by White, Gwynn
None of the tell-tale light that announced a visitation from a dead person flickered. The voice that may or may not have been the seer said, “You lost the right to my presence when you banished Lynx and Tao to the forest. All you get is my voice.”
Another voice to add to the many that already tormented him.
He fumbled for his silver buttons. Rubbing them gave him no comfort. “Then how do I know it’s really you?”
“Such is my curse on you, Lukan, not to know truth from fiction as you sink ever deeper into insanity. So it was with your father. And his father before him. There is no escape. No refuge. Just the inevitable march to madness. And despair.”
Lukan shivered. Not even he could deny that only Dmitri would speak with such certainty. He forced a bravado he didn’t feel into his voice. “I need the codes to my son. You can’t stop me getting them.”
“As much as you may accuse me,” Dmitri said. “I’m not the one preventing your guardsmen and your cannon balls from reaching the Hive.”
“Then who?” Lukan demanded.
“Your brother. Blame him.” A sour laugh. “I know just how much you like to spread the blame around.”
Tao… one of only two people Lukan had ever loved. Tao… who had raised Nicholas like his own son. Tao… who would never give him access to Nicholas’s codes?
“Aye. See your brother for who he has become,” Dmitri said. The air rippled. Resplendent in the glow of silver light, Tao looked through the tear. “It’s not only Nicholas he protects. He guards his sons, too.”
Lukan writhed at the cold disdain in his brother’s blue eyes. Tao tossed his Norin dreadlocks over his leather-clad shoulder, taunting Lukan with his life-long rebellion to all that Lukan had ever stood for. Casually dismissing him, Tao followed a horribly familiar, silvery-blond-haired young man down a long, gray passage Lukan didn’t recognize. The young man wore sweat-stained gray fatigues and had a rifle slung across his back. Most telling was the diamond embedded next to his right eye.
“Meka! Alive!” Lukan clutched his waistcoat with both hands. “How is that even possible? Felix killed him in Oldfort.”
“So he would have you believe.” Satisfaction rang in Dmitri’s voice. “Meka programs informas now in Felix’s Hive. And very skilled he is, too.”
“But that’s impossible,” Lukan spluttered. “I saw him die with my own eyes.”
“And you believe all you see?” Dmitri snorted. “How naive of you.”
Lukan slumped against the desk. “Then why should I believe this? It could also be a lie.”
“The mind playing tricks?” Dmitri asked mildly as if the bastard seer didn’t know that voices plagued him. “Only you can decide if what you see is true, or just another manifestation of your madness. But beware… like the others of his age, Meka will be a force to be reckoned with.” A caustic laugh. “Perhaps you should have reconsidered the cage you locked Meka and Grigor in. Such cruelty has a way of rebounding.”
Cold certainty filled Lukan.
Meka was alive. His “death” had been yet another of Felix’s deceptions. And now, like codes to Nicholas’s ice crystal, Meka was in Tao and Dmitri’s hands.
Four days of failed effort reinforced that it was pointless trying to retrieve anything from that Hive.
The office walls closed in on him. His pulse spiked, spilling dread through him. To stem its tide, he tossed his head back and puffed out his chest. “So what if I can’t get into Felix’s puny lair! I command the greatest army in the world. I own the mind of every single person in the Heartland. They will protect me.”
“You sure about that?” Dmitri’s low voice cut him to the core. “I can think of a couple of minds that owe you no allegiance.”
Whose mind didn’t he own?
“Mother and son. Sister and sister.” Dmitri’s voice was so soft Lukan wasn’t sure if the seer had really spoken, or if it was his own thoughts.
It didn’t matter because the meaning was clear.
“Kestrel and Grigor,” he croaked. “Neither of them have ice crystals.” They could turn against him at any moment.
They had to die. Now.
Kestrel was in the palace dungeon. Grigor still in his apartment after his whipping. Or they had been last time he’d checked on his informa—an informa he’d crushed into the hardwood floor.
