“What if he is a pawn and we wrongfully accuse him?”
“What does Skylar believe?”
Leaf glanced over his shoulder toward his friend and furrowed his brows. A heartbeat later, he lowered his head and said, “Yes, Your Highness. It shall be done.”
With a quick bow, Leaf trotted away, grabbing Skylar by the arm. Her brother signaled to other men nearby to join them in a tight circle. She could not hear the words her brother spoke, but his determination was unmistakable. Heads nodded and the small group dispersed and Willow released a breath she had not realized she had been holding. On his way back to where she stood, Leaf crossed his heart and she offered a weak smile in reply.
“Your Majesty,” Jeff hollered as he jogged up to where they stood. “Shall I alert Hanley of the fire?”
“Only if the fire cannot be contained,” Leaf replied quickly. “Please escort Willow to my wife. I shall return or send a messenger if we need to notify Hanley of our distress.” To her he said, “Encourage the women and children to remain in the Great Hall. If they will not listen to you, have Ember speak.”
Jeff bowed as Leaf stalked out of the Great Hall, but Willow remained against the door as angry tears finally gathered and spilled. “Come, Your Highness,” Jeff said in a shaky voice. She took his arm and allowed him to lead her back toward the stage, where Rain, Ember, and Brianna had already gathered a crowd of women. Upon arrival, Jeff kissed her forehead with paternal-like affection, and sauntered off to a cluster of older men on the other side of the room.
Fidgeting with the folds of her skirt, Willow looked out the latticed window to the unfolding scene across the meadow. She could not meet the faces turned her direction and see what lay beneath their stares. Already, she felt responsible, as if somehow Timothy knew she would fight against his accusations and had, therefore, set up a preemptive punishment for resisting the traditions of the community.
Laurel wrapped her arms around Willow’s waist and buried her face between the crook of her arm and her chest. She kissed her sister’s cheek and resumed her watch out the window.
The grass around The Forge had caught fire, the flames bending to a bio-breeze as if bowing before its meal. It would consume and destroy, and her stomach tightened. What would happen if the fire reached The Rows? Did the biodome possess enough oxygen, or would they all suffocate? Did The Door open from the inside or only from the Outside? The worries persisted and Willow swiped away an angry tear, lest anyone see her cry.
“Tumblers of water and cider shall be placed on these tables over yonder,” Ember said in a strong yet elegant tone. Willow looked to see where her sister-in-law pointed. “And on this side, let us gather herbs from the kitchen and prepare poultices for any burns or injuries sustained.”
“I have freshly laundered linens, Your Highness,” a kitchen maid volunteered.
“Wonderful, thank you, Killie.” Ember smiled at the children. “Shall you tear strips for us?” The little heads nodded and Ember smiled wider. “Thank you.”
“Come, lads and lassies,” Cook said. “We can tear strips here while we nibble on ginger biscuits.”
Laurel shifted her face to better see Willow, her eyes tinged red, and Willow’s heart constricted. “Shall you fare well?”
“Yes, darling.” Willow attempted a brave smile to bolster her sister’s spirits. “Go, I shall fare well.” Laurel peered out the window as her face pinched in distress. “Do not fret so,” Willow whispered. “All will be well, you shall see.”
Her sister bit her bottom lip, then whispered, “Did Fillion really kiss you?”
“Never you mind,” Willow said, feeling herself blush. Her sister’s eyes sparkled as her small frame released a melodious sigh. “Do not allow such fancies to carry you away.”
“I am afraid I shall float to the other side of the room,” Laurel said with a dreamy sigh. With a final embrace, her sister skipped over to Corona, who took her hand. Coal’s little sister wiped away a tear and looked out the window, and Laurel draped an arm around her friend’s shoulder and drew her close.
Once everyone settled into their respective duties, Willow said to Ember, “I shall assist the children.” She watched Laurel and Corona amble over to Cook to fetch a biscuit and a hemp rag from Killie.
Rather than reply, Ember pulled Willow into an embrace and held her tight, stroking her hair. “You are not faithless,” Ember said in gentle tones, pulling away to see her face. Willow lowered her eyes the stone floor. “I had overheard your comment to Leaf.”
