Loreign pointed her sword at Dorian’s chest. “My son,” she said, tears dripping from her cheeks. “I cannot allow you to proceed.” Though the betrayal in his eyes was clear, she did not falter. The very picture of elegant nobility, she faced him as a queen—and as his mother.
“You would also betray me?” Dorian asked. “You will not abdicate? You insist on your own death?”
“Turn around, Dorian. Dismiss your followers. Lay aside your weapons.”
“No!” Dorian screamed, his shout echoing in the silent hall. “I have restored the name of our family. No longer will the name Starhold be derided, laughed at in the streets. You cannot take my Throne from me!”
----------------------------------------
Frustrated by his lack of understanding his new powers, and overwhelmed by the alien feel of everything in the garage, Elion decided to try and orient himself. There had to be a place to get a view of the surrounding landscape higher up in the tower.
He went upstairs, toward the living space. Passing Keyla’s room, where he’d slept last night, he noticed another door on the other side of the hall. Elion tried the door, but it was locked. Further down the hall, a living room opened up.
Blankets and a pillow strewn over a sofa suggested that Keyla had spent the night out here, while Elion occupied her bed. A small wash basin was set up in the corner of the room, near a machine that might have been a fridge. Drying dishes rested on a rack over the wash basin.
Most of the room was taken up by a large work table, well-lit by a broad window looking to the west, away from Kairn Tol. A clean white cloth lay atop the table. On the cloth, various parts of a laser rifle lay in a carefully organized pattern, awaiting assembly. Elion walked over and examined the precise ordering of the parts, marveling at the complicated intricacy of the rifle’s internal mechanisms.
He didn’t dare touch anything and wondered if he should stop poking around. But a nervous energy buzzed inside of him.
Another window looked to the east. Looking through it, Elion could see the edge of the island, but not the river. Part of the Shard was visible, looming in the darkness. With his eyes he followed the road out of town, but he couldn’t see the bridge.
A ladder in the corner of the room suggested additional floors higher up in the tower.
If he could find a place to see the bridge from here, he could see if the bridge was still up. He could watch for Gorman or Keyla coming back.
Elion climbed the ladder. Passing into hole in the ceiling, he did not discover another room, but found himself in a dark tube. He climbed up through this. The humming in the air which he had noticed around the central pillar grew stronger here, intensifying as he climbed.
Twice, he had to stop and rest, catching his breath while hanging onto the rungs of the ladder. The cuts on his legs still stung as he climbed. Once he looked down, the drop sending tingles down his spine, muscles puckering. His hands and feet grew sweaty. He nearly climbed back down, but a glance upward revealed that he had basically reached the top of the ladder, so he continued climbing.
At the top of the ladder, he emerged into a small, circular room. There were no windows in the walls, nor was there anywhere higher to climb. At the center of the room, a column glowed with a pale yellow-green.
Bunches of cables looped overhead, and cords lay strewn across the floor. Meters and other readouts clustered around the base of the glowing glass columns, numbers flashing on screens. Equipment wrapped around the yellow-green core flickered with teal lights.
An inscription on a long strip of metal wrapped around the column near the top. At first Elion could not read the strange characters, but then the familiar << Translation Active >> notice appeared in his vision, and the characters subtly shifted to English.
He had to walk all the way around the column to read the entire inscription.
<< “Bound in love by shared purpose, your legacy serves us still.” >>
The space, though cluttered with equipment and technology, had the sacred feel of a monument. Elion wondered what the people of Aterfel memorialized here, at the heart of this tower in the middle of their town. Elion took a closer look at the column.
Layers of what looked like clear glass jars composed the bulk of the column, with metal rings securing the jars in place every foot or so. Glowing fluid filled the jars, a misshapen, floating object beating inside of each.
This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.
Cables ran from the column and out the top of the tower. Elion marveled at the intricate construction of the device.
Drawing power or producing it? Elion wondered. A clatter from the ladder startled him.
