Spiral of Silence (The Unearthed Series Book 3)

by Marc Mulero

  Lesh’s face was made of stone as she lost herself in concentration. Her target was far… impossibly so, and it was one she had failed to reach too many times before.

  But she would die before backing down.

  Her arms burned from exhaustion, though she ignored the pain. Thinking of Lito’s lifeless body in Sabin’s arms drowned it out. Her eyes stung from converging on a mark so distant, but the image of Briggs falling to his knees with Kentin in his embrace did something to sharpen her sight.

  Then finally, it was the thought of her mother bleeding out beside her that gave her strength. It made her remember what it was to be powerless. Those hollow, begging eyes. Never again.

  A surge of energy blocked out the toxicity of doubt and her arm began to leak Cryos from its source. The first ring of glowing blue crawled down her limb, biting to find her blade.

  Valor fell silent. Eyes rounded. To conjure Cryos without duality was unheard of. It was against their teachings, something so rare that it was almost lost in the deepest of Neraphis texts. But here stood a lone Sin, defying the Citadel in this very moment.

  The feeling was too foreign, too strange – it made Lesh’s angst take over and compel her to jump the gun before Cryos could reach her blade.

  She whipped her arm once again, though this time was different. A blue glow flashed in front of Valor’s face.

  Was he seeing things? He could hardly believe it.

  Astonished by her own feat, she froze at the end of her throw to watch the emblazoned edge soar the distance. This bolstered power was something else entirely, like she had the muscle of three arms behind her swing. But along the knife’s path, it lost its precision, shifting upward to stick into the stone wall that was far from her target.

  Cryos...

  Valor took a long step closer to his student and grabbed her vibrant arm. Her brow tensed and her eyes turned to the corner where the Neraphis invaded her personal space. Up close she noticed that he was a head taller than her, his cloak eclipsing her entire body as he loomed. A finger pressed gently into her Sin mark to evoke the sign he was looking for… that Cryos had just been unlocked within her. And when the substance trailed from its source, he knew his eyes weren’t playing tricks.

  She snagged her arm away and shot a look that should’ve killed him. But he only grinned back… pacing around her, circling with admiration like his specimen had completed a lengthy maze.

  “Worthy perhaps,” he pondered while conjuring his own flow of Cryos that seeped from his sleeves.

  With a simple gesture, his lance suddenly lit with an azure glow, reminding Lesh of the time they’d met in the Dome. He kept a set of confident eyes locked with hers, and with an effortless backhanded whip, he released his spear into the air.

  It wailed as it picked up speed, never faltering on its path to the stone wall. He took another step closer to her as his weapon crashed into the center of the target.

  His eyes glinted, reflecting a mischievous arrogance that accompanied his grin. “You’re finally beginning to understand what makes you tick. But you have much to learn.”

  Valor’s playful demeanor forced an image to the front of Lesh’s mind - one of the hunter that had kissed her during their last encounter. Sabin had looked at her the same way.

  Before the Neraphis could react, Lesh slipped out a knife from the top of her ring and forced it against his neck. “Leaving yourself unarmed in front of someone like me? Who has much to learn?”

  His smile grew wider, further defining his thinly chiseled face. “I look forward to our next bout,” he said, slowly pushing the knife from his neck. “You know, you and I made a good team back at the Dome.”

  The assassin’s expression was inscrutable, emotionless.

  “Gather your weapons and mine, and let us resume. Your progress intrigues me now, Sin,” he admitted.

  Lesh shoved Valor from her way and stuffed the blade back into its sheath. As she walked to reclaim the rest of her knives, thoughts flooded her head - thoughts of her training as a child, and how different that was from what she was experiencing now.

  Teenage Lesh cartwheeled into an aerial flip, releasing two blades overhead before she landed. A man with a curled black mustache stepped to the side, narrowing his body so that either knife would fly past him. He then rushed forward with one long step and plucked the girl back off of her feet as soon as she had touched ground. His hold tightened around her neck and a hard backhand found her face. A normal girl would’ve felt terror, but Lesh was made up of something else. She grasped both of the man’s wrists and kicked up his torso until her foot found his chin.

