Haven (War of the Princes)

by A. R. Ivanovich

  Chapter 32: My Choice

  “Katelyn, what’s wrong?” Dylan asked, limping toward me with innocent concern.

  I stumbled away from him, wishing that my eyes had lied to me.

  “Dylan, no,” I whimpered in denial. What I saw was real. No amount of disbelief would protect me from the truth. The very same metallic anomaly that grew from the Commanders’ bones, were jutting from Dylan’s own flesh.

  He himself was the one to teach me what that meant. Dylan Axton was a monster just like my enemies- he was a Commander.

  He must have seen the horror on my face and linked together its cause. Tilting his head, he looked down at himself. His first impulse was to cover the tear in his clothing, to hide the ridges that had breached his skin. His shame eroded to resolve. He probably knew it was too late to pretend I hadn’t seen what I did.

  Every nerve and muscle screamed at me, ready to aid me the second I decided to run. Florian was four steps away. My shock and the agony of betrayal rooted me in place.

  “Wait,” he said, holding up one hand and covering his chest with the other. “It’s not what you think!”

  The absurdity of his statement fanned the fire of hurt within me. “Not what I think? There’s metal growing out of your chest, Dylan! How can it not be what I think?”

  “Katelyn, please,” he begged me, striding a few steps closer. His limp was gone. Why was his limp gone?

  “No!” I said, my voice lashing out like a whip. I was too horrified for the tears I wanted to weep. My lips trembled and my hands shook. I cracked. I could feel myself breaking. All of the fear, the sadness, the pain I had endured since arriving in the Outside World brimmed over my protective walls. My capture, my friendships, my imprisonment, my power… my loss; I crashed against my final limits. I’d tried so hard to swallow everything I faced, to rationalize and compartmentalize it, and for what? To keep going, for me, but also for the sake of the people I’d thought were my friends. I had been so innocent, so stupid. Anguish consumed me. “You… you liar! Stay away from me!”

  How dare he look wounded by my words? He wasn’t hurt, not physically or emotionally. His features were battered, yes, but even his limp was a ruse. Actor, faker, liar, that’s what he was.

  “Don’t,” he barely inched forward the way a person might approach a wild bird. If I could have flown away, I would have. “Just… don’t go. I promise, I can explain everything.”

  The earnest sound of his voice reminded me of better days. A flashback came to me. It was of Dylan lounging in my quarters, asking me what we’d do on a sunny afternoon when he promised to avoid all of his responsibilities in favor of my company. He took care of me and all I offered him in return was contempt. It wasn’t until I’d truly suffered that I appreciated his friendship.

  But what did it amount to now?

  I thought he’d liked me. His advances had been so forward. I’d thought that the reason for the handsome young lord’s attraction to me was because I was unique, a novelty. Now the truth of his interest was coming into focus: he was one of them.

  For a minute I just stood there and let the salt water trace down my freckled cheeks. My face was a vacant mask.

  Nearly everything I’d learned about this place had come from Dylan’s own lips: The function of the Dragoons beneath the Commanders, the War of the Princes that was still being waged, the cruel nature of Commanders and the way they drained people to grow stronger. He could have lied about any of it, about all of it, and most importantly, about his involvement.

  It didn’t make sense to me. Why had Dylan sounded contemptuous or even jealous of the powerful Dragoons? If he was a Commander, shouldn’t he have an equally strong Ability? Why did he sound disgusted when he first told me about the Commanders? What did he stand to gain?

  “I’m the same person. I’m still your friend. Stakes did this to me. You have to trust me,” he said urgently, his eyes imploring my forgiveness. I wanted to believe him, the way I had before, but perspective showed me how simple I had been. How stupid.

  It was that old phrase of his, “Trust me.”

  “No,” I said numbly. “I don’t have to trust you.”

  “I wouldn’t lie to you, Katelyn.”

  “You already have!” I argued, aghast by the absurdity of his statement. I took my eyes off his face, glancing at the gnarled metal protruding from his collarbone.

  “We don’t have time for this!” he snapped at me. “They’re going to find us. I’ll have all the time in the world to explain everything to you, once we’re safely away.”

