Inked, p.16
Inked, page 16
The man moaned, helpless in the grasp of the vine.
“We just wanted to be left alone!” I yelled, the man swinging back and forth as I gestured angrily at the men at the gate. Behind them, I could see Tabor, Griska, and Rausch, trying to push their way through to no avail. “To find someplace safe. To get away from this!” I shouted.
My skin felt flush with frustration.
“J-just,” I stammered. “Just go away. All of you.”
The men stood there, some arms crossed, others bearing torches, their skin pulsing faintly. Rausch, Tabor, and Griska stopped fussing from behind them, and stood watching silently.
“I said go away! Go inside, and I’ll”—I glanced up at the wispy bearded man hoisted above me—“I’ll let him down. I’ll let him go.”
Same icy stares. Same quiet pulsing.
“They aren’t moving Caenum,” whispered Dreya from my side, the small vine twirled around her waist. “What do we do?”
“I,” I started.
“Throw him,” said Kenzi. I turned to look at him, surprised, and he nodded his head up at the man. “Just toss him at the gate. They’ll rush to help the guy, and we’ll get away.”
“I-I don’t know,” I stammered, “I don’t think I can do that.”
The men started to move, splitting down the middle of the group. A shadowy figure started to walk through them toward the three of us.
I tensed, and felt the vine tighten around the man above me. He moaned and I took a step back.
“They’re sending in reinforcements!” Kenzi yelled. “Do it!”
I glanced at Dreya, her eyes full of worry, and Kenzi, his face full of determination and rage. I pulled my arm back and tightened my fist, the vine arching back toward the ground, and moved to throw him at the gates. The men up ahead braced one another. I heard Tabor yell something in protest.
“Caenum!” another voice bellowed from the distance.
There was something intensely familiar about that voice. I squinted, concentrating. These men who looked at us with cold gazes and untrusting stares, these weren’t the people to keep us safe.
“Caenum stop!” The man’s voice echoed through the air.
Everything stopped.
I felt the energy surge right out of me, and I fell to the ground. The tall vine withered away instantaneously, turning from green to a dried brown husk, crumbling under the man’s weight. He dropped through it, the dried bits snapping and crunching, as he crashed to the earth with a loud thud. Phosphorescent sparks danced in front of my eyes, and as the white haze vanished I tried to readjust to the darkness.
“Caenum?” Dreya asked, grabbing me. Loud footsteps approached. I leaned against Dreya, all the energy felt sucked out of me. Kenzi grasped one of my arms and I felt the slight buzz of his lightning dance across my skin.
“What . . . who was that?” I asked feebly.
“They’re coming,” Kenzi said, and as my eyes came back into focus, I could see all the guards standing around us, some with torches and an irritated look. Tabor, Rausch, and Griska sauntered over to the man who was hidden in the shadows. “Get ready to run.”
“There’s too many of them,” I said, swatting harmlessly at Kenzi. “Don’t do anything, don’t hurt anyone.” He looked at me with pleading eyes and I shook my head lightly.
“Caenum.” The familiar voice spoke again, now looming over me. It was deep, but the timbre was friendly and kind. Genuine.
“It’s been a long time,” he said, kneeling down. I lifted my head up, and my eyes went wide.
“You know this guy, Caenum?” asked Kenzi as I looked on, my mouth open.
“Yes.” I said, my mouth completely dry.
I looked at Dreya, her eyes watering with tears. She recognized him too.
“He’s my father.”
Chapter Fifteen
Sanctuary
I woke with a start.
Everything felt far too familiar. I was lying on a straw bed, the reeds crunching and snapping with every move of my body, the smell taking me back to Frosthaven. To my room, to the faint smell of stew wafting in from the nearby kitchen, and I felt my stomach rumble.
But it was impossible.
I looked around the room, ignoring the haunting smell. It looked so much like my room back home, right down to the worn furniture and the stake in the wall for my bedraggled jacket.
