Guardian of the Vale

by Shoemaker,Tamara

  Manders sighed heavily and clasped his hands in front of him. “There are around fifteen thousand of us enlisted at the moment—” he began, but Alayne almost choked.

  “Fifteen thousand!” Hope sparked. It was a force to be reckoned with. Fifteen-thousand!

  Manders watched her gravely. “Against over a hundred thousand Alliance members, Alayne.” His voice snuffed out the brief flame of anticipation inside Alayne. Her gaze fell to her lap.

  “But there is hope.” The soft timbers of his voice pulled Alayne's attention back to him. “About half of the Alliance force are Shadow-Casted Natural Humans. If we can somehow figure out how to separate the Casted from the Casters, we'll stand a much better chance, because not only will we only be fighting fifty-thousand or so Elementals, we'll also gain fifty-thousand angry individuals in the Last Order. Granted, they aren't Elementals, but if we can equip them with weapons, they can still be invaluable. Numbers like those could turn the tables, Alayne.”

  Alayne glanced down at the black steel dagger that rested against her leg. Daymon's teasing about how she needed to build an arsenal floated through her head.

  After all of them went to bed, Alayne couldn't sleep. She lay on the top bunk in the bedroom she shared with Marysa, refusing to move lest she keep her friend awake, staring blindly through the dark at the ceiling. Hours crawled by at an agonizingly slow pace. What if Manders's assertion that her parents were most likely at Clayborne were false? What if they were right here in the Capital—so close that they were almost in plain view?

  “Thinking about your parents?” Marysa's quiet voice melted upward from the bottom bunk.

  “Yeah,” Alayne grunted.

  Silence stretched. The bunk moved as Marysa sighed and shifted. “Me, too. Mom and Dad don't know if I'm alive or dead, and honestly, Layne, I don't know if they are either. I'm scared. I wish I weren't.” A telltale sniffle followed Marysa's words. “My sister didn't make it out of Clayborne with us; I don't know if my brothers are safe, either.”

  “I know.” Alayne tried to swallow around the lump in her throat, but it was difficult. They had both dealt with so much uncertainty recently. She draped her arm over the side of her bed. She found Marysa's hand and gave it a squeeze. “Your family is pretty resourceful; they'll hide if they're in too much danger. It'll be okay, Mary.” She bit her lip. Would it? “We'll figure something out.”

  Silence fell once again, and eventually Marysa's breathing evened out into slow, deep breaths.

  Alayne squeezed her eyes shut tight, but sleep still eluded her. Finally, she sat up with a huff. Careful not to disturb Marysa, she climbed out of the bunk and dropped softly to the floor. She slid her feet into her boots and opened the door.

  Daymon woke instantly; he sprang to his feet, and his hand arrested hers on the doorknob as she pulled the door shut.

  “Daymon, what are you doing here?” she hissed. “We're in Last Order headquarters; it can't get any safer for me.”

  Daymon didn't remove his hand. “Old habits die hard. Where do you think you're going at two in the morning?” His grip wouldn't let her take her hand off the doorknob.

  Alayne stared up at him. “Bathroom.”

  “Don't lie to me, Layne. You have a bathroom adjoining your room. I checked it before you went to bed.”

  “Then the kitchen. I'm hungry.”

  “Kitchen's closed.”

  “Common room, another dorm room, conference room, anywhere, Daymon, it doesn't matter. I'm not going back to a sleepless bed, and you can't make me.”

  He said nothing, but his frame was unmoving, and his grip on her hand was powerful.

  “Fine,” Alayne finally snapped. “I want to scout out some parts of the city. Maybe see if my parents might be here.”

  “You heard what my uncle said—”

  “Of course I heard. I'm not deaf, Daymon. I'll just feel better if I can make sure they're not here—erase any possibility from my mind. Then I can focus.”

  A stubborn crease divided Daymon's bunched brows. “You can focus in here. Take a walk, find something to distract you. You're not going above ground; it's way too dangerous.”

  “It won't be dangerous if you come with me.” The words hung like a tempting siren call in the air. “Come on, Daymon,” Alayne's mouth tilted upward as she imitated Ryanna's seductive tone, “promise me you won't leave me. I'd die of fright if you weren't there.”

