The Keeper's Shadow (25 page)

Co-conspirator. Stowe smiles. She likes the sound of that.

THE APOGEE

VOLUME XI, ARTICLE 3.2.
NUMBER 126 HAS BEEN LISTED MISSING AND IRRETRIEVABLE. ALL TASKS ALLOTTED TO HIM ARE REASSIGNED, EFFECTIVE IMMEDIATELY: NUMBER 139 TO HEAD ENABLER RESEARCH TEAM. NUMBER 87 TO OVERSEE FILO PRODUCT DEVELOPMENT. NUMBER 111 TO MANAGE MICROPROCESSOR CONFIGURATION. NUMBER 94 TO TRANSLATE THE…

—GUNTHER LOG

T
HE MORNING OF THE THIRD DAY ON THEIR WAY TO THE
A
CADEMY,
a dark bank of storm clouds rises in the west, threatening snow. Roan had insisted on hugging the tree line—keeping the location of the Academy secret was a top priority, and his small company would be pretty conspicuous otherwise—even though he knew it might add a day or more to their journey. But they haven't had even one encounter and now, riding into the fast-approaching weather, he's questioning the wisdom of his decision.

Ende, Mejan the Storyteller, and a dozen Brothers and Apsara are not the easy targets Othard and Imin were—he probably should have put more trust in their powers of observation and taken the shorter route across the plain. But Roan hasn't relaxed his vigilance once the entire trip. Since the Council, he's felt responsible for everyone and everything, and he fears the strain of it's starting to show. He'd gone without sleep the night before they'd left, and had never recouped it. Mejan had kept him up both nights of the journey, regaling him with stories, both useful and fanciful, and now his eyes are heavy. He draws closer to his friends and their whispered conversation, hoping their banter will keep him awake.

Lumpy and Mabatan are comparing notes on the Governor's wife. Lumpy, it seems, is the only person who actually managed to speak with her. “I've never heard someone talk so much and say absolutely nothing so well before. I mean, when I was with her, it seemed like she was telling me her entire life story but after I left, I realized I knew nothing at all about her.”

Mabatan laughs. Roan smiles at the sound, like the sun glimmering on still water. “Are you sure she said nothing important?” she asks.

Lumpy's face wrinkles up so comically that Mabatan laughs again and Roan begins to feel at ease for the first time in weeks. “Now that you mention it, she did say something strange. I don't know how important it is, though.”

“And…?” Mabatan asks impatiently.

“It was something about dreams. First she asked me if I had dreams. I said yes, and then asked about her. And it seems she still had them, but she knew of a lot of people whose dreams had stopped. She said they shrugged it off but that they seemed ‘profoundly unhappy' about it. Think it's important?”

“I'm still dreaming,” Mabatan says, noncommittally. “Roan?”

“Sometimes I wish my dreams would stop.” And as if the very statement invokes it, a vision of bombs dropping over the Brothers' camp, the entire mountain a raging pyre of poisonous green flame, flashes before Roan's eyes.

“Roan?”

Hearing the concern in Lumpy's voice, Roan motions his friends closer. “Over the next few weeks, all of the Brothers will have to be relocated to the Academy.”

“Why? What did you see?” groans Lumpy.

“The moment Darius realizes the Brothers are part of a full-blown rebellion, he'll do the same to their camp that he did to the original rebels.”

“You mean drop bombs like the ones that made the Devastation?”

Mabatan pales. “Revenge consumes the world.” Roan's father had spoken the same words. It would seem Roan and Mabatan had more in common than just a bloodline.

“I guess I'll have to escalate my plan to move Saint's books,” says Lumpy. “And maybe we should target the Governor of the western territory—what was his name? Pollard. To make sure no oil gets to the City. Darius needs a lot of it to fly his bombers, right?”

“Right. And…umm…Kira said she'd see to setting up some barracks, but I don't think she has these kind of numbers in mind, so…I'd like you to make sure everyone pitches in. It'll take a group effort to get the Academy habitable for everyone.”

Lumpy looks around at the group they're traveling with. “You want me to wrangle them into
housekeeping
?”

“Why not? The Apsara like you and you have the Brothers' respect.”

“Oh, no. The Brothers don't respect me, they're just terrified of getting close to me.”

Leaning into Lumpy, Roan whispers, “When it comes to the Brothers, it's pretty much the same thing.”

