Satori rubbed her chin in thought. “Interesting. And five?”
“Money. Anthea has the ability to fund this war because it doesn’t have to project its power. The soldiers will fight next to their homes, to protect their city. Logistics are easy that way.”
“Whereas the Capital’s coffers are empty,” Satori murmured. “My father…” Her voice caught for a moment, then she cleared her throat and continued. “The traitor had told me so.”
Maybe that’s why she’s so hard on me. “I believe he’s right. An invasion makes no sense right now, but it’s just the kind of stupid thing Altman would do.”
Satori’s face hardened. “Gauld always said Altman’s impatience would be his downfall.”
“Let’s prove him right, then, shall we?”
Satori leaned back on her chair and steepled her fingers before her. She studied Gella with hard eyes. Gella swallowed an exasperated sigh. We are on the same side! What will it take to gain her trust?
The Marshes
Lehmor
Lehmor stared at the forest covering the foot of the hill. His eyes, enhanced by Pratin when the Iota thought he could use him, registered much. Like the presence of the almost-invisible dome covering it and the occasional terraformer dashing about. Useless distractions. He closed his eyes and tried to practice the meditation techniques Oran had taught him. He calmed his mind and focused on his breathing, letting the flow carry him. Random thoughts entered his head, but he allowed them to pass him by, like debris carried by a river. He allowed his consciousness to expand, taking in the chirping of the birds and the rustling of the leaves. A light breeze carried the October chill to his face, caressing it with a promise of winter. His nostrils picked up the smell of approaching rain, then he let that thought, too, pass.
Back in the Iota city, he used to practice meditation daily, but had been neglecting it since his return. He wondered why, enjoying the serene feeling that washed over him for the first time in weeks, then allowed that question, too, to float away, until nothing but a sea of calm remained within him.
“I need your help.”
The Old Woman’s voice jolted him back to the present, and for a fleeting moment he struggled to hold on to the serenity before popping open his eyes. “Is Moirah all right?” Fear clutched his heart once again.
She smiled. “We believe she’ll make a full recovery.”
His tense insides relaxed. “Then what?”
“Stripet.”
The name caused a different kind of tensing up, this time in his muscles. He longed to punch his father’s murderer until nothing but a bloodied pulp remained. He jumped to his feet, to relieve the tension in his joints. “What about him?”
“If we’re going to send you in, we need to know how to save anyone not following Pratin.”
This is a surprise! “So we’re doing it my way?”
“We’re doing it your way,” she said, pronouncing each word slowly.
He closed his eyes and tilted his head back, drawing a relieved breath. “Thank you.”
“Only if Stripet tells us there’s a way.”
He nodded, his eyes still closed. “Agreed.”
“Good. Then let’s go see him.” She turned to leave, then threw him a sideways glance. “If you’re up to it.”
“I’ll be fine,” he said. His voice sounded hoarse.
“The man killed your father. If you feel—”
“I’ll be fine,” he repeated and overtook her to march towards the cave. He spoke no more until they approached the entrance. “What has he told you?”
“Pratin’s plans. Your friends are probably all dead by now.”
He swirled around to face her, his cheeks red as if she had slapped him. “He’s lying!” Has everything been in vain? Is Moirah fighting death only to have Pratin do what I wouldn’t?
She studied him before speaking again. “He can’t lie. But maybe we’re asking the wrong questions.”
What’s that supposed to mean? He followed her into the cave’s gaping mouth, his brow creased. She led him to a narrow corridor, heading towards the central pillar that plunged into the depths of the mountain. As they stepped onto the thin strip, it came to life, transporting them towards the pillar. It slowed down as they arrived there, while an aperture formed before them. Lehmor’s hands grabbed the walls as the room sank, sending his stomach’s contents to his mouth. An endless minute later, the door swished open and they stepped out onto a second corridor, similar to the previous one.
When the strip carried them into a small room, a dim light lit up to show rough-hewn grey walls. Stripet was lying on a strange bed that hovered above the ground. A light buzz filled the room, coming from the iridescent bubble that covered him. What is this thing? Lehmor took a step forward with a raised hand, but the Old Woman grabbed his arm to stop him.
