A Raven's Plight, page 33
“I saw a ship falling from the sky and asked about it. The enemy wasn’t interested in it.” his words trailed off as he stretched for an explanation, but he was drawing a blank.
“You knew it was your friend’s ship?” She raised a skeptical brow.
“I suppose if I’m being honest, hope occasionally leads to assumptions.” He shrugged, feeling the lie slip even farther from his grasp.
“You seemed pretty certain yesterday. Why did you think it was her?”
“Because I love her!” He snapped angrily. “So long as she is alive, there is hope. What good is dredging up the possibility that she might be dead?”
Chloe’s stream of questions ceased for a moment. She worked her mouth as if searching for the right words. “I’m sorry… I just… I didn’t think the enemy would be talking about a ship going down unless it were important. I didn’t mean to… I’m sorry.” She took a deep breath, rubbing her hands together. “I just thought, maybe… maybe there’s something about your friend's condition… a reason they might have tracked this ship when it crashed. Why would they bother to pay attention to it otherwise?”
“I don’t know. I don’t want to talk about it anymore.” He glared at her before staring broodingly into the fire.
“I just feel like this might be important, if you’ll just help me-”
Jacob turned to her, not wanting to try and come up with any more lies. She was too smart, too sharp, and dangerously close to finding out the truth. “Look, I know you want revenge. I get it, I really do. It’s been a really crappy day for me, and I’d rather sit here alone and worry about whether my friend is alright or not, than talk to you about how she might have some role in the enemies masterplan. After all, if that were the case, what would you do? Destroy her? Are you going to kill Ayla?”
Chloe’s eyes went wide as she stood, her hands held out in front of her in what he assumed was supposed to be a calming gesture. “I didn’t mean… No, of course not. I’m sorry. Oh gosh, I’m so stupid. I’m sorry.” She paused like she wanted to say more, the madness vanishing from her demeanor, but turned and strode away instead. Jacob waited quietly for five minutes, his heart pounding as he reflected on the conversation. Belle had been right, and it was only a matter of time before the truth slipped out. If Ayla comes walking into camp one day, she’ll already have a target on her back.
When he was certain Chloe was gone, Jacob raced to find Gaige and Belle. They needed to know everything, and they needed to make sure their stories matched if asked about it later. He wanted Tony and Richard to know too, but it was too much of a risk. Besides, Chloe wouldn’t try to bring it up with them. They assumed Ayla was safe, and it was far better for them to believe that for now.
From the shadows, Chloe watched Jacob stride away. He was a very convincing liar, she decided. Maybe there was even truth to his words. Either way, she was certain of one thing: Ayla was important. If she wanted to learn more, she needed to get closer to Jacob
Chapter
Seventeen
Jenkins sat at the small table in the Warrender tree house, his eyes downcast as he looked at the screen of his now-dead holo-disk. It didn’t matter anyway, there was no reception, nor was there anyone on the other end who could send help. The Monarch has fallen… The words resonated in his ears like a continuous chime, bringing despair and hopelessness in its wake. How was he supposed to supply a group of five hundred-something people long term with no outside resources, and possibly resist an attack? People were hungry, no matter how much any viable hunter was able to bring in. The Warrender brothers assured him people would hunt more efficiently with time, but they didn’t have time. Everyone was operating full-capacity, and it wasn’t enough. Campsites had been assigned, jobs given, and rations sanctioned based on height and weight, but with nearly half of all survivors being children, many of those eating were too small to work.
Then there were those who disobeyed orders. He thought darkly of Jacob Mason, a deep sense of shame overshadowing him at the same time. The young man had gone against protocol, risking not only himself, but the location of their camp as well. And by surviving, and successfully collecting supplies and information, he gave us hope. In the same turn, he’d openly disrespected Jenkins, not only subordinating his authority, but making his hesitation to act glaringly obvious. Protocol was necessary to keep people safe, but some people saw it as an unnecessary delay to act.
