The Infinite

by Lori M. Lee

  His hands gripped my shoulders, startling me. Suddenly, I was wrapped in his arms. I hugged him back, a lump forming in my throat.

  “Never,” he said into my hair. “You went into the Void and back for me. I’m not worried about a little trip up north.”

  I pressed my lips to his damp shoulder. I believed him, but there was more to it than he was saying. “I heard that Miraya asked you to go with us.”

  Reev was silent for too long. I eased out of his arms, our wet tunics peeling apart. I caught a stormy look on his face that brightened too quickly for me to be sure I’d seen it.

  “I have things I need to do here,” he said. “Whatever you find in Lanathrill, I know you’ll be fine. You don’t need me looking out for you anymore.”

  I rested my hands against his back and looked up, studying the line of his jaw. I wasn’t worried about Lanathrill. The demons would be a danger, but my excitement to see the world north of the Outlands had only grown in the last two days. My concern was about whom I’d be leaving behind. Knowing that the distance might benefit all of us didn’t make going away any easier.

  That evening, Mason and I took scouts around the White Court to ensure that I felt comfortable with steering. If we ran into gargoyles, I wanted to feel in control of the scout. Mason led me through areas of the White Court I hadn’t even known were there—narrow passageways between the barracks and a tunnel that ran beneath the Watchmen Academy. We ended up racing down the main road and laughing at the way the Watchmen glowered at our recreational defiance of regulation speeds.

  The next morning, our group of seven gathered outside the palace gates. The scouts were lined up along the street, drawing quite the attention. Our supplies had been secured in compartments hidden within the scouts’ bodies, which could be accessed by either unlatching our seats or sliding open a slot in the scouts’ hindquarters.

  I didn’t recognize any of the sentinels accompanying us. There were four in addition to Mason. Yara, who’d been given riding lessons of her own, bounced on her heels, eager to set out.

  She waved when she saw me and rushed over, looking considerably better than she had a couple days ago. The irritated patches on her cheeks had been eased by heavy lotions, and although she still had weary smudges beneath her eyes, they had lightened somewhat. The blue tattoo high on her left cheekbone wrinkled a bit as she grinned.

  We exchanged greetings before I glanced over my shoulder, at the footpath that led through the grounds to Kalla’s tower. Mason called me from the gates, and I reluctantly looked away. I had said my good-byes to Reev, but I hadn’t seen Avan since our talk outside the oasis.

  I squashed the disappointment. Seeing each other again would have just muddled things even more.

  Mason glanced at my riding outfit. “You look ready for an adventure.”

  I smiled. I was covered from neck to toes in a fitted gray tunic, matching pants, and leather boots. The fabric was light enough for the heat of the Outlands, but when the temperature dropped at night, I had a thick hooded cloak in my bag. The cloak was something I would have loved during my first venture into the Outlands.

  The sentinels had on their standard leather, and Mason wore a flattering navy tunic. He had met the sentinels already, so he made quick introductions for me. Of the four sentinels, only two looked excited about leaving. The others, two women named Gret and Winnifer, grumbled to each other about the long journey ahead.

  “All right, boss,” Mason said to me, settling into his scout’s leather seat. “Ready to . . .” His eyes focused on something behind me.

  I turned. Avan was coming down the footpath, his dark hair and crimson tunic unmistakable. I sucked in my breath and held it. Calm down, I told myself firmly.

  As he neared, his steps grew less hurried. He hunched his shoulders a bit, as if embarrassed by his haste. I walked up to meet him so that our conversation wouldn’t be overheard.

  “Hey,” he said, sounding a little out of breath.

  “Hey,” I echoed, unable to keep from smiling.

  “I was worried you’d left already,” he said, looking down and then back to me. “I wasn’t going to come, but . . . I had to.”

  “Thank you for seeing me off,” I said. We stood there for a few seconds more as I held on to so many things that couldn’t be said.

