by Rebecca Rode
Ember guided them outside into the city squares and onto pedestrian roads, the doorsteps of popular shops, and various balconies. And then they shouted the call as one: “Save Lady Flare!”
As she’d hoped, a few picked up the call. Others in the streets halted to watch. Those who didn’t want to be involved would still spread the word through gossip. The entire city would know what was occurring within the hour. It wasn’t as fast as she needed, but it was something.
It happened much more quickly than Ember expected. The hosts roused a decent-sized crowd as they traveled to the school. They would be there within minutes. The chanting resonated through her entire body. “Save Lady Flare!”
“Your Eminence,” a voice said somewhere in the gym. “I—I mean Your Powerful Highness. A group of citizens is converging on our location. They’re shouting.”
Ruben’s voice was cold. “It’s just the resistance. Don’t worry, we’re ready for them.”
A long pause. “I don’t think it’s them, sir. None of them are on the list. It seems to be a group of random civilians.”
The first wave had already arrived and was closing in from the outside. Ember could hear their chanting with her own ears. “Save Lady Flare!”
Ember pulled out of her hosts and knocked the contingent of outside guards unconscious. Now to figure out how to deal with those mechs. There were two dozen of them on each side of the building. The citizens were at risk as long as those machines were armed.
“What do you mean random civilians?” Ruben snapped.
“Uh, we have a problem,” a second voice interrupted. “We’ve lost our guards.”
“Tell my commanders to hurry,” Ruben growled. “They’re supposed to be handling this. Now tell me what happened to the guards.”
“They’re on the ground, Your Powerful Highness. They weren’t attacked at all. They just fell over all at once.”
There was the sound of heavy footsteps, and then a strong hand gripped Ember’s hair and yanked her head upward. Her eyes flew open of their own accord.
“She’s awake,” Ruben hissed. Pressure on her shield began to build as he glowered at the soldiers flanking Ember. “Where’s that medic?”
“You will never have their hearts,” Ember whispered.
Ruben looked at her in surprise, then chuckled. “I don’t need their hearts, Lady Flare. I own their bodies and tell them what to think. I even claim their souls. But who knows? Maybe after today I’ll have their hearts, too.” He looked over his shoulder. “Order the mechs to shoot the protesters.”
Ember blinked. Did he really not see the contradiction there?
“Your Powerful Highness,” the earlier man said, his voice dripping with horror. “Before we do that, you should know that . . . the Walls have all turned on.”
Ruben turned back to Ember. “What walls?”
“Large screens positioned throughout the Kollander cluster, sir. A cultural means of communication among the Albines, although they haven’t worked in over a century. I just received word that they’ve all turned on.” His voice wobbled. “Your Powerful Highness, I’m afraid the resistance is broadcasting the scene outside to each one. If we kill innocents out there, the entire realm will know it.”
The entire room went quiet at that. Ember wished the lights weren’t so bright so she could see their faces. The Walls. That had to be Er’len’s doing. Ember hadn’t known there were Walls scattered across the entire system. The Empire could never hope to silence them now.
“Disconnect it!” Ruben snapped, releasing Ember’s hair and letting her head drop. “What’s the matter with you? Why are you standing there?”
“Nobody knows the source of the Albine Walls, Majesty. There are no wires, no transmitters. No sound waves we can detect.”
“Save Lady Flare!” Thud. “Save Lady Flare!” Thud.
The room reached a new level of tension as everyone, including Ruben, looked at the doors. The citizens were breaking through. They were flooding the building, easing around the robot soldiers like they weren’t even there. Without permission to use their weapons, even the mechs were useless. Thanks to Er’len, Ember’s biggest worry about them getting hurt was solved. She felt a wide smile cross her face.
Enough of this. Let us defeat the emperor while we have witnesses to acknowledge the victory
This time, Ember completely agreed with the shadow’s advice.
She sat up straight in her chair, gently shaking the binding on her ankle loose. Her mental shield had reverted back to its usual nut shape. She forced it back to the new rubbery mass and wrapped it around her light. If it was good enough for an Albine, it had to work for her.
