Spiral of Silence (The Unearthed Series Book 3)

by Marc Mulero

  Soon after, and without warning, there was submergence without a splash. Just a feeling of being underwater with the air still somehow breathable and fresh. Nothing made sense. Thick wind forced into his throat, choking him… no, reviving him. A flicker of sight revealed his swimming hands in front of him. Not the vision he was accustomed to, though. A black shadowy trail of his arms lingered in place, distorting reality and convincing him further that this was the closest he’d ever been to another dimension. It was a purgatory in which heaven and hell blended together. Just a moment ago, he was in a long-forgotten memory that he could have never pulled on his own. But now he was banished from it, plagued by a reminder of who he was in the now. A broken martyr of his own demise.

  The lustrous light returned, pushing away the blackness and jerking him from the well that he’d tumbled down. He felt a burn on his arms. Not a scolding one, but one that reminded him that heat still existed. He was dragged north, into the bed of tendrils that worked to pull him under a time before.

  Eugene raised his head in full consciousness once more. “Where am I?” His voice was a scratchy mess. He was awoken to see the figure of light he’d left behind in a past dimension.

  “You,” he scoffed, “I thought I was rid of you!”

  He pushed her back in angry fashion, disgusted that this human-like being with a featureless face was back. She was so delicate; Eugene remembered how much it annoyed him. How could she be the one responsible for bringing him back? This wasn’t going to work.

  Now he was in the worst spot of all. One layer up from nothingness, but still so far away from reality to do anything meaningful.

  She let go of his arms, panting from pulling his weighted body against the specters working to claim him. Both stared at the tendrils whipping about the floor in protest. But those spiny things cowered, fearful of her power, while she was fearful of his. She dissolved into an iridescent puddle, backing up to give the writhing Sin some space before reforming into her familiar shape, seated and exhausted.

  “Why? Why would you do this? I was where I was meant to be. You took everything from me!” he shouted, still in some half-sleeping delusion.

  Her whole body frowned from being shouted at, shying away from his anger. She then looked up bashfully when Eugene turned away to rub his eyes, only to cower again when he raged forward.

  He hated this level, whatever it was.

  Stomp. Stomp.

  It was here that he was accompanied against his will, surrounded by an ocean of black that pulled at him and tortured with memories and missed opportunities. At least down below, in the plane of nothingness, he was at peace.

  All of this forced him yell once again.

  “What was so necessary to pull me back? Huh?! Say something!”

  The normally sullen sniper had enough. Everything in his outside life was broken, and he was kicked out of it before he could do anything to fix it. Down here, nothing made sense. The walls, the abstract being, the tunnel where he’d fallen a thousand miles down, all of it seemed alive, but refused to speak. All that followed was just an endless show of confusion.

  He loomed over the trembling guide, who held up weak mitten hands like she was about to be struck. She shook her head pleadingly, hoping no harm would come from what she must’ve thought was a good deed. Eugene could have sworn he heard a squeal. And just like that, he deflated with a deep sigh.

  In desperate fear of her mistake, the guide pressed her palms together and brushed the black tendrils from the floor, layers of which spread until forming a swirling hole of what looked to be cosmic matter just below them. It was deep and inviting to Eugene, because he knew what was down there, and it was at times quite blissful. The iridescent woman backed away and motioned with her head like a dog for Eugene to enter if he pleased. She bestowed an apologetic gift for waking him, but now he was curious as to why she’d brought him back in the first place.

  Against intense temptation, he wanted to know: “Tell me, or show me, why you brought me back.”

  She looked up at him blankly, then quickly nodded. After unsticking her palms so the floor could close up beneath her, she stood up and craned her head.

  Eugene did the same.

  “Wha- oh my god,” he stuttered in utter shock, his face immediately frozen in place when looking up to his next altered reality. His heart skipped a beat and the whites of his eyes turned bloodshot.

  “When will it end?”

  Sabin regrouped with the overseers, smile wide as he scanned the Rogue facility. That’s right, hundreds of new highborn followers at their doorstep. It worked. Of course it worked. Of course he was right. He’d seen it done before for the Sins’ sake. And what’s better, all of these new inhabitants were grateful to be here, relieved that they were saved from execution.

