“Start turning, grunt,” he said to Amma.
The prisoner who was being relieved emerged from the cell and left with the guard. His shoulders drooped, and he could barely keep his feet under him.
One by one, the guard exchanged each worn-out prisoner with a fresh one. Taemon found himself alone in his cell, watching the stripes on the turbine move past. He couldn’t imagine working like this for hours and hours. It had to be the most boring, exhausting work ever.
He wouldn’t be doing it, of course. Not without psi. He wouldn’t be able to pull his share of the workload, which would make it harder for the others. He hoped they could get this done quickly.
If he couldn’t turn the turbines, he could at least act as a lookout and alert the other prisoners if the guards were onto their plan. He looked up through the bars on the top of his cell. He saw the guards on the platform, watching the prisoners. But they had to look down to do that. None of them was looking up, where the screws were.
A sharp pain stung his back. One of those flaming hooks!
“You there!” one of the guards yelled. “Keep your eyes on the turbine.”
He looked at the stripes sliding along and again wished he had psi. He had to rely on the others to ease the screws out silently. Hopefully they remembered what he’d told them in the hauler. One screw at a time. Unscrew it, float it across the ceiling, then hide it somewhere. He really hoped they’d all picked up on his clue about the elevator shaft! They were betting that the power plant might keep a few replacement screws on hand, but not enough to replace all of them at once. The guards would have to stop and hunt for the hidden screws. While the guards were looking for the screws and replacing them, the prisoners would try to escape.
When all of the guards were looking elsewhere, Taemon risked a glance at the top of the turbines. Yes, the screws were noiselessly coming out of position. Careful, he thought, don’t let them clang together. He wished he could help somehow.
It was nerve-racking, trying to watch without looking up.
Three. Three of the five screws were out, and the fourth one was on its way. The stripes were slowing down. Almost there. He couldn’t see the other turbines too well, but he hoped that the others were doing the same.
“Keep them turbines going, you dirty grunts!” screamed the head guard.
A flash of pain stung Taemon’s back, but the barbs let up quickly.
Then he heard it: Clink!
Two of the screws had touched in midair.
The guards all looked up at the same time. “The screws!” one of them yelled.
Pain. Pain and noise is what happened next. Pain boring into his back in a dozen places. Taemon groaned. The other prisoners cried out, too. They lost their concentration, and the screws hovering in the air fell to the ground with a deafening noise. Noise and pain.
Taemon sank to his knees. He had failed. Again.
Once the clatter stopped, the head guard called out orders to his subordinates. “Get them screws back in the turbines, men!”
The barbs stopped digging into Taemon’s flesh, but the pain was still there. Now what? Skies, he couldn’t even think anymore.
“What’s going on?” the head guard bellowed. “Somebody’s stealing them screws again. Who is it?”
More pain, but not as much this time. Taemon looked up. One by one, the screws were being floated across the room. As fast as the guards could get the screws from the floor back to the turbines, someone else was taking them out and dumping each one into the elevator shaft, just as they’d planned. But which of the prisoners was strong enough to do that? Everyone in Taemon’s cell was doubled over with pain.
“Hoy, Taemon,” a voice whispered. “I came to get you out of here.”
Taemon turned around and saw someone crouched outside the cell door. “Moke?”
“Cha, it’s me. Well, me and some of my friends. They’re up there now, working on those screws.”
“I don’t understand,” Taemon said. “I thought you were —”
“I didn’t turn you in, I swear. It was my da. Someone squealed on me, told him what I was up to. He made a deal with the authorities. He told them where to find the rebels, and in exchange I went free.”
“Thank the stars.” Taemon felt huge relief knowing that Moke was still his friend. And that he cared enough to come to their rescue.
“We have to hurry,” said Moke. “Can you use that clairvoyance thing to figure out this lock?”
Taemon turned his attention to the locks on the cell doors. He used his clairvoyance to examine the lock and uncover its design. They got lucky. It was something he could describe to Moke. “It’s the Tramden clutch pattern, inverted stump, sixteen pins, pattern three-two-two-one-four,” Taemon said. Moke’s psi wasn’t the strongest, but he could manage that much.
