TECHNOLOGY BINDS THE MASTERS TO THE CITY, THE DIRT EATERS’ HIDDEN CAVERNS KEEP THEM UNDERGROUND. THUS BOTH REQUIRE SERVANTS. SOME LIVE IN FEAR OF THEIR LORDS, OTHERS HAVE IDEAS OF THEIR OWN, AND SOME SERVE GLADLY.
—THE WAY OF THE WAZYA
GRIEF-STRICKEN AND FURIOUS, Roan scans the wreckage.
“So much for hiding from Darius here,” growls Wolf.
Lumpy turns to Roan questioningly. “You think this was Darius’s work?”
“If it was Darius, you’d all be dead.”
“Who then?” demands Wolf, barely able to contain his frustration and rage.
Roan looks at the Brothers’ commander with a certain amount of empathy. The senselessness of the attack is making his blood boil too. “Find the perpetrator and we’ll have our answer.”
Apsara and Brother labor together, bracing the destroyed walls, removing rubble and damaged furniture. Roan drifts over to them, saying nothing, not even looking into their eyes. He simply focuses on each one as he passes, sensing their being.
“The explosion destroyed the kitchen and blew through these two barrack walls,” says Lumpy, following behind.
Amongst the workers in the most interior portion of the damage, Roan senses an emotion different from the rest, annoyance laced with bitter triumph. In an instant, Roan throws the Brother to the floor, his hands collaring the traitor’s throat.
“Naj!” cries Wolf.
As the Brother smirks, his livid scar twists across his face. “Nothing personal, Brother Wolf.”
“You killed two innocents. Why?” Roan’s thumbs rest under the man’s Adam’s apple. He could end his life so easily. “Why?” Roan squeezes Naj’s neck a little tighter.
“Accident. Pity really. I quite liked them both. The timer buggered up. It was meant for you.”
“Who gave you your orders?” Roan’s never heard Lumpy’s voice so filled with rage.
Naj snorts. Roan can see the image of the mountain lion as clear as if it were reflected in his eyes.
“He takes his orders from the Dirt Eaters,” Roan answers. “Why do they want me dead?”
“You declare an intention to destroy the Dirt and then think they will sit idly by waiting for you to do it?”
Roan casts his mind back to that night at the Council…the Brothers in the tent...he remembers this Brother’s scarred face. Yes. Naj had been there.
The traitor laughs. “Fool.”
Stepping in front of Lumpy, Wolf glowers down at the Brother, then lifts his gaze sharply to Roan. “Are you going to interrogate him?”
“He doesn’t know anything.”
“Then…Prophet…” Wolf murmurs, eyeing Roan’s undignified position over his prisoner.
Roan slowly picks himself up, wary of the slightest movement from Naj. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Wolf lift his hook-sword. Roan cries out, but too late to stop the downward arc that cleaves the treacherous Brother in two.
Though Lumpy is shaking, he doesn’t turn away. He’d helped gather what was left of Dobbs and Seventy-Nine, and Roan can only guess at the emotions boiling beneath his surface.
Wolf stands solemnly before Lumpy. “It is our way, Lieutenant. He confessed his crime and received the Friend’s justice. His body will not be burned, but left in the open air for carrion.”
“We are not executioners,” Roan says, stepping between them.
Turning abruptly back to Roan, Wolf speaks through gritted teeth. “Might I ask, Prophet, what you intend to do with Darius when you have him in your grasp?”
His face on fire, Roan stands his ground. “That, Brother Wolf, is between me and the Friend.”
Wolf’s eyes narrow but he acquiesces. Then, looking past Roan, he addresses Lumpy. “I will see to the removal of the traitor.”
Roan stares at his hands. He’s spattered with Naj’s blood. He had so wanted to squeeze the life from the man. Seventy-Nine’s curious face, Dobbs’s laugh. Everything crowds in on him like a long agonized scream.
“Roan.” Lumpy’s voice is heavy with grief. A grief Roan’s not ready to succumb to.
“I’m going to talk to the Dirt Eaters.”
Almost blinded by his rage, Roan whirls to move around his friend, but Lumpy blocks his path.
“Roan, stop, think. That’s exactly what they want you to do. In the Dreamfield, you’ll be exposed. And outnumbered.”
“Lumpy, I have to face them. Then I’ll know what to do.”
MULTICOLORED FISH FLIT OUT OF HIS WAY AS HE JETS UNDERWATER THROUGH AN IMMENSE CORAL JUNGLE. BUT HE PAYS LITTLE REGARD TO THE EXTRAORDINARY SUBMARINE LANDSCAPE, HIS MIND SET ON ONE SOLITARY GOAL THAT CONSUMES HIS ATTENTION THROUGH THE COUNTLESS LEAGUES IN THIS ABUNDANT SEA.
