The Exiled Earthborn (40 page)

Lucas and Asha were speechless.

“Holy shit,” she said finally. “Did that really just happen?”

“We have nothing,” Lucas said frantically, thinking through what had just taken place. “He killed her with my gun, fed the footage and the story to the news. We don’t even have his body. Do you have any idea how bad this looks?”

From the horrified look on her face, Asha did know. Had they really been played this well? How long had Tulwar been planning this? Since his imprisonment? Since Rhylos? Since the Earth Gala?

“We’ve got to get out of here,” Asha said, sprinting toward the doorway. Lucas checked his wrist display.

“They’re already on their way up. We have to surrender. They’ll kill us on sight if they see us in here armed.”

“I don’t surrender,” Asha growled. Lucas was racing through alternate options in his head, but none came to him.

Suddenly a blinding light burst in through the large windows at the opposite end of the room. The familiar whir of hovercraft engines could be heard from outside.

The window shattered as an armored figure dove through it, his back lit up by the flames of a jet propulsion attachment. He tumbled forward, and though Lucas’s brain told him to drop Natalie to the ground, he simply couldn’t. He raised the weapon.

As the figure rolled to his feet, Lucas and Asha dipped the barrels of their guns. Through his translucent visor, they could see it was Mars Maston. He stared in astonishment at Talis Vale’s body, then at them.

“What … happened … here,” he said slowly. “Where’s Tulwar? Do you have any idea what the Stream is saying about you?”

“Maston,” Lucas said, his heart in his throat. “It was all Tulwar. This was a setup from the beginning. He played us, tried to make it look like we conspired with the Fourth Order and the Xalans.”

“Where is he?” Maston growled fiercely.

“You’re looking at him,” Asha said, gesturing down toward the ash. Much of it had been scattered by the winds whipping in from the shattered window. Only a few small piles remained.

“He had some sort of incineration suit. Combusted on the spot so we’d never have a body.”

Maston whirled around in a rage and sent his fist through one of the sturdy wooden posts on Talis’s bed, which splintered into a thousand shards. Lucas understood. Maston would never have his vengeance now, no justice for Corinthia. He hadn’t killed Hex Tulwar, and there wasn’t even a body in the aftermath. Tulwar was now nothing more than a phantom.

“Mars, you have to—” said Asha before he cut her off.

“I believe you,” Maston snarled. “But they won’t. We have to get you out of here. They’re already inside.”

Lucas collapsed inside the armored hovercraft. They sped away from the palace, from Elyria, as fast as the vehicle would take them. Looking out the rear viewscreen, Lucas could see craft similar to their own swarming the structure. Soldiers were assuredly crawling through the palace, discovering dead guards everywhere and the deceased Talis Vale next to a few inconspicuous mounds of ash.

Lucas’s heart was finally slowing down from its hours-long mad racing ever since he’d heard the first explosion aboard Stoller’s craft. Asha stared out the window with her hand to her mouth. She appeared to be in absolute shock, a true rarity for her. Maston remained silent in the driver’s seat and had a white-knuckled grip on the controls of the craft.

The Sorans would never believe it, would they? The tale Hex Tulwar spun framing them for the High Chancellor’s assassination. The Earthborn were heroes, symbols of hope. But that’s why Tulwar did it, wasn’t it? Take away their leader and their hope at the same time.

Lucas switched on a feed of the Stream but kept it muted. One panel showed Tulwar’s evidence he’d unearthed against Talis Vale, yet another shocking part of the evening. The screen showed the text of her decrypted personal logs.

“The agreement is in place. The Xalans will take Vitalla and the Rhylosi; we will have a decade of peace to rebuild and prosper. If my father is planetside when they strike, so be it. He did not mourn for his grandchildren when he sent them to be killed at Hannaras, I shall not mourn for him. We shall be free of two evils with a strike impossible for our own armies to execute. The Xalans do not know it, but they are helping to save Sora from itself.”

Lucas had felt like he knew Talis, but her warm smiles and kind eyes masked dark secrets and a bloody past. She wanted power and revenge above all else, but coped by telling herself she was acting “for the good of Sora” by killing millions of its citizens and its leader. Ordering the fleet out of Vitalla would have been a tough choice, but orchestrating the entire ambush was unforgivable. Perhaps she deserved Tulwar’s brand of justice after all, though he and Asha certainly did not, nor did many of Tulwar’s other victims. The Stream reported that the killbots had slain 2,043 people before their rampage was brought to an end. Lucas couldn’t imagine the death toll back when there were hundreds of thousands of machines running amok during the first uprising, not just a dozen.

