Balance (The Neumarian Chronicles)

by Ciara Knight

  My mouth dropped open. I couldn’t believe it. Today—after a year of indifference—he announced we were getting married? Not happening. We needed to resolve our problems. Yes, I loved him and craved a lifetime with him, but becoming a widow within weeks or days to a man who hadn’t given me even a nod in weeks wasn’t on today’s to-do-list. “Let’s talk about it after we’ve discussed Mandesa’s message,” I choked out.

  “Mandesa’ll wait.” He scooped some mashed potatoes onto a fork and swallowed them down.

  “No, she won’t.” I rubbed my forehead. “Councilman Ridgecroft’s arriving in the morning to discuss Queen Valderak’s demand and our response.”

  His smile faded. “What’s wrong?”

  The moment the coffee hit my stomach, I regretted having taken that nervous sip. Setting my cup aside, I stood. “I’ll meet you in my room in a half an hour.”

  He snagged my fingers. “I’ll be there.”

  “Good.” Pivoting, I headed for weaponry. With Mandesa’s demand, Penton’s stall tactics ended. We were out of time.

  Heading for weaponry’s new location, I trotted down steps leading into the bowels of the Earth. Over the past year, I’d discovered decisions during war were all about survival, winning, and the greater good. At least I hoped so. That’s why when we’d rebuilt the Arc, we’d made major changes. What we prized above all else was now safe from harm. Even if the entire structure came down, they’d be left untouched and continue with their separate air and water systems, hydroponics, and escape routes if required. However, I didn’t miss the dichotomy between the two units we felt required protection at all costs—the orphanage and weaponry. I still cringed at the thought we gave weaponry the same weight as children.

  As I stepped onto the last level before the tunnel, a cry caught my attention. Stopping, I searched for the sobs that broke the deadly silence. A little girl curled on a cot near the doorway, snuggling into the stuffed bear clutched against her, crying.

  The whimpering child drew me closer. My mind said, “Don’t stop, keep walking or lose Raeth and Ryder to Mandesa. Each snivel broke my heart. As I glanced between her and continuing to my target, she opened her sad, blue eyes, wiped her little nose, and I melted.

  I moved to her side and knelt. “Why are you alone, sweetheart?”

  “I don’t have anybody.”

  I glanced into the orphanage proper that housed both orphans and served as day care for parents on missions. After the near loss of it during the bombing, we’d moved it down here where the depths of the earth would protect these precious bundles. Given Mandesa’s promise, she never threatened, that decision seemed prescient. “Do you have a mommy. If not, you have people here to care for you.”

  Her narrow shoulders shook as sobs wracked her body. “No. She was a nurse. Daddy said she died when bomb went off in Arc.”

  I clinched my teeth to keep from curling into a fetal position. I remembered seeing her mother laying half in Briggs’ room and half in the infirmary hall as if it had happened yesterday. When the bomb detonated, the nails and shrapnel packed in it had pierced and shredded her body. “I know she didn’t want to leave you, but sometimes, bad things happen and we can’t stop them. Because of your mommy, another little boy still has his mommy.”

  “That’s what Daddy said.”

  I stroked her head, smoothing her hair. “Where’s your Daddy?”

  Her little shoulders heaved. “He’s dead, too.”

  I motioned to one of the workers a few beds down. “This child needs—”

  “They all do,” she murmured. Her gaze drilling me with contempt, she continued to another bed and lifted a crying child even younger than the little girl I was comforting.

  My throat tight, I lifted her, sat on her cot, and snuggled her against me. When someone began playing the piano, I rocked her trembling body. “What’s your name, sweetheart?”

  “Annabelle.”

  Leaning against the wall, I caressed her back. “May I call you Annie?”

  She took a stuttered breath. “Yes. My mommy called me that.”

  “Okay, Annie. Would you like me to sing so you can fall asleep?”

  It felt like she was trying to crawl inside me and wouldn’t stop until she was sure I couldn’t leave without disturbing her. Then she clutched her stuffed animal against her chest and whispered, “Yes, please.”

  Sighing, I stroked her hair just as Bendar had mine when Mandesa punished me. I didn’t remember any words to songs from my childhood, so I hummed and held her tucked tight against me. Gradually, her choppy breathing slowed into long, soft breaths.

