Goran studies me, a slow smile widening across his face. “I’ll find the seal.”
Splinters from a freshly shaved log slice my palms as I slam one end into rich Kisken soil. The outer wall of the fort stands fifteen feet high with the tops carved to needle-like points. It’s almost complete, however rudimentary. There isn’t the time or supplies to build a high-tech base right now, but the escaped Kiskens need something more secure than a field full of tents.
Brisa has kept the troops I sent toward Gull Island at bay, but it won’t be long until someone is lucky enough to fly a path between the storms. And once the International Committee of Warfare arrives in Volkana to press charges, there’s a chance they’ll attempt a fast and furious backlash.
It’s been a week since the information was handed over, so it could come at any time, especially if the Volks catch wind of the investigation. It wouldn’t be smart, but Volkana isn’t known for playing safe. Only playing dirty.
“Going back to basics, I see.”
I freeze and let the next log thud to the ground. “Hello, Drea,” I say without turning.
“These were perfectly healthy trees.” Her voice is thin. Strained.
I clench my stomach against a groan and turn back to my work. Lift. Aim. Drive. The sun beats down on us, suctioning my shirt to my sweaty torso despite the crisp winter air. The last time I saw Drea, we argued about the Asgyan famine. She said I was making her point invalid. That the Asgyans would attribute all their sorrow to the war instead of learning to respect the crops she provides. I said facing possible death would make them appreciate each other instead, and, as her creations, isn’t that important too? It hadn’t gone over well. Not that I blame her. Being undermined is a horrible feeling. It hadn’t felt that way at the time but, looking back, that’s what I did.
“Do you need something?” I ask between logs. “Or are you here to complain about a bunch of trees? Because, frankly, I don’t want to hear it.”
Drea is quiet, her presence heavy at my back.
All right then.
I grab the next log. There’s space enough to fit three more before hitting the perpendicular wall and closing the final gap. Goran is on his way with the men and women now. Considering we spent the last week sending the healthiest soldiers on covert missions to rid Kisk of both Volks and Asgyans, they should have a relatively uneventful trip.
“She lied,” Drea says.
Cassia’s face flashes before me and I wince. “It seems to be an epidemic these days.” I slam another post into place. “Want to narrow down which she you’re referring to?”
“Brisa.”
I swivel to stare at my oldest sister. Drea’s arms are folded over a plain white T-shirt, her dark hair braided loosely down her back. She watches me carefully with naturally wide eyes. Brisa is the only one that’s told me the truth. The only sibling I trust. “Brisa lied?” My voice rises in disbelief.
Drea inhales, eying the pile of branches I stripped from the trees. “I never agreed to stand with her against Ebris. She never even broached the subject with me.”
Her words are a punch to the gut. A fist flying in from a blind spot. It was surprising when Brisa told Ebris they agreed, but she said it with such authority. With such confidence. I should have questioned it after Ebris left, but I wasn’t in the right frame of mind to think. If Ebris finds out, Brisa will be the next one on the chopping block. I rub my palms together to calm the tingling sensation.
“I didn’t.” Drea’s arms drop to her sides. “But I would have.”
The bubble of nerves pops, my mind temporarily blank. “I’m grateful,” I manage.
“And shocked.” A thin smile grazes her lips. “We’ve never quite seen eye-to-eye, but you’re still my brother, and I’m not blind to Ebris’ faults. Our time is coming to an end. He’s worried.”
“We won’t disappear if no one believes in us,” I say. “Most of them already don’t.”
“It would be rather lonely though, don’t you think?” She sighs. “Anyway, I came to assure you we’ll all work together keeping an eye on Ebris and do what needs to be done. If anything needs to be done. And I’m going to end the famine in Asgya.”
My jaw drops. That will only cement her side of our last argument. “Why?”
The purr of engines drones in the distance—Goran with the Kiskens. I turn and slam the last two posts in place as the commandeered trucks from enemy bases around Kisk roll toward the open gate. Drea is gone, vanished without a goodbye, but it’s just as well. I wouldn’t know what to say to her, and her reasons don’t matter as much as the end of the famine does.
