Godsend (The Circle War Book 1)

by Matt King

  “I know. I was there.”

  “You should not have been.”

  “If he had any ability to follow directions, this never would have happened,” Paralos said. “The plan was to kill Gemini, not get revenge on some pathetic old man and then take on Talus. I would ask what you were thinking, but it's obvious you weren't.”

  “You don’t understand,” August said. “Coburn tried to bury me at the bottom of a swamp and Talus deserves to die for what he did to Ray. I did what I had to do.”

  “Had to?” Paralos fumed. “Do you have any idea how many lives you’ve endangered? How you might have just lost us the war?”

  “How was I supposed to know Talus would show up?”

  “Because I told you he would!”

  August looked to Meryn, who shied away from his stare. Even the Horsemen wouldn’t look at him. “Coburn walking around that place was bound to lead to no good. The guy’s probably in that castle right now, spilling his guts to whoever'll listen.”

  “And what if you had succeeded?” Paralos asked. “Would his death prevent a war? Would killing him save the people of countless worlds? The man knows nothing of consequence, which makes your actions even more foolhardy. He’s likely dead already. Galan would never trust an outsider.”

  August fell silent. How could he argue? As much as he hated to admit it, Paralos was right. He backed up against the wall. “Okay, so give me a chance to fix it. I’ll go back in and finish Gemini off.”

  “It’s too late for that,” replied Paralos. “He has regained his strength. Amara probably has him on another world by now after your debacle.”

  “Gemini’s not going anywhere, not when they’re getting ready to invade.”

  Meryn's eyes flashed. “What do you mean?”

  “There was an army,” he said. “Thousands of soldiers standing in front of a synapse the size of a mountain. Some kind of vehicles, too.” He watched as Meryn and Paralos traded a silent glance. “See? The trip wasn’t a total waste, right?”

  Meryn didn’t answer. Instead, she walked to the back of the room and took a lump of crumpled black material from the floor. She placed it on the end of the bed. “It seems this gift is well-timed.”

  “What is it?”

  “Protection,” she said.

  His blood-soaked jeans stuck to his legs when he stood. He picked up Meryn’s gift and unfurled it, revealing a full-body suit, complete with gloves and boots. The surface looked like metal, but it flexed easily between his fingers. There were curves along the arms and legs that matched his body’s shape. When he angled the suit to see it better in the light, he saw thin seams breaking up the surface, dividing the suit into segmented, movable parts.

  “Liridian armor,” she said. Paralos shot her a look that she ignored. “I had it fashioned to your proportions.”

  On the back of the suit, a long diagonal protrusion rose over the right shoulder. It was the size of a shotgun barrel, with dual cavities bored into the top. A translucent blue gel filled the inside. August pressed his finger against the surface. It felt harder than the suit itself.

  “My swords go in this?” he asked.

  “Yes. The compound is meant to keep them in place, I believe. It may even sharpen them. An ordinary man could not pierce the surface, but your strength allows you to do so.”

  He looked down through the hole in the neck. She must have figured that no one would aim for his head. Maybe the helmet would come later. In the meantime, he turned the armor around, looking for a zipper.

  “Look on the back side of the left shoulder. There should be an indention where you can place your fingertip to unlock it. The trigger is specific to your touch, so only you can open it.”

  He found the spot on the shoulder and pressed his finger against it. The suit's torso divided down the middle of the chest, folding at the waist. “That’s nice. Wouldn’t want people undressing me in a fight.”

  Paralos scoffed. “I should think not. You’ve proven to be fragile enough with nothing to guard you.”

  The words hit him harder than they should have. How many times had Meryn seen him die already? And the war hadn’t even started. He tried not to think about it as he carried the suit into the bathroom to change. He laid it across the towel rack and closed the door behind him. While Meryn and Paralos talked in hushed voices, he turned on the water in the sink as hot as it would go and soaked a wash cloth, pressing it against his face. The heat was shocking, reminding him that he was alive once again. He held it there until the warmth faded.

