True Son (11 page)

He nodded.

“I want to hear from each one of you,” Hannova said. “Do we continue? Or do we turn back? Yens, you first.”

Yens seemed pleased to be the first one consulted, but Hannova always called on the most junior member of the council first.

“I feel we must consider the possible outcomes if —”

Hannova cut him off. “No time for discussion. Go forward or turn back?”

Yens cleared his throat. “Go forward.”

“Amma?”

“Go forward,” Amma said without hesitation.

“Wiljamen?”

“Turn back.” Da gave Taemon an apologetic look. But Taemon knew Da was only saying what he thought was best.

“Solovar?”

“Turn back.”

Hannova took a deep breath. “We’re going to have to turn back. We just can’t risk —”

Taemon couldn’t bear to hear any more. “No, please. Somebody has to take the first step of trust. I agree that we’re vulnerable in this situation. There’s no question that we’re in the weaker position. But someone has to take the first step of trust.”

He paused and was surprised that everyone seemed to be listening. So he went on. “If we turn back now, we strengthen the suspicion and distrust between our two countries. Why wouldn’t we agree to meet if I didn’t have use of my psi? If we turn back now, we’re asking for war. And let’s face it: if the war comes, we’ll be annihilated.”

“We beat them before,” Yens said. “We can put up a good fight.”

“That was one small unit of archons,” Amma said. “They have thousands of soldiers. They have guns and cannons and war machines that you’ve never imagined.”

Taemon let Amma’s words sink in before he continued. “The only chance we have to survive is to make peace, and the only chance we have to make peace is to trust. I say we go forward.”

“I change my vote,” Da said.

Hannova nodded. “As do I. We go forward. Cautiously!”

Mr. Parvel’s frown deepened with worry, but he didn’t argue. Solovar was nodding, too.

“Wish we had some of those stopper things for your ears,” Mr. Parvel said.

Taemon was wishing the same thing, but he couldn’t think of any way to counteract the psi-blocking device. He was just going to have to accept the fact that he couldn’t use psi during the negotiations. Hadn’t he just given a lofty speech about trust?

As they moved forward, the earsplitting buzzing in his head started up again, louder than before. The Republikites must have spotted the delegation from Deliverance and turned up the volume. Taemon did not want to show how much those devices were affecting him. He had to seem strong and capable. To make sure he didn’t stumble as the group trudged on, he looked down, focused on the ground just ahead of his feet, and took each step carefully.

Trying to appear strong and capable led to Taemon bumping into Da, who had stopped ahead of him. Da steadied him with one arm.

“Sorry,” Taemon said.

“It’s okay, son,” Da whispered.

Taemon looked up. They had reached the entrance to the tunnel.

Just inside the tunnel, a table had been set up, complete with a white tablecloth that ruffled gently in the draft that flowed through the tunnel. Seated at the table were eight Republikites, most of them in soldiers’ uniforms.

Standing at the head of the table was General Sarin.

Gevri woke up and knew a deeper level of agony. His legs were broken. Both of them. He knew that before he even opened his eyes. Nothing else could hurt so badly.

Where was he? Did he even want to know? He slowly opened his eyes and looked around.

He was in a small cell with black walls. He was lying in the corner, his back up against a wall and his legs stretched out on a concrete floor.

His legs. He looked down at the swollen, bruised skin. They didn’t look much like legs, other than the feet that were at the ends of them. They were broken all right, and no one had bothered to set the bones. So this is what they had in store for him? To let him sit here and die slowly? Where were the other archons? What had happened to them?

The light was dim for a change. They weren’t torturing him with strobe lights or floodlights. But then again, they didn’t need to. The pain in his legs was torture enough, definitely enough to keep him from exercising dominion.

Another thought came to Gevri as he stared at the black walls. This was not an interrogation room. There was no room for U. Felmark Puster to come breezing in with his folding table and his tea. This was a cell for one person, and only one person. This was solitary confinement.

Gevri had no strength to move his body, but he turned his head and pressed his brow against the concrete wall.
They should have killed me
.

He let the sobs come, let them shake his shoulders and squeeze his ribs.
They should have killed me
.

Maybe he slept. Maybe he passed out again. Maybe he came to now and then. It was all one big blur of pain. His fevered mind was desperate to escape reality and began retelling itself old memories. Memories of his mother.

The stories that came to him were from his early years, before he had gone to live in the archon training center. He’d been three when he started living there permanently, so he knew the memories with his mother in them were very early.

She read him stories. All the good old Republikite stories about quests and heroes. Legends that no one believed anymore, about the True Son, about dragons and woodland folk. The story of Saint Stephan and the wolf-bear was his favorite, because Saint Stephan didn’t hurt the wolf-bear; he just tricked him.

And tricks were what his father was teaching him. How to make things float. How to make toy cars and tanks move along their tracks without touching them. How to build castles with blocks from halfway across the room. He loved the toys and games his father brought home for him, but he loved his mother’s stories more.

She read him one each night. Maybe more than one if he begged, or if he couldn’t sleep, or if nightmares came. He could still remember the nightmares. Darkness gathering into the form of a person. Its eyes hollow, its mouth gaping open. Gevri would try to scream but could make no sound. He would wake up with a choking sensation, gasping and coughing.

And Mother would be there, turning on the light, saying a prayer with him, reading him another story.

