Earthbound, p.25
Earthbound, page 25
The room went silent as she descended the stairs. Solace and three others waited in the den watching her entrance: an older gentleman with a carefully trimmed beard, a hard-faced man no older than Tehran, and the last was a woman close to her mother’s age. Weren’t there only going to be two Elders? Her eyes skipped past them, looking for Tehran.
Tehran stood in the corner near the hearth wearing a new outfit, a dark navy top and sand-coloured pants. The formal clothing used fabric finer than she’d seen him wear before. The rich blue sat warm against his skin. He flashed her a restrained smile, but it held far too much tension to put her at ease. She moved and stood next to him.
Each of the three Elders held a seat. One in a plush chair, the other two on a short couch. Solace stood with Tehran and Emilia.
“Esteemed Elders, thank you for gracing us with your presence. May I introduce Emilia, bonded to Overseer Knox,” Solace opened.
The hard-faced Elder Tehran’s age, pinched his mouth and corrected. “Disavowed Knox.”
Solace gave a half-bow from his seated position. “Apologies, Elevated. Yes, bonded to Disavowed Knox.”
Dareous. How had the Elevated of the whole Conclave ended up here? No wonder waves of tension were radiating from Tehran next to her. She let her hand briefly contact his arm in the only nonverbal reassurance she could give. I was ready to face him before the whole Conclave. I can do so here.
“Emilia, before you are Elevated Dareous, Elder Genoa, and Elder Venier.” Solace introduced each with a gesture.
Emilia dipped her head and pressed her fists to her sternum in a sign of respect. She had heard of the Elevated, Dareous, frequently over the years. He, Knox, and Tehran had trained together in the Capital as Acolytes, but somewhere along the line, things changed. Friendship turned to competition, then turned to all-out rivalry. For all the contention though, Dareous cut a less impressive figure than she would have expected.
He was attractive in a conventional way, but held neither the lithe athleticism of Knox nor the outright bulk of Tehran, instead hiding a soft body under his oversized ceremonial robes. Heavy-lidded eyes matched a thick browed gaze, off-set by a surprisingly well-set jaw for all his other deficiencies.
The other two Elders present she had only heard of in passing. Elder Genoa, a conservative looking man, thin, with dark skin and with a carefully trimmed, greying beard. Elder Venier, a round-faced, lily-complexioned woman, had white hair pinned into an intricate bun. The woman met her eyes and smiled. It radiated warmth.
Could there be hope? A rush of anxiety put a tremor into her hands. Behind Venier’s smile was a woman with the power to speak and put things right. A woman who could do for Knox what Emilia could not.
Solace, finished with the introductions, moved to a simple wooden stool pulled from the kitchen and sat.
Elevated Dareous fixed Emilia with a flint eyed look. “Understand this, Bonded, the only reason you have this audience is Patrem Solace’s earnest request.” He turned a penetrating stare on Solace. “An audience, I might add, I only became aware of at the last minute.”
“Again, my apologies, Elevated,” Solace said, giving a deep bow.
“Elevated Dareous,” Elder Venier cut in. “It was my oversight, not Solace’s. I explained the error to you—I simply gave the message to the wrong carrier. No doubt, it will be in your office by the time we get back. Can we move forward?”
The Elevated isn’t meant to be here. Another flutter of hope sparked within Emilia’s chest at the woman’s boldness.
Emilia swallowed and dipped her head respectfully, desperately fighting to keep a quaver from her voice. “I’m grateful, Elders, for the opportunity to speak.”
“You cannot.” Dareous bit out. His eyes flicked to Tehran at her side, who went rigid. “I trust without Disavowed Knox here, you will be able to keep yourself under control, Overseer?”
“Yes, Elevated,” Tehran very nearly growled.
Emilia’s mind raced. Can’t speak? How dare he— Anger stirred, roiling in her stomach. She opened her mouth with a retort when Elder Venier spoke up.
“Are you here to listen to your own voice or to what these two have to say?”
Dareous narrowed his eyes and glared at Emilia. “Disavowed Knox is no longer of the Order. This woman shouldn’t even be here. You are her Overseer, Tehran. Anything she has to say can be left with you.”
