Shadows of Uprising (Guardian of the Vale Book 2)

by Tamara Shoemaker

  “Good morning, class.” He cleared his throat. “I just wanted to point out a few things this morning, things that obviously need to be addressed.”

  The classroom resounded with expectant silence. Pence stood behind her desk, her gaze on the wood grain, her fists clenched behind her back.

  “As you may have heard, certain events happened last night that resulted in harm to a teacher of this institution. First, I want to state that if any students,” his gaze swung back to Alayne and lingered there, “choose to wander about the school grounds by themselves, they will be severely punished. Groundskeepers have found species of wild animals throughout the vicinity, and as a precaution against these, no one is to go out from the school unprotected.”

  Alayne blushed. Sprynge's gaze hadn't moved from hers. Alayne forced herself not to drop her gaze. After a moment, he continued. “Secondly, Professor Pence, while holding zealously to the tenets of the Elemental Alliance, perhaps carried those ambitions too far in her efforts to further their cause last night. You can see the results of those efforts this morning. The Elemental Alliance regrets her course of action, as I'm sure Professor Pence herself does this morning. Further, no professor shall enter a meeting with any one student without at least two other parties. This is for the protection of both student and teacher. Are there any questions?”

  Alayne glanced at Pence. Her face, outside of the horrid scarring, was white. Kyle's uncomfortable shifting next to Alayne pulled her attention to him. His lips were bloodless. “She's mortified,” he mouthed.

  Alayne didn't respond. The vindictive streak inside of her was glad. Pence should be embarrassed. She had no right to try to drag Alayne away against her will for whatever ulterior motives she had. At the same time, a chill gripped her spine. Sprynge's speech was proof positive that the Elemental Alliance had a strong foothold even here in the school, here at Clayborne where she considered herself safe.

  She glanced at Daymon. He stared back at her, the blue in his eyes shadowed to navy. He was worried, too.

  Alayne took a calming breath as Sprynge nodded once and stepped off the platform, returning to his seat in the corner. The entire class period passed without Pence so much as glancing in Alayne's direction.

  Daymon speculated on the possibilities later that evening as Alayne sat in the library, attempting to study.

  “I wonder, Alayne, if the Vale works in your favor, even when healing?” He shifted his notebook to the side and leaned his elbows on the table. “I mean, think about it. Last year at Andova, when you healed that mountain lion, it had a barely visible scar. I got a massive blow to my head last night, and I'm pretty sure it was enough to crack my skull, but look at me now.” He tapped his temple. “No pain, not even a bruise. And then, look at Pence.”

  Alayne chewed on the end of her pencil. “So, you're saying that the Vale understood that Pence was my enemy, and didn't heal her properly?”

  Daymon shrugged. “I don't know what the Vale understands or doesn't understand. It has depth that I don't get, but I'll make a guess. I think the Vale reacts to your own feelings and emotions. You were feeling terror and hatred, all directed at Pence, and the Vale responded accordingly. It still healed because that's what you meant to do, but it couldn't go against your emotions at the time.”

  Alayne didn't answer. It struck her, though, that if that was the case, she would have to be very careful to control her emotions. Was that why she hadn't been able to control the fire in her hands? Was the Vale taking over her rational mind, somehow using her instead of her using it? Who knew what else the Vale would decide to do at the worst possible moment? She felt a frown cover her face. Something that had at first seemed kind of cool—a lot of power from this strange thing called the Vale—was slowly turning into an abhorrence. When would her feelings be her own again?

  The answer was immediate: never, as long as the Vale stayed inside of her. And the Vale would always have to stay inside of her, or, according to her Guardian, she would die.

  * * *

  Rachyl pushed aside her tray after lunch that weekend and waved at Eryc Connel as he passed. “Eryc, come over and meet some of my new friends.”

  The dark-haired boy flushed and turned out of his path. “Hey.” He smiled shyly at the group.

  Rachyl motioned around the table. “Eryc, this is Marysa Blakely, Daymon Houser, Kyle Pence, and Alayne Worth.”

