Shatter (The Children of Man)

by Elizabeth C. Mock

  “I think she's trying to find Sammi,” Kade guessed, his face a stony mask. “I’d guess she's placing a tracer spell, like the one she used to find Tobias.”

  Faela stared ahead humming, a red light shone through the thin fabric of her shirt. She stared. A drop of blood fell from her nose onto her chin, another drop fell.

  "Kade, she's pushing too far," Sheridan said sinking next to him. "We need to bring her back."

  Kade shook his head. "Not yet."

  A line of red now trickled from her nose to her chin, but Faela showed no response.

  "Where is Sammi supposed to be?" Sheridan asked.

  "Kilrood," he said, his eyes never straying from Faela.

  "Darkness, Kade," Sheridan gripped his arm, "you can't place a tracer from that far away. I don't care if they share blood."

  "Don't underestimate her."

  "I'm bringing her back," Sheridan told him as she reached out her hand.

  Grabbing her wrist, Kade shook his head.

  "Do you want her to die?" Sheridan asked wrenching her wrist away from him.

  Faela blinked and drew in a gasping gulp of air. She slumped backward against the tree, her head tilted back. Her fingers clawed at the ground as she brought her gaze down. She looked around at them shaking her head back and forth over and over. Her eyes refocused.

  "Did you find him?" Kade asked her.

  She froze and looked at Kade with a hollow emptiness. "He's gone."

  "What do you mean gone?" Sheridan asked.

  Shoving her back against the trunk, her feet scrambled against the dirt for purchase to stand. Kade rose and helped her up. She threw his hands off and tangled her fingers into her hair and tapped the sides of her head with her thumbs. She turned in tiny circles.

  "Faela, what happened?" Sheridan repeated.

  Her eyes feral, Faela was muttering to herself inaudibly. Mireya put her hands on either side of Faela’s face, forcing her to stop and look at her.

  "He's gone," she repeated trying to make the words not true. She gripped Mireya’s hand on her face, mashing her fingers together. "Only void, only nothing. Where there should be, there is nothing."

  "What do you mean, Faela?" Mireya asked.

  "Kilrood," was all the she said. "Must leave now. Must find what should be. Must make the nothing, something. Must leave."

  "You're not making any sense," Sheridan said her voice a controlled calm.

  Crushing Mireya's hand, with terror in her eyes, she pleaded with her. "I can't find him. We have to find him."

  "Her son," Kade explained as her panic hit him like a physical blow. "She was trying to contact him right before she blacked out. She failed to establish her anchor."

  "What?" Jair demanded feeling helpless as he watched as Faela stood paralyzed. "What does that mean?"

  Sheridan couldn't bring herself to say the words for fear of what it would do to Faela.

  "It means we're going to Kilrood," Kade said. "Jair, you stay here with Mireya and Dathien. Do not leave this spot. Otherwise, we won't be able to find you. No arguments. Sheridan, take us to the Tereskan temple at Kilrood."

  Sheridan threw her hands up in defeat. She walked over to where Faela stood with Mireya. Mireya hugged Faela who barely registered the girl’s presence.

  "Can you take us both at once?" Kade asked coming alongside Sheridan.

  "Combined the three of us don't weigh as much as Eve's darkness-blighted horse."

  Kade’s coat strained against his back as he laced his arms across his chest. “Good."

  "I don't know how long this is going to take," Sheridan warned the trio staying behind. "Just in case, Mireya, take this." Sheridan removed her silver, knot-work ring and tossed it to Mireya who caught it with both hands. "If something goes wrong, I should be able to find you with this."'

  Sheridan put her palms on Kade and Faela's backs, indigo light surrounded them as the pressure descended.

  *****

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  The indigo light faded like vapors as Rivka and Vaughn strode out of the receiving chamber of the Phaidrian temple in Lanvirdis.

  With a smile and slight inclination of her head, Rivka paused to thank the adolescent boy who had transported them from Vamorines. "Please do give Hewitt my regards, Digory, and tell him that I haven’t forgotten that I owe him a scion and king’s rematch."

