Guardian of the Vale Read online

  The fingers straightened, and Daymon sighed with relief. When Alayne tried to draw back, Daymon flipped his fingers through hers, holding her hand upright, their palms pressed together. He said nothing, but his thumb traced along the outside of her index finger. A long, intense silence fell between them, unspoken messages racing beneath the current.

  Alayne's pulse thudded erratically in her ears. Pieces of thought ricocheted off a million different sensors in her brain. As the silence wore on, she thought her pounding blood might explode through her skin. Words crowded to her lips, but none of them made sense. She opened her mouth and croaked the first words that tumbled out.

  “I—I wonder if—if Jayme—”

  Daymon dropped her hand as if he held a hot rock. “Thanks, Worth,” he murmured, surveying the incapacitated guards. “You weren't half bad.”

  A frisson of disappointment lanced through her, though she refused to process the emotion. She sighed. “Let's get going. Pence'll likely be back before long.”

  She took a step toward the door, but her legs gave out, and she fell headlong.

  Daymon grabbed her around the waist before she could hit the floor. He swept her up in his arms, ran to the door, yanked it open, and sprinted down the metal-floored hallway to the stairs.

  Beatrice Pence stood at the top, her outstretched hand frozen just before she grasped the metal railing. “What are—guards!” she shouted.

  Daymon spun on the balls of his feet and raced down the hallway to where the second set of stairs waited.

  “Up, up, up,” Alayne breathed, willing him to go faster.

  A twinge on the elements vibrated the air around them, as if someone were messing with the harp. A shift-change? Alayne swiped for them, but they were still inaccessible. She glanced over Daymon's shoulder. Pence sprinted after them, strain twisting her face. Alayne felt Beatrice's fingers swipe just short of the out-of-reach element harp.

  Daymon hit the exit into the back hallway that led to the locker rooms. The feeble door barely stood a chance against his frame.

  “Put me down, Daymon,” Alayne croaked. “We can go faster.”

  “Have you seen yourself?” Daymon snapped as he checked over his shoulder. Pence stumbled through the door, sprinting after them.

  Daymon leaped onto the track and ran full-tilt toward the chute.

  “Window?” Alayne asked.

  “No elements yet,” Daymon grunted. He slammed the button on the chute. It slid open immediately.

  He swung himself in, but Pence was on them.

  Daymon dropped Alayne in the corner of the chute car, turned, and with the force of a battering ram, smashed his fist into Beatrice Pence's scarred visage.

  Her head flew back, and blood sprouted from her stump of a nose. She stumbled backward, sitting hard on the track. Daymon slammed the button for the ground floor.

  Pence slid out of view as the car dropped. It stopped with a lurch at Clayborne's main entrance.

  Alayne crawled to her feet, and Daymon's hands clasped around her waist.

  Another shift in the element harp splintered Alayne's concentration, and with a thundering crack across the entire campus, the elements snapped back into place. “They're back,” Alayne croaked as she glanced up at Daymon. “Tarry knows we're running.”

  “Yeah,” Daymon muttered, sweeping her up in his arms again and charging through the open door. “That's great, 'cause now she's gonna come at us with all four elements multiplied by like, a thousand.”

  The words had no sooner left his mouth than pounding feet approached from one side of the spire. Daymon whipped his head to the right. “A platoon of EA soldiers. Fantastic.” He sprinted to the left.

  “The river, Daymon,” Alayne suggested as she clung to his neck, making herself as small as possible so he could run faster. “We can hide in the trees.”

  “Not enough trees,” Daymon grunted, though he still sprinted toward the thick copse just downriver. “Are you strong enough to use the elements?” he gasped.

  Alayne watched the men behind them. They were gaining. “I'll try.”

  Closing her eyes, she concentrated on the water that swirled in the nearby river. She brushed the element strands, but she could feel other hands on them too. “Daymon, get away from the water!” she shouted.

  Daymon immediately switched directions and ran north. Behind him, a massive pile of water rose out of the riverbed and fell toward them. The shadow of the water covered the sun; it would collapse on them at any moment.

