by Jo Zebedee
Don’t react; he’s the child, not me. It didn’t feel that way, though. “So you can’t sense me at all?”
“Provided you don’t pull on the power.” The boy frowned. “But you pull on them without thinking sometimes, and then you can be sensed. Like when you read another’s feelings – you do that all the time.”
Damn. It would be harder than he’d expected.
“Thank you.” He turned to go, but something in the way the boy had closed himself off, as if seeking a place that could be his own, made his throat tighten. He wanted to pull Baelan to his feet and make him better from damage Kare had no knowledge of, nor any idea how to touch.
“You know, you don’t have to lock yourself away. I’m not using the lounge. You’d have more room there.”
His son lay, silent and tense. Kare shook his head. He couldn’t even tell what Baelan was feeling, he was so cagey. He cleared his throat. He had to at least try. He’d taken the boy from the palace. That gave him some responsibility. “Baelan, I’m not my mother.” The boy’s mouth was pinched and tight. “I know what it’s like to be displaced – to be the one person who doesn’t fit in.” He could see himself in the boy: a different self, the one he’d have been if he’d been left with his mother as a child. It made him not just uncomfortable but determined to find a way past the wall in Baelan. Not for himself – he was old enough to understand his reputation preceded him now, putting barriers in place with anyone he met – but for his son. If he could help, in any way – give something of the support he’d given Kerra, all through her life – he wanted to. “If it helps you to talk, I’m here, and I will listen.”
The boy sat up, his eyes flashing anger. “You’re not who I want to talk to.” The lights flickered.
“Calm down.” Kare put his hands out, palms up. The last thing they needed was a burst of the boy’s power. Not on a space ship. He tensed, bringing the mesh to the fore, ready to close Baelan down, hoping it wouldn’t come to that. “Take a deep breath and let the power up into the mesh.”
“For you to use?”
Kare sighed. “For anyone who needs it to use.”
Baelan closed his eyes, and the air shimmered into a quiet stasis, but he didn’t enter the mesh. After a moment of quiet, Kare said, “Any better?”
Baelan shrugged. “A little.”
“How bad is it?” He remembered what it was like to be out of his depth with the power. He remembered days spent at Marine’s, with nothing to distract him, and the power fizzing through him – the fear of what it might do, the gnawing knowledge that it wasn’t going away.
The boy bit his lip and looked about eight, not the eleven he was about to turn. He looked, for a moment, like he might answer, but gave a sharp shake of his head.
“Have you found my mother yet?” The words were mumbled. The boy knew Abendau, he must know how hard it would be to get accurate information out. “Your agents. You said they’d try to find out about her.”
Kare sat on the other end of the bed and rubbed his temples. Honesty: that was the only thing here. Except he’d already been over this with Baelan, and it had made no difference – he didn’t believe him.
“We think the Empress has taken your mother into the palace,” Kare said, voice soft. “Where I cannot risk any of my people.” Not yet, anyway. Not until he was on the planet and able to pull them out of any fire-storm.
“Not for me, anyway.”
Not for anyone. Perhaps if the boy understood the wider agenda, it would help. He was many things, but he didn’t appear to be stupid. “You know the Empress wants you back?”
“For my power.”
“Partly. She wants you if you’ll use your power for her.”
“And if I don’t?”
Kare rubbed his neck, along the ridged, old scar, and his throat tightened in remembered fear. Oh, son, if you don’t….
“That’s why I need to know how the power works.” It wasn’t even a lie. If he could find Baelan’s mother and reunite them, he would. “I want to be able to return you, and for you to be safe on Belaudii.” Safe and happy, not used as a pawn to be twisted and changed. “As it stands, if the tribes get you – through your mother, or any other way – they will send you back to the Empress.”
“You’re a liar! You don’t want me to go back.” The boy clutched his ankhar and power spiralled from him, so familiar it made Kare’s fingers tingle from wanting that pure power, welled within him, not something to be maintained and managed, something that just was.
“Baelan.” Calm, he must be calm. “You don’t know what I want.”
