by R F Hurteau
Onyx’s spirit had been broken, one child left behind in Sanctuary and the other ripped from her arms by the Elder Council. Over the years the bond that Gavin had once shared with her grew strong once more, and he was able to help her transition into her new reality, perhaps even find joy in parts of it.
But frequent visits from Pike and her growing son Laevus always set her progress back again. Laevus had been the one to deliver the news when the Council believed Sanctuary had been destroyed.
Gavin had been there.
He’d seen the way Laevus had reveled in his own mother’s suffering.
It wasn’t long after that the Weaver had returned. Although Gavin had no desire to reopen that chapter of his past, the events which followed were enough to convince him that neither he, nor Onyx, had ever let go of the injustices life had dealt them.
When she had hatched her plan for Felix to impersonate Laevus and infiltrate the Council, Gavin had known what she was capable of. That he had not shared this knowledge with Felix, warned him, made Gavin complicit.
And so now here he was, digging a path into the most heavily guarded city in Thera, instead of at home contemplating the coming harvest.
His thoughts were interrupted by the lack of resistance that met the next thrust of his shovel. Pulling it back he struck again, creating a small hole in the dirt that revealed the empty darkness beyond.
He dropped the shovel, widening the opening with his hands. He put his lantern through first, illuminating the eerie space beyond. The light was weak, but it was enough to show that the long tunnel ahead was clear.
He extinguished the light but kept the lantern with him. Gavin knew this place, was as familiar with its twists and turns as he was with any place up above.
Many of the subterranean tunnels were interconnected, but they had not all been constructed at the same time. Some of them predated Imradia, built perhaps thousands of years before. The White City had been constructed overhead, and the old tunnels intersected with the city sewers.
The Elder Council had not bothered to explore this particular mystery, leaving the door open for the Weaver and Tapestry to retrofit the tunnels to fit their needs.
It was a shame that it was no longer a viable place to meet or hide. The Weaver’s refusal to kill the city guards who had discovered him exiting the sewers had, quite literally, sealed the tunnel’s fate.
That was the problem. The First Order. Though there would always be those who treated it more as a suggestion, like Onyx, most took it as a divine decree. The Weaver in particular had always stressed the importance of this commandment. Life was precious. It did not matter whether someone was Human or Theran, rich or poor. None outweighed the other, and it was not Gavin’s responsibility to place a value on any of them—it was his responsibility to protect as many as he could.
Although Gavin had taken more than one life over the years, the Weaver’s admonition was always there.
It was easy to tell when he had almost reached the city borders; the sound of running water echoed down the long pathways, signaling his proximity to the sewer system.
Gavin knew that if any guards were down here they were unlikely to be waiting in utter darkness. He would see their lights before they saw him, and that would be his advantage.
This advantage died, however, when Gavin stopped short just before a little trap door that led to a small room below. This path would be the quickest, but the door was old and loud, and would announce his arrival as effectively as a blaring trumpet. It was also a nice place for a guard or two to set up camp, more spacious than the tunnels.
He stood contemplating for a minute, weighing his options before deciding that it was worth the risk. Taking a few moments to prepare himself for what he might find, Gavin reached down.
He pulled open the hatch.
Only darkness and silence waited in the room below.
He breathed a sigh of relief as he dropped down to the packed dirt floor. He closed his eyes and breathed in the musty air. Gavin could smell remnants of a cold firepit beneath his feet, and remembered the Weaver sitting in this very room plotting with Felix to rescue the Ambassador.
He could smell the damp rusty doors of the chamber. And something else.
Someone else.
Gavin froze. He prepared himself, then clicked the lantern on.
A figure leaped from the corner and kicked it out of his grasp. As it spun, the beam of light whipped across the small chamber like a strobe. Gavin caught flashes of his attacker in an Evicti cloak as he whirled toward them, hoping to gain the upper hand before they had time to move away.
The lantern hit the wall and shattered, shrouding them in a blanket of thick darkness.
But the assailant was already moving, leaping at Gavin and slamming him to the floor. Gavin managed to throw them off.
He heard the sound of movement as the attacker scrambled back to their feet and he pressed his advantage, drawing himself up and rushing forward.
He collided with the unseen figure, barreling forward until the assailant’s body hit the wall, the air rushing out of their lungs—no, her lungs. There was something familiar about her scent.
Gavin’s arm made contact with the soft flesh of her throat, pressing just hard enough to constrict the windpipe.
Small hands reached up, scrabbling at his forearm, attempting to pull it away. Gavin hesitated, lessening the pressure of his arm.
“Kestrel?”
A fit of coughing was the only reply. Gavin moved away, searching for his lantern, but found it in pieces on the ground. Then the room burst into view, making him squint as he spun back around. Kestrel, dainty and disheveled, was holding a light of her own.
“I heard you coming. I doused it and hid.”
“What are you doing down here?”
Kestrel set her lantern on the floor and began smoothing her tangled silvery locks, cocking her head to stare thoughtfully at him.
She had been Gavin’s first Tapestry recruit, a risky choice that had paid off. He’d met her during his Envicti training, daughter to a promising government official on track to rise in the ranks.