“Just like you hateful dead to provoke me into destroying my things,” he yelled. “Isn’t that always the way?” He strode for the door to command their deaths, then stopped.
If Tao was charged with protecting his sons, he would never let Lukan harm Grigor.
Lukan frowned. Then why had Tao allowed Morass to beat Grigor?
“Good question,” Dmitri replied. “But are you intelligent enough to figure it out?”
“Now who’s being stupid?” But Lukan twirled his buttons as he stood lamely in the center of the room. Searching for answers, he looked back through the tear Dmitri had yet to close.
Tao wafted next to Meka as he walked down that long passageway. He whispered something in Meka’s ear, but Meka showed no signs of hearing him.
Interesting. Clearly, all was not going as well with Meka as Dmitri implied. And if Tao was with Meka, who was looking after Grigor?
Lukan blinked. “How could I not have seen something so obvious?”
Tao could only be in one place at a time. While with Meka, Tao had no choice but to leave Grigor unprotected.
It had to be.
Tao had given his life to protect Nicholas. Why did he allow Morass to beat his son?
“Because he didn’t know it was happening!” Lukan tossed his hand up in a victory salute.
In one sweep of poetic justice, he would rid himself of both Kestrel and Grigor—and the whole court would be there to see it.
“Morass!” he bellowed. “Get in here now.”
The door opened, and Morass shuffled in. He bowed. “You have need of me, sire?”
Lukan rubbed his hands together. “We have two traitors to deal with.”
The faintest smirk claimed Morass’s usually dead face. “It will be my pleasure to serve, sire. Who is it that we are punishing?”
“Summon my high-born to the great hall. Bring Kestrel and Grigor. She will watch as her son is torn apart. And then you will kill her.”
Lukan sailed past Morass. He left the office to bathe and dress in clean clothes before attending his spectacle.
Six
An Impossible Demand
No longer willing to delay his meeting with the doctors, Nicholas strode through the doors into the medical wing. A sausage-shaped cavern, its rock walls gleamed white below harsh ceiling lights. Some kind of waiting room, it was lined with benches and chairs. Unlike everywhere else he’d been today, it was deserted.
None of that mattered.
“Where do we go?” he asked Mom and Axel.
“This way.” Axel opened another set of door.
They opened onto a passageway smelling sharply of disinfectant. Sandwiched between his parents, Nicholas almost ran its length until they reached yet another door. This one was wooden and stoutly closed. Axel swung the door open and gestured for him to enter. His skin crawled as if it knew that beyond that barrier waited the moment of truth.
“Still want me to hold your hand, Cowpat?” Farith called out to him. She, Anna, and Clay had taken the passageway at a more sedate pace.
It was Farith who’d first told him that he wore an ice crystal. The same Farith who’d befriended him in her rough, but caring way despite knowing he’d been responsible for Meka’s capture. There was no way he was doing this without her.
He waited for them to catch up. She smiled as he grabbed her hand and dragged her with him into a windowless cubicle. A middle-aged Trevenite man dressed in a crisp uniform stood at attention next to a trolley covered with strange-looking metal instruments. A narrow bed running down the length of the room was the only other furnishing. There was no room for Anna and Clay.
; “We’ll wait here,” Clay said, sliding down to sit on the floor outside the cubicle.
Anna joined him.
Axel looked pointedly at Clay. “Listen for Treygan’s report on Felix.”
Clay tossed an informa into the air. “I’m on it.” He smiled at Nicholas. “I won’t let you down.”
Nicholas didn’t bother asking what that was about.
Axel closed the door.
This was it.
He clutched his throat, suddenly too frightened to even breathe.
“Nicks.” Mom waved at the doctor. “Meet Doctor Amaryth, head of surgery in this hospital. That makes him the most experienced doctor in Treven. He’s going to remove your ice crystal.”
Doctor Amaryth bowed to him. “Light-Bearer, it truly is a privilege to meet you. I hope I’m able to serve you.”
Hope? That didn’t sound promising. Nicholas forced a smile. “What do you need me to do?”
“Please sit on the bed.”
