Powerless: Aeos Book One

by Sarah Anne Fields

  POWERLESS

  AEOS BOOK ONE

  SARAH ANNE FIELDS

  Copyright © 2019 Sarah Anne Fields

  All rights reserved.

  ISBN:

  ISBN-9781092281539

  To those who believed in me and those who didn’t.

  Contents

  POWERLESS

  AEOS BOOK ONE

  CHAPTER 1

  AEOS

  CHAPTER 2

  DIFFERENCES

  CHAPTER 3

  THE TRIAL

  CHAPTER 4

  MUTINY

  CHAPTER 5

  THE RETURN

  CHAPTER 6

  THE CONTRACT

  CHAPTER 7

  ACQUIESCENCE

  CHAPTER 8

  FISHING

  CHAPTER 9

  SOUP

  CHAPTER 10

  THE CONFESSION

  CHAPTER 11

  AWAKENING

  CHAPTER 12

  FAREWELL

  CHAPTER 13

  ARREST

  CHAPTER 14

  WESTON

  CHAPTER 15

  SNOW

  CHAPTER 16

  CAMPING

  CHAPTER 17

  REUNITED

  CHAPTER 18

  DETONATION

  CHAPTER 19

  AFTER NIGHT CHURCH

  CHAPTER 20

  THE BEACH

  CHAPTER 21

  NO MORE SECRETS

  CHAPTER 22

  EXODUS

  CHAPTER 23

  INSIDE THE EYE

  CHAPTER 24

  CATHARSIS

  CHAPTER 25

  THE SKY FESTIVAL

  CHAPTER 26

  I PROMISE

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  CHAPTER 1

  AEOS

  C

  onner Wicklow waved timidly at the dark-haired boy to distract himself from the screams. His attempts to ignore the burning man on the pyre were earnest but futile. Why his mother had dragged him into the town square on this warm September night to witness something that made his stomach fill with nausea was a mystery to him, but he knew it had something to do with Lilith the Begetter, the goddess who ruled over everyone. At least, that was what he’d always been told. Now that he was eight, he was old enough to attend this year’s Catharsis. But it was odd—was this the kind of thing Lilith was okay with? The kind of thing that made Her happy? If so, Conner didn’t care very much for Lilith. And so he’d turned his attention instead to the boy and made it tonight’s mission to make him his friend. He took a few steps to his left and tugged on the kid’s shirt.

  “What’s your name?” Conner whispered.

  The kid looked at him, his expression unchanging. “Uh, Detrick,” he said, turning his attention back toward the front.

  Slightly annoyed but this time more determined, Conner pulled on Detrick’s shirt again. “I’m Conner.”

  “Oh, okay,” Detrick said, keeping his eyes on the stage where the pyre was. “I think you’re supposed to be paying attention.”

  “I don’t want to.”

  Detrick frowned and turned his head. “Why not?” he asked.

  But Conner never got to answer, as a particularly loud scream from the stage interrupted their brief conversation. A woman who Conner supposed was Detrick’s mother snapped her fingers and discreetly pointed up front.

  Feeling defeated, Conner instead focused a small black beetle attempting to journey through the crowd of giants. It was hard, though; Conner’s attention kept getting snatched away. Even though he couldn’t see over the heads of the hundreds of people surrounding him, he knew that whoever was screaming was beyond help. What could he do about it, anyway? The answer was to try to ignore his surroundings—the crackle of the inferno and the orange glow it sent high into the night sky, the now-weakened cries of the man within it. The beetle stopped right before Conner’s hand and stuck its abdomen in the air, which looked just plain silly. This made Conner laugh, which made his mom shush him and pull him to his feet. Off it went.

  The deep, authoritative voice of a woman, from somewhere up front, rang out. “And so nears the end of another Catharsis, dear citizens of Aeos. As this man’s life ends, we celebrate the gift of life that Lilith has bestowed upon us—that fragile gift she has threatened to revoke in the face of heresy.”

  Shouts of agreement filled the air.

