He remained silent, though she could almost see the wagon wheels spinning inside his head. Tam was many things, but complicated wasn’t one of them. He spoke his mind and did as he pleased, and even though she enjoyed chiding him from time to time, the truth of the matter was that she had always found his earnestness refreshing. He was also doggedly loyal to Jason and Sel and even Gor. He had been suspicious of her at first, if for no other reason than to protect his best friend, but eventually she had managed to earn her way into his private circle. She wondered distantly if her exodus to Izara a few years ago had since removed her from it.
“Maybe you should be happy that he used it, then,” Tam suggested after a moment. “Now that power is here in the city.”
Sarina sighed and closed her eyes. “Assuming he lives. If so…then maybe it was worth the cost.”
“Ten people dead, dozens more injured, and Tevek and Selvhara stripped of their powers…I’m not sure anything is worth that.”
“Not even ousting the Crell?” she asked. “You’re Galvian—these are your people we’re talking about.”
“My ‘people’ haven’t done a damn thing for me,” Tam reminded her. “I’ve been an outcast since I was twelve.”
“Maybe, but you can’t tell me you want to see the Imperium in charge of your homeland for the rest of your life.”
“Of course not; I’m just being realistic.” He turned away and twisted his lip. “Two of my best friends nearly died yesterday, and one may never channel again. No offense, but I’d rather have them safe and unharmed even if it meant this little revolution of yours fell apart.”
“That’s very short-sighted,” she muttered. “You almost sound like Jason.”
“I sound like you two years ago,” Tam corrected. “You said that same thing back then before you left. You told him to let this go, but he wouldn’t.”
Sarina clenched her jaw. “That was different.”
He snorted. “Uh-huh. Look, I have nothing against these people. I get that they lost a lot in the war: family, friends, and sometimes everything else. I completely understand why they want revenge. But it’s not my fight—it’s not our fight. The war is over and Galvia lost. It’s time to move on.”
“Move on,” she sneered. “People can’t just ‘move on’ from having their lives destroyed. All they have left is revenge.”
“You’ll forgive me if the lives and safety of my friends aren’t worth sating the vengeance of people I don’t know.”
“Now you’re just being a coward.”
“No, I’m being reasonable,” Tam countered. “I know you Asgardians live to prove yourselves in combat and all that, but you can pick a better fight that this.”
“There is no other fight!” Sarina snapped, bringing herself to her feet. “You don’t get it, do you? Look at what the Crell do. Look at how the Sovereigns abuse power and make their people live in fear. They murder, they steal, they enslave entire groups of people, and what does anyone do about it? Not a damn thing, that’s what. They roll over, one country after another, and soon there won’t be anyone left.”
She pulled free one of her axes and hurled it into the wooden wall. She glared at it for a moment, letting the rage course through her body. It was euphoric the way it heated her muscles and sharpened her reflexes. She had learned to mold her rage into a weapon when she wanted, but right now the will simply wasn’t there. Tam wasn’t her real enemy no matter how much she might have wished he were. Violence almost always made her feel better.
“The Alliance loves to talk about its ideals, about how their people run the country, not their Council or King,” Sarina murmured through clenched teeth. “But those ideas never extend past their border. They claim to abhor the Sovereigns and everything they stand for, but when the steel hits the grindstone they aren’t willing to push back. The Cell wipe out entire peoples, erase entire cultures, and what have the Solarians done about it?”
“Fought two wars,” Tam muttered.
“No,” she said, shaking her head. “They fight wars through others. They send weapons and supplies across the border, but they don’t risk their own troops until it is too late. It happened with the Izarians, and then it happened again right here. By the time they get involved, the damage is done. The people who stood up and fought are already dead.”
“That fellow you met down south must have been one hell of a man,” Tam whispered. “Getting you to believe in something—that’s quite a trick. Even Jason could never pull that off.”
