Shadows of Empyriad (The Empyriad Series Book 1)

by Josi Russell

  “Rocks?”

  “What if we can’t find enough when we get up there? And again, we don’t want the blast to be absorbed by the ground. We need to be able to slip them in close to the line and get out of there.” Sol said. They needed something heavy, but it couldn’t sit on top of the packs. Sol ran his hand over the pack he had taken from the fallen soldier. It was smooth. If they wanted it on top of something and wanted it to stay put, they’d have to tie it on.

  Sol’s gaze landed on the shined toe of a soldier’s boot shining the feeble moonlight back at him.

  He waved Uncle Carl in close. “We need their boots,” Sol said, as gently as he could, “We can tie the packs to the boots using the laces, and they’ll be sitting up, facing the line. No dampening effect. The blast goes straight out.”

  Uncle Carl leaned down. He looked Sol in the eyes. “Your dad was a smart man,” he said, sincere admiration in his voice for the first time Sol could remember. “I’m glad you got that from him.”

  Uncle Carl didn’t wait for a response. He stood and directed his soldiers to gather the boots. In the end, they had collected nearly twenty packs and boots to go with them.

  When he was done stringing the GO packs and standing each at attention on a shined boot, the band divided them up between themselves and stealthily carried them forward. The Libertyites were beyond Checkpoint Five. They were not far out of town now, and they were making a final stand to protect their homes and families. They were fighting ferociously on the other side of the line, which was several enemy soldiers deep. The little band was able to slip in and drop their payload. Sol lay behind a boulder. He thought his tripwire was long enough to keep him out of the blast zone, but there was no way to be sure. He watched as Uncle Carl and Briian, the last two to lay out their boots, made for the safety of the trees.

  They were almost there when one of the gray-clad soldiers turned. He must have seen them because he took two steps forward and took aim. Just as he did, Sol saw him trip on the cord, and he felt it jerk slightly. The soldier started shouting and fought to pull his foot free. As more soldiers turned to see what the ruckus was about, Sol saw the entangled soldier lurch forward.

  Sol held tight to the end of the cord as it pulled tight and activated the packs. This time, the flash was so bright that he could see nothing else. A split second after the flash, the blast wave drove his face into the snow. Debris showered over him, and he felt his breath sucked out of him before he lost consciousness.

  58

  The moon shone off the snow in the woods as Zyn’dri walked, watching the tracks as Walt had taught her to do. The wolves were traveling close together, and their paws left a wake of churned snow. There was a wide streak of smooth snow in the center, and Zyn’dri knew the alpha female was still dragging the hupta with the baby inside.

  She was walking away from the Park fence, but the trees around her made a tall, imposing shape that made her think of it. The air was sharp and clean, and there was no sound but the muffled explosions coming from somewhere behind and to her right. They made Zyn’dri think of the horror she’d seen, of the Stracahn, confused, in pain. She thought of the red-clad soldiers, of how they had fired on the unarmed Stracahn, on the children.

  What if she were to meet some of those soldiers here? What would they do? Zyn’dri felt scared and shaky. She pulled in long breaths, trying to calm herself as her Stracahn mother had taught her to do. What fear she couldn’t erase, she used to fuel her steps as Walt had taught her. It was through their combined wisdom that she found the strength to keep walking. She thought about the benefits of being both Stracahn and human, drawing on the knowledge of each gave her twice the resources.

  She was thinking so hard about her two cultures that she didn’t notice for several minutes that the clear air held a new flavor. It was warm and inviting, and Zyn’dri knew it. It was the scent of cinnamon.

  She stopped for a moment, to determine where it was coming from, but she couldn’t tell. It swelled through the crisp night air, weaving toward her from every direction.

  A warbling cry from ahead froze her where she stood. It was the baby. Zyn’dri ran toward the sound.

  The tracks led her to the edge of the woods, and across a wide pasture where the dark forms of bison-like beasts huddled together for warmth. She reached a fence and saw where the wolves seemed to have had some trouble getting the hupta through. On it, ribbons of shining fabric twisted in the night breeze. She squeezed between the wires and walked on.

