Architects of Ether

by Ryan Muree

  Clove raised her eyebrows. “You sure? You’re really sure about this?”

  He nodded and held up his arm.

  She reluctantly took his hand and held his middle finger. “Now what?”

  “Go into your trance, request Urla’s Burst, and start scribing,” Emeryss said.

  “With a knife…” Clove added. “What will you be doing?”

  Grier took a deep breath. “My own sort of trance. Then after, someone will need to drain the blood into a bowl, I’ll clean the wound, and then you’ll repack it with my blood.”

  “What?” Clove looked disgusted and nearly dropped his hand.

  “Just do the first part, please,” he pressed. “It’s not that bad, and it might not even work.”

  “Or it might kill you…” Clove mumbled, but she brought his hand closer anyway. “Okay, here I go.”

  He closed his eyes, and after several minutes, the soft point of a knife at the end of his finger pierced him. He breathed nice and even through his nose, slowing his heart rate, willing himself to connect with the ether in the sigils already present on his arm.

  In his mind’s eye, each sigil lit on his arm, radiating out a grimoire fanning its pages full of weapons, a portal into the ethereal realm.

  A new sudden flourish of pain nearly jolted his eyes open, but he held fast.

  He could see the blood pooling at his fingertip despite his eyes still being closed. He could feel the warmth drip down his finger and off his hand. He visualized light and ether pouring through the wounded sigil, bursting forth until the room in his mind was filled with ether.

  All sorts of colors writhed around the black void, wriggling around him and his finger. But all moved for the black ether, the inky stuff, to make its way into his body.

  His finger grew hot, his hand hotter, his arm—fire.

  He shook.

  I can take it.

  He held for as long as he could, the fire raging through him, coursing through every vein and nerve in his body, alighting him from the inside out. It was so intense, he was certain he would burst, and a roar erupted from his chest and out his throat as light expanded in all directions, pushing away the black void and brilliant ether.

  He opened his eyes, panting, and Clove stood with his finger in her hands and tears threatening to fall.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “I probably did it wrong.”

  “I’m fine,” he breathed. And he was. It was actually easier than his first seven.

  Emeryss held a bowl beneath his hand with a small puddle of his blood in it.

  Mack swallowed. “Now, you clean it?”

  He nodded and hastily walked over to the washroom sink, letting the swirls of red slip down the drain under cool water. His arm was still on fire, but the water soothed the worst of it. The veins in his arms were more pronounced, the sigils for his weapons were even a more distinct black.

  He brought up his finger and inspected the sigil.

  It was tiny, but it looked good, as far as he could tell.

  “Burst,” he told himself.

  An arc of pain shot through his entire arm and settled in his chest. He gripped the edge of the sink.

  Emeryss was there, rubbing his back. “You’re heating up. All of you is hot.”

  There was a joke there, but he couldn’t form the words. They were stuck in the grit of his locked jaw biting through the pain.

  He could do this. He could face this.

  “Grier…”

  “I’m fine,” he managed. “I need to pack it.”

  “It’s so small, does it even need packing?” Mack said, peering around him.

  “That’s not the point.” Grier breathed through his nose again to gain control of the pain still tearing through him. “The first step is carving and connecting it to the ether. The next step is reacquainting it with my blood, my spirit, my command.”

  Mack nodded like he understood.

  He lifted his hand back to Clove. “Stick your fingers in the bowl of my blood, then make the sigil with my blood over my finger.”

  Emeryss held it up for her, but Clove hesitated.

  “It helps ease the pain,” he lied through grunts.

  He wasn’t on fire. He wasn’t burning up.

  He would be fine.

  He would be stronger for it.

  Clove finally dipped her finger in his blood with a wince and brought it to his finger. Lightly, she traced the sigil she’d just carved with his own blood.

  He steadied his expression and relaxed the muscles in his face, allowing him to brace against the ache resonating.

