The Powerless Series: Complete 5-Book Set

by Jason Letts

  “Just a little later, the rancher said something to me before I lost him. He said, ‘you make everything real’. I don’t know what that means, but it makes me think I had it in me to stand up to him. Maybe I could’ve absorbed his energy. Maybe something else would’ve happened to put us in a better place than we are now. But I was afraid to die and I couldn’t risk what I had. If only I had another chance at him.”

  There was a pause and Vika scratched her head.

  “If you’re looking for trouble, Crimshaw done told me that he’s coming here today! Ain’t you noticed how hot it’s been?”

  The four friends, shocked that the Warlord would actually be coming to their camp, gasped simultaneously. They were all frozen until they suddenly broke and rushed for the exit, tramping through the yard and jumping into the foliage.

  “He’s got to be checking on the ship’s progress!” Mira called, leading them between the trees.

  “If we get caught…” Vern huffed, pumping his arms.

  “Let’s not even go there,” Aoi stopped him.

  As they crossed toward the eastern side of the camp, heading toward the path that led from the gate to the shipyard, they found out Vika’s information was correct. Slowing to a crawl, they snuck through the dense jungle foliage, doing their best to avoid the eyes of anyone on the paths.

  Sure enough, the massive, hulking gate lurched open, revealing a solitary hooded figure behind. The Warlord, known as the Savior to the Sunfighters, plodded closer. The first glimpse of him made Mira and her friends shudder, but before they could even think about doing anything Crimshaw and a few other guards came to meet him. Creeping closer, the hidden foursome tried to hear what they were saying.

  “It’s so good of you to come,” Crimshaw groveled. “Everything is right on schedule. You don’t need to worry about a thing.”

  “I’ll have to take a look, if you don’t mind,” the Warlord growled, pulling his hood from his singed locks and striding toward the shipyard.

  Huddling together in the brush, the nerves and the revulsion swept over the small group.

  “Aoi, if you could absorb his energy, what would stop the rest of us, his filthy burned hair?” Vern asked.

  Considering how many guards were around, Mira knew it was futile to attempt anything. They wouldn’t make it within ten feet. Still, catching a glimpse of him might prove valuable.

  “It wasn’t the hair,” Chucky noted. “The grossest thing was that piece of glass sticking out of his chest that had scar tissue festering all around it. Do you remember when we saw that? You can still see the lump!”

  “Shh!” Mira urged, but Chucky was right. There was a lump in the middle of his chest, and they’d seen the cause of it back at the battle of Darmen.

  “I don’t think that was glass. Even though it had a round tube shape, it was way too shiny. It had lots of edges and wasn’t clear like glass at all,” Aoi remembered. Together, they watched the group approach their spot in the jungle. Whispering, the importance of these strange recollections dawned on them.

  Mira searched through her memory to see if she could recall what it was. The only thing she could be confident about was how it caught the light and splintered it. As Aoi shrugged her shoulders and shook her head, a funny thought struck Mira.

  “It was made of diamond,” she declared.

  “What?” Vern gasped, cringing. They gave him a look to quiet him down.

  “It must’ve been,” Mira went on. “Nothing else could explain how jagged its surface was.”

  “I don’t know,” Vern scoffed. “I mean, when was the last time you even heard of anybody having a diamond?”

  Mira knew she had never seen a diamond, and Aoi’s searching eyes seemed to have hit upon just as little. Chucky though scrunched up his face into something between a snarl and a silly grin.

  “What about the story Fortst told us back at the academy? That had a diamond in it,” he mused.

  “You mean that ridiculous story where he tramped all over the continent to find some glittery cup left behind by the very first person?” Vern chuckled, looking to the girls to see if they shared in the absurdity of it. The Warlord, Crimshaw, and the other guards were passing right by them at that moment, so they cut their chatter and stared blankly at their enemies, the possibility of this connection rattling around in their minds. Could it really be him? When they’d passed down the path, Mira and her friends quietly snuck through the thick jungle to follow them.

