Parabolis (33 page)

With the hood of his jacket pulled far past his brow, his face in shadow and a bloodstained blade in hand, Sparrow looked down at Mosaic. She was trembling. He knelt down next to her, “Can you walk?”

“Sebastian.”

Sparrow left her side to examine Sebastian. Then he came back to Mosaic. “He’s not going to make it.”

“No.” Mosaic closed her eyes.

“Get up,” Sparrow said, extending his hand down to her.

His voice was even and cold. She looked up and then took his hand. Mosaic stood and looked over at Sebastian. Seeing him with his crushed skull, bleeding to death, she wanted to crumple to the ground. Her hand went limp in Sparrow’s hand.

He grabbed her tightly and began to run. She ran to keep from falling. As they ran, Mosaic began to weep. Her cries deepened until she was barely running. Feeling the weight, Sparrow stopped so he wouldn’t drag her to the ground.

Mosaic staggered aimlessly. She finally fell to the ground. Sitting with her head in her hands, she convulsed, trying to regain composure.

Sparrow squatted next to her and said, “Mosaic, I didn’t come to save you.”

Thirteen hours earlier, he had been sitting with Magog in the bathhouse within the lair of the Carousel Rogues. They had discussed their imminent departure from the city. After going over some specifics of their exit, Magog had then issued the final directive.

“Remy will remain here. For now, he will continue to run the guild and monitor the state of affairs. But before we depart, we need to address something. Mosaic Shawl. That is her name? Your strange behavior these recent days necessitates a show of commitment. We have lost confidence. Go and restore it. It is what the Umbra demands.”

As the Vengian, he had responded with a nod. But now, here, he was sitting next to the woman—a woman who as a child had shown him kindness. Looking at her, the thought of taking her life for the purposes of a “show of commitment” was absurd. He remembered the feeling when he was asked to accept the murder of the only father he knew. Magog had told him that Aleksander T’varche had welcomed his fate. And there was the same sense then—a wanton, absurd waste.

Mosaic looked up at him. Looking into her big tear-filled eyes, Sparrow thought of the cake Mosaic had handed him when they were children. The song from her lips. He thought of Dale’s final request before their parting. He thought of Dale, his friend.
Rohar.
The potato shared with a starving Goseonite boy.

“I’m so sorry,” he said, as he drew his blade.

It was dark.

Ipromised him Sanctuary.”

“So give it to him.”

“You know it means nothing now. What he needs is immunity.”

“He’s not a part of the coalition. He’s not Shaldea.”

“I owe him. The queen owes him.”

“She’s not the queen,” General Arun Kilbremmer replied. “Not yet.”

He wasn’t much older than Alaric Linhelm. The general sat across from the ex-templar in full, dark plate armor, decorated with a gilded coat of arms. His sheathed gold-hilted broadsword lay across the table between them. They were in the general’s makeshift office that once belonged to the colonel of the Republican Guard. They were arguing like they used to years ago, when they were friends and colleagues.

“Why didn’t you just come to us from the beginning?”

“We couldn’t be sure,” Alaric replied.

“Sure of what?”

“Whether or not reintroducing the child would be welcomed by the current regime.”

“You don’t trust the duke?”

“His Majesty had me swear that I would protect the child. For years, I have taken great care to do just that. And nothing in this world is more dangerous than a power-hungry man near a throne. Besides, with our plan, no one had to know. We did not set our eyes on the throne. Our plan was only to seek audience with the duke to make an appeal for an end to this madness. To plead for the restoration of peace.”

“This
is
the path to peace, Alaric. Order and justice. And if she had no interest in reclaiming the throne, you shouldn’t have openly declared her our queen.”

“I already told you. She killed a Shaldean
Rajeth
to save our companion. I only revealed her identity to save her life.”

“The duke is not corrupt. He is as committed to the law as the king was. Had you come to us, he would have understood.”

“Like I said, it was a risk I could not take. You sit on a seat of power; you of all people ought to understand my reluctance. It is a difficult seat to relinquish. Very few men do it voluntarily.”

“The duke is a better man.”

“Is he? I was not willing to stake the child’s life on what I did not know. And now I am glad I didn’t. This war reveals the nature of your duke. You and I know it is an unjust war.”