“I could ask you the same thing. I’ve been down here for days,” she told him. “I got sloppy. I asked too many questions and got an unwelcome nighttime visit from the city guard.” She sighed. “I knocked them out and got away, but there was nowhere to go. The tunnels were my only shot, but when I got to the exit, it was blocked. They all were.”
She sat down and thumped her flattened hand against an empty pack.
“I’m starving. Do you have any food?”
“No. But I dug the entrance out. You’ll be able to leave.”
Her face perked up, and his own hopes were rising.
“Head back to Solara, Onyx will watch out for you. I’m heading into the city.”
“Don’t bother. There aren’t a lot of safe houses left. Nero’s rooted out most of them. He’s on a rampage. The only holdouts are Yarlow and Flo, and if you show up at their bakery now, you risk exposing them. Every Envicti and guard in the city is on high alert.”
Gavin knelt down and took her hand.
“Kestrel...Nero has the Weaver.”
Her expression was grim but unsurprised. “Yeah, I know. Finding that out is what landed me down here in the first place.”
“So you understand why I have to get into the city. I have to find a way to get him out. Who knows what Nero will do to him?”
Kestrel’s face grew darker still. “He isn’t here. The Weaver, I mean. He’s not in Imradia anymore. Nero’s moved him.”
Closing his eyes with a groan, Gavin let her hand fall. He was too late.
“Where?”
“I don’t know. I tried to find out, but, like I said...too many questions.”
Gavin was thinking hard. Why would Nero have sent away his most valuable captive?
And where would he have sent him?
“Listen,” Kestrel said at last. “If I had to guess, I’d say that
capturing the Weaver is too great a prize for Nero to sit on for long. His coronation is taking place at first light, and he’s supposed to make some big speech afterward.”
Gavin’s eyes widened. “You think he’ll say where the Weaver’s been taken?”
Kestrel shrugged. “I don’t see why not. He’s all about boasting. He won’t be able to keep it to himself. He’ll want the world to know that he has finally defeated Tapestry.”
Gavin stood, considering his options. “I need to hear it. I need to find out where he sent the Weaver.”
Kestrel pursed her lips. “I was planning to use the speech as a diversion so that I could slip out of the city. But thanks to you, I have another way out. We can use the sewers, Gavin. There are storm drains all over the plaza. I’m sure they’ll be piping it out through speakers so everyone can hear, it should be easy enough to get the gist of it from the safety of the tunnels.”
Gavin agreed. “Great thinking. Come on...let’s go find our seats.”
Kestrel groaned. “Looks like it’ll be a bit longer till I can eat.”
***
The ground above their heads rumbled with the shuffling of thousands of feet, the low muttering of excited voices rolling like thunder and echoing down into their damp hiding place.
Kestrel was bouncing on the balls of her feet with anxious energy, and Gavin was trying to force his body to relax.
The sounds above came to an abrupt halt. A loud voice, amplified throughout the plaza, announced, “My fellow Therans...I present to you your new leader...Emperor Nero!”
The crowd erupted with cheers and shouts.
These were not the cheers of a joyful people, like the happy cries of triumph at Solara’s harvest festival. Gavin did not need to be on the surface to know that these were the sounds of a mob. He visualized the citizens of Imradia gathered above their heads, imagined their rapt faces waiting to hang on Nero’s every hate-filled word. They were desperate for closure to a chapter of their history that had been nothing more than the elaborate fabrication of a corrupt government.
And the most corrupt one of all had just been crowned Emperor.
Gavin’s nose wrinkled in disgust, a muscle in his cheek twitching angrily.
When the roar died down at last, Nero spoke.
“My people,” he began. “For too long we have suffered under the yoke of bureaucracy. The bickering of politicians who had no real drive or passion beyond their own self-interests.”
Kestrel snorted at this ironic statement.
“The death of the rest of the Elder Council was indeed tragic, yes. But we must never let a tragedy go to waste, lest their deaths be in vain. No, my friends, we have been presented with a great gift. An opportunity to reclaim that which is ours—our place as the rightful rulers of our own destiny.
“The Great War showed us how powerful we were as a nation. The individual may struggle, but together we can overcome any obstacle. We emerged victorious and reveled in an unprecedented peace.
“But it didn’t last. The Evenmire, that accursed gateway, made its home in our land.”
The crowd responded with angry hissing like thousands of cockroaches caught in a bright light.
“It has grown too comfortable here, and that is our own fault. We have allowed it. The Evenmire is like an open wound that refuses to heal, a wound through which the pus of Humanity might spill through at any moment! The threat of infection is one we can no longer ignore. It is our duty to flush it out at the source.”
This elicited gasps from the throng. Whether the people felt conflicted about, or elated by, this proposition, Gavin could not be certain.
“I tell you now, my people, that this wound, under my reign, shall no longer be allowed to fester. I will purge the disease which threatens us once and for all. And then, for the first time in almost two hundred years, we Therans will be able to sleep peacefully at last! We have won the Great War, now let us win the last war!”
