Copyright © William Stadler
2012
All rights reserved
TABLE OF CONTENTS
EFFECTS OF THE EMBLEMS
MAP
CHAPTER 1 – THE EXTRACTION
CHAPTER 2 – THE BARRICADES
CHAPTER 3 – THE OLD MAN
CHAPTER 4 – THE DISMISSAL
CHAPTER 5 – THE MISGUIDED COUNCIL
CHAPTER 6 – THE DOMINATION
CHAPTER 7 – THE PROMOTION
CHAPTER 8 – THE SUBDUED
CHAPTER 9 – THE COLD
CHAPTER 10 – THE CAPTURE
CHAPTER 11 – THE INFUSION
CHAPTER 12 – THE DEMANDS
CHAPTER 13 – THE DETOUR
CHAPTER 14 – THE ANSWER
CHAPTER 15 – THE KILLINGS
CHAPTER 16 – THE SIEGE
CHAPTER 17 – THE BREAKING POINT
CHAPTER 18 – THE CALL
CHAPTER 19 – THE CONVERGENCE
CHAPTER 20 – THE REFINING
MAP
EFFECTS OF THE EMBLEMS
Dominate: when a region’s power is stronger than another region’s
-Naturalists Dominate Polarists
-Polarists Dominate Spiritualists
-Spiritualists Dominate Materialists
-Materialists Dominate Naturalists
Balance: when one region’s power is equal to that of another region’s
-Naturalists and Spiritualists Balance one another
-Polarists and Materialists Balance one another
Imbalance: when a Dominating region is weakened by its Balancing region and the region that it Dominates
-Spiritualists are Imbalanced by Naturalists and Materialists
-Naturalists are Imbalanced by Spiritualists and Polarists
-Polarists are Imbalanced by Materialists and Spiritualists
-Materialists are Imbalanced by Polarists and Naturalists
“A dead man cannot resurrect himself.”
CHAPTER 1
THE EXTRACTION
THE PAST: TEN YEARS BEFORE EXTRACTION
Gardiv traveled back to the house where he grew-up to surprise his parents on his father’s birthday, but something in the dark Narwine Mountains was different, more tense even. Fear-filled clouds tiptoed over the solitary mansion, isolated in the jagged stony mountains of the Materialist Region. Minute candlelights shuddered in the windows, and the creatures of the night were deathly silent. The chilled breeze sneaked in, disturbing the bushes nearby.
His father was away on business, and as usual, he had probably taken his mother with him. But Gardiv wanted to be waiting for them when they returned.
Gardiv’s auburn emblem sat lodged in his chest as he approached the enormous manor that his father’s fortune had built. Why a man would ever need so much money he was unsure, but Gardiv certainly enjoyed the benefits. He didn’t have to grow-up inside the slums of the mountain caves like many of the middle and lower class Materialists. But the separation from society was what had ultimately driven him away.
A gentle smile tugged on his cheeks as the nostalgia of his home enveloped him. Not much farther and he could relax on the plush, living room sofa that he loved — a luxury that his vagabond lifestyle had left behind.
“Help! Somebody, please!” Screams ricocheted off the walls from inside the estate and leaked out into the night.
Panic assaulted Gardiv. He sprinted towards the entrance. His lightweight boots crunched over the cobblestone. Stumbling. Balancing. Falling. He staggered into the mansion and threw open the door, slamming it against the wall. Where were the screams coming from? He shifted his eyes and tossed his head in all directions to scour the room.
“Natasha!” he yelled. His deep, raspy voice echoed throughout the dimly lit quarters.
A man’s voice barreled from the next room. “What’s your problem, you winch!”
More screams. A smack. A thud. Chairs banging. Glass breaking.
“Natasha!” Gardiv yelled again, hammering his shoulder against the bedroom door. It was bolted shut. He kicked it. Stilted vibrations shot up his leg from the solid barrier. The vertical, metal rods that lined the polished cedar and locked into the floorboard were too strong. He tried again. This time he jumped, but the sturdiness of the door knocked him to the ground. He landed on his chest, and his emblem clanked against the surface.
