Shadows of Empyriad (The Empyriad Series Book 1)

by Josi Russell

  "Sylvia,” he said. His voice was sharper than he usually let it be when he spoke to her, but he had to stop this.

  She raised her eyebrows toward him. He tried to shake his head without the child seeing.

  “Just a minute,” Sylvia said to Zyn’dri. She stood and went into their bedroom. Walt followed, aware that she was angry.

  She whirled on him as he closed the door behind him. “Walt! She could stay here.”

  The strain of the day—of the last few days—began to surface. “There are so many reasons we can’t do that, Honey.”

  “Tell me.” She sat on the bed and folded her arms over her chest.

  “The park service won’t allow it.”

  “We don’t know. We haven’t asked them.”

  “The Stracahn won’t allow it either.”

  “We don’t know that either. But I think you’re wrong. Their population has been decimated. The adults are gone. Her parents are gone. Why couldn’t we raise her?”

  Walt looked at her. He was blunt. “I don’t want her here, Sylvia. We don’t know enough about them. What if they are dangerous somehow? And what about your illness?”

  Sylvia wasn’t looking at him. She was looking past him, and as he turned he saw that the child had opened the door a little and was gazing through the crack. He opened his mouth to tell her to go, but as he glanced at Sylvia, then back at Zyn’dri, he saw their eyes and knew that it was too late. They had found each other.

  Walt made salty flatbread for them to eat with their elk meatballs and dandelion greens for dinner, and the child ate voraciously. He admitted to himself that he enjoyed seeing her so excited. It started him reasoning that there was enough going on at headquarters today, and they didn’t need to discuss Zyn’dri with anyone else just yet.

  It was Sylvia who rose after dinner and opened the door to Sean’s room. She didn’t go in, just left it ajar and came back to clean up from the meal, showing Zyn’dri how to compost and how to wash the dishes. The child was a willing and cheerful helper, though she sunk at times into silence that Walt recognized as grief.

  Walt loved seeing Sylvia so happy. Though she was still weak, there was a new vibrancy about her. It gave him hope.

  He slipped an arm around Sylvia and kissed her. When he looked up, Zyn'dri's wide charcoal-colored eyes were on them.

  "What was that?" she asked.

  Walt looked around for any unfamiliar objects. "What?"

  The child reached up and brushed Sylvia's lips with her fingertips. Walt saw his wife smile and take Zyn'dri's hand gently.

  "It's a kiss," Sylvia said. She gently pressed her lips to the child's hand. Zyn'dri's face bunched into a smile. Walt hadn't been aware that the Stracahn could smile—he had never seen it before. It was beautiful.

  "What does it mean?" Zyn'dri asked. Walt started to respond, but Sylvia was already speaking.

  "It can mean many things. How does it feel?"

  Zyn'dri touched the place on her hand. "The same."

  "I mean how does it feel inside?" Sylvia said.

  Zyn'dri looked up at her. "Nice." She said. "Safe."

  "That's what it means," Sylvia said. Walt loved her ability to teach. She didn't just tell the child the definition, as he had been going to. Sylvia helped her discover the answer from inside herself.

  "My parents did this.” The child drew a quick stroke on Sylvia’s arm.

  Sylvia smiled. “Yes. That feels nice, too.”

  “And this.” She tapped three fingers on Walt’s shoulder.

  “Very nice.” He said.

  “May I kiss you?" Zyn'dri asked. Sylvia nodded.

  The child stood glancing from Sylvia's hands to her face. Sylvia smiled, and Walt saw that she detected Zyn’dri’s puzzlement.

  "We usually save a kiss on the lips for a sweetheart."

  Zyn'dri tipped her head sideways. "What's a sweetheart?"

  Both Sylvia and Walt chuckled. Walt answered this one. "Someone special. That you want to spend your life with."

  "Sylvia is your sweetheart." The child said directly.

  "Oh, yes," Walt said.

  Zyn'dri turned her eyes to Sylvia. "And who's yours?"