“And what will
you
be doing?” Mabatan asks, a mischievous glint in her eye.

“Looking for answers,” Roan says, evasively. The hook-sword slung across his back is a constant reminder of the vision he had at the Caldera. His weapon melded into his flesh. The blood. And the bull. The Friend.

Mabatan's mood changes suddenly. “Roan of Longlight…I must speak to you now,” she says somberly, and Roan can see she's troubled.

“I thought we were speaking,” Roan jokes, hoping to recover the lighter mood. His effort is not successful.

“I have news,” she says, then after a brief pause, adds, “about Alandra.”

Roan's stomach lurches. Alandra! He'd been so consumed with the events of the last few weeks that he'd not stopped to think about her. Mabatan's been with Alandra?

“She lives. She has eschewed the Dirt and rejected the Dirt Eaters.”

“But that's good news!” Roan says. Alandra was a close friend until things went wrong. This could mean starting over, renewing their bond. The possibility lightens his heart.

“So she's alright?” prods Lumpy. Roan, too, is aware Mabatan's feelings don't seem to match her news.

“She is content,” she says hesitantly. “For the first time in many months.”

“You didn't quite answer the question,” chides Lumpy.

“Her body is protected by the Apsara in Kira's village. But the rest of her is with the Novakin. She has been chosen to be their curatrix, their healer.”

“It's what Alandra said she wanted,” Roan says hopefully. “To protect the children.”

“And that's bad—how?” asks Lumpy, not giving up on having his question answered.

“She has been given a very powerful form,” says Mabatan. “A hydra.”

“Bigger and stronger sounds good,” says Lumpy. “How many heads do those things have again?”

Mabatan frowns. “Nine. A form of that magnitude can overwhelm the spirit. If…when…the Novakin are freed, Alandra may not have will enough to separate from it.”

“You mean she'll be trapped in a monster?” Roan asks, distressed. Mabatan averts her gaze. Had she known? Was this part of some Wazya plan he had no knowledge of? “It should have been me. I'm supposed to be the protector of the Novakin. You should have done this to me. At the very least, I should have been asked.”

“Roan, this was not planned. Alandra was there when we found Stowe. We got as far as Kira's village together but Willum had to get Stowe to the Caldera. Alandra had the sickness and couldn't travel so I was asked to stay behind with her. To assist her withdrawal from the Dirt. That in itself could have killed her. But then, we were preparing for a meditation when—”

A sharp bird's cry from Ende commands their attention. Barreling across the plain are two small motorized vehicles, each manned by a pair of Clerics, with a half-dozen Fandor riding alongside. Not much of a force against a dozen Brothers and Apsara.

Riding to Ende, Roan points to the vehicles. “They could have Apogees!”

“Then they must be destroyed. Flank formation!” orders Ende.

Breaking their cover, Brothers and Apsara split as they race toward the outmatched Fandor. The Clerics scoot between and around their cohorts, as if the Fandor were some kind of diversion. Then Roan gets his first good look at the long, silver objects, one mounted on each vehicle.

Rotating it on its stand, the Cleric aims his device at Ende. Taking out the commander, thinks Roan. There's a barely audible whistle. One of the Apsara rides in front of Ende just as a shimmer disturbs the air. The Apsara is frozen for an instant, then convulses as if she were somehow being pulled inside out. A moment later, when she collapses over the neck of her horse, Roan hears the whisper of an anguished moan, desperate and pleading. The look of terror on the dead warrior's face leaves little doubt in his mind that she has just come face to face with the monstrous emptiness Mabatan spoke of.

“This ends now!” Ende cries out as she gallops toward the vehicle.

The Cleric trains his weapon on three Apsara ahead of her and they all fall instantly. But they've gotten Ende close enough and she leaps, landing beside the Clerics. With two quick slashes she finishes them both. Seeing the weapon in the second transport swivel in her direction, she jumps out, pulling the driver of the vehicle with her. The truck careens into a tree and the weapon explodes.

While Ende rolls to safety, Roan rides to intercept the remaining truck. As the Clerics fire at the Brothers covering him, Roan leans alongside the vehicle and with one swoop of his hook-sword, he slices the front wheel. The vehicle flips over and the Clerics go flying. The weapon too sails up in the air, and then, smashing into the hard ground, it explodes, spraying debris everywhere.

