Another of her visions took on life as she surveyed the commissary with startled eyes. The banner along the wall displayed the huge black words that spelled “Ring of Three Symposium” across it, and sure enough, the same date lined the banner that had been in her vision. Sprynge sat in a chair along the edge of the room, and several important-looking people clustered around the stage. Tarry sat next to Sprynge, writing furiously in a notebook.
Manders had told her that the future was not always fixed, that it was fluid, but the room was so exactly like her vision, Alayne dreaded what would happen next.
Upon her entrance, everyone turned to stare at her. A black-robed man stood from a bench near where Alayne hesitated. One hand firmly grasped her arm.
“No worries, Baker.” Malachi laid a hand on the man's arm. “She's with me.”
Attention turned back to the front as a familiar-looking man stood up from his seat on the stage and made his way to the podium. It took Alayne a moment to realize who it was. Leader Blankenship, Rachyl's uncle and the Head Justice of the High Court.
Shivers pricked Alayne’s spine. This was the first vision where she'd seen Jayme. He had to be around here somewhere. She glanced across the stage and the tables. The rest of the setting was just the same; surely he would show up, too? But how?
Blankenship coughed into his hand before he spoke. “It is certainly a privilege to celebrate The Ring of Three with the High Court's participation for the first time since its incipience.”
You mean, it's great to celebrate the Naturals' Cleansing Centers now that they're legal. She glared at him.
“However, I would like to point out that none of our hopes for this organization could have happened without the help and support of General Shane Beckyr and the Continental Guard, or what is now called the New World Army. Ladies and gentlemen, allow me to introduce Beckyr's lieutenant commander, who will begin this meeting before the General begins to speak.” He spoke a name, but Alayne didn't hear it.
She felt as if she were drowning. Leader Blankenship stepped back, smiling, from the podium, bringing his hands together in enthusiastic applause. The sound of clapping sounded far away, hardly registering in Alayne's mind.
There he was. His beloved dark curls were slicked carefully over his head, a uniform stretched across his shoulders. He'd changed somewhat from the previous year. His face was slimmer, harder. Gone was the beanpole boy. Now muscles filled out his uniform until his sleeves strained with the tension. His easy grin was nowhere to be seen. But he was Jayme.
Jayme!
Alayne couldn't breathe. He was here after all. The rush of emotions was nearly too much for Alayne. The room spun slowly in one direction and then tilted sideways.
Jayme's hands gripped the sides of the podium; his gaze swept across the commissary, resting briefly on Alayne's face before moving on.
Alayne felt the blood drain from her cheeks. Didn't he recognize her?
“Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen,” Jayme said. “General Beckyr is honored to be here, and as head of the Special Elemental Forces Corps, I am honored to represent our illustrious General today.”
Alayne shut her eyes and opened them, disbelieving. No. No.
* * *
Alayne pulled in a long breath. This was just another vision, a nightmare. Anything but reality.
Jayme was still speaking, something about reassurance that Natural Humans would soon be contained in Cleansing Centers—what in CommonEarth was happening?
Alayne shook her head deliberately one side to the other then took a deep breath.
“Jayme Cross!”
Her clear voice carried to the four corners of the commissary, stopping Jayme's flow of speech and all other rustling noises. Every eye in the room turned to look at her.
Jayme glanced over at Sprynge and then turned back to Alayne. “I'm sorry, did you need something?” His mouth turned down at the corners, and his brown eyes hardened as they stared at her.
“An audience with you, in private.”
Chuckles swept the room, no less from Jayme. His mouth quirked into a grin, so reminiscent of former days that Alayne's breath caught.
“As you can see, ma'am, I'm in the middle of something.”
“It can wait.” Alayne let fury carry her in swift strides down the aisle.
Uniformed men blocked her pathway to the stage. Hands grasped her arms with grips that hurt. “Get off me!”
“Stop!” Sprynge's voice halted all movement. Alayne swung her gaze to him. He sighed. “Commander, I'm sorry, but it may be best for everyone that we put your speech on hold and see to this girl.”