  “Dylan, you can’t brush this aside! You’ve taken away someone’s life!” I accused him, feeling sick even as I said it.

  “Yes. So I did. Crucify me when we’re not being hunted to the ground by Dragoons and Lurchers!” he shot back at me. I took a single step away from him.

  “Katelyn, I’m sorry,” he said gently, realizing the affect his outburst had on me. “You don’t know how sorry I am. Now please, take us somewhere safer.”

  “What do you mean by safer?” I asked him with warranted suspicion.

  “You know there’s only one place they won’t find us,” he said carefully.

  Rivermarch. He wanted me to take him home. Lead him to the safe haven of the so-called Lodestones. Haven. My country’s name made even more sense now than before. It was crystal clear. My valley was a haven of protection from those who would steal our lives away… monsters like my friend, Dylan Axton. Betrayal boiled me down like acid, foreshadowing the pain of my shredded hand and punctured shoulder. I had led Dylan here with the intention of bringing him home with me. The Lurchers had done me a favor. Funny how a few minutes and one mistake could change everything.

  I had to get away from him.

  After my near-escape from Dylan in Breakwater, the one that had landed me in the hands of the Dragoons and their Commanders, I knew how difficult it could be to run from him. He didn’t think much of his basic Ability to suspend gravity, but I had experienced firsthand, how effective it could be. I needed to be careful.

  “You’re right,” I said, trying to relax my posture, praying he wouldn’t call my bluff. “It’s too dangerous here. I’ll take you to Rivermarch. We’ll talk there. Florian can carry us both.”

  I hoped that I’d imagined the momentary flash of doubt that crossed his face. Maybe I was paranoid. He looked relieved, not wary. I was closer to Florian than he was, it would be logical for me to fetch the horse. Moving toward the tall silver gelding, I held a hand out to reach for the reins. Dylan was ready to follow.

  A deep breath steadied my nerves.

  Florian stamped a hoof into the hard packed ground.

  Dylan took a step toward me.

  Skipping forward, I laced my fingers into the bit of mane over his shoulder and used my momentum to launch myself bodily onto my gelding’s back. It wasn’t graceful or easy, my breath huffed out of my lungs in effort and I flopped and scrambled to get up, but I made it. As soon as I was astride, I yanked Florian’s rein to the right and dug my heels to his flanks. I hadn’t even pulled myself into a proper seat when we charged into motion. My body slipped to one side and I nearly plummeted off of his back. Only sheer desperation held me in place.

  “No!” Dylan shouted in shock.

  That was it. The entire distance of my second attempted escape from Dylan was about twenty feet. Either I was getting worse at escaping or he was getting better at stopping me. I didn’t see that he’d run after me, or that his hand had risen into the air. One minute, I was riding swiftly away, the next, I’d hit an invisible wall. Florian tossed his head, snorting, and ran right out from under me. I hung, gasping in the air for a few seconds before crashing to the ground.

  Red was all I saw when I landed on my punctured arm. I cried out in pain and blacked out for a handful of seconds. When I opened my eyes Dylan was crouching over me.

  “I didn’t want to do that,” he told me, frowning.

  He had pulled me up, partly onto h
is lap.

  Adrenaline surged back into me and I jerked to get away from him. He struggled to hold onto me and I fought to break free.

  “Katelyn, stop,” he said.

  “Let go of me!” I hissed through gritted teeth as we grappled.

  I wriggled away and when his grip around my good arm slipped, he grabbed my bad arm. Knives of pain stabbed my nerves. I twisted to face him and drove a bubble of electricity from my palm onto his chest.

  He fell backwards, coughing, and I stumbled away, searching the darkness for Florian. I hated myself for hurting him but what choice did I have?

  Dylan recovered quickly and intercepted me.

  “Stop running,” he ordered me, and to my horror, my body obeyed.

  Just as when Stakes had commanded me, my muscles locked up and no amount of demand could get them to function.

  My eyes widened as I recognized what he’d done. If there was any hope within me that Dylan wasn’t a Commander, it died then. I saw flashes of the fortress. I remembered Stakes pinning my body from the inside, metal tearing through my arm, and Rune raising a wall of flame between us.