  Her strike ended with a back-flip out of his grip and a dash forward. A girl with no weapons at her disposal still somehow exhibited zero fear of her attacker. Why? Because she’d been trained. Knowing her arms were too short, too weak to stand a chance against a grown man, she would have to use her legs to match his strength.

  One, two, three steps was all the momentum she needed to jump high into a spinning kick aimed right at his face.

  Woosh.

  The man arched his back to avoid the attack, but Lesh was already following up, ducking low to the floor and spinning again to sweep out his feet.

  Stomp.

  He slammed down his booted foot, crushing the girl’s ankle to stop her twirl, and then kicked again, this time cracking her on the other side of her face, jolting her backward and awarding the girl another bruise to match.

  She worked to get back onto her feet, but scowled from the shattered ankle. The man put up his hand, signaling for her to stay put. He inspected her quickly, held out an open palm and snatched her up to one foot. Up close, her mentor was menacing: draped in dark camo that matched the groomed hair on his face. His cheeks were furrowed with lines, telling his age like rings in a tree. But his most distinct mark was the blackened contacts he wore to block out light, which allowed him to see after an injury nearly blinded him.

  “I will become faster, Chief,” Lesh said with a steady voice.

  “You already are the fastest. Your confidence just hasn’t caught up with your body yet. When it does, you will be the deadliest of this eccentric unit. You will become the greatest asset to the Hiezers,” he spoke softly, his voice more air than sound. “And when you do, even I will fear you.”

  The methods were unalike, now and then, but the goal was the same: become something more than you are… let go of your doubt to find something greater. Then, it was the illusion that a child couldn’t be the deadliest in a room full of adults. That myth had long since dissolved from her psyche. Now, she had to accept what Valor had done in the Dome. She had to accept that Cryos could prevent death, and that she could become its wielder. The goal was still the same. Become what you are not. Do what you cannot do.

  Lesh slid the last knife into the ring on her back and walked toward the spear sticking out between two blocks. She yanked it from the center of the target and swung it over her shoulder.

  Valor waited at the other end of the room, arms folded.

  Chief Harrick was blunt about his beliefs. Valor’s actions speak the same language. A man like him wouldn’t waste his time for this long if he was rooting against me. Both of the bastards know the potential, it’s up to me to make it a reality.

  Orin closed his eyes and thought back to the time when Mulderan saw to his ‘execution.’

  He remembered plummeting a thousand feet toward his death, dropped by the hand of his oldest son. Such betrayal should have left a father devastated, in anguish, while living his final moments. But not Orin. He had a feeling for some time where he would end up… how he would end up… what would become of his legacy. It hurt, of course. Though this would not be the end of it.

  His execution was meant to lay the foundation of fear for Mulderan’s new reign, no doubt.

  But it only took for the weak.

  There was a plan. Always a plan for goodness to overcome again. It was a necessary cycle in his mind, one that his offspri
ng had reimagined.

  The valley below was growing nearer, death more imminent, but his patience was still steadfast. He knew there would be an intervention between him and the ground, and that such a rescue would have to transpire far out of reach of that cliff. His death had to be all but a certainty to the new Hiezer order.

  The wind tore at his face - biting frigid air that numbed him. Whistling throughout the vast valley funneled into his ears. Deaf, dumb, and powerless, just as he imagined he would be at his end.

  Then it came. There, fifty feet away. Forty. A bed of Cryos materialized from thin air. He smiled and flipped over so not to fall through face first. Yes. Everything stopped short: the winds, the cold, gravity’s pull. He’d fallen through a blanket.

  The side of the mountain was no longer a blur. He could make out every nook and cranny again. Finally. And in between one of them was his Elder, cloaked and determined, flexing his fingers to better wield the enigmatic substance.

  Once Orin broke through the first plane, Halewyn dropped from the mountainside and caught himself on a jagged rock further down. There, he summoned another platform of azure energy, preventing Orin’s plunge.

