I am so frustrated. If I had just been a bit quicker, all this could have been over.
Our plan is in motion, but we have not given up the possibility of catching Asoharith off guard. Both Orison and Anathalie have continued the hunt, and today the cry went up from both of them that they had her in hand.
I think I frightened all three of my charges, who were eating a meal together. One moment they were all laughing about one of the more ridiculous book pitches Freya has received this week, and the next I was bursting into flight, crying out for Rachmanes and Therai both to stay on guard. The anger in Anathalie’s voice and the triumph in Orison’s lent speed to my wings.
But it wasn’t enough, for even as I flew, there was a jolt of pain, and the connection was cut off. I flew still faster, my bow springing to hand, and arrived into a scene of chaos, for Asoharith was no longer the only Apostate present.
Anathalie was on the ground, pinned there by a vast, broad-shouldered horror with teeth grinding like stones. Orison was engaging in battle with a cackling white shape, hiding behind a vast shield from which all Orison’s blows glanced without leaving a scratch.
And Asoharith, gasping and cursing, was scrambling away, wings beating as she struggled up from the ground. She saw me as soon as I arrived and screamed, “Away, away! He is here!”
As she finally burst into the air, I sighted and loosed, and I knew from her shriek that the arrow found its mark. But then she was gone, and I turned my bow on the creature on top of Anathalie.
It vanished just an instant before the arrow went tearing through the place its head had been. Anathalie sprang up with rage in her eyes, and the white Apostate twisted away from them both. It leapt in my direction, aiming a casual swipe at me with the great shield. I dodged away, and it was gone by the time I looked after it.
I turned immediately to my friends. “Are you injured?”
“Injured?” Anathalie repeated. “No. But I am too angry for questions. I am going after them, Orison.”
“Not alone,” Orison retorted.
“Ruhamah comes,” was her only answer, and she sprang into flight. Orison sighed and turned to me.
“We had her,” he said, his own shame and frustration clear to see. “We had her by the wings. But it seems she has been busy at recruiting her companions, and more skilled at it that I realized. Neither of those Fallen were young or weak.”
“Have you faced them before, then?”
He nodded, releasing his grip on his spear, which vanished into the air with a crackle of electricity. “More than once. The big one was Ivan-Turel, a powerful enemy driven by vengeance against angels as Asoharith is. In fact that is likely how she convinced him to join her.”
“And the other?”
Orison actually shuddered. “The only name we know for her is Neige. I have only been unlucky enough to face her once before, but she is unforgettable. No one is certain whether she is genuinely mad, or if it is a ploy to put her opponents off their guard.”
“If it is a ploy, it is effective,” I said, feeling my own shudder. Even now I can hear that demonic laughter echoing in my memory. “Was it a trap, then? An attempt by Asoharith to catch her pursuers?”
“Worse, I think. She called them to her, and they came to rescue her from us.”
I stared at him. “Why would a Fallen bother to rescue anyone?”
“They would if she owes them a great debt,” Orison answered, “or if they are in fact fully committed to her cause.”
Everything he was saying was sinking like cubes of ice inside of me. “Orison, if she has worked this quickly, should we not reconsider our plan? If Asoharith is no longer the primary enemy—”
“But she is,” he said, gripping my shoulder. “All this began with her, and it will end with her. No Fallen remains in alliance for long, and once she is gone Ivan-Turel and Neige will be no greater threat than they were in the past. We may even be fortunate enough to take them down with her.”
“If you are sure…”
“I am. It is a good plan, Asa’el, and I think our enemies will fall into place as expected. But now, you should get back to Freya, Kara, and George. They will be worried.”
I was nothing loath to do this, although I knew they would take the news badly. I purposefully did not describe Ivan-Turel or Neige very well—George went pale enough with what I did say, and the fear they felt for one another still is ringing in my head.
I did my best to reassure them, and everything I told them—that we together are stronger than all three of the Apostates, that we will never allow them to get anywhere close to the humans, that Fallen never work well together—is true. But they still sleep uneasily tonight, and I will not stay away from them any longer.