Evan Burl and the Falling, Vol. 1-2 (8 page)

I shut the door silently, locked it with both the deadbolt and the hidden internal lock I'd installed myself. As I approached the chest, the lid lifted. A neatly stacked pile of bedclothes floated out, situating themselves on the table. I stepped inside the chest, turned to face the locked door and descended into the belly of the ship.

I sat at a small desk in a cramped room. Hundreds of well-worn hand tools surrounded me, hanging lonely and unused on every square inch of the walls. I clicked a round button inscribed with a sans-serif T in its center. A light hanging from a cord above the desk sprang to life. Unlike the ships' many lanterns and candles, this light hummed ever so faintly as it ebbed out warm, soft pulses through the large glass ball enclosing it.
 

Nothing put me at ease more quickly than the hum and flicker of electric resplendence, perhaps because I was one of only a few men in the world who had ever seen one. A gnat appeared out of the darkness, buzzing in a trancelike dance around the glow. I swatted the bug away; it dematerialized in a puff of smoke.
 

I scrawled a few words on a blank sheet of parchment.

Urgent. Lectito statim.

Xry Mazol, I received the results of Evan Burl's test today. The news is worse than I imagined possible. I fear for your safety.

But what to write next—execute Evan Burl? Or let the boy live?
 

Cevo would have a few choice words for me if he saw me now. Yet he was the reason I had to be so careful. I couldn't let Evan Burl fall into his hands.

I read Evan Burl's test results again—all eight words, if you counted the sender's name. It arrived that afternoon tied to the foot of a pigeon, confirming the worst of what I guessed about the boy. Normally, my genius for guessing correctly would have pleased me, but what I felt bordered on despondency.

I risked much in hiding Evan Burl. More still in leaving the Spider to Mazol's care. If Cevo discovered their location, if Evan Burl escaped, all would be lost.

I lifted a bracelet from the desk. I'd been working on it for months—a gift for my daughter—in case I didn't have much time left. She would be taller now. Would she smile when she saw me?
 

I tucked the bracelet into one of the long pockets of my worn leather pea coat. My daughter's face provided the resolve I'd been searching for. I scrawled the last few words onto the papyrus before me, read them back to myself, then pulled out a small leather book and copied the letter onto the first blank page.

Crumpling the original, I turned it to flame with a flick of my finger. As the paper transformed into heat and smoke, Evan's mother flashed through my mind again.

"This is best for him," I said. "Optimus quisque."

The chair screeched on the worn plank flooring as I stood. I stuffed the book into the same pocket as the bracelets and cleared my desk.
 

The message was sent. I felt lighter. Decisions are sometimes more difficult to make than to carry out.
 

I imagined my daughter, my little Bell, running up the plank to greet me, six months older than the last time I'd seen her. If the winds favor us, we could be home in a few days.

But the tome weighed heavy in my pocket. Would my daughter run to me if she knew what I'd just done? Non puto.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Evan

The blaze roiled with hunger and heat. The pages would soon be gone. I reached for a pair of tongs, but found none. I pushed the book with a poker, but could only shove it further into the inferno. I kicked the logs. The fire settled. The book fell deeper in.
 

I felt I might burst into flames myself from the heat, but I edged closer, shielding my face. I reached into the flames.

The hairs on my arms withered. My skin screamed. The last page caught. The book was too far. I ripped my hand back, dunking it into a barrel of water at my side.

I threw my weight against the bucket. Water sloshed out, but the barrel didn't budge. I splashed the flames. Steam billowed out, scalding my face. I put my shoulder against the barrel again. I managed to tip it on edge, but the base rolled away from me. The bucket tipped sideways. Water rushed out onto the floor.

Gritting my teeth, I reached into the flames again. Pain seared me. I willed myself to reach further. My finger brushed the book. My shirt caught fire. I jerked back. The sparks rushed up my sleeve. I yanked off the shirt and lunged at the blaze again, but my leg gave way. I collapsed.