  Sylvia giggled. She turned her laughing eyes to Walt, and he looked into them, relishing the new light he saw there. She stood on her tiptoes and lightly kissed his lips. "This guy." She said, then leaned down and offered her cheek to Zyn'dri, tapping it lightly with her fingertip. "You can kiss me here if you'd like."

  Zyn'dri made a loud smooching noise and kissed her, then kissed her again. Smiling broadly, Zyn’dri reached for Walt. "Now you!" she said. He leaned down, and though her enthusiastic kiss was loud and a little sloppy, as she pulled away he felt he'd been blessed.

  Walt stayed away while Sylvia put Zyn’dri to bed in Sean’s room. He hadn’t felt this afraid in a long time. It was so unlikely that she would get to stay with them. There were so many others they’d have to convince, and he dreaded how Sylvia would react if any of them refused. He heard his wife cross the hall and go to bed in their room, but still he stayed in the front room, avoiding them by looking out the window at the dark sky and the stars over the park. When he was sure they were both asleep, he stood to go to bed himself.

  An unexpected shaft of light in the hallway caught his eye. It was so strange to see the door of Sean's room open. Walt wandered to the end of the hall and stood in front of it. It had been kept closed for so long. They had still dusted and vacuumed once a month, and sometimes Walt would sit on the little bed in the falling sunshine and try to remember the exact color of Sean's eyes or the way his hair smelled when he came in from running through the meadow, but mostly his room had sat still and silent.

  Waiting. Walt realized now that the room had been waiting. He peered inside. In the dim light of a little lamp shaped like a bison, Zin'dri lay curled in Sean's little bed. The beige and green quilt that Sylvia had made from their old uniforms, the ones they had worn before armor was the new standard, was pulled up around the little girl. She looked safe and calm.

  That calm permeated the apartment. Walt still didn’t know what would happen, but he fell asleep with a hope he hadn’t felt in a long time.

  The feeling was gone in the bright light of morning. Walt woke with a sense of dread, subconsciously realizing that Sylvia was not in bed beside him. He sat up, searching for the slippers beside his bed. She was never awake before he was.

  The little girl was gone, too. Sean's bed lay empty. A wave of fear washed over Walt. He moved to the window. The meadow behind the apartments shone in the early morning light, and there they were.

  Walt felt himself smile. Their complete serenity made his fears seem foolish. Sylvia's shining silver hair mingled with the girl's turquoise hair as they sat shoulder-to-shoulder, focused on something they were holding.

  He felt drawn to them, wanted to be a part of that safe little circle. Leaving the apartment, he crossed the landing between his door and Caldwell's and made his way downstairs, out into the meadow. Walking across the wide swath of grass, he paused, watching them. They didn't look up from their work.

  "Then you loop this one under this one," Sylvia was explaining. Now he could see that she held a lovely daisy chain crown, half-finished. Zyn'dri was mirroring her actions, crafting a crown of her own. Walt smiled as he saw how carefully she worked, how coordinated her hands were. Their iridescence reminded him of the dragonflies that hovered around the edges of the lake. Her skin moved from bright orange through shades of green and blue, to a deep, rich purple with a running black sheen. She was beautiful.

  Sylvia was watching him watch the child. She smiled at him, her eyes full of pride and excitement he hadn't seen since—

  Walt shook his head, breaking his gaze away from them and breathing through the thirty-year-old ache in his chest.

  Their boy, Sean, had been smaller. Younger. They lost him when he was only five, bright and beautiful.

  Suddenly, Walt felt Sylvia's arms around him. She
had come to him, as she always did. Walt held her, and she reached up and turned his head back toward the little girl, working carefully on her crown.

  He saw again another parting looming in front of them. Could Sylvia bear it when the child had to go back to the Stracahn village? Could he?

  Sylvia's thoughts reflected his. "We have to talk to them, Walt. She has to stay with us."

  He opened his mouth to tell her he didn't know if she could, but all that came out, all that ever came out when Sylvia asked him for something, was, "Okay."

  They stood a moment in the full glory of Yellowstone summer. The grasses in the meadow, deep green touched with gold, waved around them. Wildflowers surrounded the child, and the park seemed, somehow, more complete.

