“Maybe. But he only keeps Dissenters alive if they can help him get to the Well. Once they’re no longer useful, he sucks out their power and turns them into Legions.” Cole’s expression turns grim. “I’d rather die and let him take all my power at once.”
“I’d rather not give him any power.”
“Yeah, well, if you’re dead, you don’t have much of a choice.” Cole hands me a thick branch and fastens the vine to the end with a tight knot.
“Wait, I thought Sage could only siphon a Dissenter’s power?”
“He can siphon any Awakened’s power if he’s nearby when they die. The same way Legions surround you and suck out the power so they can get stronger. Speaking of which . . .” Cole inspects his makeshift fishing pole. “Let’s pretend this is a Legion. I’ll swing it around. You swipe at the leaves. Don’t cut the vine, though. This is about precision.” He hands me the knife. It heats my palm.
Cole dangles the line over my head, baiting me with the vine. “Ready?”
The leaf twirls, an arm’s length from my nose. “Ready.” I hold the weapon steady despite the odd vibration from the hilt. I follow the leaf out the corner of my eye, and then swipe hard. The vine leaps into the air as Cole tugs with quicker reflexes.
The vine is now somewhere behind me. Without warning, I spin around ready to slice at—
A button on Cole’s chest. I gasp and fling the knife away. Cole jumps at the same moment, wide-eyed.
“Holy—yeah, okay. Bad idea.” He exhales, running a nervous hand through his hair. “That wasn’t supposed to happen. The Steel should have deflected, unless . . .” He studies me. “A Blight’s power throws it off, interferes, somehow.”
Tears wrestle to the surface. “I didn’t mean to—”
“Don’t cry.” Cole retrieves the knife from the mud. “I hate crying.” He straightens his shirt, inspecting the clipped button. “It’s fine. We’ll just be more careful.”
I roughly wipe my eyes with the back of my wrist. “I’m sorry. I had no idea.”
“Don’t apologize. That’s why it is called training.” He wipes the blade clean. “I should probably have trained you with a wooden stick first, but it wouldn’t help you get a sense for the Steel. In any case, we’re going to do something different.” He glances at the rustling trees. “You seem to work better when you can’t see. I’ve got an idea.”
I pluck my sweater free from the bandage underneath. “You’re not going to make me wear a blindfold too, are you?”
Cole scowls. “I’m not Gray.” He hands me the knife with slight hesitation. I don’t blame him. I hold the weapon with careful respect, away from him. The knife sits calmly against my skin. No bucking or kickback, only a meditative hum.
Cole swiftly climbs a tree with the makeshift pole in hand. Not only is he nimble and navigates the branches with ease, but his every movement blends with the wind. With perfect balance, he sprawls, belly down, on a thick bough and lowers the vine. “I’m going to swing this around. Shut your eyes and listen the same way you did with Gray. Then try again, and let’s see what happens.”
With Cole out of harm’s way, I close my eyes. Jostling leaves mimic tapping rain. Not far, a gurgling stream splashes into the lake. Quiet ripples lap at the water’s edge.
Air flitters near my face. I duck and cut.
“That’s a falling leaf. Not the vine.” His voice smiles. “Focus.”
A wayward strand of my hair tickles my nose. I blow it out of the way. Focus. Right. My very touch seems to be destroying the Garden. I can’t toss a knife. I can’t stab through vines. Yeah, super easy to focus with all these things mounting evidence against me.
“Blighty.” Cole interrupts my mental rant. “You taking a nap or what?”
“I’m ready.”
“Good. Now imagine a Legion.”
Spots dance inside my eyes from the vibrant sun. It takes incredible willpower not to peek through my lashes. I squeeze my eyes tight and think of the Legion’s vacant eyes. Of the black mist hissing around its knees. The humming knife squirms, the hilt growing hot. I loosen my fingers.
A quiet swish of air flies near my right ear. I freeze. Now the flutter blows in front of me, lower this time. I cut the air, the tip of the blade making contact.
I open my eyes. “Did I get it?”
“Almost,” Cole encourages me. “Whatever you were doing was working. Do it again. And go for a single leaf.”
