by Reese Hogan
The Aphotic Fields, Andrew recalled, was the place Synivists went after they died – an eternal community of remembrance and kinship. The map of the Aphotic Fields… He frowned, filing the fact away for later. But his main thoughts lay elsewhere.
“So if you did read the notes,” he said, “then you know why I’ve been researching the Age of Fallen Light. My parents thought it might happen again. Because of their research or something.”
Cu Zanthus blinked, his face sliding back into a neutral expression. He took several moments to choose his words. “Yes. Your parents… definitely saw some things that shook their faith. But the idea of the darkness coming back someday is nothing new to Synivists. We believe it will be triggered by a great betrayal, so these things are always mentioned in times of war. Believe it or not, it’s hardly the first time it’s cropped up in some foreign document.”
“So you’re saying I’ve been… overreacting?” said Andrew. “By thinking it’s imminent?”
“Probably. But I figured – like I told you – that you needed a distraction from the other things your parents wrote.”
“You mean about Xeil not being real,” said Andrew.
“Yes.”
“And that you do believe?”
“I’m a Synivist, Andrew. It wasn’t news to me.”
“R- Right.” Andrew looked down at his own slender wrist still encased in Cu Zanthus’s palm. “So… so if you knew about this realm already, what was Holland doing?”
“Holland. Yes.” Cu Zanthus’s lip curled. “We had the gist of the dekatite veins, but it was Holland who discovered how they’re getting in. Arphanium. That was never mentioned in the research. Probably too early for that discovery.”
“But how is it Belzen made this discovery and not Dhavnakir?” Andrew asked.
“Well, there’s virtually no arphanium in Dhavnakir. Or in most of the southern hemisphere. Every bit of arphanium we have was acquired through trading with Belzen. You know, before they cut us off completely.”
“Can other countries do it, too? The ones that can mine arphanium?”
“We haven’t seen sign of it elsewhere. Although there’s been recent suspicions about Criesuce. They’re doing something. But we don’t know anything for sure.”
“So if you didn’t know how to travel through yet,” said Andrew, “that means your army isn’t planning to come through those mines at the base?”
“No.” Cu Zanthus pulled his hand from Andrew’s and sat back, looking at him thoughtfully. “But now that we do know, it’s an opportunity we can’t lose. Mila is on her way there now, you said?”
“The shelter we were in was hit by a bomb. Both her and Holland were knocked out. I was trying to rouse Holland, but then Mila started waking up, and I ran. So I don’t know when she’ll get there, but I know that was her plan.”
“OK.” Cu Zanthus nodded to himself. “If I just show up at the same time she does, she’ll know you were involved. But if she expects to see a whole Dhavnak unit… Hmm. Let me make some calls. I’ll make it happen. We have to keep her from blocking that entrance at all costs.”
Andrew swallowed. “You won’t hurt her. Right?”
“No,” said Cu Zanthus without hesitation. “Even capturing her will be a last resort. Holland is working with her and I don’t want to put a halt to his intel. Hopefully we can handle this without tipping off our involvement at all. Just in case, though…” He tapped a finger against his lip, eyeing Andrew. “When you left her, where would she have expected you to go?”
“She thought I’d find you and confront you. She was afraid you’d kill me.”
“So she expects me to hurt you. That’s something we can use.” The matter-of-fact way he said it was almost chilling; just another nuance of his job. Cu Zanthus put his elbows on the table and locked eyes with Andrew. “If you’re serious about doing this, you need to agree to the number one rule of infiltration. This is very important. Holland himself failed to heed it.”
“What is it?” Andrew breathed.
“Never break your cover unless you’re ordered to. Anytime we go into a new situation like this, things can go backwards faster than you’d believe. But no matter what happens, your sister has to believe you haven’t changed. My cover’s compromised already by her suspicions, but yours isn’t. If circumstances arise where you have to choose, choose her. To do any differently after I’ve exposed myself as an agent would tell her everything. And if you let slip that we had this conversation, you’re done. There are no excuses. Do you understand me?”