  Emeryss ripped off a strip of the lining in her jumper and wound it around his finger multiple times. It throbbed beneath the fabric, and though the rest of him wasn’t as hot as before, his arm still burned, his chest still ached.

  “Thank you.”

  Emeryss smiled. “You survived.”

  But the world spun.

  “I need to lay down.”

  Mack and Emeryss helped him to the bunk. “I’ll be awake by the time we get back, I promise.”

  Emeryss rubbed his good arm. “If you need anything, I’m right here.”

  He smiled. He’d be okay. After everything she’d gone through, after everything they’d faced, he’d be better than before.

  Maybe the Sigilists hadn’t been lying. Maybe the Keepers before him hadn’t handled more than seven sigils well. Maybe he still hadn’t, and he’d never wake up.

  He couldn’t think about that. His eyelids were the heaviest things in the world, and sleep felt like the cure-all.

  His mind slipped into a blank void, envisioning swirls of ether.

  Chapter 33

  Pigyll — Ingini

  Clove sat in the copilot seat beside Jahree, nibbling on the edge of her nail.

  “Grier will be fine,” Mack said, standing behind her. “Have you seen the guy? He’s built like a wall. You ever think you’d be worried about a Revelian?”

  She smirked. “He’s Stadholden.”

  “Whatever.” Mack shrugged.

  “Not whatever. Be respectful. We all could stand to be a little more respectful.”

  Grier would handle the extra sigil just fine. He’d said so. Emeryss believed it. She had to trust them.

  “Coming in. West. Same plateau,” Jahree said.

  He was announcing it, but he was most likely telling Sonora waiting for them in Sufford.

  Adalai would have to get her back into the hangar. She’d be alone with Adalai in the thick of a UA base during a top-secret launch. It sounded stupid before when she didn’t know what they’d find. Now knowing what she was up against, it was somehow worse.

  Her eyes went to the compartment next to Pigyll’s ignition.

  She’d put Cayn’s gun back, hidden it before she was taken by Trent.

  She rolled her eyes. Killing Trent would have been a lot easier if she’d kept it on her.

  “What are you thinking about?” Mack asked.

  “Just everything that has happened.”

  He grinned and leaned against her chair. “I can’t believe you let the RCA capture you. When I heard that, I was like… not Clove.”

  “I didn’t let them capture me. I wasn’t going to—”

  “She put up a fight,” Jahree said, eyes still trained on the window ahead. “She had some choice words about us and our king. Do you remember what you said?”

  She laughed. “I don’t remember, but I’m sure I did, and I’m sure you deserved it.”

  Jahree laughed, too. “It was funny. You were all pushed up against the crates. We thought you were protecting them after this whole ship had crashed around you.”

  Clove smiled and shook her head. “Yeah, but I didn’t, by any means, put up a fight. It wasn’t a fair match. I was too wounded, and my head wasn’t quite right after the crash. I could barely walk—”

  “I know because I had to carry you!” Jahree teased.

  “Only because you knocked me out.”
<
br />   He laughed at her again. “Because you were going to put up a fight.”

  She smiled wide. “I was hopeless. I couldn’t find Cayn. I was too out of my element. But you’re right, Mack, any other time, I would have shot them on sight.” She turned to him, but his small smile had been forced. It barely reached his eyes.

  A pang of guilt tugged at her.

  Live. Screw around. Make love.

  Is that what you’re doing?

  Yes.

  Had he known? Could he tell?

  “You want to check the distance for me?” Jahree gestured to the screen in front of her, and she leaned over and read the units to him.

  She and Jahree had a lot in common. And even if it hadn’t been just a one-time thing, it was still a friends with brief benefits sort of thing. And that wouldn’t change because eventually, they’d have to go back to the way their lives were.

  Of course, that would be after Jahree took her across Revel to find her brother.

  So, was it truly a two-time thing?

  She’d certainly go for more than twice. There was no harm if they were enjoying themselves, right? More than twice wouldn’t change the outcome. It wouldn’t change that they both agreed to no commitments, and she’d meant it. There definitely wasn’t any commitment to the other.

