Earthbound, p.32
Earthbound, page 32
“Emilia shared a little with me.”
Tehran sagged and rubbed a hand over his face. Venier didn’t even know the worst of it. “Oh,” he said.
“Dareous should have never sent you out here, oathtorn as you are. I fear he seeks to break you. To remove you from the Order. Don’t let him win.”
His headache flared, causing the light from the fire to break into an array of colours, as if through a crystal. “It is you. You’re the one stirring the Order.”
A pitying look filled her pale blue gaze. “It’s not as you think. I am for the Order. For the people of the Mercurial, and I too am fighting for the soul of this land.”
A cold dread coiled around his heart. Even if it were true, to break his oath to Dareous would be to lose his connection to the Sky. The words he’d sworn were laden with consequence. Sky help me.
“I can’t let you—” The word broke from his mouth in a dry rasp, tension leaking through.
Venier stiffened and considered him for a long moment. She lifted a fine brow, lips pressed thin. “He already got to you, didn’t he?”
“I don’t know what you mean?” Tehran lied.
“Dareous, you fool,” Venier half-whispered to herself, shaking her head.
“I cannot ignore this, Elder. Elevated Dareous must know there are those in his inner circle trying to thwart his efforts.”
She tipped her head. “Even though you agree with me. Even though Emilia will fight with me.”
His throat cinched closed, cutting off any response.
Venier held his gaze, cold determination in her pale blue eyes. “We need you in the days ahead, Tehran. Not this crumbling man, torn and broken, sitting here now. You can determine to serve the Sky apart from this corruption. Join us.”
“I can’t—”
“Make a choice or break. There is no middle ground.”
No.
The thought cut off any response, and Venier stood, dusting herself off. “I’m going to catch some sleep.” Her tone turned serious. “Do what you must, Tehran. The Mercurial needs you.”
◆◆◆
Tehran’s mind raced as the camp quieted. They were a large group of almost twenty, travelling between the six convoy transports and a handful of scouting vessels. Most of the personnel were support staff: drivers, cooks, and specialty consultants like Emilia and the other engineer. Only three were other Overseers: Konr, Hadin, and Marel. They sat around their own fire in quiet conversation.
Do what you must.
Both Elder Venier and Elevated Dareous believed they were protecting the Mercurial. Dareous through structure and law, and Venier by championing for their hearts: yet, between them, Tehran was caught in a vice.
He knew what Venier thought he should do. To abandon his oath to Emilia and reclaim his mind without endangering his power; to join her. His throat burned at her warnings. She seemed to guess the conflict within him regarding the Elevated’s new direction but clearly had no idea the lengths Dareous had gone in order to ensure his loyalty.
Despite this, the thought of releasing his oaths to the Sky sent a spike of fear down his spine. He’d belonged to the Sky for as long as he had memory. Her power coursing through his veins felt as essential as breathing. Nor could he abandon his promise to Emilia; always dear to him, now she captured his heart.
Speaking the extended oaths to the Elevated was a mistake. He wished he could purge them from his soul, but they held him fast.
Tehran’s thoughts strayed to Knox. He needed him now more than ever. To figure out a way through. To talk. If Knox were alive, he’d kill me. The thought sent fresh pain piercing through him, and he stifled a groan as he raked his hands through his hair. All the words left unspoken were piling up within him, leaving him little room to breathe.
His eyes drifted out over the silhouetted mountains and the black of the plains below, and he imagined leaving it all behind. He and Emilia could surrender all this politicking to someone else and live free. Tehran smiled into the dark at the impossible thought.
“There’s a look I’ve missed,” Emilia said as she walked up and re-tied her hair back from her face.
He raised his eyebrow and forced a full smile.
She stood before him and ran her fingers through his hair before clasping her hands behind his neck. He pulled her close, arms wrapped around her hips, and leaned his forehead against her abdomen.
“How are you?” she asked, voice soft.
