by Brandon Barr
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PIKE
Pike followed behind Aven, Winter, and Arentiss. His palms were sweating. He’d been waiting for the right opportunity to get Aven alone, to talk with him, but there were always others around, and the last thing he wanted to do was come across as awkward.
He pictured cutting into a conversation and saying, “Hey, Aven,” with a prepubescent squeal. “Can we talk?”
No, that would not do.
He waited, walking close behind them, as if trying to be part of their group.
Winter suddenly turned her head toward him. “Why are you following us? Your room’s back that way,” she said, gesturing with her eyes.
“I was hoping to talk to Aven,” said Pike, and was relieved to find no awkward notes in his words.
“Sure,” said Aven. “Let’s talk. Goodnight, girls.”
Winter’s eyes narrowed, and she stared at her brother.
“Goodnight,” Aven said again.
Winter held a concerned look, then turned abruptly and went with Arentiss down the hall. What was that about? wondered Pike.
“So what’s going on?” asked Aven.
Pike was relieved to find no trace of disdain in Aven’s voice.
“I just wanted to apologize,” began Pike. “For making that joke back at your hovel. It sounded funny in my head, but once I said it, I saw the look in your eyes, and knew I should have kept it in.”
Aven’s jaw tightened, then he shook his head. “It’s alright. I should have responded better. I’ve been on edge lately. All of this,” he looked up at the ceiling, “I feel out of place here and it’s affecting my mood.”
“I feel out of place, as well,” said Pike, “and that’s another reason I wanted to talk. We’ve grown up together—I mean, way back, we were friends as kids, and I feel, in a way, like our being here together is…I guess I’m trying to say, I feel like I need a friend here. Like you said, you feel out of place, too. But you and Winter have each other and I’m just feeling alone, I guess.”
Pike felt something wet roll down his cheek. Great! Crying like a newborn in front him.
“I understand,” said Aven. There was a reticence in his tone, but he smiled. “I remember us as kids. With Red and Riverstone, and Toes. Remember Toes?”
“Of course I remember Toes,” said Pike excitedly, his memories coming alive. “Always at the top of a tree, and we would shout up at him that he should have been named Squirrel.”
Aven nodded, but his expression had grown serious again. He stuck out his hand, and Pike reached out and took it. The look in Aven’s eyes was like a storm. Pike suddenly realized there was more to Aven’s past than he knew, and that Aven must be going through something difficult, something beyond what he himself was dealing with.
“Those are good stories and good times,” said Aven. “We’ll have to make time to share them more often. Perhaps we can rekindle that old friendship.”
“I’d like that very much,” said Pike as Aven let go of his hand. “You might even help me remember some things I’ve forgotten. Things not long ago. I haven’t told this to anyone but…my head hasn’t felt right. I can’t remember things. Not unless they were from my childhood. A lot of my recent memories are fuzzy, up until I came here, to the Guardians.”
“Sometimes the past is better forgotten,” said Aven.
“But not Harvest…not my mother. Father…I really miss…I mean, I…”
Pike gripped his hair in his hands. It was happening now. That dull feeling of…
“I’m sorry,” said Pike. “What was I just saying?”
Aven’s mouth opened, but held silent.
“We were just talking about Toes,” said Pike, “and the other kids, but I started to say something else. At least, I think so.”
“About the future,” said Aven. “Forgetting the past. Looking forward to the future.”
Pike nodded. “The future. Yes, that’s right.”
“I’ll see you in the morning,” said Aven.
“Alright,” said Pike. “Goodnight. And thank you. Thank you for understanding.”
______
ZOECARA
The midnight hour was fast approaching
Zoecara had to hurry, but couldn’t run, lest she break into a sweat even on this cool summer night. There were two important rendezvous she had to make tonight, both unplanned.
The enclave’s little trip to Aven’s farm was an opportunity she couldn’t pass up. The sooner the she rid Loam of the Guardians, the better. More specifically, the sooner she got rid of Rueik, the better. He had become dangerous. If he voiced his concerns to Karience, there was no telling what might happen, for the Empyrean had grown deeply suspicious ever since the murders.
But murdering the Emissaries was a risk her master had wanted her to take. Her master, Raith, had other Shadowmen in place within the Guardian order on other worlds, including Bridge, but he was being cautious. He had warned her there were other Beasts trying to infiltrate the Guardians. Naturally there would be, but her master had such a strong foothold, she doubted any rivals would last long undetected.
The stone alleyway leading to Dheeg Sar’s ice shop was lit by moonlight, the huge rolling door glinting brightly.
Zoecara pounded loudly on the frosty metal plates kept cold by the ice inside. “Dheeg Sar, open up!”
She disliked having to trust these mercenaries. Their greed was easy enough to manipulate, but no matter what, she had to rely on them coming through on their part of the bargain.
She pounded again and waited. Finally a clank sounded, and the metal door slid open on a crude track. The opening was large enough for the massive ice blocks gathered from the mountains and the horse teams who hauled them, but Dheeg Sar opened it only a crack.
“You have a corpse to freeze?” came the voice from within.
“It’s Zoecara.”
The door opened a hair more, enough for her to slip inside where only darkness met her.