  Walt hurried into his uniform. Who would he talk to first? He needed to make sure this worked. He could not fail. As he drove to headquarters, he thought about the different tactics he could use. He could just not say anything. They thought she was dead anyway. But someone would eventually notice that they had an iridescent girl living with them.

  He passed a pair of the Avowed walking their daily devotional path. They had received permission to move between Old Faithful and the Sapphire Pool in Biscuit Basin—something about the energy flow between those two features was necessary for their devotions.

  He slowed, thinking of how invisible they had become to him, now that he saw them nearly every day. But this time as he approached them, he saw one of them stumble, then fall, and Walt watched anxiously as the other bent over the fallen man, then arched his neck back and looked up at the sky.

  Walt had seen that before—in the village when so many were dying. He pulled over and rushed out.

  The fallen man's face was ashen among the orange folds of his robe. Walt felt for a pulse. He was dead.

  Walt looked up at the other man, forlorn on the side of the road.

  "He's gone," Walt said.

  The other man nodded. "He has been weak for some time. This new planet was not for him."

  They had met before, but Walt couldn’t remember the details. Walt wished he could comfort him somehow. "What's your name?"

  The Stracahn spoke quietly, still gazing at his fallen companion. "Grandyn."

  Nothing Walt could think of was the right thing to say. He couldn't use any of the cliches: "He's in a better place," or "He's happy now." He was aware that those words rang hollow in the face of loss. And Walt didn't know what the Stracahn believed about the afterlife.

  He looked into the man's bright green eyes. "I'm sorry."

  Gravel crunched behind them, and Walt turned to see more of the Avowed approaching. He recognized the leader of the Avowed, Meir, by his vibrant green robes.

  Meir knelt beside the fallen man, passing a hand lightly over his face once, twice, three times, and murmuring some Stracahn words before standing and gesturing to the others. They lifted the man. Meir turned to Walt.

  "Thank you for your help."

  Walt watched the Avowed as they carried their friend. It would be a long walk for them. "I can give you a ride. Let me help you get him back to the village."

  Meir shook his head. "In life, Albion carried us. Now, we will carry him." He turned to follow the other Avowed.

  Walt found himself speaking. He had not expected to do it this way, but he couldn’t let Meir leave without trying. "Meir, the little girl who was lost—Zyn'dri," Walt met Meir's eyes for a moment, "She wandered out of the woods yesterday. We found her. My wife is taking care of her."

  Meir showed no surprise. It was almost as if he had expected the news. Walt rushed on. "We wondered, well, if we could—” he heard the desperate tone in his voice. Walt recognized for the first time how much he did want her to stay with them, if only because she brought such light to Sylvia’s ever-darkening life. "If we could look after her since her parents died."

  When it was said aloud, the myriad complications arose in his mind. The fact that Sylvia was sick. The fact that Zyn'dri was an alien girl in a completely new world. The fact that he was old, and the fact that they knew almost nothing about her people or her culture. All those were overshadowed by the horrible fact that humans had destroyed the Stracahn homeworld. There were too many barriers. Of course, they couldn't raise her. He didn't know what they'd been thinking.

  But Meir's face was kind. "I sense in you, Walt, a particular vision. Perhaps you can see things that others don’t. I am happy to hear that the child is all right, and I think staying with you would be an excellent idea." He said. "I sense a rightness about it as if something important depends upon it. The child will be well taken care of, I think."

  Walt heard his own breath. "We have your permission then?"

  Meir bowed his head, once, serenely. "You have more than that. You have my blessing."

  28

  Sol stared at the officer. "No, sir. I didn't have those explosives with me. It was just blankets and coats in that crate." Fourteen days he had been here, and fourteen days he had spent trying to convince them of this one point.

  "How did they get there then?"

  "I don't know, sir."

  This guy was the third officer in four days, and they were having the same conversation.

  "How did you know the safeguard on the gates would bond the fence together?"

  "I didn't, sir."

  "Why did you want to do this? Is it the Stracahn? Are you Anti-Stracahn?"

