Lorien Legacies: The Lost Files (59 page)

I twisted Daxin’s ID band around the flesh of my wrist. It was amazing how much trouble this little device had caused, what a trivial and tragic mess I had made with it.

Disgusted with myself and my own predicament, I pulled the band off and raised it over my head, ready to toss it into the darkness.

I hesitated, thinking of Devektra. I wondered where she was, if she had found any other Garde to help her. I wondered if she was still alive, knowing that even if she was, her chances of survival, even with her Legacies, would be slim to none.

Really, death was probably the best thing that could happen to her. She wouldn’t give a shit about that. We were too alike that way. She didn’t believe in perfect. That would be her strength. I decided it would be mine too. If I was going down, I was going to make it as messy as I could.

“Nine young Garde,” Brandon had said. “That must’ve been for a reason.”

Yes
, I thought, looking down at the ID band I was still clutching in my white-knuckled fist. Something had been set in motion a long time ago that had brought me to this point, on my knees in the Outer Territories, this ID band and locator in my hands.

It’s all for a reason
. There had to be nine. Nine Cêpan, nine Garde. I had fucked up so badly. It wasn’t too late, though. I could still be good.

CHAPTER 13

The vehicle rumbled and buckled over the unpaved earth, its course set for the Malkan Kabarak. With the thing on autopilot, I was free to dig around in the back, trying to find a weapon. I had no idea if the Mogadorians’ second wave would be another round of missile hits or a ground invasion, but I figured it wouldn’t hurt to arm myself. Unfortunately, all I managed to find was a long, sharp knife. Not especially powerful, but it was something. I also grabbed a spare info-mod, hoping that it might somehow come through with news of another attack.

I booted it up not expecting much, but it was still picking up scattered, patchy transmissions. The ones that
were
coming through were mostly dedicated to Munis communications about rescue efforts in the city.

They’d caught us off guard, just like the Elders had predicted. Even now, people didn’t seem to get it. Not a single one of the transmissions I was able to hear made any reference to the fact that we’d been attacked—or the fact that it wasn’t over yet.

Maybe the rest of Lorien was still mostly oblivious.
I
knew the truth, though. I knew what I had to do.

I was going to save the boy, or die trying.

The vehicle pulled up to the edge of Malka and I made my way up the dirt path in the dark. I couldn’t see much, but I let my memory guide me towards the hut the boy had shared with his grandfather. The closer I got, the more the locator band vibrated, signaling that I was heading in the right direction.

In the distance, I could hear the hubbub of the Malkans’ Quartermoon revels. They still didn’t know. For a brief moment, I considered running onto the Kabarak and warning them about the upcoming invasion, telling them to arm themselves. But I didn’t have time for that, and it wouldn’t make any difference anyway. I had to keep my focus. This was about the survival of our whole race. Brandon had said there had to be nine.

When I reached the hut, the boy, his grandfather and the frolicking chimæra were nowhere to be seen. But the band continued to vibrate in my hand. By moving forward in a couple different directions, testing the vibration’s frequency, I was able to get a bead on him. He was farther up the path.

I rounded a crest that gave out to a narrow field among other hills. A large campfire blazed nearby, and as I moved closer, I saw the boy’s grandfather crouched next to it. He looked up at me.

The boy and his chimæra were nowhere to be seen.

The man gestured at the seat beside him. Nervously, I stepped forward and took my place at the campfire. Whatever he was cooking, it smelled delicious. It was nearly dawn, and I hadn’t eaten since dessert the night before. Teased by the smell, my mouth began to water.

The man gestured at the pot. “Eat,” he said.

I did as I was told, using the stone ladle jutting out of the pot to fill a small earthenware bowl with the rich stew.

“It’s delicious,” I said, nodding with gratitude.

“You’ve come for my boy,” said the grandfather.

“Yes,” I said, realizing that he had known why I was there all along.

“He is all I have,” he said. “Anyone can see that there is something special about him. My gift allows me rare glimpses at the threads of destiny, and I have always known this day would come. The day I met you, I could see that it wouldn’t be long.”

