The Sowing (The Torch Keeper) (28 page)

Random shots of the crowd fill me with dread. These citizens who have been oppressed, living in squalor and fear, seem to be embracing him, forgetting what they’ve been through, willing to trust a new order cut from the same cloth as its malignant predecessor, clinging to a false hope that even now is binding them in the links of heavier chains. They’re turning against the resistance, the only true chance they have at getting a decent life.

Everything’s lost.

Unless I stop Cassius now—finish what I started in Town Square on Ascension Day—before the seeds he’s so carefully sown have a chance to grow and mature into a poisonous harvest that’s more terrible than everything that’s come before.

“Beautiful view, isn’t it?” an all-too-familiar voice says behind me.

My hand grips the flare gun still hidden in my pocket and I spin to face Cassius.

The broadcast was on a time delay. He’s been waiting for me to come to him. Always one step ahead of me, from the beginning.

And I played right into his hands.

He looks calm and appears to be unarmed, which somehow makes me even more ill at ease.

“Congratulations,” I finally say. “Beautifully played.” I try to remain composed, even though I’m boiling over with hatred. My sweaty fingers brush against the flare gun, my eyes focused on Cassius’s chest.

All I need is one shot, right in his heart, and this madness will be over before it has a chance to unravel.

I pull out the gun and aim it at him. “You
used
me from the beginning. Baiting me by recording that footage of Digory taken alive. Manipulating things so I’d end up at Infiernos. And when Digory and I crashed in the ancient city, you seized the opportunity to get us to Sanctum. You let us find our way into that cryo chamber so we could leak intel about what was going on to the resistance. You didn’t have to get your hands dirty while everyone else did
your work for you. You’ve betrayed Talon
and
Straton. All so that
you
could be the Parish’s savior.”

Cassius shakes his head as if he’s pitying me. He makes no move to defend himself. “No need for violence, Lucky. Yes, I’ve sown the seeds. But it was
your
skill, your
drive
, that was the impetus I didn’t have complete control over. Despite what you’re thinking, I still—
you
still mean a great deal to me. Why else do you think I had Valerian destroy the forensic evidence that tied you to the attack on the Pleasure Emporiums? And don’t you recall how I intervened at Infiernos when you were about to face the Culling? Or once again at Sanctum, when Straton wanted to cut open your brain? There’s
always
a place for you in the new regime—if you want it. Once again, you have a choice.”

“I choose to kill you before your squad of Imps arrives and kills
me
.” My finger applies pressure to the trigger.

Cassius shakes his head. “Who needs Imposers when I have something
better
?”

I’m just about to pull the trigger and end this for good when movement catches my eye. I whip the gun in that direction as a figure emerges from the shadows.

It’s Cole.

He looks thinner than the last time I saw him, on the podium in Town Square. His eyes are swollen, either from tears or lack of sleep. But he’s alive. My heart leaps. The arm holding the gun drops to my side.

“Cole.
You’re okay
.”

I drop to my knees as he comes running into my arms. I squeeze him tight, then pull away, cupping his face in my palms. “Did they hurt you?”

He shakes his head.

“I’m sorry I didn’t come for you when I said I would,” I whisper, “but I’m going to get you out of here now.”

His eyes light up and he hugs me tight, pressing his face against my chest.

Just as I’m about to lift him into my arms, something sharp jabs into my side. It’s like a million shards of glass piercing my flesh. I can’t breathe … everything goes hazy …

Cole tears away from me, the cold steel of a knife blade glinting in his eyes. I stare at the weapon and it takes me a moment to register that the dark liquid dripping from it and spattering on the white marble is my own blood.

I’m too late. The Ultra Imposer indoctrination of my brother has already begun. He’ll eventually end up another lab rat like Digory, his mind and body subjected to countless experiments. But Digory was selected because he’d proven himself strong. With Cole being programmed so young, who knows what kind of monster he’ll be groomed to be?

I look back up at him. Then I stagger backwards, the flare gun clattering to the floor. And still Cole stares at me, eyes unblinking, as if I’m a total stranger.

Cassius walks up behind him.

“
Stay … away … from my … brother …
” It’s more of a wheeze.

But Cassius rests his hands on Cole’s shoulders. My brother looks up at him, the way he always looked up at me whenever he wanted my approval.

Another wave of intense pain, accompanied by nausea, almost makes me pass out. My vision blurs …

This can’t be happening …

Cassius sighs. “It’s
your
rejection that forces me to do this, Lucian.”

He looks up at a hovering cam, and then I see his face plastered all over the jumbotrons once again. “Citizens of the Parish, behold. At last I’ve apprehended the terrorist known as the Torch Keeper, Lucian Spark, who has conspired with Talon and her cohorts to destroy us from within. Behold the face of the most insidious of traitors, revealed at last and brought to his knees on this most momentous of days.”

Then I see myself, bloodied and pale, crawling like a wounded animal … and shots of Squawkers on their way to take me into custody, before the screens go dark.