  “Let go,” I begged, staring at my former friend with newfound fear and disgust. I could taste the salt water that had run to the corners of my mouth. “Please, Dylan, not you… not this.” My words failed me. I was shaking.

  The look he gave me was a complicated one. Confusion, hurt, frustration, caring and anger, I saw them all at once. He dropped the command without a word to me. The restraints on my body collapsed.

  I stood still.

  We regarded each other in the fading light.

  “I don’t expect you to understand,” he said awkwardly.

  “I could say the same to you,” I countered.

  “Don’t be afraid of me.”

  “Do I have any reason not to be?”

  “I’m still me,” he insisted.

  “In a manner of speaking.”

  “Damn it Katelyn, there’s no point to this. The fighting could stop at any time and they’ll be after us. Do you want to go back there?” he demanded.

  I shook my head.

  “We’re close aren’t we? This is where we found you. If I don’t go with you, he’ll kill me,” Dylan said urgently. “It was Stakes. He did this to me. After your final test, Dragoons came for me. Stakes locked me away. I thought I was hostage so that he could manipulate my brother for something. I never imagined I’d be held longer than a day. I was sure an understanding would be met and my freedom would be arranged. I was a fool. It had nothing to do with my brother.”

  Dylan looked down, brows knitting. He didn’t meet my eyes again. “He beat me, tortured me a bit. He likes watching pain. I’m weak… so weak. I couldn’t even defend myself. I could trip him with The Lift, make him fumble with things he was holding. What good is that in the face of a Commander?”

  When he looked up again, his eyes were glossy and red. “He laughed at me and asked if I’d like real power. I wanted it, just to kill him with it, but the price was too high. I couldn’t be like him. I’d never drain someone for power.”

  “But you did,” I said numbly.

  “To save my life,” he said through clenched jaws. “The pain, everything, it was too much. He was going to kill me, Katelyn. I had no other choice.”

  All too vivid memories of Fallux being drained slammed to the forefront of my thoughts. The horrible screams… the claws of the device piercing his skin… the depth of the sound it made when it ripped away his power, his color and his sentience. He’d live for a couple more days, empty, hollow… breathing mechanically until he died. Dylan had told me so.

  I thought to myself that he wasn’t capable of such an act, but realized how wrong I was. I hardly knew Dylan Axton. The truth of it was, I wasn’t capable of it. Nothing, not even the threat of death could make me murder someone and become an abomination myself.

  Even as my mind wrapped around the concept it slipped away. I couldn’t imagine bleeding out everything that made a person who they were, and then absorbing it. The thought of it was so perverse it made me nauseous.

  “How could you?” I whispered.

  “Do you think I wanted to?” he asked, outraged. “Katelyn, please don’t look at me like that. I’m not one of them. I hate them. I hate what they’ve done to me. It was between life and death. I did what I had to do to survive.”

  I understood what he was telling me. I felt pity for him, but something just didn’t connect. Maybe I was naive. I’d never been in such a terrible position, but I couldn’t ever imagine uttering the agreement.

  “I would never,” I muttered, trailing off.

  “Never what? Kill someone? If you leave me here, you’ll be killing me!” he cried out. “Not so long ago, you cared whether I lived or died.”

  My stomach churned. I didn’t want him to be killed. Even now, considering his state and wondering whether he was honest or a liar, I didn’t want to bring him to harm.

  “And what if I showed you the way and you took that knowledge back to the Commanders and Prince? I’m not stupid! We’d be massacred! They’d enslave everyone they didn’t drain. They’d have our survivors by the throats, issuing the same oppressive control as they do in Breakwater. How could I live with myself if I’d brought about the deaths of my entire family, all my friends, every person in my country?” I countered. I’d never felt such stress. I’d hardly had any responsibility to account for in my entire life, let alone something so vast and dangerous. These decisions were meant for heroes and leaders, not me.

  Dylan looked at me, his expression unreadable.

  “There are only two ways to do this,” he said lowly.