  So, was it horrible if she looked forward to more? To flying with him in Revel? To really seeing how he lived?

  She swallowed.

  Would he change his mind and want as much as Mack wanted?

  No. She was overthinking it.

  Jahree wasn’t Mack. He was different from what she’d expected, and that’s why she’d taken to him in the first place.

  He was… He was a friend, and that was it.

  “Right on schedule. I think we made it just in time.” He smiled at her. “I could really get used to flying ships without ether. You ever have to do any crazy dynamics in this thing?”

  She cleared her throat. “Sometimes.”

  “Someone want to wake Grier?” Mack asked.

  “I’m here.” Grier shuffled up behind them with thick steps. He actually looked pretty good save for the vein going down the center of his forehead. Emeryss was at his side.

  “You okay?” Clove asked him.

  He nodded. “Never better.”

  “Still hurts, doesn’t it?”

  He shrugged. “Pain is nothing. I’m not dying. My body will get used to it. Strengthen the body, strengthen the mind.”

  Mack shook his head. “Keepers are crazy. I thought that illusion woman was crazy. You’re all nuts, apparently.”

  The airship landed, and they headed for the cargo hold.

  Mack rattled Kimpert’s cage, both hands around the bars, and she jumped back. “Why are we holding onto her?”

  Clove glared at Kimpert. “I want her to see what she’s lost.”

  The cargo hold’s doors opened, and Adalai, Vaughn, Urla, Mykel, and Sonora rushed on, urgency threaded across their strained faces.

  “We have to go now!” Adalai reached for Clove, but she yanked her arm away. “They’ve started the alarms in the town. We need to go.”

  “What?” Grier turned to Urla. “What’s going on?”

  “We tried to contact Orr, but the Ingini heard us,” Sonora said. “They caught on to us, and we had to run from Ethrecity and sneak onto an airship to get back here. The sequencing is starting. They’re launching the ship early.”

  “We don’t have time,” Adalai yelled, already out of the ship and heading toward the hangar.

  The circles around her eyes were deeper. She even looked thinner than she had been just a few days before. This whole mission was clearly weighing on her, and it wouldn’t be long before she broke. Everyone broke eventually.

  “I’m going to blink us in and out,” she said to Clove.

  This is it.

  Jahree stepped forward. “Adalai, if you—”

  “I won’t leave her behind, I promise.”

  Clove looked to Mack, and he nodded at her. He knew that whatever happened, she’d fight. “If she does leave me behind, I’ll just strangle whoever catches me and run, okay?”

  Mack’s caring eyes smiled at her, but only held fury when he returned his gaze onto Adalai. “I swear to Goddess, Revelian, I will slaughter you and all your family if you lose Clove in this. You understand me?”

  “Have to have a family to lose, tart-hole.”

  “Adalai!” Jahree scolded.

  “I’ll bring her back, you jelts.” Adalai reached for her arm again, yanking Clove down the hill.

  She looked back at them one last time.

  Mack’s eyebrows were drawn in, and his lips were pulled tight in a frown. Jahree had his arms crossed and his eyebrows furrowed. Even the others looked on as if she were being thrown off a cliff to be some sacrifice.

  They sprinted down the plateau’s north side toward the secret house. The lights were off, and a brief glance through a corner window showed four new men keeping watch in front of the hidden lift. No games, no cards. They stood in perfect posture with their guns out.

  Adalai Blinked into the room in a flurry of bright pink dust as she watched through the glass. Adalai had sliced both of their throats before their guns ever had the chance of going off, and then waved her on from inside.

  They rode the same elevator shaft down, and when it finally stopped, Adalai Dispersed into a pink cloud.

  The doors opened, and four guards stared down Clove with their guns raised.

  “Who are you?” one commanded.

  She lifted her hands in surrender as Adalai slipped between and behind them.

  “What is this?” One guard took a step back.