“But I do feel so faithless. The guilt is unbearable, even more so as I do not feel I have committed any wrongs.” Willow sighed.
“For you have not.”
Ember took Willow’s hands. She opened her mouth to say more, but the doors opened with a loud bang and Willow squeaked, jumping back. She blinked several times, feeling foolish for her response. The Daughter of Fire resumed a regal bearing as Leaf marched into the building, his strides long and purposeful.
“Place him in this corner,” her brother commanded.
Several men shoved Timothy into a chair, his face remaining passive. Skylar hung back by the door and intercepted his mother and sisters who rushed over in confusion. Grief welled up inside of Willow, twisting and aching in tight knots, as Skylar’s mother wept in her son’s arms as if Timothy was dead. Then, a wintry chill slid up the curve of Willow’s spine and her eyes traveled back to Timothy. Lips tipped up in a smile, and the former Wind Element pinned her with a hard stare while being bound.
With a shudder, Willow pivoted on her heel toward the window and followed Ember’s worried gaze. Buckets of water were tossed onto The Forge and nearby buildings in quick succession. But the fire appeared to gain strength, despite all efforts. Poor Ember, she thought to herself. How must it feel to watch one’s family home burn?
Sudden angry shouts ricocheted off the stone walls, startling Willow from her thoughts, and she twisted toward the entrance. For a moment, Willow could not gather what was transpiring. A cluster of men had stormed into the Great Hall and grabbed her brother. Leaf was bound before he could respond, and hauled away. The men who were restraining Timothy sprang into action, but they were blocked by more individuals who swarmed the entrance.
Ember gasped and took off running, yelling, “Release him at once!” Henry, one of the larger men, held Ember as she thrashed against him. When her efforts failed, her sister-in-law’s legs gave way and she sobbed, “Do not harm him! Please!”
“Leaf Watson shall be removed as Aether,” another man proclaimed. The Great Hall fell silent, the roar of the fire the only sound. “Long live King Skylar, Aether of New Eden Township!” The group began to chant, their voices growing louder and louder.
Laurel ran over to Willow and pressed her face into Willow’s side, her small body shaking with tears. “Is Leaf going to die like Father?”
She thought of the conversations between Fillion and Leaf during the evening hours. Fillion had shared Hanley’s threat that she and her siblings no longer existed, and that he would allow Leaf to play king for a short duration. “Pray for our brother’s safety,” was all Willow could manage. “You may use my prayer beads if you like.” Laurel’s fingers curled around the beads and small whispers pressed through her lips, and Willow drew her sister closer.
Skylar shouted, “I refuse! I serve our true King and Aether and shall never comply with these political games.”
“But your father—”
“My father does not make decisions on my behalf. I am a grown man. Perhaps you should have verified on which side of the faction I resided before taking up his war.”
“You are the true Aether,” another proclaimed. “Leaf is an impostor!”
“Skylar,” Timothy said in his usual jovial tone. “You were always meant to be The Aether.”
The Son of Wind crossed his arms over his chest and peered down his nose at his father. “And, yet, our family’s name is not written in the Legacy. This is what you want,
not I.”
“Son, you would turn on your own father? After all I have sacrificed to give this to you?” Timothy asked, and Willow sickened with the pitiful expression he tossed Skylar’s direction.
“Silence! Your conniving words and deeds have caused enough damage. I am ashamed of you.” Skylar tensed his face to hold back his emotions, then grew stoic once more before marching over and reaching for Ember. “Unhand her.”
Ember backed out of the man’s arms. “Do not ever touch me again, Henry Sparrow!”
“Forgive me, Your Highness.” The man bowed with an uncertain look at Timothy.
“I shall never forgive you if any harm comes to Leaf,” Ember said, choking on each word. “How could you behave with such unfeeling?”
“We do not wish to disband, Your Highness,” Henry said firmly. “Timothy guaranteed our colony’s protection with Skylar as King.”
“Timothy has no power for such decisions or futures.”
“He reassured us that he had the favored ear of Hanley Nichols, who listens to him regularly concerning New Eden.”
Skylar’s face grew fierce and he said, “Did you never think to discuss decisions with me as your desired King? Have I ever once come forward carrying my father’s war banner?”
