Catalyst (The Second Cycle Book 1)

by Solstice Locke

  “Faer are you…” Jesiah sighed. “Copy that. Relaying the order now, sir.”

  Dian addressed his companions. “You and your friend are coming with me.”

  “I’d like to add,” Jade started, “For the record, that we did save you from those Free Chanters. At great personal cost and risk.” Unbelievable. Dian shook his head as he turned his back on her, expecting that she and Liam follow. She continued to plead her case as they tried to make their escape from this sinking death trap.

  He would never fly again.

  5

  The path back to the main deck was littered with Fel’s handiwork. They had to crawl through intertwined beams of steel or duck past steam clouds spraying from missing piping. The warning alarm was still blaring. The damage taking the whole ship down.

  “That’s the altimeter warning,” Dian said, his voice catching. If Jade had to guess, he was afraid of flying. A tiny jerk or tremor and he grasped the nearest solid object.

  The steady pattern of the wailing siren lent urgency to their movements as they wormed through the passageways. Liam and Dian moved with ease, but Jade’s satchel was catching on narrow gaps. She couldn’t leave it behind. Every precious thing she owned was in that satchel. She adjusted the straps so she wouldn’t fall further behind.

  They were getting closer to the main deck. Jade could feel wind carry through the passages to brush her skin. She took a wrong step and her boot lodged on some indiscernible scrap. Worse, her satchel shifted from her hip and caught in the mangled remains of the passageway.

  Dian was closest to her and he turned at her cry of alarm. He offered his hand.

  Her foot came free easily, but the satchel remained stuck.

  “Hold on,” she said, winded, emotion catching in her throat, “I can shift it, just give me a second—”

  “There’s no time. Leave the bag,” Dain yelled over the roaring wind. They were so close. She was so close. Panic made her hands fumble as she fought to free her bag.

  “I can’t. I won’t. I can do it. Give me a second.”

  “Jade, you don’t have a second.” His voice was calm, but her brain only repeated to her that she had to save her bag. His hand pressed on her shoulder. “Leave it, Jade. It can’t be that impor—”

  She rounded on him, green eyes flashing death. The only items of any value to her, real value, were in that bag. While Jade held her own life in the highest regard, parting with her satchel would be like parting with the only pieces of her life that had ever been good. She steeled her voice so that it wouldn’t shake. “I can’t.” Against her wishes, tears began to build in her eyes, threatening to fall and expose her weakness. She gritted her teeth, speaking through them, “Please. I can’t leave it.”

  The ship shook harder, gaining speed. Dian met her eyes, but it was clear he didn’t understand. He was trying, but he couldn’t. There was a trace of sympathy for her, but when he spoke he sounded exasperated. “This is ridiculous. Move. Let me try.”

  He moved around her, navigating the debris with ease, and unclasped her satchel. He reached inside and pulled out the first thing his hand touched: her folded up coat. “Here. Lose this and it’ll pull free. You can save the rest of it.” Jade tugged. The satchel pulled free.

  Dian tossed the coat behind him.

  “Wait—no!”

  Dian caught Jade’s wrist when she leapt blindly for her coat, but it was Liam who dragged her away. The coat’s collar caught on a jagged strip of metal, fluttering in the wind, and then snatched up by dirty hands. Jade watched as a fleeing pirate sent her a knowing leer, his bitten fingers feeling up the material, and then his retreat toward one of the lifeboats.

  “Enough, Jade. Forget the fucking coat.” Liam’s voice was firm in her ear. She was vaguely aware that he was pulling her onward. The next she knew they were on the main deck and crossing the open space toward the waiting Legion airship. Liam dragged her up the loading ramp and finally released her. He met her eyes and she understood. He was sorry about the coat, but her life was more important.

  Waiting Legion soldiers swarmed them, handcuffs ready, but Dian stopped them with a wave of his hand.

  “We have more important things to worry about. Let them catch their breath. They can’t go anywhere.” His gaze hovered over Jade and Liam, then shifted away. So now he was all business, jumping right back into his soldier role. Figures. Jade was too riled up to care that this was exactly what she had wanted.

