Authors: M. R. Forbes
Tags: #top fantasy books, #best fantasy series, #wizard, #sword and sorcery, #Coming of Age, #Magic, #teen and young adult
The juggernauts shifted again.
"I can make you come and see," Kwille said. "Or I can kill you where you stand. Or, you can come with me of your own free will. We were friends before all of this, before the war. There's no reason we can't be friends now."
"Friends?" Talon's heartbeat quickened. He felt the heat of his anger running across his body. Would friends have stolen his memories? Would friends have forced him to kill his own son? Or made him believe he even had a son in the first place?
"Will this convince you?" Kwille asked, reaching up and lifting the control stone from around his neck. He held it out in front of his face, and then dropped it to the floor. "Just the two of us, and I'm unarmed. We don't want you to suffer, Talon. We don't want you to do something you'll regret. We want to bring you back into the fold."
Talon's eyes darted from Kwille to the crystal. He tried to determine if he could reach it or the General before he picked it up and used it.
"Do you want to kill me, Talon?" Kwille asked.
"Yes."
"Why? How have I harmed you?"
"
He
has harmed me.
He
has harmed millions."
"I am not
he
."
"You speak for
him
.
He
controls you."
"I keep the promise because I believe in it, not because I'm forced to. I want to help you understand the importance, the sacrifice. I think you will, when you see. All you have to do is come with me." Kwille was calm, patient. He pointed towards the doorway again.
Talon didn't move. He considered throwing the dagger. A perfect strike right in Kwille's eye would put an end to all of it. Then he could go and see whatever there was to see, or not.
Murderer.
The voice echoed through him. He stayed his hand. Kwille was unarmed, had made no moves against him. Was that who he was, to kill in cold blood? He had taken Clau by surprise, ordering Oz to attack him, but that was different. He knew Clau wanted to end his life.
"Come with me, Talon," Kwille said, walking towards him, leaving the crystal behind. "Let me show you, and if you still want to kill me, if you still want to continue this misdirected revenge, I won't be able to stop you."
Talon held his breath, fighting back the anger. He looked into Kwille's eyes. They were open, warm, sincere. Whatever the man wanted him to see, he believed it would be enough to sway him.
He lowered the dagger to his side. "Show me."
Kwille smiled. "I knew we could reason this out." He reached out towards Talon, putting a hand on his shoulder. "You will see, and then you will under-"
His voice faded in a choked gurgle. Talon held the man up by the arm, ripping the dagger through his gut and then wrenching it out.
Murderer.
"I will see for myself. No tricks, no games." Talon let go of Kwille's arm.
Kwille slumped to his knees, putting his hands over the wound. Blood ran through his fingers and onto the floor. "There is no hope for you, Talon. No hope at all. You care for nothing but yourself. Your loss. Your pain. You can justify it any way you want, but that is the truth. You were always the best of us. And the worst."
Talon ignored him. He ignored the voice in his head. He ignored the juggernauts. He wiped the dagger off on Kwille's shoulder, and then headed for the door while the Second of Nine died behind him.
He pushed it open slowly, not sure what to expect. It was nothing but another hallway, filled with rows of doors on both sides. More healing chambers. He could tell by the shadows around them that they were all bathed in darkness.
Except for one.
It was there, he knew. Whatever Kwille had wanted him to see. A trap? He approached it cautiously. A brown crystal had stolen his memories once before. What if they had planned to steal them again?
He reached the closed door and put his ear to it. He heard a soft whirring of gears, a thumping like a loud heart. He put his hand against it. It was cold. Very cold. Too cold. What was on the other side?
He put his shoulder to the door and pushed it open as slowly as he could, searching the inside for any sign of treachery. He saw only a counter like all the others, though the instruments and tools had been cleared, and two racks of vials rested on it. One held a dozen doses of the cure, filled and stoppered, ready to be sent back with the Carriers. The other held only two of the glass containers, each with a small amount of blood pooled at the bottom. Was this it? The source of the cure? Had Kwille been telling the truth?
He pushed it open even further. He followed the vials upward, to a pair of tubes that were hanging over them, a nozzle at the end. They ran up to the ceiling and then over towards the center of the room and out of his view.
Not a trick. I killed him for nothing.
No. Kwille would never have let him leave the Refinery alive. He was certain of it.
He opened the door all of the way and stepped into the room.
It was even colder on the other side. His arms immediately prickled, and his jaw clenched in response. He found the tubes again and followed them up to the ceiling, and then over and down to the raised platform in the center of the room. It was unlike any he had seen before, enclosed in ircidium and glass, the cold leaving a layer of frost over it and hiding its contents. The tubes dropped into it, one on either side a foot or so from the top.
He stared at the contraption, watching in fascination as the blood inside the tubing was slowly pulled upward along the ceiling, along its path towards the counter, and down. Once there, it pooled at the tip of the nozzle until the weight finally forced it into a vial in a single small drop.
His eyes moved from the left tube to the right and back. This was what Kwille wanted to show him?
He examined the platform. The cleaning equipment had to be inside, doing its work and sending the blood out into the tubes to be delivered to the vials. That meant there had to be a place to load the contaminated blood, as well as a means to destroy the prozoa. Was that why they kept it so cold? Could the prozoa be frozen to death?
He approached the platform and looked down at the frost-coated glass. The vials of blood had to be behind it, hidden by the cold. He put his hand against it and started rubbing, using the heat of his body to melt away the ice.
He expected tubes and vials of blood. He expected gears. He expected crystals suspended in water, or pinned to rods, creating a resonance that would power the magic that powered the machine.
As he cleared away the frost, he never expected, and could not have been prepared for what was revealed beneath it.
A face. Unmoving, twisted in pain, mouth open in a silent scream.
A face. One he knew so well, from so long ago.
A face. With blue eyes, a sharp nose, and angled jaw.
A face.
Like his face.
Aren.
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About the Author
M.R. Forbes is the creator of a growing catalog of speculative fiction titles, including the epic fantasy Tears of Blood series, the contemporary fantasy Divine series, and the world of Ghosts & Magic. He lives in the pacific northwest with his wife, a cat who thinks she's a dog, and a dog who thinks she's a cat. He eats too many donuts, and he's always happy to hear from readers.
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