"I think you need to duck lower." Jennifer got a funny look on her face and then smiled. The look didn't last as Drew tried to press the issue.
"You know how I feel about you being late Jen." Jenny rolled her eyes at him and tried not to lose her temper. Drew was well meaning enough, but his persistence was starting to get a little frustrating.
"Really Drew. You're not my Dad. Even he had a more lenient curfew than you do. And that was after I ran away from home." Drew looked a little put out by that and ran a nervous hand through his deep brown hair. “By the way, you need to lose that tone around me. Like yesterday.”
“Uh, oh. Lid’s about to blow off,” Valerie said smartly. The other band members started quietly clearing the stage. No one wanted to catch a flying mic stand in the mouth or any other thrown instrument.
"I’ll speak to you any way I like,” Drew shot back. “I'm just trying to keep things orderly." Jen set the mic on the stand and turned on her manager.
"By trying to schedule my every move Drew? And people wonder why I'm tired all the time. Now I can tell them it's because you didn't schedule me a bathroom break." The rest of the band was very quiet as they slunk away. They knew this was a confrontation that had been long overdue. Drew had been pushing hard so Echo-chamber could be the most popular band in the world. And the pushing had paid off, but Jenny was in no longer in any mood to be treated like a child.
"You needed the schedule. We all did to succeed." Jenny nodded her head.
"Yeah, well, we've succeeded, and I can't tell you how sick it makes me now!" Drew wasn’t ready for that. He opened and shut his mouth, searching for the words. But he didn't have a response. "Maybe you should try some compassion Drew. It's the one thing I do miss back in Littlefield." He'd thought that being a success was what Jen wanted. Jen had put that thought to rest in two sentences. She wanted something else.
"So, what would you have me do? Start spouting ancient writ like your ex?" Jenny looked at him harshly and then grabbed her bag from where she had set it down and started for the door.
"I don't know Drew. But at least he was worried about other people. You could learn something from that." Drew didn't follow her, but called after as she headed for the exit.
"What about practice?" Jenny threw her coat on haphazardly, struggling to get her arm into the sleeve. Her being angry didn't help any.
"I know the flaming songs Drew. I wrote them, remember?" Jen didn't even turn to say it. She simply grabbed her dark glasses from her purse and threw open the door, diving headlong into the sea of reporters that awaited her. If they could've seen through the glasses, they'd have seen tears welling in her eyes.
Mary sat in Nikko Park with her books, reading as she ate lunch before the next class. As usual, she seemed serenely oblivious to her surroundings and anyone in them. With her, sitting in a meditative position, was Uther. He didn't eat very much during the lunch break. Mary had learned that there was something about his physiology that caused him to eat less. Of her companions, he was the quietest.
Near the tree that Mary leaned upon, Jack and Ian were exchanging some words about who had more experience in the field. Mary had been listening at first as Ian was talking about the Wasters and his time in the Meridian Special Crimes Task Force, but the conversation degraded into a series of 'no way' and 'you lie' statements. Hardly intellectually stimulating when it came right down to it.
On the opposite side of the trunk, looking over at the tree line that obscured the view of Ellen's Landing, Ellis sat in quiet, angry contemplation, which was his habit. Mary had always thought that he was mulling over some heavy decision that the rest of them were not privy to. She had a few theories about what it could be, but she wasn't about to question him about it. She wasn’t a fan of his point of view on most things. And talking to him would only start an argument. Besides, she had some reading to do.
"Oww," Mary exclaimed suddenly, slicing her finger as she turned a page. Jack and Ian noticed only long enough to see her annoyed look. She went to put the finger in her mouth when Uther suddenly reached over and touched her on the shoulder. The place where his hand touched seemed to waver visibly, and the pain of the paper cut was immediately gone. Mary looked at her finger, and watched the wound healing quickly.
"That's really creepy you know," Jack said, a snarky tone in his voice. Uther looked at his own finger, as the cut from Mary's sat there on his digit for a moment. He winced just a little, showing how much it hurt him, and then it was gone, fading as quickly as it had come. Uther returned to his meditation, unfazed by Jack's statement.