“Fine, just tired.”
She placed her hands on his cheeks and tipped his face up to hers. She studied him for a moment. “Are you sure?”
“No. But I think you were right.”
“Of course I was; about what?” She brushed her lips across his, lingering a moment, before releasing him.
“Everything.” He mentally added his own list. Venier. Dareous. A life away from the Order. The cost of all of this.
“Ah, yes. That sounds about right.” She took his hands in hers and pulled him to standing. “Time to get some sleep.”
He followed her to the edge of the camp to where their tent was set up and ducked inside after her. Tomorrow, they would need a sleeper car, but for tonight they had opted for the privacy of a wall tent. He crawled next to her under a pile of covers on the ground mats.
“Did you have a good talk with Venier?” she asked.
His mouth turned dry, and the rasping whisper stole any conviction the words held. “It was—interesting.”
“Do you still think she is working against the Order?”
He stiffened, the chaos in his mind roaring to life. Emilia must have felt his reaction and rolled to face him. She traced his jaw with her fingers. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked. Curiosity got the better of me.”
He snorted and a half-formed grin emerged, despite the discomfort. “As always.”
“Venier told me what it means to be oathtorn—”
“Don’t,” he whispered. His chest grew tight with the words he wanted to speak.
Emilia put her hand to his cheek. “I don’t need answers. I trust you. All that matters to me is that you find your way through this and back to me. Okay?”
He couldn’t see her face in the dark, but he could feel the warmth of her breath and the gentleness of her touch. “Okay,” he managed, though the word came out as a rough croak. He swallowed and found his voice. “I love you, Em.”
“I love you too,” she whispered and then silenced the need for any more talking by pressing her mouth to his.
Disavowed
Knox
Searing light and excruciating pain defined Knox’s every waking moment.
He resisted the urge to cover his eyes and lay still, carefully pulling in a breath and drawing a slow trickle of power. Using these few wakeful moments to heal as much as he could within the bounds of the suppression manacles took all the focus he could muster. It paid off as his mind cleared and warmth suffused through him in gentle waves, freeing him for a few blissful moments.
He studied the room. They never opened a door. Never left food or water. Knox was tempted to test his bonds but the last three times he had tried it had triggered the manacles, no matter how fast he tried to break them. The Commander always arrived moments later to continue her interrogation. He’d learned there was no use pretending unconsciousness. He had to earn oblivion, each and every time.
How long has it been? Days? Weeks? So far, he’d managed to resist the Commander’s probing questions. Although a sinking sensation acknowledged the truth: it was getting harder. Once subjected to the current, his mind turned sluggish, and her offers felt tantalizingly genuine.
Not that the pain would end if he answered. She delighted in any reason to remind him of her absolute power over him. If he didn’t answer, he suffered. If he spoke, she would punish him exactly the same. Or maybe it would all stop. It was difficult to discern what was true anymore.
The workings of his oaths and the intricacies of the Order held the Commander’s attention. Beyond that, Knox couldn’t remember the specifics of any line of questioning. The Sky’s healing was doing all it could to keep him alive, but his memory seemed to be a low priority.
As if it matters—who will I tell? He pushed the despondent thought aside. The thread of hope he was holding onto was dangerously thin and he sensed his time was running out.
“Overseer.” The Commander’s voice came in overhead and Knox flinched. “Come now, this could be perfectly pleasant if you cooperated.”
If he could have spit, he would have, but his mouth was too dry. Instead, he rolled over and pushed himself up to a sitting position with his knees in front of him and rested his forehead against them.
“Get on with it,” he said with as much venom as he could muster. His stomach clenched, preparing for the arcs of energy to crackle through him.
None came.
He lifted his head and eyed the camera in the corner, raising an eyebrow.
A light laugh came over the speaker. “I decided to try something different today. I thought we could talk about Aeslyn.”
His back stiffened, and he glared at the camera. “She’s free of you. That’s all that matters.”
