by Silver, Anna
Chapter 9
* * *
Attack
SOMETHING WASN’T RIGHT. Si’dah curled and uncurled her fists, flexing her long fingers in the dazzling Midplane light. Her hands felt wrong. The pads of her fingertips were fuller and her knuckles less pronounced. Her people had lean, strong bones with powerful joints that made them agile hunters. Their hands were large with long fingers to wrap around branches. Scaling the native ronan trees of their lands made them efficient at catching game. These fingers looked swollen almost, with a growing pink cast around the nail beds. These were not her fingers. Not entirely.
Si’dah sighed and dropped her hands. Sometimes she felt like she didn’t know herself anymore. Had she ever been Anya? Was she truly once the small girl with black eyes who scampered behind the Si’dah before her like a lost shadow? Nothing seemed certain anymore. Nothing seemed real.
Her world dimmed and Si’dah looked up into a building fog. Unintentionally, she had warped the Astral. Like before, it was reflecting her emotions. When she let her guard down, this happened. But she’d been doing better, learning to focus her intent on the fabric of the planes around her in order to manifest something useful, something desired.
Si’dah closed her eyes and focused on Hantu’s words to her: Don’t lose yourself in thought or emotion. Find your center, Si’dah. Form your will there and push it out into the space around you.
What was her will? Right now it was to clear the fog and regain the light. Si’dah envisioned a green meadow sparkling like emerald stones in sunlight, clear as a polished crystal. She held that image until she could feel it reverberating through her and she pushed with everything she had.
Opening her eyes, she saw that the fog was indeed lifting, except for a trailing patch behind her that wouldn’t clear no matter how she tried. She spun slowly, and the fog remained always behind her, always to her back.
What was this?
Si’dah grunted, unnerved. It seemed some part of her was still unclear. The Astral was like a mirror one didn’t want to look into. It was always showing those bits of herself she tried hard not to see.
Si’dah tugged at a plait in her hair. She combed her silken, raven-wing waves. New hair, new fingers…what would be next?
Suddenly, she had the characteristic feeling that someone was watching her. She knew, without any doubt, without her vision to confirm it, that there were eyes upon her. She could feel them moving over her form with a feather’s touch, almost caressing her every feature from behind.
Si’dah cringed. She felt violated, but mostly she felt scared. She was not alone.
Hantu would not creep up on her like this. Nor would the Seer. She didn’t think Atel could if he tried. His every move resounded like dead tree limbs creaking in the wind. That left only one person. The same she suspected of following her the last several nights she’d been here. The same whose feelings for her were growing into something unexpected and new, something hungry, like the eyes upon her felt right now. And his feline graces would allow him a stealth few others enjoyed.
Si’dah didn’t turn. Instead, she spoke. “Geode, you must stop this.”
She waited, but there was no reply. The fog licked at her back, building.
“There’s no reason to hide. I know it’s you,” she said, but only silence answered her.
Si’dah drew a long breath and let it go. “I know your feelings for me have…have changed,” she tried. “It’s alright. If I am to be honest, then I must admit that my feelings for you are shifting, too. They are more.”
She smiled, thinking of the lips of Geode on her own. But the memory was tainted. They hadn’t been her lips or Geode’s, but London’s and Zen’s. And yet, was there really any difference? Once, she would have thought so but she wasn’t so certain anymore.
She looked down and saw the mist had darkened and moved in on her, swirling around her feet and lifting her skirts. Was she doing this? It made no sense. Her memory had been endearing, sweet. Her thoughts pure. This was something muddled and dark. It didn’t feel like her own.
Si’dah swallowed back the fear growing like a lump in her throat. “Please, Geode. You’re frightening me.”
The eyes began to burn into her, no longer the soft tickle of feathers on skin. She glanced wildly from one side of her peripheral to the other, desperate to get her bearings, to understand. But the mist was building and there was no explanation. Why would Geode do this? She saw nothing to ease her.