“Ready the cameras,” Ruben called. “We’ll do it now. Guards, stun anyone who tries to get past those doors. And do not disturb me.” He stepped forward until he was directly in front of Ember, then leaned down to whisper in her face. “You humiliated me in front of them once. Now they will see the tables turned.”
“You’re wrong,” Ember said as she threw herself at Ruben’s shield.
Stefan stared up at the Wall. On his last visit, the surface had been a soft, shimmering silver. But today the screen was positively alive. The crowd it displayed looked so real Stefan felt he could have stepped right into the scene. The picture swayed on occasion, as if the camera was attached to a walking person.
The building filling the screen was large and covered with stacked stones in various shades of gray. There were no windows—just a set of double doors that looked to fit a large transport. Mechs stood against the building’s façade, their mechanical heads moving about as if the machines were bewildered. The crowd’s chant of “Save Lady Flare!” was now punctuated with the occasional family name. This event had elevated from saving Ember to saving detained or deployed loved ones as well. Soon it would encompass an even wider circle as the people realized exactly how much power they held.
It was all fascinating, but Stefan wanted the cameraperson to get inside where the real action was. Couldn’t they drop in through the ceiling or something? “Come on,” he muttered, tapping his foot. Any second now Er’len would show up and take him to the battle site, wherever it was. Supposedly she had a way to get around traffic. It would be faster than running, however much he longed to take off at a sprint. But she was nearly twenty minutes late.
He still wasn’t sure whether to believe Bex’s predictions. The boy thought Stefan was some kind of secret weapon. Oh, and by the way, he was supposed to die, too. What was that about?
It didn’t matter what the boy had said. Stefan had crossed two sectors to help Ember. He wasn’t about to stand here and watch her suffer on a screen when he was close enough to save her.
“Where is Er’len?” Stefan hissed.
The large man next to Stefan grunted and spoke under his breath. “Be careful about saying her name here.”
“Sorry,” he muttered, but he wasn’t. How could a resistance leader forget about a critical part of the plan?
“And she’s right there,” the man said, pointing a huge brown finger at the screen. “She’s the Watcher whose view you see.”
The Watcher? That made no sense. She’d specifically told Stefan to wait here for her. Stefan turned to his companion to say as much, but the words caught in his throat and he stumbled backward, reaching for the stunner in his pocket. “High Commander Zandar?”
The large man’s mouth twitched. “You’re not winning any points here, Candidate. Put the stunner away before you get us both arrested.”
Arrested. “But . . .” Then he noticed the man wore a casual shirt and slacks—civilian clothing. No guards circled him, and the patches and pins dotting his chest were absent. His reddish beard covered the entire length of his face now, although he looked exactly the same otherwise. Stefan recalled vividly how the high commander of war had watched with the others as Ruben had taken control of Stephen and revealed him to be a traitor. Why in the stars would he be here, of all places?
The large man lean
ed over to whisper to Stefan again. “It’s a long story. Here’s the short version—we’re on the same side. When we win the battle, I’ll step up and renounce the Empire as a representative of all former high commanders. So if you care about what happens today, you’ll keep my identity quiet. Got it?”
Stefan’s mind couldn’t grasp the words. The Empire’s high commanders were turning on Ruben too. It was too much to take in. “Fine. If we’re on the same side, you’ll understand why I need to get to Ember. She’s inside that building, and she’s in danger. Er’len—I mean, our leader, said to wait here and we’d go together.”
As Zandar’s dark eyes briefly examined Stefan, he recalled the days he would have cut off his own arm if it meant serving a high commander. It all felt so silly now. “This is happening at a school six kilometers to the north,” the large man’s deep voice said. “Our nameless leader is already there. If she told you to wait here, it’s because she doesn’t want you showing up until it’s over.”
Stefan’s stomach dropped to the pavement. There was only one reason Er’len would lie about that. His suspicions were confirmed—she wanted him out of the way in case killing Ruben required killing Ember, too.
