Children of Enochia

by Luke R. Mitchell

  James, who’d been watching the entire interaction unfold with all the relaxed ease of an over-stressed tension cable, practically bounced off the ground at being called on. “Uh, yeah—Yeah, I can, uh...”

  “Oh sit down, my shiny little biscuit,” Nala said, brushing past us and stopping to lay an affectionate little pinch on James’ cheek. “We can’t well have you goin’ and makin’ the tea, on account'a that it would be just too sweet, comin’ from ya.”

  “Duhhh thanks, Nala,” James said, rubbing his pinched cheek and looking like he wasn’t quite sure whether to be flattered or terrified.

  Apparently, someone had an admirer. I might’ve been amused, if not for the serious looks on Franco’s and Elise’s faces. I looked between them, my uneasiness growing with each passing second they didn’t speak.

  “Guys, what is it? You’re freaking me out.”

  “It’s...” Elise started.

  “Probably going to upset you,” Franco offered.

  “And we all know what happens then,” Nala called from over by cycler where she was drawing water for tea. “Don’t wanna go upsettin’ a—”

  “Yes,” Franco said firmly. “Thank you, Nala.”

  “Hmph,” she said, turning back to her kettle.

  “I literally have an entire planet trying to cast me back to demons’ depths,” I said, watching them. “I think I can take it, whatever it is.”

  “Right,” Elise finally said. “Well, for starters, Burton and Omelius aren’t the only surviving remnants of the Emmútari.”

  “Oh.” For a long moment, that was all I could think to say. “Well, that’s... That seems like good news, doesn’t it?”

  “We certainly thought so,” Franco agreed out loud. On his face, though—and on Elise’s as well—there seemed to be an abundant lack of excitement.

  “How many others are out there?” I asked. “And where have they been...?”

  I trailed off at Elise’s subdued head shake.

  “Look at ’im, diggin’ straight for the gold,” Nala commented—quite loudly—to herself over at the kitchen unit, shaking her head while she measured out tea leaves.

  “Those two are gonna be pretty pissed we told you anything at all,” Elise explained. “Well, I mean Burton is, at least.”

  “Well, that sounds like business as usual for the guy,” I said, not particularly caring at this point, what with all the heavy looks and the Emmútari secrets floating around. “I mean, if you guys all know already...” I looked to Franco and James. “No offense, but why would they let you two in on all of this if they don’t even want another Shaper to know?”

  The two traded a look before Franco took the lead.

  “Because they don’t find the two of us terribly threatening, I suspect,” he said, in a tone that made it all too clear that that sentiment didn’t extend to me. He pursed his lips, clearly not eager to say the next part. “And because we both submitted willingly to that Judge of theirs.”

  I looked around the room at the four sets of eyes, all attentively watching me. All waiting to see what I’d say.

  “You passed,” I said quietly. “You all passed?”

  “Of course we passed, ya kook!” Nala cried, spreading her hands wide. “Whadaya think’n we’re all doin’ here?”

  I blinked, trying to process the random outburst. “She passed?” I mouthed silently to Elise when my efforts failed, and Nala had turned safely back to her tea leaves. Elise only gave me an apologetic shrug.

  “At any rate,” Franco said, with a soft frown in Nala’s direction. “I don’t think it’s something we should overly worry ourselves about.”

  “Yeah,” James agreed. “It’s nothing, really.”

  “None of us even actually understand what that thing does,” Elise added. “It’s practically a religion for them at this point.”

  “A religion that just so happens to mark me as a demon?” I asked. “The second religion that just so happens to—”

  I cut myself off, distantly aware of how bitter and childish I sounded. This was exactly why they’d been afraid to tell me anything. Because they knew I wouldn’t be able to set something like this aside. Of course, I wasn’t so sure any one of them would’ve handled things any differently, in my place. I imagined it was a lot easier to dismiss the mystical spirit test when you were among the four-fifths of the people in the room who’d been Judged worthy.

