by Ryan Muree
Dropping down to his knees beside her, he cradled her head. “Emeryss! Emeryss, can you hear me?”
Her face was split from jaw to temple and bleeding out. Something had sliced her all the way down her neck and the right side of her body. Her right arm was barely attached. Blood was pooling at her thighs. She was already losing color.
“Oh man. Oh man, Emeryss,” he choked out. “Someone, help!”
Placing her dangling arm across her chest and scooping her up as carefully as he could, he turned for Kayson’s lab. “Kayson, help! Kayson! Someone!” he screamed as he carried her inside.
We’re coming, Grier. Bring her as fast as you can. Sonora’s soft voice echoed through his head.
Vaughn met him at the platform, but Grier turned for the stairwell.
“Where are you going?”
“That’s not fast enough,” Grier said.
Vaughn rushed to join him and held the door open. “Shit.”
Grier wouldn’t say it, but he knew it. He didn’t know how he knew it, but he knew if they took the platform she’d die. She was leaving him right then and there in his arms. She felt lighter by the second.
Three flights later, Vaughn held the last door open as Grier burst through it.
Adalai and Sonora met him and led him to the medical lab before barking orders to the others.
“Get Urla and Tully, now!” Adalai shouted.
“Is Kayson ready?” Grier asked, carrying her into the room.
“Of course, he is,” Sonora said. “Put her right here.”
A cold metal table sat in the middle of the room with bright ether-lamps beaming down. He placed Emeryss there under the lights illuminating how pale she’d gotten. The warmth and depth of her skin tone had drained out of her.
Kayson turned the corner with several grimoires in hand. “Okay, I’ve got a couple ideas—shit.” He tossed the grimoires to the side, rolled up his sleeves, and hovered his hands inches over her body.
“You got to do something now, Kayson.” Adalai’s eyes were wide. “Her blood is everywhere.”
“Her heart is failing,” Sonora whispered. She pressed her hand against Emeryss’s chest and closed her eyes.
Urla hobbled in. “I’m here. Sonora caught me up. Make room.” Urla cut through, rested her hand on Emeryss’s chest where Sonora’s was, and closed her eyes. “Kayson, work faster.”
“Where’s Tully?” Adalai asked, finding her shrugging at her from outside the glass barrier of the medical lab.
“She’s saying she doesn’t have the sigils to go back that far in time,” Sonora said.
Grier swallowed.
“There’s so much damage.” Kayson’s palm rested above her thigh, sweat trickling down his face already. “I’ve got to try to stop the bleeding first.”
Sonora shushed him and wiped his brow. “He shouldn’t speak. He has to block us all out, so he can concentrate.”
Kayson’s green ether seeped into her wound. Nothing was sealing up. Nothing was closing. She was still open, exposed, dying right there on the table. Her suit had been sliced right along with it. He could see inside her thigh muscle, her hip, all the way up the side of her stomach and rib cage to her arm, neck, and face.
Her lips were dry and paling.
“Hold tight, Kayson,” Urla muttered. A crackle released from her hand into Emeryss. Her chest arched up and fell back hard against the table. “Again.”
Sonora took hold of Emeryss’s head as Urla electrocuted her multiple times.
Her heart. Her heart had stopped. Her heart had stopped.
What could he do? What should he do? He had to do something. He was helpless, useless. He couldn’t do anything to save her.
Sonora and Urla nodded to one another.
“It’s back.” Urla wiped her hand on a cloth. “I’ll be right outside if you need me again.”
Kayson was still focused on something at Emeryss’s thigh, his palm inches above her. He was too slow. Her color still hadn’t returned. Wasn’t Kayson a miracle worker? Wasn’t he supposedly the best? What was wrong?
“Can’t you go any faster?” Grier blurted. “She’s bleeding everywhere else, too.”
“He’s doing all he can,” Adalai said across from Emeryss.
“But she was getting lighter. Her spirit was already leaving her body—”
“Did you hear Urla? Her heart is stable. Let him do his job.” Adalai pointed to his chest. “Besides, I think it was her losing blood.”
