Daybreak (29 page)
“You did a good thing,” he said.
“Do you think so? Really?”
“You’re all he has. Until we get his wife back.”
Despite her happiness that Tru was on board, she couldn’t help the fear that dogged her. “And if I’m wrong? If Zhara is already dead?”
“Then he’ll have a stronger reason to fight.”
“Maybe I
can
tell. Find her, like I did on the boat. Or the way I found Arturi all those years ago.”
can
tell. Find her, like I did on the boat. Or the way I found Arturi all those years ago.”
“Knowing one way or the other might affect our strategy, but it’s not essential.”
“But he’ll be crushed if she’s dead.” She saw it clearly then, almost a portent of things to come. Arturi, a shell of himself, barely speaking. The leader of this tiny haven gone.
“That won’t change needing to take this to O’Malley. You know that.”
His eyes had grown somber. Heavy-lidded, almost flippant in their regard—same as always. But a deep, dangerous fire burned within their depths. The lion wanted to end this. Not out of revenge. Not out of the need to claim territory. But to rid the world of a cancer that would eat at the balance of all remaining life.
She looked to where the small man already directed Reynard and Miranda in the gathering of provisions and weaponry. Preacher stood over the recently departed, head bowed.
“I do know. And deep down, I bet Arturi does, too. But I can better prepare him for the worst.”
Tru’s expression had hardened for reasons she couldn’t discern. “Do what you think you must.”
“Just . . . don’t let go of me. Please?”
“I’m not going anywhere. I already said I won’t run.”
With her fingers twined with Tru’s, Pen shut her eyes. No rituals this time. No incantations. Just a true knowledge of what she sought. Zhara. Needle in a haystack. So many auras across the whole of the continent. But geography gave her a sense of where to look. Only a day away. Somewhere close, perhaps along the coastal highway. Farther and farther, she pushed out away from her own mind. Floating on clouds. Soaring with birds. She wondered if this was what Tru felt when he became an animal, giving himself over to another element that lived inside him.
She squeezed his hands. He squeezed back. And she kept going, flying, searching. Dimly, she became aware that her knees had given out. Tru held her on the ground, her head against his shoulder. That reassurance only gave her more strength. Pushing. Looking for the woman they all needed to be safe.
A glimmer of pale green. Like a new leaf.
“Zhara,” she whispered.
The green glowed a little brighter.
Then, a bright flash of red. Hard red, as if a hue could taste like blood. Iron. Bitterness. The face of General O’Malley coalesced in her mind, along with an aura the same color as a heart sliced out of a gaping chest. Not the same person. But whoever worked with O’Malley possessed magic that rivaled hers.
And that evil magic pushed back.
Hard
.
Hard
.
THIRTY
Tru caught Pen as she fell.
Her stricken expression spoke of unseen terrors. He drew her into his lap, quietly angry that she’d taken the responsibility upon herself. If Arturi couldn’t cope with a crisis, he wasn’t much of a leader. If Tru held any hope that Danni had been taken rather than gutted, he would’ve chased that faint promise to the ends of the earth. He had little sympathy for a man who seemed willing to give up at the first sign of resistance—little sympathy and less faith.
Pen roused, a hand to her temples. “O’Malley has protection.”
“Magic, you mean? More than his usual thugs?”
“Exactly. Maybe even what kept Jack shielded all this time. But at least I found Zhara. She’s alive.”
“Right now? I don’t care. You need to eat something and get some sleep.” To Tru’s surprise, she didn’t argue, which spoke volumes about her energy level.
She even let him carry her to her assigned tent. In the morning, they could plan and mobilize. The big drawback to mounting such an operation was the necessity of leaving the camp undefended. Not every citizen would—or should—participate, but those who went had to worry about their loved ones.
As he laid Pen down on the pallet, he said, “We should take the vulnerable personnel to the mission. Mary Agnes’s charms should be strong enough to hide them, leaving everyone else free to fight.”
“That’s a good idea,” she said groggily. “I’ll tell Arturi.”
“Tomorrow.”
No need for a watch. The worst had already happened—treachery from within—and even General O’Malley would need time to break Zhara. The old man’s brutality might be legendary, but Arturi’s wife had thwarted him once before. Tru doubted she would give up the camp’s location, even under the worst torture.