“What if I told you I could get you six or seven VOKKs,” she said into the cold blackness.
“Speak on,” came Dheeg Sar’s voice very near her.
“Could your ship come tomorrow night?”
“It’s hiding on the far side of the moon. They could arrive tomorrow if I signal them now.”
“Do you have a tracker I could wear?”
“Yes,” said the voice, moving closer, becoming a dark grey shadow touched faintly by the glow emanating from the slit in the door. Dheeg Sar’s face was like a ghost.
She glanced outside, her thoughts turning to her next game piece to move.
“Signal the ship and give me the tracker. Tomorrow evening, at nightfall, I’ll have the Guardians with me. They’ll all be yours.”
______
AVEN
Aven couldn’t sleep. He had to talk to Pike.
He dressed quickly and left the room. He’d lain in bed for an hour, partially consumed with the exciting promise of tomorrow. The farm would be his, and his friends were coming to celebrate. But Rueik’s warnings about Zoecara disturbed him. Rueik’s fear that Pike’s mind had been tampered with by Zoecara—it seemed irrational. What might she try to do to them if she truly thought him and his sister were Shadowmen? What was Rueik hinting at but wouldn’t say?
The lighted hallway made Aven’s own fears seem irrational. In his bed, with the lights off, things had seemed more distressing and urgent. Aven stopped and leaned against the wall. Pike’s room was around the corner.
What would he say? Pike was likely asleep. Aven would have to explain himself. He’d have to tell Pike something to justify waking him in the middle of the night.
Aven stared at the wall opposite him.
How easily suspicion became fear, and fear, paranoia.
What was he doing?
The faint swoosh of a door opening and closing sounded from around the bend in the hallway. The sound startled him. What if someone came around the corner? He couldn’t be just leaning there
against the wall in the middle of the night.
Aven instantly sprang off the wall and began to walk back toward his room. He checked over his shoulder, expecting to see Pike, or someone else, but the hallway was empty.
He kept walking.
Aven realized why Rueik had seemed so on edge. He recalled the Missionary’s own words. “Maybe I’m just being paranoid.”
Aven got it. Fear made you think irrationally.
The rational answer was that Pike had simply gone to the kitchen for food, or couldn’t sleep, and went out to pace the halls, but no matter how likely that answer was, Aven couldn’t stop the questions from coming.
Why would Pike leave his room so late at night? Or was it someone else who had been in his room? Was it Zoecara?
Had she tampered with his mind?
CHAPTER 29
ZOECARA
Prince Damien’s residence was within the Royal Palisade. As a Guardian, Zoecara had unquestioned access to this area. The Court Academy, the library, the Hall of Genealogy, and the dozens of official chambers were all accessible to her. The entire edifice was one of the greatest primworld accomplishments on record. It was a structure so vast that, resting atop the entire palisade with all its official halls and rooms, were the castle living spaces of half the Royal men and women in city. Spacious and luxurious manors that stretched like a mountain range into the sky. Sailors traveling to the Royal City could see the castle long before they saw the land it sat upon.
This would be her fifth visit to Damien’s domicile. She always made sure to conceal her destination by stopping at a cubby in the library to pretend to read a few pages, waiting to see if anyone came in pursuit. Then she would take the rarely used passageway to the orator’s chamber, which was linked by an elaborate stairway to the residences above.
Damien was the key to the heart of the opposition, which had resisted the signing of the Guardian’s charter from the beginning. The opposition was a crucial component, for after the Guardian Tower was a heap of rubble, she would be left the sole representative of the order. She would reveal truths and lies about the Guardians that would prick and inflame every sore point that even the quorum majority who embraced the charter would find distasteful. Damien was her way into the quorums. And he had been a perfect pick.
Her first visit to Damien, she’d voiced frustration at his continued attempts to overthrow the charter in the Hall of Discourse where the three quorums came together to plead and argue, then cast their votes. She had come specifically to Damien because he held every puzzle piece she needed. He was one of the most powerful members of the opposition, but also one of the youngest. And just as important, he was sincere and principled and a bachelor. If he were a pot of stew, then he had just the right flavors.
That first encounter had been pivotal. Damien had been winsome and respectful, and when she set her arguments up to be crushed by the opposition’s best reasoning, Damien followed through and passionately dismantled them. She’d left that day feigning confusion, and noted Damien’s excitement at her near conversion. Psychologically, to change another person’s point of view on a dearly held belief was one of the most intimate experiences two humans could have. By the end of the next visit, she had become his ally. And the last two encounters between them were long, lasting into the early hours of morning as they found themselves talking about each other’s lives just as much as they talked of the charter. She was proud of the character she’d created for him. Tonight, it was time to put away subtlety and take a risk. All the small, endearing, moments together needed to pay off.
He was the key to severing the Guardian’s return after tomorrow’s destruction. And if she navigated tonight well, she hoped to solidify her power here on Loam.
“Missionary Zoecara, what a pleasant surprise,” said the butler, issuing her inside. The fatherly servant looked at her in the light of a hand-held candelabra. “What’s happened? Why the tears young lady?”
