Eri grabbed Striver’s arm. “What’s wrong with Riley?”
Striver shielded her with his arm. “Don’t get too close. He’s had too much pearl-berry ale.”
“Sure, blame it on the ale and we’ll see just how trustworthy these visitors really are.” Riley stared at her, spittle flying from his lips with his words. “Go ahead. Tell him why you’re really here.”
Eri’s insides clamped up until she felt like she’d hurl worse than Mars. She stepped back into the crowd and shook her head. “I’m trying to help.”
“Leave her alone,” Striver shouted, pushing his face right up into Riley’s. “Your argument is with me.”
“My sister has been waiting for you for almost a decade, and you go after the first visitor you meet. What kind of a leader chooses an enemy over one of his own people?”
“Someone who believes in a new future.”
“What about Aries and Striker? What would they say if they were here now?”
“They’re not here. All you’ve got is me, and I choose her.”
Riley bolted forward into Striver’s stomach, knocking them both into the dirt. He rammed a fist at Striver’s head. Eri’s heart stopped. Hitting him was a direct blow to herself.
Striver deflected the blow with his arm and kicked Riley over. Riley pushed himself back at Striver and they rolled over and over until the dancers stopped, parting around them in a circle. The flute trilled off and the drums pattered out.
Eri clutched her stomach, fingers digging into her ribs. “Someone pull them apart before they hurt themselves.”
A man moved to separate them and Riley flung him back into the crowd. A young girl threw a reed bucket of water on them, and they fought through the splash, oblivious.
“Stop it!” Eri shouted until her lungs grew raw. She reached out for Striver’s arm and Riley whacked her backward, not knowing whom he’d just sent flying. Eri landed hard on her butt, the air knocked out of her and her chest throbbing.
They’re going to kill each other.
Just as she considered going back in, movement rustled the hairs on the top of her head. Phoenix and two other Guardians descended like angels from the sky. They slipped through the crowd and ripped the young men apart. Riley continued to writhe in the Guardians’ arms as Striver caught his breath, a red scratch running across his cheek.
“We will settle this like civilized people,” Phoenix announced to the crowd. He and the other Guardians lifted both young men to the tree huts.
“Where are they going?” Eri turned to the nearest villager, an older man with a white beard as long as his arm.
“The council room, where all disputes are resolved,” he answered in a resigned voice, his face unmoving.
Eri watched the Guardians disappear around the tree huts. “Can I follow them?”
The older man gave her a tired frown of condemnation. “I think you’ve done enough for tonight.”
As soon as the drums began, Weaver had slid his hands through the loosened bindings.
Soon.
He’d wanted to throw his plan in Striver’s face when his brother visited, but he couldn’t give away his strategy.
If only I could see the look on his face when he realizes who’s gone.
Weaver had listened for the familiar shouts of laughter.
Idiots.
They celebrated while their doom hung over their heads. He’d be the one to save them, not Striver. He’d do what the others were too afraid of. He’d take on the visitors singlehandedly. All he needed was the power behind the golden liquid. Even then it called to him, igniting memories he’d rather have dead.
Imagine how it could manipulate the minds of others. The symbols were the key.
Guards who were outside his door cast flickering shadows through the ferns. The music had grown louder, and Weaver broke the leg of the chair in the rhythm of the drums. He gathered dry fern leaves from the floor and rubbed the end of the stick into the wood with both hands. His father had taught him well.
A spark caught, the golden-red flame reminding Weaver of the golden swirls.
No, not now.
He blinked, trying to refocus, but the swirls danced in his vision.
Damn it. I’m not even next to the pool.
Would his exposure to the pool affect him forever?
“Come, son. Hold the stick in the palms of your hands and rub them together.” They sat underneath an open sky, the river gurgling beside them and the stars shining down. Striver hung the trotter from the day’s catch as Weaver sat with their father.
His skin turned raw and red as the wood cut splinters into his hands. The sense of failure lurked, always imminent. “It’s too hard. Nothing’s happening.”
His father placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “Have faith, Weaver.”
