by Brandon Barr
“You have charge of the portal, and that is all,” the Baron said. “The charter forbids you from intervening in our world’s affairs.”
“Would you like it if I reversed my intervention? You could be back on the grass where you fell, choking to death on your own blood. You were two teckamils from death when we found you.”
Winter squeezed Aven’s fingers. He rubbed his thumb over the back of her hand. The relief he felt was immense.
It’s not over, tapped Winter.
Aven felt a tinge of annoyance. It was essentially over—they were both safe, and that’s what mattered.
Why did you do that? tapped Aven, referring to Winter’s decision to hold the Baron at knife-point.
I had a vision.
What you did was suicidal.
I was using my gift. I was following the Makers’ call.
And if that meant you died?
I am willing to accept that. I trust the Makers to guide me.
Winter’s hand was in his, but she felt distant. Aven could not so easily rid himself of the memory of his sister putting a knife to the Baron’s back, throwing her life to the wind. The Baron had called her actions treacherous. Aven found that an apt word.
By that act, she had betrayed her brother too.
Aven wanted to hide his heart, but he knew his sister could plunder it at will. He loved her. She was all he had. Too much of what shone inside him was because of her.
Didn’t she know this? Did she not feel the same? How was it she could put herself in such danger and risk the one person he found immeasurably precious, the one person he found himself clutching to the most fiercely?
They were twins. Their lives were not entirely their own.
The bond of the womb, as she used to say—to the point of annoyance.
Now he wanted to hear Winter say those words again, but he sensed she had changed.
He knew instinctively what that change was. Her trust was no longer in him, but in the Makers, and in the visions they gave her. She trusted them completely, now, and that made her bold and reckless.
Aven saw a fork in the road looming before him. Follow Winter down a road of visions and the unpredictable whim of the Makers, or turn onto a new path. Escape the gods and leave the sister he loved to her fate.
He feared that choice. It was an impossible one.
He rubbed his eyes. How could he even make such a decision? This was his precious sister. She held his heart in her hands.
_____
KARIENCE
“You go too far,” the Baron growled, his face bright red. “You are abusing your position here. You won’t get away with it.”
“What I am doing is called negotiation,” said Karience, unable to completely keep the impatient edge from her voice. “I am not abusing the charter. I am using the leverage I have to get the results I want. The Guardians promote peace. And as you can see, there are many ways to get what you want without resorting to violence. If you want violence and death, I will make it cost you. Furthermore, we had an agreement. The agreement was clearly contingent on Winter leaving here with me. Unharmed.”
“That was before she threatened me in front of everyone.” The Baron’s voice was softer now, with an icy coldness to it that was chilling. “Our agreement is off.”
“My monitors showed me what happened,” Karience said. “The farmers did not see the blade. Only your son did. And perhaps a few of your soldiers.”
“You don’t know that.”
Karience felt the last trace of warmth drain from her face. It had been a long while since she’d dealt with such a ruthless and primitive tyrant. If it wasn’t a flagrant violation of the charter that would cost her her position and all that she’d worked for, she’d be tempted to simply board the ship and disintegrate the soulless bastard with one of a dozen shipboard weapons.
But this was not like her. It was a rare individual who could truly get under her skin. Leave it to a backwoods baron who ran his lands as if those under his employ were animals, not humans.
“If she does not come with me, then neither does your son.”
The Baron’s eyes narrowed, and she knew she had him there. The only reason the Baron had negotiated with her at all was because she’d agreed to take Pike into the Guardians along with Aven and Winter. And he wanted Pike there, so he could have eyes and ears inside the Guardian order, gaining him access to privileged information. Not to mention the increased standing it would give him to have his son land such a prized position.
Little did he know how wrong he was. Pike would be useless to the Baron once Alael was through with him. She was careful to keep that knowledge off her face.
“If I’m to keep the rule of law on my land, then someone must die,” the Baron said, looking meaningfully at Gray Bear and Rabbit. Gray Bear’s face darkened. “That girl shot me with an arrow, and that oaf was inciting rebellion.”
“No,” said Karience firmly. “I will not see further bloodshed today.”
“You would have me spare my assassin and the loudest voice of dissension in my lands?”
“There is a way in which they can be spared, and yet you retain your authority,” Karience said. “Let them leave for a life elsewhere. No one else will know what’s happened. When they wake, you can tell them what you wish.” Karience despised the thought of the farmers thinking the Baron had come out victorious, and that these two brave resistors had been killed, but she also knew she had to make some concessions.
The Baron bared his teeth. “I’m talking about heads impaled on spikes.”
“I take your son with me when I leave, along with Winter and Aven,” Karience said. “The farmers receive your pardon. That is my offer. You will not get a better one.” She fixed him with a hard look, making sure he saw how serious she was.
The Baron locked eyes with her, and they stared at each other for some time as if frozen, each testing the determination of the other. To Karience’s surprise, the Baron suddenly nodded. “Fine,” he said, his tone smooth and emotionless. “I accept your terms.”
“You will let Gray Bear and Rabbit leave?” she asked, still surprised at his sudden capitulation.