He clenched his fist, the flickering of the candle casting dancing shadows on the wall. The hatch opened, and Tony Warrender climbed in. His face was dirty and worn with exhaustion, but he hid his fatigue well as he joined Jenkins by the table. The Warrender brothers had been competent leaders during the crisis, and their unyielding strength had surprised Jenkins, even if half of their energies went into battling philosophes on how things should be run.
“Another twenty pheasant, four deer, 6 ground squirrels, several fields of overripe blackberries, and a dozen fish dredged up today,” Tony said. “Not a bad haul, but your men need to stop using their ammunition for hunting, and save it in case of attack. We need to focus more energy on making spears, bows, and arrows. Unless you can get someone to deliver supplies, we need to make our own weapons, and I don’t see us making bullets anytime soon.”
“Dammit Warrender, can you let off for five minutes?” Jenekens snapped.
“Like you did with Jacob today?” Tony countered. There was a moment of tense silence, before he continued again. “He’s hardly more than a boy, Jenkins. What he did was reckless, and lacked any thought, but he did you a favor, whether you’re willing to acknowledge that or not. The fact that he ever agreed to sign on with you in the first place is where his real mistake lies. He’s too good for your kind of work, and I know you can see that, otherwise you wouldn’t be so angry.”
Jenkins clenched his fist again, wishing more than anything that there was some sort of strong drink in his hand. “He’s a natural born leader, and well trained,” he said reluctantly. “Without guidance, he might just throw that all away. With the collapse of the Monarch, Airhee will need strong leaders once this all passes.”
“You can’t possibly expect to place that on Jacob,” Tony said skeptically.
“I can’t ignore his potential, or the need of the people.”
“And if Jacob doesn’t want to be in charge?”
“He has a sense of duty.”
Tony shook his head. “Do yourself a favor, Jenkins. Talk to him about it. If you think he has all that potential, don’t treat him like a disobedient child, or he won’t be interested in doing anything you want. Also keep in mind that you don’t know him. I won’t admit to knowing him all that well myself, but from what I know from Ayla, he’s quiet, deliberate, and doesn’t like to be in the spotlight. There are plenty of people with a similar skill set who would gladly do the job. Why are you so fixated on him?”
“He’s in an unusual position to do a lot of good,” Jenkins pointed out. “When this all blows over, and it’s discovered that Caspian has been compromised, Jacob will inherit the industry his father perfected, and with that, resources to help rehabilitate Airhee, and whatever cities have fallen victim to the enemy. He will be a hero to the people, someone they trust to guide them into a new age.”
“Wow,” Tony said, removing a silver ring from his finger and spinning it on the table. He watched it for a few seconds before continuing. “You’ve put a lot of thinking into this.”
“Don’t mock me, Warrneder. My job is to protect the people of Airhee, and if the Monarch has truly fallen, my next duty is to put a competent leader in charge.”
“Then find one.” He snatched the ring back up and slipped it on his finger. “You can’t just make one.”
Jenkins heard his teeth grinding together before he felt the subconscious action. He hated feeling helpless. “Right now I won’t be making anyone anything, so you can relax.”
“Good. You should probably apologize to the boy.”
“Absolutely not. Now that you’ve chastised me over that, is there something of legitimate value you want to argue over.”
Tony stood up with a nod. “Get someone making those weapons. The new girl, Chloe, I understand she has experience with this sort of thing. Put her in charge, and we’ll see what can accomplish. Sound good?”
Jenkins nodded, admitting it was a decent idea. “I’ll find her first thing tomorrow morning. These old bones need some rest, and this argument was just what I needed to exhaust me to sleep.”
“Glad to help.” He gave a flippant mock solute, returned to the hatch, and dropped out of sight. That man grated on Jenkins, but he had to admit, Tony Warrender was a good man to have when hard work needed to be done. He hasn’t even had time to mourn his daughter yet… For a moment, he wondered where the girl was, and what sort of impact she would have on the whole situation.
“Hopefully she’s better off than the rest of us,” he murmured, standing to go to bed.
