by Janean Worth
She said nothing. Not even a whisper.
His heart was thundering louder than the wheels of the carriage racing over the meadow. He gave her another shake, then, dreading it, bent his head to listen to her chest once again.
And that time, he heard nothing. He jerked his head back in stunned shock, staring down at her.
He couldn’t believe that she was gone. Not his Kara! Not his only friend! Not when he’d just realized how much he loved her.
For a moment, fear paralyzed him, but then rage swooped in to take its place.
What had she said? What had her last words been to him?
“Please . . . try . . . to save . . . them . . .”
He laid her gently upon the ground and stood up. He would give her this last request. He would stop the Sovereign. He had nothing left to lose.
He would save the people of GateWide. He would save his father. For her. For Kara.
He averted his gaze as he marched toward Gallant, who stood calmly munching grass a few feet away, as if the world had not just ended for Mathew. He would not look at her body lying there like that. He would not remember her in the stillness of death.
He leapt into Gallant’s saddle, nearly falling as the horse shied away from a dark streak that seemed to fly out of the Old Forest, heading right for them.
Mathew ignored the shape. He did not care about it. He no longer cared about anything. He had one thing left to do. Nothing else mattered.
He gathered the reins, leaned low, and gave Gallant a soft kick to urge him on.
“One last ride for Kara, okay? Just one last ride,” he whispered into the horse’s mane as strands of it whipped against this face.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Mathew’s mind felt numb. It seemed that only two thoughts would make any sense at all to him. And they seemed to be playing on a loop, chasing each other across his consciousness like a snake biting its own tail.
He must reach the Sovereign. He must stop the Sovereign from using the Old Tech.
A third thought fought to intrude upon the other two, but he would not let it. The thought had managed to surface through the numbing rage only twice, and each time such pain had lanced through him that he’d cried out into the night in wordless agony.
Kara was dead.
He smashed the thought back down beneath the numbing rage and focused more intently upon the fleeing carriage.
What had his father meant? Use the Old Tech? It was the only thing that would work.
But it was broken. It no longer functioned.
He reached into his pocket with one hand as they raced after the Sovereign and pulled out the Old Tech that his father had left for him.
Was it really powerful enough to stop the Sovereign?
Mathew held the device close to his chest and pressed the button that usually turned it on. Nothing happened.
He pressed it again, desperate for something to happen.
Again, the device did nothing.
His rage burned brighter. With a wordless cry, he slapped the device against the saddle horn in a fit of rage.
“Work! WORK!” he yelled.
To his surprise, a thin metal object fell from the back of the Old Tech. It smacked the saddle, then settled into a crease in the leather.
Small, thin as a sliver of fine paper and circular in shape, the piece of metal glimmered faintly, tiny lines of white light glittering and zipping to and fro on its surface.
The Old Tech device suddenly came alive in Mathew’s hand, and Mathew forgot about the piece that had fallen from it. The device lit up, far brighter than he had ever seen it.
A mirthless smile curved Mathew’s lips as he looked at it, his eyes stinging with the brightness of its glow. If what his father had said was true, he had the power to stop the Sovereign.
He looked up, sighting the carriage between Gallant’s ears as the horse’s hooves thundered over the meadow. The carriage had begun skirting the line of trees that bordered the forest, keeping to the meadow, but still putting distance between the Sovereign and GateWide.
And Gallant was closing the gap to the carriage very quickly.
Mathew looked back down at the device and began pushing the glowing pictures on the bright surface. He didn’t know what he was looking for, but he kept his finger away from the small picture of the lightning bolt.
He knew what that did.
And perhaps that was what his father had meant. Was he to use that against the Sovereign? It would surely work. It had worked on everything else he had used it on. Twice before, he’d used the power stored in the lightning bolt icon, and all living things around him had fallen into an unnatural sleep.
But no, there had to be something more. Both Otto and his father had implied that the device held great power. And, Creator help him, Mathew wanted the Sovereign to suffer for what he’d done to Kara. He needed to find the great power hidden in the device. He needed it to make the Sovereign pay. To suffer. To bleed like Kara.
Mathew knew these thoughts were not right. But he couldn’t help but think them as his gut churned with rage and suppressed grief.
He pressed picture after picture on the device until finally, the screen lit up with an image. But, it was not the face of his father that stared back at him this time. It was the face of a stranger.
The man was speaking in somber tones, and his face was drawn and haggard. Mathew could barely hear the man over the thundering of Gallant’s hooves and the rumble of the carriage wheels ahead.
“This is the story of what happened during The Fall. I have left it as an historic record so that others might not repeat the mistakes of those in my time. And, to help prevent those who would do this evil again, without regards to human life and the laws of the One True God, I have left this device as a failsafe. It has the power to deactivate all technology by producing a powerful electromagnetic pulse. But, beware if you use it, for it will also cause this device to cease functioning as well. This function is activated by pressing the EMP icon, represented by a bullseye on this device, which, forgive me, I found to be a great irony.
That being said, here is my account of the wretched evil that caused our Fall. May the One True God have mercy on those who survive the blast.
It started with . . .”
