Capture (The Machinists Book 4)

by Craig Andrews

  “Duty.” Jaxon almost spat the word. “It’s always duty with you, Father. Always responsibility. You just told me you’re dying, and all you’re concerned about is—”

  “Your Family needs you.”

  Jaxon shook his head. He couldn’t tell what he was angrier about, his father’s condition or his lack of empathy. “How?” he finally asked, afraid of the answer.

  “How am I dying? It’s cancer. My own body is fighting me.”

  “And there’s nothing they can do?”

  “I’ve already been undergoing treatment, but it’s only slowing the inevitable.”

  Jaxon watched his father, looking for a crack in his story. But he knew it was useless. His father was telling the truth, and sooner than Jaxon probably realized, his life would be devoid of one of the most influential people in his life.

  He looked away, his vision going blurry through unexpected tears. He and his father had never been close, but there had always been respect. And despite how hard the elder man could be, he was still Jaxon’s father, still the man who had carved him into the person he was today. Jaxon had never truly imagined a life without that constant presence. Thinking about it now… He could barely complete the thought.

  “I’m not gone yet.” His father let out a long breath, as if what he was about to say next took more effort than everything he’d said previously. “I’m done ordering you about, Jaxon. I’m asking you instead. Return with me to the Green Family, and let me spend my last days teaching you the things I should have taught you years ago.”

  Jaxon left the Klausner Manor behind, seeking a place of solitude. He moved south, scaling the steep mountainside that shielded the Klausner Manor from the rear.

  Thick, tangled knots of beech roots rose from the ground, providing Jaxon with footing and handholds as he began his ascent. The forest vegetation wasn’t as diverse as it was at home, but in many ways, it was more beautiful. Where the Pacific Northwest was largely varying shades of green, the Schwyzer Alps shone with an array of crimsons, golds, violets, and blues. The very air felt alive with color.

  And the smell… The vibrant sensations tickled the inside of his nose. He filled his lungs with the sweet smell and held it in, letting it purify him from the inside out.

  Having left his phone behind, Jaxon didn’t know how long the hike took, but he eventually found what he was looking for—a secluded, rocky plateau sheltered by trees that overlooked the town and manor below. He shed his shirt and hung it on a nearby branch before dropping into the opening pose of the Mahari. For weeks, he’d sought refuge in the magi kata, and for weeks, he’d been interrupted. He wouldn’t let that happen again, not after what he’d been through.

  He started slow, easing into the familiar cadence, steadying his breathing and dropping his heightened heart rate to a more sufficient level. He felt the burn in his muscles and pushed them, stretching them, gradually building up the Mahari’s intensity.

  Most young magi new to the magi kata didn’t know it directly mirrored its magi’s emotions. They assumed the kata was some kind of cleansing ritual designed to bring the magi’s emotional state back to center. However, the Mahari was not an outside force acting upon the practitioner like a massage of the spirit. In reality, the Mahari helped a magi realize their feelings by putting their inner thoughts and emotions to action.

  Hidden anger resulted in sharp, jagged movements that escalated as the kata progressed and the anger boiled to the surface. Uncertainty manifested in a slow, tentative dance where the Mahari became mechanical, whereas grief and sorrow brought about inconsistent, often distracted movements. No, the Mahari was not an outside force. Instead, it allowed practicing magi to understand their current emotional states, and from that understanding, they could take the appropriate action.

  Jaxon, of course, didn’t need the Mahari to uncover his emotional state. He knew the tangled mix of emotions that writhed inside of him. Even at that moment, as far from the conversation as he could get, he still relived the key moments of their discussion. And mirroring the memory of the conversation, his movements increased in intensity, picking up speed, sharpened by aggression.

  “And it’s time you learned it from me.”

  Jaxon stumbled, his knee slamming into the rocky earth. The words had been the turning point in their conversation, the first step on the path that had led to Jaxon putting the pieces together. He waited there on one knee, breathing heavily, the image of his father’s expression burned into his vision like an afterimage. He stood, banishing the thought from his mind and falling back into step. The movements came habitually, his body going through the motions, his mind entirely disengaged.

  You’re thinking too much. Clear your mind.

  He closed his eyes, filling his mind’s eye with complete blackness. He focused on the strain of his muscles, the weight anchored above the balls of his feet, the last vestiges of warmth from the setting sun.

  The void inside him swelled with energy as he channeled his body heat and drew it to his core. The temperature outside suddenly felt much colder, and if he hadn’t been in control, his body would have shivered, sending goose bumps across his flesh. The void full, Jaxon projected the energy into his hands, and it surged through his body like blood through his veins. Then he was wielding.

  His eyes snapped open, but he didn’t see the world as he had before. Where he’d seen the setting sun casting the landscape in a golden hue, he saw fire. It enveloped his hands, flickering across his vision as if the world itself were aflame. He threw his hands skyward, and a pair of fireballs flew high into the sky, leaving behind trails of black smoke. A moment later, two more fireballs soared after the first, and brilliant explosions flashed as the second attack met the first.