  “Let us now close out this ceremony with our country’s sacred anthem,” the woman said. And so the crowd sang the national anthem of Aeos, which Conner didn’t know all the words to. But one lyric always stuck out to him: “Though I beseech the Begetter, torn, the thunder of her vengeance born.” There always seemed to be so many angry words associated with Lilith. It was a wonder to him how anyone was okay with that. He’d always been more drawn to happy things, like the beetle. Things that made him glad to be alive. In this way, he was very alone. At the conclusion of the anthem, orange-and-purple fireworks popped and shimmered overhead, in what was perhaps the only redeemable moment of the night.

  And, at long last, it was over. Conner’s legs ached, he was tired, and he wanted to go home and play with his puzzles and forget that tonight had ever taken place.

  Edgewood bustled with people returning to their homes, and Conner held tight to his mother’s hand as the two of them, and Conner’s older brother Gavin, journeyed back to their home across town. They passed by the town Temple, a massive, many-spired obsidian structure. This was a place that was supposed to bring comfort and solace to people, but Conner had always been terrified of it. It seemed to loom over him, watching him very closely to make sure he never stepped out of line. And what made the Temple even more intimidating was that his fear of it was a secret—a secret it seemed to be aware of.

  “Looks like you made a friend?” Conner’s mom asked, casting a glance down at him as she unlocked the front door to their woodworking shop, Timberworks.

  “No,” Gavin interjected, “that kid was too stuck up for Conner.”

  Conner shot a glare at him. “He could have been nice.”

  “Maybe you’ll see him again,” his mom said, ushering them inside.

  As Conner entered the shop, he patted the mailbox affixed to the wall outside their door, a custom he’d grown into. It was a white metal box that read Gwenith Wicklow, 78 Corner Road in faded gold lettering, and the white paint near the lid had been chipped away after years of being opened and closed.

  “Chicken stew!” Gavin proclaimed, bounding through the shop toward the stairs at the back that led to their home on the next floor. Conner and his mom followed behind. The aroma of the simmering stew from above had indeed wafted down into the shop, and Conner’s stomach growled in response. It was his favorite dish in the whole world, and he couldn’t wait to have a steaming bowl sitting in front of him. But Conner’s mind was still preoccupied with the night’s events. The strange reality of it was still sinking in, and he sought clarification. “Why did that man in the square have to die?”

  Conner’s mother stopped at the foot of the stairs and looked at him in a way that he didn’t know how to interpret. She composed herself. “Because he made Lilith very sad, my love. If you don’t do what She says you must be willing to face the consequences. Just like when I tell you to clean your room; if you don’t do it you don’t get dessert after dinner.”

  “But I don’t die for it,” Conner observed as they ascended.

  “Well, no.”

  “Why not?”

  “Why not, what?”

  “Why don’t you kill me if I don’t clean my room?”

  “Because you’re my son and I love you Conner, why would I do that?”

  From the kitchen, Co
nner could already hear his brother rummaging through the cupboards for a bowl. “I’m Lilith’s son too, right? Why doesn’t she kill me if I don’t clean my room?”

  “Conner, that’s enough,” she said flatly.

  Gavin peeked out of the kitchen doorway. “What’s he upset about?”

  “I’m not upset!” Conner retorted.

  “Well, you sound upset.” And with that, he disappeared back into the kitchen, and the cupboard noise resumed.

  Conner sighed.

  His mother brushed his hair back from his forehead. “Don’t think about it so much, Connie. Catharsis happens every year, so I’m sure you’ll get used to it. You should read your Doctrines if you have more questions. Now come and have some stew before bed.” She kissed the top of his head and made her way to the kitchen as well.

  “I don’t like being called Connie!” he called after her.

  Conner remained in place near the entry. He was growing annoyed. No one seemed to be taking his concerns seriously. And so, he resolved to do what he’d always done when he had questions about life—he shut his mouth.

