by F. T. Lukens
But Ren had bigger things to worry about for the moment.
Come in.
Past the threshold, the entryway split. The left led to the keep. The right took them to the courtyard.
Beatrice eyed him. “We’ve already picked the courtyard clean, and so has everyone else. We need to go into the keep.”
“We can get into the keep from the courtyard and then into the barracks. Jakob knows the way. So does Ren.”
She huffed. “Fine.”
The group moved to the right, quietly, on edge.
The courtyard was eerily silent. The sun was high; the walls cast shadows. The raised platform stood in the middle, looming over the closed-in area. Ren swallowed the lump in his throat, and Jakob crowded close to Ren’s side as he stared at the wooden structure.
“I died there.”
Ren cautiously touched Jakob’s shoulder, remembering when the soldiers had tortured Jakob in front of him for attempting escape, how Jakob’s cries had echoed through the courtyard, how his body had hung so limply. “Don’t look at it.”
“Hard not to.”
“I know.”
Ren looked at the corner where he’d spent his days. The bench was there. The buckets of broken tech were turned over and rooted through. He hefted the container onto the wooden board that used to be his desk.
“That stuff is junk,” Ezzy said, coming to stand at his elbow. She had her prod leaning on one shoulder.
Ren shifted the broken pieces and in the bottom he found a comm. It was indeed broken, but, with a flash of his star, he fixed it. He handed it to Ezzy. The small green light around the rim indicated it was on and working.
“Whoa,” she said. “You fixed it.”
“Yeah. It’s working now. We only need to find a few more and tune the frequencies.”
“You’re amazing,” she said, cheeks red.
Ren laughed. “Not really.”
“Yes, you are. I noticed, even when we lived in the village, before everything.” She cleared her throat. “I used to watch you work. I could see the fields from my window and the livery.”
Ren’s eyebrows shot up. He ran a hand through his hair and laughed.
“Aren’t you… uh… young to… uh…” Ren cast a helpless look around the courtyard, but the others were busy. Beatrice stood watch, while Asher and Jakob looked for tech in any of the mess left behind. “Notice people?”
“I’m thirteen,” she said.
“Oh. We should find more tech.” Ren walked away to join Asher. His limbs moved awkwardly, and he felt heat in his cheeks.
Asher handed Ren another comm. “Found it in the dirt. Can you fix it?”
Ren nodded. Distracted though he was, it flared to life in his palm, and a voice came across loud and clear.
“Fox, you see anything? Over.”
“Saw a group go in through the front. Not birds. Didn’t see if they went to the stone or the dirt. Be careful. Over.”
“Okay. Might be friendlies. We’ll be careful. Over.”
“Comm if you need me. I’ll be watching. Over.”
“In the tunnel, heading in. Radio silence for now. Out.”
Ren and Asher exchanged a glance. “Someone’s coming!” Asher said, harshly. “Come on. Under the arch.”
Beatrice, Ezzy, and Jakob ran to the shelter and crowded in. It was the arch Ren had walked through every morning and night of his captivity and it only offered minimal shelter. They could hide, but only if the group didn’t walk directly in front of them. Pressed against the stone, in the shadows, Ren held the comm in his fist, while Asher peeked out. The sun lit a slant across Asher’s features. The tension in the small corridor was thick as the group held its collective breath.
“What’s happening?” Ezzy whispered.
Jakob shushed her, and she made a face and opened her mouth to retort, but Asher waved her quiet.
“Weapons ready,” the female voice from the comm said. “Fox saw a group. Not birds, but we’re not taking any chances.”
Jakob went still, then he pushed away from the wall where he had been squished between Ezzy and Beatrice.
“I know that voice.” Jakob stepped toward the opening.
“Jakob, no,” Asher said. He reached out to grab Jakob’s sleeve, but Jakob was too quick. He pulled his arm away and ran into the sunlight.
Ren watched as Jakob put his hands up, and he felt the weapons charge, heard the loud hum of the energy, and smelled the slight ozone tinge of the air. Ren gathered his power and waited, body coiled as a spring, ready if he needed to defend Jakob.
“Wait,” the voice said. There was a charged moment, and then a timid, “Jakob?”
“Sorcha,” he said.
Sorcha!
Ren’s body unlocked, and he vaulted from the wall and into the sunlight. He skidded to a stop next to Jakob.
The sunlight blinded him for a brief terrifying second, but then he found himself staring at a ragtag group of dusters with Sorcha at the lead. Her white-blonde hair was cut short; her blue eyes were large in her round face. She had her head tilted and her weapon pointed to the ground, but the group behind her had their stunners trained on the pair of them.
Ren ignored the cursing coming from the tunnel and grinned at her. He belatedly raised his hands in surrender, and that had Sorcha’s lips twitching into an amused smile.
“Ren,” she greeted.
“Sorcha.”
“Is it really you two?” she asked. She took a step forward, her boots crunching in the snow.
Jakob trembled. “Is it really you?” His voice shook, and Sorcha’s expression softened. “I’ve been looking for you,” he continued. “We came back for you. I came back for you.”
