“Thank you, Taoiseach, sir.” Her response is flat and dutiful.
I continue to feel lightheaded, so I spill the savory contents of my tumbler down my throat. “Now, to business. Come closer. There’s no need to yell across the room. I would like for you to send two of your elite Hiberneyts and two elite Sprhowts to each of the uninhabitable regions. We need to check the Cypress Marsh, the Broken Forest, and the Thunder Bluffs. We will hold off stretching to the Blood Plains for now, as I have my suspicions we’ll uncover more than we desire. That will be our final reach, if necessary.”
“Are you sure, Taoiseach? The Cypress Marsh has been known to swallow men alive, the Thunder Bluffs are sheer cliffs not even the sure-footed mountain goats call home, and the Broken Forest is swarming with the malevolent Cryptids that can rip a man in half just as easily as you dropped the General. Most men wouldn’t survive a half dozen nights in any of these locations. It’s highly unlikely a young girl would survive a full rotation of seasons.”
This woman, my newly appointed protégé, dares to question my authority. I respect her courage for doing so, but I must devour any notion she may have for believing she can direct me. This is my world to mold to my liking. She knows nothing of what must be done to control it. She is just a tool for me to use as I see fit.
I snap up from the edge of my desk and, in one swift motion, lay the palm of my hand across her face of near perfection. She falters back a step, releasing her tense stance, and bounces back quickly. She looks at me with the gaze of a shameful puppy while a bead of blood forms in the corner of her mouth.
“You underestimate this girl’s talent. You were there the day she escaped. She broke down that ironwood barrier, one of the densest organisms on this moon, as if it were a thin sheet of paper. A girl of that potential, despite her youth, will not fall down and die so easily.”
“My apologies…”
“You are weaker than I thought. Do not apologize, and do as I say. You are afraid. You are afraid your men will die. You are afraid you will fail me and end up like him.” I point to the degrading pile on the floor. “Well, let me make this simpler for you.” I stride closer to her and place a hand upon the almond-colored skin at her shoulder, offering false comfort.
“Ugh.” She moans in pain but maintains her integrity by remaining upright in her hardened stance.
“Don’t fail me like your predecessor, or your fate will be the same. Remember, you are my Shadow now. You’d do best to keep me a ray of sunshine.” I pull my hand away, leaving a faint black print of my thumb and forefinger. “Is that clear, Ellia?”
“Yes, Sir. I will have you a complete list by the end of the season or sooner. If that will suffice, Sir.”
“Yes. That will suffice.”
“May I suggest…” She pauses, sensibly contemplating her next words, I presume. “That I send only one fire team, Sir. A fireteam of one—myself.”
Ambition. A good start for my new protégé, but let’s see if her actions fulfill her tongue’s promises. Otherwise, I might have to relieve her of it. “Hrm…bold. Why?”
“Sir, excuse my tone, but I don’t function well having to wipe the backsides of others. Cleanup is not my forte. I work alone. And I work fast. I am going to personally find your girl, your number-one public enemy, or…” She cocks her head, stares intently, and shifts to a persuasive tone. “…possible ally?”
“Ally?” Could she be? She has the talent, but can she be trusted? Does she have the intellect? It’s worth finding out, I believe. “Make sure you bring her back alive, then.”
“And, Sir, of the other threats you’ve dispensed while I’ve been training for this, what of them?”
“They remain threats.”
“I would suggest, for matters lacking urgency, it is best to leave that to a third party. Someone not causally linked to you, Sir. I am not proud of it, but I have good connections in low places. The guild I have in mind are an honorable bunch, very skilled at what they do, and will not fail. They are equivalent to, or even more skilled than, the Solite and the Noxelite. They just so happen to use their talents in taboo ways, not highly regarded in today’s moral society. They are a trustworthy resource for this type of trade. I can assure you they will accomplish the task at hand.”