  Dian left them while the rest of the Maiden’s crew was rounded up. Jade watched his back, her eyes dark and smoldering, her knuckles cracking. She had felt numb for the past few minutes. Now she was pissed.

  Dian mingled with his comrades. He fit seamlessly with the soldiers, despite his civilian clothing. Jade’s eyes followed him. Boring into him. Seething. Then she was moving. Ducking under the herding arms of the other soldiers.

  “Jade?” Liam’s voice was lost to the wind. Ignored. Her steps were quick and decisive. Dian was about to exit into the interior of his ship when Jade reached him. He turned to her, opening his mouth to speak, but Jade moved first.

  Her fingers clawed into the collar of Dian’s buttoned shirt.

  “Jade no…” Liam’s warning was distant, far away.

  She yanked.

  Buttons popped free easily. His surprise left his arms loose enough for her to pry the shirt from his body. She stood clutching it in her fist.

  He stared at her. She stared back. The entire ship was silent. All eyes on the half-naked officer and the pirate holding his torn shirt.

  Jade fluttered her lashes. Her lips twisted in sardonic glee. She let her hips sway as she marched to the edge of the ship’s deck and tossed the shirt over the side.

  The soldiers tore their attention from her, back to Dian, and tensed. Jade squared her shoulders, triumphant in the sight of him rendered mute and shirtless. Whatever happened now, that look on his face was worth it.

  Liam dragged his hands over his face as the Legionnaires sprang into action, pouncing on Jade and cuffing her.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  SECRETS DON’T MAKE FRIENDS

  “Excuse me, but your opinion does not count here. You’re an observer. Silent.”

  A breeze rolled over the blades of grass in the courtyard, rustled the leaves in the lush maple trees, roused sculpted shrubs and manicured flower beds. White, flat stone lined the verdant landscape on all sides; purple trimmed the door frames and panes of the floor-to-ceiling windows. His body was cushioned by lawn, head resting on crossed arms, and leaves providing a hint of shade. It was a quiet place, a Zen oasis in the hustle of Vacua’s Royal Court.

  “You will show the due respect to the hierarchy of this court, Councilmember Ackerman. You were not elected by the people of this country. This is outside your station.”

  “With respect, Senator, while I don’t have a vote, it’s perfectly legal to state my opinion before the court. Or are you so afraid of your argument bearing scrutiny that you’ll attempt to bully me into silence? I’m not asking that we throw the idea away, merely that we question it properly. The ramifications. The impact outside of your peace of mind. Forcing Chanters to declare themselves or to be collected and held—where? Prison?”

  “The specifics of the proposal were not entrusted to you, a Councilmember, which is precisely why your word on the matter carries very little weight. Do not think your father’s position will grant you—”

  “Enough. Senator Kaine, we’re going to call a short recess.”

  “Of course, Your Majesty.”

  Aldon Ackerman was not avoiding anyone secluded out in the courtyard, but merely attempting to keep peace while the Senators and Councilmembers shuffled around in tense silence or whispered confidences. His adoptive father had nothing to do with his outburst. Not in the way Senator Kaine implied. Aldon was raised in these halls. His father had brought him to Court for as long as Aldon had memory. He’d been raised alongside the children of Ambassadors and royalty, even if his
tawny skin and platinum hair were notably Harrowind in origin.

  “Aldon?”

  He was not sleeping, though it very much appeared that he was. His thoughts were drifting away from his concerns for a time. He was indulging in the short, tension-free hour he had before returning to the war zone of the Council room. Everyone debating. Everyone fighting. Court had been a formal, tempered place when Aldon had attended as a boy. The past decade had dismantled that quiet. Vacua had been battered with one problem after another, with no end or agreement in sight.

  “Aldon.” His name was repeated and he opened one eye, though he knew the voice well enough.

  His foot was slapped off his bent knee and he sat up, rubbing his left—and only—ear to get sound working again.