Sarina whipped her head about. “Ghaile was a good man,” she breathed. “And the Crell killed him.”
The memories stirred in the back of her mind. The Zarul had raided the warehouse where Quilor Ghaile had been secretly funneling weapons across the Ikaran border into Talisham in order to help them fight back against the Crell. The Green Coats had killed everyone inside, and then they had strung Ghaile’s body up on the mast of his ship. Sarina had returned from a mission to find everyone she had worked with dead.
She had fled south to get away from Jason and the Crell and the constant politics of war in the north. Ikara was supposed to be a land of traders and merchant lords and mercenaries, and she’d figured an Asgardian could make a name for herself fighting off pirates and smugglers and other similar dregs of humanity. But no matter how far she ran, the war always seemed to follow in her wake. She had fallen in with Ghaile and his people only to realize months later that he hated the Crell as much as anyone. She had learned that organized resistance against the Crell had many faces beyond those in Galvia, but they all shared a common purpose…a purpose that eventually she had claimed as her own.
“Is that why you’re so upset?” Tam asked after a moment. “Because you came back here and realize that Jace isn’t Ghaile?”
Sarina snorted. “Of course he’s not. Jason’s a coward just like the rest of you.”
“Cowardly men don’t sacrifice themselves to try and save people they care about.”
Her eyes narrowed. “A minute ago you said Jason was going to use the cube regardless.”
“Maybe,” Tam said, shrugging, “but the bottom line is he did use it to try and save your life. And it’s bothering the hell out of you.”
“Why would that bother me?”
“Because you want to be mad at him. You want to hate him.”
“You’re an idiot, do you know that?”
“Sometimes,” Tam admitted with a shrug, “but not right now. You know I’m right. You left because you got sick of wandering aimlessly from place to place without a cause. As much as you like to think you’re a loner, you like being a part of something larger than yourself—it’s not a crime, everyone does it with one thing or another.”
“You seem to manage just fine. And so does Jason.”
Tam glanced down and smiled faintly. “We are part of something—we’re a team. We may not try to save the world every day, but we have a pretty good time and keep each other safe. Sometimes we even get paid for it. I can think of worse ways to make a living.”
Sarina turned away and glared at the axe embedded in the wall. She remained silent.
“You fell in love with someone who taught you to believe in something,” he continued, his voice still cool and collected. “When he died, I think you came back here expecting everyone else to have changed with you. Here was Jason, this man you used to love, given this great opportunity to fight for ‘The Cause,’ and it looked like he was going to pass it up. Then the worst part is just when you are letting yourself resent him for it, he goes and nearly kills himself to protect you. Now you feel guilty.”
Sarina wrenched her axe free and stomped over to the edge of the tower overhang once more. Despite her best efforts, her rage was slowly seeping away, and now that was annoying her, too. “He’s a fool.”
“No, he’s Jason. It’s almost the same thing, but not quite.”
She snorted in disgust, mostly with herself. The image of Jason’s comatose body flashed in her thoughts,
and she couldn’t bring herself to hate him no matter how much she wanted to. Deep down, she had actually expected him to chase her all the way to Ikara, but he hadn’t. He had been willing to let her go…and that might have been the most infuriating thing of all.
Ghaile had been very similar in a lot of ways. He had been witty and charming, and his smile had been as infectious as any she’d ever seen. He also had the strength to put up a fight from time to time. Most importantly, though, Ghaile had a purpose. He might have just been a merchant, but he understood the true nature of the Imperium, and he knew it would take the actions of normal men and women to ultimately stop them. He smuggled medical supplies and weapons to revolutionaries all across Torsia, no matter how bleak their cause seemed. He risked his business and sometimes his life dealing with these people, and in the end it cost him both.
When Sarina had found Jason in Taig, he’d been the same man she remembered…and that made it very easy to hate him. Here was a person whose father was a national hero; his name alone could command the loyalty of hundreds, possibly even thousands of his fellow Galvians. Yet Jason had turned his back on all of it. He was an easy target; he was the man standing amidst great evil who did nothing about it. He was more interested in finding ancient books no one cared about than fighting on behalf of the people who were counting on him.
