Rise of Renegades, page 33
The weight on his shoulders was evident, as if he carried his entire family on his back. Still, there was a grim determination about his features, an acceptance of fate. He was ready to die for his family.
When Reklin finally exited the Nova and made his way up the tunnel to the surface, Siena tried to imagine his path and project where he would go. She already knew he was going to the village, so it seemed easy enough, yet the future remained elusive. His path took him to the river and over the bridge, passing within a few hundred steps of Mora’s island. And for the briefest of seconds, Siena caught a glimpse of a shadow moving ahead of Reklin’s body.
“I need to be closer,” Siena said.
The realization was clear, and combined the little she already understood. If she knew someone and stood close to them, would it amplify her augment? She only had a few hours before Olgor would arrive, and she’d already tried what she could from the island.
Extinguishing the time augment, she rose to her feet and wobbled. She grabbed a tree as dizziness assailed her, the bark rough under her palm. The fatigue sapped at her legs, forcing her to sit until the world stopped spinning. The time augment was more exhausting than being chased by dakorian whelps.
When the dizziness passed, Siena left the refuge and swam to the shore. Each stroke was difficult, and the current carried her almost to the bridge by the time she pulled herself from the water. She trudged across the bridge to the village and to Lavana’s house. She found Reklin sitting outside, eating from an enormous platter, and sank into a chair adjacent to him with a weary sigh.
He paused in eating and raised an eyebrow. “What happened to you?”
“A whelp pushed me in the river,” she said. It was close enough to the truth. “You ready for tonight?”
“As ready as I can be,” he said.
A pair of dakorians approached but veered around Reklin and Siena, pointedly avoiding eye contact. Even the whelps seemed to have been instructed to stay away, an instruction that Mora blatantly ignored as she flopped down next to Siena. The girl tossed Siena a haunch of steaming meat, fare that Siena began to assume was normal for a dakorian village.
“Seena look weak,” Mora said.
Siena felt weak, so she took a bite of the meat, ripping it right off the bone. Succulent and tender, the meat crumbled on her tongue. She’d never tasted anything so delicious. Abruptly ravenous, she devoured the meat to the astonishment of both Reklin and Mora.
“Seena hungry,” Mora exclaimed in awe.
“Sorry,” Siena said, already feeling better.
“I get more.”
Mora scrambled up and sprinted back to the house. Siena licked her fingers in satisfaction, and then noticed Reklin’s amused expression. She flushed and carefully set the bone on the pile next to him.
“I didn’t realize falling in a river made humans so hungry.”
She grinned sheepishly. “I was using my augments.”
“Energy spent is energy needed.” He nudged a bottle of milk closer to her. “Dakorians know that better than most.”
As she drank the milk straight from the bottle, a line of naifblade dakorians, ranging in age from twenty to thirty, jogged into view. Lathered in sweat, the group were brought to a halt by the warmaster, who barked orders for them to drop into the arena and grab a weapon. Kevent was among them, and he nodded a silent expression of support to Reklin before he followed the others.
“How long have they been awake?” Siena asked.
“An hour before dawn,” he replied. “Endurance must be conditioned into our bodies, so young whelps and naifblades run the trails each morning.”
A group of whelps arrived gasping for breath, while the older whelps were laughing and talking. The groups were separated according to age and began to work through what was obviously a daily routine. On the day Siena and Reklin had arrived, the effort had been grueling but upbeat, with many of the dakorians smiling as they dueled. But since Olgor’s appearance a shadow had hung over the training, with the youths somber and grim faced.
“They fear tomorrow,” Reklin said softly.
“Is that when they would be scattered?”
He did not meet her gaze. “Every member of the family will be taken tomorrow morning and delivered to other families across the planet. Children will be parted from parents, and given to others to raise as their own offspring.”
“Even Mora?” she asked.
“The clan believes that if a family falters, the weak genetics cannot be continued, so everyone except unweaned babes are separated.”
