by Amanda Twigg
It was a lie. A bold, straight-up lie. Landra recognized deceit in auras, and blue lightning streaks flashing through his pink shades in a pyrotechnic display of challenge told her all she needed to know. She wanted to warn Thisk, but all of his attention was on the Templer.
“I’m no threat to you either,” the Warrior said, “although I will defend myself with force. And this slip of a girl doesn’t have the strength to take down a first-year target, let alone a Templer. So, are you going to let us pass?”
His grip warned Landra against the protest that formed on her lips.
“A compromise,” Furlew offered. “The girl could do the tour alone.”
Thisk snorted. “I promised her father to keep an eye out. She’s not the sense to avoid trouble, if you take my meaning. Probably best we stay together.” Despite his reasonable tone, his weather-darkened fist tightened around his sword hilt, and Landra sensed that he’d beat the man bloody rather than back down. Either the temple trip was too important to miss or he refused to be controlled by Furlew.
The Templer’s lips parted into a small snarl, and his eyes narrowed. Landra felt seconds last as if they were long minutes as she absorbed the tension.
Which math sum was I on? Two times… Shelk!
“I’m not saying you can’t enter,” Furlew said, with Thisk teetering on the verge of action, “but you should have an instruction from Chief Hux first.”
“No time.”
“Can you stay at the door and watch her?”
The Warrior’s glare offered no concessions, and Furlew dithered.
“I... I suppose you could go as far as the walkway bottom.”
A glorious smile split Thisk’s beard. “What an excellent compromise.”
As he was to be allowed inside the temple, Landra couldn’t see how this was any sort of a compromise, but Furlew laughed awkwardly, feigning relief. He eased his staff aside, and the residual glow faded until it resembled a polished stick again. The flower buds at its tip folded closed.
The Templer turned his full attention to her for the first time and caught Landra with a heavy, knowing look. It pressed against her senses, and she firmed her aura’s rim like never before, but the instinctive reaction didn’t make her feel safe.
A second passed. Two, three… Five!
Sweating. Stop!
“Enjoy your visit.” Furlew dropped into the silence. She caught her breath and met his gaze. There was no sign of fear, recognition of her magic, or respect in his stare. All three absences were a relief, and a noisy gasp escaped from her lungs. An incredulous laugh bubbled in her stomach, but she gave a respectful salute as anyone bearing a citizen rank insignia should. “Thank you, sir.”
The Templer fumbled an appropriate response, and his attention skipped back to Thisk. “Your niece has a Hux look.”
“She’s the cousin of a cousin who slept with a Hux.”
Landra was too shocked at the Warrior’s lying skills to be able to protest.
Furlew gave a satisfied nod and turned to leave. He scurried back to the small door, all of his earlier grace gone. His guards followed, and Landra wondered what sort of a welcoming party they would arrange inside.
“Ready for your visit?” Thisk asked.
“If I must be,” she answered, “but can we swap sides?”
He glanced down at her face.
“I like my shoulder bruises to be symmetrical,” she explained.
He didn’t let go.
Chapter 15
They made up the gap in the queue and found themselves near the door, with only a few soldiers ahead. The next time the door opened, a sliver of pink temple light escaped. Landra heard the sound of her own breathing and knew how hard her heart pumped.
“Don’t be afraid,” Thisk said.
She shot a glance toward him, incapable of voicing a lie.
“Trust me on this. You need this visit before everyone recognizes your face. After the promotion ceremony, you’ll only be allowed inside on official business. They restrict your movements and pretty things up. It’ll be good for you to see the temple as it is.”
“I’m not scared. Just cautious. Templers don’t exactly like my family.”
“Cautious,” he repeated, an amused melody in his deep voice.
Damn you to shelk, Thisk.
The Warrior seemed intent on doubting every notion she held about herself. He considered her an indulged, reckless child, even when he called her a soldier. To top it off, he’d said she was “too nice” to command.