“If that were the case, they would not both be here.” Venier tipped her chin in Emilia’s direction even as Dareous’ scowl deepened. “Tell us, dear. I am most curious to hear why you are here instead of your husband.”
A sudden swell of emotion rendered Emilia mute. The irrefutable truth, suddenly unbearable. She was standing there, saying these words, because he was gone. Her breath came in shallow pulls. Eyebrows raised and sidelong glances passed as the silence stretched. Speak! Nothing came out.
“Knox is dead,” Tehran said.
The quiet words hit the room with thunderous force. Genoa tented his fingers and leaned forward, clearly concerned. A soft gasp escaped Venier’s lips before she covered them with a fine-fingered hand.
Dareous waved his arms as if proven justified. “All the more reason to have her removed. She holds no oaths.”
“Did you hear what I said?” Tehran asked. “Knox is dead, and you’re worried about protocol?”
“As you should be, Overseer,” Dareous snapped. “Those outside of our oaths cannot be held in our council.” Emilia suddenly felt foolish for dismissing the man so quickly. The calculating weight of his gaze held a whole different sort of power than Knox or Tehran wielded.
“She is bound,” Tehran said, moving between her and the Elders. Shoulders straight and jaw set, his presence seemed to double.
“Impossible,” Dareous scoffed. He turned to the Patrem. “Solace, if I find you concocted some Reaches-logic, half-oath, you will be—”
“She is bound to me,” Tehran growled. The words reverberated through the room and into Emilia’s soul. Each syllable spoke claim, and sent a thrill through her bones.
Dareous sat back, dumbfounded.
Elder Genoa let out a long-suffering sigh. “Then everything is in order. Could we hear what Bonded Emilia has to say? There are clearly important facts to be uncovered here.”
“I agree,” Venier said, settling back. “Whenever you are ready, my dear.”
“Go ahead, Em,” Tehran gently encouraged.
Emilia felt as if she drifted up from her body and stood watching herself as she recounted the day the earthbound arrived. She left out no detail. Tehran’s efforts to recover those lost, their attempts to kill the beast, and how Knox saved Tehran’s life only to lose his own in the subsequent crash.
Tehran took over when her voice turned thin, her throat closing and breath becoming shallow again at the loss of her child.
He moved on to delineate the final death count in Rikken, the crops lost and compounded impact due to the ongoing threat. He finalized his account, relating what he knew of Arris and the communication relays being down. She dimly recognized he left out the interference with the messengers being sent.
The thought buoyed her spirits. Despite his oaths, he wasn’t walking into this meeting blindly either. When he finished, each Elder queried him. He answered succinctly, betraying no hint of his own suspicions.
Once satisfied, the three shared a look before Elevated Dareous spoke. “With such sombre news as this, I appreciate your insistence for this intimate gathering, Patrem Solace. I apologize for my antagonism.”
Solace gave another formal bow. “I thank you for your trust.”
The Elevated looked at Emilia once more, this time with a measure less animosity. “Emilia, you have my deepest sympathy. At one time, I counted Knox a friend and despite our differences, I am saddened to hear of his passing. In this last act, I can recognize his honour.”
A bubble of hope filled her chest. She stood a little straighter and wiped stray moisture from under her eye. “Will you allow Knox’s name to be added to the Hall of the Fallen?”
For the second time the room fell silent, and she felt Tehran tense next to her. Wasn’t this the crux of all she petitioned for? The fragile hope within her trembled before their horrified expressions. Tehran reached for her hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. A half-restrained sigh caught her ears. Solace. The bubble popped.
“No,” Dareous said.
“You acknowledge his honour, here, to me, but refuse to do what is right for his name and memory?” Emilia challenged. This time, the words came hot and fast.
Dareous squared his shoulders and brought his heavy-lidded gaze to bear.
“As a man, he behaved honourably.” His voice took on an edge. “But as an Overseer, Knox is a bitter disappointment. The Hall of the Fallen is reserved for our own.”
The blunt statement caught her off guard but lost none of its potency. Heat filled her face, and she opened her mouth to speak.