  Too often in these last few months, I’d caught myself smiling at a memory of us from school or in his shop or in Etu Gahl. The first couple of times, he had asked what was so funny, so I’d told him. His eyes had grown remote, as if saddened by his inability to share those moments with me.

  Now, I was reminded of that night months ago when we had prepared to leave Ninurta for the first time. How hastily we’d made the decision, and how adamant Avan had been about coming with me. So many times I wished I’d had the good sense to steal his Gray and leave on my own. But it wouldn’t have done any good. After his deal with Kronos, he probably would have found another Gray and followed me.

  His lips tightened. “Please be careful. You don’t know anything about Lanathrill or the people there.”

  “That’s why we’re going,” I said, my smile broadening.

  “Promise me you’ll be careful.”

  Once, he would have told me, “Stay safe.”

  I nodded and murmured, “Of course.”

  “Kai!” Mason called from the street. I waved, knowing everyone was waiting for me.

  Avan met Mason with a slight frown and a nod, and Mason answered the gesture with equal enthusiasm. I didn’t understand the wariness between them. The two had exchanged no more than half a dozen words since Avan was made Infinite. I had expected Mason to share my conflicted feelings—or to at least possess some empathy for what they’d done to Avan. But Mason had taken Reev’s position on the matter. Mason’s loyalty to the Infinite began and ended at Irra, but his outright distrust of Avan still surprised me.

  As I was turning away, Avan caught my hand. Seeing the concern in his face was almost like looking at my Avan.

  “I have something for you.” He reached into his pocket and withdrew something small, cradled within his palm. He uncurled his fingers and presented it to me. It was a silver leaf brooch with the barest shimmer of translucent green. “For your cloak.”

  My fingertips brushed against his palm as I took it from him. The silver was warm from being in his pocket. “Thank you.”

  “It’s weird, but I thought . . .” His fingers picked absentmindedly at his tunic, right above the spot on his chest where three green leaves adorned his otherwise stark tattoo. “I thought a leaf would be right.”

  He’d told me once that the leaves of his tattoo symbolized the start of something new—something good—in what had been a rather bleak life. And that each new leaf added would represent gradual changes toward something better.

  My fist tightened around the brooch, its ridges digging into my palm. Did he realize the significance of those leaves on his chest? Or the leaf he was giving me? I doubted it, and yet some part of him must have remembered.

  He gave me his crooked smile. “I’ll see you when you get back.”

  Neither of us said good-bye.

  CHAPTER 11

  WE WERE A spectacle leaving the White Court.

  Seven scouts on the main road drew a lot of attention. Other riders craned their necks to watch as they passed us on the opposite side of the road. People gathered along the sidewalk. They muttered among themselves, probably speculating as to what we were doing.

  After the Watchmen had led Yara into the city on her horse, news of her arrival had rapidly spread. However, I doubted that anyone outside of Miraya’s immediate council—and our group—knew where Yara had come from or why. I didn’t think even the ministers had been informed.

  Leaving under so much attention felt less exhilarating and more apprehensive. I wished we’d arranged to meet at the city gates instead.

  Beneath the curiosity, I could sense the hostility—the distrust of the White Court and the senti
nels, the certainty that our party could mean nothing good for them. In their position, I would have felt the same.

  There was nothing I could do to put their fears to rest. So I kept my hands on the sensors and my eyes forward. Someday, maybe, Miraya could fill the chasm between the White Court and the North District.

  Up ahead, the Watchmen threw open the city gates. Like that night Avan and I had left Ninurta, the open gates provided an unobstructed view of the Outlands: flat, cracked earth with low, craggy rock formations to break up the monotony. How had Yara been able to stand a week out there with only her horse as a companion?

  According to Yara, her horse had been bred for speed and endurance, but she had still needed to stop often to rest and water the animal. On our scouts, as long as we didn’t run out of energy stones, we’d be much faster. Scouts could outpace a gargoyle, but they weren’t meant to maintain those speeds for long periods of time. It would cause too much strain on the creatures’ joints and gears. Our actual pace would probably match Avan’s Gray, which had been modified to be faster than regulation.

