Shadows of Uprising (Guardian of the Vale Book 2)

by Tamara Shoemaker

  Alayne smothered a grin as she imagined petite, tiny Marysa in front of her with arms akimbo, glaring at anyone that dared to threaten Alayne, yelling at them to back off. She was a feisty little fireball, though, and Alayne had learned to respect Marysa's skill with flames.

  Marysa craned her neck, looking around the room. “Where is Kyle, anyway? He hasn't been more than ten feet away from you since we've come back, except at night. How are you dealing with that?” Her tone was light, but her eyes were sharp as they studied Alayne's expression.

  Alayne shrugged. “His mom came through earlier and said she wanted to talk to him.” She shuddered. “Honestly, Marysa, that woman gives me the heebie-jeebies. She's like an ice woman. And I'm confused about Kyle's relationship with her. From what I've been able to find out, he doesn't have a great connection with either his dad or his mom, but you should have seen his face when she stopped and asked him to follow her. It was like a dog that just had his master offer him a bone.” She paused and then added hastily, “Not that Kyle is anything like a dog.”

  Marysa giggled. “Of course not. No relation to the canine family at all. Following you around, practically wagging his tail when you pay attention to him...”

  “He does no such thing,” Alayne protested, laughing in spite of herself. “Anyway,” she added, “you were telling me about your classes.”

  “Oh, yeah. The class I'm looking forward to the most is Applied Elements. We get to spend a couple of weeks following around an experienced Elemental of our own element, kind of like an apprenticeship. Do you know who you're going to ask for? Elysa Longacre works for Top-Notch Systems in Grenton; she's supposed to be a really good Fire-Breather. I'm going to see if I can get her to be my sponsor.”

  Alayne pulled a pillow from the end of the couch and hugged it to her chest. Absently, she filed through names of Water-Wielders she could trust completely, but very few came to mind. Professor Manders was really the only one she would consider. But then, who said she had to stick with Water-Wielding, just because that was her first element? Over the summer, she'd practiced all four elements, and sometimes she had scared herself with her own success. Her mother had watched cautiously from the sidelines as Alayne had crafted glass from fire and sand she herself had mixed, formed, and pulled together from the elements. Glass sculptures in various stages of excellence decorated her home now.

  Some of her earlier sculptures reflected her anger and disturbance of mind soon after she'd returned home for the summer—a black steel knife, its point honed to razor-sharpness, its size and shape identical to the one that had killed Jayme. Shortly after the Great Deluge, Elemental metallurgists had discovered that they could work together using the powers of Water-Wielding, Earth-Moving, and Fire-Breathing to produce an entirely new steel alloy, stronger and more flexible than anything Natural Humans had ever created. Black steel's color was a result of the final tempering it received from the hands of a skilled Fire-Breather. Both Alayne's knife and the one that had sunk so deep into Jayme’s chest had been made of it. Black steel held an edge keener than obsidian, yet it was supple and strong rather than brittle.

  Alayne had seen and admired such knives in her City Centre of Skyden, but she had never made the material herself, not until Jayme fell over the waterfall and her heart had shriveled into a dry husk. Other blades appeared soon after, some wrought while she slept and dreamed of her hatred for Simeon Malachi. She had wakened with a massive axe lying across her bed after a particularly vivid dream where she'd had the privilege to be Malachi's headsman for a High Court-ordered execution.

  But no blade compared to her black steel knife. All the blackness that had entered her when Jayme died seemed to seep through the black blade of the knife. She'd set up a target in her back yard at home, practicing blade-throwing when she had spare time, and she'd stashed the knife in her bag to bring to school, intending to keep up the practice. She wanted to get proficient with the blade.

  “Honey.” Marysa snapped her fingers in Alayne's face. “Layne! Wake up.”

  Alayne shook herself and looked over at Marysa. “What?”

  Marysa eyed her suspiciously. “Were you having another vision?”

  Alayne shook her head. “Not this time. I was—just thinking.”

  “Well, think a little less hard next time, Layne. You burned the pillow.” She nodded at the pillow Alayne had wrapped in her arms.

  Alayne glanced down in surprise. There was nothing left of it but a few smoking tatters of charred fabric. The batting inside was completely gone.