  But remembering the way Omelius had looked at me after my own test—like he was facing down a feral wolf—and finding myself the odd man out now, and in a group that included this Nala lady, no less... Given all that, it was kind of hard not to wonder what exactly I’d done to so clearly tarnish myself in the eyes of their divine Judge.

  But that question also did us no good right now, I firmly reminded myself. What I needed to do was get my scud together and take this news like a big boy, if for no other reason than to get them to all stop looking at me like they were, with those same damned wounded-animal looks I’d gotten so much of after Carlisle had died. Like I was some kind of tragedy, and they only wished they knew how to fix me.

  “So these other remnants...” I said.

  “We’re scant on the details ourselves,” Franco said. “The network was arranged so that no one person, not even the Keepers, could compromise the other cells. But we have been in limited contact with a few of the other recruits.”

  “Shapers?” I asked. “Or more like our buddy Kovaks?”

  “A bit of both,” Elise said. “I get the impression the Keepers only agreed to begin bringing Shapers back into the fold recently. Right around, well...”

  “Right around when I went and blew the lid off of the big secret on live WAN vid?” I asked.

  Elise gave an innocent shrug. “Maybe somewhat around then.”

  “Things seem to have been moving rather quickly here ever since the White Tower,” Franco said. “Doubly so these past few days. I think everyone senses we’re approaching a critical moment for the future of Shaper kind.”

  “You mean more critical than the Sanctum declaring war on us?” I asked.

  “Possibly,” Franco said, perfectly seriously.

  That caught my attention.

  “Up till now,” he continued, “we’ve been looking at a so-called holy war on demons that, oddly enough, has been waged almost exclusively between the Sanctum and Glenbark’s faction of the Legion. At best, we might call it a proxy war for Shaper kind. I would simply call it a political power struggle, and one so clouded by religious idealism that few could probably even articulate exactly what it is that’s even being fought for anymore. Whatever name we call it by, though, the outcome will likely be the same. Unless the Shapers of Enochia are prepared to begin standing up and making themselves known to the public eye in a meaningful way, they will be forced by default to stand by and watch as their collective reputation and their rightful place in this world are inexorably consumed in the fire of the Legion and Sanctum’s war.”

  We all chewed on that in silence for a small time. It felt like more of the same. The same problems we’d been discussing this whole time. The same insurmountable obstacles. Us against the world. Except now it wasn’t just us, apparently, but us and this secret underground network of Shapers that was apparently already growing. Even so...

  “Glenbark is fighting for us, not for political gain,” I said. “She’s given everything for us.”

  Franco nodded empathetically. “I know that she is, and I know that she has. I don’t question any of that for a minute. But others will. And that’s what we’re really up against here.”

  “Fear and blind ignorance,” Elise said. “Willful or not. The world has been looking for answers about what’s happening to the planet they thought they knew...”

  “And all they’ve been seeing is me,” I finished. “Me and a bunch of red-eyed aliens.”

  “That,” Franco agreed, “and also the High Cleric pointing to the trail of destruction behind you.”

  D
estruction the Sanctum had caused, I wanted to say. Collateral damage of the raknoth invasion, and of the concomitant wars I’d never wanted a single damn part of. But there were no words. Nothing to explain away the heavy certainty settling across my chest, telling me that it simply didn’t matter anymore who had started it, who had given this flaming ball of scud the first push down the mountain. It never had.

  I hung my head, suddenly too ashamed to meet their eyes.

  “It was foolish of me to ever think we could wrestle public opinion back under control with a fresh spin and a few nice words,” Franco said, speaking slowly. “We should have known better. I should have known better. I’m sorry, Haldin.”

  He was sorry? Him—the man who’d lost his home and willingly thrown away pretty much everything but his own family to take care of me? The man who’d practically become a father to me?

  It wasn’t Franco who should’ve been sorry. I wasn’t entirely sure who it was. Me, maybe. Me and the High Cleric. General Auckus and the raknoth. The Legion. The Sanctum. The unruly masses of Enochia, all howling for demon blood. There was hardly any limit to the people who should’ve been sorry about all of this. But I was damn sure Franco wasn’t among them.

