by S. S. Segran
She smiled tiredly. “Just in case. It was a long shot, since we still didn’t know how it worked. But I guess you figured it out?”
Victor pried the cover open, tipping it so the friends had a view of the white crystal inside. As before, it continued to shift from one direction to another. “It took a while, but I put two and two together, then spoke with the Elders and Magèo to hammer things out.”
Aari eagerly took a seat near him. “What did you find?”
“In Valencia before you were taken, the five of you talked about the black crystal, about how some of it might be inside the man who claimed to be one of the settlers of Dema-Ki. Most of the crystal is in the village, but supposedly some of it went missing a long time ago. Yin and yang, light and darkness are such common concepts, I wondered if this”—Victor indicated the white quartz—“might have a similar connection with the black one. Like counterparts. So I tracked the directions it kept swinging to. One of them seemed to be in line with Dema-Ki, northwest of our position. The other was eastward. Kenzo mentioned that the Mediterranean was possibly where the Heart’s located. If this Mokun really did extend his life with the black crystal, if the white crystal is its counterpart, and it was pointing in his direction . . . as I said, two plus two.”
“It’s a good thing you figured that out,” Kody called from the observation dome, “or we would probably have been killed. A jet just landed at the Heart.”
“How did you get free?” Marshall asked. “What happened?”
The friends exchanged wearied glances. The Sentry tutted at himself. “Never mind. You guys should rest. We’ll have time to debrief later.”
Aari settled against the bag he’d brought Marshall. “Rotten luck, losing the chest,” he sighed. “Where are we going now?”
“Lake Sijoumi in Tunisia,” Marshall said. “Domi has an abandoned warehouse waiting for us there. It’s not safe to travel northward toward the Lodge right now, and with Reyor back, they’ll probably be searching the skies and surrounding countries for us. They’re likely to have radar and might be tracking us right now. Nadia’s plan is to keep flying west. As soon as we’re past Sardinia, she’ll drop altitude to skim over the water and then head south to our rendezvous point. Hopefully it’ll put them off our trail.”
A drawn-out warble came from the observation dome. “Uhh, with all the damage this girl took, will we last long?”
“Nadia says it should be fine.”
“Is that our pilot?”
Marshall seemed to glow a little. “Yes. We’ll do introductions once we land. I think you guys’ll like her a lot. She was a fighter pilot in the Indonesian Air Force.”
“Air Force for the win!” Kody whooped. “Can’t wait to meet her!”
Mariah stifled a yawn. “Hey, what day is it?”
“January first, if we’ve been tracking right.” Marshall grinned. “Happy New Year, guys.”
“Aw, we missed it!”
“When we get to the warehouse, we can still—”
“No, no, not that.” Mariah scuttled over to Jag and patted his head. “He’s a New Year’s Eve-New Year baby, born around midnight. He’s eighteen, finally.”
“Happy birthday to our unconscious pal,” Aari said, raising a water bottle he’d found. “May he wake up soon, and in perfect health.”
With her wounds tended to, Tegan rested against Marshall and extended her consciousness into the novasphere. She searched for Mokun’s presence but couldn’t find it.
Of course he’d hide himself too, she grumbled.
As the sun continued its climb behind them, Tegan slipped into a dreamless sleep, accompanied by the hope that with Jag back and Mokun on their side, things might finally, truly be looking up for the first time in far too long.
It was the humming that greeted Jag first.
I know that tune, he thought. It was familiar, drawing on blurry childhood memories that floated just out of reach.
The exhaustion was like nothing he had experienced before, the weight of his bones magnified; he wanted to move but his limbs held still. He wondered if gravity had intensified during his sleep. Within his own head, everything other than his immediate thoughts was a sea of static.
The humming persisted, interrupted by a long yawn before carrying on.
Jag opened his eyes, a fraction at a time. A few dollops of light flickered around him, not enough to illuminate the entire place but more than enough to set aglow the person seated in a plastic chair by his feet. As his eyes adjusted, melting wax from the candles around him came into focus, as did the wooden footboard of the bed he rested on.