  “Wait a second, let’s just take a breath or twenty before we jump to any conclusions,” Vern insisted. “I’m not even sure I remember the story. And didn’t we all agree Fortst was just making it up?”

  “I think I slept through the beginning of it. All I remember is the end when the action picked up. He looked like he’d wrung out his soul by the time it was over. I don’t think there’s anybody out there who could put that much passion into a big fat lie,” Aoi reasoned.

  Chucky agreed. “Whatever the details were, he believed what he was saying. And like you said, Vern, the story was about a diamond carafe, if I’m remembering right. It was something about the web creating an omnipotent being. To make other people, he gave away his powers until he only had one left. Then he fused that last one with the carafe to live on after he died.”

  Mira kept catching Chucky looking back at her. She couldn’t tell if he needed her approval to keep telling the story or if he just wasn’t sure. By the time he finished, his eyes had nothing but stunned disbelief.

  “According to the story,” Mira continued, “the first being became a king with this one power, and he used it to maintain peace throughout the world. And now we’ve got a bloodthirsty vagrant calling himself the Savior and building an empire from the ashes of destruction and fear.”

  As they crept toward the boatyard, their eyes on the Warlord’s back, all of the pieces started to come together.

  “So Fortst’s nemesis got his hands on the carafe, built himself an army to conquer Darmen, and he’s the one that’s right there in front of us? Even if it’s true, it’s too awful to believe!”

  Aoi dropped to her knees and stopped, putting her face against her hand in an attempt to hide from their discovery.

  “Looks like he didn’t get his hands on it at all. Rather the explosion sunk it into his sternum. But he did much more than you say,” Mira explained, her ominous words no louder than the crickets. “He’s the one who coerced Widget into telling him about my family. Then he came and abducted my sister, raising her to be as terrible as he is, and now he’s putting us all to work in the name of some grand mission involving the ship.”

  Taking another few steps, the shipyard came into view. The forest curved away, meaning they would no longer be able to follow. Vern had a strange, hungry look in his eyes.

  “OK, so now’s our chance to get him right? He’s right here!”

  “You know we can’t do that,” Mira countered. “We’d be dead before we left the forest. We’ve figured out so much just now, but it still doesn’t change that we’re at a hopeless disadvantage. A better opportunity will come, I promise you.

  “It’s almost beautiful,” Mira gasped, leaning closer as if to take it all in. “He’s just some loner, who Widget said was scorned by his home. Through dumb luck, no fault of his own, he happens to stumble upon this piece of unquantifiable power, thereby allowing him to get his revenge. Gosh, I mean, what was his name from the story? Does anybody remember?”

  “I don’t remember,” Chucky said, throwing up his hands and sitting back down.

  “It was Arent. His name’s Arent. He’s no Warlord, and no fancy title will ever make him better than the savage he is,” Vern said.

  “So that’s it then? He’s got the one power better than all the rest as deigned by the first omnipotent being. And that power is mind control, right?” Aoi asked, trying to sort it out.

  Mira, putting her hand to her chin, disagreed.

  “But it’s not mind control,” she said. �
�He doesn’t actually force anyone to do anything. He scares them, intimidates them into doing it by the sheer weight of what he knows. Unless, like us, you know what he’s doing, there seems to be no defense against it.”

  Taking a deep breath, Mira couldn’t tease her friends with the object of their revenge any longer. Slowly backing away, they started to tiptoe through the forest back to their tents by the beach.

  “I can’t believe we’re just going to walk away from this! Now that we know all this, what can we do about it?” Vern asked, shattering the silence. “There’s got to be some way we can use this information to get him. I got it! All we have to do is dig the carafe out of his chest and then he won’t have that power anymore, right? Everyone will go back to normal, the Earth will rotate, and the night will come again! Then we can protect the carafe shard and make sure evil hands never get to use it.”

  It all sounded like a great thing to do, but they were still just trapped in a sea of enemies.

