Earthbound, p.6
Earthbound, page 6
Immutable
Knox
Knox blinked. His eyes were open, yet an immutable dark pressed in. No sliver of light, no variance of hues; it was all uniform nothing. He moved to lift his hand to his face, but his arm flared with hot stabs of pain and he froze. Adrenaline cleared fog from his mind like a splash of icy water.
He remembered flying through the air, instinctively trying to pull on his strength. He thought he had felt a flicker before striking the ground but then everything had gone black. It was all blackness still, shrieking and groaning around him in bone-rattling tones. His hand touched the cool ground beneath him. Rough stone met his fingers. He found its solidity strangely comforting in the emptiness. The air smelled of wet earth and was surprisingly fresh, free from any heavy smells of poison that could settle into deep caves. A puff of air brushed his brow and pulled at his hair before stilling once again. Were there vents to the surface?
He tried his voice. “Tehran?”
Only the grating creaks of the earth answered. Knox belonged to the Sky. The earth represented every tethered evil the world held, and here he was, within her heart. A rush of panic stole his breath.
Breathe. You can breathe. Years of training came to bear. Think. You can reason. Move. You are capable of action. The last thought made him take stock. Can I?
His left arm was fractured. That’s all? Some gentle probing revealed tenderness immediately above his left elbow. His other arm felt sore, deeply bruised, but functional. The same seemed to be true of his legs, though he wouldn’t know for sure until he stood.
He twisted his back, relieved to find he could move except for the sharp stabs of pain from what would be several broken ribs. A minor thing as long as they had not pierced a lung. His breath didn’t burn, so he felt reasonably assured this was not the case.
Knox’s head was another matter. A large lump had taken up residence on the right side above his temple, far enough above that he could count himself lucky. Or not. A blow to the head would have at least been a quick end. He pushed the thought aside. He had no right to dwell on death while he was still alive.
With the head wound came a throbbing headache. The slightest movement sent the world spinning, which felt strange since the world was lacking. Dried blood caked his hair and the side of his face, which meant he had been unconscious for longer than he had thought. Had it been hours? Days?
He wasn’t hungry but his mouth felt dry and throat scratchy. He needed water, and a simple plan began to form. The cavern smelled of moisture. There had to be groundwater somewhere, and his first job was to find it.
He lifted his good arm above his head, testing for a ceiling. Open air met his hand. Very slowly, he pushed himself to stand. A tremor shook the cavern. He wobbled slightly but managed to keep his footing. He lifted his hand again and this time his fingers brushed the tip of a stalactite. Tehran would’ve had a hell of a time in here with his height.
His thoughts drifted through the day’s events. Had they driven off the earthbound? Was Tehran somewhere locked beneath the earth as well? An image of Tehran catapulting off the craft toward the tree line settled into his mind. He’s safe, but where, for oath’s sake, am I?
Hopefully their ploy had driven the beast away. What about Emilia? The thought brought a fresh wave of panic. Stop. She’d been safe among the deep roots and rocks by the pump station. His heart slowed. The fact this cavern hadn’t collapsed into another liquefaction gave him hope they had at least driven the creature off for the time being.
Emilia would be worried about his disappearance. No, furious. He smiled in the darkness. He’d have hell to pay for his stunt with Tehran and he found himself eager to feel the full effect of her wrath. She could berate him half to death if it meant he could touch her again under a wide-open sky.
Shuffling his feet slowly and keeping his hand above his head to ensure the level of the ceiling didn’t drop, he made his way forward. To his relief, after only about a dozen steps, he found a wall. Luckily, his probing foot marked it before his face did.
Using his good hand, he traced his fingers over the surface, testing for moisture. He relished the solid feel of the rough stone. It was a grounding force in this black void. Methodically, he worked his way along, unwilling to miss the slightest indication of water.
He was unsure how long he had been searching—time felt meaningless—when his foot bumped into something soft. The shape let out a low moan. The sound hit him like a thunderclap.
