“Here they come,” Chester said, not glancing back at his companions. Phoenix thought the Flameborn boy meant it as a warning call, but it came out closer to a fearful whisper. Meanwhile, he stood leaning on a spear longer than his height, and was far from the only elementalist armed. What was he so afraid of?

  They were the only two on the top level, visible from the air. As yet, the opposing side had not come in force upon their main castle, though Telsan had just flown out to back up Solis and Tissan after seeing all the medics. She looked their way now, seeing no more activity from the angelic flyers. Hopefully, that was a good sign, because soon she would have her hands full. Were they coming back, or . . . ?

  “Ho!” said Filian from midair, like a blond would-be king. “Where did you come upon those armaments?”

  Chester just shrugged, not moving.

  “We found them here in the keep,” Phoenix lied. It was close to the truth, as the armory was an outer branch technically, but they wanted to keep their fearless leader as ignorant as possible, at least until he saw them as an equal group. Their abilities would be evened out greatly between the two classes of their team, but the smaller party of flyers would still hold the advantage, even were Solis and Telsan and Tissan here. Well . . . maybe it would be a bit different then.

  She saw the look of consternation on his face as he landed, the members of his squad landing beside him on the stone. “I . . . thought we had scoured the place well,” he said musingly, yet with a dangerous edge to his voice. “What’s this word of new teammates joining from the opposing side? They’re saying it’s possible now.”

  Phoenix glanced at Chester. “A couple of them did. Lane! Come on up here. You others, too.” She tried to sound as nonchalant as possible.

  Filian took a warning step forward. “I’d be careful if I were you, Dolce. You might think you’re something, but we can certainly set you straight.”

  He turned to watch as the others, including the small boy Lane, emerged from the stairway, each brandishing a weapon. A few of them made sport of their leader. Without Telsan and Solis here, she felt like she ought to speak for them, though perhaps that was for the best anyway.

  “Filian, we’re sick of being bullied around," Phoenix said. "We’ll tell you where the weapons are only if you agree to act like a team.”

  The other winged folk shifted and kicked their feet, looking about themselves as though weighing her words for themselves. They didn’t have time to come to a conclusion, however—and Filian himself, red-faced, was just piecing some choice words together—when shadows shifted and winged figures appeared over the wall. Phoenix looked along with the others, beholding a dozen or more warriors, seemingly armed with weapons, cresting the wall and heading straight for their main base.

  “Well I’ll be . . .” said one of the older contestants from the winged folk, though there were other less savory utterances to go with it.

  As the opposing team descended and wing-glided toward the castle, Filian turned to Phoenix and the others with a wide-eyed look. “What are you standing there for? Get ready to defend.” Stalking over to Lane, he snatched the spear from the boy’s hands. Or . . . tried to, but the little nine-year-old jerked it back and made to poke at him. Filian adjusted his stance and lunged in after the first retraction, gripping the haft and yanking the kid off-balance. He then kicked him, sending the smaller boy sprawling nearly over the stairway. Thankfully, the last wingless elementalists coming out saved him from falling, but Phoenix still glared wide-eyed at Filian’s cowardly display until her attention was demanded by the current threat.

  Soon, a battle ensued, and the two teams were clashing upon the rooftop. Some of Filian’s winged men shied back behind the elementalists, while others received weapons from them, and still others fought for them even while the northern team purchased ground on their castle. Phoenix engaged one of the winged warriors, a woman with a long spear, practically a pike. She was both taller and stronger than Phoenix, who struggled to respond to the long weapon's attacks with her buckler and shortsword. She tried to deflect each strike without allowing it to hit another of her companions, but the entire tower top was chaos.

  A quick glance round failed to locate Lane, so she could only hope the boy had gotten to cover. Solis and Telsan . . . they might already be on the opposing side if they’d gotten the eastern keep under control already. She hoped they would come. Ducking under the next diving lunge, the woman’s biggest yet, Phoenix came back up with a sweep of her sword, trying to maximize its range . . .

  Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

  A cry of pain signaled her blade’s connection with the meat of her calf. Her enemy stumbled on her downward force and plowed over one of Phoenix’s companions, wings scrambling. A thin line of blood trailed on the tip of Phoenix’s blade. Hope I didn’t cut anything too vital . . .

  They were winning the fight. She could see that now. Filian was fighting like a mad crow, pecking with his spear and occasionally using wings or feet. She’d never thought him to be all that, but perhaps he did have skill. He ran his opponent through the chest, driving his spear in deep, and let it plunge to the ground with him and he stole his opponent’s weapon, continuing on with it.