I’m going to prove you wrong.
The door opened again, and a baritone voice droned a welcome.
“Keep to the path, visit the plaque, and exit quickly.”
“Sounds easy,” she said.
The next time the door opened, she caught her first glimpse of the city’s heart. The copse she’d seen from the overlevel had its roots here, but she hadn’t expected the trees to grow within the inner temple. Pink light tinged the forest of silver trunks, but the leafy tops remained hidden from where she stood. A hint of music escaped with each opening. She strained to hear the wordless melody, but a jolt from Thisk startled her to alertness. She set new caution against the tune’s hypnotic effect, her heart drumming in dissonant counterpoint.
They made it to the front of the queue and the great doors loomed close enough to reach with her hand. She ran a finger through the flower design and discovered the patterns weren’t all carved etchings. Living tendrils wound through the grooves, and natural buds nestled in the image.
“No touching,” the door guard said, and she snatched her hand away. “Don’t worry. It happens a lot. The magic calls some people.”
“Not this one,” Thisk said, nodding to Landra with unshakeable confidence. “She’s just trouble.”
The door opened again and a three-bar soldier emerged. He stuttered mid-stride at the sight of the Warrior Fourth. Gathering his limbs together, he offered a salute. “Sir.”
Thisk sent the startled soldier on his way with a head flick before urging Landra through the open door. I’ve a Warrior’s heart. I’m not nice, just efficient. I won’t answer magical calls.
The huge circular temple chamber opened up before her. From childhood gossip, she expected to see rows of praying Templers hovering in mid-air above a concourse-sized mat. More outlandish stories told of great beasts frozen in balls of magic light. Clearly, none of the storytellers had visited the temple.
A forest of silver-trunked trees stretched into the distance, split by twining paths.
“This is where our ancestors arrived on the planet,” Thisk whispered.
It was hard to imagine what it must have been like. The tranquil temple had its charm, but she’d expected the area to be more developed. Tipping her head back to view the treetops, she saw the sparse canopy against a pink translucent shield. Stars glimmered in the dark sky beyond, reminding her of what a long day this had been.
“An invisible barrier stops the wind getting in,” Thisk said, as if answering the question he thought she would ask. He tugged her to move along a perimeter path, which had a wooden wall on one side. They reached the internal face of the great doors, and he released his grip.
“This is as far as I go.”
“Might as well get this over with,” Landra said, staring up a main path through the trees. “Do I go up there?”
Thisk’s response waited until a Templer bustled by. “Yes, and make it quick. We’re already pushing our luck.”
“Are you sure it’s safe?”
“As long as you follow the rules. Don’t mess up, citizen, or we’ll both be standing in front of your father tomorrow explaining how we incited a revolution. Is that what you want?”
She ignored the question. Setting her shoulders back, she stared up the ramp to a clearing ahead.
“Don’t talk to anyone, don’t leave the path, visit the platform, and come straight back,” Thisk said, as if he were a parent leaving a child at the junior barracks for the first time.
<
br /> “Yes, sir.”
She was about to step out when another group of Templers approached, armed with fierce scowls and energy-laden staffs.
“No weapons!” a woman at the head of the group shouted, her stare drilling Thisk.
“Go,” the Warrior said, shoving her away.
Landra stumbled a few steps up the path before glancing back. Thisk’s Warrior frame overshadowed the Templer woman, but he held his hands open in submission. After a brief exchange, he unbuckled his sword and handed it over. The sideways glance he cast Landra’s way held as much command as his barked orders ever had, so she turned from the confrontation to continue her journey, her knife nestled in its sheath on her back.
Her shoulders bunched at the sound of boots on the double-lacquered wood path.
Gods of the mist. What will they make of the Collector?
She didn’t look back. Didn’t dare. With churning bowels, she kept her stride steady and a soldier passed by on his way up the ramp. Landra’s glance back proved the Templers were still focused on Thisk. Her citizen rank had never felt more useful. As the lowest army level, she wasn’t lawfully permitted to carry a weapon and didn’t warrant a search. It was luck. Nothing more.