  “Vinnia. What do you need?” He would have added a courteous ‘Your Majesty’ if they weren’t alone, but Aldon had been calling High Queen Havinnia Oakhaven by the nickname since they were children. Aldon used the tree's trunk to help him stand, his balance only faltering once. Havinnia didn’t seem to notice, but he felt critical eyes on him anyway.

  “I was looking for you,” she said. At one point, Havinnia had smiled wide and easy, blue eyes bright, round cheeks pink with mirth. Now she smiled on cue. Her eyes were often looking elsewhere or at nothing. She stood proudly, though her height was meager. She still wore bright colors, dresses with frills and lace that hugged her round figure, but there was so much darkness surrounding her lately it seemed to mute her former glow. Vacua was hers to rule and with it, all Vacua’s problems. New Chanters being born or discovered every day, inspiring fear now, more than caution. Free Chanters growing in power, attacking Legion bases. Tension flooding every court meeting and conversation.

  In the past few years, the Legion had begun to flounder under the stress, its soldiers stretched too thin. And five years ago, Aldon had been halfway to Headquarters to sign where needed. If they required soldiers, then surely he would serve Vacua better in the Legion than in council rooms. But his father’s death had derailed a lot of plans. It was for the best; Aldon surely wouldn’t have passed the physical and they had General Kannan’s proposal that prisoners be offered service to the Legion for the years of their sentence. It provided the needed manpower.

  “I wanted to talk to you, outside of the court. Because I trust you,” Havinnia started. She wore her thoughts clearly, expressive and unabashed. It had been a fault she had learned to overcome. A queen’s thoughts should not be so easily guessed. But the careful bend to her fair brow and tight press of her lips weren’t hidden now. It was more familiarity than she’d shown in a long time. “It was getting out of hand in there, but…I wanted to talk to you privately about your thoughts. I know that you sit in the court meetings, which is outside your main duties. For a Councilmember, you are unusually well informed.”

  “I do my best.” Aldon wasn’t arrogant, he knew there were things he was not privy to. He was aware that a Senator or a Queen would have insights he wouldn’t. If there was one point his father had drilled into him, it was that he had a responsibility to the position he held. Politics were a service. Or so his father had believed. One day, Aldon’s opinion would matter. For now, he had to content himself with listening in on debates and doing research outside of his duties: the mundane, everyday workings of Azlemaine. He had more intimate knowledge of the city than he cared for, having voted just last week on the thrilling subject of how much to budget toward the replacement of damaged spheres throughout the streets.

  He had waited for Havinnia to address her question, but instead she looked away and spoke wistfully, “Things have changed a lot since we were young.” She was looking at him then, the start of a smile forming, “We’re both very different. With different responsibilities.” She paused, holding in her words before speaking again, “Aldon, you trust that my only concern is for Vacua, for what is best for my nation.”

  He blinked, thrown. “Of course.”

  “This past decade has been a nightmare. We’re falling down a muddy hill, too slippery to climb back up. We’re still very far from the top.” She set her full gaze on him now, “You know of Free Chanters.”

  He nodded, keeping his lips pressed tightly together. Childhood friendship wouldn’t save him if he misspoke to the Queen.

  She winced, but continued, “And your…thoughts on them?”

  “How do you mean? Do you want to know what I think of their cause? I can’t say that their grievances aren’t founded.” He searched for his words, finding it too easy to be causal when he knew he needed to tread carefully. But under the blue sky and puffs of clouds, with no one around, it was easier to remember games of hide and seek, of laughter and teasing. To be the Princess and Senator’s son again. “I think they’re scared and lashing out. The Legion is responding as best as can be expected. Kannan is a brilliant general, and so far casualties are…minimal. But it will escalate. Vinnia, I think it is inevitable. So long as Chanters exist, and fear and suspicion grow, the Free Chanters’ concerns are founded.”

  “Twenty years ago, we didn’t even know Chanters existed.” She shook her head. “Harrowind is reacting badly. Same in Rowm. Even Helvik…”

  “I’ve heard.”

