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n_wilkinsonTitle: Whispers of Yesterday
Series: Infinity's End, Book Two
Description: Now firmly entrenched in the Theravada -- and firmly involved with Gale as well -- Ione discovers the hidden sides of both Grayshire and Theravada. She questions her own decisions -- and her feelings -- as the war takes on a more murderous, personal turn for the worst.
(1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7) (8) (9) (10) (11) (12) (13) (14) (15) (16) (17) (18) (19) (20) (21)
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Chapter Eighteen
------------------------------
Gale couldn’t fight the anxiety brewing inside of him, making his muscles tense, his aether swirl. His home was under attack, his friends and family threatened. He didn’t even know where to begin, how to start defending Paragon. He had no idea where Inari was, one of their own had betrayed them, and Gale felt more than tilted from his axis.
Nothing was right anymore.
“Where are we going?” Ione asked.
They were all but running through the halls, passing frantic and frightened residents in their wake. Gale passed along orders to make for the escape tunnels. Every member of the Theravada knew, vaguely, how to flee from Paragon. But with the aether sizzling in the air, the permeating smell of smoke and the shuddering from explosions, they had panicked. Lost their minds, and now milled about like frightened mice.
Gale dragged in a breath. “The main entrance is pretty obvious, once you know to look. I suspect Grayshire will start invading there.”
“So ‘down’ then.”
“Down,” Gale confirmed, and put a larger hustle in his step.
They passed doors to empty rooms, swinging lightly on their hinges where their residents had already fled. The mess hall was abandoned, cabinets hurriedly emptied of their contents, food left mid-meal on the scattered tables. Paragon in such a quiet state was disconcerting to Gale, who was all too used to the daily hustle and bustle.
Aether prickled across his skin, a magical attack mere feet away. Gale skidded to a stop in the middle of an intersection, senses tingling. Ione paused beside him, head cocked to the side, a frown twitching at her lips. She sensed it, too.
“Familiar?”
“Not to me,” Ione answered, with a note of relief to her voice.
Gale didn’t blame her. It was never easy to face a former friend across the battlefield.
Another burst, this time from a different direction, stronger this time, tasting of fire, burning bright. Ione paled.
Gale didn’t even need to ask. It was written all over her face.
He turned to the right tunnel, where the fiery aether flared brightest. “Go on ahead,” Gale said, a difficult decision, but Azriel’s advice lingered in the back of his mind.
He couldn’t keep treating Ione as someone to be protected.
“You…?”
Gale shook his head, already turning toward the right corridor. “Meet me down below?”
He could feel the weight of her stare, itching between his shoulderblades. “Of course,” Ione said, but there was a smile in her voice. “Kick some ass.”
What a perfectly Ione thing to say. Gale resisted the urge to watch her jog down the adjoining hallway, toward the other rising aether, one that seemed quite powerful. He was supposed to trust her, after all.
“That was a smart thing to do,” Quetz said from within his tunic.
Gale rolled his eyes, jogging down the uncomfortably empty hallway and passing the noticeably abandoned baths. “Thanks--”
“And also incredibly stupid,” the snake corrected before he could so much as voice his appreciation. “Ione’s strong, but we don’t know what kind of force the enemy has.”
Way to kick a man when he was down. “Damned if I do,” Gale muttered, and turned around a corner, only to throw himself to the side, barely avoiding the massive fireball as it careened at him, slamming into the wall behind him and charring the stone.
Gale dropped into a crouch, drawing his sword in one quick motion, aether swirling around him. Three Brigade-clad forms cluttered the hallway in front of him, one of whom had thrown the fire, he assumed. Two females and a male, all of which noticed him immediately, their aether swelling in triple tandem.
He didn’t have time to think about whether it was better to kill them or knock them out or which of them was familiar to Ione and possibly a friend. All that mattered to Gale was that they had invaded his home and attacked his friends and family. Even if under orders, Gale refused to hold back and allow himself injured for it.
Gale didn’t give them the chance to recover. He sprang forward, low and fast, ducking under another wave of spherical heat. His sword met the blade of the woman on the left, a slim redhead with more freckles than even Ishmael. She grunted at the force of the impact, but stood her ground, anger flashing in her eyes.
He didn’t have time to play games of strength with her. Gale fell back, faking her victory, and when she pressed forward, abruptly spun, throwing the redhead off balance. She toppled forward and Gale smacked her in the back with the flat of his blade, sending her sprawling to the floor in a crumpled heap. This gave him precious seconds to face the other two, the single male drawing his own sword and the remaining female who had fire burning on her fingertips. A martial artist then, with no preference to weapon.