  Daymon rolled his eyes. “Layne, be serious. You know I'll lay my life on the line to keep you safe, but I can't stop everything. Find something else to think about.”

  A wicked impulse sparked inside Alayne, a nameless instinct. She wouldn't define, even to herself, the relationship she held with her Guardian, but she knew without being told a way to manipulate him... if she chose. Shoving the guilt away, she made her decision. She took a deep breath and stepped closer to him, close enough that she could feel his body heat radiating through his clothes.

  “Please, Daymon. I have to do this. For my parents and my peace of mind, if nothing else.”

  In a second, Daymon's expression turned wary. He stepped backward, but Alayne followed. Lightly, she placed her fingers on the hard ridges of his stomach. “An hour, no more. Just a few blocks. It'll clear my head.”

  His back hit the wall. “Layne...” His breath came faster than normal. “My uncle will kill me if—”

  “He won't know. We'll be back in an hour, in plenty of time to actually sleep before we see him at breakfast tomorrow morning. Please?” Her fingers traced upward, smoothing over his pectoral muscles, sliding along his shoulders, cupping his cheek, rough with a hint of stubble. Her gaze dropped to his mouth. Guilt played a dark tempo behind her thoughts; she knew she was pushing him where he didn't want to go, and she disliked herself for it. Still, she wanted out badly enough that she didn't stop.

  The faint glow of a lantern far down the hall glimmered off his eyes. They were dark and confused. Alayne gently rubbed her thumb across his upper lip. “For me, Daymon.”

  He released a shuddering sigh, his eyes closing. He turned his head into her hand. “An hour. That's it.”

  Alayne grinned as she dropped her arm and stepped back. “Thanks.” She walked swiftly down the hallway, but she heard no footsteps following her. She stopped and glanced back.

  Daymon's tall frame leaned out from the wall, his hands gripping his knees. His shoulders lifted as he inhaled, deeply and deliberately, through his nose. Alayne's mouth softened. She knew the fear and the responsibility he carried on those shoulders as her Guardian. The guilt pricked even deeper. “You know you don't have to come with me, Daymon. I'll be fine.”

  “You know I do,” he growled. “There's no way I'd let you go alone.”

  Alayne ignored the relief that flooded through her at his assertion.

  Their soft treads were nearly inaudible as they stole down the hallway to the chute. The car flew upward in a short burst. The doors opened into the entryway corridor, and Daymon followed Alayne to the slanted metal exit.

  Daymon gripped the metal slide lock. “Ready?”

  Alayne nodded. She jumped when his hand shot the bolt to the side and the clang echoed along the empty corridor. The heavy door swung outward, and Daymon nimbly jumped into the alleyway. Starlight and a warm, night breeze blew above her.

  Alayne took a deep breath and stepped out into the quiet darkness of the Capital.

  Chapter 6

  The night was pleasant and warm. At any other time, Alayne might have enjoyed a moonlit stroll through the quiet streets with Daymon by her side. As it was, her neck muscles pulled so tightly, pain radiated from her spine out across her shoulders and down her arms. She twisted her head from side to side to relieve the tension.

  They neared the end of the alley. The white marble steps of the High Court rose in a giant wall and glistened silver in the moonlight. “So, anything specific we should be looking for?” Alayne asked.

  “You were the one who insisted we do this, Alayne,
what do you think? Although I suggest we start with the guards,” Daymon muttered as he yanked her back into the shadows. Two Alliance guards marched a steady beat across the cobblestone plaza.

  Alayne peered at them in alarm, but they continued past. Daymon pointed to the wall that lined the plaza. Three more guards were stationed there, their motionless figures carved statues in the night air.

  To get to the next street, they had to enter the plaza, but they were too visible. They could bend the elements and refract the light from their bodies, turning themselves invisible as they had the last time they were at Clayborne, but the streets were void of element bends, so that would readily alert the guards. Alayne and Daymon would be discovered immediately.