“That’s not for her to decide,” Stefan said, looking frantically around the crowd gathering in front of the Wall. A shout rose from the audience. The chanters had just broken down the tall doors and were now flooding inside. The person holding the camera—Er’len the Watcher, if Zandar was correct—followed, jogging after the others.
Stefan watched the screen, frozen, his lungs incapable of drawing air. Please let her be all right. Please let her be fine.
The screen went dark for a moment as the light adjusted. Then it panned around to show chaos. Bodies lay on the floor, piling higher all the while. Soldiers were stunning everyone who entered. The person carrying the camera slid between two soldiers and made a beeline for the corner, which was lit with an incredibly bright light.
And there she was. Ember sat tied to a chair, her skin glistening with perspiration as she stared up at Ruben. She looked exhausted, her dark eyes a little wild. But he knew the look of determination on her face. She was utterly, 100 percent invested in this fight. Stefan couldn’t see Ruben’s face, but by his stance, he knew the man was trying to take control of her. Once he did, he could have her admit to anything he wanted. She’d happily dance right into her own execution, effectively handing over the remaining resistance to his leadership.
The showdown had begun and Stephen was six kilometers away. Even if he sprinted the entire distance, he knew by the set of Ember’s jaw that she was under incredible strain. She wouldn’t last till then. And that didn’t take traffic into account. Half the district was probably headed for that school right now. It would take him hours to push through on foot.
A wayward air transport whizzed by overhead, narrowly missing Zandar’s tall head. The driver, a teenage boy, threw an apologetic wave behind him as he sped off into the distance.
Stefan watched him fly off with a rising hope. Then he began pushing through the crowd, looking up at the sky. The former commander watched him go with a frown.
“Hey!” Stefan called out. He was attracting attention, but he didn’t care.
The next few fliers didn’t even look at him. It wasn’t until the fifth that someone actually slowed—a young woman. She hovered twenty feet above him, her long hair whipping about. “You talking to me?”
“Yes, you!” Stefan shouted. “I want to buy your flying . . . thing.”
The girl just laughed. “I’m going to the school to protest.”
“So am I. I’ll pay you double what it’s worth.”
She rolled her eyes. “These are impossible to replace. I had to wait a year for this one. No offense, but there’s no way.”
“I’ll give you a ship.”
The girl went rigid, then stared at him, mouth open. “You—what?”
“A ship. A small one, of course, but it’s yours when this is all over.” They wouldn’t have need of it then, one way or the other. They’d be victors or they’d be dead.
“You’re kidding, right?” A greedy glint entered her eye now.
Stefan pointed to the Wall. “Meet me here at the end of the day, and I’ll hand over the hangar number and codes. Do we have a deal?” He couldn’t hide the desperation in his voice.
She must have caught it, because she lowered the device to the ground and stood. Then she clutched the odd box seat to her chest, looking more uncertain than ever.
Stefan sighed. “Look. You mentioned a protest, but this is a battle. A war. The entire galaxy will be determined by what happens here today. I’ll make sure everyone knows about your part in it, but first I have to save Ember.”
“Lady Flare?” The girl perked up and held the box toward him. “That’s all you had to say. She’s my absolute hero.”
He took it, surprised. “Oh. Thank you.”
“You turn it on here, adjust the altitude here, the speed here,” she said quickly. Then she stepped back. “Just keep your knees up and don’t lean forward. I’m serious about that.”
He shook his head in disbelief at its lightness. This thing, fly? If he hadn’t just seen it hovering, he would have laughed. “Got it.” Stefan climbed on, aware that a portion of the crowd had turned to watch him. It said a lot if he was better entertainment than the battle on the Wall screen.
He placed the seat on the road, climbed on, adjusted his legs, and flipped the switch.
The craft vibrated violently, leaping forward and skidding across the concrete. Toward a building.
“Lean back!” the girl yelled. Pedestrians screamed and leaped out of his way. He fiddled with the buttons until the sound in the box beneath him turned more high-pitched.