Another wave of anguish wracks me. My back presses against the roof railing and I somehow manage to push myself up. If I’m going to die, I want to do it on my feet and looking Cassius in the eye.

I can barely see from the pain and dizziness and the hot tears streaming from my eyes as I look at the smaller of the two shapes in front of me.

“Cole … ” I choke out.

I stagger against the railing, weak, teetering as the cold wind lashes my face.

Cassius’s shadow engulfs me. He grips my head, pulling me close. “I tried to spare you this. But my feelings for you are a liability. You can’t escape your true nature.”

“My true … ?”

“The rebellion is lost. Tycho is being purged of his humanity—and his pain—as we speak. And Cole belongs to
me
now.” He leans in close, his lips brushing against mine and moving to my ear. “I’ll let you in on a little secret,” he whispers. “Cole isn’t your brother.”

This can’t be true. I’m delirious. I can remember Cole as an infant. His tiny fist clenched around my finger. The anger gives me a final surge of strength. “You’re … lying. Cole is a Spark.”

Cassius’s eyes deadlock with mine. “But
you
aren’t,” he says calmly. “
You
aren’t Lucian Spark. Your true name is Queran Embers.”

Cold envelops me. I no longer know what’s real and what isn’t. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“The Sowing Protocol. It’s the method developed by the original settlers of the Parish, who perfected a physics-based cloning system that can replicate a human being at an atomic level. Every single molecule is copied, preserving not only an individual’s physical attributes but also their
memories
. The cloned embryos were to be implanted in future generations, so they could be reborn again and again, achieving an immortality to rival the Deity—or the Begetter—or whatever one chooses to call it. The entire Recruitment process we both experienced is much less random than it appears.”

My head’s spinning and my body feels like it’s been sucker punched. “No. These are just more of your lies and manipulations.”

He shakes his head. “All this time, you’ve been trying to destroy the Establishment. And the irony is … you are the person that founded it, centuries ago. You built this place, stone by stone, upon the suffering and blood of countless innocents. And now you’ve been reborn, resurrected as a cloned embryo implanted in your mother during a routine medical examination.”

“I don’t want to hear anymore … ” I whisper.

His eyes water and a tear streams down his cheek. “All the things I’ve done since I discovered the truth—some of them terrible—were all in an effort to try to crush the Establishment once and for all and save you, the only person I’ve ever truly loved. Even though
you
are responsible for all
this
.” His arms reach up toward the turrets and spires of the Citadel, then drop limply to his sides. “But I’m starting to realize I can’t do both.”

It’s too much. I just want to shut my eyes and be swallowed by oblivion.

Beside him, Cole lifts the dagger one more time, aiming for my heart.

I push away from Cassius and tumble over the railing, spinning, flashes of color assault my waning senses, just wanting it all to end in that final darkness—

The impact jolts every nerve ending in my body. I expected death to be infinite blackness and peace. Why hasn’t the pain throbbing inside me stopped?

“Get him inside, quick!” a voice shouts from far away.

That voice is familiar … I’ve heard it many times before …
but where …

It’s Arrah.

I open my eyes and make out Arrah, Drusilla, and Cage pulling and dragging me into a coffin … no … it’s a ship … a Squawker …

Then the cold wind stops and I’m inside. A mask is smashed against my face. Oxygen. Someone’s at my side. Cloth swipes my side, white cotton turned red with fire.

“We have to stop the bleeding,” someone—Arrah again—yells.

The last thing I see, through the cabin window, is a formation of Squawkers heading toward us. Our ship veers and banks wildly, around and over buildings … and then we’re heading into the blackest night of my life.

thirty-seven

The convoy stretches over the rocky plain like the winding body of a great caterpillar. Battered glide-craft, rebuilt Squawkers cobbled together from discarded parts, and makeshift transports patched with rust all zigzag through the dying night. Even with the creaking from poor shock absorbers and lack of proper lubricants, it’s relatively quiet—considering the thousands of people that are part of this stealth caravan, the remnants of
the freedom coalition that have managed to make it out of the Parish.

Cage and Arrah received my transmissions and warned Jeptha, who had just enough time to contact the other resistance cells with warnings and evacuation orders. By the time the first wave of Squawker attacks hit, most of the rebel strongholds were only partially occupied. Still, many were trapped or killed when the squads of Imposers and soldiers sealed the city in the aftermath of Cassius’s coup d’
é
tat against Talon and those still loyal to her regime. The clean-up by Cassius’s forces was swift and violent—and fortunately provided enough of a diversion for the rebel survivors to slip from the city limits. Unfortunately, Tristin hasn’t been seen since. Even though she’s probably dead, I find myself uttering a silent prayer to whatever god she believed in to watch over her.

I stare out from the open cockpit of the transport I’m riding in as the first rays of light penetrate that cloak of blackness. With the encroaching dawn, Cassius’s forces will come calling, ready to decimate what’s left of the resistance. Maybe he has his hands full dealing with Sanctum and that’ll buy us some time. In any event, we need to establish a new base of operations soon.

“How’re you feeling?” Arrah asks.

