Hit and Run (Part 7)

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"Or," I stammered, my heart hammering in my chest like three dwarves swinging at an anvil, "it could be a trap. Like Aya suggested!"
The others were giving me strange looks that made me want to punch their stupid faces. "Last time we faced a Scythe, Mica nearly died!" I kicked myself mentally for the way my voice sounded like that of a whiny child, but kept going anyway. "We all did! This was supposed to be a series of quick strikes to destabilize the Alacryans, yes? Not a full out war with a Scythe!"
My chest was heaving up and down so that I bobbed in the air, and my fists were clenched so tight that I could feel my joints cracking. There was a buzzing like wasps on fire in my head, and I was suddenly worried I might pass out.
Is Mica having a panic attack? Lances don't have panic attacks!
Aya flew close and reached for my hand. I pulled away, but she grabbed me and held me tight. When she spoke, it was with a softness and kindness I hadn't heard from her since before the Council fell. "Mica, we thought we were invincible. Even when Alea—Lance Alea—died, it seemed like a fluke, like bad luck. It couldn't happen to us, because we would be more careful, we would be stronger. Then they broke us."
She leaned forward, pulling me toward her, and planted a warm kiss on my cheek. "But this is how we put ourselves back together, understand? We fly up there and kick whoever we find's ass. After that, we can go back to the Beast Glades so you can annoy me to death with those dolls of yours, all right?"
I snorted and blinked back tears, not even sure why I was crying. "I thought I might try writing a puppet show next."
Aya turned to Varay. "At least if we die today, we'll never have to see that."
I let out a hoarse laugh and punched the elven Lance in the arm. "Let's just do it then, shall we?"

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 With Varay leading the way, we flew up out of the canopy and went straight for the powerful source of mana hovering above Asyphin. He obviously saw us coming, but made no move against us, just waited as we approached.
It wasn't the horned Scythe.
The dark-haired boy from Etistin Bay, the one who had lived in my nightmares ever since then, greeted us with a cold glare.
Varay stopped thirty feet away. The boy spoke first. "You've pulled me away from something incredibly important, Lances. The High Sovereign is eager to see you removed from the board, but I don't have time for you right now. Leave."
This...wasn't exactly what any of us had been expecting. "You've grown more powerful since we met in Etistin," Varay said, her voice icy calm. "But I don't think you alone can stop us from doing what we came here to do."
"Which is what, exactly?" the boy snapped. "More assassinations? Whatever you think you've accomplished, you're wrong. You've done nothing but shine a light on yourselves. Honestly, you Dicathians are so small. If Grey had been reborn on Alacrya, like he was supposed to, it all could have been different, but no, he became a Dicathian, and I had to grow up in exile just to get close to him!"
The three of us exchanged an uncertain look. "What the heck are you talking about?" I asked, forgetting some of my fear.
The boy growled, like he really was some kind of feral mana beast. "I don't have time to talk to you, much less kill you. Leave Elenoir immediately. Take no further actions against our people. Live out the rest of your pointless lives as hermits in the Darvish deserts or the Beast Glades or wherever you've hidden away. If I see you again, I will kill you all. Go."
Cold fear pressed against my chest, but we didn't move.

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When black fire engulfed his hands, Varay, Aya, and I spread out and began channeling mana to counter him, but another figure was rising up out of the city. The dark-haired boy turned his back on us as he watched the newcomer approach.
The man was a retainer, I was sure of it. He was tall and kept a ramrod straight posture even as he flew. Black leather armor hugged him like a second skin, and the truth was he'd have been handsome if not for the horns jutting out above his ears.
"Cylrit, I told you to—"

 "It's beginning, sir. You're needed back at the city, immediately." The retainer spoke with a clipped, militaristic professionalism. "By order of Agrona himself."
The boy's gaze turned back to us. "I can't leave until these pests have been dealt with..." He seemed uncertain, both eager and unwilling to leave.
What could be so important that he'd just walk away from a fight with us? We had assumed that we'd be the Alacryans' top priority once we revealed ourselves, and it was pretty troubling to learn that we weren't.
"I'll take care of them, Nico." Cylrit's red eyes met mine. "You need to be there."
"I just hope you do a better job this time around than you did protecting Lyra," Nico snarled. To us, he said, "When you reach the afterlife, tell my old pal Grey I say hello." Then, he flew down into the city and out of sight.
"So we're supposed to be afraid of you now?" I asked, still holding the retainer's gaze. "Sorry to break it to you, bud, but we already took out one retainer this week. If we weren't afraid to fight that guy"—I waved my hand in the direction the dark-haired boy had vanished—"why do you think we'd be worried about you?"

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"We're not going to fight," Cylrit said casually. "You're going to go back into hiding and bide your time."
"Why would we do that?" I asked.
"Bide our time for what?" Varay said at the same time.
A warm wind blew from the north, carrying the smell of the salt sea. Cylrit closed his eyes and took a deep breath. When he opened them, he again held my gaze. "As Lady Seris said, Mica Earthborn, we each have our parts to play, and this isn't yours."
Aya's dark hair danced around her face in the breeze as she gave me a questioning look. "The Scythe that—"
"Let me live and sent me to help in Etistin, aye." To Cylrit, I said, "I don't like being played with. Tell us plainly what you want, or we'll beat it out of you."
Cylrit laughed with a sense of easy confidence that made me equally nervous and frustrated. "Maybe you could, but you three look tired to me, and it wouldn't help you anyway."
"What is this important thing that is happening?" Varay asked. I got the sense she was pushing to see how much information this retainer was willing to share.

 Cylrit's friendliness and ease evaporated in an instant. "Not something you need to worry about. Now go. I can't risk speaking to you any longer."

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I leaned toward Varay. "We can take him," I muttered. Now that the dark-haired boy was gone, my pre-battle jitters had fled, and I felt like working out my embarrassment and frustration on the Alacryans. "We can still complete our mission."
But Varay was shaking her head. "No. Come on, we're leaving."
Cylrit stayed where he was, watching us go. Even after he was well out of sight, I could still feel his red eyes burning into my back.
***
This hadn't been how we'd wanted things to go, and the flight back to the Beast Glades was made in silence. It only got worse after that.
I cursed as we landed next to the secret door to our hideout. What should have been an inconspicuous slope of rocky ground was a blasted crater leaving our cozy cave completely exposed.
Varay leapt down into the crater and I felt several flashes of mana. Aya followed, her hands up as she prepared to start casting, but there was no need. Three huge lizardlike mana beasts were dead on the floor, their heads burst apart like melons.
Our hideout was a shambles. The cage where she had been contained—a fusion of ice and earth elements Varay and I had constructed, which had then been imbued with a sound spell to keep the retainer asleep—had been shattered, just like the secret door.
Lyra Dreide was gone.

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