(Resumed) Solstice

 

[Emmett]

"Steady on the Circle!" Grace shouted.

The carriage cabin swung fully on a pendulum arc. Samael and Patrick each held out their free hand to sustain the Spell Circle on the floor - the other frozen to the handhold. Being encased in ice, in two words, fucking hurt: Grace had given each of my limbs the same treatment.

While my stomach swirled in weightlessness, Grace pushed herself upward, frosting her feet to the ground and thawing as needed to keep from flying out the back.

"Ser!" Grace shouted against the choleric winds tossing us all about, "What are you doing?! We could get killed!!"

I heard only laughter from the front when the carriage whipped back. Why did we fly into a tornado?!!

"Ser!!" Grace screeched, "This is no time for games!"

"I can't drive and commune at once, now can I?" Feylance's voice replied with a wholly-inappropriate chuckle.

"Then you should have landed before the front!!"

The front? I knew what Grace was referring to, but the way she addressed it made me think she hailed from this town we were heading toward. Stormfront, formally known as Tempest Gate, was a giant tornado powered by Wind Magick and several Spell Circles. Within the oversized eye of this tornado, of course, lay Stormingcalm itself, a resort town entirely of Magi. Within the lethal part of the tornado, however, spiraled a carriage uncontrollably.

No marks for guessing where we were.

Another swing of the cabin later, an emerald glow washed over the cabin.

"Breckenbale to oncoming vessel," a gruff voice called, "what in the heavens and havens are you doing?!"

I looked up, and let my Æther flow to my eyes. I saw the downpour of Magick upon us, and with it, soft white sparkles of light. Just like back at Charade Gin, I thought, This was Communication Magick.

"Feylance to Breckenbale," I heard my instructor's voice resonate, "We're coming through to Stormingcalm! You wanna let us in or what?"

 "Not until you explain why you're bringing in a known agent of strife."

"Huh?!" Patrick barked.

"What?" Samael asked.

Grace hissed.

I looked up.

"Known agent?" Feylance's voice echoed, "I will have you know I have but my own students who have received the Fayt mission. Let us in or we will come in regardless."

The carriage reversed, and weightlessness returned. The ice continued to burn.

"You think you can?" the strange voice warned.

"The fuck is this jackass talking about?" Patrick spat, "Emmy, did you do something?!"

"That would require competence," Samael grunted through pain.

"You think I can't?" Feylance's voice echoed past their bickering.

"Lord Adams graces us with his presence this weekend," the foreign voice resounded, "Entering with a subversive will incur his wrath."

"And an attempt on my students will incur mine." The carriage slammed aside again. "I'm coming through, Breckenbale, with or without your so-called permission."

At that moment, Ser Feylance cut the spell. "I take full responsibility for any fallout that just caused!"

 

[Grace]

I did not want to come back here.

I knew where the Mission was; I read the assignment. I just didn't want to comprehend it before flying through Stormfront forced me to.

Why, Feylance? I asked myself, No. He doesn't know. None of them know.

None of them knew about Celeste, knew how she fought to brighten the lives of everyone around her. How she taught me the basics of Magick, how she raised me better than even our mother did.

How she had protested. How Lord Fuckwad Adams had murdered her on the spot.

I wished I could tell them. That the agent of strife wasn't Emmett. That it was me.

I wished I could back out. Stormingcalm was a hellhole branded paradise to me.

But if I backed out, we couldn't deploy.

Don't fucking do anything stupid Emmett, I cursed in my head. If he heard it, He'd think I accused him of failing us the mission.

While I was worried about that, yes... This was more.

The carriage once more learned the meaning of stability. As such, I waved the ice aside to spare my Squadmates the burning, since they no longer risked falling to certain death.

The carriage descended, and so did my heart.

Many tortuous minutes later, we had touched down.

"Alright, let's do this!" shouted Patrick, leaping out of the cabin.

"Don't fuck this up, Sinclair." Squad Leader said, strolling out after Patrick.

Emmett sighed and shook his head. He hadn't said anything in response. He glanced my way. I wondered if he'd noticed my inner turmoil, but he chose to say nothing and head outside instead.

I took a few moments to myself. My Æther was frosting over, and I could not let myself be caught in any state other than perfect tranquility. Neil Breckenbale was a close acquaintance of House Adams, and I...