“You think I’d let go of what is mine so easily?”
The implications of that simple statement made him sick. He dropped his head back to his knees and clenched his teeth against the emotion that threatened. Kipp’s sweet innocence at the mercy of creatures such as these was too much. He’d face this box a thousand times to ensure she never had to see another Tumultian soldier.
“I thought you cared for her,” she baited. “But it’s obedience over empathy, isn’t that right? Murder. Theft. So noble, your Order.”
A flush of anger washed through him. “Theft? I can’t steal what you never had any right to,” he snarled. Stop talking. Don’t say another word.
He could almost hear the patronizing expression in her tone. “You know that’s not the case. She was our assurance. A living contract. Something both you and Overseer Nylin seem to have difficulty understanding.”
Nylin? Who’s that? The Commander still believed the Order had sent Knox as a spy to Beryl and spoke as if he knew things he’d never heard of. Nylin. Assurances. Aeslyn. Kipp’s true name. He mumbled a curse, frustrated.
“Nothing to say?” she prodded.
The room crackled to life sending sparks of electricity jumping from the walls and biting into his body. He let loose a roar as his muscles spasmed and skin burned. It ended as quickly as it began, and he slumped to the floor chest heaving. The acrid smell of burnt flesh filled his nose. His gift was faltering, and some damage was no longer being repaired.
“I don’t know what you are talking about,” he mumbled into the floor.
“We do not deal in bad faith; a lesson I fear your Elders are not prepared for.”
Knox could feel the import of her words, but his mind refused to focus. He tried to draw on his strength and a surge of clarity touched his mind as another round of electricity unleashed.
He bit his tongue to keep from crying out and the metallic tang of blood filled his mouth. Healing pressed forward to little effect. The room stilled and he lay limp and covered in sweat.
“Why were you sent? For Nylin’s Acolyte, or for some other reason?”
His mind jumped with the erratic leaps of a system no longer functioning. Nylin? Acolyte? The names meant nothing.
Blisters bubbled on the palms of his hands and tendrils of smoke rose from his arms. “I don’t know who Nylin is,” he breathed.
“No? You so quickly forget the man who sacrificed his life for you?”
A piece clicked into place. The image of the man in Beryl, charred and laying across the generator. Kipp’s father. Is this Nylin she was referencing?
“Nylin wasn’t an Overseer. He died.” Knox said, sucking in a sharp breath and rolled to his side. Pain seared as his skin pulled at the movement.
“How alive are you feeling at this moment, Overseer?”
They can kill us. Hope snapped like a killing blow. Whatever they were doing to him was more than merely physical. It was cutting off his connection to the Sky. I’m going to die. He hid his face in the crook of his arm and waited for the next round of electricity to batter him. The room remained quiet.
Keep fighting, a voice whispered within his mind. Kipp’s face rose to the forefront of his consciousness.
An Acolyte. The Commander’s words suddenly took on significance. Kipp’s immediate trust in him was more than that of a child rescued; she recognized he was an Overseer. His power had never frightened her because it was familiar. She had slotted into his life seamlessly; eating as he did, naturally avoiding the same things he must. Of course. What child would naturally turn down a sweet treat like iced quot juice? He rolled and raised a chain-weighted hand to his forehead, wiping sweat from his eyes. The salt stung in the exit wounds in his hands.
The Commander spoke, oblivious of his revelation. “Aeslyn was our assurance. She belongs to us.”
Aeslyn—Kipp. Belong to this monster? Unhealed skin tore as he tried to push himself up from the floor, and his palm slipped through the blood. “No.”
“No?”
“She belongs to the Sky alone,” he said, surprised at the thin sounding rasp of his own voice. The superficial wounds were not the worst of what his body was bearing.
“Not according to your Order. All Avowed belong to them. And they gave her to us. And we will have her returned; but in the meantime, we have you, a fully-trained Overseer.”