  With a surge of willpower, Alayne arrested the movement, her arms shaking with weakness.

  “Almost there,” Daymon grunted. He flung a blast of wind behind him. The water structure twisted away from them.

  Alayne's quaking fingers couldn't hold the element anymore. It collapsed not twenty feet behind them, and the resulting wave surged up and over them. Daymon stumbled under the weight of the water.

  Shouts from the militia still echoed too near for comfort. Daymon wrapped his arms tighter around Alayne and shot up into the air. He soared over the empty prairie as fast as wind would take them. Alayne's hair whipped around her face.

  “They're still behind us,” she shouted at Daymon. “More have come.”

  It was true. Air-Masters from the EA military flew behind Daymon, using his wind and adding their own, gaining incrementally as their shadows split the prairie grasses.

  Daymon glanced over his shoulder, muttering a curse. “Of course it had to be cloudless skies today.” He slowed to a stop.

  “What are you doing?” Alayne cried in alarm.

  “Planning.”

  The Air-Masters were almost on them. They veered out and around, flanking Daymon and Alayne on both sides.

  “Give up?” one of them shouted. His black hair flopped over one eye. He brushed it back. “You've got nowhere to hide.”

  Daymon glared at the man before suddenly dropping like a rock.

  The shouts of the men above him fell silent as a shriek of wind blew directly beneath them, and shot Daymon and Alayne back the direction they had come.

  Alayne chuckled. “You left them spinning in their pants. They didn't know which way was up.”

  Daymon's dimple flashed, but disappeared a second later. “We're not out of this yet.”

  The soldiers behind them regained their orientation and then rushed after them again. Another game of cat and mouse. “Daymon, I need food and water. I'm no good at anything until I can get my strength back.”

  “I know.” Daymon's jaw hardened. “Want to go hide in the tunnels again until nightfall?”

  Alayne trembled. More than anything, she dreaded returning to the black pit that had been her prison.

  Daymon tightened his hold on her. “Only until we can escape,” he added. “And I'll be with you this time.”

  Alayne caught her breath. “Daymon, the mirror. Maybe we could escape through that.”

  Daymon's eyes brightened.

  Excitement followed by hope sparked inside Alayne. “I know where it is—unless Tarry's found it and moved it. Manders took me to it last year at the Christmas dance. I'm not sure I remember the way, though; there were a lot of twists and turns.”

  Daymon shook his head. “No, my uncle sent me a message that he had moved the mirror—not into his office in the tunnels, but in the adjoining room. He wanted to keep it closer to his things, but he also didn't want to put all his Last Order stuff in one place.”

  “His office?” Alayne nearly laughed as the weight of worry dropped from her shoulders. “I know how to get there! I've been there several times. Daymon, it'll be a cinch to escape!”

  “Not a cinch,” Daymon said as he plummeted below a flash of fire. A burst of wind from an Air-Master rocked them twenty feet to the side, but Daymon hurled an opposing blast, and the clash of air thundered across the grounds. He called a fresh burst of wind that shot them toward the river.

  A loud pop sounded, and Daymon jerked. Behind them, an EA soldier aimed carefull
y at them through the crosshairs of a pre-Deluge rifle. Daymon hurled another blast of wind behind him, knocking the man off-balance and ripping the weapon from his fingers, but Daymon's grunt of pain pulled Alayne's attention back to him. She stared in horror as blood soaked Daymon's shirt sleeve. Clamping her hand on the wound, she felt the flesh immediately close beneath her fingers. There was no hard lump of a bullet. Either it had grazed him or passed cleanly through.

  But white-hot anger blazed; Daymon had once again suffered because of her. Something snapped inside of her.

  Below them, a deep rumbling shook the earth, and the enormous spire itself rocked on its base, a slow side-to-side motion like the great swing of a pendulum. Scurrying figures on the ground flattened, while their pursuers in the air screamed as a gust of wind hurtled against them. It picked them up as if they were marionettes on a string and a giant invisible hand toyed with them, shooting them high into the sky before throwing them to the ground.

  The ground ripped apart, opening and swallowing them where they landed.

  The earth's movement eased. The spire settled back into place, and Alayne stared in horror at the carnage below.