Jayme raised a cynical eyebrow, but he gave a brief nod. “If you say so, Chairman Sprynge.”
The guards loosened their holds, and Alayne shoved them aside in disgust.
“Shall we take this conversation elsewhere?” Chairman Sprynge motioned to the kitchen door on the side. It was cracked, and some of the catering staff peered through it. As Sprynge headed their way, they disappeared.
Alayne forced her legs to move forward before stopping. “Malachi, you're coming, too.” She pinned him with a glare. She wasn't about to risk his running back to the exam area and un-notching his safety holds on the water. Dread hardened her stomach. If she didn't hurry, the tide would come in.
Malachi shrugged and meandered up the aisle, his hands stuffed unceremoniously in his pockets. Alayne waited until he had entered the kitchen before following. Jayme brought up the rear.
Alayne leaned against the counter, her gaze flicking over the guards at the door, Jayme, Sprynge, Tarry. Alayne was mildly surprised to find that Tarry had entered, too. She was Sprynge's right-hand person, though, probably hand-in-glove with the whole blasted mess. Tarry's sharp, bright eyes hardened as Alayne’s gaze raked over her.
“Nice to see where you stand, Tarry.”
The secretary didn't answer, her lips moving into a smirk that made Alayne want to smack the red right off her perfect lips.
Alayne moved her glare from Tarry to Sprynge and then to Jayme. “Of all the cads, I never expected you to turn. I trusted you!”
Jayme's brown eyes surveyed her distantly. “Ma'am, I understand the pressure that people sometimes put on various leadership positions, and I'm sorry that I seem to have broken what trust you have in me, but I can assure you...”
“What is wrong with you?” Alayne shouted. “Don't you know me, Jayme? Don't you even remember who I am? Did you get amnesia or something while you were gone? I don't understand!”
Jayme's brow wrinkled. “Apparently, I share your confusion. I am James Cross, Lieutenant Commander for General Shane Beckyr, and if I can help you in some way, I'd be glad to do so, but I'm afraid you have me mistaken for someone else.”
His brown eyes stared at her, and then Alayne saw it. The twitch. Minute, hardly noticeable, but there none-the-less.
Alayne stumbled backward. “You—you're Shadow-Casted.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“You're Shadow-Casted. No wonder you don't recognize me.” She glanced at Sprynge then Tarry, then Malachi. It was no good pinning it on one of them; it could just as easily be someone in the next room. She suspiciously eyed the guards.
Jayme shook his head impatiently, waving aside her accusation. “Please, ma'am, state your purpose here. I need to return to the meeting.”
Alayne's mind raced. She wished Manders was here; she felt like an outnumbered sheep in a den of wolves. “You release my parents.” She blurted out the words before she'd had time to test them. As they hit the sound waves though, her confidence grew. “You release my parents, and I'll turn myself in. You can do whatever you want with me, but you have to let them go unharmed. Also my friends.” She pointed at Malachi. “You have to give orders for Malachi to release them unharmed as well.”
A laugh of disbelief left Jayme's lips. He glanced at Sprynge, as if wanting to find out if she was serious. Sprynge watched the scene with a face wiped clean of expressi
on.
After a second, Jayme looked back at Alayne. “And why would I even want you in the first place?”
Alayne crossed her arms. “Because my name is Alayne Worth, and I possess the Vale.”
Chapter 26
Jayme didn't react as Alayne thought he would. He appeared to be thinking hard. A moment later, he motioned to the guards by the door. “Arrest her,” he ordered.
“Jayme.” Alayne held out her arms to the guards.
“Commander,” he reminded her icily.
“Arresting me isn't going to make one iota of difference if I decide not to come willingly. You have one hour. By then, I'll need proof that my parents are living and safe and that my friends are out of harm's way, or I'll take you and your whole army out. Probably most of the Capital as well.” It was a bluff, and most likely Sprynge knew it, although she hoped Jayme did not. She could take out a lot of his soldiers, though. Certainly not the whole Continental Guard, unless she got lucky.
