by Brandon Barr
“How are we going to clean up that spot on the floor?” asked Pike.
Aven frowned. He thought of asking Pike for his shirt, but what if that made the old Pike return? There was no telling how he might react to his shirt being used as a urine mop. Aven took his shirt off of Daeymara and tossed it to Pike. “Soak it up with that, then rinse it clean. We can cover her again when it dries.
When they were done, the floor was clean. They decided to leave Daeymara over by the drain, so that when she relieved herself, it would be less of an ordeal to clean.
Pike knelt beside Daeymara, his eyes downcast. “They should at least give her a blanket. Something to cover her besides your shirt.” He glanced up at the wet garment hanging over the hose. “It’s indecent, leaving her like this.”
“They aren’t decent people,” said Aven, inspecting the lever. He pulled on it, to see if it would be possible to remove. In the off position it continued to twist until it came free in his hand. The weight of it surprised him. It was large and heavy and had a small riveted point at the end where it locked into the wall. A perfect weapon.
Aven glanced down at Pike. What if he stayed like that? Good, kind. What if he never reverted? Somehow, Aven doubted this fortunate turn of events would remain. If there was a time to do something about Pike, it was now.
Pike wasn’t this honest, pure-hearted man before him. The person kneeling at Daeymara’s bedside was a lie. Could he bring himself to do what he should? To make sure that unforgiving man never returned?
One glance from Pike, and the sad, innocent look on his face drained all the anger out of Aven.
He couldn’t. Not like this. The man before him was innocent, even if he wasn’t real.
Aven screwed the lever back into place. He knew where to find it if he needed it. But if he did need the lever again, it wasn’t something he could pull off in an instant. It took time to unwind from the wall.
Time he probably wouldn’t have.
LOAM
The passion of Humanity Kind is what the Guardians need—the hunger to purge the influence of the gods as much as the Beasts. And even the most vocal (and rash) segment, the Execrata, could use some legitimization. I am petitioning Sentinel Rown and Sentinel Levva to give more power to your order. And resources. If all goes as I hope, your order will triple in size over the next few years, as will your caseload. No more spending years or decades with the Oracles. They shall have a month, and if they are not delivered, they will be humanely destroyed.
-Sentinel Cosimo (secure transmission to Sanctuss Exenia)
Chapter Six
WINTER
Winter pointed the lightstick, illuminating the blackened patch of grass. Behind her was the Guardian starship. The moment Karience opened the hatch she’d flung herself down the ramp, calling her brother’s name, hoping against hope, but knowing it was useless. Arentiss had found her and guided her to this spot, where the struggle occurred.
“That’s not from your brother. They burned Daeymara,” said Arentiss, standing beside her. “He fought recklessly to save her. He is fortunate to be alive still.”
She pictured the struggle and felt proud of her brother. He’d risked his life trying to save another. As much as Aven strove to avoid conflict, when it came to saving those he loved, he did not shy away from it.
As Winter’s eyes swept over the grass, a glint of glass caught her eye, and a new fear darkened her thoughts. She walked closer and squatted down to take a better look. She picked up a shard. It looked like a piece of the vial she kept Whisper in.
“He smashed it against a mercenary’s face,” said Arentiss. “The man was bleeding from several lacerations afterward.”
Winter swung the lightstick around, looking for more answers. To her left was a little flutter of movement. Clinging to a blade of grass was Whisper. Just as Winter had seen in her vision, one wing was torn off at the joint. She glared at the creature for a moment, as if it were its fault that her vision was coming true.
“You were supposed to protect him,” she said under her breath. When she stretched a finger out to the creature, it gingerly crawled onto her fingernail, then worked its way up onto her knuckle and perched there. She looked around for the missing wing, knowing already she wouldn’t find it. The other wing was where she’d seen it in her vision. With Aven.
“Your brother is alive,” said Arentiss. “You may be reunited still.”
