Earthbound, p.20
Earthbound, page 20
Rage
Knox
Three days after leaving Beryl, Knox, Kipp, and Loghin sat overlooking Rikken. That first day they had said their goodbyes in the early morning hours and made their way to the stolen transport stashed in the brush. Not long after, they had met a pod of deccam on the main road. Trying to avoid further earthbound and save time, they shifted their plan and diverted for the mountain pass, which was a gamble Knox wasn’t sure had paid off.
What had started as a packed road leading up towards Aegis Lake, once within the Resolute Mountains quickly deteriorated to an overgrown path. Loghin took over driving so Knox could jump out to clear debris when needed, and it was needed a lot.
Kipp perched between them on the flat storage compartment between the seats. Despite her silence, she seemed to be enjoying the trip. Now that she was free of the grime of their first encounter, her head was a tumble of dark curls. Like Emilia’s.
He’d learned to check in with the girl for breaks and food once he realized she wouldn’t ask of her own accord. The thought brought with it a flush of shame; poor child had nearly inhaled the fruit he’d shared with her the first day. Not feeling his own hunger pangs, he’d completely neglected to pause and eat until late in the day, when Loghin started complaining.
They had found a comfortable rhythm despite the challenges, and now here they sat on a ridge line overlooking Rikken. A bubble of excitement built in his chest. He could see the cleared fields and the houses and buildings that made up the cluster peeking through the trees.
“Now there’s a sight I never thought I would see again,” Loghin said, voice rough.
Knox pressed his lips, biting back a flood of emotion. The cluster appeared to be untouched. The field where they fought the Brecka was still furrowed, but he couldn’t see any other obvious damage.
Home. His body hummed with anticipation. He was so close to Emilia, he felt her absence as a physical ache.
Loghin laughed. “Go. I’ll drive Kipp down to your place.”
Kipp’s eyes tracked between the two men, clearly trying to understand what was going on. Knox flashed her a reassuring grin. “I’m going to run ahead.”
Her eyes widened and she gripped the sleeve of his shirt.
“It’ll be like when I move trees from the road. I’m only going a little further ahead to make sure it’s safe. I’ll meet you at the bottom.”
Her brows furrowed and mouth pursed in a sour expression. “Hey, hey,” he soothed. “Loghin is going to drive you right behind me.”
“Sure will, Kipper,” Loghin said brightly. “Maybe we can even try to race ol’ Knox and beat him there!”
She peeked across to Loghin. He continued in an animated fashion, smiling wide. Who is this man? Certainly not the same one who’d begged for death and cursed Knox’s name.
“I’ll even let you help me drive—” Loghin let the offer dangle and Kipp lifted her head and looked between the two men for a moment. Finally she reached her arms out and let Loghin pull her onto the driver’s seat with him. “Alright Knox, get out of here. Kipper and I have some racing to do.”
“You sure?” Knox couldn’t hold back the stupid grin that had plastered itself on his face.
Loghin rolled his eyes and dropped the vehicle back into gear. “Go. We’ll see you in the cluster. Say hi to Emilia—”
Knox was gone before Loghin could even finish his sentence. He launched himself out over the descending slope and cleared a handful of switchbacks before he touched down and started running. The steep terrain gave way to the gentle foothills of the cluster, and Knox left the road for the familiar paths through the tall trees. The air held the sweet smell of the first fallen leaves and he let out a whoop of joy as he crashed through them.
Skirting the cluster proper, Knox angled for home and Emilia. He ached to hold her. To squeeze her in his arms and kiss her. There were tears to share and words to be spoken. And he wanted to introduce her to the little slip of a girl who had been put in his care. Emilia would love the child, he knew it without a doubt.
With the thud of feet upon wood, he landed on their balcony and pushed open the door.
“Emilia!” Her name sputtered on his lips. The rooms were dark and cold, despite it being near evening. “Em?” He called again, more tentatively. He moved through the small house swinging open doors and calling her name. Everything was still and empty. He moved to the hearth and put his hands over the ash. Not a hint of warmth remained.
