You kill him or you die.
A spider pours out, unspooling a single strand of web that catches the light as it descends. Iridescent legs unfurl. It lands and crawls across the Kindling’s face. The man’s swollen lips grow taut, forced closed against the scream bubbling up inside him.
The spider creeps around the man’s nostrils and closed eyes, poking and prodding.
In the end, the Kindling did nothing to free the Elemiscists, and if Nyranna doesn’t survive this ordeal, they will never be free.
Nyranna steps on the Kindling’s bracing fingers. His bones crunch with a sound like cracking twigs.
The Kindling releases a hideous shriek, and the spider disappears into the gaping hole of his mouth. He gags and retches, his screams stifled from within as the Everblades drag him away.
“The crime of the clandestine gathering of Elemiscists has been appeased,” Adersiun says. “My Everblades interrogated the one referred to as the Kindling, the one who initiated the conclave. They learned that in this meeting, the Elemiscists discussed protesting and demanding more rights. The Elemiscists wished to be given more freedoms and time for families.”
You kill him or you die.
Nyranna’s head swims with images of spiders crawling through entrails, distracting her, making her nauseous. What Adersiun told the Northrite council is a lie. His Everblades must have tortured the Kindling and learned the truth of the meeting, maybe also how Adersiun discovered the identity of her anonymous Whisper of invitation to his Everblades.
Or the Kindling lied to the Everblades and confessed to initiating the meeting himself, sacrificing himself for her and the others … Either way, Nyranna will have to tell a story of his treachery to her insurgency, say that the Kindling became a witness against her. How he backed the Northrite. It would be the best route for unifying the Elemiscists, those who supported her and those who supported him. Their best chance for all of them to find freedom.
You kill him or you die.
Adersiun’s echoing voice pierces her foggy thoughts. “Don’t fret over Nyranna’s future. As my servant, she’ll receive none of those freedoms.”
The Messiah rises above the others. “We’ll give your request some thought and make a final decision when we return. Adersiun, you and your Everblades will first assist us in every regard demanded by this new development on Jasilix. Demonstrate your loyalty to us and the galaxy.” The Messiah turns away from Adersiun. “Breman, for now the prisoner is yours. Confine her to a containment room in the palace. The hour grows late. We must be on our way.”
“Yes, Messiah.” The sweaver commissioner gives a perfunctory nod. “She’ll stay with me, and if she performs any magic, more than breathes, I’ll let the last living assassin spider crawl up her ass. A fitting punishment for this Manipulator.”
The Northrite all rise and march for the rear of the chamber. Adersiun and his Everblades follow.
Rynn
Rynn paces inside the abandoned tower. She thinks of the dress she received, possibly for her birthday. Does that mean her dad is still alive somewhere? Drunken in his chair, or recovered, over his guilt? Does it matter? She doesn’t want to ever see him again. Does she?
She thinks of her conversation with Jaycken, of the feast two days ago: tastes of succulent floral gravy drizzled over star squash, sugared mountain quail, molten chocolate. So much good food.
Rynn’s no longer starving like she was with her dad after he changed, and she’s no longer weak like with Prabel. Nausea rises in her gut as she sees the merchant twisting into himself and dying from utilizing the elements, his teeth bouncing off rock. The thought of that man drinking her blood, sedating her without her knowledge and bleeding her, makes her shudder. Maybe he didn’t deserve to go that way. But he was too old to live on his own, and it was his choice to attack her.
Now she wouldn’t ever have to confront him alone.
What trauma did Nadiri suffer inside the sarcophagus? A trauma she still will not share. Maybe if Rynn talks about her experience, Nadiri might do the same, and then they could both release some emotion and move on.
Will Jaycken and Nadiri and Kiesen suffer the same elemental damages as Prabel over time? Maybe Jaycken’s become too powerful to be affected much, but the elements could damage her own body now that she’s a Whisperer. A one-eyed Whisperer.
Rynn didn’t even know she sent the Whisper when it happened. She only remembers a light flaring in her mind, and she doesn’t know how she sent it.