  He clapped Coe on the back and commended, “Well executed, fellow hunter.”

  A puff of laughter escaped through Coe’s teeth. “You finally figured it out, huh?”

  The Quake had dragged Coe closer to the floor. Having everything he’d been working toward nearly collapse over him tended to have that effect, and surely being constantly reminded of Al and Tes didn’t help either. His shoulders were slumped, neck bent, eyes foggy. But this victory seemed to rekindle a flame within him. His posture straightened to what Sabin remembered it once was, eyes relit with purpose. Yes. Sabin felt the presence of the avid Rogue like when they first met, but this time, the circumstances were right.

  Together, they watched the barriers of status melt away. Rogue civilians covered Dactuars with blankets and offered warm beverages. Consoling hands and sympathetic eyes calmed highborn woes. Kindness spread from shared suffering. Men, women, and children were all wasted at the hands of the Hiezers without discrimination. The Rogues understood that pain. All had suffered losses when they decided to take a stand against the gold armor. There was a beauty in what Sabin was witnessing, and a sense of satisfaction that he’d helped to orchestrate it.

  “The Dactuars have been our enemies since we took up arms and their Estates served as our best source of hostages,” Coe spoke softly, pausing to look upon the defeated faces surrounding them. “It became engrained in our blood that we had to bring down all who lived lavishly at the expense of others.” He looked to the floor. “We would have been blind to this option if you hadn’t come.”

  Sabin tilted his head, not quite expecting the praise. “Sometimes an outside perspective is needed.”

  “No. This was more than that. You have the gift of strategic intuition, just like your father.”

  “A little dramatic, no?”

  “I’ve seen this before, my friend. You are fit to lead,” Coe pounded his point.

  Hmm. I used to do this to women at parties. Flatter them into submission… or into a slap to my face. Is he hitting on me?

  Sabin squinted at Coe, watching the overseer stare at his metallic-encrusted arm. He wiggled his rigid fingers, waiting for Sabin to respond.

  I’m an idiot. He’s not into me. He just doesn’t want to lead. He wants to fight…

  “Trying to push off responsibility, are we?” Sabin leaned in to inspect him.

  Jayce and Vleece strode up to the two before Coe could answer.

  “Congratulations,” Jayce said, letting his voice hang in the air.

  Sabin stared for a long second, trying to gauge whether sarcasm was flying over his head. He was about to open his mouth, but Jayce didn’t let him.

  “You’ve successfully convinced the leaders of this rebellion to march the enemy into our base. Saving them was one thing. Perhaps over time that could have benefited us. But this,” he gestured to the hundreds of traumatized souls around them, “this is a liability in every respect.”

  Yep. Sarcasm.

  Sabin rolled his eyes. “I’m surprised the Rogues haven’t just set fire to everything they see with you at the helm.”

  Vleece laughed and nudged Jayce. “That’s why we’re here. He’s the smoking gun, and we’re
the level heads!”

  Jayce ignored the banter. His arm fell to his side, and under his half-cloak, the famed harpoon shined in his grasp. He peered at the crowd of refugees, looking as though he had a mind to burn them where they sat. “If one Rogue is harmed on account of these Dacts, the only thing set ablaze will be you, Sin.”

  Sabin’s lips vibrated as he pushed air out. “Oh boy.”

  “Give it a rest, Jayce,” Coe said lightly.

  Silence lingered amongst the overseers, letting the noise from the emotionally diverse crowd come between them. But Sabin ignored the heat and instead dug into his back-pant pocket to pull out a map he’d found in his father’s old quarters.

  “We should arm that abandoned Estate.” Sabin inched over to Coe, pointing to the marked location not far away from the Centric Crater. “The Ordinate walls will protect the home from airstrikes, and our weapons could serve as defense. We’re close enough to send aid if necessary.”

  “No time to waste, eh?” Vleece scratched her cue ball head.