  * * *

  That same evening, Detrick and his parents left the ceremony and began the half-hour walk back to their homestead outside of town. He cast a quick glance over his shoulder to look for Conner. Would they ever run into each other again? He still wanted to hear the answer to the question he’d asked earlier—he’d never considered that other kids, other people, weren’t interested in Empyreanism. It was just the way life was, as far as Detrick was concerned. After all, how could it not be? They were surrounded by the sky, Lilith’s domain…not to mention, everyone else believed it, including his parents. If everyone believed something, didn’t that mean it must true? And further, didn’t that mean you should accept it?

  The family entered their home, and Detrick raced to the back of the house toward the kitchen. He was ravenous. Sitting down at the kitchen table, he grabbed an apple from the basket in front of him and chowed down several bites. His parents entered shortly after.

  “It’s late, Owen. I’m not doing a single lick of work until tomorrow,” Detrick’s mom, Evangela, said as she opened the refrigerator and looked inside.

  “But we’re already behind, and I could really use your help,” his dad said, resting his hand on the refrigerator door. “The Grand Magistrate expects her report on the town’s prayer activity in three days—”

  “Not in front of Detrick,” she said through her teeth. “I told you, I’m not doing anything else tonight.” She pulled a glass bottle of milk from the fridge and shut it, forcing his dad to hastily remove his arm. She poured herself a glass and sat next to Detrick at the table. “Besides,” she said, staring into her glass, “I’m sure she’ll be busy celebrating the success of tonight’s…events.”

  “Fine. If you won’t work, I will. Business as usual.”

  “I work all day in the orchards, as you should,” she said harshly, rising from her seat to face her husband.

  Detrick sensed another argument incoming. His parents had been fighting often these days, mostly about work. He didn’t know much about their job, but he did know they seemed to avoid the topic in front of him. Additionally, the apple orchards on their property had been suffering as a result of all the conflict and secrecy, and he was staying outside for hours every day helping his mom pick up the extra slack. His dad, meanwhile, had taken to locking himself away in his room, reading endless piles of documents at the kitchen table, even leaving home for days at a time—all for the sake of this job Detrick knew very little about.

  Detrick headed to his room to avoid facing the brunt of the argument. After shutting his door, he switched off the lamp next to his bed and nestled into the blankets. He could still faintly hear his parents’ raised voices from the kitchen. With a groan, he squeezed his eyes shut and covered his head with a pillow. He didn’t have the energy to say his prayers tonight.

  * * *

  Detrick continued to take notice of Conner’s presence at various times throughout the next month. It wasn’t long before the two of them were playing together, and soon they were inseparable.

  In fact, throughout the next three years, Detrick considered Conner his best friend in the whole world. He was Detrick’s greatest source of happiness and comfort. He ended up sharing more meals, laughs, and fun with the Wicklows than with his own parents. It grew to be that he preferred it that way. The Wicklows’ home was a safe haven for him. There were no repetitive arguments, no mysterious trips, no awkward, quiet dinners where no one seemed to know what to say. But Detrick never did get the answer to his question from the first day they’d met (he’d considered asking again, but it never seemed like the right time, an excuse he’d grown accustomed to telling himself).

  When Detrick was twelve years old, his friendship with Conner was cut short. His parents informed him one evening that they’d be moving to the Citadel, the Union’s capital city, for work.

  Their farmstead was sold to a neighboring rancher, and the Lismore family left Edgewood behind. And Detrick, having been torn without warning from the family he’d grown to love more than his own, could do nothing but watch his life disappear out the back windshield of the car that stole him away.

  CHAPTER 2

  DIFFERENCES

  Living in the city was a stark contrast to small-town farm life, but Detrick adapted to it quickly. In fact, as he grew into a teenager, he wondered how he’d ever lived any other way, especially considering that they didn’t let just anyone move here. A person who wished even to step foot in this place needed a special passport, signed by a Magistrate, and only after the person was interviewed and found to be worthy by their town Cleric could they step foot through the gates. Because of this, Detrick became accustomed a very specific lifestyle, not necessarily one of material wealth, but of immaculacy. There were strict codes of conduct as well, displayed proudly on pillars around the city. Detrick remembered the pillar back in Edgewood and the eighteen Codes carved into it—here, there must have been fifty.