He stilled his frenzied search. Where is she? In a flash, he realized the likely answer. He left the house without bothering to close the doors behind him and ran down the narrow path towards her family’s home.
Gorrde’s machining shop was a large, low strutted building. Across the open yard sat the family home: an impressive, stilted, multi-level structure tied into the nearby oaks. As he neared, the reassuring sound of clanging metal filtered through the air.
He glanced towards the house but moved to the opened doors of the shop and stood for a moment watching Gorrde shaping a large sheet of metal with practised movements. Gorrde glanced up.
“How can I—” He did a double take and his frown dissolved into a look of awe. “Holy sticks and stones—Knox!”
His hammer dropped and the sharp sound punctuated his look of amazement. Without another word he moved around the table to Knox and pulled him into a rough hug. The acrid smell of welding torches and oil spoke more of home to him than Knox imagined possible, and he let out a relieved laugh.
Gorrde pushed him out to arm’s length. “We thought you dead, son. Thank the Sky for bringing you back to us.”
The burly man before him, with thick arms and barrelled chest, wiped tears from his cheeks. Worry lines creased his face. In his eyes, Knox could see the marks of fatigue and his chest pinched. “Is Emilia inside?”
Gorrde’s mouth pressed tight. “Let’s go in before we get to talking.” A guiding hand landed on Knox’s shoulder.
“What is it?” A sudden weight rooted him to the floor. “Please tell me she’s alive.”
Gorrde huffed a half-hearted laugh. “Oh Skies—yes—she’s alive.”
Air flooded into Knox’s lungs with a relieved whoosh before immediately locking up once again. “But?”
“It’s just—” Gorrde looked around the empty shop for help that wasn’t there.
Something’s wrong.
“Gorrde?” A voice called from in the yard. Gorrde’s face slacked in visible relief as they turned to see Maven walking towards the workshop. She caught sight of Knox and stopped, stunned. Her hands flew to her mouth and she broke into a run.
“You’re alive!” She wrapped him in a hug as cold uncertainty wavered in his chest. Maven and Emilia may not have looked much like each other, but they shared the same spirit. Indomitable, beyond capable, and full of warmth and love for those they held close. If she was here, smiling, Emilia must be okay.
Yet, Maven avoided his eyes. “Why don’t we go inside? I have some soup on.”
Knox didn’t move. “Where’s Emilia?”
Maven paused, skipping the question much as Gorrde had. “You’re not hungry?”
His voice dropped as he forced the words out. “I don’t need to eat.”
Maven’s eyes flashed wide in surprise and her dark eyes held his gaze for an extended moment. “Your strength has returned.” It was a statement. “Your child—”
“I know.” He swallowed past the thick lump in his throat. “Where is Emilia?”
Maven released his arms and stepped back as a wave of grief flashed across her features. “She left.”
“Left? Where?”
Maven glanced towards Gorrde and waved him off as she led Knox to the bench in front of the shop. They sat. “She and Tehran left for the Capital over a week ago now.”
He frowned. “Why would Tehran leave? The cluster needs his protection.”
“Word came from Arris, the earthbound are all through the region. He went to the Order.”
“A messenger could do the job just as well—”
Maven cut him off with a raised hand. “He did as he felt he needed to do. Emilia as well.”
His mind raced along fragmented thoughts, darting back and forth, searching for the pieces that would make this all make sense. “Emilia is going to the Order?”
Maven reached into the folds of fabric tied around her waist and pulled free a worn paper and held it out to him. Her eyes moved from the proffered note to him. “Read it.”
Knox’s hands shook as unfolded the sheet and Emilia’s familiar script met him. He sucked in a sharp breath, overwhelmed by the longing the script awoke in him. It was a tangible connection to her. Every moment since the day the beast had taken him he’d been anticipating his return. Now he held her words in his hands and trembled at the ache they spawned in his chest.
