Sūnder (Darksoul Book 1) Read online

  “Sūnder, call Dr. Lashūl. He’ll need to bring gurneys or hovercarts to transport the faeborn to the infirmary,” Gabe said as he quickly rounded the impressive table to reach the group.

  Ronan looked up from where he crouched next to the prone faeborn to meet Gabe’s eyes. Sorrow and guilt washed over his features. “You’re the only one I trust with them.”

  He had a hundred questions for Ronan, but they would wait. “Tell me what happened.”

  To his surprise, the Faelÿn answered. “The Keeper of the Jade Forest infected them with something. Poured some kind of fluid on a plant., something strong enough I could see it sicken the poor thing.”

  “She forced them to cleanse it,” Ronan said through gritted teeth.

  Gabe pressed his lips shut on the string of cusswords sitting on the tip of his tongue. Instead, he knelt next to the couch. The dark-headed faeborn was barely conscious. As Gabe checked his vitals, he sensed a slick oiliness similar to what he’d purged from Sūnder in the park. Shuddering at the memory, he touched the ailing faeborn as briefly as possible, snapping out a string of questions: how long had he been infected? Had he lost consciousness? When did the fever start? Where did he come from? What were their names?

  “Shaefer took the brunt of the cleansing,” the one called Milāni said in a soft voice. “That is why he is sicker than Quinlān and me. Can you help him?”

  Gabe didn’t know, but he didn’t want to say yes if he couldn’t. Instead he asked, “Have you been sick from cleansing before?”

  “No. At most, I’m tired afterward and require rest from the exchange. The… whatever she used on the plant was… I don’t know how to explain the wrongness of it. Unnatural.”

  “Dark,” Quinlān said. He sounded really young. “Oily. Sucking. Once I touched it with my magick, I was unable to shake it off. Even now it clings, making me feel ill.”

  Dr. Lashūl entered the room, followed by Princess Válora. A couple of med-techs pushed hovercarts but stayed by the door. Gabe gave his verbal report to Dr. Lashūl as if they were in the emergency room back at the hospital. As Shaefer was transferred to the cart, Dr. Lashūl looked as grim as Gabe felt. The containment field engaged, Shaefer was rushed from the room. The remaining two faeborn reluctantly hopped onto the other hovercarts. They balked at being separated from the Faelÿn until he promised to come to them as soon as he finished speaking with Sūnder. Milāni and Quinlān both looked at Sūnder with what seemed like hero-worship. Possessiveness reared up within Gabe at the sight of their adoring expressions, but just as quickly dissipated when he realized Sūnder was oblivious to their attention. Of course the younger faeborn would look up to Sūnder. Because of him, the Accords had been formed, saving their lives. Even with the rationalization, Gabe moved closer to Sūnder and took his hand, telegraphing the message that Sūnder was his.

  Once the medical personnel and faeborn cleared the room, Sūnder secured the door from unwanted ears. Válora stayed, taking a seat next to Gabe. Sūnder’s frown was dark and foreboding as he paced. Gabe hoped the conversation to come would provide more answers than questions for a change.

  “Which of you is going to start explaining to me how you came to have three darksouled faeborn?” Sūnder asked.

  18

  SŪNDER WAS FURIOUS. The three faeborn being rushed to his med unit were barely past their majority, kits who should still be at home with their families. Tālia of Nellá had contaminated them apurpose. Sūnder understood her hatred of him; if he had been born anything other than faeborn, she would have fooled his father and family, hiding her duplicitous nature longer. Possibly. But to harm the innocent? Clever explanations would not keep her from justice. He’d make sure of it. Personally.

  The Faelÿn bowed, and Sūnder finally recognized the paladin robes. He seemed familiar; had they met before? “Perhaps I should be the one to begin.”

  Ronan glared at the paladin, his arms crossed over his chest. Anger and hurt caused his normally pleasant scent to become almost acrid.

  “I am Holy Paladin Akirá Kaukèx.”

  Sūnder started. Now he understood why Akirá was familiar to him. The paladin had appeared before Valiant’s assembly a couple of seasons prior.

