Haven (War of the Princes) (28 page)

I coughed meekly a couple of times, trying to get the strange feeling out of my lungs. I felt jittery but not altogether unwell.

A ball of orange light appeared, a little sphere of fire, illuminating some of the room and the Dragoon whose palm it rested in. Another orange fireball flickered to life in the hand of a different Dragoon.

The third fire was different: it was blue, and it rose up, twice the height of the others, in the form of a pylon. The blue cast was an odd contrast with the orange light, but it was as bright as both of the others combined. Behind its cold light, illuminated by the haunting hue of his fire, I saw Rune’s grave face.

I’d only seen such fire come from stovetop gas burners and welding torches, yet here it was, resting brilliantly in the palm of my former friend. He’d had this destructive power all the while I’d known him. The thought frightened me, but only until
Fallux
spoke.
 

“I think it’s safe to say,” the Senior Commander said, happy as a ten year old boy on his birthday. Orange and blue light gleamed strangely off of the metal in his face. “She has The Spark… and she is irrefutably a Lodestone.”

Chapter 26: The Spark

They were afraid of me. I could see it in their eyes; even Dylan’s.

“Was that…” Lord Brendon began to say.

Fallux
finished his question for him. “Normal? No. Most Ability displays are smaller… much smaller.”

I could hear the glass crunching beneath the boots of the Dragoons and Militia that shifted uneasily where they stood. It had come from the lanterns and bulbs that I’d shattered. How did I do that? I couldn’t wrap my mind around it. This time I
had
to be dreaming.

A suffocating tension pressed in, smothering all of us. They were afraid because they didn’t know what I would do next. I wasn’t sure which was a weirder concept, blowing up a room with lightning or people being intimidated by me.

Fallux
was unaffected.

“Retaliate,” he said calmly to me. He even looked amused. “We’re all waiting.”

I wanted to. I could force them to let me go… but I didn’t know how. I struggled feebly with the metal cuffs around my wrists and was quickly out of breath. It was strange. I teetered between feeling vibrantly alive, jittery and ill. Regardless, there was no electricity.

“I didn’t want this,” I said barely over a whisper. “Let me go.”

“She’s safe,”
Fallux
said turning casually away from me. “This is marvelous. I hadn’t imagined that a Lodestone wouldn’t know how to use its own Abilities.”

“I would have thought it impossible,” Lord Brendon said begrudgingly. “But you’ve stated your case and you’ve been proven correct. The girl remains in your custody. She’s not one of us and she’s not a spy from the North. She has at least two powerful Abilities and she seems to have no idea that they existed. Where
did
you come from?” His question wasn’t a hungry demand. It was genuine puzzlement. I couldn’t meet his eyes.

The confidence behind
Fallux’s
smile made my stomach twist. “We won’t have to wonder for long.”

*
         
*
         
*

The wind that cut through the tower was frigid. I sat on the floor beside a stack of empty clay pots, huddled beneath Rune’s blanket, shivering whenever the draft snuck in. Before they brought me back to my place of imprisonment I was allowed a bath. I was infinitely glad for it, but my long hair was left to dry on its own and it was freezing cold. The dirty ribbons the children had adorned me with were removed and, like everything else, taken from me.

 
The tower was a dreary place. The dead and dying plants were my only companions. Even so, that was a vast improvement from the dungeons.

There was little for me to do but wait. I couldn’t know how many hours into the night it was. Storm clouds obscured the stars. I’d never been that great with astronomy, but if it was clear I could have at least tried to guess at how much time passed while the stars slipped down the horizon. If I could go back in time, I would have taken that class seriously.

The little clay bird I’d made earlier had dried nicely and was sitting beside me. I didn’t feel like making another one after finally getting clean.

Idly, I wondered why a greenroom was built into this tower. I hadn’t seen plants anywhere else in the Installment. I simply couldn’t picture
Fallux
gardening.

Sitting there, staring blankly at the rust stains on the wall where piping corroded, I noticed something. One of the pots along the poorly maintained drip system was actually getting water. Two green leaves reached out of the soil. More surprisingly, rolled up beside them like some kind of growth of its own, was a piece of paper.

I threw myself out of the blanket, forgetting the thinness of the black long sleeved cotton shirt and matching trousers that they’d dressed me in. Goose bumps rose on my arms at the biting chill. My feet were only protected from the stone floor by a pair of plain slippers. I padded quickly over to the pot and snatched the paper. It couldn’t have been there before or I would have noticed.

Just as I was ready to unravel it, the tower door swung open. I must have jumped out of my own skin with fright.

It was March. As usual her hair was pulled neatly back and her uniform was immaculately clean. She was carrying a tray of hot porridge. I relaxed, but slipped the paper discreetly up my sleeve just in case I wasn’t supposed to have found it.

“Hi,” I said simply, trying not to look as stupidly startled as I felt.

I was kind of glad to see her. It was a wonder to me that I couldn’t loathe March the way I did the Commanders. I guess I just felt that my problems weren’t her fault. She had no choice in being a Dragoon.

March didn’t say anything in return, but crossed the room to place the tray on the only corner of table that was clear of plants and dirt.
 

“A fortress as cold and dark as this doesn’t seem like a place where they would keep a garden,” I mentioned tentatively.

 
“There was a Dragoon, Shepherd. He was an herbalist,” March replied emotionlessly. “He’s dead.”