“Yes. Absolutely.” Andrew nodded vigorously. But one small thing troubled him.
If there were no excuses for breaking your cover… what did that mean for Holland?
Chapter 14
BLACKWOOD AMBUSHED
“There. Was that there when we were here earlier?” Blackwood pointed at the single empty water glass against the wall in the foyer.
Holland moaned under his breath, laying his head on the arm of the couch he had collapsed on. “I don’t know, CSO.”
Blackwood grimaced, and did a quick run-through of the rest of the house. Closets she’d thrown open still gaping wide, empty boxes in her parents’ room still overturned, Andrew’s room still a wreck. Nothing had been disturbed, as far as she could tell. But where else would Andrew have gone?
“Do you think Cu Zanthus came and got him, before we woke?” she called as she walked briskly back down the hallway.
“I don’t know, CSO.”
Blackwood’s fists balled up. Holland would pass out on that couch, if she let him. She briefly ran the idea through her head. She could move faster without him.
She rounded the sofa, looking down at the bloody, matted hair on the back of his skull. She could easily see the finger-long slash beneath the dark strands, where he’d split his head open on the corner of a concrete stair. Just seeing it made the pounding pain in Blackwood’s own head worse. It was almost as bad as the sharp twinge in her back every time she moved it. Better than being dead. But still, the last thing I needed right now.
Holland, sensing her presence, turned his head in her direction. His eyes were red-rimmed with fatigue and pain. “I’m sorry…” he said hoarsely.
She waved him off. “Don’t be. Xeil knows I should stay here and take care of you. Unfortunately, I can’t.” Xeil. Andrew’s comments, unbidden, rang through her head again. Xeil isn’t real. It’s all there in those notes… She glared at the duffel she’d left by the door. The time since Andrew had disappeared weighed heavily on her. He’s not stable. He’s not safe. He shouldn’t be alone out there.
“CSO,” said Holland. “You’re not thinking of leaving me.”
“What choice do I have, Holland?”
“I’m fine. I’m already better.” He pushed himself back to sitting. To his credit, she only saw him wince because she was watching for it. “Maybe your brother has something. You know. For the…” Gingerly, he put a hand toward the gash on his head, stopping just short of touching it.
“Painkillers?”
“Yeah. I mean, yes, ma’am.”
“Doubtful. But I’ll check. I’ll get you a rag to clean it, too.” She walked back down the hall, gritting her teeth at the extra time spent. She tried to picture how it would go if Andrew returned to find Holland on his couch. Holland should be too weak to attack him again, at least. But what if it wasn’t Andrew who found him? What if it was Cu Zanthus? She shook her head as she knelt at the cabinet under the washroom sink. More complications. I have to keep him safe. Somehow. It’s my job. But her persistent anger was making it hard to think straight. Her anger at Andrew for disappearing, and at Holland for setting the fuse for all this with his pendant. It’s a good thing, she tried to tell herself. Otherwise, who knows how long before I’d have found out about Cu Zanthus?
She raised her eyebrows when she discovered not just one bottle of pills, but a good dozen. Painkillers, mostly. But some sleeping aids, too. She let out a sigh. All that
money I’ve been sending home. Alcohol. Drugs. Xeil knows what else. None of it would have been cheap during wartime, either. She snatched out a bottle of standard, if high-dosage, Lovatane, and poured several of the yellow grain-filled capsules into her hand on her way back to the family room. She capped the bottle, tossed it toward the duffel, and split what she had between herself and Holland. Then she grabbed the empty glass on the floor and headed to the kitchen for water. She filled it halfway, noting uneasily how little water Andrew had. How much had water rations been slashed since her last visit?
When she came back, Holland was flipping halfheartedly through the Dhavnak book still lying on the couch. He turned bleary eyes toward her. “How long did you say they’d been friends, ma’am? Since before your parents died?”
Blackwood set the glass of water on the table in front of the couch. “No, not that long. It was about a year after.”
“Has Andrew always been… that way? That hard to deal with?”
