“The Hollows, huh?” Andre’s plight slammed into Weston again, and his shoulders dropped. He blew out a breath. The gel of the mold no longer glistened, so he slid a glove off and used his fingernail to lift the edge of the metal plate. It pulled away from the rubbery substance with a sucking sound. What would Titus do with the weapons in the Hollows? How would he treat Andre?
Weston resisted the urge to pound his fist against the table and be subjected to another scolding from Pistoia on anger management and how the workshop wasn’t the place for a tantrum. He shoved his ungloved hand through his hair. “What am I going to do? I ruined everything.”
Pistoia leaned over the table to examine the imprint. “It looks good to me. What are you—Oh.” She sat back in her chair and adjusted her stained apron. “Weston. Are you a prince, or a doormat?”
Her sincere tone grabbed his attention. “What?”
“If you keep rolling over, he’s going to continue to walk on you. Remember last year, when you whipped Jade’s bodyguard? What did your father do?”
Weston rubbed a rag over the metal sheet he’d used for the mold, cleaning off lingering residue. “Gave me attention. Respected me.”
“Right.” Pistoia ruffled her short hair and propped her chin in her hand, looking at Weston with sympathy. “He acknowledges strength and power. You need to show that. Talk to him.” She lifted a finger. “But be careful. He also is quick to perceive threats. If you show too much strength, too quickly . . .”
Weston pushed away from the table, the chair swiveling with his movement as he looked at the floor. “You’re telling me I need to walk a fine line.”
“Yes.” Pistoia sighed. “Buying time may be the best option for the moment. And hopefully the marchioness will have an actual plan for getting Andre out, because I can’t think of anything that could work.” She motioned for the mold, and Weston slid it to her, his heart heavy. She nodded approvingly and clucked her tongue. “You’ve gotten much better at these.”
Weston turned the metal sheet over in his hands. “I wish I knew what I could do for Jade. When on the Sapphire, she was constantly disappearing to work on Briar’s prosthetic. She won’t get the same time to work here as she did there.”
Pistoia lifted her head, curiosity painted across her features. “Someone needs a prosthetic? And she’s the one working on it?”
“Well, yes.” Weston set the piece aside and pulled out the steam-pistol he’d been working on last time he’d been in. “Briar was their chef on the airship, and he lost his leg a few weeks ago. Jade and Briar’s girlfriend have been working on his leg ever since.”
“Bring her here,” Pistoia suggested. “It’ll give her a safe place to run to. And maybe we have tools or something she needs or could use.” She waved a hand toward the back of the workshop. “Think of all the custom pieces we fire here. Maybe we can help. It may even get you on her good side.”
Weston’s innards shook at the idea. That was two terrifying things that Pistoia wanted him to do now. Talk to his father. And talk to Jade. Which one frightened him less, he couldn’t decide. He spun his screwdriver on the table, watching the handle and crossed tip spiral. “If my father doesn’t kill me first,” he muttered.
“Nonsense.” Pistoia sniffed. “He won’t kill his only heir. Now, me?” She raised a miniature knife that they used to engrave the metal and brandished it at him. “I can do a great many things to make your life miserable here at the shop, so I suggest you listen.” Her smile took all the danger out of her words. “Think of all the things your father has done recently that have steamed you, and go talk to him tonight. Get it over with. Then talk to Jade tomorrow.”
Weston grimaced. “I’m not sure about tonight, but definitely tomorrow.”
“Fine.” Pistoia tugged her goggles over her eyes again. “Just make sure you’re in the right mood. Don’t go in like a kicked puppy. Go in like a prince.” She gave him a stern look, her eyes huge behind the magnifying lens of her goggles. “You’re his son. Show him the same fire and intensity I’ve seen in you before.”
Weston couldn’t stop his huff of laughter from escaping at the memory of his first visit to the shop, and his demanding that the best teach him. Master Raffael had taken one look and handed him off to Pistoia. She wouldn’t take any of his complaining or chauvinistic ideas, and she’d beaten him into apprentice shape within a matter of weeks.
