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THE UPROAR had been waiting for us in Chascadia. There were countless legends and theories surrounding the being of white light that taunted its victims by blinding them and knocking them to the ground. Some described it as a force of chaos. Others considered the Uproar a pale shadow of the Everywhere and Everywhen. The particularly cynical believed that the TSTA—Time and Space Travel Agency—controlled it in order to eliminate travel talents that the agency sought to regulate.
I, however, was not as concerned with its origin and history as I was with its targets. This particular Uproar, as far as I’d known, was out to destroy Plaka and his daughter Calla, the last living Remnant Transporters.
In the murky darkness, guilt and anger surged through my bones. Hatred roiled with ugliness fried my nerves, like a fire that spreads so quickly the embers left behind have time to cool before anyone notices the flame. That was how I knew the Uproar was ready to strike—how I’d sensed its presence.
Yet, the Uproar hesitated. The blaring of the watch the TSTA had given Calla must have distracted it, because it made no movement to attack.
Plaka had yelled to Calla, obtained the watch and buried it in the ground. He was likely worried that the TSTA was on its way. My pitiable healer. He’d been behind the Fire Falls far too long. I doubted he’d felt the Uproar, even though he had the ability to sense it. So absorbed was he in his newfound freedom that any threat of being captured and taken away by the TSTA or anyone else must have surpassed the pain of the Uproar’s presence. Calla hadn’t felt it either. I was convinced that the ability to sense the Uproar was similar to travel talents, in that they were both inherited. In this case, I suspected Calla took after her mother.
Ivory and Ray had felt it, however. I’d seen the recognition—the pain—in their eyes and in the way Ivory braced herself. Not for the impact of our arrival. That wasn’t necessary because the Uproar was there to absorb it.
Almost immediately, a second siren had sounded. I’d looked up at the sky, choosing my words carefully. “Plaka, did something else happen that you haven’t told us about?” It was as if the TSTA was tailing the Uproar, suggesting that the being and agency were working together. Perhaps Plaka’s theory had been correct—he belonged to the camp of the particularly cynical.
“No!” he’d said. “Although, upon my life I won’t let that demonic agency find me now, not after all my years of solitude.”
Calla had stood there, shaking on the outside like a fragile leaf. That would have bothered me had I not known about the sharpness of the leaf’s edges. Fortunately, her eyes lacked the look of pain that I saw in Ivory and Ray’s, leading me to conclude that she didn’t feel the Uproar. “Then what do we do?” she’d asked. “Where do we go?”
Plaka had disregarded her; instead, he’d turned his gaze on me. He didn’t need to speak. I knew he wanted me to help him hide somewhere safe, the only other place where the Uproar would be reluctant to enter: Aboreal.
“I’m sorry, Plaka, but Aboreal is out of the question. There are customs, administrative hoops we’d need to jump through in order to be admitted. Not to mention the time limits—”
Ivory’s response confirmed my instinct that she’d sensed the Uproar’s presence. “Valcas is right,” she’d said, pointing to me. “We can’t just show up there uninvited. I’d rather the TSTA arrest us than go to an Aborealian prison any day.”
It was illegal to lead an Uproar to Aboreal, even if it was unintentional. The TSTA had contacted Aborealian leaders prior to our arrival and had explained our mission to find Plaka. Ivory had landed in a protected area, which we’d left right away, leaving the leaders to deal with the impact of our arrival, something they had down to a science. They were happy to do it. Had the Uproar arrived, they would have reported the event to the TSTA. And then the TSTA would have been punished under Aborealian law for having led an Uproar to Aboreal.
We couldn’t afford the same.
Calla’s sweet voice had sounded above the racket of sirens. “What about the White Tower?”
Her question iced the fire in my veins. “I can’t go back there.” Not then, not now. Not ever.
“Why not? You picked me up from the White Tower to take me to TSTA Headquarters for my hearing. You seemed fine then.” The acid in her voice had overcome any remaining sweetness.
I’d clenched my teeth before answering. I hadn’t wanted to growl at her. She’d asked an innocent question. “That was the White Tower from my past.”
“This isn’t about the holobrary and all the time you spent alone as a child, is it?”
She had no idea. It wasn’t her fault. It was mine. “No,” I’d whispered, hoping she’d understand, knowing that she couldn’t.
She looked at me, uncertainly, while Plaka walked over to us. I’d felt his hand on my shoulder. “You haven’t been to the White Tower ever since?” he said.
“No.”
Calla’s beautiful eyes had grown wide. “Since what? When?”
“Since my father’s death.”
Uttering that fact aloud had changed everything. It revealed a connection I no longer wanted to believe. That an Uproar had destroyed my father; and the being was present to hurt him when I was nearby.
I’d admitted that to the TSTA, back when I’d believed it. As time passed, the feeling that I was to blame faded, leaving me to wonder whether it was true.
The Uproar had prematurely ended my father’s already short lifespan.
I couldn’t let it happen again.
Not with Calla.