Blackwood thought for a second. “He’s always been emotional. But the worst time was after we lost our parents. He shut down completely. He would just lay in bed for hours, staring, like a twelve year-old… corpse or something. It creeped me out. All I wanted was to get out there and protect the work our parents had died for. Instead, I was stuck with this – this problem.” She winced. “Bad choice of words. But I was eighteen. I didn’t know what to do with him. When a boy close to his age moved in down the street, I invited him over every chance I got. I… I basically threw Andrew into Cu Zanthus’s arms.”
She shook her head in disgust, and headed back to the kitchen. Holland’s voice drifted after her, thin and shaky. “Don’t be so hard on yourself, CSO. You were just trying to help him.”
Blackwood found a rag and wet it down, being as frugal with the water as she could. She headed back out to the main room. “I thought it did help, at first,” she said, handing Holland the rag. “After a few months, they were inseparable. I signed up for the navy, I was sure he’d be OK. But then, when Cu Zanthus moved away suddenly, Andrew took it hard. He was moody. Passive-aggressive. It was as if he blamed me. Things never got better. Some things you just have to… walk away from.” She closed her eyes briefly. Fifteen years old by then. Plenty old enough. Would things be different if I’d stayed?
She couldn’t dwell on it, especially now. She dumped her pills into her mouth and took the glass from the table, grimacing at the water’s stale flavor. When she handed the water to Holland, she saw his head drooped to his chest. The handful of capsules she’d given him was still in his half-curled hand.
“Holland!” she said in alarm.
His eyes jerked open. It took him several moments to find her face. “Stay awake,” she said. “Take the medicine. Clean your wound. Stay busy.”
He blinked at her, processing the information slower than usual. Finally, he brought the rag to the back of his head and started gently sponging it. His breath came ragged from the effort of not showing pain.
“What’s the plan, CSO?” he managed.
“Whether it happens later today or next week,” she said, crossing her arms, “the Dhavnaks will be using that mine. I’m certain of it. I have to tell the military.”
“You’re sure? Even if your… your brother’s Dhavvie friend did go through those notes, you’re sure everything they needed to know was in there?”
“Probably not,” Blackwood conceded. “But we have to assume this wasn’t their only source of information. That mine there is a disaster waiting to happen. It should have been sealed off a long time ago. And now that Cu Zanthus has read about it–”
“But won’t they ask how you know?”
“I don’t have to mention the notes. I could just express concern over the mines being there, and the possibility of the Dhavnaks finding out about them.”
“Possibility?” Holland lowered the rag, now stained with blood, and placed it with extra care on the floor. “More than a possibility, though. They won’t move for… possibility. Not right now, in the middle of…”
“It’s my only option,” Blackwood said shortly. “If I tell them I’m sure we’ve been compromised, I’ll have to say why. Because my own brother let an enemy into our house. I don’t think Andrew’s complicit in this, Holland – I think he’s just going through a world of confusion right now – but our government won’t see it that way. He could be executed!”
“No, ma’am. You’re right.” Holland picked up the water, as well as the pills he’d left at his side. “Maybe we can take care of it ourselves. Sneak into the basement under the… the…”
“FCB.”
“Yeah. Keep a sentry on it or something.”
“A sentry?” Blackwood frowned. “I don’t know about a sentry, but taking care of it ourselves… yeah. Maybe. Cave it in. Collapse it. While there’s still time. Not bad, Holland.”
“Oh,” said Holland. “I don’t know if… wouldn’t you need explosives?” Slowly, he tipped his head back and dropped the capsules into his open mouth, then followed them up with several gulps of water. A grimace of pain flashed across his face as he swallowed.
“Doubt I can get explosives on such short notice,” she said, taking the glass from his hand and setting it down. “Maybe that power of mine, from the dekatite mark–”
“I think I’m gonna throw up,” said Holland.
“No, hear me out–”
“Not you.” Holland leaned forward, one hand on his stomach, the other over his mouth. His eyes were shut tight, and he breathed in a deep, deliberate rhythm that somehow seemed just short of hyperventilation.