  Eryc had begun to nod to each of the people as Rachyl introduced them, but when he heard Alayne's name, he swiftly brought up his gaze to meet her own. The expression in his eyes was altogether too familiar to Alayne. She sighed inwardly, wondering when she could simply be Alayne and not the freakish Quadriweave two desks over.

  Then Eryc surprised her. After a moment's hesitation, he slid onto the bench between her and Marysa. He fiddled with a loose napkin on the table. In an almost inaudible whisper, he said, “Your parents are in danger. My dad is working to get them moved. He wanted me to tell you if I saw you.”

  “Wh—at?” Alayne's mouth hung open.

  Eryc glanced around before shaking his head. “I need to go. Got basketball practice.”

  A minute later, he entered the chute and disappeared from sight. Alayne swung her gaze to Rachyl's. “What just happened?”

  Rachyl shrugged, suddenly more interested in folding her napkin than in making conversation. Nothing more was said at that time, but that evening, when Alayne was preparing for bed, she heard a knock on the door. Marysa opened it.

  “Rachyl. Come in.”

  Rachyl entered and closed the door behind her. “Thanks, guys. I know I only have a few minutes before curfew, but I wanted to explain about Eryc.”

  Alayne nodded. “Yes, please do.”

  Rachyl plopped onto the floor and exhaled a frustrated sigh. “So, politics don't just run between Justices and political figures—it affects families of the Justices, too. Eryc and I have only recently been friends; for a long time, we couldn't stand each other, 'cause my uncle and Eryc's dad didn't see eye-to-eye on a lot of issues.”

  “It's gotta be hard being the niece of the Leader, too,” Marysa sympathized.

  “Yeah.” Rachyl picked distractedly at the worn carpet. “Anyway, Eryc and I kind of grew up together, but apart, you know? We finally decided last year that all the hate running around the High Court was making us insane, so we decided to put it aside and be friends. But after we started hanging out, Eryc let it slip one time that his dad works for—for the Last Order.”

  Comprehension clicked in Alayne's brain, followed immediately by a wave of alarm. “So Eryc's dad is one of the Justices working to keep my parents hidden, but somehow, they're in danger? How could someone find their spot?”

  “I don't know,” Rachyl shrugged, biting her lip. “I wish I could help, but I thought you should at least know that Eryc's on your side. Me, too, for what it's worth.”

  “Side!” Alayne angrily yanked back her covers and sat on the smooth sheets. “Nobody is on a side. There's the High Court, and then there's the rest of us peons.”

  Marysa shook her head. “You're wrong, you know, Layne. There are sides. Malachi and Professor Pence and the Elemental Alliance and a whole slew of other people are on one side, and those who resist them are on the other.” She shrugged. “And it looks to me like you're the one people want to lead Clayborne's resistance chapter.”

  “What do you mean?” Alayne stared in bewilderment at her friend.

  Marysa sat down on her bed and smoothed the coverlet. “I wasn't sure how much to tell you, but after you made that comment to Pence at the beginning of last semester, people have been coming to me and asking me if you were interested in starting something. They wanted me to know that they have your back, and if you were planning to start a Last Order chapter here at Clayborne, they would be in it.”

  “Who?” Alayne gasped, feeling very much like an owl.

  “Of course, the ones you'd expect, Kyle, Daymon, and me. Alex Wynch. Cole from your hockey team. Some of
the commissary staff. Katrina and a whole slew of the girls on her floor are really irritated with what's going on in the High Court and wondered if you had thought of a way to stop it. Jordyn wanted to be a part of something, but she got sent to Andova.”

  Alayne gaped at her friend. “Why didn't you say anything?”

  Marysa shrugged. “For such a long time, you were sort of—down. I mean, understandably, what with Jayme and everything. I didn't want to add too much to your plate. But maybe, now that you're aware, it might be time to, you know, organize something.”

