Elements (The Biodome Chronicles series Book 2)

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Elements (The Biodome Chronicles series Book 2) Page 51

by Sundin, Jesikah


  “Heard it on the wind?” Fillion arched an eyebrow and studied the former Fire Element.

  “Mere signals in the air, My Lord, as the saying goes.”

  Connor didn’t flinch or shift his eyes or anything else to give himself away. But the double meaning and hidden information downloaded instantly. “Shit.” Fillion scuffed the path, turned around, and rested his forehead against the stone. “Damn it!”

  Leaf turned toward Skylar. “Did you know of this?”

  “No, I did not.” The distress in Skylar’s voice was acute. “Your Majesty, you have my allegiance.”

  Fillion pushed off the wall. “What time is it?”

  “A quarter to two,” Connor replied quickly.

  “And how long has he been in the hatch?”

  “I would wager twenty minutes.”

  “Others with him?” Fillion lowered his hood.

  “No, he travels alone.”

  “Did you learn anything? Or are you part of Timothy’s plan?” Fillion stabbed his hair with trembling fingers. “Heard it on the wind that I was coming, too?”

  “Ah, I see. Hanley is rather busy this night.” Connor stepped in front of Fillion and said in a hushed tone, “I am unable to tune to your frequency.” Resuming a normal volume, he said, “When I left, he was talking to your father and confirming that you are in possession of another Cranium. Apparently, your first one was disabled. Rather interesting piece of information, actually.” The former Fire Element crossed his large, bulky arms over his wide chest. “Does he know?” Through the darkness, Fillion watched as Connor gave a gentle nod Leaf’s direction.

  Fillion shook his head “no” as subtly as possible.

  Although it was an obvious exclusion to all others, Connor leaned forward and whispered into Fillion’s ear. “He needs to, before Hanley messages him the details of who betrayed the Guild.”

  Not bothering to whisper back, Fillion asked, “And why would Hanley make a move like that? Blow cover over a Cranium? Yeah, right.”

  “Seems there is a hacker in our midst, My Lord.” Connor created distance between him and Fillion again. “And I gathered from the conversation, a rather good one, too. Apparently, he wound up in trouble with the law and is serving a sentence in New Eden Township. Part of the punishment is to work off his crimes in the community. Is this correct?” The older man paused and studied Fillion, who remained silent. “Someone needs to the take the fall for assisting this hacker, especially after the first Cranium was intentionally disabled. Hanley now has a target.”

  Fillion quietly groaned. “If Timothy has a Cranium, which I’m guessing he does,” he said, relaxing his posture, “why did he need to go to Messenger Pigeon?”

  “There is a LAN cable to port into the Cranium,” Skylar volunteered. “I am sure I do not need to explain the advantage of such a move.”

  “No,” Fillion sighed. “I get it.”

  “I will not allow Hanley or my father to target anyone other than me.” Skylar beseeched Fillion to agree with a single look. “I assisted Fillion. No one else.” Although dark, Skylar stood closer to the cave entrance and a faint, silvered light touched his face. Fillion nodded his understanding and Skylar returned to a stoic expression, flicking a quick glance to Connor, who frowned slightly.

  “How is it you are familiar with Outsider technology?” Leaf asked, turning toward Skylar. “So much so, you could assist the Son of Eden?”

  Fillion cut in to distract Leaf. “Did Timothy and Hanley discuss anything else besides my criminal life?”

  “Yes. The meeting was about an entirely different subject, actually.” Connor walked over to Skylar. “Your father is determined to make you King. He was pleading your case, yet again, to Hanley, offering up information on Fillion to gain favor.”

  “A position I shall refuse should he win,” Skylar said, the sad resignation pulling on the noble’s features. “My father will not listen to reason nor respect my wishes.”

  “Indeed.” Connor placed a hand on Skylar’s shoulder and quietly asked, “Are you ... well?” The Son of Wind nodded slowly. After a few seconds, the former Fire Element dropped his hand and moved over to Leaf. “Did you receive a Curse Card by chance?”

  Leaf’s face remained steady, even though his eyes narrowed a bit. “I do not follow this conversation entirely. How is it you knew to follow Timothy?”

  Connor cleared his throat and lowered his voice. “That information is irrelevant at this moment. Do you have the card, Your Majesty?”

