Haven 6 (22 page)

“If she sees these Lawless people posing any threat to our colonization efforts, nothing I can say will change her mind. I’ll put in a good word for Striver and his village, but I can’t promise you anything.”

Eri nodded, weariness from all the frustration and anxiety bogging her down. She felt like she’d thrown herself at a wall and hadn’t even made a crack.

“I’m glad you were chosen for this team, Eri.” Litus’s voice grew soft and gentle. He stood with his whole body creaking like an old man after a long nap and put a hand on her shoulder. He looked like he’d aged ten years in three days. Eri only hoped he’d gained wisdom as well.

“At least try to save us all from a war we don’t need.”

Litus squeezed her shoulder. “I’ll do my best.”

Guards paced around the circumference of one of the back storage huts, bows cocked and ready to fire. Mixed feelings of hope and fear comingled in Striver’s heart as he walked across the hanging bridge connecting the center of town from the residential offshoots to the storage huts in the back. The sun sunk low in the forest and the celebration loomed. Villagers had already lit the candle boxes dangling from low branches, making their own tiny galaxy with golden twinkling stars.

Despite the decorations, Striver felt anything but festive.

Beckon hunched over his walking stick, watching the guards like an eagle surveying his brood. The old man turned and gauged Striver’s approach with a keen eye and a crescent frown.

Of course the council would supervise Weaver’s return.

Striver knew it was only fair, but part of him dreaded butting heads with the close-minded elders doggedly adhering to custom and outdated laws. Talking to them was like talking to the rocks by the riverside.

Striver bowed before the village elder, then stood and met his gaze. “I want to see him.”

Beckon didn’t move, rooted to his spot like an ancient tree with his long gray beard stirring in the breeze. “Save your voice. He won’t listen to you.”

Striver’s jaw tightened as he took in a deep breath. “I have to try.”

“Tend to the others in the village. Their spirits are low. They need a leader to show them these visitors bring no harm.”

“We don’t know that yet,” Striver corrected him with a tilt of his head. “In my opinion, we celebrate too soon.”

Beckon nodded his head slightly. “You may be right. Still, if a war is upon us, we will need strength, courage, and unity. Our spirits should be unbreakable.”

“Five minutes,” Striver commanded him with strength in his voice.

Beckon nodded. Resignation weighed his voice down. “If anything, one conversation will quell your hopes.”

Refusing to believe him, Striver walked past the guards and entered the hut, heart pounding. Weaver sat on a tweed chair, bent over like a rag doll. A plate of half-eaten trotter rested beside his bound feet. They’d tied his hands to the chair with just enough give to reach the food and water.

At least he’s eating.

Weaver looked up, hair falling around his face. He frowned in disappointment as if Striver were the last person on Refuge he wanted to see.

Striver swallowed the hurt down. “It’s good to have you home with us.”

Weaver cleared his throat. “So you’re going to keep me here, like a pet?”

“I’m hoping, in time, you’ll want to stay.”

Silence. Weaver’s gaze stared to a place Striver could never go, even if he wanted to. Striver stepped forward, the floorboards creaking under his feet.
This shelter will not hold him forever, no matter how many guards stand at attention.

“You have nowhere else to go. Jolt won’t take you back. You failed him, and he’ll kill you for it. He’s got a reputation.”

Weaver flicked his eyes up under heavy, brooding lids. “You have no idea what my arrangement with Jolt is.”

“Weaver, whatever it is, it can’t be good. That man is evil. He’s out for power and to sate his own greed.”

“I’m not planning on submitting to Jolt forever.”

“What are you planning to do, then?”

Again, silence. Silence so sharp it cut Striver in pieces. Did his brother have a plan at all, or would his reckless behavior only lead him to a dead end?

Striver spread his hands. “You could have a great life here with us.”

Weaver laughed bitterly. “Always living in your shadow? Watching Mom slowly waste away? Suffering as Riptide throws herself at your feet?”

Striver resisted cringing at Riptide’s name. “I don’t have feelings for her, and I never have.”

Weaver’s eyes glittered with bitterness. “That doesn’t stop her from having feelings for you.”

