To Whatever End (Echoes of Imara Book 1) (25 page)

“That’s okay,” he said to Fourteen. “Control takes time.”

“I have no control,” Fourteen said, his voice a low growl. “I have no control over anything. I can’t sleep, I can’t sit still. I don’t do anything unless they tell me. Unless she tells me. I tolerate it all, for what? So she won’t hurt me again? She will anyway. So they might let me go? I know they aren’t letting me go. I don’t know what they’ve done to me, but the voices won’t stop.” He gripped his head with his hands. “I have memories that aren’t mine and I’m starting to lose track of what is real.”

Number One nodded along as he spoke. He remembered the days when the voices screamed in his head, so loud he could have sworn they were real. “Time will help.”

Fourteen stood and tugged at his mask. He paced back and forth in front of the fountain, his head clutched in his hands. “I feel like I’m going to burst apart. I close my eyes and I see the light, rushing past me, rushing into me. It’s too much. I can’t hold it all.” He stopped in front of Number One, briefly rocking from his toes to his heels before he turned and resumed his walk. “I can’t hold it all,” he said again.

Number One watched him pace and felt the energy emanating from him each time he got close. He was holding an enormous amount. All that energy was very tempting, an endless reservoir of power pulsing through the other man. Number One wondered how much of it he could hold. If he reached out and touched him now, how much could he Absorb? In his mind’s eye he saw an image of himself, pulling in all that energy, the excess of it bursting from his fingertips, lighting up his eyes. What would it to do him? More importantly, what could he do with it?

He cast a quick glance around and beckoned for Fourteen to follow him around to the other side of the fountain. His heart began to accelerate. Would he be punished for this? Would this be what brought Sindre back to his room? Fourteen stopped just a step away and Number One felt the pulses of energy emanating from him.

“You need an outlet for all that energy,” he said, keeping his voice low. “Somewhere to put it or it will drive you mad. Every time Nihil works on you, he forces someone else’s energy into you. That’s what the stone does. You get their power, but you get something else too. You get a piece of who they are, or who they were.”

Fourteen stopped, his hands still twitching, his eyes intent. Number One took another step toward him. The other man’s eyes were bright, the silver almost glowing. He looked more Imaran than Number One remembered, the gleaming silver muddled with shades of brown and blue swirling around his black pupil.

Number One leaned in close, his voice barely above a whisper. “That something else that comes through the stone, those voices you hear—that is the madness. You have to force them away, deep inside, or they will consume you. The farther you push it all down, the longer it will stay away.”

Fourteen swayed, and his eyelids drooped. “I can’t… make them… stop,” he whispered. Sweat glistened on his brow just below the seam of his mask.

Do it. Take it.
Number One didn’t know if that was a voice reaching up from the depths of his mind, or if it was his own. The heat from Fourteen beckoned to him.
All that power. An endless reservoir.
He reached out with a trembling hand. “I can help,” he said, so quiet the words barely left his lips.

Fourteen stood still, and his eyes drifted closed. Number One reached his hand toward him and gripped his arm. He felt Fourteen’s sharp intake of breath as he began to Absorb his energy. Number One’s ability had always been Absorption, but as a youth his power had been weak. Nihil had done many things to him, endowed him with the abilities of other Wielders. He struggled with the essences of other men in his mind, but he relished the power. Where once he could scarcely cool a hot cup of tea, now he could suck the life out of anything. He siphoned energy from Fourteen, and it came into him like a raging river. There was so much. His eyes fluttered and sweat ran in rivulets down his back. Fourteen’s power seemed endless, a bottomless well. Number One’s mind burned with the possibilities.

Images flashed through his consciousness. It wasn’t only power he drew from Fourteen. Something else came across. His vision blurred, his view of the courtyard twisting and spiraling, replaced by a tunnel of blinding light. His chest tightened as emotions hit him in quick succession. Waves of fear, loss and confusion pounded him, nearly knocking him backward. He stumbled and clung to Fourteen to keep from falling.

An image coalesced into clarity—a face. She moved, looking up, and her gaze met his own. Dark hair, clear brown eyes. Her mouth lifted in a smile and Number One gasped as if the breath had been knocked out of him. She was like the ground under his feet, a cool breeze blowing across his skin. He was drowning in an ocean and she reached down, pulling him to safety. She was home.

He jerked his hand away, gasping for breath. Power surged under his skin, flowing through him like a tempest. The face disappeared, but something lingered, and a sensation took root in his mind. He didn’t push it down to bury it under layers of memories, only some of which were his own. He held it, turning it over, recalling not just her face, but the solidity he felt when he saw her. He didn’t want to let it go.

Fourteen sat on the ground, breathing heavily, and rubbed his eyes. Number One lowered himself to the ground and sat cross-legged, trembling with all the energy he had Absorbed.

Fourteen looked up, meeting his eyes, and nodded slowly. “Thank you.”

***

Number One let the energy surge through him as he lay on his bed. He relished the feeling of power as it pulsed through him. Where it had made Number Fourteen seem jittery and anxious, it soothed Number One, like rolling over ocean waves on a clear day. Powerful was something he had not felt in a very long time. He jealously hoarded the feeling, even as the energy dissipated, radiating into the air. He couldn’t hold it forever.

Fear crept in at the margins. They would take it from him if they knew. His implant prickled and he resisted the urge to try to pull it out. With as much power as he held, perhaps he would be successful this time. Worry began to sour his exhilaration as he imagined Sindre striding into his room. She would incapacitate him and leave him paralyzed on the floor, his mind a torrent of hatred and terror. He didn’t know what would happen if he ripped the implant from his neck, but he realized he feared Sindre’s punishment more than he feared the possibility of it killing him.