  Havinnia shook her head, twisting her fingers together. She rambled on, falling into her own worries. “We will have to respond if this continues. It is already worse. They will force m—" She took a deep breath. "About Senator Kaine’s proposal. You refuted it. Why?”

  “Not refuted. Questioned. I have faith in the Legion. Things will escalate, but the Legion will respond as it needs to and…” Aldon paused. “That’s not what you’re asking.”

  “No.”

  He hesitated. Why? Why had he argued? His thoughts were too fractured to answer. Too scattered in what was right, what he felt was right, and what made sense. Logic and emotion. He couldn’t balance them in his head. He was afraid of Chanters. Everyone was to some degree. They were foreign, new; they wielded power too easily. Free Chanters used that power to intimidate and bully. Fear of them swayed Aldon to Senator Kaine’s side. Eliminate the threat. By any means.

  “I’m afraid,” he said, “I’m afraid of what they might be capable of and I know that fear is what sways the court. Rounding up Chanters…sticking them in a cage until we can decide what is needed without the threat of them hovering over us is…tempting.”

  When he paused again, Havinnia pressed, “But you don’t agree?”

  “I don’t think it will solve anything. I think it will only make the situation worse. We start taking official action in rounding up Chanters, then Free Chanters are not just a wayward group, they are a cause. They’ll have a reason to fight back, harder. They won’t go down quietly.”

  “They’re already fighting. They’re already aligned under a cause.”

  “But if you give them a real cause, a justifiable one, then you are only giving them more power. You give them volunteers instead of them having to plunder pirate ships or plucking urchins from the street for members. You give them scared, honest citizens who might have minded their own business, except their son or daughter is a Chanter and they won’t let soldiers cart them off like a criminal.”

  “What if I said that Vacua, all the nations of Liore, only survive if that happens?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  He could see from the set of her shoulders that they had reached the end of the conversation. He could tell by the distance in her eyes that he had not passed whatever test she had just posed. “Thank you, Aldon. You’ve always been a good friend. Always honest.”

  “Vinnia, what are you planning?”

  She had asked him if he trusted her and he had answered honestly, but there was nothing about this conversation that he trusted. “What are the Senators planning? I know how Adviser Grant likes to use his position to serve his own views. He did it with your parents—”

  “My parents made their mistakes.” Havinnia’s tiny nose flared. “And I am dealing with th
ose mistakes in the way I think best. My adviser doesn’t control me. I make my own decisions.”

  “Forgive me, Your Majesty.” Aldon’s lips pinched closed and part of him felt the loss in that moment. They weren’t children anymore. “I won’t speak out of turn. I’ll save my comments for Court.”

  Her eyes fluttered. She played with the wedding band on her finger, and for an instant, she was Vinnia. “If good can come of it…if good can be found in all this, a necessary good...survival, for all of Liore, would that not make all these horrors alright?”

  Aldon carefully pushed himself from the tree he’d been using for support. “Good can’t justify evil. I think to justify horror for the sake of good is…easy. I will always work for and hope that the bad wasn’t necessary at all.”

  Havinnia’s eyes unfocused, the crystal blue glistening before she could seal it away. Aldon wanted to understand, but it wasn’t possible. She was a Queen. He couldn’t know what secrets she kept, what knowledge she possessed that brought her to such a bleak rationalization. Once again, he wished he had joined the Legion. He could follow orders and put all this thinking aside. He could act toward bettering Vacua, instead of just talking. He hated Court.

  “You are still my friend, Aldon Ackerman. As much as a Queen may have any.”

  When she was gone, Aldon felt a chill. The courtyard didn’t distract him anymore. His riot of thoughts returned even stronger. He hadn’t meant to be suspicious of the Oakhaven family, least of all Havinnia. Aldon was loyal to the crown, but his conscience was loud. He wasn’t fool enough to think himself smarter than the council and he could acknowledge his own ignorance, but that didn’t stop the questions. It didn’t stop him from analyzing his conversation with Havinnia and feeling a bad taste crawl up his throat.