  “Even if we were able to cut that piece of diamond out of his chest, we could search the world for eons before ever finding the rest of it. Maybe it’s better that way. Something that powerful might be better off being lost forever. We’ve got quite enough trouble to deal with as it is.”

  They came to their tents lodged back behind the residential huts among the palm trees. The ocean waves licked at the shore in the distance. It was late, and knowing their enemy was so close but they were still unable to stop him provided a new kind of torment worse than all others.

  “Are we ever going to be able to do anything?” Vern asked Mira before he slipped into his tent.

  “Be patient,” she urged him. “There will come a time when he’s not so well-guarded. That’s when we’ll make our stand.”

  Chapter 4: A Mouthful

  While the rest of the women in the bunk settled in to sleep away their rest hours, Mary kept one eye open to watch them. Huddled under her thin blanket, she waited until they were all fast asleep. Her own heavy eyelids tried to pull her under, but she held them back until the room became still and silent. That’s when she made her move.

  She rolled to the edge of the loft and let her legs dangle over the side. Lowering herself to the floor, her feet hit the wood without a thud or creak. Roselyn slept there beside her, and Mary gave her a long, pensive look before slipping through the door and leaving her behind.

  Even though the sun was shining, the camp still had the quiet, empty feeling of a dark night. She snuck across to the camp’s other side, ascending the mountainside at an angle. Ducking under windows and passing into untainted forest, her path led further up until she came to a nook above the mining tunnels. Peeking around a bush, she scanned the trolley tracks leading into the mines below. As she made sure no one followed her, she turned to the sound of rustling branches.

  “You’re late,” Will said, stepping out from behind the shroud.

  “I’m sorry. I just get so paranoid someone’s going to catch me,” Mary replied.

  “I know the feeling,” Will sympathized, nodding.

  They approached each other, and Will handed over three plump, red apples. Mary took two of them and dropped them into her pockets. Holding the third one with both hands, she sunk her teeth in and tore off a big bite. It tasted so sweet, and for a second life didn’t seem so bad.

  “What’s the news?” Will asked, averting his eyes so as not to watch her eat.

  “It takes a long time to sort out the details. Clara doesn’t talk to Mira but once every few days, and even then she only gets bits of information. Sometimes it’s complicated, and that makes it hard for Roselyn to explain it to me. But I tell you everything I know,” Mary explained, taking another bite.

  “Why doesn’t she just write it out for you?” Will asked, nodding his head and crossing his arms. Mary felt like she was being criticized. No matter how many times she told herself she was speaking to her friend, his black uniform always unsettled her.

  “We’re never alone, Will!” she argued. “If other people wanted to see our paper, we wouldn’t be able to stop them from taking it. Nobody can find out about this or we’ll lose it all. It’s got to just be pictures and whispers.”

  “OK, OK. I get it. So are they coming?” he asked, scratching the back of his head.

  Mary lowered her eyes to the ground, disappointing him before she could even speak.

  “Not right away at least. There seems to be a lot more surveillance down there by the seacoast, a lot more guards. Probably because they aren’t all tied down by the ear like we are. It’s tricky though. They need more information about where the Warlord is,” she said, hinting at him.

  “I’m telling you. They don’t tell me anything! I really don’t get much more than orders about which trees to cut down and which lumps of earth to move. My landscaping team isn’t the easiest to manage either. Besides, even if we did find anything out, how would Roselyn tell her?”

  Will had become defensive also. Mary could see that they both were on edge, tired, and out of ideas. Taking a deep breath, she tried to sound reassuring.

  “I know. We still haven’t been able to tell Mira her parents are here. She barely knows we are. But we’ll figure it out when we get there.”

  “Yeah, you’re right,” Will agreed. “Was there anything else?”

  “You know how all the ore we mine goes down to them so they can build a ship? Mira needs to find out what it’s for or even how it goes. Roselyn drew a ship with question marks for sails and I finally figured it out. Can you do that?”

  Will cringed and tilted his head. His hesitant expressions pained Mary too, who wished for once there could be some easy answers.