“Oh,” I said wondering how awkward I’d made our short conversation. But it wasn’t. March didn’t look like she felt anything. “That explains things.”

Mystery of the dilapidated garden tower: solved.

“What’s going to happen to me?” I blurted the real question on my mind. She seemed regretful, or maybe I just wanted to think that she was.

Without another word, March turned to leave. I knew I couldn’t dash past her to get out the door because she’d just use The Shift to block my way. Instead, I smiled at her.

“March. Hey, wait,” I said scooping up the little clay bird. “
Here.
”

I held it out to her.

She looked at it with complete confusion. I’d never seen so much emotion on her face. “What is this?”

“It’s for you,” I said placing it in her uncertain hands. “I made it.”

She cupped the little bird in both hands and looked up at me. There was an odd combination of childlike wonder, fear and even denial on her features that made me pity her.

“Why?” she asked, frowning guardedly.

“I don’t have much else to do up here. You’re one of the only people I know,” I said honestly, retrieving the porridge and huddling into my blanket. It was the same tasteless slop, but it seemed fresher and warmer tonight. I wondered if March had anything to do with that.

“I can’t take this,” she said uncomfortably. “I’m a Dragoon, I’m-”

“Disconnected. I know. If you don’t want it, throw it away, but it’s yours now,” I said noncommittally between bites of mush. It had absolutely no flavor but at least it was warm. That made me feel better.

A brightness crept into her eyes and made her look ten years younger. It was like I had done some immeasurably great thing for her… like giving her a castle and all the wealth in the world. The very slightest of grins pulled at her lips and I wondered how long it had been since she smiled last.

The depth of her gratitude, though wordless, made me feel uncomfortable. The clay bird was nothing nearly as nice as the ones I’d made at home and it was probably the cheapest and worst gift I’d ever given someone. I gave it to her to be nice, friendly; something I didn’t see much around here. I wasn’t expecting to change her life.

I focused on eating my meager rations to try to normalize the awkwardness.

“Leila,” said March, backing off toward the door, holding the clay bird like it was a priceless artifact. “It’s my… my name. What they used to call me. Leila March.”

The slightest brush of a smile accented her face.

And then she left, no longer seeming so much like a cold-hearted soldier, but a lonely human being.

I watched her go, feeling guilty for absolutely no reason. Sometimes my own emotions were unreasonable and unexplainable.

I set the empty porridge bowl and spoon down with a sigh.

           
I’d almost forgotten about the fold of paper! Shaking it from my sleeve, I carefully unrolled it. The penmanship was beautiful, flawless, like it had been printed from a press.

           
Katelyn,

I’m sorry I couldn’t get word to you sooner. You really are a Lodestone. I never thought it could be possible. This means you’re in more danger than you realize. I’m going to figure out a way to get you out of there, even if it means pulling every string I have a connection to. Rest easy. You were right about me after all, I always get what I want, and right now that means you safely away from the Installment.

Fond thoughts until we meet again,

Lord Dylan Axton

           
“No, Dylan,” I breathed aloud. Dread was like a rock in my stomach. I squeezed the paper in my hand, wrinkling it. Stakes would get to him. I wished more than anything that I could warn Dylan, tell him to leave me alone before it was too late.

           
He thought he was untouchable. He thought he was safe. But that was something none of us would ever be, so long as Stakes was around. I didn’t think the Junior Commander’s threat was a bluff. A man like him didn’t need to posture. If there was only some way I could stop him. Something I could do.

           
I stared at my hands, thinking about the brilliant lightning snaking over my skin. Even with such a fresh memory in my mind, I felt as though I must have been dreaming. And as if to prove my doubts, no matter how long and hard I thought about my second Ability, I could not summon it.

           
My hand lashed out, shoving a small clay pot to the floor. The sound of it shattering only vented the slightest bit of my frustrations.

           
“Stop, stop, stop,” I muttered, circling the room. If only just plain concentration was enough to warn Dylan, to stop him from trying to help me.

           
I haunted the tower’s windows, hoping beyond hope that I’d catch a glance of him far below and be able to wave him away. It was a foolish thought. The night was far too dark, and the ground only dimly lit around the outer walls of the fortification.

           
Restlessly, I spent the entire night pacing the tower, trying to figure out a way to get a message back to Dylan. Even if I used the paper he sent me, I had nothing to write with. I tried mud from the clay pots but could only fit a few words on the small bit of parchment Dylan wrote his note on. I figured, miserably, that it was just as well. I didn’t have any friends to help deliver such a message. There was no sleep in store for me until dawn.

           
When I awakened sometime during the stormy day, there was a new bowl of porridge (gone cold), my orange scarf wrapped in a ball and my goggles, sitting beside a small clay bird.

           
March.

           
She had brought back a couple of my things while I slept. The gesture was enough to make me feel slightly less depressed. An act of kindness meant a lot coming from a Dragoon.

           
I scooped up the scarf and wrapped it around my neck, put the goggles atop my head and left the little bird where it was. I’d told her it was hers. She could leave it wherever she wanted to.

           
Glad to have my goggles back, I intended to observe what I could about the
 
goings on around the fortress. Maybe I’d see Dylan or figure out a way to get out of the tower. I sat in a rare pool of sunlight on the sill of a window. The break in the moody clouds wouldn’t last long and I intended to soak up every bit of warmth that I could.