Ghosts & Ashes

by F. T. Lukens

  * * * * *

  “We’re going in that?” Jakob pointed to a beat-up floater half-hidden under a pile of leaves and bracken. The hover transport was rusted in some places and dented in others, and the vehicle’s cab sported cracked glass. “We’ll die.”

  Wrapped in his winter clothes, Ren peeked over his collar and eyed the run-down equipment with trepidation. He didn’t think they would die, but they definitely would make a lot of noise. It could garner unwanted attention. They would probably go faster walking.

  Beatrice crossed her arms over her own overstuffed coat. Her wild red hair was captured in a braid. “We’ve used it before, and it worked fine. Or would you rather walk?”

  “Walk. I would really rather walk,” Jakob said.

  “Fine, then. You can walk. And Ezzy and I will take the floater.”

  Asher’s breath was a gust of hot air on Ren’s neck. “Can you fix it?”

  Ren was exhausted. His head was fuzzy, but, as ever, the star burned inside him and easily flooded to his fingertips. He didn’t need to pull off his glove, but he did anyway. The chill in the air nipped at his exposed fingers when he held them out and closed his eyes.

  The floater was junk, battered and old. However, Beatrice was correct. It did run.

  “What’s he doing?” she asked. “Is he addled?”

  Ren cracked open an eye and frowned. He stalked forward, brushing past the group, and slapped his palm onto the cold metal of the transport. He let go and poured his power into the circuits and mechanisms. He could fix it. As he raced along the broken wires and repaired them, and as he rerouted power around components that were too damaged to save, Ren was free from mortal concerns. He was happy, unburdened from impending decisions and from his loss, and content to stay there. His star hummed throughout his body and throughout the floater. Once he was finished, he flicked on the power source.

  The floater lifted under his hand and the thrusters engaged, propelling the hunk of metal a few feet off the ground. He reveled in the whir of engines and the thrum of power in his veins. Satisfied, he eased off the power, allowed the floater to settle to the ground, and pulled out of the circuits.

  Beatrice stared at him with wide eyes and an open mouth. Ezzy grinned, her face lit up.

  “What are you?” Beatrice asked.

  “I’m a technopath.”

  “A star host,” she said, awed. “An actual star host.”

  Jakob laughed. He walked past Beatrice with a smug look. “Did you hear that engine purr?”

  She snapped her mouth shut and glared.

  They all squeezed onto the front bench seat. It was a tight fit, but Ezzy was small and half sat on Jakob’s lap. After an argument over who would drive, Beatrice started the floater, and they eased out of its hiding spot in a copse outside the dense crush of the Laurels.

  “Ren fixed it,” Jakob said, leaning over and jostling the rest of them. “You can go faster.”

  Beatrice scowled, but she picked up speed, and soon the floater hurtled over the landscape: Scenery passed in a blur of snow and sky.

  “We’ll have to ditch the floater before we get too close to the walls,” Beatrice said, her voice carrying in the wind. “In case there are birdmen around. Our patrols didn’t report seeing any in the woods last night, but we can’t be too careful.”

  “What would happen if they saw us?” Jakob asked.

  She kept her gaze on the sprawl of the land in front of them, but she lifted her eyebrow.

  “They’ll kill us,” she said.

  Ezzy nodded. Her gloved hands were wrapped tight around the nearby handles. “Or they’ll take us and ask us questions and then kill us.”

  “Surely that’s a rumor,” Asher said. “The Corps has no interest in dusters. They’re probably here looking for Vos.”

  “Vos is gone,” Beatrice replied. “He cleared out with his troops and never returned. Everyone knows that. And the leaders of our village told them so, but that didn’t stop them from burning it to the ground.”

  Ren winced.

  “It was the Corps that destroyed your village?” Asher asked, tone brittle.

  “Yeah, and all the villages around it.” She stared at Ren. “Including yours.”

  “They wouldn’t do that,” Asher said. He turned to Ren. “They wouldn’t do that,” he repeated, though his voice was softer. “Would they?”

  Ren shrugged. “I’m sorry, Asher. But it looks like they did.”