Sorcha dropped her stunner. It fell to the snow, and she gave up any pretense of caution. She threw her arms around Jakob’s neck, and he grabbed her, threaded his gloved hands through her short hair, and held on.
“I thought you were dead,” she said, words thick and muffled by Jakob’s coat.
“I thought you were dead,” he replied in kind.
“We went to the village,” Ren said. “We saw and we didn’t know if…”
She lifted her head from Jakob’s shoulder, and met Ren’s gaze. She held out an arm. Ren leaned into it and she embraced both of them, then clung to them.
“I’ve missed you. I’ve missed you both so much.”
Ren closed his eyes and sighed, happy to be with his friends, the two people who had started the journey with him. They were together, though in the place they didn’t want to ever see again.
Sorcha pulled away. “Where’s Asher?”
There was an annoyed sigh, and a shuffle of footsteps.
“Right here.”
Sorcha beamed at him. “You’ve taken care of him. Good job.”
“It’s been difficult,” Asher said. “I’m glad to see you,” he added sincerely.
Sorcha laughed. “I’m glad to see you too, Ash.”
Their reunion was cut short when someone behind them cleared their throat. “Sorcha?”
“Oh.” She turned around and addressed the group of five behind her. “They’re friendlies. No worries here.”
They relaxed and holstered their weapons. “So what are we doing?”
“We’re going to scavenge like we came to do. But we might be staying the night. What do you say to that?” She looked to Jakob.
“Yeah. We are too.”
“Since when?” Beatrice asked, stepping out of the alcove.
“Since now.”
Jakob glared at her, daring her to protest, but she didn’t. Her gaze dropped to Jakob’s fingers laced with Sorcha’s, and she acquiesced with an annoyed grunt.
“Fine.”
* * *
Beatrice and Ezzy disappeared into t
he keep with Matt, one of Sorcha’s men who knew the way. He was another teenager who had escaped with Ren and Asher the last time they had been at the castle. Asher, Jakob, and Sorcha ventured into the barracks and tunnels that led to the kitchens and dungeons.
Ren set up his old workstation and inspected tech the others brought. He fixed what he could and junked what he couldn’t.
Between the two groups, Ren fixed several comms, which allowed everyone to be in touch. He helped Asher and Jakob pry the force-field tech out of the stone at the siege tunnel. With three points of contact, Ren was certain someone mechanically inclined could set it up at the entrance of the encampment. Not him, though. He wasn’t going back to the Laurels, to his family. He was certain of that now.
Ren worked, and the others worked, and soon they had a pile of tech that would be of good use. They also had clothes, rugs, and pots and pans. There were some dried stores in sacks. There was a single prod, which Ren managed to get to spark.
As night began to fall, so did the temperature, and the groups agreed to take respite from the cold inside the keep. They hauled their bounty inside and assembled in a large room with a fireplace. A rug that was too big to move lay on a stack of rushes. The doors were intact and they closed. Sturdy chairs were dragged in front of them to provide protection, however inadequate.
Ren wasn’t worried. He had Asher, Jakob, Beatrice, Sorcha, all equipped with weapons, and all hardened by their experiences.
They started a fire and gathered around it. Jakob stayed close to Sorcha’s side. They shared provisions from their packs and from the stores they had found in the kitchens. As in the farmhouse, Ren was surrounded by stories and ghosts, the echoes of the people who had been here before him. He could feel them in the electricity in the air, in the systems in the walls, in the lights which glowed, and in the reflections in the glass of the high windows.
Come find me.
“So you found Ren on a drift?”
Jakob nodded and drank from a bottle of wine he had found in the stores. “Yeah. He and Asher were mounting this rescue that had ridiculously bad odds.”
“Shut up, Jakob,” Ren said, though he smiled. “We won, didn’t we?”
“Barely.”
“What happened to you, Sorcha? Where did you go?”
She took the bottle from Jakob and had a long pull. She wiped her mouth with the back of her sleeve. “I never made it back home. I’m sorry,” she said to Ren. “I never found your parents or your brother, but I made it to another village, and they took me and a bunch of the others in. They hid us when the soldiers came. And after Vos left and the birds came…” She trailed off. “We’re in a safe place now, but for a while it was almost as bad as when we were here.”
“And Sorcha became our drift-kickin’ leader,” a voice chimed out. “Took charge, and even the council listened to her!”
The group cheered and laughed, and Sorcha ducked her head. “I did what I needed to do to protect my new family, so be quiet, you weeds.”
Jakob took her hand. “We’re glad you didn’t make it home. We’re happy you’re safe. I’m happy I found you.”
She blushed; the pink in her cheeks was evident in the firelight. “I’m glad of that, too.”
Beatrice made a noise, stood, and left the group. Ezzy shot Ren a look that he couldn’t decipher, and Ren scooted closer to Asher’s side. Asher raised an eyebrow, and offered Ren the bottle Sorcha had passed. Ren shook his head. Asher took a swig, coughed, and then handed it off to another person whose name Ren didn’t know.
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” Ren said. He was—in both his power and in his decisions. “I’m happy they found each other.”