He sat stiffly. Axel and Farith leaned against the wall.
Mom plunked down onto the bed next to him and took both of his hands in hers. “Nicholas, I saw what Felix injected into your neck. It was nothing more than clear liquid. Honestly, if I hadn’t seen the data streaming from the ice crystal, I would not have believed he had actually embedded you.”
Why was she saying this now?
“Should I be worried?”
Avoiding eye contact with him, Doctor Amaryth said, “Warlord. Commander Lynx. I did warn you of the dangers when you told me the location of the crystal. Only after I scan the Light-Bearer’s neck will I know if this is even possible.” He reached for a metal tube on the instrument trolley.
Nicholas grabbed the doctor’s hand before he could pick it up. “You mean there’s doubt we can do this?” He glared at Farith. “You said it was easy.”
“That was before Felix told everyone on the airship that your ice crystal is embedded in your jugular vein.” Farith’s shrug conflicted with her mournful voice. “I might joke about you bleeding to death, but I would die if it really happened.”
He rocked back on the bed.
Axel crouched down in front of him. “Nicholas, we’re not ruling out Felix’s claims. He is the ice crystal master, so we have to assume that he’s capable of designing something that starts off seemingly innocuous but turns out to be monstrous when embedded into human flesh.”
Nicholas flinched. “You think that’s what’s happened?”
“Until we scan you, we won’t know. But, and this is a big but, we also know that Felix will say and do anything to get his hands on an informa. We can’t let that happen because he’ll undermine us at every turn.”
“If we ask him for help, he could write a program that commands the ice crystal to kill you,” Mom said.
Mouth gaping, he stared at her. “But...” He snapped it closed. “That’s crazy. He must know that you’d probably kill him if he did that.”
Mom’s fierce eyes fixed on him. “No ‘probably’ about it. I will rip him apart with my bare hands.” Then Mom shrugged. “But what would he care? He’s an old man. Killing you, even if it meant his own death, would give him what he wants. The destruction of Dmitri’s Curse.”
He glanced at Farith to see what she thought.
She nodded. “We discussed it. All of us. While you slept.”
Not caring who heard him, he let rip a line of expletives.
Mom and Axel, and the doctor looked everywhere but at him. None of them commented.
Farith grinned. “You’re sounding more like my Meka every day. I like it.” Her face fell. “Nicholas, I know it’s hard, but no matter what happens, we can’t bring that snake Felix into this.”
His headache worsened. He clutched his head with both hands. The crown he’d forgotten to take off tumbled to the floor.
No one, not even Farith, moved to pick it up.
He broke the silence. “Dmitri’s been speaking to me. He said that Felix isn’t the only person with access to my crystal.”
“We know.” Axel may have sounded certain, but he looked wistful.
Maybe he wanted Dmitri talking in his head, too. Right now, Nicholas would have gladly traded with him.
“The programmers Felix stole from me,” Axel said, “who now work in his Hive, will undoubtedly have access. And we’ve always suspected that Lukan is privy to everything.”
Meka was in that Hive.
He wilted momentarily then pulled his back straight. He could not let his past crimes deflect him. “And your people here? Can they help?”
Axel shook his head. “Trust me, we’ve tried. But we don’t have the codes. Without them, there is no way we’ll break through Felix’s encryption to turn it off. Only he can do it.”
Nicholas stood and paced across the tiny cubicle to hide his trembles. “What happens if we can’t remove it?”
“We have an alternative,” Mom answered.
Of course, they had. Probably planned while he slept. And no doubt it included Clay, Anna, and Farith. Why else had they tagged along? Fighting to keep bitterness laced with panic from his voice, he said, “Then let’s hear it.”
Mom grabbed his hand and pulled him to her on the bed. She wrapped her arms around his waist. “Let’s not give up hope that we can remove the ice crystal.”
Grateful for her hug, he closed his eyes and took in a steadying breath. On his exhale, he pulled away from her and sat next to her on the bed. “Then let’s do it.”
