by Ryan Muree
He ran past to put himself between Emeryss and them. She was far behind him by now, but he wouldn’t let them get any closer. He materialized a new ether shield on the back of his bracer, reached into his illusionary grimoire for his swordstaff, and faced the Keepers.
“Who’s your captain?” he demanded.
The two younger men had been fighting with the chain dart, wrestling on the ground to get their feet out of it, until he’d retrieved his swordstaff. Then the chain had floated away as inky smoke.
The two stood and adjusted their gear. They were barely second-years.
“Edwin. Captain Edwin,” the left one said. He had a large mole above his right eye.
Edwin? Edwin knew better than to tell his men to behave this way with a Scribe. “Captain Lerissa will want to have a word with you for the choice you made today.”
The one on the right with nearly white eyebrows and deep red freckles prepared his shield-arm. “No, sir, she’d like a word with you.”
And this wasn’t how to do it. She may be his captain, but he answered to his oath—Stadhold and Scribe—before her. He bent forward, shifting his weight slightly. “I don’t want to fight you.”
“You don’t get a choice,” Mole said, readying his stance as well. “We’ve been sent to take you back.”
Why were they being so hostile? Why the force? What happened to reason and discussion? Emeryss hadn’t fled until Avrist had sent these two after her. He hadn’t felt unsure about his fellow Keepers until right then. “I think if you—”
“We’ve been sent to take you back whatever means necessary,” Freckles said.
Lerissa would never order this, and neither would the Librarian. Wanting to fight? Eager about whatever means necessary? Something was clearly wrong, but he wouldn’t back down. He wouldn’t lose. “Try to take me, then.”
Freckles roared and ran forward with his short sword and shield raised. Mole charged, too, but as soon as Freckles made contact with Grier’s shield, Mole took off past him toward Emeryss.
Grier would get him next.
He blocked two swings from Freckles as Mole’s distance grew behind him. Swinging his swordstaff, he struck Freckles in the side and then in the stomach. He aimed to pierce his thigh next and demobilize him, but Freckles twisted out of the way, bringing his sword down onto Grier’s shield with a crack.
Freckles spun again, but Grier bashed him with his shield, knocking him off balance, and forcing him to relinquish his grasp on his own weapon.
This was already taking too long. Mole would reach the airship at this rate.
Grier squeezed the handle of his swordstaff until it crumbled and dissolved into an inky cloud. He needed to use something second-years weren’t trained against. Every Keeper could wield a blade, but few could wield a hammer.
He shoved Freckles back with his shield again, using the precious seconds Freckles needed to right himself to pull out his war hammer.
Freckles stepped back, his chest heaving with every breath.
“Tired already?” Grier was panting, too, but considerably less so.
Freckles growled and ran for him again. His sword was chipping, and his arm was limp. He wasn’t strong enough to make his weapon strong, too, and he lacked the discipline and training for even a short fight like this.
“You are too young, too tired, too untrained.” Grier twisted his torso, holding up his shield against Freckles and readying a swing with his hammer in the other.
Grier was a wall. Nothing could knock him down and get past him.
Freckles crashed against Grier’s shield and bounced back, losing his balance and leaving his sides completely open.
Grier swung the hammer in an arc great enough that it collided with his ribs, crunching armor and bone. The young man flew to his backside in the middle of the street.
After Freckles groaned on the ground and failed to stand, Grier crushed the shaft of his war hammer in his fist, willing the weapon to dissolve, and turned toward a man gaping from across the path. “Get him help,” he called to him.
The man nodded, and Grier charged after Mole.
He could barely make him out in the rolling puffs of dust ahead. Mole was too far. He’d reach the airship. There was no way he could stop—
She’s safe.
The voice came in slow and gentle. “Sonora?”
Emeryss is safe and on the ship. We’ve all made it back, but we can’t help you, Grier. We can’t fight Keepers. That would—
“Make everything worse, I know,” he said, still trying to catch up to Mole. It was bad enough that he was fighting Keepers. “Another one is coming. He’s nearly there.”
