by S. S. Segran
Nageau frowned at him, half exasperated, half amused. “You need to stop pestering the Sentries, Tayoka.”
The younger man’s demeanor grew sheepish. “Have they been complaining to you?”
“I would not use that particular word, but by the sounds of it, you have been reaching out to them more often than they would prefer.”
Tayoka sighed and stepped out to lean against the exterior wall, running his fingers over his beard. His fair skin, contrasted with Nageau’s swarthy complexion, seemed paler than usual. The leading Elder watched him for a moment, then gently said, “I know you are worried about Jag. We all are. But if the Sentries have news, you should trust that they will inform us immediately. Contacting them several times a day does not serve a purpose.”
“He is my apprentice, Nageau. A part of me cannot help but think that I failed him.”
“You stop that. There is nothing we could have done to prevent any of this.”
“It is difficult not to feel that way whenever I pass the Chosen Ones’ families. Truthfully, I may or may not have been actively avoiding them lately.”
“Perhaps you ought to remedy that,” Nageau advised.
Tayoka fiddled with the red sash of his tunic. “They are gracious about the situation, but they are clearly not happy here. And I cannot blame them. From living the life they did to learning that their children are part of a prophecy and must battle a powerful enemy, to moving here for their own safety . . .”
“It is only temporary.”
“Temporary could mean years, Nageau. And we cannot forget that Reyor may launch an attack on our home. What then?”
“Magèo is already working on the means to safeguard us should we require it. He is also tending to the Trees of Life in the greenhouse, so the cure is being steadily distributed to the outside world.”
Tayoka puckered his face. Straightening himself, shut the door of his home behind him. “I need to stretch my legs.”
The Elders walked side-by-side through the trees, letting their feet guide them without thought to direction or destination. The snow under their boots crunched softly, and their breath fogged the air. Around them, the mountains that formed the hidden valley lay under a glistening sheet of white powder.
“Victor reached out to me a short while ago,” Nageau said.
Tayoka’s eyes flashed expectantly. “And? Did they find anything from the technician?”
“No. We have nothing. It all rests on Dominique now.”
Tayoka’s face fell, as did his shoulders.
They drifted out of the trees, strolling along the slim, frozen river dividing the valley. On the other bank, a muscular, black-haired Elder, defying the cold with a sleeveless moose-hide shirt, strode through the snow. He didn’t notice the pair as he headed toward the western end of the village.
“Why does he do that?” Tayoka mumbled. “And how have his arms never gotten frostbite?”
“Some things I simply do not question anymore,” Nageau said. His gaze lingered on the departing Elder. “Ashack tends to defy certain logic and I have long since given up trying to understand it.”
“Has he come back to you on whatever hunch he was working on?”
“No. He remains as tight-lipped as ever. All I know is that he distrusts Hutar.”
“Hutar . . .” Tayoka shook his head. “I must admit that I side with Ashack on this matter. Why would a would-be murderer run away after his failed rehabilitation, only to return a few moon cycles later? Why would he hide his presence from us in the novasphere? Him and his blasted accomplice who escaped after nearly stabbing you. It does not make sense.”
“We ought to give Hutar a chance,” Nageau said. “After all, the only reason I remain standing is because he took the knife in my stead.”
“Yes, I suppose that was brave. Has anyone managed to locate Aesròn in the novasphere?”
“No.”
“Why not ask Hutar? He knows how to hide himself, so he must be privy to some tricks.”
“I already did, but he said there is no way to find someone who wants to remain hidden. Which explains why I was never able to sense Reyor after the banishment.”
“I hate this,” Tayoka growled. “And what about kah’dloc? We have conveniently let that discussion slide.”
Nageau cringed. Kah’dloc was the last thing he wanted to mull over. An ancient and extreme process of resetting an individual’s character, it burned away a person’s corrupted essence through excruciating means. When Hutar and Aesròn had returned to the village, the Elders had consulted, sometimes argued, for and against its use as a final resort.