Jag struggled to get the first syllable out, then tried again. “Kody.”
Kody, whose head had been lolling from side to side against the back of the chair, jerked upright. “Jag?” Relief flooded his face. “You’re awake! Thank God—after everything that went down in your head, we were so worried you’d be on your way into a permanent coma.”
“What . . .” Jag’s throat was so dry, it chaffed. He swallowed. “What happened?”
“Long, long story. We’re all safe now. How’re you feeling?”
“Nngh—really bad. My head’s all . . .” Jag tried to lift his hand to make a vague motion but was met with resistance.
Kody tapped the rough-woven bands around Jag’s body. “Right, uh, Tegan thought it might be a good idea to keep you tied down in case, y’know, you weren’t yourself when you woke up. Here, I’ll undo them for you.”
“No.”
“Huh?”
“If she thought this was needed, then leave it. For now.”
“Uh, if you’re sure . . .”
“I am,” Jag said. “Although, not to rain on your parade or anything, but it’s not like this will be able to hold me once my abilities return.”
“Yup. That’s why we’ve got this.” Kody lifted a small bell. “To warn everyone else. Domi’s here, by the way, so don’t think this’ll be a fair fight if you do go berserk.” He bounced out of his chair. “Let me get the others. They’re gonna be so—”
Jag’s head shot up. “No! No, wait. Not yet. Just . . . give me a bit more time. Everything’s still fuzzy.”
Kody slowly lowered himself back down, then shuffled closer, dragging the chair along until he was beside Jag. They looked at each other, neither speaking. Jag smiled a little. “You were humming something earlier. It was that one song you used to hum a lot when we were little, when you were really tired. What was it again?”
Kody laughed into his hands. “La Cucaracha. I can’t believe you remember that.” His fingers slid down to his neck and he scratched absentmindedly.
Flashes of images tore through Jag’s mind—his hands, flexed and veined, around Kody’s throat. A black staff broken in two. Him, hovering in the air, unable to control his body. He gasped, head wrenching at the sights that hammered against the inside of his skull.
Once the onslaught passed, he saw that Kody had moved closer, eyes darting. With him so near, Jag could now see the light bruises.
“Whoa, hey, big guy,” Kody said. “You okay?”
Jag couldn’t look him in the face. “I think I’m starting to remember some things.” The marks on Kody’s neck were all he could see. “I did that to you, didn’t I?”
The other boy started to touch the bruises but stopped himself. “You weren’t you, Jag.”
“What else did I do?”
“Don’t.”
“I can barely remember anything. Why would I have hurt you?”
“You were repurposed.”
The sobering notion that he’d been violated made Jag wish he could fall back into unconsciousness. “How?” he asked meekly. “The last thing I remember is Reyor’s mentor agreeing to help, and then—” He knocked the back of his head against the stale mattress. “He lied, didn’t he? He played the long game, trying to build my trust, and then he repurposed me. What happened after? Did he send me after you?”
“If you’re talking about M
okun,” Kody said, “there’s a whole story there, and in the end he helped us rescue you and escape. We’re not going into it right now, ’cause you need to take it easy. If you get worked up, you might relapse. Or worse. Alright?”
“I might have killed you.”
“But you didn’t, because we have a couple of unbelievably amazing girls on our team who kept your chump ass at bay.” Kody chortled. “You would’ve been proud.”
Jag frowned. “Kody.”
Kody threw himself back against the chair, his façade distorting. “We’re not doing this. Please get this through your head: I’m not gonna hold you accountable for what happened when you were Reyor’s favorite toy. You wanna know the funny thing about all this?” He placed two fingers against his temple. “The virus put thoughts in my head. Violent ones, about the people I love turning on me. And in my mind I fought them, sometimes killed them. Most times, actually. I shut it down for a couple of months because I couldn’t deal with it and I didn’t want to.”
