The Raising (The Torch Keeper Book 3)

by Steven dos Santos

  Now it’s Croakley’s turn to grin. “As Arrah has so colorfully stated, we have made plans to smuggle you out of the city where you and your brother will be free to head west. With any luck, they’ll give you up for dead in a few months, and this will all be over.”

  I rest my elbows on the table’s warped wood. “Except for the part where I won’t have a place in helping to structure this new government and my brother and I will have to live the rest of our lives looking over our shoulders, in case someone should pick up our trail, correct?”

  “I won’t lie to you,” Croakley says. “The likelihood of you ever being able to show yourself in these parts again without any serious reprisals is highly unlikely.”

  “Thanks for being honest with me.”

  Cage rests his palms on his forehead. His eyes glisten. “They never did find Tristin’s body. But I heard she didn’t make it.”

  I come over to him, slinging my arm around him. “There’s something you should know.”

  He listens quietly as I tell him about Tristin’s death and placing her body in the Tycho tomb. “I’m so sorry.”

  He gives me a hug. “I’m so glad she wasn’t alone and was at peace when it happened, Mate.”

  I hold him as he weeps on my shoulder.

  Footsteps approach the front door. I tense as it opens.

  We all let out a collective sigh of relief. Breck and Saffron enter, followed by Cephas, who’s walking hand in hand with Cole.

  When Cole’s eyes meet mine, it’s like tapping into a reservoir of energy I didn’t know I had. Suddenly, the throbbing head and physical pains don’t register. We rush into each other’s arms, and I scoop him up and spin him around. The movement makes me dizzy, but I don’t care.

  “Are you okay?” I ask, setting him down.

  “I’m good,” he says. “I’ve been waiting for you to wake up. What took so long?”

  “You know me. Just being lazy, Buddy.”

  He nods. “They told me we’re going away on a long trip.”

  “Yes, we sure are. Just me and you. You up for it?”

  Cole hugs me tight. “We have to go, right? If we stay here, something bad’s going to happen to us, isn’t it?”

  I stare into his eyes. “Don’t worry about that. Go get your things ready. I’ll be there in a bit to tuck you in, unless you think you’re too big for that now?”

  “Only if it makes you feel better.” He scampers off.

  “Thanks for looking out for him, guys.” I grip Cephas’s, Breck’s, and Saffron’s hands in turns. “I owe you.”

  “You saved the Nexus,” Saffron says. “I’d say we’re even.”

  “Nice to see you back on your feet.” Breck smiles, but her eyes are tinged with uncertainty.

  Cephas adjusts his glasses. “How are you feeling?”

  “Not so hot,” I admit.

  “If you don’t mind, we’d like to run some more blood work. Purely as a precautionary measure before you embark on your long journey.”

  “Sure, just give me a little bit, will you?”

  “Of course.”

  The trio drifts over to Jeptha, and they begin murmuring in voices too low to make anything out.

  I wrap my arms around Cage and Arrah. “There’s something I need to ask you. It’s about Digory. Did they ever find…?”

  Cage and Arrah exchange a grave look.

  “We found this.” Cage pulls out a familiar black box. “The opticom unit you had on when we discovered you at the Citadel. It was actually this signal that helped us track you in that secret tunnel.”

  “There’s something else,” Arrah adds. “An incoming message on the opticom that’s addressed to you.”

  ****

  The dawn dabs the sky and trees with soft highlights of orange and pink. Fortunately, the cemetery was far enough on the Parish outskirts to be mostly unaffected by the battle. From my vantage point atop a tree twisting over the wrought-iron fence, I watch as the small Flesher craft descends, hovers for a moment, and then perches on the roof of the Tycho mausoleum.

  Cage has already removed Tristin’s body from the vault and buried her in a small plot beside Jeptha and her mother. It’s gut wrenching enough I had to watch Dahlia, Dru, and Corin’s services from a distance, hidden among the trees and shadows as the small resistance team laid them to rest. There’s no way I could stay away from this meeting now, even if I wanted to. Despite Cage and Arrah’s repeated warnings not to come because I could be found and arrested, they finally and reluctantly agreed, vowing to keep a look out nearby and warn me if anyone approaches.

