Chapter 19
Into The Blue
The people had begun to speak of a strange phenomenon happening around the still unnamed island, and the small peace they had found in there had already begun to disappear. There was a collective fear, a mass hysteria; too many people were convinced that they were all going mad, and that the promise of physical and mental safety they were given when leaving Clairvert had been a lie.
It was difficult to explain, and even more difficult to understand—no one, not even Jena or Ezra himself, knew what exactly was happening.
The general feeling was about a disruption in perception: in short spurts, people were perceiving time in uneven and ruptured ways. Thoughts that they hadn’t yet had, or images they had already seen, were flashing before their eyes as if time itself was beginning to fracture.
Ezra had had one such experience, and though it was scary and confusing, it seemed otherwise harmless. He was sure it wasn’t Hormesis, too; it had begun too suddenly and everyone shared it, not only himself.
He was still dealing with it, Hormesis, still seeing Elena appear in moments of silence, like the ghost of a loved one coming back to make contact. But Elena wasn’t that; she was just a mirage, and nothing more.
But the worst part: it was taking a toll on the two pilots.
Jena’s position of leadership had been earned and he was proud of her. Though she was his age—much younger than the eldest people of Clairvert—most of them had accepted her word almost immediately. That was precisely why he hated to see her struggle with the phenomenon.
“You said nothing would happen,” one woman yelled. “You said we’d be all right here, that we didn’t have to worry about the Asili any longer, and look at this! There’s already talk of exiles and imprisonment!”
Some of the craftiest men and women in Clairvert had already built very basic huts made from wood and mud, something they could use for shelter against the cold. Just outside one such hut, which Jena shared with two orphaned boys, four people had gathered around her.
“Whoever said anything about that nonsense can be quiet; I assure you no one is going to be imprisoned, much less exiled. I don’t know what’s happening but I promise it’s not the same as what was happening in Clairvert. We’ll figure it out and solve it. You’ll have to trust us and go back to your responsibilities; we can—”
“And what about the others!”
“My husband stayed behind! When will I get to see him?”
“You promised we’d all be safe!” yelled a bearded man with thick arms and a large gut, one of the people who had helped build the huts.
“You all need to shut the hell up!” Ezra yelled, standing between Jena and the man. “You all chose to come here with us. If you didn’t, you could’ve stayed back there to get slaughtered—”
He immediately regretted his choice of words, and he could feel Jena’s burning eyes on him.
“You chose to trust us back there and you should trust us now,” he said. “Jena said you should go back to work, and I agree; we need your help to keep us all alive.”
“And if we don’t, then what?” said the man again. He was half a foot taller than Ezra, probably twice as heavy and strong. “You don’t get to tell me what to do if I don’t trust that you know what’s best for me and my family.”
“But I do; I understand this place and its threats better than you, so if you want to keep your family, you should trust me and her.”
“You’re one wrong word away from a beating, boy,” the man said, coming even closer to him, making the threat clearer. Ezra’s stomach burned. “I don’t respond to children.”
“But you will respond to him,” Ezra growled and pointed at Nandi, who towered over the trees even when lying on its back. “And if you threaten me or Jena again, he’ll will burn you ’til you glow red.”
Once more he immediately regretted his words, and the guilt was amplified when he saw the others’ reaction. One child’s eyes were particularly heavy; Ezra could only hope he wasn’t the man’s son.
“No you won’t,” said Jena and grabbed his arm. She pulled him away from the group of people, many of whom quickly walked away as if to spread the news:
Ezra is insane and violent. Ezra threatened to kill someone for speaking out. Don’t trust Ezra. He’s worse than the monsters out there.
“What in a perfect hell are you thinking?” Jena said, gritting her teeth.
“I’m sorry—I didn’t mean to threaten him.”
“Do you have any idea how fragile our position here is? Many of them trust us, and we need to earn the others’ trust, not lose it. If we don’t take care of every last one of them, we’re going to lose them. How dare you say something like that to him! He lost his father in Clairvert less than a week ago—do you even know his name?”
“I’m really sorry,” Ezra said and felt a knot in his throat. What kind of monster was he becoming?
“Mordecai. That’s his name. His dead father’s name was also Mordecai. His son’s name is that, the same. His wife died in the Caduceus years ago.”
“Please stop.”
“Don’t think you’re safe from them because you have a Creux, either. If he says the right things to the right people he’s not going to care about your big brother Nandi—he’s going to kill us both while we sleep.”
“I know.” Ezra shook his head. “Jena, I’m sorry—I need to go. I can’t stay here much longer. I can’t take any of this anymore. I’m doing more harm in here than good.”
She hugged him, then put her hand on the back of his head. “I really want to hit you right now for saying what you said, but I know you’re not okay. I understand, but you can’t leave. You can’t give up. You have a responsibility here: we’re directly responsible for the lives of 171 men, women, and children. I need you to understand what that means.”
He sat down on the grass and leaned against a tree. “I’ll apologize to him—to Mordecai. To the entire place, if you want.”
“I do,” she said. “I’d like you to do that. We need them to trust us. I’ll find a way to explain those strange visions we’ve been getting. They come and go, but it scares me; nothing like that should be happening in this place—we’re not close to the Asili anymore, and Lazarus is gone.”