Jag listened, shocked. He’d missed so much when Phoenix captured him, and it hurt to learn that Kody had been suffering all this time. If you hadn’t been so reckless in Masada, you could have been with the group, watching over them, he thought. But if he hadn’t acted that night on the mesa, Marshall would have been killed.
Kody jabbed his fingers harder against the side of his head. “I’ve had a few hours to replay everything that happened. Fighting you, then nearly drowning—that brought on some kind of clarity I’ve never had before. I faced death more than once and it feels like my boundaries have been pushed out. Expanded. Maybe this is what they call exposure therapy, I dunno. Each time I made it out of the fire, it was because there were people around me. A team, a tribe, whatever you wanna call it. And I get it now, more than I ever have. As long as I have you and the others, I will walk into danger with a smile on my face and do what needs to be done. I feel better somehow. Stronger. How I got here might have been messed up, but I . . . I’m grateful for it. I know, I know, I’ve never been real good at explaining feelings so I’m probably rambling now, but does that make sense? Or am I off my rocker?”
He seemed so anxious, as though everything rested on Jag’s response. Pride stirred somewhere in Jag’s chest as he looked at Kody. “I think,” he said, “that you are a blessing to our group.”
Kody stared at him. “Oh no. Are you running a fever?”
“Hey! Do you know how much guts it takes to be vulnerable with another dude, no matter how long you’ve known him?”
“Let me get the thermometer. You better hope it’s the mouth kind.”
“Get me out of these binds right now so I can smack your head.”
“My, my, how the tables have turned.” Kody rubbed the small coils of his hair. “Jokes aside, I appreciate what you said. It didn’t answer my question, but I appreciate it.”
“No, Kode-man, I don’t think you’re off your rocker. You’re a little different than the last time we met, and that’s not a bad thing. Maybe you could help me navigate myself once I’ve recovered from whatever happened. My memories are coming back a bit at a time, and if I was really repurposed then I’m not sure . . . I don’t know how I’m gonna—”
“I get it. And I’ll be here, as will everyone else. Just try not to blame yourself when you start remembering, okay?”
Another image rocked through Jag’s mind. He screamed, unable to fight the agony anymore. Faint footfalls outside the room grew louder until they rushed through the door. Familiar voices called out to him. He could do nothing but wait for the pain to pass, and when it did, he rested back, laboring for breath.
“Magèo,” he rasped. “There was something about Magèo. Reyor needs him but I can’t remember why. He needs to be moved, hidden away. Now.”
“I’ll let Nageau know,” someone out of sight muttered. “Make sure the kid doesn’t hurt himself more.”
A cool hand was placed on Jag’s forehead. “Rest, mon cher. You need it. We’ll be here when you wake up.”
He tried to fight it, but his eyelids fluttered shut. Peace filled the room, and he knew it was due to the company crowded in there. The Sentries must have fought hard to find him, and not just because of his role in the prophecy. He was with people who cared for him and his friends, who loved them unconditionally.
And he knew that with them at his side, he could learn to forgive himself.
* * *
The hands were always the first to go cold when a heated argument roused Reyor’s fury. During her youth, as she’d worked to become an orator and sharpen her tongue in the art of persuasion, she’d often found them frigid when she thought they ought to be burning with the pumping of blood. It was the greatest warning she had to indicate she was losing the debate—that, and her hummingbird heartbeat of frenzied vexation.
When Mokun took her under his wing, she’d watched him, learned from him, and gradually mastered her emotions. He had always been patient with her shortfalls but never accepted them, pushing her to do better, to be better. Her hands had maintained a steady warmth ever since, balanced as her temperament, even when plans didn’t play out as intended.
Now, as she cleared every inch of the Heart, her fingers were the brutal cold of the tundra, the unforgiving chill of the ocean’s depths, the ice that cut and left others to bleed. Mokun was inside her head, throwing everything he had against the fortifications she erected one after another to keep him away. She had no idea how he’d gotten in; it was as if he knew the secret doors and passageways around her defenses.
Nevertheless, the more urgent question she wanted an answer for was how he had been restored to life. Perhaps the black crystal had done its job too well?