The Stream kept scrolling and the central story once again flipped back to the Earthborn’s betrayal. They were spinning Tulwar’s story that they’d been Xalan plants the entire time, and had conspired with the Fourth Order since their “debut,” having fooled all the government’s scientists with expertly forged genetic tests.

But what
did
the government think? The feed announced that Tannon Vale had been sworn in as acting Chancellor, but there was no official comment from the administration about Talis’s death or their involvement. The media was simply running wild with Tulwar’s lies and the video feeds he’d spoon-fed them. Rhylos and its allies in the region were aflame with anger over the revelation of Talis’s involvement in Vitalla, and were worshipping Tulwar, even after they’d previously distanced themselves from him. The official story was that he’d escaped custody with the help of the Earthborn and fled the palace before the High Chancellor was killed by Lucas.

Could they ever sort this out? Prove that Tulwar had set them up? Lucas’s mind raced for a way, but there was nothing. Tulwar had left little to chance. The Stream was now interviewing the elderly couple whose hovercraft Lucas had stolen to reach the palace from Stoller’s party. They described him as “unstable” and “violent” during their ordeal.

“Shut that shit off,” Asha said grimly. “I can’t handle this right now.”

Neither could Lucas, and he was happy to close down the feed.

Staring out the window, he could see they were over a body of water with land only a small strip in the distance.

“Where are we going?” Lucas called up to Maston. He was met with silence.

Lucas lay back in his seat and his eyes closed like his lids were dipped in lead. No nightmare could compare to what had happened tonight.

20

Lucas found himself sitting on a floor of trampled brush, staring at a fire, unaware of how he got there. Around him, the jungle creaked and chirped and white rays of moonlight streamed in through the treetops.

Makari.

A figure emerged from the shadows. He sat down opposite Lucas, crossing his legs. He leaned toward the small fire, which illuminated his face.

“Hello Saato.”

“Hello Toruk.”

Lucas knew it was a dream, because Toruk was speaking broken English instead of broken Soran. Not to mention it would be rather difficult to teleport to a planet billions of miles away.

“Great problems on Mol’taavi,” Toruk said, poking at the fire with a stick.

“You could say that,” Lucas said, leaning back onto his elbows. Looking down, he saw that he was wearing bits of bark armor and was covered in white Khas’to tribal tattoos. In his hand he was surprised to find a long black stone knife, one with a small skull on the pommel. It looked familiar.

“Like before, eh?” Toruk said.

“When?” Lucas asked, rotating the knife around in his hand.

“New body. You forget. Many ages past.”

“What are you talking about?”

Toruk threw some dirt into the fire, which caused it to smoke less. He was easier to see now.

“Back when Great Storm first create Mol’taavi and Makari, First Man Saato leader of all. Oni love Saato. Bring many years peace, food.”

Lucas sat listening intently. The ambient noises of the forest were growing quieter.

“One day, Saato’s men bring woman to him. They say she thief. Great beauty mask dark soul. Must die.”

Toruk rubbed his hands together in front of the fire. The temperature was dropping rapidly, and bits of bark and fur weren’t exactly keeping Lucas warm. He shivered.

“Saato looks in eyes. Sees magic. Great magic. Says woman must live. Tribe furious. Woman stole from rich and powerful. Evil men turn people from Saato. Seize throne. Imprison Saato and woman for many years, much torture for their crimes.”

Lucas shifted as clouds began to eclipse the moon overhead. The jungle grew darker, the fire brighter.

“Soon later, sky demons come. Mol’taavi burn. Hope lost. Saato breaks free and finds woman. Tells her she must remember. Must remember who she is.”

Toruk’s eyes widened, full of excitement.

“Woman unleash great magic, great skill, kill sky demons, help escape to Makari. Rich men now bow at her feet. ‘Who is this?’ they ask. ‘Who wields such power?’ ‘I am Valli,’ she say, ‘First Woman.’ Blind men saw only thief, not god. Saato knew truth, did what needed to save people, even ones who cast hate on him. Saato and Valli protect Oni together many years after. First Man and Woman reunited.”

