Chapter Twenty-eight
~
Turncoat
At last, Orphenn’s breathing calmed, and Sven’s grip on him loosened. He touched the boy’s face, gingerly. “You’ll be okay, Little Bird.”
Orphenn nodded.
“Poppet, fetch this trooper a cold compress, will ‘ya? He’s burnin’ up somethin’ fierce.”
Xeila nodded. “Sure thing Dad.” She left Eynochia’s side to head into the kitchen, just as Nyx stormed in, the slamming door making a great bang to vibrate through the main hold.
She ignored the stares and sat at the center table, silently fuming.
Curious, Eynochia wiped her arm across her face and stepped cautiously to the metal door that led out to the gondola.
“What. Now?” Dacian griped angrily as he heard the door open again. He turned to see it wasn’t who he thought, and became instantly apologetic. “Eynochia…I’m sorry, I…Thought you were someone else.”
She said nothing in reply, only came to stand beside him at the railing as Nyx had. Her eyes were still swollen from tears.
It was a long time that she stayed there before she finally spoke.
“You saved Orphenn’s life, Dacian. You and Nyx both, protected him from those Ardaran soldiers. But don’t think that makes up for anything.”
“I wasn’t expecting it to.” He sighed, turning away, and plunging back into his depression.
Eynochia looked at him. He looked old. Old, and tired, like he was carrying the weight of an elephant on his back. “But even so…I think I can find the courage to forgive you.”
Their eyes met. They shared a smile.
The sunlight warmed the twin smiles, and the matching slash scars they both gained in turn. They realized in the same moment, despite the circumstances, how connected they all were. To each other, and to the skies that joined the worlds.
They walked back inside together, not so deep in despair as they had been.
“Hey Pigeon.” Sven called upon their entrance. “Little Bird’s restin’ it up in his quarters. Why don’t you go see to him?” Her father had a certain instinct concerning Eynochia’s heart. He kindly gave her every opportunity to be with whom she loved. Some things, daddies just knew.
Eynochia nodded and crossed the main hold to disappear down the hall.
“Sven.” Dacian addressed him in deference. “I must speak to you.”
Sven’s only reply was an intent stare.
“You say that Wynne was your adopted nephew.” Dacian came closer. “And that he went missing the day your brother was murdered.”
“You tell me, boy. You were there.”
“I….So many have died by my hands, sir, and not of my own will….I can’t say that I remember. I’m sorry, Sven…”
Nyx came to stand confidently beside him. “Please,” she said, “it wasn’t him, it was Ardara. We’ve told you.”
Sven nodded inwardly, avoiding eye contact. “I know, Ace, I know.” He paused when Dacian gasped at the utterance of his old nickname. “Cut an old man some slack…It’s a might harder to accept things after so much has been done. But my Oriana taught me forgiveness.” He looked Dacian in the face. The pain was still there in his eyes, but the distrust had been replaced by compassion. “And that’s how I intend to honor her.” He smiled. “What was it you needed to say?”
Dacian continued enthusiastically. “Your nephew is on the inside. He is a slave in Ardara’s castle.”
“And you didn’t take him with you?” Jeremiah chided, recalling his childhood friend, and battle partner.
“He wouldn’t let us.” Nyx chimed.
“He stayed behind to give the Enma advantage.” Dacian explained. “He said if he stayed, we could take Ardara from the inside out.”
Sven’s face lightened. “Lord, that boy.” He shook his head. “He needs an award or something.”
“What will Wynne do?” Xeila queried. “What’s his plan?”
“I don’t know.” Dacian admitted. “But he’ll find a way. I’m sure of it.”
“We need to give him a sign!” Jeremiah enthused. “We must attack as one!”
Xeila stepped forward. “I will go to him.”
“Yes!” Sven agreed. “Go, and take a communicator. Wynne will tell us his plan through you.” Now his tone became more serious. “At your signal, we initiate a call to arms.”
Eynochia softly tiptoed into Orphenn’s quarters, scared that the hydraulic door might already have woken him.
He remained unshaken, so she allowed her feet to advance.
She sat in the plush wingback chair at his bedside, and removed the cold compress from his forehead, exchanging it for a damp rag.
“Don’t want your brain to freeze.” She chuckled, as if he had heard her, trying to lighten her own mood with mild humor.
Then again, maybe he had heard, for his eyes peeled open, that striking red and blue at contrast with his pale face. When they met with Eynochia’s green and black, awareness smacked him in the head.
How selfish I’ve been. He thought immediately at the sight of his beloved friend. He sat up in the bed, the damp cloth falling to the floor at the movement. “Eynochia…” He whispered, sending chills up her arms. He looked at her as if he had not seen her for years, which might as well have been so. It was the first time he’d truly seen her since Ardara’s tainted essence had taken him. He remembered they we she had kissed him.
If I don’t hold her in my arms this moment, I swear I’ll die.
So he saved his own life.
He pulled her from the chair and took her forcefully in his arms, his fingers in her hair. She held him tighter than she thought possible, burying her head in his shoulder.
“I’m sorry.” He whispered, unable to speak above a hush, or to find any more words to say. To himself, however, he vowed to make it up to her, as he kissed her and held her close.
Stop messing with it! Cinder wanted to scream. She just knew, at any moment, that outdated contraption would react, but nonetheless, Wynne fidgeted and tinkered with it, searching for a gap in its mechanics, an oversight in its construction, anything.
