The Lotus Effect (Rise Of The Ardent) (18 page)

 
But slowing even that brief moment had cost me valuable time. A large man sprinted up beside me then, his shadow running in step with mine. He reeked of death, his hair plastered to his scalp and as I turned my head—I could see that blood and sweat were both caked upon his face.

Please, let me not be too late.

He barreled into my side, sending me sprawling. I skidded sideways over the dirt, scraping the side of my cheek and stomach. But I was on my feet again in a flash, narrowly missing a kick to the chest.

This was my only chance. Looking the man straight in the eyes and gripping the stone as if it was my only lifeline, I hurled it deep into the cave’s dark interior.

Something moved within.

Small stones and pebbles rained from the cave’s entrance as the beast quaked with rage. Two more men ran up the ridge just now, cornering me between the brutish man and the waterfall’s ledge. They looked into the cave for a moment and ignored it, focusing their attention back upon me. Their accents were thick, and they spoke with words I could not make out. They laughed and spat at me.

I was trapped.

One of the smaller ones rushed me, knocking me back into the largest man, who then pushed me forward, laughing a deep guttural sound. I knew they were toying with me, but I didn’t care. All I cared for at the moment was concentrating on the noises within the cave. The barely discernible trotting echoes that became louder and louder . . . .

I whipped my head, focusing my attention on the smallest man. Lunging forward, I grabbed hold of his shoulders and dug my heels into his hips, crawling my way up his back. Steeling myself, I bit hard into the flesh of his dirty skin, caring not when I started to taste the bitter mixture of both sweat and blood. He screamed and his nails tore into the flesh of my arm as he tried to throw me from him.

The big man laughed to my right, amused by his partner’s inability to remove such a small foe. To my luck, the big man had not moved from his original spot in front of the cave.

He could laugh all that he wanted—as long as he didn’t move.

Suddenly a thick hand grabbed at my neck, hauling me backwards. I ignored the pain that sprouted like a flash in my head, for that’s when I heard it. A high pitched roar and then—a thud of two large masses hitting one another.

Both men holding me stopped. They turned and saw the empty space where their larger companion had been a moment before. In their curious fear, their grips loosened. Falling to the ground, I took the opportunity—and ran.

I sprinted, ignoring the shrill screams of the beast’s luckless prey behind me. The blood coursed through my veins just as quickly as my feet paced over the ground. I kept the waterfall to my right as I soared and leapt over the uneven ground along the ridge.

Please be safe!
I cried out in my heart.
Please be alive!

I leapt over stumps and swatted large leaves out of the way as I took the swiftest course back to the cottage. Just as I came within sight of my home, I stopped. My stomach turned, and the bile of the dirty man’s blood rose hotly in my throat. Where the cottage should be was nothing but a raging bonfire.

Pulling my shirt over my nose and mouth, I filtered the debris and smoke that choked its way into my lungs. Frantically, I searched, and searched, and searched some more, disregarding the tumultuous heat that bore into my face and eyes.

No
.
No. No.

I threw up when I saw the bodies. They were charred and unfamiliar, but I knew without a doubt that they were what remained of my parents.

I was too late.

I stumbled away, forced by the wave of heat that burned and bubbled away the top layer of skin on my arm. The fire swirled around me, but the intensity of the heat did not match the level of shock and pain that built its way into my chest. In a daze, I made my way aimlessly back through the forest. Away from the blaze, away from the horror.

At my best, I would’ve heard the danger sooner.

At my best, I would’ve evaded the danger faster.

At my best,
I would have saved them.

As if imprisoned in a dream, I spun around. Time slowed as the forest was consumed by the blaze, swirling ash above me into a whirlwind of fiery death. It reminded me of the early snowfalls, the quiet time just before sunrise when the delicate flakes fell from the sky to land upon my cheek.

I blinked as a flake of ash landed on my eyelash.

It was hot. It held no childlike wonder.

The simple action brought me back to reality. Suddenly—I heard another man who I had not seen previously on the ridge. He approached me from behind and held a very large rock in one hand.