  “I’ll try to find out what I can, but Jeremy is the one in charge of the delivery caravan, so he probably knows more than anyone here short of the witch. I certainly wouldn’t want to give him any more reasons to be suspicious. I can’t tell you how thankful I am he only stops by here about twice a month,” he said.

  “We’re running out of options! If we don’t start figuring some of this out we’ll be stuck here forever,” Mary snapped, shutting her eyes and immediately regretting her tone.

  “The harder I press, the more likely it is somebody’ll figure out whose side I’m really on. So you’ve got to cut me some slack and give me a chance to wait until the right time.”

  They stood in such silence for a moment that they could hear a breeze pass through the leaves on the mountainside above them. Mary felt like it was time to go back and sleep, but she saw the troubled look on Will’s face before she could say goodbye. He looked so fragile and young sometimes, and that’s when Mary could see the heartache getting to him.

  “How is she doing, anyways?” he stuttered.

  “Oh, Will. You know she cares about you…‌very deeply. But she’s broken in so many places now. She might not ever get put back together.”

  “Yeah, I understand. Maybe if she were having a good day though, she could come and meet me like this, if she wanted,” he said, trailing off.

  “You keep,” Mary began, but she changed gears and feigned a smile. “I’ll let her know. She sends her thanks for the apples, by the way, and so does Clara.

  Taking a few steps back, Mary tried to show Will that she felt for him even though she had to leave. Will didn’t look like he would be doing anything other than sulking.

  “Just tell her nothing’s changed about how I feel. Nothing could ever change.”

  “I’ll do that, Will. You get some sleep, OK? Maybe things’ll be better soon. Goodnight,” Mary sighed.

  Slipping back into the brush, she left him behind and started back toward her bunkhouse. She always left their meetings feeling heavy-hearted and deflated, though she could never tell if the conversation or their environment was the cause. Mary hid both apples under Roselyn’s pillow, silently climbed onto her loft, and waited for the blackness of sleep to erase as many hours as possible.

  The only light at the bottom of the mine came from a
few candles rigged against the wall. Blocking out the sun’s rays, trees shrouded the entrance that was about one hundred yards away. This far down, the air was stuffy, thick with the sediment and grit that accompanied the clanks of the pickaxes. Tracks and rope ran all the way to the bottom, where a cart awaited the next load to bring to the surface.

  Three men worked to extract the iron ore from its prison of stone and soil. Two wielded their pickaxes into the surrounding earth, smashing away at the clinging rock until they exposed a deposit of ore. Once they’d freed a large enough chunk, the third man came and sliced it off with one sweep of his hand. Or more precisely, his hand repelled the iron particles so strongly they preferred to split themselves rather than receive his touch.

  While the third man cleared away the debris, the pair swinging the pickaxes quietly went about their work. But silence was not the preference of both of them. A young man, his pale skin looking positively ghostly despite the dirt, looked longingly at his much older companion, whose graying hair and tired eyes seemed loathe to anything bothersome. But the lonely hours he spent in this hole every day prevented Neeko from abandoning his efforts to reach out to Kevin.

  “Am I doing this right? We never talk about form,” Neeko posed, taking an exaggerated swing.

  One quick look over at Kevin told him a response would be more than he could ask for. Kevin had to be just as bored as he was, so maybe all he had to do was lighten the mood a little.

  “Couldn’t they ship some water down here, or maybe another pair of arms? I am beat!”

  Bringing the axe down, leaning on its handle, and wiping his brow for effect, Neeko hoped for some kind of sign his comrades felt the same way. But even the tan man behind him wouldn’t give him the common courtesy of a look in the eye. They could’ve at least chided him for slacking off.

  Though these snubs seemed like minor affairs, they injured him grievously. After months of living in a camp of over a hundred people, Neeko felt completely alone. The guards spat on him, Mary and Roselyn avoided him, and in the end it crushed him that he didn’t have a single person to confide in. A frustrated growl accompanied his next swing. After being ground down for so long it seemed like things couldn’t possibly get any worse.