  Alayne felt Daymon's fingers on her hair. She looked up. His face in the shadows was grim. “Your hair has too much gold in it. Here.” He glanced quickly at the plaza and then pulled his hooded jacket over his head, shaking it out and handing it to her. “Put that on and pull the hood up.”

  Alayne hesitated. “Even with your dark hair, you don't exactly blend into the shadows yourself. Maybe you'd better keep it so you can hide your face.”

  Daymon shook his head. “The only thing more suspicious than a six-foot-one male wandering the Capital's streets at two in the morning is a six-foot-one male wandering the streets in a hoodie.” He flashed her a grin. “Anyway, it'll look cuter on you.”

  Alayne shook her head but didn't comment. She pulled Daymon's sweatshirt over her head, breathing deeply of the subtle woodsy scent in the material. She pushed her arms through the sleeves. “There,” she whispered.

  Daymon adjusted the hood. “What do you know, I was right. It is kinda cute.” The moon highlighted the sharp planes of his face. “Look, Layne.” He motioned to the guards on the wall. They had all made a quarter turn to the right. “I think they turn every—five minutes or so.”

  Alayne watched the men some minutes more, and sure enough, with a precise pivot and click, the guards now had their backs to them as they gazed out across the city.

  “Let's go.” Daymon pulled Alayne across the empty plaza into the next street over. Alayne's heart thudded in her chest as Daymon slammed against a building, one arm wrapped protectively around her. They both looked back at the plaza, Alayne's breath coming in short, sharp spurts. No sound of pounding footsteps in pursuit echoed through the streets.

  Alayne sighed in relief. “Okay, let's go.”

  Walking through the silent alleys, Alayne struggled to take in every detail. Not a single light broke the darkness of the spires or the pillared buildings. Must have a reigning curfew, she thought. She looked up at the moon again. Or maybe people just like to sleep at three in the morning.

  The street grew broader as they walked. Far ahead, she could see a tall wall forming a T intersection at the end of it. Surely we're not through the city yet? She glanced over her shoulder at the plaza behind them. No, the plaza was still in sight, so the city's wall had to be another three miles out at least. What's the wall, then?

  As they drew closer, Alayne stopped short, pushing Daymon against the brick siding that lined the street. “More guards.” She motioned to the wall at the end of the street.

  These guards were not on the wall, though. Two tall towers appeared above the wall some distance beyond it. Guards and their weapons stood silhouetted against the railings. Each one wore an armband with the Elemental Alliance symbol emblazoned on it, and beneath it, a symbol of their personal element. The glistening handles of knives rested in leather holders that hung from their belts. Unlike the guards at the City Centre gates, these soldiers carried guns as well.

  “Barbed wire,” whispered Daymon, pointing to the top of the wall. “They want to keep people out.”

  “Or they want to keep people in,” Alayne murmured, horrified comprehension spreading over her as all the pieces of the puzzle clicked into place. “Daymon, this is an NRC, a Natural Re-Education Center! This is what Sprynge called a Cleansing Center last year!”

  Daymon cocked an eyebrow. “How do you know?”

  “I don't, but it makes sense. The Elemental Alliance set some NRCs in every major City Centre across the Continent, and with the political climate being what it's been, what else would this—this prison be?” She spat the word. “Come on, we have to go see if my parents are here. If Tarry has them, it makes sense she'd put my dad in an NRC, and up until recently, the EA headquarters have been in the Capital.”

  “And Tarry is the head of the EA,” Daymon murmured thoughtfully.

  She started down the alley again, but Daymon grabbed her arm. She swung around to look at his face.

  “Wait, Alayne!” Daymon glanced up at the wall and then back at her. “What are you gonna do? Go knock at the gate? Introduce yourself? Ask if you can have five minutes with Mr. and Mrs. Worth, parents of Alayne Worth, the Alliance's most wanted? Maybe they could arrange to send you to Clayborne just in time for breakfast with Tarry.”

  “Well, what do you suggest then?” Alayne snapped, louder than she intended. Both of them whipped their heads to look over the wall at the guard tower. The guards continued their unceasing pacing. Alayne gulped a breath of relief.

  “Let's go around, see if we can find the gate. Then maybe we can figure out a way to see in.”