I didn’t even try to stop him.

I heard the crack of my skull before I felt it. I fell to the ground as a searing pain throbbed in my head. I knew I was near the waterfall’s ledge. It was all I could gather as my vision blinked in and out of focus. I hardly registered the kick that followed as it barreled into my ribs, cracking them with the force.

“
Bader surne!
How did a filthy waif manage to kill two of my men? Two!” the stranger bellowed as he kicked me again.

I knew tears trailed soot-less paths down my face.

I could not give up.
 

I could
not
let them win.

So I rolled. Once, twice, a third time, and then nothing. I was flying.

I remained conscious as I hit the water far below, my body so tired, barely able to make my arms and legs move to break the surface. Once above the freezing water, I tucked my legs to my chest, allowing the current to wash me away downstream. An angry voice yelled above me, but I ignored it, letting the sound of the water drown it out.

I watched as the clouds made their own river path through the open sky, the dark tree line becoming their banks. I looked upon the clouds for an undetermined amount of time. It was soothing, painless as the cold water numbed my body, my mind.

Pebbles dug into my back once the current slowed. The water level lowered, exposing my body to the air, leaving me shivering. Though I had stopped moving, my head continued its own stomach churning motion. The clouds above formed together, darkening my vision.

A face.

A gray beard with a short pipe lingered above me, masking out the sky.
 

Move
.

At first I was irritated. This face was blocking the clouds, my peace. I sighed, too tired to care.

I just wanted to sleep. Let this nightmare of unimaginable horrors end.

~

I awoke startled, sweat pooled in the crevices of my shirt as I tried to calm my frantic mind. An orange glow emanated from across the room. At the sight I shot up and retched soundlessly over the edge of the thatched couch, emptying no contents. Sparks exploded behind my eyes as I blinked blearily around.

I was in the cottage now.

I was safe. My
parents
?

No.

I took two large calming breaths, realizing I’d only fallen asleep. Everything I had just experienced—every sickening, heart-deadening moment—was a dream.

“Lily?” Xander whispered down to me, worry lacing his tone.

When did I fall asleep
? I was confused and slightly embarrassed, noticing I was now lying stretched across the thatched couch like an old bodger who had his fill of supper and decided to take a nap.

I rose quickly, ignoring the dizziness that lingered. I pressed the heels of my hands into my eyes, attempting to clear my vision. When I looked again, I saw Teizel sitting in the wooden rocking chair across from me. He didn’t appear to have noticed my distress for he continued to smoke his pipe while gazing into the fire before him.

“I’m sorry,” I stammered. “I . . . I don’t know how I could’ve fallen asleep. I was dreaming . . . it was
horrible
,” I breathed out in a rush.

“Ah. My apologies, I forget the effects of the pipe on the . . . inexperienced.” Teizel said, turning around to face me. “You were only out for a short while, no need to hide your blush my dear. It happens.” He turned back to the fire. “To some of us, that is,” he added to himself.

“The dream felt . . . it felt so real.” I sought confirmation in Teizel’s face as he sat amongst a cloud of bluish gray smoke.

“Dreams . . . visions . . . they’re one in the same in the forest my dear. The trees have that effect on newcomers. The burning of the bark allows you to see what they want you to see. An evolution of the mind, body, and spirit with connection to the earth.” Teizel said this as if such information came naturally to him.

“
Visions
? You mean to say that what I just experienced could’ve really happened?” I wiped a layer of sweat from my forehead. My heart still pounded a driving rhythm in my chest sprung from the horrors of the dream.

“Sometimes life takes cruel turns before it’s able to find the light of the journey,” Teizel said with blurry eyes as he turned to look back at me. His face, though wrinkled, looked young as the firelight slid across it. The moment passed however and I blinked, staring once again into the deep crevices of an old man’s face.

I continued to sit forward on the thatched couch with elbows on my knees, my hands in my hair. Xander’s jaw was tight. It was the first time I noticed something was bothering him. He said nothing as he slowly kneeled to my eye level.

He released a breath.