Ren looked back to where Jakob and Sorcha sat and startled when he saw them kissing. Jakob’s hand cupped Sorcha’s cheek, and she gripped Jakob’s jacket; her fingers twisted in his collar. They kissed as if they were dying for it, and Ren flushed and looked away.
“Oh,” Asher said. “We should give them some privacy. Probably?”
“Yeah.” Ren nodded. “I need air anyway.”
Ren stumbled to his feet. The main entrance to the room was blocked, but next to the fireplace he found an ornate wooden double-leaf door with decorative iron scrolls and swirling images carved into the wood. He pulled on the knocker, and the right side opened with a creak. The lights embedded in the stone lit as Ren entered and wandered past them, giving the space an eerie glow. Ren trailed his fingers along the wall and followed the path. He heard Asher behind him, but Ren kept going, pushed forward by an inkling, an urge.
Come find me.
“I’m coming,” Ren said softly.
The voice insisted, and Ren followed, and the passageway guided him to another open area. The lights were on there, too. The room was circular, with a desk, tapestries, and another door, which led farther into the castle. There were chairs along the walls, but the desk, heavy and lavish, had a screen embedded in the top. It glowed, and Ren approached it warily.
It wasn’t Abiathar’s room, which Ren remembered, with the tapestry that depicted sword and sorcery and with the lavish trappings.
No, this room was plainer, not as decadent—a room of a tactician, of a planner, of a leader. This was the room of Vos, a man with a mission, who wanted little distraction as he calculated his odds, his losses, his moves.
Ren sat in the uncomfortable chair behind the desk and stared down at the screen. It beckoned him.
You found me.
Ren touched the tech, and it hummed to life under his palm. His star engaged in his chest and Ren found himself standing in a room, a virtual area, with a green grid under his feet and walls of electric blue all around him.
In front of him stood a young man. Abiathar’s voice may have compelled him here, but that wasn’t who stood in front of him now. He wore simple clothes, like a duster: trousers and a homespun shirt overlaid with a black vest. His face was narrow, and his body was tall and thin. His chin was pointed, and he wore a mustache and a patch of a beard beneath his lower lip. His hair was long, brushing his shoulders, and black, and it curled at the ends.
“Who are you?” Ren’s voice echoed, bounced around like static. The sound sizzled.
The man smiled. He waved a hand, and the light from the grid reflected from a large ring, a signet ring, black and red, like the standards that flapped on top of the towers.
“You know who I am.” His voice rang out, deep and resonate, a vibration in the virtual space.
“Vos?”
“Baron Vos. To you, though, I’m a program. An illusion. Nothing for you to fear.” He walked around the space and approached Ren.
Ren blinked and took a step back. “You’re young.”
“Not as young as you.”
“That’s not saying much.”
Vos smiled.
“What is this?” Ren asked, looking around. “Why did you want me here?”
“You’re thinking, why the program? Why am I here waiting in this castle? This was not made specifically for anyone, though there are a few of you that I wager will come back here to find answers. That’s why I left the message, why I had Abiathar record a few words to call to you. As you know, he can only compel fellow hosts.”
Ren pushed his hair from his eyes. This message wasn’t only for him. It was for anyone with power, any star host. And Vos mentioned others, more who might have been here, who looked for answers. Who else had seen this?
The virtual Vos stalked around the room, and Ren spun to follow it, to keep his eyes on the figure.
“Some of you have always known the legends that surround your kind. Others have had their origin, their legends, hidden. I’m here to educate you, to give more information for you to join our cause of your own free will. By this time, I’ve either taken over the first few drifts, or I was defeated for a time and have gone to
regroup at my base on Crei.”
Ren snapped to attention. Millicent’s home world! He was there. He was there, and maybe Liam was there as well. If he had another base, another army, and Liam had been captured…
“You have been made to hide all your lives because of the Phoenix Corps. They’ve hunted you, destroyed your homes. Even now, as I am certain that some of you have revealed yourselves to them and you’re being pursued or captured. You contain the power of the stars, and they are afraid of you. They want to wipe you out, make sure no one else can threaten them with your fantastic abilities.
“You must make a choice. Stand with me, and, together, we can make sure you will never have to hide again. You will never need to restrain yourself. You can give in to your power, become what you were made to be.”
Ren swallowed.
Vos stepped close to him. The figure almost touched Ren’s body, and his presence crackled through Ren and pierced almost as fiercely as his words. It brushed through Ren’s hand, and Ren’s skin tingled.
“You could rule,” Vos said, black eyes boring into Ren’s. “You could make them cower. You could live a quiet life wherever you wanted. You could touch the stars. You could be safe. You could do anything.” He took a breath. “You could be free.”
Ren shuddered. He could be free. He could join Vos at Crei and be free. He could find Liam and run away, the two of them, away from Erden, their parents, away from the Star Stream, away from the Corps. The only thing Ren ever wanted was to be free, to make his own choices. This could be that choice.
The program smiled, knowing, but genuine. The image flickered, and Ren blinked. Vos wavered, became a blur, then focused again.
“You have a choice, star host. Make the right one.”
Then Ren was back in the chair, staring down at the console, and Asher stood next to him with his hand on Ren’s arm.
“Ren?”