“I’ve been meaning to ask: since you’re the chief, have you thought of a name for it?” he asked. “For this place, I mean. If we’re going to be building a settlement here it should probably have a name, right? I’ve been thinking of it as Lazarus’ cradle.”
She smiled and sat down in front of him. “I don’t think we should include Lazarus’ name in it—he’s not one of the good guys as far as I know. But I do like the name Cradle. It seems fitting. Like: ‘hey, remember those kids who rebuilt civilization after Lys?’ ‘Yeah, it all started in that old town: Cradle.’”
Ezra joined her in a smile. “What about Wiege? It means Cradle.”
“I like it. Wiege. Welcome to Wiege. Welcome home.”
After his conversation with Jena, Ezra had retreated to the spot in the woods where he had spent most of his time in Wiege, but quickly found several people had invaded it.
He wanted to be alone, hoping not to be bothered while he thought of a convincing way to apologize for his words. If the news had already spread among the people, he would have to make a spectacular speech to make any of them see him as a human being again.
Though they had only brought a handful of people to Wiege, they had spread thin on the island, and it had become hard to find a place that was truly isolated.
In the end, the only spot in the entire island where he could be alone was in the small clearing in the forest where they had buried Captain Farren—the spot that would eventually become Wiege’s graveyard.
After all, even if they did everything right, in the end, everybody dies.
He didn’t like thinking about it, so he remained far away from the strangely large mound of fresh earth where they had buried the man, and sat d
own to find inspiration, to think about how he should address Mordecai and the others who had heard his violent threat.
“What do you think?” he asked.
“You need to be honest,” replied Elena, who stood next to Farren’s gravestone, or rather, the thick piece of wood they had used to mark it; the letters NHNE had been etched onto its surface.
You’re too far gone, now, he heard Nandi whisper, and then laugh.
“I don’t like being bullied,” he said out loud. “It’s so much pressure. It’s not easy to pilot the Minotaur. I lost friends. I’m not okay. I’m sorry.”
Elena nodded with a smile, then disappeared.
“Who are you talking to?” came a female voice. Ezra turned around to find a girl about his age, with short brown hair down to her jaw and thin pink lips. He recognized her face from his days in Clairvert, having seen her in passing, but never crossing word. “There’s no one else here. Is there?”
Ezra got up, frightened, and looked around. He wanted to ask her if she was really there, wanted to touch her, just to make sure.
But he couldn’t; if he wanted everyone to believe that he was in control, sane, and trustworthy, he couldn’t question people’s materiality to their face.
“Who are you?”
“We haven’t really met—well, not you and me, just me and the big guy with the horns. I’m Autumn,” she said and offered her hand. He shook it and it was warm—a good sign, as Elena’s imaginary flesh had always felt cold to his touch. “Jena Crescent sent me here to find you. I didn’t think I’d find you here, though. What could you have possibly lost so close to a dead body?”
“Nothing. I just wanted to be alone.”
“Why?” she asked, and then shook her head. “No, I’m sorry, I won’t pry. Sometimes I don’t know when to shut up, but I’m learning, I promise. Jena wants you to go to her. I think your friends are coming back. The lookout saw two of your Croo—Creuh—”
“Creux? They saw Garros and Erin? Where are they? Are they here?”
“I don’t know about Garrus and Eren; I just know they saw two of your friends coming this way, from the south.”
He had already begun running back to Jena, but he froze when he heard the last word. “South? Isn’t Clairvert to the north?”
Autumn shrugged, and Ezra took off again.
He could barely breathe when he finally reached the encampment at the edge of Wiege, where the people had begun to settle. Though it was now a secondary concern, Ezra was glad that neither Autumn nor anyone else he ran past regarded him with contempt; maybe his threat hadn’t really gone past his lips.
Jena was standing, once more, surrounded by people, and Mordecai wasn’t among them. She called him with her hand, and he pushed his way through the small crowd to join her.
“Autumn told me you were looking for me?” he asked.
“Who?” asked Jena, and Ezra’s heart froze.
No. Not again.
“Oh, Autumn. Yeah, I sent her,” she said to his relief. “Look over there. You see? Two Creuxen just appeared from the Tunneler’s way beneath the mountain range, the one we took. At first I thought they were Flecks but they’re not. Look. They’re just standing there.”
She pointed to the distance and he followed. The massive humanoid figures that could only be Creuxen were standing still about a mile away from Wiege.
“Recognize them?”
“I do. That’s Rose Xibalba.”
ф
His back had begun to hurt an hour before, but he didn’t dare move.
Despite the obvious signs of pain that had come from Erin’s slow recovery from a beating that would’ve killed anyone else, the nurse let them have the room to themselves all day.
Garros had carefully moved her to open space for him on the mat. Her legs were still shattered, but they had been put back together by the nurse and immobilized. She wouldn’t be able to use them again for weeks, maybe months, but at least they were no longer twisted to awkward angles, or oozing blood and other liquids.