Knox dropped next to the prone figure and ran his hand over the body searching for obvious signs of injury and found nothing. Pinching the pressure point at the base of the neck he encouraged, “Wake up. Can you hear me?”
Another groan. The figure stirred.
“Come on. You can do it. Wake up.” Knox kept talking hoping it would help. “We’re in a cave and it’s dark, but if you can, open your eyes.”
“Knox? Is that you?” came a garbled reply.
His heart squeezed at hearing his name. In the darkness he’d felt nameless, but the simple words claimed him once again. “It is.”
“Are we dead?”
“If we were, we’d be the air and sky.”
“Right. Good, then.” A rough cough interrupted, wet and thick.
Knox’s jaw flexed at the sound. He instinctively knew it wasn’t a good sign. “Can you sit up?”
The man grunted and slowly pushed himself into a sitting position.
“There is a wall right here.” Knox guided the man to lean back against the cool stone.
“Where are we?”
The lilt to the man’s voice brought a wave of recognition. “Loghin?”
“Ya?”
“I just realized it was you.”
“Oh.” Loghin’s voice sounded let down. “I thought some of your powers were at work, and you could see in all this ink.”
Knox let out a huffed sigh. “I gave up my gift, as you are so fond of reminding me.”
Loghin paused to cough again. “Rumour has it, it’s all a ruse. That’s why you are still helping Tehran.”
“Who told you that?” Knox asked, stunned.
“A merchant down at the pub said the only reason Overseers lay down oaths is to get out from under the Order’s thumb.”
Knox had to bite back a curse. “It’s a lie, Loghin.”
No wonder the people of Rikken had remained hostile if they thought he was keeping power from them. There were always rumours about Overseers and their strength. The secrecy of their lifestyle was perfect fodder for idle speculation, but in this case, the merchant was dead wrong.
But he had felt a flicker of strength right before he had hit the ground. What was that? After such a crash, he should be dead. The throbbing of his arm dispelled the hope.
“I have no more power than you,” Knox said. “My arm is broken, along with a few ribs.”
“Should’ve expected as much. You always find a way to stand up tall while coming up short.”
The accusation stung. “We’re alive. Let’s be grateful.”
Loghin snorted before another cough took him.
Knox redirected the conversation. “Do you remember anything from before you fell?”
Loghin grunted. “I was cutting across the lower corner of the field when, snap, everything went dark. Surprised you got off that little life raft of yours long enough to risk your skin. I figured you’d leave us mortal folk to fight our own battles.” The venom in Loghin’s tone grated.
“I was trying to help kill the damned thing and landed myself in here right alongside you.” Heat climbed his neck at the impulse to defend himself, followed by annoyance at being easily baited.
“At least I’ll get to witness you meeting the end you deserve.” Another wet cough cut into the tension between them.
Knox let out a heavy sigh and lowered himself next to the man. “We need to get your chest supported, or you may not get your wish.”
He could almost sense Loghin rolling his eyes, but he didn’t protest as Knox tore several strips of fabric from his shirt and traced his hands along Loghin’s barrelled chest. Both sides rose and fell evenly. He probed along the ribs until Loghin barked at him.
“Watch it!”
“There it is.” Knox pulled the strips of cloth around his chest and cinched them tight
“I don’t know why you are bothering with me. We’re both dead, and you know it.”
“We’re getting out of here. Stop trying to convince me otherwise.” Knox stood back up, planting his hand on the wall to steady himself. “I was searching for water when I found you. Maybe someone else was dropped into this cavern.”
Loghin’s breath quickened. “I didn’t see Raechyl at the pumping station.” The pang of worry was unmistakable.
Knox let his fingers trace the stone as he started to move again. “She met us when we brought Winnie in.”
Loghin let out a clearing breath.
“You and Raechyl?” Knox prompted, trying to redirect the conversation into safer territory. “How long has this been going on?”
“It’s none of your damn business,” Loghin growled. “She’s one of my crew and an admirable worker at that.”