  Bowing awkwardly, Digory flushed and with a flash and a pop he returned to Wistholt across the continent to deliver her message.

  With a hand on her back, Vaughn directed Rivka into the hallway. "We need to visit the storehouses first. We need to make sure that cargo hasn't left port yet."

  As they strode down the hall, a plump man in green robes carried a flowering potted plant close to his chest as he wandered down the hall as if lost in thought. When he heard their footfall, he raised his head as if confused to find someone else here. Seeing them, he tangled his feet in his robe’s hem as he skidded to a stop.

  “Scion,” he stammered in shock as he pressed himself up against the wall to remain upright, “we had no word of your arrival in Lanvirdis.” Some soil now sprinkled his robe and the floor, but he had managed to keep hold of the plant in his flailing.

  “The fact that we did not send word might be the culprit,” Vaughn suggested offhand.

  “Will you be requiring accommodations?” He swallowed repeatedly clearly nervous.

  “No, but you have my thanks,” Rivka responded with a smile. “We won't be here long.”

  Approaching him, she linked arms with the man and steered him down the hall. He shifted the pot into the opposite arm clumsily, but successfully.

  “I have to beg your pardon,” she admitted while still exuding serene competence. “It's been some time since I've been to the Phaidrian temple. I'm afraid I don't know your name.”

  “Maurice, mum.” He fumbled over the words.

  “My thanks, Maurice. But what you can do for me is let Wieland know that I'm here and wish to speak with him after supper.” Rivka gave him a smile, the kind of smile that let him know that he was in on a secret. “Can you do this one thing for me, Maurice?”

  Maurice bobbed his head nodding his assent. “Immediately, jha’na.”

  Rivka smiled again. “You are a credit to your Order.”

  Bowing low at the waist, Maurice hugged the potted flower close and backed away from Rivka around the corner. He bumped into the wall as he turned and disappeared from sight.

  “Let's go find this warehouse.” Rivka's face transformed. Sober determination replaced the easy peacefulness of her earlier countenance. “I want this finished.”

  Nodding, Vaughn and Rivka made their way out of the temple and into the city streets, heading for the wharf. It was dark on the streets, but gaslight danced and flickered in the wind whipping off Diarmid Bay. Rivka's dress billowed behind her in the wind like those same flames as they walked. Soon they found themselves in the warehouse district of the docks.

  The smell of waterlogged wood and decay filled the air as they approached the brick storehouse. Dark streaks ran down the corner of the building where water had overflowed from the building’s gutters.

  Though Rivka had wanted to deny what Vaughn had reported, she knew that this confrontation had been building for a long time. She interlaced her fingers as she waited on Vaughn. Without him, she had little hope of crossing the Daniyelan wardings. His wrists glowing blue for a moment, Vaughn opened the door. He untangled Rivka's hand and led her through the barrier.

  Closing the door behind them with a soft click, Vaughn turned and a deserted warehouse met him. Every crate that had been stacked higher than a man’s head and had lined the bottom of the floor was gone. In its place sat a single chair. In that chair slumped a small figure. The figure's head fell down so that its chin rested on its chest.

  Vaughn swept past Rivka to the chair. Black hair stuck out in every direction from the figure's head. He increased his stride and halted by the figure and raised the p
erson’s head with a hand. It was Wes.

  Her face had a spider's web of tiny crisscrossed, half-healed burns. She stirred at the touch. Kneeling, Vaughn untied her hands. Her wrists were raw and covered in blood from the rope. Still holding her chin, Vaughn shook her with his free hand.

  “Wes, can you hear me?” he asked his voice gentle.

  Wes mumbled something and her eyes fluttered. She lifted her chin out of Vaughn's grasp and looked up at him from slitted eyes.

  “You came back,” she said, her voice scratchy.

  “I told you I would,” Vaughn said with quiet conviction.

  “Thought you was long gone,” she said licking her cracked lips.

  Rivka put a hand on Vaughn's shoulder. “Vaughn would never abandon a comrade, my dear.”

  “I ain't your dear,” Wes said rolling her shoulders, which ached horribly. “Ain't no one ever come for me.”