“Emilia,” Venier, the matronly Elder, suddenly interjected. “You look ill. All this talk clearly has you overextended. Shall we get some fresh air?” Venier stood and looked between the men. “I trust you four can work out the remaining details without us?”
Elevated Dareous gave a curt nod. Emilia clamped her mouth shut, frowning. She wasn’t done here.
Tehran dipped close to her ear and spoke in a rushed whisper, “I can handle things here. Talk to Venier. She is your best chance.”
Emilia glanced towards the Elevated, fighting to keep her voice low. “If he speaks of Knox like that again—”
“He won’t,” Tehran finished, his own jaw flexing. “Trust me.”
She nodded and knew he truly meant it. His face reflected the fury she felt. Dareous seemed to notice, and for all his glowering, he shifted uncomfortably, as if only now recognizing how large and powerful Tehran was.
Venier gave Emilia an encouraging smile before linking arms with her and steering her out of the small house into the open light and fresh air of the street.
To Rip The Earth
Knox
The earth reverted to its natural state, pressing the loamy soil around Knox. He held his breath, fighting the urge to take a desperate gasp. His throat tightened and he pushed back a wave of panic. Trapped—again.
Heat rolled over his outstretched arm. The sensation shocked him. Heat? From what? He assumed he had snagged a root on his way down, but focusing, he could feel the air swirl around his arm from his elbow up, even as the earth around his shoulder held firm. He prodded the cord within his grasp. Distinct strands woven together with sharp spurs slivering out where it had frayed. A cable?
His held breath pushed at an internal clock. He had ten or so minutes before he ran out of oxygen and his body entered a passive stasis. In such a state, he could survive for several days but would be at the mercy of whoever found him, and Rikken would be left to the mercy of the Tumultians.
“Never leave your fate in the hands of the Earth or the Sky,” Solace had said. “The elements are fickle masters.”
He focused on his grip, blocking the claustrophobic sensations. The cable’s frayed edges dug into his palm with sharp spikes. He gripped it tighter. Warm trickles of blood tracked down his arm before they healed and slicked the line. He flexed his arm, making a motion to pull it into his chest. His hand slipped, losing precious inches on the lifeline.
Everyone he had left to love was back in that cluster. People he had known all his life: Maven and Gorrde, Daedan, and even Loghin. Kipp. Her sweet, round face with its wide-eyed gaze. An overwhelming sense of responsibility filled him with fresh urgency. She was his to protect.
Inch by inch, Knox climbed his grip up above the slicked section. New barbs cut into his palm. This time, he waited until his hand healed over and the braided cord felt tacky beneath his fingers.
Pent-up air pressed in anticipation. Heat flared and spread through his limbs like a building pressure as he called on his strength. The grip he purchased became a clamp and his forearm flexed. For a moment, nothing moved; then all at once, the earth gave way around him as he pulled himself toward the surface.
He shifted his grip once more. It was enough to pull his head clear, and he broke free of the earth with a sharp intake of breath. The tang of acrid smoke did nothing to diminish the sweetness of the open air as he blinked loose soil from his eyes. Scattered around him, half-buried, lay twisted and smoking debris. The cable he held was attached to a large section of hull embedded a few feet before him. A shudder crept down his spine at how close he’d come to being pinned within the earth.
The sound of a hovercraft filled his ears as raiders converged on his position. A shout went up, and one of the pods broke in his direction. The engine pitch increased as they rushed to intercept before he could regain his feet.
Knox wriggled free, eyes on the incoming attackers. Bolts of energy sizzled around him, and billowing smoke moved between them in shifting clouds, obscuring their line of sight.
Instinctively, he reached for his belt. Thank the Sky. His club still hung at his side, its twisted end packed with dirt but still attached to its hook. With a breath, his muscles hummed with tension, his vision sharpened. The sounds of the whole chaotic scene broke down into its individual parts, and he could pick out each incoming engine.
