Guardian (26 page)

“
Kichlan?” Sofia wrapped what was left of her remaining arm around him, and pressed her bandaged-wrapped face against his shoulder. “You—you’re really alive!”

The joy in her voice made it worth it. Even if she could not see him. Even if the glowing crystals and tubes connected to her body really
were all that kept her alive, as Fedor insisted.

“
Our ancestors worked wonders,” he’d said. “More powerful than any pion manipulation.”

But Kichlan could only see pain, and death, and almost-death in this place. Not wonders. Not power.

“I am,” Kichlan stammered. “And I’m here. I’ll look after you now, Sofia. You know I will.”

She
’d been weeping, deep, relieved sobs like desperate gasps for breath, dampening the bandage across her eyes with bloody tears that made his stomach clench. Now, as she leaned back from him, he slowly, carefully, wiped the tears from her cheeks. She couldn’t do that anymore.

“
That’s not fair, Kichlan,” Sofia stumbled over her words. “When I was whole, I loved you. You must have known.”

He swallowed hard.
“You were my—my teammate. My most loyal collector.”

She shook her head awkwardly.
“Idiot.”

But he
’d known, in some small quiet part of himself. And yes, he’d loved her back, but as a friend, as a member of his team, and never in the way she’d hoped. So he’d done nothing, said nothing, not wanting to cause friction. And anyway, he’d never had time for all that, not with his brother to care for and a quota to reach. Not, at least, until Tan appeared at his doorway.

“
Why now, when I am broken and dying, do you want to stay with me? Out of pity, or duty? Not because you love me at all.”

“
But I do—”

“
Not the way you loved her.” She lay back against bedding made from unneeded coats and ruined clothing. “I do not want your pity, Kichlan. How can I collect debris, like this? How can I work at your side? That’s all I ever could do and now—now I can’t even do that.” She drew a deep, shuddering breath. “Not that it matters. Because you still love her, don’t you. Even if she’s dead.”

It took a long time for Sofia to finally agree to rest.
She should have died when Tan collapsed the city above her head. Both arms crushed by stone, and Tear water—boiling as it rushed through the storm of energy escaping the puppet men’s underwater laboratory—had swept over her, burning her skin and leaving her eyes…her eyes.

Drained, exhausted, Kichlan stumbled into the crystal-lit street. It was a blessing, really. He crouched, and pressed the heel of his palm against his face. His left elbow was hurting. It wasn
’t fair. Sofia, serious, sensible Sofia.

A faint snuffling at his neck, the soft brush of hot breath. Kichlan opened his eyes to find Devich beside him, crouching, close, one hand lifted as though he couldn
’t decide whether to touch Kichlan, and his expression fearful.

“
And you, too.” Kichlan looked into that fearful face and wondered just how much of the man he had hated so fiercely remained. “You were caught up in the destruction too, weren’t you? But then again, you helped cause it. So maybe you deserve what the puppet men did to you.”

“
They—” Devich rolled his tongue out, over his teeth and chin, battling his anatomy to speak.

Kichlan winced at the flecks of silver inside the man
’s mouth and knew, despite what he had said, that no one deserved what Devich had become.

“
I’m sorry,” he whispered. “It wasn’t fair for Tan, either. She did not deserve what was done to her.” And what she had been forced to do, just to survive. She had not meant to kill Uzdal and destroy Sofia. At least she didn’t have to live with the guilt.

“
Tan—na,” Devich whimpered. “They.” He swallowed, growled roughly. “
They
!”

Kichlan drew back as Devich splattered saliva in a wide, frustrated arc.

“What’s wrong with him?”

Kichlan stood to greet Volski and Zecholas, Tan
’s two trusted pion-binders.

Volski was the elder of the two men, but Kichlan didn
’t remember him looking this old. His hair was almost white, his eyes bloodshot and his expression haunted. He still wore his deeply blue woollen jacket, the shoulders gleaming with small, silver bear-head pins. But there was something shrunken about the man, his back slumped, his skin too pale, his chin rough with unruly grey stubble.

Zecholas looked taller now, compared to the old man Volski had suddenly become. His expression was wary, not haunted at all. He scanned the street constantly, eyes only ever meeting Kichlan
’s for an instant. The bears had been torn from his right shoulder and he had faint bruising around his right eye and jaw. From the distrust in that look, from the solid planting of his legs and the fist already made with his left hand, Kichlan didn’t think the collapsing earth had given him those injuries or taken his bear pins away.

“
Did you construct something?” Kichlan asked them, his voice low. “When the street caved in? Did you leave—” he swallowed hard “—Uzdal and Sofia to fend for themselves?”

Zecholas shook his head.
“No, Kichlan. We tried to help them.” He paused, suddenly tense, to turn and watch as two Unbound walked past. “But there wasn’t much we could do.”

Kichlan raised his eyebrows.
“I saw the work you did for Tan, getting us in and out of the laboratory. You can’t tell me that—”

“
Is it true?” Volski interrupted. “Is Lady Tanyana, is she really dead?”

“
Tan—ya!” Devich scuttled between them, drooling great disgusting ropes.

“
Oh, Other.” Volski staggered at the sight of him, and Zecholas quickly gripped the man’s shoulders to keep him upright.

“
Kichlan,” Zecholas said, voice tight. “Can I suggest we move somewhere Volski can sit down? Perhaps the rooms where we have been sleeping? There is something I want to talk to you about—”

“
Wouldn’t do that, if I were you.”

Kichlan turned. Fedor approached them, with a cluster of his Unbound behind him. Whereas Volski had looked so old and Zecholas so suspicious, Fedor just looked pleased with himself. He was as thin as he had always been, but his usually pale skin looked flushed, even healthy, despite his obvious injury. Strange, for the leader of a rabble of failed revolutionaries forced to hide underground.