  I spring from the tree and follow the stone steps leading to the Tycho tomb. The Fleshers have provided a dangling, organic ladder which lifts me to the rooftop. The Fallen Five await, four standing tall, the fifth, Orestes, encased in his pod. The five are connected by undulating tentacles to a second pod. The moment I see Digory’s body lying peacefully inside the transparent tube, I lose it completely. My body heaves. Tears stream uncontrollably down my face.

  I recall vividly the last time we were both in this place. All I want to do is crawl into that glass coffin beside him and shut out the rest of the world forever.

  But I can’t. Cole needs me. Now that he’s finally coming around I can’t abandon him.

  My fingers graze the cold glass of Digory’s resting place. I wish I could touch him.

  The pod begins to glow, and a holographic image appears just above it.

  It’s Digory. He looks so pale and weak, as if every breath is a monumental effort. He must have recorded this right after he transmitted the auto nanos to the Hive. Yet still he manages a smile.

  “Lucian. We wanted this vessel to deliver our message in person, but unfortunately, that was not possible, and the one you know as Digory Tycho had to be placed in hibernation to heal, and fully integrate with the Hive, a process that could take many of your years.”

  I lean against the pod to steady myself.

  “We want to thank you so much for everything you have done and for helping us understand the virtues of humanity. You have shown us that despite the dark and destructive parts of human nature, your race is also capable of great understanding, compassion, and forgiveness.” He smiles again. “Because of you, the screams are finally gone.”

  My body’s shaking, and it feels like my legs are going to give way.

  The image of Digory’s face moves in closer. “Do not be sad. If you should ever find yourself alone and grieving, look to the millions of stars in the sky. We are all one big Hive, Human and Bio-Mech organism alike. Your light will always shine inside us, as ours will glow inside you. We do not know what our race’s destiny may hold, but we know it will be a more enlightened one having been a part of your journey.” His fingers reach out as if to touch me. “Having you be a part of my journey.”

  The image flickers and dies.

  Silently, the Fleshers nod and re-enter their ship. I grip Digory’s pod one last time before it glides inside and the hatch seals.

  I back away as the ship lifts off and soars into the sky, disappearing into a sea of clouds.

  “Goodbye, my love.”

  My vision blurs again, and I swipe a hand over my eyes. But it’s not just the tears. Everything’s going fuzzy. The pressure in my head grows unbearable. This time it’s not a passing wave.

  I smile, despite the pain. “I’m ready.”

  ****

  Cephas enters the room, holding some scans in his hand. Even before he can show them to me, I already know what he’s going to say.

  “How much time do I have left, doc?”

  He sets the scans aside on the bed. “It’s hard to say. This malignancy is growing at an alarming rate. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

  The drugs I’ve been given are barely keeping the pain at bay. “A biproduct of the Sowing process, I take it. And activating Queran’s memories. I’ve been dying for quite some time now, haven’t I?”

  “Unfortunately, yes.” He
purses his lips. “The Sowing was never intended to be used the way Queran and his people did. I’m convinced that if I had more time to study these results, I could formulate some treatment plan, come up with a way to arrest the condition—”

  I smile despite the pain. “We both know I’m not going to last long enough for that, Doc.”

  Saffron shakes her head. “Maybe we can try some experimental procedures. It’s a longshot but—”

  “No. Queran’s already cheated death one too many times. Enough is enough. I’m ready now. I think I’ve been for quite a while.”

  Breck squeezes my hand. “I’m truly sorry, Lucian. We’ll do our best to make you comfortable.”

  “Thanks. I really appreciate that.”

  ****

  I’ve started losing count of the days now. How many has it been? Three? Four? Maybe it’s the meds that are making things so hard to keep track of. I can’t be sure.