Roan sees Lumpy collapse, holding his stomach. Frightened, he rushes to his friend's side. “Did you get hit?”

Looking pale, Lumpy smiles faintly.

“Let me see,” says Roan.

Lumpy moves his hands. A shard of silver metal is embedded in his abdomen.

Mabatan nudges Roan aside. “I will look after him. Ende waits for you.”

Roan, shaking, stares at Lumpy.

“I'm alright,” Lumpy smiles. “Get out of here.”

As Mabatan helps Lumpy off his mount, Roan reluctantly joins Ende, who's standing by the two Clerics that Roan sent flying. One is still breathing. The other is not. “Look,” Ende says, pointing at the green crater in the dead Cleric's neck. “As soon as he died, it whined and then…this. Exactly as Willum and Kira described.”

“Same for the others?”

“Same.”

Roan stares at the unconscious Cleric. “Will he survive?”

“No more than a day.”

“We need to examine it.”

“And who will accomplish that task?” Ende asks.

“The physicians I told you about. At the Academy. We need to get this Cleric to them.”

Ende considers the situation. “Go on ahead. Put him on the horse with you. The ride won't do him any good, but with some luck, you'll make it before he dies. Take two riders. You want to move fast. From what Stinger described, I doubt there's much left here that will be of use, but we'll search the area anyway.”

Roan hurries back to Lumpy. Mabatan has removed the fragment and is cleaning the wound.

“He will recover,” she says. Her voice is warm to comfort him, but her eyes never leave Lumpy. “He cannot move quickly. Go do what you must and leave his well-being to me.”

“You heard her,” Lumpy says, then gasps in pain.

“I warned you not to talk right now,” Mabatan chides, wagging her finger.

“See you at the Academy,” Lumpy mouths, before letting his head collapse back in exhaustion.

The Cleric secured against the pommel of his saddle, Roan climbs onto his horse. Lumpy's wounded. Alandra may be lost. Four Apsara and two Brothers were killed today. Nodding goodbye to Ende, Roan murmurs, “I'm sorry for your losses,” though he knows full well the inadequacy of his words.

Ende's eyes betray her sadness. “You heard the whispers as they perished?”

“Yes, I heard.”

“Death is the fate all warriors accept, yet to have one's spirit claimed in such a way…”

“Next time we encounter the Apogee, we'll be better prepared,” says Roan, but the assurance sounds strangely hollow; he might as well be promising to destroy the City single-handed.

But his doubts do not escape Ende's notice. “If you bend your attention to the goal, Roan of Longlight, you will accomplish it.”

These were the same words she'd spoken to him that stormy night at the encampment. He knows she shouldn't have had to repeat them. So he bears the reprimand without comment and with Mejan and a Brother beside him, gallops off, keeping his goal firmly in mind.

By the time night sets upon them, they've reached the five hills. When they come to the Academy's hidden entrance, they lead their horses inside the threshold, out of view. Laying the still-breathing Cleric on a blanket, Mejan and the Brother take one end, Roan the other. The narrow corridor makes the going awkward and slow, but moving steadily they soon arrive at the secret door of the library. Roan expertly opens the door and shouts, “Othard! Imin! Help!”

They are barely down the steps when the two doctors appear. “Put him down,” Imin says with astonishing calm.

Setting the Cleric on the floor, they all step back to watch the two physicians as they palpate and prod the injured man.

“Ruptured kidney,” says Othard.

“And spleen,” adds Imin.

“Punctured lung.”

“Liver's lacerated.”

“Will he make it?” asks Roan.

They both shake their heads.

“Even if we had a proper operating room…”

“…and the correct instruments…”

“…we wouldn't be able to help him.”

“These Clerics we fought had new enablers. When they died, the enablers…imploded.” Uneasy, Roan pauses. Othard and Imin look at him expectantly. With a sigh, Roan asks, “Do you think there might be a way to remove his enabler before that happens?”

Imin examines the throbbing device, appallingly visible beneath the Cleric's skin, obviously reluctant. “Hmm...”

“Hmm…” Othard echoes.

As the physicians puzzle over the challenge of extricating the enabler, Algie pushes past Roan to hover over them. “My, my, my!” he exclaims, nudging Othard aside. “The technology really has zipped along!”