  “I do not answer to you.” Leaf stepped forward. “I no longer trust you or Timothy, or Jeff for that matter. You placed a Death Card in my father’s pocket without care or concern of how I might handle that discovery. Nor am I clear on exactly what evidence you possess that led to such a judgment concerning my father’s death.” Leaf stepped forward once more, and his voice dropped to a low, threatening sound. “You manipulated me into an elopement with Ember, using your daughter’s reputation and my declaration to become the Earth Element as a means to motivate my response.”

  A frown pulled further on Connor’s lips. “All necessary actions. Some I am not proud of, but ones that have only benefited you in the end.” The former Fire Element inched closer to Leaf and said in a low, friendly tone, “I am not your enemy. When your mother died, and Joel learned of your future, he sought my protection. I swore an oath to guard your life. I have no allegiance to Hanley, Timothy, or Jeff. Only you.” Connor knelt on the ground before Leaf and bowed his head. “My King.”

  A chill swept over Fillion as he watched the former King of Terraloch bow before the King of New Eden. He chewed on Connor’s explanation, tapping his fingers on his thigh to a song running through his head. Still, each muscle tensed and Fillion clenched his jaw until a headache bloomed behind his eyes.

  “Rise, My Lord,” Leaf said in a strained voice. The young noble turned his head toward the door and away from view. “I can, perhaps, understand some of your choices. But I shall never understand how you could so carelessly regard your daughter.”

  “I was there when you were born, Leaf Dylan Watson,” Connor said, almost tender. “For nineteen years I have watched you grow and mature into the fine man who now stands before me. Do you think I did not know it was you who left flowers for my daughter on her windowsill every month since she was twelve? When Skylar stepped forward, the flower offerings ceased.” Leaf turned back toward Connor. “I also noticed how she stitched leaves, the same ones fashioned on your furniture, onto her wedding gown and trousseau garments, which she began when fifteen years of age. The Son of Wind may have held affection for my daughter, but he was obeying orders from Timothy, nothing more.”

  Skylar lowered his head and a pained expression flitted across his features for a moment.

  “You threatened to confront me before the community for sullying your daughter.” Emotions burned across Leaf’s shadowed face. “She and I were both innocent. Yet, you were willing for her to suffer public shame, and for what, pray tell?”

  “Her protection.”

  “You voted for me to leave!” Leaf covered his face with his hands. “You do not make sense. Nothing makes sense anymore.”

  “Yes, and in your absence she would have still been married to you and, thus, could not become another man’s wife.”

  Willow’s brother released an anguished groan and fell back against the cave wall with a resigned thump. Fillion bit the inside of his cheek as he watched Leaf struggle. It wasn’t a sound of irritation. It was the sound of a man fighting while on the brink of giving up. Confirming his thoughts, Leaf said, “I am breaking beneath the weight of so many secrets and deceptions.”

  “Connor is right,” Skylar said so quietly that Fillion almost thought it was mistake. “My father is delusional when it comes to gaining Aether status for me, it seems.”

  “God, I’m so tired of the endless vague comments from everyone.” Fillion slid a glance toward Skylar. “Marrying Ember would never grant you Aether sta
tus. What’s this really about?”

  Skylar flinched, another rare crack in his typically stoic demeanor. “The rumor within Nobility holds that Hanley would appoint Ember over me in the event that a new Aether was needed. This, of course, assumes that The Aether was from Nobility and that Ember was not next in line to begin with, or me. Many speculated that perhaps Connor was The Aether.” Skylar looked away and mumbled, “Ember is far safer with Leaf, even though his family is the target of a power struggle.”

  “That doesn’t make sense,” Fillion muttered.

  Leaf lowered his hands. “You would never harm her.”

  “No,” Skylar said with a sad smile. “I would not.”

  The two young nobles silently communicated with one another, and Fillion’s stomach clenched. Is this why Skylar feared and obeyed his dad, even though he was legally a grown man, in both worlds? That would explain some of the weird behavior and comments from Skylar at times. Fillion suddenly understood. He felt the same way about Willow as Skylar did about Ember. Fillion would go out of his mind if Willow was harmed because he failed somehow. Or as a means to grant him power.