  After re-soaking the cloth, he shed his jeans to clean the blood from his legs. Guess that’s the end of those, he thought, tossing them to the floor. When he looked up, he happened to glance at the spot on the wall where Bear had pinned him during his first night on the farm. The memory stung—not just because it reminded him of Bear’s absence, but also of Ray’s. It was strange to think about how much they’d been through in only a few days, how close they’d grown. Now their trio was shattered. It didn’t seem fair.

  He cleared his throat and took the armor off the rack. Nothing I can do about it now. Holding the suit at the waist, he stuck a leg in and jumped as the material tightened around his foot.

  “Don’t worry,” Meryn said on the other side of the door. “Liridia forms a temporary bond with the skin.”

  “Do you mind?”

  Once he got the other leg in, he pulled the rest of the suit over his back and arms. He closed it by reattaching the shoulder latch at the top. In the light, he saw that the suit wasn’t black at all, but a dark, metallic blue. He ran his fingers along his forearm, then his chest. He could feel every touch like it was happening against his bare skin.

  He went to the mirror and sized himself up. After a quick once-over, his shoulders slumped. I look like a robotic ninja.

  The area around his neck seemed bulkier than the rest, like it had extra layers of plating. He leaned closer and saw another indentation below his ear, just like the release on his shoulder. As soon as he pressed his finger down, a rush of wind washed over his face as the suit rose around his chin and ears, eventually snapping shut and leaving him in total darkness for a split second until his vision reappeared. The reflection in the mirror made him flinch. The suit had formed a mask around his head, with a shiny metallic blue visor stretching in a tapered band across his eyes, giving him full range of vision. A line of small vents ran along each side of the mask.

  “I’ll be god-damned,” he said, testing his voice. The sound came through clearly. He pressed the release button again and the mask retracted.

  “How does it feel?” Meryn asked as he walked back into the room.

  He flexed his arms. “It feels pretty good, actually. Where did—hey, what are you doing to those?”

  Meryn sat at the end of the bed with his swords on her lap, running her open palm along the length of the blade. Her hands gave off a low humming sound as small arcs of lightning danced over the metal.

  “I'm strengthening them. They are too brittle for what you're about to face.”

  “Strengthening them how?”

  “The metal is made of elements,” she said, moving her hand to the second sword. “Elements are held together by a bond of energy. If you strengthen the bond, you strengthen the metal.”

  “And you’re just thinking of this now?”

  “It was Paralos’s idea,” she replied without looking up.

  Paralos took the pipe from his mouth and replaced it in his coat pocket. “If you insist on using these twigs, I thought they ought to at least perform a useful function.”

  Meryn handed him a finished blade. He took it by the grip, expecting the metal to be heavier for some reason, but the weight was exactly the same. He moved it in swooping arcs to test its feel. With even the slightest motion, the sword gave off a high whistling sound as it cut through the air. The faster it moved, the more the blade sounded like it was singing.

  “You should be careful. The blade is much—”


  He accidentally nicked the side of the bed, slicing through mattress like it was water.

  “Sharper,” Meryn finished.

  “I'll, uh... I'll fix that.”

  She stood, giving him the other sword. “That should do it.”

  The swords fit nicely in their new sheath. It would take some getting used to, having them both over one shoulder, but it was a price he was willing to pay to keep from nearly losing his head again.

  All decked out in his new gear, he looked over to the Horsemen. They hadn't moved from their spot at the window. To keep themselves busy, they laid their weapons out on the table and took them apart for cleaning. Between the four of them, they had a small arsenal, complete with daggers, multiple handguns, and a pile of crescent blades with handles midway down their curves.

  “We should fix their stuff, too,” he said.

  “We already have.”

  He nodded and looked around the room. There was only one thing left to talk about. “Have we heard from Bear?”

