Earthbound, p.27
Earthbound, page 27
Emilia’s eye flicked up to Venier’s. The edges crinkled with warmth and sincerity. “But Knox—”
“Oh, child. Everyone knew of the love you shared. It’s a loss many will feel and empathize over.” Venier squeezed her hand. “Not everyone in the Order is stone-hearted. With Knox gone, two broken hearts finding comfort and connection in one another will be seen as a grace of the Sky.”
A heavy stone of guilt lifted from Emilia’s chest, and she swallowed, pulling in her first full breath since standing on the edge of that field.
Mountain’s Roots
Knox
Knox piloted the Tumultian hovercraft deeper into the foothills, and Kipp sat in the pilot’s chair behind him, holding the small stuffed rabbit Gorrde had given her. A day under Maven’s loving ministrations had meant she’d been cleaned within an inch of her life. Her curls pulled into two pigtails, one for each side of her head.
Maven had even found her a fresh set of clothing: a practical, long-wearing pair of overalls with a woven top underneath. The long sleeves flared open and hung several inches past her elbow. The deep cherry colour even highlighted the subtle blush returning to her skin.
For all of that, it would take time to undo the damage from her time with the Tumultian Commander. He glanced back at his small ward, alert and vigilant. Her probing gaze was far too deliberate for a child of her age. The pools of blood on the deck didn’t give her much pause, but he caught her casting worried glances back toward Gorrde as Maven tended to him.
He could only imagine what she’d experienced in her few short years. Certainly, more than her fair share of violence and tragedy. Her small face crumpled and lip quivered as Maven set a bone in Gorrde’s arm, eliciting a groan from the big man.
Distract her. “Kipp, how old are you?”
At the question, she dragged her eyes away from the scene behind them and, after a moment of thought, held up five fingers. Two on one hand and three on the other. He smiled at the incongruence. No words joined the display. Back to silence? He tried another question.
“What do you like to be called?”
She tipped her head and scrunched her brow like it was a silly question. “Kipp.”
He let out a small breath. At least she was willing to talk. “Still Kipp?”
She nodded.
“Well, Kipp, do you want to learn how to drive this thing?”
Her eyes lit with excitement, and she pushed herself off of the chair with a hop and joined him where he stood before the controls. He used his foot to nudge a crate closer to the console which she promptly scrambled atop.
He shifted next to her in case she should topple backwards and demonstrated turning a hand dial back and forth. The craft slid nominally left and right. Kipp looked up at him, eyes wide. She tentatively reached her small hand toward the control.
“Go on, nice and slow,” he encouraged.
She tried to turn it with one hand as he had and frowned, its size making it hard for her to grip. Knox held back a grin as a determined expression settled over her minute features. She reached forward with both hands and gripped the dial. The craft shifted abruptly to the left.
Kipp pulled back as if burned and pressed her lips into a thin line.
“It’s okay,” he coached. “I won’t let us move from the path. Keep it smooth and slow.”
Kipp listened to the instructions intently and reached once again for the wheel. This time, the vehicle strafed in a gentle slide to the right.
“Excellent, that’s it.”
The corner of her mouth quirked into a half grin as she carefully ‘drove’. Knox maintained the primary controls and adjusted as needed for the additional strafing along with his turns. The road wound in slow, lazy bends to accommodate the incline toward Tehran’s father’s property.
Cyrl had always been a recluse and had built his house far up into the mountainside. The strange choice had been the subject of cluster gossip, but Knox guessed few were complaining now. Except for Cyrl. Knox doubted he was taking the intrusion of the whole cluster with much grace.
The road plateaued, and Knox halted the vehicle. Kipp released her control and dusted her hands off, clearly proud of a job well done. The road ahead was clogged with what had to be every working vehicle left in Rikken. A few people milled between the craft sorting supplies and looked more purposeful than Knox would have expected. He spotted a boy from the cluster waving him forward pointing to a narrow path which forked off the road. “Uncle Loghin said to take this path up to the house.”
