The Broken Man

by Brandon Jones

  Akelle stumbled past both of them toward where the door had been only moments before. Water sloshed across the floor of the storehouse, receding back toward where Josen lay.

  “Josen!” Akelle called, panicked. Had Epalli actually managed to hit him with that wild shot? “Josen!”

  Josen didn’t answer, wasn’t moving. He would call back to Akelle if he could. God’s tears, he’d better be alright. What was Akelle supposed to do if he wasn’t keeping Josen from tearing the world down with the sheer force of his stupidity?

  Akelle slid the last few feet to Josen’s side. He lay face down in a muddy mess, unmoving. His chest was frighteningly still. Akelle could see a ragged, bloody tear in the back of Josen’s shirt where the ball must have exited, just below his right shoulder blade.

  “No…” Akelle whispered. He stood, eyes wide, immobilized by panicked dread for one horrible, eternal moment. He reached for Josen, then pulled back. What was he supposed to do? God’s tears, no…

  Then Josen’s chest heaved. A deep, wet breath exploded from his mouth along with a cloud of bloody spittle. The sound shook Akelle out of his paralysis, and he took his friend by the shoulders as Josen coughed and convulsed.

  “Josen! Are you okay?” It was a stupid question. He had been shot. In the chest. Of course he wasn’t okay. What was Akelle supposed to do? He could stop the bleeding. Akelle moved to press his hands to the bloody tear on Josen’s shirt where he could see blood oozing slowly…

  Shouldn’t there be more blood? Had the water washed it all away? Akelle was no physician, but he had a pretty good idea of where a person’s lungs were supposed to be. And there was barely any blood on his back at all, only a little pooled beneath him, some soaked into his already soggy clothing.

  Josen screamed as Akelle’s hands pressed into his back, jerked away and curled up as he let out a horrible, wet cough.

  “Aaaaahhg! What the hells, Akelle?”

  “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Akelle said, caught between overwhelming relief and annoyance. “How am I supposed to know what to do when you get shot in the chest?”

  Josen moaned and coughed and tried to push himself up, collapsed, and continued coughing, blood on his lips. Akelle helped him roll onto his side.

  “What are you even doing here?” Josen asked.

  “Rescuing Tori. Didn’t you get my note? Probably something I should have planned for though, considering,” Akelle said.

  “What?” Josen said, unable to keep up.

  “You getting shot. It had to happen eventually.”

  “Akelle?” Josen said, wiping his mouth on the back of his shirt, leaving a bloody smear.

  “What?”

  “Shut up. Give me a hand.”

  Akelle grinned and took Josen’s hand, helping him into a sitting position. The water reverted in an instant into something thin and wood-like, flaking off Josen’s clothing as he moved.

  “Wait,” Akelle said, frowning “did you get shot or not?”

  “I think so,” Josen said, reaching up under his shirt. He probed for a second and then a wave of pain rolled over his face, fingers coming away bloody. “Ow.” He lifted his shirt, and Akelle gasped.

  There was a hole in Josen’s chest, a bloody tear a few fingers below his right nipple where the ball punched penetrated.

  And then it knit itself back together.

  Akelle gaped openmouthed as the hole in Josen’s chest closed itself, expelling chunks of ragged flesh and clotted blood as it did. Josen winced again, and the hole reappeared a second later, noticeably smaller and less ragged. Then it closed again, wept another rivulet of blood, and stood whole for a moment before reappearing.

  “God’s holy tears,” Akelle whispered. “What—”

  “I don’t know,” Josen said, though Akelle could tell it wasn’t entirely true. Josen looked anxious, not stunned. He might not know exactly what was happening, but he wasn’t surprised. “But…” Josen grimaced and let out a small groan as the hole reappeared again, only as big around as Akelle’s forefinger this time. “But it hurts like starvation.”

  “You big baby,” Akelle said.

  Josen stood unsteadily, then glanced toward Tori, who was still standing over Epalli, staring blankly at the body. “Tori, are you okay?” Josen’s face filled with concern, evident even through the pain. “Tori?”

  Tori’s eyes snapped up, finding Josen and Akelle as if only just remembering they were there. She was so thin, so fragile. Akelle was amazed she had the strength to stay on her feet.