  And then, glowing golden in the blue snow, a house. Zyn’dri saw the wolves at the door, saw the alpha female drop the hupta with the wailing baby inside. The female curved her neck and looked pointedly back at Zyn’dri. They had known she was here all along, then. As she neared, the alpha female snorted, and the pack trotted away from the house. She watched them move together, like a single shadow, and disappear into another wide swath of woods.

  Zyn’dri went toward the baby. He was crying terribly now, and she imagined how cold he must be. As she reached him and lifted the hupta, the front door opened, and a woman appeared, carrying a weapon.

  Zyn’dri couldn’t move. All she could think of was the massacre on the road, and she curved her body around the infant in a feeble attempt to protect him.

  When the woman saw them, her mouth opened. Zyn’dri heard her gasp and saw her lay the weapon on the porch before carefully approaching them.

  “Don’t be afraid,” the woman said, and suddenly, Zyn’dri wasn’t. Something in the woman’s voice was gentle and familiar. The woman held out her arms and Zyn’dri lifted the baby, offered him to her. The woman took him and led Zyn’dri into the house.

  The kitchen was bright and warm and full of the scent of cinnamon. The woman looked ragged, like she had been worrying and crying, but whatever her worries were, she set them aside to lay the baby on the table and unlace the hupta. She peeled back frozen layers of cloth and lifted him, shining and naked and screaming, out into her arms.

  She gestured at Zyn’dri.

  “Quick, down the hall in the closet. There are quilts—blankets. Bring some to me. And get one for yourself.” The woman moved through the kitchen into a sitting room, and through the arched doorway, Zyn’dri saw a fire blazing in the hearth there.

  Zyn’dri did as she was told. The closet was full to bursting with bright and beautiful blankets. She bundled as many as she could carry into her arms and went to the woman’s side.

  The woman had unbuttoned her shirt. She knelt on the stone hearth, strong and beautiful in the firelight, holding the iridescent baby against the warmth of her pale bare skin. She was the color of the prairie smoke flowers in Yellowstone. Zyn’dri laid a golden quilt next to her, and she moved onto it with a grateful look.

  “My name is Molly.” She said. “You’ll be safe here.”

  “I’m Zyn’dri.”

  “Wrap yourself up.” The woman tipped her chin toward the pile of blankets. “I need to attend to him, but you’ve got to be frozen, too.”

  Suddenly Zyn’dri thought of the others, huddled in the cold. “Please,” she managed, “There are others. They’re in an empty pond. Please, can you bring them here?”

  A look of distress crossed Molly’s face. She looked down at the baby. “We can’t take him out yet, not so soon. We’ve got to get his core temperature back up.”

  “But they’ll freeze.”

  “I’m sorry.” Molly looked tormented. “I can’t take him out yet.”

  Zyn’dri stood. “Then I’ll go. I’ll go and bring them here.”

  “No.” The woman’s voice was stern. “You can’t go out. It’s negative ten degrees out there.”

  For the second time that night, Zyn’dri defied a command. “Take care of him,” she called, sprinting through the kitchen and out onto the porch. The air hit her with more force, this time coming from the warm house. She tried to hold the warmth of the cinnamon-flavored air in as long as she could as she followed the wolves’ tracks back the
way she had come.

  59

  When he came to, Sol was in the back of a crawler, lurching across the open pastures toward home. There was a painful ringing in his ears, and his body ached. He turned his head and saw Uncle Carl in the cab.

  When they arrived in the yard, the crawler’s engine quieted and the night was filled with silence. Sol was surprised to realize that the sounds of artillery had ceased.

  Uncle Carl came and lifted him like a child out of the crawler. Sol tried to make himself easy to carry, but his body was weak and he finally just relaxed. Uncle Carl slowed as they reached the stairs, and Sol saw a worried look cross his face. Sol followed his gaze. The gun they always left with his mother was lying on the porch.

  Uncle Carl kicked the door open. “Molly!”

  Sol’s own voice was shaky as he called, “Mom!”

  Sol heard the panic in their combined voices. Their echo had barely died when a startling sound filled the house: the sound of a baby crying.

  Molly stood in the doorway; a quilt draped over her. Peeking from under the quilt were the delicate, four-toed feet of an alien infant.