More screams.
“Natasha!” he hollered.
“Gardiv! Help!”
He jerked himself up. “Open the door!” he yelled to the man in the other room.
More smacks. Chairs sliding.
“No! Please! Don’t! I’m sor…”
A solid thump. Silence. No more words. Only solitary footsteps.
Gardiv’s rage took him over. His emblem pulsed. Its orange radiance reflected against the walls and the high ceiling. His muscles tightened as he connected with the life forms, ripping their electrons from them. Lightning invaded the room. Electricity slithered down his skin and hissed across his ridged knuckles. The hairs on his arm stood erect. His shoulders clenched.
He grabbed the metal poles on the doorframe, charging them with lightning. The dull, ferrous rods now gleamed bright yellow. Sparks cavorted frantically across the room. The polished cedar charred from the electrical burns.
Melted metal dripped onto the well-set, wooden planked floor. Isolated flames erupted throughout the house. He leaned back and kicked through the weakened barricade. The top hinge flew off. The door twisted dangerously on the bottom hinge.
Across the room, stood a man. A boy to him. Weak. Immature. Soon to be dead. On the floor, unconscious, lay Natasha...his sister.
“Gardiv...don't hurt me!” The man scurried against the back wall. His emblem shined through his dingy undershirt. His oily hair matted against the side of his face, and the stubble of his beard made him look older than he was. But his eyes were young, foolish, and dumb. He was only eighteen. Five years younger than Gardiv.
The fires escaped their isolated pits and raced up the walls. Wooden panels burst into flames, and the sofa that Gardiv once loved was engulfed in the blaze. His eyes were as furious as the flames, and electricity encompassed his well-built frame.
The hatred within him grew. A growl exited from between his teeth as he stared at the boy who was once his neighbor. His comrade. His friend. The boy he introduced to his sister because this boy seemed like the man she deserved to marry. But now this boy would see his end.
The house was on fire. “I trusted you!” Gardiv yelled and charged him.
“Gardiv, wait! She was…!”
Hands of lightning pounded against the boy’s jaw. His face burned from the attacks. The boy fought back, pulling in hydrogen from the molecules around him, but he was not as powerful as Gardiv, and the boy burned himself. His command of the life forms was weak, untrained, and clumsy.
Several more punches drove into his ex-friend’s face. The boy’s eye was blackened — both from the assault and from the electrical singes. His face was swollen. His body burst into flames when Gardiv sat on his chest.
Natasha came to. She was flustered. The house was a wreck. Fires roared around her. “Gardiv!” she yelled.
The fire drowned out her voice. Smoke clouded the room in a thick blackness that hovered over them.
“Gardiv! Stop! What are you doing?” she pleaded in desperation. Blood oozed over her lip from the bulging knot on her head.
Gardiv couldn’t stand to see his sister like this. He always took care of her. He always protected her. He always made sure she was safe when their parents were away. His baby sister, turning eighteen next week — one week after h
er father’s birthday. And she had to look like this. She had to suffer the blows of this savage. This heartless, soulless, scum of a spineless brute.
Gardiv smiled. It was time to punish this pitiful wimp. The boy held his hands over his face, silently and sheepishly pleading for Gardiv to stop hitting him. Gardiv did not. The man’s palms were charred from Gardiv’s fiery attacks. Blow after blow after blow after blow, Gardiv pounded the boy's head against the wooden floor. The boy's hands dropped, but Gardiv kept pounding.
“Gardiv!” Natasha yelled.
But he didn’t stop. He was protecting his sister. He couldn’t stop. His fists were covered in burned blood.
“Get off him!” Natasha yelled. She pushed her brother. Her knees buckled. She dropped to the floor, shocked by the electricity.
Gardiv came to his senses. Natasha was still alive but unconscious. Never mind the boy. He scooped up his sister and carried her out of the flames, but the boy was still inside.