“I will let them go.” He looked at the two of them. “Run far. Run fast.”
Karience looked at the big man and his wife and nodded. Gray Bear put his hand on Aven’s shoulder. Rabbit embraced Winter. The two took off at a run and were soon out of sight.
Karience stared a moment longer at the Baron. “I’m glad we could come to a peaceful resolution.”
“As am I,” said the Baron. He seemed utterly calm now.
Karience didn’t trust him, but there wasn’t much more she could do. She motioned to Winter and Aven to follow her. The Baron pulled Pike close and said something to him in a whisper.
“Baron,” Karience said.
“Empyrean.” His eyes bore into hers, calm and deadly.
Karience called for her party to enter the ship and turned away, knowing she’d made a new enemy today.
_____
WINTER
As Winter passed through the strange egg-shaped doors into the starship, she felt as if she were in a dream. Inside, a circular hallway was lined with more oval doors, like the one she’d just walked through. She reached out and touched the smooth interior wall. It felt cool and metallic, like a newly forged set of shears.
An overwhelming sense of strangeness assaulted her. The silvery perfection of rounded edges, the sleek, shining walls, the unplaceable smells. All so unnatural and unlike the earthy scents she’d known all her life—it was all so otherworldly.
Winter glanced over her shoulder and caught Pike’s eyes fixed malevolently on her brother. It struck her as strange that Pike was allowed to come with them, considering that he had only recently threatened her brother’s life. Why was he here? What agreement had Karience made with the Baron?
She tapped to Aven, We have to tell them about Pike…that he’s violent. And that he’s likely here to be the
Baron’s spy.
Aven gave a slight nod but didn’t send her any message in reply. He seemed distant, preoccupied. Was he in shock over the recent events? Or was it something more?
Karience stopped inside the starship doors, and the two massive metal frames rushed inward and closed with a sigh.
“Welcome aboard the Relic,” said Karience. “It has been a long, tiring morning—not at all what I had hoped for. I know each of you have many questions, but before we go any further, there is a procedure we must perform if you are to join us in a new way of life, as Guardians. It is the first step of initiation. Pike, you’ll accompany me and Alael. Winter and Aven, Rueik and Arentiss will take you to medical room three. I will be with you shortly.”
Winter watched Karience walk away and immediately felt vulnerable, though the Guardians beside her were not threatening.
Rueik and Arentiss led them through an oval door that silently slid open at their approach, revealing a hallway lined with purple lights glowing from the floor.
“The Relic is like an octopus,” said Rueik. “Only, she has corridors instead of tentacles.”
Winter wondered what an octopus looked like, or tentacles, for that matter.
“It’s strangely beautiful,” said Winter. “I could never have imagined such perfectly smooth walls. I feel like I’m inside a metal snake.”
“I’m curious,” said Arentiss with a serious face that seemed permanently settled onto her features. “What do farmers such as yourselves know of our order?”
Another door opened, and they passed through.
“You guard the portal,” said Aven. “You keep peace on other worlds.”
They entered an empty room. The door closed with a sigh after Winter followed Aven through.
“What else?” said Arentiss, turning to face them. Rueik stood beside her, hands held behind his back.
Winter said, “I’ve heard the Guardians protect a universe they believe the Makers have abandoned.”
Arentiss' eyes narrowed. “At present, I do not care to speculate about the Makers, but you are wrong about the reach of our influence. We do not currently protect even a fraction of the worlds within our own galaxy, not to mention the universe. Do you know how many galaxies comprise our universe?”
Winter shook her head.
“Seven. Ours is called the Silver Hand Galaxy.” Her head turned sharply to face Aven. “What else do you know?”
Aven answered, “You have an army of starships to protect the worlds under your care.”
“How many worlds do we protect and what are they being protected from?”
Aven shrugged. “Beasts. Whatever those are.”
“Yes, primarily from Beasts.” Arentiss nodded. “The Beasts are animals that have been inhabited by spirit creatures called Aeraphim. These Aeraphim seduce the humans on the worlds they inhabit, giving power to the kings and warlords who swear their allegiance, making them their puppets.”
“Those who follow the Beasts are called Shadowmen,” said Rueik, a frown marking his youthful face. “Some are very dangerous.”
“Do you know how many worlds we protect from the Beasts?” asked Arentiss.
Winter tried to think of a number she might have heard in the past, but it was Aven who broke the silence.
“I’ve heard it’s close to one thousand,” said her brother.
“Incorrect,” said Arentiss. “Eighteen thousand four hundred seventy-two, as of this morning.”
Ignorant farm boy, tapped Winter.
Despite himself, Aven smiled.
“I see you communicate with your hands,” said Arentiss. “Is this common among the farmers in your community?”
“No,” said Winter. “It is our own private language. Just Aven and me.”
“How old were you when you devised it?”
Rueik put his arm around Arentiss and pulled her off-balance, in what seemed a playful hug. “You’ll get used to this one. If she had her way, she would question you for days. It’s how she is. She’s a scientist by nature. She can’t help but pummel you with questions.”