“Don’t touch the sphere,” she warned.
He nodded and let his hand drop. “Can he hear us?”
As if on cue, Stripet’s eyes flew open and he turned his head to face them. “Lehmor!” he said. “What a nice surprise.” The words came out slurred, broken.
“Is he drunk?” Lehmor whispered.
“In a way. The important thing is that he’s in no condition to lie,” the Old Woman said.
“Can I ask him…” The woman waved him towards the sphere, then disappeared in the shadows behind him. Lehmor studied the man. His eyes were bloodshot and puffy. His cheeks drawn, weak. The monster that had murdered his father now looked like a forlorn puppy. Don’t let appearances fool you. “Stripet.” Lehmor hissed the name. Just uttering it felt like sullying his father’s very memory.
The man’s eyes were soft, swimming as they searched for Lehmor’s face. “Hey, Lehmor. What’s up?”
“What has Pratin done?”
Stripet’s face beamed with gratitude at Pratin’s name. “He saved me. The Old Woman slaughtered my tribe, you know, but he saved me.”
Lehmor swore under his breath. “What has Pratin done with the Iotas?”
“How would I know? I’ve been here for years, haven’t I?”
Years? Lehmor realized what the Old Woman had meant about asking the right questions. Stripet might have lost his mind along with the ability to lie. Lehmor rubbed his chin, pondering the best way to phrase his next question. “What was Pratin’s plan?”
“To create more clones, of course. We’ll take over the planet. Kill everyone.” The contradiction between Stripet’s calm voice and his words could not have been starker.
The lack of panic on Lehmor’s face belied the sweat trickling down his spine. Is the room getting warmer? “How long?”
Stripet cocked his head, thinking. “What’s the date?”
“October, 307.”
“Is it still 307?” Stripet chuckled. “By the year’s end, there will be thousands of us. Nothing can stop us.”
The sweat now pooled in the small of Lehmor’s back. “And the Iotas?”
Stripet waved his hand, then focused on the fingers, as if seeing them for the first time. “Kill them all.”
All the Iotas are dead! Even Oran! Lehmor fought to stop himself from strangling the man with his bare hands. His stomach sank. He swept tears from his eyes, too distraught to care if Stripet saw him. A silent sob escaped his lips. He closed his eyes and his hand slipped down to the rod hanging from his belt. He did not care what the Old Woman thought. Stripet and Pratin had murdered not one, but two of Lehmor’s fathers. The man had to die. In his mind, he saw the next few seconds. One hand tearing the rod from the scabbard tied around his thigh and firing it up. He would bring it down onto the spherical prison, shoving the Old Woman away with the other hand. Once the sphere had been breached, he would plunge the burning blade into Stripet’s chest. The thought made his muscles flex in silent preparation, as he wiped his eyes.
“Why are you crying?” Stripet asked, a frown on his face. “We’ll just rebuild them.”
Lehmor’s voice trembled. “What?”
“We can rebuild them. They’re clones, remember? It’s what we do.”
The Old Woman jumped to Lehmor’s side. “You mean they’re not really dead?” she asked.
Stripet cocked his head, as if not understanding the question. “They’re dead.”
“But they can live again,” Lehmor said.
“Of course. Their bodies die all the time. They just get a new one.”
“So Oran is alive!” Lehmor laughed. A feeling of immense relief washed over him.
“No,” Stripet said. “He’s dead.”
“Where are the matrixes stored?” the Old Woman asked, placing a soft hand on Lehmor’s shoulder.
“Matrixes?” Lehmor whispered.
“The originals,” she whispered back. “Without them they can’t be reborn.”
Lehmor jumped up, pushing her hand away. “Don’t answer,” he yelled at Stripet as he faced her. “Why do you want to know?”
“So that you don’t destroy them accidentally,” she said reassuringly, raising her hands to calm him down.