“Lily, it’s my fault you fell asleep. I should’ve warned you about the smoke. My lungs are used to its effects.” Xander stood, extending a hand and glancing somewhat accusingly towards Teizel. He turned his attention back to me. “I believe I promised you some fresh air,” he whispered.

I stood unsteadily, accepting the offer of his outstretched hand.

“We should get going while we still have cloud coverage. I also wanted,” He paused. “I wanted to show you something before we go.”

Ignoring his words, I stared hard at his hand as it held mine. I had never noticed all its many details before. But now that I saw them—a wave of recognition hit me. The lines of each knuckle, the small scar beneath his ring finger, the tightened skin of a burned wrist . . . .

It was the same hand that picked up the rock that was thrown into the cave. The same hand that brushed back the limbs and leaves as my dream-self fled through the forest. The same hand that was bruised and bloodied as I looked upon the remains of the fiery cottage.

“It was
you
I dreamed about,” I gasped, covering my mouth with my own hands. “Your parents . . .”

Xander froze.

Keeping his back to me, he placed both palms flat against the door’s frame, leaning into them for support. His head bowed low between his arms, fingers tightening ever so slightly.

I realized then that Xander was a true Outlander, rife with revenge. I could still feel his need for vengeance burning in my veins just like I could still feel his overwhelming sorrow at the loss of his parents.

I understood that now with a depth and clarity I never had before. I understood, and with that understanding felt a fire light within me.

Retribution was his to have. And, so too, was mine.

Chapter 17

Theodore Teizel ~ Ancient Voices

We walked in silence back through the forest, Xander always in front, helping me over precariously placed rocks and stumps as we went. I gritted my teeth every time I accepted his help, knowing that I shouldn’t be so dependent on him. I gave in after he reminded me that pride wasn’t worth a broken leg just before the Barrage.

Memories of the dream were heavy in my mind, and I believe they affected Xander too. As though, through me, he had relived an experience he longed to forget. I wished I could somehow lift his spirits, but could think of nothing to say. So instead, I asked quietly, “Where are we going?”

“You’ll see,” he said and nothing more. He pushed back heavy limbs so I could step through without getting pricked bloody by the vine’s vicious-looking thorns. After emerging from the brush, he continued walking, taking the lead once again, his eyes hardly ever leaving the moonlit path ahead of us.

 
The silence was too much. It drifted like a thick cloud between us, pushing us further and further apart.

Xander insisted the sole reason for coming here was to deliver medicines to Teizel, but I suspected otherwise. I suspected he wanted me to know, to feel what he had felt. He wanted me to live through the horror of that dream. To know why he fought as my partner. Not intentionally, but in his heart, he longed for me to understand. Longed for me to see what was stolen from not only himself, but from every citizen.

Suddenly, my battle had become so much more real. I knew now that my initial rebellion had been nothing more than an adolescent’s lashing out against restraint; immature, at best. Then, with Mrs. Fawnsworth’s death, revenge had become my goal . . . an unfocused, unwieldy goal.

Now everything had changed, deepened. The Outlands, despite everything the Council had told us, were real. Real and full of life in which the Council wanted to control or—if control proved impossible—destroy.

The Barrage was about more than myself. More than my own rebellion or even revenge. I would fight for Xander and his murdered parents. I would fight for the murdered families of all those whom the Council chose to slay on a whim.

I knew now that
I
would expose them; that after so many years, it would be I who would
force the detriment of their lies back into the depths of their own soiled hearts.

~

I watched Xander’s dark silhouette move in front of me.

Always aware of his surroundings, his footfalls hardly making a sound as compared to my heavy steps over the deadened leaves and twigs. To my credit, the further along we went, the quieter I became for I began to mimic his every step.

Still, he was too quiet. I couldn’t stand seeing the slight slump of his shoulders, the only evidence of him trying to hide his pain.

“Who were those men that attacked you?” I risked asking. “They spoke with such harsh accents . . . a different language.”

