Valley of Fires: A Conquered Earth Novel (The Conquered Earth Series) (24 page)

This was her first White Helix funeral. She hadn’t been invited to the ones for Gideon and those who died at the Severed Tower. The second, after Currency, had been when she was still unconscious following the battle. Mira wasn’t sure she would have gone anyway, the sight of all those dead, of the travesty …

This time, she had to. She wanted to see them, to never forget the repercussions of what she and Holt had begun.

Bashir, Tomas, Coakley, Sumi …

She asked Dane for a list of their names, the ones who had fallen, and he had obliged, even though it confused him. For the Helix, death was not something to lament, it was simply a fact of their lives, but she wasn’t White Helix, and she never wanted to forget the sacrifices people had made. So she memorized the names, one after the other. If she could remember their faces too, she would, but she hadn’t even met all of them.

Brendan, Attila, Destiny, Margaret …

The fallen had been arrayed with their feet pointing toward the northeast, toward what had been the Strange Lands. Next to each pyre stood the fallen’s Doyen. If the Doyen had lost more than one of his Arc, a close friend stood in his place, and they held the Lancet of the fallen warrior. The deceased’s rings were still on his or her fingers, and they would burn with the body.

Dane stepped forward, the hot wind ruffling his wavy hair. Mira could sense the attention of thousands of Helix turn to him. They saw him as their leader now, and it was a weight he bore the best he could.

“There is only one thing we must learn,” he said, reciting the traditional words, “one
last
thing. Tell me.”

“
To face death unflinchingly,
” the crowd of Helix shouted.

“We do not mourn the fallen,” Dane continued.

“
We do not mourn the fallen,
” they chanted back.

“We honor them.”

“
We honor them.
”

“For they have made us stronger.”

“
For they have made us stronger.
”

Dane nodded, and for just a moment, his gaze moved to Mira. She may have been the only one who could really see the conflict in his eyes, but that was for the best. The others needed to see him as strong.

“There are not more than five musical notes,” he recited, “yet the combinations give rise to more melodies than can ever be heard.”

Mira flinched as those who stood next to the pyres, all at once, snapped the shaft of the fallen’s Lancet over their legs.

“There are not more than five primary colors, yet in combination they produce more hues than can ever been seen.”

As she watched, they placed the two broken ends of the weapon underneath the pyre, so that the crystals touched, and then moved away quickly. When Antimatter crystals touched, the reaction was violent.

“There are not more than five cardinal tastes, yet they yield more flavors than can ever be tasted.”

Each pyre burst into flame, and depending on the crystals, they burned in a variety of colors—mixes of red, green, and blue that lit up the dusty plain as the sun continued to set. As beautiful as the sight may have been, for Mira, it elicited only sadness.

Taylor, Sawyer, Sherman, Harris …

“We are strong. Together, we are stronger,” Dane finished.

The Helix, as a group, knelt to the ground, their heads bowed, feeling the heat of the flames. Mira kept her eyes on the pyres, on the colors, unable to look away.

“There will be more to fall. We will grow even stronger. But we do
not
mourn.”

“
We do not mourn,
” the Helix chanted.

Max sat next to her patiently, studying the colored fire, but making no sound. He and Mira watched with the others until they disbanded, moving back toward the Landships. They had only observed the flames a few minutes, but such was their way. Like Dane had said, they did not mourn.

Mira stayed, ignoring the heat from the colored flames. Her body was covered in sweat, the heat almost unbearable, but it was one of the few times something had managed to drown out the incessant projections from the Assembly. For that, she was thankful.

“You let this weigh on you too heavily,” Dane said, standing next to her. She’d assumed he’d left with the others.

“How can I not?” she asked back, and in spite of her efforts to keep the bitterness from her voice, she failed. “There’s
hundreds
of them.”

“And why
is
that, Mira?”

She stared in shock, surprised he had asked her so bluntly. It was like a slap. “They’re dead because of
me.
Is that what you want to hear? Because they’re willing to die for my cause?”