  “What… What’s going on?” Tori asked, walking to join them.

  “I—we—came to rescue you,” Josen said. “But not together. That was a happy accident. I’ve been kind of out of things since I got locked up in the Finger.”

  “The Finger?” Tori asked, eyes going wide.

  “Yeah,” Akelle said. “They stuck him in one of the Vaults.”

  “God’s tears, then how—” she trailed of, eyeing him suspiciously.

  “Yeah,” Akelle said. “How did you get out?”

  Josen shrugged. “I jumped.”

  They stared at him.

  “It’s been a weird night,” Josen said, as if that explained things.

  “The wall—that was you?” Tori asked, pointing to where the wall had been. Now the side of the warehouse was simply open to the night air.

  “It was.”

  Tori glanced around the floor, where the water had reverted into thin, flakey wood, and Josen waited for the inevitable question. “Why didn’t you ever tell me?” she asked.

  “We didn’t know who we could trust,” Josen said simply. Then he grimaced. “Tori, I don’t really know how to say this, but Saul—”

  “He betrayed us,” Tori said. Tears welled up in her eyes again, but she kept herself under control. “Epalli told me. He liked to laugh at how stupid we all were, liked to come rub it in my face. He said Saul used us. Even tried to kill us.” She looked to Josen. “Is it true?”

  Josen nodded. He looked exhausted.

  “Why?” Tori asked.

  “He’s a thief. And I have something he wants. He wants my Stewardship. That’s been his end game this whole time, ever since Ludon.”

  “God’s tears,” Tori whispered, realization washing over her face. “That’s it.”

  “Sorry, what?” Akelle asked, looking from Tori to Josen. The confusion on Josen’s face mirrored his own.

  “He—Epalli—said Saul and Riveran and Aboran were all the same person,” Tori said.

  Josen nodded. “That makes sense. I knew Saul was Riveran. I suppose he might as well be Aboran too.”

  “What I can’t figure out is why this place exists at all,” Akelle said. “It’s not a rub farm. That field out there, that’s ceral, not rub. Why would anyone want to grow illegal ceral? There’s no money in that. The Church practically gives the stuff away.”

  “The same reason Saul wants Josen’s Stewardship,” Tori said. “Epalli also said Saul and Aboran is like ceral and rub—different facets of a whole, or something like that. I’ve had weeks to think on what he meant. If Epalli is right, then ceral and rub are connected. Something happens to make raw ceral edible, something that makes it change into a usable food source, but no one talks about how it happens or what it takes.”

  She took a step toward Akelle and Josen, then stumbled and fell to her knees. Akelle rushed to her side, helping her back to her feet. She smiled her thanks, leaning on him heavily as she continued.

  “I think Saul has figured it out,” she said, “and I think that somehow, the process creates rub.”

  Silence. Josen and Akelle both stared dumbly at Tori.

  “God’s tears,” Akelle whispered. “That… that would be…” He shook his head, unable to even think of a word to describe it. Rub being made from ceral? The idea was absurd. But it also made a sort of sense. An insane sort of sense.

  “The Passes,” Josen whispered. “It’s the Passes. It’s all connected.”

&n
bsp; “What?” Akelle said.

  “It’s…” Josen paused, then shook his head. “I don’t know. It’s a lot to think about. But now, I think I need to make my way back to Ludon. The Ladies might notice if I’m not back in my cell soon.”

  “Josen, Epalli said some terrible things. I think they were mostly to hurt me, but tonight he said the Basin is burning. He said everything is going down in flames—your sister, your lands, your girlfriend. Everything you’ve ever cared for, he said. He said they were in more danger than I was.”

  Something caught fire in Josen’s eyes, and Akelle took an involuntary step back, nearly knocking Tori over.

  “Akelle, I need a favor,” Josen said.

  “Sure,” Akelle said. “Anything.”

  “I need you to go to the Finger.”

  “Now, hold on—”

  “Find Lady Stonelowe,” Josen said, ignoring Akelle’s protest.

  “What am I supposed to tell her?”

