“He doesn’t. He wants to destroy it before anyone else can use it.”
Robinson groaned. “He has father. Maybe the twins. And … someone very important to me. If I don’t bring him this FENIX by sunset … you can imagine what he’ll do.”
She reached under the desk to retrieve a silver briefcase. She opened it and stared inside before handing it to him.
“It doesn’t matter now. I no longer have the ability to program it. The irony is that the missing piece was the first thing I stumbled upon in the library under the Crown. I found reports made a decade after the fall of this land, just before the One People were formed. I kept those notes on a small disc, which I hid at home. Had I brought them, things might have ended much differently. Regrettably, Vardan caught on to us too early and I wasn’t able to retrieve the disc before I left.”
The significance of that moment hit Robinson in an instant. He was holding the salvation of his loved ones in his hands. He had the power to save them. But he had something else too. The disc was inside her locket, which currently rested against this heart. If he handed it over, they might save the world, but to do so would mean condemning everyone he loved to death.
It was the hardest choice he ever had to make.
“Mother?” he said finally. “I have something for you.”
When he pulled out the locket and opened it for her, she didn’t move.
“Can you make it work?” he asked.
“We’ll see. Give me a few turns.”
He wandered the halls of the bunker, eating from food supplies that had no shelf life. He tried to nap in the sleeping pod but never came close to closing his eyes.
He thought of Friday and his family. He thought of the One People and his dog. He thought of all the nameless souls out there trying to scratch a living from ashes and mud, trying to rebuild. The sacrifice should have been easy to make, but it wasn’t.
He couldn’t help but wonder if he was still a coward after all.
Chapter Forty-Six
Departures
His mother eventually called him back. “It’s done,” she said, falling into her chair.
“Did you activate it?”
“No. I thought I would leave the decision to you.”
“Mom—”
“Tell me about the girl.”
He took a heavy breath. “Her name is Friday. At least, that’s what I call her. Ironically enough, she’s the complete and total opposite of you. Hard on the outside, and soft at the center.”
“Is it love? True love?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“How do you know?” she asked.
“Because I would do anything to keep her from harm. Vareen said that was the measuring stick, but I guess I could have just paid more attention to Father and you.”
She seemed to like that. “In my mind, I always had this fear you’d end up with Tessa.”
They both laughed.
“For a while, I almost did. But every man needs a Rosalind.”
“You read Romeo and Juliet?” she asked, surprised.
“Several times. Bit of a downer ending, but it does resonate in this situation.”
Her smile faded. “There are worse things than being star-crossed lovers. As for this,” she said as she handed him the silver case, “you are far too young to bear such a burden, but someone must. Knowing the choice is yours gives me comfort.”
His lip suddenly trembled. “Mother, is there no hope …?”
She shook her head. “My time came and went long ago.” And then she looked to one of the monitors that revealed the darkening sky outside. “And now comes yours.”
He stood resolute, though he felt as if he couldn’t draw a breath.
“I could be no prouder of the man you’ve become,” she said finally.
“I am you.”
Before Robinson left, his mother showed him how to work the machine. One code would release the spores carrying the render cure. Another would activate the satellites’ self-destruct sequence.
Then she handed him one last thing. She gave him back the small disc.
“What’s this for?”
“When the time is right, give it to a friend.”
Robinson left by a secret door hidden in the garden, the same one Resi had used to find him all those months ago. He knew the cameras were following him, but he never looked back.
The run to the obelisk passed quickly, but the sun was nearly down when he approached the Iron Fist encampment. One of the soldiers called out and Vardan and Jaras appeared, along with Arga’Zul.
“Cutting it close, boy,” Vardan said. Then he saw the silver case. “Is that it?”
Robinson nodded and handed it to him. He opened it and looked over the electronics.
“What’s the passcode?” he asked.
“Where’s Friday?”
Saah nodded to Arga’Zul, who signaled his warriors to fetch her from a cage. She was in terrible shape. Her hands and mouth were bound and she looked pale and weak. But when a savage pushed her, she threw an elbow that broke his nose. Robinson could not hide his smile.
“Now, the code if you please?” Saah said.
“I want my family released too.”
“You’re in no position to negotiate, Muckback!” Jaras spat.
“Actually, I am. If the Regent wants to play despot over the rest of the world, will one man and two children really make a difference?”
Saah considered and shrugged. “I accept your terms. Now the passcode?”
The moment of truth had come. Which way would he decide?
“It’s Zeus.”
Saah grinned. “God of the sky and thunder. Would that make this his thunderbolt?”
Saah typed in Z-E-U-S and hit enter. The three green lights bloomed and Saah’s fingers moved over to the EXECUTE button, where they froze. Then he powered down the unit and looked back to Robinson.
“Now, what’s the real passcode?”
Robinson stared at him and then Friday. Jaras sneered.
“Shall I have our large friend make a show of your native?”
Arga’Zul grabbed Friday by the hair and lifted her straight into the air.
“It’s ICARUS,” Robinson said as his head fell.
Could he live with what he’d just done?
“What’s an Ic …?” Jaras asked.