Grier glanced down and found he was covered in it, chest to knees. His arms, his fingers, his nails.
Emeryss’s blood.
His Scribe. His charge. His entire reason for being there. He swallowed and gripped her unwounded arm. “Hang on, Emeryss. We’re here. We’re trying.”
Sonora whispered to Kayson, to which he nodded, and then leaned into Adalai. “He’s nearly done with the major artery in her thigh, but—”
“But?” Grier wanted to shake whatever it was they were holding back out of them.
“But, Kayson doesn’t have enough sigils,” Sonora said calmly. Her gaze barely traveled to Grier before returning it to Adalai.
“What does that mean?” Grier blurted.
Sonora ignored him, maintaining focus on Adalai. “If he uses all he has, there won’t be much of anything if something happens at the wedding tomorrow night.”
Adalai chewed her lip.
“What is the problem?” Grier shouted. “You don’t even know if there’s going to be an attack. I’ll help fight—”
“I’m not gonna let her die, Grier.” Adalai looked at him and then back to Sonora. “Use ’em all. Use everything he has.”
“And tomorrow—”
“We can request more, right? From General Orr?” Grier asked, clasping Emeryss’s hand tightly. He couldn’t stand how limp it was, how cold it felt.
Kayson’s hand floated up to her hip and hovered there for several moments.
The bleeding had stopped at her thigh, but her flesh there was still an open wound. Her color hadn’t returned.
“Where are the other grimoires?” Adalai asked. “Kayson should have a ton. He’s always well stocked.”
Sonora cast her eyes down. “Emeryss has them. She’s not refilled them, yet.”
Grier sucked in a breath. “She can’t…” he mumbled.
Adalai bent forward.
“She can’t refill them,” he whispered. “Don’t let the rest of the crew know.”
Adalai exhaled loudly.
“She hasn’t been able to since she started learning how to cast,” he continued. “She doesn’t know that I know how soon it started, but something’s happening. She actually got somewhere tonight. I was watching her. She did it—whatever it was—but something went wrong.”
“You think?” Adalai bit. “I think it’s pretty obvious she messed up somehow!”
“Hey!” Grier shouted with his index finger jutted at her face. “She did everything you asked, and she still tried to scribe. She blames herself for everything, and she’s made herself sick with guilt over Avrist—”
“That’s not her fault,” Sonora said.
“Try convincing her. She knows you’re owed books, and she’s been trying everything. She tried until she was in tears to make up for everything you’ve done for her—”
“I know,” Adalai snapped.
“You know, but you have a responsibility in this, too! You agreed for her to leave with you. You said you’d take responsibility for her learning. You set the practice schedule and promised that she’d cast. And let’s not ignore that it’s pretty damn clear you’re pushing her so hard because you’re using her for a promotion—”
Adalai gaped. “That’s not true, and none of that helps her or us right now!”
Sonora lifted her arms between them. “Everyone, take a deep breath. Let’s get through this first. There’s no point arguing about it now. All we need is permission.”
Urla nodded at Adalai from the gla
ss window.
“Use everything,” Adalai mumbled. Her scowl followed Grier as he pulled up a stool and sat next to Emeryss.
Kayson had worked his way up to her rib cage.
Emeryss’s perfect hand and nails were marred with the blood from Grier’s hand. Her face was exactly as it had been—vacant, empty, and gaping open on one side.
He squeezed his eyes shut and pressed her hand against his head.
Was it possible to reach across ethereal planes? Would ether listen to Keepers?
Please, Emeryss. Please hear me. Lady Light, please keep her with me.
Grier popped his head up as Kayson fell back onto a stool.
His glasses were askew, and his shirt was soaked through with sweat. “That’s all I can do.”
It had been hours. Dawn would be approaching soon, and though Emeryss’s hand had warmed since Kayson had started, she hadn’t woken up. Mykel stood at her side repairing her RCA suit.
Grier stood and looked her over.
All of her exposed skin had been sewn back together neatly with a soft shimmering scar in its place. He swallowed, tracing a knuckle across her cheek. “She’ll be okay, though? She’ll live?”