  If Akirá noticed Sūnder’s narrowed gaze, he gave no indication. “Six months ago, the Speaker of the Stars sent me on a mission to come to Earth and negotiate with the Lost. She instructed me to right the injustice done to them long ago, and to bring justice for the faeborn wronged in the Scarab War. The Order of the SilverHands was already here, and together we searched for the Lost, or as we call them, the Cal’kté.”

  “The lost what? I don’t understand what you’re looking for.” Gabe leaned forward as if he was afraid he wouldn’t hear every word.

  Sūnder knew of the paladins. Harbingers of justice, champions of the wronged, they usually operated only in their own lands. Very rarely did they venture beyond Alglistán’s borders, and when they did they sent a missive to the king of Chándaria. Their actions and judgment were above reproach. Did his father know what Akirá was searching for?

  “That is a long story, young Guardian. The short version is that during the L’fÿn civil war, the Guardians and Green Sentinels brought their sickened faeborn to the Temple of the Stars and asked for our help. The Speaker of the Stars is sensitive to the truth, and she found their cause just. The Speaker provided ships and supplies for the Green Sentinels, Guardians, and faeborn to escape Slorèx. Many of the dròw attendants went with them, but others stayed, later becoming Runners of the SilverHand. It was they who chronicled the actions of the noble houses leading to the war. We sent copies of the documents to the Panthrÿn king after he became embroiled in the conflict, but the couriers were either caught or killed. The Speaker took the original records and retreated to the Shattered Lands to keep them safe from those who had no wish for their secrets to become public.”

  Ronan spoke up, his glare as hard as his tone. “And now, after all these years have passed, she decides it is time to bring the L’fÿns to justice for the atrocities they committed centuries ago?”

  Puzzled, Sūnder cocked his head. He wasn’t the only one who noticed that Ronan spoke as if he were familiar with the history Akirá spoke of. Gabe’s expression clouded, but he did not say anything.

  When Akirá opened his mouth to answer, A’ymon forestalled him with a dark hand. “It was a choice made by our ancestors, the attendants who remained behind. My forefather, Sÿlver Khátar, the first SilverHand, was the one to chronicle the plight of the outcast guardians with evidence, video testimony, documentation of how the scarabs came to be, medical records, and the remains of their dead kept in stasis. Three Panthrÿn specialists from the leading institute, six Faelÿn clan heads, the attendants of the lines of Vesrÿn, Baptÿst, Aulūçë, Tishärā, and the L’fÿn noble houses of Kÿlyn, Ráthā, and Branwuen verified the information.

  “The specialists were murdered, as were many of the attendants. Information and evidence was stolen before everything could be moved to a secure location. We could not ask Faelÿns to go to war against the Panthrÿns once the L’fÿns swayed the royal house with their version of events. At that time, Alglistán and S’koylë were separate countries. We’d seen enough bloodshed; we had no desire to see Faelÿns bleed for our cause. We decided that once the dust was settled we would retrieve our outcast guardians and faeborn, then make a plea to the Panthrÿn king who had taken E’drijān over. But when we sent out runners to bring our people home, we couldn’t find them. They’d disappeared. Since then, we silverhands have recruited dròw males to search the galaxies for the outcasts who’d become lost to us. It wasn’t until recently that we were sure they had landed here and integrated with humans. I eventually made contact with them and confirmed the guardians were here with their faeborn, and have been speaking to their representatives for almost a year. I sent a request to the Speaker for help when the Cal’kté refused to consider returning to Slorèx. She sent Akirá to negotiate and disco
ver why.

  “Everything was fine until recently. Something happened to spook them, and communication was broken off. Several months ago we found a new contact, with whom we began negotiating a return home.”

  “Ronan?” Sūnder was worried about how fast his scent was changing. He was far more distressed than he let on.

  Shoving to his feet, Ronan moved to the sideboard that held a pitcher of water. His hands shook so hard that he spilled some when he poured a glass. “Akirá should finish his story.” Looking ill, Ronan returned to sit at the table with his water.

  The paladin stared hard at Ronan’s bowed head before hesitantly reaching out to take Ronan’s hand. Finally pulling his gaze from his glass, Ronan glanced up at Akirá. Something passed between them, perhaps an unspoken question only the two of them were privy to, because Ronan gave a small nod before Akirá continued.