Doctor Amaryth’s lips pursed as he picked up the metal tube. It was attached by a thin cable to an informa. He aimed it at Nicholas’s throat.
Every muscle in his body clenched.
“Relax,” the doctor instructed. “You won’t feel a thing.”
Easy for him to say. His whole future wasn’t riding on the results.
But true to the doctor’s word, he felt nothing except the sting of cool metal as the tube rolled over his skin.
The informa on the table flickered. In its beam, a series of dark and light shapes danced. Everyone, including him, leaned in to study them. The indistinct blur told him nothing. The doctor tsked and then muttered something in Trevenese. Everyone—except him—clamored back, also in Trevenese. Farith even moved behind him and draped her arms over his shoulders.
Unable to bear the suspense, he almost yelled, “I’m doomed, aren’t I?”
The doctor pointed at a dark ribbon throbbing in the light. “Light-Bearer, see your jugular. Whatever Felix injected into you has expanded into that.” His finger stabbed a wide band of gray. Its barbed edges were embedded deep into his vein.
Even with Nicholas’s poor eyesight, he could tell that the only way to remove it would be to sever his jugular. Still, he had to ask. “Is it possible to remove it?”
Doctor Amaryth tapped the tube against his thumbnail. “None of my colleagues were even willing to consider it.” He placed the tube on the table with annoying slowness. “You understand, I’m sure, that no one wants to gamble with the Light-Bearer’s life.”
Knowing he was looking at his last hope, Nicholas pleaded, “Tell me you can do it.”
“I was willing to look and see if it was possible.” The doctor straightened every piece of equipment on the table. “But…no. I’m sorry. Not even I’m willing to pick up a scalpel with so much at stake.”
Nicholas sagged, almost hollowed out. He wanted to rage against the doctors, Dmitri, Felix, and Lukan. Experience had taught him the futility of that kind of temper display. He cleared his throat and said as calmly as he could, “It looks like Felix and Lukan win this round.”
“Some faith, Nicholas, if you please,” Mom said.
Axel gave a predatory grin. It showed off his white teeth. “Lukan, if you’re listening, don’t for a second think you’ve won. Nicholas is still coming for you—and you won’t survive it.”
Bravado? That was really going to get him into Lukan’s palace undetected? Head throbbing and on the verge of tears, Nicholas fo
lded his arms tightly across his chest. “You said you have a plan. Am I even allowed to hear it?” He closed his eyes to await the answer.
Seven
Countdown To Crisis
Meka was halfway down a long, gray passageway when he stopped. His back ached as if his bones and muscles had been ground to powder. It didn’t help that a rifle hung heavy across his shoulders.
Guardsmen carried rifles.
Why did he have one?
He tugged absentmindedly at the collar of his unfamiliar gray clothing as he tried to fathom that mystery. His fingers slid through grimy sweat. When last had he showered? Even his hair was plastered to his skull.
The intense heat pumping down on him didn’t help.
Why’s it so damned hot in here?
Wherever here was.
He turned full circle. The concrete passageway, lit with dull red lights, rang no bells. Confused, he closed his eyes to recall something—anything—that could explain his current predicament.
A steady stream of ones and zeros floated before his eyelids.
The code to my One Weapon, One Bullet system.
Their warm familiarity made him smile. At least something made sense, even if his surroundings and the ache in his body were disconcertingly foreign.
The click of boots on the concrete floor reached him.
His eyes shot open. There was nothing unfamiliar about that sound. It made every hair on his body stand.
Two guardsmen swung around the corner at the end of the passage. They were also armed with rifles. They marched toward him.
One of them said, “Prince Meka, you looked confused. Can we help you?”
Unable to explain his almost primal fear of them, he stuttered, “I—I…”
They stopped next to him. One of them hitched his rifle. The other focused on Meka’s eyes as if the answers he was seeking to his strange behavior could be found there.
The intensity of the man’s gaze was so unnerving Meka dropped his chin and looked at the floor. “I—I need the privy.” He didn’t, but he had to say something to get away from them.