I turn toward her, my fingers tracing the outline of the bandages still plastered to my side. The side where—

I wince. “Still breathing.”

Her eyes narrow, as if she can’t tell whether I’m grateful or bitter.

I’m not so sure which, either.

“Sorry if that patchwork job wasn’t exactly up to standard,” she says. “It’ll probably leave a scar.”

“Yeah. I’m sure it will.”

She hasn’t asked how exactly I got wounded, and I haven’t volunteered to fill in the blanks. Maybe someday we’ll have that conversation. But I can’t. Not now.

The cavalcade begins to wind down into a canyon. The crater’s huge, the walls pockmarked with natural niches that have been reinforced by steel beams and girders. I smile. The resistance coalition has been busy over the years, constructing this ersatz base little by little out of supplies and equipment pilfered from the Establishment’s carefully recorded inventory.

As we descend, I see that hundreds—no, thousands—have already assembled, bustling around, constructing shelters, soldering equipment, distributing meager supplies of food and clothing.

Amidst the throng, I spot a group of familiar black uniforms and gleaming helmets and my hand reflexively goes to the weapon strapped to my opposite side. But the moment I see the face of their leader, I relax.

It’s Valerian.

The closer I get to her, the more I can see that recent
events have already started to take their toll. Her face is drawn, mired in cuts and bruises, and her usually pristine uniform is wrinkled and torn.

My transport comes to a stop. I hop off and limp toward her.

She manages a smile. “Spark. That uniform you’re wearing isn’t exactly up to code, Recruit.”

I nod. “Neither is yours, Sir.”

“I guess we’re all going to need new uniforms now.” She glances at her companions. Imposers who, like her, have chosen a side.

“Tim Fremont,” she whispers.

“Who—?”

“He was a young man, a Worm peddling fake IDs, who my partner and I caught on the very day you were recruited. I was faced with the choice of killing him outright or taking him into custody and letting him be tortured until he begged for death. I chose the former.”

Of course. The poor guy in the alley on the day Digory and my fates became intertwined.

She rubs her weary eyes. “Tim’s screams haven’t left me. But it was a decision I made for the greater good, one of
many
. Which is why I’ve left now.”

There’s always a choice.

And I’ve made mine.

We grip hands and stare at each other for a moment, until she finally breaks away. “I’ve got to get back to the Parish before Thorn misses me. I can be much more effective working on the inside. Besides, loading supplies is grunt work for Fifth Tiers.” She winks at me.

Then she and her crew are gone, fading into the sea of hustling bodies.

“You should probably get some rest, mate,” Cage says. The place where his hand once was has been bandaged meticulously.

I shake my head. “Too much to do. Besides, I need to stay busy.” I look away. A particle of dust must have gotten in my eye because it burns, and I try to rub it away. “I’m sure Tristin’s okay, Cage.”

“Thank you.” He grips my arm. “Lucian. I’m not sure what happened to you after Infiernos. But you have to believe, you’re not alone now.”

I can only nod and slip away from his grasp. Cage is a great man. A natural leader. Maybe someday, when this bloody war is over, he’ll meet someone who can appreciate him. That’s something I can never be. Not to him. Not to anyone else ever again.

Moving away from him, I lose myself in the crowd and spend the rest of the day working nonstop.

At last, the weary sky gives way to dusk. Without fully thinking about what I’m doing, I grab a flickering torch and move onto the main platform. I raise the flame high over my head, gritting my teeth as I welcome the pain that reminds me I’m still alive—and still have a purpose.

Gradually the sounds fade as people begin to notice me. Finally, a hush falls through the crowd.

“People of the Parish,” I say. My voice echoes across the canyon with a power I’ve never felt until now. “We have
all
felt what it’s like to live under the suffocating oppression and tyranny of the Establishment. We’ve all suffered and lost people that we love.” The word catches in my throat for a second. “But I
promise
you, none of what we’ve experienced shall be in vain. We will fight with every last drop of blood until those responsible cower and drop to their knees. Freedom and dignity are not scraps to be doled out by cruel masters. They belong to every man, woman, and child. They are our
right
. And we won’t stop until they
belong
to us!”

The canyon comes alive with roars and applause, a noise that rivals the most powerful thunderstorm. My eyes wander the crowed and I see their faces: Arrah, Drusilla, Cage, Dahlia, Corin, and Jeptha—people who are still alive. People who need me.

Like I need them.

But it’s the faces that aren’t there that consume me.

As the rumbling ovation and chants continue, I stare into the flame I hold high. Perhaps it’s a trick of the light, but I can almost swear I see faces staring back at me through the flickering glow.

A child and a young man.

The fire inside me blazes, rivaling my torch.

“I will win this war for
you
,” I whisper.

Somewhere out there, Digory is waiting for me.

And Cole. No matter what Cassius said or what they made Cole do, no matter if Cassius was lying or telling the truth about the Sowing Protocol, Cole will
always
be my brother.

Just like I’ll always be who
I
am. Who I’ve always been.

Who I’ve become.

Lucian Spark.

The Torch Keeper.

THE END