  Alayne tightened her lips. “I think I'll go take a shower.” She shook off the wisps of material and stood, averting her gaze from Marysa's searching eyes.

  * * *

  The note from Professor Manders crinkled in Alayne's hand as she stepped off the chute onto the floor of professors' offices. Come see me when you have a chance. Manders. The words were the only ones scrawled on the paper. Alayne shoved the paper in her jeans pocket as she passed down the hallway toward Manders's office at the very end.

  She knocked, and almost immediately, Manders opened the door. “Welcome back, Alayne.” His gray eyes squinted kindly at her as he motioned her into his tiny office. “Are you settling in well?”

  “Yes, sir,” Alayne murmured, squeezing into the chair wedged in front of his desk.

  Manders closed the door and returned to his seat. He rubbed his silver-gray goatee. “Daymon told me about the hidden camera.”

  Alayne's lips tightened. “We still don't know who did it.”

  Manders shook his head. “And we may never, but we're looking. In the meantime, don't let anyone you're not sure about into your room.” His words so closely echoed Daymon's that they made Alayne smile.

  Manders toyed with his pen. “I wanted to ask you, Layne, to be careful how far you go on school property this year. Daymon will stay fairly close to you most of the time, but there are always loopholes.”

  “Clayborne's property boundaries are wide. I doubt I'll ever wander too far,” Alayne said.

  “No, I don't think you will, but the media is awfully persistent—”

  “The media? Continental Media?”

  “Yes. Stanwick Jones has been a bloodhound on your trail ever since the news came out this past summer about your being a Quadriweave. It's been all I can do, plus some, to keep him away from you. He wants to interview you to increase his ratings, but I've done all I can to throw him off the scent.”

  Alayne hadn't had any idea. “I'm sorry,” she said.

  “Not your fault,” Manders murmured. “I just wanted to make sure you were aware, and to warn you to be careful not to go too far from the school where your protection is spread too thin. Understand?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Manders rose and opened the door. “And now you'll be wanting to get back to your friends. I'll see you in class, Alayne.”

  “For more of that fascinating history?” Alayne asked as she brushed by him.

  “Exactly.” His face was as grave as ever, but a smile lurked in the depths of his eyes as he closed the door behind her.

  She turned for the chute at the far end of the hall. When she passed the intersection of hallways halfway there, Kyle's voice stopped her. “Mom, you've got to be kidding me.”

  Alayne froze. His voice issued from an office two doors down from the intersection, and the door stood open an inch, the light from inside slicing onto the hall floor.

  “Do I look like I'm kidding, Kyle?” Professor Pence's voice was sharp as tacks. Alayne hesitated, not wishing to eavesdrop but unable to ignore the strangled note of pleading in Kyle's voice.

  “You asked me to do a job; I said I'd do it. Why under the blue skies above are you here?”

  Alayne edged closer to the office. She could see Kyle's broad back where he stood in front of Professor Pence's desk.

  Pence's fingernails clicked on her desk, and her voice could have frozen ice. “Really, Mr. Pence, this is much bigger than you. Don't make
the mistake of thinking that you rule your little world. There are people to whom I must answer if you fail.”

  Kyle let out a frustrated breath, but Pence ignored it. “Now, don't you have a job to do?” she asked.

  Silence filtered from the room, and Kyle stepped back from the desk. Alayne flinched farther down the hallway, but still close enough to listen.

  “I wish—” Kyle paused. “I wish you could see me, Mom, not just—what I can do.” Sadness hung on his words.

  Pence's voice didn't rejoin right away. After a moment, she asked, “Sorry, did you say something? I was trying to work while there was some sort of irritating buzzing in my ears.”

  “Mom!”

  “Leave, Kyle. I have work to do.”

  Alayne scampered to the chute and pressed the button. The doors opened and closed with her inside the car. She dropped before Kyle could come around the corner.

  * * *

  An hour later, Alayne curled up on the end of a couch in the common room near a massive fireplace. The weather during the day was still a little too warm for fires, but the evening air had turned crisp. Alayne shivered in her flannel pajamas. Marysa hadn't joined her; she was upstairs organizing her dresser drawers.

