Guardian of the Vale

by Shoemaker,Tamara

  Silence stretched after her outburst, and emotions warred across Daymon's face. He took a deep breath, sliding his fingers through hers, tugging her closer. “Alayne,” he murmured, his navy gaze boring into hers, “trust me.”

  She gazed at him for so long, she knew he thought she'd decided not to answer, but finally, she took a deep breath. “I have to get rid of the Vale, Daymon, and I want your agreement ... and your help.”

  Shock rocketed across his face and through his body as he lurched backward two full steps. He slowly shook his head. He tried to speak, but nothing came out. He cleared his throat and gave it another try. “Say that again?”

  “You heard me.” Alayne reached for his arms, smoothing her fingers over his biceps to his shoulders, toying with the hair at the base of his neck. “I'm going to cut the Vale out of me, Daymon. It has no place in me; it should never have been put in me in the first place. It has caused so much trouble all over CommonEarth. Everyone wants it, and no one is willing to simply leave it be. I—I want to destroy the Vale, Daymon.”

  She saw the struggle inside him, the flame of rejection, of anger, of terror ... of hatred. His hands gripped her shoulders almost painfully. They slid quickly to her neck, his fingers stretching around it, squeezing.

  Alayne's eyes widened in horror as she realized too late what her words would mean to a Guardian of the Vale. Daymon had insisted that the Vale had no control over him, but he was wrong. So very wrong, she thought as his fingers tightened.

  She tried to step backward, nearly tripping, and her sudden movement snapped Daymon out of whatever trance he'd been in.

  “No!” A horrified negative spit from his lips; his hands jerked to his sides. His breath came in gasps. “I have a choice!” he shouted furiously. “I won't!” His eyes blazed as he glared at her, and Alayne suddenly understood that he wasn't talking to her, but to the Vale inside of her.

  He backed away from her, bending double, leaning his hands on his knees. “Alayne, you can't!” He shook his head as if to clear his mind from unwanted thoughts, and then glared back up at her.

  Horror and recognition spread over Alayne like a blanket, smothering her. “You—were going to kill me,” she whispered.

  “I didn't—Alayne, I couldn't kill you, how could—” He stopped, gripping her shoulders again, his expression desperate and fierce. “Don't you realize how I feel about you?” His breath came in ragged heaves. “Can't you see?”

  Calm acceptance filtered through Alayne as she stared at Daymon's tortured expression. She placed her hand on his chest, taking comfort in the familiar heartbeat beneath her fingers. “Of course, I see, Daymon. It's the same story, isn't it? The Vale. The Vale, the Vale, the Vale—it affects everything we do. It's going to try to have you kill me, too, apparently.”

  “Alayne,” Daymon's voice broke, “you can't survive the Vale leaving your body. It's the pinnacle of the four elements, and when it leaves its possessor, it takes the four elements with it, all of them. It's not just—a normal death. You literally disappear, element by element, into the void it creates.”

  Fear flitted through Alayne, followed by sudden sympathy. “That happened to your mother, didn't it? Manders told me of earlier possessors of the Vale who had it taken from them. That happened to all of them?”

  He nodded dumbly. He seemed afraid to say anymore, perhaps knowing his voice wouldn't hold.

  Slowly, she reached up to cup his cheek, her thumb smoothing the skin just under his left eye. “I would have liked this, Daymon,” she whispered. She watched as knowledge crept into his gaze; he'd seen that her mind was made up. A single tear eked a trail alongside his nose, coming to rest in the corner of his perfectly shaped lips.

  Alayne's heart cracked, a rupture that bled freely, beyond healing even under the power of the Vale.

  “I'm not giving up, Alayne,” he murmured as he turned away from her. He grabbed the targets he'd made and slid his knife into his belt.

  “It doesn't matter,” Alayne murmured as she accepted his hand. He tugged her back through the tunnels toward the Hive entrance. “I'm still going to destroy the Vale.”

  Daymon's jaw hardened. “Just concentrate on the upcoming battle, Layne,” he snapped. Inside the lavatory, he released her hand, turning her to him. Looking deeply into her eyes, he spoke. “Don't destroy the Vale yet, Alayne. You can't. We need it too much.” He glanced at the chute doors. “I'm going to find my uncle. I have some questions for him.”