I scrambled out of the bed, tossing the intricately patterned sheets aside, surprised to discover that I was already dressed in a fresh pair of pants and a new, clean shirt. It was a nice change from the dirt-and-blood-coated clothes I’d been wearing the past few days . . . or had it been weeks? How long had Griska, Tabor, and Rausch kept us hooded and on the road to this place?
I ran my hand over the dresser. It definitely wasn’t the same dresser as the one back home, but it certainly had the same feel. The wood was splintered and splayed, pinching my fingers as I ran them along the edge. I opened one of the lower drawers, pulling and yanking at it as it awkwardly made its way out of the furniture, and found that it was full of tunics and pants all my size. The subsequent drawers were filled with more outfits that seemed made just for me: socks, gloves, clean shirts.
Someone had either gone to a lot of trouble when I arrived, or they had been waiting for me to show up.
As I turned to look toward the window, something glittering caught my attention. I looked about and found a shimmering silver frame sitting on a bedside table. I picked it up and squinted.
My eyes welled with tears. Something inside me swelled and I became suddenly aware of the earth under the floorboards, and the plants outside the window. I could feel the cool wind rushing over their fading leaves and stems, the desire for water and sun singing through my body. Power was coursing through me again and I closed my eyes, trying to muster some control.
Inside the frame was an illustration of my mother, father, and a small child who could only be me, smiling in front of the old cottage back in Frosthaven.
“I tried to make it look like your room back home,” I heard from a voice close by, “but it had been a while. How’d I do?”
I breathed in slowly and turned to find my father leaning in the doorway, a smile on his face and a bowl of soup in his hand. I could smell it from across the room, the same haunting scent I’d awakened to earlier.
“Good,” I said, shortly and quietly, “you . . . you did good.”
“I’m glad,” he said, smiling and walking toward me. His hair was still the long, jet-black I remembered. He’d aged, but still had that youthful look in his eyes that my grandmother once spoke so fondly of. It was a look that I supposedly had, though after these recent events, I found myself feeling incredibly old. “Here.” He handed me the bowl, the steam pooling up and warming my skin.
It smelled like home.
My hands trembled, and I dropped the bowl.
Shards of ceramic shot out across the floor, the stew splattering the bed and the dresser. I fell back against the dresser and crumbled to the floor, shuddering, my body heaving, the memories of why we left completely overtaking me.
“It’s okay, Caenum,” my father said, stooping down, placing an arm on my shoulder. I jerked away a little and gave in. “Let it out. You’ve had quite the ordeal.”
“What is this place?” I could hear my tone. Rash, angry, short. I didn’t care.
“Your friends were all exhausted. You especially. You were completely drained after that Magic outburst outside the fortress,” my father said, carefully picking up bits of ceramic from off the floor, scooping up pieces of vegetable and meat with the broken shards. “I had to carry you in.” He paused and put the shards he collected back down on the floor, looking at me, tentatively.
“I’d been saving this room for you, you know,” he said, “all these years, I waited. Waiting for your grandmother to eventually send you out into the world.”
“To send me?” I yelled, the sadness quickly replaced by a rising anger. “Where were you all this time? Do you have any idea what they did to Grandmother? To Dreya’s family?” At this I bolted up from the floor. “Where’s Dreya? Where’re Kenzi and the others?”
“Relax,” my father said, standing up slowly. “Dreya is in the room next door, still asleep. Kenzi is outside training with some of the other Conduits in the courtyard. You should join them later, Caenum.” He smiled softly, bent over to scoop up the broken shards, and made to walk out of the room.
“Where do you think you’re going?” I demanded. “I’m not finished yet!”
“You’ve got a lot to learn in the next couple days, Caenum,” he said, looking at me over his shoulder and continuing to leave the room. “Follow me; we’ll get you some proper breakfast.” He walked out. I grabbed my ratty jacket off the stake on the wall, and I was surprised to see how clean the fabric was. I ran my arms through it as I rushed out the door after my father, and as he slowly walked away, I turned and gazed at the length of the fortress.