“This is not something we can let go,” Tayoka insisted. “Yes, it is not a pleasant subject to talk about, but we must look into it again. If not for Hutar, then at least for the safety of our people.”
“But he has been behaving extremely well,” Nageau rebuked. “We have been able to reduce the number of guards around him, and he has not tried to escape or harm any of us.”
“How long will that last?”
“You sound just like Ashack. Next you will probably bring up Hutar’s bloodline.”
“It is a valid question, Nageau.”
“I choose to believe that there is hope. And Nal has been keeping him company on his walks more as of late. I am sure she can be a good influence on him.”
“I am still shocked that Magèo would allow his apprentice to spend time with Hutar.”
Nageau grinned slightly. “As much as he acts like her father, he is not. He cannot control what she does.”
Ahead, a tall woman on horseback approached them at a leisurely gait. Her winter tunic, dyed a soft teal, flattered her trim figure. Nageau raised his hand in greeting. “Tikina!”
The woman pulled on the reins, bringing her stallion to a halt beside the men. Wavy dark hair tumbled over her narrow shoulders. “Good afternoon, Tayoka!” She turned her bright green eyes on Nageau. “Hello, love.”
He reached for her fingers “Ach, you are so cold. How was the ride?”
“It was exactly what I needed. Getting the blood flowing helps to clear the mind and ward off negativity, especially with Victor’s news.”
“He spoke to you?”
“Yes, not too long ago.” Tikina shivered as a sudden gust of wind whistled through the valley. The stallion started to clop its hooves in the snow. “I should get this old boy into his stall. He was a bit frisky today.”
Nageau patted the horse’s flank. “Alright. I will see you later for our evening meal. Ready your appetite, it will be the most delectable dish you would have had in ages.”
“I look forward to it.” She leaned down to kiss his cheek, smiled at Tayoka, and guided the horse away.
As the men continued on, Tayoka hummed deep in his throat. “Has Marshall reported back yet?”
“No,” Nageau said. “He and Nadia are distributing the cure as tasked. It is probably best if there is no news from them.”
“I suppose so.” Tayoka waved at a couple of elderly villagers as they passed by. “You know, as much as it pained me to see the younglings’ disappointment when we pulled Marshall out and placed Victor with them, I think it was a smart move.”
“Oh? I must admit I have been having doubts about it.”
“It allows them to experience a harder sort of guardianship. Not to mention, Marshall was getting too attached. That was clear to anyone with or without eyes.”
“I only hope they will come around to Victor soon,” Nageau said.
“Given time, I think they will. Speaking of whom, there is something I have been meaning to ask but it slipped my mind with everything that has happened. I recall you pulling Victor aside when he first arrived with the younglings’ families. What was that about?”
Nageau took a few moments to answer. “When I saw him, he stayed at the fringes. He was undoubtedly in awe of our home and his ancestral roots, but he looked almost . . . uncomfortable.”
“He did not seem it at all.”
“He hid it well, but it was in his eyes. I spoke to him alone to ask what the matter was, and he told me he did not deserve to be in Dema-Ki.”
“What?” Tayoka exclaimed. “Why?”
“He would not say, though there seemed to be some underlying guilt. Perhaps he believes his past hinders his being accepted. I do not know much, and out of respect I did not pry further, nor did I ask the other Sentries about him.”
“We all have our demons to contend with,” Tayoka conceded. “Working with the younglings might help him see that he is just as worthy as everyone else.”
“I hope so . . . though some issues are too deeply rooted to be undone in a short time, if at all.”
It wasn’t long before they arrived at the eastern lip of the valley where the ground inclined downward. Tayoka followed the slope but stopped when Nageau did not join him. “Are you coming? We could go for a run. Tikina did say getting the blood flowing helps.”
Nageau gazed out at the forest below them. “I think I need to visit the temple. My heart feels heavy.”
Tayoka softened. “I will see you at tomorrow’s Council meeting, then.”
With that, he activated his abilities and took off at blurred speed. Nageau watched until he lost him in the trees, then turned back to the valley and connected telepathically with a presence in the novasphere.
