Tayel repressed a sigh. Shy joined Locke several paces ahead, where Tayel could only catch the wispy brushes of lowered whispers. She bit the inside of her cheek. She didn’t want to admit it, but it was hard seeing Shy reunited with her brother. Even if she was happy for her. Mostly.
Tayel pictured Mom carving into ceramic art pieces with aetherial fire. Those same pieces were all likely rubble in the Under Sector now. It made Tayel sick. It made her homesick. Homesick enough to be delusional, almost. Like maybe if she went back to Delta she could be with her family again, too. Maybe those little figures would be scattered all over the living room again and Mom would be in the kitchen, lecturing about the importance of doing homework. Maybe everything that had happened would just wash away like a dream.
“You okay?” Jace asked. He watched her, his head craned and cocked in a confused twist.
It was a little painful remembering she was driving a similar fate with Jace. If she got everything she wanted out of this journey to Modnik, he would be back with his family, too. He would be back with his like Shy was with hers, and even though it was something Tayel would never have again, it was something she desperately wanted for those around her. Even if in the end, she was left all alone.
“Tayel?”
She had to be more resolved than this. She was on Modnik. She was so close.
“Sorry,” she said. “I’m just tired. It’s been a rough couple days.”
“Are you sure?”
“That it’s been a rough couple days?”
“Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Yeah, I’m alright. Thanks for checking in, though.” She forced a smile and walked a little faster.
The tunnel let them out into a room with a ceiling three times as high. Orange-colored flames sat ensconced on the walls in place of blue ones, giving the spacious chamber a warm glow. That, combined with the savory scents of salt and grease soothed some of Tayel’s dismal thoughts. A meal would help her mood for sure.
Locke sat them in a pit where a bench was carved into the ground to form a perfect circle. In its center was a slab raised up on stone stilts to function as a table. Furs and ornate pillows lined the seat where Tayel, Jace, and Fehn settled in while Shy and her brother left to get food and medical supplies. They came back minutes later with a tray and passed steaming bowls around.
“Ah, make sure the Argel gets that one,” Locke said, gesturing to the wooden bowl in Fehn’s hands.
“Jace,” Jace said. “My name is—”
“Yes, Jace. The last thing we need is you getting sick from the wrong food.”
Tayel helped move the meal along, and cradled her own bowl in her lap. Its contents jarred as the room shook. The torches lining the room flickered, and fear settled over everyone’s faces. Even the Varg at neighboring tables perked up, all their eyes trained on the ceiling.
“You put a dent in them, and they get back up like all you did was put them to sleep,” Locke said, opening up a suturing kit. “Must be nice to fight with another man’s soldiers.”
“Do we even have the time to eat?” Jace asked.
“If you’re waiting for the war outside to end, I’m afraid you’ll starve. Go ahead. We’ve got plenty of dextro-based rations.”
Jace’s feathers bristled as the floor trembled again.
“I’m surprised Modnik has dextro food,” Fehn said. “I was under the impression this planet didn’t get many visitors.”
“I traveled from Sinos with an Argel friend of mine — Itah — but he didn’t make it. Died in the same fight they busted my side open.” Locke patted just beneath his rib cage.
Shy winced, her eyes on the needle in his other hand. “I liked him.”
“Well, so did I.” He cupped her face. “Keep still. So, Fehn. The cyonic. How’s it feel?”
“It hurts off and on,” Fehn said. “Though using the dark aether through it helps.”
“You do that often?”
“I’d use it every now and then on Elsha, when I could slip away.”
Tayel frowned remembering all the times he’d vanished without cause. The meals he’d missed, the mornings she’d wake up without him there.
“I got to fight some people with it yesterday,” he continued.
“That’s why you disappeared so much,” Tayel said. “Back in camp. Is this why you were so afraid of medical examinations?”
He stared at his food, untouched. “Not afraid, Red. Appropriately cautious. Could you imagine what the dock workers would have done if they’d seen this?”
“Especially considering the council they report to is run by Rokkir,” Shy said. “You were smart to resist examination.”
“Sure, you say that now,” he said.
“Could you wield any kind of aether before?” Locke asked.
“No.”
Locke paused mid-stitch. “I have a proposition for you. I’ve been working on a new type of aether shielding — a prototype built specifically to deflect dark aether.”
Tayel’s eyes went wide. Every single one of her muscles were still sore from the fight with the Rokkir councilwoman. She could still feel the sensation of being slammed into the ground. A shield against dark aether would be invaluable, and the same thought was written on everyone else’s surprised faces.
“How far along is it?” Shy asked.
“Well, it’s a prototype,” Locke said. “It’s never been tested. Hard to get the Rokkir to agree to help us out. But with you, Fehn, that can be remedied.”
“So what do you want me to do?” Fehn asked. “Attack you?”
“That would be an advantageous start.”
“You’re not going to cut me open like your father did, are you?”
“Not if I can help it.” He winked, but Fehn’s scowl only deepened. “How about we talk more after we’ve eaten? In the meantime I’d like to hear how much you’ve all learned about the Rokkir along the way, other than what you deduced from the journal you stole — and yes, Shy, I figured that one out.”
“Wait,” Tayel said. “Would your shield prototype be done soon? Like, could we use it?”
“It depends on quite a bit,” he said. “But rest assured, if Fehn agrees to help, I’ll keep you all abreast of my progress. Until then, what have you been up to, dear sister? Other than splitting your face open, that is?”
Shy explained her voyage to Elsha while Tayel chewed through whatever meat she’d been given. It didn’t taste as salty as the canned stuff back home, and it didn’t leave grits under her tongue like the gruel in camp. She guzzled the cup of water they’d brought with the bowls and swallowed the mushed, starchy vegetables on the side. Her bowl sat empty before Shy got to explaining how they escaped Castle Aishan. By the time she finished with “and here we are,” her wound fully stitched, Tayel’s eyes struggled to stay open against the groggy sensation of fullness.
Locke scratched at one of his thick eyebrows. “I suspected the Rokkir were using some method of control, but I didn’t know what. We’ll find out why father set this up, and what he was given in return.”
“That’s why I’m here,” Shy said, “To bring you home.”
“I can’t, Shy. Not now. The Rokkir have to be stopped, but they especially have to be stopped here. I can’t leave until that’s done.”
“Why? What’s so important here that home doesn’t matter?”
Locke leaned forward. “Don’t misconstrue. Home matters, but the Rokkir are here in force. Communications have been cut off completely, villages are destroyed every day, and the capital is under constant siege. It’s a warzone.”
“Why Modnik?” Fehn asked.
“And Delta, too,” Tayel said. “It was this bad there when Jace and I fled.”
Locke shook his head. “I apologize, but I don’t believe that is a fair comparison. You made it to Elsha, while not a single Varg has.”