  Fillion pushed off the wall in frustration and faced Connor. “You know, this information could’ve been useful, oh, I don’t know, maybe five weeks ago.” He glared at Connor and spat, “What the hell? You knew I was looking for information! What is it with people not getting that this is isn’t a game? This. Is. Real!”

  “Yes, but you did not value nor respect your own worth then. So, how could I trust you to care about the worth of others? That, too, is real. I swore to protect Leaf. Yes, even from you, Son of Eden. Hanley would never commit murder, but he has no qualms about taking advantage of situations or adding to the chaos. And I suspect you are just as much a pawn for Hanley as Skylar is for Timothy, if not more so.” Fillion stilled and creased his brows. His head swam with dizziness as goosebumps prickled the nape of his neck. “I am much relieved to know that both you and Skylar desire to walk an honorable path.” Both Fillion and Skylar looked down at their feet, and silence thickened like a hot suffocating wind all around them.

  Finally, Leaf cut through the awkward hush and asked, “Who, pray tell, entrusted the Death Card to you?”

  “Della.”

  “I figured,” Fillion said. “Well, I thought it was Hanley originally. But, after making an ass of myself, I realized it was probably my mom.” Connor regarded Fillion with curiosity. “Why’d she give you the card?”

  The crunch of gravel in friction with the ground echoed as the blacksmith shifted on his feet again. “She was quite convinced Dylan’s death was not an accident and that Joel was meant to die rather than her brother. She was adamant, actually, especially when learning of Joel’s inheritance. But she was afraid to push such feelings further. When Joel broke off the engagement after accepting a job offer from Hanley to oversee the humanitarian efforts in Africa for New Eden Enterprises—”

  “Whoa. Wait. He accepted a job from Hanley first?”

  “Yes, although Joel insists he sought employment with Hanley. You see, Della and I grew up together and enjoyed a close relationship, similar to Willow and Coal. Our mothers were best friends. Della trusted me to care for Joel.” Connor paused and looked at Leaf. “And his family. She could not reconcile that Joel would leave her, as it was not in his nature. He was a fiercely loyal man.”

  “I still don’t get why Joel was targeted back then,” Fillion asked, narrowing his eyes. “What did he have that pushed others to be reckless?”

  “Love.” Connor dropped his voice to a whisper. “And the woman who held the key to the future.”

  “What?” Fillion slumped against the cave wall, ready to explode. A twinge of nausea rolled through his stomach once more. “Do realize what you just insinuated? You’re saying my mom is the one with the power.”

  “Yes, that is precisely what I am telling you.”

  Then, Fillion stood to attention as a thought hit him sharply. “Oh god,” Fillion whispered. “Theory of Reconstructing Universal Society and Trusteeship.” He looked at Connor with wide eyes. “The T.R.U.S.T. patent and copyright.”

  “Trust?” Leaf asked.

  Synapses started rapidly firing in Fillion’s head as thoughts connected. He turned to Leaf and asked, “What did your dad always say to you?”

  Leaf paled. “Trust is paramount in the biodome.”

  “Timothy will be coming soon, Your Majesty,” Connor said softly. “I suggest you hide until he passes you by.”

  Leaf drew in a labored breath and schooled his features. “Yes, thank you, My Lord. Your unexpected assistance is much appreciated.”

  Connor placed a hand onto Leaf’s shoulder as he said, “I am available to talk tomorrow should you desire to seek my company. I am happy to answer any question you carry.” The older man offered a kind smile. “You possess your mother’s strength and your father’s heart. Do not allow your heart to surrender to anything other than your strength, Your Majesty.”

  Leaf dipped his head. “Norah shared the very same words.”

  “She was a wise woman and cared very much for you.” Leaf and Connor’s eyes locked. “Good evening time,” Connor said with a bow. The crunch of footsteps resumed until Connor’s feet found the soft grass.

  A muscle twitched on the side of Leaf’s face. “Let us hide on the west side of the cave.” Fillion caught the Son of Earth’s eyes for a brief moment, before Leaf lowered his head once more.

  They rounded the corner and hunkered down against the short lip of the outer cave wall. Fillion turned toward Leaf, but both Leaf and Skylar had their heads bent together in low conversation. Disgust snaked through Fillion as he thought of Timothy and Hanley. He needed to think of something else. Stat.