He stared at her for a long moment, wishing she was the one in the sphere. The one unable to lie. “Where are they?” he asked Stripet without turning his face away from the Old Woman.
“There is a wall,” Stripet murmured. “With a basin.”
Lehmor swore under his breath. “Great. That’s only half the city.”
Stripet shook his head. “Near the clone factory.”
“Can you show him? If you’re there?” the Old Woman asked.
“What are you doing?” Lehmor hissed.
“Don’t worry, he’ll be docile.” She gave him a knowing look. “Or should I worry about you? What you’ll do once you’re alone with him?”
“Nothing. They’ve neutered me.”
“Neutered?”
“If I fight him, I faint.”
“Probably just a post-hypnotic suggestion. Shouldn’t be too hard to remove.” Her lips curled upwards, in a bitter smile. “If, that is, you trust us enough to go through your mind.”
“I got nothing to hide. Do it.”
“By tomorrow, you will be free of that,” she promised.
“And after I’ve destroyed Pratin, Stripet’s mine,” he growled.
His mood lifted when she nodded in agreement. “Deal.”
I guess she doesn’t like having around the reminder of the Orbs’ failure with the Bears. He followed her when she waved towards the door, and they exited the strange prison. The lights behind them dimmed as they stepped back onto the corridor.
He prepared himself for the inevitable jolt under his feet. “Now what?”
“Now we meet someone.” The corridor started to slide, transporting them to the moving room. Moments later, they emerged through the door and onto another corridor that led them through a yawning bay door leading outside.
They found themselves on a hill overlooking a peaceful village, lush vegetation surrounding them. A glittering dome covered the sky.
“What is this place?” Lehmor said in awe.
“A lost tribe.”
“The Wolves,” he guessed.
“The Howling Wolves, to be exact. You’ve already met some of them, I believe.”
“Not me. Moirah. She fought them in Malekshei.” A pang of guilt and pain ran through his heart, quickening his pulse. His eyes examined the village. In the far end, a glorious waterfall cascaded through the walls of the hill to crash into a river, creating iridescent rainbows. “I’ve lived here for months. How did I miss it?”
“You can now see through the illusions, remember? You see things for what they really are. Anyone else would only see an empty hill.”
“Holograms,” Lehmor said, rolling the unfamiliar word in his mouth. It had bubbled into his consciousness from an unknown vocabulary, surprising them both.
“Yes, a holographic projection. How did you…”
He pointed at his head with his new arm. “Enhanced.”
Before she could reply, footsteps approached. He spun around to face a towering First, covered in black leathers. The light hit a silver amulet of a howling wolf, hanging from his neck. The scar that cut his face in two removed any doubt in Lehmor’s mind as to the man’s identity. This was the man who had taken Stripet from Malekshei; the man who had overseen the Bears’ slaughter. The man whose head was nearly split in half by Stripet’s father.
“I’m Abaddon,” the man said. His voice came out surprisingly soft and calm, carrying authority and sadness, as if the very name was a burden he had to carry innumerable years.
“Lehmor. Well met.”
“May the wind bring you joy,” Abaddon said.
Lehmor had not heard the traditional greeting in ages, and struggled for a moment to remember the proper response. “May the fire warm your nights.”
Abaddon cocked his head to study him. “He’s young.”
“He’s old enough,” the Old Woman countered. “And he’s lived among them. He spent almost a year in their city. Believe me, there’s more to him than meets the eye. You need him.”
“Like a dog needs fleas,” Abaddon murmured. “He’ll only slow us down. Plus, we need to train him. I’ll need at least a fortnight, maybe a month.”
“Can you take us there?” Lehmor met Abaddon’s steely gaze without blinking.
“We have this,” Abaddon finally said, breaking first eye contact to pull a silver disk out of his pocket. He threw it down. As soon as it hit the ground, a single spoke shot out, rotating and expanding into a shimmering circle. It locked in place with a soft click, emitting a low hum. The original disk detached itself from the metallic circle to hover an inch above it.