And then he was rising straight up in the air—too fast—but at least he wasn’t crashing. He memorized the position of his hand on the button and adjusted the direction stick. Then he pushed.
The seat lurched forward so quickly it nearly left him behind again. Stefan gripped the sides just in time, adjusting his legs to balance the craft. Other riders passed him on the right and left, all grinning like he was doing it wrong. He probably was, but he hadn’t fallen off yet. If he died today, it wouldn’t be like this.
Then he looked around, reorienting himself. The school was to the north, so he adjusted his direction and darted between a pair of thin buildings. The ground below him flew past, protestors shouting and jogging down the crowded street. A few had created hasty signs condemning the Empire.
The revolution had officially begun. Little did they know that a large portion of their battle was being fought right now in one woman’s mind.
“Hold on, Ember,” he muttered. “I’m almost there.”
Chapter 23
Ember’s sob caught in her throat, and she struggled to breathe. The world around her was pain—an intense, unyielding pain that threatened to crush her, soul and body. The heat was unbearable, her mind boiling like a raging inferno. But she couldn’t give in to the pressure, not with so much at stake. Somewhere in her mind, it registered that the light in the room had changed and it was far noisier than it had been a moment before. The citizens—and hopefully the resistance—had broken through. The lights were too bright to see clearly beyond them, but many of the forms running about weren’t human. Occasionally a large creature reminding Ember of Commander Zandar would lumber by.
The soft art will always beat the hard. She was meeting Ruben’s attack hard versus hard. She’d managed to hold her own so far, but every few seconds something deep inside slipped. She was losing. Maybe there was something to Zandar’s theory after all.
“This is taking too long.”
The blow came before she expected it. Ruben’s right hook smashed into her face, snapping her head sideways. Tiny lights flashed before her eyes as her head hit the back of the chair, and the room spun. But she clung to the rubbery shield, wrapping the softness around her. Ruben growled and rais
ed his fist again.
“Your Powerful Highness,” a woman said in broken Common as the fighting behind them continued. Bianca. For a brief second, Ember lost her grip on the shield. Her former friend wore a guard’s uniform that was too baggy and lowered herself to a deep bow, avoiding Ember’s eyes. “Please forgive me for the interrupt. You send me for commanders. They are—have arrived.”
Though her vision was still blurry from the blow, Ember saw them now. Two lines of black-clad men and women were positioning themselves behind Ruben, heads down. But they didn’t concern her. Bianca was here, a personal servant to the emperor. Another strategic move on his part. He knew it would shake Ember to see that.
Ruben stared down at Bianca, his mouth curling in distaste. Then he raised his arm again and backhanded her across the face.
Her head snapped to the side as she stumbled and went down on her knees. Then she turned to look at her emperor, eyes wide with shock and humiliation. She lifted her sleeve to her mouth and pulled it away, her eyes widening at the sight of blood.
“Learn to speak Common before you address me again,” Ruben snapped before he turned back to Ember. His hair was damp from perspiration.
A second wave of civilians had arrived and was now engaged with the soldiers. Bodies littered the floor around them. Every fourth wore an Empire uniform. Some of the trespassers were obviously resistance soldiers, but the only distinguishing feature about them was their superior training and the fact they were armed.
“I’ll bring you to safety, Your Powerful Highness!” a guard shouted, pushing through the crowd toward him. “The flickers can take over. The shuttle hovers above the room. If you can just follow me, the ladder—”
“Not yet. I want to see this.” There was a smug satisfaction in Ruben’s voice, as if he had just decided something. “Flicker commanders, you will penetrate her mental shield and tear it down. The person who succeeds will be appointed my second by noon tomorrow.”
The line of flickers straightened as one, a sudden excitement overcoming their wariness. Ember barely had time to register the order before the pressure in her mind mounted tenfold. Her flexible shield held well against individual blows, but pressure like this would eventually break her. Her inner shadow released a long, desperate cry.
