Children of a Broken Sky (Redemption Chronicle Book 1)

by Adam J Nicolai

  ~ ~

  Angbar vaulted up the steps and banged on the door. It opened at once.

  "Angbar!" Syntal looked surprised, then worried. "What's happened?"

  "Helix." Angbar panted. "I listened in on the trial... They're going to kill him."

  Syntal paled.

  "I heard it with my own ears. The whole thing was a lie, I'm sure of it—they never meant to give him a fair trial, I don't think." Angbar took a tentative step inside the house. "Where are your parents?"

  "At the inn," she said. "Waiting for word." She was shaking. "I have to find them." She made to leave, but Angbar grabbed her arm.

  "Syntal. Listen."

  Her eyes danced with terror. Angbar lifted a hand, as if trying to calm a wild cat. "Lyseira already has an idea," he said. "She's getting Seth and we're going to try and break Helix free. And run."

  Syntal licked her lips; her gaze flicked to the road. "Aunt and Uncle..."

  "They can't know. It'll put them in danger. Listen. Lys said his jail wagon is near the road. It's not in the middle of camp or anything. If we go up there tonight—now—we can do it."

  Firelight from the hearth glimmered like fever in her eyes. Please, Syn. Please.

  "We'll need food," she said, and ran past him, back to her room. "Find whatever you can."

  "Good! Yes. Food." Angbar darted to the kitchen and started grabbing salted beef and jars of jelly, anything he could get his hands on, throwing them in a sack as fast as he could. His heart was an earthquake in his chest.

  Syntal joined him in the kitchen, a giant knapsack slung over her shoulder, and the two of them went out through the smithy. Angbar helped himself to a dagger as they passed through, throwing it into the sack along with everything else.

  Outside, night had taken full hold. Syntal was at his side, breathing hard, her eyes wide. She was waiting to follow him, he suddenly realized. It was a bizarre feeling. He had never been a leader.

  "Uh." He pointed down the road. "We're supposed to meet up behind Lyseira's house."

  But they drew to a sudden halt as they came around the porch. Two soldiers stood before the Rulanos' front door; two more, mounted, stood guard on the road. Their torches threw flickering firelight across the packed dirt.

  One of them pounded on the door. "Open in the name of the King!" The words boomed down the dark street like thunder.

  Angbar's blood ran cold. "Kirith a'jhul," he swore.

  ii. Lyseira

  Lyseira eased the back door open, wincing as it creaked. She knew her mother would be waiting in the front, to hear about the trial, and she wanted to avoid her. A reckless courage had been driving her since she left the church, but her mother had a way of forcing Lyseira's thoughts to slow down.

  Tonight, she couldn't afford that.

  She slipped in, leaving the door ajar. It was dark in the tiny common room, but she could see the lantern light reflecting from the kitchen. Her mother must not have heard her.

  She crossed the room, bouncing on the balls of her feet. Her heart threatened to jump out of her mouth. Any second, she would hear her mother call her name. Her voice would be lilting and inquisitive, not at all accusatory—and it would send Lyseira leaping through the roof.

  The call didn't come. When she reached Seth's door, her hands were shaking so badly she could barely grasp the knob.

  She sneaked inside to find him balanced on his right foot, with a stack of books piled in either upraised palm. His left knee was bent so his calf hovered parallel to the floor, his ankle crossing his other knee. As she slipped the door closed, his eyes slid open as if he'd been expecting her.

  "Seth," she whispered.

  He knelt, setting the books on the floor. "What?"

  "They found Helix guilty. They're going to kill him."

  "You said he wasn't guilty." He regained his feet.

  "He's not!" she hissed. "He was framed! It was that Justicar that did it, but they're blaming it on Helix!"

  "How do you know that?"

  "Helix saw him. He was sure." She plowed over his question and dove into her plan. "We're going to save him," she said, grabbing his hand. "We're leaving now."

  He didn't move. "Did the judge do the miracle of truth?"

  "Yes! Of course! But he's lying too, they both—"

  The look in his eyes made her stumble. She had never considered the possibility that he wouldn't help her.

  As a Preserver, he should be stopping her.

