Shadows of Uprising (Guardian of the Vale Book 2)
Page 20
She licked her dry lips and cleared her throat. “Uh, hi.” Come on, Alayne, you can do better than that. She straightened her shoulders. “My d—dad's name is Bryan, Bryan Worth, and he's a Natural Human.” She glanced down at her notes, but the words were just scrawled markings on a page; she couldn't get her mind to comprehend them. When she raised her head again, Daymon nodded from his place by the door. Courage bloomed inside of her. This underground movement affected her Guardian, too, in more ways than one.
This was the beginning of a shift in public sentiment. A small one, to be sure, but a step toward change. She cleared her throat.
“My dad was the son of the head groundskeeper here at Clayborne, and here is where he met my mother, Wynn. They fell in love in a time when no one looked twice at them. No one sat on their pedestal and said, he's Natural, he's not good enough for her. She's an Elemental; what's she doing with him?”
Alayne had gained her rhythm, and her peers listened attentively. She crumpled her notes into a wad and shoved them back into her pocket; they weren't helping. “Why? Because then, people were equal. Government stayed out of people’s personal business; Naturals and Elementals respected each other and worked together.”
She flipped her braid behind her shoulder, warming to her speech. “I'm going to go out on a limb and say most of you know a Natural, or if you don't, you think it's wrong for a Natural's rights to be stripped from them. Shane Beckyr and the High Court have been threatening to do just this for months, and with the opening of the NRCs, the persecution of Naturals is only intensifying. We all think it's wrong for a group of people, any group, to be silenced. We all should have the freedom to be ourselves, to stand up and be our own person, whether that is Elemental or Natural or a mixture of the two.”
She raised her hand. “This stripping of Naturals' rights is horribly, atrociously wrong, and I have the pleasure of knowing that my parents are hunted and on the run because some powerful people claim that Naturals are unfit to exist next to Elementals.”
Alayne looked around. Students were riveted. Several in the audience nodded their heads, and an undercurrent of energy swept the room. She took a deep breath. “So I propose this. The LO is a group of people who, like us, see the injustice in this viewpoint. They see the threat of the Elemental Alliance and their posturing and pride and hypocrisy. They've made it their mission to foil attempts of the Elemental Alliance to continue to brainwash young Elementals into believing that Natural Humans must be stamped out. They've taken great strides in educating young trainees, but guys, listen. This is all underground work. Because, right now, the Elemental Alliance has the power, and the LO needs help. It needs our help.”
Alayne sighed and rested one elbow on the podium. “I don't think I necessarily have to talk you guys into this. You're here of your own accord; you want to know what's going to happen in a secret chapter of the LO. Well, I'll tell you what will happen.” Her eyes swept the crowded room. She could have heard a pin drop. “We will fight. We will do whatever it takes to slow down the Elemental Alliance until they're bogged down under the weight of all of us. We will train ourselves to resist mind tricks, manipulations, elements and Shadow-Casting. We will be such a wrench in the works that the High Court will no longer have a leg to stand on. The Elemental Alliance will fall, and we'll bring it down.”
Excited whispers spread across the room, and the level of intensity on the students' faces sent a chill up Alayne's spine. She waved for quiet.
“It's great that you guys are with me on this, but once again, please be sure to keep these meetings secret. Only tell people who you think will be interested in joining. Marysa will be sure to add their names to the poster board.” She glanced around the crowded room, wondering if her next activity would even be possible given the space issues. “Now, let's pair off. I want to begin practicing some techniques.”
Alayne split the students into groups of three and four and had the groups practice throwing their elements at one another. Some of the groups had to spread out in the hallway. After about five minutes of this, she interrupted. “Okay, so this is what you guys do. It's what you're good at. Now, I want to tweak it a bit. Take the element you're most uncomfortable with and mix it with your comfort zone. I want to see if the strength of your main element is enough to carry your weakest one on borrowed muscle, so to speak.”