  Daymon's grip tightened. “It was the Vale again, wasn't it?” he asked.

  Alayne shook, an after-effect of the Vale's grip on her. “Daymon, I can't—control it. I can't. It—took over, and I couldn't stop it.”

  More figures streamed from the spire. Daymon's jaw locked. “Let's get to the mirror.”

  Below them, soldiers surrounded the spire. More Air-Masters had spotted them. A small crowd left the ground, and Alayne pointed a shaking finger. “What if I lose control again, Daymon?” She motioned toward the river. It splashed and contorted as various Water-Wielders tried to maneuver it into different positions. More cracks shot through the earth's surface. Dark clouds formed out of nothing, and lightning sizzled through the air.

  A burning fork of electricity twisted toward them. Daymon barely dodged it.

  “I can't control it, Daymon,” Alayne shouted against the answering roar of thunder. “We have to get out of here!” Another fork of electricity seared the air twenty feet to their right. “That wasn't them; it was the Vale! I can't make it stop!”

  In answer, Daymon gripped the air element with enormous strength, and their reflection blurred and then vanished. He notched the bend as cries of confusion sounded below them.

  “Don't worry, I've got this. We'll make it,” his voice murmured in Alayne's ear. His arm tightened around her waist. “Let's get to the tunnels.”

  They dropped like an axe on a log, through the elements that lashed about them, straight to the back of the spire where the thick hedge hid the opening to the tunnels.

  Three soldiers ran past as Daymon's feet touched the ground. Their gazes were turned skyward, searching, confused.

  The melee was so overwhelming, no one noticed as Alayne shot a weak stream of heat at the bolt within the thick, dark hedge, melting the lock. A moment later, the door opened and then shut again.

  Alayne took a deep breath of the moist air. I can do this.

  Daymon set her carefully on her feet, unnotching his bend, and they shivered into visibility again. Alayne called a flame to her finger. It flickered weakly before snuffing out.

  Frustrated, she tried again. This time, it held. The flame was tiny, but steady.

  Carefully, she cupped her hands, pulling moisture from the many sources underground. Cool, refreshing water filled her hands to the brim, although she was careful to keep her flaming finger free of the liquid. She lowered her lips to the water, sucking it greedily into her mouth. She guzzled the whole handful and then refilled it. Water trickled down her neck, wetting her jacket—Daymon's hoodie—and her jeans. She didn't care—she only knew she couldn't get enough fast enough. More and more water—she drank until she could hold no more.

  Daymon leaned a shoulder against the door, his hands shoved in his pockets. The shadow of a grin crossed his mouth.

  Self-consciously, Alayne wiped the back of her hand across her lips and then tried to smooth her matted, dirty hair. With her thirst quenched, hunger roared in her stomach. “Think we could sneak a trip up to the commissary before we go?” she asked, only half-teasing.

  “We could ask Tarry to pack us a to-go lunch.”

  “Ah, yes,” Alayne murmured, running her hand over her too-empty stomach. “Spaghetti or chicken or pizza, if I recall. Or maybe she has something up in her chambers where you were apparently staying.”

  The teasing glint fled from Daymon's eyes, and his expression hardened in half of a second.

  Alayne was horrified. Why under the skies had she implied... anything... about Daymon and Tarry? “I'm sorry,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. “I didn't—I don't know what I was thinking.”

  Daymon's lips whitened, and he pulled in a deep breath. “It's okay, Layne. It's not an experience I care to think about, but anything she tried, I stopped.” A slow blush rose in his neck. “I—thought you'd like to know that.”

  Alayne nodded, not sure how to move on. “Thanks for telling me.”

  Daymon met her gaze, his expression unreadable. After a moment, he pushed himself from the door and threaded his fingers through hers. “It's time we were leaving. Let's go use that mirror.”

  Alayne studied their hands. Still weak, she was grateful for something to lean on, but she also wondered about it. Daymon had held her hand before, but had never said anything about it. Did he—have feelings for her, as Kyle had presumed?

  But—what about Jayme?