As fast as Blackwood had ever grabbed the damage control kit during training exercises, she whisked to the kitchen and snatched a big, dust-covered serving bowl from under the counter. She got back just as Holland opened his eyes. His hand was still over his mouth, but his breathing was easier.
“I’m OK,” he said, pulling the hand down. “It’s passed.”
“You’re in bad shape, Holland,” said Blackwood, putting the bowl down and sitting beside him. “Maybe I can leave you at a bomb shelter on my way out, so there’ll be people to watch you.”
“No, ma’am! I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine–”
“What were you saying?” Holland turned his head toward her. His eyes kept squinting, as if he was sensitive to the dim light coming from the curtains. “You were talking about that – that power? If you can call it that?”
“I didn’t tell you, but I tested it. While you were outside, at the physician’s office.”
A look of horror flashed across Holland’s face.
“And,” said Blackwood, “to put it frankly, it’s real. There was a flash of lightning. Right there in the enclosed space. There is, incredibly, some sort of power in this mark.”
“Was there anything about that in your parents’ notes?” Holland finally got out.
“I don’t know. I haven’t had a chance to read them.”
“Well, you probably should! This is serious stuff–”
“I know! I’m aware.” The Synivistic gods are real, and Xeil isn’t. That’s what their research is about. “I can’t take the time to look right now, though.”
What was she more afraid of? she wondered. To discover that Andrew was crazy, or a liar? Or that he’d been trying to reach out, and she had shoved him as far away as possible? Or did it go even further than that? If what he’d said was true… then they’re really and truly gone. No. It wasn’t possible. She put her hands to her heart, to comfort her mother and father’s spirits within. I have you. And I’m trying to help Andrew. I promise.
“I can’t stay here a second longer,” she said. “There’s too much in play.”
Holland nodded and stood up, before she could try to stop him. Blackwood leapt up and got a hand on his shoulder as he swayed. He closed his eyes, his face paling.
“Did you experience that weakness again, ma’am?” he asked, his eyes still shut. “When you tried the�
�� the lightning thing?”
“A bit,” she admitted.
“You’ll need someone. Just in case you do end up using it.”
“You’re hardly in a position to help.”
“You’ll need someone,” he repeated. “I’m not letting you do this alone.”
Blackwood let out a long sigh. “To be clear, you can’t disobey orders if you come. I cannot – I will not – deal with that again.”
Holland flushed. “I know, ma’am. Don’t worry.”
Blackwood’s mouth twisted. It seemed to be his hatred of Dhavnaks that set him off. Could that actually come in handy if things went wrong?
She didn’t have time to worry about it. She’d just have to trust him to keep his head. And hope to Xeil she didn’t regret it.
The bombing seemed to have let up slightly, although planes of both Dhavnak and Belzene design droned by in the early morning sky almost continuously. The booms and blasts from the south grew more intense the closer they got to the heart of the city. The day before, in late morning and calm circumstances, it had taken them a good hour to get to Blackwood’s house from the FCB. Now, with the heavy bag of notes on her shoulder, the dust-filled air, and the tumult of war vehicles and running soldiers, their pace was cut in half. Holland kept up a steady jog at her side, his head jerking erratically toward every slight sound or flash of light. It must be a wash of overwhelming sensations to his sluggish mind.
By the time the Federal Combat Base was in sight, the Main Sun was breaching the eastern horizon. Percussions of gunshots rang out in a nonstop salvo. Bodies littered the courtyard, and the ones still fighting seemed an equal mix of dark brown Belzene linen and black Dhavnak poly wool. On the left of the complex, several facilities were burning or already collapsed, the flames gleaming from the cobblestones of the courtyard. To the right, a huge chunk had been knocked out of the main structure. The large iron gate they’d driven through the day before was open and half-skewed off its hinges. A huge Dhavvie tank sat in the courtyard, so massive that the barrel would have easily swiveled over Blackwood’s head if she’d happened to be under it. Belzene soldiers surrounded it, firing frantically.