Schism of Blood and Stone (The Starfield Theory Book 1)

by Brian Frederico

  “Who are they?” She repeated.

  More loudly he said: “Get out. Make the girl get out, too.”

  LK and Siren stepped out of the car quickly in a manner that seemed to be trained into them.

  “What's going on?” Rebecca said quietly peering from behind the seat in front of her.

  “Come on, sweetie, we have to get out for a minute. Don't be scared.”

  Anna took her hand and opened the door. She carefully stepped out and away from the car. LK had already done the same. The weapons remained trained on them.

  Rebecca gasped when she saw the vehicles and armed soldiers. Someone shouted an order and several of the troopers moved forward, keeping weapons leveled. They searched LK and Anna somewhat roughly, but a female soldier gently patted down Rebecca. She was starting to cry, but she obeyed the orders of the soldiers. Anna could see the insignia on the troopers' uniforms. The Sørensen emblem was unmistakable, and the fact that they were still wearing uniforms indicated they hadn't suffered a complete breakdown of command.

  “What in Ithix is this?” One of the soldiers demanded upon checking the trunk. He and another began to pull out the weaponry.

  “A gift,” LK said.

  “And who in Ithix are you?”

  “My name is Sampson. I'm a bar owner in town.”

  “ID, now,” the guard captain demanded.

  LK shrugged then handed over a fake. The captain scrutinized it carefully and handed it back. “What about your friends?”

  “Just friends of mine. We're trying to get out of the city.”

  The captain ignored them then pulled Anna by the arm out of earshot of the others. Rebecca sobbed and Siren put a hand on her shoulder.

  “What's his real name?” The captain demanded. “Do you take me for an idiot? I can spot an Amrah damned fake when I see one.”

  She glanced back at LK.

  “Don't look at him, look at me!”

  “I – I just want to get my daughter out of the city and away from the Teton-Stens. I'm no one important.”

  “I don't believe a damn word of it,” the captain snarled. “Bring me the girl.”

  Two other troopers shoved Siren and grabbed Rebecca and dragged her to the captain.

  “For Amrah's sake she's ten!” Anna snapped at him.

  “Shut up.”

  The captain pulled his side arm and pressed the barrel against Rebecca's head. She sobbed, grabbing at the ends of her shirt.

  “What are you doing?!” Anna screamed at him. She reached for the gun, but one of the soldiers grabbed her. “You don't know who she is!”

  “Captain,” LK called. “I have some more friends coming shortly. They have something with them that might be able to convince you.”

  Anna watched LK's mind whirl and she knew he was playing a mental poker game in his head. Was it valuable to reveal his hand now or trap him like he trapped Bob in the bar?

  “More of this fake ID nonsense? You're coming through my line with nothing but garbage. I can shoot all of you now.”

  “Be calm, Captain, please,” LK said, holding his hands up. “We just want to get the girl to safety. My friends have Dmitri Filipov. We kidnapped him and have been holding him in the city until the uproar from the funeral died down.”

  The officer narrowed his brow and was silent for a few long moments. “You'd better not be screwing with me.”

  LK shook his head. “He's spent the last few weeks in my bar. He's a lousy patron.”

  The soldiers pulled the car into the woods and kept the refugees under guard. Rebecca managed to fall into a fitful sleep again in Anna's arms. They only waited half an hour for the second car to show up. Again the Theorists exited the vehicle while the soldiers searched it. When they pulled out a drugged and bloodied Filipov, the officer smiled and clapped LK on the back.

  “In Amrah's name, you weren't kidding. You just earned yourselves a free ride back to the camp and our hospitality and protection.”

  LK offered a halfhearted smile and waited for the officer to move away. He glanced at Anna. “I never liked Sørensens. Prickly types they are.”

  Kristoffer

  Captain of the MacCleod

  31 March, 23,423

  Verland, Goteborg, Magdeborg Commonwealth

  ______________

  The temporary landing fields were crowded and stank, Chris determined. He and Claire had been moved here when word of Damien's arrival finally reached them. The fields were meant to help facilitate the evacuation. Originally, the tent city was intended for displaced civilians, but it quickly filled beyond capacity and began to include military personnel. They shared a small tent, as did the rest of those assembled here, near the back of the tent city.