She refers to the Celestial Cloaks, a secret guild of misfit dropouts who have the skill and training in the Solstice and Nox Sciences, but never finished their time at the Academy for various reasons. The fact they didn’t make commencement limits their choices in how they earn a living. I’ve managed to recoup a small percentage of the failures by introducing the brutal sport of Ironball countless seasons ago. The rest…they remain uncontrolled.
“Ellia…imagine the disappointment of a trained soldier who will never be accepted into the Crimson Guard nor the Solite or Noxelite.” I pause to coat my throat in scotch. The ice thumps my upper lip as I get to the bottom of the glass. Utter disappointment. “Their only other choices are to be humiliated by joining an apprenticeship, become mercenaries with rewarding payouts but inconsistent work, or join an elite class of assassins utilizing their hard-earned skills while maintaining a sense of appreciation and loyalty among comrades. The latter is the clear choice for their breed. But it does not make them trustworthy. Be careful who you lie with.”
“Yes, Sir.”
Ellia is right, though. Parliament awaits an opportunity to unseat me, and heading a mass assassination would offer an easy finger to point. It wouldn’t matter if they all deserved death or if I were to burn a chapel full of infants. I can maneuver my way through harboring a fugitive or a homicide. But the tongue of man is a slippery beast. One I choose to avoid if I can, which is why I have the utmost respect for knowledge. I keep what I know, and I choose what I keep. “Proceed with the task how you see fit. I trust you won’t forget the consequences of failure.”
“Of course, Sir.”
“You are excused.” She turns to exit the room just as Sasha returns with a mop to clean up after me. I suddenly find myself peeved that I need to find a new general.
I'm not alone anymore. Everyone in this civilization has become a prisoner of their own fears and agony. Streets are empty at day, and fears creep about at night. Trade is limited. Freedom is lost.
7 Stone
L ying on my bed mat, I peer out the hole in our yurt we’ve dubbed a window, watching as daylight crawls into the forest. It’s been a couple fortnights since our run-in with the Lost Souls, enough for Cerise to cycle through a full ambience to be exact.
I stretch and, with the back of my hand, wipe away sweat accumulating on my forehead. I use my linen to get to other crevices of my body. The enduring summer heat is relentless even at dawn. Today might be a day to venture to the waterhole for a bath.
Rolling onto my side, I see Goose has already risen, but Jaymes continues to sleep. Her wounds haven’t improved much. Goose and I have kept her bed ridden—not without a struggle—since we carried her back home. She was in and out of consciousness for the first few days, only waking long enough to consume minimal liquids.
She woke long enough for a conversation on the fourth day. With much embarrassment, she shared her story with us about why she went parading through the forest so close to twilight. Goose and I had a good laugh at her dismay and shared our fretful experiences with her as well. We left the conversation—or at least I did—with onerous thoughts. The danger in this forest is real, and we brushed too close to it that night. And who were those men who stole away the Lost Souls? We may not be safe here anymore.
Since then, Goose has taken sole ownership in filling our bellies, primarily with bluegill and muddy silvers, which offer a bland, gritty flavor. He hasn’t brought back a single critter with fur or feathers on its back. Come to think of it, I don’t recall him ever having a kill in our four seasons hunting together. If he weren’t so vocal about beasts being lesser than man, I would almost think he takes a leg out of the esteemed Ironball strategies and puts them on a pedest
al for protection. The beasts of this world are Goose’s ironball.
The thought of Ironball strikes pleasant memories. Mine and my father’s pastime. What a reward it would be to see another Ironball match. When in the capital, my father would steal time away from his important duties as the Architect to take me to see the Iron Eagles. It was against my mother’s discretion, but I know my parents discussed the matter beforehand. They always made decisions together. And they both had their roles to play. My mother’s was the nurturer. She didn’t approve of such brutality. My father, he knew there were lessons to be learned in everything. And brutal it may be, but death is rare in the sport. They always survive to play the next match. The Healers in the sport are the best in the realm. I wonder what it takes to be like them. I would feel much better if I knew Jay would always survive to the next match.