Winter looked up at Arentiss, wishing she believed her. She knew the woman was only trying to provide her comfort and hope, but Winter’s vision had been gruesomely clear. It had showed him being devoured by a terrible monster. She’d hoped to keep it from coming true, but now he was gone, taken away by his attackers and with him went any hope she had of changing anything.
She swallowed against the tears that suddenly threatened.
“If he passes through any portal,” continued Arentiss, “he will return here. There is still a chance and, though it may be small, I will have hope.”
Winter looked at the little one-winged butterfly on her knuckle, her thoughts lifting to the Maker whose arms she had felt so long ago. Hope. Do you hear that, Leaf? I want hope.
A voice nearby called to her and Arentiss. Winter stood and saw Karience along with Hark and Rueik. The Empyrean waved them toward the starship. Winter panned the grass with her lightstick one last time, then followed Arentiss to the ship.
“We’ve been betrayed, that much is certain,” said Karience as they approached. “Rueik overheard something that we must discuss, but not here. We have to get to safety.”
“Where is safety?” asked Winter. “I would not trust the Royals.”
“Rest assured, we won’t be relying on the Royals’ hospitality,” said Karience. “I fear how they will react to the fall of our tower. The stability we had in their quorums was already on a razor’s edge. And there is still the threat of another mercenary attack. For our own protection, we’ll take refuge in our underwater facility. No mercenary ship I know of can reach us down there.”
“Let’s get back, then,” said Rueik. He gave Winter a fearful look. “You’re never going to believe what happened to me.”
RUEIK
Karience brought the starship gently through the surface of the water, as if not wanting to be heard by those onshore. The night was dark enough to conceal any visible sign of the craft, for she had all lights dimmed. Once underwater, they descended quickly, docking at the main port of the underwater facility.
Rueik glanced at the three remaining Missionaries as Karience led them all from the starship into the facility’s main hall. None of them looked to be suspicious of him.
On the flight to the facility, Rueik had paid close attention to the instructions Karience gave to Shield Force. They were to send out a small team to help look for the injured—both Guardians and locals who might have survived the tower’s fall—but the rest of the force was to remain by the portal and await further command.
It was what he expected, but he felt confident in the work Zoecara had done. The royal halls of the quorums would be buzzing like disturbed beehives tomorrow.
Karience led them into a small room with a large round table in it. Rueik had never been to this room. He had only seen a small portion of the underwater facility, a fourth perhaps.
“Please sit,” said Karience. She appeared calm, composed, but Rueik could see the strain of loss in her eyes. Nephitus had been her Shield Force warden for twenty-eight years, since the very beginning. She’d relied on his strength time and again. His death visibly wore on her. She’d also lost Captain Hawth, a Loamian ally who had helped with the security for the tower. The manner of Hawth’s death was quite fitting, thought Rueik. The captain had gone down with the tower he had so loyally defended.
“We’ve lost friends today,” said Karience. “We must try and put our anger and sadness aside for a moment. Right now, I need to know what happened. Tomorrow, I’ll make a trip to the Magnus Empyrean. He will bring the news of Lo
am before the Arbiters. As of right now, all I can say is that a mercenary vessel destroyed the tower and took four Guardians with them: Daeymara, Aven, Pike, and Zoecara. But Rueik has told me something very disturbing, and I want everyone to hear it.” Karience turned to Rueik and nodded.
Rueik sighed and artfully contorted his face into lines of pain. “I feel ashamed to say this.” He breathed in and closed his eyes as tears ran down his face. “Zoecara betrayed us.”
Silence filled the room at his revelation.
“Arentiss and Hark, you saw it,” continued Rueik. “At the first sound of the mercenary ship, Zoecara left us. And Pike, he was right behind her. It was as if they knew what was happening. They didn’t say a word to us, just ran off. It made no sense to me. That’s why I ran after her.”
“I remember that too,” said Hark. “She just took off. And Pike too. It was very strange.”