Knox eyed the overgrown road warily. “Will we be able to get through?”
“Yes, Overseer.”
Knox nodded and eased the large craft forward. Kipp reached once again for the controls. “Better let me do this part, little one.”
She wrinkled her nose in disappointment but leaned back from the dash obediently.
“You’re an excellent co-pilot.” She seemed to settle at his assessment and focused instead on the road ahead.
The cleared path was narrow, but true to the boy’s word, Loghin’s team had removed any obstructions. The remaining brush pressed flat as they passed over it. Finally, they squeezed between two large cedars and entered the back edge of Cyrl’s property. Knox let out a low whistle. The usually immaculate farmyard and cleared fields beyond were full of people. All of Rikken looked to be crammed here with tents, lean-tos and animals moving between them all. The sight made him think of the inhabitants of Beryl. They had likely started out in much the same way, desperation pushing them to find a new way to live.
In the warm mid-afternoon sun, Loghin stood in the middle of a throng of people, shouting directions and gesturing in an exaggerated fashion. Several of the Council members looked to be in intense discussions, talking down an irate Cyrl. The red of his face was visible even at this distance.
The activity in the clearing stuttered to a halt at their entrance. Daedan, standing on the rustic balcony of the house, started moving toward them even as Knox powered the craft down. Loghin barked a few last orders to a group waiting by the freshly painted barn before heading their direction.
“How did—is that Gorrde?” Loghin asked, his broad face going slack at the sight of the bloody machinist.
“It is. Maven has him stabilized, but she is going to need to get him to the house immediately.”
From behind him, Knox could already hear Maven directing people, dictating how he was to be transferred.
“On it,” Loghin said, grabbing the arm of a young girl passing by. “Go find Lin. Maven needs her at the main house now.”
“Yes, Foreman,” she said and ran off.
Loghin’s face crumpled with a look of worry. “I shouldn’t have left them behind.”
“It wasn’t on you. He got away from me as well. Maven will do everything she can.”
“She doesn’t lose very many—” Loghin started and then cut off, seeming to remember the last patient Maven had lost was Knox’s child.
The breath pressed from his lungs as the half-hidden grief tried to break through. Kipp reached up for his hand. The warmth startled him from his dark thoughts, and he glanced down at the girl, struck again by her intuition.
Loghin wrung his thick hands. “The cluster? How did it fair?”
Knox dropped his voice. “Not much left, I’m afraid.” He scooped Kipp from her crate and jumped from the craft and onto solid ground, next to Loghin. “The brecka made it through the barrier. And they are here.”
Knox looked past the small crowd converging on the craft, to the dark lines of smoke smudged across the blue of the sky, his mouth pressing into a grimace.
Loghin’s eyes narrowed and his jaw set. “I thought as much.” He glanced around at the onlookers’ hungry expressions. “We need to talk—privately.”
Council Ship, Loghin’s father, hobbled up, gruffly dismissing the crowd. “Go on, let the man breathe for a moment. We will gather as a cluster after the evening meal.” When no one moved he swung his walking staff in a feeble swing.
“Go on.” The slow-moving stick made contact with a few shins before the crowd began to drift back to their previous tasks.
Gorrde was carried into the house. The image of his limp frame draped amongst the wreckage didn’t inspire much confidence. If I had stopped him—
Kipp touched his cheek. He met her eyes and let his forehead rest against hers for a moment. “You’re right. There will be time for all of that later.”
He set her back on the ground once again. She automatically gripped his hand and held it to her chest along with her rabbit.
Loghin flipped one of her small pigtails, earning him a mock scowl. “Good to see you found your shadow. He had us worried for a bit. Eh, Kipper?”
She chewed her lip, considered him for a moment, and then spoke, “I know’d he’d come.”
Loghin’s mouth dropped open in shock, and Knox couldn’t keep from barking out a laugh. Kipp giggled, grey eyes sparkling.