  “Tell her the truth. Tell her I’ve escaped and that I’m on my way to the Ceral Basin. Tell her she can find me there. She’ll come running.”

  Akelle hesitated for a moment as the implications of Josen’s suggestion clicked into place. “You know I’m all for going in with a plan,” Akelle said, “but I’m not sure this is the time to get cute. Why not just grab the pistols from fatty over there and put a couple of holes in Saul instead?”

  “Those pistols are probably ruined,” Tori said, shaking her head. “Getting a pistol wet is bad enough. I can’t even imagine what it would do to one that had water revert inside of it.”

  “I doubt I could smuggle a pair of pistols through two Passes anyway. And I don’t know where I could get another, not on such short notice,” Josen said. “We don’t have time to set up any kind of a real plan, Akelle. My estate, my family, is under attack right now, and it’s my fault. I have to go fix it.”

  “I know, Josen, I know. I just think getting the Ladies involved is a desperate move. Even if we manage to catch Saul, I can’t see that ending any way but badly. But I also don’t have any better ideas, not on short notice.”

  “So, you’ll go?” Josen said.

  Akelle hesitated, then nodded. He trusted Josen. Josen would find a way to make this work. He always did.

  “Good. Bring someone, even if Stonelowe isn’t there. Meet me at my estate, and we’ll go from there. Tori, are you feeling strong enough to go with Akelle?”

  She shook her head, barely managing to keep control of even that simple motion. She was fading fast. “I’m sorry. I’ll be lucky if I can make it to Kendai. I have a place where I can stay there for a few days.”

  “We’ll be okay,” Akelle said, smiling in what he hoped was a reassuring way. He transferred Tori’s weight to Josen and turned to leave but felt something pull him back.

  “Thank you, Akelle,” Tori said. She barely seemed conscious. Josen would probably have to carry her most of the way back to Kendai. “Thank you for rescuing me,” she mumbled. She touched his face gently, and then her eyes closed, her chest rising and falling in a soft, even rhythm.

  “Of course,” Akelle said, smiling a genuine smile this time. He looked to Josen and wagged his eyebrows. “I think she likes me.”

  Josen laughed, then lifted Tori into his arms with a strength belying his stay in the Finger. “Get out of here,” he said, pausing one moment by an open barrel of raw ceral to scoop a handful into a pocket.

  “What’s that for?” Akelle asked as he began jogging backward.

  “An experiment,” Josen said simply.

  Akelle shook his head. He turned and called out over his shoulder as he ran. “Josen!”

  “What?”

  “Don’t get caught!”

  “Never,” Josen called back.

  Akelle sped up and soon made the forest. He didn’t understand Josen sometimes, but he loved his friend. Whatever Josen needed, Akelle would be there for him.

  Chapter 43

  Josen had to stop himself from checking his pocket the minute he came through Kendai Pass into Ceralon. If he was right, he would want to be somewhere quiet when he emptied that pocket.

  The streets of Ceralon were empty as Josen made his way through them in the chill of the early morning mountain air. Despite its size, the city lacked the distinct smells and activities that clung to the other Passbound Cities—pine and sage and wood smoke in place of rotting trash and stale urine. No one slept in the alleys or huddled against a bakery chimney for warmth. The odd, sterile feeling was somehow both disconcerting and comforting.

  Josen ducked into one of those sterile, empty alleyways, unable to wait any longer. He crouched in the darkness, careful to stay clear of the pool of light cast by one of the city’s many gas lamps. He dipped his fingers gingerly into his pocket and emptied the contents.

  Without even looking, the change was unmistakable. Josen looked anyway. He thrust his hand into the light and stared. The ceral was there, but it wasn’t the same raw, inedible seed he had been in Kendai. And it wasn’t alone.

  Mixed with the now-edible ceral in his hand were dozens of delicate rub flakes. Tori was right. Josen picked up one particular grain of ceral, inspecting it closely. A shell of rub had opened up around the edible ceral, but it was clear that a shell was exactly what it was—a kernel of ceral inside a husk of rub, transformed somehow during his trip through Kendai Pass.