  He'd been trying to sleep, but it didn't come to him. His lungs still hurt and his muscles ached. Most of the soldiers exposed to a similar dosage of Vertoxx were still bedridden and on ventilators. Chris was already walking around and exercising which caused at least one doctor to renounce medicine and proclaim a miracle. Chris figured his exposure was much lower than believed. He was lucky, but hardly divinely touched.

  Claire had been unresponsive for much of the last week after they'd been reunited. In a matter of days she'd seen her noble college boyfriend die on her operating table then her brother clinging to life as a lethal gas wrecked its horror on his innards. She did what eve the best soldiers did when faced with extreme trauma. She shut down.

  Finally, he sat up on the cot and threw off his blanket. He rubbed his face. “I'm sorry about Ian,” he said.

  Claire lay curled on her cot, not looking at him. She was silent for a long time. “Why?” she asked.

  Chris shrugged and opened and closed his mouth. “He was our friend. He took good care of us and gave me the Cleod. Now he's gone.”

  “I hate him.”

  “What?” He jerked his head up.

  She sat up, her face red with fury. “I said I hate him.”

  “What are you talking about, Claire?”

  “Because he's dead! He got obsessed with power and glory and his ridiculous war and it got him killed. I told him not to do it, not to fight.”

  “But he's a nobleman, he's expected-”

  “I know he has his responsibilities, but he thought he was immortal. He believed any problem could be solved with guns or money and look what happened!” She yelled waving her arms to encompass the camp.

  “It's not his fault-”

  “Of course it's his fault. This is what happens when you go off to play soldier. People die! I don't want to talk about Ian again. Ever.”

  Chris took a breath, trying to control his spinning head. The yelling was making him sick. He'd never seen her like this. She'd been mad before, but never shown this sort of fury, not directed at himself or Ian.

  He put his hands up and lay back down on the cot. Give her time, he thought. She just spent the last few weeks watching people die by the hundreds when she couldn't save them all.

  But why did it upset her so much? Chris had spent some time thinking on what Sir Aaron said. He was right, he determined. He hadn't thought twice about sending people into harm's way. It had to be done. Even when he was leading them, he thought little of his own preservation. Had Ian been the same way? He wanted nothing more than to ask him. Was there value in life? Or was it so valuable it needed to be sacrificed in the defense of something good?

  The tent flap rustled then zipped open. Claire flopped back on the cot and refused to look.

  “Nick!” Chris yelled then jumped up and stumbled over to him. Nick caught him in his arms and held him up as he was nearly overcome by a fury of coughing.

  “For Amrah's sake, Chris. I heard what happened. Are you entirely insane?”

  He coughed a few more times and Claire pulled him down on her cot. She stood to embrace Nick and answered. “It's more stupidity than insanity. He knew the risks.”

  “Sir Aaron nearly got you killed.”

  “I nearly got myself kille
d,” Chris gasped between hacks.

  “Take it easy,” Nick instructed.

  Chris nodded as he recovered.

  “You, on the other hand, performed admirably,” Nick said, turning to Claire. “Or so I've heard.”

  “From whom?” Claire asked.

  “Here and there. You saved a lot of lives.”

  “I'm not a professional,” she said looking at the ground. “None of us were really.”

  “Ian's dead,” Chris said suddenly.

  Nick nodded slowly. “I know. I heard. I was afraid you might be with him. I'm sorry. I know you two were close.”

  Claire looked away, willing to meet his eyes.

  They were silent for a moment. “Come with me,” Nick said waving them outside the tent. They followed as Chris elicited a cough every few steps. He tried to stifle them as best he could. The few soldiers they passed smiled and gave him a hardy pat on the back. News of his endeavor had spread quickly and news of his recovery more quickly still. He did not want to appear weak during his new fame. Claire, he noticed, chose to ignore the interactions. The doctors did not get the same sort of treatment as war heroes, he realized, even if they performed the heavier task of saving the dying.