Rolling onto my stomach, I watched a log fall on the book. The fire burst higher with the pop of exploding sap and a flurry of sparks. I shut my eyes. Too tired. In too much pain to move. The inferno's roar screamed inside my head.
 

In my mind, my eyes pierced the logs and smoke and flames. The book was right there. A few feet away—it might as well have been miles.
 

I imagined reaching out to pluck it from the flames. My hand grew hot. In my mind, I pushed my hand into the fire. Except it wasn't combustion. Just dancing lights and smoke. My fingers wrapped around the book. Dravus said I could do sapience. My father feared my power. Henri believed in me. They were all saying the same thing.
 

I only had to try.

The blaze shifted. I imagined lifting the book.

Then I opened my eyes.

My hand stretched toward the fire. Three feet beyond my reach, the book wobbled on the logs.
 

It rose out of the smoke.

CHAPTER TWELVE

Evan

I froze, not daring to breathe. My hand hovered. The weight of the book felt heavy in my empty grasp. I inched my hand away from the sparks. The book quivered, dropped. I jerked my hand up. The book flipped over, rose slowly back out of the flames. A wasp the size of my thumb buzzed passed my ear. It crawled up my cramping arm.

I tried to pull the book toward me again. Turning my palm up, I pulled my hand away from the combustion. The book wobbled and slowly moved toward me.
 

My arm shook. The book moved like cold molasses. I flexed my thumb to alleviate the cramping. The wasp stung me. My hand jerked. The book dropped. I managed to hold still, lifting again slowly. The book stabilized. Minutes seemed to pass. The book was almost beyond the fireplace.
 

Sweat rolled down my forehead into my stinging eyes. The cramping become too much. Reflexes took control. My fingers sprang open. The book fell. It landed on the hearth, just beyond the flames' reach.
 

Crawling forward on my elbows, I clenched the smoking book in my hand. My nose filled with the smell of ash, smoke, and burnt hair. My heart clanked inside my tin chest. I peeled back the leather cover.
 

Charcoal pages clung to the binding, smoking, burnt to the stitching. I made out a few letters, a shade darker than the charred paper on which they were written. Scanning, I found four words.

Execute the boy immediately.

Then another at the bottom of the page. A name.

Terillium.

My own father had ordered my execution.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Evan

I dreamed about falling again. This time, I wasn't alone. Another speck on the horizon, too far away to recognize. I'd never fallen with anyone else before.
 

I woke to the sound of a rat gnawing the cuff of my pants. I sat up, knocking my head on a beam that ran from the roof to the floor. As I rubbed my forehead, last night rushed back. I had used sapience to pull the book from the fire.

I was a sapient.

Proof that the letter was right about me. Soon, my nightmares would become reality. And who would be waiting for me on the other side of the falling? My friends? My father?

Just me
, the monster answered.
I'm all you've got now.

Dawn grew in the gable windows. I found the book—wrapped in a scrap of linen—just how I left it last night before I passed out. I unfolded the wrappings, my hand searing with pain from the burns. Hadn't I read enough? Did I really want to inflict more pain on myself? The wrapping fell to the floor.
 

The book wasn't burned.

Hairs on the back of my neck rose. I flipped through the pages, each one perfect, like last night never happened. Even the letter I ripped out was back in its place.

Could I have dreamed it? Had I not used sapience?

Flipping to the page where the new letter had appeared, I found only blank paper. My shoulders relaxed. It was a dream. I wasn't a sapient. I wasn't a monster.

But then I saw my shirt on the floor: charred and damp. A puddle of water. An overturned barrel. I reached out to steady myself and felt the pain in my hand again.
 

I counted the pages, starting with Terillium's first letter. A few pages were stuck together. Pulling them apart, I found writing. The new letter. I clapped the book shut. My father's words ran through my mind.
 

Execute the boy immediately.

Taking a breath, I opened the book.
 

Urgent. Lectito statim.