The guards yanked her wrists behind her and pushed her toward the back of the kitchen where a side exit led out into a hallway. “Just something to think about,” she threw over her shoulder, mentally calculating the time until the tide would rise in the ice cave.
A chilling thought hit her. What if I have to kill Jayme before it's all said and done? She shuddered at the thought, desperately trying to separate the cold man in the kitchen from the easy, laid-back boy she'd had her first crush on last year. He's just Shadow-Casted; it's not his fault. If she could just pin-point the person who held his Casting, she could at least have someone to target.
Anger pulsed through her veins. This whole year, Jayme had not been in control of his mind. How unfair for him. And how terrible it would be for the person who did this to him. She would oversee the punishment personally.
One question clouded out all the rest. Why? Why Jayme?
The guards led her to a storage room behind the kitchen. Inside, five gallon buckets lined the walls, labeled with various ingredients. A step-stool hung flat on the wall. One of the guards pulled it off the wall and opened it. “Sit here.”
Alayne found herself firmly pushed onto the stool. The other guard wheeled a utility tray in front of her. “Hands on the tray, please. One move, and you'll be dead.”
It was an empty threat, and all three of them knew it. Alayne allowed her mouth to twist upward in a smile. “So,” she glanced around the room, “you guys infantry, or what?”
Both of the guards' jaws tightened. Neither said a word.
Alayne shifted on her stool. “Oh no, that's not right. Infantry actually means something, if I remember correctly. What's the word, what's the word, what's the word, ah!” She snapped her fingers. Both guards leaped to their feet, their hands in front of them.
Alayne laughed with a mirth she didn't particularly feel. “Cowards. That's the word. Look at you. You're shaking. You're scared that I'm going do some sort of weird Quadriweave voodoo on you, but all I'm going to do is let you in on a secret.” She glanced around the room and then looked at the guards conspiratorially, and whispered, “You signed up for the losing team.”
The startled silence that followed her barb was shattered by a knock on the door. Alayne’s breath caught; she hadn't expected Jayme to make up his mind until the hour time limit she had set was up.
One of the guards rose quickly and opened the door. Alayne and the other guard watched in surprise as the guard hit the wall, his head crunching against the paneling. He slumped sideways, striking his temple on a bucket, and collapsed in an undignified heap on the ground.
The other guard opened his mouth to shout for help, but Daymon was already there. Three swift, vicious hits to the guard's face were enough to break his nose. Daymon swiftly yanked some utility tape from a nearby shelf and taped the man's wrists together. He ripped off his outer shirt, shredded it in two, stuffed the guard's mouth with it, and covered it with more tape.
“Why didn't you just—”
“Bend the elements?” Daymon asked. “They don't know I'm here yet, and I didn't want to tip them off.”
He pushed the utility cart away from her and pulled her to her feet. “Let's go.”
“Are the others—”
“They're outside. We have to hurry. Malachi's gonna head back to check on us any time now.”
Alayne clung to Daymon's hand. He had opened the door to check the hallway, but when he felt her resistance, he looked back. “What?”
“Daymon, it's Jayme. He—he's—”
“Alive, but Shadow-Casted. Yes, I know. I was in the kitchen. Come on, they're gonna find us here if we don't move.”
Alayne took a deep breath and followed Daymon into the hallway.
“There's a shortcut to the chute,” Daymon nodded to his left, “but we can't go that way, 'cause the whole place is swarming with soldiers. It was pure luck that I got inside in the first place. We're gonna have to make a jump for it from one of the windows.”
“They'll feel the bend.” Alayne's toes nipped Daymon's heels as he jogged to the kitchen doorway.
“Yes, but hopefully after it's too late to catch us. It's gonna be close either way, Layne. This way might give us the shadow of a chance.”
He reached the kitchen doorway and cracked it open. Alayne craned her neck to see through. The meeting was underway in the commissary, although Alayne couldn't hear Jayme's voice speaking anymore. Three members of the kitchen staff were spread out at various worktables, preparing the evening meal for the visitors. Only one of them faced the cracked door.