"So, you're not just healing people. You're an empath," Mary exclaimed, fascinated. Uther smiled a bit, his eyes still closed in deep meditation.
“I am a touch telepath as well. You were thinking, this stupid book.” Mary closed her book, and reached for another, obviously deciding to follow some line of thought that had just occurred to her.
"Big deal," Ellis said from the other side of the tree. "He can whisk away a paper cut. Call the Littlefield Examiner." Uther seemed to become suddenly uncomfortable with the statement and broke his meditative form.
"Is there a problem Ellis?" he asked, ever so slightly, his eyes opening quietly. Ellis rounded his shoulders smugly.
"Heaven's no Uther.” That stopped everyone in their tracks. Even Mary looked up from her book. “You just get a lot of attention with that little parlor trick." Uther looked down at the grass and frowned. The attention he usually got was noteworthy only for the fact that it was negative. This was nothing new to him.
"There are many races in this world Ellis. Each is given a responsibility that they must magnify. My people were granted the ability and the duty to heal, Ellis. It is the calling of the Un'Hok Tol to relieve pain. It is no . . . parlor trick. And I exercise it with the utmost seriousness." Ellis looked around at Uther, the first time he'd turned to face them since they'd arrived.
"Healing is a scam," Ellis bit out, yanking up a handful of grass. "Nobody's ever truly healed. In this life or any other. No matter how many cuts and scrapes you bind Uther, you never take away hurt." Ellis turned away, not bothering to wait for Uther's reaction. "Wounds are temporary. Real pain can't be healed."
"That grass you just pulled up is an example of what my people do Ellis," Uther said, never looking up. "The grass is damaged, and it is hurt, but it can be healed. It will grow back."
"Only to be stomped on and yanked out again." Ellis grabbed another handful and let the blades float away on the wind. "So, what's the point of healing if it all comes back to pain?"
"Spoken like a true cynic," Ian chimed in suddenly. His verbal sparring with Jack had come to an abrasive end when this confrontation had arisen. Ellis folded his arms and stared off in the direction of the sea again. "Do you even know what you're saying?" Ellis didn't answer.
"He's a jerk Ian. Why don't you just let him be one? He's entitled." Jack's protest fell on deaf ears. Ian had heard enough from Ellis over the last few weeks.
"Maybe Jack, but I'm entitled to know why he seems so all fired up about ripping into other people's beliefs." Ian turned back to Ellis, stepping around the tree to face him. "What the hell is your problem?" Ellis didn't look at Ian. He didn't want to.
“Funny getting an argument from someone who doesn’t really believe in what he’s doing. Or who he really is,” Ellis muttered, just loud enough for them all to hear. Ian bristled at the attack.
“You should talk motor mouth. You don’t believe in anything.” Mary shook her head at the two of them.
"Leave him alone Ian," Mary pleaded. Ian persisted.
"No. Not until he starts answering some questions." Ian knelt down and looked dead at Ellis's face. "You gonna talk to one of us, or you gonna sulk your life away?" Ellis said nothing, only looking annoyed that Ian was blocking his view. "Come on Burke. Tell us about how you're actually just a jerk like Jack says. Prove him wrong. Or are you too big a coward to actually try to believe in something?" Ellis tilted
his head a little to see past Ian.
"Screw you, Sodaro! You don’t know anything about it!" Ian wasn't all that surprised by the exclamation. He'd heard worse in the Meridian City slums. But to hear it at the paladin academy was a first.
"See. Jerk," Jack said simply. Ian frowned, but he wasn't giving up that easily.
"It is all right Ian. I am not offended," Uther offered. Ian made for Ellis's book bag. "He just does not understand." Ian picked the bag up and started to open it.
"Well, I am offended. I think it's time we stopped being nice and started getting some real answers. Let's see." Ian began rifling through the bag, but before he could see anything noteworthy within, Ellis snatched it away, fastening the latch and throwing it over his shoulder. Without so much as a look, he turned and walked away, carrying his dark cloud away with him.