We see him.
“Just leave. Get her out of here. I’ll—I’ll deal with Avrist and the library.”
He retrieved his chain dart again and shot it out toward Mole. It clinked off the back of his armor, making him stagger, but only a little. Grier would have to let go of the dart and hope to grab the end in time. Anything to stop him from getting to the ship.
He wound it up over his head again. After several passes and gaining enough speed, he tossed it and let go of the end.
The dart struck the back of Mole’s thigh, and blood burst from his armor.
Grier reached for the handle of the chain dart flopping around on the ground and yanked Mole back.
Mole screamed as he tumbled and fought the barbs biting his flesh through his armor. He tried to stand—
Grier yanked it again, bringing him to a crippling halt.
Mole finally fell, wincing and moaning in pain as he rolled around in the dirt.
Finally, Grier loomed over him. “You need more training, too.” Mole spat in his face, but Grier only smiled and bent in closer. “Captain Lerissa is going to love hearing about this.”
“I don’t care,” Mole shouted. “Do you know who my grandfather was? He was your father’s captain—”
He gripped Mole by his metal collar and twisted the barbed dart deeper into his thigh; Mole screamed. Grier had forgotten about the labels and the name-slinging in Keeper training. “You know how I know you’re brand new and not good enough?” Mole continued to cry out, gripping his thigh as Grier slid the dart out. “Because you’re talking about what your grandfather did and not what you did. You haven’t done anything but lose to another Keeper. Imagine if I was Ingini. Your Scribe would be dead, you would be dishonored, and your family would disown you or be wiped from the tablets.” He threw him to the ground.
“Grier, stop!” Avrist approached, panting and lifting his hands. His perfectly coifed hair was falling under the weight of his sweat, and the toes poking out from his sandals were powdered white from running through the rubble. “Wait, please,” he breathed. “Please, I don’t want to fight you. The Librarian had sent the Keepers with me as protection.”
A dark shadow of an airship was cast onto the ground around them. The wind from its fans whipped up dirt and debris as it hovered. Adalai Blinked next to Grier. “Ready?” she asked.
He wasn’t done with Avrist yet. “Protection? They were for protection?” he shouted. “So, you tell them to charge at her? With weapons? Lerissa will hear about this.”
Avrist wiped his forehead with a flap of his gray uniform and squinted through the wind. “I understand. They took it too far. But my concern is Emeryss. She must be returned—”
“That’s not what you said. You agreed we could talk—”
He shook his head. “There is no talking, Grier—”
Grier swallowed, trying to ease the aching guilt building in his chest. “You lied, then.”
“Did you see the riot you started here? She cannot be out. She has to return whether you like it or not—”
“Those two idiots were willing to fight her—hurt her and me. This isn’t right, and you should know better. “
Avrist sighed. “I’m just doing my job, Grier, like you should be doing—”
“I swore an oath to protect her, not imprison her and hold h
er in Stadhold against her will! How do you think this looks to her? She ran because she felt like a prisoner, and you show up with weapons drawn to drag her back!”
Avrist placed his palms together as if pleading with him. “I’m protecting her, too. I want her safe. After you were hit one too many times the night she ran, I stopped the pilots from taking down the ship!”
Adalai gasped lightly beside him.
Grier straightened as the air rushed out of his lungs. Avrist would only know that if he was on the airship itself. It was him. Stadhold was attacking the Zephyr and nearly killed them in the process when Emeryss had escaped. Except he knew it wasn’t Avrist that had ordered to stop the attack. The attack only stopped when Vaughn had shrunk them out of sight. Avrist was lying, and Emeryss was right.
She is a prisoner.
His mouth went dry. He swallowed, but there was nothing there. If she was a prisoner, what did that make him?
Avrist stepped nearer. “We don’t want to ruin her life or hold her hostage or whatever you think this is. Think how devastated her people would be to hear the only Scribe of their tribe had been killed!”