  “Where are you taking us?” Claire asked.

  Nick ignored her and kept a steady pace. Chris started to struggle to keep up and coughed loudly to get Nick's attention. He paused for a moment, offered a smile and waited patiently.

  They walked for a good ten minutes more when Nick stopped them outside a large tent. At its peak, House Sten banners flapped lazily in the chilling air. Outside, two heavily armed guards gave them a once over, but did not intervene.

  “Look,” Nick said. “I just want to say I'm sorry about all of this. We all have our roles to play.”

  “What do you mean?” Claire asked.

  Nick held open a flap and waved them inside.

  The tent was kept warm by a fire burning in the corner. It cast delicate shadows over the tense tent surface and its stolid occupants.

  Seated on camp chairs to his left were Sir Aaron Mercer-Sten and the red-haired woman called Reyna. They sat a noticeable distance apart. On the right was the odd pairing of the mountainous Slader Sten and next to him a diminutive man who took Chris several moments to recognize as Lord Dietrich Sørensen. Offset from the others was a large man Chris easily identified as Lord Conrad Sten. At the center was Lord Damien Sten himself, the Gray Knight and the Defender of the Border.

  “My Lord,” Chris said, too shocked to say anything else. He coughed as he fell to a knee. Claire was several seconds slower and did not drop nearly as far as her brother. Nick stood a respectful distance away.

  Damien waved for the twins to stand.

  “It is an honor to meet you, my lord,” Chris said suppressing a cough. “I fought at Verland for the honor of your house and-”

  Damien waved his hand again, demanding silence. “You were a damn fool is what you were. If you had died before I got here...” he paused, thinking before shooting Sir Aaron a look of disappointment. “I can't even imagine.”

  Chris stood, his jaw clenched. He resisted the urge to massage his palms.

  Damien sighed. “All of that aside, I am glad to see you in better health. You certainly shouldn't be alive; nearly everyone else in your ad-hoc attack was killed by the gas. You are fortunate to be standing here now so let's make the most of it.”

  Lord Dietrich interrupted. “Surely you are aware of the events on Magdeborg.”

  Chris nodded hesitantly. “Lady Salena declared the Sørensens usurpers and took the throne for her house. She says Archduke Peter left no heirs.”

  “She certainly said that,” Dietrich said behind a smile.

  The other nobles grunted and snorted.

  “Please, have a seat,” Dietrich said offering two spare camp chair. Once they were settled he continued. “She is lying. When we met at Remmington, I told her I had selected an heir and it most certainly wasn't her,” Dietrich explained.

  “You didn't announce you were taking the throne for yourself?” Claire asked.

  Dietrich chuckled. “For Ithix's sake, no. If I had machinations on the throne I sure wouldn't have called Damien and Salena together and told them about it. I am old, but I am not stupid,” he said rubbing the top of his cane. “Before she died, Duchess Ciara gave birth to two more heirs who Archduke Peter wisely kept out of the public eye. He wanted to protect them from the same fate that befell Arthur Sten. They spent their lives growing up in secret on Goteborg, protected by my family at all times

  “You two are those heirs.”

  Silence washed over the tent like a wave all except for the snapping and crackling of Damien's fire.

  “That can't be true,” Claire said finding the words before her brother. “We have parents who died in a misjump accident. We've never seen any bodyguards or anything.”

  Dietrich nodded slowly then raised his hand and indicated Nick.

  Both twins turned their heads. Nick smiled. “It's true.”

  “Who are you?” Chris asked.

  “Nickalaus Sørensen. Lord Dietrich is my grandfather.”

  “You've been a Sørensen this whole time? They made you come here and protect us?”

  “Like I said, I'm sorry I had to deceive you. Everything depended on you believing I was a nobody. And I've always been a Sørensen, but you're the one that picked me. As you got older and more independent, we needed a way to protect you that didn't involve your surrogate parents over involvement. Several candidates were introduced to you, but both of you befriended me and so I became your bodyguard for the last twelve years.”