I was at the end of a long corridor, with other doors lining the way toward a spiraling staircase. Huge, intricately carved wooden pillars jutted out in the middle, extending toward the high ceilings that were also elaborately designed. I stopped at the next door, left slightly ajar. I peeked in and spotted Dreya, snoring loudly.
I chuckled and turned back toward my father, who had stopped walking and was waiting expectantly at the top of the spiraling staircase. I forced my smile away and quickly ran over. I’d leave Dreya to her rest. We’d had one wild trip.
“So,” he said, placing a hand on the railing of the staircase. “I suppose I’ve got some explaining to do.”
“You sure do,” I said, my temper flaring. “All this time I’ve thought—”
“This is the Sanctuary,” he said, disregarding whatever I was about to say, “or rather, it’s one of many. It’s a place off the common Realm’s map, where Conduits can live in peace, free from the corrupt, ruling powers of the Citadel. They leave us alone, and we leave them alone.”
He started walking down the stairs. I stood still at the top of the steps for a moment, wanting to stand my ground, wanting to make him wait for me, but eventually I just followed him anyway. He gestured as he spoke, and busy people burst in and out of rooms as we walked.
“I came here years ago, seeking refuge from”—he stopped and stammered—“past indiscretions I had no choice but to commit. They took me in, helped me learn to control my power.” He grinned and looked at me.
“What?” I asked, annoyed. “What are you smiling at?”
“Your power, Caenum. I can help you learn to control that power, shape it, harness it.”
“But I-I,” I stammered, torn between my desire for answers regarding my power and my need to know why he left us.
“You can control it; I know you can,” he said, walking toward me. He put a hand on my shoulder again, looking intently at me with his kind eyes. I didn’t shrug him off this time. “And I know you have many questions. Let me show you around the fortress, and then, I’ll teach you. And we’ll talk.”
It truly was a fortress.
Stepping out of the massive hall, I was shocked to see that it sprawled out into an even greater piece of property dotted with huts, shops, and homes and full of bustling people. “Everyone has a role here,” my father said, watching me as I observed the townsfolk, the presumed Conduits, as they rushed about. “We’re in the market area now, so things seem hectic, but it isn’t all like this. Farther down we’ve got some more shops, other homes. There’s a village here, just like you’d see in any of the larger towns across the Realm.”
“How does this stay hidden?” I asked, my eyes taking everything in. “This place is enormous.”
He smiled. “It isn’t really off the map. People are aware of us. It’s just no one wants to come here. We’re dangerous, Cay.”
My heart immediately felt as if it had skipped a beat. No one called me Cay except for my mother, who was now long gone. I fought against the urge to cry. He caught my reaction and winced, then reached out to grab me.
I pushed him back.
“I miss her too, Caenum.” Back to the original. Good. He hadn’t earned the right to call me that again.
“How could you?” I shouted, anger welling inside me. I could feel the dirt under my feet, closer this time. Soil began to collect in clouds around my feet, dancing about my ankles. I was aware of the plants jutting out from the cracks in the earth. Townsfolk stopped what they were doing and turned to look at us, and a few put down what they were fussing with and took a few steps forward. My father held up a hand and they stopped.
“Caenum, control yourself,” he said softly, stepping toward me again.
“Why?” I demanded. The dirt clouds grew higher, circling around me. A few townsfolk scampered away, others stood, looking vigilant, as if they were ready for some kind of action.
“Because,” he said softly. “We’re dangerous.”
With that, he pulled his hands back and shot them forward, hurling a bolt of ice right at me. Horror ran through me, but the ice blast had stopped, crumbling mere inches from my chest, flakes of snow fluttering to the ground.
I lost control, all connection to the earth. “I-I,” I stammered.
My father stormed over and grabbed me, pulling me into a hug.
“I can teach you!” he said through gritted teeth, struggling to hold me tight. “I can teach you to control it, to harness your power properly, Caenum. No one will ever be able to hurt you or the ones you love, ever again. I’ll make sure of that.”