Alayne bit her lip. She recognized the boy working; his name was Chance. He'd come a couple of times to the speed-dating club, but had eventually stopped. Marysa had said it was because the kitchen had gotten busier as the year drew to a close, and so had Chance, of course. She wondered if she could somehow get his attention, and then convince him to let them out of the kitchen windows without anyone else noticing.
“Chance.” The head chef turned and motioned toward the overflowing garbage pail. “This thing stinks. Air-lift it out, would you?” He turned back to his chopping board. Chance set down his own knife and hurried to the massive drum.
The element bend was noticeable but not overwhelming as Chance lifted the bag from the drum and sent it through the air toward the hole in the floor where the disposal was.
Alayne felt a tug on her arm. Daymon motioned her forward. Everyone's back was turned for the moment; Alayne hurried after Daymon, past the cabinets, around the giant refrigerator, beyond the corner pantry. They pasted themselves against the wall. Alayne glanced back. Chance was back at his workstation. No one had noticed the intrusion.
Daymon fiddled with the window. With a jerk, it opened. A blast of warm, summery air breezed around them, plastering Daymon's t-shirt to his torso.
“They've escaped! Help!” The kitchen door that led to the storage room slammed against the wall. The guard Daymon hadn't tied up stumbled into the kitchen. “Call for back-up!” he yelled as he held his hand over his temple.
Alayne gasped as the guard's gaze swung her way. “There they are!”
Daymon yanked Alayne out the open window. They tumbled through the air, free-falling to the earth far below. The ground rose swiftly. Alayne allowed her fingers to trail along the air element waiting, waiting, waiting . . .
She pulled to a stop five feet above the ground, dropping into a crouch.
Daymon landed softly beside her. “This way,” he rasped.
“Not toward the arena,” she protested.
“It's near where they're waiting,” Daymon called back over his shoulder. “We've got to get them and then head in a different direction.”
Alayne glanced over her shoulder. The spire was already about a quarter of a mile behind them, but the doors to the chute had flung open, and guards were piling out of it. She heard a shout, and then the soldiers crouched into a run, heading her way.
She sprinted on winged feet, adrenaline surging through her. A glance back
told her she and Daymon had gained ground. She looked forward again. She could see the crash of waves on the shore in the far distance. “Where?”
“Jayme's grave.”
She spun her gaze to the north where the willow trees wept over the empty grave marker. At this distance, she could see nothing, but she could easily imagine Marysa and Rachyl and Kyle and all the rest clinging desperately to the branches of the trees, waiting for them to arrive.
“Daymon.”
He ignored her, flinging himself through the waist-high grasses.
“Daymon!”
He glared at her. “What?”
“Daymon, we're leading the soldiers right to the others!”
Daymon stumbled as her words washed over him. With a growl, he veered to the right. “Take cover in the trees around the river. Maybe we can catch them by surprise if we can hide soon enough.”
Alayne gulped for air and nodded. The trees painted a dark outline in the far distance, but they grew swiftly as Daymon and Alayne streaked toward them.
* * *
The branches met their skin with stinging sharpness. Daymon pushed Alayne ahead of him, glancing over his shoulder, cursing. “They've seen us. If we can get up in the trees, we might have an advantage.”
Alayne ducked a pine bough and stumbled around a jagged stone next to the flowing water. “No good. We might hold them off for a bit, but there are enough of them that they'll eventually overcome us. Or if they don't, they'll figure out that the others aren't here, and they'll find them and use them as hostages again.”
Daymon swung Alayne around, his hand rock-hard on her wrist. “Up.” He pointed into the tall pine above them. “We're running out of trees, and we need to buy time. We can figure out how to get out of this while we hide.”
Alayne glanced up and reached for the elements, but Daymon shook his head. “Hide, Layne. You bend the element, and the whole army's gonna converge on us.” He jumped and grabbed the nearest bough above his head, pushing himself up, swinging his way through the branches like a monkey. Alayne watched with admiration. She couldn't reach the bough Daymon had used, but the other side of the tree produced some low-hanging branches, and she soon crouched near Daymon far up in the pine.
Shadows of Uprising (Guardian of the Vale Book 2) Page 30