Scribe of their tribe? That phrase grated against his nerves. Nothing Avrist said was comforting. He wasn’t even sure Avrist had been sent on the Librarian’s request or Lerissa’s. Or maybe they knew but didn’t know the extent at which Avrist was willing to risk Emeryss’s life.
“You know as well as I do that Emeryss… Emeryss is different,” Avrist continued.
“Because she’s Neerian?”
“I would never seriously harm her. It would look very bad for the library to have anything happen to her.”
Adalai bristled beside him, and he couldn’t blame her. His hands were itching to make Avrist whimper like his pathetic excuses for Keepers.
Avrist wrung his hands together. “Emeryss needs protecting—”
“I am her protection!” Grier’s voice boomed over the ship’s fans. “And ordering two Keepers to capture her with their weapons drawn is not protecting her.”
Avrist made an attempt to come closer, and Grier bent forward and readied his stance. He wouldn’t hurt Avrist—not really—but there was nothing like taking a shield bash to the face to set someone straight.
“You’re putting your entire future on the line for this.” Avrist froze. “For her. I get that maybe you have feelings for her. You’re both young, you’ve been partnered since your graduation. But you have paired matches coming up—”
Grier narrowed his stare. This wasn’t about a relationship with Emeryss, and he couldn’t care less about who the commanders paired him with for marriage. This was about lies and secrets. This was about his purpose and how it affected Emeryss’s life.
“Grier, if she falls into the wrong hands—”
“I am her Keeper!” His fists could not have been clenched any tighter. His knuckles were stark white. “I will protect her! That’s what I was trained for. And she is not your tool or your prisoner.”
Avrist sighed and wiped sweat from his temples again. “Please, Grier, let’s be sensible about this…”
“Get those two young men more training. Their fathers would be disappointed.” He nodded to Adalai, and with barely a touch of his arm, she Blinked them into the dark cargo hold of the Zephyr.
Before he caught his breath, Emeryss crashed into him, wrapping her arms around his waist.
“Are you okay? Are you hurt?” she asked, her head against his gritty armor. “Sonora was telling me everything that was being said, but we weren’t sure if you’d been wounded.”
The rest of the Zephyrs looked on as Emeryss’s fingers squeezed him closer, her body pressed against his. He wanted to reciprocate his relief in her embrace, tell her he’d always protect her. Spirits knew he’d thought about holding her every time they saw a sunset together on that bridge outside her suite. Instead, his chest burned and swelled as anger grew.
She’d been right; he’d been wrong. He was the one who screwed up. He’d ruined everything, and giving in to his feelings for her wouldn’t absolve him of what he did. He didn’t deserve her, and pretending like he did wouldn’t erase his failure in keeping her hidden from the REV, and now, from Avrist.
His mistakes sent her onto a darker path with danger headed straight for them. He’d foolishly risked her life with his pride of taking her back. He swallowed, reached down, and pushed her away. “I’m sorry.”
She looked up at him. “What do you mean?”
Everything he’d feared would happen had happened. Her identity would be everywhere. Everyone would know. Everyone would be after her, and if the Ingini caught wind of this… His head was swimming with the gravity of their situation and Avrist’s words. Avrist had wanted to hurt her, not just steal her away. Avrist had lied, and it was too much…
“Grier, talk to me,” she urged.
“They’re going to send everyone now… They didn’t need to see you scribe, because they saw me. I ruined everything, and Avrist and the other Keepers being there confirmed what those people saw. You’re not safe anywhere now, and it’s my fault.”
Air. He couldn’t get enough air.
She shook her head. “You protected me, Grier. And I had to scribe. I couldn’t let that little boy die—”
“I know.”
“And Kayson said he healed him. That he’ll be fine. Well, before they all had to jump onto the Zephyr. We’ll be okay—”
“No, we won’t!” His words bounced around the empty cargo hold.