  As she slept, my gaze drifted over the children housed here. What an expression, housed. Yet that’s what it was—a barrack’s of children housed in rows of cots. It lacked color, comfort, and warmth. Yes, there were well-meaning caregivers, but from the looks of things, they were exhausted. Too many children and not enough arms to hug and hold them or reassure them they were loved.

  As a future commander, I should have visited, seen what conditions the children lived in. They were the survivors of our soldiers, doctors, nurses, and teachers who’d given their lives in our cause. Be they human or Neumarian, they were also our future.

  Where earlier in the day, I bubbled with anger at the time Ryder spent here, now I understood. If it was within his power, he helped. Child or adult, it didn’t matter. As I looked around me again, I wondered if it was here, surrounded by these innocent souls, that Ryder found solace over the loss of his gift. He could heal a small cut, but beyond that, his gift remained dormant. Perhaps his limited powers were useful here. These children only cared about him, not what he could bring to the war. They loved him, and he loved them. I knew he took them frequently to the surface for playtime under the open sky.

  Shaken by my thoughts and what the future held, I slid Annie from my lap, settled her on the lumpy cot, and tucked the thin sheet under her chin before retreating to the safety of the stairwell. I glanced back at the maze of beds filled with lost, heartbroken children and was hit by a wave of disgust. Why were the innocent always the ones to suffer the most during war?

  With a deep breath, I forced myself to focus on the upcoming faux peace talks and raced down the last flight of stairs. Reaching the bottom, I jogged through a half a kilometer tunnel to the new weaponry. Should it be attacked again, not only did blast doors separate it from the Arc, but so did explosives which would collapse the tunnel. Stepping into Penton’s office, I found him seated at his desk with Raeth on his lap, feeding him fruit from the mess hall.

  “We need to talk, Penton.” My tone drew their attention.

  Brows furrowed, Raeth stood, her hand on his shoulder. “S-sounds s-serious.”

  He set the orange sections aside. “I’ve been working on the weapon, but it’s complicated. I have to—”

  I leaned back against the door jam and hooked my thumbs in the front pockets of my pants. “No more scientific lingo. We both know it is completed and has been for months. Why are you stalling?”

  “I overheard General Bellator and Councilman Ridgecroft arguing about the attack on Acadia. Did you know the councilman wasn’t going in peacefully? I have no problem with him killing Mandesa. She deserves it. Maybe even some of her guards, but he not only wants to wipe them out, he also wants to kill every living soul in the city. I not only have friends and, if they’re still alive, family there, but what about all the innocent children and supporters of the rebellion and Triune?”

  I shook my head. “No, the entire point of waiting for your instant sleep bomb was to prevent loss of life.”

  “That wasn’t why they were arguing. The UE has stockpiled weapons of mass destruction, including gas bombs they acquired during the Great War. A ship carrying the original bombs that zombified half the community was shot down. The council has them, and they’ve been waiting for an opportunity for payback. If Ridgecroft can release them in Acadia, he will. My sleep device is all he needs to move in. The man wants retribut
ion, not peace.”

  I closed my eyes and exhaled. Just what we didn’t need, a leader of the council going rogue. I thought we’d shot this down at the meeting last year. “I’ll speak to my father. He’d never agree to this. It’s genocide. We aren’t Mandesa.”

  “It’s war. Decisions have to be m-made. Isn’t th-that what you s-said?” Raeth threw my words of a year ago back in my face, but the scrunch of her nose warned me there was more. Her gaze narrowed as she approached with fire in her eyes.”

  Penton charged forward, jumping between us. “Raeth, stop. Semara did what she had to do to save us all. I couldn’t have smothered the blaze if she hadn’t closed the doors.”

  “M-move,” Raeth ordered in a tone I’d never heard come from her.

  I slid to the side and nudged Penton from her advance. “What is it?”

  Hands fisted at her side, she sneered. “M-my best friend betrayed me.”

  Penton slicked back his hair. “It had to be done. I insisted. It’s not Semara’s fault.”

  “What?” I demanded.

  “Penton’s m-meant to die. That’s what the seer s-said, right? Your mother? You knew and you left him to die the day of the fire.”

  “Semara?” Ryder entered. “What’s going on?”

  Penton sighed. “Thank goodness you’re here.”