  Morning gave way to afternoon, which gave way to evening, and there was no change in the Hive's tense expectancy. As time wore on, Alayne frenetically checked her mirror piece, terrified of missing Marysa when she tried to reach her.

  And then she was terrified that Marysa couldn't get hold of her because something had happened. She'd promised to report, if she could, around evening, and each passing tick of the pendulum in the common room struck more fear to Alayne's heart.

  Daymon had appeared by her side again sometime mid-afternoon. He'd said nothing, but he wouldn't meet her eye either. He'd conversed with her about pointless topics, but his comments were stilted and awkward.

  Finally, after hours of this, Alayne had had enough. She turned on the common room couch to face him. “Talk to me, Daymon. What's the matter?”

  “Nothing,” he grunted, the most obvious lie she'd ever seen him tell.

  Alayne gave a disbelieving laugh. “What did Manders say when you told him what I plan to do with the Vale?”

  Daymon's jaw clenched. He paused before he answered. “What do you want for your birthday tomorrow, Layne?” he asked, his voice straining to remain light and failing miserably.

  Alayne laid a hand on his arm. “Daymon—”

  He shook it off, and Alayne pulled back, hurt. He was silent for a moment, and then spoke again, his gaze in his lap. “Have you heard from Marysa yet?”

  Alayne stared at him, finally deciding to let it go. He obviously wasn't planning to give her any information. “No,” she murmured, “and I'm really worried. If everything had gone well, she should have contacted me by now.” She pulled out her mirror piece yet again. It had come out of her pocket often that day, but each time, she'd resisted using it. “I could take a really quick look.”

  To her surprise, Daymon didn't protest. He didn't agree, but neither did he stop her.

  Alayne glanced around the common room. There were at least twenty or thirty others present, but none were close, and everyone seemed to be absorbed in doing something non-stressful. A group near the chute doors played cards, laughing quietly as they tossed lemps into a pile in the center of the table. Several sat chatting in groups on sofas. A couple held MIUs on their laps, reading holographic words scrolling in front of them. Some even dozed on couches.

  Relaxed tension.

  Alayne turned her back to them, leaning over the mirror. Daymon's hand curled into a fist beside her, the veins standing out in his forearm. Alayne shot a glance at his normally calm face. His eyes were stormy, but he still said nothing.

  She leaned over the mirror. “Show me Marysa,” she whispered.

  Her reflection swirled and a new scene took its place. It was dark at first, almost completely, before torchlight bit into the blackness. As Alayne stared, she saw people, lots and lots of people, huddled in groups, their eyes wide, blank, staring ... twitching.

  “The Casted!” she breathed to Daymon. “Marysa's with them!”

  Stalactites and stalagmites shimmered in the reflection of the torches, and Marysa's black braid hung in the top corner of the mirror piece. She was probably carrying her mirror in her pocket.

  Suddenly, the picture tilted, and Marysa's hand held the mirror at waist level where Alayne could see her face.

  “Marysa?” she whispered. “Can you talk now?”

  Marysa gave a minuscule shake of her head, hardly more than a twitch. Her icy, blue eyes stared straight ahead, but her gaze wasn't as vacant the others'.

  Slowly, Marysa turned the mirror so Alayne
could see the rest of the scenery. The cavern they were in was large and gaping, with cave formations everywhere. Hundreds, even thousands of blank-faced people lined the walls in groups, shuffling forward quietly, not talking at all.

  A gaping black hole at one end of the cavern swallowed people as they moved forward. Walking along the line, urging the Casted forward, were Elemental Alliance soldiers—Casters, Alayne realized—moving the Casted toward the exit.

  They were beginning their journey to Clayborne.

  Alayne squeezed her eyes shut. It was too horrible. She wanted to turn it off, throw the mirror piece against the wall, crush it beneath her heel until it was glassy dust. She felt helpless and far away, and even Daymon's touch on her arm didn't bring her back from the brink of despair.

  “Layne,” Daymon whispered, his mouth brushing her ear. “Look.”