He let out a slow breath and recalled the face he had seen through Number Fourteen. His body relaxed as he imagined her. He saw her eyes crinkle and her lips draw up in a smile. Warmth spread over him and something awoke deep inside. He thought of her, this woman from Fourteen’s mind, and felt something entirely foreign blossom inside. It was a feeling as unfamiliar as it was unmistakable.

He loved her.

25. GUILDMASTER STELLAN

Cecily walked with Callum down the quiet street, her hand tucked in his arm. The sun had long since set and the air hung heavy with a misty rain. Water beaded on her cloak and the drizzle clung to her hair. A city guard eyed them as they walked past and Cecily leaned heavily on Callum, stumbling a little and giggling. He steadied her and laughed as the guard walked by.
That’s right, we’re just a couple on our way home after a little too much wine.

Dressed in his usual blacks, Callum wore a cloak to keep off the rain. Cecily’s dark blue cloak looked black in the darkness. Underneath she wore a pair of tight-fitting black leggings and a soft black tunic. She’d taken off her necklace and belt and left them back in her room. If things went bad, she didn’t want to lose them.

They cut across the street and turned up a hill, veering south. Guildmaster Stellan’s estate was on the south side of the city, not far from the Merchant Span. They’d spent the last several days combing the area, walking around the perimeter of the estate and scoping out the defenses. It had been years since Cecily had tried to break into a secured estate. She was surprised at how quickly it came back to her. They watched the guards, noting the pattern of their movements, and kept tabs on the lights in the estate windows. Messengers came and went during the daylight hours, but at night, things appeared quiet. They had seen a light in one window, on the third floor, burning later into the night than the others. Cecily suspected that was where they would find Stellan’s study.

They stopped across from the estate and stashed their cloaks in a bush. Callum had found a spot on one side of the property where a large tree bent its branches over the Shaper-wrought fence. The bars were too narrow to squeeze between, and the lowest branch was just out of her grasp. Waiting until her Awareness told her no one was near, she used Reach to Pull on the branch, lowering it enough that she could grasp it with her hands. The leaves rustled and splashed water on them as they clambered up into the tree and dropped down on the other side.

Cecily nodded that the way was clear. They darted to the side of the building and pressed themselves against the wall. Callum took a quick look around and smirked at her, raising his eyebrows. “Just like the good old days, eh?”

She smiled but rolled her eyes at him, holding her finger to her lips so he would stay quiet. With a deep breath, she closed her eyes and spread her Awareness in a wide circle. Two guards patrolled the gate at the front of the estate. They stood, slumping against the thick posts, their spears leaning against the fence nearby. On the far side of the property, another two guards lingered around what was probably a back door. She could sense them sitting, rolling something around in their hands and tossing it. Playing dice. Certainly not expecting anything.

Sensing no one else outside the building, Cecily turned her attention to the interior and felt out the hallways, windows, walls, and doors. She quickly made a mental map of the layout, noting where she could sense people or movement. The ground floor appeared to be empty. A large kitchen stretched out on the back side of the building, but the bakers hadn’t yet arisen to their early morning work. She sensed no movement in the various parlors and sitting rooms, nor in the large entry foyer. The second floor seemed to be mostly bedrooms, several with still forms lying in their beds. No one appeared to be awake.

She guessed the attic held the servants’ quarters, based on the small rooms with multiple beds in each. But it was the third floor that had the signs she was looking for. It was completely empty of people, except for one hallway, where two men sat at a small round table just outside a door. She felt the outline of a sword at one man’s hip. The other had taken his off, leaving it leaning against the wall. Judging by the location, she surmised it was the room they had seen lit well into the night as they’d watched the estate from afar. It was empty now. Stellan’s study.

“I have it,” she whispered. “We go in through the back. Two guards in back, and two in front of his study. Third floor.”

They crept around the outside of the building, keeping close to the wall. As they rounded the corner, Cecily could see the two guards. They huddled next to the building, taking shelter from the rain under the eaves, hoods pulled down over their faces. A covered glowstone lamp bathed them in a circle of light. One man cupped his hands and blew into them, whether for luck with his dice, or to warm them, Cecily couldn’t be sure. He tossed the dice onto their makeshift table and groaned as they came to rest.

Cecily looked at Callum, who nodded. She Reached across the grounds and grabbed a twig, using Pressure to make it crack. The guards’ heads swung toward the noise. She waited, her hand on Callum’s chest to keep him back. The sound of their conversation drifted over, but she couldn’t make out the words. She Pulled on a branch, making the leaves rustle, then cracked another twig. One of the guards got up and adjusted his cloak before he stomped off in the direction of the noises. She Reached again, snapping twigs farther into the grounds to lead the guard away.
That’s one.

Callum nudged her with his elbow and winked. He looked over at the remaining guard and tilted his head. Cecily knew how to keep from feeling Callum’s Projections, but the spike of fear he sent was so strong it made the hair on her neck stand on end. The guard jumped to his feet, and his head jerked around. Clutching his cloak at his throat with one hand, he turned in a quick circle, his other hand splayed out in front of him as if to ward off an attack. He took a few steps backward, away from the building, then turned and ran, heading in the direction of the other guard.
That’s two.

Cecily and Callum darted for the door, staying as quiet as possible. Cecily’s heart pounded. She knew they only had a moment before the guards would come back to their post. She put her hand on the door and prodded the lock with her Awareness, following each piece of the mechanism to see how it operated. With a precise and tiny Pull the lock opened with a satisfying click. She pushed the door open and they both hastened inside, then quietly closed and locked it behind them. Callum pulled out a rag and they dried their shoes.