Weaver glanced up and his father smiled in encouragement. Even though Striver usually started the fire, this time his father had chosen Weaver for the task, not his brother. Pride surged up and he rubbed harder.
A thin ribbon of smoke wafted up. Weaver shook his head, flinging the memory from his mind. He’d always thought his father had given Striver all of the honorable tasks. He’d forgotten this particular memory until now.
My father meant well; he wanted me to succeed, just like Striver.
Stay focused. You’ll never achieve leadership with such a mushy heart.
Weaver kicked the plate over, trotter flinging across the room. The pungent odor of the fish masked the reek of smoke. The guards wouldn’t detect anything until he was long gone. Using the beat of the drums to hide his steps, Weaver kicked the weakened floorboard until it broke. The hole was jagged and narrow, but his wiry body slipped through with only a few scrapes. Using the bindings, he swung to the nearest tree. Branches provided handholds as he climbed down and slid into the darkness.
Unlike Striver, Weaver blended in. He could morph into part of the wall, melt into the shadows behind the fire, or sneak underneath the covers until no one knew he listened to the conversation. While Striver shined, Weaver hid. He got so used to blending in, now that was all he knew how to do.
Skirting the celebration, Weaver climbed a thickly branched tree. He curled up against the trunk, the bark cutting into his back, and waited. The music and the shouts of laughter had ceased. Weaver watched the paths below, a current of uneasiness slipping through him. It was too early for the celebration to end. Something must have triggered a prompt conclusion, and he wondered if they fought over the visitors. Maybe someone with half a brain stood in the crowd.
Was he too late? He couldn’t stay another day in the village, so he had to claim his target now. He’d overheard the guards, and he knew the hut where they’d stored the visitors’ equipment. That’s where she’d stay for the night. He hovered above the main path, searching the dirt for footprints caused by ridges from her plastic boots. Surely she wouldn’t seek an alternate route through the undergrowth.
Weaver shifted, dangling his foot toward a lower branch when voices penetrated the night.
“I want to help him. It’s my fault he got into a fight.”
Weaver froze, then slowly pulled his leg up, recognizing the voice right away, the same voice that had said:
With enough time, I’d figure out the whole language.
“That was his choice, Eri. You heard what the Guardians said. They’ll resolve the issue. Wait until morning, then seek him out.”
Damn mother of a boar herder.
The other voice was Mars, the woman who’d pushed Snipe into the golden liquid like he was a toy. Weaver flexed his sore arm muscles, feeling weak. With no weapons, he’d never stand a chance against her.
Eri stopped below his feet and Weaver practiced his art of blending in, allowing the leaves to silently shift between him and the path below, turning him into shadows.
She pulled on a leaf until it tore from the tree and ran her fingers over the surface.
Damn visitors have no respect for our world
.
“You go ahead. I need some time to clear my mind.”
“You’re not going to storm the council room, are you?”
Eri shook her head, pocketing the leaf. “No. I just need to think.”
Mars leaned on the tree and Weaver held his breath. “Gotcha. You’re in a tough spot, between this young man and your mission. I can see it tearing you apart.”
“What would you do?”
“Me?” Mars laughed, the sound like the inhalation of a mother boar. “I’ve never been in love. My lifemate is adequate, but he’s not someone I’d fall head over heels for. Suppose it’s good, keeps me logical, on track.”
“Don’t you ever feel like you’re missing out?”
A swillow wisp took off above him and Eri glanced up at the branch where he hid. Weaver closed his eyes, afraid the sheen of his dark retinas would reflect the moon’s light.
“Hell, no. Look what love is doing to you.”
Weaver flicked his eyes open. Were they talking about Striver? If his brother had picked a fight over this space girl, then he cared about her. Weaver’s plan took on a new meaning. This would turn personal when he’d only meant it to be a minor slap in the face. Could he really steal his brother’s newfound love interest?
Why not? Striver stole yours.
Whether he meant to or not.
Weaver threaded his fingers together in thought. It wasn’t just to annoy Striver. He needed her to decipher the symbols.
Did he dare betray his brother so deeply?