  Alayne peeked. Marysa had joined a faster-moving group that was quickly approaching the black exit. But that wasn't what held her attention.

  Kyle stood at the wall, nodding as each Caster passed through with his or her group of Casted. He glanced down at a hand-held MIU as each Caster passed him, touching an image before waiting for the next group. Marysa focused the mirror on him.

  As she drew close to him, he glanced up, and his face altered as he fastened his gaze to her. Alayne could see Marysa's profile at the angle she'd chosen. Marysa kept her gaze straight ahead, but Kyle angled his gaze after her into the black tunnel.

  Then ... he followed her.

  Alayne sucked in a sharp breath, and simultaneously, Marysa's hand shook. She readjusted the mirror piece so it aimed to the front, and in the distance, Alayne could see a pin prick of light.

  Alayne leaned so close, her nose was nearly touching the mirror. She was blocking Daymon's view, and she turned the piece carefully so both of them could see.

  The prick of light grew larger as they walked, and Marysa flicked the mirror backward again so Alayne could see Kyle.

  “I wonder where Jayme and Bryce are,” Alayne whispered, and then she was afraid she'd said it too loudly, but nobody seemed to have heard her over the constant shuffle of footsteps.

  Daymon said nothing. He leaned closer, his arm along the back of the couch, his hand joining Alayne's as it held the mirror.

  The lit opening widened and grew larger until Marysa was swept outside with the rest of the Casted, walking the ridges of the canyons, higher and higher until they reached the top, over which they could see the sea crashing into the cliffs. The sunset cast a pink glow over the Cliffsides outpost where Alayne had discovered Chairman Dorner's body two years ago.

  Already, thousands of Casted individuals, walking north, entered the prairie that ran up against Cliffsides.

  Alayne noticed Marysa edging to the outskirts, walking slightly slower, falling a little farther behind. Darkness fell quickly as the sun slid behind the horizon, and everyone was merely a dim shadow.

  Suddenly, Marysa dropped to the ground, and all Alayne could see were tall grasses in front of them.

  “Layne,” Marysa's voice hissed. Her freckled face appeared in the mirror.

  “Marysa,” Alayne gasped. “Are you all right? What's going on? Where's Kyle? Where are Jayme and Bryce?”

  Marysa shook her head. “Too much to tell right now, but suffice it to say, Bryce—the little miscreant—got away from Jayme on our flight here. We did fake a Shadow-Cast—that is, Jayme and I did. We hadn't told Bryce what we'd planned to do for the simple reason that we didn't trust him, and it turns out we were right. So in the struggle we had with the Casters, while we successfully faked being Cast, we also lost hold of Bryce, who promptly told the Casters he had some information for Tarry that would be necessary for an impending battle.”

  Alayne's face paled, and her fingers went numb. “He didn't,” she whispered against a dry mouth.

  Marysa's eyes snapped blue ice. “He did. A couple of them took him off to Clayborne in a shuttle, so any surprise element that Manders had hoped to have for the battle is gone. Tarry will be waiting for us, primed and ready.”

  “Where's Jayme?” Alayne asked.

  Marysa glanced above the mirror, and the long grasses on either side of her shifted as she crawled her way through them.

  “He's confronting Kyle. Did you see the traitor follow me out of the cave?”

  “Yes,” Alayne ground out. “So he's there nearby—”

  “No, he stopped before he got onto the prairie. He's got orders to see everyone out of the cave, Caster and Casted. Jayme went out with some of the first ones, but I saw him on my way past him because I knew what to look for. He's figured out the light refraction thing, and he made himself invisible behind some rocks near the entrance.”

  Alayne ran her hand through her hair in agitation. “What's going on now?” she whispered.

  “Hang on, I'm crawling back to see,” Marysa muttered.

  The view in the mirror changed as Marysa angled it to face front. The image jarred with each movement Marysa made, but at last the grass parted, and Alayne could see the remnants of Casted heading into the plains, followed by the last of the Casters.

  In their wake, far behind, Kyle trudged up the final rocky ledges to where the prairie began.

  Jayme suddenly snapped into visibility as he tackled Kyle, and Marysa sucked in her breath. “He lost the notch,” she muttered. “It must not have been firmly in place.”