  He repeated the process twice more, launching fireball after fireball, hitting the first volley with the second as if he were skeet shooting. Then, with a primal roar, he stretched his hands toward the heavens. The end of the Mahari was near. Anger swelled inside him. Anger at his father for dying, for not fighting harder, for being so damn cold when telling his own son he would soon be alone.

  Jaxon’s composure broke. He lost control, and his anger fueled the fire burning inside him. He continued to wield. He had to get it out. Had to get rid of it before it consumed him.

  The fire manifested itself around Jaxon’s arms, similar to the way the coils of electricity wrapped around Allyn’s. It wasn’t normal fire, though. This was alive, unharnessed, burning hotter than normal. And already, he could feel his core body temperature drop. This was why he always instructed young magi not to feed their abilities with emotion—one could lose control quickly and pay the price. Magic, of course, had consequences.

  Arms still raised to the sky, Jaxon released, and the fire streaked upward, burning the leaves of the surrounding beech trees. Though reckless, the fire pouring from him was cathartic, and Jaxon continued until his body was spent. Then, weak and suffering from the first stages of hypothermia, Jaxon cut off the fire and dropped to his knees.

  Tears, the final remnant of his emotions, streamed down his face. On this side of the kata, he felt empty, and in the absence of his own emotions, Leira’s were stronger than ever. She was near and drawing closer, concerned. He hadn’t told her his father had arrived unexpectedly, and he hadn’t had time to tell her of their conversation or that he might have to break the promise he’d made to her outside the Hyland Estate when he’d vowed to protect the McCollum Family.

  Thinking about it was nearly enough to tear him apart. He was being pulled in opposite directions by equally strong forces, and if they weren’t careful, they would break him.

  Leira found him as he was pulling his shirt back over his head. She stopped when she saw him, her eyes looking him up and down like a concerned mother checking her child for bumps and scrapes. Once she saw that he wasn’t injured, she stepped
out onto the bluff with him.

  “It’s beautiful,” she said, looking at the scene behind him.

  Jaxon turned, following her gaze. The first lights of Schwyz glowed below, filling the impending night with yellows, blues, and reds.

  “Yes, it is.”

  “But that’s not why you’re up here.”

  “No,” Jaxon said. “I needed… I was tired of being interrupted.” He regretted the words the moment they left his mouth. “Not that you’re interrupting,” he added quickly.

  Leira smiled, and a wave of amusement accompanied the expression. She stepped past him, nearing the edge of the bluff, and sat down, bringing her knees to her chest.

  “You know,” she said, “I’ve never had the same need to get away as Liam has. Maybe it’s because my father didn’t keep me as close and let me leave the manor to see parts of the world Liam could only read about. Or maybe I just don’t have that desire. But as beautiful as it is, Jaxon, I’m tired of it. I miss home.”

  Jaxon remained where he stood, watching Leira awkwardly. He’d faced countless enemies and fought in countless battles, but nothing intimidated him as much as baring his soul to the woman he loved. He was terrified about what came next. He couldn’t stand the thought of hurting her. Of letting her down.

  He shuffled over and sat down next to her. “Me too.”

  “No. I miss home. I miss having a place that was ours, that was mine. I miss hunting in the forests and swimming in the creek. I miss reading in Liam’s library and watching him catalogue the books and texts. I miss walking the same halls my father walked, eating in the same dining room that thousands had eaten in before me. I miss cooking in the same kitchen my mother…”

  Jaxon draped an arm around her, pulling her close, and she buried her face in his chest. Leira’s mother had died shortly after Liam was born, and all Leira had left were vague memories and stories told by those who’d known her. She didn’t even have a photograph—the fire at the McCollum Manor had claimed even that.

  Though Leira rarely talked about any of it, Jaxon knew the emptiness weighed on her every day. That void in her life defined Leira in ways he could never comprehend. Still, he was a little surprised she was bringing it up.

  It’s the war. It’s weighing on all of us.

  “You know what I miss?” he asked. “I miss the smell. The aged wood of your father’s study. The crisp, clean air of Liam’s library. Even the smell of wood smoke that had soaked into the walls over the centuries.” He gently rubbed her upper arm with his fingers. “But most of all, I miss how, no matter how many fires you had going or how hot you got them burning, the manor was always cold.”

  Leira gave him a single quiet sniff of laughter.

  “Seriously,” he said. “The place was an icebox. Even in the summer.”

  “Maybe you should have tried wearing sleeves.”

  “Ha!” Jaxon barked. “No chance.”

  They sat in silence for a while, taking comfort in the silence of each other’s company.

  “I’m sorry,” Leira said eventually. She pulled away and turned so she was looking at him. “You have a lot going on. Between Allyn and the Forum. You don’t need my distractions too.”

  “It’s okay. It actually feels good to be distracted.” Jaxon took one of Leira’s hands in his.

  “When is the session with the Forum?” she asked.

  “Tonight.”

  “Is Allyn ready?”

  “I don’t know,” Jaxon said honestly. “I haven’t had a lot of time to spend with him since we returned.”

  “Really?”

  “I had to welcome the members of the Forum.”

  “Oh,” she said. “Well you should talk to him. He’s expecting your help, and it’s not fair for you to leave him on his own. Not when you spoke against the arch mage too.”

