The Raising (The Torch Keeper Book 3)

  “There’s no need for brutality.” Cassius sidles up to me and the Imps retreat. “I’ll take it from here.”

  One of the Imps steps forward, looking uncomfortable. “Sir, are you sure—?”

  “I said I can handle him.” His words cut like glass. “Let’s go.” His tone’s soft but firm.

  Cassius leads me away and into his private lift. It whisks us toward the top of the Citadel’s Dome. The doors slide open and we exit onto the observation level, a huge rotunda that overlooks every corner of the Parish.

  There are only two Imps standing guard inside.

  A figure emerges from the shadows.

  Prior Delvecchio.

  I smile at him. “It looks like the two of you have gotten pretty cozy. Why am I not surprised?”

  The Prior’s skull-like face stares at me intently. “Praise the Deity for returning you to us, my son.”

  “I may be a lot of things, but your son isn’t one of them.”

  I turn to stare out the panoramic windows and activate the opticom.

  Cage is sprinting down the underground shaft. The rest of the team’s close on his heels. “We’re almost there, mates!”

  “Get those server room doors open,” Arrah calls.

  The Worms move into position, entering a series of codes by the panels near the door and swiping an access card in the slot.

  For a few seconds, nothing happens.

  Then the doors slide partially open, the gap just wide enough for the team to squeeze through.

  “We’re in.” The Worm leader disappears inside and everyone follows.

  Drusilla’s already removing the computer virus chip from a small case in her satchel. She hands it to one of Worms, who inserts it into a slot on the main frame. Dahlia glances at her holocam. “Let’s go people. The attack squadrons are expecting our signal stat.”

  They hustle to hack into the defense system and plant the virus.

  And I can’t help but smile.

  “Now why don’t you spare us all any unpleasantness and provide me with the access codes to the entire Nexus, Queran,” Cassius says.

  Clenching my fist to cut off the signal, I turn once again to face the two people I want to destroy most in the world. “I’m never going to give up my secrets to any of you. I’ll die first. You should both already know that.”

  Cassius exchanges a smug look with Delvecchio before facing me. “I would have thought that now that Queran was back in play you wouldn’t be so naïve.”

  My confidence buckles. “What do you mean?”

  He studies my face. “Just like you had your own spy, my trusted Valerian, infiltrate our ranks, what makes you think we didn’t have one of our own amongst your allies—oh, excuse me, I meant your former allies, in the Resistance?”

  As much as I’ve tried to sever all my physical and emotional ties, my heart still races when I think of him. “Digory?” I whisper. “He’s still working with you?”

  Cassius takes a deep breath, then exhales. “That would be the logical choice. But you know me better than that. When have I ever had only one iron in the fire? I needed someone more closely connected to the rebels and with a little more clout than Tycho to serve my purposes.” He grips my shoulder. “Besides, in case you haven’t noticed, Tycho is dying. His body’s rejecting the nanotech, exactly as it was meant to do, once he was of no further use to me.”

  Another remaining fragment of Lucian Spark dies at this latest revelation. It’s such a tremendous relief being free of the emotional shackles that have bound me all my life. I glance at Delvecchio. “That’s exactly how he’ll deal with you once he doesn’t need you any further.”

  I squeeze my hand closed. The resistance team’s feeds reappear. They’re still deep in the tunnels.

  Cage glances at the Worm busy at work on the keyboard. “How’s it coming, Mate?”

  The young man turns and smiles. “We’re almost in—”

  “Too bad.” Rios fires his weapon.

  The impact sends what’s left of the Worm tecchie’s head smashing into the monitor. Rios snatches the virus chip from its slot.

  “What the hell are you doing, General?” Arrah shoves her weapon directly at him.

  Then the entire team’s surrounded by a pack of snarling, drooling Canids.

  “They’ll tear you apart before you can get your first shot out,” Rios says.

  As if in response, the Canids’ growls grow louder, reverberating in my ear piece. The sharp sound of boot heels precedes the appearance of a squad of Imps. They outgun the resistance strike team three to one.