  “What is your problem?” Beatrice asked, staring at Asher. “Are you some kind of birdman sympathizer? Or are you one of those, ‘they are only following orders’ people?” She kept one hand on the steering stick and placed the other on her throat. She fluttered her eyelashes. “They’re good people, honestly.” She talked softly with a strange accent. “It’s not their fault. They have to do what they are told.”

  Ezzy snickered.

  Asher paled. “Stop. Just stop.”

  Beatrice batted her eyelashes again, then dropped her hand and sneered. “What the stars is your problem?”

  “Drop it, Bea,” Jakob said. “You can understand it’s a touchy subject. And we’re all on edge. The three of us were actually held in the citadel, you know. I almost died there. This isn’t a fun jaunt across the countryside for us, whatever it might be for you.”

  Beatrice huffed and rolled her eyes. “Fine. Whatever.”

  Asher looked stricken, with eyebrows drawn together, mouth in a tense line, and eyes shadowed. Ren interlaced their fingers. He gave a comforting squeeze, but Asher didn’t respond. His gaze was far away, unfocused, as the terrain passed beneath them.

  The next few hours were spent in awkward silence as Beatrice drove on, except for Ezzy, who updated Jakob on all the gossip of the encampment, leading Ren to believe Ezzy was the “little bird” who’d spilled their desire to leave. Eventually, Beatrice changed course.

  Ren roused from half-sleep and squinted. The sun shone high above them in the middle of the day and illuminated the snow-laden fields. The citadel rose above them, dark against the gray sky. The stone castle loomed over the landscape. The sheer outer wall was formidable and familiar. Turrets pierced the clouds, and from their tops the Baron’s standards flapped in the wind. Ren shivered, remembering the first time he had seen them almost a year ago.

  Beatrice guided the floater parallel to the front of the castle and to a small gathering of trees. Ren recognized the woods he’d seen Sorcha run for, and he tried not to think about what might have happened to her. Jakob may have hope that he would see her again, but Ren wasn’t so sure.

  Beatrice settled the floater on the tree line. The transport was too big to fit between the bushes and trees. The group climbed out and Ren stretched his arms, glad to walk after the ride. The floater stood out against the snow and the barren trees.

  “We’re just going to leave it?” Jakob asked.

  “Yes.”

  “So someone can come along and steal it?”

  Beatrice ignored the question, grabbed her bag, and slung it over her shoulder. Ezzy did the same. They each took a weapon—Ezzy a prod and Beatrice the stunner—but they left the body armor and helmets behind.

  “No armor?” Ren asked.

  Beatrice’s gaze flicked to Ren. “We don’t need it.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yeah, I’m sure.”

  “I think, maybe, it would be a good idea—”

  “You know, Ezzy and I have been doing this for months,” Beatrice snapped. “We haven’t been killed, yet. I think we know what we’re doing.”

  Jakob didn’t look pleased. “It’s a wonder how you haven’t been. We’re not only advertising that someone with a floater is here, but we’re leaving it unlocked. And you’re not even worried!”

  “I don’t think I like your tone, Jakob.”

  “Yeah
, I don’t think I like that you’ve been endangering my little sister.”

  “I’ve been protecting your sister because you weren’t here to do it.”

  Jakob turned a dangerous shade of red; his muscles tensed. Asher grabbed his arm to keep him from advancing.

  “Can Ren do something to it?” Ezzy asked. “To keep it from starting in case someone comes along?”

  “Yeah. Yeah, I can.” Ren reached for his power and blocked the path from the power source to the ignition. It only took a few seconds, and then Ren retreated. He took a moment to take stock, to indulge in his ritual of counting his heartbeats. His consciousness settled back into his body. “It’s done.”

  “Your eyes glow blue,” Ezzy breathed. “They’re beautiful.” Her cheeks reddened, and her eyes went wide. “Not that they aren’t always beautiful. I mean, I’ve never seen someone do that.”

  Jakob pulled his own pack and weapon from the back, then wrapped his arm around Ezzy’s shoulders. “Get used to it. He does it a lot.”

  “Let’s get going,” Beatrice grumbled. She broke off from the group and trudged through the snow.