“I don’t care what you want. I’m from the tribes and I want back to where I belong. Once they know what the Empress was doing, how she was hurting me, they’ll understand I can’t return.” It was desire over knowledge, a desperate clutching at a dream. Somehow, it gave Kare hope – to have a dream, even a false one, proved Baelan was still fighting for his future. “My mother definitely will, and she’s an elder.”
An elder who bore a son by a man she hated, to seek revenge; who was so closely linked to the tribe there was nothing she wouldn’t do for them. “Baelan…”
“Don’t touch me!” Baelan got up, his face contorted and angry, his hands balled into fists.
“Calm dow—”
“Get away from me!”
A light burst, showering glass through the room. Kare raised his hands, feeling the sharp rain covering them, and forced himself to stay calm. “Stop, Baelan.”
The boy’s control slipped further. “You better not touch me!” His power grew, bound in wires of all-too-familiar hatred.
Kare reeled back, shocked. His mother? What had she primed in the boy? Whatever it was, it was consuming him, taking all sense of himself away. Kare had to end this now. He grasped the mesh and met the boy’s power, looking to constrain it.
Baelan snatched his ankhar and planted his feet. His power gathered, turning darker, flowing with hatred. “You don’t know what it’s like to live in the tribes! To always be chased and hated. You were the one who sent the troops after us.”
“Because the tribes were trying to kill me and mine.”
Surely Baelan must know some of what he’d been taught was a lie. The time with the Empress should have proved that, if nothing else. He faced his son – if he didn’t already know, it was time he learned. He had a place in the outcome – regardless what happened, Baelan carried his own blood and powers. He’d be a target, just as much as Kerra had always been. To treat him as a child and deny him the truth of that heritage – all of it, not just the Empress’ lies – would be a betrayal.
“What would you have had me do?” Kare asked. “Tell the tribes to have the planet? Tell them I’d leave an empire that stretched across the systems, that was holding peace in place for billions of people, because they wanted their planet back?” He opened his hands, wide, imploring Baelan to know the truth of his words. “You think I wanted to stamp down on the tribes? They had so little – the poverty was appalling. You think Sonly wanted to stand over that, with her obsession with helping those in need?”
The boy’s mouth fell open, stunned. Had he not seen the poverty? When living with it, finding pride in it as the tribes seemed to do, did it become invisible? Or was it that he was so used to being lied to that the truth hurt?
“Enough!” A line of dark anger came at Kare, focused on him. What was left of the boy’s control had broken. Kare flexed the mesh, so his power scythed through Baelan’s. The boy sent another blast. Kare struggled to block it, but pushed against his son, focused on closing him down. Baelan squirmed and Kare slammed into him, as hard as he was able. They stood, glaring at each other.
“Had enough?” Kare’s voice was forced. Gods, let the answer be yes; he was too old for power-tag. Old and out of practice. The boy wriggled but Kare stood his ground.
Baelan stopped struggling, and the fight left him as suddenly as it had come on. “I’ve had enough.”
Kare let g
o. “Good. Now what the hell was that ab—”
A wall of hate hit Kare, sending him sprawling across the cabin, into the wall.
“You know nothing about the tribes.” The boy moved forwards, eyes wide and bulging. “You take people and make them do what you want. You took me.”
He sent another blast, knocking Kare’s hasty defence to the side. Kare yelled at the pain in his head. He couldn’t think straight, let alone draw on the mesh.
“You pretend I’m the same as Kerra, and I’m not. You can’t stand me. Your wife hates me. I want to be back with my tribe, and I will be when I complete my oath.”
“Baelan, stop.”
The boy lashed out, fast and dangerous – gods, he’d got better – and Kare braced as it hit, knocking the breath from him. Something wrapped around his throat, tightening. He reached up, dragging at his neck, but there was nothing there. His vision darkened and he barely gasped a breath. Stop. Nothing came out except a strangled croak. The mesh was there, beyond the blackness. He couldn’t grasp it. He looked into his son’s eyes; Baelan’s oath shone from him, what his tribe had brainwashed him into. Kare tried to speak, to say there was another way, but slumped, clawing at his neck.