“I am not an Overseer. I am disavowed.”
Electricity arced through the room, pinning him once again to the floor in convulsions.
“If you are going to open your mouth, make sure it is not with lies,” she sneered. “If you were disavowed, you would be dead. You still carry the Sky’s gift.” Her tone shifted to something more businesslike, as if she were brokering a deal. “But if you join us, this can all end.”
“Never.”
A round of electricity lit the room. His vision flickered as he lay trying to recover.
“Your Order has betrayed you. Used you. They are willing to trade away their birthright. Such corruption will not stand. They will fall and you will be left with the same choice. Join us or die.”
“The Order would never—”
“Would never what?” she spat. “Counter their word? Double-cross a whole nation to get what they want? They thought they could bait us with promises of land and power, only to change the terms when they got what they wanted? The deal will remain unbroken.”
“Land?” he asked, unable to keep his limbs from trembling.
“Yes,” she crooned, sensing his vulnerability. “A piece of the Earth and technology, which you have so beautifully demonstrated, can control even one of the Sky, in exchange for the Outer Reaches. Aeslyn was our assurance—that you stole.”
It can’t be true. Could they really have surrendered one of the Sky’s own children—Kipp. For a long moment, Knox was left with the sound of his ragged breathing and pulse thrumming in his ears. He lay still, fighting off unconsciousness.
“If you do not cooperate, I will send word to wipe out that pitiful group fleeing into the mountains and to return Aeslyn to me.”
Knox felt cold. “You swore she could leave.”
“And I let her. She can wander our new land until it is time for me to collect her.”
Kipp. He gathered what strength he had and pushed himself to his knees, sitting back on his feet and staring at the camera. A thick, rough cough rattled him. “Leave her. She’s innocent. The Order would never trade away any child of the Sky. You’ve been lied to.”
A derisive huff came through the speaker. “At least your death won’t be meaningless,” she said, sounding as if she were offering him a gift. “Soon, you will serve as a reminder of the cost of playing such games with a Tumultian.”
The threat of imminent death hardly registered. “The child?”
“She will be mine,” she said with finality.
No. Knox collapsed forward, forehead to the ground, and sobbed. The tears choked him and he wretched. I failed. Kipp. Emilia. Tehran. All of them.
He released the power, the thin thread of strength tying him to his body snapped free, and he once again sank into darkness.
Never
Emilia
Tears tracked down Emilia’s cheek, dropping into her pillow. Tehran lay next to her, muttering and tossing fitfully in his sleep. It didn’t take a vow to the Order to know he was slipping away. Day by day and moment by moment, he was getting worse. He appeared carved out, a shell of all he’d once been.
And it’s your fault, the accusation screamed. Knox surrendered strength for her, and now Tehran could lose even more. She edged from under the covers and knelt on the cold of the matted floor. Her hands traced the ground in the dark until she found her pants and she stood to pull them on.
Without a light to search, she decided to forego shoes and crept from the tent. Tehran’s haunted mutterings were still audible as she walked away. The embers of the evening’s fires gave off a faint glow and the gathering dew clung to her toes.
“Ms. Emilia? Is that you?”
Her heart lurched.
She turned to see Charyls, Venier’s Acolyte, hop down from a scout craft.
“Hey,” she said, catching her breath. “You scared me.”
He shrugged, looking smug. “I think that’s kinda the point of being on watch.”
She smiled, suddenly reminded of Tehran. Confident, easy-going, always ready with a joke. How he used to be. Tears welled without warning.
“I was joking, Ms. Emilia.”
She sniffed and wiped her eyes. “I know. It’s not you.”
His brow furrowed with worry. “Can I help?”
She shook her head. “I need to speak with the Elder.”
Venier looked surprisingly alert for being woken in the middle of the night. At one glance at Emilia, she dismissed Charyls and invited her into her private car. She pulled a chair out for Emilia and sat across from her at the small pop-up table.