  Alayne stared into the fire, her thoughts returning to Marysa's earlier allusion to Sprynge's speed dial. How likely was it that SM stood for Simeon Malachi? Sprynge, who had been a sort of confidant for her all last year, Sprynge, with his kindly smile wrinkles and no-nonsense treatment of her. Had she really misplaced her trust?

  “Hey.” Kyle's soft voice interrupted Alayne's thoughts. He sat next to her on the couch and slung his arm carelessly along the back of it. “You looked lost in thought there.”

  Alayne smiled. “I guess I was.” She turned to face him. “How was your talk with your mom? Did you find out why she came this year?”

  Kyle flushed, his gaze dropping to his lap. “Mm, not really. She—didn't say much. Just kinda talked in circles for a while.” He rubbed his forefinger over the back of his thumb.

  Alayne dipped her head to see his expression. “She's hurt you, hasn't she, Kyle?” she asked. “Not physically, but—” She stopped when a muscle jumped in Kyle's jaw.

  He shrugged. “Sure, I guess you could say I've always thought it'd be great to have parents who actually loved their son. But what do I know?” Bitterness laced his voice. “Anyway, enough about me.” He faced her and traced a circle on her shoulder. “How are you?”

  Alayne searched his face carefully, debating whether to ask about the job he'd told his mom he'd come to do. His expression was tight and pain-filled, and she didn't want to press on a sensitive topic or admit to eavesdropping. She gathered her courage to voice a question that had tugged at her consciousness for a while. “Kyle,” she bit her lip, “do you think Sprynge could really be responsible for all those things that happened last year?”

  Kyle glanced away, studying the stone masonry around the fireplace. “I don't know. I suppose anything is possible. What does your gut instinct tell you?”

  Alayne shook her head. “That's the trouble; my gut instinct is so messed up since everything that happened last year, I have no idea who I can really trust. Honestly, if he's a suspect, what's to say he wasn't the one who wrecked my room last year? It took me a while to believe Daymon's alibi, but I guess now I know it wasn't him. Do you think he could have been the one responsible for Cliffsides last year—the Shadow-Casted professors, even Dorner's death?”

  Kyle didn't answer, and neither of them spoke for a while. Alayne's thoughts drifted again, but she pulled back when Kyle's fingers lightly touched her hair where it fell over her shoulder and down to her elbows. “I've never seen your hair like this before,” Kyle murmured. “It's beautiful.” He rubbed two strands of hair together. “You usually wear it in a braid down your back.”

  Alayne shifted, suddenly uncomfortable.

  Kyle noticed. He took a deep breath and let it out. A moment later, he picked up her hand where it lay on the couch, and slid his fingers through hers. “Layne, I know you're not ready. Don't worry, I won't push. I'll just—be here for you when you are ready.” His tone was simple, his voice sincere. His thumb brushed lightly along the edge of her hand.

  Alayne knew he loved her. He had since they'd met at the beginning of last year. But Jayme's absence was still too fresh. Her heart hadn't stopped bleeding yet. She wanted to tell him all this, but as she glanced up into his blue eyes, she realized he knew already.

  She smiled, but it felt weak. She glanced down at her hands. “You're a good friend, Kyle. Thanks.” She shook her head. “You're right. I need time. I can't promise anything, but I appreciate that you're here for me while I go through this.”

  His free hand lightly stroked the hair away from her face. He said nothing, but another quick glance up at his face showed her that he understood what she couldn't say.

  Alayne closed her eyes, briefly allowing her mind to flicker to the sight of Jayme in the commissary. There was something strange about him, something that hadn't appeared in any of her other dreams. It floated on the edges of her consciousness, hanging just out of reach. Kyle had interrupted her too quickly; she hadn't been able to put her finger on it. But it was there nonetheless.

  And she would figure it out.

  Chapter 5

  “Throw-Casting's too early for me.” Kyle rubbed the sleep from his eyes. He had shown up late to the commissary and hung over his coffee as Alayne, Marysa, and Daymon had scarfed down the eggs and bacon.