  “S-stay out of it, brother. I’m grown and c-can take care of m-myself.” Raeth closed the distance between us eyeing me with a venomous stare.

  I fought for the right words, but my lips wouldn’t move, they only trembled.

  “You don’t deny it.” Raeth shoved me and I stumbled back.

  Ryder caught me.

  Penton’s arms encircled Raeth and held her fast.

  “Whatever it is you think she did, you’re wrong,” Ryder insisted.

  I stood in his arms and shook my head. “Raeth’s right. Father told me about it. Someone close to and beloved by the Triune is destined to die saving us, but Raeth, you need to know that even at the time, I didn’t believe it was Penton. Without him, you’d lose your will to live. He’s as much a part of the Triune as Ryder, you, and I are.”

  “Then why did you agree with Penton and let him do it? He could’ve died.”

  “Because it was the only chance any of us had to survive. Penton knew it, too. That’s why he suggested it.” I couldn’t let myself off. They had to understand that the war was changing us and me particularly, and I feared once that truth hit them, I’d lose them.

  Closing my eyes, I asked the universe to give me strength and courage. “Raeth, the war is making demands I never expected. My job’s to keep us alive until the Triune can win the war. That means making decisions that could cost me everything I value and those I love.” I hadn’t lied, not really. Because, yes I could make the tough choices, the problem was after, I’d die crippled by them.

  Ryder spun me so that I faced him. Eyes shot wide, his fingers dug into my shoulders. He stared at me as if seeing into my soul. Whatever he saw gutted him, and he released me with a shove.

  I wanted to throw myself into his arms and beg all their forgiveness, but I didn’t. The damage was done, and now I had to live with the fallout. Because this wasn’t just about what had happened a year ago, but future decisions and choices, too. Especially the big one, Mandesa’s newest ploy. There wasn’t a doubt in my mind that should we give her Raeth and Ryder, she’d still send those nukes our way.

  Penton scooted Raeth from the room. “We’ll talk above ground in the fresh air.”

  “Penton, you can’t leave. Not now. We’ve run out of time. Your weapon is the only thing we have that will save Raeth and Ryder. By now, everyone’s heard that Queen Valderak contacted us and requested peace talks. We knew she wasn’t serious. Her next communiqué proved it. She’s refused to speak with anyone other than Raeth and Ryder. She knew we wouldn’t agree. So, she baited the trap perfectly, thinking she’d force our hand. If we don’t turn you two over to her, she’ll use her last two nukes from the Great War. One’s targeting us and the other the UE.”

  Penton’s face turned purple. “No. Raeth isn’t going anywhere, especially Acadia. You tell General Bellator and the council I’ll destroy the Arc and the UE along with every weapon I’ve created before taking Raeth and Ryder and running.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  I thought I’d processed the trauma of my life with Mandesa and, since my escape, could handle anything life threw at me. Over the months, I’d clung to the conviction it didn’t matter if Ryder never regained the use of his gift or the Triune never fulfilled its prophecy. We’d have use of Penton’s genius and weapons. A few minutes ago, I’d learned differently with Penton’s threatened destruction of our weapons should we surrender to Mandesa’s demand.

  Now, as Ryder dragged me back through the tunnel and up the stairs, shockwaves of panic tore through me. I hadn’t faced or dealt with the nightmare experiences of my life. I’d buried them, and apparently not very deep. Not if they had thrust to the foreground at the mere mention of Mandesa’s blackmail, along with every fear and feeling of inadequacy she’d beat and tortured into me.

  It was a miracle I’d been sane at the time of my escape, let alone able to feel anything. Even now, it surprised me I hadn’t retreated into being a clone of Mandesa, especially when Ryder had distanced himself from me. What had kept me in the present was the love of my father and my friends. But if I didn’t conquer my terror that I was just like Mandesa—that I made decisions based upon expediency and what best served me—I’d lose everyone I loved. And should that happen, I knew her actions would pale in comparison to mine.

  Penton’s and my vengeance would send terror through the planet’s populace. All compassion gone, my name and legacy would be whispered in horror as our fury laid waste to the land and seas.

  A sharp tug on my wrist jerked me back to the present. Ryder, not saying a word since I’d mentioned Mandesa and her nukes, continued to stalk up several flights of stairs to the main level. But then, he hadn’t spoken to me much over the past eighteen months unless required.