Heart pounding, head throbbing, and muscles aching, Ayla stood trembling with her back pressed against the hallway wall within the ship. The lights that hadn’t been shot out flickered weakly, casting a dim wavering glow upon her. Sirens still sounded somewhere nearby, but the main attack was happening on the upper floors. Only one hunted her.
“Come out, come out wherever you are…” came a maddened voice from around the corner. “You can only hide for so long, little princess”
Her breathing sounded painfully loud to her as she turned to scamper down the hall away from him, her body feeling like a leaky bowl, excess amounts of energy pouring out with each step. Soon she would collapse.
A door suddenly appeared to her right, and she leapt for it, silently opening, and then locking it clumsily behind her. The room was dimly lit, but empty, and she focused on holding her breath. The sound of heavy footfalls began to approach from outside, pausing on the other side of the door. “Now now Ayla, we both know you’re in there. Make this easy on me and open the door? You wouldn’t want to make me angry, would you?”
She squeezed her eyes, willing the nightmare to end. Go away, Go away! The door suddenly shook, someone slamming it from the otherside. She jumped back, searching for any way out, but she was trapped. A moment later, the door shattered into a million pieces, and Anash stepped in, his face in a twisted smile. He held a psarma ray in his hands, but when he saw her, he tossed it aside, wiggling his fingers in front of him. “No place left to run this time, princess. Now you’ll learn not to argue with me.”
She shrunk against the wall as Anash’s fingers closed around her throat, and she clawed desperately at his hands. Wake up… Wake up… Wake up!
“Wake up! Wake up! Ayla!” Damion shook the girl, who was clawing at her throat and making the most wretched gasping noise. “WAKE UP!”
Her eyes snapped open as she took in a massive gasp of air, before looking up at him. Tears welled up in her eyes as she threw her arms around him. “This is real,” she whispered. “This is real… this is real…”
With her warmth wrapped tightly around his shoulders, Damion felt like he’d been plunged into an alternate universe. “This is real,” he assured her, wrapping an awkward arm around her as he tried to absorb what was happening. “You’re safe.”
And then Ayla began to cry.
Damion helped her lean against the cliff wall, tossing a few more sticks into the fire, though the light of dawn was already unveiling the darkness of night. He’d been up several times to check on the fire and adjust the turkey. Eventually the meat started to darken, and he took it down, worried it would burn.
Ayla had slept fitfully for most of the night, often waking him, and unwittingly revealing the true depth of her psarma sickness. How would she make it another day? Let alone another four days? She’d been nothing but a thorn in his side, but somehow the idea of losing her… scared him, and it wasn’t just about forfeiting his life anymore. Something else… something else was happening to him.
“Are you okay?” He asked her once she’d had a few minutes to calm down. She gave a quick nod, wiping a sleeve across her nose. The movement shifted the torn fold in her tunic, and for a split second his eyes brushed across the exposed flesh, realization dawned on him. “The electrodes… They’re coming off, aren’t they?”
She gave him a guarded look, pulling the fabric back over herself, and shuffling toward the fire to examine the smoked meat. “This looks a little crisp, but it should do well for us today.”
“Don’t hide this from me, Ayla,” he said, unwilling to let the subject drop. If she was dying, he had to get her to an opening, or a meadow, or a mountain top. He would light a signal fire, wave tree branches, anything to draw attention to those he knew were searching for them. Power be damned, he thought to himself, I’ll risk being fried to a crisp if I have to. Too much rode on Ayla’s survival. Even if he never amounted to anything, the people of Zvalvadoria needed her power, perhaps they even needed her...
What might it look like to have a queen sit the throne who thought not of her own success, but rather, the success of her people? Even as she turned her nose up at him defiantly, he felt a strange fondness stirring in him. Too much meaning was beginning to attach itself to her.
“I can still guide you safely from the forest,” she assured him, missing his point.
“But what about you?”
She took a tentative bite of the turkey, nodding approvingly as she offered him a piece. He accepted, never taking his eyes from hers. They were so vibrantly green, the red-rim from crying making the color burst even brighter. Or was it the fever? “I will be okay,” she replied, taking another bite and setting the turkey aside. She’s eaten so little…
“Finish it,” he ordered.