Though he lay down beside Pen, he didn’t sleep much. He sensed an imminent sweep into epic events and didn’t like the current of the river. He didn’t believe Arturi was strong enough to lead on his own. The man needed a lieutenant, someone to provide the steel in his spine. If Zhara wasn’t found, that steel would come from Pen. Tru didn’t kid himself that she cared for Arturi beyond their experience as children. But she would sacrifice personal happiness on the altar of duty. She had that trait in spades.
Maybe she’d inherited the tendency from her mother, who died trying to save her only child. That experience, compounded by her guilt over the girls she’d accidentally killed, meant Pen didn’t know how to step back and just
be
. Everything needed to be larger than life. With every fiber of his being, he resented that she had been the one to crack his defenses. A normal woman would’ve been ten times more preferable—a simpler woman who didn’t see the world in terms of all that could be saved, but rather something that must be survived.
be
. Everything needed to be larger than life. With every fiber of his being, he resented that she had been the one to crack his defenses. A normal woman would’ve been ten times more preferable—a simpler woman who didn’t see the world in terms of all that could be saved, but rather something that must be survived.
But there was no point in wishing. He’d learned that long ago.
At dawn, he rolled away from her, avoiding her restless hands, and went looking for Adrian. He owed the kid an apology.
The boy was already up and working through a series of exercises by himself. Tru recognized the desire to be self-sufficient. He watched for long moments without interrupting and let Adrian decide when they would speak. Tru understood firsthand that such power mattered to a young man who had known relatively little of it.
Eventually, the kid wrapped up his workout. “Did you need something?”
“First, to thank you for helping Pen and me.”
“I didn’t do it for you,” he said, tone angry.
“I know. But thanks. Second, I need to tell you I’m sorry.”
“What for?” From his hunched shoulders, he knew the answer.
“Leaving.”
“You never promised you’d stay.”
Tru folded his arms and gazed off toward the water. “I should have said good-bye in person, though. I was mad at Pen when I took off, and that had nothing to do with you and me. It was wrong.”
“I’m used to it. My old man did the same thing.”
“Took off?”
Adrian shook his head. “No. Treated me like I don’t matter.”
Ouch
. The sad part was, the kid’s tone held no self-pity, just a matter-of-fact assessment. “You know that’s not true, right?”
. The sad part was, the kid’s tone held no self-pity, just a matter-of-fact assessment. “You know that’s not true, right?”
“When a thing’s accepted by most people, they take it for true. That’s good enough.”
“Not for me,” Tru said. “I’ll make it up to you.”
With a slight smile, the boy looked almost rueful. “Careful. That sounded like a promise.”
“It is one. Do you forgive me?”
“For not saying good-bye?”
“That, and making you feel like you’re not important to me.”
The slump in Adrian’s shoulders spoke louder than any shout. “Why would I be? I’m just some kid you hauled out of a slave truck.”
“Walk with me,” Tru said.
They turned from the training area and headed toward the dock as the sun came up. He needed to tell Adrian his story to make him understand. So as they walked, Tru explained how he’d survived the Change. Told him about Mason, how the guy had taken him in although he had no reason to be kind.
“He said it was because he needed another man who could stand guard, but . . . I wasn’t much of a man back then.”
“Like me,” Adrian muttered.
“See, that’s the thing. Now I think Mason saw in me the man I could be. With a little help. And that’s kind of how I feel about you.”
“I don’t even know what you’re getting at.” Although he faced the ocean, Adrian slid his eyes to follow Tru. Wary. So afraid to hope.
Laurel had been much easier, a dear daughter with a sunny spirit. No dark corners. But then, for every short year of her life, she had never once doubted she was loved, that she was wanted. The pain of her memory still burned, but it was a good pain now. Even if losing his family had nearly killed him, Tru was a better man for loving them. Love hadn’t made him small or weak. It had opened his heart to things he never believed possible. He wanted to give Adrian some of that maturity, and so he spoke words he’d thought he never would again.
Making promises. Taking responsibility.
The lion needed a pride.