  Alayne sat weakly on her bed. “I—I need to think.” She wasn't a leader, and part of her inwardly rebelled at the thought of heading up an organization, even a small one. She wanted to crawl under the bed and hide. But inexplicably, images of her father seeped into her head and then thoughts of other people. Anger welled up in her as she thought of the faceless Shane Beckyr, Beatrice Pence, Sprynge, and their rationalizations that Natural Humans deserved to be persecuted.

  A gong resounded through the dormitories from the common room, and Rachyl stood. “I'm going to be late getting back to my room, but let me know what you decide, Alayne.” She twisted the doorknob and paused. “I'd be glad to stand behind you on this one.”

  * * *

  Over the next two weeks, Alayne thought about what Rachyl and Marysa had said. She ran the gamut of emotions—at times, wildly defying the idea that any sort of resistance was needed at Clayborne, and at other times, particularly after a class with Pence or a chance meeting with Sprynge in one of the hallways, she wished heartily for a Last Order chapter.

  Kyle sensed that she was heavily distracted, and while he continued to show his affection in whatever ways he could, a hug now and then, a kiss when she would let him have one, he gave her lots of alone time.

  Daymon was the only one who never left her. Beyond time alone in her room, if Alayne went outside for a jog, Daymon followed in the distance. If she went to the pool to swim laps, he sat in the bleachers, poring over a book. It would have driven Alayne crazy under any other circumstance, but once again, the Vale affected her feelings. It drew support from its Guardian, and as a result, Alayne felt only support from Daymon's consistent presence.

  Alayne didn't know what she would have decided without a catalyst at the end of January. She sat in the common room in the evening with Rachyl, Marysa, and Kyle, playing a game of cards on the coffee table in front of one of the couches. Daymon sprawled lazily on the sofa behind the girls, his fingers linked behind his head, his gaze on the ceiling.

  Rachyl deftly dealt the cards into four neat piles. “So Daymon, what's it like being an Air-Master in a class full of Water-Wielders and Fire-Breathers?”

  Daymon shrugged, his gaze never leaving the ceiling. “About like any other class, I guess. I just have to work harder to make things happen.” Professor Lye had commended Daymon on his abilities in Fire and Ice; she seemed amazed that he could keep up.

  “Think you'll ever be a Quadriweave like Alayne?”

  Daymon shook his head. “Can't. There can only ever be one Quadriweave at a time, unless Alayne purposely makes a decision to share ownership of the Vale, and even then, it's a long, involved process that's really hard to do.”

  Alayne looked up with interest. “What kind of process?”

  Daymon turned his head to meet her gaze. He raised an eyebrow. “Why?” His voice was abrasive.

  “Just wondering,” Alayne frowned.

  He sighed and returned his gaze to the ceiling. “You can't split the Vale's qualities; it's too powerful, and it's meant to be a single entity. So if a person wanted to share the Vale's powers, they would have to do this ritual where the blood of the person who possesses the Vale has to be intermingled with the blood of the person they want to share it with, which gets really dicey, first with blood types being all different, and then because each person has to fully want to share. If there are any reservations, the blood mixing can go really badly. The power that is transferred can cause massive damage to a person's physical body if a person is holding back.” He shrugged.

  “Wow, that's an elaborate process.” Rachyl laid a card in the center of the table.

  Alayne chewed on her lip as she studied her cards. “Malachi said something last year about sharing the Vale, didn't he?” She glanced up at Daymon. “On the mountain range. He said that all I had to do was let it happen, and all this trouble would go away.” She looked back at her cards, sliding the king of hearts all the way to the left of her hand. “Jayme would still be alive if I had listened to him,” she muttered under her breath.

  Daymon sat up in one brisk motion, his hard gaze raking over her. “You have no way of knowing that, Layne. If Malachi had gotten what he wanted, Jayme isn't the only one who would be dead as a result.”

  Alayne suddenly slammed her cards down on the table and glared at him. “But he still died, Daymon! He. Died.”

  Their gazes clashed over the coffee-table, anger and bitterness roiling in the air between them.

  Marysa softly cleared her throat. Alayne turned her glare onto her friend. “What?”