  “Throw down your weapons,” the lead Imp commands.

  Cage, Arra, Dru, Dahlia, and the others exchange glares with the Imps. They toss their weapons to the ground.

  Drusilla turns to Rios. “Why are you doing this?”

  Rios shakes his head. “My son, Rafé. They said I could be with him again.”

  “And you bloody believed them?” Cage spits out.

  Rios gets right in his face. “If they have the power to bring back a monster like Queran Embers and slip him right under our noses, make us trust him, why couldn’t they do the same for my son?” He shakes his head. “The resistance is finished. We never really stood a chance.”

  “You’re the one that’s finished, arsehole!” Cage lunges at him.

  Rios fires another shot. Cage crashes to the ground.

  Dahlia drops to her knees by his side, shielding him with her body. “Leave him alone. He’s wounded.”

  Arrah spits at Rios. “You dishonor Rafé’s memory.

  Drusilla holds her back. “It’s a mercy he isn’t around to see how far his father’s fallen.”

  Straightening his uniform’s collar, Rios addresses the Imp leader. “I need to speak with Thorn.”

  The soldier activates his wrist com.

  There’s a loud bleep a few feet from me.

  Cassius grins. “I think I’ll put this on screen so you can see the magnitude of the insurrectionists’ failure for yourself.”

  He activates his own wrist com and an image appears on the screens before us, the exact scene I’ve been monitoring on the opticom’s feeds. Cassius smiles at Rios’s weary face. “Good work, General.”

  Rios moves in closer to the transmitter, until his face blocks everything else out. “I’ve fulfilled my end of the bargain, Thorn. I transmitted the data from Nexus Prime and made it look like it was Spark’s doing, as you ordered. The strike team’s been neutralized.”

  “So resourceful. It’s a pity I didn’t enlist your services before that debacle at Fort Diablos. It would have been a very different outcome.”

  “When do I get to see my son? You promised I would join him.”

  Cassius sighs. “And so you shall, General.”

  The blast echoes through the Citadel’s speakers and in my earpiece. The screen’s spattered with Rios’s skull and brains. Then it goes dark.

  Cassius shakes his head. “Poor man. Way too gullible. I guess the love of a parent will do that.” He stares at me for a long moment before continuing. “Now that the noble General Rios has betrayed the resistance strike team, the mission to take out our defense main frame is a complete failure. This war is over.”

  “What happens to the rest of the team?” I ask before I can stop myself.

  “Lucian Spark’s terrorist friends, Cage Argus, Arrah Creed, Drusilla Ryland, and Dahlia Bledsoe are among our new captives.” He emphasizes every syllable of their full names, as if to magnify their import. “Along with the Worm vermin, of course.”

  My hand balls into a fist, cutting off the feeds. “What are you going to do with the team?”

  He exhales. “You need to let go of the past, especially since it’s not your reality. Forget Lucian Spark and embrace who you truly are. Queran Embers.”

  “What are you going to do with them?”

  Cassius shifts his gaze to the panoramic vista. “They’ll be interrogated to see if we can glean any useful informa
tion from them before they’re publicly executed as traitors to the regime.”

  Delvecchio steps forward, his hands clasped as if in prayer. “But that’s inconsequential compared to the gift their failure has given to us.”

  I would love to give the good Pryor a little gift of my own, involving my hands and his throat. “What are you talking about?”

  Cassius points to the horizon, where the Industrial Borough continues to poison the air with its billowing death clouds. “The resistance fleet is about to realize its horrific blunder.”

  Delvecchio nods. “An entire battalion of the Flesher abominations is moving in on them as we speak, cutting off any chance of escape.”

  “While the entirety of the Thorn Republic fleet prepares to attack from this side of the Parish’s city limits,” Cassius adds. “We’ve known they were coming all along, thanks to Rios.”

  My eyes grow wide. “The resistance fighters will be overwhelmed by such a massive strike force coming at them from both sides. They’ll be wiped out.”

  Delvecchio opens his arms. “Finally ushering in an era of absolute peace and order.”

