Slip in.
Claim him!
Is that me sobbing?
“I attempted escape,” Aakesh says mournfully to somebody, and bows again. “He is ensuring I do not attempt escape again.” His voice is soothing, utterly convincing, and I'd believe him if I were someone else.
I think this is going to kill me.
My thoughts leak, sliding away from me in melted, stinky puddles. Claim. Claim. Why isn't it sticking?
And then Gorish reaches for me.
His mind opens around mine, gently letting me in, almost welcoming. Before I can even adjust to what happened, the connection is made, and he's claimed. I collapse on all fours, head down, panting.
“Nice master,” Gorish says softly, resignedly.
I can't stand, can't raise my head, can't do anything but let it hang as I breathe. There's so much weight, psychic, not physical, but the result is the same. I can't raise my head. They're all going to think I'm crazy. I am crazy. I'm adopting Sundered Ones or something, and that's crazy.
“Hey.” Demos kneels beside me, his hand on my shoulder. “Are you okay? Do you need any help?”
He's a good man. I grip his knee, shaking my head with reassurance I don't feel. “I'm okay. Just ... just had to shore some things up.” I sound strained, rough. “It's been years since I did this. I'm out of practice.”
“This ... trick from the Academy?” Demos says dubiously.
“Yeah. I'm okay. Thanks.”
Demos speaks slowly, like he thinks I need soothing. “All right. You're welcome. We'll wait for you.”
Of course they will. I'm the leader, aren't I? “Are the boats ready?” I can do this. I'm fine. Perfectly capable.
“Yes.”
“Then let's go.” Except I can't stand. I can't lift my head. My body won't obey me.
This is bad. A leader who cannot isn't a leader at all. I must not let them see this. Try again. Try. Try!
Hot hands wrap around my ribcage under my clothes and lift me to my feet.
I shout. What's happening now? What now?
Demos stares at me, but he looks confused, not concerned, and I realize the hands are invisible. I look like I just stood up and shouted for no reason.
I stare back, my eyes wide, unable to stop making freaked-out faces. “I'm okay.”
“Sure,” says Demos, looking at me.
“I mean it, man. I'm okay. I just need to get to the city and get some rest in a real bed.”
There's no way he buys this. Demos nods with a frown and turns to help Tomas lift their boat, leaving me no time for further explanation.
Warm hands hold the sides of my head, keeping it straight. They touch my arms, moving them to my boat and lifting it for me. I'm not doing this. I'm not doing this at all. My eyes are still too wide, and my shaking won't stop. What's Aakesh doing? What's going on? Can I move? Am I out of control completely?
Wait—I can move. I just chose to pull my left hand away, and I could, without resistance. What's going on? What's happening to me?
“Shhh,” Aakesh whispers so softly, walking past me without looking at me. “I am saving your dignity. I am grateful. Accept this from me, Harry Iskinder, and leave it be.”
He's ... helping?
He doesn't look like he's doing anything, standing there, staring off into the distance as his hair lifts in the breeze.
I saved Gorish, and Aakesh thanked me by saving my reputation.
That doesn't comfort me like it should. I test control again, choosing to turn and face my Travelers instead of the city. I can do it, but slowly, and my legs shake. I want to turn back and face the city—and Aakesh does it for me, moving my limbs like I'm a puppet.
I'm still in control. Sort of. I want to scream to everybody about what's happening, but if I do, Aakesh will be in danger. I've never heard of anything like this.
“Nice master?” says Gorish quietly, peeking up by my hip. He paws at my boots a little, undoing one of the laces.
“Everything's good, Gorish.” Before I even know what's happening, my body bends down, hands moving on their own to retie the laces with expert ease. I'm completely suspended, a marionette. “Let's go.”
Hands move my legs. I look like I'm walking under my own power. My breath's coming too quickly, though, and that's not him. That's all me.
Freak out later, Harry. Freak out later.
Tenisia's entrance bridges are narrow to ensure visitors approach single-file. This place is welcoming, but not open to invasion.