Mother,
I am so sorry to leave like this but understand—I must. Someone needs to hold the Order to account for what they have done to Knox. To you.
I cannot stay. His absence tears at me. Maybe if I find peace for his soul, I can find a little for myself.
~Emilia
“Hold the Order to account?” he said sharply. The look on Maven’s face echoed his own terror.
“She believes your death was the Order’s fault because they took your strength.”
He sucked in a long, slow breath, shaking his head. “I laid it down.”
Maven lifted a brow, questioning.
Heat rushed to his face. “I did, Maven. They scarred me to prove it.” He lifted his hand where the scar had marked. Nothing but unblemished skin remained. “It was there—” he stumbled over the words. “My power returned, and I started to heal again.”
Maven took his outstretched hand into both of hers. “I believe you.”
His heart rate slowed, and dread crept forward. “She can’t change the Order. If she questions them, she’ll be in danger.”
“I agree.”
At a thought, he stood, pulling from the older woman. Agitation and fire flooding his veins. “If they think I am dead, she’s no longer bound or protected by our vows. She’s going to get herself killed!” He spun on Maven, who still sat. “I need to go. Have you heard from her since she left?”
“Jai returned yesterday. He confirmed she is with Tehran.”
A small thread of tension eased at the thought. She’s not alone. Almost as quickly, larger bands constricted around his chest.
“If she’s set on doing this, Tehran won’t be able to stop her.” His voice sounded small in his own ears. How could he have made it all this way back again only to still be helpless to keep her safe?
“I think he found a way,” Maven said, her voice low as her eyes met his. “Jai reported they were bonded.”
The words hit him as oddly meaningless and hollow. Bonded? They couldn’t be. It didn’t make any sense. She was his wife. How could she be bonded to anyone else? He stared at Maven, trying to comprehend what she could mean by such a bizarre statement. She stood slowly, her dark eyes filled with empathy. The long drapes of pleated fabric that made up her simple dress swept the ground as she stepped towards him.
“She loves you, Knox. She’s lost right now.”
He looked up slowly, taking in the familiar bearing of the woman before him. Strong, lean limbs, a graceful neck and the same tilt of her chin as Emilia used when making her case.
“Tehran must have recognized the danger she would be in without vows to protect her.”
His legs felt oddly unstable. “He exchanged vows with my wife?”
Maven reached an arm out to him for support.
Flashes of memory battered him with images of he and Emilia in this very space over the years. Laughter around the table during family dinners. Goodnight kisses stolen in the shadows. In this yard they had shared their own vows. The last time he’d been here, they walked hand in hand talking of simple plans.
A pervasive numbness slowed his thinking and he was dimly aware of Maven leading him toward the big house.
But beneath it all, he could sense the building heat of a deep rage.
Book of Oaths
Emilia
Emilia found herself unable to shake the sense of unease as they arrived at Solace’s expansive stone block house. The Patrem’s explanation for being at the rendezvous felt far too convenient. If the Order knew of rogue encryptions and downed communications, why hadn’t they already sent help to the Reaches? There were simply too many unanswered questions to blindly accept his word as truth, Patrem or not.
Tehran moved past the stairs and kitchen to follow Solace into the nearby den. The room fit its name with thickly-cushioned furniture and a blazing hearth. She paused in the entrance and caught Tehran’s arm. “I’m going to go get settled in my room and give you time to talk.”
He looked surprised for a moment, but quickly nodded. Clearly, he thought she’d stay. The moment warmed her.
“Second floor, first door on the left,” Solace interjected as he backtracked past them. “I’m going to put a kettle on. Stairs are just there.” He waved a hand towards the hall.
“Thank you.”
Tehran let his hand drift down her arm and squeezed her fingers. “Rest. It’s been a long trip. We can make plans in the morning.”
As if I could sleep, she thought, but she gave Tehran a smile before turning for the stairs.