Lucas nodded as Toruk finished his story and fell silent.

“I see,” he said. “Why didn’t anyone recognize her?”

“Saato, Valli many bodies. Always change with new era. Look like you now. Like Asha.”

Lucas laughed.

“We’re not Saato and Valli, Toruk. I hate to break it to you.”

Toruk nodded sarcastically.

“Okay, you right. Fall from sky, commune with White Spirit, kill sky demon. Fulfill all prophecy, but not Saato and Valli. I understand.”

There’d be no convincing him, it seemed. Toruk got to his feet.

“Spirit journey must end. I grow weak. Much to do on Makari. We await you return.”

Spirit journey?

“We’ll be back,” Lucas said. “It may be a while, but we’ll return to help you take Makari again.”

“I know,” Toruk nodded as he began to turn translucent across from Lucas.

“Do not forget past lives. Remember, even disbelievers need saving. Truth absolute, eternal. Lie fades. Always fades. Do not lose sight of whole war for sake of one battle.”

And with that, he was gone, and Lucas was alone at the campfire.

He began to rise, unassisted, through the air. Through the trees, through the clouds. Lucas stared straight into the shining face of Mol’taavi. His tattoos glowed in the moonlight.

Lucas woke, being forcefully shaken. In seconds, a splitting headache found him, and his bleary eyes saw Asha sleeping on a seat across from him. Looking up, he saw the figure above him was Maston.

“Get up, we’re here.”

Lucas slowly unclipped his restraints as Maston jostled Asha’s shoulder until she snapped awake with an angry glare. The hovercraft was stopped, its engines silent. Gray light pierced the tinted windows.

“You’re going to want this,” Maston said, throwing a heavy thermal blanket at each of them. When he shoved open the door, it became clear why.

The air was frigid, and as their eyes adjusted to the light, they found they were parked on a rocky shoreline. The water lapping the stones was black; the sky was a flowing stream of thin milky clouds. It was freezing, but there was no snow to be found around them. Lucas and Asha huddled in their blankets as they tried to find their footing on the rocks. They left the hovercraft behind and followed Maston up a narrowly carved path that started at the end of the beach. Lucas looked down at his communicator and saw that it had been completely wiped. It wouldn’t even turn on. He did still have Natalie with him, however, and the gun was slung over his back. He soon found the rifle’s targeting system was also offline, but it could still fire without power. Alpha had made sure of that during construction.

After plodding along for ten minutes, they rounded a curve and saw a structure. It was an old house, made of stone with a thatched roof that looked even more primitive than their quarters in the Oni village on Makari. When they reached it, Maston unlocked the wooden door with a rusty key and ushered them inside.

It was one large room with a fireplace, bed, table, and chairs. There appeared to be something resembling a kitchen, and an opaque screen that Lucas guessed might conceal a lavatory. The head of a large sea creature, with rows of sharp teeth and two foot-long ivory horns, hung above the fireplace with a pair of crossed harpoons beneath it.

“What is this place?” Lucas asked. His eyes were relieved to be out of the daylight, though his head was still pounding. Maston was already starting to build a fire.

“We call it a black hole,” he said. “The less you know about where you are, the better. Suffice it to say you’re on a very small island in the middle of a very big ocean and no one’s going to find you here.”

“Is that why you killed our communicators?” Asha asked, tapping her own.

Maston shook his head.

“Buried in the center of this place is a device that silences any electronics in range, other than our own greenlit transports, of course. It also shields the area from orbital surveillance of any kind. Simply put, it causes this place not to exist.”

Lucas ran his hand over the carved wooden chair in front of him. On the ground was a rug made of some sort of skinned animal with the head still attached. The upturned snout indicated it might be some sort of enormous … boar, maybe? The place felt like an old hunting lodge.

“Where are Noah and Erik?” Lucas asked. “What’s happened to them?”

“They remain under Keeper Auran’s watch at the palace,” Maston assured them. “Nothing has changed about their care.”

“Except their parents can’t go within five thousand miles of them,” Asha growled.

Maston rubbed his eyes. He looked exhausted. There was no way to tell how long they’d been flying.