Unlucky for her, Gale now had months of experience in fighting such an opponent.
He felt aether thicken in the air, prickle across his skin, and then the male attacked, a vicious slice of his short blade that whistled in the hall. Gale stepped back to avoid, lifting his sword to counter, knocking away the sword. It was only a brief repartee, however, and the male surged forward again, boots slapping against the stone floor.
Gale backpedaled, lifting his blade to block the male’s heavy handed attack. The blow vibrated up through the sword and Gale tightened his grip, their blades screeching together in an obnoxious noise as Gale whirled away from the attacker. He dove to the side, trying not to trip on the gasping redhead as she struggled to rise, the air knocked out of her. Blood dripped from her lips where she had collided face first onto the stone, and she spat bloody sputum.
“Gale!”
Quetz’s shout echoed in his ears, along with the burst of fiery aether, and Gale didn’t think twice. He twisted his body to avoid the blazing stream that shot down the corridor toward his head, one hand thrown out to send a burst of air careening down the hallway. It wasn’t as powerful as Ione was capable, but it was enough to startle his opponents, to force them to defend themselves.
It would be nice if there were some water nearby to—
Gale had a sudden burst of inspiration.
He turned as they were recovering, giving the impression of running away. He took off down the hallway, back the way he had come, the sound of booted footsteps following. Just the pair of them however. Apparently redhead was still recovering on the floor, rising much slower than her fellows.
Gale felt his mana rise inside of him, like the surge of the ocean before an oncoming tsunami. Laying the beaches bare, the scene quiet and serene, concealing the eminent danger.
They shouted for him, some command that Gale ignored. They didn’t intend to capture him and bring him in quietly. Grayshire didn’t want him to stand trial in front of the Dryden. They wouldn’t want Gale to voice his opinion. No, Grayshire wanted Gale dead.
The heat of a sphere of flame brushed by Gale’s right arm, singeing his clothes. He whirled, boots skidding across the floor, one arm whipping through the air. Aether flowed and swelled around him as his two opponents kept coming, attacking in tandem.
They never sensed the attack coming. Mere seconds after Gale had passed the open doorway, water came spilling from the baths, steaming as it splashed into the hallway. It smelled strongly of minerals and soaps and it washed over the two members of the Brigade. They shouted in surprise as the wave struck them, burying them under gallons of heated water. There was a sizzle as the one bearing fire was extinguished, washed away in the resulting flood.
Water splashed backward, dampening the bottom of Gale’s clothes, but otherwise, he was untouched. His aether rose around him, making his skin tingle. He could feel his heart thudding in his chest and he wondered which of the three had been familiar to Ione. Not that it mattered. The wave of water would carry them far and down, until it lost its energy and deposited the three in sodden heaps somewhere.
He only hoped that the residents of Paragon had fled as they were supposed to and wouldn’t be caught in the oncoming flood.
Sliding his blade back into her sheath, Gale ducked down an adjacent hallway, making for one of the rarely used tunnels. Narrow, with a low ceiling, it was little better than a crack in the wall. Gale was just slim enough to slide through it, depositing himself into an adjoining corridor that was dry and – after a quick glance – devoid of possible opponents.
Small favors he supposed.
The benefit to the narrow corridor was that it put him just outside the barracks, a huge string of interconnected tunnels and rooms that housed the bulk of Paragon’s residents. Gale, paranoid as he was, would rather spend twenty minutes quickly searching the rooms for lingerers than flee without being certain everyone had escaped. He could take care of himself, most of Paragon’s residents could not.
Gale jogged past each open doorway, listening for signs of life, senses stretched to their full capacity. Quetz really came handy here as she tasted the air, searching for lingering residents, and helping him confirm each empty room.
Twenty minutes was all Gale needed for confirmation. Thus relieved, Gale began to head for the escape tunnels. He needed to find Ione if at all possible, and get out of Paragon. There was no point in fighting back, in attempting to save their home. Paragon’s value had been in its secrecy. No longer hidden, it was useless to them.
“Gale!”
Inari’s voice called to him and Gale whirled, seeing his lady careening out of the corner as though the Merihem were on her heels. She was a white blur that all but leapt into his arms, her body shaking with relief.
“My dear,” Gale said, stroking fingers over the crown of her head. “Where have you been?”
Inari nudged his face with hers. “No time to explain,” she said with a short breath. “We have to get out of here.”
“That much is obvious,” Quetz hissed from the confines of Gale’s tunic, as always, jealous of Gale’s attention no matter how long she had known both Gale and Inari.