Goran is the first to climb out of a green Humvee, followed by the weakest Kiskens. A handful of Kisken militia we tracked down help their wounded comrades before unloading a transport truck filled with tents and supplies. I watch from a distance while they move together, working as a unit. None of them can see me, including Goran. I needed my ring to have the strength to build the fence, but he knows I’m here. After Hex was true to her word and left, he conveniently fit the part of a blond liaison. They trust him because they trusted her.
Goran studies the fort until a woman pulls his attention away. I weave between soldiers and raw wooden crates until I’m beside them. Goran nods and smiles. The woman walks away, directing a small group to move things to the far end. They struggle to do as they’re told but work as fast as their worn bodies allow. Goran hesitates at the truck door, casting another glance around the fort. When he climbs into the cab, I hop into the passenger seat and shove my ring onto his finger. He jerks to the side, smacking his head on the window.
I grin. “Things going well?”
“Better than expected.” He rubs at the side of his head and someone calls to him from outside. He lowers the glass. “Yeah?”
A man calls up, “We’ll be ready to go back for the second group in five.”
“Got it.” Goran puts the window up again. He talks down at his lap, barely moving his lips. “The Committee arrived in Volkana last night. The Volks are being charged with war crimes and every sanction in the book is being thrown at them.”
I sit back against the cushioned seat. “Good. A cease-fire should be easy enough after that. Asgya should be amicable to the idea.”
“We don’t have to worry about that.” Goran laughs, unsure. “They’ve agreed to a treaty in exchange for a crumb of leniency. The Committee has representatives from both Asgya and Volkana on their barge now. As soon as they sign the papers, the war is over.”
I narrow my eyes. “That’s too easy.”
“Easy?” Stubble coats his chin, too light to notice without the glare from the sun. “What part of this was easy?”
Starting the war was easy. Angering my siblings was easier.
The man from before raps on the door, then hops into one of the other vehicles. “Good luck,” I mumble. I take my ring back and slip outside.
The convoy backs out of the enclosure and sputters out of sight. I continue to stand there, watching the place they disappeared. This is almost over. I shouldn’t feel so unnerved, but when I turn and glance at each of the hollow, detached faces, I find myself reeling. My goal has been to regain my abilities for so long that I don’t know what else to do. How else to live.
But, if by some miracle, Cassia agrees to give me another chance, I can live for her. At least for a while. Another war will come. They always do.
Sudden, crippling pain rips through me, sending me to my knees. My muscles seize. Fire turns my lungs to ash. My ribs threaten to crack and my skin strains against the swell of energy. My energy.
The longer it goes on, the more unbearable it becomes, but I’m unable to scream. I’m frozen in place as it tears at each cell of my body, twisting and bending me into something new. Something old. Until a ragged cry breaks free and I collapse into the dirt.
When I wake, lush Kisken grass tickles my cheek. I force myself to my knees and rub at the ache behind my forehead. Power courses thr
ough me. Strong, familiar, and overwhelming. My bones ache with the effort to contain it. My eyes flutter shut and I blow out a shaking breath. This. I’ve missed this sense of being indestructible. Invincible.
A deep laugh rolls from my chest. It’s back. I’m back. But I can’t test it yet. First I have to get used to my new sense of self, then practice somewhere no one can get hurt. A voice bounces through my head, telling me not to hold back, to let the power explode, but I push it away. I won’t lose this again by being reckless.
My gaze wanders over the men and women settling in, catching on the Colonel, huddled and pale as he sits against a post. The wounded arm is gone; only five inches remain below his shoulder. Blood stains the white bandages around the stump. I step toward him and pause.
I should have saved him, either long before Cassia arrived or shortly after. I rub my ear as it burns with shame and change course to where the medical supplies are boxed. Easing the cardboard lid up, I grab fresh bandages, antiseptic, and a pair of rubber gloves. I’m no doctor, but neither is anyone else here. The only person with real medical training left on Hex’s ship.