This one took a bit more concentration. The students seemed eager to learn, which was good, but odd things kept happening. For instance, when Alysha Waggoner tried to infuse an ice-javelin with a molten center of lava, the water elements within the javelin rebelled, and the weapon exploded into thousands of tiny, needle-sharp shards, embedding themselves in people's clothes and skin. When Kolby Vanderwick tried to encase some of the dust in the corners of the room in flames and then hurl them at her partners, the flame blew backward instead of forward, singeing the ends of her hair and her eyebrows.
Alayne walked from group to group, encouraging, making suggestions and tweaking as she kept tabs on the elements within each person's group. She could understand what was happening when the elements reacted to each other; they weren't made to act together, to coalesce, in such a fashion, so like two fleeing torpedoes, they spun away from each other as rapidly as they could. It gave her a new perspective on the Vale. Somehow, the Vale brought all four elements together to work in cohesion with each other. As she walked around the rooms, she experimented with proximity. The closer she moved to a certain group, the less tense the elements became. It was almost as if they took on human emotion; they could only relax when the Vale was near.
She was surprised when she saw Marysa tap her wrist where her watch rested. A full hour had passed, and the lights-out gong would ring any minute.
“Okay, everyone, thanks for coming,” Alayne called. “Next week, same time, same place.” She clasped her hands together behind her, twisting her ring as she watched the students slowly make their way out, excitement on their faces and in their chatter.
She felt good as she nodded goodbye to the last students; she felt like she was actually doing something. Contributing to something that might help her parents in the long run. She glanced over her shoulder at the makeshift stage where she had stood only seconds before.
She leaped backward with a cry of dismay.
Jayme sat against the wall, his knees pulled up to his chest, his hands fastened together with tape. He stared hopelessly through her, misery and despair flattening the brown depths of his eyes.
Chapter 17
“Jayme?” Her heart leaped into her throat, but sank as she realized, once again, that she was having a vision. Jayme wasn't staring at her; he was staring through her at whatever emptiness might lie behind her in the vision. This time, she purposely closed her eyes and willed the cold trickle to drain down her arm and back into her ring finger. When she opened her eyes, Jayme was gone.
She swallowed back the lump in her throat and glanced around the room. Kyle waited for her at the doorway, his knowing eyes watching her carefully. “Are you okay?”
“Stop trying to be Jayme, Kyle. It'll never happen.” Regret stabbed her, but she shrugged off the guilt. “I'd rather not talk about it right now, if you don't mind.” She brushed by him into the hallway and stomped up the stairs. Marysa and Rachyl had already left, after some discussion about whether or not they should leave the podium and the boxes. They finally arrived at the consensus that they would attract more attention struggling to carry a heavy podium than by leaving their stage set up in an out-of-the-way service hallway.
Alayne opened the heavy door and hurried to the track and then the chute, pressing the button for the dormitories. Kyle stood on the track, watching her silently as she shot out of sight.
Alayne trudged up the nine flights of stairs to her bedroom, collapsing on her bed when she reached it. At this moment, she hated school, hated all of it. The tediousness of day after day, carrying on with her classes, going through the same motions, constantly worrying about h
er parents, constantly battling her grief for Jayme. She had finally gained a new interest with the Last Order meeting. Something she could get enthusiastic about and maybe in some small way fight against the overwhelming depression that threatened to envelop her.
And then she'd had to go and hurt Kyle, who had done nothing but show kind concern for her and try to help her through her slump. She'd seen the look in his eyes after she'd said Jayme's name—anger, irritation, hopelessness. They were all there.
She closed her eyes and exhaled, wishing the mattress would open up and let her body sink into it.
She didn't wake until the next morning when the gong rang for breakfast. Alayne ignored the comforting spray of the shower, instead gripping the elements and flinging away dirt and oil. She twisted her normal braid into a knot at the back of her head and threw on a sweatshirt. Shrugging off her sloppy appearance as she passed the mirror, she jogged down the hall to the stairs. She had an apology to make.