  “I know,” Jaxon said. “I was…” He licked his lips. “Distracted.”

  A pang of nervousness rang through the echo as Leira’s eyes fell to the ground. “Your father was with them, wasn’t he?” She phrased the words as if they were a question, but there was little doubt she already knew the answer.

  “Yes,” Jaxon said, fearing his ability to say more. He’d known he would have to tell Leira of his father’s request, and of his own decision, but he hadn’t expected to so soon.

  Leira watched him intently, visibly anxious by the unanswered question, and when it became apparent Jaxon wasn’t going to say anything further, she pressed. “It’s… unconventional for a Forum member to travel so far.”

  Jaxon nodded. He couldn’t hide from the truth any longer, not when she was asking him directly. But even though he knew he had to tell her, his words fought like hell to stay inside.

  “He isn’t here for the assembly,” Jaxon began. “That was only the excuse. He’s sick, Leira. He’s… he’s dying.”

  Leira sucked in a sharp breath, her hand covering her parted lips. “Oh, Jaxon. I’m so sorry. Is there any…?”

  “Hope? No.”

  She took both of his hands in hers, her thumbs rubbing his calloused skin. The echo vibrated with her emotions. Concern and sadness mixed equally with anxiety and regret in a contrary jumble, making it difficult to determine where his emotions began and hers ended.

  “It’s cancer. It’s spread through his body.”

  “How long?” It was a delicate question, which Jaxon could tell she was uncomfortable asking.

  “A few weeks. Months, if he’s lucky.”

  Leira shook her head. She had lost her father too, and if anyone understood the pain he was going through, she did. But the loss of her father had brought her and Jaxon closer together, whereas the loss of Jaxon’s would drive them apart.

  “It’s time for me to go home, Leira. It’s my father’s dying wish that I return to the Family and take up his position as grand mage. I know I promised to stay, promised to remain until the McCollum Family had returned to full strength, but I can’t. I’m sorry, Leira. I have to break that promise.”

  A single tear slid down her cheek, and it was as if it were a knife plunging directly into Jaxon’s heart.

  “I understand,” she whispered, but her thumbs stopped massaging the backs of his hands. If the echo were any indication, she was too overcome with her own emotion for his to take precedence any longer. “How long do we have?”

  “I don’t know,” Jaxon said. “But I imagine he’ll ask that I return with him.”

  She nodded and took a deep breath, regaining control of her emotions. “You’re doing the right thing.”

  “Then why does it feel like I’m being torn in two?”

  She smiled a tear-riddled smile. “Responsibility is a terrible burden, and sometimes the right decisions are the ones that hurt the most. But that’s also how you know they’re the most important.”

  “Thank you,” Jaxon said.

  “For what?”

  “For this. For being you. If you weren’t so strong, I don’t know if I’d be able to get through it.”

  Leira squeezed his hands. “No matter how much distance is between us, Jaxon Green, we’ll still have this. This isn’t over, and it isn’t our end. That, I commit to you.”

  Jaxon returned the gesture. “This is not our end. That, I commit to you.”

  There, on the bluff overlooking the lights of the Klausner Manor and the town of Schwyz, Jaxon kissed her. And for as long as his lips held hers, everything felt right in the world.

  Chapter 7

  Allyn paced his room, going through his various talking points in preparation for his session with the Forum. The movement helped keep the worst of his anxiety at bay and allowed him to focus more on the merits of their petition than on the fact that he knew next to nothing about the Forum proceedings. The plan that he, Jaxon, and Li
am had come up with was strong, and if the Forum made their decision based on nothing but the facts, then Allyn felt confident that they would prevail.

  It wasn’t until a knock came on his door that he realized night had fallen across the manor.

  “Come in,” Allyn said.

  The door opened, and Jaxon stepped in. He was dressed in formal magi attire Allyn had rarely seen worn. Utilitarian in design, the sharp lines and stiff shoulders of the dark clothing were ornamented by brass buttons that had been polished and shined. Allyn, who didn’t have formal attire, was dressed in compression armor. It was a newer style than he was accustomed to, reinforced and padded in the chest, shoulders, and back. The new armor was one of the various minor benefits of working alongside the arch mage’s personal guard.

  “It’s time,” Jaxon said.

  Allyn didn’t move. There was something off about Jaxon. More nerves, maybe?

  He doubted it. Jaxon wasn’t the type of person to get nervous. He also wasn’t the one presenting. Something to do with the arch mage or the Forum then?

  The thought almost sent him into a panic. If Jaxon was nervous about something, Allyn should be downright terrified.

  “Are you all right?” Allyn asked. “You look…”

  “Later,” Jaxon said. “We don’t have time.”

  But Allyn wasn’t going to give in so easily. “Should I be worried?”

  “It has nothing to do with you. Now, come on. We don’t want to be late.” Without further discussion, Jaxon turned and exited the room, leaving the door open in expectation that Allyn would follow. He did, and together, he and Jaxon made their way from the second level of the manor down to the first before stopping in the hall outside the grand entrance.

  “Remember,” Jaxon said, “as your Champion, I will escort you into the proceeding, introduce you to the Forum, and take my place among them.”