Tehran sagged and rubbed a hand over his face. Venier didn’t even know the worst of it. “Oh,” he said.
“Dareous should have never sent you out here, oathtorn as you are. I fear he seeks to break you. To remove you from the Order. Don’t let him win.”
His headache flared, causing the light from the fire to break into an array of colours, as if through a crystal. “It is you. You’re the one stirring the Order.”
A pitying look filled her pale blue gaze. “It’s not as you think. I am for the Order. For the people of the Mercurial, and I too am fighting for the soul of this land.”
A cold dread coiled around his heart. Even if it were true, to break his oath to Dareous would be to lose his connection to the Sky. The words he’d sworn were laden with consequence. Sky help me.
“I can’t let you—” The word broke from his mouth in a dry rasp, tension leaking through.
Venier stiffened and considered him for a long moment. She lifted a fine brow, lips pressed thin. “He already got to you, didn’t he?”
“I don’t know what you mean?” Tehran lied.
“Dareous, you fool,” Venier half-whispered to herself, shaking her head.
“I cannot ignore this, Elder. Elevated Dareous must know there are those in his inner circle trying to thwart his efforts.”
She tipped her head. “Even though you agree with me. Even though Emilia will fight with me.”
His throat cinched closed, cutting off any response.
Venier held his gaze, cold determination in her pale blue eyes. “We need you in the days ahead, Tehran. Not this crumbling man, torn and broken, sitting here now. You can determine to serve the Sky apart from this corruption. Join us.”
“I can’t—”
“Make a choice or break. There is no middle ground.”
No.
The thought cut off any response, and Venier stood, dusting herself off. “I’m going to catch some sleep.” Her tone turned serious. “Do what you must, Tehran. The Mercurial needs you.”
◆◆◆
Tehran’s mind raced as the camp quieted. They were a large group of almost twenty, travelling between the six convoy transports and a handful of scouting vessels. Most of the personnel were support staff: drivers, cooks, and specialty consultants like Emilia and the other engineer. Only three were other Overseers: Konr, Hadin, and Marel. They sat around their own fire in quiet conversation.
Do what you must.
Both Elder Venier and Elevated Dareous believed they were protecting the Mercurial. Dareous through structure and law, and Venier by championing for their hearts: yet, between them, Tehran was caught in a vice.
He knew what Venier thought he should do. To abandon his oath to Emilia and reclaim his mind without endangering his power; to join her. His throat burned at her warnings. She seemed to guess the conflict within him regarding the Elevated’s new direction but clearly had no idea the lengths Dareous had gone in order to ensure his loyalty.
Despite this, the thought of releasing his oaths to the Sky sent a spike of fear down his spine. He’d belonged to the Sky for as long as he had memory. Her power coursing through his veins felt as essential as breathing. Nor could he abandon his promise to Emilia; always dear to him, now she captured his heart.
Speaking the extended oaths to the Elevated was a mistake. He wished he could purge them from his soul, but they held him fast.
Tehran’s thoughts strayed to Knox. He needed him now more than ever. To figure out a way through. To talk. If Knox were alive, he’d kill me. The thought sent fresh pain piercing through him, and he stifled a groan as he raked his hands through his hair. All the words left unspoken were piling up within him, leaving him little room to breathe.
His eyes drifted out over the silhouetted mountains and the black of the plains below, and he imagined leaving it all behind. He and Emilia could surrender all this politicking to someone else and live free. Tehran smiled into the dark at the impossible thought.
“There’s a look I’ve missed,” Emilia said as she walked up and re-tied her hair back from her face.
He raised his eyebrow and forced a full smile.
She stood before him and ran her fingers through his hair before clasping her hands behind his neck. He pulled her close, arms wrapped around her hips, and leaned his forehead against her abdomen.
“How are you?” she asked, voice soft.
“Fine, just tired.”