  “Are you sure it's not just 'cause you don't want to have a class with your mom?” Alayne teased and then instantly regretted her words as she saw a flash of hurt fork through Kyle's eyes before he masked it. “Kyle, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have pushed on such a sensitive area.”

  Kyle's gaze centered on the steaming coffee in his mug.

  Movement and low murmurs behind Alayne turned her attention over her shoulder, and unease ruptured her insides. Cornelia Goerd and four of her friends moved across the commissary toward them, their dark gazes fixed on Alayne's companions. To her surprise, though, they ignored her when they reached her group. Cornelia leaned across the table, placing her hands on either side of Daymon's plate.

  “Enjoying the filth this year, Daymon?”

  “Bug off, Neil,” he murmured. His knuckles were white where they gripped the handle of his coffee mug.

  Cornelia straightened, crossing her arms over her stomach and raising a pierced eyebrow. “You haven't come to sit with us since we've been back.”

  Daymon took another sip of coffee.

  “Too interested in Half-Nats this year?” The slur against Half-Naturals stung Alayne's ears. A half-grin covered Cornelia's face. “Or too much a pansy to stand up to your uncle and tell him you're done babysitting Alayne the Pain?”

  The nickname Cornelia had given her last year still burned. Alayne stiffened.

  So did Daymon. He stood, his legs knocking into the table, rocking it with a loud thump. “Don't you have anyone else to irritate, Corn?” It was the first time Alayne had heard him call her by that name; she knew Cornelia had had a crush on Daymon the year before, and though Daymon had never seemed to return the feelings, he'd never openly ridiculed her.

  Hurt and anger flushed red blotches across Cornelia's face. She turned to go, pushing aside one of her friends standing beside her. “Suck rocks, Houser.” She strode toward the chute and crowded on with the four who trailed after her.

  Silence hovered over the table for a moment. Alayne hesitated, unsure of what to say.

  It was Marysa who broke the tension, turning to Daymon. “You geared up for classes this year, Daymon?”

  Daymon had resumed his seat. He swallowed his last mouthful of eggs and shrugged. “Nothing stands out in neon lights, but I'm sure I'll learn something.” He pushed his plate to one side. It slid dangerously close to a Second-Year boy's plate, and the boy flinched. He eyed Daymon nervously and scooted farther down the bench. Daymon stared
at him with an irritated scowl.

  “Dude, you never completely lost your reputation from last year,” Kyle muttered. “Don't take it out on him.”

  Daymon turned his glare on Kyle. After a moment, a corner of his mouth turned up. “Fine. I'll eat the kid for lunch.”

  Alayne pushed the last of her toast into her mouth. She couldn't necessarily say she liked Daymon any more than she had. Well, that wasn't true. She didn't dislike him anymore. He never let his guard down, though. Sure, he considered himself her Guardian since the revelation of the Vale. Sure, his life depended on her own well-being, and she good-naturedly realized now that as long as she was tied to the Vale, he would always be on the fringes of her daily life. She didn't laugh and joke with him like she could with Jay—with Kyle or Marysa. Anytime over the summer that she had tried to creep past the walls he kept carefully in place, he would shoot a hurtful jibe aimed at her own vulnerable areas before distancing himself even further. She sighed and shoved her own plate away. Plenty of time to think about that later.

  The warning gong sounded, and the commissary turned into a mass of movement. Alayne rose and tugged her bag over her shoulder, pushing her way toward the chute to stand in line. Fifteen people could cram onto the chute if no one moved or breathed. Alayne and Kyle managed to get on the second load. Marysa waved them away as she stood near the flooded doorway. “I'll catch you up there,” she called over the noise.

  Alayne nodded. Her shoulder pressed uncomfortably into Kyle's ribcage. An ice-hockey teammate from the previous year, Alex Wynch, stood behind her, and Sylvia Sich squeezed in front of her. Alayne felt the beginnings of claustrophobia narrow the edges of her vision. The car shot upward.

  “Hey, Worth. Did you sign up for hockey again this year?” Alex Wynch asked as the door opened onto Level Four of the classrooms.

  Sylvia exited, and Alayne felt a rush of fresh air from the outside. She took a deep breath and moved toward freedom. “Yep,” she said when she was safely in the hallway. “Did you?”