Inari leapt from Gale’s arms, landing lightly on her feet. “I think everyone has gotten out.”
A stirring on the edge of Gale’s senses proved otherwise, however. He frowned, turning to glance over his shoulder where he had left the barracks behind him. Something rattled in the corridor, like the sound of someone shoving a door open, past an obstruction. He had just checked those rooms. Perhaps he hadn’t been as thorough as he believed.
Inari’s ears perked. She had heard the noise, too.
She darted down the hallway, a white blur, before Gale could stop her, aether coiling around her tiny form. Gale almost pitied whatever enemy she might encounter.
Until a child’s laughter echoed softly down the corridor.
Gale knew that laughter.
He followed Inari and wasn’t surprised to find himself staring at several familiar faces.
“Antoinette,” Gale said, his tone exasperated. “Why are you still here?”
“It’s my fault,” Naomi said, looking troubled as she toyed with something that hung around her neck, fear making her eyes wide and watery. “I forgot Mommy’s necklace.”
Guilt clenched inside of Gale and he bit back disparaging words. “That’s okay,” he said gently. “I understand. Did you leave anything else behind?”
Naomi shook her head. “Nope. I got everything now.”
“Good.” Gale swept the little girl into his arms and gestured for Antoinette to follow him. “Grayshire forces are crawling around everywhere. We have to be quick.”
“I understand,” Antoinette said, nodding. “Just lead the way, Lord Arlen.”
Gale winced, wishing she wouldn’t call him that, but understanding that some habits were hard to break. Instead, he focused on protecting Sabriel’s children – he refused to fail again – and peered out into the hallway. No Grayshire forces were in sight thankfully and Gale slid into the corridor, Antoinette cautiously following him.
The barracks were at mid-level in Paragon, which meant they still had a few floors to cross before they could find their way to the escape tunnels. Which also meant plenty of opportunity to run into trouble. Gale could only tighten his hold on Naomi and pray to a god he didn’t believe in. He would bring all of Paragon down before he failed again. This he swore to himself. Not this time, not again.
***
a/n: Feedback is very welcome. I consider this the first draft and once I finish the trilogy, I intend to go back and polish it up and make it nice and shiny. Any concrit you can give me would be very helpful. I'm eager to improve, even if it's just my grammar that needs work. :)
Series: Infinity's End, Book Two
Description: Now firmly entrenched in the Theravada -- and firmly involved with Gale as well -- Ione discovers the hidden sides of both Grayshire and Theravada. She questions her own decisions -- and her feelings -- as the war takes on a more murderous, personal turn for the worst.
(1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7) (8) (9) (10) (11) (12) (13) (14) (15) (16) (17) (18) (19) (20) (21)
Chapter Eighteen
------------------------------
Gale couldn’t fight the anxiety brewing inside of him, making his muscles tense, his aether swirl. His home was under attack, his friends and family threatened. He didn’t even know where to begin, how to start defending Paragon. He had no idea where Inari was, one of their own had betrayed them, and Gale felt more than tilted from his axis.
Nothing was right anymore.
“Where are we going?” Ione asked.
They were all but running through the halls, passing frantic and frightened residents in their wake. Gale passed along orders to make for the escape tunnels. Every member of the Theravada knew, vaguely, how to flee from Paragon. But with the aether sizzling in the air, the permeating smell of smoke and the shuddering from explosions, they had panicked. Lost their minds, and now milled about like frightened mice.
Gale dragged in a breath. “The main entrance is pretty obvious, once you know to look. I suspect Grayshire will start invading there.”
“So ‘down’ then.”
“Down,” Gale confirmed, and put a larger hustle in his step.
They passed doors to empty rooms, swinging lightly on their hinges where their residents had already fled. The mess hall was abandoned, cabinets hurriedly emptied of their contents, food left mid-meal on the scattered tables. Paragon in such a quiet state was disconcerting to Gale, who was all too used to the daily hustle and bustle.
Aether prickled across his skin, a magical attack mere feet away. Gale skidded to a stop in the middle of an intersection, senses tingling. Ione paused beside him, head cocked to the side, a frown twitching at her lips. She sensed it, too.
“Familiar?”
“Not to me,” Ione answered, with a note of relief to her voice.
Gale didn’t blame her. It was never easy to face a former friend across the battlefield.
Another burst, this time from a different direction, stronger this time, tasting of fire, burning bright. Ione paled.
Gale didn’t even need to ask. It was written all over her face.