Henry dropped his head. “No, My Lord.”
“What has become of our true King, Henry?” Skylar stepped before the middle-aged man and leveled a look, grim, serious, and full of warnings. Willow had never seen such passionate feelings from the Son of Wind.
“It would be best not shared before the ladies.”
“Believe me when I say,” Ember began, “that I shall ensure each person who has conspired against my husband this night shall be prosecuted.” Ember drew herself into a rigid yet elegant posture, despite the angry tears that flowed down her cheeks. “Now, go and bring back the true Aether of New Eden or you shall deal with my fury!”
The men stood around, unsure of what to do. Then Willow watched in curious horror as Ember pulled from her pocket a metal device like Fillion’s and placed it upon her head, bringing up a transparent screen. Ember’s finger manipulated the air and the crowd gasped, equally stunned.
“How is it you know magic?” A young man from the second generation asked, eyes wide. He stepped back, as did others their age. The first generation stared at Ember with bafflement, however.
“Outsider technology is a craft in which I am well-versed, Saul. Please be advised that I am currently alerting the authorities. All I have to do is tap this call button and the police shall arrive. As you know, per The Code, a faction shall end the project. Those who lead and participate in such actions shall be tried for corporate sabotage.”
“The police?” Saul asked, looking to the other men for direction.
“Those who enforce the law of the Outside government,” Henry said, flicking a wary glance Timothy’s way once more.
The former Wind Element shook his head with disgust. “You believe her?” he asked. “She quotes The Code and wields it as a weapon although she is not bound to it. Is this the leadership you desire for our colony? Our home?”
Skylar’s eyes transformed into sharp knives as he stared at the group of men blocking the exit. Ignoring his father, he placed a metal device upon his ear and drew into the air. “I am ready to deliver a message to the Guardian Angels of N.E.T. and inform them of the treasonous acts against the legal minority owner of New Eden Township. Simply give the command, Your Highness.”
“Carl,” Henry said, his tone cautious. “Fetch Leaf and the others, and return to the Great Hall.” The young man dipped his head and ran through the small gathering toward the fires.
“Do we still have a quarrel to settle?” Ember asked, arching her brow.
“No, Your Highness.” Henry knelt down on bended knee. “I humbly ask your pardon for my part in brewing and condoning dissension within our community. I beg for your mercy, although I am undeserving of it.”
“My husband shall decide your fate, not I, unless I am forced to do so. In the meantime, I suggest you and your band sit and await his judgment.”
Willow smiled as she beheld her sister-in-law’s display of strength. Ember Watson made the most radiant Queen. So much so, even Laurel whispered, “Beautiful,” as their older sister wiped away another tear while staring down the large group of men.
A shout of warning came from beyond the meadow, followed by a loud crack and groaning crash. Willow sucked in a loud breath. Out the window, she watched as the roof of The Forge fell, sending wild sparks spiraling through the night air. The orange glow burst with the renewed oxygen and more shouts were lifted in response. To Willow, it appeared as if New Eden had become a funeral pyre, and the shrouded deceit and betrayals were finally turning to ash.
***
There’s a time when the operation of the machine becomes so odious, makes you so sick at heart, that you can’t take part; you can’t even passively take part, and you’ve got to put your bodies upon the gears and upon the wheels, upon the levers, upon all the apparatus, and you’ve got to make it stop. And you’ve got to indicate to the people who run it, to the people who own it, that unless you’re free, the machine will be prevented from working at all.
— Mario Savio, free speech activist, in a speech at the University of California Berkeley, December 2, 1964 *
***
Fillion sat on the edge of the cot and looked toward the doorway. Dizziness affected him every time he moved to a sitting or standing position. It was really annoying. But it would be even more irritating to fall down or black out. So, he sat. When the sensations passed, he slowly stood and waited.
He needed to piss—bad—and the lavatory was on the opposite end of the apartment. Ready to move, he placed his hands on the wall and shuffled across the floor. Damn, he still felt so weak. He’d never been so sick in his life.
In the living room he paused and turned toward the door. What was that smell? It was acrid and Fillion grimaced. Did someone die yesterday? The only way such a strong, smoky scent would reach the Watson apartment was if there was a funeral pyre. Spooky.