  Meryn did her best to smile. “I've talked to him. He agreed to let you stay here while you healed, but he has asked us to leave when we are finished.”

  “Oh. Okay.” He felt the sudden weight of everyone’s stares. “Where is he?”

  “Burying his father.”

  “I should go talk to him.”

  “No, August.”

  “But he's my—”

  “Friend?” Paralos said. “You really think he still considers you a friend after all you've done?”

  August walked over to him. “What would you know about friends, huh? All you ever do is sit on the sidelines, smoke your pipe and criticize people. Maybe if you got off your ass and helped, Ray would still be here.”

  “Stop,” Meryn said, moving to stand between them. “You're acting like children.”

  He swallowed the rest of the words he wanted to say. “I’m going to find Bear.”

  “August, that isn’t a good idea.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because he does not want to see you.”

  It took a second for her reply to register, and when it did, it felt like a sledgehammer hitting him in the gut. Deep down, he’d hoped the things Bear said at the river were said in the heat of the moment— that when he calmed down, he’d change his mind and come back.

  “Let me speak to him,” Meryn said, laying a hand on his shoulder.

  “Sure. Okay.”

  “I will return soon. With or without John, we’ll need to be ready. You and your allies should prepare.”

  “Prepare for what?”

  “Galan and his legion are coming. The war is not far off.”

  Her image faded to dust, leaving him standing at the door with Paralos at his side.

  “Are you ready for this fight?” the old man asked, making no effort to hide the disapproval in his voice.

  “I'll be fine.”

  Paralos shrugged. “I suppose we'll find out soon enough if you're worth the price she's paid. Do your best not to die again before the battle.”

  “Wait,” August said, sensing he was about to disappear. There was one more question he needed answered.

  “What is it?”

  He lowered his voice. “Do you speak whatever language Talus does?”

  “Of course. Why?”

  “When we were on Pyr, he said something when he was…”

  “Killing you?”

  August bit his tongue. “He kept saying, 'gyria wai.' Do you know what that means?”

  The combative fire in Paralos’s eyes softened. For the first time since they'd met, he looked uncomfortable. “Better that you don’t know.”

  “If I didn’t want to know, I wouldn’t have asked.” When he didn’t say anything, August pressed him. “What did he say?”

  Paralos answered so that only August could hear. “It means 'unworthy.'”

  CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

  The night was clear, and for that Bear was thankful. With the moon shining brightly overhead, he was able to dig the plot without turning on the lantern. It was calming, in a way, not to have a light burning. Solitary, he thought, but not alone.

  Memories tugged at him while he worked. He thought back to the day his mother died, when his father left him in the house after bed and carried her body to the hill overlooking the farm to dig the grave. He remembered turning off the lamp to see if he could catch a glimpse of his father working, only to fall asleep waiting for the moon to shine bright enough for him to see by. Daddy woke him the next morning to visit the grave. Bear asked if they were going to have a big funeral. “Not yet,” Ray said. “This is our goodbye,” and they walked through the fields, his father's arm around his shoulder, pulling him close.

  Bear drove the shovel through a hard set of roots to complete the final corner. When he pulled the handle up, the point of the iron head was dented flat along the edge. He tossed it out onto the grass. It would do for moving the dirt back in. He'd have to replace it before spring, though, as the early-season flower planting would be his responsibility now.

  His sore arms trembled as he lifted himself out of the grave and brushed his hands on his jeans. He used his shirt to wipe the sweat from his face. It wasn't until he stood there in the quiet of midnight with the work of his digging done that he felt the sadness rain down on him in a storm. The tears welled quickly, as they had throughout the night whenever his mind was still. He'd dried them earlier with the knowledge that he hadn't said his goodbyes yet, that he still had some time left. Now that time was at an end and he wondered if he could ever bring himself to say the words.