Mathew had heard enough. He didn’t need to know the story of the Fall right then. He didn’t need to know what an electromagnetic pulse was. All he needed to know was how to stop the Sovereign. And, thanks to his tutor and a little archery practice, he knew exactly what a bullseye looked like.
He thumbed the face of the Old Tech again, effectively stopping the man’s speaking image, and then clutched the device tightly to his chest. He feared dropping it when he was so close to his goal.
He was near enough to the carriage to see that the Sovereign was looking at him. Seconds later, the man’s Old Tech arm appeared out of the window and the death‑giving laser flared to life, the small, thin line of red light flitting across the dark meadow like an incensed firefly.
Mathew knew that this must be how the Sovereign had killed Kara, and rage filled his mouth with a bitter taste. The laser was the most deadly of the Sovereign’s Old Tech, and it was the easiest with which to kill.
“You can’t win,” the Sovereign said, leaning farther out of the window to look at Mathew, his head bobbing slightly on his crane‑like neck as the carriage bounced over the uneven ground of the meadow.
The Sovereign turned his head and shouted to the driver. “This is far enough, I think. Stop the carriage,” he demanded.
“But what about the Enforcers?” the burly driver asked.
“They had their chance to join me, but are they here with me now?” the Sovereign asked, then immediately answered his own question. “No, only this boy is here with us to witness GateWide’s destruction. But, so be it.”
The driver slowed the carriage, and Mathew urged Gallant closer.
“I can kill you now, boy, like your friends, or you can watch GateWide’s demis
e if you like.”
The Sovereign grinned as Mathew drew abreast of the carriage.
He reached out, pointed the device at the Sovereign, and the Sovereign’s grin grew.
“Suit yourself,” he said with finality.
He raised his hand and the thin red line touched Mathew’s face.
Before he could jerk aside, before he could activate the Old Tech in his hand, searing pain sliced through his cheekbone.
Mathew lifted his hand, aiming, but the Sovereign was, unbelievably, faster. Or perhaps he’d just had more practice. Whatever the case, the thin red line flew down over Mathew’s skin before he could activate his Old Tech, burning a path, bringing untold agony with it.
Mathew cried out as the line crossed his wrist, searing with such intensity that he nearly dropped the device. He brought the device up higher, trying to push the button as agony seared through him, jerking the reins with his other hand to move away from the carriage.
Gallant tossed his head at the rough sawing of the reins, and the laser’s path was cut off, bisecting the tip of the horse’s ear for a moment.
Gallant screamed in pain, rearing, and Mathew toppled to the ground, his face, chest, arm, and hand afire with blinding pain.
He screamed as he fell, trying to keep his grip upon the Old Tech as blood bloomed from the deep cuts carved by the laser.
He yelled again as he hit the ground hard.
The Old Tech jounced out of his hand, flying into the darkness as Gallant raced away in the opposite direction. Mathew rolled over, panting with agony, his fingers searching the ground for this father’s Old Tech.
The carriage rolled to a stop a few feet away and the Sovereign flung open the door.
“Good, you’re still alive, boy. Now you can witness the death of the traitors of GateWide.”
Mathew searched through the thick growth of twisted grass with blind fingers as he watched the Sovereign reach into his robes to remove a small silver piece of Old Tech.
“Watch,” the Sovereign whispered. “It will be the last thing that you see. And it will be glorious.”
But Mathew didn’t watch. He turned his face away. His fingers had finally touched upon a smooth surface lying in the grass.
Aching, bleeding, nearly sobbing with the pain, he grasped the device with his unburned hand and raised it to his face so that he could see the tiny buttons. He touched the circular button and the Old Tech again flared with brightness, waking up from dark sleep.
When Mathew looked back at the Sovereign, the man’s eyes were on GateWide as he raised the silver orb, pointing it at the settlement, a strange, mad expression in his gaze.
Mathew pointed his father’s device at the Sovereign and pressed the picture of the red‑and‑white bullseye.
And the Old Tech died, the light fading from it so quickly that it left an after‑image behind in Mathew’s vision.
Mathew stared at it in disbelief.
“NO!” he yelled, flinging the thing away from him. It had failed again! Just when he needed it most. It had failed!
And he had failed, too. He had failed in the last thing he needed to do for Kara.
Mathew struggled to his feet, tottering toward the Sovereign, his feet catching in the thick grass. He turned to look at GateWide over his shoulder, knowing that he would never reach the Sovereign in time to prevent the man from activating the Old Tech that he held. As he stared at the glittering light of GateWide behind him, he silently bade it goodbye.
Then the Sovereign screamed. A thin, high, animalistic scream of rage and terror.
Mathew jerked his head around just in time to see the Sovereign sag to the ground, on his knees, his arms hanging uselessly at his sides. The Old Tech devices seemed to weigh too much for him to hold up. Even the man’s face seemed to sag under the weight of the Old Tech implanted in his eye.
“What has happened?” he moaned. “My arms. MY EYE. What has happened?”
Mathew stopped and stared.
The Sovereign tried to raise his hand, but it lay limp and unresponsive in his lap.
He moaned. “MY POWER is gone. It is gone.”