“I’m a soldier, Alaric. I don’t have the luxury of making judgments on the throne, regardless of who sits on it. The voice that comes from it must be heeded.”

“And yet, you tell me he’s a better man. Which is it? It’s a dangerous thing, Arun, to judge and vacate judgment as it suits you. Crimes come in the form of commission and omission. You must know that making no decision is also a decision.”

“Is that what they teach you in the temple?”

“It’s what every human ought to learn in their youth. Let’s dispense with all this. We’re not getting anywhere. Now, how do you suppose he’ll take the news?”

“The duke? You’ll have to tell me. I’m sending you both to Valorcourt immediately. I would’ve preferred to send her by way of the skyship, but seeing as how your friends destroyed it, that’s no longer an option.”

“The sky is for the birds.”

The general shook his head at his stubborn old friend.

“Arun,” Alaric explored, “if the regent is unwilling to defer to the rightful heir, who will you support?”

“That’s a decision I hope I will not have to make.” The general sighed. “It’s a different world we live in, isn’t it, old friend? Alliances with terrorists. You, an ascetic. Me, an armchair general. What happened to us? What happened to the glory days of the king and his Crimson Knights? When good was good, and bad was bad.”

“The world shrank,” Alaric replied. “In the days of old, wars were waged between us and them. Now, it’s all just us.”

The general nodded. Then he said, “I’ll give him free passage on the main roads. But that’s it. He gets himself in trouble, he’s on his own. That’s all I can do for an Emmainite ranger.”

“Thank you. And now, about the Meredian.”

“You have the audacity of a thief,” the general said, shaking his head in disbelief. “No! He admits to serving the resistance. He took part in taking down the skyship and the killing of my men.”

“Yes, I know Arun. I’m not asking for immunity.”

“Then what do you want?”

“It’s not what I want. It’s what
she
wants.”

When Dale had been brought into the Ancile, the structure appeared to him like a king on his knees. Most of the western and northern perimeters had been leveled. Debris from the night before was still being swept and gathered. On every parapet that was still standing, Royal Balean banners flew where once flew the golden eagle crest and star of the Republic.

Dale was allowed a bath before he was taken into a cell. He discarded the camouflage he wore into battle and put on his regulars. As a captive, Dale experienced firsthand the level of Balean commitment to law and order. His captors, some of whom had to have been his combatants on the field the previous night, treated him fairly. They stuck strictly to protocol—never even verbally attacking him. When Dale was shown into his cell, he nearly thanked the guard.

Alone at last, Dale curled up in the corner of his cell. He thought of Darius. His death. His life. With the memories playing in his mind, there was a stifling pain in his chest. Then he thought about the men he had killed in response—how easy it had been.

He wept.

“Dale,” a soft voice called from behind.

Selah stood on the other side of the iron bars. When he saw her, he quickly averted his eyes. With his head still bowed, he rubbed his face in the palms of his hands.

Without a response, Selah turned away. She pressed her back up against the iron bars and crouched down. After a long silence, Selah began what sounded like a confession.

“My mother was executed for treason when I was nine years old. Her brother, my uncle, was discovered to have ties with an insurrectionist group. He was arrested. At trial he was found guilty of treason and sentenced to death. My mother tried to free him but failed. When she was implicated, she was defiant. Even as she sat on the throne, she spoke against it and what she thought was tyrannical rule. With the queen speaking out, people wondered if she would usher in political reform. In the end, she was executed along with her brother. My father gave the order.”

She spoke with a muted numbness—a detached recollection as if telling the story of another.

“I was sent to the College of Sisters. Soon after, Alaric Linhelm was sent by my father to be my guardian. Early on, from time to time, he asked me if there was anything I wanted to tell my father. I wanted to curse him, but I said nothing. I got letters—letters I never read. Then one day, Alaric told me that my father had passed away. Later, I found out he killed himself, overcome with grief. I felt nothing.”

Selah sighed. “I’ve forgiven him. It took me years to realize it, but he was just a man. Torn, like so many others, between ideas, beliefs. Could he have changed the law for his bride? What would have become of the country if she were pardoned? I realized he suffered under that decision until he could bare it no more. When I forgave him, I felt as though I could finally live—like I was released.”

