Page 86 of Under the Iron Sky

Were his conversations with Soraya this … charged?

“I think,” Ma’varea continued when he’d gotten himself together, “I have an idea to get you and a team down there to take it back—most of it, anyway. There’s not much I can do to get the tanks out of there, I am only one man after all, but …” That iron helmet turned back to the sea. “Those banks you use to charge the Sunflowers, you can siphon Light into them, can’t you? They’re not stuck to the Sunrunner ships?”

“Yes, we can, and no. They’re basically batteries made specifically to harvest and store Light. We’ve had them for over a century, but didn’t start attaching them to the ships until you put up the Iron Sky. It’ll take us a few days, but we should be able to … un … weld them.” Not a proper word, he knew that, but his brain wasn’t quite firing on all cylinders right now. “How many do you think we’ll need?”

“As many as you can spare.”

“This all sounds amazing,” Theron started, better than amazing, actually, so, so much better, but he didn’t have the words, “so why are you saying all this like we’re not going to like this plan of yours?”

“Because you’re not, and it won’t come without sacrifice, but if we play this right, you’ll walk away with enough Light to fuel your bases for years—and the human girl.”

Soraya.

He could bring Soraya home.

“Why the fuck didn’t you start with that?”

And then, Theron folded his arms across his chest and listened to the enemy lay out his plan.

27

Ikarus sat on one of the two leather sofas in the largest drawing room of the castle. He’d been in here most of the morning, staring into the flames roaring in the stone hearth on the southern wall, thinking.

Boots clipped against stone behind him, but Ikarus didn’t turn. He stared at the sparks, watching them steadily devour the logs he’d cut himself just this morning to test the strength of his returning magic, then at the stream of smoke connected to the ash-stick in his mouth.

“You’ve got mail,” Malakai sang as he entered the room.

Stifling a groan, Ikarus slowly stood and turned to find a thin cloaked figure standing beside Malakai.

The cloaked stranger said nothing as Ikarus approached, merely extended a roll of parchment toward him, and disappeared into nothing the moment it was in Ikarus’s hand.

Malakai frowned at the space where the messenger had just stood. “I thought it was just Aeris that was a quiet, brooding prick, but I’m starting to think it’s all Ethereals.”

“I’m Ethereal,” Ikarus said pointedly. Half, anyway.

Malakai grinned. “My point exactly.” He plopped onto the sofa and threw a hand toward the fire, a soft smile touching his lips when the orange flames changed to the deep blue he favored. “What does our lord and savior want now?”

Smoke from the ash-stick curling around his face, Ikarus quickly scanned the letter, each word so jaggedly slashed into the page it was like the Ancient One had written it with his taloned rings. “We’re required in Illieck.”

Malakai spread his arms against the back of the sofa, completely at ease. “Trouble among the fairies?”

“Not quite,” Ikarus replied, crumbling the paper in his hand. “He’s sinking the Astro Temple tonight. Given it’s directly above Illieck, it’s going to land somewhere near the burrows, and he wants us there to lead the efforts to get inside.”

“When do we leave?”

“Tomorrow morning.”

Malakai ran his tongue over the cut in his lip as he considered this. Ikarus marked it, frowning.

“Is that from the Pitt, or the dungeons?”

Being Ramapheal’s head interrogator and torturer, it wasn’t uncommon to see Malakai caked in blood and bruises. The latter he only tended to get from showing off at the Pitt, but sometimes cuffs weren’t secured properly or chains came loose from the wall, and the hostages tried their luck. They never got far when Malakai was on shift, though.

“Pitt,” he answered, shrugging. “Thought I’d let Nexus get a few good shots in before I burned his balls off. Keep the crowd happy—you know how it is.” His eyes slid back toward Ikarus. “Is that all the Ancient One wanted?”

“Yes, why do you ask?”

Malakai glanced at the paper in his hand. “You seem … tense. Are you sure you’re all right?”