Lorien Legacies: The Lost Files (96 page)

“No!” I shout, and before I know what I’m doing, I’m flying after him, diving and catching him right before he hits the surface of the bubbling green lake.

I float back up to the bridge with Ethan’s body in my arms. He’s still breathing, at least. Maybe he’s in shock. The Mogs from my half of the group stare at me, awaiting orders.

“Why are you standing there?” I shout. “Go get them.”

And then they’re off over the bridge and into the tunnels after Four and Nine. I should be going with them. But I can’t leave Ethan behind like this.

I fly us both back through the tunnels the way we came. Towards the central hall, where there’s a med lab that’s probably swarming with injured Mogs already.

It’s in the grand hall that I see him. He’s tall—maybe eight feet. It’s hard to tell exactly from my place floating above him. The surviving Mogs back away from him, bowing. His hair is short and black. His skin is pale. Something about his face reminds me of a gargoyle—maybe it’s the grayish tint to his skin or the way his sharp teeth are bared behind dark, snarling lips. He’s got a thick purple scar on his neck. Three pendants shine on his chest.

“Our Beloved Leader,” I whisper.

He turns his head, and his eyes bore into me. He raises one hand. There’s a crackle of blue across my vision, and then suddenly I’m falling, rapidly. My Legacies aren’t working. All I can do is hold on to Ethan and try to position him so that I take the brunt of the fall.

I hear my head bounce off the stone floor the second before everything goes black.

I WAKE UP IN MY BEDROOM STILL WEARING MY
dirty clothes from the attack. There’s blood on me, but I don’t know who it belonged to. For a second, I think I might have dreamed the whole thing, but one touch to the sore lump on the back of my head proves otherwise. I glance at the clock. It’s a little after noon, but I have no idea if I’ve been out for hours or days. It takes me a few minutes to put my thoughts in order and realize two things: I don’t know what happened to Ethan, and Setrákus Ra is here.

Before I can even begin to make sense of it all, a Mog scout enters my room.

“Our Beloved Leader will see you now,” he says. I wonder how he knew I’d woken up, but of course there must be cameras somewhere in my room. The Mogs are always watching.

“Ethan,” I say. My head aches as I speak, shock waves radiating from the lump on my skull.

“Our Beloved Leader will explain everything,” the Mog says. “But I wouldn’t keep him waiting if I were you. He’s in Central Command.”

I suddenly remember how I got the injury on the back of my head. I fly off the bed and float in the air while at the same time using my telekinesis to clear the top of a dresser in my room.

Well, at least my powers are back. But what did our Beloved Leader do to me that caused me to fall?

I don’t waste any more time as I jet through the hallways towards the room where Setrákus Ra awaits. My thoughts are tinged with worry. What exactly happened at the base? Did Nine and Four manage to escape? How is Ethan?

And what of my place in the Mog ranks?

I half expect a gloom of mourning or depression to be cast over the compound because of all the casualties we suffered—they had to be in the hundreds, at least. But it’s as though nothing has changed apart from the scorched walls and destroyed doorframes in some of the hallways. My side of the compound doesn’t seem to have any cave-ins, at least, though I don’t know how the rest of the place fared with Four and Nine ripping through it. The Mogs go about their jobs dutifully, nodding to me or saluting as I pass. Some are fixing the things that were damaged in the assault; others are cleaning up the ash that litters the corners and floors. Sweeping up their dead.

Two soldiers move out of the way as I approach the base’s Central Command room. I burst through the doors, and for a moment everyone inside freezes. There are several commanders all standing in front of digital tabletops displaying three-dimensional maps. On huge screens around the room, news reports, security footage and various other videos and images are displayed. Several humans in dark suits stand at the consoles, pointing at files they bring up on the screens. They’re comparing photos of Four and Nine escaping to a few candid shots of people in restaurants and gas stations.

And in the center of it all is the single most powerful person in the galaxy. Setrákus Ra, our Beloved Leader and the Mogadorian ruler who will lead his people to continued prosperity. He leans on a gold staff with a black orb in its handle. His sheer physical presence is staggering, but there’s something else about him that intimidates me. When he looks at me, it’s as if he’s assessed my every flaw and has passed judgment on me before I’ve even said a word. I wish I could tell what his verdict is.