My eyelids feel heavy as I stand blind. This time I imagine the Legion that attacked Maddox, recalling the panic seizing my blood as I stood there helpless, watching it strike. I freeze-frame the greedy look of death in his eyes as Maddox writhed on the floor. A faint breeze tickles the back of my hair. I spin around. The weapon scorches my palms. I should let go. I need to let go. But I spin around again, feet steady beneath me, and track the sound of the mocking breeze. Deep-seated vengeance charges each labored breath. I raise the blade and slash into the vile Legion formed in my mind, sparking the monster into a burst of angry cinder.
The hilt sizzles with icy heat and sticks to my skin. I quickly let go.
Cole leaps down from the tree with perfect grace.
My palms are cherry red and pulsing, but not blistered. Thankfully. Regardless, I hide them so he won’t demand I go see a Healer. The slashed vine lies at my feet, lifeless and withered in a serpent’s coil. Leaves left intact.
“Not bad, Blighty.”
Glad he thinks so, because failure is all I see. How can I have this unrelenting desire to fight, identify weapons as they strike, but can’t use one to save my life? “How will I ever be good enough to fight Sage?”
“Maybe you aren’t supposed to,” Cole says, picking up the knife. “Maybe defeating him isn’t about stabbing him with the Steel. For all I know, the tactic doesn’t work.”
Heavy footsteps crunch in the woods. Cole stands perfectly still and scans the area.
“Time to go,” he whispers and leads me through the forest, pushing branches aside as we head back. When we reach the road, Cole swiftly mounts the bike. His eyes are colored with the same intensity that every Blade wears.
I straddle in behind him with a crazy thought. I lean forward, my chin near his shoulder, so he can hear me. “I need to find an answer and don’t have much time. Can you take me to see the Well?”
“No way.” Cole snaps his head around. His hushed voice growls, “Look, Blighty. Do you have any idea how many rules I’m breaking right now?”
He’s right. If anyone found out, they’ll tag him a traitor for helping me. I drop my hands to my side. “Then why are you?”
“Because you need to know how to fight. Don’t think for a second that Sage won’t be waiting when they take you outside that Wall. When they do, the stuff they’re teaching you will be completely useless.” Cole kickstarts the engine. He guides my right hand to his stomach, drawing me closer.
This training felt like a complete failure and probably won’t help me outside the Wall either, but Cole trusted me to work with the Steel. That says a lot.
“Thank you.” I rest my cheek against his back, the roaring engine trembling through me. He holds me tight, and together we race onto the dirt road, leaving nothing but a dust cloud in our wake.
We arrive just under the hour. Cole returns the bike to brushwood and then retrieves my tracking Cord from his front pocket. As he takes my hand to replace the bracelet, his fingers brush across my skin with a feather-light touch. He turns my palm, exposing my wrist.
“This part hurts.” He keeps the knife steady. When the tip touches the wire, dancing sparks of white fire land on my skin. A ribbon of sharp incense rises from the thread. The pain sizzles. I tense up, but don’t dare move as the wire shrivels back to size. A thin red line tags my skin, nothing more than a scratch. He refits his tracker on his own, which can’t be easy.
“Need help?”
He stifles a grunt. “No.”
I back away and wait until he’s done. Golden light fl
ickers through the shaded forest like coins scattered on the ground. I blink and it’s gone. That’s not sunlight. And it’s too early for fireflies.
Cole places his hat on my head. “Keep your head down, Blighty.”
Wearing his fedora won’t disguise me. The Blades know who I am. Regardless, I follow after him as we navigate an unmarked path in the woods back to the Estate. When we reach a waxy hedge, Cole moves an armful of branches. A path opens to the east corridor. He climbs through first and then waits for me.
White steam, smelling of Lina’s bread, pipes from the kitchen vent. My grouchy stomach complains as Cole makes his way to the front door. I keep up with his brisk pace. “We can get back inside the house faster through the kitchen.”
He leans closer, lips barely moving, and whispers, “We need them to see us.”
Sure enough, two Blades stand guard near the arbor not far from Devon’s beat-up sedan and the spitting water fountain. I lower my head and concentrate on every muddy step as we speed-walk the drive.
