Caleb pushed her away so that she couldn’t soften him anymore, and he picked up his gear. He clenched the bow, and his name caught his eye: Pioneer Eaves. There was still a crack in the wood from when he had thrown it down at Sarai before he decided to battle Wex.
Draping the bow over his head, he slid his eyes over to Sarai, and he started to speak, but she interrupted him. “Because you’re worth it. That’s why.” She crossed her arms, and her jovial attitude seemed to wane. “There's more to tell you, but I think you should hear the rest from Arthur.”
The sun lay on them softly, but there was something in the atmosphere that seemed unsettled. The Pioneers in the streets did not appear to notice Caleb and Sarai as they headed east towards the Southern Sector Conference Hall. Not knowing what else Arthur had to say, Caleb tried to posture himself for the blow. What could be worse than being defeated by the Polarists?
The conference hall sat off the road, and it was similar to the one in the Northern Sector. The building was elongated, and the wooden sides were well-set having only a few splinters. The grass beneath the hall was neatly trimmed, and in front of the entrance were three wooden steps that climbed to the doorway.
Caleb pulled open the door to notice that the candles were already lit inside, and there at the head of the table sat Arthur. His graying hair seemed grayer, and there seemed to be more wrinkles on his face. Or perhaps the lighting in the room made his normally inviting visage appear gloomier. Either way, it was hard for Caleb to tell.
Not looking at either of them, Arthur gestured with this skin-sagging hand for the two of them to sit. Caleb's chair creaked across the wood as he pulled it out, and he sat down in silence, not knowing what to say. The candlelight whipped back and forth, casting what little light it had against the darkness.
Caleb could feel a knot forming in his throat as the tension to speak built up inside of him. Arthur had to be furious about the siege. Caleb cleared his throat and tried to let out some kind of sound. “I'm sorry, Arthur.” His voice fluctuated from the uneasiness, but he continued. “I shouldn't have taken my people to war.”
“Casualties? How many?” Arthur's voice was much stronger than Caleb's was this time, and his tone was firm.
“I'm not sur—”
“You're not sure!” Arthur pounded the table with his fist, then he closed his eyes to keep himself calm. “You march my people into war with no reinforcements all because you had something to prove, and you don't have the decency to know how many people you forced into their deaths?”
Caleb locked his fingers together on the table and put his head between his elbows, solemnly shaking his head. “I don't,” he whispered.
“Sixty-three missing or assumed dead. Eighteen wounded,” Arthur said. Caleb looked up, trying not to catch eyes with Arthur but wondering how Arthur knew these details before Caleb did. “Because I care. That's how I know. Because my ego is not larger than my heart or my brain, for that matter. What were you thinking? That you and a few dozen Pioneers could raid an entire barrack?”
“I just don't…”
“You just don't know? If you don't know now, how could you have presumed to know then! In three months, my two my top leaders have found a way...” his voice eased and his shoulders drooped, “…to disappointment me.”
“What do you mean?” Caleb asked, finally making eye contact with Arthur.
“I asked Sarai not to tell you. I wanted you to hear it from me first. The Souther Sector Pioneers may have heard some rumors, but I think that most of them have been left in the dark as much as we all have. I only found out because many of the Pioneers from the Northern Sector were disappearing for weeks at a time while you all were gone on the campaign to Broughtonhaven.”
“Found out what?” The candlelights stood, motionless, and Caleb hunched in closer to Arthur to hear what he had to say.
“It's about Gardiv. After he'd gone missing for a few days, I think something in him changed. I don't know what happened to him the last time you three were in Clydenholm, but he's gone off and broken my heart.”
“He couldn't have left Juten. Sarai said that he was staying back to help distribute the toxin to the mainland.”
“I wish he'd left. That would have been better for him. No. He has done something that, in my eyes, is far worse.” Arthur rubbed his wrinkled-lined forehead with his aged fingers and pushed the few strands of hair out of his eyes. His gaze flipped towards Caleb, and then it settled back onto the table. “He has become infused.”