Mist curled in smoky tendrils from behind her and she felt as though she were being enshrouded in its dark embrace. This had to stop. Be it her, the Astral, or Geode, it was enough. She drew in another long breath and closed her eyes, but fear blocked her from that calm center where anything was possible.
A noise sounded behind her and she shifted, but the fog remained at her back and she could gain no ground on whoever, whatever, was approaching. A tremor overtook her and she began to question her decision to come here alone. She’d never been afraid in the Astral before, but there was a power building behind her that she did not know or control. This could not be Geode. But if it wasn’t him, then who was it?
Si’dah closed her eyes and plunged her consciousness deep inside. She could not let this strange energy best her. She found a core of light, of clarity, of truth, and she wrapped herself around it. Now, she had to push it out into the space around her, but the fog was fighting her efforts, matching her strength. As hard as she fought to force the light out, the fog, and whoever was behind it, was fighting to keep it in. It pushed against her with equal veracity.
Anger erupted in Si’dah like she’d never known. Who dared to hunt her in her own home? The Astral was not a place for fear. Who dared try to instill such a thing in her? She would not stand by and let this imposter destroy her and her power. A guttural cry escaped her and with it, Si’dah threw her anger behind the effort to force the light and clarity up into the darkness that was consuming her.
She felt the mist give against her strength, felt the light break and pour out of her like a geyser. Panting, she opened her eyes to see the mist receding and recoiling. But that wasn’t enough. She demanded to know who was behind the attack.
Si’dah spun so fast her hair whipped her in the face as she turned. As the mist vanished, she could not believe the specter before her. Her mouth fell open and a strange, strangling noise escaped.
His image wavered as their eyes met and then he was gone. But she knew she had seen him there. He looked different now. His beard was gone, replaced by the bold, square line of his shapely jaw. And roan colored streaks marked his long dark hair. But she saw the anguish in his icy eyes and she’d know those eyes anywhere. Roanyk.
It couldn’t be. Would Roanyk do that to her? Or had she simply warped the Astral again, letting her anger cloud her focus? Had it reflected the one person she truly desired to see? Or had it revealed her attacker?
Salty tears traced jagged lines down her cheeks and over her trembling lips. It wasn’t until she looked down and saw her hand was still outstretched that she realized she had reached for him.
* * *
“PULL OVER!” LONDON screamed as she bolted upright. Zen stirred next to her.
“What?” Tora asked from behind the driver’s seat. She’d agreed to drive for a stretch while Kim napped. It was late and the sun was long gone. They were deep into the morning hours.
“I said pull over!” London insisted as she dragged her boots onto her feet, lacing them haphazardly.
Tora veered sharply right and slammed the brakes, sending their cargo skidding in the back and waking both boys.
“London? What is it?” Zen asked as he rubbed at one eye.
London didn’t bother answering. She was sucking in air like it was her last breath. She felt suffocated, felt like something had wrapped around her and tried to snuff her out. She scrambled to undo the back doors and threw them open before bolting into the night.
Zen quickly followed.
London dashed to the edge of a steep drop and looked out over a vast sleeping desert. She doubled over, hands on knees, trying to steady her breathing but it was hard. Her chest heaved and her throat was dry and chalky as ash. She coughed.
“London,” Zen said from behind her. “Are you alright?”
She spun on him, panting. “Don’t stand behind me,” she stammered. “Don’t you ever stand behind me.”
Zen threw his hands up to signal surrender. “Okay! I won’t. What the hell is going on?”
Her face crumpled and the tears came as she squeezed at her temples, trying to will the images from her mind. “I can’t…I don’t know,” she managed between gulps.
By now, Tora had jumped out and was at Zen’s side along with Kim. Kim placed a hand on London’s shoulder but she jerked back as if burned.
“Don’t touch me,” she told him. “Not yet.”
Kim’s face was plastered with worry. “I’m sorry. What is it?”