Kayson sounded a decade older. “I ran out of ether, but the scars can get fixed later.”
Grier slid some of her hair back from her forehead. It was still matted with blood. “Why isn’t she awake?”
“She’ll wake when she’s ready.” Kayson yawned loudly. “She’s damn lucky it was ether that did this and not a human-made weapon. Ether makes precise, clean cuts. That was the only reason I was able to fuse everything back together.”
“Will she move again? Walk?” Grier’s voice croaked and stopped in his dry throat.
“She’ll be good as new. I’m not a novice, thank you very much.” Kayson flicked a wad of swamp grass from his mouth into a trash bin. “But I imagine she’ll be too scared to use ether for a while.”
Adalai wiped her face and shook her head. “Are you leaving her here or taking her back to the room?”
Grier blinked a few times and reached for her. “I’ll take her back.”
He hated her there under the lights like a specimen. He’d never get the image of her nearly split in two from his mind. He wanted her comfortable and in a spot she knew. Somewhere he could watch over her.
Mykel stepped away after finishing the threads at her arm and smiled. “She’s lucky to have you.”
Grier swallowed down the pride stuck at his sternum. “No, we’re the lucky ones to have all of you.” He dropped his head. “Thank you for saving her.”
He scooped her up and carried her out of the medical lab.
Vaughn gave him a sympathetic nod while Tully cleaned her nails. Urla patted him on the shoulder as he passed.
All he wanted to do was hold Emeryss, be there for her, nurse her back to health if she needed. It was the least he could do considering he couldn’t protect her as well as he’d hoped.
Vaughn and Emeryss had been right. Keeping himself from caring for her, not showing her, it wasn’t keeping her alive longer. It was doing what was expected of him by people who didn’t care if he wanted more.
He’d change that as soon as she woke up, as soon as he told her he couldn’t live without her.
Chapter 22
Scuffle’s Garage — Barren Ranch — Ingini
Clove, crushed inside the gunnery basket of Pigyll, wiped her sweaty forehead with her favorite rag and tossed it up the body-width hole above her onto Pigyll’s bridge.
She was wedged in between metal bars and their new laser weapon, trying to get the fuel lines connected from it to the ship. Behind her, the metal cage the new gun sat in was open with the conical head aimed out so it could shoot. Opposite from where she was crouched was the seat for handling the gun—where Cayn would be sitting once it was installed.
The arms dealer in Luckless made good on his deal and had his guys deliver the laser into her ship for her. He’d kept it covered and everything so not even Crumb-nuts knew what he was setting her up with. He also gave an extra two barrels of fuel for the gun. None of it was out of the goodness of his heart though. Like most dealers, he’d thought by keeping up on his end of the deal, she’d return and spend more of her money.
Either way, it worked. She’d remember it, and even she had to admit that Luckless, overall, could have gone a lot worse.
“How’s it going?” Cayn poked his head into the metal cage from the outside.
The scent of fresh grass, mountain ranch, and Scuffle’s herd of aptericks crossed her nose. She tried to rub the stench out and wedged herself down a little farther. “It’s mounted. Even got the bolts on without stripping them.”
“Improvement, then?”
She’d only screwed up bolts before once—on her first modification to Pigyll. She’d stripped twelve bolts, trying to mount a fan above her pilot seat. She’d secured it with some glue, but it’d dropped and knocked her in the head during a sketchy landing in Ethrecity. Cayn never let her live it down.
“When do I get to shoot it?” He hung his arms over. “We’re running short on time.”
She sighed and reached around for the nozzles to connect the fuel. “I know.”
“We can’t miss this delivery.”
“I know, Cayn.”
“I don’t want to watch my sister get skinned alive.”
“Then don’t let him. Blow his head off before he starts and not when I’m half-way up the crane.”
He chuckled.
“Clove?” Scuffle’s disgruntled tone echoed down from the cargo hold. “What in a nightmare’s fresh void is this?”
