by Ben Hale
And yet Ero had always disliked that concept. It felt wrong in a way he could not quantify. He did trust Skorn. And he trusted Siena. He even trusted Kensen and a few of the other augments. They had saved his life. But more importantly, they seemed to reciprocate.
He doubted Skorn even recognized what he was doing. His brother considered trust a weakness to be exploited, and yet he trusted Ero. He’d often wondered if Skorn continued to trust him because he hadn’t betrayed him. But what if it was something deeper? What if Skorn trusted Ero because he instinctively recognized a brotherly bond?
He thought of the evidence that Skorn had been the destroyer of Kelindor. If it was true, then he’d done it for his own aspirations. He’d sacrificed everything in House Bright’Lor, perhaps even then dreaming of forging his own House.
Suddenly needing to understand his sister, he asked, “What is your family like?”
“My husband is Telvin. He’s an engineer, and he designs shields and stealth technology we use to stay hidden. I have twenty-seven children and . . .”
As the sun breached the horizon, Ero listened with rapt attention. Enara spoke of her children, grandchildren, great-grandchildren, their husbands and wives, their homes. She talked of gathering for an evening meal where young krey laughed and played, and older krey told stories.
She spoke of visiting relatives, of exploring lush forests to see hidden waterfalls, of swimming and sampling new flavors. The forests were not a commodity to be harvested, but a resource to be cherished, to be preserved for later generations.
The sunlight continued to brighten the ruins, turning the gloom into a display of life. Small critters scampered through the roots of trees that grew in the streets, while leafy boughs rustled in the wind, shading the interior of ancient homes. Ero wondered if the augments had also lived like Enara described. He turned to ask, and in the dawn light he saw her features.
Age lines wrinkled her skin, and her hair was lined in gray. Her body was hunched and withered in a way Ero had only ever seen in humans or dakorians. The shock bound his tongue, but she noticed his concern.
“Do I not look as I once did?” she asked wryly.
“You’re old,” he blurted.
She chuckled and reached up to touch the gray streaks in her dark hair. “Thank you for noticing.”
“But we can’t age,” he protested. “The genesis machines perfect our genome when we’re born.”
“That is true. And when a new krey is born, they are taken to Genysium, where every flaw in their genetic code is corrected. But within the Light, we believe that being ageless is the very root of corruption.”
“So you reversed it? You chose to die?”
“Knowing death is coming is what gives life meaning,” she said. “It makes us turn our minds to the next generation, instead of focusing on ourselves.”
He kicked a stone over the ledge and watched it bounce down the cliff. “How could you give up immortality?”
“Don’t you see?” she asked. “It’s not what I gave up, but what I gained. I described my home and family, and you wanted it. I could see it in your eyes. Giving up being ageless was the price. As long as I had it, my life was mine. Everything I lived for, all my dreams and desires, was all for me. If I’d stayed in the Empire, my legacy would have been a list of selfish pursuits.”
“Do all the members of the Light do this?”
“Most,” she said. “Those that retain their agelessness take a vow to preserve what we have built, so that later generations do not forget.”
“How long do you have before you die?”
“A long time,” she said with a smile. “Reversing the genesis machine is difficult. No one knows what our real lifespan is supposed to be, and to manually insert errors into our genetic code is risky. I will probably live for many more years.”
Ero had never seen an old krey, but he’d always thought it would be ugly. It was the opposite. Enara appeared regal and confident, with a wisdom only gained by one who knew their time was limited. There was also a softness to her features that spoke to real happiness—not the contentment that most krey with wealth and prestige possessed, but genuine serenity.
“You’ve probably done more with the last seventeen thousand years than I have,” he said sourly.
She gave the exact smile Ero had always wanted to see on his mother: kind, amused, and with a touch of truth. She was probably a better matriarch than Hellina could even fathom, and it made Ero miss what he’d never had.
“You didn’t entirely squander your time,” she said. “Except for your time serving in the Imperial fleet. We both know you barely passed your rotations because Skorn helped you cheat.”
“You really have been watching me.”
“You were always my favorite,” she said with a smile. “I couldn’t help watching your life.”
“You knew me for just sixteen years,” he countered.
She reached out and poked him in the side, in the only spot that made him laugh. The same spot she’d poked him when he was little. He stopped himself before he giggled and glared at Enara, but she merely grinned.
“Sixteen years is an eternity for one who values time,” she said.
He realized it then, with the sun rising over the mountains, the temperature rising, the humidity spiking, an animal digging through a nearby root and searching for food—the moment was captured in perfect clarity by the sudden understanding that Enara loved him. And she always would.
He wanted to go with her, to see the family she had created, to spend time with others that spoke and lived as she described. It would be easy to just walk with her to the Gate at the top of the hill and leave.
But he could never return.
Skorn would probably assume he’d been killed, and continue with his plan to build the augments. Without Ero, he would likely kill Siena as soon as possible, or maybe sell her for an obscene amount of glint. Either way, she was still human, and would be dead within a few decades. If she wasn’t killed sooner. Malikin would hunt Skorn and he would fight back, an endless cycle to be repeated over thousands of years. Ero would bet on Skorn, even though the Empire had far more resources.