"That's a wonderful guy right there." Mary smirked a little as Jack said it. "Where does he get off to all the time anyway?"
"Saw him heading for the roof of the Barracks once. Maybe that's it," Ian said as he watched Ellis walk for a bit. He tried to determine what it was that made Ellis so mean. But he wasn't as gifted at discernment as Marcus was. He needed more information before he could start making guesses.
"Ian," Uther said softly. "There was no need for that." Ian slumped down onto the grass and frowned.
"Maybe not for you. But no one ever handled me with kid gloves. Everyone here's walking on eggshells around the guy. I think he needs to be challenged." Uther's fur rippled. Ian had seen that reaction before. It meant that Uther was annoyed. He apparently didn't agree.
"Perhaps, but not by you.” Ian turned at that. “Being what I am entitles me to know things sometimes Ian. Ellis has much rage inside. Much pain. He is shut off from us because of that pain. Whatever it is, he is unwilling to share it. And being . . . antagonistic with him . . ." Uther trailed off. He didn't need to say it. Ian looked at the grass in front of him and frowned.
"Anger can be a powerful motivator," Mary said from the side. Jack chuckled.
"So, can a two by four up the backside of his head." Ian rolled his eyes.
"Listen. Marcus saved me from myself once. And he did it by confronting me when I needed confronting." Uther raised a stilling hand.
"Sir Kasidyne is also quite a bit more experienced in this area. He knows when to, and when not to contend with things." Ian looked down again. "Ian, I can sense your desire to help, but you have to temper it. Your inexperience is a weakness. Ellis needs friends, not combatants." Ian almost gave up the point, when Jack whistled.
"Hell-o." They all followed his eye line, watching as a group of formally dressed Erikan women walked past. Jack straightened his uniform and gave a cool two-fingered wave. He got nothing in response.
"Smooth," Ian offered. Jack frowned a bit. It was then that Ian noticed her. She was still walking away with the rest, but she was watching Ian at the same time. Her eyes were jade, piercing and sharp. Her hair was pulled back away from her face, allowing all to see her slim, lean features. She was not dressed in feminine attire. Rather, she was dressed in full armor regalia, only her flared Erikan helmet missing.
She was one of Eriko's Elite Samurai Guard. They had arrived the day previous to compete in the Peace Games and had set up a tented pavilion outside the campus. Ian had been told that Erikan Samurai were all male. No one had ever mentioned a female in their ranks. He couldn't help staring as she walked past, her hand resting comfortably on the pommel of one of her blades.
It wasn't the only weapon she carried. Erikan Samurai were well versed in many weapons, only one of which was the long-handled katana blade. This particular samurai had a longbow and quiver, a naginata spear on her back, along with several small knives, and a pair of katanas. One sterling, the other a crimson color. Ian met her eyes and could almost swear she winked at him.
"She's not looking at you," Jack said simply. Ian broke his reverie and glanced at Jack.
"You're crazy. She was totally looking at me." The two began arguing again, and Mary returned to her book.
"Boys."
Sage Cortez sat in his quarters aboard the Triumphant, pouring over schematics at his desk. At least, it would have normally been his desk. The mahogany wood was classical and simple in design. But covered with the many spreadsheets and design documents, no one could tell there was a desk in the room at all. Still, Sage knew where everything was, and had already tossed out his yeomen for trying to tidy up.
"This is hopeless," he said to the air. The Triumphant had begun its long and stressful shakedown cruise only a handful of days ago, and already Sage was finding major problems with the way the construction crews had decided to interpret his schematics. Not that the structure or the general makeup of the ship was flawed. The crew wasn't in any danger of falling from the sky or having the superstructure give way anywhere. But all the intricacies of the ship had been very specific on the schematics, and the engineers in Meridian City who'd built the Triumphant had decided to take some liberties.
Triumphant was the first of its kind. It was an airship to be sure, but the first to have a fully sustained living environment for its crew, and also operate without any need for ground support. It was fast, well-armed, and totally independent, no longer having to use ground based tracking stations to verify its position in the air. And with all the extra features Sage had designed into the ship, it was literally the most advanced piece of technology in the skies.