She placed her hands on his cheeks and tipped his face up to hers. She studied him for a moment. “Are you sure?”
“No. But I think you were right.”
“Of course I was; about what?” She brushed her lips across his, lingering a moment, before releasing him.
“Everything.” He mentally added his own list. Venier. Dareous. A life away from the Order. The cost of all of this.
“Ah, yes. That sounds about right.” She took his hands in hers and pulled him to standing. “Time to get some sleep.”
He followed her to the edge of the camp to where their tent was set up and ducked inside after her. Tomorrow, they would need a sleeper car, but for tonight they had opted for the privacy of a wall tent. He crawled next to her under a pile of covers on the ground mats.
“Did you have a good talk with Venier?” she asked.
His mouth turned dry, and the rasping whisper stole any conviction the words held. “It was—interesting.”
“Do you still think she is working against the Order?”
He stiffened, the chaos in his mind roaring to life. Emilia must have felt his reaction and rolled to face him. She traced his jaw with her fingers. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked. Curiosity got the better of me.”
He snorted and a half-formed grin emerged, despite the discomfort. “As always.”
“Venier told me what it means to be oathtorn—”
“Don’t,” he whispered. His chest grew tight with the words he wanted to speak.
Emilia put her hand to his cheek. “I don’t need answers. I trust you. All that matters to me is that you find your way through this and back to me. Okay?”
He couldn’t see her face in the dark, but he could feel the warmth of her breath and the gentleness of her touch. “Okay,” he managed, though the word came out as a rough croak. He swallowed and found his voice. “I love you, Em.”
“I love you too,” she whispered and then silenced the need for any more talking by pressing her mouth to his.
Disavowed
Knox
Searing light and excruciating pain defined Knox’s every waking moment.
He resisted the urge to cover his eyes and lay still, carefully pulling in a breath and drawing a slow trickle of power. Using these few wakeful moments to heal as much as he could within the bounds of the suppression manacles took all the focus he could muster. It paid off as his mind cleared and warmth suffused through him in gentle waves, freeing him for a few blissful moments.
He studied the room. They never opened a door. Never left food or water. Knox was tempted to test his bonds but the last three times he had tried it had triggered the manacles, no matter how fast he tried to break them. The Commander always arrived moments later to continue her interrogation. He’d learned there was no use pretending unconsciousness. He had to earn oblivion, each and every time.
How long has it been? Days? Weeks? So far, he’d managed to resist the Commander’s probing questions. Although a sinking sensation acknowledged the truth: it was getting harder. Once subjected to the current, his mind turned sluggish, and her offers felt tantalizingly genuine.
Not that the pain would end if he answered. She delighted in any reason to remind him of her absolute power over him. If he didn’t answer, he suffered. If he spoke, she would punish him exactly the same. Or maybe it would all stop. It was difficult to discern what was true anymore.
The workings of his oaths and the intricacies of the Order held the Commander’s attention. Beyond that, Knox couldn’t remember the specifics of any line of questioning. The Sky’s healing was doing all it could to keep him alive, but his memory seemed to be a low priority.
As if it matters—who will I tell? He pushed the despondent thought aside. The thread of hope he was holding onto was dangerously thin and he sensed his time was running out.
“Overseer.” The Commander’s voice came in overhead and Knox flinched. “Come now, this could be perfectly pleasant if you cooperated.”
If he could have spit, he would have, but his mouth was too dry. Instead, he rolled over and pushed himself up to a sitting position with his knees in front of him and rested his forehead against them.
“Get on with it,” he said with as much venom as he could muster. His stomach clenched, preparing for the arcs of energy to crackle through him.
None came.
He lifted his head and eyed the camera in the corner, raising an eyebrow.
A light laugh came over the speaker. “I decided to try something different today. I thought we could talk about Aeslyn.”
His back stiffened, and he glared at the camera. “She’s free of you. That’s all that matters.”