Rueik nodded. “It gets worse. While chasing them, I saw the ship coming. At that point it struck me that Zoecara knew about the ship. That’s why she ran off without saying a word to us. So when I saw Zoecara and Pike take refuge inside the barn, I followed them. As I passed through the door, Pike grabbed me and pushed me to the ground. Then he jumped on top of me. I heard Zoecara screaming, ‘Hold him! Hold him!’ I was trying to fight off Pike when I heard the landriders coming. Knowing I’d be badly outnumbered, I kneed Pike in the groin and shoved him off me. I looked up and saw Zoecara standing there, staring at me…like…” Rueik shook his head. “She wasn’t the same girl anymore. The look in her eyes…”
Rueik took a deep breath, then went on.
“Pike got up like he was going to jump at me again, but I heard the riders getting closer, so I turned and ran further into the barn. I hid behind some hay bales, then looked out. The riders stopped at the entrance—two of them—and Zoecara started speaking to them. The riders came into the barn to look for me. They had rifles.” Rueik bit his lower lip. “The only reason I wasn’t caught is because of Karience. They suddenly stopped searching for me and ran outside. They must have heard our starship coming. I looked out and saw Pike and Zoecara leave with the mercenaries.”
Rueik lowered his eyes to the speckled surface of the table, satisfied with his performance.
Karience placed her elbows on the table, leaning in. “I know this comes as a blow to many of us, as it certainly has to Rueik. I want thoughts on this. Has anyone noticed any strange behavior from Zoecara or Pike that might shed light on today’s events?”
Winter spoke first. “My brother told me of a conversation he had with you, Rueik. You told him you felt Zoecara was up to something. You said she suspected Aven and I were Shadowmen.”
“That’s right,” said Rueik, “She started telling me that almost from the moment you arrived. She didn’t understand how you could have been chosen as Emissaries. I still don’t know why you were chosen, but I laughed off her suspicions.”
Karience’s face held concern. “They were chosen for a reason that only I am privy to. But let me assure you, Aven and Winter are not Shadowmen.”
Rueik nodded. He wanted to push harder to find out why the two were valuable, but he held his tongue because he didn’t want to arouse suspicions. Still, it was something he would have to find out sooner or later. His master would want to know. Obviously, there was something important about them.
Karience sagged slightly, as if weighted down by the facts. “One possibility is that Zoecara was working with some type of mercenary outfit. And she seems to have drawn Pike into it. Though it’s not clear how. His brain-wipe was complete, and he had no reason to act as he did.” She sighed. “There is an alternative scenario.” Karience let the possibility sit for a moment. “Zoecara could be a Shadowman. As some of you know, I worked for years with several Aftermath Teams, cleaning up worlds reclaimed from Beasts. Many of the Beasts have people capable of altering someone’s memories. They are called Mind Scries. That could explain Pike’s behavior. I shall mention the possibility in my report to my Magnus Empyrean, Higelion. Whether he will take it seriously or not, that is another matter.”
The Empyrean’s words seemed to bring closure to the discussion. Rueik was satisfied with Karience’s final thoughts. Everything had gone smoothly. No one suspected him at all.
“I have another observation,” said Arentiss, looking at Rueik.
Her impassive eyes and analytical tone sent a chill up his spine.
“I saw four riders return with bodies strapped to their vehicles. Rueik, you said Zoecara and Pike went with the mercenaries. If Zoecara and Pike were friendly with them, why would they be strapped to the side instead of seated behind the rider?”
Rueik swore silently, his eyes drifting to Arentiss’ primly folded hands upon the table. Lies came to mind. He raced to test them for holes, one by one.
“Did you see how Pike and Zoecara left?” asked Hark. “Were they tied down?”
Rueik tried to recall what he’d said earlier. He hadn’t been specific about how they departed. “I didn’t see how they left,” he said, the delay sounding awkward to his ears. “I just looked out and they were gone. I assumed they left with the mercenaries, but I didn’t see how they left.”
