by S. S. Segran
Black allowed himself to relax a little. “It’s been a long time coming.”
“Indeed.” The Boss turned. “Follow me. I want you to see something.”
Curious, he trailed her deeper onto the assembly floor. At the far end, a half-glass wall extended thirty feet in either direction. The other side was dimly lit and Black was barely able to discern massed bodies moving within the enclosure. A few pairs of eyes swiveled toward the newcomers, wintry blue glinting with what he could only regard as a thirst for blood. Thin obsidian collars wrapped around their necks, barely catching the faint light.
Black bit his lip. “Are these . . . ?”
“Scourgers,” the Boss finished. “They’re lighter, faster, and more of a killing machine than their cousins.”
“The Marauders are already brutal.”
“True. However, these were created for a very specific purpose that required refining their instincts. It will be quite a show.”
“What about the other wing of this project?”
“Ha! Yes, the other wing.” The Boss passed a thumb over her jaw. “Dr. Bertram is at the site with them. Things are running as scheduled, so you needn’t worry about it.” She slid her hand into a pocket of her coat and pulled out a small violet sphere, the one Black had seen her with many times, and rolled it between long fingers. “How fare the preparations for the families of the Inner Circle? As we unleash the final wave, there won’t be much time for everyone to get their affairs in order.”
“Everything’s in place,” he replied. “The Sanctuaries are ready to welcome them.”
“Good. We’re almost there, Adrian. Tony reported back yesterday. It’s all set. Two hundred cities all over the globe, along with aerial coordination. It will be like nothing the world has ever seen.”
Black smiled. “I think that can be said of everything we’ve done.”
A hint of a smirk touched the Boss’s lips. They continued to peer into the dark room for a few moments, then Black cleared his throat. “I’m, ah, a little curious.”
“About?”
“A few things. But I’m not sure which questions are appropriate.”
“Start from the safest one and work your way up. I’ll decide if I want to answer.”
“How exactly did you get powerful collaborators to agree with our plans?”
“I lied.”
“What did you tell them, if I might ask?”
“That they would be protected from the fallout of the Arcane Ventures, and that they’d have the run of the world once the dust settles.” When she saw his jaw drop, she added, “Megalomania knows no bounds. People are easy to fool when they are full of themselves.”
“Apparently. Your influence does not seem to have a limit.”
“I’d made sure to install the appropriate pieces years ago to ensure things would run as smoothly as possible for the Ventures. What are your other questions?”
Black folded his arms to stop himself from fidgeting. “This is more of a concern than anything else, but what are the odds that we may have to use our last resort? Because if we do, it’ll wipe out more than just people.”
The Boss’s gaze seemed to dissect his very being. “I’m not sure. It is the last resort for a reason. I’d rather not use it, but it’s still in the cards. My advice is to be prepared but hope that it won’t come to that.”
With Black in tow, she retraced their footsteps until they were back where they’d first met. She slid the violet sphere into her pocket before taking out the vocal distorter. “Did you have anything else to ask?”
Black decided to dive in. “How many people have seen you? The way I did today?”
She gave him a closed-mouth smile. “Only Dr. Nate, Vladimir, and Tony.”
“Tony?” he exclaimed before he could stop himself. That revelation was a slap to the face.
“It was a recent development, and it needed to happen considering he does work for me directly.”
He’s only been by your side for two years, Black thought, hackles up.
“In any case,” the Boss continued, “once our work is done here, I’ll be making a formal introduction to everyone, from the Inner Circle to the SONEs.”
Black smoothed over his annoyance. He had one more question and it wouldn’t do for his superior to think him petty. “Now that I’ve seen your face, may I know your name?”
The slight smirk returned to her lips. She slipped the modulator back onto her neck, then pulled the gold hood up, once again throwing her features into the shadows. “No,” she said, voice distorted.
A chill raced up Black’s spine at the familiar sound. “I completely understand. I was out of line for asking.”
“If that is all, I must take my leave. Business just doesn’t end.”
