Glass Sword
Page 95
- Background:
- Text Font:
- Text Size:
- Line Height:
- Line Break Height:
- Frame:
He takes my full weight on his bad shoulder, ignoring the slight twinge of pain. At least Shade is smart enough to know what I’m trying to say. “You’re silencing her, Cameron. You’re shutting her abilities down, you’re shutting her down.”
“I can’t—how?” Her dark eyes are full of terror.
My vision spots, but I see Cal blunder past. Cameron flinches away from him, as any person in their right mind would, but Cal knows what to do. He’s coached the children, and me, through similar episodes of superhuman chaos.
“Let go,” he says, firm and steady. No coddling, but no anger. “Breathe, in through the nose, out through the mouth. Let go of what you’re holding.”
Please let go. Please let go. My breath comes in gasps, each one shallower than the last.
“Let her go, Cameron.”
It’s as if a boulder has been placed on my chest, and is pressing me to death, squeezing out any semblance of myself.
“Let her go.”
“I’m trying!”
“Easy.”
“I’m trying.” Her voice is softer, more controlled. “I’m trying.”
Cal nods, his motions smooth as rolling waves. “That’s it. That’s it.”
Another gasp, but this time the air sears into my lungs. I can breathe again. My senses are dull, but returning. They increase with every strengthening beat of my heart.
“That’s it,” Cal says again, looking over his shoulder. His eyes find mine, and a thread of tension releases between us. “That’s it.”
I don’t hold his gaze long. I have to look at Cameron, at her fear. She squeezes her eyes shut and furrows her brow in concentration. A single tear escapes, trailing down her cheek, and her hands massage the tattoo at her neck. She is only fifteen. She doesn’t deserve this. She shouldn’t have to be so afraid of herself.
“I’m all right,” I force out, and her eyes snap open.
Before she slams shut the walls to her heart, relief flashes across her face. It doesn’t last long. “This doesn’t change how I feel, Barrow.”
If I could stand, I would. But my muscles still tremble with weakness. “You want to do this to someone else? To your brother when you find him?”
There it is. The bargain we must make. She knows it too.
“You get us into Corros, and we’ll make sure you know how to use your ability. We’ll make you the deadliest person in the world.”
I fear I will regret those words.
TWENTY-THREE
My voice echoes strangely in the wide entrance chamber of the safe house. The storm from the Rift has caught up with us, and a heavy mix of snow and freezing rain howls on the other side of the dirt wall. Cold comes with it, but Cal does his best to chase it away. The inhabitants of the Notch huddle together, trying to warm themselves over the campfire he kindled on the floor. Every eye catches the firelight, becoming too many red and orange jewels. They flicker with every twist of flame, always staring at me. Fifteen pairs in all. In addition to Cameron, Cal, Farley, and my brother, the adults of the Notch have come to hear what I have to say. Sitting next to Ada are Ketha, Harrick, and Nix. Fletcher, a skin healer immune to pain, extends his pale hands too close to the fire. Gareth pulls him back before his skin can burn. There’s also Darmian, invulnerable as Nix, and Lory from the rocky islands of Kentosport. Even Kilorn graces us with his presence, sitting firmly between his hunting partners, Crance and Farrah.
Thankfully there are no children present. They will have no part in this, and continue on in whatever safety I can give. Nanny keeps them in their room, amusing them with her transformations, while anyone over sixteen listens to me explain everything we learned on the way to Pitarus. They sit in rapt attention, faces pulled in shock or fear or determination.
“Jon said four days would be too long. So we must do it in three.”
Three days to storm a prison, three days to plan. I had more than a month of hard training with the Silvers, and years before that on the streets of the Stilts. Cal is a soldier from birth, Shade spent more than a year in the army, and Farley is a captain in her own right, though she has no abilities of her own. But the others? As I look on the collected strength of the Notch, my resolve wavers. If only we had more time. Ada, Gareth, and Nix are our best chances, having abilities best suited to a raid, not to mention the most time training at the Notch. The others are powerful—Ketha can obliterate an object with the blink of an eye—but woefully inexperienced. They’ve been here for a few days or weeks at most, coming from gutters and forgotten villages where they were nothing and no one. Sending them to fight will be like putting a child behind the wheel of a transport. They’ll be a danger to everyone, especially themselves.
Everyone knows it’s foolish, an impossibility, but no one says so. Even Cameron has the good sense to keep her mouth shut. She glares into the fire, refusing to look up. I can’t watch her for long. She makes me too angry, and too sad. She’s exactly what I was trying to avoid.
Farley finds her voice first. “Even if that Jon character spoke true about his abilities, there’s no proof what he told us isn’t a lie.” She leans forward, cutting a sharp silhouette against the pit of fire. “He could be an agent of Maven’s. He said Elara was going to start controlling newbloods—what if she was controlling him? Using him to lure us? He said Maven would set a trap. Maybe this is it?”