Caleb's mouth hung open, and he felt like he was losing feeling in his fingertips. His scar ached, but he didn't dare touch it – not in Arthur's presence, at least. “How-why?” Caleb stuttered.
“The toxin. He used the toxin, and now he's infused. And not only him, but a slew of Pioneers who stayed back in Juten to make the toxin. It’s a virus Caleb…much like your pride that got so many of my people killed. Many of the Pioneers are intrigued with the possibility of having an emblem again. And there isn’t anything that can stop them. Not since the toxin has proven to work.”
“But can’t we stop people from having the surgery? Or shut down the infirmaries?” Caleb asked.
“We can’t do either. The physicians are mostly loyal to Gardiv, except for a few. And if we shut down the infirmaries, then all of our people would be at risk of receiving no care.”
“The physicians are loyal to Gardiv, but they’re still offering the Pioneers this service?” Caleb asked.
Arthur waved to interrupt the conversation. “Gardiv and the others are still Pioneers. Do not forget that. These are still our people, and we will treat them as such.”
“The physicians are not savages. They just believe that Gardiv has the people’s best interests in mind,” Sarai said.
“But he doesn’t. Can’t they see that?” Caleb asked.
“Of course they can,” said Arthur. “But to them, the emblems are not bad in themselves, which is true. But the emblems have the power to push people down the road of being defined by that stone again.” Arthur winced and his shoulders tightened. Caleb could see that Arthur’s scar must have been throbbing, but Arthur refused to tend to the discomfort.
“How many Pioneers have chosen the emblems?” Caleb asked.
“Arthur says that most of the ones who stayed back from both sectors have become infused,” said Sarai.
“How many is most?”
Sarai sat back in her chair and sighed. “Out of about four hundred who stayed, we’ve found close to fifteen who have chosen not to be infused.”
“Fifteen? Is that all?” Caleb asked as he ran his fingers through his hair.
“And I’ve heard murmurings from the Pioneers who returned from your failure,” said Arthur. “It seems that some of them have chosen to defect as well.”
Arthur’s words were like Naturalist charged arrows to Caleb’s heart, paralyzing him. “Maybe I’ll go find Gardiv and try to talk some sense into him,” said Caleb as he slid out of his seat.
Sarai stood with him and opened the door so that they both could exit the conference hall.
Arthur called out in his usual stern voice.“I’m not done with you yet.”
Caleb swung around at Arthur’s words, trying not to let on that he was startled. His heart beat into his throat, and he braced himself for another verbal whack over the head. “Yes, Arthur?” Caleb felt his hands getting slippery as sweat gathered on his palm.
The powerful but frail man cleared his throat. “You address me as The Examiner.”
“Yes, Examiner?” Caleb cleared his throat.
Arthur planted his elbow into the wooden table and stared at Caleb down his fingertip. “You killed dozens of people by your pride. Do not let your shame kill dozens more. You stand up straight, pick that head up, and you show the Pioneers why I chose you as my Third Watch.”
Trying to maintain his poise, Caleb forced himself to swallow the lump in his throat. He was sure that Arthur was going to cut him down again. Caleb p
ushed his lips together and nodded respectfully as he left the hall. Sarai followed him.
Whatever burden was on Caleb’s shoulders before he’d entered the conference hall was removed. But a new burden weighed in its place. He had to find Gardiv to reverse the infusions.
The sun watched the two of them from the sky. Its heat warmed them, and even though Juten was in disarray, there seemed to be a lasting firmness to the island. Caleb headed north, hoping to stop the infusions.
As he and Sarai entered the Northern Sector, night had fallen. He noticed that the Training Ward was filled with people. Pioneers trained and battled with a renewed zeal. Explosions ripped through the sky, the temperature fluctuated from hot to cold, spirits surfaced in and out of the spiritual plane, and land beasts such as bears and jaguars were in submission. The Pioneers were learning to use their emblems.
Caleb’s chest throbbed, but he didn’t notice it too much. Arthur’s words had somehow rejuvenated him. “This isn’t right, Sarai.”