  “If you are telling me the truth, there must be somewhere you can run,” I said with weak hope. Inwardly, I was battling down nausea.

  “There’s nowhere I can go where he won’t find me. I can’t live like that. Breakwater is my home. I don’t know how far I could get or how long I’d survive. There’s only one place I’ll be safe,” he said sounding as genuine as he ever had.

  My insides twisted.

  “We don’t have time to waste. There are only two choices for you. Make your decision, but remember that my life is in your hands,” he told me. He looked piteous, the picture of a person whose very existence hung on by a thread. But I remembered his affected weakness and his limp. He had manipulated me, hoping that I would take him straight home. His acting was commendable. I’d nearly done it.

  In my mind, I could see my father on his knees, Stakes looming above, draining the life force out of him. I choked back a sob.

  “I’m sorry Dylan,” I heard myself say. “I can’t.”

  I saw the hurt, fear and anger register on his face. His hurt may have been feigned. His fear was doubtlessly genuine. His anger, he showed me, with action.

  There was a violent blast around me, and I cried out. The force was so strong it made my vision wink out, my ears go deaf and my skin go numb. I was floating.

  For a moment, I didn’t understand what had happened. I was stunned, in the literal sense. My thoughts crashed back into my mind with force enough to wash away my momentary numbness.

  Dylan had power. His Ability, The Lift, was monumentally strong. It was yet another lie. He had made himself seem weak to move me with pity.

  “Dylan!” I cried.

  “This is it,” he told me, his eyes unyielding and sharp with intensity. “If you don’t bring me with you, I need to deliver you to Stakes. It’s the only way he’ll let me live. How will you have it?”

  “Put me down…” I pleaded with him.

  “No! No more games, no tricks, make your decision!” he raged up at me. “You can save us both or damn yourself. What will it be?”

  I stared at him in denial, the paths of tears dried on my dirty face. More than anything, I wished I wasn’t myself. Couldn’t I just vanish and be a million miles away? No, he was right, there was no escape. I had to face this. No matter how much I squirmed under the b
urning spotlight of responsibility, it was mine the moment I’d stepped into the Outside World. All of this was my fault for leaving Haven.

  I’d gotten impossibly entangled in this mess because I’d chosen to save Rune. Strangely, I didn’t feel any remorse, not a hint of regret. He saved me too. Pride trickled into the stream of fear flowing within and gave me a bit of strength.

  I could choose to live and possibly betray everyone I knew and loved, or I could die. My survival instinct clawed to the forefront, a desperate animal. I could rationalize bringing Dylan with me. There was a chance he was honest about his loyalty to me. Even if he wasn’t, maybe I could trap him somehow, or alert the peace officers in Rivermarch to place him under arrest. I could deal with this later. Maybe he was only a victim of Stakes, and he’d live happily in Haven, with never a thought of the Outside World again.

  Why did this option seem better now than it did, ten minutes ago? Was it because my life was on the line?

  I frowned.

  Nothing had changed.

  Even the slightest possibility that Dylan could turn on me and deliver Haven to Stakes made me feel overwhelmingly protective. I would never let that creature reach my home. My family would be safe, Ruby and Kyle would never be drained or tortured, the people of Haven never suffer, because I wouldn’t allow it. The strength welling up within me multiplied tenfold.

  My answer emerged as a one-syllable whisper, but it needed no explanation or embellishment. “No.”

  I felt an odd sense of peace. I was going to die. It was strange to think of my little, insignificant self as the only barrier to break a tide of destruction. I’d be the one to fix my own colossal accident. I would never be reprimanded for my recklessness or suffer any shame, but no one would know of my sacrifice. I’d die an uncelebrated hero.

  Funny, curiosity really did kill the Kat. I almost laughed at the ludicrous thought. It figured a phrase so dumb would be the theme of my life’s untimely end.

  With what seemed like ease, Dylan lowered me to the ground. His hold on me wasn’t completely released. If I tried to walk, I’d slip and hang there, a fraction of an inch above the ground. I couldn’t escape. When I stood still, he at least gave me the courtesy of leaving me on my feet.