THE PRESENT: TWO YEARS POST EXTRACTION
The moonlit sky rested gently overhead. Gradual moans from spirits faded in and out of the environment, but the moans didn’t seem forced or panicked or worried. They seemed curious. The canopy of Broughtonhaven was more inviting since the last time that Caleb was there. Dena was right. This place truly conformed to its leader. And now that Wex was gone, Spiritualist Yael Traith had been working tirelessly to fill the roll of Alpha Councilwoman and governor. The latter of which she tended to forsake her duties.
Gardiv seated himself against a tree and cut through an apple with his knife. Sarai and Caleb were with him.
“Gardiv, you never told me that before,” Sarai said.
“I don’t talk about it much. I try to push it out.” As he spoke, pieces of chewed apple jumped from his tongue, and he motioned to catch them to acknowledge the embarrassment.
“It’s hard to believe that they arrested you for that. You were just trying to protect your sister,” Caleb said, who was lying on his satchel with his hands behind his head.
Gardiv kept his eyes on his fruit and shrugged. “Tell that to the Narwine Council.”
“What happened after you pulled Natasha out of the house?” Caleb asked.
“Estate.” Gardiv corrected him. “I took her away for a few days so that she could recover. She wouldn’t talk to me. I think she hated me. We got to the council and I told them what happened. I told them how Malto, that was the boy’s name, how he used to hit her.”
“And they didn’t listen to you?” Sarai asked.
“They wanted to, but they saw the burns on Natasha. They knew that I caused the fire, and they blamed me for everything. But I was protecting her, and who’s to say that if I left her alone, that Malto wouldn’t have gone upside her head again?”
“It only seems right that if he was hitting your sister that the courts would have understood why you….” Caleb didn’t finish his words.
“Killed the guy?” Gardiv was more comfortable saying it.
“Yeah...”
“They did everything they could. But the people in the courtroom hated that I was wealthy, even though the money was all my father’s. Not mine. But they hated it anyway. They didn’t want justice. They wanted to see the rich suffer. And this boy, Malto, was poor, so they sided with him.”
“That shouldn’t have mattered though. The judge makes the final decision,” Sarai replied. “How could he have ruled against you if your sister was there to testify to what happened?”
Gardiv dropped his knife into the ground where it didn’t stick. The terrain of Broughtonhaven was too tough. The hilt thudded against the soil. He took another bite of his apple and slung the core into the darkness. Spirits hovered near him waiting for his reply.
“She was there to testify, all right. She testified that I was the one who hit her. Said that I rushed in, beat her, killed him, and burned down the house.”
Caleb sat up, stunned. Gardiv didn’t refer to the house as an estate, but Caleb didn’t bring this to his attention. “How could she do that?”
Gardiv pulled one knee up and pushed his other leg out. “Loved him. Hated me, I guess. I get word from the mainland about her from time to time. From what I hear, she still hates me.”
“So what happened after that? Did the court rule to extract you?” Sarai asked.
“Yup. Said I was too dangerous to have the emblem.”
The spirits became uninterested in the conversation, and they disappeared back into the spiritual plane. Caleb put his head back on his satchel and adjusted it to his comfort. He turned to look at Gardiv, his hair rustling against the bag. “Do you miss it? The emblem?” Caleb asked.
Gardiv’s eyes widened and sparkled in the light of the flame. He picked up his knife and carelessly wiped the blade on his pants; then he massaged his scar. “Every...single...day.”
=====
The morning came and the three of them awakened almost simultaneously. Screechers shrieked in the early morning atmosphere, and the sunlight peeked in beneath the canopy. Broughtonhaven was lit up from the fire of Shahrach’s rays.
“So Caleb, since you’ve never done an Emblem Run before, I want to remind you of how dangerous these are,” Gardiv said. “You probably have never been into the caves except for the ones in Kyhelm, but these caves show some of the nasty sides of the stones. And, in my opinion,” he leaned in and tapped Caleb on the chest, “Broughtonhaven is the worst.”
“Why’s that?” Caleb asked.
“Because you can’t fight with your hands in there. You have to fight with your spirit. The caves of Broughtonhaven will expose you.”