Arentiss’ eyebrows drew together. “They were strapped down. The question is, why?”
“Maybe they were trying to keep the truth a secret,” said Hark. “They were pretending to be captured.”
“That’s possible,” said Arentiss. “But why go through the effort of a disguise when they left Rueik behind alive with the truth?”
“Maybe they were double-crossed by the mercs,” said Karience. “Rueik, did you hear anything like a scuffle or an energy pulse?”
“No,” said Rueik. “The land rider engines were idling. Once Zoecara and Pike went outside, I doubt if I could have heard anything. Maybe a scream, but I heard nothing.”
A short silence hung like a noose in the room. He squinted down at the table, as if searching his memories. If anything should go awry, if somehow his story fell apart, the first person he’d have to disable was Hark, and he’d have to work fast, snap his neck. The three women were not fighters, but three would not be easy to take down without a weapon.
“You’re sure you saw them strapped to the sides?” asked Karience.
“Yes,” said Arentiss. “As you know, I am very observant and have near perfect vision.”
Karience smiled thinly. “Strange as it is, there could be any number of reasons they were strapped to the side.”
“Maybe they were double-crossed,” said Hark. “When I mined asteroids, I saw a guy stabbed through the heart with an electro-blade. There was no sound. The guy just fell to the ground dead.”
Karience’s gaze drifted down to her hands, which tapped softly against the table. “If they were double-crossed outside the barn, then like Hark said, there are lots of instruments that can incapacitate a person silently if taken by surprise.” She stood. “Let’s put the question to rest at present. If any other factors come to mind, we can meet and discuss them. I will contact Higelion tomorrow and send him my report. For now, let’s all get some rest if we can.”
Chapter Seven
WINTER
She followed Karience and the others through a series of smoothly angled hallways lined with portholes. Winter kept looking at the dark holes. The inability to see the water outside was strangely unnerving. She suddenly felt cold. In daylight, the portholes were windows to the teeming life of countless sea creatures and plants, but at night, the moon and stars did not penetrate the black water outside. She knew little of what lived in the sea, but she imagined some disfigured creature hovering just outside, unseen.
Winter was given the first room Karience stopped at, and though she wanted to rush inside and fling herself on the bed, dig her face deep into the pillows, she knew the day’s events would haunt her thoughts.
Aven was gone. She wanted to believe it wasn’t forever.
Karience’s hand rested on her shoulder. “If
you need to talk, I’m here. I promise you, if there is a way to retrieve your brother, we will. I will not stop until he’s found. I will ask for help at the end of my report to Higelion. There are resources that could be given to us.”
“What resources?” asked Winter.
“A squadron of starships.”
“They would give us ships?”
Karience stared at her a moment. “It is possible.”
Winter heard the doubt in Karience’s voice and nodded dully. When the door to her room closed, she walked slowly to the foot of the bed, then sank down to the floor on her knees.
Whisper?
She had put the butterfly in her hair and nearly forgotten about it. She put a finger into her tangled tresses and felt the little legs climb gingerly onto her knuckle.
She studied the butterfly and thought of the Consecrators. They would be coming to talk to her soon. They would try and make her choose. Press her to renounce the Makers and her gift. They would use Aven’s capture as a point in their case.
But what of her case for the Makers? Though she wasn’t always able to stop her visions from coming true, she’d stopped a number of them. She’d saved the farmers from Baron Rhaudius, Karience and herself from the radical Execrata in the caves of Bridge. She’d even saved a bird from a toad. And then, only hours ago, she’d warned Karience of the destruction of the Guardian tower and, because of it, she and Karience were still alive.
Whisper turned toward Winter, as if looking at her face for her answer.
Winter recalled Leaf’s promise…
Child, your life carries a heavy load. On your shoulders stand many heroes, and under your feet the life of a Beast…
The spirit of a seer will attach to you. It will be a blessing and a curse, but never forget, it is a gift, and it will save more than it will kill.