  So I straightened up, shaking off what shame I could, and gave his shoulder a reassuring clap as he so often did to me, hoping that that alone was enough to say whatever it was I couldn’t seem to find the words to express. The look in his eyes told me it was.

  “So does this outfit have a name for all of Shaper kind?” I asked after a moment’s silence, hoping to move us on.

  At that, Franco and Elise traded a look of wry amusement, even if it didn’t quite reach their eyes.

  “They were literally calling themselves The Remnant when we got here,” Elise said.

  “Well, if that doesn’t sound like a radical terrorist organization...”

  Elise brightened a shade. “Right?”

  “So I take it there’s a new name in the works, then?”

  She nodded. “We were thinking we should call them the Children of Enochia.”

  I chewed on that for a moment.

  “It’s... good,” I finally said, truly meaning it, though I couldn’t have said precisely why at first—only that the name rang like a hammer-struck bell somewhere deep in my chest, for reasons I didn’t immediately understand. “It sounds... hopeful.”

  “And humanizing, we hope,” Franco said.

  “That too,” I agreed, nodding. “There’s just one problem.”

  Their eyebrows adopted almost identical slants—father and daughter, side by side.

  “You’re talking about this like you aren’t a part of it,” I explained.

  “And that’s not even ta mention the fact that’n we ain’t all children ‘round here, right?” Nala chimed in, before Elise could respond.

  I looked over, having nearly forgotten about Nala, and realized she’d laid out five steaming cups of tea at the table. The same table where, not so long ago, I’d woken up as a bound, helpless prisoner.

  Tumultuous times, to say the least.

  “I’m surprised they’re not finished in there yet,” Franco said, glancing in the direction Kovaks had taken Garrett and Siren as we all settled down around the table to take our cups.

  “They’re probably talking,” Elise said. “Garrett said he had something to tell Burton about his brother’s last days.”

  Franco looked curious about that, but he let it pass.

  “Hal,” Elise said, turning back to me. “What you were saying earlier, about the High Cleric...”

  Tension returned to my insides, reminding me of what I still had left to do. All I could do. It only felt all the more important now that I knew what Franco and Elise and their Children of Enochia were up to. Even so, I hesitated, not really sure I wanted to have this conversation anywhere but with Elise, in private. But telepathy was apparently off the table until Kovaks turned the lights back on, and this was probably something Franco and James would have useful input on anyway.

  And then there was Nala to consider, too, but I guess you couldn’t win them all.

  “What about the High Cleric?” Franco asked, in a tone that told me he already had a decent guess.

  “Hal wants to go after him,” Elise said.

  “Go... after?” James asked slowly, tapping at his tea cup and pretty clearly wanting to ask if I’d made the weighty decision to murder a man.

  “Not like that,” I said. “It’s just... Given how our last talk went, and everything that’s happened since, it occurs to me that I might be uniquely suited to, uh, weaken his position, if I could get close to him and...”

  “Expose his true colors?” Franco offered.

  “That was the general idea,” I agreed. “Do you think it can still work?”

  “Showing the world that their holy beacon is flawed and fallible just like everyone else?” Franco said, stroking his dark mustache thoughtfully. “Casting doubt on the foundations of everything he’s done. I think that, in principle, it all sounds well and good.”

  Elise bristled a little at that, clearly not liking the direction this was headed.

  “I also think,” Franco pressed on, before she could interject, “that I’m missing some crucial part of this plan. I don’t imagine the High Cleric is going to invite you to tea and agree to a live feed debate, given the current state of affairs.”

  “No,” I agreed. “I don’t think so either. Which is why—”

  “You were thinking of just flying straight into the White Tower, guns blazing?” Elise finished.

  “Demons to the scudding wind, there’s a thought!” Nala cried, slapping at the table with a wrinkled hand. “Guns blazing right into the belly of the beast, eh? Blue-blue-red, indeed!”