“I’m not hungry,” she protested, but he forced it back to her.
“Eat it. I don’t care if you don’t have the appetite, you need the calories. I don’t want to end up carrying you, and I get the feeling you’re equally opposed to the arrangement.”
With a glare, she accepted the food, and slowly downed it while he extinguished the fire. Stubborn. He collected the jerky strips, removing his belt and wrapping it tightly around them, planning to carry it by the spare chord. By the time he’d finished, Ayla was chewing the last piece of meat, her eyes still narrowed angrily on him. He laughed suddenly, the whole situation seeming ridiculous.
“What is it?” Ayla asked in annoyance.
“You. After two days of guiding me through the forest and working to keep me safe, you’re angry when I try to help you. Of all the things that could have upset you about our interactions, it's me trying to show kindness. It’s just… it’s funny.” and kind of sad…
“I… uh…” she was clearly flustered by the comment. “It’s just, how am I supposed to know what’s real? I… I mean,” she shook her head. “Look, I’m sorry. We should go.” Before he could object, she was already scrambling down the cliff face, and he followed closely behind.
She set off with a determined expression, fingers brushing against the rock wall until the ground started to climb again. It wasn’t long before the cliff itself went into the hill, and they were above it. After a time, it became evident that the remainder of their hike through the foothills and mountains would be steeply uphill, at least until they crossed to the otherside.
Damion watched the sway of Ayla’s braid from behind, the fear that had so totally clouded his vision the two days prior replaced by her. It had been easy to hate her when she was merely a half-breed who had crashed his ship and destroyed his dreams. But she was obviously much more than that. How is she even on her feet? He marveled, not for the first time. “Let me know if you need to rest,” he offered.
“If you are tired, we can rest,” came her reply.
“Exhausted,” he lied, forcing himself to lean against a nearby tree.
Ayla stopped, her face wane as she turned to regard him. “We’ve been going for an hour. You’re not tired.”
“If you won’t take breaks when you need them, then I will.”
“Why are you doing this?” She snapped, the angriest she’d been since their first fight. “What’s in it for you? What are you getting out of this? Day before yesterday you were trying to kill me, and now you’re pretending to care. I don’t get it, and honestly don’t have the energy to play games.”
Damion hadn’t expected such a blunt confrontation, but felt oddly relieved. “Maybe I’ve changed.”
“In two days? In two days, I believe someone can pretend to change, but actually change?”
“That’s not fair,” he snapped back.
“There’s a lot that isn’t fair that’s still true. You aren’t kind and compassionate, Damion. You’re just a man blindly following a queen bent on ruling the universe, not leading people. Don’t pretend like you’re noble, because-”
Now Damion was angry. “What is noble?” He spat. “Is it lying about being sick and tired so you can keep a promise, even at the expense of your own life? Is it sacrificing your own meal so that someone else might not go to sleep hungry? Are you noble, Ayla? Or are you proud, and stubborn? You know what I think noble is? I think…” He paused for a second, considering the previous night. He’d wanted to help her. “it’s keeping the sick warm, even when you know no one will commend you for selflessness. It’s feeding the hungry, even when they’re too damn stubborn to eat. It’s being willing to admit that you were wrong, that I was wrong, willing to admit that most of my life was wrong, and being willing to change.”
She stood opposite of him, her hands balled into fists as if she expected to defend herself, but when it became obvious his words were all the fight he had to give, her fingers relaxed, her shoulders sagged, and her expression softened. For a whole minute, she stared at him as if seeing him for the first time. “This whole situation… everything makes it hard to know what’s real and what’s not. I am… so sorry if I have misjudged you. At any rate, it’s wrong for me to be angry at you for suggesting I rest. I am tired,” she admitted, finally. “So tired.” She swayed for a moment, but caught herself. He made to go to her, but she waved him back. “There’s a place in the mountain. A place my mother prepared for me, where I could be safe during this transition. I need to get there, and I don’t think I have a lot of time left.”
