Birthright-The Technomage Archive (44 page)

The second time it had happened, Swinton had just lost a finger. That hadn’t been too bad, seeing as how he had chopped off his own leg an hour before. Since then, though, the guard had forced him to self-amputate his other leg and the arm that Harlo had healed when he had first arrived in the cell. Each time, though, the guard somehow replaced the severed body part and healed it up with the Flameblade’s aura. It was like magic. Harlo knew a lot about healing—she had better, she had worked, lived, and breathed it for the last six years—but she had never seen any kind of nanite treatment that worked as fast or as efficiently as this guard’s sword did.

She felt more than a little bad that she was almost as curious about how it worked as she was disgusted at it happening.

His voice was distant as he said, “There’s always another one, Harlo.”

“
That’s the spirit, Swinton. Give on up.”

“
Good idea,” he said. “I think I just might.”

“
It was sarcasm, Swinton. Cheer up a little.”

“
I think,” he coughed as he spoke, “I think I’m doing a better job of cutting myself apart. That guy’s doing a pretty good job of putting me together, though. I just can’t take it again, Harlo. I just can’t.”

Harlo closed her eyes. She knew she couldn’t do anything for him, but she said again, “Maybe there won’t be another one.”

The door hissed open and two of the purple angels came through instead of the typical one. “What, you’re starting in on both of us now?” She wanted to sound tough for Swinton’s sake, but she thought it came across as pathetic. She never had been good at sounding stern.

The guards ignored her comments and moved toward either Swinton or Harlo, picked them up, and walked back out the door. The Charons struggled against their captors, but it was no use. The angels barely even acknowledged they were resisting. Harlo struggled longer than Swinton did, but eventually even she stopped. She let them carry her through the hallways, but she made sure that she took stock of her surroundings as she passed by.

There were decorations here and there in the form of sculptures, but they were abstract, and she knew nothing about art. The walls all looked pretty much the same to her; they would descend a winding staircase that would lead to another curved hallway that led to another winding staircase. There were doors and rooms along some of the corridors, and even though they had latticed doors, too, she couldn’t see inside them. They were moving too quickly through the halls.

Eventually, a winding staircase led to an open chamber on what Harlo assumed was the ground floor, or at least near the base of the tower. The room wasn’t dissimilar from their cell. It had the same kind of tiled floor and ceiling, but it was much larger, had multiple entrances and exits, and in the very center, had two gleaming purple stakes standing upright.

That was where they were headed. The guards walked toward the stakes and dropped Swinton and Harlo. The guards forced them onto their knees. Even though they struggled, the angels tied their hands behind them and around the poles.

Then, the angels left the chamber, and Harlo and Swinton were alone.

Harlo broke the silence first. “See?” she said, “There wasn’t another one. What did I tell you?” Her voice cracked before she finished speaking, which only emphasized the utter lack of confidence she felt at that moment.

Swinton laughed. It was a real laugh, and he kept laughing until Harlo joined in. Neither of them knew what was so funny, but after what they had been through, laughing like that was exactly what they needed.

When it subsided, Swinton said, “Yeah. You were right, doc. There wasn’t another one. I’m sure that whatever this is, it’s going to be a
lot
more fun.”

“
The upside of this is that there were only two stakes. That means that it’s just us. Not Ceril, Saryn, or Chuckie.”

“
Lucky them,” Swinton said. “Lucky
us
.”

“
Did you hear that?” Harlo asked.

“
What?”

“
I don’t know. Like…buzzing and thumping. I don’t know.”

“
No, I d—yeah, yeah, I hear that. What is it?” Swinton said. Beside him, three more stakes began to rise from the floor, the tiles that lined the floor topping them. “Uh oh.”

“
Yeah. That’s bad.”

The door to the chamber opened and violet sunlight poured into the chamber. Two more of the angels walked toward Swinton and Harlo. These were dressed much more nicely than the guard who had been accosting them for the past few hours, and they carried long staves they must have used for weapons. Behind them, they dragged three bodies.

“
I think they found the others,” Harlo said.

“
Yeah, I think so.”

The large purple men dragged Ceril, Saryn, and Chuckie’s limp bodies to the new stakes and tied them up just like they had done with Harlo and Swinton. Harlo watched them bind her teammates to stakes. She wanted to do something to help them, help herself, but she had no idea what that could be.

“
Swinton?”

“
Yeah?” he answered.

“
I think we’re screwed.”

“
I’ve been saying that for a while, doc.”

She started to reply, but one of the guards struck her in the forehead and slammed her head into the stake. She slumped into unconsciousness.

Chapter Thirty-one

Saryn woke up first. She was kneeling, and her hands were tied behind her back. No, not just behind her back—around a stake buried in the ground behind her. She tugged at it, but the pain in her wrists made her stop. She had been bound by someone who knew what they were doing.

Next to her on the right was Ceril. He was tied to a stake, too. On her left was…

“
Harlo? Easter? Harlo! Are you awake?”

There was no answer, but she saw the girl’s chest rise and fall, so at least she was alive.
What have they been through?
Saryn thought. She saw Chuckie was tied up on Ceril’s right, and past him was Swinton.
They’re both alive
. Relief rushed over her, but she noted its futility given their current situation.

The room they found themselves in was purple as usual, but it looked more like the Archive than the ruins of the rest of the city. Purple tiles with green symbols—rather than gold with silver symbols—lined the floor and ceiling. The rounded walls bore the same symbols, only in bands of writing rather than tiles of individual letters.

The others were waking up now, too. Saryn heard Ceril grunt as he found himself tied up.

“
Swinton!” Ceril said as he noticed the once-missing teammates. “Harlo! You're alive!”