“Got it,” Moke said. The lock released, and Taemon’s cell door opened. “Are they all the same?”
Taemon quickly explored the other locks. “Cha.”
Moke released the rest of the prisoners and waved them all over to a side door. The prisoner in the lead tried to open the door.
“I can’t open it! It won’t budge!”
“It’s locked! We’re trapped.”
Panic was spreading through the group of prisoners. Taemon looked up to where the guards were running around, trying to find whoever was moving the screws.
“Hoy, Taemon!” It was Moke. “Tell us how to unlock this door. Hurry!”
It took all Taemon’s concentration to calm himself enough to let his mind wander into the lock. Once he saw it, he called the pattern out to Moke and the door slid open.
Instantly, red and yellow lights began to flash. Sirens wailed.
“Prison break!” the head guard yelled above the din. “Get the serum!”
The sirens continued their blaring wails.
All the prisoners ran through the door except one. Solovar hadn’t made it yet. Taemon searched the turbine room but didn’t see him. He needed that man to help him get into the temple. He hoped Moke’s friends were okay. He couldn’t see them anywhere, either.
Suddenly Moke was at his side. “Come on, Taemon. Time to go!”
“But Solovar —”
“I’ll make sure he gets out. Now go!”
Moke must have summoned all of the psi he possessed, because suddenly Taemon was pushed through the doorway. He turned back to wait for Moke.
“Down there! That kid without a jumpsuit. Get him!”
A length of metal pipe flew at Moke and pinned him against the wall by the throat. His feet dangled above the ground. He was choking.
“Moke!” Taemon cried. He ran to his friend’s side, instantly feeling the hooks digging in again. He didn’t care anymore. It hurt like flames, but it wouldn’t kill him. Moke, on the other hand — he had to help Moke.
Taemon was desperately tugging on the metal pipe when he heard a voice booming from the platform. “Warden, order your men to stand down! We’ll take it from here.” Flames! It was Elder Naseph.
The pipe came free, and Taemon staggered back while Moke collapsed in a heap on the floor.
The barbs stopped gouging Taemon’s back, but his flesh still felt the fire of their sting.
He knelt next to Moke and was surprised to find that Amma was right beside him. When had that happened?
“Hoy, Moke, it’s Taemon.”
Moke’s eyelids fluttered. A nasty red mark on his neck was beginning to swell. His breathing sounded raspy and shallow. Skies! How badly was he hurt?
Taemon let his mind wander into Moke’s body. Moke’s breathing tube was crushed and torn in one spot. He explored deeper. Blood was flooding the breathing sacs instead of air. The injuries were bad, but they could save him if they hurried.
“Amma! Quick! His breathing tube. You need to fix it!”
Amma sat back on her heels. “You mean the trachea?”
“It’s torn. Just a little psi would knit it together and push it back into shape. T
hen he can breathe again and cough up the blood.”
Amma eyes became wide. “Taemon, I can’t —”
“You’ve seen it in one of those books, haven’t you? Just do it! Now!”
“I don’t — I —”
“He’s going to die!” Taemon yelled. “Do it!”
“I’ll try.” She stared intently at Moke.
Taemon sent his awareness back into Moke’s injury. “Nothing’s happening!”
Tears rolled down Amma’s cheeks.
“Clear your head, Amma. Do it!”
“I can’t,” she whispered.
“Stop saying that! It’s easy! Try again.”
“I can’t, Taemon!” She was yelling now. “I don’t know what the tear looks like! I can’t see it, and I can’t do it! I’m sorry!”
A sob shook Taemon’s shoulders. Knowledge without power. Power without knowledge. Neither Taemon nor Amma could help Moke.
Taemon used clairvoyance to look deeper into Moke’s body, toward his heart. It wasn’t beating. He was gone.
Gone.