FINALLY, AT THE LUMINESCENT CURTAIN BARRICADING THE WATER, HE BREAKS THE SURFACE. NONE COULD TOUCH THE SPEED AT WHICH HE HURTLES INTO FERRELL’S GREAT WALL. LIGHT FLARES AND COLOR DANCES AROUND HIM, AND HIS WHOLE BEING SCINTILLATES WITH ITS ENERGY AS HE BLASTS INTO THE DIRT EATER TERRITORY ON THE OTHER SIDE.
THE SEA BEGINS TO BOIL AND A MOUNTAIN LION, A WOLVERINE, AND A JACKAL RISE OUT OF THE FROTH TO CONFRONT HIM.
“WHAT ARROGANCE!” SNARLS THE MOUNTAIN LION. “TO HAVE COME HERE, ALONE.”
“SARI. I HAVE COME IN PEACE TO SPEAK WITH YOU. YOU ONCE BEFRIENDED ME AT OASIS.”
“YOU DESERTED US, ROAN. NO PEACE OR FRIENDSHIP REMAINS BETWEEN US.”
“YOU ORDERED AN ATTEMPT ON MY LIFE. TWO OF MY FRIENDS HAVE DIED BECAUSE OF IT.”
“HOW UNFORTUNATE.”
“WHAT DO YOU STAND TO GAIN FROM MY DEATH?”
SARI’S COLD BLACK EYES LOCK ON HIS. “ARE YOU TRULY SO NAÏVE? WE WAITED NEARLY A CENTURY FOR YOUR COMING. ALL OF OUR HOPE WAS INVESTED IN YOU. YOU WERE TO TOPPLE DARIUS, USE THE NOVAKIN TO SECURE THE DREAMFIELD, AND STABILIZE THE SUPPLY OF DIRT. BUT INSTEAD YOU HAVE TURNED OUR OWN PEOPLE AGAINST US AND, WE ARE TOLD, ARE INTENT ON DESTROYING THE DIRT. YOU ARE NO BETTER THAN YOUR NAMESAKE AND MUCH, MUCH MORE DANGEROUS. WE SHOULD HAVE KILLED HIM. WE WON’T MAKE THE SAME MISTAKE TWICE.”
“YOU ARE DESTROYING THE DREAMFIELD.”
“NONSENSE. THE DREAMFIELD CANNOT BE DESTROYED.”
“I’VE SEEN IT.”
“YOU LIE. AND IT IS AN OLD LIE. YOUR GREAT-GRANDFATHER SAID THE SAME AND HERE WE ARE A HUNDRED YEARS LATER, MORE POWERFUL THAN EVER.”
“THE DIRT IS A POISON. IT IS AFFECTING YOUR JUDGMENT.”
THE LION’S MUSCLES TENSE, ITS TEETH BARE. “BE WARNED, ROAN OF LONGLIGHT. WHAT HAPPENED AT THE ACADEMY IS JUST A TASTE OF WHAT WE CAN DO.” PADDING CLOSER TO ROAN, SHE SAYS GENTLY, “UNDERSTAND, WE WILL NOT ALLOW DARIUS TO DEFEAT US.”
“I WILL STOP YOU,” SAYS ROAN UNEQUIVOCALLY.
THE THREE CREATURES LOOK AT EACH OTHER GRIMLY. THE JACKAL’S SHARP TEETH CLICK TOGETHER, “THEN WE ARE AT WAR.” AS SHE SNAPS AT ROAN’S HAND, THE MOUNTAIN LION LEAPS, BUT ROAN EVADES THEM AND, STILL RAGING, HE DISAPPEARS INTO THE FOAMING SEA.
Lumpy’s waiting at his side, looking at him expectantly. His face falls at the sight of Roan’s expression. “I guess it didn’t go so well.”
“They’ve declared war on us.”
An Apsara appears at their door. “Ende requests your presence. Kira is in the Quarry.”
As she reports to Roan, Ende mops the sweat from Mabatan’s brow. “The Gunther has taken Kira to the main storage area. She’s fully described all the entryways and security bypasses. They’ve just gone down a long elevator shaft and opened some kind of steel wall.”
“There’s glass,” Mabatan mumbles. “Behind it…Dirt. Mountains of Dirt. Eleven is looking into his glasses. Cleric! Not supposed to be here.”
“Get out, Kira, get out!” Ende pleads under her breath.
“We must hurry.” Number Eleven leads Kira through a narrow hallway. But before he can push the button that will close the steel doors, the elevator opens and the Cleric steps out, weapon aimed.
“What are you doing here?”
“Checking the integrity of the fila-armor.”
“I didn’t see a work order on file.”
“I am sure it is attributable to an oversight.”