  One of Detrick’s favorite things about the Citadel was the massive Lilith statue. Looming over the town, she stood in the main square of the beautiful city. Her golden skin irradiated in the sunlight, and two magnificent eagles sat on her shoulders, their wings outstretched. To Detrick, it appeared as though the eagles were shielding Lilith from her own followers. Lilith’s belly was swollen with pregnancy to represent her gift of life to all humanity.

  Another thing Detrick loved about the Citadel was its education. The most prestigious school in the country was here. Riverside Academy was a massive old brick building in the heart of the Citadel. A river, the school’s namesake, ran parallel to one side of the building, and as such had fostered the growth of a velvety forest of moss along the foundation.

  Academic years at Riverside were not determined by age, but by intellectual aptitude, something Detrick was very thankful for. He’d tested into the highest grade at fifteen years old, and even though most of his classmates were nearing their twentieth birthday, that didn’t bother him. He found conversations with older students more stimulating than with those his own age. These people were more interested in what they planned to do with their lives, whereas the other teens seemed to be mostly concerned with their level of popularity.

  “Inane children,” he said to himself as he passed a group of hyperactive preteen students. The school day was over, and he was on his way to his Aeosian Law classroom to study independently, as he often did. He’d become rather fond of law studies, and his instructor, Mr. Carney, gladly fostered this interest. Though the man wasn’t the most charismatic person Detrick had ever met, he’d always encouraged Detrick’s curiosity, and for that he was grateful.

  “Detrick!” the instructor said as Detrick opened the door to otherwise empty classroom.

  Detrick greeted him and took a seat at a desk near the front.

  “I’ve been meaning to ask,” Mr. Carney said, setting down his pencil. “How are
you liking that Encyclopedia of Magistrates I lent you?”

  “It’s brilliant,” Detrick answered as he set his bag down. “I’ve noticed how refined our legal system has become over the last hundred years or so. I was recently reading about Grand Magistrate Fredrick Wright. The man was revolutionary.”

  “He absolutely was. He streamlined the trial process tenfold,” Mr. Carney answered. “What about Nellie Griffiths—have you read up on her yet?”

  “The Mother of Modern Interrogation Techniques,” Detrick said, untying his schoolbag.

  Mr. Carney wagged his finger approvingly. “I’m going to step out for some coffee, but I’ll be back in a bit. Just make yourself comfortable.”

  Detrick dug into his bag and pulled out a large green textbook on prominent criminal trials. He set to work reading about the infamous Aeos v. Long, in which a man was convicted for trying to summon Lilith’s adversary, the god Silas.

  “Sorry to interrupt,” a voice said suddenly, causing Detrick to jump in his chair. He swung his head around. Mr. Carney was back, and he was joined by the headmaster Mrs. Parnham, a tall, thin woman who was probably older than she looked. “I’ve brought Mrs. Parnham with me, and she has something she wants to run by you.”

  Detrick stood from his chair to shake her hand.

  Apparently, she’d landed Detrick an interview to intern under Victoria Amos, the Grand Magistrate of the province of Briar. “For the rest of the school year, you’d be interning full time for the Grand Magistrate,” Mrs. Parnham said, beaming. “The credits would be more than sufficient to satisfy graduation requirements. Not to mention this would be an amazing opportunity for you. What do you say? Do you need to think about it?”

  “Not at all. I’ll do it!” Detrick said, beaming. Fifteen years old and already lined up for a prestigious internship—he couldn’t be happier if he tried.

  * * *

  Not a day after the grueling hour-long interview, Victoria offered to take Detrick under her wing. Though she was a harsh and draconian woman who never missed an opportunity to find fault with his performance, he loved every moment of it. Her near-constant critiquing of his work forced him to always do better and to improve himself. Where someone else might have been crushed under the pressure, it only empowered Detrick, as if he were dependent on it. He came to realize that although he knew very much about law, in practice he was still very ignorant. He was adamant about learning everything he could from Victoria, who’d been in her position for almost two decades.