To my surprise Xander responded, though he didn’t stop. “A gang of thugs hired by the Council to live outside the Wall. They work for the Warehouse; accepting shipments as they come in from the Harvesters, apprehend those who . . . survive the fall. Only their leader understands English. The rest do not speak our language so they cannot correspond with those inside.”

His pace slowed, and he turned his head slightly. “They don’t speak at all now.”

My heart skipped a beat at his words, my forehead creasing as I slowed. A muscle in Xander’s jaw clenched as he continued forward, the only sign of him registering my shock. “Not all of them,” he amended softly. “Just the ones that count.”

The ones from the vision.

I caught up to him. “Xander, is that why you joined the Barrage? After seeing what happened to Mrs. Fawnsworth? Knowing that the same happened to . . . to your parents?”

 
Xander stopped. “We both have survivor’s guilt. I know that. I just . . . refuse to let it go. That night, what I saw in your eyes, told me that you can’t either. So yes, that’s why I joined.”

“Xander, for what it’s worth, I’m
so
extremely
sorry for what happened to your parents.”

He started walking again. “Teizel should’ve never showed you that,” he said coldly, looking over his shoulder at me. “It’s my burden to bear and mine alone.”

“What do you mean?” I hurried to catch up, peering around him, trying to find his face. “I know he said it was a vision, which is even beyond my understanding, but for him to,” I couldn’t think of the proper word. “Conjure it up for me? That doesn’t even make sense.”

“And it won’t ever make sense to you, to
anyone
,” Xander confirmed, turning to face me. “Teizel is the only remaining Elder of the city.” He continued before my mind had a chance to catch up. “He’s
different
. I’m not sure how he discovered the effects of the smoke. But I do know he’s lived a long time. Most of that time he has lived here, in the Outlands.”

My eyes widened when my mind grasped what
exactly
he had just said. “You cannot be serious. You mean he’s the
original
Theodore Teizel? One of the founders of the city?”

He nodded.

I was so daft. How could I let a name like
Teizel
escape my memory? All those books I read of him as a child . . . .

“But he has to be over a hundred years old!” I exclaimed. “He looks old, but not
that
old!”

“He’s had one hundred and three namedays to be exact. An ancient bodger if there ever was one,” Xander said, his eyes seeming to brighten as with his mood.

I was shocked. “They said he died from a contracted disease of the lung. Obviously another fabrication. So why did he leave?”

Xander’s expression became unreadable again. “He left for the same reasons you’re fighting in the Barrage. He didn’t approve of the Council and their take on how Prosper should be governed.”

I pushed a wisp of fallen hair from my face. “So he raised you after—” I began to ask, but thought better of it. “And he taught you all that you know? What did he mean by that?”

Xander crossed his arms, turning and leveling his eyes to mine. “Pretty much like it sounds. He taught me how to fight. To survive. To train my mind. He wanted me to succeed where he could not—the Elders didn’t die from old age, Lily. The Council at the time killed each and every one of them. Teizel escaped, and like us, he blames himself too.”

All the Elders killed? But why?

I swallowed hard as I took in Xander’s strong features and the expression held therein. Not only did he fight for
his
revenge, but he also fought for the revenge of a city Elder. An Elder who
established
City Prosper.

 
What an intense life he must’ve led under the direction of someone so influential. I wondered if Xander was ever allowed a moment to be a child after that fateful day in the forest. I knew the truth after remembering his feelings of fear and remorse. Xander had no time or desire to be a child anymore. That day, though still quite young, he left childhood behind him forever.

“We’re here,” Xander said suddenly. I watched in confusion as he began unlacing his boots. “You can wait for me if you like. It’ll only take a moment.”

“What will?” I frowned, still confused as he pulled his tunic overhead, leaving me to stare at the scars of his agile back wrapped tight with muscle.

He hurried off past the rocks beside us. I blinked. “Wait! Where are you going?” I almost shouted at him, but caught myself and returned to a whisper. “Weren’t you supposed to show me something?”

Xander turned, backpedaling away from me, swinging his arms in which now carried his hastily removed boots and tunic in hand. “Take a look. I am.”