If only he could wish her feelings away. Striver spread his hands in helplessness. “I’m sorry, Weaver.”

“What do you have to be sorry about? You’re perfect. Heck, you even look like the legendary Striker, savior of our people and the Guardians. A spitting image. Who wouldn’t want to follow you?”

Striver crumbled inside. He couldn’t win. Weaver had nothing, and he had it all.

Holy Refuge, I don’t even want half of it.

Striver wished he could hand the world to Weaver on a plate, but one had to earn the admiration Striver had. Respect only came with time, and Weaver had failed everyone he loved.

“This is why I won’t let Mom see you. You’d break her heart all over again.” Striver shook his head in disappointment.

“Her heart was broken a long time ago, when Dad left.”

Weaver always knew how to spread the blame, and there was no sense arguing with him. In his head, he did no wrong; everyone else in the world wronged him. Striver turned toward the door. “I’m always here if you need me. Let me know if you change your mind.”

Weaver spoke to his back, his words sharp as thorns. “You can’t make the world perfect, like you. Refuge will always be divided. It’s human nature.”

Striver paused. Now three factions battled for their planet: the Lawless, his village, and the ship in the sky. Was there a way to bring all three together? If so, he’d find it.

“Not if I can help it.” The crackling of torchlight followed Striver out.

…

Striver’s failure with his brother ripped a hole in his heart, and the pain of reporting Weaver’s recklessness to their mother heightened the hurt tenfold. He stood outside her hut, searching for words that weren’t there. He hadn’t seen her since his return, but Carven had given her the news of his homecoming, along with Weaver, as Striver made arrangements for Mars and Litus and answered the villagers’ questions.

Now he had to face her with bad news.

The candlelight shimmered from inside, calming and welcoming him. Whenever he spent time with his mother he felt centered, focused. She taught him what was really important in this world. He needed her to ground him again.

He parted the ferns and stepped in. His mother lay in her bed, arms and legs thin as twigs. His heart broke all over again.

“Striver, it’s good to see you.” A smile touched her thin lips.

“How are you feeling?”

She shrugged, propping herself up on her knobby elbows. “The same.”

Her condition was worsening. He could see the listlessness in her body, the pain in her tensed muscles. Eri’s regenerator flashed in his mind. Carven had told him how she’d saved Litus, eradicating the sickness tearing through his body. Could she do the same for his mother?

“What of Weaver?” Her question brought his thoughts back.

He came over by her bed, took her hand in his, and kissed the back of her palm. “He’s home, Mom. He’s safe.”
For now.

“Is he going to the celebration?”

“No.” Striver ran a hand over his hair. “They’ve locked him up.”

“Has he harmed anyone in the village?”

“No, but the council sees him as a threat. They think he’ll run away again. He shared our secrets with the Lawless in return for shelter.”

Her hand tensed underneath his fingers. This information was not good for her, especially in her weakened condition. He wished he had good news to cheer her up, but the recklessness of her son eclipsed her world.

She met his gaze. “Look after him, will you?”

“I’ll do my best. I tried to talk to him, but he won’t listen to reason. He’s jealous of me and everything I’ve become. I can’t blame him.”

She patted the back of his hand. “Anyone would be. You’ve turned into a handsome young man and a brilliant leader. You’ve made me proud.”

Heat spread through his chest. He loved his mother so much, he was willing to take a chance, even if his actions defied everything he’d ever learned. “If you could heal as a result of technology, would you give it a try?”

His mother blinked and shook her head. “I have no idea. I’ve never thought of such a thing. Why?”

“Eri has a device able to regenerate cells. She used it on her teammate, and he healed right before Carven’s eyes.” Anxiety bubbled up in Striver’s veins. “Will you try it?”

She swallowed, looking like she was drowning in her bed sheets. “What will the villagers think of you?”

He suspected she’d argue as much. “A new age is upon us—if anyone argues that, all they have to do is turn their heads to the sky. Perhaps this will bring our peoples closer together. We can’t continue to live in the old ways. The Lawless are strengthening, and that ship in the sky isn’t going to go away.”

“Yes, but is it the best way? Accepting the visitors’ technology?”

Striver shook his head, stomping out the defeat creeping in. “I don’t know. But I do know it’s the best way for you, for us.”