  “What about our parents?”

  “They did not die in a misjump,” Dietrich said. “They were sent back to Magdeborg to live out their years in comfort far away from any civilization. We have not have contact with them since the coup, but perhaps that is for the best.”

  “What about my parents, grandfather?” Nick asked suddenly. He cleared his throat, realizing his selfishness and bowed his head in penance.

  Dietrich paused for a moment then said, “Odin and Astrid Sørensen are alive, last I heard, and leading the resistance. With any luck we will reunite with them soon.”

  “What happens to us now?” Claire asked.

  “Well you are both Archduke Peter's children which means you are his rightful heirs. Though by the laws of primogeniture Kristoffer is the heir-designate and the rightful Archduke. It is our responsibility to see that you come into your throne. If you want it of course.”

  “But Lady Salena-” Chris started.

  “Is merely keeping it warm for you,” Damien interjected. “You have a duty to your father, my brother, to succeed him and throw that wench off the throne.”

  “Damien,” Lord Dietrich admonished again taking on the role as disciplinarian.

  For a moment, Chris thought the Gray Knight might actually claim “she started it,” but he held his tongue.

  “Do not make this decision lightly, my son,” Dietrich said. “If you say yes, it will plunge the Commonwealth into civil war, though Damien has certainly gotten the ball rolling in that direction already. If you say yes, thousands, if not millions will die in the coming conflict that we may very well not win anyway.”

  “Then why fight?”

  “Because it is our duty,” Damien said. “It may not mean much to you, but Duty is one of the tenets of Commonwealth knighthood, along with Honor and Courage.”

  “And Humanity,” Dietrich reminded him.

  Lord Damien ignored the interruption. “Your father entrusted you with this duty. I understand it has been thrust upon you unwillingly, but all of us carry that burden. We are here as a result of the randomness of our birth, but we have accepted our responsibilities and carry them out regardless. You have a blood responsibility to your family and your nation. Many have died already to get us this far.”

  “You're saying it's my choice. If I say yes then we go to war. If I s
ay no then, what, we all just go home?”

  There was a new silence even deeper and more disconcerting than the last. Obviously none of them had thought he'd refuse.

  “Salena will hunt for you. You are a danger to her and she will not stop until she's killed both of you,” Damien said flatly.

  “If you say no, Damien is correct. We would take you to Anarrk, where you would live in safety for the remainder of your lives,” Dietrich said more softly.

  “In exile,” Damien added. “Never to leave Anarrk.”

  “You can't do this, Chris,” Claire said. “I don't want any of this.”

  Chris glanced at Nick who shrugged. “I was prepared. I'm sworn to protect you for life whatever you choose.”

  “You can't let him do this, Nick.”

  “I don't get a say-”

  “You've been our best friend for a decade! Of course you get a say!” Claire shouted at him.

  “It doesn't work that way, Claire,” Nick said apologetically.

  “Don't I get a say?” She asked the assembled nobles.

  Damien shook his head. “No. We need both of you. If something were to happen and Salena captured one of you, she could use that one against us as a hostage. It must be both of you.”

  Lord Dietrich nodded his head in agreement.

  “And I don't get a say in it?” She asked again.

  “I'm sorry,” Dietrich said and meant it. “It is not fair, but it is simply the way things are. Look, I know you value your independence-”

  “But I don't get to any more,” Claire finished, crossing her arms over her chest.

  “But if your brother refuses the throne the decision then becomes yours,” Dietrich said.

  “And if I say no?”

  “Then exile on Anarrk and we do what we can to limit the fallout,” Lord Damien said. “People will die either way. At least make it mean something.”

  “We understand if you'll need time,” Dietrich said. “You will have some, but not much.”

  “Then I'll do it,” Chris said. “If that's what was intended for me, for us.”

  “This is insane, Chris,” Claire snapped, grabbing his arm more fiercely than Chris had ever seen. “You can't.”