  “Is it poisonous?” asked another.

  “Sorta.” Adalai reformed behind them and took all four out with a few slices. Blood and limbs dropped to the floor.

  Clove swallowed, trying to keep her feet out of the growing puddle.

  “Come on!” Adalai urged.

  Clove jumped over the bodies and followed Adalai through the same halls as before.

  “What if we get lost?” she asked.

  Adalai poked her head around another hallway, motioned for them to move forward, and darted across another hall. “We won’t. I have a strong visual memory. I have to.”

  She had to? Oh, to Blink and know where she was going. Made sense.

  She’d like to think that in another life, she and Adalai might have gotten along. Adalai would have done well for herself in Dimmur. Too bad living in a luxurious capital had made her a raging bitch all the time.

  The halls were much quieter than last time, but it was most likely because the entire compound sang out a steady alarm. Nothing like the one alerting fires and break-ins from before, but it was counting something.

  “Here.” Adalai pulled Clove by the sleeve down another hall.

  They pressed their backs against the wall as a troop in upper-ranked UA uniforms marched past. Three Ingineers in full robes and fancy trimmings followed behind them.

  After they were gone, Adalai turned to her. “That was the crew wasn’t it?”

  “The pilots and the Ingineers, yeah. All three of the Ingineers.”

  “We’re out of time.”

  They found the same lab as before, but this time Adalai easily Blinked them through it.

  Clove inhaled sharply like coming up for air. The running and the fear of being caught wasn’t helping. It stopped in her chest and throat, tightening like a vice around her lungs.

  “Come on.” Adalai ran for the door to the back hallway and stairwell they’d used before.

  Clove reluctantly gave Adalai her hand and let her Blink them through that door, too.

  As they ran past the glass window, they peered down into the underground hangar. The lights on the Goliath were on, the engines were running. The crew they’d just passed entered through a side door and stopped to speak to a few other members.

  Adalai grabbed her arm again, Blinked them
down the stairs on the other side of the door. Clove knew what was coming next.

  “Okay—”

  “Wait!” Clove sucked in a huge breath, and the rest was a blur.

  Hangar, darkness, crates, darkness, cargo hold, darkness, airship corridors, darkness.

  When Adalai finally stopped Blinking them, Clove coughed, hacked, and swallowed to keep the bile from rising any farther up her throat.

  They snaked through the maze of the ship unseen, down corridors, over pathways, toward the center. Any sound, any voice, and they were forced to dart into a room or an alcove to avoid being caught.

  “It’ll take us too long to reach the panels if we have to keep hiding all the time,” Clove whispered.

  Adalai bit her lip and tapped her hand against her side. “Gimme your face.”

  Without waiting for her response, Adalai took Clove’s cheeks in her hands and willed purple-pink ether over her. It felt strange, but not wholly terrible.

  Adalai let go and gestured at her. “Now, you look like you’re a maintenance worker.”

  She looked down and saw the same jumper. “Are you sure?”

  “Yes.” Adalai snapped her fingers, and she was taller in a cleaner mechanic suit, complete with tools on a belt, and had dried-out black hair pinned back. She looked nothing like herself. “Is this good?”

  Clove nodded, and they hurried back out into the corridors.

  When they could, they ran. When others came near, they stopped to walk and nod.

  The airship was full of people—all about to die.

  Clove’s palms were sweating, her forehead was damp, a drop of sweat dripped down her neck. She wasn’t a murderer. She was trying to stop more deaths. This was a sacrifice that had to be made.

  A familiar voice echoed down a hall beside them, and she slowed.

  “No, come on,” Adalai urged.

  Lark had passed through the breezeway, chatting with his crewmates.

  Clove froze.

  He didn’t recognize her with Adalai’s ethereal disguise on. He simply nodded at her, looked her up and down as he passed, and kept talking.

  He’d been assigned to work on the Goliath?

  “Come on!” Adalai whispered after he’d left. “It’s right around—”