“You’re wrong,” Dane replied. “They’re willing to die for
their
cause. You don’t get to have
her
all to yourself, she was the Prime to us long before you even met her. Gideon told us she was the most important thing in this world, and every one of us believes it. We’re not dying for you, Mira, we’re dying for Zoey. It’s our choice, and you need to learn to honor it instead of being horrified by it, if you want them to follow you.”

Strange as it was, she knew he was right. Mira didn’t pretend to understand the White Helix, but their ways were their ways, and she didn’t have a right to dismiss them. The bitterness from before dissolved away, her gaze softened. “They don’t have to follow me, I have you for that.”

“That can change any day,” Dane said.

Mira felt cold. “Don’t even say that. I have no idea how I’d do this without you, so you do
not
have my permission to make everyone else ‘stronger.’ Do you understand, Dane?”

“Ordering me around now?” he asked with a slight smile.

“On this particular subject, yes.”

“You worry too much, you know that?”

They smiled at each other. Mira liked Dane, she decided. In the Strange Lands he had been so stubborn and stern. She still remembered how he confronted her after the Assembly stole Zoey, but she supposed that was the same emotion she was seeing now, just in another form. She didn’t realize it then, but Zoey meant a lot to him, to all of them. In the time since, he’d become someone she depended on, and his presence had become a great source of comfort.

Dane looked past her, to the west. “It’s getting closer.”

In the far distance, the glowing, brilliant beam of energy that was the Nexus streaked upward into the sky, now that the sunlight had faded. It was growing slowly brighter.

“Every time I see it,” Dane continued, “I feel this … hopelessness, almost. It’s so far away and getting there, I have a feeling, is going to be the easy part. How do you do it?”

“Do what?” Mira asked, confused.

“Not get … overwhelmed. Not just give up. I’ve never met anyone more committed to something than you, more fearless.”

Mira almost laughed out loud. If only he knew …

She thought through her answer. “Someone … important told me not to focus on the goal. Told me to keep my eyes on where I had to go next, never any further than that. So that’s what I do.”

Dane nodded. “Gideon always said, ‘Plan for what is difficult while it is easy, do what is great while it is small.’ I’m not sure it’s the same thing, but it’s close.” She felt his eyes move to her. “You’ll see him again, you know.”

Somehow Dane had guessed she was talking about Holt. Maybe it was an easy guess, because the sad thing was there were very few people in her life that really qualified as “important.”

“He thinks I’m dead,” Mira said, and the words made her feel sad … and very alone.

“I
know
Avril’s alive,” Dane replied. “She made it out of Currency and she’s survived everything at Faust. I know because if she was gone … I’d
feel
it. And it’s not a White Helix thing, it’s what happens when two people are connected, and you and Holt
are
connected.”

She looked back at him then, feeling hope at what he was saying, praying it was true.

“He knows,” Dane said. “Part of him, at least.”

Mira touched his arm, her eyes welling up, but she fought it off.

Dane’s hand closed around hers. “We’re gonna be okay, Mira Toombs,” he told her. “You and I.”

Mira nodded, unsure what to say, but Dane didn’t seem to mind. They stood there in silence, and as they watched the hundreds of burning pyres in front of them, the strange flames lighting everything in prismatic, shuddering color, her thoughts returned to Holt. Where was he right now? What was he feeling? Could he see the same stars that she could?

I’m still here, she thought to herself, though it was meant for him. I’m
still
here.

19.
SKYDASH

HOLT WOKE INTO A DIZZYING
array of pain he never could have imagined. As it set in, he tried to hold onto the dreams. They were of Mira, somewhere in a desert, surrounded by strange, burning colors, but try as he might, the image wouldn’t remain, it just dissolved away as he woke completely, and the pain took its place.

He looked around the tiny “cell” they’d put him in, an almost perfectly shaped cube of wood and sheet metal with a fiberglass ceiling. He’d seen these cells from the outside many times. When he and Ravan had done bounty-hunter work for the Menagerie, the Armory prison was always where they took their quarry and the irony wasn’t lost on him.