  “There are people to save, allies to gain. The time for working reactively is over. The Hiezers, in all of their terror, armed us with all of the ammo we will ever need,” Sabin assured.

  Jayce scoffed. “We’ve killed people dear to the refugees sitting before us, and you have a mind to bring in even more? You think outnumbering us is the answer?”

  “No, Mr. Fireman. I want to unite us,” Sabin said plainly.

  Jayce took a step forward, almost nose to nose with the hunter. “You would tear us apart,” he whispered, baring his teeth before abruptly turning away.

  “Jayce, c’mon, we need you here. Jayce…” Coe begged, listening to the snap of Jayce’s pointed shoes cracking against the floor.

  Static resounded through the overseers’ radios, stopping the pyro overseer in his tracks. The noise pulled their eyes to their belts and then to each other.

  “Did you enjoy your gift?” the voice riddled. The last word echoed, trailing through each device.

  Sabin, Vleece, and Jayce each switched off their devices and huddled around Coe before stepping away from the crowd for privacy.

  “Who is this?” Coe questioned sternly.

  “An orchestrator from within,” the masked voice responded cryptically. “I have to ask - did you enjoy the redeployment of troops ill-equipped for electrical warfare?”

  Silence among the Rogues.

  “Did you think it a stroke of luck? No, friends. You had assistance,” the voice answered itself. “I am pleased, though, that you were keen enough to notice.”

  The Rogues exchanged looks, perplexed by the situation at hand.

  “I have to admit,” the scrambled voice reared over static, “it took longer than I would have liked to find your frequency. But here we are.”

  Still silence.

  “Enough games. Who leads the Rogues? I demand their audience,” the voice commanded.

  Coe looked at Vleece and Jayce. “The Hiezers have been after ‘the man in the shadows’ for some time,” he said with his radio clicked off. “This could all be a ploy to gain information. They have no knowledge of Aldarian’s passing.”

  Sabin raked his beard with curiosity. “No. This person would be dangling your trapped families in front of you if they wanted more information.”

  “Well? Who is it?” the voice beckoned louder.

  Jayce and Vleece looked to Coe, and Coe looked to Sabin.

  There, it was decided. Coe lent out his hand with the radio upon it, giving his blessing and confirming all of Sabin’s allegations.

  The hunter took a long breath, waiting for protest. But Jayce just clenched his jaw and kept hard brown eyes on him, respecting his fellow overseers’ decision.

  “This is Sabin, Overlord of the Rogues,” he proclaimed.

  Oh if Lesh could see me now. I think even she would laugh.

  The sound bled anxiety through Jayce, his eye nervously twitching at the thought.

  “Sin Commander Sabin? You are on the Defiler List for other crimes…”

  “That would be me,” Sabin said, waiting for the Hiezer traitor to get on with it.

  “That would explain your heroism when the Sins defended the Rogue base.”

  “It would, wouldn’t it,” Sabin grew bored.

  “Alright, Sabin. Quarantine protocols are set to round up all Dactuars and Vacals within a one-hundred-mile radius, stopping at the fault where the Old US was split in two.”

  Everyone exchanged a look of horror.

  Split in two… what the fuck?

  “Listen, and listen closely: You will journey to the western most Estate from the Crater’s entrance, approximately eleven miles away. Don’t worry… Hiezers will be tactfully deployed elsewhere on my direction. From there, you will pile capable Rogues into every third Estate, ready to ambush Hiezers when they’re deployed there on my directive, on my timing.”

  “This person must be high up if he can deploy without question,” Sabin said privately to the overseers.

  “A highlord, obviously,” Jayce agreed.

  Sabin clicked the radio. “We will be ready. But first, you must tell us why.”

  “Isn’t it evident? Not everyone wants the world to end in empty ruin. It is certainly time to flip the table on those who rule,” the scattered voice answered.

  “We will gather our soldiers and be ready for your call,” Sabin confirmed.

  “You would be wise to,” the voice cut out.

  “Wait!” Jayce shouted, pushing Sabin’s finger back onto the radio button. “Is my daughter alive? Do our families still have life in them?”

  There was a pause too long for Jayce to keep composure. His hand quivered with worry.