She looked down at her Lightguard that blinked rapidly from the activity of the emblems. “We have to stop this, but remember what Arthur said. They are still our people.”
Across the field, a powerful man with a booming voice thundered orders to the training soldiers. It was Gardiv, and lodged within his bare chest was a pulsing violet stone that to Caleb seemed to shine more brilliantly than the other Pioneers’ stones.
When Gardiv recognized Caleb and Sarai, a pleasant grin shot up his face. Gardiv said a few words to his trainees, and then he made his way over to Caleb.
The sore on Gardiv’s head from where his sister had hit him was gone, and the man appeared to be refreshed. “Caleb. Sarai. Glad you could make it.” His thick muscular frame and well-defined torso sat in place as Gardiv welcomed them.
“So am I.” Caleb pushed the words out, not knowing what to say.
“Before you go berserk, just know that…”
“Have you gone mad?” Caleb interrupted. “This is the very thing that we’ve been warring against. Especially you. You’ve been here longer than most of us.”
Faceless spirits hovered around Gardiv as he stared into the two of them. Their moans and quiet roars sent chills through Caleb’s body. Not because of their presence, but because they surrounded Gardiv.
Gardiv put his arm around Caleb’s shoulder and pointed out at the trainees. “Just look at’em. These men and women have their lives back. That’s all they wanted.”
Sarai reached out and grabbed the stone in his chest, but it was set. “This is not their life, and neither is it yours!”
Gardiv stumbled back a bit, his smile melting to concern. “What? You think that we are supposed to lie down and let the mainlanders control us?”
“They don’t have control over us. That’s what this place stands for,” she said. “You know that, and I know that. What you’re doing is reversing everything that we’ve worked so hard to build.”
“What I’m doing, Second Watch Pioneer Alma,” the words snaked off his tongue to remind her who was in charge, “is giving our people a leg to stand on. And judging from the people Caleb killed on his last campaign, I know I made the right choice.”
“What you’re doing, Pioneer Baroq,” she mocked, “is destroying all that these people have worked for. The people who died in the siege gave their lives because of what we stand for.”
Gardiv hunched towards her. “Now those people from the provinces will be the ones giving up their lives,” he said as he pointed west towards Clydenholm. “What I’ve done is given people like Uriel,” Gardiv paused and stared at Caleb, “a fighting chance.”
Without thinking Caleb sprang at Gardiv to tackle him. Gardiv jumped back and commanded several spirits to surface in rage. The spirits gripped Caleb’s arms and slammed him on his back, nearly knocking the wind from him. Gardiv walked over, put his dirt-crusted boot on Caleb’s chest pressing it into his scar, then he peered at Caleb. “Watch your step…Pioneer Eaves. I’m still in charge.” A large explosion from a Materialist shot blasted in the background, casting bright orange streaks and dark shadows over Gardiv's face.
Stepping back, Gardiv kept his eyes fixed on Caleb. The spirits released him, and Caleb sat up on his elbows. “You’re no better than anyone from the mainland,” Caleb said.
“You're wrong, Eaves. I’m far better than anyone from the mainland. Now you head back down south, Caleb, and get your people together. We’re going to war. And this time, we’re gonna’ win.” Gardiv turned around to face his trainees. The violet sprits crawled over his skin as he walked away barking orders to the Pioneers in the training ward.
CHAPTER 18
THE CALL
Shauna hiked through the dark grassy hills of Kyhelm, letting the light of the full moon guide her path. The distant hoots of the owls and the howls of the wolves echoed eerily in the summer night. The sun would be awake in a few hours, so she hurried to Governor Rian Pryle's house.
Her golden sari whipped in the wind, and her dark hair glided over her forehead. She stepped onto the porch of the two story house and knocked on the door. There was no answer, but from the cracks in the shutters, she could see shifting shadows blocking the light from the fireplace. She knocked again, and the sound of cautious footsteps approached. The door cracked open, and a pair of suspicious eyes peeked through the slither.