Daxin’s ID band hadn’t stopped vibrating crazily since I’d sat down, and now my tab was going off like crazy. Here by the campfire, with this strong, simple man staring me down, I felt like a tech-addled slob.

“One second,” I said, feeling like a total idiot. “Excuse me.”

I stood, pulled the mod out of my pocket and looked down, reading the newest update. APPROACH OF SECOND WAVE CONFIRMED. MISSILE ATTACK FOLLOWED BY GROUND FORCES. Some surviving LDF warrior, or perhaps a Munis employee, had managed to make it onto the com-network and had finally managed to sound out the real alarm.

I was still wondering what it all meant when I felt my legs give out from under me. The mod went flying out of my hands and landed with a thud on the ground.

But it was only the boy, who’d lunged at my legs and knocked me onto the ground. He was stronger than he looked and he knew it. He threw himself onto his back in the grass and giggled with wild pride, the metal band on his wrist glinting under the firelight.

“Gotcha!” the boy exclaimed. I wondered if he would remember this night, and if he did, whether he would remember with sadness what he was about to lose or with happiness for what, for a few more moments at least, he still had.

I mustered up a smile in response. “Not yet, pal.” I retrieved my mod from where it had landed in the grass and picked myself up, kneeling in the dirt with the fire at my back. I opened my arms and the boy ran into them unquestioningly. I scooped him up and stood, and as I did, I looked over at his grandfather, just for a moment. He stared back at me with a great sadness.

I knew I had to leave. But I had to ask him one more thing. “You said your Legacy allows you to see people’s destinies,” I said. “Can you see anything now?”

“He will be important,” the man said sadly. “That’s all I know.”

“What about me?” I asked.

The man smiled sadly. “You will be important also,” he said. “But you will die.”

I knew he was right. It was okay, though. We were all going to die. At least I would do it making a difference.

As I walked away, back down the path to the van, the boy’s arms wrapped around my neck, I looked over my shoulder and took one last look at the man who had raised him. It was streaming with tears that ran in deep furrows through the caked dust on his cheeks and into his beard.

And then the second wave of missiles came down, booming in the distance.

CHAPTER 14

The ground on the trail was uneven under my feet as I raced down the path, the branches and brambles scratching my face in the dark. I cursed under my breath and stumbled at every third step. The kid in my arms had started to cry as soon as his grandfather had disappeared from view, but he was doing it quietly.

“It’s okay,” I said, rubbing his back. “It’s okay, little guy.”

It wasn’t okay. But maybe things would be better someday—for the kid in my arms, if not for me. First, though, I had to get him to the evacuation site without getting us both killed on the way.

That was going to be easier said than done: I gasped when I emerged from the trees into the clearing near the hut and saw the sky.

It was as bright as day, bright blue punctuated with quick-fire bursts of pastel pinks and purples all up and down the horizon. It was like the entire world was on fire. Maybe it was. The explosions were coming faster than I could count.

I couldn’t stop to think about it. Panic wasn’t going to do me any good, and there would be plenty of time for mourning later. Brandon and the evacuation ship would be leaving soon if it hadn’t already left. There had to be nine Garde. Brandon had said it and somehow I knew it in my gut. I had to get him to the ship before takeoff.

The vehicle was just up ahead. One step at a time.

When I strapped the kid in next to me and fired up the autopilot system, the screen on the console lit up in a sea of red. The system was still linked in to an LDF satellite that was reading conditions all over the planet, and the devastation already wrought across the surface of Lorien—rendered in blinking red patches on the screen—had most routes back to the evacuation airstrip looking risky at best. The route I’d taken to get here was completely obstructed.

With that no longer an option, it seemed like my best bet was to pass through Malka, and then rejoin the original route at its midpoint. I fired up the autopilot, cranked it up to the highest speed it could achieve, and took a deep breath. It would either work or it wouldn’t. The engine began to whir. The vehicle lurched forward and we went hurtling out into the burning night.

Then I turned to the still crying kid. I had no experience with children. I wasn’t even a Mentor Cêpan
trainee
. Once I dropped him off at the airstrip, he would go on to whatever his great destiny was and would cease to be my problem.