Lehmor stopped himself from jumping back in surprise. “What…”
“It’s what they use to come and go.” Abaddon picked up the hovering disk and tapped it. It came alive, projecting symbols into the air above it. “But we don’t know how to use it yet.”
Lehmor’s jaw slackened, recognizing the strange language. “It’s coordinates.” The strange word rolled off his tongue. He extended his hand, and Abaddon shot the Old Woman a questioning look. When she nodded, he slapped the disk into Lehmor’s hand and stepped back. Lehmor pushed the symbols in the air with his fingers, as if tapping to an invisible tune. A part of his mind he was unaware of fed him with information. He used this to access the previous locations stored in the device’s memory. “It’s a jumper,” he said, the name once again flowing unbidden into his head. “A big one. It allows a dozen people to jump to any location.” He pressed a button and the circle on the ground lit up, expanding its radius before shooting a ring of light into the air. “You step inside. It will take you anywhere you wish.”
He frowned as the device made a foreboding sound, a group of red symbols now appearing. His fingers danced in the air and the device made the same sound. “Something blocks it.” His eyes glanced towards the dome covering the hill.
Abaddon followed his gaze. “He sees the shield?” His hushed tone betrayed his surprise.
A half smile appeared on the Old Woman’s face. “I told you, there’s more to him than meets the eye.”
Lehmor tapped the device once more, confused, and the symbols disappeared, along with the light emanating from the circle on the ground. It contracted back into a spoke, which shot up to disappear into the disk in Lehmor’s hands.
“Okay, maybe we do need him after all,” Abaddon said, watching him with narrowed eyes. He then turned his attention to the Old Woman. “Can you disable the shield?”
“And risk everything? No. We’ll use it outside the dome.”
“Anyone using the device will never father a child,” Lehmor said as he tossed the disk back to Abaddon. It was heavier than he expected.
A bitter smile crawled on the man’s lips. “Do I look like I want children?”
“The others, then,” Lehmor said. “Warn them.”
“We will,” the Old Woman said. “I promise.”
“We only need a co
uple of people,” Abaddon said. “Our mission is to infiltrate their compound and plant the explosives, not start a war. Too many men and we lose the element of surprise. Our success depends on stealth, not strength.”
“Take with you as many as you’d like,” the Old Woman said and patted him on the back. “Like always. Just be sure to include Stripet.”
Abaddon’s eyes widened. “The Bear? What for?”
“You will make sure one room stays intact,” she said, her eyes glued on Lehmor. “Can you do that?”
“That’s crazy,” Abaddon protested. “I can’t—”
“It’s either that or the mission is aborted. We’ll just have to find another way.”
Abaddon’s broad shoulders slackened, making him look deflated. “If that’s the Lady’s wish.”
“It is,” the Old Woman said. “We’ve cut too many corners.”
“Thank you,” Lehmor whispered as she turned to leave.
“It’s the right thing to do.” She motioned him to follow her back through the bay door. “I just hope it doesn’t come with too high a price.”
Chamber of Justice, The Capital
Hecate
She could hardly believe it when a servant brought her the invitation to dine with Altman. Along with the elegant writing came a parcel. She dropped it onto the soft mattress and tore it open. She gasped in delight at the gossamer dress inside. Moments later, she had it on her. She ran her fingers through the shiny material and spun around, admiring how it clung to her figure. Red silk cascaded down her slim waist to plant soft kisses on her toes. This is the life I deserve!
She looked around the room they had taken her to after her meeting with the Regent. She had no idea who it belonged to, but it was definitely a woman, and one of great taste, too. Sitting down in front of a mirror with a wooden dresser, her hands pried open a thin drawer. A yelp of pleasure left her lips at the discovery of an array of small vials. She opened one and ran the cap under her nose, enjoying the sweet fragrance. With these at her disposal, she would look like a real lady. A proper one, the kind she would admire from afar. She removed the dress and placed it carefully on the bed, before seating herself back in front of the mirror. Pulling her hair back with one hand, she took one of the bottles out and sniffed it.
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