  Still, we’d be traveling twice as fast as Yara had, and we could conceivably reach what Yara claimed to be Lanathrill’s border in only a day’s time.

  The Watchmen saluted us as we rode through the gates, Yara and I in the lead with Mason directly behind me. The knots in my stomach grew tighter as we spilled into the Outlands. Yara directed her scout northward, and the rest of us followed. She was grinning, her face aimed into the wind. Her short hair fluttered against her forehead. My own hair was braided tight and coiled into a bun at the base of my neck, as Hina had taught me.

  Crossing the Outlands on my own Gray was starkly different from riding behind someone else. I couldn’t rest even for a moment, no matter how tired I was or how stiff my arms and legs grew. I could shift a bit on the seat, but it didn’t do much to alleviate the numbness seeping into my butt.

  We spotted gargoyles, but they kept their distance. Their large flat eyes watched us pass. They seemed disinterested in our party.

  At noon, we stopped for a short lunch and to stretch our legs. My eyes and ears remained alert. I mostly took my cues from Mason and the others, whose senses were sharper than mine. Thirty minutes later, we were back on our scouts.

  A couple of hours after, Mason rode up beside me. He flicked his head, indicating something to our left.

  More gargoyles. Their lizard-like bodies darted over and around a gathering of boulders. However, something about these gargoyles was different.

  I stared at them a moment longer but couldn’t pinpoint what was wrong.

  Then one gargoyle opened its mouth and its torso seemed to expand. My fingers tightened on the sensors as I watched it roar at the other gargoyles. Its mouth was massive. These gargoyles didn’t have neck frills. Instead, what looked like bony spines protruded from beneath their jaws up to the crowns of their heads. The longer I looked, the more differences I could pick out. Even their front legs seemed longer to account for their heavier upper bodies.

  Maybe these gargoyles had evolved differently from the ones near Ninurta. The thought was alarming because it also meant they might behave differently. These gargoyles might not hesitate to attack us.

  I was on edge for hours, my eyes fixed on the slowly changing landscape around us, searching for movement. It didn’t help that Yara seemed just as aware of the danger. She stared ahead, her fingers white where they gripped her scout. She was mouthing something I couldn’t make out, but I’d be willing to bet she was praying to her goddess.

  We rode until daylight was a golden blush across the horizon. The bright-red light from the chests of our scouts illuminated our way in the descending dark. We’d been riding for almost ten hours, and my body ached all the way from my shoulders down to the backs of my thighs.

  An hour after nightfall, Yara slowed her scout and declared she would fall off if we didn’t stop. We made camp by an old, scraggly tree, the branches of which we used for kindling. Winnifer got the fire going, then we circled our scouts around the flames and slept alongside the metal bodies so that, if gargoyles showed up, we could be riding away in an instant. After a dinner of dry sandwiches and vegetable soup, Mason and the sentinels agreed to take the watch in rotation. I hoped we’d left those strange-looking gargoyles far behind.

  I pulled out my cloak to use as a blanket. The thick material made a good barrier against the cool air. Mason slept a few feet away, upright, his back against his scout’s side. Firelight leaped across the bridge of his nose, his cheekbones, the swell of his bottom lip. His lowered lashes cast shadows beneath his eyes.

  “You should sleep,” he murmured. I looked away. I hadn’t realized he was still awake. “You’ll be tired in the morning.”

  “I know.” My body was exhausted, but my mind refused to rest. My gaze shifted to the darkness beyond the reach of the fire, wondering what might be lurking there.

  It was reassuring that Mason and the sentinels had excellent night vision. They would see and hear the gargoyles coming well before I did.

  “There’s nothing out there right now,” Mason said.

  I curled onto my side, tucking the cloak around my shoulder. “Right now,” I echoed.

  “Right now is all we have to work with.” He looked at me. “Unless you can speed up time?”

  I shook my head. I tried envisioning the threads, tried to imagine running my fingers along the delicate strands. My hands traced the hem of my tunic, as if the physical sensation might help. It was useless.