“Yes, of course. Shall I walk you up?”
“I appreciate that, but I have my own way out. Thank you again for indulging this meeting, Adrian. I thought it would be important as we near the end.”
Warmth drove out the chill and settled comfortably in Black’s chest. Overcome by an emotion he couldn’t place, he bowed fully. When he straightened, a few tears slid down his cheeks. “It is my truest honor. And I promise, I will do everything in my power to help us complete our journey unhindered.”
Atop boulders by a rock wall at the western end of Dema-Ki, two siblings sat in quiet contemplation as they gazed out at their home. Snowflakes drifted down from the light gray sky, accumulating atop the ones that had long since piled nearly knee-deep. Pine trees with branches bowed by the new weight speckled the hidden valley.
Huyani finally broke the silence. “How does it feel to be nineteen winters at last?”
Akol scrubbed his fingers over his tousled black hair. He normally kept it cropped, but with the cold season setting in, he preferred the extra insulation. “No different from when I was eighteen.” He glanced at her. “Strange of you to ask, though.”
“Remember when I told you a few years ago that big things are coming your way?”
“Ach, are you still on that?”
“Have I ever been wrong in my predictions?”
Instead of responding, Akol pulled his knitted face shield up over his chin. Huyani slid off her boulder to join him on his and playfully pinched his cheek. He snaked his arm toward her in retaliation, but she deftly swatted his hand away, laughing. He smiled for a moment before his face fell.
Huyani’s own mirth waned at his expression, and she leaned back against the boulder behind her. “Moping about losing Jag does no good, brother.”
“I want to be out there, Huyani. I want to help find him. I feel useless here.”
“Have you tried asking Grandfather again? Or Grandmother?”
“What is the use? Why would they change their minds when just last moon cycle Grandfather told me not to pursue this?”
Huyani pursed her lips in sympathy. “It is frustrating, I know.”
Akol rested his elbows on his knees, locking his fingers together. What good am I here? he thought. What role do I even play? At least if I were in the outside world, I could do something instead of loitering around, keeping an eye on Hutar.
He rubbed his eyes. “Do you know why I wanted us to meet here?”
Warmth crossed Huyani’s face as she patted the boulder. “This is where the five of them would come to sit in between their training sessions.”
“Remember the first time we saw them here after the battle on Ayen’et?”
“Mmh. Jag’s hair had been burned when he took down that aircraft, and I had to cut it short. He looked almost like you . . . except far more handsome.”
This time, Akol did manage to jab her arm. She shoved him in return and he yelped as he tumbled off the boulder. Huyani looked down at him innocently. “Something the matter?”
“See, this is the side of you other people never witness,” Akol complained as he shook off the snow and settled back on his perch. “When I tell them, all they say is, ‘Oh, Huyani is such a sweet girl
, she would never put anyone in harm’s way’. Bah!”
“And yet when I tell people that you are melodramatic, they always believe me. I wonder why.”
“Shh.”
Huyani ruffled his hair, then nodded toward the village. “Hutar is out for his walk. He sure seems to enjoy them.”
Akol’s mood soured again at the sight of the tall youth strolling through the trees with two guards behind him. Hutar, who’d attempted to murder the Elders and the Chosen Ones, had fled Dema-Ki during his rehabilitation with his right-hand man, Aesròn. They’d returned several moon cycles later in bad shape, not speaking about where they had been except to say that the outside world was not for them.
As they were being cared for by Huyani in the convalescence shelter, Aesròn attacked Nageau and would have killed him if Hutar had not leapt in front of the Elder and been stabbed in his stead. A struggle had ensued and Aesròn ran out of the village once more, never to be seen again.
Anger pulsed uncomfortably hot in Akol’s ears. He had been there when it happened and hadn’t moved fast enough to save Nageau. The thought that his grandfather would be dead right now if not for Hutar was like poison in his mouth. It didn’t help that he’d given chase to Aesròn outside the valley and failed to capture him—the youth had eluded him like a canny caribou hoodwinking its hunter.