  The wind chilled the sweat on his skin before he gained some measure of control, enough to climb down into the grave again and lift the sleeping bag from the grass, laying it gently on the rough floor. No casket and no service, just like Ray always wanted. Caskets, he'd said, were nothing more than the last worthless expense before we left this world. When he bent to lay his father to rest, Bear found that he couldn't take his hands away. He sat with his fingers pressed against the sleeping bag, closing his eyes—not to pray, but to wish. He wished for things to be back to the way they were no more than a week ago, before August walked onto the farm. He wished for quiet dinners and unspoken jokes. He wished for the security of routine. But mostly he wished to have been there in the end, to be there when he was needed most.

  “I'm so sorry, Daddy,” he choked out. He took his hands from beneath the body and laid a palm against Ray's arm. He wanted to say more. The words should have flowed out of him, but he could do no better than silence. It was already starting to feel different, like Ray was floating out to sea, and Bear without a way to catch him. He brought his hand to his lips, kissed the fingers, and pressed them against the bag.

  Rising back to his feet, Bear pulled himself out of the plot and took hold of the shovel again. He began shoveling in the dirt without letting himself stop to think. If he didn't do it now, it'd never get done.

  The moon was farther along the sky by the time he pushed the last bit of soil onto the grave. He looked at the two of them, his mother on the right and his father on the left, their resting places marked only by a single piece of quartz buried in the ground between them. The work was as good as he could do. He'd come back in the morning with flowers.

  He lingered for a moment before gathering his things to head back home. He stiffened when he saw Meryn walking through the grass up the hill. “How long have you been there?”

  “Not long,” she said. “I wanted to let you finish your goodbyes first.”

  Being in front of her again softened a lot of the things he'd meant to say to her the next time they met. He wasn't sure why; the pain was still there. Maybe because she wasn't like the other one—Paralos. She was genuine. When she looked at him with concern, he didn't think it was concern for her own well-being.

  Her dress shone like a star. The ribbon of crystals around the bottom sparkled in the moonlight.

  “This is a beautiful place,” sh
e said. “Peaceful.” She motioned toward the grave. “May I?”

  Bear nodded.

  She walked past him and knelt at the edge of the mounded soil. He could see her lips moving, though he heard no words come out. When she was done, she rose and came back to his side. Her eyes studied him. She placed a hand to his cheek, wiping it dry. “John, I am so sorry. None of this was supposed to happen.”

  “None of it should have.” The warmth of her fingers sent an unwelcome spark through him. He led her hand away.

  “I wish I could have been there. I would have helped him.”

  “It wasn't your fault,” he said. Somehow the words didn't feel like a lie.

  “Neither was it yours.”

  “Don't know about that.” He turned away from the intensity of her eyes. Looking back at the farm, he could see movement through the window of the red barn. “Is he awake yet?”

  “He is.”

  “That's good.”

  “He feels so badly about Ray,” she said.

  “Does he?” There wasn't much he could do about the contempt in his voice.

  “Given his bravado, you would think that it was hard for August to care for anything but himself, but I can see his mind, into the thoughts he does not speak. He cared very much for your father. So much so that he nearly got himself killed trying to avenge him. He sought Talus out.”

  The brief glimpse he’d seen of August’s ravaged body when they brought him to the farm made sense now. “He shouldn't've done that.”

  “I know.” She looked down to the barn. “He is prone to foolish acts at times—like running away from you in the woods—but his heart is true. He only meant to keep you both safe.”

  “And look where it got us.”

  She started to answer before holding on to her reply. Her eyes turned to the grave.

  “Would you like to see him again?” she asked. He could barely hear her over the wind. She seemed nervous about his answer.

  “You know I would.”

  “What if I told you that you could?”

  The question pulled him out of the quicksand of his thoughts for the first time since he'd returned to the farm. He felt a moment of excited hope, but only a moment. The hope turned quickly into disgust as he pictured what she was offering. “My father is gone. Whatever you're talking about, I want no part of it.”