Mathew glanced back at GateWide.
It was still there. It was still standing.
Suddenly, the deep, aching gashes in his skin no longer hurt so badly. Blood still gushed from the places where his flesh had begun to gape open where the laser had sliced it, but Mathew didn’t feel the pain as acutely anymore.
He hadn’t failed. He had done as Kara asked. He had saved them.
He turned away from the Sovereign and staggered back in the direction from which he’d come. Neither the Sovereign nor the burly driver tried to stop him.
Mathew realized that he did have one more thing he needed to do. One more thing. He needed to get back to Kara. He needed to see her one more time.
He felt blood running like a river down his chest, and a weird dizziness seized him, but he staggered on. He did not care. He had done what she asked. That was all that mattered.
He left his rage behind with the broken Sovereign, not caring that the man was sobbing loudly, gibbering unintelligible words of panic and loss.
With the rage gone, grief washed over him once more. Kara was gone. The Sovereign had extinguished her light from the world. She would shine there no more.
Mathew tried to take comfort in the fact that she was going to meet the Creator, but his grief was too fresh, too raw, and he could not find any peace in that knowledge.
He trudged forward, his legs growing heavy, blood slicking down his shins and into his shoes. He ignored it.
He felt a presence at his side and turned to find Gallant keeping pace with him.
“Good old boy, aren’t you?” Mathew said, his voice sounding odd and garbled to his own ears. He ignored this, too.
Slowly, he gathered Gallant’s reins and struggled up into the saddle, losing his grip several times before he finally succeeded.
“Let’s find Kara,” he mumbled, leaning forward against Gallant’s neck when he found that he could no longer sit up straight.
It seemed to take an eternity to reach her body, and when he neared the spot where he’d left her, he found that several dark shapes were clustered around her, crouching over her body in the darkness.
“Get away from her!” Mathew screamed, but his voice only came out as a dry whisper.
He tried to urge Gallant forward, but his movement disrupted his precarious balance and he fell from the saddle, one arm outstretched toward Kara.
What were they doing to her body? Were they Fidgets?
“Get away from her,” he moaned. “Don’t hurt her anymore. Stop . . . stop . . .”
He tried to crawl forward, but he found that he had no strength. He tried to see what the dark shapes were doing to Kara, but the blackness of the night was getting darker, crowding his vision.
Luminous eyes turned toward him in the darkness as his vision narrowed to a pinpoint, and then everything was gone.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Mathew came awake slowly, aware of a tingling, odd sort of itchy pain that ran across his face, down his neck and chest, along one arm, and into his hand. He tried to open his eyes, but a bright light shone on his face, and he could not force his lazy eyelids open. He thought that he should try, because something of great importance had happened, but he could not recall what it was. His thoughts swirled in a muddy morass of strange feelings and half‑formed impressions.
Why did he feel so oddly?
Then, in a crushing wave, his memories came back to him, swamping him with the vivid image of Kara lying dead on the ground. He gasped in a breath and yelled her name, jack‑knifing into a sitting position as his eyes popped open in horror.
But before he could scream his agony again, a vision filled his gaze and comforting arms came around his shaking body to hold him close.
Kara whispered, “It’s okay, Mathew. It’s all okay now.”
He shuddered, then reached up tentative arms to
hug the vision back.
His hands brushed against the soft, white fabric of the long dress that she wore, his fingers fluttering over the trailing ends of her long hair. At first, he embraced the angel that was Kara tentatively, but then, realizing that if he let her go, she might disappear back into whatever ethereal realm she had visited from, he firmed his grip and held her to his tingling chest so tightly that she gasped, then laughed and pulled away.
“No, don’t go,” he muttered, unwilling to force her to stay in his embrace, but unwilling to let her go. Her hand trailed down his arm, and she grasped his fingers in a tight grip, almost as if she knew that he was afraid to let her go.
“Are we dead, then?” he asked, unwilling to pull his gaze away from her beloved face long enough to try to take in their surroundings.
Kara laughed again, her eyes bright with mirth.
“No, Mathew, we are both very much alive,” she said before letting go of his hand.
Instead of leaving him, she moved closer and swiveled to sit next to him. He realized that he was lying on a bed, and he scooted over to make room for her beside him.
Then, in surprise, he looked down at himself. His ragged, bloodied clothing was gone. It had been replaced with a pair of fine, soft breeches and a butter‑colored muslin shirt. His feet were bare, though.
He looked over at Kara. Beneath the fine white dress, her feet were bare, too.
Incredulous to behold her health, her life, he reached over and put a hand to her abdomen, where the deep slices from the Sovereign’s laser had been.
“You are okay?” he asked, not caring if the gesture seemed too forward.
Beneath his hand, her skin was whole and healthy, not even a single ridge of scar tissue left for him to feel.
She nodded, then reached over to lay her hand on his face. “And so are you.”
“But how?” Mathew marveled. “I thought you had died. I could not hear your heartbeat.”
“Zandra. She smelled my injures and she found me. She healed me with her tears. And just in time. She healed you, too.”
Mathew grinned. “I guess so. Seems that I owe her a debt that I can never repay.”