I bow to him. I don’t know what else to do.

“It is an honor, my Beloved Leader,” I say.

He simply stares at me. Everyone remains quiet as all eyes drift to him, wondering what his response will be.

“Clear the room,” he bellows, and before I know it, it’s only the two of us and the slight hum of computers and electronics.

He motions to a big chair in the center of the room—one that looks like it’s reserved for the person in charge—as he walks towards one of the computer terminals.

“Have a seat,” he says.

I do, because his orders are the only ones that matter. Somehow I manage not to ask a thousand questions as I wait for him to speak. He takes his time, studying a monitor with Four’s photo on it.

“It feels good, doesn’t it?” he finally asks.

“What?” I don’t know what he’s talking about. All I feel is a pulsing pain in my head and nagging confusion in my mind.

He turns to me and grins, showing off his pointy teeth. His hand waves, and my chair spins a little, turning a full 360 degrees until I face him again.

“Being in the seat of power. It suits you. You look comfortable in it.”

I stare at him as a few seconds tick by, trying to soak in what he’s just said to me. Our Beloved Leader thinks I look comfortable with power.

“Thank you,” I finally manage to say.

There are so many questions shooting through my brain that I don’t even know what to ask first. How did the Garde manage to attack us? Where is Ethan? What does this mean for my future? And so I try to ask one question that will encompass all of them.

“What happened?”

Setrákus Ra pauses briefly, allowing a small grimace before he launches into his explanation.

“Number Four,” he says, his voice a low rumble. “It appears that he and a human conspirator were able to sneak into this compound. Our best guess after reviewing security footage is that they were able to use a Legacy to make themselves invisible during their infiltration. They stole a few items we had in lockup—slaying several pikens in the process—and then proceeded to slaughter countless Mogadorian soldiers, scouts and trainees as they made their way across the compound to the detention cells. They killed without discretion. Many of our visiting guests were murdered.”

I swallow hard as I think of the elegant women and young-looking Mogs I’d seen passing through the main hall before everything went nuts. They were in the compound for the ceremony.
I
was the reason they were here.

“I believe that’s where you caught up with the Garde, am I correct? As the prisoners escaped?”

I nod. “I led a small group of Mogs. We tried to stop them.”

“And what happened then?”

“The tunnels were blocked, so I chased them through an alternate route. Eventually we had to split up, and the group I wasn’t leading found them. By the time I got there, most of that team had been annihilated.”

“And?” Setrákus Ra asks.

“Ethan was still alive. He fell. I caught him and brought him back to the main hall. Where I saw you. And you . . .” I shake my head, touching the back of my skull. “I fell. What happened to me? What happened to Ethan?”

“Your Legacies are gifts that can be taken away by those with the power to do so. I blocked your use of them in the chaos because we were unsure of what was happening.”

“You can just cancel out my abilities?” I ask. This seems impossible—losing my powers is a nightmare I’ve never even imagined.

“It is within my ability,” Setrákus Ra says. “There’s little that is not.”

Without my Legacies, I am as normal as a human. Even if I’m not from Earth.

Do the Garde know about this? Did Rey? Or was this some cosmic joke we were all supposed to find out about as we got our asses kicked? I almost laugh at the idea of the Garde, confident in their superpowers, discovering that their enemy can strip them of their abilities with little more than a wave of his hand.

“And Ethan?” I ask again.

Setrákus Ra begins to pace around the room. My chair turns so that I am always facing him. He must be using some kind of telekinetic ability to twist it. I wonder what other powers our Beloved Leader can command. Are there any limits to what he can do? He’s conquered planets. My Legacies, while powerful, are probably nothing compared to the scope of his talents.

His pace is slow as he walks. I stay silent. Finally, he stops in front of a computer terminal. He pushes a few buttons, and Ethan’s face shows up on one of the screens. Setrákus Ra turns back to me, a scowl on his face.

“Ethan is still alive,” he says, and a wave of relief washes over me.

“Good,” I say.