“You think I’d let go of what is mine so easily?”
The implications of that simple statement made him sick. He dropped his head back to his knees and clenched his teeth against the emotion that threatened. Kipp’s sweet innocence at the mercy of creatures such as these was too much. He’d face this box a thousand times to ensure she never had to see another Tumultian soldier.
“I thought you cared for her,” she baited. “But it’s obedience over empathy, isn’t that right? Murder. Theft. So noble, your Order.”
A flush of anger washed through him. “Theft? I can’t steal what you never had any right to,” he snarled. Stop talking. Don’t say another word.
He could almost hear the patronizing expression in her tone. “You know that’s not the case. She was our assurance. A living contract. Something both you and Overseer Nylin seem to have difficulty understanding.”
Nylin? Who’s that? The Commander still believed the Order had sent Knox as a spy to Beryl and spoke as if he knew things he’d never heard of. Nylin. Assurances. Aeslyn. Kipp’s true name. He mumbled a curse, frustrated.
“Nothing to say?” she prodded.
The room crackled to life sending sparks of electricity jumping from the walls and biting into his body. He let loose a roar as his muscles spasmed and skin burned. It ended as quickly as it began, and he slumped to the floor chest heaving. The acrid smell of burnt flesh filled his nose. His gift was faltering, and some damage was no longer being repaired.
“I don’t know what you are talking about,” he mumbled into the floor.
“We do not deal in bad faith; a lesson I fear your Elders are not prepared for.”
Knox could feel the import of her words, but his mind refused to focus. He tried to draw on his strength and a surge of clarity touched his mind as another round of electricity unleashed.
He bit his tongue to keep from crying out and the metallic tang of blood filled his mouth. Healing pressed forward to little effect. The room stilled and he lay limp and covered in sweat.
“Why were you sent? For Nylin’s Acolyte, or for some other reason?”
His mind jumped with the erratic leaps of a system no longer functioning. Nylin? Acolyte? The names meant nothing.
Blisters bubbled on the palms of his hands and tendrils of smoke rose from his arms. “I don’t know who Nylin is,” he breathed.
“No? You so quickly forget the man who sacrificed his life for you?”
A piece clicked into place. The image of the man in Beryl, charred and laying across the generator. Kipp’s father. Is this Nylin she was referencing?
“Nylin wasn’t an Overseer. He died.” Knox said, sucking in a sharp breath and rolled to his side. Pain seared as his skin pulled at the movement.
“How alive are you feeling at this moment, Overseer?”
They can kill us. Hope snapped like a killing blow. Whatever they were doing to him was more than merely physical. It was cutting off his connection to the Sky. I’m going to die. He hid his face in the crook of his arm and waited for the next round of electricity to batter him. The room remained quiet.
Keep fighting, a voice whispered within his mind. Kipp’s face rose to the forefront of his consciousness.
An Acolyte. The Commander’s words suddenly took on significance. Kipp’s immediate trust in him was more than that of a child rescued; she recognized he was an Overseer. His power had never frightened her because it was familiar. She had slotted into his life seamlessly; eating as he did, naturally avoiding the same things he must. Of course. What child would naturally turn down a sweet treat like iced quot juice? He rolled and raised a chain-weighted hand to his forehead, wiping sweat from his eyes. The salt stung in the exit wounds in his hands.
The Commander spoke, oblivious of his revelation. “Aeslyn was our assurance. She belongs to us.”
Aeslyn—Kipp. Belong to this monster? Unhealed skin tore as he tried to push himself up from the floor, and his palm slipped through the blood. “No.”
“No?”
“She belongs to the Sky alone,” he said, surprised at the thin sounding rasp of his own voice. The superficial wounds were not the worst of what his body was bearing.
“Not according to your Order. All Avowed belong to them. And they gave her to us. And we will have her returned; but in the meantime, we have you, a fully-trained Overseer.”