  "Seth, you have to believe me. Please, listen—Father Marcus, he tried to bribe me. He said he would initiate me if I lied at the trial. It was a lie, all of it—I saw the tracks myself, and he said there weren't any. They were... I don't know, they were in on it together, somehow, Marcus and Elmoor. I don't know why." The torrent of words must have sounded like nonsense to him. She could barely understand them herself.

  "Lyseira," he said. "If they found him guilty—"

  "They did it, Seth! And they're blaming it on Helix!"

  He glanced at her hand, still clutching his arm. She let him go and backed away. He's not going to come. I ruined this, I never should have told him.

  She couldn't believe that. She refused.

  "I can explain it all, m'sai? I swear. But I need you to trust me now. Please. I know it sounds mad. No one knows that more than me. But Angbar is packing right now, he'll be back any minute, and we're going. Don't—please, at least don't stop us."

  He looked at her. "You're sure."

  Oh, Seth. "Certain."

  He went to the corner, where his traveling roll was still assembled, and tossed it to her.

  "Take it. I'll make another." He grabbed the blanket and pillow from the bed, started tying them with an old belt.

  "Thank you." She didn't know what else to say.

  "Get my cloak."

  She grabbed it, then a few other things they might need: paper, a quill, a bottle of ink. Her hands moved on their own, while her mind watched.

  "There's still a little food in the roll," he said as he finished, "but we'll need more. I'll get some from the kitchen."

  Lyseira shook her head. "Mom's there. I don't want her to know what we're doing."

  Seth slung the new pack over his shoulder. "I won't tell her," he said.

  "Seth!" she begged, but he was already out the door.

  "Lyseira?" Finally, the call from the kitchen. Lyseira winced.

  They found Mom sitting at the table with half a quilt in her hands, a needle poking from her mouth. "Seth?" she said as her son came in. "Lyseira?" Then she saw the packs, and her brows drew together.

  Lyseira had thought she was frightened before, but now she was terrified. She stood in the doorway, silent, as Seth bustled into the room and threw open a cupboard. He loosened the belt on his pack and began loading it with food.

  "What do you think you're doing?" Mom said. All trace of kindness had vanished from her voice. This was the I demand answers and I demand them now voice. It forced Lyseira's mouth open like a pry bar.

  "Mom..."

  "Seth, put that down," she demanded. Seth held a jar of pickled beets. He stuffed it into the pack.

  "Mom," Lyseira repeated. Her mother's gaze turned, and she finally saw that the woman wasn't truly angry. She was frightened.

  Lyseira's resolve shattered.

  "We can't let them kill Helix," she pled—not for permission, but understanding. "We have to get him out."

  Mom was confused. "They're going to kill him? But didn't the judge—"

  Horses neighed outside, and she broke off. Lyseira froze, her eyes latching to the front window. Torchlight played across the front yard.

  Mom gave her a short, fierce hug. "Get out the back," she whispered. "Quickly. Be careful." Then she pushed her away and turned to Seth, lifting her head to kiss him on the cheek. "Take care of your sister," she breathed.

  He nodded, threw the roll over his shoulder, and strode to the back door, still ajar. "Lyseira," he said.

  She took a step towa
rd him, then glanced back. Her mother looked impossibly old.

  The door rattled in its frame. "Open in the name of the King!"

  "Go!" Mom told her.

  Lyseira obeyed.

  ~ ~

  Seth swept out the back door and glanced around before waving her out. He stopped them behind the Tevington house, holding her back with one arm as he checked the street. A pair of horses galloped past, heading for the Smiths'.

  "Do you see Angbar?" she panted. "He was supposed to meet us behind the house."

  Seth glanced behind and shook his head. "No. We'll get along without him. It's clear." He grabbed her arm and again pulled her into a run.

  The houses flashed past. It started snowing. Finally Seth ducked behind a tree, pulling Lyseira behind him. The temple was just across the road. A hulking blob of shadow rested at the base of the hill: the prison tent.

  "That one," Seth said.

  "Yes." Her stomach was taut: a bowstring ready to snap.

  "There are two soldiers at the front, facing the camp. If we come from the back, we should be able to get underneath and inside without them hearing us."

  Guards; of course there were guards. They'd been lucky so far, but to sneak right past two soldiers? How—?