He was trapped in a nightmare now, the same despair and horror gripping his chest and choking him. He struggled for air. He tried to picture his mother with him. What would she do if she were here?

She would say a prayer.

Gods
, Gevri thought,
I haven’t prayed since I was small
. He didn’t even know if he still believed in all-knowing, all-powerful beings. He wasn’t even sure he believed in the Heart of the Earth, which was about as old-fashioned as one could get. But what did he have to lose?

Whatever you are
, if
you are, I need help. I can’t do this. I’m broken. I’m beat. If it’s time for me to die, let me die. But help my archons. They’re just kids. They don’t deserve this. Help them. Help them. Please help them
.

The death grip on his chest released, and Gevri drew in a breath.

Maybe he slept. Maybe he passed out again. Maybe he came to now and then. It was all one big blur of pain.

Hannova was the first to step forward and greet the general. She introduced herself and each member of the delegation. The general’s reaction was completely neutral. No smile, no frown, no emotion at all. He kept his hands clasped behind his back and acknowledged each person from Deliverance with the smallest of nods.

There were empty chairs at the sides of the table, and one of the soldiers motioned for the delegates to take a seat. The general took his seat at the head of the table, and Hannova sat in the chair at the other end, facing him.

“There has been a misunderstanding,” were the general’s first words.

Taemon cringed.
Wonderful
.
We’re getting off to a terrific start
.

General Sarin stared right at Hannova. “That seat is meant for Taemon Houser.”

“Yes, there
has
been a misunderstanding,” Hannova said calmly. “Taemon Houser is a member of the delegation, but I am the spokesperson.”

“Taemon Houser is the only person in this group with any real power. I will speak to him. The rest of you may listen.” The general spoke in a matter-of-fact tone that was as hard and cold as stone.

Taemon looked to Hannova to see what she wanted him to do. She was locked in a staring contest with the general.

Yens stood up. “Actually, I think it’s me you want to talk to. Taemon pretended to be me when you saw him last. I’m the True Son, the spiritual leader of Deliverance.”

The general didn’t even glance at Yens. “I know who you are. And I will discuss these matters with Taemon Houser. The others are permitted to observe.”

Taemon wanted to groan. This was going even worse than he imagined.

Hannova stood and walked slowly to where Taemon was seated. She nodded to him, which seemed to be her way of giving him permission to take the lead. Reluctantly, he moved into the seat across from the general.

“We have come to discuss peace,” Taemon said. He didn’t know if he was supposed to speak first, but it seemed like a good idea. “We’d like to find a way for our two countries to live peacefully side by side.”

General Sarin did not respond right away. This man had a gift for unnerving people in the strongest possible way.

“Our country has not known peace for many years,” the general finally said. “You are aware, of course, of the war that wages between the Nau and the Republik.”

“Yes,” Taemon said. “I am aware. We wish to remain neutral.”

The general continued. “There is no neutral. The Nau will come to Deliverance. Maybe next month, maybe next year. But they will most certainly come. Deliverance is small. It is powerless. It is weaponless. It will fall. The question is this: Will Deliverance fall to the Republik or to the Nau? My job is to ensure that Deliverance is occupied by the Republik, not by the Nau. I’m sure you understand.”

Taemon did not know what to say to that.

The general smiled, and that was even more unnerving than his brusque manner. “Now you see that the peace we will be discussing is the peaceful occupation of Deliverance by the Republik.”

Taemon finally found his voice. “No, General Sarin. We are not willing to give in so easily. We are a peaceful people. This war is not ours.”

“I see,” the general said. “You believe it is possible to be left alone. That the Nau will not seek to occupy you.”

“Yes,” Taemon answered.

“I can assure you that that is not the case. Deliverance is geographically significant; whoever rules your city also controls the ports to either side. If the Nau gain control of Deliverance, the Republik is all but lost. But if the Republik were to occupy your city, we would be positioned to launch defensive strikes against our enemy.

“In short, war is coming to Deliverance whether you want it to or not. If you allow the army of the Republik to occupy Deliverance, we will defend your land for you. Gods know you cannot defend it on your own.”

Skies, this was all so complicated! Taemon was tempted to look to Hannova for help, but that would show weakness. He needed to appear strong. Deep in his gut, he knew it was a mistake to let the Republik into Deliverance. Once they were there, they would never leave. Deliverance would be swallowed up by the Republik. If the Nau came, they would find a way to deal with that.

“Thank you for your offer, but we must decline,” Taemon said. “We will put our trust in the Heart of the Earth and fend for ourselves.”

The general’s look turned stone cold again. “Doesn’t that sound just like a Nathanite?”

Taemon sat up straighter. “You mean to insult me, General, but I take the comparison as the highest compliment. Nathan was forced to make an impossible decision for the good of the people — for the good of the Republik — and though your history books have tarnished his reputation, I am proud to be the descendant of such a man, and prouder still to be compared to him.”

The general scoffed. “And your history books have made an idol out of a traitor! Nathan could have fought with the Republik and wiped out the Nau in its infancy. Instead, he turned his back on us, stole our land, and hid his people behind this very mountain. For centuries, we have paid the price of his so-called neutrality. If you continue to follow Nathan’s path — the coward’s path — the Republik will have no choice but to take Deliverance by force.”