A squeeze on his arm brought him back to the present. He placed a hand on Huyani’s before she let him go. “Hutar has been on his best behavior since returning, you know,” she said softly.
He half-closed his eyes. “Yes. It is . . . interesting.”
“You still do not trust him?”
“Do you?”
When she didn’t respond immediately, he looked at her with a frown but didn’t prod. She would speak on her own time, on her own terms. She always did.
At last, she said, “I am hopeful. I am hopeful that, though he once acted despicably in ways that words do not suffice, he can come back to us. It will not be an easy journey, and it does not necessarily mean everyone will be able to accept him again, but I believe he has the capacity to pull himself out of whatever darkness is consuming him.”
“But what does your intuition tell you?”
“That part of me cannot discern everything. I think I am allowed to put a wish out to the universe. I do not want to hate him, Akol. Hate is such a powerful, twisted emotion that does unnecessary harm. I pity him. He has always dealt with his struggles alone. He has never let anyone in.” At Akol’s deepening frown, she added, “Make no mistake, I am furious about how close he came to killing some of the most precious people in our lives. But if there is a path out for him, I want him to take it. I want him to return home, not just physically.”
Akol crossed his arms, mulling over her words. Though he grudgingly admired the strength of character it took to speak on the matter the way she did, he was instantly hit with a punch of guilt. Was he lesser for being unable to meet her at that level of belief?
Ahead, a girl not much younger than him emerged from the trees and greeted Hutar with a cheery smile. Her long tresses, black on one side and orange on the other, were done in two thick braids today that spilled over the front of her shoulders. Hutar in turn received her coyly before she went on her way. Akol growled low in his throat.
Huyani, momentarily distracted by a young eagle swooping down to grab some small critter in the snow, traced her brother’s gaze. “Well, it is clear to see that you disapprove of their interactions.”
“I do not think it is a smart move for Nal to be around Hutar so much.”
“What is the worst that could happen, especially with the guards constantly by his side? In any case, if the Elders thought it unsafe they could have put an end to it. This might be good for Hutar. Nal is one of the sweetest souls in this place, and he seems to respond well to her kindness.”
Akol, unsure how to answer, muttered, “I am just glad that you no longer bring him his meals.”
She let out a small tsk but otherwise did not rebuke him. They sat in companionable silence until the sun climbed even higher. Akol slid off the boulder, stretching out the kinks in his back as Huyani landed gracefully beside him, raven hair bouncing. “Somewhere to be?” she asked.
He nodded. “Elder Tayoka enlisted my help to facilitate another foraging field trip for the school.”
She snickered. “Try not to fall asleep this time. You do not want those little shrews painting your face again.”
“Believe me, I learned my lesson. It will never happen again.”
They bid each other goodbye by launching snowballs at one another, then parted ways. Akol glanced back at the boulders, wishing he could see his friends upon them again one day soon, whole and healthy as they laughed over some tale or joke.
* * *
It was past midday when Nal entered Dema-Ki’s massive greenhouse. She shivered involuntarily as she stepped out of the cold and into the warm structure. Hastily checking her reflection in the teal glass, she rubbed a smudge off her chin, then made her way between two rows of crops. Hutar was on his knees tending to tomatoes and various greens. She could only see his side profile, but his mouth was curved downward in concentration and sweat dotted his tanned skin. He’d forgone his winter tunic in favor of a sleeveless moose-hide vest dyed black with white seams.
Nal passed a guard watching Hutar, who nodded a greeting at her, and saw the second one at the other end of the row. Hutar must have heard her approach because he turned to her. His expression switched from grim to bright in the blink of an eye before he quickly toned it down.
Why is it reflex for him to conceal his emotions? she wondered as she beamed and knelt beside him.
“Look who it is,” he said, scooting aside to make room for her even though she had more than enough space.
Nal scrunched her nose at him. “Hello again. Hungry?”