  Sol was done crying. Had endured this treatment, these endless questions, for days. He'd learned more about the attack from the questioning than he had from actually being there. He knew they had searched the ranch, taken all his stuff out of his room in boxes to find a clue to why he would do such a thing. His mother and uncle and his friends had been questioned. And his head was still tender. This was, he thought, the worst week of his life. Then he remembered that week when he was six and reconsidered.

  Finally, he broke. "I didn't do anything!" he shouted. "I was just delivering supplies, just trying to help."

  The officer stood. "Well, kid, you haven't helped anybody, that's for sure." The heavy door slammed behind him.

  Sol was escorted back to his cell by a couple of guards who he didn't mind. They weren't friendly, but they didn't seem to find him disgusting, either, like some of the guards did.

  He lay on his bed, wracking his brain. In truth, he remembered very little from the time he talked to Ranger Allison to the moment he found himself lying on his cot in here. Nobody had found Ranger Allison yet. Or Henley. There was just too much rubble. The whole mountain had come down on that gate. The fence had fused, and the Park Service would never reopen that entry point. They'd told him this morning that he'd probably be transferred to a prison in Fruitland, North and West of here, deeper into Cascadia, tomorrow. He didn't see any end to this.

  "Brooks!" a guard barked as he strode down the corridor and unlocked Sol's cell, "Get out here! You've got a visitor!"

  Sol followed him into the little white room where he usually met his mother or the lawyer. He sat on one of the chairs that were bolted to the floor. The door opened, and to his surprise, Mezina came flying into the room. She had her arms around him before the guard got through the door behind her. Mezina's few kisses were warm and encouraging, and Sol brightened in spite of his surroundings.

  "Over here." The guard barked, directing her to the other bolted-down chair. She sat, gazing at Sol.

  "Are you all right?" she asked.

  "I'm okay. I just want to get out of here."

  "I know. I want you out, too! Do you know they've been all over town questioning people? Nobody can believe you--" she stopped just in time.

  "I didn't do anything, Mezina. You of all people should know that."

  She studied him for a moment. "I know. That's what I told them."

  He searched her eyes.

  Mezina leaned across the table, lowering her voice.

  “I didn’t know that your uncle had you in on the initiative.”

  There it w
as again. Sol wanted to know. He played along. “Right. Well, he did. But I still don’t know why we’re doing it.” He hoped that was sufficiently vague.

  Mezina’s eyes lit up. “Because we have to protect Liberty, Sol. It’s the only thing that matters. And the Isolation Initiative, if we could pull it off, would mean that the Leadership would have a much harder time getting to us. It’s just that we all thought we were still in recon phase. We just didn’t know the action phase was starting.”

  It wasn’t a complete answer, and Sol still didn’t know what exactly the initiative was, but he knew that it meant more barriers between Liberty and the outside world. Sol’s weariness had returned. He saw in Mezina’s eyes that she wanted for him to have done this, wanted the blood of two people on his hands, just because they were her family's enemies and their deaths would show Sol's loyalty to her side of the conflict. He knew she wanted him to be hers, knew that her perfect life saw them ranching together on her father's land, combining it with Silver Lake ranch, and continuing the struggle for it. Sealing South Edge off from the park, making the closest entry point over 60 miles away, dealt a perfect blow to the enemy. Only he hadn’t done it.

  "Why did you come, Mezina?"

  She leaned away, looking hurt. "To see you, Sol. I came because I'm your girlfriend, and you need my support right now."

  "I need your faith." He said forcefully. "I need you to know that I'm not that person, that I wouldn't ever do this."

  Mezina smiled, nodding knowingly. "Right. You wouldn't."

  Sol's irritation grew. "I didn't!"

  "Even if you did, Sol, I just want you to know that it doesn't change the way I feel about you. I love you even more, and I'm right here for you.” She leaned in again and lowered her voice. “I want you to know that we can fight together when you get out of here.

  She wasn't listening. It was as if she wasn’t at all interested in the truth. Nobody was. His cell suddenly seemed more inviting than staying here with her. Sol stood. "I'm not feeling so great, Mez. You'd better go home." The guard gestured Sol out, and he left without looking back.