“You’re full of surprises, Kipper,” Loghin chuckled.
Council Doccet slipped into their small circle. “Council Ship, Foreman Loghin. We are about to meet—in the barn.” Her mouth twisted in distaste. “That is, if you are done twilling about. We have important things to discuss.”
Ship’s eyes still crinkled at the edges with a smile even enjoying the joke without full context. “I’ll take joy when it can be found.”
Doccet huffed. “Well, when you are ready.” She turned to leave, carefully avoiding Knox’s eye.
Loghin almost followed but stopped, noticing Knox rooted where he stood. “You inviting Overseer Knox as well, Council Doccet?”
Doccet ran her tongue over her teeth as her eyes drifted over Knox. “No. The disavowed is not invited. He can wait until this evening’s meeting, along with the rest of the cluster.”
Loghin’s back stiffened. “He single-handedly protected us today.”
“Protected?” The Councilwoman sputtered. “We took the precautions he suggested,” she sneered, “but now our cluster is destroyed and here we are, displaced.”
“Alive,” Council Ship pointed out in his thick drawl.
She rolled her eyes. “No thanks to him. It was Loghin and yourself that brought the cluster here, safely.”
“Time you were given because of Overseer Knox.” A loud voice boomed, pulling the eyes of those closest. “Who are you to deny the Sky’s representative?”
The woman spun. Daedan stood a stone’s throw from the group. “I couldn’t help but overhear, Council Doccet, and it sounded as if you were dismissing our Overseer.” More eyes glanced their way. Some stopped their work to watch the confrontation.
Noticing the attention, she hissed, “This is not a conversation for you. You are not even of Rikken anymore. I don’t know why you even bothered to come back.”
Daedan glowered at her, eyebrows nearly touching one another. “To return your messenger, if you’ve forgotten.”
Grumbles erupted from those nearest and Doccet stuttered, “He would have been fine on his own. Jai is a capable man.”
“Enough,” Ship grumbled. “Today is not about titles or standing. Every one of us must use our skills and strength to protect this cluster and its people.”
“Fine. Come,” Doccet bit out.
“Daedan too,” Knox said.
“And me,” Kipp piped up.
Doccet’s eyes bulged.
“Of course, Kipper too,” Loghin agreed.
Not long after the confrontation, Knox and the others followed Doccet into the modestly-sized barn. The space was perfectly organized: feed bins full and each piece of equipment stored in its place. A large space had been cleared in the centre with a small generator quietly powering a ring of stand lights. The other eight members of the Council were already gathered, sitting on makeshift stools.
Tehran’s father, Cyrl, stood by one of the light stands and scowled as the group entered. “What’s he doing here?”
Thin arms crossed over a bony chest. His amber eyes were the only piece of Tehran Knox saw in the man. Narrowed in disgust as they were now, the faint resemblance all but vanished.
“Good to see you, Cyrl,” Knox said.
Cyrl ignored the greeting. “As disavowed, he’s relinquished all rights to a voice in this meeting.”
“And what right do you have?” Loghin challenged stepping in front of Knox.
Cyrl’s face reddened and he opened his mouth in retort, but Doccet spoke up, “Unlike the rest of you, Cyrl has been invited to join us. This is his land, and he deserves a say.” She moved into the circle of lights, her mouth pinched in a sour expression.
Cyrl leaned back against a thick wooden pillar, looking mollified.
“Don’t be a fool, Doccet. We need all the help we can get at the moment,” Ship grumbled.
“Says you,” said Council Hueggar, his broad belly bouncing with the pronouncement. “This Council does not need an Overseer.”
Loghin stiffened next to Knox and Daedan let out a loud huff.
“You’re right, Council Hueggar,” Knox spoke up and all eyes turned on him. “I’m not here as your Overseer. I make no such assumptions. My only thought is to prepare Rikken for what’s ahead. Raiders pushed those beasts here. We are at war. We need—”
“Foreman Loghin already told us of the Tumultian threat. We have experienced firsthand the devastation of the earthbound,” Hueggar interrupted. “What do you think to tell us that we don’t already know?”
