knife and closed my eyes, a short reprieve from the chaos while I transformed the cutlery with my Changeling powers. Khent handily took the lances from me as they formed, hurling them at any Adjudicator or Seraphim that flew too close. His aim was good but not perfect; a few slipped by his assault, and a long-haired female made of liquid gold landed not ten paces away.
“Ahhes, ahhes, ahhes.”Khent held out his hand to me and flexed his fingers.Hurry, hurry, hurry.
I panicked and felt the knife in my grasp slip, tumbling to the grass. Shrieking, I knelt to find it, feeling a rush of air over my head as Bartholomew leapt cleanly above my back, colliding with the Upworlder and taking her hard to the ground. Her screams were quickly silenced, but my eyes were closed in concentration, transforming another knife for Khent and telling myself I could not afford to slip up again.
Chijioke did his best with a hunting rifle, his aim skilled but the reload slow. Mary’s bright, glittering shield surrounded us,deflecting javelins hurled from every direction as the shepherd’s winged forces circled above, swarming. I could see Poppy jumping up and down, jittery with excitement, waiting for the right moment to unleash hell. The Residents slipped along our sides, no more than swift black blurs, and then they drifted up through Mary’s shield, high enough to reach the golden Adjudicators that controlled the air. Reaching for a fork to transform, I glanced upward, watching as a Resident overtook one of the host, enveloping it as if it were swallowing the creature whole. But it merely stripped the Adjudicator’s shining energy away, leaving the enemy in their mundane and decidedly flightless state. Startled, shouting, the poor thing plunged to the ground, reaching behind for wings that had disappeared.
That same Resident shimmered into nothingness afterward, breaking apart as the light it had swallowed dissolved the shadow. There were perhaps a dozen more Residents lifting into the air, but that was all Mrs. Haylam had brought. I was getting down to the spoons, exhausted, every transformed piece of silverware taking a little more out of me. Falling to my knees, I tried to catch my breath, finding the air devilishly hard to swallow.
“Breathe,” Khent reminded me. He had broken a heavy sweat from the effort, black hair matted back on his forehead, shirtsleeves soaked. “We may just make it through this.”
I glanced behind, watching Mother chant wordlessly whileshe kept the root barrier strong and stable. Mrs. Haylam, however, looked far worse. She had run out of shadow servants and endeavored to make more, slicing at her hands to make her minions, pulling from the meager shadows around the edge of the mansion. Had we battled at night, she might have instantly produced another dozen reinforcements. The few she managed to create, their strange, fat heads blossoming out from the shade of a crate or a flowerpot, birthed themselves into the ether, then immediately shot into the sky. Blood stained the front of her skirts, and she was beginning to look alarmingly pale.
The clamor against the root wall increased. Six of the wasp-faced giants crashed against it in unison with their shoulders. They were serviceable-enough battering rams, and soon the wood began to splinter, then give. I gasped, watching a single, thick arm punch through the fence. Not long after, the menace had torn open space enough to crawl through.
“Poppy, get ready!” I cried, then made another lance for Khent, dashing toward Mrs. Haylam. I skidded to a stop next to her and reached for my own skirts, tearing strips of fabric from the bottom and using them to bind her badly bleeding arms.
“Stop, girl, I know what I’m doing,” she muttered, her voice more rasping than usual.
“You’ll bleed to death, you stubborn old witch, let me help.”
She gnashed her teeth but allowed it, and I at least managedto staunch the bleeding on her forearms and near her elbows. But as soon as I bound a wound, she made another, the knife flashing as she cut into her skin through the frock.
“That’s enough now,” Mrs. Haylam whispered. “Go do somethinguseful.”
Useful. Of course. She wanted me to dip in to Father’s powers and end the battle early. But I couldn’t, not when we might win without his help. I feared too much what it would mean for me if I relied on him. Every moment of greater influence seemed to stitch some piece of him to my brain permanently.
I returned to Khent’s side, handing off another lance, my hands shaking from lack of strength. His throws were weakening, too, and he grunted loudly with each toss. I had no stomach for it, I knew, cringing whenever my eyes fell on another fallen body on the grass. It was a relief, of course, that we were holding them off, but I felt no real animus toward the shepherd’s people—Sparrow had been the one thorn in my side, and now she was gone. These deaths felt utterly meaningless, wasteful, and they piled up, one after another, beautiful golden forms falling out of the sky, spinning lazily downward like some grotesque hunting party gone awry.
The numbers in the sky dwindled, but the fight before us on the field had only just begun. The Nephilim, buzzing and angry, lumbered toward us, picking up speed.
The spoon in my hand refused to change. I closed my eyes, I squeezed hard, and I channeled the last drips of will in my bodytoward the bloody thing, but nothing happened. I could sense Khent’s hand waving in front of me, but there was nothing I could do.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered, feeling tears slip down my face. “I have nothing left!”
The thunder of the giants’ feet masked a different kind of rumbling. To my right, from around the front of the house, came a spray of grass and gravel. The cavalry, so to speak, had arrived. Fathom, Giles, and Niles rode onto the field, Fathom screaming bloody murder as she cocked her pistol and fired at speed. They each managed a shot off toward the giants before circling back around to us, slowing their horses and fishing out their small arsenal of pistols and rifles.
“Just like the old days at Auntie Glinna’s, shooting pheasant in Somerset!” Giles called. He and his brother had come in matching hunting flannels done in the most fashionable purple-and-green plaids. “Good to see you again, Miss Louisa, though I do wish it were under less calamitous circumstances.”
“No time for pleasantries,” I called back, managing a weary smile. “But your aid is most welcome!”
“Where is Morningside?” Chijioke muttered, trying to unjam his rifle before giving up and accepting a fresh gun from Niles.
I shared his curiosity and glanced toward the house. Inside, I saw Dalton briefly at the kitchen window, and then he was gone, disappeared, a sharp popping sound reaching us even throughthe walls. That still didn’t account for Mr. Morningside’s tardiness. Had he left us? Had the bastard really abandoned us to fight his war while he retreated to safety?
Mary dropped her shield for a moment to rest and recover while Mother tried in vain to repair her wall. Smaller bursts of roots shot from the earth, but they did little more than trip up the giants, who collected themselves and pressed on. They would be upon us any moment.
There was no more I could do for Khent. I scrambled to my feet and went to Poppy, putting a tremulous hand on her shoulder. “As soon as you can make out the wasps on their faces, give it your all.”
“I am so ready, Louisa, I have not done a scream in a very long time, and it hurts so to be bottled up.” Bartholomew came to stand in front of the girl, guarding her, licking the copious blood from his paws. The melee had changed him, and he had never looked more like a hellhound, with a rigid spine of dark fur and slavering jaws.
Out of the corner of my eye, I watched Mrs. Haylam collapse to the ground. Before I could go to aid her, a flood of gold brightened the horizon. More Adjudicators. As many or more than had come before.