Triumphant was the design that the Sha-Nor had rejected. It was the ship that had no teeth, as they said. It was simply not what they wanted. Donavan Dirk and his excessive amount of pull in Meridian City had made it possible for the ship to be built. And in a very short amount of turnaround. Sage was glad. But somewhere along the bureaucratic pipeline, some things had gotten the short corner.
Still, Sage was happy with his post. Chief Engineer of the Triumphant. He answered only to Donavan on matters concerning the ship. It felt good to be appreciated and respected. True, there was still the odd crack about his elven heritage once and a while, but it wasn't something he couldn't handle. So long as it was both in context, well thought out, and way out of earshot.
But Sage also had other things to occupy his time. The shakedown kept him busy during the day, but it was the after-hours time that really bored him. That was, until he'd picked up a new hobby. Sage looked at the piles of papers on his desk, and then at the wall. He'd promised himself that he wouldn't do what he was considering for at least a week. But the more he tried to walk away from his new pet project, the more it called out to him. Sage just couldn't seem to escape it.
The inner wall of his quarters itself was blank. Sage had nothing on his walls, preferring not to be distracted by pictures of anything. Instead, he kept all his personal effects on a small nightstand next to his bed. The only thing actually hanging on the wall was his Repeater, in place where he could get at it if the need arose. Not that he had foreseen that possibility. It was just smart to be prepared.
It took Sage a long time, but he pushed the thought away and stood from the small chair he occupied. He needed to get out of the room. He needed some air and some rest and maybe something to eat. He decided he'd head down to the crew lounge and see if he could scrounge up some food while complaining about some bit of construction they'd skimped on.
But as Sage walked from the room, he could feel the familiar tug of temptation from his new project. He'd get back on it sooner than he'd wanted. It'd had already consumed a good portion of his waking hours, and he needed a break from it. But the project would not let him alone. Sage walked, though his mind never left the room.
Chapter 3
Other Things in Mind
Rebekah laid the checkered blanket out as neatly as she could. It'd been Marcus’s idea to have a beach side picnic, without Ian for a change, and Rebekah was going to make sure that it was perfect. But the breeze was a little stronger than either of them had expected. The blanket just kept blowing up in her face.
Marcus had insisted on a no armor day, though paladin rules required the composite armor to be on at all times away from campus. Marcus would wear it beneath whatever civilian attire he could find. Rebekah herself had opted for blue jeans and a t-shirt, as usual.
Being on campus around all those paladins in their blue tunics and white composite armor made Rebekah feel a little under dressed. Most days, she opted for her Dragoon armor, though it seemed to take forever to put on. She didn't want to be seen around campus as a lonely little girl among a bunch of big burly warriors. She was a warrior herself, and as such, wanted to stand proudly beside them. Thus, she usually wore the armor.
But today was different. Marcus wanted them to be themselves. No ranks and no stations. Just a couple on a picnic, enjoying one another's company and getting away from it all. Rebekah liked it when Marcus got these ideas in his head. She gave the blanket one last straightening, then set a loose rock on the last corner to hold it down, and sat herself down, ready to wait for her man.
It hadn't been the most romantic sixteen months of her life. In fact, it hadn't been that romantic at all. Rebekah was still waiting on the Council for a definitive plan for her defense away from campus. Ian had the easy solution. He wanted to be a paladin. He could stay with Marcus.
But Rebekah wanted to get out.
She loved Littlefield and she loved the paladinhood. However, in the intervening years, Rebekah had grown fond of seeing the world. She'd taken her place as princess of Norik very seriously, even though she wasn't sure what that really entailed. She still valued her privacy, but she felt that her place was still in Norik.
Besides that, she was starting to see what she'd seen four years earlier. The signs of paparazzi and the unblinking eye of the press were all around. It didn't take a genius to piece it together. The shots they'd gotten of the two of them over the last year had to come from somewhere.
The Paladin Archives Book Two The Withering Falseblade Page 5