  “With no one to oppose either of you.” My voice sounds hoarse.

  Cassius moves in close. “Of course, if you allow yourself to shed your Lucian Spark persona, once and for all, and become Queran Embers, you can tell me what I need to know and I may yet be able to arrange amnesty for your misguided friends. They’ll have to remain under supervision, of course, but at least they’ll live. Think of it as your last act of mercy to them as Lucian Spark. As always, the choice is yours.”

  My mind’s a tumult. If I allow myself to completely embody the essence of Queran Embers, my captured friends might survive. But I’ll condemn possibly hundreds of thousands of dormant survivors in the Nexus to their deaths by providing Cassius and Delvecchio with the launch codes.

  If I refuse Cass’s proposal, my friends will certainly die, as will the entire resistance, destroying any chance of anyone challenging his reign of blood.

  I’m damned either way. All the choices I made in the Trials seem like a drop of water in a vast ocean of impossible decisions.

  “Perhaps a taste of what’s at stake will help your thought process reach the appropriate conclusion.” Cassius activates his com unit. “Transmit the resistance all clear signal and begin the attack.”

  My fist activates the opticom unit once again. This time I select Corin’s channel.

  He’s staring at the cockpit monitor display, which blinks green. “The strike team’s successfully compromised the entire Thorn fleet’s nav systems. Their ships are defenseless. Repeat. Their ships are defenseless.”

  “All craft move in.” Croakley’s voice commands through the cockpit’s speakers.

  Corin lets out a loud whoop. He soars through the skies with the rest of the fleet and into Parish airspace. “Closing in on main targets.” Flipping a few switches on his console, Corin stares at the readouts. “Something’s not right. Scans show we have enemy ships on a direct intercept course.”

  Dozens of Vulture and Squawker squadrons are now visible through Corin’s cockpit, zigzagging across the sky, spewing bursts of gunfire at the approaching resistance forces. A ship erupts in a ball of fire just outside Corin’s. He veers sharply to escape its path. His console sparks and the craft rocks violently. “I’ve been clipped, but still in one piece.”

  Corin soars over an oncoming Squawker, narrowly avoiding a barrage of gunfire. Then he dives under the enemy ship, inverting his own craft in a dizzying maneuver. He blasts the Squawker out of the sky with his rear gun turrets, before spinning away toward the Parish’s city limits.

  But he realizes something an instant later that I already know.

  Flesher ships break through the clouds, launching their own attack.

  “Sanctum fleet’s blocking our retreat,” Corin yells into his mic. “This whole thing’s one mother of an ambush!”

  All around him, ships explode, from ammo bursts and collisions, creating a hellish sky that rains fireballs and debris onto the city.

  “—no….chance….escape…” Croakley’s com transmission is overpowered by static and explosions.

  Cassius grips my shoulder. “It appears the rebellion is officially over.”

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  “If we’re going to go out,” Corin barks into his mic, “we may as well take as many of them with us as we can.”

  Cheers and shouts of agreement overwhelm the cockpit speakers. Corin joins the other ships, trading firepower with the Thorn and Flesher fleets.

  Tuning out the opticom, I glance out the observation decks’ viewscreens. From this vantage point, the swarms of ships outside look like they’re engaged in an elegant, fiery dance of deadly beauty, their contrails and blasts painting the sky in a brilliant fireworks display.

  Cassius notices me staring. “It’s only a matter of time before the resistance ships are wiped out. You still have the chance to save some lives. Just tell me what I wish to know, and it will all be over.”

  A huge burst fills the expanse of glass separating us from the carnage outside. The sight is all too familiar. As Queran, I remember watching my forces decimate all those others, desperately trying to steal our provisions. How dare they raid my stockpiles? That’s what the lazy and the weak do. Live off the hard work of others, parasites leeching off the system, draining the resources of those more important, more worthy—

  I force myself to look away from the destruction. If I give in and become Queran, what’s happening outside will be nothing but a minor skirmish compared with what I’ll be capable of. The thought fills me with such satisfaction that it terrifies me at the same time.