“Shit, Cayn,” she hissed. “You were supposed to be watching him.”
Cayn shrugged. “He goes wherever he wants. There’s no babysitting or stalling that man.”
Scuffle was more of an uncle than a family friend, left over from when she was little and her parents were still alive. He’d let them come up to the ranch and play. They’d taunt the aptericks and feed them gallons of worms, even ride them when they got older. Scuffle taught her how to fix and fly airships and how to mount equipment. These days he was retired, living alone on Barren Ranch in the middle of nowhere—living the dream.
She hadn’t wanted to stay in Luckless to install the gun. It’d have been too obvious and take too long. They didn’t need that trouble, but coming to Barren Ranch was a risk, too. Cayn was right about Scuffle doing whatever he wanted. He was always a blunt man, never hiding behind awkward moments or touchy subjects. He got to the point and demanded answers.
“Clove.” His voice came down into the gunnery basket from the bridge.
She looked up between the gun and the cage it sat in and found him peering down at her. He was in his blue overalls and a green plaid shirt. There was grease on his arms and elbows, dirt on his chin, the smell of bird shit on his boots. Seeing Scuffle was a bit like coming home.
“You land in my ranch and don’t even come up to see me?” he barked with false anger.
“Are you tracking in shit all through my airship?”
He grunted a half-laugh.
“I don’t have time, Scuff. An engine is only useful when it works.”
He wagged a wrinkled finger at her. “Don’t quote me back to myself. And this isn’t an engine. This is a gun. What are you doing with a gun?”
“Well…”
“You knew I wouldn’t want to see this in my yard. Is that why you’re hidin’?” He was okay with her shipping business, but he had several opinions on just about any other questionable method of making money—especially Cayn’s. “You put her up to this?”
“No, sir,” Cayn said.
“He did, Scuffle. He made me do it.” Clove smiled while Cayn tried to muss up her hair.
Clove was still using her free hand to locate the hoses for the laser. She’d found and connected one, but it was only the power and not the fuel line. There should have been two more hoses, sometimes three, and yet, she
’d only found a flat panel screwed on the side. She had to wiggle down even farther to see it, almost upside down. Were the new ships doing away with gunnery baskets completely? That was the only way she could see someone installing this without this much trouble. She was lucky she was short enough to fit.
“Hand me the screwdriver, Cayn.” She held out her hand until the handle was dropped into her palm.
“Does this ugly ass gun have anything to do with those crates?” Scuff demanded.
She sighed. “The crates are shipments—”
“Of bombs? You’re working for the damned war!”
She stretched up and peered at Cayn. “You weren’t supposed to let him see the shipping orders on the damn crates, Cayn.”
He lowered his voice. “I do not tell this man what to do.”
“When you finish up,” Scuff said, “get out here and talk to me. Your mom’s spirit will curse my ranch if I let this go.” Scuff walked off, his boots clunking on the metal as he exited through the cargo hold.
“Follow him and go do damage control,” Clove bit.
Cayn leaned forward. “You’ll soften him up. It’ll be fine. Don’t worry,” he whispered.
She grunted as her fingers worked at an odd angle to unscrew the weird panel on the side. “Cayn, I don’t have time for this. I love Scuffle, but I don’t even have time to do this. If I don’t get this hooked up, we would have spent all this money for nothing—”
“Not for nothing. We don’t need it this run. These are the baby trials, remember? We can drop off this load and install it there.”
“I don’t even know how to install it. It’s just mounted. Right now, it’s dead weight and makes us a very tasty target.” The last screw undone and dropped into her pocket with her screwdriver, she pried the panel off with her fingernails, revealing a miniature, shiny dashboard. A dashboard. “Shit.”
“What’s wrong?” Cayn moved around the cage trying to peer through the bars at her.
“It’s got a dashboard. Shit. Shit!”
“Is that—”
“A damn weapon meant for a double-A class, possibly S, airship? Yes! It’s meant to connect to the dashboard through ether, as in the ethereal realm. Not ether-fuel.” She pounded the side of the dead-on-arrival laser cannon.