“Admirable?” Knox teased. “You’re going to have to do better than that, if you want her attention.”
Steely silence met him.
The response came, almost begrudging. “I won’t have a chance.”
Knox shook his head and crouched, checking the crease where the wall and floor joined for moisture. Nothing. He groaned as he stood again, a sharp stab of pain from his ribs. The room shook and Loghin cursed. Dust stirred into the air. Knox waited for it to clear before continuing a moment later.
“I’m going to keep searching. If we keep talking, maybe we will be able to get a better sense of what sort of space we’re in.”
“If you don’t know we’re in a cave, your faculties are more impaired than I suspected.”
“You’re an ass, Loghin. A right and proper ass,” Knox snapped as he shuffled forward into the black. “Don’t know about you, but I’m rather curious if this cave has a path out of here. Or other spaces. Or water. And seeing as you can’t walk around, I figured, maybe we could work together.”
“Alright, alright. No need to get snippy like a starving skuttle.”
Knox ground his teeth to keep from giving the man any more fodder. He made it no more than ten paces when Loghin’s rough voice broke the silence. “Why’d you do it?”
“Do what?”
“You know,” he said flatly.
Knox sighed. Of course he knew.
“The Order made me choose, Loghin. I had to either lay down my oaths or swear to never have children. I couldn’t do that to Emilia. I bound myself to her as sure as I bound myself to the Sky.”
Loghin took in his words. “You chose wrong.”
Knox frowned towards the disembodied sound of Loghin’s voice. “Easy to say when you are bound to no one and nothing.”
“You had a duty to your cluster, and you chose yourself.”
“They changed the assurances. I had no warning. I couldn’t abandon Emilia like that.” Heat filled Knox’s voice.
“Instead, you left her in a cluster without protection, chained to an honourless husband,” Loghin snarled.
Knox ground his teeth, forcing his hand to continue its search against the wall before him. “I didn’t leave the cluster without protection.”
“For now. What happens if Tehran decides to move to the Capital, or becomes an honourless piece of flint like yourself? You and your new child will be unprotected like the rest of us, at the mercy of raiders or whatever catastrophe the Earth deigns to send our way.”
“That’s not going to happen,” Knox said.
Loghin coughed, the sound bouncing off the walls of what Knox was beginning to realize was a relatively small space. “I thought you were supposed to be bright.”
“Tehran will never lay aside his vows.”
“Many would have said the same of you. Not me, mind you. I’ve always seen you for what you were.”
Beyond Loghin’s hatred, the fatalistic fear he expressed was hard to argue with. Knox had taken for granted what an Overseer’s presence meant to a cluster. What if Tehran ever wants to leave? Had he stolen the choice from his friend?
A wave of nausea moved through him, and he paused, leaning into the wall for support. He’d assumed most of the anger towards him was because he’d not consulted the Council—or at the very least had given up power many envied.
Suddenly, it was clear the insecurity he’d created for those living in Rikken. Overseers were meant to be unchangeable, steadfast, but if he could abandon his vows, any could. If Tehran made a similar choice, they would once again be vulnerable to raiding parties.
Cyrl and Elsee, Tehran’s parents, had surrendered their son to the Order for this very reason: to fight the constant harassment of nomadic raiding parties that would come across the Tumult. In answer, Patrem Solace had been sent to Rikken, Knox in tow, to take custody of the young boy and train them both. They’d been four at the time and from that point on, Cyrl and Elsee were nothing more than onlookers, watching a stranger raise their son. In retrospect, it was a sacrifice of monumental weight.
They gave up their only child—all so I could have my own? Skies above. He’d failed these people completely. His stomach knotted at the knowledge, and Knox pressed his forehead into the stone wall. I will not regret my own child. The sentiment felt thin against the guilt, and for the first time since laying aside his oaths, he questioned if he’d ever been worthy to carry the Sky’s gift.