“You’re one of us, Kichlan.” He gestured to the men behind him, and even dared to nod in Mizra’s direction, where he knelt his eternal vigil by his brother’s tomb. “So step away from the pion-binders, and talk to me.”

Zecholas, his hands still tight on Volski
’s shoulders, took two deliberate steps back.

Fedor was carrying a dark debris-screen, much smaller than the ones attached to the wall above the coffin. It fit neatly across both his open palms and he balanced it carefully, holding it out in front of him with reverence. Crystalline symbols rose and fell across its rippling black surface, bobbing to the beat of his footsteps.

Kichlan frowned at him, and glanced at Zecholas as he backed even further away.

“
They’re cowards,” Fedor said. “Could have helped us, but didn’t. So we’ve been helping ourselves. And you know what, we Unbound can get along pretty damned well without binders like them.” He shifted the screen into his left hand alone, and with his right index finger he slowly, carefully, began to rearrange the symbols on its surface.

“
Careful—” Zecholas hissed.

Something crackled in the crystal and debris-covered wall above Uzdal
’s body.

Kichlan spun. The symbols on the debris screens were dancing, mirroring the changes Fedor was making. But there was something lurching and unhealthy about their movements. A few flickered with strong, sporadic light, and short bolts of energy surged between them. Some of the screens were cracked, their surfaces empty. Others were missing symbols, or the debris on which they floated.

A great groaning, rattling sound echoed through the rock. A thin layer of sandy, crystal shards shook loose from the ancient structure, and floated down upon Mizra’s bent head. He cast Fedor a tear-stained look over his shoulder. “We found Kichlan,” he rasped, voice rough and constricted. “You don’t need to use this thing again. My brother is attached to it. Please don’t change anything.”

Fedor shrugged, but lifted his finger. All the symbols and screens settled into stillness.
“We have to use it, to learn what it does.” He nodded to Kichlan. “And see what happens when we do. This is the heart of our ancestors’ magic. It found you. It defended you, when the silver soldier attacked. This is our legacy and it is our right to learn to control it!”

<
Operational capability at seventeen percent, on limited radius only. Flare strength at five percent. External signal strength, two percent. Veil signal, inoperative
>

Kichlan had no idea what his suit was talking about.

Zecholas shook his head. He lifted a hand and pointed towards the middle of the street. “We are not cowards, Kichlan,” he said. And though his face was set and his voice steady, Kichlan had the strangest sensation that the man was pleading with him. “The truth is that there is too much debris now for any of our bindings to take effect.” He flexed his fingers and whispered beneath his breath. Nothing happened. Sweat dotted his forehead and his arm began to shake. Finally, a single square stone shook loose from the street and lifted two, maybe three feet in the air. It hovered, quivering, before falling back into place. “That is the best I can do, and it was more than I could do when the Tear broke its banks and the earth heaved and we were all cast down here. We were lucky to survive at all.”

“
You’re a liar,” Fedor spat.

“
Kichlan, listen to me.” Zecholas wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of a shaking hand. “Please, we all need to think about this for a moment. Where are all these Unbound?”

“
Silence!”

“
If these ancient Unbound had so much power at their command, then where have they gone? How could you all have been relegated to debris collectors, shackled into suits and ruled by pion-binders, if you had access to this kind of power? Could it be there are dangers here, dangers we cannot see, dangers that destroyed the men who made this and tore their memory from history itself—”

“
More lies!” Fedor shouted, and pressed the floating symbols again.

“
That’s enough.”

Kichlan turned. Lev stood at the opening to another of the buildings, his expression unreadable. He had bandages on one arm, and his left leg appeared to be splintered.

“Both of you, be silent. Have some respect for the injured.” He nodded to Kichlan. “Natasha is stable now, if you would like to see her.”

Kichlan pushed the argument to the back of his mind, and hurried over to Lev.
“Stable? What do you mean?”

Devich scrambled after him, muttering and slobbering, whining a constant beaten-dog sound.

Natasha lay on another improvised bed, and was hooked up to more devices like Sofia’s. A mess of crystal and tubes and wire, one wrapped around the shattered bone in her arm and two more for her leg. She seemed to be sleeping, and breathed easily, almost comfortably.

Valya sat beside her. The crystal cast a warm glow across the old woman
’s face, highlighting her own share of bruises, cuts and bandages. She looked up as Kichlan entered. “Seen them, haven’t you,” she whispered. “Ready to open. Everything happening here, it’s all too late. He’s gone. And the doors will open.” Her gaze turned back to Natasha. “We’re surrounded by them.”

Devich, waiting outside the house, let out a short, soft howl. Kichlan frowned over his shoulder at him.
“Hush, Devich. Quiet.” He knelt, and ran soft fingers over the random facets of the largest crystal. It felt warm, almost seemed to flutter beneath his touch. Like it was alive.

“
What is this stuff?” he whispered.

“
Another part of the magic of our ancestors,” Lev said, stepping into the already-crowded room. He spoke with none of the fervent reverence Fedor had displayed.

Kichlan stood. His knees ached, his left shoulder was tightening and beginning to throb.
“What is it doing to Natasha?”

“
Healing her. It won’t fix everything, not the way an expensive healer can. But it will save her life, it will stop bleeding and mend bones and fuse skin together. The scars will be ugly, but it works. It saved Sofia. But it cannot bring the dead back to life. Not the way that coffin can.” And even though he spoke without expression or inflection, Kichlan got a strong sense that Lev did not approve.

Kichlan lifted eyebrows at the older man.
“Isn’t that a good thing? Saving lives? Restoring—” he paused, because he was not entirely convinced Uzdal was actually living “—well, starting up hearts again. And lungs.”