“We’re not going to let that happen.”
Reklin did not respond, and Siena took the opportunity to reach out and pat his forearm, hiding her real intent behind the comforting gesture. Using the contact, she jumped into the time cloud and picked up Reklin’s star. The present blossomed into view—clearer than ever. With a quick nudge, she pressed a few seconds into the future, and Reklin’s body faded into dozens of potential shadows.
The shadows of Reklin moved in different directions, parting and spreading out. Some responded to her, others rose and walked away. One interacted with an older dakorian that cursed his name.
“I’m glad you’re here,” he said in the present. “At least someone can tell my soldiers what happened to me.”
The moment Reklin spoke, the shadows changed. Most evaporated, replaced with others. The elder walked by without a word, sullenly glaring at Reklin’s back. With a start she understood.
The shadows were Reklin’s choices.
The most corporeal shadow left after several minutes, saying there were some memories he wished to visit before the fight. The less likely futures went other directions: one to Lavana, one to Inary, another to Kevent. She jumped after the one that spoke to Kevent, the shadows again splitting as others interacted with him, quickly growing too complicated for her to follow. The shadowy futures were elusive, like movement in the corner of her eyes. If she wasn’t focused on them, they tended to evaporate, and reappeared only when she gave them attention. Returning to her meal with Reklin, she followed the one that had been more corporeal, and Reklin’s own decisiveness made the future clearer.
“There’s some things I’d like to see before the fight.” Reklin drained his mug and rose to his feet. “Kevent talked about a duel with you. I think you should join him after you finish eating.”
Siena snapped back to the present and watched Reklin follow the exact future she’d thought most likely. A smile spread across her features. She finally understood what she had to do. Rising, she discarded the bones and returned the bottle to a somber dakorian in Lavana’s house. Then she hurried in Reklin’s wake, avoiding Mora when the girl returned with more meat. This was one thing Siena needed to do alone.
She followed Reklin out of the village and into the trees. The fatigue came quickly, and she struggled to keep up with the large dakorian. She didn’t want to expend energy activating a speed augment, so she just forced herself to jog down the trail. She did activate her hearing, however, and used the heightened senses to listen for dakorians that might impede her path.
She followed Reklin up a trail that wound deeper into the forest before rising into the mountains. Reklin’s pace was slow and methodical, and if he realized he was being followed, he gave no sign. Siena yawned often, her legs feeling thick and sluggish.
Reklin finally descended a ridge and came to a stop in front of a pool of crystal-clear water. A thin creek gurgled into the water. A ledge of stone overlooked the pond, and Reklin climbed the short escarpment to stand on its summit. There he surveyed the pond.
Siena stumbled to the cliff and sank against the cool surface. She hoped this was close enough, because there was no way she was going to be able to climb without falling. Her back to the cold stone, her eyes lifting to the valley stretched out below, she fought to activate the time augment. It took several tries before the time cloud appeared.
She stumbled to Reklin’s star and lifted it from the cloud. She didn’t bother looking at the present, and immediately pushed into the future. Reklin would likely stay on top of the ledge for most of the afternoon before returning to the village. She followed the shadow back to the village until it split. Guessing that it didn’t matter which one she followed, since all would face Olgor in the arena, she chose one and advanced time. Several times his shadow split, reacting to choices he might make, each time growing dimmer. But as he walked out towards a lake, the other Reklin shadows appeared, all gradually merging together until he was as solid as she’d seen. He ascended a winding cliff with his family until he stood in a dark arena, ready to face Olgor.
The entire village came behind and gathered around the arena, while Reklin stood in silence. Just as the sun set, a ship appeared in the clouds and descended to the surface. Olgor dropped from the hatch and landed in the dirt, rising and spinning his sunderblade. Siena, her fatigue sapping her strength, pushed the time forward until the two came together in a deadly duel.