With a fast sigh, I drop my shields and stride up to him before I can change my mind. Sweat shimmers on his face, beading heavily along his upper lip. The dullness in his eyes punches my conscience.
“Do I know you?” he rasps.
“No.” I kneel beside him and try not to see Cassia instead. “But it looks like you could use a fresh bandage.”
He shrugs his good shoulder.
I hold up the fresh gauze. “Do you mind?”
“If you have to.”
I snap on the translucent gloves and pick at the edge of the paper tape holding the gauze in place. “How does it feel?”
His laugh is short and low. “Like someone sawed my arm off.”
I don’t say anything else as I work, concentrating instead on unwrapping his arm. My power pulsates through me. I push against it. The time has come to finally help Cassia’s brother; I can’t accidently shred him to bits.
“Forgive me for saying so, but you’re not one of us.” He pauses to study me. “And you don’t look like one of the pirates.”
“You’re right. I’m neither.” I pull the last bit off his arm, exposing a red, angry line, stitched shut with black X’s. “I heard…” I shouldn’t say this. It will call attention to myself but he deserves to know. I think Cassia would like him to have closure. “I heard you have a sister.”
His hand flies up and grabs my wrist. “Who are you?”
I let him hold me as I twist the cap off the antiseptic. “No one, really. I met Cassia here, or, in your hometown, that is. We played a game of Fate one night and she told me about you.”
“Is she okay?” His voice is raw. “My parents?”
“Your parents died in the bombing.”
His hand falls away and his head slumps forward. I take the moment to squeeze a healthy dose of gel on a strip of gauze and position it over the laceration. Holding it in place with one hand, I circle his arm with the rest.
“And Cassia?” he asks after a moment. “She’s still alive? She wasn’t killed when the bombs dropped?”
“Not then, no.” Perhaps I should tell him a lie. That his whole family died together when the bombs hit and they never felt a thing. It would be the kind thing to do, but the truth would come out eventually. There are only so many survivors left, and Goran is bringing them here when he’s finished with the soldiers. Someone will talk. Someone always talks. The truth now is better than the truth later. “The…the zealots,” I force the words out, “were desperate. They took her, unwillingly, and sacrificed her to the God of War.”
“They what?” he hisses with such malice I’m not sure it came from his lips. “But that—how could they? They murdered my sister? You’re sure?”
“I’m sorry.” I rip off a long piece of paper tape and wrap it around his arm in a messy band. “If I knew, I would have stopped it.”
I would have but not for the reason he may think. While I am sorry for his loss, I can’t be sorry she came to my temple. Not if that means I never would have gotten to know her. I can only hope this time, when she’s offered a choice, she’ll choose me.
“Thank you for telling me,” the Colonel says quietly.
I look away as his tears brim, ready to spill, and nod.
“I’m going to kill everyone that had a part in it,” he adds in a stronger voice.
I don’t doubt he wants to; I want to for what they must have put her through. “Cassia believed in you. She loved you.” Believes, I want to say. Loves. But to him, she’s gone. “I don’t think she would want you to kill anyone in her name.”
His gaze fixes on distant nothingness. I recognize that expression; I’ve seen it a million times in my own mirror. The want, the need, for revenge. “No, I imagine not,” he says after a long silence.
My nails dig into Leander’s sleeve as we cross the Black River again. I thought it would get easier the more I did it, but it’s almost worse. Sure, the tiny whirlpools haven’t sucked me down in the last ten days, but day eleven could be the day the invisible barrier beneath my feet shatters into a million pieces.
“I hate this,” I mutter.
Leander laughs but the sound is far away, muted. I cling harder. “Keep holding onto me and you’ll be fine,” he says.
No matter how many times he says that or how badly I want to believe it, my prickling nerves refuse to let me. “Easy for you to say.” I swallow the bile rising in the back of my throat. “If we fall, you’ll pop back up like a whack-a-mole.”