Elder Nageau, a woman’s voice acknowledged in his head.
Dominique, he said. I know Victor has already reached out to you, but I must say this myself—now that we no longer have any leads, the task of locating Jag falls solely to you. Please, do everything you can to get answers.
I will, Elder Nageau. Leave me to it.
Kody rolled off the mattress, eyes barely open, and gripped the bedside table to steady himself. Carefully circumventing the empty nest of blankets on the floor that Deverell had made, he trudged toward the coffeepot on the small desk at the corner of the motel room. Aari was already there, leaning against the dresser and sipping from his cup. His clothes and hair were tousled from sleep, and he seemed about as dead-tired as Kody felt.
“I didn’t know you drank coffee,” said the redhead in a monotone.
Kody yawned. “I don’t. But I’ve been needing it more and more lately. Especially after our latest bust.”
On returning from the parking lot, the group had spent the entire night and early morning awake despite how drained they were. Distressed and agonizing thoughts tossed about in the confines of their heads. They’d fallen asleep as the sun began its ascent, each of them mumbling curses at it before promptly shutting the curtains. The clock now read two hours past noon, and the boys were content to leave the curtains as they were.
Kody noted for the first time that the Sentries were nowhere to be seen. Chief was still there, happily lounging on the couch that Victor had taken. He peeked over at the second bed. Tegan was fast asleep on her stomach while Mariah rested face-up, one arm spread over the other girl. He smiled slightly. A part of him was tempted to cannonball on top of them, but he knew the exact form in which his consequences would manifest—with yelling, flying fists, and two pairs of angry feet kicking his back end onto the floor.
Aari followed his gaze and huffed a quiet laugh. “Don’t even think about it.”
The doorknob jiggled before clicking open. The Sentries stepped in with a couple of grocery bags. Aside from dark circles under their eyes, Deverell was his usual cheerful self while Victor looked about as emotional as a statue.
“Rise and shine, everyone!” the Welshman called, dumping his bag on the table and pulling the curtains open in one grand sweep.
The girls groaned and burrowed under their pillows. Kody made his way over to them, using his hand to waft the aroma of his coffee in their direction. Tegan reappeared, ash-brown hair a rat’s nest. She blinked at him blearily, then grabbed the cup and sat up to guzzle it. He left the drink with her and went to rummage through the bags. “More processed food. Yay.”
“The joys of having a megalomaniac unleash a nightmare on Earth,” Victor said. He fished out a travel-sized bag of kibble and poured the contents into a bowl. Chief pricked his ears and leapt down from the couch, eager to devour his meal.
The group ate their breakfast in weary silence. Kody, sitting on the floor at the foot of the boys’ bed, used Aari’s leg as a backrest. Once their meals were gone, he rubbed his fingers through his hair. “So, what now?”
“Now,” Victor said, rising up from his seat at the table, “you need some fresh air. You’ve all been cooped up in here for nearly fourteen hours. Come on. Dev?”
“Nah, you lot go ahead. I need to give Gareth a call.”
The group, minus Deverell, got dressed and made their way out into the dazzling sun. Kody pulled his cap low over his eyes and fell in at the rear of the group. Victor, along with Chief on a leash, took the lead while Aari and the girls trailed behind him. Tegan peered back at Kody and slowed her pace to fall in step with him. He shot her a glance. “What’s up?”
“Just checking in. You okay?”
“I’m healthy, if that’s what you mean.”
“It’s not. You’ve been . . . pretty subdued.”
He shrugged. “Things have been hard without Jag. We’re all worried about him. About everything.”
Tegan reached up to gently squeeze the back of his neck. He relaxed fractionally. “Not to mention,” she said, lowering her voice, “that you came close to death.”
“Oh, yeah. Forgot about that.”
The hand on the back of his neck smacked him. He made a face, then pulled Tegan into a sideways hug. “Don’t worry, Teegs. I’m fine.”