“I am not an Overseer. I am disavowed.”
Electricity arced through the room, pinning him once again to the floor in convulsions.
“If you are going to open your mouth, make sure it is not with lies,” she sneered. “If you were disavowed, you would be dead. You still carry the Sky’s gift.” Her tone shifted to something more businesslike, as if she were brokering a deal. “But if you join us, this can all end.”
“Never.”
A round of electricity lit the room. His vision flickered as he lay trying to recover.
“Your Order has betrayed you. Used you. They are willing to trade away their birthright. Such corruption will not stand. They will fall and you will be left with the same choice. Join us or die.”
“The Order would never—”
“Would never what?” she spat. “Counter their word? Double-cross a whole nation to get what they want? They thought they could bait us with promises of land and power, only to change the terms when they got what they wanted? The deal will remain unbroken.”
“Land?” he asked, unable to keep his limbs from trembling.
“Yes,” she crooned, sensing his vulnerability. “A piece of the Earth and technology, which you have so beautifully demonstrated, can control even one of the Sky, in exchange for the Outer Reaches. Aeslyn was our assurance—that you stole.”
It can’t be true. Could they really have surrendered one of the Sky’s own children—Kipp. For a long moment, Knox was left with the sound of his ragged breathing and pulse thrumming in his ears. He lay still, fighting off unconsciousness.
“If you do not cooperate, I will send word to wipe out that pitiful group fleeing into the mountains and to return Aeslyn to me.”
Knox felt cold. “You swore she could leave.”
“And I let her. She can wander our new land until it is time for me to collect her.”
Kipp. He gathered what strength he had and pushed himself to his knees, sitting back on his feet and staring at the camera. A thick, rough cough rattled him. “Leave her. She’s innocent. The Order would never trade away any child of the Sky. You’ve been lied to.”
A derisive huff came through the speaker. “At least your death won’t be meaningless,” she said, sounding as if she were offering him a gift. “Soon, you will serve as a reminder of the cost of playing such games with a Tumultian.”
The threat of imminent death hardly registered. “The child?”
“She will be mine,” she said with finality.
No. Knox collapsed forward, forehead to the ground, and sobbed. The tears choked him and he wretched. I failed. Kipp. Emilia. Tehran. All of them.
He released the power, the thin thread of strength tying him to his body snapped free, and he once again sank into darkness.
Never
Emilia
Tears tracked down Emilia’s cheek, dropping into her pillow. Tehran lay next to her, muttering and tossing fitfully in his sleep. It didn’t take a vow to the Order to know he was slipping away. Day by day and moment by moment, he was getting worse. He appeared carved out, a shell of all he’d once been.
And it’s your fault, the accusation screamed. Knox surrendered strength for her, and now Tehran could lose even more. She edged from under the covers and knelt on the cold of the matted floor. Her hands traced the ground in the dark until she found her pants and she stood to pull them on.
Without a light to search, she decided to forego shoes and crept from the tent. Tehran’s haunted mutterings were still audible as she walked away. The embers of the evening’s fires gave off a faint glow and the gathering dew clung to her toes.
“Ms. Emilia? Is that you?”
Her heart lurched.
She turned to see Charyls, Venier’s Acolyte, hop down from a scout craft.
“Hey,” she said, catching her breath. “You scared me.”
He shrugged, looking smug. “I think that’s kinda the point of being on watch.”
She smiled, suddenly reminded of Tehran. Confident, easy-going, always ready with a joke. How he used to be. Tears welled without warning.
“I was joking, Ms. Emilia.”
She sniffed and wiped her eyes. “I know. It’s not you.”
His brow furrowed with worry. “Can I help?”
She shook her head. “I need to speak with the Elder.”
Venier looked surprisingly alert for being woken in the middle of the night. At one glance at Emilia, she dismissed Charyls and invited her into her private car. She pulled a chair out for Emilia and sat across from her at the small pop-up table.