  Again, I wanted to ask what the deal was with the colors. But I was a little distracted by the way everyone else at the table had fixed me on the ends of their expectant stares, awaiting my response to Elise’s question. I opened my mouth and closed it more than once, working through a few false starts before settling on the simplest answer.

  “I wasn’t planning on taking any guns, actually.”

  “Ha!” Nala cried, clearly having the time of her life with this conversation—just as clearly as she was the only one at the table doing so.

  “No guns,” Elise echoed softly, shaking her head and paying no mind to Nala. “Just a raknoth, right? Alpha’s blackened hands, Hal, you know what I meant.”

  I knew what she meant, all right. What I couldn’t even begin to understand, though, was how she knew. As always, it was a little frightening how easily Elise could see into my head, even without telepathy.

  “You want to take Alton Parker on your mission to discredit the holy authority of Enochia?” Franco asked.

  Somehow, he managed to say it without adopting the tone of one speaking to a complete moron, though the words alone still carried enough of that weight. Nala, on the other hand, didn’t attempt to hide her incredulous delight.

  “I expect he’ll be need’n a cameraman to be hold’n the camera while he shakes all the dirty little secrets outta that holy scudder, eh?” she cried, slapping at the table. “Cough’n up about the Seekers and all...” She rose from her chair and shambled off toward the kitchen unit, shaking her head and mumbling to herself about holy scudders and crazy bastards.

  I turned back to find Franco and Elise studying me with expressions that said they understood there was more to the story, and that I hadn’t in fact gone completely softsteel-sipping mad.

  “Why Parker?” Franco asked quietly. “What trick are you hiding up your sleeve, Hal?”

  “Well,” I said, eyeing the Omelius’ darkwood chest, and the assorted array of runed Emmútari artifacts, “that’s kind of what I wanted to talk to the Children of Enochia about.”

  35

  Leap of Faith

  When the time came to say goodbye, I left with a full rucksack, and a heavy heart.

  “You don’t have to d
o this,” Elise reminded me quietly, holding me tight in her arms just outside the door of their underground hideout.

  “I know,” I said, squeezing her right back, trying my best to breathe her in and store away every last fleeting detail, just in case. “But it’s the right thing to do.”

  She drew back and searched my face. In the reflected light of my palmlight, I saw tears brimming in her eyes, and I felt my own not far away.

  “I love you,” she whispered.

  Before I could answer, she drew me in for a kiss—the kind of kiss that made me forget about answers, and words, and pretty much anything else beside the indescribably loving girl in front of me, and the precious sensation of her lips on mine, and her hands on my cheeks. The salty wetness of tears found our kissing lips, and we parted with a shaky breath. I planted one last kiss on her forehead, then forced myself to turn and take the first step. Then another, and another. Step by heavy step away from the person I loved most on this world, refusing to believe this might be the last time, yet unable to shut the thought out completely.

  I fought the intense desire to turn back for one more look, one more precious moment. I’d never be able to leave if I did.

  That said, I couldn’t contain my extended senses from reaching back to her. I didn’t even try, really. And I was relieved to find that neither did she. Our minds met in a silent, ethereal embrace, and I held onto that contact, only distantly paying attention to my physical surroundings and Burton Kovaks’ wary frown as he turned to lead me back out of their labyrinthine hideout. I held on for a quarter of a mile or so, until the cold voice of reason grew too loud to ignore, and I was forced to acknowledge that we would soon be out of range, and that I might as well get it over with while we could still communicate effectively.

  “Come back to me,” she sent, seeming to have arrived at a similar thought. “Come back to me when it’s all over.”

  I wanted to tell her that I would. Wanted to believe it more than anything.

  Instead, I opened my mind and showered her with all the love and gratitude I felt, not bothering with words, holding nothing back. It was all I had to give. And we both knew it. I hesitated, then, knowing I should end it, but not quite able to bring myself to flip the switch on my cloaking pendant.