The bridges arch gently, their floors smooth and slightly curved up to shoulder-high walls, like tubes cut in half. At the entrance, fourth-tier Sundered wait to greet us. Fourth-tier aren't warriors. They're artists. Their presence says, Welcome. Welcome to a place of rest and beauty.
They smile as we approach, eyes dark and healthy, their shapes strange, their mental signatures gentle. “Welcome to our city,” says a female, gesturing gracefully with a twelve-fingered hand. “Would you like free face-painting?”
Why not? I'll look spooked with or without flowers on my face.
They clean us up with smiles, removing the sweat and grime. Little flourishes produce color on our cheeks, swirls and stylized vines and flowers. Everyone's mood lifts. It's hard not to relax. Sure, invisible hands turn my head so I can have painted cheeks, but hey. Nothing's perfect.
They also take our goods and boats and give us claim tickets for later. No worries here. They won't steal a thing.
Clean air flows against our skin as we enter, air that doesn't taste like anything but coolness and a little bit of moisture. A huge walkway stretches out of sight before us. Thousands of thin, white arches lace overhead, connecting the walkways and higher rooms on both sides. The architecture is intricate, making even the canal look like part of the design.
People are everywhere: on the broad walkways, the arches spanning overhead, and in all the lighted shops. They lean out windows and doors and call each other by name. They play instruments on little raised platforms or share goodies from baskets, and all of them are smiling.
It's been a long time since other people reminded me that there is a place where everyone is beautiful, and life doesn't revolve around finding mysteries hidden in black water. My father felt it was cheating to change one's face with Sundered power, but it never bothered me. I love that all the robes and dresses and trousers are bright and clean, that nobody's skin is dirty and nobody's fingernails have a crescent-moon of ick. Even their sandals are clean, gold or ruby-red, picking up the many shades in their clothes.
There are no bugs. Not even around the open stalls of food.
Tenisia's marketplace isn't stuck at one end of the city, either. They made the walkways wide enough for merchants to have actual stands as well as shops. There are no black door-eyes here. You know you're in a civilized place when you see frilly curtains billowing out of second-story windows.
All the buildings are lit, and did I mention Sundered Ones are everywhere? The Sundered-to-human ratio in this city is the highest I've ever seen, nearly one to one, because education is a basic part of life here. The humans can all read and write, recite the creeds and the histories, and all of them can successfully claim Sundered without overusing them. This city's Sundered do not die all the time.
The Sundered look almost happy. To me, at least.
I actually want food. I can't remember the last time I did. Aakesh's hands navigate me around three children playing a game, just as my Travelers apparently transform into teenage girls.
“Almond paste!”
“That's the best boat repair kit I've ever seen.”
“Look at those dresses!” Sheldon said that, and we all laugh at him while he goes red.
“They have pets!” squeaks Sandra. The too-warm hands turn my head so I can look.
She's right. They have pets.
Everybody knows about pets, of course. All kids grow up saying someday they'll be rich enough to have one. The pet store has birds in cages, h
anging in the thick windows. The doorway reveals even more creatures in little pens—lizards, puppies, fuzzy things I can't identify, more birds, and even a couple of fish, although I'm pretty sure those are for feeding other animals. I mean, really. Why would you make a pet out of something you eat?
“Oh, Harry, I want to go see,” Kaia whines.
She asked me for permission. That soothes my nerves a little, like I haven't lost anything. “Sure. We're going to stay at the Luxington tonight. Just come find me when you're done.”
That was the cue. My Travelers grin like children and split in all different directions.
I'm alone. The smile falls from my face like heavy weights. I'm so tired. My Sundered is carrying me. Today sucks.
“The Luxington, my lord?” Aakesh asks.
“No. We're going to the Academy.”
He glances at me. “You are tired, Harry.”
“You're carrying me.” I wave my hand with his power, dismissively. “And there's someone there I want to see.”
He looks away to the sky, and I know he's watching that black, spinning tunnel. I wonder if Parnum knows about it. “Harry. Your Dr. Parnum is not here.”