Pushing himself up was an agonizing process, where he could feel each of the sharp pains in the ribs they’d broken, and the stinging lacerations where they’d cut him. A part of him wondered just how much blood he’d lost, but the truth was, he didn’t care. Even the pain didn’t really have much of an impact anymore.

Tiberius must have been so disappointed.

The only regret he really had was Castor. The Helix was probably in one of the other cells, and if he hadn’t followed Holt here he wouldn’t be in this situation. He should have distanced himself from Castor the way he had from Ravan. At least she was okay, at least she was spared this.

Most likely they would be executed, probably in a very public way. Holt just hoped it—

Sounds made their way into the cell, not the normal ones of this place: gears turning, chains rattling, moans, the occasional yell from a guard to shut up. These were something else.

The soft thuds of fists impacting with a human body. The swoosh of something falling past, then crashes from down below, where it hit the platform.

Holt’s cell shook. There were
footsteps
on the roof now, light and deft, and with a sinking feeling, he knew what was happening.

“Oh no,” he moaned.

Seconds later the lock on the door burst apart as a glowing red crystal spear point punched through it in a shower of splinters. The door snapped open. A small, blond girl stared in at him, casually hanging by one hand from the cell door, unimpressed by the hundred-foot drop below.

“Masyn,” Holt started, his voice raspy and harsh. “Listen to me…”

The Helix held a finger to her lips and smiled, then leapt upward out of sight, and he heard the chains of another cell rattle as she landed on it. Castor’s, most likely. She was freeing them, and a swell of anger filled him. He had made peace with this, he was
done,
he could stop caring and she was ruining
all
of it.

His cell shook again. Masyn flipped down from the top and landed inside, her Lancet attached to her back. She moved straight for him.

“Masyn, take Castor, but leave me—” Masyn spun him around and slammed him face-first into the wall, and the pain that shot through his body cut off the rest of his complaints.

“She said you’d try and talk me out of it,” Masyn whispered in his ear. “Unfortunately for you, we have a deal, she and I, so listen up, I’m only going to say this once. I don’t give a damn about your death wish or your existential crisis or whatever it is you’re going through this week, the only thing I care about is getting my friend out of here, but to do that, I have to get
you
out of here, which means you are
coming.
Get your head around the idea, because it’s happening, and do
not
get in my way.”

Holt looked back at her. “You have a way with words, you know that?”

Masyn shoved him toward the door. As she did, Castor scrambled down off the roof into the interior. Holt studied him. While Castor may have gotten less severe treatment, the Menagerie hadn’t been gentle. He had two black eyes, his lip was swollen, and he held his arm strangely, bandages around the shoulder the crossbow bolt had punctured.

The Helix looked back at Holt, and instead of seeing anger or accusation, Holt saw mutual respect. They had both been through the same hell, after all.

“Holt,” Castor said.

“Castor,” Holt replied.

They stepped to the front, and Holt looked at the sheer drop under his feet, the cement and wooden floor of the Pinnacle’s central platform far below. There were two bodies there, guards, and Holt remembered the scuffle and the screams. Masyn must have knocked them down there. He could see the other cell pods too, squares just like his, up and down the tower.

“How are we doing this?” Holt asked grimly, fairly sure the answer was going to be unpleasant.

“They took Castor’s rings,” Masyn answered. “You’ll have to hold onto me, I’ll jump us to the top.”

“The top?!” Holt demanded. “Why not just drop down to the floor, with that … parachute thing you guys have?”

“Then what? Walk out the front door? How are you planning on getting off the Pinnacle?” She gave him a scornful look. “It’s all planned out, just stop talking. As long as you—”

Shouts rang out from above, and Holt saw another guard yanking his rifle loose. He heard the sounds of people running on the catwalks that circled up and down the prison. They’d been seen. Any moment now the alarm would go off, and when that happened …

Holt could sense Masyn tense, felt her begin to lean forward. Guards or not, he didn’t like this.

“Wait,
wait
! Can we talk about—”

“No.”