“What are you staring at?”
Jay shatters the walls of my memories and brings me back to reality. Back to an awkward moment of watching my sister sleep. My face burns with embarrassment.
“Er…sorry.” I brush my hands through the mop on my head and rise to my feet. “Just lost in thought. You’re up earlier than usual.”
“The last few weeks are not the usual,” she spits back. “In full health, I haven’t been able to turn off the squawk of the robins at dawn. Listen to them.”
“I rather enjoy the sound of the robins. It’s soft. Easy on the ears. Beautiful really. And this doesn’t mean you’re in full health.”
Jay coughs and eases back into her bed mat. I’m tempted to check her temperature and examine her wounds, but I know she’ll fend me off like a diving bat, swatting at me until I get out of her space. I’ll give it a moment.
“I better get moving. It’ll take me the better part of the day to make sure those thunder lanterns are buzzing properly.” I’ve taken up Jaymes’s responsibilities while she’s been indisposed.
“I can help.” Another cough pumps from her lungs.
“I know you can. And I want you to. But not until you’re healthy enough.”
“It shouldn’t take you all day, you know? Let me show you the sweet spot.”
“It’s the extra thunder lanterns we added. More thunder lanterns, more thunderbugs. It’s only logical it takes me longer. It’s not a light task.”
“No. It isn’t.”
All this time, I thought I appreciated what she did for us. Now, I know I do.
“Let me check those wounds before I go,” I ask.
“Fine.” She rolls onto her back and drapes her mouth open with an exaggerated tongue hanging out, feigning the deceased.
I kneel beside her. “You had me trembling,” I confess. “You were dying. I thought Helios was dead, and I had no idea whether those men would return for us. And even now, you remain a concern with your lofty claims that mother healed the lacerations on your leg.”
“If not mother, then who? The Lost Soul that strung me up like a piece of meat?” Jaymes calls out, obviously offended. “I didn’t just manifest them, you know. My leg was covered in blood from the rune grass, and now all those lacerations are gone. And you said it yourself, you never saw them. So that means they were healed before you found me.”
“It was dark. Regardless, that part of your leg is healed and not the issue.” I gesture for her to raise her tunic enough for me to access the bandages. “We need to focus on this major laceration that threatens your life.”
“Whatever!” she sulks.
“Hmm…”
“What?” Jaymes exaggerates her irritation, and immaturity. Then follows it with a coughing fit that sends me into retreat.
“It’s not getting any better. I don’t understand. Your bandages will need to be changed this morning with all the mucus that secretes from it. I just don’t understand why all my attempts to heal it have failed. The pain I feel is real. I don’t know what I’m missing.” I give a deep sigh and slump backward onto my rear.
“So, how’d you do it?” Jaymes asks as she sluggishly itches at her bandages. “You continue to sidestep the question. How’d you get us out of there?”
“It’s only going to get worse if you do that.” I seize her wrist.
“Yes, Father.”
One of her typical flippant remarks. I don’t mind though. That’s how I know she knows I care. As long as she continues to do it, we’re in a good place.
“So, how’d you do it?” she repeats.
“Well…” I pause to recall the fear, disgust, cowardice, and all the other emotions overwhelming me at the time. “…it was clumsy luck. That’s all. I wrote Helios off as dead. And Goose screeched like a dying pig when I woke him by pinching the flub on the back of his arm…”
“Hold on! Hold on!” Goose steps into the room, his face disgruntled. Helios strolls in after him. “A pig? Really? Now you know he’s lying, Jay.” He massages the back of his arm and jiggles it to see if it shakes. It doesn’t. “Don’t believe him. It was more of a roaring lion the way I remember it—”
“Yeah, not important. Anyways—”
“Well, this dying pig brought down a bigger Cryptid than what you and Helios couldn’t kill together. How about that for a dying pig?”