“That was . . .” Weston shook his head, a small smile at the edge of his mouth. “That was a different me. The old me.”
Pistoia grunted as she picked up a tiny screwdriver and twirled it in her hand. “That old you is still a part of you, Weston. You’ve chosen to overcome the wrongs you were raised to believe. Your strength is still there. It’s just a matter of you learning how to use it for the right reasons and with the proper motives.”
Chapter Thirty
Christopher
Christopher caught snippets of Kelstone village as he rode through the forest with Lucio and his team of Void Born: A brick roof. The side of a building. Village kids playing ball.
They’d finally made it. He relaxed in the saddle, feeling the weight of the last few days slowly slough off his shoulders.
It had taken weeks to get this far, and if Lucio was correct, it’d be at least another twelve days to reach the closest keystone on Madrilla Island. And if they’d gone by airship? Less than two days.
But once they got the bloodstone revitalized, they’d be that much closer to the mission being complete. Victor had it drilled into Christopher’s head. First, get the stone powered. Second, drop the barrier. Third, kill Lucio.
Lucio hissed through his teeth, and Christopher startled, briefly wondering if Lucio had somehow heard his thoughts. But the pudgy sage wasn’t looking at Christopher, his attention solely focused on the village that they could see clearly now.
The glimpses that Christopher had seen proved to be true—wooden buildings nestled together like mushrooms in a forest around the base of a rocky hill. And what looked to be a squat well in the center of the village. Kids played and a few adults moved about. A sound carried to Christopher that made him think of a goose, and it took another moment of observation to realize that one of the kids was making the noise.
“What is that?” Lucio’s eyes widened and he urged his horse forward before he gasped, flinching back with a horrified expression. “Watchers.”
Christopher glanced over at Deidre and she shrugged. “Watchers?” She echoed.
Lucio spat and made a warding gesture. “The rejects of Elph society—their deaf.”
Lucio’s vehemence was reminiscent of many of the high-class Elph back home, concerned with appearances and being a “whole” being. But Christopher couldn’t think of a time that he’d ever heard the term “watcher.” And now that he knew what to look for, he realized that all the adults he saw were using their hands to communicate, and the general babble of voices was absent.
Andrew let his horse draw even with Christopher’s. He twirled a tip of his black moustache as he patted his horse’s neck. “They don’t just eliminate them?”
“Oh no,” Lucio sneered. “Life is precious. So they let them have their own land, let them live their own lives.” He waved a hand. “It’s obvious this camp has two purposes.” He fell silent, raising his eyebrows at each of them with an expectant expression.
Christopher rolled his eyes and waited for Lucio to finish with his dramatic pause.
Lucio gestured to Deidre. She flung her braid over her shoulder and rolled her neck, flicking a hand to Derrick. Lucio pouted. “Anyone have any guesses?”
“No, but you clearly know the answer,” Derrick sighed. “As always.”
“They’re here to be away from the Elph cities, obviously.” Lucio picked at dirt under his nails, then buffed them against his vaunted Vodan-weave shirt. “And they’re here to guard the location. Two birds with one stone for the Elph.” His eyes narrowed. “They’ll report that we came through their village.�
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Andrew rolled his eyes. “Does it matter? The barrier will be down soon enough, won’t it?”
Lucio hummed to himself as he considered. “I suppose you’re right. Who cares what they do?” He kicked at his horse. “Let’s get this over with.”
It took only a few moments without the cover of the woods before the kids noticed them. Most the children ran out to greet them, while two of them scurried back into the village, presumably to alert the adults of visitors.
Lucio’s lip curled as they passed through the bright-eyed kids, but Christopher made eye contact with each one, grinning at one lad, tipping his head at a girl, waving his fingers at a child who hid behind an older boy.
Christopher frowned at the strange metal decorations that ran from window to window of each building. The burnished metal rested lightly on poles every couple of feet, and created a ring that circled around the entire village. Large discs of the metal stood on their sides every couple of feet, almost looking like cheaply polished mirrors. Each disc was attached to the metal poles running throughout the village. What the Void is that about?