With a sinking feeling, I see a few nod along with her. Crance, Farrah, and Fletcher. I expect Kilorn to side with his hunting crew, but he keeps still and silent. Like Cameron, he won’t look at me.
“I can’t—how?” Her dark eyes are full of terror.
My vision spots, but I see Cal blunder past. Cameron flinches away from him, as any person in their right mind would, but Cal knows what to do. He’s coached the children, and me, through similar episodes of superhuman chaos.
“Let go,” he says, firm and steady. No coddling, but no anger. “Breathe, in through the nose, out through the mouth. Let go of what you’re holding.”
Please let go. Please let go. My breath comes in gasps, each one shallower than the last.
“Let her go, Cameron.”
It’s as if a boulder has been placed on my chest, and is pressing me to death, squeezing out any semblance of myself.
“Let her go.”
“I’m trying!”
“Easy.”
“I’m trying.” Her voice is softer, more controlled. “I’m trying.”
Cal nods, his motions smooth as rolling waves. “That’s it. That’s it.”
Another gasp, but this time the air sears into my lungs. I can breathe again. My senses are dull, but returning. They increase with every strengthening beat of my heart.
“That’s it,” Cal says again, looking over his shoulder. His eyes find mine, and a thread of tension releases between us. “That’s it.”
I don’t hold his gaze long. I have to look at Cameron, at her fear. She squeezes her eyes shut and furrows her brow in concentration. A single tear escapes, trailing down her cheek, and her hands massage the tattoo at her neck. She is only fifteen. She doesn’t deserve this. She shouldn’t have to be so afraid of herself.
“I’m all right,” I force out, and her eyes snap open.
Before she slams shut the walls to her heart, relief flashes across her face. It doesn’t last long. “This doesn’t change how I feel, Barrow.”
If I could stand, I would. But my muscles still tremble with weakness. “You want to do this to someone else? To your brother when you find him?”
There it is. The bargain we must make. She knows it too.
“You get us into Corros, and we’ll make sure you know how to use your ability. We’ll make you the deadliest person in the world.”
I fear I will regret those words.
TWENTY-THREE
My voice echoes strangely in the wide entrance chamber of the safe house. The storm from the Rift has caught up with us, and a heavy mix of snow and freezing rain howls on the other side of the dirt wall. Cold comes with it, but Cal does his best to chase it away. The inhabitants of the Notch huddle together, trying to warm themselves over the campfire he kindled on the floor. Every eye catches the firelight, becoming too many red and orange jewels. They flicker with every twist of flame, always staring at me. Fifteen pairs in all. In addition to Cameron, Cal, Farley, and my brother, the adults of the Notch have come to hear what I have to say. Sitting next to Ada are Ketha, Harrick, and Nix. Fletcher, a skin healer immune to pain, extends his pale hands too close to the fire. Gareth pulls him back before his skin can burn. There’s also Darmian, invulnerable as Nix, and Lory from the rocky islands of Kentosport. Even Kilorn graces us with his presence, sitting firmly between his hunting partners, Crance and Farrah.
Thankfully there are no children present. They will have no part in this, and continue on in whatever safety I can give. Nanny keeps them in their room, amusing them with her transformations, while anyone over sixteen listens to me explain everything we learned on the way to Pitarus. They sit in rapt attention, faces pulled in shock or fear or determination.
“Jon said four days would be too long. So we must do it in three.”
Three days to storm a prison, three days to plan. I had more than a month of hard training with the Silvers, and years before that on the streets of the Stilts. Cal is a soldier from birth, Shade spent more than a year in the army, and Farley is a captain in her own right, though she has no abilities of her own. But the others? As I look on the collected strength of the Notch, my resolve wavers. If only we had more time. Ada, Gareth, and Nix are our best chances, having abilities best suited to a raid, not to mention the most time training at the Notch. The others are powerful—Ketha can obliterate an object with the blink of an eye—but woefully inexperienced. They’ve been here for a few days or weeks at most, coming from gutters and forgotten villages where they were nothing and no one. Sending them to fight will be like putting a child behind the wheel of a transport. They’ll be a danger to everyone, especially themselves.
Everyone knows it’s foolish, an impossibility, but no one says so. Even Cameron has the good sense to keep her mouth shut. She glares into the fire, refusing to look up. I can’t watch her for long. She makes me too angry, and too sad. She’s exactly what I was trying to avoid.
Farley finds her voice first. “Even if that Jon character spoke true about his abilities, there’s no proof what he told us isn’t a lie.” She leans forward, cutting a sharp silhouette against the pit of fire. “He could be an agent of Maven’s. He said Elara was going to start controlling newbloods—what if she was controlling him? Using him to lure us? He said Maven would set a trap. Maybe this is it?”
With a sinking feeling, I see a few nod along with her. Crance, Farrah, and Fletcher. I expect Kilorn to side with his hunting crew, but he keeps still and silent. Like Cameron, he won’t look at me.