Okay, hold everything. “What? What did you say?”
“Dr. Artemus Parnum, vaunted professor of the Academy, author of three books on Sundered-human relations, and of course, your surrogate father.” He delivers all this staring up at the sky, casual, unconcerned with what I may feel about the whole thing.
I stare at him. Coldness crawls up my spine, numbing, shocking. “How do you know that?”
“His books were interesting,” Aakesh says. “He detailed unique theories on the supposed continuation of our species and our mutual evolved dependence on one another. Of course, he was mistaken. We do not particularly need you.”
If I could move on my own, I'd be tempted to hit him. “Answer my question, damn you.”
“He was released from his position more than a year ago. His then-claimed Sundered was a friend of mine.”
My heart sinks. Released from his position? They fired him? “No, they—why would they do that?”
Aakesh gives me no answer.
I rub my face, so tired I can barely focus my eyes. “Then where is he now?”
“Not here, my lord.”
He's not lying. Maybe. “All right. All right. You get your way. The Luxington, then.”
He'd better be telling me the truth. Any leverage he has is based on the fact that I'm trusting him at all.
Parnum still has my answers. Someone will know where he is. I'm going to find him, even if I have to search all over the world.
● ●
● CHAPTER 15 ●
Paradise Lost
At the Luxington, they smile and take my money in exchange for beautiful rooms, fully furnished, light and airy and clean. The bathroom even has a shower, an actual shower, and I can't help groaning as I bathe.
I need to sleep before I do anything else. Collapsing on the bed, I dent the pillow, and sleep finds me before I can make any plans.
Dammit, Gorish. I will not be able to keep this up for long.
The room trembles.
I’m not sure it really happened. Trying to wake up is like climbing through glue. Okay, there’s still a weird rumble, repeated, rattling the paintings on the walls. It’s construction or something. I sink back down into sleep.
The room suddenly slams up and down like a giant dropped it, and my window shatters inward.
Smoke pours into the room, gagging me, leaving me blind. Aakesh's power grips my limbs, but I'm too frantic to let him control me, and I flail on my own right onto the floor.
The floor's at an angle, and the angle's getting worse.
“Nice master!” shouts Gorish somewhere in the smoke. I can't see him. I can't see anything. Coughing, choking, freaked by the broken glass under my hands, I try to crawl toward the door.
The floor breaks, and I fall.
Fall through jagged edges that tear my skin and shove splinters in my hands, and I scream in ashen darkness. Aakesh grabs me hard, arms around my waist, and somehow we land outside the building as he brings us down onto the walkway.
My beloved city is on fire, and I still can't breathe.
Rubble lies everywhere, some of it on fire, and corpses stick half-in and half-out of the piles. A wall crashes on my left, close enough to spray me with fragments and dust, and I manage a hoarse scream.
This is hell. This is a nightmare. This can’t be real.
Aakesh's temperature is uncomfortably hot. No Sundered is this hot. It feels like he's burning me, and for one panicked second, I think he's on fire, and shove him away.
He lets go. I flop on my ass, wearing nothing but pajama bottoms and my blood.
Screaming people cling to the slender, cracking bridges over my head. More voices of horror and pain warble from buildings, hell-holes where light flickers from mindless fires. I can't think. I can't process. “What's happening?”
“Bek has deployed its weapon.”
Oh, no, no, no, my city, my city, why would they do that? “My Travelers?”
“Scattered.” Aakesh crouches beside me. His hair fights the wind, lifting between me and the closest burning building, and his eyes match the fire. “All live, but they are scattered.”
He just knows this crap, he just does, and I can't be concerned about how right now. “We have to go!”
“We must remain here. The attack began in the center of the city and moves outward. This is the safest place to be,” he says.
I start to protest, and then Gorish grabs me from behind.
He clings, shaking, whispering nonsense-comfort to me, as if he's grieving my loss. My loss. This is my loss. This is my home.
The tower of the Academy burns like a candle, pieces of it falling ponderously away.
My home ...