“Famished.” Hutar picked up a rag from the wooden gardening box nearby and wiped his hands. Nal sensed his gaze on her as she removed a sandwich wrapped in cloth from her basket and handed it to him. He thanked her, careful not to touch the actual bread with his stained fingers. As he munched, he said, “You, and Huyani before you, make these wonderful meals for me and it does not feel right that I cannot return the favor. I do not know for how long I will be under guard, or if it will ever come to an end. It is frustrating.”
“But you understand why it is so, do you not?”
“Yes . . . I should not complain. I brought this upon myself.”
“You most certainly did,” Nal said. “But as long as you are trying to be better, I will readily support you and help however I can.”
Hutar, going in for another bite of his meal, lowered his hands and regarded her with dazed confusion. “Why are you being so good to me, Nal? It is not as though we interacted much before I left Dema-Ki, or that I even gave you cause to be friendly with me. There is no obligation for you to do this.”
“No, there is not,” she agreed. “But I would have done the same no matter if you were you or someone else. I know what it is like to have few truly good friends, albeit our reasons for it most likely differ.”
“You are introverted. I am deranged.”
Appalled at the way he described himself, Nal searched his face and relaxed at the faint twinkle of amusement in his dark sapphire eyes. Those eyes . . . when light bounced off them, it reminded her of seeing the sun from underwater, a shimmering wonder. But she also remembered how icy and veiled those same eyes had been before he ran away. How was this the same person?
“It always occurs to me,” she began cautiously, “that you have not mentioned anything about the outside world. What was it like?”
A shadow traversed his features. He licked his bottom lip, slowly drawing it between his teeth, then shook his head. “I would rather not speak of it.”
“I do not wish for you to hold on to something that you need not bear alone, Hutar.”
He turned fully toward her, drawing closer. It was
as though he were studying her, perhaps trying to dissect her motives. The moments passed slowly, and despite Nal’s internal objections, her pulse beat a little faster.
Then Hutar sighed and leaned back. “I appreciate that. But my answer stands.”
He finished his meal in silence. As he returned to his work, the greenhouse door far behind them opened and Magèo came hobbling in. He swept past the pair, not noticing them, and made a beeline for the cordoned section at the other end of the building.
“Not even a hello,” Hutar noted mildly. “Though I will not complain. I cannot say that I am overly fond of the critical looks he casts upon us when we are together. But I know, I know. He is not to be blamed.” He carefully patted the soil down around a tomato plant. “How old is he now, anyway? A hundred and ten?”
Nal watched as her mentor dutifully began his daily inspection of the four Trees of Life; their luminescent violet leaves glowed ever so slightly. “One hundred and thirteen, to be exact.”
“Ah, he still has some years to go. There are drops left in his clepsydra yet.” Hutar glanced at her when she didn’t say anything. “Are you alright?”
Nal made a sound of frustration. “I am worried. There is an air of tension in Dema-Ki, but no one is uttering a word.”
“I have sensed as much during my walks.”
“I thought you only went out when there are low chances of running into our brethren.”
“It does not always happen. A village of over seven hundred people . . . you are bound to pass someone.” Hutar grasped a fistful of soil and brought it under his nose, breathing in deeply. He closed his eyes for a moment, then held his cupped hand out to Nal. She inhaled the faint, sweet fragrance.
“It invokes something inside you, does it not?” Hutar murmured, returning the earth to its plot. “Yet it is not quite the scent of the dirt that we smell. It is a whole ecosystem thriving within. But if even one part of that ecosystem falls out of place or is altered, it will reek pungent and rotten, and will not bring forth health. And then it must be fixed, by whatever means.”
He stared down at the soil, a surge of emotions flitting over his face. Nal desperately wanted to understand what was going on in his head, but if she pushed too much, she risked him shutting down completely. She brushed the back of her hand against his arm to remind him that she was by his side. Her eyes followed the v-cut of his shirt, coming to rest at the cicatrix in the middle of his chest. It wasn’t wide, but it stretched the length of her index finger and, from what Huyani had told her, the wound had been deep. He was lucky to still be alive.