“
The same could be said about you,” Harlo said, her voice raspy. “When did you get here?”

“
I don't know. I was outside, those Jaronya attacked us, and I woke up here.”

Harlo said quickly, “Don't say that word, all right?” She cringed as though she were bracing herself to withstand something terrible.

“
Ja—”

“
Don’t,” she said. “They get pretty uppity about it.”

Chuckie spoke next. “Why are we tied like this? You guys tied up like this?”

“
Yeah,” Saryn said. “I think we all are.”

To no one in particular, Chuckie yelled, “
Hey! Let me go! Untie me! Get me out of here!
”

“
Chuckie,” Saryn said. “Calm down.” But it was too late. He had already yelled, already alerted the guards that the group was awake. Directly in front of the prisoners, a door opened. Or more accurately, the wall dissolved, allowed three figures to enter, and solidified once again.

Ceril, Saryn, and Chuckie were already familiar with the two Jaronya guards. They carried the same electric staves that had incapacitated them outside the tower. The third figure was a sight to see, however, for all of them.

Ceril knew that not all Jaronya dressed in rags. While the initial kidnappers had worn tatters, they had been in contact with beings who had actually spoken with them and dressed in richly died robes with elegant embroideries. This third Jaronya, however, was head and shoulders above the others, both in quality of appearance and physical height.

The Jaronya’s most striking aspect, though, was that it was quite obviously a female. Until then, all the Jaronya they had seen had been male. Very similarly male, too: wide shoulders, broad wings, chiseled chins, and severe purplish ponytails trailing the length of their backs.

The female was just the opposite. She was graceful in a way that would have indicated an aristocratic upbringing on Erlon. Her body was voluptuous and proportionate to her height. Her breasts and hips strained at her robe, which was styled similarly to the emissary Ceril had spoken with before he discovered the Archive. But her clothes were not just iridescent. They literally glowed.

A single stripe of purple hung down the front of her robe and connected to a hood that draped over her shoulders. The stripe was emblazoned with green symbols that floated a few inches away from the cloth. They looked like holograms being projected out of her clothing, and Ceril thought the symbols looked like the ones on the Archive’s tiles.

Her face was soft, and her features were delicate. She had white skin, which stood out because of the strange purple all the other Jaronya had. And she was bald. Her baldness was the most striking thing about her.

Until she spoke.

You killed another of my flock
, she said. Only she didn't say it. Her mouth never moved.

The Charons were silent.

Do you deny it?
she asked.
Your silence will assent to your complicity
.

“
When? Where?” Ceril asked, both to keep from admitting something he had no idea about and to get some answers.

Yesterday
, she said.
In front of the temple. My guards came to greet you and you murdered one of them.

Chuckie spoke up, “They attacked Ceril first! They shot him with those staff things, and I thought he was dead. What did you expect me to do? Sit there and let them kill me, too?”

My guards would never attack unprovoked
. She paused, then said,
Your attack did not seem to prevent them from incapacitating you
.

“
Guess not,” Chuckie said.

Ceril turned his head toward Chuckie and asked him, “Is that what happened? I got shot and you killed one?”

“
About sums it up.”

Ceril’s mind went to Harlo and Swinton. How long had they been here? What had they been through? Harlo seemed so…broken when he had mentioned the Jaronya before.

I brought the first two to my temple days ago
, the female said to Ceril. He looked up at her, amazed that she reacted to what he was thinking about.
While you and the two with you were being scryed
.

“
I don't understand.”

I know
.
You had an audience today. You missed it.

“
It was unavoidable,” Ceril said. “There was an accident.”

No
, she said.
There was disrespect
.

“
None was intended.”

Intent is not always the precursor of effect
.

Ceril blinked. “We're just trying to get home.”

I know
.
As I said, you were all scryed
.

“
I'm sorry,” Ceril said. “I don't know what that means.”

It means that you were placed before the Holy, and your minds
were opened before It. You have no secrets from us anymore, Ceril Bain
.

Ceril didn't like the sound of that. He said, “Why are we tied up?”

You are standing trial.

“
So you tie us up?” Saryn interjected.

That is our way
.

Ceril said, “So if we had been on time for the audience—”

You would be as you are now.

“
I'm kind of sad we showed up at all, then,” Chuckie said.

Without moving, the female Jaronya called their attention. The five Charons' heads jerked toward her involuntarily, a compulsion they couldn’t resist.

“
So you're the high priest?” Ceril asked.

Yes.

“
Then help us. You know our mission. We're Charons looking to help our ship get back to our home. We believe there are connections on this world that will allow us to do so.”

I may know of what you speak, but there is more to your work than you indicate.

Ceril's hopes rose, but were dashed just as quickly as the priest continued to speak.

I will not help those who have killed members of my flock
.

“
What can we do?” Ceril asked.

Penance.

“
What do you mean?”

Three of my flock are dead. Three of yours will be, too. Then, we will discuss these connections you claim to seek.

“
I don't think so,” Chuckie snapped.

You do not get to speak to me again
, she said, turning toward Chuckie.
You are responsible for two of the deaths. He,
she pointed at Ceril,
is responsible for the other
.

“
Why does he get to talk to you then?” Chuckie asked. As he spoke, his head snapped back. The others heard a dull, wet thud as it slammed into the post. Chuckie's body slumped.

The female Jaronya ignored him and moved to Ceril.
He is not dead.

“
Three of my people are not going to die here, Jaronya,” Ceril said. His voice was far more firm than he thought he could muster.

Utter that word again, and you will all die
.

Harlo whined, “I told you, Ceril.” She clinched her eyes shut.

“
Understood,” Ceril said. He strained against his bound hands. “Can you please let us off these stakes so we can talk like civilized people?”