Darkwind stared at Luna defiantly, spittle flying from his mouth. Then all at once, his strength left him, and his body went limp.
“Well, maybe not the cherry blossom then,” Luna said, laughing.
It wasn’t uncommon with Essentialists. Flora had heard of it happening at two other settlements in the last few years. In fact, it was suspected Darkwind had come to power by slaying the former chief on a hunting trip. He had denied it, of course, but how many people drown in a river by accident, really?
So coups happen, and people fall in line with the new leader, if they want to live. Grand Caverns was no different. There wasn’t much loyalty to Darkwind, in the end. Luna’s new chief, which she promoted to the rank of general, was willing to accept Darkwind’s deputies and subchiefs as his own.
To Flora it wasn’t a particularly loathsome injustice. Darkwind was harsh and egotistical, and at least Curator Luna seemed to listen to her. It was indeed worrisome how much Luna railed against the Spokes, but it was hard to say how serious Luna was about recompensing the earth, as she put it. She was probably just grandstanding as countless curators and clan chiefs had done before her. Besides, she was about to return a Spoke prisoner in exchange for goods. That didn’t sound like someone preparing for war.
So Luna’s coup was just one more reason for Flora to leave Grand Caverns, but it wasn’t the biggest reason.
Late that night Flora pulled all of the kids out of the tent and led them through the dew-laden fields south of town to a nearby brook. Disciples were still loitering about the settlement, wary of any Darkwind loyalist uprising, but woman and her three children posed no threat.
Skye was tired and grumpy, her eyes red from rubbing, while Clover was just excited to see the stars. As for Talon, he didn’t complain, although he still eyed her cautiously as they walked.
When they arrived at the brook, she let the girls play. She had a lantern, but the stars and moon were enough. She turned it off and watched Skye and Clover throw rocks at the reflections of stars in a swirling eddy of the brook.
Skye exclaimed in mock concern “You’re going to wash away the stars Clover!” Clover would giggle and drop another stone in the brook.
Flora allowed herself to smile at their uncorrupted sense of wonder.
Talon interrupted her contemplation. “What’s this all about?”
Flora said, “I want you to all do the ritual.”
Skye asked, “Right now Mommy? It’s the middle of the night.”
Flora explained. “You know how Reed doesn’t like the ritual, and I know how you and Clover like to look at the stars.”
Before they could ask another question, Flora said, “Skye why don’t you begin?”
Skye looked reticent.
“Please Skye. It’s important. We’ve talked about this.”
“Yes, Mommy,” Skye said, sighing and getting up her gumption.
Skye took a deep breath and began. “Peers Lindberg, Teodor Lindberg, Erna Lindberg, Daniel Kelemen, Axel Kelemen, Morgan Kelemen, John Kelemen, Tucker Kelemen, Xander Kelemen, Granger Kelemen, Skye Clearwater.”
Flora nodded in encouragement. Then Skye continued, “Their strength is why I am alive, I honor them when I thrive… I… live to teach the names again.”
Flora smiled. “You forgot Robert Kelemen after Erna Lindberg. And the last sentence is: ‘In turn these words I will retain, to teach my kin the names again.’ You’re almost there, sweetheart. Good job.”
Flora turned to Clover. “Your turn, Clover.”
“Okay, mommy.” Clover was always eager to do the ritual, never once getting angry or flustered. This time she made it through half the names.
“Well done Clover. You’re getting there,” Flora said warmly, “will you keep working on it?”
“Yes, Mommy.”
“And you, Talon.”
“Why are we really here?” he asked.
“Well, we haven’t done the ritual in a while.”
He stared back at her. The moon cast a somber light on his features. He was growing up so fast, nearly a man, with peach fuzz on his lip. His eyes, though—his eyes were dark, tired, and heavy. A bruise still lingered in one of his eyes from his training with Nobura. Bruise or not, these didn’t look like the eyes of a teenager.
“Why are we really here?” he asked again, staring back at her.
This time Flora had to look down. He knows her too well. Under his mask of resentment, the wheels turned with precision.
Flora sighed and spoke to all of them. “I have to go away for a while, children. I thought it would be good to do the ritual now, since… I may be away for a few days. Reed is going to take care of you. Reed and Talon.”
“Where are you going, Mommy?” Skye asked.
“It’s not important. I’m just running an errand for the chief.”
The children hadn’t been told about Darkwind’s death, and she felt it best to leave her orders ambiguous rather than feed them a lie that could easily be disproven. But Talon must have known this was no ordinary errand. People don’t often get up and leave in the middle of the night.
Talon did the ritual. As usual, every name was correct and every sentence perfect. He stared at her with what? Defiance? Anger? Despair? She couldn’t be sure. As he finished his jaw clenched, and a tear soiled his cheek. He made no motion to wipe it away, and so it continued on its path, until it passed over the ridges of his lips and dropped to the ground.
“Thank… thank you, Talon.” She tried to hold back her own tears. She needed to be strong, to not let on… yet she wanted so much to embrace him, to tell him how she felt. It might be the last time she saw him, maybe ever. But she couldn’t. His eyes were too intense, too unforgiving.
All she could bring herself to do was stare, just like he did—to stare and try in vain to memorize his features through the colorless shadows.
They made their way back to the tent. When the kids were asleep she wrote a note for Reed, making up a false errand about collecting fox skins from up north. She forced herself not to contemplate the repercussions when he read it, for she knew it might hobble her just to think about it.
Then she took her packed belongings and left.
She knew she was being irresponsible, to leave her kids—to leave Talon in charge. Despite his stubbornness and sulky behavior, she knew he was capable—much more capable than people gave him credit for.
She hoped he would forgive her. She hoped they all would, for this was her only chance of ever getting Granger back. Her life had been torture without him—a litany of mistakes and consequences, a cold dark ocean with frightening storms and dangerous reefs, a cold dark ocean she couldn’t bear to navigate any longer.
FORTIENT
“Well done, Axel.”
It was an encrypted message Bhavin had sent Axel the day after the Russian operation.
Since then there had been nothing. No messages, no phone calls—and more concerning—no meeting openings. The one meeting Axel had scheduled had been two weeks out, but then it was to be “rescheduled pending further schedule review.”
Bhavin was the head of a major multinational corporation, so surely he was busy. Then again, maybe this was the kind of corporate cold shoulder used to tell someone to piss off. Either way, Axel’s unanswered questions about the Russian op weren’t going away, so he couldn’t help but try to find answers on his own.
Axel was no ordinary meathead grunt. He was trained in all forms of intelligence gathering. He knew how to follow the money, and he knew when decisions were made that didn’t quite add up.