“You’re family now,” Tru said. “Just like I was to Jenna and Mason. That means I won’t walk out on you again. In fact, I bet in three or four years’ time, it’ll be the opposite. You’ll be the one to go. But I will hunt your ass down if you do what I did to my foster parents.”
“What’s that?” Adrian was almost smiling.
“Leave and never come back. I bet they’re worried as hell about me.” One day, he’d get back to Mason and Jenna. He liked to imagine them in the cabin, doing well, healthy, happy. As safe as the Changed world allowed.
Adrian nodded. “That was kind of mean.”
“I wasn’t thinking about them. I just wanted to see the world. Find my place in it. And it’s not like I can just call home.”
“You’d have to live right next door.”
Wow.
That was how the world had altered in a generation. Chills washed over him. In Tru’s time, the word “call” meant phones. In Adrian’s, it meant yelling for somebody, or maybe a magical thing like they did from the island to contact the mission. No technology anymore. He and Pen were among the last bridges, joining what had been lost to what would come after.
That was how the world had altered in a generation. Chills washed over him. In Tru’s time, the word “call” meant phones. In Adrian’s, it meant yelling for somebody, or maybe a magical thing like they did from the island to contact the mission. No technology anymore. He and Pen were among the last bridges, joining what had been lost to what would come after.
Seabirds whirled overhead, catching Adrian’s attention. He followed their haphazard flight as the breeze carried the scents of salt and dead fish. “I forgive you,” he said at last. “Mostly because I don’t know that anybody ever said sorry to me before.”
Tru grinned “You shouldn’t get used to it.”
“I won’t.” He shook his head. “You don’t want me to call you—”
“No. It’s fine.” He wasn’t sure he could handle being Dad or any of its permutations.
Not yet anyway.
Not yet anyway.
They arrived back to camp as a group milled around the training yard. At first Tru thought trouble might have resurfaced. His hands curled into fists against the urge to claw. What she’d seen of O’Malley’s magical defense had intimidated Pen, who had nerves of steel. The same news would start a screaming riot among the rest. So he bit down on his urge toward violence and restrained the restless lion.
Closer inspection revealed neither a protest nor a demonstration. This audience was attentive, waiting for Arturi to speak. Probably platitudes about giving and sharing and building a better tomorrow. With Adrian at his side, Tru took a position in the back of the crowd and crossed his arms. Several hundred people had gathered, while he scanned the crowd for a particular short-haired woman with a silver glow.
“Yesterday was a sad day,” the short man said quietly.
At once, the whispering came to a halt. Tru had never seen that kind of reaction without a thin veil of magic, but this was different. Arturi possessed an unnameable quality that made people want to hear his words.
“It was a day when we learned that those with whom we have planned and dreamed might not be trustworthy. Treachery cuts especially deep because it makes us doubt ourselves. Why did I not see this?”
The strategy was bold, asking aloud the questions these people must be posing to themselves. Wondering if they could really believe in Arturi.
“It’s because I’m just a man,” he went on. “I believe the best of people until they prove otherwise. I have to. Otherwise we’re all just mindless animals, shooting or mauling each other for a drink of water. Enough blood has been spilled to poison the land a thousand times over. If our crops do not grow, it’s because we haven’t worked hard enough, not because of some witch woman with a lazy eye.” His audience laughed a little at this.
“I believe there will come a time when unity will make a difference, when we will fly from the ashes like a phoenix and stand against our oppressors. I believe that because I must, and because Zhara taught me that there is no adversity so great we cannot overcome it.”
He paced a little, his gestures refined, restrained. And yet he
had
them. Tru couldn’t have identified the moment, exactly, but staring around at the rapt faces, he knew they would fight and die for this man.
had
them. Tru couldn’t have identified the moment, exactly, but staring around at the rapt faces, he knew they would fight and die for this man.
Other books
Guilty Innocence by Maggie James
Price of Ransom by Kate Elliott
What A Person Wants by Bell, Kris
KS17.5 - Cherchez la Femme by Dana Stabenow
Muddy Waters by Judy Astley
The Demon Duke and I by Marian Tee
150 Reasons Why Barack Obama Is the Worst President in History by Margolis, Matt, Noonan, Mark
The 13th Guest by Rebecca Royce
War Torn by Andria Large
Mothers & Daughters by Kate Long