Only in times of great emotional distress has she done things she doesn’t understand.
She doesn’t yearn to Whisper again. She’d still rather be a Strider so she can run from any place at any time, jump around the galaxy and find her mom, find out what her dad did to her mom, and together she and her mom can overcome their pasts, maybe find the empathetic Silvergarde and live with them.
Rynn thinks of her dad again, of sitting in front of him on a sled, wind tickling her face as they glided down one of the mountains in their backyard, up small mounds, down faster, through gauntlets of brush, trees, and rock. He took risks with her, but not with her meeting other people …
Her mind returns to why she’s hiding back inside the tower: when she walked outside this morning, massive starships were sitting all over the split mountain like metal monsters. They arrived during the night, and their occupants have been meeting with the Frontiersmen officers in private.
Jaycken steps inside, one hand a fist, the fingers of his other hand overlapping and squeezing his knuckles.
Something warm unfolds inside Rynn upon seeing him, but that realization sparks a bit of frustration with herself. Distrust and apprehension became an appendage to her, or another organ, and now it swells and presses on her chest.
Not now. He’s as tense about these visitors as I am.
Jaycken rubs at his neck. The raised flesh and scabs of his new linkchain protrude over the collar of his slate and blue Frontiersmen’s suit.
Such sacrifice for duty and glory.
Will they ask me to take the same vows now that I’ve sent a Whisper?
Jaycken clears his throat, his voice shaky. “The officer’s hall doors are barred even to Frontiersmen, but I want to know what they’re discussing with the visitors. And I’m going to find out.”
He pivots and walks out of the tower. Rynn follows.
Frontiersmen march past in a unit, heading up the switchbacks. Jaycken and Rynn fall in line, taking up the rear.
“We’ve found the second Sentinel,” one Frontiersman says to another. “A second Phantom.”
“A Phantom in training, if it’s even real,” the other replies. “Some say it’s a publicity stunt for allies. Even if it’s true, we’d need much more against these Northrite.”
Rynn grabs Jaycken and pulls him away.
“The Northrite!” she says. “This will be dangerous. Please, don’t go.”
Jaycken takes her arms in his hands, his grip firm. “This is our home, and I need to protect the galaxy as I vowed. If the Northrite came all the way here, they want or need something.”
“You don’t always have to be the hero. I’m sure the Frontiersmen have seen the Northrite before.”
“If it seems dangerous, I’ll come back and let you know to run and hide.”
“Are you really a Phantom?”
Jaycken releases her. “I don’t know. I don’t think anyone does. No one here’s seen a Phantom before.”
Rynn needs to keep him away from the meeting, away from danger. She should do anything she can, like he’s done for her. “Play fire, wood, water with me.”
“What?”
She quickly explains the game she and her dad used to play in the bunker when having a disagreement or when she wanted something and he was having trouble resisting.
“I need to go.” Jaycken’s face is pale and wrinkled with tension. “Even if I lose a game.”
“Just once. It’s quick.” She smacks her fist against her open palm
three times, and Jaycken hesitantly plays along, his knuckles blanched white. On the third blow her fist settles with her index finger pointing upward in the sign of a tree. Wood.
All of his fingers are spread upward. Fire.
She leans into him and kisses him on the lips. Except she’s never kissed anyone like this before and her head is rigid, her lips unforgiving.
Jaycken tenses in surprise.
After a brief moment he kisses her back, his lips parting, pressing against hers, hot, demanding. His strong arms encircle her body. They tremble. A charge ripples in the air.
No blinding heat of passion rolls through Rynn as she imagined it might. She likes this man and appreciates him so much for helping her out of Prabel’s clutches but believes she should feel more. She’s not sure why she thinks she should feel more or why she expected overwhelming passion.
She leans into Jaycken and buries her head in his chest. Maybe the situation won’t allow her to relax and let her emotions flow, or maybe there’s something wrong with her, or him, or with them being together.
Jaycken eases away, takes a deep breath, and turns to go.