Waking Nightmare
Emilia
Emilia shook off the webs of tangled dreams, and pulled in a long, deep breath. Exhaustion and dread sat wedged in her chest, unmoving. He’s not gone. She slid her hand across the bed to find Knox. Even half-asleep he would wrap her in his arms and dispel the sadness that gripped her.
Her hand found empty space and her eyes sprung open. “Knox?”
“Shhhhh,” a voice said next to her, and a wet cloth wiped at her forehead. “You’re safe.”
“Mother?” Suspended disbelief crashed down with force. “It wasn’t a nightmare,” she whispered.
“No, sweet,” her mother said softly.
Tears stung Emilia’s eyes, but she found her soul already numb and spent as she accepted a glass handed to her.
“Drink up.”
“How long has it been?” she croaked, her voice rough from disuse.
“Two days. We thought you were going to leave us too. I’m glad you chose to stay.”
Breath left her chest as if it were escaping the cracks of a broken shell. Death had not only robbed her of those she loved most, but had also spurned her the opportunity to join them. The cruel truth made her heart stutter.
“Tehran is here. Would you like to see him?” Maven asked softly.
A foreign sense of eagerness filled her for a brief moment. A craving for the familiar. She nodded, and a moment later Tehran’s large frame filled the doorway. His usually broad smile and bright eyes were lost under haggard features.
“You’re awake,” he breathed with tangible relief, and crossed the room in a couple of his large strides. He dropped next to the bed and wrapped her in a gentle hug. The numbness thawed within his arms, and new tears sprang forward. Tehran held her for a long moment before she sucked in a clearing breath and pulled back, sniffing.
Tehran pushed up from his knees and moved to sit on the end of the bed, a hand resting comfortingly at her ankle.
“Do you think he suffocated?” she voiced the tormenting thought.
He raked a hand through his hair, throat bobbing as he swallowed. “It was too fast. He would have—”
He stared with sightless eyes, clearly reliving the moment, and Emilia found herself glad she hadn’t seen the crash firsthand. A rush of guilt followed the selfish thought.
“Without the Sky’s strength it would have been quick.” His voice turned husky. “He shouldn’t have been out there with me.”
“Tehran, don’t.” Emilia reached for his hand.
He obliged, gripping it tightly. “He should have stayed with you and the others.”
“Knox wouldn’t have sat on the sidelines with the cluster in danger. Ever.” Tehran tried to protest, but she cut him off again. “This is not on you. The Order never should’ve taken his strength.” Her voice cracked. “If he knew he was enough—that I didn’t need anything other than him—he wouldn’t have given in to their obscene requirements.” Fresh tears spilled down her cheeks.
Tehran’s expression turned stern as he met her gaze with amber eyes blazing. “Don’t you dare. Knox wanted a family too. You didn’t pull him from the Order; he left, wholeheartedly.” A shadow of a smile curved his mouth. “He would never let you get away with thinking anything else.”
Emilia sniffled, her voice small. “I can’t wrap my head around it. He’s gone. Our child, our future. Gone. What am I going to do?”
“I don’t know, Em.” He squeezed her hand reassuringly. “But you won’t be alone.”
Her throat cut off the words of thanks trying to rise, and instead, she nodded. The promise of Tehran’s presence was a warm blanket staving off the harsh bite of reality.
A light knock sounded on the door, and Maven poked her head in. “There’s a messenger here to see you, Tehran.”
He flashed an apologetic look at her and pushed himself up from bed. “Get some rest. I’ll be back later today.”
He left and her mother eyed her with the critical eye of a healer. “Do you feel up for some tea?”
Emilia pushed her legs to the edge of the bed. Seeing her intention her mother quickly came to her side and offered support as they moved out into the main room. She purposefully avoided the rocking chair and instead moved to the low-backed sofa.
“Wouldn’t you be more comfortable—”
“No.” Her tone was harsh, cutting off any further discussion. Maven nodded affably, giving rise to a sudden surge of guilt. “I’m sorry, Mother. I can’t—”
Her mother patted her arm. “No need to justify. Sit wherever you are most comfortable. Do you want me to have the chair removed?”