He turned to the right tunnel, where the fiery aether flared brightest. “Go on ahead,” Gale said, a difficult decision, but Azriel’s advice lingered in the back of his mind.
He couldn’t keep treating Ione as someone to be protected.
“You…?”
Gale shook his head, already turning toward the right corridor. “Meet me down below?”
He could feel the weight of her stare, itching between his shoulderblades. “Of course,” Ione said, but there was a smile in her voice. “Kick some ass.”
What a perfectly Ione thing to say. Gale resisted the urge to watch her jog down the adjoining hallway, toward the other rising aether, one that seemed quite powerful. He was supposed to trust her, after all.
“That was a smart thing to do,” Quetz said from within his tunic.
Gale rolled his eyes, jogging down the uncomfortably empty hallway and passing the noticeably abandoned baths. “Thanks--”
“And also incredibly stupid,” the snake corrected before he could so much as voice his appreciation. “Ione’s strong, but we don’t know what kind of force the enemy has.”
Way to kick a man when he was down. “Damned if I do,” Gale muttered, and turned around a corner, only to throw himself to the side, barely avoiding the massive fireball as it careened at him, slamming into the wall behind him and charring the stone.
Gale dropped into a crouch, drawing his sword in one quick motion, aether swirling around him. Three Brigade-clad forms cluttered the hallway in front of him, one of whom had thrown the fire, he assumed. Two females and a male, all of which noticed him immediately, their aether swelling in triple tandem.
He didn’t have time to think about whether it was better to kill them or knock them out or which of them was familiar to Ione and possibly a friend. All that mattered to Gale was that they had invaded his home and attacked his friends and family. Even if under orders, Gale refused to hold back and allow himself injured for it.
Gale didn’t give them the chance to recover. He sprang forward, low and fast, ducking under another wave of spherical heat. His sword met the blade of the woman on the left, a slim redhead with more freckles than even Ishmael. She grunted at the force of the impact, but stood her ground, anger flashing in her eyes.
He didn’t have time to play games of strength with her. Gale fell back, faking her victory, and when she pressed forward, abruptly spun, throwing the redhead off balance. She toppled forward and Gale smacked her in the back with the flat of his blade, sending her sprawling to the floor in a crumpled heap. This gave him precious seconds to face the other two, the single male drawing his own sword and the remaining female who had fire burning on her fingertips. A martial artist then, with no preference to weapon.
Unlucky for her, Gale now had months of experience in fighting such an opponent.
He felt aether thicken in the air, prickle across his skin, and then the male attacked, a vicious slice of his short blade that whistled in the hall. Gale stepped back to avoid, lifting his sword to counter, knocking away the sword. It was only a brief repartee, however, and the male surged forward again, boots slapping against the stone floor.
Gale backpedaled, lifting his blade to block the male’s heavy handed attack. The blow vibrated up through the sword and Gale tightened his grip, their blades screeching together in an obnoxious noise as Gale whirled away from the attacker. He dove to the side, trying not to trip on the gasping redhead as she struggled to rise, the air knocked out of her. Blood dripped from her lips where she had collided face first onto the stone, and she spat bloody sputum.
“Gale!”
Quetz’s shout echoed in his ears, along with the burst of fiery aether, and Gale didn’t think twice. He twisted his body to avoid the blazing stream that shot down the corridor toward his head, one hand thrown out to send a burst of air careening down the hallway. It wasn’t as powerful as Ione was capable, but it was enough to startle his opponents, to force them to defend themselves.
It would be nice if there were some water nearby to—
Gale had a sudden burst of inspiration.
He turned as they were recovering, giving the impression of running away. He took off down the hallway, back the way he had come, the sound of booted footsteps following. Just the pair of them however. Apparently redhead was still recovering on the floor, rising much slower than her fellows.
Gale felt his mana rise inside of him, like the surge of the ocean before an oncoming tsunami. Laying the beaches bare, the scene quiet and serene, concealing the eminent danger.
They shouted for him, some command that Gale ignored. They didn’t intend to capture him and bring him in quietly. Grayshire didn’t want him to stand trial in front of the Dryden. They wouldn’t want Gale to voice his opinion. No, Grayshire wanted Gale dead.
The heat of a sphere of flame brushed by Gale’s right arm, singeing his clothes. He whirled, boots skidding across the floor, one arm whipping through the air. Aether flowed and swelled around him as his two opponents kept coming, attacking in tandem.
They never sensed the attack coming. Mere seconds after Gale had passed the open doorway, water came spilling from the baths, steaming as it splashed into the hallway. It smelled strongly of minerals and soaps and it washed over the two members of the Brigade. They shouted in surprise as the wave struck them, burying them under gallons of heated water. There was a sizzle as the one bearing fire was extinguished, washed away in the resulting flood.