Even here, in this world and this body, she thought she could feel those mysterious eyes on her, watching her, caressing her. She spun around looking for the mist, but the desert air was crisp and clear, bathed in starlight.
London placed her hands over her eyes. “I—someone attacked her.”
“Who?” Zen asked.
“My Other,” London answered, throwing her hands up. “Si’dah! Somebody attacked me in the Astral.”
She was shaking all over and it sank in that the terror was still with her, mingled with grief and horror and unbridled longing at seeing Roanyk. She loved him, desperately, but now she was also petrified of him. Had he really been there? Or was it Astral tricks again?
“London, calm down,” Zen said as though he were trying to talk her off a cliff, which in a sense, he was.
“Don’t tell me to calm down!” she spat. “You weren’t there.” Or was he?
Her eyes narrowed into razor slits. “Was it you? Were you trying to get to me, to come between me and Roanyk? Don’t lie to me, Geode!”
Zen backed away at the sound of his Other’s name. “What the hell are you talking about?” He looked confused and angry. Maybe it never was him. Maybe all those times she’d thought he was following her, it was someone else.
London felt paranoid. “I don’t know. I’m sorry. It’s just that I don’t know who it was.”
“Can you do that?” Kim asked the rest of them. “Can you attack someone in the Astral? How does something like that happen?”
But Zen and Tora only shook their heads and looked uncertain. Hantu would have answers for them, maybe, but London was too scared to travel again so soon.
London knotted her arms in front of her. “It was mist. I can’t explain it. It was just so creepy.”
Zen took a cautious step toward her. “You’re okay now. Just focus on that. I won’t let anything happen to you.”
London nodded and let him fold an arm around her, leaning into him. She needed this for the moment. She didn’t want to be alone again.
“Can I just have a few minutes please? Then we can go. I just need a minute to get myself together.”
Tora and Kim nodded, returning to the truck.
“Should I go?” Zen asked. His large eyes were close with concern.
“No. Stay with me,” she said.
They walked along the ridge until the truck was out of earshot but still within view. London sat down on the ground and curled her knees into her chest. She let her gaze sweep out over the long, steady arms of the wind turbines turning in the distance. An army of cold, white soldiers always at the ready. The harvest of bones.
Zen sat down next to her. He was quiet for a bit before he asked, “Who do you think it was?”
London shook her head. She didn’t want to say, but she had to. She wouldn’t keep this from them, in case it was true and they needed to defend themselves. “I saw Roanyk.”
Zen punched at the ground. “Dammit!”
London rocked in place. “Zen, what’s going on with Rye? Just tell me.”
“How would I know?” he said, evading her question.
London sighed. Was he ever going to be straight with her? “I think I saw him anyway. I can’t be sure,” she amended.
Zen drug his fingers through his pale, disheveled hair. His t-shirt was tight across his chest and shoulders. London looked away.
“No more Astral travel alone, got it? From now on, we always go in pairs,” Zen said.
She didn’t like the commanding tone in his voice, but she knew he was right. Still, it would mean he could be with her almost round the clock. She really didn’t want that. She’d have to get Tora away from Kim once in a while so she could have a break. Her insides were a maelstrom of feelings that desperately needed sorting.
“There was something else,” London said, remembering how she’d at last defeated the fog. “It was powerful, whoever it was. Strong. But I was stronger.”
Zen grinned and reached over to pull her hair away from her face. “Of course you were. That’s my girl.”
London quavered at his touch but was careful not to show it. He didn’t need encouraging. “I’m not your girl,” she said coyly. “I’m no one’s girl.”
He laughed. “Whatever you say, London.”
Chapter 10
* * *
The Mesa
SOMETHING WASN’T ADDING up. London drug her eyes slowly over the rising, flat-topped rock formations surrounding them, any number of them large enough and flat enough to host an Outroader camp, but they were all empty.
She turned to Zen. “I see mesas, but I don’t see camps. What gives, loverboy?”