“Is it?” Setrákus Ra asks. “Two of the Garde escaped, and Ethan lives. We lost valuable assets, and our enemies gained a powerful weapon in Nine. I don’t consider that a victory. Do you?”

I pause. I haven’t really processed anything that’s happened, or what the repercussions of my actions might be. I know fundamentally that I chose incorrectly when I saved Ethan—I’ve been around the Mogs long enough to realize that. But this is the first time I’ve ever had to wonder about how important Ethan’s position is to the Mogs. I shake my head. “I’m sorry. I know. It was a dumb thing to do. I might have been able to capture Four and Nine if I’d left Ethan behind.”

“So why didn’t you?”

I’ve hardly had time to think about this myself, much less provide any sort of convincing answer to Setrákus Ra.

“I don’t know. I mean, Ethan’s always been there for me.”

“Ethan does what he is told,” Setrákus Ra says, leaning on his staff. “I’m sorry you have to hear it like this, but all of Ethan’s kindness and mentoring to you stems from me. He was following orders as my proxy when I could not be there with you myself. Do you understand that?”

I nod. He continues.

“Despite being held prisoner on this base, Nine’s true identity was known to very few. Mostly only officers and a few of our top scientists.”

“How could the Garde have known Nine was here then?” I ask.

“We don’t know,” Setrákus Ra says. His eyes narrow a little, and his face grows grim. “The most obvious answer would be that someone within the compound told them. Someone who had access to that sort of confidential information.”

I start to shake my head immediately. I see what he’s getting at.

“It wasn’t me,” I say. Words start spilling out. “I would never. I know I’m technically one of the Loric, but I’ve never had any communication with any of the others. I’ve been trying to help track them down for you! Check my room. Check all the security tapes and electronics I own. There’s no way I’d even begin to know
how
to get in touch with them, much less—”

“Relax, Five,” he says, and his voice leaves no room for argument or further comment. “I’m not suggesting it was
you.”

He lingers on the last word, staring me down.

“You think it was Ethan,” I say.

“The humans are a tricky sort.”

“I can ask him,” I say. “He’ll tell me. Where is he?”

“Would he really be honest with you?” our Beloved Leader asks. “The Mogadorians have never been anything but up front with you, Five. But Ethan deceived you for a year. We wanted to take you in immediately, but he convinced us you weren’t ready. That you weren’t clever enough to see reason. We’ve been wanting you to play a more active role in our conquering of this planet, but he has always said you’ve needed more time.”

My thoughts flash back to when I had Emma in the air. Ethan saying, “He’s not ready.”

I shake my head again.

“But we’ve seen the security footage from the attack,” he says. “I’ve seen how well you can lead. I
know
you’re ready to move forward. I think it’s time you were assigned a mission, don’t you?”

“Yes,” I say without hesitation. “What can I do for you?”

“You know of the krauls that live in the pens here, yes?” Setrákus Ra asks. “Or
lived,
rather. Many of them were killed in the attack, and others still roam in the tunnels of this complex.”

“I do.”

“When a kraul is injured, do you know what happens to it?”

I shake my head. I’ve never given much thought to the gross little creatures, other than to make sure that I stay away from them. The tunnels leading to their pens smell awful.

“It’s devoured by the rest of the pack. It’s a simple evolutionary instinct that’s helped keep the species alive through the years. Many Earth creatures do the same sort of thing, both literally and metaphorically. An injured animal in the pack is a vulnerable point, a chink in the armor. This is even truer when it comes to more evolved species. Those who can think and act with intelligence. Those who have information that can be exploited when they are weak.”

I try to convince myself that he’s not about to propose what I think he’s going to propose, but I can’t. My Cêpan may have raised me to be a liar, but I’m not
that
good.

“You’re going to kill Ethan, aren’t you?” I whisper, and after the question comes out, I immediately wish I could take it back, as if by speaking the words I’ve put this idea in his head. Even though I know this isn’t the case.

“I am not,” Setrákus Ra says. “You are.”

I stop breathing as I try to deal with what he’s just said. My fingers tighten on the armrest of the metal chair, and I am made of cold steel—my Externa acting out of control.