She glanced over her shoulder.

“You’re a good man, Dale. Don’t give up.”

She stood and looked at him. With his head bowed, he did not stir.

“I…” She appeared as if she had wanted to say something more but stopped herself. “Good bye, Dale Sunday.”

Then she turned and walked down the cellblock. Dale finally looked up at her. He thought about calling out to her. But he didn’t. He just watched her leave.

Two hours later, the guard entered with his ring of keys in hand. He unlocked the cell gate and held it opened.

“On your feet, Meredian,” he said.

Dale did as he was told.

“Turn around.”

The guard shackled Dale’s hands behind his back. Once shackled, he was led out of the cellblock through the bunker at the center of the star fort. When they emerged from the building, dawn was hardly breaking, a soft glow in the distant horizon. The cold morning air swept across Dale’s face. His nose went numb. He saw a blood-stained chopping block in the middle of the court and a hooded guard standing by it with a battle axe. An executioner. Dale braced himself for the unknown. But he was escorted past the chopping block and through the east gate, beyond the outer wall where Valkyrie was waiting for him. The guard unshackled Dale and left him. Confused, Dale stared at the ranger, who handed him his backpack. It was stocked with rations. Valkyrie also handed him his sword.

“Try to hang on to it this time,” Valkyrie said with a smile.

“What’s going on?” asked Dale.

“We’re free to go. Can you believe it?” Valkyrie held up an official document signed by the general granting him safe passage through Balean-occupied territory. “You know what this is? Balean Sanctuary. We can go wherever we want now.”

“Where’s Alaric and Selah?”

“They’re gone. Left about an hour ago for Valorcourt.”

Dale’s heart sank.

“That reminds me.” Valkyrie folded the document, slipped it into his purse, then removed from it a sealed envelope and presented it to Dale. “Here. Selah, or should I say,
Her Royal Majesty
, wanted me to make sure you got this. I’m guessing that’s your copy.”

Dale took the note and ran his thumb over the seal bearing the royal crest of the Balean Kingdom.

“This whole time, we were traveling with royalty. A princess. One familiar with swordplay no less.” Valkyrie shook his head. “Did you see her move with that saber? She knew what she was doing.”

“I never got to thank her,” Dale muttered. Already, he hated himself for having said nothing to her.

Valkyrie glanced back at the Ancile. “Come on. Let’s get out of here before the Baleans change their mind.”

As they began to walk, Valkyrie asked, “You know where you’re going?”

Dale shrugged. “Carnaval City.”

“Are you crazy? After everything you went through to get here?”

“There’s nothing left for me here.”

“There’s nothing left for you back in Carnaval City, either.”

“I have family,” Dale replied. “I have to make sure they’re all right.”

“Well, you won’t help them any getting yourself caught. I say you stick with me at least until the dust settles.”

Dale gave it some thought. “Where are you going?” he then asked.

Valkyrie pointed east. “Muriah Bay.”

“What’s in Muriah Bay?”

“It’s not what’s there. It’s what isn’t there—namely, this war. If we’re lucky, we might even find a job as a deckhand. Always wanted to take to sea. It’d be nice to leave the West for a while.”

Dale looked back at the Ancile. Behind it was a lingering star, the last vestige of the autumn’s evening sky.

“So what’ll it be, kid?”

Ahead of them on the horizon, lighter skies heralded the rising sun. Dale gestured Valkyrie to lead the way.

“Good. It’ll be a few days before we reach the coast. Less than a week if we keep a steady pace and stay on the main roads.” Valkyrie looked at the envelope in Dale’s hand. “Aren’t you going to open it? Better keep it handy in case we run into a patrol.”

Dale broke the seal. He removed a piece of paper from the envelope. It wasn’t an official document. It was a simple note, written in ink with schooled penmanship.

Dale
,

I’m sorry I did not have the courage to be forthright with you before. I want you to know, that night at the World’s End, it wasn’t the spores. It was me. The real me. The one that I wish I could be, always. Perhaps someday we will meet again under more favorable circumstances. Until then, I pray you’ll find a measure of peace on your journey through life.