  Static sounded. “There were prisoner casualties in the Quake, but your families were not among them. They are still well.”

  Chapter 12

  Biljin and Melissa took to the sky with the Dactuar Crescent in tow. The lives of their most esteemed soldiers, not to mention their own, were being risked on a whim… as per the command of a masked voice claiming highlord status through a hacked signal. Call it desperate, high-risk, what have you, but the Sins would heed. They were going. They had to. Trap or not, an opportunity this momentous could not be passed up.

  Static blew from Biljin’s radio, begging all eyes downward. Out came the familiar muffled voice of the Hiezer turncoat.

  “A herd of Vacal and Dactuar citizens have been rounded up in the northeast sector of Horace. You can’t miss them from bird’s view. They’re terrified of what’s to come, Sin. Use this fear to your advantage, and make haste, for my stunt will be short-lived otherwise.”

  The Crescent pilot, tuned into the Hiezer’s frequency, looked back to Biljin for the signal to proceed, and when he got it, all were forced to grab hold of the leather overhangs as the silver Dactuar jet suddenly dipped. Inertia flipped Biljin’s stomach, a turbulent turn north racked his brain, making him wince in discomfort. Even the sound of acceleration, that roar of a jet’s turbines increasing power, it all reminded him of one thing - he was not built for this. Not his squeamish organs nor his delicate fingers, not his ruby-plated attire more fit for a courtroom than a war mission. None of it.

  What was he doing? He didn’t possess the ruggedness of an uprising, like these seasoned soldiers around him did.

  He tried his hardest to find a coward’s strength in his new role. Hold on, Biljin. Use Melissa’s strength as your own. Panic only if she panics.

  The Champion read his face like a book, though. Whatever talents he had in the Tribunal dripped away with his nerve. His forked tongue had rolled too far back to speak, and she… she found it amusing.

  Holding back a laugh while she stood tall through the ruckus made him blush as pink as his dark skin would allow. She judged him hard – his fashionable attire – a fool’s choice. His most daunting hour was her most comical.

  “Hmph,” she chortled, leaning in so only Biljin could hear. “Masked fear… commonplace back
in my war days. And it was always the greenhorns who were the worst at hiding it,” she smiled. Not the malicious kind, but more of an encouraging one. “It’s normal, genius. You’ll get used to it.”

  The pressure of the aircraft suddenly rose. They were soaring, faster, harder, to uncanny g-force on the turncoat’s order. Time was almost up. Straps fastening could be heard throughout the aircraft.

  And now Melissa found herself fighting hard to turn her head against gravity’s pull. It was time, the ticking seconds before battle – she had to address the cabin filled with Crescent forces, to assure her most trusted militarized troop that they were the victors. Her freckled face rippled in place. She saw more of the same around her, determined expressions readying themselves, psyching themselves for battle.

  “Allow me,” she slammed her steel protector down in front of her, displaying massive strength for her company to witness, “to lead you again. Look here…” She crashed an armored fist hard onto its base. “This insignia, a meteor rushing in descent. Look at this war-torn metal and let it remind you how many times you’ve rallied behind it before.

  “My warriors, the world is changing, and we have been silent for far too long. A sleeping beast… that’s what we are. We hibernate, sure, when all is well.” She slammed its base again. “All is not well any longer. The Hiezers have abandoned us after decades of loyal service. And now,” she motioned out the windows, “they work to imprison our people? The very citizens they swore to protect? My warriors, the beast can sleep no longer. Let our attack against the Aura be a warning of what’s to come.

  “Fight with me now!”

  The jet slowed to a manageable speed, pushing everyone off balance. All except Melissa, who fought to keep her solid stature.

  She stalked toward the center of the cabin, displaying her immense shield like a banner. “This is our symbol,” she repeated. “We will redefine its allegiance, but it will always hold the same true ideals. We are the judicial protectors, the few that uphold the law when others think themselves above it. Don’t ever forget who we are, what we represent.” Her voice cut deep, and the Dactuars grunted in satisfaction while stomping into formation. “Fight for your city!”