Jaymes chuckles and coughs again. “So, what was it? That killed the other Lost Soul?” She pulls her hand away from her mouth and reveals a spot of blood in her palm.
“Are you okay, Jay? Maybe you should rest.” I place my hand on her forehead.
“I’m fine.” She pushes my hand away and scratches at her bandage again.
“No. I think you need to get some rest. And stop picking at your open wounds! It’s itchy because it’s trying to mend itself. You poking at it isn’t going to speed up the process. Get some rest.”
“But you didn’t finish the story. Who killed the Lost Soul? How’d Helios get back home?”
“I’ll tell you later. You’re coughing up blood, for goodness sake. The story can wait.”
Her thin eyebrows point down toward her nose. “C’mon, Stone…” she begs while settling in.
“I don’t really know, to be honest. Whoever killed that beast disappeared. I was certain Helios was dead, but he caught up with us just as we were at our end. Both of us were fatigued beyond comprehension. You better cherish that cat more than you already do because he is the only reason you’re here now. And this isn’t the first time he’s saved our lives.”
“We’ve all got thanks for this pretty kitty, don’t we?” Goose adds, ruffling Helios behind the ears and under his chin. “And with as many brushes past death as he’s had, maybe he’ll outlive us all.”
A soft upward curl forms on Jay’s lips, and she closes her eyes. I can’t help but stare and ponder. What would my life be without her? She’s all I have left. I need to learn more about healing. To allow something as simple as a laceration to turn fatal is preventable.
Several more days pass, and due to her restless and ambitious personality, she’s tried to escape the confines of her warm and comfortable cell on multiple occasions. Her disregard of her own health has surely set back the healing process. I fear it’s infected. Portions of the lacerations have opened back up and continue to secrete an odd green mucus, proving she needs to remain immobile.
Unfortunately, her immature personality allows her to only believe she knows best. She hasn’t been able to get far from her bed, thankfully. Her condition limits her to a sloth’s pace combined with a newborn giraffe’s clumsiness. It’s not working well for her, but she refuses to give up. I admire her aspiration. And because of it, Goose and I have been trading off charge of her. One of us is by her side at all times to prevent her from doing any more damage to herself. She is a fighter, but she needs to grow up and learn her limitations or she’ll eventually get herself into a severe or fatal predicament I cannot rescue her from.
I’ve imposed a healing routine twice a day now but with little to no effect. With each attempt, I go through all the basics I remember from my short time at the Academy. As an a
mateur, I focus on a small portion of the damaged tissue. I visualize her lacerations mending themselves, and I endure her pain. And there is so much of it. If only I could find her some relief. I don’t know what I’m doing wrong, and my body is paying a big toll for it.
Jaymes even more so. She doesn’t have much time. My technique drags out the inevitable. It’s time to seek help outside the boundaries of the forest.
“Morning, Goose.” I speak quietly to not wake Jaymes.
“Oh! Hey, Stone.” His eyes widen, and he shuffles whatever he’s preparing. “I didn’t hear you rise. What’re you doing up so early?”
“Early? The sun’s up.” He’s hiding something. “Is that some kind of special breakfast you’re cooking for me? It’s my name day isn’t it? No, wait…” I hold up my fingers and start counting on them. “I’ll be twenty seasons by then. We’re still a few seasons out.” I scratch my head and ease closer.
“What are you talking about?” Goose replies with a stern look. “When would I ever cook you anything? And what’s a nameday breakfast, for that matter?” He snatches the bowl of mystery meal from the table and heads toward the sleeping quarters.
“Oh, I see. But isn’t somebody other than yourself supposed to cook and serve breakfast in bed?” I raise my voice as he continues around the partition, out of sight. I follow him.
“Stop acting so ridiculous. It’s not for me, it’s for Jay,” he snaps.
Season of Sacrifice (Blood of Azure Book 1) Page 7