Knox frowned and stumbled over his next words. “I thought this Council would want a report of the raiders I faced only hours ago. They will return.”
Council Doccet gave him a patronizing smile. “You can report the details to the head of security and join their ranks if desired.”
Loghin stepped forward, his shoulders stiff. “You want to use Knox as a watchman? If it wasn’t for his intervention today, we would have all been crushed by that beast or slaughtered by raiders.”
“So says he,” Cyrl mumbled.
Loghin levelled a withering glare in the older man’s direction. “Since when has an Overseer ever lied?”
“We are not questioning Knox’s integrity,” Doccet interjected in a sickly-sweet tone. “But rather suggesting how he can best serve the cluster.”
“He is our Overseer!” Loghin growled.
Knox stepped forward, bringing himself next to Loghin. “It is my honour to protect and serve the cluster.”
“A privilege you forfeited,” another Councilman said.
A familiar flush of shame heated his face.
The Councilman continued. “And it is clear you do not take such a calling seriously, coming back here as you have with a child in tow.”
Kipp hugged close to his leg, sensing the focus of the room turning to her. He rested a hand on her thin shoulder in reassurance, shame giving way to the deeper heat of anger.
“Leave the child out of this,” he warned. “I offer you my service—”
“No. You swore us your service,” Hueggar said, his voice cold and sharp.
Any response caught in Knox’s throat. This was the heart of it, the rift between himself and the cluster. A broken vow.
Loghin spoke up. “A vow he still honours!” He looked between the Council members, while gesturing toward Knox. “How can you not see that?”
Cyrl stepped forward, meeting his challenge. “All we see is a failed investment. This cluster supplied his every need, only for him to throw it back in our faces.”
Words failed.
Loghin was already in motion, meeting Cyrl with a quick step and driving his fist into the spindly man’s jaw. He wobbled and collapsed onto his backside, dazed.
Stunned silence held for a heartbeat before the Council devolved into shouts of protest and accusations. Ship moved between his son and Cyrl, wooden staff pressed firmly to Loghin’s chest as he spoke in low, urgent tones.
Loghin’s expression turned to stone and he spun and strode from the circle. Knox lifted Kipp into his arms and followed, leaving the Council to fuss and fume on their own.
Nature of Oaths
Tehran
Tehran gripped his hands behind his back, trying to keep tension from creeping into his shoulders as Emilia left with Elder Venier. The door closed, and Genoa pulled in a long, heavy breath as Elevated Dareous’ brows sunk further into its frown.
“Knox, dead. There are those who will try to use this,” Elder Genoa said, nervously combing his beard.
Elevated Dareous closed his eyes and rubbed at his temple. “Solace, I assume you told Tehran of the trouble we are facing?”
“Yes. He is aware.”
Elevated Dareous’ mouth pulled tight. “Genoa is right. Once word of this gets out, things will escalate. Knox’s story will play perfectly for those arguing against our new assurances.”
“Is that so wrong?” Tehran asked. Solace shot him a warning look, but he ploughed ahead. “Knox is proof one can honour the Sky without additional restrictions.”
“That is the calling of the masses,” Dareous snapped, holding up a hand in anticipation of Tehran’s protest. “Our vows are not meant to be easy or comfortable; quite the opposite, in fact. It is what sets us apart. The moment you compromise the quality of the fabric, the garment is ruined.”
“Not our vows. An Overseer’s vows.” Tehran fought to keep a sneer from twisting his lips. “You do not carry their weight, Elevated.”
Metaphors of cloth and fabric: Dareous’ knowledge remained theoretical. The Elders’ and the Elevated’s vows were a pledge of service, not sacrifice. They could eat and drink and participate in everyday life without worry of breaking restrictive assurances and forfeiting their gifts.