The shadows blurred in every direction, and Siena learned that Reklin and Olgor’s choices led to hundreds of different potential futures, the shadows becoming so distorted it was difficult to discern which future was most certain. Siena had seen Reklin fight on several occasions and knew him to be clever, strong, and gifted. But Olgor put him to shame. He was also stronger and faster. In shockingly short time, every Reklin shadow was pierced by Olgor’s sunderblade. Again and again Siena watched him die.
She clenched her hands into fists and decided to fight Reklin herself, delay him in getting to the battle with Olgor. That only resulted in Siena getting beaten, soundly. As tired as she was, she would have been helpless against Mora, let alone Reklin. She needed to give him an advantage. But what?
She made a variety of decisions, including using the Nova to shoot down Olgor’s ship. Although that future was the most satisfying, it led to Reklin being executed and his family scattered. It also led to her being hunted by the entire Hammerdin Clan.
The more she examined the future the more she realized the truth. Reklin could not stop Olgor on his own. He could only fight and die against one who was superior in every way. Growing frustrated, or possibly delirious, she imagined challenging Olgor herself, leading to her own death. But she lasted long enough to draw the giant dakorian’s blood, and that reminded her of when Kensen had been injured . . .
Siena’s eyes whirled and the present returned in force. Much of the afternoon had passed, and any minute now Reklin would drop from the ledge and pass by without seeing her. But she had one last idea to attempt. It was beyond desperate, but it was a chance.
With the last vestiges of her strength, she activated the time augment and followed herself. She was about to lose consciousness, but if she called out, Reklin would hear. He would carry her back to the village and she would awaken after the duel commenced. But when he picked her up, there was one choice she could make. If she made it, the ghosts of Reklin all changed. She jumped ahead to the duel, and this time he was different. Instead of every future leading to death, a handful led to victory. It was enough to hope.
She heard a scuff of a boot on a rock and then Reklin dropped into view. He didn’t look in Siena’s direction, and she had to call out through parched lips. It took two tries before he heard. He paused and returned, his features clouding with anger.
“Is there no place you consider sacred?” he growled. “Will you not even respect my final day of life?”
“Please,” she rasped. “I know how you can beat Olgor.”
He reached down and picked her up, his eyes burning into hers. “You’re not my ally. You’re not my friend. I should kill you now.”
Her eyes rolled back and she went limp. He growled his frustration and then tossed her over his shoulder. Some of the spikes dug into her belly, cutting her shirt and side. The sudden pain brought a brief moment of clarity, exactly as she’d foreseen. She wrapped her weak fingers around one of the dakorian’s spikes, the bone extending from the back of his elbow as he walked. Just as she’d done with Kensen so many days ago, she willed herself to alter his body, to turn the key that Telik had turned in his experiment. Deep inside Reklin, a part of his genetic code began to change, gradually expanding through his tissues and bones, muscles and organs.
He grimaced and glanced to her, but she slumped on his shoulder, a smile on her features as she welcomed unconsciousness.
Reklin was now an augment.
Chapter Thirty-Six
“Now you’re carrying a slave?” Lavana snapped.
“She was unconscious,” Reklin said. “What was I supposed to do?”
“You were supposed to be preparing to fight,” Lavana said, “not being a beast of burden.”
Reklin dropped Siena into a chair, but the girl did not awake. Her skin was pale and cold, and sweat darkened her clothing. There was no visible sign of injury, but it was as if she’d suffered a grievous wound. What had she been doing to bring such exhaustion?
“Forget the human,” Lavana said. “It’s almost sunset.”
“I couldn’t leave her behind.”
“She’s just a slave.” Lavana’s voice went up an octave. “She’s not your family.”
He finally turned to face her. “Mother,” he said softly, finally drawing her attention, “I’m not going to die today.”
She stared at him, and then tears appeared in her eyes. The old dakorian tried to fight them, but they were too strong and leaked onto her cheeks. She closed the gap in a rush and engulfed Reklin in a crushing embrace.
“I can’t watch you die,” she murmured.