“What’s he talking about?” Kestrel murmured beside Gavin, a disgusted look on her face. “The Humans have never—”
“Quiet,” Gavin said, “he’s not finished.”
“But in order to do so, we must first root out those among us that seek to pick at the wound, to reopen the scab over and over. That traitorous group of insurgents who call themselves Tapestry and spread their lies like a smothering blanket across the land.
“For too long they have been allowed to live in penal colonies, allowed to turn the hearts and minds of the innocent sour.
“And so, for my first decree as your new Emperor, by the power vested in me by this crown and this scepter, I hereby rescind the First Order, effective immediately. We will begin the systematic purge of the penal colonies, finding the Tapestry rebels and silencing them once and for all.”
Gavin was sure he had not heard correctly. He stared at Kestrel, who stared back, her mouth hanging open. The people would not allow this.
They couldn’t.
The angry mob above roared its approval.
“My forces have orders to begin rounding up the rebels immediately. There will be no quarter given. It has already begun here in Imradia.”
Kestrel gasped. “Yarlow and Flo!”
“The White City will once again be a shining beacon of purity and hope. Thera for Therans!”
“Thera for Therans! Thera for Therans!” the people chanted.
“As for me, I will be traveling to Levandire to unveil something truly spectacular. And we will toast our victories with the execution of that foul leader of the Tapestry rebels; the one who calls himself...the Weaver.”
They’re going to execute the Weaver.
Onyx is in danger.
It felt as though Gavin had stepped off the edge of a sandy slope and was sliding down, out of control.
He needed to get to Onyx, to warn her. He needed to get to Levandire, find a way to save the Weaver. Neither were tasks he could trust to anyone else, and yet he had no choice.
He had to make a decision, right now.
“Kestrel.” They moved away from the sounds of the roaring crowd up above. “We need to get out of here.”
“But what about Imradia? What about the Tapestry members here?”
Gavin felt sick at the thought of it.
“There’s nothing we can do for them. But we still have time to warn the others. If we get caught in Imradia, there will be no one left to spread the word.”
Kestrel cast a sad look back toward the grate, filtered sunlight streaming through the bars to the damp floor of the sewer.
“Alright.”
They raced back through the tunnel system. Gavin could not remember the last time he had run so hard.
Yet it still did not feel like enough.
He had to go faster.
When they reached the hole he had dug at the entrance he threw himself through it, turning to reach back and offer Kestrel a hand.
And here he faced a new dilemma.
Solara was the closest penal village to Imradia. He knew that it would be the first place on Nero’s list, once he’d finished in Imradia. He might even plan to stop there personally, knowing how he felt about Gavin and Onyx in particular.
The Floater would get him there in time, but Kestrel had a much longer way to go. He should offer it to her, make his way back on foot.
He should consider the greater good.
“I’ll head east,” said Kestrel. “I’ll hit Verelaise first, and whoever I find there can help me reach the other villages.”
Gavin nodded. “I’ll go to Solara,” he told her, hating himself just a little. “Send anyone you come across toward Levandire. We’re going to need all the help we can get.”
“Right. Good luck.”
He watched her go.
She was quick, her silvery locks whipping behind her as she raced off toward the east.
Gavin bit his tongue to keep from calling out.
“Come back,” he should have said, “take the Floater.”
>
Instead, he said nothing.
When she was out of sight he moved to where the vehicle was hidden among the trees, uncovering it. He tried not to think about how long it would take for her to reach Verelaise, tried to convince himself that she would find a faster mode of transportation somewhere between here and there.
That he hadn’t just squandered the Weaver’s best hope of rescue by choosing Onyx over reinforcements from other villages.
Then he pushed the thought aside.
He sped toward home, toward Onyx and Ollie and the rest of the villagers. How many others would suffer Nero’s wrath if they were suspected of Tapestry involvement? It was not likely that Nero would go from town to town, razing them to the ground. That would not endear him to the people.
No, it was Tapestry Nero wanted. And that meant Gavin and Onyx. The Emperor wouldn’t expect Ollie to be there, but Gavin guessed that it would be a pleasant surprise to recover the escaped traitor from CEDAR.
Gavin steered clear of the roads, taking the longer but safer path through the forest. He found the way easy, as a large swath of older growth had been cut away to form a wide path. This had to have been the work of whatever team Nero had used to recover Pluto.
His suspicions were confirmed when he came upon the clearing where the little airship had crashed, but he did not stop. He pressed forward, feeling a sense of urgency. There was no guarantee that Envicti weren’t on their way to Solara.
His only hope was that Nero would want to be there for Gavin’s death. Nero couldn’t have left Imradia, not yet. He would need time to ready himself for the trip, to greet the throngs of people who had gathered for the coronation. He wouldn’t simply leave…would he?
Gavin burst out of the woods, racing down the dirt path that ran the length of the village, concerned citizens moving out of his way with looks of confusion and fear.
The last time a Floater had barreled through here, he’d been lying in the back seat in a pool of his own blood. No doubt the villagers were worried, but he could not spare the time to explain just now. He needed to get to Onyx. He needed to make sure she was safe.
Reaching her house Gavin leapt from the Floater, not bothering to shut it down.