I pushed him away.
“Why?” I asked, gesturing at everything. The large fortress, the townsfolk and their huts, the large gate covering the outskirts of the land. “Why would I need you? Isn’t this a Sanctuary? Can’t we stop running now?”
“No, Caenum. You can only stop running when there’s no one left to chase you.”
My father raised a hand up to his forehead, looking exhausted.
“Look around. Look how many of us there are. How many are trying to piece together some sort of life here. This place isn’t a Sanctuary at all.”
He paused, exhausted.
“This place is a prison, Caenum.”
“A prison?” I asked, confused.
“Yes, in a manner of speaking.” His voice sounding almost menacing. “And your arrival couldn’t have been more perfectly timed.
“You see, it’s time we all broke out.”
“Why are there so many people?” I asked my father as he calmly strolled by the packed homes and shacks. From the entrance to the village there was little room to spare leading up to the actual fortress. A handful of elegantly put-together huts and cottages were mixed in with numerous shacks and crumbling, poorly assembled makeshift homes. As we walked along the narrow dirt roads, made skinnier by the numerous people living out of these tightly crammed-together dwellings, every now and again I’d spot large families squished into a place that should be meant for two or three people.
“As you’ve learned from your travels with Tabor, the Unprinted warrior—”
“Freedman,” I said, correcting him.
“Excuse me?” My father asked, looking down at me, stopping our walk.
“The men that lived there, they said that calling them Unprinted was derogatory or something. They were pretty offended.”
My father laughed and kept walking. “Not all of the Unprinted, or Freedmen, are like that, you know,” he said, sounding clearly amused. “Some wear their Unprinted label as a badge of honor, proud to be living without Ink. The Freedmen you met are Unprinted because they had no other choice. That village is full of bandits sponsored by the Citadel, hunting down Conduits on the lamb. Don’t let them ruin your image of Unprinted people.”
I nodded, confused.
“Back at home, you were warned about ending up an Unprinted, yes?” My father asked, already knowing the answer. I nodded in response. “Citadel propaganda. They use Ink to control people, Caenum.”
“I still don’t understand,” I said, shaking my head. A bunch of children ran by us, kicking a ball and laughing. One of them had long flowing hair colored with an array of autumn colors, bright reds, dark oranges, pale yellows . . . and then I gasped, realizing her hair was on fire. The little girl turned around and stuck her tongue out, the flames on her head licking at the air. She spun back around, sending some sparks into the air, and ran squealing after her friends.
My father grinned. “That one came to us from an orphanage,” he said, watching her trail off between the homes, giggling madly. His grin faded and we kept walking, his head lowered, “Both parents died during childbirth, as did the people who tried to quell the blaze that set the family’s house on fire. Incredibly powerful Magic. The Citadel probably would have run the Act of Extraction on her, even as a baby, if it wasn’t for our spy in the orphanage. You’ll meet her eventually.”
I stopped, recalling Rausch’s pained story and the sunken look on Tabor’s face. The last time I heard about this Extraction thing was when we were gathered around a campfire.
“I heard of this Act of Extraction and that it’s horrible. But I don’t understand what it does,” I said. My father gazed down at me with his piercing eyes.
“It’s the reason all these people are here for protection. No one would dare attack a sanctuary full of Conduits that can wield power. The kind I have. You have. Even the kind little Flycker has there.”
“Flycker?” I asked, giving him a look.
“Hey, I didn’t come up with that one,” he said, grinning slightly. He sighed and looked around at the homes and hovels, the shacks and shops. “Together we’re strong. A lone Conduit is a prime target for the Citadel.”
He paused and looked at me, an intense look on his face.
“The Act of Extraction pulls out a Conduit’s power. Their essence, their spirit.”
I thought again of Rausch’s story, how he described the long black trails of smoke pooling out of the man he’d been talking about. I almost jumped as my father extended his arm and placed a hand on my shoulder, looking at me intently.