Where are you? she seethed. Come and face me, else you’ll be nothing but a coward to the very end.
There was a smile in Mokun’s answer. Having troubles?
I have searched every corner of this place twice over. You must be moving around. It’s been hours; you can’t keep this up. Time and probability are on my side.
Hm. If only you had your Stewards to help you even out your odds a little. Or your Marauders.
Her Marauders. Her beautiful, expensive creatures whose corpses were strewn throughout the Heart, jaws pried open so wide they’d snapped. Taking control of their nanotransducers to make them docile enough for you to kill them was a smart play, I’ll say that much, she allowed. But I saw what you did to the Stewards who tried to restrain you. I will not put any more of them in harm’s way. Their numbers cannot dwindle, and I won’t have you use them as bargaining chips.
That was almost empathetic, Reyor. Almost.
She collapsed against a wall, seizing her head as Mokun blew through one of her barricades. After the mess you left my Stewards in, you do not have the moral high ground.
I never claimed to, he said. You and I are tarred with our wrongdoings. We are stained and I bear most of the blame. I led you too far, then set you loose.
You never necessitated empathy in this endeavor. An indomitable will to do what needed to be done, that was the requirement. You demanded no less because to strip this world of its human blight, we cannot afford to be tender. Now look how soft you’ve gotten. It’s disgraceful, an affront to everything we’ve built.
She sensed Mokun was unsettled by that accusation, but it was clear when he spoke that he was going to doggedly press on. I never told you to stop learning, though, did I? I never told you to ignore new insights that come to light.
What you taught me was to observe with my own eyes and reach my own conclusions. She pushed away from the wall, striding toward the CUBE. Show yourself and let us be done with this.
Reyor, when have I ever knowingly led you astray?
A pinch near the back of her head was the only warning she got before Mokun tore through her last wall. She dropped to her knees, muffling a scream with her sleeves. The sharp tang of iron filled her nose.
Careful, she snarled. You wouldn’t want to set off the lathe’a
d, would you?
You could unbind yourself from it, Mokun said.
And let go of the only thing that assures me you won’t risk a physical attack? I don’t think so.
You are yet to answer me. When have I ever led you astray? Why would I do so now?
Reyor shoved open door after door along the hallway. Every room was empty. You really are gutless, hiding yourself and attacking my mind.
Give me an answer, Reyor.
She left the CUBE and turned a corner toward the executive complex to do another sweep of the archive. It was empty. She lifted the de’ Medici dagger, tossing and catching it a few times, then backtracked to the main level of the Heart. Mokun was relentless, and she had to use whatever she could to keep herself on two legs. He tunneled around her psyche, searching for the tether that connected her to the terraforming device. She needed to find him before he found it.
She passed the honeycomb dormitories. On her instructions, most of the Stewards had taken shelter in their rooms while heavily-armed Vanguards held positions around the buildings. They were a calming, stoic presence, ready to protect their brothers and sisters. They acknowledged her but she barely noticed for the racket Mokun was kicking up.
Do you know how vulnerable you are, scuffling around inside my head like that? she asked. How so very exposed you are to an attack of my own?
He dared to laugh at her. Reyor, dearest Reyor, you are most welcome to try.
Unable to remain upright, she pressed her back against the wall of one of the aquaponic facilities situated to the far west of the enclave and slid to the ground, eyes sliding shut. She probed around, locating Mokun as he raced through her mind, and dove for him. The moment she touched his consciousness, she felt something abraded on him, something raw, as if it had been recently ripped open. Seeing a weakness, she jammed into it and was immediately ensnared by thick, entangling black vines. Agh! What is this?
Did I forget to mention? Mokun sounded utterly unfazed. Jag put up a fight and dislodged a few things, so I’ve been having a bit of a hard time closing my Pandora’s Box. Best if you don’t get too close, or your consciousness might get hurt too. The vines slithered over Reyor with intent. You’ve hidden the tether since the last time we sparred in the novasphere. Where is it, I wonder?