Dratted weapon. When I get home, I’m going to dump you somewhere safe so you can’t cause trouble.
The path wasn’t long, but it was busy. Templers and soldiers walked the route in both directions. Some wore business-like expressions, while others glowed with the serenity of pilgrims. Landra couldn’t differentiate priests from soldiers by their auras—only their clothes.
“The three residential floors lining the walls are for Templer use only,” a scratchy, voice said.
Landra turned toward the young man in light red robes. His instruction was clearly for general communication rather than an order for her alone. He stood beside a third-year cadet group, and the eager trainees attended him like excited children.
“Don’t enter perimeter area or use the spiral staircases,” he continued.
The cadets’ stares focused on the space between the trees, to where their guide pointed. Landra’s gaze followed to the second tier, taking in the cave-like rooms with wooden doors, connecting walkways, and spiral staircases. Templers bustled about the high paths and shuffled through attractive arches, like insects running through a nest.
She recalled her view of the wood-knot above her bed and realized how much her world had grown in one day. Thisk had been right—again.
No one should have to wait until cadet age to see this.
The guided cadet group proceeded up the ramp, so she tagged along behind. No one spared her a thought or a glance, and the rod-like tension in her back eased. Here, she was another visiting soldier—a gawker coming to intrude on the Templers’ world. She didn’t feel welcome, but she didn’t feel threatened like she’d thought she would.
Farther up the ramp, the floor beneath the path fell away and barrier rails bordered the walkway to prevent accidents. She leaned over the rope and saw red glowing streams of thick fluid. They sucked hungrily at the tangle of exposed tree roots and oozed into the cracks between.
“By this point, our tree roots are completely submerged in the magical power well,” the guide said. “All six cities draw energy from here through organic connections. The power runs through roots, tendrils, and the very substance of our wooden city. When your lights brighten every morning, you should thank us.”
“Ooh!” a cadet exclaimed.
Landra scowled at the inaccuracy of the guide’s script. Can’t you see the roots sticking out of the liquid?
“The rivers are low now, but tonight’s base-wide power-down will allow our magic to replenish, ready for the demands of tomorrow,” the guide said, as if in answer.
A ring popped in the river, spitting out a pink puffball. The sphere rose up and passed by Landra’s head, gleaming magically to her aura-sense and exuding a berry scent. It expanded to thinness and floated away from her reaching hand. Her unfocused gaze was still tracking where it had disappeared when the guide said, “Time to move on.”
She’d been daydreaming—lost—and the instruction snapped her back to alertness. Her eyes refocused, and she glanced around. The magic really is calling me. Shelk. Got to stop this.
She followed the cadet party as they moved off, determined to avoid another slip. Two times nine equals eighteen. Have to keep my attention in the soldier world. The exercise tightened her aura, but her connection with the surrounding magic remained. It was strong here.
“We’re nearing the platform, so you can see our world clock clearly now,” the guide said. “If you look up into the trees, you’ll see the cogs draped among the branches and hanging on ropes. Unlike other world clocks, this one has six faces, all correlating to our home planet’s cycles. It tracks years, seasons, months, days, minutes, and the festival cycle. To this day, our power-up and power-down cycles are based on the day facet, and one and a half of our sixty-day training cycles corresponds to a season. The festivals facet shows six separate events each year and is currently ticking down toward the gathering feast. We still observe the celebration here on base, but it is believed that the event was a time of harvest back on Jethra.”
Landra had wanted to remain indifferent, but she couldn’t contain her interest any longer. Thisk hadn’t claimed to be a tutor, but now the wisdom of Chief Hux’s choice became clear. The ranger Warrior was bold and unfettered, allowing him to show her things that Winton would never dare. She looked between the visitors and spotted the Warrior’s unmoving form, standing to rigid attention with his arms folded over his broad chest. On guard. His solid presence filled her with confidence, and she turned to the platform, ready to face her duty. It was time to see what all this fuss was about.