The children pranced before their horses, leading them into the village. The sounds of laughter that the kids emitted was different than any Christopher had heard before, but their obvious joy at their arrival offset his uncertainty.
An elder gentleman in long robes met them before the well, and Christopher dismounted before Lucio could, hustling forward to reach the man first. Christopher bowed, ignoring Lucio’s huff behind him.
“Honored sir, my friends and I would like to visit . . .” Christopher trailed off, not even sure of what they were actually going to visit. Was it a shrine? A temple? Some specific rock? “The site, up there,” he finished lamely.
The man said nothing, looking over their group as he ran a hand down his well-trimmed gray beard. He skimmed over Andrew and Deidre, his gaze taking in their swords without blinking. He offered a faint nod to Derrick in what Christopher could only assume was a sign of respect for the battleax strapped to his back, then his inspection stopped on Lucio, and the elder’s brow furrowed.
“As a pilgrimage,” Christopher added, hopeful to prod the conversation along, and not to let the man dwell on their many weapons.
Graybeard lifted his hands and signed something, his eye gaze neither sharp nor friendly.
Christopher shook his head and lifted his hands in a shrug. “I’m sorry, I don’t understand.”
“No.” The elder didn’t pronounce the N clearly, but his meaning was distinctive. He turned away, and the few villagers who had stopped in doorways or lingered by the well suddenly burst into action, acting as if they hadn’t just watched their leader rebuff a group of strangers.
Deidre shot Christopher a small smile. “It was a worth a try.”
Lucio snorted. “It’s to be expected.” He twisted in the saddle, peering at the unmarked buildings around them. “We’ll check if this place has an inn worth our time.”
***
Christopher lay on his back, staring up at the colorful swirl of stars in the sky above. Back home, they had gas lights and signs of industry that kept the sky a faded gray-black with the occasional star that glimmered through. Here, the watchers used candles and lanterns and fires to illuminate the evening, and as the night grew later, those few lights winked out, leaving the breathtaking view for his quiet enjoyment.
They had finally found an inn of sorts, but Lucio had decided he didn’t want to stay under the eye of a watcher, so they’d eaten their fill of hearty lamb and vegetable stew, then left to make camp on the village outskirts. Lucio griped and complained the whole time, as he always did, but Christopher found the whole experience strangely fun.
The children weren’t cautious of them at all, crowding around all but Lucio, poking at weapons, making noises and signs that Deidre and Derrick tried to understand, while Andrew resorted to making up his own hand language, to the children’s great amusement.
After a while, the old man brought out a ring and gave it to Christopher, and when Christopher slipped it on, all the children’s voices clamored in his mind as they signed. It freaked him out, and he returned the ring immediately with a wide-eyed apologetic grin. The elder shrugged to himself and pocketed the ring, leaving once again.
Then two more children joined the ragtag group surrounding them, and Christopher’s group was pleasantly surprised to discover that the two could talk, introducing themselves as Corey and Heather. So Christopher regaled the two with story after story of adventures that he or his friends had experienced, and they interpreted for their friends. Until finally their mothers came to drag off their kids for bedtime.
And now Lucio and their team waited until every last light went out in the village. It had been providential, meeting Corey and Heather, as before that, Lucio had been under the impression that all in the village were deaf, and they’d be able to traipse through without concern of waking anyone. Now they knew better. Silence finally settled over the village like mist, and Lucio stood, Andrew on his feet a moment later. Christopher offered Deidre a hand, and Derrick stretched, quickly packing his bedroll.
They’d barely made camp in the first place, knowing they’d be breaking it down before the end of the night, so it took them mere minutes until they were on their way, mounted and moving through the village to the beginning of the path.
The trail leading up the side of the rocky hill all but shone in the moonlight, and Lucio’s horse cantered forward. A shadow moved in Christopher’s peripheral, and he gritted his teeth, holding in a shout of warning. The watcher on patrol blended in with the night, and two more jumped from the bushes, waving their arms at Lucio.