  Uncle Carl swore. Sol wasn’t sure if it was an expression of relief or surprise.

  Molly’s eyes grew wide at the sight of Sol. She rushed to them, pulling a hand from under the quilt to lay it on his cheek. She spoke to her brother, and there was an edge of hysteria in her voice, as well.

  “What happened? Is he all right?”

  Uncle Carl moved around the table and into the sitting room. He laid Sol on the big sofa and stood to stretch his back. “He will be.”

  “What’s going on out there, Carl?”

  Uncle Carl nodded grimly. “It’s pretty much over, Mol.”

  “The Cascadians? They’re gone?”

  “In the end, they weren’t even Cascadians.” Uncle Carl explained about the Leadership involvement. “But we got them turned around.” He paused, turning his gaze to Sol. “Our boy here got them turned around. He took out the infantry, and that gave us enough of an edge to get the BlueSky fields up to stop the strafers and run some EMPs to take out their crawlers. Things wrapped up pretty quickly after that. By the time I went to the infirmary and got him, all the threats were neutralized. I’ll have to go back to the Armory in a while, but as of a couple of hours ago, Liberty was secure.”

  “And the Harvest invasion?”

  “It’s done, too. The Leadership was coming in over there, too. Once we got the word out to Harvest about what was happening, they attacked the Leadership forces from the other side.” Uncle Carl shook his head. “Can you believe that? We thought they were the enemy, but they ended up saving those East Liberty troops.”

  Molly sat down next to Sol. “A lot has changed since we woke up.” Her eyes were still troubled. “But you said they were posing as Cascadians. How will you prove they aren’t?”

  Uncle Carl’s eyebrows drew together. “That part I’m not sure of yet.” He spoke to Sol, “How you feeling, son?”

  “I’ll be okay.” Sol couldn’t take his eyes off those iridescent feet sticking out of the blanket. “Mom, what—” He didn’t even know how to finish.

  Molly glanced down at the child in her arms as if suddenly remembering that he was there. She turned wide eyes to her brother.

  “Carl. There are more. You’ve got to get them. They’ll freeze out there.”

  Uncle Carl looked surprised. “What?”

  “The Stracahn. A little girl showed up here with this baby—they were nearly frozen. She said there were more and that they were in a dried-up pond. That has to be the North stock pond, doesn’t it?”

  Sol struggled to sit up. That little band of Stracahn he had seen fleeing into the trees. They must have made it all the way here.

  Uncle Carl still looked confused, but he nodded. “Only one that’s not filled with ice right now.”

  Molly put a hand on her brother’s arm. “Please, Carl, you’ve got to go get them.”

  Sol’s uncle shook his head. “We can’t bring them here, Molly. It’s not safe. They invaded our planet. They don’t belong on Earth. We don’t know what they’re—”

  She stood, and her pale hair caught the firelight. “Carl, I have spent the last ten years helping your people. I’ve given them injections, I’ve bandaged them. I’ve operated. And I have never, once, drawn lines based on whether I thought they were worthy of help. When someone needs help, you don’t assess whether or not they deserve it.”

  Uncle Carl stood still a long time. It was only then that Sol saw how weary his uncle looked. What Sol had seen today had changed him, and he saw now how much more Uncle Carl had seen, and for how much longer. Sol tried to sit up, but his head was still spinning. He couldn’t go for them. But he couldn’t lay here while they were freezing out there, either. He thought of the awful scene that morning, the Stracahn inside the vicious ring of Leadership soldiers. Sol saw it now.

  “Uncle Carl, that’s it.” He said.

  “What?”

  “The Stracahn. I saw them this morning. Just before the Cascadian invasion.” He reached a hand pleadingly toward his uncle. “I saw the Leadership soldiers take them off a crawler and massacre them. If you help them, they’ll be another witness of the Leadership’s involvement.” Sol heard the pleading in his voice. “You said it yourself: it will be hard to get people to believe that the Leadership was behind this. But these Stracahn were there. They saw the actual Leadership soldiers turn on them.”