* * *
Kyle wasn't at breakfast. Alayne's gaze swept the whole commissary as she sat down at the table with Marysa, Rachyl, and Daymon.
“Where's Kyle?” Rachyl's deep green eyes glanced first at Alayne and then around behind her.
Alayne shrugged. “I don't know. I haven't seen him since speed-dating.”
“He's on the ice.” Daymon had ordered an omelet, and as soon as the tray landed with a clink on the table, he dug in. “I left something in the weight room, and I saw him when I went to get it.”
“Oh.” The word felt small. Alayne ordered an omelet as well, but as soon as the tray landed in front of her, nausea twisted her stomach. She stared glumly down at the yellow circle folded over.
“Layne?” Marysa prodded gently. Alayne glanced up. “Go make it right. You'll regret it if you let it sit.”
Alayne pushed her tray away and swung her legs out from under the table. When Daymon also pushed his tray back and half-rose, Alayne shook her head. “No, Daymon, this is something I need to do alone.”
“Layne—”
“Don't follow me.”
She wished she could read his face better. His blue gaze stayed on her through the clear chute doors, and she wondered if she'd broken an unforgivable Guardian tenet. She gulped a half-breath as the car dropped, and she entered the mostly empty gym. A few athletes ran sprints. One of the student coaches bent over some paperwork on a bench. Alayne broke into a jog, heading toward the ice rinks near the back of the gym.
Kyle had lined up twenty pucks on center ice. He twirled a hockey stick in his hand and skated along the line, driving each puck into the goal with a thunk.
She walked to the open doorway of the rink and leaned against the frame, waiting for him to finish. When the last puck went into the net, she clapped.
Kyle's startled gaze flew to meet hers. He looked a little sheepish. He shrugged lamely. “I wasn't hungry.”
Alayne walked over the ice toward him. She reached him and wrapped her arms around his waist. On his skates, he was taller than she was, and she laid her ear against his chest. She sighed. “I wish my healing powers could heal emotional hurts, too.”
They were both silent for a moment. She half expected him to joke that a hug would work just as well, but he didn't. Finally, she tipped her head back to see his eyes. He avoided her gaze.
“Kyle,” she said, hoping that his name would bring his gaze back to hers. It didn't. “I'm really sorry. I didn't mean it. It—it just slipped out before I thought about what I was saying.”
Kyle gently massaged Alayne's upper arms and then just as gently pushed her away from him. He skated to the side of the rink, his blades making a soft ssk, ssk against the ice. His back was to her. He took off his gloves and tossed them on the bench. His stick went into the equipment box.
Confusion feathered the edges of Alayne's thought processes. “Kyle?”
When he spoke, his breath hitched like he was crying. “Layne, I love you. You know that.” He shook his head and turned slowly to face her. The expression on his face confirmed her fears.
She walked toward him, shaking her head. “Kyle, just let me explain.”
“Explain what, Layne?” His voice was rough as gravel. “There's nothing to explain. I love you. You can't forget him. That's all there is to it.”
“That's not all there is to it.” Alayne reached him, and took his hand, holding it between both of her own. “Y—you're one of my best friends, Kyle. I—I care for you very much, and it hurts me to see you in pain.”
“Yeah.” Bitterness filled Kyle's voice. “You care for me. You don't love me.”
Alayne couldn't respond against the truth in his words.
Kyle didn't wait for her to speak. “Layne, all this time, the whole time we've been together, you've allowed me only so close. I kept hoping that somehow, if I gave you enough time, you'd get past it, put it behind you, but you haven't. There's this invisible wall to your heart that keeps blocking me from you, the real you. I can't see the top of it.” He sighed and pulled his hand away. “I don't think I ever will.”