At first, she had welcomed the old resentment. It diluted the feelings she still had for him and made it easier to distance herself from his concerns. But it hadn’t lasted, of course, especially not when he had agreed to return home to Lyebel. A different man—a lesser man—would have immediately tried to unleash the power of the cube the moment he’d learned its true nature. But not Jason. Given time, he would have chosen whatever path benefited the most people whether or not that choice happened to benefit himself.
And that was because he hadn’t actually walked away from the Resistance because he was a coward—he had walked away because of what he had seen “The Cause” do to those he cared about most. The war had consumed his father, killed his mother, and driven Selvhara into exile from her own kind. Jason hadn’t wanted it to destroy anyone else.
“He missed you, you know,” Tam said quietly. “He didn’t talk about it, but he didn’t have to. I know him as well as anyone.”
Sarina closed her eyes but remained silent.
“I admit, it took me a long time to figure out why he loved you at all,” Tam went on. “No offense, but you aren’t exactly the most charming woman in Torsia. Even you are….”
She turned and cocked an eyebrow. “I’m what?”
He sighed. “You’re…you know. Not so bad to look at. Even if you do scare the piss out of me sometimes.”
“Good,” she told him, smiling despite herself.
“Well, I eventually figured out why he liked you, and I actually missed you too. It was nice having someone around who could occupy Gor’s attention.”
Sarina let the thought linger for a few seconds, then finally sighed. “Maybe you’re not a total idiot after all. Did you come up here to tell me something specific?”
“Not really. I just wanted to see how you were doing.”
“I assume Sel hasn’t moved yet?”
“Nope,” Tam murmured. “Highlord Dracian has been watching over her, and Elade checks up on both of them.”
Sarina cocked an eyebrow. “You’re on a first name basis with her?”
“She’s gradually coming around to my charms,” he said, putting his hands behind his head. “I have a thing for exotic foreign women who save my life.”
“I’ve saved your life plenty of times.”
“Yeah, but you’re terrifying. I don’t trust a woman who can beat me up.”
She snorted. “I guarantee Elade could cut you to ribbons if she wanted to.”
“Meh,” he grunted, waving a hand dismissively. “You’re no fun at all.”
“I’m going to head out on a patrol if anyone asks,” Sarina said, smiling. “I might as well try and find out whether or not the Zarul have found our new cubbyhole.”
“Good idea. I’ll see you back at the base in a bit, then.”
“All right. And Tam?”
“Hmm?”
“Thanks.”
Chapter Three
“They fear us. They hate us. They refuse to understand us. But we are their salvation nonetheless. Only through our will can the world be set free.”
—Sevel Thorean, Unbound freedom fighter, 1689 AG
“It’s definitely not the most humane contraption I’ve ever seen,” Kyle Adar commented as he eyed the glimmering metallic bracelet, “but it’s very effective. If the Zarul are good at anything, it’s designing torture devices.”
“If there were another way to ensure his obedience, I would pounce on it,” Elade said. “But an unrestrained channeler can cause a great deal of damage in a small amount of time.”
“You don’t have to convince me,” he said, handing her the ring. “He deserves worse.”
Elade twirled the device in her fingers. Virtually every government in Obsidian had developed some type of implement designed to suppress an individual’s ability to channel the Aether, if for no other reason than to try and contain renegade Unbound or interrogate enemy Bound. This particular ring was apparently of Zarul origin, and the design was befitting of such a shadowy, ruthless organization. It was little more than a band of cold steel laced with blue crystals on the outside and tiny needles on the inside. When clasped around a channeler’s wrist, it dug lightly into his or her skin. The crystals were the same type of dampening stones used to “suck” the Aether out of a particularly sensitive area, such as a vault filled with treasure or even the home of an important noble. They were expensive to mine and even more expensive to maintain, but if properly arrayed they could reduce a channeler to a mere echo of his or her full power.