  The two boys rolled down the hill, nearly out of sight. Marysa ran closer, diving again to the ground on the rim of a canyon so she could see. Jayme pinned Kyle, throwing his fist into his chin. Kyle's head snapped back as he tried to defend himself, but Jayme was relentless.

  Jayme slammed Kyle's head against the hard ground, but Kyle's skull seemed invincible. He freed an arm, grabbed Jayme around the neck, and flipped the boy off of him, leaping to his feet and crouching.

  “No, no, no, no,” Alayne could heard Marysa moaning in the background, and then the mirror jerked again, wildly throwing the picture around. Alayne caught a tilted glimpse of one of the EA Casters walking back toward the canyon. Marysa leaped to her feet. “Layne, I've gotta go,” she hissed.

  The mirror went black and then reflected Alayne's horrified face and Daymon's still blue eyes as he leaned over her shoulder.

  The mirror fell from Alayne's lifeless hands.

  “I've got to go there—”

  “You're not going—”

  “Bryce betrayed them—”

  “Alayne,” Daymon murmured, glancing behind them at the remaining occupants of the room. “They're smart, especially Marysa. She's resourceful, and even though it looks bad, they'll get through this.”

  “How can I know?” Alayne asked desperately.

  “Maybe you can't.” Daymon rubbed his thumb along the back of her hand. “Maybe you'll have to trust that they can do this.”

  “And if I can't?”

  “Then trust me,” Daymon said for the second time that day. “I will get you through this, and you will come out on the other side.”

  Alayne shook her head. “You still don't understand, do you, Daymon? It's not me I'm worried about. It's everyone.”

  “It's the Vale,” Daymon said, whatever that meant. Alayne was too afraid to ask.

  Chapter 19

  Alayne arrived in the common room early the next morning, wiping sleep from her eyes. The clock on the wall told her it was still dark outside, but she knew Manders wanted her and Daymon to shroud the companies in invisibility as they left the city walls.

  Manders didn't arrive until nearly everyone had gathered. “Is everyone ready?” he asked quietly, but somehow his voice still shot to the farthest corners. “Let's go.”

  In the sewers, Alayne ducked from the wider tunnels where she could walk upright into the low canals leading to the city drains, careful not to let her backpack hit the scummy ceiling. She looked only at the boots slogging through the muck in front of her. Behind her, footsteps from many others filled her ears with cadence.
Step, two, three, four, breathe, two, three, four, step, two, three, four, breathe, two, three, four.

  Daymon's camouflage cargo pants in front of her swished with the rhythm. She peeked at her own pants, wishing she had been allowed to don her comfortable jeans.

  A patch of gray light grew larger. “Halt.” Manders's voice drifted down the tunnel.

  Alayne knew the protocol. Several shuttles awaited them in the woods, two miles from the treeline. To cross the open space between the Capital walls and the trees, she and Daymon would take turns locking companies into invisibility, no matter how gray the light of predawn. There were a lot of fighters, and it would take time, but she and Daymon were capable of handling the bends on the elemental harp.

  Daymon moved to the front, and Alayne followed. The first company was covered in invisibility before Alayne reached the tunnel's mouth. “Go,” Manders urged them.

  Alayne pulled on the air element, refracting the light across each member of the next group, notching the element when she was satisfied that no body part could be seen. Manders waited for the two-minute beep on his watch before nodding. Footsteps jogged toward the opening.

  After six more rounds of refraction for the next six companies, only Daymon, Alayne, and Manders were left. “Ready, Alayne?” Manders asked.

  Alayne's lips tightened. “Yes sir.”

  “Let's do this, then.”

  Daymon yanked the air element, and the light refracted across all three of them. Each vanished before Daymon notched the bend. Alayne felt his fingers lace through hers. She squeezed his hand, a lump in her throat.

  Manders's boots splashed into the swampy ground outside as Alayne and Daymon launched themselves from the end of the tunnel. A momentary feeling of falling preceded a soft thump into the marsh-grass. They crossed the open land to the steep hill and began the climb to the treeline, the shuttles, and beyond that, Clayborne and war.