“Please,” Zoecara said. “May I speak to the prince? It’s urgent.”
When Prince Damien arrived in his night robe, his short hair was a curly mess. His handsome face was edged with genuine worry and his gorgeous lips were parted, poised to comfort her.
“Zoecara, what’s happened?” His voice was warm, full of concern.
She stood beside the candelabra the butler had left, and placed a hand over her mouth, attempting to compose herself. The prince answered her wordless beckoning, and reached out and held her in his arms.
She breathed out heavy, panting breaths, her lips not far from his ears. Breaths that could easily be misinterpreted.
“It’s Karience,” she said. “I shouldn’t have spoken up, but I couldn’t help myself. I said one thing in defense of the opposition and…it started an avalanche. By the end, I had confessed I stood with the opposition. I even told her about you.”
Damien pulled away just far enough to look at her, but his hands remained strong against her back. Zoecara met his gaze with a fierce, spirited anger emanating through her tearful eyes.
“The Empyrean is as closed-minded as your quorum head, Queen Nira,” said Zoecara. She smiled weakly. “And her arguments are just as flatulent.”
Damien smiled, then laughed. “Your courage amazes me,” he said. “You are an amazing woman. An amazing person. What makes you different than most is your willingness to listen. Do you remember that first time we met?”
“Yes,” said Zoecara. “I left that night so scared. You shook my entire foundation.”
“You allowed yourself to be vulnerable. A very rare virtue. Zoecara, that night you shook me as well. I had never met another person so willing to listen to different perspective. You made me realize how stubborn I could be. That I need to put aside my responses and counter arguments until I fully hear out the person I disagree with. That one night has changed my life. My relationships with the pro-Guardian majority has become more cordial and complex. And I have you to thank for that.”
Zoecara hid the pleasure his words brought her. He was so perfect. A man like Damien would only continue to rise in power, and she needed him like a parasite needed a host. To feed off of his integrity and good standing until she was strong enough to stand by her own strength.
Zoecara turned her face away, a fresh round of tears coming. “There’s more. Karience is stripping me of my title. She says if my allegiances have changed, there’s no place for me here. She said she is going to ship me offworld with a recommend that I be removed from the order.”
Damien drew her in again, and once in his arms she let any hint of weakness taper off from her voice. “Loam has grown on me,” she said, her tone a mix of anger and warmth. “Its people, and the simple beauty of life here, it is so different than the upworld I came from. I feel like I was just beginning to call this place home. And for that, I have you to thank. Your kindness to me and your friendship.”
His hands moved warmly upon her back. “Zoecara, if you want to stay, I won’t let them take you.”
Zoecara pressed her face into his firm shoulder. “Don’t,” she sighed. “It’s impossible. They have too much power. They’re too strong.”
“They have power, but they are still limited. This is not their world yet.” He tilted back to look into her eyes. “Will you trust me?”
Her mouth parted, and she looked up at him with all the trust and love within her written hungrily upon her face. “Why wouldn’t I? You are the most trustworthy man I’ve ever known.” Her eyes held fixed on his, pulling him in, calling to him. “You’ve changed my world, Damien. I see everything differently because of you.”
Damien’s hand ran up the side of her face. Her eyes, her parted lips, they screamed for him to come. His head dipped down and their lips met, his pressing softly into hers, delicious, tender. It was just a moment, and then he lingered intimately close, his face warming her skin. She exhaled with a shudder, her breath washing over him, calling him back.
“Damien.” Her words barely audible. “What do
es this mean?”
“It means my feelings for you are far more than for a friend.”
She looked into his eyes for a moment, like a girl lost in a dream, then shifted her eyes away, overwhelmed.
“You should stay here tonight,” said Damien.
“Stay?” she whispered.
“My castle is yours for as long as you want. I’ll have a room prepared for you.”
Responses came to mind, but she forced herself to go slow. She’d learned a valuable lesson from Rueik. If she wanted this man to make her a queen of Loam, he was the one who would have to vanquish her, and not the other way around. She was the clay and he the sculptor.
Whether sooner or later, be it before or after their future marriage, she would bed him, and there her control would be solidified. In the same way she fulfilled his longing to persuade others of his cause, she would fulfill his fantasy of being a man to a woman. She, the innocent beauty enraptured by his every touch.
She would esteem him, validate his causes, give him space when he needed it, and always, always cry out in love making, as if he were a god.
Again his lips pressed into hers.
One step at a time, she told herself as her mouth moved in tandem with his. She still had tomorrow to worry about…the gathering at Aven’s farm. If it went as well as tonight had, she would be the only Guardian left alive by the end of the day.
_____
WINTER
Winter couldn’t sleep. She sat on the floor before her bedroom window, arm stretched out upon one knee. The lights of Anantium had dwindled down until there were now no candles burning in any of the buildings she could see. Whisper’s tiny legs tickled the wrist of her outstretched hand as it stepped slowly closer.
Her eyelids were beginning to grow heavy. She closed them; the sense of dread that had been haunting her began to ease.
I love him. I cannot lose him. Her thoughts were those of exhaustion. Half a prayer to the Makers, and half consolation for herself. Aven is a part of me. I need him.