“Tripton, where’ve you been?” one of them calls out.
“Training,” Cole says as he jogs up the front steps. That’s the total truth. I suppress a smile as we enter the house. Cole and I might not be so different after all.
“Now we can eat,” Cole says. The house is quiet. Everyone must still be in the briefing.
“I need to get Milton. I left him on the porch and haven’t finished searching through the poem.”
“You expecting me to bring you lunch again?” Cole meticulously straightens his cuffs. “That was a one-time deal.”
I hand his hat back. “Go.” I point to the kitchen. “I’ll be right there.”
I dart off in the opposite direction, through the vacant War Room and out the patio door. The stiff copy of Paradise Lost waits for me on the chair right where I left it.
Maybe if this were my torn-up copy with all my highlights and notes, I’d be able to find what Milton’s hiding much quicker. Not that my scribbles would give any insight. I knew nothing about this world and its war back then. It’s just that Foster’s black leather copy is so stiff and the thick fancy pages are so sterile, every time I read, the words regard me blankly.
I could really use the help of a fellow Blight right now, Milton. I’ve burned all my time. I only have a few more hours inside the Garden. Global Council leaders are on their way, and I don’t have an answer on how to protect the Well or defeat Sage. I have no doubt Gray saw the sketch of my vision. He’ll convince Council I’m a threat. So please, guide me with something, or else you might be left talking to yourself.
I close my eyes, hoping for a verse to pop inside my head. I get nothing but a nudging wind that smells of the arbor. I teeter to the left and open my eyes. So much for any guidance.
I start for the kitchen, fanning through the book as I go. When I do, one verse seems to rise off the page. “But hard be hardened, blind be blinded more, / That they may stumble on and deeper fall.”
Electricity charges through my fingertips. This is you, Milton, isn’t it? But what do you mean by “blinded” and “deeper fall?” The whole poem is about the fall of humankind.
I pace, flipping through another few pages. Again, the same thing happens: “I feel / The link of nature draw me: flesh of flesh, / Bone of my bone thou art.”
I stop. “Link of nature?” This is Adam’s speech to Eve after she ate from the tree and ruined everything. I don’t see the connection, unless you’re referring to the Well and how its power is linked to the Awakened. But what can you show me about Sage?
“What might lead / To happier life: knowledge of good and evil?”
Yes! A “happier life” would exist without Sage. Not just for me, but for everyone. Or do you mean me knowing good and evil? I already know I’m both good and bad. I’m dualistic. And so are you, Milton, by the way. I flip another page.
In the day
Ye eat thereof your eyes, that seem so clear
Yet are but dim, shall perfectly be then
Opened and cleared, and ye shall be as gods,
Knowing both good and evil as they know.
In the day I eat? Like, literally? My vision had lips dripping with fire. Are you talking about my vision? The images I see are never literal. You mean a different type of consumption, right? Unless eyes being “opened and cleared” means this is the answer. Get Sage to eat something poisonous. Maybe one of Harper’s elixirs?
That’s the answer isn’t it? My fingers tremble as I turn a shaky page.
“O much deceived, much failing, hapless Eve.”
The floor feels ripped out from under me. My stomach sinks with the sensation of plummeting ten stories deep. “Oh, shut up, Milton.” I chuck the book across the patio. That was downright cruel. Calling me “deceived” when you’re not being clear. I glower at the gap in the weathered planks where one of Pop’s seeds is caught. I’ll be removed from the Garden by sunset tonight. I haven’t come up with any solutions to offer Council. My knife skills are horrible. And now I can’t even read Milton clearly.
I’ve failed in every way. The only thing I haven’t been able to do is see the Well for myself. I might be risking everything to do it. But what option is left?
I pick up the seed and toss it in the nectar breeze. Besides, Foster never said I couldn’t, just that I wouldn’t see anything if I did. But what if he’s wrong?
The kitchen door squeaks open. It’s probably Cole, wondering where I am. I don’t want him to stop me, so I race down the porch steps.