“Icarus,” his father said disapprovingly, “son of Daedalus, the master craftsman. His father made him wings of wax and feathers to escape the labyrinth on Crete, but he ignored his father’s instructions and flew too close to the sun. It seemed our predecessors had a gallows sense of humor.”
Again, Saah powered the machine up, entered the letters I-C-A-R-U-S and hit ENTER. This time, the three lights went red and the EXECUTE button blinked. Saah looked to his son and smiled. Then he surprisingly turned off the device.
“You’re not going to use it?” Robinson asked.
“Everything in its time.”
Saah locked eyes with Arga’Zul and nodded. As he and his warriors turned toward their ship, four Iron Fists grabbed and disarmed Robinson.
“Wait! You gave me your word!”
“A Regent beholden to you? Not in this lifetime, boy.” He laughed as he headed away.
Robinson screamed for Friday. He could see her struggling too, but the Bone Flayers were hauling her quickly toward the boat as their crew readied to launch.
Everything dear to him was being taken away. He couldn’t bear to lose her too. So he did the only thing he could think of.
“ARGA’ZUL!” he screamed, his voice so deep and commanding that Arga’Zul and his men couldn’t help but turn around.
“Leader of the Bone Flayers, listen to me! You take from me now the woman I love. There is no distance you can sail and no place you can hide that I will not find her. Should any harm befall her, I will kill you and all who carry your blood. This I swear by the sun and the moon.”
Arga’Zul paused, not knowing what to make of
Robinson, but when his warriors laughed, he followed suit. As they turned again, Robinson spoke once more.
“This I swear by the Aserra.”
The laughter stopped immediately. The savages spun. Arga’Zul’s eyes grew incensed as he stalked back toward Robinson. The Iron Fists looked to Vardan, who wasn’t sure what was happening.
Arga’Zul towered over Robinson and looked in his eyes. He held his gaze without flinching. Then he tore Robinson’s sleeve away, revealing the Aserra brand.
The savages readied their weapons as Arga’Zul seized his dagger, but the clatter of Iron Fist weapons being loaded stayed his hand.
“That one is mine,” Saah said firmly.
Arga’Zul debated his chances, but common sense got the better of him. He signaled his men to leave before he stalked away.
For a brief moment, Friday and Robinson locked eyes. He saw pride there. He also saw love. Then she was gone.
Saah turned to Robinson in wonder. “You’re full of surprises.” And then he nodded to Jaras and handed him Robinson’s tomahawk.
“I’ve been waiting for this for a long time.”
He raised the tomahawk high and let it fall.
Robinson’s world went dark again.
PART THREE
“No man ever steps in the same river twice, for it is not the same river, and he is not the same man.”
-Heraclitus
Chapter Forty-Seven
The Return
Robinson awoke shackled and bound with a hood over his head and the most crippling headache imaginable. The fabric of the hood made it difficult to breathe, but the last thing he wanted to do was hyperventilate. So he closed his eyes and thought of the way of the Aserra. His muscles relaxed, his breathing slowed, and soon he felt better.
A low vibration ran through the flyer as the familiar thrum of the engines churned. Two men spoke informally up front. When one of them opened a vent, the crisp ocean air flowed in.
They were heading back to Isle Prime. That’s why Jaras had struck him with the edge of the tomahawk and not the blade. Saah wanted him alive. For what purpose? He had his pick of reasons: To capture an escaped killer, the son of his enemy? To use him against any holdouts of his father’s old alliances? To draw his brother and sister out? Maybe he simply longed for someone to toy with.
None of these options frightened Robinson. Parading him in front of the Feed would do little more than rile the Isle up. The only real fear he had—one ingrained in every citizen from the day they were born to the day they died—was to walk the Red Road with everyone watching. Was it as terrifying as being eaten by a pack of renders or staved through the head by a group of wanderers? Of course not. It wasn’t the pain of the chains or even the plummet to the abyss. It was the shame. It was not knowing if you would hold yourself together or whether the last memory of you would be of some blubbering fit that would be retold for generations.
Since Robinson couldn’t gauge how far they’d come, he called out for water in hopes he could get one of the pilots to talk. He received a boot in the back instead.
Turns later, he was awoken as the flyer swooped in and descended for a jolting stop. His body was stiff and cold with sweat, but he offered no complaints when he was dragged to his feet into the chill but familiar night air.
They waited on the tarmac as other flyers arrived and Vardan Saah spoke. Eventually, boots approached and someone pulled the bag from Robinson’s head. It was night, but still his eyes shrank from the lanterns nearby.
They were standing on top of the barracks between the Second and Third Spire. New London was gloomy and dark, its walls slick with a heavy mist.
“Welcome home,” Jaras said before nodding for the Iron Fists to take him away.
Robinson’s destination was the Tower. Two hundred and forty-two steps later, he was escorted into the gaoler’s cells. His shackles were removed and he was thrust without ceremony into the main cell. When the door slammed shut behind him and the lock spun, he discovered a cruel irony. This was the very same room he had tried to sneak into nearly a year before so he could see the render.
A group of sleeping men were huddled around the room on beds of straw and stone. There wasn’t a single blanket between them. Robinson recognized all of the men. They were men of nobility and influence. Respected Tiers. He looked through their ranks until he found him in the far corner, a shell of the man he used to know.