A grin cracked his lips. Around him lay the scattered detritus of the broken-up hovercraft. He’d wanted projectiles and now he had them. He darted forward, dodging bolt blasts and scooped up a piece of shrapnel, releasing it in the same motion. With lightning precision, the chunk of iron lodged itself into a raider’s chest, bending his armour inward as if it were made of foil.
Another hail of bolts loosed in his direction. Knox dodged with sure-footed steps, undeterred, gathering anything he could throw at speed. Each object found its mark, piercing armour and exploiting the narrowest gap.
A far-off crack split the air. The sound muting the battle noise and turning heads. Rikken. He pushed into the air to see the cause of the sound. The momentary vantage left no wondering. The brecka was pushing into Rikken and cutting through buildings like a knife through butter. If he didn’t do something quickly, there would be little left of the small cluster. His gaze fell on the probes pulsing from beneath the remaining craft gathered along the forest’s edge. This ends now.
A few well-timed jumps, and he dropped onto a platform with a muted thud, lifting his club from his side. Frantic shouts went up a split second before he carved a grisly line through their ranks. A bolt blast from one of the other craft took Knox in the side, knocking him off balance. Stunned, he did his best to shake off the impact, impressed again at how powerful the bolts were. Another volley spattered around him, forcing him to dive for cover.
Recognizing their vulnerability being in close proximity to one another, the other pods began to disengage locks to separate. If they manage it, they’ll have me surrounded. With a quick glance over the empty deck, he looked for options and couldn’t help but smile when he spotted a large winch anchored to the front of the craft.
Dodging bolts, he slid along the bulwark and up to the winch. Throwing the lock pin, he pulled the cable free as fast as he could manage. He stood, hefting the weighted hook in his hand. A still-conjoined platform near him started to pull away under a cover hail of bolts. Two found their mark, hitting him in the chest and hip. His vision blurred and he stumbled. Bleary colours shifted as he hurled the anchor toward the interconnected craft.
The hook clanked as it hit and wrapped around a structural pillar near the driver’s pit. Both vehicles lurched, knocking the crew from their feet as the cable pulled taut. Engaging the winch, Knox recalled the line—setting the two craft on a collision course with each other—and jumped clear.
A concussive blast hit him from behind as the platform and winched craft met in spectacular fashion. The generators were far more sensitive to impact than he would have guessed. That was true of the generator Kipp’s father had destroyed as well. An important detail for the Order to know.
A couple of the craft had managed to disengage before the impact, and Knox claimed one, dispatching the crew in moments, but the other retreated for the main road, pulling up their probes and picking up speed.
He cursed. The last thing they needed were reinforcements being called in. The earth shook and crashed, pulling his attention back to the cluster. Chase down the Tumultians or protect the cluster?
Flinging the pilot’s body out of the driving pit and onto the deck, Knox grabbed the controls and shot towards Rikken. He was an untethered shadow covered in soot and gore, trailing destruction and columns of black smoke, but he would not abandon his cluster.
As he neared, the full extent of the damage inflicted on the small town became clear. A pod of deccam had transformed the roads and paths into broken furrows and dismantled cobblestones. Where the brecka passed, nothing remained. Trees and buildings alike were turned to kindling.
Knox slowed the craft to navigate the wreckage, fearful he would find bodies. Thank the Sky for small mercies, he saw none.
An explosion cut through the air. The pressure wave hit his eardrums and rattled his teeth. He spun, searching for the source as the surrounding hills echoed the clap back and forth. Oily smoke billowed up from the far edge of the cluster. The shop. Panic built in his chest. Kipp had been there—along with Maven and Gorrde.
The earth trembled as the brecka reached towards the sky, sending trees cascading to the ground like wheat before a scythe. Its rocky head stretched upward, loosing a roar, the subsonic sound setting every surface trembling with the vibration of it. Why is it still attacking? The probed vehicles were destroyed or gone. He checked that the controls on his craft were disengaged.
They hadn’t been. Damn. His mistake had sent the beast into a renewed panic. He slammed four separate toggles down and the probes retracted.
Knox rounded a deep pile of wreckage, bringing the creature fully into sight. In its frenzy, the beast had flattened everything around it. The old growth trees leading up to Gorrde’s shop lay reduced to splinters.