Taemon dropped his chin to his chest.
Someone yanked him up from behind with psi. His arms were pulled behind his back. Cuffs closed over his wrists.
“The serum,” a voice said. “For both of them.”
Taemon felt a prick on the back of his neck. A strange sensation overtook him. First numbness, then dizziness. His clairvoyance seemed to come unbidden now and Taemon became aware of what was happening in his body. He sensed the fluid they’d injected him with. He saw it coursing through his blood vessels, confusing his nerves and mixing up the messages to his brain. Did it even matter anymore?
“Moke,” he whispered.
Then he blacked out.
Taemon woke up with a crick in his neck. His hands were still cuffed behind his back. He didn’t move, but opened his eyes and stared at the burgundy-carpeted floor on which he lay. The place smelled musky, and he knew the scent. He’d been here only a few times before for family weddings and funerals, but that scent was unmistakable. He was inside the temple.
When he tried to sit up, even lifting his head off the floor made him woozy. He groaned.
He heard an unfamiliar voice somewhere in the room, but his head was spinning and he couldn’t tell where the speaker was. “He’s awake. Go get Elder Naseph.”
Then he remembered everything. Moke was gone. A flood of grief washed over him. Was it over? Had they failed?
He wasn’t eager to try lifting his head again, so he scanned the room moving only his eyes. It looked like an office of some kind. A desk. Chairs. Shelves on the walls with scrolls and boxes and baskets. He looked to his right. Amma lay on the floor next to him.
She was unconscious, but he could see that she was still breathing. Her nose had some blood on it, and her chin was scratched. Her face was relaxed and still; a few strands of hair fell across her cheek. He hadn’t lost Amma. Yet.
He continued to stare at her. Once again he had the niggling feeling that he’d seen her somewhere before he had come to the colony.
And this time he remembered: he’d seen her in an image, a flash of vision when he’d almost killed Yens.
Yens looking down at the dead body of a pretty girl. Amma.
Yens pulling down the walls of a building. Amma’s house.
Yens ordering armies into battle — that had been the third image. Skies above, Taemon could not let this happen. But how could he stop it?
As he watched her, Amma’s eyelids flickered open. Her eyes were unfocused, and she moaned.
The door opened, and Taemon heard several people walk in.
Someone manhandled him into a sitting position. The humiliation of it barely registered as his head swam and he had to turn to the side and vomit. He hung his head until the spinning slowed, then looked up.
It was Yens. He sneered down at Taemon. “Is that any way to greet your long-lost brother?” He let go of Taemon’s shoulders and turned to Amma. “Ah, I remember you.”
“Leave her alone,” said Taemon. He struggled to stand, but it was useless. He threw up again.
Yens shook Amma’s shoulder. “Hello? Are we awake yet?”
Amma was unresponsive. Her eyes were closed. Taemon thought he’d seen her awake a minute ago, but either he’d been mistaken or she was out again.
“Leave her alone,” Taemon repeated. “I’m the one you want.”
Yens laughed. “Actually, it’s you I don’t want. But her, I might want.”
“What are you going to do?” asked Taemon.
“The high priest has big plans for me, little brother. We’re teaming up with the Republik to fight a war. After that, the psi wielders will take their place as true leaders of nations. Here’s the best part: I get to lead the army. We’ve got psi weapons, and let me tell you, they are flaming incredible! Like nothing you’ve ever seen before. Those books we brought back from the colony — they had some powerful knowledge in them. Stuff not even the high priest knew existed! Now we can make more weapons, more powerful than before. When this war is over, Deliverance will take its rightful place in the world. There’s no stopping the new Cycle of Power. And I’m the center of it.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Taemon saw Amma stir. He needed to distract Yens, to keep Yens’s focus on him and not Amma.
“Do you really think Elder Naseph gives a fig about the True Son, Yens?” he asked, his words heavy with contempt. “You’re just a figurehead to him. Someone he can use to excite the people of Deliverance and convince them that this war is a holy war.”