It feels like hours until the explosions stop, until screams turn to shouts for loved ones who do not reply.
The Academy was hit first.
No one there survived, teacher or student, and the enormity of this steals the strength from my legs and nearly sends me to the ground in grief.
Aakesh says Dr. Parnum wasn't there. I have to believe him. It's the only thing that gives me hope.
The lawmen say that right before the attack, the city's Sundered Ones mysteriously started dying. They dropped where they stood, eyes dull and lifeless. Their owners aren't okay, either. It's like some part of them got taken with their Sundered, ripped from their bodies and leaving them unresponsive.
I can't begin to comprehend everything that went wrong here.
My perfect, beautiful Tenisia is stained. Bloodied. Destroyed. The protective canal walls are gone, and the safety nets torn. It isn't safe to walk the streets. Nothing is okay.
A tall, dark lawman with a high-office seal on his ash-smeared robe stops me as we leave the survivor's meeting. “Sir, do you have a Sundered One?”
They must be desperate to ask a stranger for help. “Yeah.”
“We require its services for the good of the city.” He meets my gaze and holds it.
Too much help and Gorish will die. I'm keeping him out of this. Aakesh can handle a lot more, but I don't want him dying, either. This requires careful instructions. I'm not losing either of them, not even for Tenisia's ashes. “Aakesh?”
Aakesh appears not as himself.
He feels third-tier. He actually feels third-tier, covered in orange and white and black striped fur, with a large cat-face, and a long, thin tail. But it's him. That weight in my head proves it. He turned into the Sundered I liked so much from my dream, and he's doing it perfectly. “Yes, my lord?”
The lawman watches me. I try to wipe the shock off my face. “Don't let them overuse you. I don't want you to die.”
The lawman's look grows sharp.
That was a bad thing to say. It's like I'm valuing Sundered life over human. But I'm not, I swear I'm not.
“Yes, my lord.
” Aakesh steps between us, taking the lawman's gaze. “Instruct me, sir. I can help these people.”
I stare as they leave together. You know, maybe first-tier Sundered aren't rare at all. Maybe they're all hiding as something else.
I find my Travelers in one of the survivor-built shelters.
They lived. They all lived. Sandra, Toddy, Demos and Tomas, Kaia and Jax and Sheldon. When I hug them, I cry. When they hug me, so do they.
But this isn't over. I'm not ready to leave.
This city needs help, and while I'm not willing to let them use Gorish, I can lend a hand. I'm strong. I can lift and carry. I can shout instructions and think out problems. In fact, I'm stronger than usual because Aakesh is powering my limbs. If I think too much about that, I'll panic. I'm moving through the dead, crusty corpse of my home only because of his power, and in my tired moments, I don't know who's really claimed anymore.
The docking areas weren't attacked, so Demos and I manage to salvage our boats, but that's not the miracle. The miracle is somehow, Gorish saved my maps. I don't know how he did it. I also can't thank him enough. He earns a hug for that, and I don't care if it makes me smell like fish.
My beautiful Tenisia.
I weep on and off, eat a little and work a lot, sleeping in short increments and borrowing power from my first-tier to keep moving. Travelers nag not with their words but with their eyes. They want to leave. This isn't their home, after all. It's just another city, and the markets aren't open, so we really ought to leave.
Instead, I go to the lawmen to see what more I can do.
There are people trapped in buildings and under rubble. The injured need to be moved, and reservoirs need to be filled. There's food to distribute—a tricky task, and one I'm glad I can do.
A week flies by before Sheldon and Jax pull me aside to tell me they're leaving.
I'm still in shock, because at first, I don't feel it. They're civil as they explain they're tired, and ready to settle down. They're kind as they say they don't think there's a Hope, and that I really need to get laid, and that's that, they're going now, goodbye.
It's a friendly end, I guess. Nobody yells or points fingers. We shake hands. They walk out the door with severance pay in their knapsacks and smiles on their faces, ready to take their boats to cities that aren't burning and don't have bodies in the streets, leaving me more alone than I have ever been.
The Sundered Page 11