“Hey,” Keyla said, emerging from the hole in the floor. “What are you doing? You shouldn’t be up here. The Threnody Core is off limits. If you messed something up the whole city would lose power.”
Elion jumped. “Just looking,” he said. “I’m sorry.”
“Who said you could look? You need to leave this room. Stuff keeps breaking when you’re around, and I don’t want to have to replace Threnody Modules in the core. Besides, this space is special.”
“I’m sorry,” Elion apologized again. “I’ll leave.”
Keyla pulled herself the rest of the way back into the room, gesturing for Elion to lead the way back down. He obliged.
“How is the bridge? Did you get it fixed?” he asked.
“Temporarily,” Keyla said. “It’ll hold for now, while we work on a longer-term solution. Gorman’s still there, keeping an eye on things, and I sent a few of the town guard to keep watch.”
“Good,” Elion said. “That’s good to hear.”
“Yeah, whatever,” Keyla said. “Just stay away from anything sensitive, if you actually care.”
“Why wouldn’t I care?” Elion retorted. “Of course I care.” He wondered if Gorman had told her that his teleportation here had damaged the bridge.
Keyla did not reply, and they continued in silence down the ladder.
“Gorman says you’re staying in my room again tonight,” Keyla said when they reached the living room area. “He said making you sleep on a couch would be bad hospitality. I don’t know why I’m the one that has to give up my room though.” She sighed, exasperated.
“I can sleep on the couch,” Elion said. “That doesn’t bother me.”
“No,” Keyla said. “Stop it. You’re sleeping in my room.” She walked down the hall and opened the door, gesturing for him to enter.
“But if you’d rather—”
“I wouldn’t rather Gorman find out I disobeyed him,” Keyla said. “So you’re going in here. I’ll bring you some food. But I don’t want you snooping around, or trying to help, or anything like that. So go to my room and stay there. And if you come near me while I’m sleeping I swear I’ll punch you in the throat.”
Elion raised his hands defensively, but walked into Keyla’s room. He’d tried to be respectful of these people, of their culture. He didn’t understand half of the things happening here, but he knew he hadn’t done anything to deserve that statement.
He turned to face her in the doorway, prepared to politely defend himself. In that moment, standing there with her hand on her hip, fire in her eyes, she looked just like Liora as she ordered him around. Elion’s frustration broke through, and he snapped back at her. “What did I ever do to you?” he protested. “Why are you such a jerk?”
Keyla shut the door in his face.
He stood in the middle of the room, waiting for her to yell something back at him, or open the door to get the last word. Liora would have done that. She never let Elion win a fight.
But Keyla didn’t respond to his insult. Her boots clomped away down the hall, and suddenly felt a wave of homesickness wash over Elion. Liora always had a special way of getting under his skin, but he missed her. He missed Zev.
He fumed, questioning every decision he’d made in the last week. Maybe he had messed everything up here in Aterfel. Maybe he did accidentally break the bridge. But Keyla was still being a jerk to him.
Still, he could have been more tactful. He wished she would come back and yell at him so that he wouldn’t have to feel like such a meathead.
Everything was so different here, so strange.
Elion began pacing the room, trying to figure out what he needed to do next. He wasn’t making friends here. Kasm, the first person he’d met, had nearly gotten killed. Possibly his fault, too, if stray warlock magic from the portal he’d stepped through had damaged the bridge.
People in Aterfel were already angry about Aurelians thanks to Prator, and worried that he was going to bring the attention of Dorian’s warlocks with him. Maybe Keyla was justified in the way she treated him.
The immensity of what Elion had done by stepping through that portal weighed down on him. He had no plan. No knowledge. No abilities. He was trapped here, in Aterfel. He was trapped on Kylios, with no way to get back to Earth. Even if he could find Liora, what did he expect to be able to do?
Even with his Aurelian abilities, it could take him years to improve them enough to make a difference.
Flopping back onto the bed, Elion realized a terrible truth. He was useless here. Worse than useless, he was a danger. A menace. Nobody wanted him here, and the longer he stayed, the worse things would get. He needed to get off of this island.