  My vision’s starting to go, too. Something about the pressure building in my brain. Most of the time now I only see shapes. But it’s the voices that are comforting. Arrah and Cage barely leave my side now. Their voices are so soothing. Even Croakley’s good-natured sparring with Cephas, Saffron, and Breck makes me feel good, especially on the really tough days, when I can’t keep anything down and all I want to do is end things.

  Of all the voices, the one I miss the most is Cole’s. He never comes. I can understand why. I promised him I wasn’t going to leave him again and…well…I’m breaking my word to him once more.

  Only this time, I’m never coming back.

  I get his anger, but it breaks my heart and I agonize for him and how frightened he must be. Some days I’m so saddened that I can’t stop crying, and all I can do is pray to some invisible deity to make it all end so I won’t have to feel anything anymore. But it doesn’t end, and I curse myself for daring to hope that maybe there is something else after this, even though logic tells me it can’t be so. I don’t care if there’s nothing else. Utter and complete blackness will do just fine.

  Anything but this.

  Cephas, Saffron, and Breck have respected my wishes and not poked or prodded me with any needles. But sometimes I sense them observing me, as if they’re taking mental notes of my condition and assessing treatments.

  It can’t have been a week, can it? I can just make out the blurred silhouette of Arrah and Cage sitting at my bedside. “How’s Cole?”

  “He’s not saying much these days,” Arrah says.

  “I’m going to make him come in here, Mate,” Cage says.

  I touch his hand, unable to squeeze it. “Leave…him…be. Promise me that you guys will…take care…of him. Please…”

  “Of course we will,” Cage’s words choke.

  Touching his face, I can feel wet warmth that’s so soothing against my ice-cold fingers.

  They’re both holding my hands now. “I know you both lost people you loved…Dru…Dahlia…Corin…but you have to keep going…even on the days you don’t feel up to it…every breath you take, everyone you meet….everything you experience…it’s a tribute to them. Remember that.”

  “We’ll remember, Fifth tier.” Arrah’s lips press against my forehead.

  I smile. “Looks like…I’m not going to…come in first…this time.”

  It’s getting harder and harder to catch my breath. I can barely see their shadows now.

  “We love you, Mate,” Cage whispers. “Always.” His lips brush against mine.

  “Be happy,” I say. “For me.”

  “We will,” Arrah says.

  “Lucky?” A new voice.

  That voice. Why does it sound so familiar? I know that voice.

  It’s Cole.

  “I’m right here, Buddy.”

  I can feel the shifting on the bed. Arrah and Cage must have moved away and let my brother takes their place.

  “I’m sorry I couldn’t come before.” Cole’s voice is soft, the best sound I’ve ever heard.

  “That’s okay, Buddy. You’re here now. Thank you so much for coming.”

  He takes my hand. My tears flow freely now.

  Cole buries his face against my chest. “Does it hurt?” he whispers in my ear.

  “Just a little,” I whisper back.

  “I’m sorry I was mad. I don’t want you to go away and leave me.”

  “I don’t want to leave you, Cole. I swear it. You have to believe me.”

  Cole kisses my cheek. “I do. And I want you to know if going away will make you feel better, it’s okay. You don’t have to stay for me. I won’t be mad. I promise.”

  “I love you, little brother.”

  “I love you, too, Lucky. Forever.”

  I can’t see him at all, but I imagine his little face as I wipe the tears from his eyes. “Don’t cry, big guy.”

  “I’ll tell you a story, so you can go to sleep,” Cole says.

  “That would be very nice,” I answer.

  He takes both my hands in his. “There once was a brave boy, named Lucky. One day, the Great Lady lost her torch, and she could no longer watch over the great city she protected.”

  “What did she do?” I whisper.

  “Because Lucky had so much courage, she made him the Torch Keeper of the Kingdom, and he set out with his friends to find the fire…”

  I close my eyes, drifting into the most peaceful sleep ever.

  THIRTY-FOUR

  Home.

  So cold. Stinging my skin. Stark white clouds smothering me. Can’t breathe. Feels like I’m weighted down in a cold, dark sea filled with a bitter taste.