Rynn pulls him back. She steps deeper inside the tower and presses her body against his. “Just stay here with me for a minute.”
Jaycken runs a finger down her cheek, looking at her eye patch. “You are so beautiful.”
Their fingers entwine, and their lips linger on each other’s, hers not as rigid as before. His hands are warm against hers, eager. A tingling, intense and intimate, rushes over her skin. The spark she thinks she should feel? Or is she only willing it to happen?
Rynn savors every moment she keeps him safe, every emotion she’s never felt before. Every sound.
Rynn’s not sure how much time passes. She hopes it’s been hours or days and that the visitors are gone.
Jaycken stops kissing her and rests his forehead against hers. His breath is a soft whisper. Rynn strokes his dark hair.
Moments of silence follow.
“I’m sorry, but I should go,” Jaycken says.
Rynn tightens her grip on his hands and looks down, unable to hold his gaze. “What’s the best outcome you’re hoping for? If everything goes as planned and the Frontiersmen gather enough allies to accuse and sanction the Northrite for what we know they’ve done?”
“I’m not sure what you’re getting at. There’s still the beating sun to deal with. And the Ruin.”
“So, if all your powers expand and you become a Phantom and the second Sentinel, and if all the sun and Ruin problems resolve, do you wish to stay here and lead the Frontiersmen in new conquests?”
Jaycken is silent for a moment, his fingers growing tense beneath hers. “I haven’t thought that far ahead. Becoming the second Sentinel seems like enough, a huge accomplishment. The pinnacle of the Frontiersmen and the entire galaxy. I’ve taken the vows to commit myself for life. Why? What do you hope for?”
Rynn raises her head. She can’t think of any long story to stall him. “I just want to find and help my mom. Live with her somewhere. Maybe Silvergard—”
Bells ring like brass gongs.
Rynn startles.
She’s never heard the bells in the old towers. She thought she heard grating bells before, but that sound turned out to be the sarcophagus lid in her drugged dreams, not bells. These bells call earnestly, demandingly.
Jaycken pulls away from her. “I’m sorry, Rynn, but I’ll come back for you. I’ll make you tired of me real quick.”
He shuffles a bit, hunched, before his upright posture returns, and he marches outside.
Rynn cannot keep Jaycken away from the Northrite any longer, cannot stop him from walking straight into danger. Into the midst of an organization that readily commits genocide and planetary destruction if something stands in their way.
How can he be so powerful with the elements but be so blind? He still has two eyes.
Jaycken
Bells ring, splitting the air like brass thunder.
Rynn stands before him: amazing, beautiful. Part of Jaycken wants to stay with her, but the bells clang again, the station’s signal for a red alert.
Jaycken steps back. “I’m sorry, Rynn, but I’ll come back for you. I’ll make you tired of me real quick.”
No, she says with a pleading light in her good eye, with her grip.
Should he stay and hide, be safe?
Only a moment passes, and Jaycken pulls away, jogging for the door of the tower, hunched at first, but a kink works out of his spine. He steps outside, and mist swarms him.
A gentle breeze turns the mist into rolling fog.
Something moves against the base of the rock cliffside: an armless hand, floating, mercury falling around it like rain. Twice Jaycken’s seen this hand, once in a dream and once when awake, and twice people have died soon after.
Is it his gift to control time? To know the future, to become a Phantom?
Affect my dream. Except he’s awake.
Jaycken stumbles through the mist toward the hand, and the mist thins into ribbons. It’s drawing a body. The body of a tall, svelte man dressed in white armor, an axe of black shadow at his side.
Adersiun. The Phantom. He’s dead. Jaycken’s not sure how he knows, but the hand is showing that Adersiun is dead, not sleeping.
Adersiun will die. He will be unable to split his own atoms as Slyth mentioned a Phantom and Sculptor could do to avoid an attack.
Heavy mercury seems to slosh in Jaycken’s guts.
Adersiun, the man he aspired to become, will die … Is it an ill portent for the galaxy, or is it time for Jaycken to rise up as the next Phantom?
