Page 44 of Under the Iron Sky

Helmet firmly in place, he crept deeper into the room, magic crackling at his fingertips. He took a deep breath, straining his ears for the sound of nearby footsteps or a weapon being armed.

There was nothing.

He went to a rusting metal contraption on the wall that looked like it’d been sewed together by a blind man, bolts and bits of wire hanging out everywhere like ribs on a corpse.

Curious, he ran a hand over the device. Cold, empty, but there had been … Yes, right there. Like a whisper in a symphony, a small echo of power remained. The humans had poured Light into this thing. He followed the traces of energy with his fingertips, ignoring how the magic in his veins seemed to recoil from it, and tracked it across the rusting wires that ran up the walls like copper veins into the ceiling where three circular lights had been left behind.

Footsteps clipped near the entrance. “What the hell is this place?”

A farm, Ikarus thought, though he didn’t bother to speak the words aloud. He turned to leave, and the Iron followed. Ikarus hadn’t bothered to learn his name. It was a waste of time when they usually expired after a month or two. Only when they got promoted to Crimson would he even consider it.

“I thought this was supposed to be a Vordellian stronghold now,” the nameless Iron said. He sounded young.

“It is.”

“So where is everyone?”

“That’s what I’d like to know.” Hands at his sides, Ikarus pushed out a wave of power to open a set of double doors at the back of the farm area and strode outside and onto a rocky shore. All the islands here were connected by thick steel bridges and, across them, he could see the other Dar’rak teams storming the other time-abused buildings.

Angry waves crashed against the shore and beaches below, the entire Lunan Sea seeming to slither and writhe like a pit of angry snakes.

Because the Iron Sky blocked out the moon as well as the suns, storms like these were a common occurrence these days. Dar’rak scholars had thought this might happen, but rather than shrink as predicted, the sea had grown more active, like it was vengeful at being cut off from its beloved mother.

And if the sea couldn’t get back to its moon, then it’d take another prize.

The Iron swallowed as a particularly large wave threw itself against the shoreline, the accompanying spray reaching out to snatch a Dar’rak soldier unlucky enough to have been standing in its way and drag him into the depths below.

“Shouldn’t we help him?” he asked.

Ikarus stared out at the waves, at part of the Golden Rail that still stood proud above the sea. The track had been broken a few miles north of here years ago to separate these islands from the mainland—though he doubted it’d be long before the tides swallowed this section of the track too, given how much it was swaying in the high winds.

“There’s no place for weakness here. If our soldiers don’t have the strength or will to fight back, then they won’t survive here anyway.”

He watched two more get swallowed up before something caught his eye. Four fighter jets, flying straight toward them.

“Shit, it’s an ambush.” The Iron retreated toward the doors still open at their backs but stopped when Ikarus didn’t follow. “Shouldn’t we take cover? If we get caught by those guns, we’ll be ripped in two.”

Indeed. Ikarus had seen it done many times. Even as diluted as it was, Light was still deadly in most weaponized forms. Sunrifles. Arrows. Those pesky blades that shot out of the bracers they all wore on their arms like a burning reaper’s scythe. The power of a sun, right in the palm of a human hand. It was no wonder Ramapheal had grown to hate any weapon that wasn’t magic or steel. Never mind that Light was the only thing capable of rivaling their powers, it represented everything this enemy had achieved in his absence.

Undeniable strength, without a lick of magic.

The Iron inched toward the door again. “They’re getting close. I really think we should get inside.”

“Don’t bother,” was all Ikarus said, his eyes still fixed on the small legion racing toward them. “The skies aren’t theirs anymore.”

He whistled, then a roar pierced the otherwise eerie silence. A pair of monstrous black wings soared up from the beach and launched through the sky, heading straight toward the jets.

Serone landed just outside the palace gates. Ikarus let go of the reins, the warmth of her scales strong enough to seep through his armor as he slid off her back and landed on the ground beside her with a soft thud.

“Stay here.” He ran a hand along the underside of her chest and neck before phasing with a quiet crack.

They were meeting in the war room today, several floors down from the throne room in what had once been a great hall. As was protocol, he appeared just outside the double doors, the guards stationed either side and the stalker mutts they were mounted on flinching at his sudden appearance.

“Darkness below,” one of them hissed, struggling to right the stalker biting at the reins in its mouth. The guard looked as though there was more he wanted to say, but his mouth slammed shut with an audible click when he realized who had disturbed his beast.

“Ikarus,” he breathed, his voice suddenly dripping with honey. Spineless fool. “I apologize, she’s a bit temperamental this one,” he said quickly, gesturing to the creature still snapping the air. “Was told I’d get a new one as soon as the latest clutch hatched but, well, we saw what happened to those pups, didn’t we. Suppose I’ve been moved far down the pile now we only have one queen left—”

The guard noticed Ikarus’s clenched fist and finally stopped talking. Clearing his throat, he opened the doors, and Ikarus strode past him without another glance.