  “Before I left Slorèx for Earth, I was approached by the Keeper of the Jade Forest. Like many foreigners, she believed paladins are mercenaries for hire, and was adamant she acquire my services for her trip to Earth. Since her noble house was one of those embroiled in the atrocities against the faeborn and guardians, I agreed to her request. The fact she looked for a strong-arm outside her people bothered me. My intention was to keep an eye on her activities and be in a position to interfere with her plans if required. She said she would not contact me unless she needed my services, and I was here long enough that I thought she had forgotten about me. Until the two of you left Earth’s surface.” Akirá indicated Gabe and Sūnder. He then relayed what had happened and how Ronan had become involved. Akirá had called A’ymon to help protect the faeborn, and Ronan had called Gabe.

  When Akirá finished his account, Sūnder sensed he’d purposely neglected to expound upon certain details. Judging by the expression on Ronan’s face, the information was significant, and possibly something to do with Ronan himself. Akirá was exuding possessive and protective pheromones. With the way he held onto Ronan, Sūnder didn’t have to guess who’d caused the change in Akirá’s scent.

  Sūnder sat back in his chair as Válora asked Akirá more details about Tālia, looking for something that would explain Tālia’s agenda concerning the darkened faeborn. Ronan offered a copy of the video he’d recorded of the meeting. He also handed over a brown glass vial that carried the pollutant she used to sicken the three faeborn now in the ship’s infirmary. Sūnder listened with half an ear, knowing his mother would have a report written up and sent to him and his father shortly after the meeting dispersed. Taking Gabe’s hand, he kissed the back of Gabe’s knuckles, wishing there was something he could do to alleviate Gabe’s tension.

  Speaking of, he massaged his stomach. The ache there reminded him of the time he’d had a contest with his troops as to who could do the most sit-ups. He wanted to soak in hot water to ease the muscles but such an indulgence was a long way off.

  Everyone had fallen silent, and Sūnder decided to wrap up the conversation and have Paulo arrange accommodations for their guests. But before he could give the order, Ronan spoke.

  “There’s more.” Ronan cleared his throat, his gaze darting nervously to Gabe before dropping to where Akirá held his hand. “When SilverHand A’ymon first contacted us, the elders sent scouts to Slorèx to ascertain what state E’drijān was in. They didn’t like what they heard: faeborn murdered at birth, until Prince Valiant and his father King Leänther put a stop to the practice; the Jade Forest either in slumber or so polluted that many parts were dying or dead; the wild fey gone, relegated to lore and folktales; and the noble houses still in power and just as corrupt.

  “The elders chose to withdraw, but the younger generation protested their decision, wanting to help as long as their safety could be guaranteed. With great reluctance, the elders continued negotiations with A’ymon and the SilverHands, until the pollutant that originally sickened—darkened—the faeborn on Slorèx turned up in many of the parks here in the city. Fearful that darkhunters were trying to lure them into traps, and rightly so, they gathered the guardians, faeborn, and green sentinels, and retreated to safety. The elders decided that if the Jade Forest died, so be it. Why should they be the ones responsible for restoring the forest when those who led the L’fÿns would only corrupt it again? For generations we have been hiding in plain sight, living and conducting our lives like humans, and the elders were sure that if we revealed ourselves, the horror of what happened on Slorèx so long ago would be visited upon us again.”

  Ronan looked up at Gabe, his eyes deep wells of regret. Guilt etched lines around his downturned mouth. The expression was hard to look upon. “But the younger generation opposed the decision. We understand that all Chándariāns are tied to the land. The fertility issues among them makes it clear the Jade Forest is dying, and brings to light the L’fÿns’ attempt to bury this secret. The group living here bonded with Earth long ago, so we aren’t affected by the issues that afflict the Chándariāns. However, those of us in the Movement can’t just leave the people of Slorèx to die, regardless of what the L’fÿn noble houses have done. That would make us no better than those who murdered innocent babes. But many of the elders are old enough to remember the flight from Slorèx, and the memories of how the noble houses harmed the faeborn are still fresh.