This particular bracelet allowed an interrogator to rotate the crystals to a variety of suppressive settings from “weak” to “strong.” Considering the power of their current prisoner, the Crell Imperator responsible for severing Tevek’s bond, Elade decided that the “strong” setting was probably the best solution for everyone involved.
She glanced behind her. For the past thirty odd hours, she had been keeping this man alive but insensate with an old technique the Last Dawn used on prisoners. It was much more effective—and decidedly less cruel—than bludgeoning them unconscious every few hours. The rebels, unsurprisingly, had wanted to cut the man’s throat the moment she had dragged him back to the base, but he was more valuable to them alive…at least assuming Elade could glean any information from him.
Tevek had also seen fit to remind her that the Dawn didn’t kill their prisoners except as a last resort. The plan was to turn this man over to the Solarians once reinforcements arrived. Of course, he hadn’t told Adar that little detail yet, and Elade had a feeling the rebels weren’t going to be happy about it…
“I want to speak to him myself at some point,” Adar reminded her as she fiddled with the device. They were underneath the new Resistance compound in the old sewer tunnels, and Elade suspected he probably had trouble seeing much of anything with his weak human eyes. Still, at least they were safe, and the twenty-foot wide chamber was deep enough below the surface to afford them a measure of privacy.
“You’ll get your chance,” Elade promised him. “But right now I think it’s best for me to speak with him alone. The less random elements involved in an interrogation, the better.”
He cocked an eyebrow. “You know this from experience? I didn’t think paladins tortured their prisoners.”
“They don’t, and I’m not planning on starting now,” she said pointedly. She left out the part where the vaeyn did torture their prisoners…usually under the supervision of a shadow knight. “There are other methods of extracting information.”
“I guess I’ll have to take your word for it,” Adar murmured.
She could feel his eyes upon her as she slid the bracel
et around the prisoner’s left wrist. In general, the rebels had taken a much fonder view of her since the attack. With Selvhara and Tevek stripped of their powers, she had been the only reliable healer in their group aside from a modest supply of stolen healing salves, and in her personal experience, there was no faster way to earn a new friend than by staunching his or her bleeding.
Adar, however, was different. He remained visibly anxious in her presence, and for about the hundredth time since arriving in Lyebel, Elade wished she were a stronger telepath. Sadly, she had never demonstrated much aptitude in that area—or in energy manipulation or telekinesis or much of anything else. She might have been Unbound, but she had never been a particularly strong channeler. She excelled at certain defensive techniques like protective barriers and Aetheric shields, and she was decent at body and strength augmentation. More advanced skills, however, had never come as naturally to her, not even compared to most Bound.
“Just remember that we’ll be nearby if you need us,” Adar told her. “Not that I suspect he can harm you with that thing attached to him.”
“We’ll see soon enough,” she said, smiling. “Thank you again for your assistance.”
“I should be the one thanking you. We all should.”
He made his way back up the stairs, and Elade let out a deep breath and turned back to the prisoner. There weren’t any actual cells down here in the sewer, obviously, but they had shackled the Crell man’s arms and legs to the ground. He was strong and well-trained, but even he wouldn’t be able to break himself free—not with the bracelet keeping his powers in check. She flicked on one of the nearby glowlamps, but pushed it far enough away that a human would still have trouble making out her features. Then, with a final deep breath, she touched the man’s arm and channeled a healing spell into his flesh.
Considering the severity of his internal wounds—and considering that she had been forcibly keeping him unconscious for some time now—she expected it to take several minutes for him to wake. But after ten seconds his eyes cracked open, and shorty after that he groaned and coughed. Notably, he didn’t panic; he took in his surroundings as calmly and subtly as he could before testing the strength of his restraints.
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