“Stop it, you little brat.” Farran’s voice, from the doorway, took Baelan’s attention, giving Kare time to gulp in a breath. He pushed onto his knees: he had to stop Baelan. The Roamer had no hope.
“Enough,” Kare croaked. He touched Baelan’s mind. One part of him wanted to smash the child’s power away, to teach him a lesson he’d never forget. The rational part of him knew that would be a mistake. Baelan had spent his life being controlled. He’d never been taught to trust himself, or his own judgement. If Kare came along as another authority figure, looking to force him to his will, it would feed what Baelan was holding on to. He focused on the hatred, his touch firm and sure, but not cruel. It’s okay. Let it go, no one is going to hurt you. Baelan met his gaze.
“Stop now,” said Kare.
The darkness fell from Baelan’s eyes. His shoulders slumped, and he looked at his hands as if in disbelief. “I… I…”
Farran grabbed his collar, half-choking the lad. “If he can’t be controlled, he has to go.”
“Leave him.” Kare faced the Roamer, daring him to challenge the order. “It’s between me and the boy.”
Farran shook his head. “He’s not safe.”
“He won’t do it again.” Kare raised an eyebrow at the still-shocked Baelan. “Will you?”
Slowly, Baelan shook his head.
“It’s not enough,” said Farran. “Everyone is at risk from him. His word doesn’t give safety.”
Farran was right. Kare staggered to his feet. Baelan was tired now, almost slumping – it was now, or never. He’d have preferred never. Sorry, son. Kare whipped out, seeking the source of the hatred, knowing Baelan would hate this invasion, that he would see it as another betrayal. But he’d tried talking, and got nowhere. He could defend himself, but if the boy lost control with Sonly? Or Kerra? He couldn’t take that chance.
Baelan yelled and tried to block him, but Kare was in too deep, following the pattern of images and thoughts, seeing where they led. He focused on Sonly, on Kerra, on the Roamers themselves, and found nothing but shimmering resentment. He turned his attention to the boy’s thoughts about himself, and hit an explosion of hatred.
The Empress was at the centre of it, tight around the hatred. Kare pulled out of Baelan’s mind and caught his son as he fell forwards.
“Farran, go,” Kare said. “You have nothing to worry about from him. None of you do.” Except himself. He had a lot to worry about. He’d add it to the list.
Farran still looked uncertain. “I’ll be outside.” He pointed at Baelan. “Do that once more and you never fly with me again.”
The door closed, and for a moment there was silence, broken only by Baelan’s breaths. He moved to the bed and lay, gasping, his chest heaving.
“I’m sorry for looking,” said Kare. His own head was aching; his hands shaking. “I had to know.”
His son shook his head. “You’re just like her; taking what you want, even if I don’t want you to. She wanted my power, so do you.”
“Baelan, I don’t want you because of your power.” Slowly, Kare unbuttoned his shirt, displaying what he hated about himself. He tracked his finger down the scar that ran the length of his torso, felt where it merged with other scars. “This is what she did to me, and she bore me. If you don’t do what she wants, what will she do to you? Why do you think she wants me out of the picture – she knows I’ll never be what she wants, and she’s moved on to you. What if you don’t please her, either?”
Baelan’s eyes skittered, taking in the scars.
“I don’t want it happening to you. I’m doing my best to stop her forever.” Let the boy work out what that might mean: once they were on Ferran, he wouldn’t move again without a security team so tight he’d struggle to scratch his own nose. “You have to tell me exactly what she put in your mind, because I need to find a way to break it.” He sat next to the boy. “I can work with you to release the compulsion.”
“Do you promise?” Need shone from Baelan’s eyes, sharp and driven. “Can you do it?”
He couldn’t promise that, any more than he’d been able to promise Kerra she could be free of her heritage.
“I don’t know.” He got up, deliberately taking his time as he walked to the door, his back to Baelan. A bead of sweat ran between his shoulder blades. “But I believe you are strong enough to overcome her.”