  Phoenix spared the fallen man only a glance, though the wound looked nearly fatal. They had to end the fight quickly so that the medics could arrive. Only a few left . . . and there, they were already fleeing. Phew.

  Filian kicked the last one, another whom his companion had downed, eliciting a groan. Then he stepped back as the medics rushed in to bear the fallen away. Surprisingly, they had held their ground well despite the disorganization, have superior numbers. “They shouldn’t have attacked while we were all together,” said the blond tyrant, trying to sound calm despite his quick-breathing chest. “Now . . .” he cast about as though looking for something, or someone.

  Phoenix lit up the boy at the same time he did, shouting, “No! Get away from him.”

  It was too late. Lane cried out as Filian lunged for him, grabbing a fistful of his clothes and pulling him close. He struggled until Filian put his sword tip right up under his left arm, bringing forth a gasp as he punctured skin. “Let’s all just calm down a little bit,” he said, still breathing hard, a manic look in his eye. The boy went still.

  “Let him go!” growled Phoenix.

  “Nahhh. We don’t need him, really. They wouldn’t do anything if I just killed him here. Look, just everyone put down your weapons. Give them to those with wings. We need the useful warriors armed, then we can let some of you keep yours. Now!”

  With an inner roar, Phoenix complied, dropping her shortsword. Then the small shield, which she threw down with the utmost force. The rage building inside her was like the heat of her wings, yet unable to come free. Bound by the inhibitor that the Magnates had put in place. Was it the same inner flame? It seethed, seeking to lash out at her friend’s rival, now her enemy. She’d never liked him, but now he had crossed a line, threatening the life of an acquaintance, almost . . . well, she couldn’t say friend, but he was nine years old. There was cowardly, and then there was this.

  Phoenix glanced around nervously as her companions threw down their weapons one by one. Stand your ground, idiots! she wanted to say. Stand and fight! But she herself would not, because of the boy Lane. One of the elementalists protested, but she shouted for him to comply.

  “Fine,” he huffed, seeing he made for a minority of one. “But it’s just one kid.” The look he gave her was anything but happy.

  Phoenix said nothing to him, but

  He struggled harder now in Filian’s grasp. The struggling ended in a cry of pain, and Phoenix saw the first blood trickle down the rich boy’s blade, soaking Lane’s shirt.

  “Filian Cornel! What is wrong with you?” she shouted, though he was not far away. Some of his own winged squad looked distinctly uncomfortable, but not enough to say anything. “The Magnates are watching.”

  “As though they’ll step in,” he retorted “If any accidents happened, what would they do? I said hand the weapons over. Step back, or we’ll start drawing some more . . . blood.” Seemingly uncaring of what Phoenix and her companions did, he withdrew his blade from the boy’s side and held it up, inspecting the red stain. “You know, it’s kind of funny how the special and the non all run on the same blood. Oh, sorry. Just something I’ve thought about before.”

  You sick little . . . Phoenix thought for a split second about rushing in, but she didn’t know if he was playing some messed up game or if he was actually serious. She backed up slowly as the winged stepped forward to retrieve the weapons, although only a few of them did so. Others were clearly hesitant, off-put by their leader’s sadistic show.

  “OK, that’s all of them,” Filian said. “Thanks for complying. We’ll find your stash in a bit. For now, maybe we should thin out some of the weak.” Wrenching the struggling, protesting kid by the neck, Filian pivoted him off-balance so that he hung almost off the edge of the fort and then . . . then he kicked with all his might.

  Phoenix watched it in slow motion, eyes widening as she shouted the torturer’s—the murderer's—name. Before she knew what she was doing, she was rushing forward, screaming she knew not what. She could hear nothing over the pounding blood in her ears. Elementalist blood. She hardly made it a few feet before his men stopped her, one with an outstretched blade and two others by tackling. Perhaps it was their intervention that saved her from severe damage from the weapon; she was in no mind to care about even her own body. Filian was her only focus.

  Through eyes of red, she saw him. Only him, a smirk upon his odious face, smeared with a tinge of fear. Or at least doubt. His words eventually registered as well: “. . . born. You’re not exactly making a good impression on your team here. Your friends don’t even seem to be around to save you.”

  Phoenix struggled and thrashed, tears streaming down her face. She hurled insults at Filian, but she knew they fell far short. She cut off, growling ferally to the galloping beat of her heart and the fiery rush within. Somewhere deep inside, a barrier snapped—or perhaps without—and suddenly the pounding pressure of magma became a volcanic eruption.

  Fire streamed erratically from her skin, enshrouding her, and she thought her captors let go but could not tell. She screamed, and the fire exploded outward.