“We’ll see about that. Let’s go.”
With lightning speed, Kira smashes the Cleric’s jaw. He reels backward into the wall, his weapon firing accidentally. A siren wails. Before he can fire again, Kira finishes him with a blow to the neck. As his enabler implodes, she strips off her clothes before the startled Gunther, and exchanges her overalls for the Cleric’s blue robes.
She puts her glasses on the Cleric, then, draping his shirt to conceal his enabler, she lifts him up and hauls him into the elevator. “Let’s go.”
Seeing the Gunther’s panicked expression, Kira rests a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “Follow my lead. When you see an opportunity to leave, go.”
“What about you?”
“Don’t worry about me.”
When the elevator doors open, a crowd of Clerics awaits them, weapons ready. Kira makes a gesture of appeasement. “My fault. This Gunther insulted Our Stowe and I lost my temper. I fired and triggered the alarm. I think he’s hurt.” She drops the dead man on the floor. “Am I under arrest?”
The other Clerics smile. Then one of them turns to Eleven. “Did you see this terrible accident?”
Number Eleven shakes his head warily.
“Good. Take your friend and get lost.”
Eleven hesitates for a moment. Kira walks over and gives him a motivating kick. Turning back to the Clerics, she makes a face mocking the trembling Gunther. “A little slow, aren’t they?”
Eleven drags the body face-down and with some difficulty manages to lift it into his cart. The Clerics chuckle as he wheels it away.
But their laughter quickly dies at the sight of a ranking member of their order, clearly their supervisor. “Who’s she?” he asks, stepping into the room.
“I just arrived this morning from—”
“Papers,” he says tonelessly.
“Right here.” Aiming the dead Cleric’s stun stick, she fires again and again, felling a half dozen Clerics. But as the last standing Blue Robe charges, the trigger on her weapon jams. Using the butt of the stun stick, she takes him down and runs.
Sirens wail. Sprinting to the main gate, the whine of stun shots from the guard towers surrounds Kira. She plows into a half-dozen gate guards, her fists and feet ablaze, each blow making its mark. Just down the road is a stand of trees, and in that stand is a large rock, and beneath that rock—
Her leg goes numb and she topples over. Another stun blast hits her in the back. She can barely breathe. Three Clerics put their swords to her throat. Kira spits at them. They kick. And kick. And kick.
Ende stares at the wall. Her face is gray, the grim reality of what is happening to her granddaughter all too clear as Mabatan jerks and twists in attempts to avoid blow after blow after blow. No one speaks. Emotion caught in his throat, Roan is silent. But even if he could speak, what could he possibly say?
Suddenly, Mabatan is very still. All color drains out of Ende’s face as she reaches out and places two fingers on Mabatan’s neck. After a moment, she whispers, “Alive. She’s alive. The sleep is very deep but she’s alive.” Without looking up, she asks, “Roan, will you sit with her a bit? I won’t be long.” And before Roan can reply, she rises and with quiet dignity, slips silently from the room.
Settling himself beside Mabatan, Roan sees dark bruises forming on her arms and her chest and the sides of her face. She shivers, then her whole body begins to tremble. Roan anxiously pulls a blanket over her, but she cries out and he quickly draws away. She’s so hurt, so fragile, his slightest touch has brought her pain.
Her hand, stone white, slips out from the covers. As Roan reaches ever so carefully to tuck it back in, Mabatan’s fingers wrap around his. Startled, heartsick, his eyes glaze over with tears—and through them he sees a brown, speckled rat hovering above her.
“I feared the worst,” Rat sighs, his sharp features inclined toward his injured daughter.
“Kira’s been captured,” Roan says quietly. “We don’t know what will happen if she’s killed. We want to sever Mabatan’s connection to her but Mabatan refuses, so I don’t feel we can. But with your permission—”
“Her will is strong. She follows the path. If she says she wishes to pursue this thing, we would be wrong to stop her. Worse still would be to allow Mabatan’s choice to distract you from the goals you must pursue.”
“Two of my people died today, victims of Dirt Eater sabotage.”
“You are sure of this?”
“The Dirt Eaters have declared war on us.”
“Then it is time to act, Roan of Longlight.”
“What can I do? Even if I knew how to defeat them, to take the fight to the Dreamfield now would reveal my hand to Darius.”
Rat’s tail twitches dangerously. “No need for that yet. You know where they live.”
“What do you mean?”
“Why take the fight to the Dreamfield, Roan of Longlight, when you know where the Dirt Eaters live?”
Licking his paw, the rat slowly disappears.
If you are able, tell Mabatan she is in my thoughts. Always.
There is a soft knock at the door. Kamyar. His eyes are red, his face weary and somber. “Sorry if this is a bad time. But we’re going to bury our friends now.”