  Then, without warning, he pulled me in the direction of his room. “We need to talk.”

  Oh, so now he wanted to talk, did he? Well, at the moment that wasn’t on my agenda. Kicking his ass was.

  Furious, I tried to yank my wrist free and failed. Scowling, I glared up at him. “You’re angry, I get it. Well, so am I. And if you’d actually talked to me over the past year, let me feel as if you still loved me, I would’ve confided in you about the prophecy. Heck, if you’d even done your duty, you would’ve been at the briefing and learned about Mandesa’s demand and her nukes when I did. So, get over yourself,” I hissed in barely contained fury as my gaze checked to see if anyone was near enough to overhear us.

  “Oh, no. You’re not putting all of this off on me.”

  I glanced around and winced at the crowd we were drawing. So much for circumspection. “Do you really want to do this here, in public?”

  “No.” His iron grasp tightened, and for a moment, I thought my wrist would break as he towed me to his quarters. He paused at the door, closed his eyes, and took two deep breaths. Opening the door, he shoved me into the room, shut it then locked us inside. Pointing to the bed, he said, “Sit! It’s time you and I had a talk. A long one.”

  I so didn’t want to do this now. Crossing my arms over my chest, I glared at him. “You want to clear the air now? Sorry, Father needs us in the command center to formulate a—”

  “I’ll take care of that.” He looked to the floor for a moment then back at me.

  Before I could respond, my father’s voice filled my mind. For the moment, neither of you are needed in the command center. It’s past time you two talked. Fallon and I are fed up with the cold silence between you two. Solve it and move forward. We need the Triune and Penton working as a team, not your anger and guilt poisoning any chance we have of keeping Raeth and you alive, and stopping Mandesa’s nukes.

  Coward, I snar
led as his familiar presence slipped from my mind.

  Ryder snickered. “General Bellator is many things, a coward isn’t one of them. You’re out numbered, so sit.”

  I sunk onto the bed and stared at the opposite wall.

  “How long are you going to punish yourself? Yes, people died, but your actions saved the Arc and almost everyone in it. You made a snap decision. There were consequences. People died but others lived.”

  “Me? How about you? If you say anything other than good morning or good night to me, a firework display is warranted. You think I don’t understand that Laos is a kid who witnessed a horrific tragedy? Heck, I just met and consoled Annabelle in the orphanage. Do you know her?” He shook his head. “She’s a little girl, about five. Her mother was the nurse who died taking the shrapnel that would’ve killed Briggs, so don’t tell me I don’t understand.”

  “If you don’t feel guilty over the infirmary, why have you shut me out?”

  “Shut you out? It’s you who’s locked me out. You don’t take part in private meetings with Father and I, or in Arc briefings. You don’t talk to me about anything except Briggs and Laos. Your guilt over Briggs’s injures is eating you alive. You spend every minute with them.”

  When he opened his mouth to speak, I held up my hand, palm out. How dare he try to shut me down when I’d just gotten a good head of steam. “And before you think I resent you spending time in the orphanage or with any of the children, you’d be wrong. In fact, I think we need to set up a rule that every adult spends a minimum of three hours a week with these children. The problem is us.”

  Ryder smiled. “I think that’s a great idea.”

  “If everyone did their jobs and we worked together things would get done,” I huffed.

  Ryder ran his fingers through his hair. “We’re not talking about the orphans anymore, are we?”

  “Maybe if people stopped spending all their time flirting—"

  “You’re eighteen tomorrow. Grow up.”

  I bolted off the bed and advanced on him. For every back step he took, I took one forward until he was pressed against the wall. “Grow up? What the hell do you think I’ve been doing since escaping Mandesa? Over the past year, I helped design and supervise the reconstruction of the Arc. Where were you? When suicide mission assignments came up, I had to decide who lived and who died. Just look at how I sent Penton back into the weaponry. Yes, he said he could smother the flames, but I didn’t believe he’d succeed. I wanted to, but I didn’t. I sent him knowing Raeth would hate me until the day I died, but it was the only chance we had. If I hadn’t, everyone in the Arc would’ve died. Those types of decisions are what lie on my soul. And where have you been? Certainly not with me. Not supporting me.”