“What’s your problem, knocking on my door like that at this time of night?” asked Rian, as he motioned for her to come inside.
“I thought you were asleep. Stop crying.”
“If you thought I was asleep, why not wait until morning?”
“Because this can’t wait.” Her playful tone halted, and she found a seat at the table in the living room with her back facing the fireplace.
The flame crackled, blowing fumes of smoke up the chimney, and the floorboards in the house creaked and popped from the cool summer night. Rian clearly had not been sleeping; he was still wearing his long emerald garb that draped to his knees, though it looked a bit dingy in areas. His long hair was scattered, and the skin beneath his youthful eyes sagged as if he hadn't slept in days.
“Is this about what happened with the Wanderers at Irez?”
“No. It’s about what will happen if you don’t do something about the Polarists.”
“Are you coming here making demands?” he asked, tapping his fingertips lightly on the table as he reclined in his chair.
She crossed her arms, and her hair spilled over her right eye. “Absolutely.”
“Yael had to have told you why we can’t get involved,” Rian replied, lifting one eyebrow. “I told her and the other Alphas at the council not long ago, and I still have yet to change my mind.”
Shauna leaned forward, glaring. “I am here to tell you why you will.” Her eyes rolled back into her head, and hints of blackness approached her pupils in dark swirls and then receded.
“Are you threatening me?” Rian smiled as he set his pen in the brass inkwell. “I don’t respond well to threats.”
“Neither do I. Listen. Yael forced me to come to you.”
“Forced you? I hardly think so.”
“She wanted me to come here to push you into the war by letting you know that I would kill Caleb if you refused to fight.”
“Then Yael must not know Caleb too well. He’d never let you get the upper hand with him.” Rian laughed and pushed his inkwell to the side. “To kill Caleb is kill a ghost.” Rian shook his head as if Shauna had been grossly deceived.
“Why were you up so late anyway?” she asked.
He tossed his eyes down to a sheet of papyrus that sat on his table. It was covered with neatly written lines of print. “Writing.”
“Writing what?”
“A note that doesn’t concern you.”
Shauna pushed her hair out of her face, lifting an eyebrow at him. “That kind of talk won’t get you far.”
“Fair enough.”
“And I don’t have to be close to Caleb to kill
him.”
Rian wasn’t smiling anymore, and his tone was more stern. “What type of Spiritualist witchcraft is this!”
“Witchcraft! My people are not witches!”
Rian smacked the table. The inkwell rattled and the quilled pen circled around on the inside. “You’d better not lay a finger on Caleb. You hear me?”
“That’s why I’m here. If I wanted to kill him, he’d already be dead.”
The heat of Rian's voice calmed to a cool simmer. “Then what did you do to him?”
“It happened when that man-beast, Fray, attacked him. I could see Caleb’s spirit detaching itself from his body, and the only thing I knew to do was to command his spirit to go back into him.”
“And that actually worked?” Rian asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Well he’s alive, isn’t he? But I was as surprised as you were. I had only seen it done once before to save someone’s life, and just like Caleb, that person was on the brink of death, meaning that he had not fully given himself over to the spirit world.”
Rian leaned back in his chair and crossed one leg over the other. “So why don’t you just disconnect with him?”
“You can’t. Once you connect with a spirit, you figure out what makes it...alive. The thing that gives it purpose. Its thoughts and its will. I know it all now...about Caleb’s spirit that is.”
“You mean to tell me that you actually hear what he’s thinking? I can’t even do that unless he lets me.”
“It’s not that simple. I have to interpret his emotions, and from those, I can determine what he’s thinking.”
Rian grabbed his pen out of the empty inkwell and pretended to write leisurely on the note. The fire crackled behind Shauna, and he looked up at her. “What’s he thinking now?”
She pushed her hair out off her face, eyes widening. Her violet emblem pulsed through the threads of her sari. “The Wanderers….They’ve found a way to infuse themselves.”
Infused (Book 2 of The Pioneers Saga) Page 30
