Shimmer

by Matthew Keith

  Chapter 21

  “Winston, I’m ready,” Alex insisted. The two of them sat alone in the big man’s home, a small room built into one of the thick walls of Sanctuary. He could see that Winston was running out of patience, maybe even getting angry, but Alex refused to be dissuaded. Dad could be running out of time. He’d done everything Winston had asked. He’d proven his worth back in the Antechamber.

  “You promised,” Alex pressed. “We had a deal, and I’ve held up my end.” When Winston didn’t answer right away, Alex began to get mad. “Do you want everyone to know you didn’t keep your word?” he threatened.

  Winston rose to his feet indignantly. He glared down, his fingers flexing into clenched fists, and for a moment Alex worried he’d gone too far. Finally Winston snarled and turned away.

  That Alex might be able to sway the opinion of the people wasn’t an idle threat. Winston knew it, but more importantly, Alex knew it too. Maybe if Alex’s first tour at the Core had been uneventful, maybe then Winston wouldn’t have any cause to worry. But the whole city had heard what happened in the Antechamber. They knew that Alex had been an integral part of slaying a Nocuous, and for Alex that made it a whole new ballgame.

  It had been four days since they’d returned from their terrible ordeal, something Alex hoped he’d never have to repeat.

  The hours following the battle had been awful. Phineas had never returned, and it was far too late for any of them to go to the Core to look for him—undoubtedly, the damage had already been done. The worst part was, they all knew he must still be there because none of them had seen him come back through the Antechamber and it was the only way in and out the of the Core room. So they waited there, exhausted, scared, and bruised, for their relief to arrive, a strange mixture of hope and dread in their hearts for their lost companion.

  Although none of them said it aloud, Alex was sure any one of them would have been happy to leave and return to the city, but Domus law dictated they wait until a new group of guards came, and there was still close to ten hours left of their tour.

  Because Jonathan and Alex were the most injured, they spent most of the remaining time dragging corpses out of the Antechamber while the most able-bodied, Tabitha, Abner, and Gideon, remained on guard. They pulled the dead weight for hours, through miles of dark, dank tunnels, to a place Jonathan called the Ossuary, a small cavern where thousands of bone fragments littered the floor.

  It was soul crushing and grisly work. Not only did they dump the remains of Nocuous and its thralls there, but also those of Erikson and the guard who’s name Alex had never learned, the one who’d been pulled down as he’d been sprinting for the safety of the Antechamber.

  “It seems wrong to leave them lying in the same grave together,” Alex had said bleakly.

  “We all end up in the Ossuary,” Jonathan had replied grimly. “We dare not leave remains anywhere near Domus or the Core. The scent of blood would attract all manner of creatures. We cannot bury them, and should we commit their remains to the Great Lake, we risk contamination of our water supply.”

  It was a sad fact of existence in the Under. The Ossuary was the only form of graveyard they had available to them, and Alex left it feeling worse than he had when he’d first hefted Erikson’s corpse to drag it there. The stench, the terrible knot in his gut, and the cold realization of victory’s consequences crushed the thrill and left him remembering how his dad had always told that there were never any winners in any fight. Finally, he understood what his father really meant. It lent Alex a new kind of respect for warriors like Jonathan, whose daily life was constantly overshadowed by impending tragedy.

  Their relief guard had arrived nearly three hours after that, appearing from the dark gloom with wide, frightened eyes. They’d seen the blood trails as they neared the Antechamber and had feared the worst.

  In terse whispers, Jonathan had recounted the story of the battle. More than once, Alex heard his name. Every time that happened ten pairs of eyes had come to rest on him, and every time the respect in them had become a little less grudging.

  They’d arrived back in Domus, nerves stretched wire-thin. There wasn’t a single one of them who wasn’t weary to the bone both physically and emotionally. Alex had bid them farewell as soon as they neared his shelter, eager to give his body a chance to rest. The cold, hard, stone floor had felt like a four-posted feather bed.

  Alex had awoken countless hours later, stiff and sore, especially in his ribs. He’d painfully pushed himself up into a sitting position before he realized someone had come into the room while he was sleeping and had wrapped a skin blanket around him for comfort and warmth. No one in Domus had ever done anything like that for him before.

  “I brought you food,” Sarah’s small voice had startled him. She was perched on the last step, watching him with her elbows on her knees and her hands tucked under her chin. She pointed to a bowl on the floor near his feet.

  He’d known it contained the same raw fish that he’d eaten for every single meal since he’d arrived in the Under, but his gut rumbled in spite of it.

  “Thank you, Sarah.” He immediately went to work on the bowl’s contents. “How long have I been asleep?” he had asked, his mouth full.

  “Nearly a full day,” Sarah had answered. She edged forward on the step and watched him eat, smiling as if seeing him scarf down the food made her happy. It was a little awkward, but Alex didn’t say anything or ask her to leave. No one ever came to visit him, and the last time he and Sarah had spoken she’d run away in terror. It was a nice change.

  “My sister says you’re a good guy now,” Sarah had told him matter-of-factly. “She says you’re a hero.”

  “Ummm…” Alex swallowed down a chunk of fish. He hadn’t know what to say. “Cool,” he finally answered lamely. He definitely didn’t feel like a hero. It had been Jonathan and Tabitha who’d been the bravest. Tabitha, especially, had been the strongest one. She had delivered the killing blow to the Nocuous. Alex had not only failed to kill it with his weak swing, but lost his weapon in the process.

  And he’d nearly abandoned them all. He’d been seconds from simply teleporting out and letting them die. No, he most certainly did not feel like a hero.