Water splashed backward, dampening the bottom of Gale’s clothes, but otherwise, he was untouched. His aether rose around him, making his skin tingle. He could feel his heart thudding in his chest and he wondered which of the three had been familiar to Ione. Not that it mattered. The wave of water would carry them far and down, until it lost its energy and deposited the three in sodden heaps somewhere.
He only hoped that the residents of Paragon had fled as they were supposed to and wouldn’t be caught in the oncoming flood.
Sliding his blade back into her sheath, Gale ducked down an adjacent hallway, making for one of the rarely used tunnels. Narrow, with a low ceiling, it was little better than a crack in the wall. Gale was just slim enough to slide through it, depositing himself into an adjoining corridor that was dry and – after a quick glance – devoid of possible opponents.
Small favors he supposed.
The benefit to the narrow corridor was that it put him just outside the barracks, a huge string of interconnected tunnels and rooms that housed the bulk of Paragon’s residents. Gale, paranoid as he was, would rather spend twenty minutes quickly searching the rooms for lingerers than flee without being certain everyone had escaped. He could take care of himself, most of Paragon’s residents could not.
Gale jogged past each open doorway, listening for signs of life, senses stretched to their full capacity. Quetz really came handy here as she tasted the air, searching for lingering residents, and helping him confirm each empty room.
Twenty minutes was all Gale needed for confirmation. Thus relieved, Gale began to head for the escape tunnels. He needed to find Ione if at all possible, and get out of Paragon. There was no point in fighting back, in attempting to save their home. Paragon’s value had been in its secrecy. No longer hidden, it was useless to them.
“Gale!”
Inari’s voice called to him and Gale whirled, seeing his lady careening out of the corner as though the Merihem were on her heels. She was a white blur that all but leapt into his arms, her body shaking with relief.
“My dear,” Gale said, stroking fingers over the crown of her head. “Where have you been?”
Inari nudged his face with hers. “No time to explain,” she said with a short breath. “We have to get out of here.”
“That much is obvious,” Quetz hissed from the confines of Gale’s tunic, as always, jealous of Gale’s attention no matter how long she had known both Gale and Inari.
Inari leapt from Gale’s arms, landing lightly on her feet. “I think everyone has gotten out.”
A stirring on the edge of Gale’s senses proved otherwise, however. He frowned, turning to glance over his shoulder where he had left the barracks behind him. Something rattled in the corridor, like the sound of someone shoving a door open, past an obstruction. He had just checked those rooms. Perhaps he hadn’t been as thorough as he believed.
Inari’s ears perked. She had heard the noise, too.
She darted down the hallway, a white blur, before Gale could stop her, aether coiling around her tiny form. Gale almost pitied whatever enemy she might encounter.
Until a child’s laughter echoed softly down the corridor.
Gale knew that laughter.
He followed Inari and wasn’t surprised to find himself staring at several familiar faces.
“Antoinette,” Gale said, his tone exasperated. “Why are you still here?”
“It’s my fault,” Naomi said, looking troubled as she toyed with something that hung around her neck, fear making her eyes wide and watery. “I forgot Mommy’s necklace.”
Guilt clenched inside of Gale and he bit back disparaging words. “That’s okay,” he said gently. “I understand. Did you leave anything else behind?”
Naomi shook her head. “Nope. I got everything now.”
“Good.” Gale swept the little girl into his arms and gestured for Antoinette to follow him. “Grayshire forces are crawling around everywhere. We have to be quick.”
“I understand,” Antoinette said, nodding. “Just lead the way, Lord Arlen.”
Gale winced, wishing she wouldn’t call him that, but understanding that some habits were hard to break. Instead, he focused on protecting Sabriel’s children – he refused to fail again – and peered out into the hallway. No Grayshire forces were in sight thankfully and Gale slid into the corridor, Antoinette cautiously following him.
The barracks were at mid-level in Paragon, which meant they still had a few floors to cross before they could find their way to the escape tunnels. Which also meant plenty of opportunity to run into trouble. Gale could only tighten his hold on Naomi and pray to a god he didn’t believe in. He would bring all of Paragon down before he failed again. This he swore to himself. Not this time, not again.
a/n: Feedback is very welcome. I consider this the first draft and once I finish the trilogy, I intend to go back and polish it up and make it nice and shiny. Any concrit you can give me would be very helpful. I'm eager to improve, even if it's just my grammar that needs work. :)