  Asher followed her, uncharacteristically silent.

  “How are we going in?” Ren asked.

  “The front door, of course.”

  “Do you think that’s safe?”

  Beatrice threw up her hands. “Your little group really is a bunch of weeds. Can you just let me lead and stop questioning everything? Like I said, Ezzy and I have done this before. We’ll be fine.”

  Ren sighed. There was another way in, the siege door that Asher and he had escaped through, but even if Ren could lower the force field, they didn’t have a key for the iron doors. And if they couldn’t get through, trying would waste more time. He nodded, acquiescing to Beatrice’s experience.

  “Good. Now follow me. Keep your eyes open and your mouths shut. Ezzy, take the rear and make sure your weed of a brother stays out of trouble.”

  Jakob glared, but kept his lips pressed together so hard they turned white.

  They crept across the open countryside that surrounded the towering walls of the citadel. The stone was stark against the wispy snow clouds and the occasional sliver of blue in the sky. It didn’t seem safe. Ren swore he was being watched, and his skin prickled with the sensation.

  He reached out, searching for weapons or energy signals, but his power balked. His senses fuzzed out as his star twisted and writhed, tangling up. His head buzzed, and his vision went blue. Static overwhelmed him and tingled through his body down to his toes. He tasted electricity and colors and smelled sound, and the citadel vibrated in his bones. He clapped his gloved hands over his ears and hunched forward, gritting his teeth—none of which quelled the all-consuming whine of white noise invading his head.

  Ren let out a whimper. Despite being invaded, he felt hands on his shoulders, someone pulling him up, then fabric against his cheeks.

  He didn’t realize he had clenched his eyes shut until a voice asked him to open them. He did, and Asher’s face took shape: a blurry impression amid the blurred lines of blue and black and white.

  “What’s going on?” Asher said.

  Ren furrowed his brow, not able to speak as his power went haywire. Ren flinched, but the action made everything worse, and he realized fighting or hiding wasn’t going to work. Instead of withdrawing from the signal, he opened to it. He engaged with it. His star was a throbbing pressure in his chest. His body shivered and shook, his muscles tensed, his joints locked. But despite the assault on his senses, the more Ren succumbed to it, the clearer it became.

  Vos’s voice. Repeating a warning in Ren’s head.

  Asher shook him, and Ren’s teeth clacked. “Ren? What is going on? Are you okay?”

  “Do you hear it?” he asked, his voice far away, blunted, barely a sound in the noise.

  “No. No, we don’t hear anything. What do you hear?”

  Stay away. Stay away. Not safe. Report to other base. Leave.

  “A warning,” he managed to grit out. “From Vos. A signal.”

  “This is why we need comms,” Beatrice said. “I bet we would pick it up on those.”

  Asher ignored her. “Can you block it out?” His touch was gentle on Ren’s face. “Ren?”

  Ren scrunched his eyes shut, but the message was insidious. It overran his mind and echoed through his thoughts.

  Stay away. Stay away. Not safe. Report to other base. Leave.

  Except you.

  Ren shivered. The last words were softer, an intimate whisper in the shell of Ren’s ear, an invitation. Abiathar’s voice was a caress; his power of suggestion was present within the sound, and Ren was certain those words would not be picked up on any comm system. Fear crept down his spine as the phrase appeared again in the static.

  Except you. Come in.

  No. No!

  Ren wrenched from Asher’s grip and broke away from the group. He ran, kicking up snow behind him, and sprinted across the wide-open area toward the stone.

  He had to shut it off.

  He had to shut it off.

  He had to—

  Come in.

  9

  Ren had no idea what he was doing, but he knew he had to push Vos and Abiathar out of his head. He got to the shadows cast by the towers and blindly felt along the stone edges. Not finding what he needed, he pulled off his gloves, ignored the shouts of the others behind him, and ran farther, trailing his hand along the citadel’s wall. The stone was cold and it scratched his palm, but he had to find it, had to find the source. He had to shut it off.

  Come in. Come in.

  “No!”