The cadet group paused again, so she skirted past them and moved up to the platform’s threshold to wait her turn. Ahead, a pink-robed youth with outrageously long brown hair and a milky aura, walked forward. He nodded a curt bow before the plaque and turned back to retrace his steps.
That’s it? Really? How disappointing is that?
She’d expected to be exposed as flawed on her trip here, vilified by Warrior-kind, stripped of her promotion, and dumped onto an exile train. The visit to the temple’s heart had been the center of her worry. Only now could she admit how deep the fear had wormed through her being. It had stiffened her joints and stifled her senses. She breathed out her anxiety and placed a boot on the platform.
An earthy smell of organic life assailed her senses and lightened her head.
Two huge trees trunks, with studded decorations, rose like guards at each side of the platform. She craned her neck to view the profuse foliage at the top. The branches arced in, twining the two living structures into an arch. “Power” was etched into one trunk and “Soul” into the other.
They’re just trees. Landra repeated the mantra in her head, but they imbued the area with a sacred quality. The air hung in her throat, feeling too thick to breathe. Whispering met her ears, but when she turned to the sound, it disappeared. She thought of how the Templer had stepped up to the plaque and wondered why this felt so difficult.
Is it because of my magic or due to a lack of it? The struggle made her feel like a fraud. She was no temple worshipper come to pay her respects. She was a chief elect, come to scout her enemy so she could lead them.
The plaque was only a dozen strides away, but her approach proved difficult, with each step deadening her legs more. She spared a glance toward a seated guard, wondering if he was watching her labored progress. She needn’t have worried.
He was less of a guard than any Templer, despite him wearing an old-style soldier uniform. Wrinkles grooved his skin, and bulbous swellings around his knuckles spoke of infirmity. His wizened body drooped, as if with great age, but his aura! She stared at the kaleidoscope of glorious crimson and azure hues, her leaden legs preparing to run. The blue rode rich and deep with the red swirls rippling over its surface like reflecti
ons on water. She’d never seen an aura so intense or bulky. He was obviously an experienced Templer, so his soldier’s outfit made no sense.
His eyes were closed as if he slept, but the scared part of Landra wondered if he’d died. Coward. She cast the notion aside. Silent, so as not to wake him, she took her place before the plaque to read the message.
Her gaze fell on one word: Hux.
Chapter 16
It took Landra several minutes to absorb the full message on the inscription.
By Eternal Law
This temple and its people shall remain under Warrior protection and be preserved for all time
May the Soul who lights the arch lead our people
By order of Chief Warrior, Gallanto Hux
On this day, the first anniversary of exile
Landra read it twice and then a third time. Was this what Thisk had wanted her to see? Of all her expectations, a message from her ancestor had never been a consideration. She’d imagined the plaque would bear a Templer platitude or a Soul Magic spell. It had never crossed her mind that she would read the words of a Warrior.
The message affected her on so many levels she couldn’t begin to process her emotions. She ran a finger over Gallanto’s name, wondering what her great-grandfather had intended. Surely, he couldn’t have guessed how Templers would disrupt society; he would have never written the instruction into Eternal Law if he’d known. Why make any decree that could never be overturned? It didn’t make sense.
Landra’s notions about disbanding the temple were worthless now. She’d planned to develop an alternative power source and outlaw magic so the conflict could end. No wonder priests allowed soldiers onto their territory. The message secured their future more certainly than if they had the power to overthrow Warrior rule. Some of her father’s questionable orders made more sense now.
She closed her eyes and set her palm to the plaque, trying to divine Gallanto’s purpose. In her mind’s eye, he was larger and broader than Father, like a mythical hero of old. He was as much a Warrior as she’d ever seen, so why had he given this order?