“Father,” he said, touching his arm softly. “Are you awake?”
Leodore rolled over, his eyes wide and glassy. “Robinson?”
He nodded. “Yes. It’s me.”
Leodore rose shakily and embraced him. His body felt so thin and frail that Robinson worried about crushing him. Other men in the room also stirred.
“Vardan told us you were dead.”
“Saah is a liar, a thief, and a coward. But you’ve always known that.”
“Crown’s sake, look at you! You’re so big and tall! After the fire and our arrest, we never learned where you fled. How did you survive? Why have you come back?”
Robinson gently took his hands. “Sit down and I’ll tell you everything.”
Over the course of the next turn, he detailed the last ten months of his life, from the coordinates in his mother’s locket, to his crash landing on the forbidden continent, and even Friday’s abduction. The only thing he left out was his mother’s infection. That was a detail no one but him would ever know.
“So she’s dead? You’re certain?”
Robinson nodded. “But before she died, she succeeded, Father. She developed a cure for the Rendering virus.” What he didn’t say was that it had been too late to use it on herself.
Still, Leodore’s face lit up. “She did it? Oh, Annabess. When you set your mind to something, there was never any holding you back.”
Tears came to his eyes, but Robinson did not look away.
“Tell us more about these satellites,” Roland Fallow said. “You say Vardan Saah has a device to control them?”
“It’s in a silver case. He was carrying it when we landed. If we can somehow wrest control of it from him, I can release the cure.”
“Easier said than done, laddie,” Gustav Gustafson said. “Especially since we have no clue what he plans to do with it.”
“Vardan always had a nose for theatrics,” Leodore said. “I would not be surprised if his plan to destroy it coincided with whatever he has in store for us.”
“We’ll find out soon enough. I heard the Iron Fists tell the Red Guard outside that he would be paying us a visit first thing in the morning.”
“Then we should devise a plan. We can charge the guards, overpower them—!”
“Easy, Father. I already have something in mind. But it will take patience.”
He looked at Robinson in a new light. “You’ve changed, son.”
“Yes,” he grinned. “I’m more like you.”
And then Rolland Fallow laughed.
Early the next morning, Vardan Saah arrived as expected. He was freshly showered and groomed, wearing the official robes of the Regent. Behind him, Jaras wore his captain’s uniform.
As Saah approached the bars, he saw the uneaten trough of gruel just inside the cage and nudged it with his boot.
“Is it lacking salt?”
Jaras laughed.
“Gloating doesn’t become you, Vardan,” Leodore said. “It makes that pinched mouth of yours look even more peevish.”
Robinson couldn’t help himself. He burst out laughing and the other Tiers joined in. Saah flushed before smiling cruelly.
“You, sers, won’t be laughing long. Shall I tell you what we have planned for today? Word has already gone out over the Feed that I have thwarted a plot to overthrow the Crown at the highest level, with you, Tier Crusoe, being the master architect of this plot. With the aid of your fellow conspirators, your scheme to use a devastating technological weapon from the pre-Rendering Empire to destroy my army of Iron Fists fighting a legion of rend
ers in Reg4 has been quelled.”
“A legion that doesn’t exist,” Leodore said.
“Your ultimate goal: to seize control of the Isle and declare yourself Regent. How do you like the narrative so far?”
“It’s insane and so are you. Is this what you really want, Vardan? To become a tyrant?”
“I am no tyrant. I’m a realist. You look at this Isle and see an illusion—a perfectly constructed fairytale born of laws made two centuries ago by people that assumed the remainder of humanity had been wiped off the map. But I’ve been out there, Leodore. I’ve seen the truth! That flood that cleansed the world? The waters are breaking back, my friend, and on every shore of every continent, man right now is picking up the pieces left behind and preparing to use them against us. The history books downstairs are full of tales of man killing man, neighbor killing neighbor, brother killing brother, all the way back to the biblical age. Well, I won’t sit back and wait for them to come to us again. Not when all we have to defend ourselves with are walls and spears and the Eight. I will take the fight to them to ensure the One People persevere forever.”
“Our forefathers chose this path for a reason. Technology nearly destroyed us.”
“Then we should take care to learn from our mistakes. The Great Rendering was the result of one country’s hubris and yet its effects are still felt throughout the world to this day. I will not leave our fate in someone else’s hands.”
“Then why destroy the one thing that can rid us of the virus forever?” Robinson asked.
“Isn’t it obvious?” Leodore said. “To him, the Rendering is population control.”
Saah shrugged. “You have to admit, it’s an effective one. And as far as I can see, there’s only one wrinkle. One final fly in the ointment.”
“Us,” Rolland Fallow said.
“Correct, Tier Fallow. Disposing of you earlier would have been messy. We couldn’t have a dozen Tiers vanish at once. People would ask questions. The same goes for the Road. Send one fellow down the Red, the citizens overlook it. But march many at once? Pretty soon everyone is watching the door. People can’t live in peace if they are living in fear. Which brings us back to the plot. A good plot always has a confessor.”
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