  Ren stumbled to the castle gate. The portcullis was propped open and the heavy doors swung wide on broken hinges. The force field wasn’t active but the system was enough.

  Ren slammed his power into it and raced through the wires and the circuits, up into the stone, through the courtyard, into the keep. He climbed and climbed, hopping from system to system, until he found the communications. Set in the highest tower, the beacon blared, alerting stragglers of Vos’s empire to their orders. It must’ve run for months, since Vos had left and Abiathar, his lead general, took the army to the drifts.

  With a surge, Ren cut it off. He silenced the bleating repetition of words.

  One second, the static consumed him, and in the next, it was gone. Ren was flesh and bone, weary, breathing hard from running. He sagged against the wall and slid down. Sitting in the snow, knees bent, he waited for the others to catch up.

  He had outrun them all, and the group approached, weapons out and at the ready. Ren didn’t miss the fact that while Asher, Jakob, and Ezzy had their pulse guns and prods pointed outward, Beatrice’s stunner was aimed squarely at Ren.

  Ren’s chest stung from the cold, and his hands bled from a few scratches. He warily eyed Beatrice as they approached. Though he could disable the weapon with a blink, she didn’t know that, and he didn’t know if he could stop her if she chose to pull the trigger with no warning.

  The massive wooden door that Ren had walked through almost a year ago banged against the stone wall in a gust of the bitter wind. It sounded suspiciously like come in, but Ren shook his head, clearing away the clutter of words.

  “What the stars was that?” Beatrice barked. “Are you trying to get us killed? If there were any birdmen around they would’ve picked you off for sure. Are you addled?”

  Ren pushed his hair from his eyes.

  “Your eyes are blue.”

  “My eyes are brown.”

  “She means you’re glowing, Ren,” Jakob said.

  “Oh. I’m detangling.” Ren’s consciousness was stretched from the entrance to the tower, and he slowly contracted, pulled himself out of the remnants of the castle systems.

  Ezzy’s eyes were bright, and her mouth was slightly open
. “What did you do?”

  “I turned off the signal,” Ren said. “I had to. It was… too much.”

  “Are you okay?” Asher knelt, placed his hand on Ren’s shoulder, and squeezed.

  “Yeah, I’m all right.” Ren tugged and he slotted back into his physical self. He took stock, counted his pulse, and wiggled his fingers.

  Come in.

  “For good measure, can you ask me an impossible question?”

  Asher narrowed his eyes. “What happens when an unstoppable force meets an immovable object?”

  The question chimed sharply in Ren’s mind. “Paradox.”

  “Good.”

  Beatrice heaved a sigh. “Well, any cover we had was blown as soon as you took off running. We might as well go in.”

  “Any cover we had was gone the minute we stepped out of the floater,” Asher said. He stood and slid his pulse gun back into his holster. “If anyone wanted us dead, we would be. But that doesn’t mean we should throw caution into an air recycler.”

  Beatrice raised an eyebrow. “Wind.”

  “What?”

  “Throw caution to the wind. Why would you throw caution into an air recycler?”

  “I… what?”

  “Weeds, you’re a drifter, aren’t you?” She pointed her finger at Asher’s chest. “That’s why you have such a problem with the truth about the Corps. You’re spoiled drifter trash.”

  His jaw clenching, Asher visibly restrained himself from commenting. Ren rested a hand on his arm before rolling his eyes and sharing a commiserating look with Jakob. Ren stood, and Jakob shouldered between Asher and Beatrice.

  “Can we finish what we came here to do? I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to have to spend the night here. Let’s go.” Jakob brushed through the center of the group, breaking the tension.

  “I’m leading,” Beatrice said. “And you three better start paying attention or you’re going to end up dust.”

  They inched toward the opening to the courtyard. They stepped around the heavy wooden doors, and then ducked under the portcullis, which was pried open so its slats rested on a tower of pilfered stone. Beatrice led, checking around corners, with her weapon out and ready. Asher moved in tandem with her, inspecting corners and passageways. Beatrice remained stone-faced, but after putting together that Asher was a drifter, and the way he moved and handled his pulse gun, it was only a matter of moments before she figured out he was Phoenix Corps.