  Restless, he lifted his head toward the fractured night sky. Not much to look at except lines, New Eden’s version of cloud shapes. He examined his hands, marveling at how the wounds had healed up so nicely. Nothing to think about. What the hell? Now, when he had time to let his thoughts wander—nothing. A round of queasiness churned in his stomach. It had to be anxiety. He thunked the back of his head against the stone, closing his eyes.

  Just when he was about to nod off, a noise, like whistling, echoed from the cave. His eyes jerked open. It was probably a light wind rushing through the cave. Fillion closed his eyes again as mild nausea returned. God, he felt awful. Just as he relaxed, the sound came again. Not wind. It was actual whistling.

  He angled his head toward the opening of the cave. From the corner of his eye, he watched as Leaf and Skylar snapped to attention as well. The whistling grew louder, and Fillion cringed, the smug, cheerful sound reminiscent of Hanley whenever the Gamemaster cornered someone. What the hell? One of these days he needed to stop questioning hell and just accept that it is. He bit the inside of his cheek and rolled his head toward his brothers-in-arms. Leaf and Skylar both delivered worried looks his way, their bodies perfectly still.

  “Almost out,” he whispered.

  The whistles softened as Timothy emerged into the open air of the biodome. Heavy, padded footsteps shuffled along the dirt path. Fillion leaned forward and peeked around the corner. A hooded individual faded into the night toward The Rows. When the tune dissipated, Fillion turned toward Leaf.

  “It’s safe. Let’s go.”

  Fillion crept along the rock wall with awkward movements to ensure each step remained muffled. Jagged, rough points poked through the layers of wool and linen. He knit his brows together in irritation, swearing under his breath with another sharp jab. Then, black swallowed him into safety as he entered the mouth of the cave. He jogged down the narrow path and yanked open the large doors. After the others entered, he walked into the hot, humid air, wincing with the deafening noise.

  “Let us move swiftly,” Leaf said.

  Once they reached the Dragon Bridge, Fillion ran his fingertips over the arched, scaled back of the railing. Ribbons of tepid, vaporous mist swirled and danced, as if the bridge was shroud
ed in dragon’s breath. The magic threads broke and reformed when his fingers poked at the air.

  He needed to rest a moment. Leaning over the edge of the bridge, Fillion tried to steady his rapid breathing. He felt weak and lightheaded. Maybe his blood pressure was too high. With resignation, he rested his forehead on the arched railing. “Get it together,” he said to himself.

  Leaf approached. “The hatch is open. Skylar already lowered himself into the room. Do you fare well?”

  “No. But whatever.” Fillion straightened his posture and offered a lopsided smile, lips trembling. “Let’s get this over with.”

  “Is it your mother?”

  “Nah, she doesn’t bother me like Hanley does. I get pissed, but I don’t get paranoid.” Fillion sauntered by Leaf, who turned and matched his strides. “I’m dizzy and sick to my stomach. Must have been something I ate.”

  “We ate the same meal, and I fare well.”

  Fillion shrugged.

  Leaf stopped and faced him. “Do you trust Connor?”

  “Yeah.” Fillion lifted his eyes. “I’m still not sure how he concluded that Joel was murdered, though.”

  “I can trust no one,” Leaf said, the words muffled as he rested his face in his hands. “For no one is who I believe them to be.” Fillion remained silent. What could he say? It was true. They were all role-players. Every single damn person in the dome. Even the unwitting second generation. “Fatigue has weathered my spirits to nothing.” Leaf’s hands crumpled to his sides.

  “I’m sorry.” Fillion sighed. “I really am.”

  “Thank you, My Lord.” Leaf bowed. “I am humbled by your many sacrifices for my family.” The Son of Earth pulled Fillion into an embrace and thumped his back, then plodded to the hatch with sullen steps.

  “Sure.” Fillion looked down at the damp, jungle floor. “I’ll be there in a sec. Need to clear my head.”

  A few seconds later, Leaf disappeared down the hatch and Fillion glanced around the jungle. Birds and insects competed to be heard, their songs and insistent chatter annoying him. He wanted quiet as he organized all the known details to date. The cacophony in his mind clashed violently with the jungle. Still, he managed to finish incomplete strands of mental code. The facts built a script that ran an algorithm through his mind in search of hidden details.

 

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