Pity, thick and heavy, swelled inside Alayne, but she knew he was right. She had no right to try to create a relationship out of the shattered remains of her heart, no matter how much he wanted it. She'd thought she could help him, fix things for him if she offered him even a small part of herself, but he needed all of her. She backed up a step.
Kyle twisted the knife harder. “Jayme's dead, Alayne.” He swung his legs over the wall and opened the door to the locker room hallway. He glanced back at her. “But he's not dead to you. When that changes, let me know.”
He walked out the door, pulling it firmly shut behind him.
* * *
Marysa found Alayne in their dorm room later that morning. Alayne had shed no tears, but her jaw ached and a fearful headache throbbed behind her eyes.
Marysa sat on the edge of Alayne's bed and smoothed her hair. “Do you want to talk about it?”
Alayne stared miserably at the wall and unscrewed her lips. “No, but thanks.” Then, ignoring her own words, she said, “It's my own fault, Mary.”
“Because of Jayme?”
Alayne rammed a fist into her pillow. It thumped an ineffectual whump. “Why can't I let him go? Why can't I move on?”
Marysa's eyes misted over and she glanced down at her hands. She sniffed softly and snatched a tissue from the night stand by her bed. Alayne glanced at her in concern. “Are you okay?”
Marysa nodded. “I miss him, too, Layne.” She heaved a deep breath and spoke to her lap. “When Jayme died such a tragic death, it sort of colored your perception of him and your relationship with him. It's not easily forgotten or gotten over.”
“Poor Kyle.” Alayne sniffed as she twisted to reach for a tissue. “I don't know if our friendship is going to survive this.”
“He might need a break for a while, maybe.”
Alayne squeezed her hand. “Thanks, Mary.”
“I'm here for you, Layne. Anytime.” She brushed the last of her tears away and snatched a textbook from her bag, curling up on her bed as she opened it. “We missed you in class today, but I figured you'd need some time alone.”
Alayne nodded carefully against her headache. “Thanks.”
“And Layne, Manders wants to meet with you. Says it's important. You're supposed to go this evening to the library if you get a chance before curfew. He'll be there working on some term papers.”
* * *
Alayne squinted against her headache, wincing at each new angle of light in the common room. She ignored the busy couches and student chatter and headed straight for the chute. Hitting the button for the library level, she shot upward.
It was quiet in the library. Only the librarian and one of her helpers moved from shelf to shelf, replacing books. Alayne rounded the corner to the stacks and found Professor Manders sitting by himself at a table, a pile of papers in front of him. His glasses rested low on his nose as he glanced through them to check essays.
Alayne pulled the chair back and sat. Her headache pulsed behind her right eye. She rubbed her temple for a little relief. Manders eyed her over his glasses. “Are you okay?”
“I'm fine.” She wanted to sleep. It would help the pain, and she could forget about Kyle for a while. It seemed her healing powers had no effect on headaches.
Manders glanced over his shoulder at the librarian and her helper. He pulled a piece of paper from a notebook and with his pen, etched a crude drawing on it. “Have you seen this before, Alayne?” He moved his hand.
Alayne pulled in a breath. A large EA covered the majority of the page. Behind it, three interlocking circles created a background. She nodded slowly. “Yes, I had a vision of this. It was at the Christmas dance. That symbol was on several flags that hung off the spire, and it also was an insignia badge on several of the uniforms I saw.”
“Uniforms?” Manders speared her with a glance.
“That's all I saw, I promise. The spire was decorated with flags that had that symbol on them,” she motioned to the paper, “and there were uniformed guards standing at the entrance to the spire with that symbol on their shirts.”
Manders rapped his fingers against the table once, twice. “I see.” He stroked his chin. “Has it appeared in any more visions?”
Alayne searched back through the visions she had seen over the last year. “The first one.” She said. “It was on a banner that hung across the wall, and the words Ring of Three were transposed on top of it. It hung on the wall in the commissary.”
A low expletive issued from Manders's lips, then, “The Ring of Three! Have all your visions been at Clayborne, Alayne?”