“A leader must always think of his people before himself. You know that.”

“I’ve thought it over, and we must make the first steps to welcome these people and unite our tribes. Besides, you are one of my people.” Striver squeezed her hand. “And I won’t let you waste away any longer. With Father gone, you’re all Weaver and I have left.”

He knew Weaver was the soft spot that would get her to change her mind.

“All right.” His mother clung to his hand, putting on a brave smile. “Let’s give this device a try.”

Eri dug out a package of soywafers from the bottom of a cracked supply container. She held it in her fingers, feeling the hard, bumpy surface underneath the packaging. Her mouth used to water with the feeling of the crinkling wrapper, but after eating fresh, roasted boar meat, the snack seemed artificial and stale.

“For people who shun technology, they seemed to have saved a lot of our supplies.” Mars knelt on the floorboards beside her, rummaging through another container. The crude cotton tunic and green leggings muted her aggressive nature; she looked more like a forest giant than a highly trained bodyguard. Glancing down at her own blue tunic, Eri knew she shouldn’t judge.
I look like an elf.

“They weren’t going to use it.” Eri dropped the uneaten wafers beside her and pushed back more damaged wires, looking for anything they could use as a weapon. “They didn’t want it falling into the Lawless’s hands.”

Mars nodded, picking up Eri’s discarded soywafer. “Techno hoarders. That’s what I heard one of the Lawless call them.”

“Yup. They sit on top of a ship that can still fly, holding back secrets that would send Refuge into the industrial era.”

“They’re afraid. Fear holds them back.” Mars split open the wrapper, popped the whole thing in her mouth, and chewed. Eri wondered if she was hungry because she lost her breakfast after the flight. Who knew the toughest member of the team was afraid of flying? Mars didn’t let her fear hold her back, though, and Eri respected her for confronting it.

“That’s how I got them to save you and Litus. I told them the Lawless have the rest of the laser guns.”

Mars regarded her with a raised eyebrow. “Good thinking, Eri.” She wolfed down another soywafer and stared up at the thatched roof. “You know, at first you came off as a scared, self-doubting gene-mutt, hiding in her work cell, unable to confront the issue of her birth. I thought you were a poor choice for the team, a weak link.”

Eri looked down at a frayed wire, pulling on the ends. It hurt to have Mars reference the teasing she’d endured her whole life. On the
Heritage
she’d felt like a second-class citizen. Here on Refuge, she’d made something of herself. She’d found the courage to save her team, to make friends with the natives, and even to develop feelings for one of them, feelings that could possibly lead to this mysterious thing called love. She wouldn’t have done any of this in her work cell, playing with words.

Mars brought all that baggage up again. Baggage she’d rather leave behind. “I was a weak link. I started believing what people said instead of believing in myself.”

“I wasn’t finished.” Mars crumpled up the wrapper and threw it into the container. “I’m glad the commander chose you. We were put to the test, and you were the strongest of all of us.” She stared at Eri, her chin twitching like she still had trouble believing it. “You saved my life.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Eri waved it off. Inside, healing warmth flowed through her. Never in a million years did she think she’d win Mars’s respect.

The ferns rustled behind them and Eri turned. Striver stood in the doorway, making her heart speed. She hadn’t gotten a chance to talk with him alone since the swamp, but her feelings had brewed.

“Am I interrupting?” He’d changed from his swamp clothes to a chestnut-colored shirt, partially buttoned, revealing his smooth muscles underneath. He’d washed his dark hair and pulled it back in a ponytail so it glistened in the torchlight. One free white feather dangled from a string of beads, kissing his tan neck.

“Not at all.” Eri stood, wanting to gush about how glad she was to see him. Thank goodness Mars’s presence stopped her from spouting anything embarrassing. “Your people saved so much. Thank you.”

“We did the best we could.” Striver came over, his mouth downturned in a complicated frown. “There’s a favor I need to ask you.”

Eri gripped the wire hard in her hands, the end sticking into her palm. He’d done so much for her she couldn’t imagine saying no. However, Mars knelt behind her and she had to be careful. Mars had a locator as well and access to the commander. “Yes?”