The mist clears and the hand disappears. The vision is gone.
Jaycken wonders about what he saw, then is reminded of Slyth and what his tutor said to him the last time they spoke, when Slyth hid in an alleyway. Jaycken wasn’t supposed to succeed here, he was supposed to be a researcher only. He shouldn’t have accepted what Marwyn offered him: the hilt, entrance to the ranks of the Frontiersmen as an Elemiscist. Now the Northrite are here on Jasilix.
Jaycken lets out a long breath and races up the switchbacks, across a swinging bridge, to the officer’s tower. Quar huddles at the far side, her mauve hood draping over her face. Axford and Satrina wait with a group of thirty Frontiersmen outside the front entrance.
Jaycken veers toward Quar as he runs. His feet stomp, a sprinter out of control as he skids to a stop on shale laced with dirt.
“Why the bells?” Jaycken heaves for breath.
Quar points to the sky with a bone-white finger and silver nail. An armada of frigate warships and cruisers have joined the Northrite passenger ships on the peaks of the peeled mountain. Ships readied for war.
“The Northrite are inside with the officers.” Quar opens a back door and holds out a sack that appears to have many pointed objects gathered inside. “This sacrifice will help you if the need arises. The Northrite are powerful, but they don’t know that we … that you solved the trial of the mist and took what was inside. Their soldiers and machines never made it out. And the Frontiersmen have hidden the cache of elements.”
Who is this woman, really?
Jaycken grabs the sack, a bit bewildered, but enters through the back door, stepping across the threshold into darkness.
An expansive atrium lies ahead, filled with glaring light. Strange men in dark robes and metallic masks pace about, surrounded by sweavers in bronze uniforms carrying pulsers, appearing ready to fire them for any reason.
Jaycken’s heart races, as if it worries it will not complete all the regular beats it’s supposed to have in his lifetime and is making up for it.
He marches into the rear of the chamber.
Footsteps follow him from the rear entrance. Quar. She swishes forward. Then Kiesen follows her.
Jaycken’s heart leaps into his throat. “Kiesen, get the fuck out of—”
“We heard the Whisper, and we know that one of your people sent it to the galaxy,�
�� a towering figure in a mask of silver and gold says, their voice distorted before it echoes around the chamber.
That is the Messiah. Here.
“This defamatory Shadow Whisper libeled us for the destruction of the abandoned planets of Iopenia and Pseidoblane.” The Messiah folds their arms and stares at Marwyn, then at Teschner and Ethanial and a dozen other officers. “The Shadow Whisperer also claimed that the beating sun is a deception, even though many have seen it with their own eyes. And Iopenia ignited in flame soon after the sun’s transformation. Now the mist on Pseidoblane is gone. Whatever was hidden inside was taken.”
They know … they know the Frontiersmen went into the mist. Everything the Northrite did to mine and destroy those planets went uncompensated. The Northrite believe they’re entitled to that cache of the elements.
Marwyn is reluctant to speak and so stiff he appears nervous. “As Frontiersmen, we have full authority under intragalactic law. We’re independent of governing planets. We can investigate any curious event, research, and explore the elements wherever they may be, as long as we do no harm to others.”
This is why the Frontiersmen wouldn’t put the Northrite’s name in their report. They did not want retaliation until they were prepared, fortified with allies.
I was the idiot who sent the Whisper, the one who got us all in trouble.
The Messiah paces again, silent for a moment, then says, “We’ll not tolerate even the Frontiersmen spreading lies about us to the galaxy in an attempt to usurp power, to turn others against us. Disseminating false information may bring people swarming back to Pseidoblane, and they too could be consumed by fire.”
A small creature of black sidles between the Northrite council, dragging fingers like ropes, carrying a tray of drinks that rests on the back of its hand. There are only five Northrite councilmembers here. One is absent.
The Messiah moves their fingers furtively in some kind of hidden gesture, and the councilmember wearing a mask of green scales, the Herald, makes a reply gesture.
The Forgotten Sky Page 39