  “Cool?” Sarah had asked. “Do you require another blanket?” She was already halfway to her feet, eager to make him comfortable.

  Alex hadn’t replied. He’d just shook his head and grinned, and Sarah had grinned back, sitting down again to watch him finish his breakfast.

  Word of the battle spread quickly. In the following days, Alex had more people wave and offer friendly nods—from a distance, of course—than he would ever have believed possible. It seemed public opinion of him had begun to shift.

  Tabitha even warmed in her approach. Although she was no longer required to mentor him, she still came to his shelter every day under the pretense of continued training. That first day back, she made quite a fuss when she caught him favoring his side and demanded that he allow her to make certain there were no breaks.

  She had gasped at the sight of his arm ports when he peeled the suit from his upper body, but when she saw that the entire right side of his torso was a mass of purple and black bruises she forgot the ports and went straight to work. Alex had to concentrate hard not to let it show how much he enjoyed the feel of her warm hands probing his side, and as much as he would have liked to, he knew better than to comment. He was fairly certain, however, that he saw a slight flush creep up her neck as he pulled the suit back over his chest that, after weeks of training, had turned hard with sinew and muscle.

  Now, four days after the battle in the Antechamber, Alex sat with Winston.

  Winston was still pacing, agitated.

  “Sir,” Alex said, changing his tone in the hope that he could convince the Marshall. “I know you just lost seven good men, and I know you don’t want to lose more. I don’t want that to happen either.”

  Winston stopped pacing and listened, his hands clasped behind his b
ack. Alex couldn’t read the big man’s expression.

  “Is it possible we could do this without attacking?” Alex asked hopefully. “Couldn’t we just rescue him? Sneak in?”

  “We do not even know if he is still alive,” Winston pointed out.

  “He has to be,” Alex replied in a flat, uncompromising tone. “My father has to be alive. But,” Alex cleared his throat, “that’s a good point… sir.” The word sir tasted funny coming from Alex’s mouth. It wasn’t one he used with anyone, not even with his father. “If we go to Rasmus’s den and don’t see my Dad, then we don’t attack.”

  Winston narrowed his eyes. “A Nocuous den is simply not a place you stop by for a visit. As soon as we come anywhere near his lair, Rasmus will know we are there.”

  Alex swallowed back his irritation. “What if we kidnap one of his thralls? And force it to tell us…” Winston snorted as Alex trailed off, and Alex knew the suggestion was ludicrous. Thralls couldn’t speak.

  “Please,” Alex finally said, almost begging. “I’ve been here so long already. You said it yourself—my father could be dead. Every day that we wait, every second, makes that more likely.”

  A prolonged silence filled the space between them. Alex could see that Winston felt compassion for the situation he was in, but he also knew the big warrior would always take the welfare of his people into account first.

  “Every warrior that Domus loses,” Winston finally said, “is one less that would defend our home and people were we attacked. This, our home, must be my first priority, always.” He pursed his lips. “And we lost seven in one day.” Alex bristled, but Winston stopped him. “I can see that you love your father, and I am certain that, having been the one who created the Magnosphere suit you wear, he is an important man.”

  “Yes,” Alex began, standing to counter whatever argument Winston was getting ready to make, but Winston wasn’t done.

  “But is your father’s life more important than twenty of my warriors?” Winston asked. “Or ten? Or one?”

  Alex deflated. “You promised,” he protested quietly. “You gave me your word.”

  “And I will keep it,” Winston replied.

  Alex looked up, hope reclaiming his heart.

  “When seven more initiates ascend to full warrior status,” Winston said, “We will engage Rasmus.”

  Alex blinked, the implication of what Winston had said taking some time to sink in.

  Seven more warriors? How long would that take? Another month? A year?

  “Are you freaking kidding me?” Alex shouted, his temper let loose in an instant. “Do you even know when that will be?”

  “It will be when they are ready,” Winston answered calmly, his voice low and resolute. He moved to the door to show Alex out, a clear signal that their meeting was over. “My decision will stand firmly.”

  Alex was so mad he didn’t trust himself to speak. A barrage of insults rose to his lips, but he knew he’d only risk incurring Winston’s wrath. He snatched his blade from the table and stormed out of the room.

  Tabitha was waiting in the main room of Sanctuary. One look at his stormy expression was all she needed to know how it had gone.

  “This is stupid!” Alex fumed, striding past Tabitha for the exit. “It’s absolute crap!”

  Tabitha followed after him, not replying.

  Turning abruptly, Alex wheeled around with the fabric of his suit clenched in one hand. “Doesn’t this count for anything? I mean, I can teleport, for God’s sake!” He raised his voice, shouting back toward Winston’s room. “Doesn’t he want to save his people once and for all?”

  Alex spit a curse and turned away. He shouldered past the guards at the main exit and was out on the steps before he turned back to Tabitha again.

  “He promised me!” Alex said angrily, nearly in tears out of the frustration he felt. “He promised and now he—”

  He would have kept ranting, but Tabitha didn’t let him. She closed the distance between them and clamped her mouth over his, pressing a long, hard kiss on his lips.

  It took Alex completely by surprise and, by the way Tabitha was looking back at him stunned and wide-eyed, it had taken her by surprise too.

  “It’s about time.”

  They spun to see Jonathan smirking up at them from the bottom of the steps.

  “Uh…” Alex stammered. “I…”

  Tabitha made a high-pitched, choking sound and fled down the steps and into the city.

  Alex watched her go, stupefied.

  “Give it time,” Jonathan told him with a smug grin as he sauntered away, “and I promise it will get even more confusing, my friend.”