  “Wes, how did you get here?” Vaughn asked holding her up in the seat now that she was unbound.

  “Day after you left, some Daniyelans cornered me. Said I was a traitor working with the Virds. Bunch of sods, they was. They asked me about you, but I told them I ain't know nothing. Then they threw me in here.”

  Vaughn traced his thumb lightly along one of the burns. “Who did this, Wes?”

  “The slick one with the fancy words,” Wes said wincing, “Tomas. He said the Virds was conspiring against the Tereskans and that he needed to stop them. He said if we didn't stop them then they would all die. I told him to stuff it.”

  “Brave, if imprudent, words, Wes,” Rivka said her eyes grateful. “Tomas Segar is not a man to be trifled with.”

  “He made me watch,” Wes said her lips twitching. “Said I needed to see the consequences of my choices.”

  “Made you watch what?” Vaughn asked, his voice wary and dangerous.

  “The tragedy that occurred yesterday in Kilrood,” answered a melancholic voice that echoed through the warehouse. “Had she but told me their plans, I could have prevented it.”

  Rivka and Vaughn turned to see Tomas enter the building with six battle dressed Daniyelans at his back. The aged sorrow of his young face seemed incongruous with his carelessly tousled brown hair as he approached them. His hands hid in the folds of his orange robes of office, its sleeves dipping past his knees. He stopped and brought his hands together. The fabric tumbled back into the crook of his elbow.

  “Rivka, my dear, you look radiant as always. Vaughn, I do wish you had come straight to me with this. Then maybe we could have stopped them together.”

  “What exactly were you trying to stop?” Rivka asked with a graceful arch of an eyebrow.

  “Some dissidents, Vird hold outs from the war, attacked the Tereskan temple in Kilrood yesterday. We received word this morning,” Tomas said shaking his head as he recalled the events. “I sent some of my men to investigate and they just reported back. I made the girl watch their findings. The only word for what they found is slaughter. It seems that no one survived, such a senseless waste.”

  Holding her anger in check, Rivka heard the sincerity of Tomas' last statement in his voice. He meant what he said.

  Appearing unruffled, she interlaced her hands. "What of Ianos?"

  "They could not find his body in the carnage," Tomas said his forehead creased with concern. "He's unaccounted for, but we've received no demands if he lives."

  Refusing to tip her hand, Rivka continued to allow Tomas to steer the conversation. "What could they hope to accomplish by attacking the Tereskans?"

  "Revenge?" Tomas suggested his voice tinged with disgust. "Who can tell really with these kinds of malcontents? But what is clear, from the intelligence I received mere days ago, is that a shipment of weapons went south and reached their port in time to supply these butchers.

  "I only learned of it just after Vaughn left Lanvirdis and from what my sources tell me, we were chasing the same information. I have to say I am hurt that he didn't stop by to see Wieland and me, but I do understand how pressing the demands of the Nikelan Grier can be. It grieves me that we could not work together to prevent this terrible loss."

  "Had it been possible, I would have called on you, Tomas. But it is just as you say the demands of my lady surpass all others. Were you able to trace the shipment?" Vaughn asked playing along with Rivka's ploy. "Who was backing them?"

  "That's the part that stings the most," Tomas explained with a sigh. "Right here in Lanvirdis, right under my nose. Layton Norris, the harbormaster, let the shipments pass without inspection, because the cargo was sent by the Nabosian council as relief for the flooded towns along the northern coast of Mergoria. We learned too late that the council was smuggling the weapons to their supporters."

  "And after all the aid you've given for the reconstruction, Tomas," Rivka said with a sympathetic smile and met his gaze. "What a betrayal."

  "I have yet to arrest the members on the council I believe involved," Tomas said extending her an arm in an invitation to walk with him. "It would strengthen me greatly to have you there when they are questioned. Can you stay for the trial? It would give the people peace of mind to see the Nikelan Scion here during such a dark time."

  Rivka looped her arm through his and walked toward the windows. "I am afraid I have pressing business, Tomas. We cannot stay long, but I would speak to the accused. Also, I ask you one small favor in return."