The spare room was sparsely furnished, holding only a narrow bed and small table with a dim lamp. A deep armoire sat in the corner, full of old ceremonial robes and spare blankets. The narrow drawers at the bottom were empty, so she dumped the contents of her pack between the two.
Absently, she wished for the soft robe she had worn in Rook. Tehran had stopped in his tracks at the sight of her in it. Heat filled her face, and she couldn’t decide if it was with embarrassment or pleasure. Emilia pulled a loose top and cropped pants from the drawer, and a small rectangular gadget fell from a pocket and clattered to the floor. She picked up the familiar device and considered it a moment.
Making a decision, she changed quickly and tucked the device into her pocket. It was a scanner, a rather benign piece of tech on its own, but right now she was in the home of a Patrem and for the moment, unsupervised.
In Rikken, Solace had hardly allowed her on their doorstep, let alone welcomed her inside—especially without supervision. Yet, all these years later, here she was. With quiet steps, she slipped through the bedroom door and back onto the landing.
Solace had mentioned rogue transmissions. If he was a part of what was going on or had information—she needed it. Everything centred around preventing information from leaving the Reaches. Why?
Someone with extraordinary power was manipulating things, and the most obvious culprit was the Order of the Sky. But Tehran was bound to the Order, and she would need hard evidence, not paranoia, to sway him. Proof that could be within the Patrem’s room.
She moved with light steps across the landing to the next set of stairs. She needn’t have worried; the stone beneath her feet didn’t groan or shift. Stone could withhold and hide. Despite keeping her secrets, she ached for the warmth and telling creaks of wood. Wood was honest.
Her bare feet were cold when she reached the top floor and stood before the door of the master bedroom. As expected, it was locked. Emilia popped the face from the electronic keypad with movements borne of familiarity and exposed the wiring within. She traced each wire to its source before pulling and rerouting the thin lines. If she set off an alarm, silent or otherwise, it would be rather difficult to explain her actions, even to Tehran. A soft click sounded, and she opened the door a crack before reversing her work on the small panel and closing it back up.
The austerity of the room gave it the appearance of an unused guest suite. The bed, with no extra pillows, had been pushed up against the wall. A simple desk sat in the centre of the room, nearly bare but for a data pad and a single book. Along one wall, floor to ceiling shelves filled with books were lined up and meticulously organised.
She wondered if her voice would echo if she spoke. If this is what Solace expected of an Overseer, it explained why Knox had always been confused when she set their bed with a few extra pillows or traded out the curtains to match the season. His baffled expression had always made her laugh.
Her chest ached at the memory as a ghost of a smile pulled at her lips before she refocused on the task at hand.
What am I even looking for? Solace had convinced Tehran of his innocence by showing the official orders, but files could be forged. She needed to see them for herself. And if he’s working with someone outside the Order? The old Patrem wouldn’t keep such records on the Order’s own system.
She moved to the shelves and began searching, not the spines or the names printed on them, but the placement and condition of each. She reached the end of the shelf and cursed. There was no sign of a false door or latch book. No evidence of a frequently-pulled volume or facade where evidence could be hidden. Her heart filled with an impending sense of dread. The Order relied on the spoken word under oath for their most sensitive information—what if Solace had sworn himself to those undermining the Reaches? There would be no records.
Emilia pulled in an exasperated breath. In that case, if she found nothing, it proved nothing. Not good enough. She needed concrete evidence.
Her search took on new intensity, and to her frustration, she found no hidden compartments within the stone-slab wall, nothing tucked under the mattress rails of the bed, and no loose mortar around the stone tiles on the floor.
Disappointed, her eyes settled on the desk, and she snatched up the data pad and plugged in a small drive. The encryption and security fell away, and she stared at the orders Solace had shown Tehran. The thorough account, with multiple signing partners, proved it an unlikely forgery. The Order knew of the communication failings and the likely raids and had done nothing. It damned them further in her eyes but would not sway Tehran. He’d trust they were still working for the good of the Reaches. She put the slate back on the desk, ensuring no trace of her search could be found, and sighed.