He resumed his journey to the lavatory, his eyes nearly rolling back in relief when done. Nothing felt as good as taking a piss or a first drag on a cigarette.
Now, he was ready to explore the source of that pungent smell. He needed to move and regain strength, anyway.
Back in the living room, he studied the spinning wheel and smiled. Then he trudged toward the entry door. A hazy, afternoon light spilled in from the window, wisps of light curling up from beneath the front door. Wait. Light didn’t do that.
Fillion yanked open the door and gaped. Black smoke circled and danced through the air, covering the dome’s ceiling in a thick, dark cloud. What the hell?
His legs were trembling, but he pushed himself to the end of the deck and scanned the forest. In the direction of the North Cave, the smoke was thin and the trees were greener. Toward the village— “Shit!” Had the village caught fire? With a start, he knew this was the last act for redemption according to the Curse Card. He swore under his breath and moved toward the apartment to alert N.E.T.
Once inside the apartment, he collapsed onto the edge of the cot and grabbed his Cranium off the nightstand. After he caught his breath, he brought up a browser screen and accessed his and Mack’s cloud file. He scrolled through the contents until he found the folder on Messenger Pigeon. In a matter of seconds, he tapped the number, silently rejoicing when the outgoing signal chirped in his ear.
“New Eden Enterprises, my name is Ellie, how may I...” A girl Fillion had never seen before—maybe early twenties?—gawked slack-jawed through Messenger Pigeon’s video feature. A new hire to replace whoever took over his night shift? She reared her head back slightly and closed her mouth. “Oh my god. Fillion Nichols?”
“Yes.”
“For real?”
He rolled his eyes. “There’s a fire.” Fillion paused to breathe. “We need The Door opened.”
/>
“I’m sorry.” She turned several shades of red. “But if you’re Fillion Nichols, then The Door remains closed.”
“What?” He closed his eyes for a moment, willing patience. “The fire will eat up all the oxygen and the residents will die. You want that on your head?” Dizziness hit him again and the room swam. But he pushed through the mental fog. “Open The Door!”
“Hanley Nichols, er, your dad gave instructions that you were not to leave New Eden Township.” Ellie darted her eyes around the communications room. “The memo said you might lie to attempt release and that you were to speak directly with Mr. Nichols.”
Fury rushed through his veins. “Patch me through to Hanley.”
“One moment. Stay on the line.” The woman concentrated on a screen away from the video camera as her fingers tapped and danced through the air. Fillion closed his eyes. God, he was so weak. Walking outside had drained him. “Mr. Nichols, this is Ellie Hunter from Comm in Seattle. A young male connecting through Messenger Pigeon, tagged at New Eden Township, claims to be your son.” Her focus shifted to Fillion, then back to her other screen. “No, he appears to be using a Cranium.” Her eyebrows drew together with skepticism. “Yes, Mr. Nichols.” Fingers tapped off-screen and then eyes, brimming with distress, studied him. “He says if you are truly his son, you’ll know how to connect with him without using Messenger Pigeon.”
“I’m not lying. There’s a fire.” Fillion silently pleaded with her and, after several long seconds, said in a softer voice, “Please, open The Door. There are hundreds of people who could lose their lives, including children.”
Hesitancy flashed in her eyes. “I’m so sorry. I can’t open The Door for you.” A sad but friendly smile touched her lips. “Hopefully another will connect through Messenger Pigeon to report the fire.”
Fillion hung up without a reply and released a slow growl. Rage pulsed through his limbs and he gripped his hair and pulled. After a few seconds, he brought up the Cranium’s user interface and accessed his profile through the admin screens. Yes, make it public to everyone on his contact list. Yes, take a profile picture. He brought the Cranium in front of him and flipped off the camera with a cocky smile, then strapped it back to his ear. UI admin screen backup. Yes, show profile picture and information to blocked users. Yes, show GPS location. No, don’t notify users of profile changes. Apply. Save. Done. He swiped out of the admin screens and said, “Cranium, phone Hanley Nichols.”
Elements (The Biodome Chronicles series Book 2) Page 59