  Hiding behind my mother’s skirt as a squad of Imps marches down our street. My head throbs with each click of their boots on the pavement, like large mallets tearing chunks from the cobblestones.

  Then there’s a rush of air and blinding flashes of light. With each blast an image—a memory—mine or the Other one’s?

  Teaching Cole how to tie his shoes…the wonderful musty smell of the old books in the dusty archives where I apprenticed under…Mister…Croakley?…yes…catching fireflies behind the old dump with…the boy with the auburn hair and green eyes…his name’s on the edge of my tongue, then there’s that medicinal taste…the other boy….golden hair, brilliant blue eyes…sharp pain knifing through my head and chest…being recruited…friends…some gray with death…Cypress? Gideon? Ophelia—

  But there are others not dead. The girl with the caramel skin and piercing dark eyes—

  Arrah.

  The images flutter…faster and faster like the shuffling of a deck of cards…overwhelming me…suffocating me…yet warming me despite the intense cold.

  It’s as if my whole life has been compressed into a matter of seconds—all the knowledge, all the feelings—the joy, the sorrow…fear…hope—crammed into a tiny spring-loaded box that finally bursts open—

  I spring up, gasping for breath, body shaking uncontrollably, nausea ripping through me. I vomit what seems like every last drop of fluid from deep inside me.

  It takes a moment for my surroundings to soak in. I’m essentially strapped to a bed, tethered to tubes and wires in what appears to be a sparse hospital room. The bright overhead light is too harsh for my eyes, and I look away.

  Cold air nips at my skin. The stench of my own sick now covering the front of my hospital gown, the steady hum and vibration of the equipment—

  What’s happened to Cole? And where the hell am I? The instruments look very different than what I’m used to. I don’t recognize this facility from any of the resistance bases. Nor does it look like anything I’ve seen in the Parish, or even the Nexus.

  How am I still alive?

  The door wooshes open. A tall young woman enters. She’s wearing stark white medical scrubs.

  “Where am I?” My voice is hoarse and filled with fear.

  She shoots me a look—nervous, fearful? About what?

  Adrenaline rockets through my system. I can hear the bleeps of my pulse start to floor it on the
machines.

  “You need to relax.” The young woman hurries over to my bed, checking the instruments registering my vitals. She produces a wash cloth and wipes away my mess with gloved hands. I try to focus on her name tag until it finally becomes clear.

  A. Messenger.

  She makes notes on a three-dimensional holographic clipboard. She notices me staring, stops what she’s doing and smiles. “Feeling better?”

  I nod. “So you must be my doctor.”

  “Yes. One of them, actually. You need to be very careful exerting yourself. Even though the nerve stims have been used regularly to prevent atrophy, your muscles need some time to regain their former strength.”

  “Look, Doc. I appreciate your help. But I’ve got to get back to my friends. In case you haven’t heard, there’s a war going on and—”

  “The war’s over. Has been for quite some time.” She suddenly finds her clipboard interesting again.

  I sit up. “Over? Then…we did win? I mean, did the Torch Brigade…?”

  Her eyes meet mine again. “Yes. The Establishment, Sanctum, the Thorn Republic—all of it’s gone.” She grips my hand. “The people of the Parish and Nexus—we’re all free.”

  I study the pained expression in her eyes. “What is it you’re not telling me? And where am I? How come I don’t recognize this place?”

  “It’s…complicated. I’m not sure how much you’ll be able to grasp all at once.”

  “First off, how am I even still breathing? Last time I checked, I was terminal. There isn’t any cure for what I’ve got.”

  She stands and faces away from me. “There wasn’t—twenty years ago.”

  Silence. Neither of us says anything as the import of her words seeps into every single one of my pores.

  The doctor turns back to me. “When you died, you were placed into cryogenic sleep until a cure for your condition could be found.”

  Anger heats my blood. “I told Cephas and the others I didn’t want to be a guinea pig.”

  Dr. Messenger’s eyes meet mine. “Actually, though the Nexus teams spearheaded the efforts to arrest your condition, it was the dedicated work of a young researcher that provided the breakthrough for your cure.”