He had positioned himself beneath her, and she now slept using his chest as a pillow, put to sleep by the strong pounding of his heart. Every now and then she’d suddenly jerk awake from constant nightmares she had called “terrifyingly vivid.”
As she described them, time and time again she had dreamt of being trapped inside Phoenix’s Apse, unable to move, and waiting for death. In her dreams, Milos Ravana didn’t remove the boulder to save her life; she’d die hearing Phoenix Atlas’ voice serenade her to the long sleep.
But not in their reality, and for that he’d always be thankful to Davenport and Milos Ravana.
“It’s all over, isn’t it?” she asked when he was beginning to fall asleep.
“I thought you were asleep,” he said. “What’s over?”
“Both our Creux are gone. Phoenix, Ares—they’re gone.”
“I know, babe,” he said. “But they went down fighting, didn’t they?”
“Aren’t you afraid?”
“Afraid of what?”
“What are we going to do now? We’re no longer pilots; we can’t fight the Laani, much less Lys. We’re just like everyone else now. Civilians. Casualties. How are we supposed to fight without our weapons? What are we going to do?”
“We’re going to do what everyone else does—what we would have done if our Creux had never been found. We’re going to live, have a kid, grow old and then, one day, many years from now, we’re going to die together knowing that the world still exists thanks to us. I couldn’t wish for a happier ending.”
She didn’t say anything.
“Doesn’t that make you a little happy? We fought for years, then played an important part, saved hundreds of lives, and now, finally, we get some rest. Together.”
Still, she didn’t say anything. The message, her disagreement, was clear.
“Davenport, or Blanchard or Crescent, they can take us back to the oasis, maybe one day back to Roue. I’m okay with all of that. I’m really tired, Erin.”
“Phoenix Atlas is all that I know, though,” she said, finally crying. He knew what she had gone through, and understood the fallout of her trauma, but it was still difficult to hear her lose all hope; her tears were like acid to him. “Although . . . I could pilot Lazarus, remember?”
“What? How can you say that?”
“I don’t know.”
“Lazarus is Lys’ Creux, the one who tried to kill you.”
“Yeah. I’m sorry,” she said, and leaned down on his chest again.
“Promise me you won’t go anywhere near Lazarus.”
“I promise,” she said, but her eyes were looking away from him, at the door of the office leading back to the hallway. “Where’s Akiva? Have you heard from him?”
“He was trying the comms,” replied Garros. “He’s been trying to reach Zenith. I’m not sure if he’s had any luck.”
“I hope he does,” she said before going back to sleep.
He took that time to get some sleep himself; it was his turn to take on the nightmares.
Knocking on the door bled into his dreams, taking the shape of Milos Ravana’s fist slamming against its own chest in a steady beat. He had been inside Ares, hearing the Creux’s voice, when he saw it.
When it all disappeared, and he realized he was still in William Heath’s office, sleeping next to his weakened wife, the realization was bittersweet. She was awake, and from the sad weight of her eyelids he could tell that she had been awake for a while. He wondered if he had let her sleep at all—he was prone to terrible snoring.
“Come in,” Garros yelled, and the door opened to reveal Davenport at the other side. “What’s going on?”
“I was in the comms room,” he said. His skin looked pale, and there were tiny beads of sweat on his forehead and nose, his hair sticking to the sides of his face. He looked sick. “I managed to contact Roue. I talked to Dr. Mizrahi.”
Erin bolted up and then winced in pain. “And?”
“Really tired.”
“I’m sorry,” said Garros.
“No, I mean—I’m just tired. You’re right. I want to go home, Garros,” said his wife. “We’ve been gone too long and we’re not going to help anyone here. You’re right. I’d rather help however I can, live as much as I can, back there. With you. I’m done.”
“We’ll go home,” said Akiva. “Very soon.”
Garros smiled at Erin, who smiled back at him—both she and Akiva had just said the words he’d been wanting to hear since the battle. Their time as soldiers, warriors, guardians, was done—now they would finally get some much needed, much deserved rest.
Garros left his wife to get some sleep, wrapped in a cocoon of blankets and pillows, cared for by the nurse. Akiva said he knew of a way to go back home, so if that was the next course of action, then there was one last thing he had to do: learn as much as he could from Lys so he could convey the information back to Roue, to Jed and the remaining pilots, either through the communications they had restored in the caves, or in person.
Hopefully the latter.
The armored soldier who had taken Farren’s place as acting captain made a small attempt at stopping Garros from walking through the veiled door and into Lys’ sanctum. All Garros had to do was to say: “It’s the last time I’ll go there, I swear.”
The man stepped aside and let him in.
Garros felt real fear in his chest, as he stepped in. He was prepared to face Lys, and had seen its weapons—he knew how close he’d have to get for his tentacles to be a danger.
Finally the dark tunnel ended and opened up to the enormous room with the circular pit, the blue eye of the Asili. At the far end, behind a chasm, stood the real monster.
Alice’s body had all but fallen apart in the stone giant’s grasp, and the tentacles he had used to kill Farren and William were still hanging long and loose down into the darkness, twitching as though something heavy was hanging from their ends.
The Unfinished World (The Armor of God Book 2) Page 28