  “You weren't the only one fighting Malachi that day.” Marysa's soft reminder brought a blush to Alayne's cheeks. She dropped her gaze to her hands.

  “No, no, of course not. Daymon, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to imply that any of what happened was your fault or anything.”

  A muscle jumped in Daymon's jaw. He stared at her for a moment longer and then casually shrugged. “Doesn't matter.” He stood and stretched. “I'm going to bed.”

  In the silence that followed his departure, Alayne could feel her burning cheeks. She rapped her knuckles on the table next to her cards and sighed. “I think I'm done playing cards for the evening.” The others laid down their own cards before she twisted the elements, pulling all the cards toward the center of the table and stacking them neatly.

  “Can you shuffle them like that?” Rachyl asked, interjecting a light question into the midst of the awkwardness.

  “What, using air?” Alayne smiled, grateful for Rachyl's efforts. “I've never tried, but I've got a feeling they're going to end up all over the floor.”

  “Try. Let me see.”

  Alayne concentrated on the stack in front of her. It was difficult, because once the cards were in two stacks, she had to work the air movements to lower a card on one side and then the other, interchanging the stacks evenly without letting two cards collide.

  The stack easily enough divided itself in two, but when the cards began lowering themselves onto the table, they inched down in tiny increments.

  “Not bad, Layne,” Marysa teased. “You might reach the speed of frozen molasses soon.”

  “Oh, hush, Marysa.” Alayne focused all her concentration on the alternating air movements. “I'd like to see you do this.”

  “I can't.” Marysa leaned against the opposite couch and gathered her black bush of hair into a knot behind her head. “I'm a Fire-Breather. I'd just torch them and have done with it.”

  The stack was about halfway through its shuffling when suddenly, all the MIUs throughout the common room shot holographic images into the air.

  Stanwick Jones looked gravely across the room as he shuffled his notes in front of him. “Good evening, folks. In breaking news today, the Capital has erupted into massive chaos as reports reach us even now that Justice Frederick Connel was discovered dead in his chambers. Immediate reports tell us that the death was a result of hanging and subsequent asphyxiation; however, an autopsy will be performed on Justice Connel's remains.” The newscaster paused and eyed the camera. “Rumors now support the idea that the homicide was attributed to members of the Elemental Alliance, but other factors indicate that this is unlikely.”

  Pandemonium erupted across the common room. Voices intermingled in a rising crescendo as students openly vented their reactions. Alayne silently took it in. This was the first time since last summer that the EA was connected publicly with the murder of a civilian, b
ut public sentiment had swung so far the other way that the outcry across the Continent would be much different from what it should have been. She glanced over at Rachyl, who would have had connections directly within the High Court.

  Tears openly streamed down the girl's cheeks. Eryc Connel came into focus as Alayne's gaze swung to him where he stood in a nearby section of couches. His mouth slacked as he gazed at the holographic image, his skin a pasty shade of white. Alayne immediately made the connection; the Elemental Alliance had killed Eryc Connel's father, a Last Order sympathizer, and the last Justice on the High Court bench that kept the Elemental Alliance from having a majority.

  Chapter 16

  Alayne knocked on the door of Professor Manders's office, nervously twisting her fingers together until she heard his muffled command to enter.

  She glanced around the tiny office where Manders scribbled furiously on a piece of paper. He didn't look up. “Sit down, Alayne.”

  “Sir, I know Professor Sprynge said that students were no longer to meet with professors one-on-one, but...”

  “The mandate hardly has any bearing on the Vale and its Guardians, Alayne. Just don't mention this meeting to anyone else.” His hand moved swiftly.

  Alayne sat gingerly on the edge of the seat in front of his desk and glanced over Manders's bare walls. His office was different from most of the other professors'. For one thing, it was much smaller—a tiny closet tucked in the corner of the office wing. The other professors had offices that at least had room to move around. For another thing, no pictures or awards or certificates decorated the walls as they did in the other offices.

  Professor Manders's voice interrupted Alayne's thoughts. “I prefer to keep my accomplishments private.” He had caught her eyeing the walls. She straightened.