  What about Jayme? It's obvious that he can't stand to be anywhere around you. And as you've already admitted, you've moved on. Right?

  Alayne swallowed, wishing she understood her own thoughts.

  The tunnel stretched into blackness around them. Alayne's flame had grown brighter with the extra water she had guzzled, but she was still incredibly weak. Manders's office was not in the main corridor. There were still several turns and a long walk until they reached it. She gritted her teeth, determined not to ask Daymon for help. He'd already carried her all over the campus seeking escape, and he was exhausted, too, she was sure.

  A shoe scuffed on the floor in the darkness ahead of them.

  Alayne's heart slammed into her throat.

  A familiar voice spoke, a hard edge to it. “We've got to stop meeting like this.”

  The footsteps moved forward, and the figure entered the small circle of light. Kyle raised an eyebrow when he stepped nearer, not ten feet away.

  “Arrest them,” he said.

  Six EA soldiers closed in.

  Chapter 9

  Alayne reached frantically for the elements, hurling a stream of fire across the tunnel. Daymon grabbed Alayne's wrist and pulled her toward the fire, shooting a blast of wind directly through the middle of it.

  The EA soldiers thudded against the walls, knocked backward by the blast, but Kyle kept his feet and braced against the wall.

  Daymon leaped through the gap in the flames, pulling Alayne with him. “Let's go, let's go, let's go.”

  Kyle was the first one after them. A powerful spray of water jetted across the tunnel. Daymon ducked, shielding Alayne with his back. The spray narrowly missed them both.

  Daymon flung another blast of air backward; Alayne threw a fireball directly in front of it, and the flames hit their followers dead on. Shrieks and cries of pain met Alayne's ears, tying her insides in knots. She was desperate to escape, but a war waged inside her each time she twisted the elements, fear of losing control of the Vale fighting her self-preservation. The burst of flame hadn't stopped the soldiers, though they were farther back than they had been a moment ago. Smoke rose from their clothes; their faces were an ashy gray.

  “Put out your flame,” Daymon ordered.

  Alayne closed her finger against her hand, smothering the hot tongue of fire. What if any of these guys are Fire-Breathers?

  In the pitch blackness, she ran on silent feet, cli
nging to Daymon's hand. A moment later, her fear was realized.

  Not one, but three fingers ignited.

  “There!” one of the men shouted.

  Alayne whirled as Daymon's arms swept beneath her legs and lifted her off the ground. He sprinted down the corridor.

  “Turn!” Alayne commanded. The tunnel branched to the right, and Daymon took it. A blast of fire billowed past them, missing them by inches.

  Alayne hurled a deluge of water at the followers. They splashed through.

  Ahead of them, the corridor began to shake. Huge stones creaked and moved above them.

  “Watch out, Daymon!” Alayne screeched as a massive brick dislodged from the ceiling and plummeted. She threw her arms over her head as the rock struck the ground behind them, cleaving into two pieces.

  “Don't bring the tunnel down on us, idiot!” Kyle's voice pulsed with fury. “That could have been us.”

  Alayne spied a familiar door. “In there, go in there. Your uncle's office!”

  Daymon wheeled to the side. “But they'll know!”

  “Trust me!” Alayne blasted the lock with liquid heat. The lock melted, and Daymon smashed into the door. It opened with a shudder and a loud groan.

  The desk and carpet and rocking chair were all in the same place they had been the year before. Daymon set Alayne down and turned. Kyle's face appeared in the doorway first. Daymon slammed him with wind. It shrieked against the door frame, knocking Kyle back into the corridor as he staggered into his own men. Daymon increased the strength of the wind as it billowed from the room into the corridor, but the men were crawling back toward the door. “What do I do, Layne? I can't keep them back,” Daymon called over the noise.

  “Hang tight.” Alayne stumbled to the desk, circling it. She lit a finger as her other hand searched along the dark wall, feeling for the small round stone. “Please work,” she whispered. She turned and looked at Daymon, visible in the weak light of her flame. “Let them in,” she said.

  Daymon dropped the air element, and Alayne felt it snap back into place on the elemental harp. Kyle and the rest of the soldiers burst into the room.