Oddly, it was not Skorn that made him hesitate. It was Siena. He pictured the girl’s forceful expression, her fierce loyalty, her unwavering courage. To join his sister would be to abandon Siena.
“I’m sorry,” he said, “but I can’t go with you.”
“Because of Siena?”
“Why would you ask that?”
She smiled knowingly. “You wanted to know why I approached you now? She’s the answer.”
“Because she’s an augment?”
“No,” Enara said, “because of what she has done to you. Before Siena, you still had your soft heart, but you were far too focused on yourself to understand what the Light had to offer. But when you encountered Siena, she opened your eyes to what it was like to have a real family.”
“She’s not my family.”
“Yet you treat her like a daughter.”
The absurd notion made him laugh. “No I don’t.”
She just raised an eyebrow and waited.
He wanted to protest again, but the truth locked his throat. “No,” he breathed. “It’s not possible.”
“It hits us all like that,” she said, patting him on the shoulder. “For most of us we see it coming, but sometimes a family just . . . forms.”
“But she’s a human.”
“And you’re krey,” Enara said. “It doesn’t matter. She’s your family now.”
“What am I supposed to do with that?”
“You’ll figure it out,” she said. “From the little I’ve seen, you’ve done pretty good so far.”
“By turning her into an augment and putting her in constant danger?”
“It’s not usually the recommended parenting technique,” she said wryly, “but we both know that girl’s a fighter.”
She turned and headed up the slope. His head spinning, Er
o cast one last look at the empty valley and then hurried to catch up. This time he noticed that she moved slower, not because the loose rocks were treacherous, but because it was painful to climb.
“What do you expect from me?” he asked when they reached the Gate together.
“That’s up to you,” she said. “I guessed you wouldn’t join the Light until Siena had lived her life, but when she’s gone, I want you to consider it.”
“And the augments?” he asked, pointing to the ruins.
“That’s another matter,” she said. “If you don’t stop the creation of the augments, they’re going to be massacred by the Empire, along with House Bright’Lor. Everything they touch is going to be destroyed, so I hope you join us before your new creation either kills you, or gets you killed.”
She stepped in and hugged him, the warm contact open and vulnerable. He hugged his sister back, grateful she was alive yet confused by all she had said. Then she released him and ascended the steps to the Gate, but stopped when Ero called out, “Do you have to leave?”
She turned back and smiled. “If you prove you can keep this a secret, you’ll see me again. I promise.”
“It was good to see you,” he called.
“You as well,” she replied, and her smile warmed his soul.
She used her holoview to activate the Gate, and then she was gone. Ero remained on the destroyed planet until the sun scorched the mist from the ruins. He’d spent lifetimes enjoying all the Krey Empire had to offer, but somewhere during the conversation with his sister, he felt like he’d aged. And he would never be the same.
Chapter Seventeen
Ero exited the Gate on Lumineia into a storm. Rain lashed his cloak as he ducked and hurried past the dakorian guard, sprinting up the slope to the large pair of houses atop the hill. Erlanex was still building the giant Stormdial, but with all the other current projects it would take years to complete. No matter—Ero was too in his head to worry about the rain on his face.
He reached his home and hurried through the door. On the threshold, he shook the water free and removed his cloak, which he tossed into a nearby alcove. A small gravity hook caught the garment and lifted it up, allowing the evaporator to dry it off.
The first floor of his house was spacious and open, with no pillars to block the view across the entire level. Furniture was still in short supply, but he’d managed to cajole Erlanex into building a pair of couches.
At the back of the large room, a standard protein synthesizer protruded from the wall. Skorn had used some of the glint from Wylyn’s investment to purchase the basics, but Ero missed the higher models that could create more exotic culinary delights. Still, the locker at the back of the kitchen had several racks of meat from the many hunting expeditions the dakorians seemed so keen on doing. When Ero entered, his personal attendant—a non-augment named Riora—jumped to her feet.
“Master Ero,” she blurted, “I didn’t know you would be returning.”
The girl had helped herself to a plate of food that had obviously come from the synthesizer. And the smell suggested she’d cooked some of the meat. The guilt and fear
on her face would have been comical if Ero had cared.
“Just clean up when you’re done,” Ero said, heading to the bridge that connected his house to Skorn’s.
“You’re not going to punish me?”
Ero was too distracted to comment, and left the girl fidgeting next to the table as he entered the bridge. Beneath his feet, a creek gurgled down the rocks, its water so enraged by the storm it had overflown its banks. Trees grew along the rocks. They’d been planted five months ago, but they were already growing tall, courtesy of the plant augments’ daily ministrations.
Ero reached the arched opening at the end of the bridge and entered Skorn’s house, intent on speaking to his brother about what he’d witnessed. But what he saw brought him up short. Skorn was not alone, and sitting on the couch next to his brother was Wylyn Mor’Val, Head of the House of Mor’Val.
“Wylyn?” Ero blurted.
“Ero,” Skorn said, looking up in irritation, “I didn’t expect you back.”
“What’s she doing here?” Ero asked.
“She is one of the most powerful krey in the galaxy,” Wylyn said, her eyes turning from pink to red.