Arentiss’ eyes showed no emotion. “Rueik is right. I come from a group of people known for their scientific acumen. To certain other cultures, our questions may be seen as blunt. Or annoying, I’m told. I do not mean to be rude.” She barely paused before continuing, “One more question, though, if you don’t mind. Do you have any idea what your role will be as a Guardian?”
“We are in the dark,” said Winter. “Baron Rhaudius only told us we were joining the Guardians. Nothing more.”
The muscles on Arentiss' petite face tightened. Clearly she wanted to question them more.
“Relic, give us two beds,” said Rueik to the air. From the room’s white floor rose a pair of rectangular beds topped with a cushioned surface, startling Winter and Aven. “Lie down. Karience and Alael will be arriving soon.”
“You speak to the ship and it responds?” asked Winter.
“It is programmed to do—” Rueik broke off with a chuckle. “You don’t know what the word ‘programmed’ means, do you?”
“No,” said Winter.
“It’s...like a set of instructions. I know all this seems overwhelming.” He gestured at the ship around them. “It must seem like magic, although it’s not. It’s what we call technology, natural processes harnessed to do amazing things. No different than turning tree sap into syrup, though considerably more complex, of course. Each process, once discovered, leads to other processes, one after another—until you get to a ship that obeys your voice.”
“That doesn’t make any sense at all,” said Aven. “None of this does.”
“It will. In time. Another four to ten thousand years,” said Arentiss, “and your culture will likely develop the tools to make ships just like this.”
Winter placed her hand on one of the rectangular beds. It was soft and pliable. “Are these part of the procedure Karience spoke of?” The idea of having to lie down made her uncomfortable. It suggested something beyond conversation. What was a procedure?
“Yes,” said Arentiss. “It is painless. Just lie down and relax.”
Painless? thought Winter. Were procedures usually uncomfortable?
Winter let go of Aven’s hand, and they both sat on the strange beds. Arentiss stood at the foot of Aven’s, while Rueik hovered beside hers.
“Do your sigils mark your rank?” asked Winter, eyeing the white-red-black patch on Rueik’s white shirt. “I noticed both you and Arentiss have different colors than Karience.”
“Arentiss and I are Missionaries.”
“Your world is in transition,” said Arentiss. “Loam has signed the charter and is serving its twenty-eighth year toward the goal of becoming a fully protected, fully privileged world. In twelve more years, you will receive a Cultivator. That individual will see you through twenty more transition years, at the end of which you’ll become an officially recognized member.”
Rueik rolled his eyes. “What I think Arentiss is trying to tell you is that when a world is in transition, that world must serve as a Missionary enclave for the Guardians, working with the rulers of the planet, like your Royals. Loam has two teams of Missionaries.”
“We did have two teams,” said Arentiss.
Rueik appeared thrown off-balance by her remark. A seriousness crept onto his face. “It’s not our role—”
“I know,” said Arentiss, and turned her eyes on Aven, then to Winter. Winter felt unnerved by how impersonal her gaze was. “You’ll find out in due time, I’m certain.”
“Your hands,” said Aven to Arentiss. “May I see them?”
Arentiss gave him a puzzled look, but stretched both her hands out, palms upward.
“Your hands are soft, like a child’s, but you look close to my mother’s age when she died.”
A sharp line formed on Arentiss' brow, and she withdrew her hands. “I am only twenty-eight in Loam’s years.”
Winter found it curious that Arentiss would take
offense. Aven had paid her hands a compliment. Only Royals had smooth hands. Or was it the other comment Aven had made? Did the woman’s advanced culture not value the wisdom and honor of age?
Aven appeared confused. “My mother was seventeen when she had Winter and I.”
Rueik intervened. “Arentiss is still new to Loam. Forgive her if she doesn’t understand primworld cultures like you and I come from.”
“What is a primworld?” asked Winter.
“A primitive world,” said Rueik. “A world that does not have starships and other such things. The advanced worlds are called upworlds.”
Winter liked Rueik. He was like them, and yet he clearly understood much more about the larger universe. He seemed to enjoy helping them understand new things.
She turned to Arentiss. “My brother was only asking to find out what it is Missionaries do,” said Winter. “If your hands are not calloused, then you must work more with your mind. What kind of mission do you perform?”
“Our mission is to blind-jump through the portal,” said Arentiss.
“What is a blind jump?” said Winter.
Arentiss cocked her head to the side. “You do not know how the portals work, do you?”
Before Winter could reply, Karience and Alael entered the room.
Chapter Two
KARIENCE
Karience looked at the two young farmers with affection. They were the common man and woman of Loam she was working for—not the contemptuous royalty she had to navigate weekly. A crown could be so corrupting. But then, so too was the powerful technology at her disposal.
She was uncomfortable with what she had ordered done to Pike. It felt wrong to alter a human being without their permission, no matter how good the end results. In this case, it was truly an end that justified the means, and it had been her only option. What else could she have done? Under this world’s laws, she could not bring Winter and Aven into the order without the approval of the Baron, and he had insisted that he would not allow them to join unless his son was taken in, as well. Knowing what she knew of the Baron and Pike, she was certain that would have led inevitably to great trouble. Therefore, she’d had to take drastic measures to neutralize the threat Pike presented.