  Seth's brow furrowed. "But we'll need a key for the wagon. The guards must have one. I think I can handle both of them, if I can surprise them." His tone was clipped, but flat; he might have been discussing the weather. Briefly, Lyseira wondered what he meant by handle them.

  He shook his head. "But we'd have to trick them into the tent, or someone will see us. And if they make any noise the rest of the camp will hear it. We'll never get out." Suddenly he tensed; his left hand grabbed Lyseira's shoulder, his eyes training on something behind the tent. "Look," he whispered. "There's someone over there."

  Lyseira leaned around the tree and squinted through the snow. She could see them: one lithe and low, trying not to be noticed, the other tall and clumsy. Each carried a sack. "Angbar," she whispered. "And Syntal. Who else would be sneaking toward the tent?" An irrational annoyance seized her. "He told me he wouldn't go to the Smiths'!"

  Seth glanced at her. "You can't believe anything Angbar says," he muttered. "We'd better grab them before they do something stupid." Then he was gone, dashing across the road for the tent. Lyseira followed. The road was a thousand miles wide, every running step a call for the guards' attention.

  They came around wide, catching the other two just as they reached the back end of the tent. "Shhh," Seth whispered. "It's us."

  Syntal jumped and spun around, gasping. Angbar yelped like a burnt cat.

  Seth glared at them, but before he could say anything a soldier stepped around the front corner of the tent, flooding them with torchlight. "Hey!"

  Lyseira froze. Charge the guard. Run for the woods. Cut into the tent.

  The soldier drew his sword; his partner came around the corner behind him. "That's the girl from the trial," he said. "What—?"

  Seth charged.

  The second soldier pulled his sword.

  Lyseira chased after her brother, her mind alight with terror.

  Then the air trembled like a herd of bison was charging across the road. Drowsiness crashed into her. The ground tilted and she staggered, forced to grab Seth's shoulder to keep her feet.

  Both soldiers crumpled to the ground.

  "Syn?" Angbar breathed.

  Syntal had raised her hands. For an instant, her eyes were so vivid Lyseira could see them in the darkness.

  Witch. The word sparked in Lyseira's mind, trembled at her lips. It was too heavy to speak.

  Seth stared daggers. "What was that?" He took a step toward Syntal. "Was that you?"

  "Hurry," Syntal said. "There'll be more."

  "Was that you?" Seth demanded again. "What did you do?"

  "There's no time!" she threw back, and Lyseira knew she was right.

  "The keys," she heard herself say. It was too much at once: the trial, the verdict, witchcraft. The world had transformed, like a stage with the curtain torn away, revealing madness. She had to keep her focus, or be lost.

  Seth held Syntal's eyes. A distant laugh came out of the camp, drifting between the snowflakes. Finally he flicked his gaze away as if sheathing a blade.

  "Here." He crouched next to one of the fallen men, lifted the key ring and a dagger, and passed them to Lyseira. Then he pulled out one of the tent stakes and peered underneath. "It's dark," he whispered. "If there were guards, they'd have light."

  From somewhere inside, Lyseira heard a muffled voice.

  "I'll get him," she said, grabbing the torch the first soldier had dropped. "Wait out here." She lifted the fabric higher and slid the torch underneath, then crawled in.

  Helix was hunched in the jail wagon, bound and gagged, his hands tied to the bars behind him. The torchlight glinted in his frantic eyes like moonlight on a lake. He made an unintelligible noise from behind his gag.

  A padlock hung from the cage door. Lyseira set the torch in the dirt and started trying keys, forcing herself not to think about what would happen if none of them worked.

  The second one did. She scrambled into the wagon and took out Helix's gag.

  "Thank Akir," he whispered. "Oh sehk, Lys, hurry."

  As the last word left his mouth, Syntal echoed it from outside. "Hurry!"

  Helix jerked as if he'd been shocked. "Syn's here?" he asked.

  Lyseira nodded, panting as she worked at the ropes with the dagger. With a final lurch, the bindings on Helix's hands came free. Lyseira started on his feet. "She's watching for guards," she said through clenched teeth. "Seth's out there too, and Angbar. We're getting you out of here."

  "Where?" he said.