  A fresh feeling of serenity and resolve fills me. “No,” I say at last. “I won’t give you the codes.”

  Cass’s face is weary. “In your obsession to remain Lucian Spark, you don’t realize how much your stubbornness is an intricate part of Queran Embers.”

  I allow myself the luxury of a grin. “Then you know that trying to change my mind is an exercise in futility. Just the idea of watching you squirm is motivation enough to remain silent.”

  He shakes his head. “Fight it as much as you’d like, but you are Queran—with one critical flaw.”

  “And what might that be?”

  “Queran was wise enough to realize that personal attachments can have an extremely detrimental effect on one’s judgment. He purged himself of that liability. Of all people, I should know.” He sighs. “Unfortunately for you, that’s a lesson you haven’t mastered yet.” Cassius waves an arm toward the aerial attack. “The ambush of your resistance fleet, while satisfying on a strategic level, is a tad too abstract to obtain the results I was hoping for.”

  My eyes flit to my glove. If he only knew just how close I was to what was going on he’d realize just how much he’s underestimated my determination.

  “I think it’s time we made the incentives a little more personal, just like the good old days.” He activates his com unit. “Escort the prisoners that were apprehended in the main frame attack to Town Square for immediate public execution.”

  Every muscle in my body tenses. I try not to give Cassius the satisfaction of betraying the torrential storm of emotions flooding my gut. I hold his gaze, even as I activate the opticom, staring past him at the feeds belonging to the strike team. At first, I glimpse nothing but darkness.

  Did the Imps discover the opticom units and confiscate them?

  The image flickers. Cage, Arrah, Dru, and Dahlia are bunched together in a transport vehicle, along with the surviving Worms. I try hard not to cringe at the sight of their bloodied and swollen faces. Looks like the Thorn Agents haven’t wasted any time interrogating them.

  Dahlia readjusts the makeshift bandage around Cage’s arm. It looks like its sopping with dark wetness. “How’re you holding up, soldier?”

  Cage’s smile seems like a real effort. “Not too bad, considering I think I’ve lost a few pints of blood
.” He grimaces as she tightens the bandage. “Speaking of pints, what’s say you and me grab a pint of Wanderer’s Brew after this party’s over?”

  Dahlia focuses her attention on his bandage. “You asking me on a date?”

  His eyes squeeze shut. “Timing’s not ideal, I know, but I figured I’d play the ‘go out with the poor bloke before he carks it’ card while I still had the chance.”

  “I’m not sure about a cark, but I’m going to shove a cork in your mouth if you don’t stop talking like that,” Drusilla chimes in. “We’re all going to get through this.”

  Arrah squeezes her hand. “I love you, Dru.”

  Drusilla shakes her. “Don’t. Not now. I can’t…” She buries her face against Arrah’s shoulder.

  The transport grinds to a stop.

  “It’s main event time,” a burly Imp snorts.

  They’re all dragged off the craft, through the huddled masses gathered in Town Square, and shoved toward the dais where so many recruits were condemned to the Trials.

  Explosions and whirring ships rock the skies, eliciting gasps and a hubbub of whispering voices from the throng of spectators. It’s obvious many of them have either been dragged from their homes or have rushed here in a panic over the aerial engagement thundering above.

  In the observation deck, one section of the glass window glows, projecting a holographic feed from the Town Square cameras. It provides a wide angle view of the chaotic scene in glorious detail.

  Cage, Dahlia, Arrah, Dru, and the Worm team look like they can barely stand. They’re held at gunpoint in front of the anxious crowd.

  In the observation deck, Cassius steps away and into the spotlight of a hovering holocam. His live image is projected onto the dais next to the captives and on every single jumbotron surrounding the packed square.

  “Greetings, citizens of the Thorn Republic,” he begins his address. “It is regrettable that on this day where we have gathered to commemorate the Armistice between our nation and the inhabitants of Sanctum, the insurrectionists have chosen this opportunity to wage war, in their final, futile attempt to disrupt order.”