Mars shifted off the tree below. “Take all the time you need. I’ll be back in the tree hut going through the rest of our supplies.”
“You can have the soywafers. I don’t want them.”
Mars waved over her shoulder. “Suit yourself.”
Weaver leaned over, watching Mars disappear into the darkness. His chance dangled in his face like a grubber on a lure. Reaching into his shirt, he ripped open a secret pocket and pulled out the last of his coma darts. The venom was mostly dried and stale, but it would subdue her long enough to drag her to the other side.
Blocking his mind, he switched to combat mode. He dropped from his branch and slid down the tree faster than a Guardian descended from the sky. The bark scratched at his back and legs, but he ignored the pain, reaching Eri just as she turned toward the rustling leaves. Her pretty face blanked in shock as he brought his arm down on the back of her neck, knocking her to the ground. As she struggled to rise, he stuck the coma dart into her neck.
Adrenaline rushing through him, Weaver whirled around, searching the forest. Darkness and silence. No one had seen the struggle. He dragged Eri into the shadows, heading directly for the wall.
…
Striver stared into Riley’s harsh face, pleading.
Just say you apologize. You don’t even have to mean it. Anything to get us out of here.
Every cell in his body yearned for Eri. Their kiss had been a moment of pure ecstasy, and he wanted to know if she’d felt it as well.
Phoenix paced across the floor of the high-lofted Guardian meeting room, his clawed, tri-toed feet scratching lines in the wood floor. The Guardians had painted geometric symbols all over the walls in the hieroglyphs of their native tongue. Striver had already read all of them, each one a riddle of a proverb offering wisdom with no true kernel of advice. At least for him today.
Guardians were patient enough to watch a sprout unfurl from the soil. They could be here until the swillow wisps sang.
Riley shook his head, bending a white feather he’d found on the floor and whipping it back up again. “I’m not going to give in to this madness. These visitors are here to take over, and Striver welcomes them with open arms.”
Phoenix’s head turned to Riley and he stared with his blank, silver-eyed gaze, reminding Striver of the glow of their moons. “You don’t think I’m aware of the impending attack?”
Striver stiffened.
Impending attack?
Surely Eri would have warned him of such danger.
Phoenix spread his long arm, wing unfurling like a cape behind him. He pointed to the skylight where the
Heritage
hung. “These are turbulent times. Any number of paths could be taken. As the weaker of the two factions, we must choose the path of least resistance. We must work our way into the visitors’ minds and hearts if we are ever to survive extinction.”
Striver swallowed. Maybe Eri didn’t know? Or maybe Phoenix was wrong? His gut told him no. Guardians were seldom, if ever, wrong. Which meant he had to talk with Eri as soon as possible.
“Striver works to befriend the visitors and show them our world. Only through his alliances can we achieve salvation. Riley, you must not get between him and the young woman.”
Riley clamped up and clenched his fists. He was a fighter until the end. Unfortunately, his inclinations didn’t help either of them get out of the council chamber any sooner.
“I don’t need an apology.” Striver appealed to Phoenix with a friendly smile. “I promise I won’t let our differences come between us again.”
“You won’t, but what about Riley?” Phoenix’s head twitched and a feather wafted on the breeze, lilting in the morning light. “We need to unify in this common cause.”
Striver leaned forward. “Which is?”
Phoenix spread his branchlike fingers. “Survival of our colony.”
Riley spoke through gritted teeth. “Why can’t we fight? Send these visitors back to space. Let them find their own planet.”
Phoenix stepped to Riley, bent down, and whispered by his ear. “Simply because we won’t win. Perhaps if we joined forces with the Lawless we’d have half a chance, but with access to our secrets, they’d overtake us after the final battle, and we’d lose in the end.”
Riley glanced up with a skeptical frown, “How do you know all this?”
Phoenix remained silent, as if such a question didn’t warrant an answer. Striver stepped in for him. “They’re Guardians, Riley. You have to trust them.”
“They may have the power to fly, but they’re not gods. They can’t decide our fate.”
The first ray of morning sun warmed Striver’s skin, and he resisted the urge to throw back his head in disdain. How long would they argue?