True Son (14 page)

With Jix beside him, Gevri had fallen asleep while reading the book. Since he’d returned to Kanjai, Jix would not leave his side. Her presence, her strength, and her companionship were the things that helped the most as Gevri struggled to deal with the memories of the Nau prison that haunted him. Jix was the one who stayed with him during the long, sleepless nights. Jix, who never asked questions, never passed judgment.

Gevri’s father shook him awake.

“I thought I might find you here.” The general pulled up a crate and sat. Jix sat up and eyed the general closely, as she did everyone around Gevri.

Gevri slowly leaned forward and tried to straighten his posture as much as he could on a shifting pile of packing quilts. He rubbed his eyes and tried to focus.

“At ease,” the general said.

“I wish I could get into a sleep schedule,” Gevri said. “All those days of deprivation, and all I wanted to do was sleep. But now when I want to sleep, I can’t. Then I fall asleep when I don’t mean to.”

“Another day or two and you’ll be fine. Just in time to lead the attack on Deliverance.” His father rested a hand on Gevri’s shoulder. “I want you to know I’m very proud of you. Not very many soldiers could have stood up to that. And the way you broke out of that prison, that was remarkable. They’ll be telling that story for generations to come.”

“About that . . .” Gevri said. He and his father hadn’t had much of a chance to talk privately since Gevri had returned to Kanjai. “I need to tell you how that happened.”

“I know what happened,” the general said.

“No, you don’t. It was Taemon. He came in with his psi, and he —”

“Stop right there.” The general held up a palm. “Taemon was nowhere near Lake Simawah. I have soldiers posted as lookouts in the mountains, and they assure me that no one has left Deliverance.”

Gevri shook his head. “He wasn’t in the room, but his psi was there.”

The general let out a booming laugh. “That’s ridiculous. No one can use psi over that much distance.”

Jix let out a low warning growl.

“That’s what
I
thought,” Gevri said. “I came down here to look through these books and see if there’s anything written about using psi from a distance. Look here, Father. It says that —” Gevri leafed through the book to find the page he had been reading.

The general reached over and put his hands gently over Gevri’s. Then he closed the book and set it back into an open crate. “Let me tell you what happened. You were hallucinating. This is what happens with severe sleep deprivation. Your mind can’t distinguish between reality and dreams. I know that Taemon has been on your mind ever since you met him last winter. Am I correct?”

“Yes, but —”

The general raised his hand. “Taemon has been on your mind. Perhaps, on a level deeper than your everyday awareness, perhaps you feel guilty about attacking Deliverance. So your mind created this story in which Taemon saved you, furthering your subconscious belief that the attack on Deliverance was wrong. I assure you, though, that Taemon had nothing to do with your rescue. You rescued yourself.”

“How can you be sure?” Gevri asked, stroking Jix’s head.

“Because I spoke to him. Not with dominion, or
psi
,” he said that word with disgust. “I spoke to him person-to-person. I asked him to save you, and he refused.”

Gevri leaned forward and rested a hand on his father’s knee. “That’s what he said! He said you asked him. Did you make an agreement to withdraw the attack if he rescued me?”

The general stiffened. “No agreement was reached. I made a request; he refused. We owe him nothing, Gevri. If they would allow us to occupy Deliverance peacefully, we would do so. But they refuse.”

The general stood up and paced the room. “This is all very normal, Gevri. This is your brain’s way of surviving a traumatic experience. But I need you to understand that this is a fictional version of what took place. Here is the truth: once your legs were broken, and you were close to death, your body and spirit rallied with one great effort to free yourself. There are documented cases of this in our research. All the power of dominion that had been suppressed during your captivity gathered itself and burst to the surface. You healed yourself, Gevri. Your brain needed a way to convince you that this was possible, so you told yourself that Taemon was doing it. But Taemon did not heal you, Gevri. He did
not
.”

A quiet moment passed as Gevri tried to make sense of his father’s explanation. The general stood by a window and looked out, hands clasped behind his back. Jix shifted her lean body and moved closer to Gevri’s leg, then rested her chin on her paws.

He tried to remember what had happened in the Nau prison. Some of it was too horrific to think about. But he did remember hallucinating, and sometimes Taemon was part of those hallucinations. The healing, though — the healing was different. Taemon’s presence had felt so real.

He wasn’t sure he could accept what his father was telling him. But his father had no cause to lie to him. They were working together now. The days when they were at odds with each other — the days of Gevri’s rebelliousness and pride and of his father’s lies and manipulations — were over. He was not about to bring them back.

Besides, even if Taemon had healed him — and that was a big if — then it was probably another trick to make Gevri think that Taemon was his friend, to get Gevri to convince his dad to call off the war. Hadn’t Taemon admitted as much? It was the move of someone who was desperate — someone who knew just how weak he and his people were.

“Let’s speak no more of this,” his father said. “It’s time to move forward with the attack. Do you feel up to attending the planning meeting?”

The general was right. It was time to move on. Did it really matter how he had escaped? Whether Taemon had done it or Gevri had done it, that didn’t change anything. Gevri stood up and stretched. “I wouldn’t miss it.”

The planning meeting didn’t start for another hour, and Gevri planned to spend that time with his unit. They had each been through their own terrible ordeals, and spending time together was a way to recuperate and feel united again. And he knew exactly what to do.