  "Anything, Rivka, you have but to name it." Tomas pat her hand as they looked out the paned glass to the darkened harbor below.

  "Would you put the girl into my custody?" Rivka smiled with the same unearthly stillness that seemed to infuse her very skin. "Vaughn is fond of her and we could always use another girl in the kitchens or the stables perhaps. I seem to recall Vaughn telling me she has an affinity for horses."

  "I don't know, Rivka," Tomas said his eyebrows dipping. "She is a thief and a sympathizer with the Vird rebels. I couldn't live with myself if anything were to happen to either of you."

  "We would be safe enough with her," Rivka reassured him. "Just as a favor, Tomas."

  Tomas sighed and gave her a disapproving glance. "Against my better judgment, you may take her. Hopefully, she's young enough to salvage."

  "You are too kind, Tomas." Rivka squeezed his arm and rotated him back toward Vaughn and the chair. "Where will you take the accused once they are in custody?"

  "I would question them in Kilrood if I could," Tomas said with a grimace. "Make them see and smell the destruction they've caused, but there is no time, so I will question them at the keep. My men are collecting them now. Would you accompany me?"

  "Naturally," Rivka said her voice sobered by the task ahead of them. "Let me speak with Vaughn for but a moment."

  Tomas mistook her remorse for a desire to avoid the interrogations and inclined his head with a compassionate smile before he returned to his escorts leaving Rivka alone with Vaughn and Wes.

  When he was out of earshot, Rivka said, "I want to see whom he's trying to implicate, but more importantly, I want witnesses from outside the Orders there when I renounce him. Wes, do you need to rest? We can send you to the Phaidrian temple to await us."

  Wes shook her head. "I be fine. I want to go with you, yeah?"

  Despite the difficulties facing them, Rivka's mouth tugged up at the girl's unyielding determination. Vaughn had been right about her. "Very well."

  *****

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Faela felt like her stomach had stayed behind in the grove when the purple light dissipated around them like smoke. They stood in the Amserian receiving chamber of the Tereskan temple. She knew the very stones of this place. She knew their shape, their touch, their smell. It took her only a moment to realize that something was wrong.

  Removing herself from Sheridan, she listened. An awful silence greeted her – no hum of activity, no buzzing of far away voices, but it was more than that. The silence went deeper to a cold and still place. That was when she smelled it.

  The me
tallic tang of blood hit the back of her throat. It wasn’t the faint hint of blood. The smell clung to the stones, tainting the foundations of the building.

  Without a word, she raced out of the receiving chamber. Ianos' private offices were close. As soon as any news arrived, he had always wanted immediate access. A habit he had never lost from his years with the Amserian Order.

  Behind her, she heard Kade and Sheridan calling, but she kept running. Nothing could compel her to stop. Her hair streamed back as she ran past splattered walls and streaks of blood that smeared across the floor. The echo of her boots as she ran filled her ears, pushing out any other sounds. She saw nothing, but the hall weaving in front of her until she reached the double doors. She stopped. The doors stood shut.

  She had pushed these doors open so many times. She remembered when she was so small that she had to stretch on her toes just to reach the handle. Now those same handles rested just above her waist. All she had to do was move her fingers mere inches to open the door, but something held her back.

  For some reason, now that she had made it, she wanted the door to remain shut. So she stood, her arms dangling at her sides. She heard the reverberation of footsteps echoing off the foyer ceiling as Kade and Sheridan finally caught her.

  She had felt possessed by the need to find Sammi in the grove, to know that he was all right, to know that something was wrong with her, that he was fine, that she would find him safe, but now, dread seized her limbs, paralyzing her. She could not open the door.

  She heard Kade's voice and she blinked. Inclining her face, she stared at him blankly having no idea what he had just said to her.

  "It's the temple," Faela told him matter-of-factly, "but it's a shell. Nothing's inside. Everything got ripped out."

  "I don't think she's sailing with all hands on deck any more,” Sheridan said to Kade in a low voice. Using every trick she had learned while training in these halls, Sheridan suppressed her conscious awareness of the devastation and distanced herself from it as best she could.