But I hated hearing him cry. I looked him in the eye and he gasped for breath a little bit as his wails became weaker. It was like he didn’t want me to see him like this. It was like he was trying to be brave.

“Listen, kid,” I said. When I spoke, his sobs got even quieter. “Things are going to be a little dicey for a little bit. You need to be brave. You’re a Garde, you know? Someday you’re going to have a lot of power. You’ll be able to be whoever you want to be. But first, you need to keep your chin up. After all, you’re the future of the whole damn Lorien race, right?”

The boy was looking at me intently now, no longer crying at all. He was hanging on my every word, his eyes wide and his small mouth formed into a tiny O
.
“You got it, buddy?” I asked. “We need you.”

He gave me a stern look and waved his fist in my face. “Kow kow,” he said.

“Yup,” I said, smiling. “Kow kow is right.”

SKWONNNNKKK. SKWONNNNNK.

Instinctively, my hands flew to cover my ears. The boy yelped. It was the sound of some kind of horn, deep and booming. It rumbled up through the wheels of the van, right up into my bones.

I had a feeling I knew what it was—the sound of a Mogadorian ship. There was nothing else it could be. This was not good. I checked the console. We were getting there, but we still had a ways to go.

The road ahead of us was littered with rubble, fallen trees and dead bodies every here and there. I tried not to look at them. To the right was a void in the sky where the Elkin Spires had once been. In the distance, the smoking ruins of Capital City were getting closer.

We had just reached Eilon Park, on the outskirts of the city, when we were hit.

I’m not sure what got us. It wasn’t a missile, or else we would be dead. It might have been flying debris from a bomb. It might have been something else. It really doesn’t matter. Whatever it was, a massive blast knocked against the van and sent us flying. Everything went dark.

I came to on my back. My head was bleeding and my vision was blurred. There was some horrible grinding squeak above my head. The boy was kneeling over me, looking down into my eyes with a concerned expression. “Kow kow?” he asked.

I looked up past him to see the bottom of the van—the seats, the center console—above me. I was lying with my back against the interior roof. We were upside down.

In pain, I moved my head and could see, through a freshly smashed window, the grass of the park.

I didn’t know what we were going to do. There was no way we were going to be able to get the van right side up again, much less running. I climbed through the shattered window, ignoring the glass that scratched my arms. When I was through, I turned around, reached out, and yanked the boy through with me. We rolled back into the grass together, out of breath.

SKKKWONNNK. SKKKWONKK.
That noise again. Suddenly, next to me, the kid’s eyes widened. His jaw dropped. I flipped around and saw the monster standing right above us, so close I could smell the stink of his breath.

It was the ugliest thing I’d ever seen, probably a full two heads taller than me, with pale white skin and a mouth jammed full of tiny, crooked teeth that were pointier and sharper than knives. I know what his teeth looked like because he was smiling. At his side, a giant curved sword dangled.

This, I knew, was a Mogadorian.

He growled at us with narrowed eyes. The noise was low and menacing, throaty and guttural.

The beast raised its sword over its head.

I had tried. I had. We had almost made it. Now it was over.

There was no use pretending my body would make any real shield for the kid. We would both die from the same blow.

Then I heard the strangest thing. It was something like music. I recognized it. Before I could react, there was a giant flash of light, and the music got louder, so loud that it sounded like it was coming from inside my skull.

It was Devektra’s song. It was beautiful.

The Mogadorian reeled backward and dropped his sword. His face twisted into a horrified mask of pain. He let out another growl—really more of a roar—and fell to his knees.

I didn’t even think about it. I knew what I had to do. I sprang to my knees, grabbed the sword and, with dazzling white lights flashing all around me, swung it with every bit of strength that I had. A geyser of blood erupted into the air as his head went flying.

I never saw her. I don’t know how she found us, or why she didn’t reveal herself. There probably just wasn’t time. But it was her. Devektra had saved me. More important, she had saved the boy.

He stood up, looked up at me quizzically, seemingly unfazed by what had just happened, and pointed to something that was lying in the grass a few yards away.