Ero had always liked the color-changing eyes of House Mor’Val, which were linked to their emotions. It had made it easy to determine if a female was interested. But his few encounters with Wylyn had been sufficient for him to gain a budding dislike.
“He means no offense,” Skorn said, giving Ero a warning look.
“Of course I mean offense,” Ero said.
“Skorn,” Wylyn said, her voice as cold as space, “you need to get control of your brother.”
“I will handle it,” he said. “I’ll see you soon.”
She glared at Ero—and then the holo disintegrated.
Ero stared at the spot, shocked he’d failed to realize she wasn’t actually in the room. Skorn rose to his feet and went to his kitchen, where he selected a bottle of drey from his personal cabinet.
“I’m sorry,” Ero said, rubbing his neck. “For a moment there, I thought you’d allowed Wylyn onto the planet. And we agreed no one was allowed to use the Gate.”
“Like you gave the codes to Siena?”
He groaned and sank onto the couch. “I’m sorry. I should have talked to you before I did.”
Skorn frowned at his apology. “What happened?”
Ero stared at the rain through the floor-to-ceiling windows. It was coming down in sheets, washing over the empty streets of the City of Dawn. Lights glowed in the occupied houses, and he guessed the krey were also hunkered down. Trees bent at the trunks, their smaller branches ripping free and spinning into the roiling sea.
“Are you going to tell me what’s going on?” Skorn asked. “I’ve never seen you fail to recognize a holo.”
Skorn came around the table and offered one of the glasses to Ero, who took it and swirled the liquid. It was a dark indigo, and only one drey had such a rich color.
Ero raised his eyebrow at his brother. “Kelindorian fire drey? Where did you get this?”
“I kept a few crates after we lost Kelindor,” Skorn said with a shrug.
Ero recalled the rich farms on Kelindor. The unique soil composition, coupled with a strange beetle that had fed on the flowers, had produced a drey unlike any other. It had been one of the most profitable exports of the planet before the Dark. He hadn’t seen a bottle in almost ten years.
“You realize a single crate is probably worth a few million glint,” Ero said.
“Probably,” Skorn said, “but glint isn’t everything.”
Ero took a sip, and closed his eyes as the flavor burned his tongue. It was even better than he remembered, and elicited a surge of memories: Striding through the Kelindorian farms on a summer afternoon. Sampling new products with a beautiful krey. Enjoying a bottle as the sun set over the snowy peaks.
“Father would be furious if he knew you kept something of such value,” he said.
“I didn’t see a reason for him to know,” Skorn said.
“Any other wealthy secrets you have hidden?”
“They wouldn’t be secrets if I shared them,” Skorn said, a sparkle of amusement in his eyes.
Ero chuckled at Skorn’s answer. They both had their secrets, but they’d always been allies first and foremost. Could he trust Skorn with the truth about Enara and the Light? He wanted to say yes, but his instincts were doubtful.
“Are you going to marry Wylyn?” he asked.
“Are you going to tell me what’s going on?” Skorn countered.
Ero sighed. “I don’t think you’d believe me.”
“We have augments that make light turn solid,” Skorn said. “I think my past beliefs have been well and truly shattered.”
They sat in silence for several minutes, the two sipping drey and watching the rain batter the city. Ero had kept plent
y of secrets from his brother, but Enara’s existence felt like a betrayal, and he grappled with what to say.
“What happened with Siena?” Skorn finally asked.
Ero shrugged. “I helped her steal a ship, and she’s on her way to Rebor.”
“You really think she can track down Reklin on her own?”
“She has her team,” Ero said. “And Kevent.”
“I told Kevent to stay here.”
Ero swiveled to face his brother. “You mean there’s a group of augments flying around the Empire in a stolen ship?”
“Yes.”
“Why not send a dakorian with them?” Ero demanded.
“Malikin is getting close. Too close. And putting Siena out there gives him something to hunt.”
“What if he catches her?”
Skorn actually laughed. “I may hate what you do with Siena, but we both know that girl can take care of herself. If Malikin did manage to catch up to her, she would snap his ship in half.”
“You don’t really believe that,” Ero said, suddenly worried about Siena. He’d been foolish to send her out on her own. He suddenly felt very protective of the girl. How could he have sent her on such a dangerous mission?
“Actually, I do believe it.” Skorn refilled his glass and leaned back in his chair. “She is already tremendously powerful, and yet our new scientists believe she has only unlocked a fraction of her full abilities. It’s why I’ve been screening all the humans before they are put through the experiment to find the same genetic matrix.”
“You want to create more?”
“The opposite,” Skorn said. “I want to prevent any from ever being created.”
“Have you found any?”
“None. Our sample size is almost fifty thousand at this point, but I’m beginning to wonder if she is unique.”
“Unique means value,” Ero said. “But you still let her go into the Empire without protection.”
“A calculated risk.” Skorn sipped his drey and offered a faint smile. “If she is exposed and escapes, our value goes up. If she is exposed and killed, our value goes up. If she is not exposed and caught by Malikin, she might kill him—which is to our benefit—or he might kill her, and she is no longer our problem.”