  Low laughter reached us from across the campfire. Yara was grinning as she talked with a sentinel named Dennyl. She seemed to get along well with them.

  “Do you know any of them?” I asked Mason with a nod at the sentinels.

  “Not very well.”

  “What about your teammates? Were you able to find them?” I asked. Irra had first captured Mason when he and his team had been scouting the Void for Etu Gahl. Other hollows had cornered Mason and taken him back to the hidden fortress, where Irra had severed Mason’s connection to Ninu, freeing him.

  Despite the warmth of the firelight, Mason’s face looked cold and hard. “Yes. But they were damaged beyond repair. Irra suspects the injuries to their minds were punishment for returning from the Void without me. He could do nothing for them.”

  His voice was quiet but terse, and I decided it was probably best to leave the topic alone.

  “I’m sorry,” I said.

  He sank lower against the side of his scout, and his face was doused in shadow. Across from us, Yara and Dennyl both settled into their own blankets to sleep. Winnifer and Gret slept between me and Yara, their bodies curled together within the cradle of their two scouts. Their voices were a soft murmur over the snap of burning wood. Winnifer’s hand rose in the darkness, her fingers brushing back the messy fall of Gret’s hair.

  “Don’t look so sad,” Mason said.

  I forced my gaze away from the couple. “I’m not sad.”

  “Are you regretting coming?”

  “No. I’m just . . .”

  He flicked a pebble. It skittered through the dirt. “Thinking about the last time you were out here?”

  I looked at him again, surprised, although I shouldn’t have been. Mason was always too perceptive.

  “Time to make new memories, I think,” he murmured.

  I tucked the cloak tighter around my shoulders. I thought about Avan: the angles of his body fitted to mine, his arm a pleasant weight around my waist, and his body heat warding off the chill of the Void. Avan might not remember, but I didn’t want to forget.

  New memories didn’t have to mean replacing the old ones.

  Aylis, the sentinel on watch, woke us when daylight began to seep across the Outlands.

  When I tried to stand, I let out a surprised yelp. My stiff muscles ached. Gret looked unimpressed, and I glared at her. I was in decent shape, but I was no sentinel. I rubbed my palms into my lower back with a groan. Nearby, Aylis smothere
d the embers of our fire with dirt as Winnifer unpacked us a breakfast of crusty bread and cheese.

  Mason was running a few laps around our camp to warm up his muscles in preparation for another day of riding. My sore back and legs would probably benefit from doing the same, so I jogged over to join him.

  “Morning,” I said as I matched his pace. My body relaxed into the movement.

  “It is, isn’t it?” he said, smiling. “Sleep well?”

  He made the question sound casual, but I knew what he was really asking. I’d awoken sometime in the middle of the night to Mason’s voice, calling me from my nightmare in a whisper to keep the others from waking.

  I had opened my eyes and, for the span of a blink, the threads had fluttered around me, beckoning. But they had vanished just as quickly, and I didn’t know if I’d seen right or if it had been merely a trick of the firelight. I’d wondered for a while now if my nightmares might somehow be related to the loss of my powers, as the two had happened at approximately the same time, but I wasn’t sure how.

  “Well enough,” I said vaguely.

  “Doesn’t happen often, hmm?”

  “Not particularly,” I said, determined not to talk about it. I winced as the backs of my thighs twinged with pain.

  I could practically see the internal struggle waging behind those perceptive blue eyes. After a moment, he seemed to concede, because he looked away.

  “You’ll get used to it,” he said, meaning the ache in my muscles.

  Funny how even the hint of Mason’s instructor tone made my back snap straight. He seemed to realize it, too, because he smirked. I kicked out at his leg, but he easily dodged with a laugh.

  Yara, bright-eyed and cheerful, walked around looking perfectly recovered. I knew Mason was right. But it would suck in the meantime.

  We ran two more wide laps before joining the others. Things got a bit awkward when we all had to turn our backs to wash up, but then we regrouped for breakfast before I had to sink grudgingly back into that leather seat.