He remembered when he had stopped time temporarily and been able to safely remove a prisoner’s device. If only he could find a way to remove his own. Somehow the device reacted to a change in its wearer’s blood flow, the change that came about when an Enma used his gifts, like some sort of chemical reaction. It would kill him if he tried to stop time again. It was rusted and corroded, but still functioned to kill at an attempt to unlatch it, by means of electric shock. Although, upon fussing with it he discovered that that first shock from unintentionally connecting with the lightning of his cage, which had left him unconscious, seemed to have weakened the device’s bolts and fittings.
Wait…Electric shock…
Then an idea struck him, gazing intently at the cage he was curled beneath, white-blue light dancing on his skin. What if….
Cinder banged her palm on the glass of her own entrapment to get his attention, shaking her head, no. She looked desperate. I know what you’re thinking!! Don’t do it!! Her eyes shouted.
“I have to.” He told her. “I have to try.”
She continued her protests as he held his breath, and reached up to touch a burning blue bolt.
He felt the charge all through his bones, and his body began to seize, but he remained conscious. With immense will power he kept the surge constant until finally, the device cracked up, and flew apart, small pieces flying. The lightning had canceled out the device’s energy and demolished it.
Wynne released the bolt and fell limp. To Cinder’s relief, his eyes stayed open and blinking. Breathing heavily, his heart hammering faster than he’d ever felt it, he sat up, hunched as much as the cage would allow. Face twisted in repulsion, he painstakingly tugged the broken off spines out of the back of his neck and let them clatter like pins to the stone floor.
His head was pounding and his body shook like a dry leaf. Despite this, he gave Cinder a triumphant grin.
The next thing she saw, he was standing on the outside of the lightning cage, free. As if time had stopped and started again.
She grinned back at him.
Xeila left the Day Star, making her way to the castle on foot, so as not to be spotted. She let invisibility descend on her, her gift of camouflage, just as Orphenn and Eynochia made for the main hold.
Orphenn stepped out carrying two white uniforms, neatly folded in his arms. He stopped before Dacian and Nyx at the wide window. The sunlight played across their bodies like spirits of gold and their shadows mingled.
“For the turncoats.” Orphenn said, smiling bashfully. He held out the uniforms like a gift from a secret admirer. They were White Herons’ uniforms, matching the rest of the squad, and they were stark and bright in comparison to their existing Ardaran ones.
Orphenn placed the smaller size in Nyx’s arms, the other in Dacian’s. “That one would have been Cinder’s uniform, had she not refused to wear it.” He laughed. “The other’s just a spare I found in the store rooms.”
With this act, Orphenn wanted to show them that he trusted them both, and to put forth to the others that they would all need to fully support each other if they ever wanted a chance of surviving the imminent conflict ahead of them.
This gesture of acceptance had left the former Ardarans speechless, and in turn, exceedingly grateful.
When they reemerged several minutes later wearing white, the difference was staggering. Even their sharp headgear had been abandoned, leaving their faces to look brighter and more open. Their appearance was no longer so sinister, and matched their new attitudes and renewed allegiance.
Orphenn smiled approvingly in their direction, but then stopped to ponder, his features puzzled. “Where’s Xeila?”
Cinder’s grin faded suddenly-Wynne’s brow furrowed in question when her gaze flickered to the space beyond him. Her eyes were wide and foreboding, and her lips mouthed one single word that Wynne couldn’t interpret. He turned round to see for himself what had captured her focus so raptly.
He jumped and nearly flinched back from the figure that had partially appeared next to him.
Like a veil had been lifted from her, she bubbled into visibility.
Wynne, hand on his heart as if he was unsure that he could take much more excitement, calmed himself down and looked more closely at the smirking woman. She looked him over, noting the burns that ran up his arm, and the ring of bruises around his bare neck.
“Xeila?” He started. “How long has it been?” Cinder smiled giddily in the plasma.
“A decade at least!” She replied. “But there’s no time to reminisce, my friend. Dad sent me to fill you in, so that we can attack as one strong force. When you’re ready. At your signal, the invasion will begin.”
He nodded with vigor, then looked up at Cinder’s vat. Xeila followed his gaze. “Cinder…” She muttered. “Why don’t you just teleport? This is an easy escape for you!”
“Alas, Xeila.” Wynne answered for her. “There are countless psychic wards within both the glass, and the plasma that block her teleportation powers. We’ll have to free her some other way.
“Tell me, has Orphenn recovered? He is the only one remaining that can safely break her free. The plasma is toxic to anyone not sharing Ardara’s DNA sequence. If any other were to touch it, they would perish within the hour.”
She shrugged. “I’ll send for him.” She lifted her wrist communicator to her mouth and spoke. “Poppet to Day Star. I’m here with Wynne. He’s curious if Orphenn’s condition has improved.”
“Affirmative.” Jeremiah came in. “He’s up and walking, stretching his wings.”
“Good, good.” Wynne said, relieved.
“We need him.”
“We’ll send him off right away. His wings will carry him to you quickly.”
Wynne took hold of Xeila’s wrist and spoke into the outgoing speaker. “In the meantime, I give my signal. Initiate call to arms.”
Jeremiah gave Sven a meaningful glance. The other nodded, and set to contacting the refugee camp, as Wynne’s voice ceased to crackle through the helm.
Wynne released her wrist to give her his arm. “You must come with me, Mistress. I will need your help.” She took his arm, and he looked again at Cinder. “Be patient, Cinder! Orphenn is on his way!”
Orphenn flew on wings of gold, and was one with the wind.