  Josen swore under his breath as he emptied his pocket onto the alley floor, then started toward the Basin Pass. He had hoped Tori was wrong. This explained why Saul was intent on Josen’s Stewardship—he would have access to an effectively unlimited amount of rub. The prospects were frightening.

  But the discovery revealed a whole host of far more disturbing questions. Some members of the Clergy obviously had to be aware of the relationship of rub and ceral, but who? How did they manage to keep it a secret? Did the rub sold on city streets come exclusively from illegal ceral farms like the one in Kendai, or were some of the Clergy in on it as well? And the Passes. They seemed to be the key to the transformation, but why? How?

  Josen shook his head. Now wasn’t the time. He had more pressing problems, and he was nearing the Basin Pass. He probed his well of ceral power, testing the amount of energy available to him. It was far less than he would have liked. Healing the bullet wound in his chest had drained his power a great deal and augmenting his strength to carry Tori back to the city required most of the rest. He ate as much of a loaf of ceral bread as his stomach could hold before leaving Kendai, but that left him with a fraction of the power he began the night with. He ran a constant stream of the power to keep himself upright. Well, there was nothing for it. Saul wouldn’t wait.

  * * *

  Josen smelled the smoke before he was even before emerging fully from the Pass mist. The Basin was burning. Orange and gold flames rippled over the Lower City, leaving emptiness in its wake. Josen felt sick at the destruction, at the inevitable suffering, but his destination was in the Upper City.

  The fires weren’t hard to navigate as he made his way through the burning city. The buildings on the Upper City plateau were more spread out, and the fires less out of control. Still, teams of men and women still rushed water trucks through the streets, combatting fires wherever they popped up. Josen avoided them. He made his way toward his estate house, somehow knowing Saul would be there. No one tried to stop him.

  Josen found Saul in the third story study, watching the fires from the window. The estate house itself was made of huge stones and was in no danger of catching fire, but several attached buildings were made of wood and sent flames high up the side of the house.

  Saul turned from the raging sight when Josen stepped entered the room, face sour, but unsurprised—as if he had been waiting for Josen. And maybe he had. He predicted almost everything else Josen had done. Why not this too?

  “You know, Josen,” Saul said, “I am very tired of this.” He waived in Josen’s general direction.

  “I’ve never be
en very good at doing what I’m supposed to,” Josen said.

  “What are you doing?” Saul asked, shaking his head. “You show up here, indignant and full of fire, like there’s anything you can do to stop me.”

  “The Ladies are on their way, Saul,” Josen said. “It’s over. I know you have Alia. And probably Vale. Let them go. If you leave now, you might be able to get away before they get here.”

  Saul’s eyes went wide for one moment, and then the look of surprise broke, fading into an open grin. “No. I don’t think I will. Arietta?” Saul called, turning toward the study’s side door.

  First Prefect Arietta Stonelowe stepped into the room, pushing Akelle in front of her with the point of a dagger.

  “Imagine my surprise when this cheeky little starver walked right into my office,” Stonelowe said, grinning wolfishly. “Couldn’t believe my luck.”

  “Josen,” Saul said, patronizing. “As I told you at the Gala, there’s nothing you can do that doesn’t end with me taking your Stewardship. You struggle as if you haven’t already lost, like a crab still twitching after it was crushed.”

  Josen snarled, took an instinctive step at Stonelowe, but stopped as Akelle flinched, Lady Stonelowe’s knife pressing further into his back.

  “I wouldn’t, Reverate,” she said. “I keep my knife very sharp.”

  “Okay,” Josen said, his mind racing as he complied. There was a way out of this, if he could just think. But his reservoir of ceral power was feeling dangerously low, drained yet more by his Passage, and thinking was getting harder by the minute.

  “While we’re on the topic of ensuring cooperation,” Saul said, clearly enjoying himself, “why don’t we get everyone out here? Jamis, Han, bring out the other two.”

  Berden and Jamis emerged obediently from a side door pushing Master Roetu and Alia. Roetu looked dazed and sick, like he had hit his head too hard.

  “God’s tears, Han,” Saul said, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “I said get the sister.”

  “I… I’m sorry,” Berden said. “I couldn’t find Vale, so I thought… The old man was just wandering around—” He trailed off under Saul’s glare.