I took my head and drew in a slow breath. I had Ser Feylance's protection. I was safe. My body was lost to defilement, but I was safe.

And I had my Squad. Minus Emmett, I reminded myself.

I was lying, but I needed the lie to be true.

"All of you are under arrest for trespass in the name of Lord Adams," the slimy-haired git spat, his nauseating hand reaching toward the cabin, toward me, like a claw. "Grace Gardner is wanted for treason against our Lord, and she will be brought before me or you will all be slain."

My heart trespassed my throat.

"Wait," I heard Patrick utter, "What?!"

Our Squad Leader swung his eyes back to me. "Grace?!"

Ser Feylance held firm, maintaining a diplomatic stance. He didn't advance, to signal an attack, but he kept a level gaze fixed on the man. "I beg your pardon-"

"No."

That was Emmett's voice.

Fucking damn it! I told him not to do this!!

I scrambled out. Shit shit shit shit shit!

"Sinclair!" Feylance barked.

"Emmy you dumbass!" Patrick scolded.

Breckenbale scowled. "How dare-"

One last chance to save my squad. "I surrender!"

The mission was damned to hells. The best thing to do now was to just end this with minimal fuss. You did the best you coul-

"I SAID NO!!!"

My womanly figure bulleted back in the carriage, thrown by the sheer detonation of Æther out every pore of Emmett's body. Patrick and Leader must have lost their footing too, but I couldn't see. 

Falling off the wall, I thanked the Heavens and Havens I could reflexively coat myself in a skeleton of ice. My back would have been broken if I hadn't.

I didn't need to look around to feel the hell winds. Emmett's still kicking. Stronger, this time. Not by an order of magnitude, but this was a more powerful Magick than he had shown in Magickal Martial Artes just a few short hours before.

He was going to collapse at any moment. 

No, worse than that: we had entered combat against the legitimate Chancellor of Stormingcalm.

I felt the clash of Air against Earth just outside; Ser Feylance mounted a defence.

Squad Leader crawled into the carriage, Patrick in tow. "Get down!"

We took cover, leaving Emmett and Ser Feylance to fend for themselves. Regret rang 'round, but 'twas naught I could do even if I wanted. Ser Feylance was our best hope, but fate was against him.

Emmett's agonized cry howled against what had most certainly felt like an ensorcelled vine impaling through his body, judging from the sharp cut of Aspected Earth Magick and the fractionalization of his Aura.

Hence the problem: Communication is not suited for fighting. Arbor is.

Emmett was done for. He was going to die, in the exact same fucking fashion as Celeste! He even had the same attitude and talent for Spirit Magick! Fucker was even duplicating the last-ditch growth in power. I swear to all, if this is what gives him an Element...

And as if it couldn't get any worse, a mythic conflagration of Fire Magick crashed into a wall of Air. 

Lord Fuckwad had entered the picture. It was Ser Feylance, alone, against them both.

That Ser Feylance was even alive at this point was nothing short of a miracle, even with his status as Dean of Air.

I remained hidden.

This was a hell. Magicks far above us flew just without, and Stormfront locked down any hope of egress.

We were all going to die. Emmett already fucking did. And I couldn't do a damn thing.

Fire. Air. Arbor. Lord Fuckwad didn't even need his Aspect. How many seconds-turned-hours had it been?

Fire... Air... Arbor...

...Æther!!?

Where was it coming from?! Who's there?!

I readied myself and chilled my Æther. I stood no chance against Chancellor Arsehole and Lord Fuckwad, but anyone else was fair game.

It wouldn't be hard. I just had to freeze my heart, move, and slit their throats.

That familiar scream... Emmett's alive?! Fucking how?!

Did Chancellor Arsehole spare him? No way. Not in this forsaken foul fiefdom.

Well, maybe. Emmett had no history. It could have been a warning shot. Dead bodies do look bad as a general rule for anyone.

But then the fucker had to throw away his chance at making it out alive!

More Ætheric waves cascaded in, and more voices chimed in. I prepared for the worst.

I heard a knock on the back wall of the carriage.

"You lot the Upstarts?" an elderly male voice called, "We're of House Fayt. May we come in?"

We... we were saved. Mission most certainly failed, but we got to walk away alive.