  “As guardians, their purpose is to protect faeborn. Even here on Earth, they protect their secrets jealously, and for those who reveal too much without permission the punishment is high. I’m one of those who argues to assist the people of Slorèx. There are young Slorèx-born faeborn who need the help of guardians; they will eventually burn out if the L’fÿns don’t poison them first. When the elders broke off contact with the SilverHands, I reestablished the communication. More recently, I defied the orders of my commanders to turn myself in as the elders are taking everyone into deep hiding. Once they go underground, even I won’t be able to find them, because they will sever all ties with me.” Ronan’s breath hitched, and Akirá leaned in and nuzzled his temple.

  “Ro, surely your parents and Pip…?” Gabe pushed back his chair, as if he would go to Ronan. Sūnder could sense Gabe’s need to comfort his best friend. Should he protect Gabe and hold him tighter, or encourage him to go to Ronan?

  “No. They are green sentinels. They will do their duty to protect the guardians and faeborn. I have broken too many rules too often for them to take me back, especially the order to keep you away from Sūnder.

  “When I refused to come in, that was the final straw. If they get their hands on me now, more than likely I will be imprisoned until the end of my days, which is stupidly long.” Ronan closed his eyes and grimaced, as if the mere thought sickened him. After a couple of deep breaths he straightened in his seat.

  “But I have my own mission, my own guardians and faeborn to protect. I’ll accompany those who choose to return to Slorèx. Once we leave, I will never be able to come back to Earth. In order to do what is right, I have lost everything.” Ronan slumped dejectedly, that last sentence seeming to sap him of his strength.

  Gabe made a wounded noise and left his seat, rounding the end of the table, Ronan’s surprise clear when Gabe pulled him into a fierce embrace. Ronan collapsed against Gabe, burying his face in Gabe’s neck.

  Suddenly weary, Sūnder ran a hand over his face. Temple paladins, silverhands, outcast faeborn and guardians. What more would be added to the L’fÿn intrigue?

  Sūnder was afraid to ask, lest some divine being decided to answer.

  19

  HOLDING RONAN TIGHT, Gabe edged them away from everyone. The shuddering and hot tears against his throat told him how upset Ronan was. Ronan hated to break down like this, especially in front of witnesses. When they’d been kids, Pip had been an ass whenever Ronan showed any outward emotion that Pip deemed “soft”. After Mr. Rinne caught Pip humiliating Ronan, he put a stop to it, but the damage had been done. Ronan hid his emotions after that, only allowing Gabe to see him like this, the occasions so few Gabe could count them on one hand. Th
e time Ronan broke his leg counted, no matter what Ronan thought.

  Over Ronan’s shoulder, Gabe watched Sūnder usher Akirá, Paulo, and Válora from the room. Akirá stared at Ronan for long moments before he left, his yearning to offer comfort clear. The interaction between the two hadn’t been lost on Gabe; Ronan didn’t hold hands with anyone. Ever. How had he come to trust Akirá so?

  Left alone with Ronan, Gabe didn’t say anything. He struggled with conflicting emotions himself. Relief he was indeed a guardian, and that these changes weren’t somehow wrong. Anger at Ronan’s family for making Ronan choose between them and himself. Fury at his own family for keeping secrets from him and ensuring that others would keep them as well. And pain that the elders hadn’t accepted him, but instead left him floundering in fear and doubt.

  He was and wasn’t angry with Ronan. The world Ronan lived in was different than the one Gabe had inhabited, with rules and consequences he still couldn’t quite fathom.

  “I’m so sorry, Gabe. I wanted to tell you so many times. But when you didn’t present at puberty, your mother and father decided to leave you in the mundane world. For years, I argued that they’d made a mistake. Faeborn identify guardians, can feel their brand of magick. You were special. Anyone who came to your loft would have known in a moment that your abilities were simply latent. I tried to find a way around them without breaking the rules, fearing they’d send me away. Too many people in the Movement depended on me. I had hoped that if Sūnder was the one to awaken your magick, they would change their minds. They didn’t.” Ronan gave a watery laugh, pushing away, and Gabe reluctantly let him go.

  Swiping a sleeve across his tear-stained face, Ronan said, “I know you’re mad at me. Maybe someday you’ll be able to forgive me. Now that I’ve severed all ties with them—” Ronan’s expression crumpled for a second, but he gathered himself just as quickly. “Whatever questions you have, I’ll tell you everything I know.”