  A light of understanding touched Uncle Carl’s eyes. “You’re right.” He looked at Molly. “You’re both right.” Uncle Carl moved to the door and reached for the fleece-lined coat he used when he had to be out in the fields for winter calving.

  “Molly,” Uncle Carl started, “I’ll go. I just,” he stopped, “it’s awfully cold out there. I don’t think a little girl could make it long. Or anybody she was going to get.”

  Sol spoke up, and his voice sounded strange to him behind the ringing in his ears, “they’re Stracahn, though. They are a little tougher than we are, remember?”

  Uncle Carl scooped a pile of quilts from the floor by the fire and headed for the door. “I hope you’re right, Sol.”

  After the door had closed, Sol’s mother left the room and returned with a quilt from Sol’s bed. She laid it over him, balancing the baby in her arms as she did so. She went to the kitchen and brought back some pain medicine. Then she sat beside him on the sofa and stroked his hair. They didn’t talk for a long time.

  60

  Zyn’dri lay in the snow, her fingers stiff and still. The pond should have been right here, but this field was flat and empty. She tried to crawl, just a little more, but her body wasn’t working anymore.

  She had always felt stronger than the humans. She knew she could outwalk Walt and outswim any human. She knew she could breathe things that they couldn’t. So she had thought that the precautions Walt and Sylvia had taken to protect her from the cold were unreasonable.

  Now she realized, though, that they must have known something she didn’t. Empyriad, nearer to its sun than Earth was to its own, never got this cold. Never in her life, nor in the lives of her ancestors, had Stracahn bodies had to adapt to temperatures this far below freezing.

  And now she was paying for the weaknesses in her DNA. Her body was shutting down, and she was drifting into a sleepy state. She wondered if the world were slowing around her, as it sometimes did, but her fingers were too cold to make the tay’ren she often used for that.

  She heard a distant growl, and she briefly wondered where the wolves were. Maybe, if they weren’t frozen, they could drag her back to the warm house. But that wasn’t likely. She sensed that they had gone, that they were now curled in their cozy den, oblivious to the freezing girl in the snow.

  She was glad that the shivering had gone. It had been so painful. Now, she just felt cold and heavy. She closed her eyes against nausea induced by the tumult in the Earth below her. She had been right: it was much, much
worse today. Though invisible on the surface, at its core the planet Earth was writhing, and though she didn’t know how that would eventually manifest, she knew it would be catastrophic.

  But she wouldn’t need to worry about that. She opened her eyes to see that the wind was sculpting the dry snow around her. She would be covered with a freezing blanket of it soon. She wondered briefly what her next life would be like. There was no Avowed nearby, and she would likely not be found until the sweet spring sunlight crept through this field and set new wildflowers alight.

  Would they take her bones to the Trisne Rooth so she could be with her parents? Or would they dispose of her in the crude human way, with a hole that would trap her in this tormented planet forever?

  Zyn’dri fought against that. She put all her energy into her limbs and tried to move. But they were heavy as fallen logs and useless. A flash of light streaked across her vision. She squinted against it, but it came again, and this time stayed steadily on her.

  Dimly, Zyn’dri registered the deep rumble of a vehicle. She heard a voice and forced her eyes open. Through frosted lashes, she saw the bulk of a human man wearing a long, thick coat. He was silhouetted in bright beams of light. He knelt beside her, and she heard him speaking, but didn’t understand what he was saying. She saw him kneel, saw his hand go to her cheek, but Zyn’dri didn’t feel anything.

  The man half-turned and she saw him remove his coat. Zyn’dri sensed that he was laying it over her, and she felt herself move as he lifted her, wrapped in the big coat, and carried her to his crawler.

  As he laid her inside, Zyn’dri sank into darkness.

  61

  Sol watched as his mother pulled quilts from every available storage space. Uncle Carl had found the group of Stracahn huddled together in the North stock pond, and had brought them back in the crawler.

  Now there were bright Stracahn wrapped in vibrant quilts spread around Sol like a patch of wildflowers. They sipped hot cider that his mother had brewed, and they were awfully quiet. His mother said that the girl who had brought the baby was not among them, and Uncle Carl had gone out to look for her. Sol hoped that she was the turquoise-haired girl that he had seen. He hoped that girl had made it.