“We aren’t going to fall,” he says with a smirk.
I grind my teeth together and focus on the shore. Sparks flash in the distance, hints of waiting souls. They’re too far away to make out faces, but nausea sweeps over me anyway. One of them could be Oren.
“You know, I’ll come get you if your brother arrives,” Leander offers. “You don’t have to come every day. I won’t let him cross until you say goodbye.”
“I want to come,” I say. When he raises an eyebrow and shoots me a sidelong glance, I shrug. “I don’t mind listening to them while they wait their turn.”
What I don’t tell him is that what’s happening here gives me a clue about what’s going on with the war. So far, the few Kiskens I’ve seen were elderly. No one of fighting age and no one with solid spots, which I’ve learned is their fatal wound. They probably died of heart attacks or cancer. Something natural. I don’t ask—the thought of talking to the Kiskens makes me itch all over. Memories of robana laced water being forced down my throat and a sacrificial sword ripping through my flesh scratch at the cage I locked them in. Traitor, traitor, traitor brushes against my ears, though they don’t say a word.
“It seems like Theo’s keeping his word,” I say, pushing one painful memory away in exchange for another.
“Of course he is,” Leander says. “Nothing is worth being sent to the Between. Not even a broken heart.”
I roll my eyes, but his words tug on something deep inside me. I’m trying to ignore the fracture in my chest, not remember what I did to Theo’s. Not that I’m doing a very good job of it. The look on his face when he begged me to deny the truth rakes through me every time I hear his name. But, if offering to come here didn’t prove my feelings for him, nothing will. I need to forget. I grind my teeth together and slam the door shut on my emotions, twisting the key.
“Can we walk faster? I want to get off this thing.” Leander picks up the pace without a word and the swirling water splashes under my feet. I squeeze back another wave of nausea. “Can I request a hovercraft for my birthday?”
His laugh draws the attention of the souls on the bank. They turn to watch our approach with quivering faces, and I scan the crowd. Oren isn’t here again today, and an easy breath falls from my mouth. There are enough dead to keep us occupied until dinner, at least, and more always pop in throughout the day.
At the shoreline, a single step away
from the safety of the river, Leander pauses like he’s done every other day. I stifle a groan. “I’m not going to look at the arch again,” I say before he can issue another warning.
“Are you sure?” He watches me warily. “If I lose you, Theo will murder me over and over for eternity. Plus, you know, you’ve sort of grown on me.”
“Sort of?” I smirk. But I understand where his worry is coming from. Even if I don’t look at the arch, it reaches for me, caressing my cheek, offering me peace. I feel the tug deep in my core. “And here I thought we were on our way to being friends.”
The flicker of joy in his eyes is unmistakable, but, before he can say anything else, a high-pitched murmur flows through the crowd. I cringe as it grates against my eardrums like nails on a chalkboard. When the souls fall silent again, Leander steps into the fray, leaving wet, black footprints on the white rock. I don’t let go of him until we’re far from the river and any possibility of being knocked in. I shake my stiff fingers and eye the throng.
“The same as always,” Leander murmurs.
Don’t look at the arch, stay away from the river, talk only to the calmer souls, and, if I can’t be within arm’s reach, be within earshot. It took a lot to get him to agree to that last one. For the first week, he made sure I was glued to his side, but the idleness of it drove me over the edge. There were things I could be doing, people I could be talking to, while he worked.
Besides, one day, for whatever reason, I could be standing here as one of them. I’d appreciate it if someone sat with me for a few minutes without another person hanging over us. Leander doesn’t mean to rush them, but I can see the strain on his face when things get backed up.
I nod and turn, looking for an elderly person. Maybe it’s because they lived full lives or were expecting death, but they seem to deal with this better. If I want to keep my sliver of freedom, I can’t take risks until I learn to recognize the disgruntled souls.
Fragile Chaos Page 23