Xry Mazol, I received the results of the test regarding Evan Burl. The news is even worse than I imagined possible. I fear for all of us.

Execute the boy immediately.

I stopped, read it again. My face went numb.

Do not delay or you, and many others, will surely die.
 

Fortunatos little brother,

Terillium
 

Collatio Tomi: Do not go to Cevo for help. I fear he would try to turn the boy for good, which is of course, impossible, and dangerous to anyone who tries. Evan Burl will become a monster—I am certain of that now. There is nothing you or Cevo or anyone else can do to stop it except to kill him while you still have the chance.

The book fell from my hands.
 

All this time I'd been fighting it. But I was a sapient. My father was right about me all along. What reason was there left to resist?

You can't resist your own fate,
the nightmare inside me said.

But I'll hurt my friends. I'll have to run away to protect them from myself.
 

Then run away.

There's still time, isn't there? A year to be with the Roslings? A year to be with Henri? And what if I resisted using sapience? Stop sleeping. End the nightmares. Fight the monster for control of my mind. Maybe I could slow the countdown.

My eyes drifted to the bottom of the page.
 

3 days, 16 hours, 52 minutes until the falling.

I read it again. It was supposed to say 355 days. Not 3.
 

Now I had only three days.

I knew you'd throw it in the fire, if I pretended to be scared,
the monster said.
And now look what you've done. You accelerated the falling by using sapience. My time is coming soon.
 

Laughter echoed through the Elusian.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Evan

Tuesday

5:57 am

3 days, 16 hours, 52 minutes until the falling.

Pulling on my charred shirt, I crawled through the hidden passage and limped down the stairs. I wondered if Henri would notice the difference in me. Would she sense the sapience? I pushed my shoulder against the heavy wooden door and limped into the entrance room. "Henri?"

The stool lay on its side. I pictured her sneaking through the shadows of the Elusian last night then shook the thought away. Voices came from a passage on the far side of the room. I followed them into a small hall that led to the pantries where Henri and I had been hiding yesterday. Muffled sounds came from behind a door Mazol always kept locked. I tried the handle. It turned.

Empty shelves lined the walls, except for a single chest. Henri sat on a chair in the center of the small room, staring at her toes, pale hands tight in her lap. Mazol and Yesler stood on either side. The door screeched on rusted hinges. Their heads jerked up. Mazol shoved me back into the hall. "You ain't allowed in here, gimp."

"She must have fallen asleep. Lash me instead."

Yesler pulled Henri out and threw her at me. Mazol locked the door with three different keys.

"We got more than lashes from her," Yesler said.

Mazol smacked Yesler on the ear. "Shut your hole." He pushed me into the wall. "Make sure you're both in the Caldroen in ten minutes."

"Henri can't work."

Yesler and Mazol crossed the entrance hall and disappeared down a passage.
 

"Hey!" I yelled.

Their footsteps disappeared as a door clicked shut.

I turned to Henri. "You alright?"

She didn't look at me.
 

"What did they do to you?" I reached for her hand.
 

She slipped it away. "I'm fine."

I watched her face. Sadness. Guilt. And more color in her cheeks.

"They let you off the stool early?" I brushed bread crumbs off her collar.

She pushed passed me. "We better go."
 

I limped to catch up. We walked silently. My stomach growled. I opened my mouth, last night about to pour from my lips, but I bit my tongue. We'd slept in the same bed for years, just two people keeping each other warm. How close can you be to someone and still not really know them?
 

She stared at the long hall, a tentacle stretching out in front of us.
 

I reached for her hand. "Henri?"

Our eyes met. A sad sort of twist stretched across her lips. A smile, I suppose.
 

"What was Mazol telling you when I came in?" I said.
 

Wrinkles formed on her forehead.
 

The monster whispered in my ear, filling that stale silence. T
hey gave her a meal to keep an eye on you.

Then she turned and walked away, her feet padding the stone softer with each step until I heard only the warring of wind and windows.