Lucio scoffed and held up his hand, rotating his wrist.
Christopher couldn’t maneuver his horse alongside the sage to get to any of the guards, so he slid off his mare’s back and raced for the man who had reached part of the metal band Christopher had wondered about earlier. He drew his sword as the figure lifted a hammer, poised to strike at the alarm system. Because they won’t hear a call for help, so they rely on vibration. Brilliant. The thought barely came to mind before Christopher’s blade bit into the man’s neck. Blood leaked as his opponent fell to his knees, gasping for air from a damaged windpipe.
Christopher spun on the slick grass just in time to witness a ball of black, darker than night and interwoven with streaks of purple and green, shoot from Lucio’s hand and into the chest of one of the watchers. The blast blew through the man, leaving a hole in his chest, but no gore spray. He fell to his knees, eyes empty.
Christopher gaped. Whatever magic that was, it’d completely annihilated part of the man.
Deidre wiped her sword clean and sheathed it before looking up. “We should hide the bodies,” she whispered. “Just in case it takes us longer than expected up there.”
Andrew nodded and grabbed the crumpled body at her feet. “Under the bushes. Hurry.”
Lucio stayed upon his horse, watching them make short work of the corpses. He flicked a hand toward the hill, his impatience obvious.
Christopher double-checked their surroundings, making sure the bodies were well hidden, and that there weren’t obvious signs of an ambush or anything else up ahead. He nodded to himself and mounted his horse.
They were going to recharge the bloodstone. Then take down the barrier. For good.
Chapter Thirty-One
Christopher
Curiosity ate at Christopher as they crested the incline carved into the side of the plateau. Would it be a temple? A shrine? For all his self-important chattiness, Lucio had been strangely mum about the bloodstone revival. Christopher couldn’t help but wonder again what was so important about this exact location that Lucio had insisted they come here for him to renew the bloodstone? It wasn’t even close to the barrier. What significance did this place have?
Lucio dismounted, and they wordlessly followed suit. Something about the atmosphere among the trees that lined the hill gave the i
mpression that speaking would be sacrilegious. It wasn’t hard to imagine that the limbs of the trees were bowing to the ground, as if in pain or sorrow. Lucio handed his horse off to Derrick and dug through his pack until he pulled out several torches. He lit one with a match, and handed one to each of them as they tied their horses’ reins to the trees.
Lucio waited for Derrick to finish securing his horse, then plunged into the thicket, his torch held high above the bramble.
Christopher exchanged looks with Andrew before they followed.
Temple or shrine? Or—
Christopher blinked. The trees opened to reveal a large, circular clearing, completely devoid of leaves, as if some magical force or entity swept them away each day. A superstitious chill ran through him. What kind of a site was this? He passed a mound of leaves and smirked to himself, his concern melting away. Or the watchers clean the place every day.
A large circular stone rested in the ground, a granite block the size of a man set above it. Christopher circled the construct. Grooves ran down on either side of the block, leading to the center of the foundational boulder.
Lucio hefted the black-and-red flecked bloodstone, turning it this way and that in the torchlight. “See how dull it is?” He shook his head. “Its beauty is diminished. But tonight we return it to its full glory.” He held the stone out to Andrew and lifted his eyebrows. “Would you like to be the one to help me restore it?”
Christopher’s fingers twitched, and Derrick and Deidre shared excited smiles. So close. Soon, they’d have the bloodstone. Soon, the barrier would fall. Soon, they’d be able to dispose of Lucio and report to Victor that they’d done all they were ordered to do.
Andrew nodded, a grin splitting his face. He shot a smug look at Christopher. “Looks like I get to have the highest honor after all, Major.”
Lucio gestured to the block of stone. “Sit there, if you please.” He waited for Andrew to situate himself on the rock, then Lucio gently set the bloodstone in the shallow bowl at the bottom of the circular rock. “Turn your back to me.” He flicked a hand at Derrick. “You. Go guard the pass. See to it that we’re not disturbed.”
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