Zen shrugged. “Don’t know. This is exactly how Maggs described it.”
Kim scratched at his head. “Did she describe the camp? Or just the area?”
Zen peered off in the distance as if thinking. “She never said much about the camp, just that she was sick of all the same old faces. That is was as bad as being a Waller in her mind. She told me about how beautiful the area was, though, and she described this perfectly. I know it’s somewhere nearby.”
London watched a lone cloud drift lazily across the open sky, its shadow traceable on the rocks below. “Is it just me, or did the sky get bigger?” she asked no one in particular.
“Why would she say it was as bad as being a Waller?” Tora asked, ignoring London’s question. “Outroaders pride themselves on living a better, freer life than the Wallers. It’s the only thing that makes the struggle for survival feel worth it. I’ve never heard an Outroader complain that their camp was as suffocating as being inside city walls.”
Zen shrugged again. “What can I say? Maggs is one in a million.”
London rolled her eyes. “Oh, gag me.”
Zen chuckled. “I didn’t know you were the jealous sort, London.”
London hauled back and punched him square in the chest, which she didn’t expect to faze him one bit but it was better than letting everyone see the blush heating her face. To her surprise, Zen stumbled back a step or two.
“Whoa! You been working out?” He peered at her with a strange look and London felt even more embarrassed. She didn’t know she’d hit him so hard.
“Sorry,” she said turning away. “Guess I’ve been eating a few too many of those Dehydrated Dinners.”
Zen continued to study her. “Your arms and shoulders do look a little bigger than normal.” He squeezed her left bicep with one hand. “Weird.”
London shook him off. She didn’t want to tell him that she’d noticed her jeans were a little tighter on her calves as well. None of them were saying it, but they were all thinking it: London was bringing a little more of Si’dah back with her after every trip to the Astral.
Tora tied her brown, reprocessed jacket around her waist and quickly changed the subject. “I’m serious. Let’s think about this. First she tells you how beautiful it is here, then she tells you the camp is as bad as being a Waller. That doesn’t go together.”
Kim wrapped his
fingers in Tora’s. “She has a point. I think we’re missing a vital piece of the Mesa Camp puzzle.” He glared at Zen. “Out with it, man. What are you forgetting?”
Zen leaned against the truck. “Nothing. I didn’t know any of this was going to be relevant at the time or I would have paid more attention, asked more questions.”
London studied the scruffy terrain before her, if only to avoid looking at how well the jeans Zen had changed into fit him. But something was coming together in her mind as she let her eyes stray over the gorsy tufts of knee-high brush. “Come to think of it,” she noted aloud, “if I were an Outroader, the last place I’d want to live is on top of one of these mesas. Too open, too exposed. The Tycoons could fly right over and pick you off, like vultures stripping road kill. Nope. That wouldn’t do at all.”
Kim gave her a quizzical look, his inky hair shining like an oil slick in the sunlight. “So, what are you suggesting?”
“I’m suggesting that the Mesa Camp isn’t called the Mesa Camp because it’s on top of a mesa.” A wry smile lit her face and Tora’s eyes twinkled back at her.
Tora beamed as the boys stared at them both dumbfounded. “Of course not,” she said. “It’s below one.”
LONDON STUCK SELF-CONSCIOUSLY to Zen’s side as they moved into the mouth marking the entrance of the Mesa Camp. A band of Outroaders gathering desert herbs outside had stopped to point it out to them in exchange for a few tokens of goodwill, a small plastic tote and two chipped china cups, once they confirmed they weren’t Wallers or Tycoons. By now, they’d all been in the Outroads long enough to look the part. Conveniently, they were able to leave their truck under a rock outcropping nearby.
The noise of people busily going about their day echoed in the wide hall carved out of the stone and the booming, hollow sound was disconcerting to London’s ears. They moved slowly, passing groups of desert Outroaders, and several stopped to stare at them as they passed, particularly London.