“Cera, wait.” It’s not Cole. It’s Maddox. He quickly jogs over to where I’ve stopped. My heart skips a beat . . . actually, three. He’s washed up. Wearing a snug white T-shirt, new jeans, and those same black Converse with the frayed laces. He looks good. Somehow older. Stronger.
“What’s wrong?” Through tangled bangs, his eyes search mine. “I saw you go off with Cole. Did something happen?” His tone is layered with deeper questions underneath. Is he jealous? “Or is it about the vision? If someone is in trouble, I could—”
“No!” I throw my hands out in front as a barrier. “I’m running out of time. I’m out by sunset, and I haven’t found anything to help Council. I thought that maybe if . . .” I hesitate with the truth, but I know Maddox will help me see what I can’t. Talk sense into me. Somehow with him, the truth always comes easy. “I want to see the Well. It’s the only thing I haven’t tried.”
Maddox is silent, studying me.
I look down. “I shouldn’t, I know. I need to stay put and wait for Foster to get out of the briefing. Do what’s right. Cooperate. Stay alive. Wait until Council—”
“C’mon.” He takes my hand.
“What? What are—”
“You should see it.” He leads me around the house, straight to the arbor.
“You’re taking me?” I whisper even though the Blades patrolling the front have gone inside and our path is clear. Cole refused. Maybe Maddox should too. “You’ll get in trouble—I don’t want—I shouldn’t, right? I mean, my Cord.” I lift my hand. “Gray will know.”
“He won’t check until he’s out of the briefing. And if he does, I’ll take the heat for it.”
“They’ll say I lured you. My vision—”
“Your instincts aren’t wrong. I trust you. If the answer is there, you’ll find it. You read things about our world that we can’t see. You deserve the right to experience it. But we better go now.” There’s a boldness, a mature confidence, about him that leaves me speechless.
When he enters the maze, I quickly follow.
Tiny lights, similar to the arbor flowers, dot the hedge. The deeper we go, the thicker the nectar scent becomes, the taste sweeter on my tongue.
We walk in silence, turning right and then left. I’m careful not to touch the hedge and drop a trail of yellow leaves. The glowing lights bounce along with my giddy pulse. But I tell myself not to get hopeful.
Finally, we come to the end. “Here it is.” Maddox steps o
nto the lawn, making room for me to join him. “We don’t have much time.”
I look out.
Two majestic trees tower at the bottom of a sloped clearing surrounded by a thick forest. One tree is a stalwart oak. The other, a weeping willow with branches so low they sweep the ground like a soulful dancer. Both are so imposing, I feel small in their presence.
The expansive lawn is about three acres, maybe more. The leaves on both trees are painted with every shade of vibrant green. The space pulses with the sacred quiet of a resting heartbeat.
For some reason, I have an inexplicable desire to wrap myself in the branches of the willow and spin like I’m seven again, cocooned in the canopy where no one can find me.
As soon as I step onto the lawn, faint light ignites across the field like cracks over a pond. Each strand flows like live wires with the same creamy color as the arbor flowers and the flickering light in the woods.
The lines ebb and flow slowly, transforming into a pattern. Circles ring around the entire field, one inside the other. Parallelograms intersect with the circles. The center rests between both trees, where short reeds sprout in a circle around the muddy ground. Then it hits me: the lights have formed the Alliance symbol, the one Devon drew on a napkin at Hesperian.
The marshy watering hole between the trees must be what the Alliance is fighting to protect. What Sage wants to demolish. What everyone believes I could hand over for complete destruction.
How can something so murky, so ordinary, and unassuming be what feeds creative powers to the world?
The glowing symbol fades, transforming back into hundreds of hairline cracks of light zipping through the soil and disappearing into the woods. A strand of thick golden light races underneath the grass, heading in our direction. It stops and pools under Maddox’s feet, radiating as if he were standing on a sunbeam.
“Can you see that?” I ask, stepping back. The light recedes, disappearing into the ground.
He looks down, confused. “It’s not much to look at, but . . . do you see something?”
I glance between the trees. I do. A faint shadow lies behind warping air that rises from the tips of the reeds.
Realms of Light (The Colliding Line Book 2) Page 10