A soft sound made him turn. Tears were running down Baelan’s cheeks, his shoulders shaking. To use a child like this… his mother was a bitch he’d gladly kill.
He crossed to the bed and put his arms around his son. The child might have more power than he knew what to do with, he might be surly and troubled, but he was still a kid who’d been taken from his family and forced to do things he didn’t understand. Let the boy cry. Hell, he felt like joining him.
He tightened his hold on his son, and closed his eyes, adding another reason to face his mother before she destroyed Baelan entirely.
CHAPTER FIVE
Lichio looked over at Kerra, and yawned. “What do we do? Eat so much crap we’re sick?”
She smirked. As a de-facto childminder, her uncle was terrible. As entertainment, however, he was always good value.
“You’re a grown-up,” she said. “You’re not supposed to swear in front of me, Mum says.”
“That’s not swearing.”
“It is.” Although her dad said much worse, when he thought she couldn’t hear him.
“When you’re a bit older, I’ll teach you some others.” He reached down and adjusted the strapping on his ankle, the one he’d injured in Abendau. “Anyway, I’ve never grown up. It’s boring.”
That sounded good, not growing up. She looked down at her hands and said, “I’d like a place to fix sick animals. When I’m older.” She couldn’t imagine telling her mum. She’d never understand.
It was a moot point, anyway. Her mum had been sequestered in one of the caverns, surrounded by comms information, since early morning. Kerra was well used to being left to her own devices, but normally she had her things to keep her occupied. A tutor, at the very least, and her own room, with things to do in it. Here, unless she wandered down to the workshops – and her mum had made it clear that she didn’t want Kerra getting involved with the Roamers – there was little to do. Even Baelan had left, victim to the iron-bound arrangement of the entire Varnon family never flying on one ship.
“Cool,” said Lichio, not remotely fazed. “I wish I’d done that instead of joining the army.”
“Are you still in the army?”
He shrugged. “It depends. If your dad really does end the empire, I’m out of a job.” A slight smile crossed his face, a hint of relief. “D’you want a helper? Although I’m not doing any mucking-out; if you’re so keen, you can do that.”
“Urgh.” She giggled, but something niggled at the back of her mind and she stopped laughing. The mesh was throbbing, trying to get her attention, and she wasn’t sure what to do. She wasn’t allowed to access it on her own. Her dad had been strict about that. She looked at Lichio. “Can you hear anything?”
He cocked his head, listening. The low thunder of the waves, the constant noise of Syllte that she’d already come to love, was present. A roar built over it, the steady whine of a spacecraft coming into the port.
“You’re just jumpy after Abend—” A noise, a low pulse, cut across Lichio’s words.
“What was that?” she said, heart jolting.
Lichio was already on his feet, only a wince giving away any discomfort. “A ship firing.” He opened the door. “Out!” He’d transformed from her easy-going uncle into the military commander he was, and his voice gave no room for disobedience.
She stepped into a corridor full of people – a mix of Roamers and soldiers from Bendau. The caves weren’t designed to house so many at once, and they were bunched together in the narrow corridor. Voices came from all around, urging others forwards, calling for their family members. Lichio put his hand on her arm, ushering her ahead of him. She joined the throng, and was pulled along by it, her feet half-lifted from the ground, and she was glad of his steadiness.
A muffled boom expanded as it ripped through the caves. She brought her hands up to her ears. The rock moved under her feet, and people screamed. Something flashed, through one of the portholes, and then again: laser beams, cutting air.
She couldn’t tell what sort of ships they were, or how many. There shouldn’t have been any – the Roamers had been sure the base was secure. The roaring of ships grew louder as the Roamer fleet emerged from the caverns, firing back, their freighters darting. They should have known nowhere could be safe from her grandmother.
The crowd surged forwards, pulling her with them. Lichio’s hand was wrenched away. She looked behind, but couldn’t see him. Close-tight bodies carried her with them, frightening her. She managed to break free, muscles cramping as she fought the momentum, and pressed against the wall of the passage. Lichio appeared through the crowd.