The Zephyrs averted their eyes and shrank back against the walls in silence.
“We did the best we could,” she repeated. “I wasn’t going to sit by and watch that boy die when I could try to do something about it, even if I knew I would get caught. And I did do something. I was able to ask for a specific solution and was provided the answer. Not in a grimoire, but on regular old paper—an inventory sheet. I made progress—”
“And then I became a Keeper again and everyone found out. I’m glad you’re able to find the silver lining in this, Emeryss—I really am—but now, I don’t know what to do. I don’t know where to take you, and it’s my fault.”
He needed time to rationalize their next plan, how best not to screw up again. There was too much to unpack. He went to leave, but she held him back.
“Grier…” Her voice was breathless. “You kept Avrist and those Keepers from reaching me. You finally saw what I’ve been saying. I don’t blame you for anything—”
“You should. We have no idea what’s coming for us, now.”
She shook her head. “We’ll figure it out.”
“No.” It wasn’t just her. What was coming for Stadhold after this? Or the Zephyrs? Or his own future? “Your plan to train with the Zephyrs isn’t possible anymore. Your plan to go home is probably ruined, too. They saw us together. The Zephyrs will be hunted and probably be in trouble, too.”
Her fingers clasped his arm. “We’ll be okay. We’ll figure it out.”
“That’s right,” Adalai said. “Neither of you should go anywhere. Not after what that tart-hole down there said. Right, Urla?”
Urla took a deep breath. “I agree with Grier. We need to speak with Orr. I’m sure he’ll hear about this. But I also don’t think it’s safe for Emeryss to go to Neeria just yet.”
“We could just head in Neeria’s direction,” Sonora said. “It’s not like we’ll make it too far if Orr responds soon.”
Urla nodded. “Vaughn, shrink the Zephyr. Jahree, take us northwest, and we can all figure out exactly what we’re going to do after we hear from Orr.”
“I’ll start contacting him now,” Adalai said, jogging off into the ship.
Grier pulled away, leaving Emeryss behind for their cabin.
“Where are you going?” she asked.
Avrist had admitted to trying to take them down in the airship, and he’d lied about meeting with Emeryss. There was no way Lerissa would support Avrist’s behavior. He had to be acting on his own.
And if not, then being a Keeper meant nothing like he’d thought.
“To think,” he answered.
Chapter 13
North End Hanger 8 — Ethrecity — Ingini
Clove straightened her clean, black flight suit and took a deep breath.
They could do this. They had to.
She forced a frizzy lock of hair behind her left ear, tightened her stubby ponytail, and cleared her throat. It was not a big deal. They were just going to meet a shipping boss they’d never met to request the chance to ship bombs west for money. Bombs. For a war.
“You’ll be fine,” Cayn mumbled, picking at his own fingers.
She’d never been to North End’s hangars; she wasn’t even sure what had been in them before now. Airships, sure, but there wasn’t much activity coming and going.
“Did you get paid last night?” she asked as they made their way down the halls toward Boss Trent’s office.
“Oh, I got paid.” Cayn smiled, pulled at the collar of his white button-up, and fixed the creases at his elbows. “It’s on Pigyll. My clients always pay well and on time for my services.”
She humphed. “I don’t want details.”
“You sure barged in like you did.”
“That was a mistake.” She wagged a finger at him. “I already apologized for losing my head for a second.”
Cayn might have cared that she’d ruined whatever magical moment he’d been making with his customers, but he never shied away from bragging about his professional skills. He never shied away from bragging over anything, really.
The deeper they went into the hangar, the darker and grittier it became. Without automatic doors or fancy ether-lamps, the metal building was as rugged and as pieced together as Branson’s, except not in a swamp. It had an industrial smell to it, a blend of machine and ether-smog. The ether-stained walls had gone from a pale red near the ceiling to a deep burgundy with dark streaking near the floor.
Turning another corner down a long, dark hall, she cracked her knuckles and stifled the bile creeping up the back of her throat.