  Alayne nodded and crept with Daymon to the end of the street, keeping to the black shadows of the brick siding. The wall rose high above them and stretched at least three blocks in both directions. “I don't see any corners,” Alayne whispered. “Looks like it curves around up there. Maybe it's a big circle?”

  Daymon pointed at a fire escape on the apartment building behind them and then pulled Alayne over to the stairs. “Let's see if we can get a better vantage point.”

  Alayne's boots made little noise on the metal steps. Daymon followed right behind her.

  Four flights up put them on level with the top of the wall. Alayne stopped. “How much farther do you want to go?” she whispered, panting.

  “At least one more flight.” Daymon glanced over his shoulder at the wall. “I can't see down inside the wall from here.”

  Alayne turned and climbed the last few steps, careful to keep close to the wall. She felt visible and vulnerable, as if the moon were a spotlight that captured her every movement. She reminded herself that she was in complete blackness; the guards in the towers gave no sign that they saw anything amiss. She sank onto the next landing and scooted against the wall of the apartment. She pulled her knees up under her chin and wrapped her arms around them.

  Daymon joined her.

  The silence grew heavy, weighted with the horror of the scene below.

  The wall stretched outward in a perfect circle at least a half-mile around. Inside, there were no shelters, nothing to protect the inhabitants from the force of the elements. Hundreds of sleeping individuals lay on their sides in rows. Chains glinted off of their ankles. Each sleeper was shackled to their nearest neighbor. On and on down the line it went. The smell of unwashed bodies and human waste wafted over the wall.

  Alayne's jaw ached; she hadn't realized she'd been holding it so rigidly. The terrible sight below blurred behind angry tears. “Tarry did this. I will kill her,” she hissed to Daymon. “So help me, I will punish her for what she's doing to the Naturals.” A headache ripped through her temples as she fought the tension. After a moment, she closed her eyes, unable to watch any longer. Daymon touched her hand. “Look, Layne.”

  Against her will, she raised her gaze. Along the wall to the north was a row of fifty or sixty black lumps of... something. “What are those?” she asked even as she realized the only thing they could be. A yawning chasm opened up inside her.

  Daymon answered her, his voice tight with anger. “Body bags. My guess is that the burial is going to take place in the morning.” He pointed to the shovels lined up along the wall, one shovel for each bag. “They don't even use Earth-Movers. Apparently, the ones still alive have to bury their dead.”

  The lum
p in Alayne's throat grew larger. She dashed away tears, and fire rushed to her hands, the Vale feeding on her anger. With an effort, she kept the flames from igniting on her skin lest she be a beacon for the tower guards, but inside, fury flowed unabated through her every limb. “Monsters.” The tears threatened to choke her; they came thick and fast. She buried her face in her hands. “All those innocent people,” she gasped between sobs.

  Daymon gently brushed a loose strand of hair behind her ear before he circled her back with his arm and pulled her gently against his chest. His t-shirt felt warm beneath her cheek, and it soon grew wet with her tears. His silence was more eloquent than words.

  Alayne cried until she was spent, and then abruptly, she pushed herself up straight. Daymon released her, his face flushing even in the darkness. He averted his gaze. Alayne looked away as well, rubbing her upper arms as if she were cold. She hadn't meant to fall apart like that, especially not where Daymon could see her. Not that it mattered. Daymon had seen her in her worst moments for a long time.

  Alayne took one last look at the camp and sighed. “Let's go.”

  “Where to?”

  “Back to Last Order headquarters. We need to have a strategy session with Manders and the others.”

  “You do realize it's barely three in the morning.”

  “Of course.” Alayne brushed off her jeans as she stood. “But first thing tomorrow, we're gonna hash this thing out. I want to know if Tarry is holding my parents in this NRC, and Manders has to figure out a way to free these people.”

  Daymon rose as well, and the two of them quietly descended the metal fire escape stairs, angling into the street at the bottom, turning their backs on the wall with the barbed wire, and walking swiftly in the shadows.

  A step sounded loud behind them. Alayne's heart lodged in her throat. She whirled.

  “I wondered when I'd see you, Layne. I didn't really expect it to be at three in the morning in the heart of the Capital, though.”