  Tal'aden, she thought. "Don't know yet."

  "We have to get out of the village. They'll find us—"

  "Yeah. I know." Finally, his feet came free. "M'sai," she breathed. "Can you walk?" She hopped out of the wagon, her eyes darting, but the tent was still empty. Helix maneuvered himself to a sitting position, then gingerly pulled himself out and to his feet. He wobbled, clutching the bar behind him, then nodded.

  "The torch," he said.

  "Leave it."

  "Lyseira!" Angbar roared from outside.

  Her heart leapt into her throat. They'd been seen.

  She cut a gash through the tent, and helped Helix through it. Seth had a soldier in a head lock. "Run!" he snarled. He tripped the man onto his back and cracked his head against a rock. The soldier went limp. She didn't see anyone else.

  Angbar and Syntal were halfway across the road. "Run!" Angbar shouted. "Run!"

  They ran.

  A wasp buzzed at her ear, and an arrow thudded into the dirt. She was trying to understand this, to make sense of what she was seeing, when another one nearly nicked her shoulder. Panic lurched in her stomach.

  Akir help us, oh, God.

  She stole a glance back. Seth was just behind her, but there were three soldiers at the prison tent, all with drawn longbows. We'll never make it.

  At the far end of the road, Syntal stopped and turned. The light from the soldiers' torches danced in her eyes like a warning.

  Lyseira pounded past her, then turned to make sure Helix and Seth were keeping up. Syntal gestured as two more arrows shot past, and the air vibrated like a piano string.

  Again, drowsiness hammered at Lyseira. Her eyelids weighed a thousand pounds. She stumbled.

  At the tent, two of the archers collapsed. The third reeled, his numb hands fumbling his bow, but he kept his feet. His eyes widened.

  "Witch!" he screamed. He knelt for his dropped weapon.

  A sliver of light ripped from Syntal's hand and flashed silently across the road. It hurled the soldier, screaming, through one of the tent posts. The tent devoured him as it collapsed on itself.

  Then Lyseira's dropped torch engulfed it.

  "Le'sehk," someone murmured, and someone else: "By Akir."

  Syntal stumbled b
ackwards and threw out a hand. Helix shouted her name and grabbed her hand, keeping her on her feet.

  The camp exploded with shouts and screams; soldiers and clerics poured out of the temple like an army of moths toward the tent's lurid flames.

  "Run!" Seth demanded. He grabbed Syntal's other arm and nearly jerked her off her feet. "Now!"

  Chapter 8

  Before the Storm

  i. Seth

  The flood passed, and the village came together to handle the aftermath. They had to cut down trees, Lyseira's mom explained. They had to clear the debris and shore up the banks so they could rebuild the bridge. They had to look for valuables.

  What she meant was: they had to look for bodies.

  His heart leapt at the possibility. He had been waiting for it since the instant his parents disappeared.

  Finally, he would check the bank where they'd been standing. He would comb the water with his own hands. The other villagers were just their neighbors. He was their son.

  His longing alone would find them.

  But when she left for the day to help at the river, Missus Rulano didn't bring him. Instead, she marched him and Lyseira outside and across the road to the Smith place.

  Despair seized him. He nearly ran and he nearly wept. It might have been the warring of these two urges that forced him forward, mute and obedient, into an afternoon of purgatory.

  The Smiths' house used to impress him: its great size and fancy décor, its upholstered furniture and multiple glass windows. It made the Rulano home look like a stable in comparison. Now, it was as grey as everything else.

  While the mothers exchanged pleasantries, Helix came out of his room. "Hi, Seth." He pointedly ignored Lyseira, who had told his mother about him peeing out of the tree house.

  Seth grunted.

  "Uh… thanks for helping out at Baler's fort," Helix continued. "We really showed him."

  The epic battle with the bullies in their tree house had happened in a different person's life, a thousand years ago. Seth tried to remember why it had mattered.

  "Welcome," he finally muttered.

  "Hi, Helix," Lyseira said timidly. Helix favored her with a long glare.

  Seth caught a glimpse of Syntal peering around a bedroom door before she ducked away. Her shyness irritated him, but abruptly, he remembered her vacant stare at the funeral. Her parents are dead, too.