Yens sniffed. “You’ve always been jealous of me. Admit it. When the high priest came to get me, a part of you wished he had come for you.”
“Set aside your pride and think for a minute. The high priest is sending you to the Republik, right? Do you think he cares one squinch if you come back or not? Do you think anyone in the Republik cares? You’re walking into a trap, Yens. A trap that gives Elder Naseph power over the Republik.”
Yens’s smirk faded just a little. Was Taemon actually getting through?
“You don’t know that. How can you possibly know that?” Yens said.
“The woman that spoke to you in the colony — that was Challis. She’s Mam’s sister, the one that everyone thought had died. She can see the future, Yens. See what happens to you. You can’t go to the Republik. You have to get away from the priests.”
Yens took a step back. “Mam’s dead sister sees the future? Listen to yourself, Taemon. That’s nothing but klonk. The colonists have brainwashed you.”
“It’s not too late,” Taemon pleaded. “You can do it. You can save your own life and countless others.”
“I’ve heard enough,” Yens said.
One of the temple guards stepped forward. “Should I give him another dose of the serum? Once they wake up, they need the second dose.”
Taemon did feel a little stronger now that the room wasn’t spinning and tilting so much.
“Don’t waste any more serum on him. My brother’s as powerless as a pebble.”
“But Elder Naseph said —”
“I know what he said!” Yens yelled. “I’ll take care of him. You’re dismissed. All of you.” He waved off all the temple guards, and they filed out of the room.
“What did Elder Naseph say?” Taemon asked.
Yens spat on the floor. “Naseph doesn’t know what he’s talking about. He thinks that he has a weird kind of psi called precognition. Klonkiest thing I’ve ever heard. He claims he had a vision of you getting your psi back and frustrating our plan somehow.” Yens snorted. “The crazy old goat would only agree to leave me alone with you if I promised to get rid of you for good.”
Despite Yens’s dire warning, a tiny spark of hope flashed in Taemon’s mind. If Elder Naseph had seen him getting his psi back, then somehow it had to be possible. He could stop this terrible war. He could put things right. But how? How could he get his psi back?
Ask and you shall receive.
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Holy Skies above! The voice was back!
Yens paced the room. “Did you know there are seventeen ways to instantly kill a person with psi? The priests have taught me all of them. We practiced. First on cadavers, then on the innocents. It was amazing.”
Taemon fought to keep the horror from showing on his face. He needed to stop Yens. He needed his psi back. But the voice still troubled him. It couldn’t be Challis. It didn’t sound like her at all. But what was it? Was it evil? Was it good? Was it insanity? He had to know.
Ask and it shall be answered.
Yens continued his rant. “And speaking of prisoners, did you know that Mam and Da were taken to the asylum? Mam lost her wits when you were taken away, and Da started speaking up during church services. They were menaces to society, both of them.”
Anxiety clogged Taemon’s thoughts, but he pushed it away. This information only increased the need to get his psi back. And that meant he had to focus.
Who are you? Taemon asked the voice.
I am the Heart of the Earth. The spirit of the planet. The consciousness that connects all living things.
Taemon was awestruck. Either he had a direct connection with the deity of his fathers or he was going loopy. Right now, he had to believe it was the former.
Which meant he could get his psi back. The idea flared and leaped like a fire in his mind.
Consider carefully. You cannot request a gift only to discard it at will. If you ask me to restore your power, the restoration will be permanent.
Yens paced back and forth, rubbing his chin. “So what will it be? Stop the heart? Sever the brain stem?” He stopped. “I know.” A slow smile curled his lips. “Suffocation. As I recall, you were rather fond of that one.”
Before Yens could blink, a chair flew across the room, tripping Yens and then pinning him down.
Taemon looked at Amma. She was fully awake now, sitting up and glaring at Yens.
Yens laughed. “Oh, good. This will be more fun. I won’t even give you another dose of the serum. Very sporting of me, don’t you think?” He heaved the chair upward with psi, smashing it against the wall. He stood up.
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