Caleb shuddered at the thought. He had defeated Wex over six months ago, but he could still feel the spirits pulling at him, trying to make him afraid and trying to make him weak.
They traveled west from the coast to the heart of the Spiritualist Region. The canopy got thicker, and the land became more parched. After a few days, they arrived at the caves. These caves were not as extensive as the others throughout the region, and Gardiv told Caleb that getting to the emblems would only take a few days instead of the weeks and months like some of the other caves. They waited until nightfall before approaching.
Caleb and Sarai huddled behind the thick tree trunks. Two guards were posted outside the entrance of the catacombs. Their emblems were covered by their burly jackets. Caleb touched the canisters of the Anaerobia on his hip. He remembered when he first learned about how to harness the power of the emblems without having his stone. He was so untrained and undisciplined. Now, like a skilled assassin, he pulled his arrow out of his Pioneer-Caleb-Eaves laced quiver and prepared to dip it into the Polarist canister to Dominate the two Spiritualist sentinels.
But wait. The guards’ coats bulged from their chests. The Perene fur covered the lining. The thick boots and the wooly pants. These were the same clothes of his captors from so long ago – the ones who kept him in his frozen prison for seven months. These were the Polarists! But why? Why were they here in Broughtonhaven, standing guard to the most sacred grounds of any region — the Elemental Caves?
“Sarai,” Caleb whispered.
Her bronze skin reflected the moonlight gorgeously. Her dark hair, enclosed in her hood, reached out in small strands to massage her face. “What is it Caleb?” she mouthed back, indicating that he was talking too loudly.
He pointed to his chest and uttered in the same volume as her. “Blue.”
Before he could finish what he was saying, she noticed it too. The night became eerily silent. The moonlight had now become a beacon. Caleb covered his Lightguard so that the azure pulses could not be seen.
Caleb shrugged and whispered to Sarai. “Where’s Gardiv?”
She pointed to the right of the cave where Gardiv was signaling with his Lightguard, twenty feet away from the two watchmen. He must not have been paying attention. He must not have noticed. But Caleb did. He would never forget his captors. Never.
Caleb exposed his bracer on his right w
rist. The tiny needles from the Illuminary replica pulled blood from his flesh. He flashed a signal back, alerting Gardiv not to attack.
Too late!
“Guide Shot!” Gardiv yelled across the field.
A Polarist laced arrow cut into the arm of one of the guards. The sound of cracking ice formed on the sentry’s shoulder. The other guard was alerted. He reached his hand forward, fingers outstretched, making a tight fist. The temperature dropped instantaneously as he entered The Deficit.
Tree limbs cracked under the power of his command. Ice shards fell from the sky. The ground stiffened, trying to retain its own heat. The injured guard melted the ice on himself. He must be a third tier like Nara, Caleb thought.
Caleb’s head ached from the drop in temperature. The ground below became slippery. As he breathed, thick clouds of mist escaped from his lips. He could barely move his fingers. This was the most powerful Deficit he had ever been in. Had this one man caused this much chaos?
Caleb couldn’t see Gardiv. It hurt to open his eyes. Sarai fidgeted with her Materialist canister, trying to Balance the Polarists.
The guards converged on Gardiv. Caleb had to do something. He had to respond. If only he could get the chill out of his bones. He fought against the cold, though it besieged him. Shivering, he pulled out his dagger and dipped the tip into the blood canister. The blood sparkled from the frozen particles. But it was Perene blood. It could hold out for a few more degrees.
He dipped the tip of his blade into the Materialist canister and pierced his skin. Surprisingly, he did not get nauseous like when he used the Spiritualist canister to talk to Anise. A surge of warmth trickled throughout his body. He could move his limbs more easily now. First his fingers, then his toes, and then his arms and legs. The cold was gone.
He rushed to Sarai who was quivering on the ground. She couldn’t stop shaking. Her lips were chapped and pale. He pricked her with the tip of his blade.
Infused (Book 2 of The Pioneers Saga) Page 1