“I’m fighting for the family,” he replied. “I’m not going to lose.”
She withdrew and brushed her hands across her cheeks. “If anyone can beat that beast, it’s you.”
Reklin kissed her on her forehead and then turned to the door. “I’ll see you at the duel.”
He stepped out of the house, his eyes lifting to the horizon. The sun was close to the mountains, the orb just starting to darken. Dark clouds drew closer, signaling a storm. The duel was going to get wet.
Kevent appeared at his side. “Did I really see you carrying Siena back?”
“She is ill,” he said. He hoped the augments had not finally damaged her body.
Kevent grinned. “I bet mother threw a fit seeing her prized son carrying a human.”
Reklin chuckled, already missing his brother. “If I should fall, I need you to do me a favor.”
“You’re not going to fall,” Kevent said.
“But if I do,” he said, “I need you to convince the family to sign the contract with House Bright’Lor.”
“The entire village?” Kevent asked. “That’s unprecedented. Whelps don’t sign contracts, and neither do elders.”
“I know,” Reklin said. “But if the contracts are signed before the scattering, at least you would be together.”
“And Bright’Lor would approve?”
“Siena would convince them,” Reklin said.
Kevent regarded him with a strange look. “You behave like she is a friend.”
“Maybe she is,” Reklin said.
Kevent gave a wry smile. “The ferox is formidable of spirit, and I find that difficult to ignore. I can see why you would call her friend.”
Reklin abruptly embraced his brother, wishing he had more time to teach him as Sheklin had done for him. Kevent hugged him just as fiercely, an unspoken contact that spoke of regret.
Reklin parted with a chuckle. “In case I never said it, I love you, brother.”
“You did. And I do too.”
“So will you convince them?”
Kevent looked doubtful, but he nodded. “I’ll try.”
The elder approached and pointed to the sky. “A ship has been spotted. It’s time to get this over with.”
“I appreciate your confidence,” Reklin said.
“I don’t have any,” the elder snapped.
Reklin turned and made his way to the north end of the village. As he walked, dakorians from every house gathered behind, falling into a solemn procession. In the back, Inary tried to convince Mora to leave Siena behind, but the girl had Siena across her shoulder.
“Seena stay,” Mora insisted.
Reklin turned his attention forward, irritated that there was a spike of pain in his spine, like a sliver in the bone. He ignored it. Now was not the time to allow weakness. Now was the time he gathered every ounce of his strength and courage.
The trail headed north, crossing the river and then ascending into the mountains. Well worn by generations of his family, the trail rose into the mountains, curving through boulders and broken rocks.
Reklin had many fond memories of the hike, and a smile touched his lips as he passed a hand over a boulder at the side of the trail. The texture was smooth beneath his fingers, worn by thousands of dakorian hands doing the same.
He pictured young whelps, excited about joining the Imperial military, follow the elders as they endured the hike. Family members and friends followed, all equally as excited by the day’s Enduren, a final test before a naifblade became warsworn. An adult.
Reklin thought of his own Enduren, of battling his father in a duel meant to display his prowess. His father bested him, but not after Reklin proved his talent. He could feel the weight of his father’s hand on his shoulder, and the pride in his voice.
“Reklin, my beloved son, you will far surpass my accomplishments.”
“It cannot be done,” Reklin had said.
Climbing the same trail, Reklin felt the ache of his father’s presence, as if Sheklin knew what was at stake. Reklin’s legacy would be one of shame, where he failed to protect his family from being scattered. He clenched his jaw. Olgor fought for dominance, but Reklin fought for kindred. He refused to fail.
The pain in his spine drifted up and down with every step, a needle that poked his hip bones and leg bones before expanding into his exoskeleton. He winced, but did not let the others see the expression. They would think him weak, and they needed to believe. But a glance over the shoulder revealed that many did not. With their eyes downcast, their paces slow and measured, the members of the family ascended the mountain, each step heavy with a note of finality.