“A run?” Saunch asked. “Are you fuzzed?”

“Come on,” Gevri said. “It’ll be fun.”

“Are you giving us an order?” Mirtala asked.

“I was hoping I wouldn’t have to. Just a quick jog through the equipment yard.”

It took a little persuasion, but in the end, they all came, Jix included.

Gevri took the lead with Jix at his side. He jogged around the equipment, dodging outdated motorcycles and mini tanks, the other archons following behind him in single file. This was where all the outdated equipment was stored before being stripped for parts or scrap metal.

They played an old game called “Three Tricks.” The leader had to do some kind of little maneuver, like jumping over something or running backward for a few paces, then everyone in the line had to do the same thing. Anyone who didn’t successfully complete the trick had to go to the back of the line. Once the leader had completed three tricks, he or she moved to the end of the line, and a new leader took over.

When they were all worn out, Gevri led them out of the equipment yard and into a little grove of trees.

“All halt!” Gevri called, and they each found a grassy spot to rest. “Drink water! That’s an order.”

Gevri took a gulp of water, then poured some in a bowl for Jix to drink. He actually enjoyed the soreness in his legs. For a while, he had been convinced he would never again be able to run and wear out his muscles like this.

“Do we have to go back?” Saunch asked. “I don’t want to go to that planning meeting.”

“I know the meetings are boring, but they’re necessary,” Gevri said. “So, yes, we have to go back.”

Saunch picked at the grass in front of him. “Do we really have to attack Yens?”

Gevri looked around and saw questioning looks from the others as well.

“His name is Taemon,” Gevri said. “And we’ve talked about this before. An enemy is an enemy.”

“I’m still going to call him Yens,” Cindahad said.

Gevri laughed. Taemon would hate that. “Be my guest.”

After an uneasy silence, Gevri sensed that the archons were still conflicted. “Look, it has nothing to do with Taemon. What do you think is going to happen when the Nau figure out that Deliverance has no more power? They’re going to move in quicker than you can sneeze. Do you really want a Nau army just over that mountain? Have you heard the reports? The Nau are moving closer on the west, too. You can see exactly what they’re trying to do: send one army from the west and another from Deliverance, in the east. They’re going to trap us in the middle. How long do you think we can withstand that?”

All the archons were looking down. Wendomer was screwing the cap of her water bottle on and off. Mirtala was breaking a twig into little pieces. Berliott was braiding strands of grass. But Gevri knew they were listening.

“This is not about Taemon. This is about the Nau. The ones who captured us. The ones who tortured us. The ones who would have killed us. If we lose this battle, we lose the war. Are we united in our mission?” Gevri saw a few weak nods. He jumped to his feet. “Are we united?”

The archons stood with him. “Cha!”

He started jogging through the trees. “Are we united?”

“Cha!” came the chorus behind him, and a respectable roar from Jix.

He led them back to the archon training center, doing three tricks along the way. Every archon mimicked him perfectly.

“Do you want me to go with you?” Amma said.

Taemon had come to the workshop just long enough to shove a few things in his knapsack: a water bottle, a flashlight, a blanket — he didn’t need much more. He was going to the mountain to ask the Heart of the Earth where the people of Deliverance should go. He just hoped she had an answer.

Taemon shook his head. “I need to do this alone. And you need to pack.”

Amma frowned. “Are you sure this can’t wait till morning?”

Taemon shook his head. “I can’t explain it; I have this feeling that we need to leave tomorrow. But first I need to know where we’re going.” He flung his bag over his shoulder.

She followed him to the door. He looked at her, and a strange mix of emotions swirled in his chest. He felt as though there were a million things that he wanted to say to her, but no words came.

“All right, well . . .” Amma patted his shoulder. “Safe travels.”

Taemon nodded and looked down. He had to turn away from her before he embarrassed himself with klonky words that wouldn’t make sense.

Dusk had brushed the mountain with a pink-gray light. Taemon followed the trail, then cut through the dry end-of-summer grass toward his giant old ruddybark tree. Honestly Taemon was glad to have some time alone. The hours following the emergency meeting had been frustrating.

The council had gone in pairs to spread the word to all the colonists. Everyone had to be ready to evacuate by noon the next day. Everywhere they went, people had questions and arguments and complaints about having to leave so suddenly, but the council members were short on answers. No, they didn’t know when the army would be here. No, they didn’t have any more details. And most of all, no, they didn’t know where they were going.

Many of the people flatly refused to leave.
Don’t waste time asking questions!
he wanted to shout at them.
Just get ready!
The sad thing was, Taemon didn’t have time to stop and try to persuade them. He barely had time to knock on all the doors in his assigned route.

Yes, a walk on the mountain was just what he needed right now.

By the time Taemon got to his tree, it was nearly dark, but he didn’t bother with the flashlight. He lay there under the tree and let the night sounds wash away the fear. The frogs that trilled from the creek didn’t have any worries. The insects whining around his head didn’t have any troubles. He stilled his mind until there was only this tree. This sky. This moment.

When he was ready to listen, he was ready to ask.

I’m willing to do what I must to save my people. I’m ready to lead them out of Deliverance. Please tell me where we can go
.