“You’re the first person to actually survive the Omega strain. It’s violent and makes you see things that aren’t real. Kody, what did you see?”
His throat constricted. The images he’d been shutting out returned like a gale at her words, wailing and pounding on the barrier he had built around himself. He let go of her and folded his arms, using them to push against the tightness squeezing inside his chest.
“Can I tell you something?” he whispered.
She nodded, gray eyes following him sharply.
“Yeah, I did see . . . things. But I’m trying to forget them, otherwise I can’t function. So please don’t ask me about it anymore. I know you care, but this is the best thing for me right now.”
Tegan quirked her mouth to the side. “Not sure if repression’s a wise course of action in the long run, but if you think it is, then I won’t push it.”
If it had been anyone else, he would have interpreted her words as passive-aggressive. He looked at her gratefully. “Thanks.”
She nudged him, then lengthened her stride to catch up with Aari. They bent their heads together, speaking quietly, before she moved on to stroll arm-in-arm with Mariah. Though sometimes nosy enough to use his abilities to listen in, Kody didn’t have the urge to do it. He was beat, frustrated, and borderline cranky. None of those were what he wanted to feel.
Guilt pricked at his conscience, just as it had been for the entirety of the past month. He had been the group’s cheerful mood maker ever since he could remember, and now it felt as if he were failing in his duties. The least I could do is lighten us up, he thought sullenly, but I don’t even have the motivation to do that.
They made a few loops around the block and returned to the motel. As the others headed back to their room, Victor grasped Kody’s shoulder. “Not you. Come.”
Kody perked up a little. The back of the building was always empty, and for the past couple of weeks they’d been using it as a makeshift training ground. He unslung his staff, extending the weapon with a push of a lever. The nonlethal ends snapped out and locked into place. He gave it a few twirls, checking his form, then turned to Victor.
The Sentry had removed his black utility jacket, leaving him in t-shirt, jeans, and work boots. He cracked his knuckles and neck, then faced off against Kody. The teenager raised his staff but was suddenly thrown onto
his back by a powerful concussive blast. He groaned, absorbing the shock before climbing to his feet and dusting the loose asphalt off him. So that’s how it is. He glowered. Fine.
Victor’s eyes darkened. “What’s the matter with you?”
“Several things,” Kody muttered. “Take your pick.”
The Sentry sent out a second blast. Kody once again moved too slow and found himself sprawled on his side, gasping. “Hey! Isn’t that a bit too hard for a practice session?”
Victor kept going, restraining him to the ground. Kody thrashed, panic rising. “Hey! Hey! What are you doing?”
The man towered over him. His face was a mask of fury. “What did I tell you at the Lodge?”
“What?!”
“When we first met, what was the one thing I told you not to lose?”
“If you’d stop pushing me down, I might be able to think better!”
But Victor didn’t ease off. Kody struggled futilely before going slack against the invisible onslaught. He sifted through his memories, past his contraction of the virus, past the chase for the seeds across multiple countries, until his mind slowed to one late night at the Sentries’ safe house in the French Alps.
“My humor,” he said, grimacing through the pain. “You told me that no matter what happens, I can’t lose my humor.”
“Or else?”
“Or else my house of cards will come crashing down.”
“And how is your house now?”
Kody went quiet, no longer straining against the constant pulsating force that held him down. Victor lifted a brow, waiting for him to speak.
“My house,” Kody muttered, “is falling apart.” He jerked his body, yet still couldn’t free himself. “But that’s not my fault! We lost Jag, we don’t have any more leads, obviously our morale is low! But it’s not my fault!”
“I never said it was.”
“You just asked what was wrong with me.”
“Stow the snark. I wasn’t referring to that and you know it.”
Kody glared at him. He’s not Marshall. Not by a long shot.
Victor pulled his hand back, abruptly halting the attack. Kody sat up, rubbing his sore chest, then grabbed his staff and used it to push himself upright. He stood barely a head shorter than the six-foot-three Sentry but still felt dwarfed when he tried to go toe-to-toe with him.