  “My son has mustered too much power. My lineage will curse the world!” he shouted toward the Eldest.

  Halewyn gracefully gripped another wedge, his cloak flapping from the valley’s gusts. “Have faith, Orin. There is good in your blood.”

  He then dropped to flat ground and whipped his arm, creating a slope of Cryos for Orin to slide down.

  After a thump and a few quick rolls, Orin had tumbled into a hollowed cave, to safety, where Halewyn was waiting with an open hand to help him up, and then followed with a quick motion to shatter Orin’s steel shackles. At last, freedom.

  “Binding you with Yulesa was only the beginning. This world’s problems are no longer yours. You are dead to it.” Halewyn pushed back his cowl to get a better look at Orin. “You are meant to understand greater realities now. Forego the one that relies on your senses.”

  Orin met his mentor’s eyes, reflecting, regretting. “My son,” he muttered, thinking of how he would be abandoning Blague to his brother’s will, and leaving Mulderan free to conquer. It was a heavy load to leave behind. But it was necessary, right? What would be the purpose of coming back now – one man versus the greatest army in the world? He wasn’t ready. It was time to forfeit his connection with the outside world and begin anew.

  Halewyn spun away and stepped to look out of the cave, to size up the fall from the high altitude. He turned his head from the winds. “You will find new purpose in your extended life, that I promise you,” he said before hopping off the ledge.

  Orin opened his smoky eyes, retreating from the old memory of a past life. It was this view from so high in the air, it reminded him very much of his great fall. A dull ache in the pit of his stomach told a different story though - he shouldn’t be here. Wounds were obviously unhealed. Hell, that was the whole point of Blague going in his place.

  “The Elders would have me turn back.” He looked out of the jet’s window to the chaos taking hold on the broken isles of Auront.

  Neraphis were spread throughout each floating step amid the haze against insurmountable odds. They were holding their own though. Of course they were. And all of this to aid his son. He should be proud. He was proud, and never could’ve dreamed this to be a reality. That’s why he was here, after all.

  Orin’s eyes were pulled to the focal point of the battle - the two standing off one isle apart from one another: Blague on one side, holding a protective shell of Cryos that warded off Jason’s sniper bullets, and Asura standing on the other, calling a herd of smoke to her that converged from every direction.

  There bubbled an immense pride as the jet sped to reach his son. It was clear that Blague had learned how to protect himself using the concealed gift that his father had given him – his Sin mark – but such a feeling was not meant to last. There were other reasons he journeyed here.

  He knew of the discoveries the Neraphis had made about the smoke. Rol thrived on purpose and existence. It chose to bind itself to consciousness with innate drive, and extended its power to the souls most willing to discard humanity for progress. And now he knew that if his son couldn’t win the battle in the physical, he would take up arms again in death. Blague was to become the guardian of Rol after his passing. It was the ultimate sacrifice. An eternity of struggle.

  Orin’s senses became heightened as he witnessed Asura convert the smoke to a palpable force. The conjuring appeared deadly, pulsing with plasmatic energy writhing to combust.

  “Fly to the center of the third isle and open the hatch,” Orin’s thunderous voice penetrated to the cockpit.

  The jet immediately tipped in response to his call. He stood unaffected by the shift in position, his stare intently focused on the growling portal of crimson matter churning around Asura’s hand. A hundred thoughts cycled through his head at once – cries of horror from his wife, pleas to jump, questions as to what was being summoned to end their son’s life. But Orin was silent, only counting the seconds as the back door lowered in the aft of the plane, as a fierce air flowed into the cabin, as Blague disappeared from sight underfoot. It wasn’t until the clang of high-caliber bullets sounded against the jet did he react. His aircraft was seen and targeted, leading it to pull up in defense, snapping him into action. Two powerful steps backward and a head first dive thrusted him into the clouds, sword drawn.

  His arms glowed with Cryos cycling through his veins. The substance bent to his will, transferring up his stained forearms and into his blade. He once again felt the wind biting at his face, reminding him of his plummet long ago. This time, though, he wasn’t waiting to be rescued – it was he who was the savior.

  Orin’s eyes were glued to the crimson portal as he fell, knowing he was almost out of time. Wounds were not yet healed, but circumstance demanded action. His ungodly abilities granted him the strength to use his sword within the prevailing winds, summoning a step of Cryos below him. He flipped to land on his feet and then pushed off, dashing closer to his son’s coordinates while the ocean roared beneath him. He swung again, the metal of his ancient blade ringing as a wave of Cryos left it. His cloths fluttered as he cartwheeled mid-air to push off the next plain. His knees bent deeply, and with a thunderous shout, he propelled himself faster toward his destination.

  He will not be able to defend against it. She has created a weapon beyond our control.

  His attention shifted to Jason, whose rifle was now pointed up at him. Orin clenched his blade and summoned more strength, his forearms glowing brighter than before. He swung his sword artfully, creating a lingering blue trail in his downward spiral. The Cryos protected his body, deflecting bullets that found their way to him.

  He spun until the ground found him. The hit was hard, cement cracking at his feet, but his old bones were supported by the world’s enigmas. And a cloud of smoky air billowing away gave an entrance to rival that of a god’s.

  Blague’s concentration broke immediately from the shock of a human comet slamming down before him.

  “Father!” He gasped.

  Orin whipped his blade from ground to the sky, creating a tall barrier to ward off Jason’s endless fire. He turned to address his son for the moment he awarded himself, taking a long look at the man that he’d become. A smile crept up Orin’s face as two proud parents stared out of one set of eyes. The time of bliss quickly fleeted, though, and so he turned back to face the Aura’s chosen.

  With a deafening shriek, Asura cried out. Every vein bulged from her body as a rush of crimson charged their direction.

  Laying eyes on the force coming their way, Blague abandoned his Cryos shell and clamored to aid Orin on building his glowing barrier.

  But Orin knocked his son back with a fervent fist before the calamitous red energy crashed into the wall of Cryos.

  “You cannot use the smoke for good, for it has its own will. You would be damned to
combat it for eternity.” Orin furiously twirled his blade and expended a force of Cryos to shield from Asura’s explosive charge. He was about to give everything he had to have these words with his kin. “Your journey is not over yet, Blague. Grow your bond. Find your way in the darkness. Lead your people from all that cripples them. Become everything you were meant to be and more.”

  All of Orin’s power worked to absorb the brunt of the catastrophic force - his wall of Cryos trembling, buckling. It just wasn’t enough.

  “We love-”

  The pulsing energy crashed through like a river overflowing a dam. It was harrowing to see - a wailing stream of plasma that disintegrated him on impact before making its way into Blague.

  “No!” Blague screamed in terror as his voice was completely drowned out. Arms went up to block, coated with an azure barrier thrown up by Elaina, to defend against the remnants of Asura’s blast. Now his body was shaking to withstand the immense force. Cryos would save them from certain death. It had to.

  And when it was done, Blague dropped to his knees, internal cracks sounding from weakened bones as he struggled to lift his head. Nothing. He saw nothing but tattered clothes where Orin once stood.

  “Father…” the Sin Leader whispered with the last of his strength.

  Chapter 17

  Minutes earlier, the Hiezer elite had distanced themselves from conflict, leaving the two misfits at odds. An opportunity was found in the unwelcome distraction headed by the Sin Leader, and Mulderan had a mind to seize it.

  Blague comes to sever our alliance with the Aura. Amusing, really. He will get his wish at no cost of my own. All he’s done is accelerate my plan. I should thank him for his rouse of fear. Let the servile fight for their right to exist in my world. My agenda remains true.

  Eldra peered down to the isles below. “Those warriors, I’ve seen them in footage from the Dome. The rumors are true… your brother rallied the fabled Society N to aid him.” She scanned the ancient beings as they dodged and struck. “They are formidable, Mulderan. Perhaps my rifle should feast.”