The mattress was still horribly uncomfortable. A deep darkness enveloped the silent barracks. An occasional cough or soft snore emerged from the shapeless lumps settled into their bunks. The air was breezeless, with no rustling of trees and no sounds of nature to calm her nerves.
Just twenty-four hours earlier, she’d been a free woman, camping under the rolling colors of the daily spectacle in the night sky and listening to the soft hum of the forest and its residents. Now she was trapped in the stagnant air of the Order’s cavernous Compound.
How in the blazes can they survive with their trees burrowed in the earth like this? In her daze-like state following SainClair through the underground compound, she hadn’t seen the elder hardwoods required to power the Order’s facilities. It was beyond the scope of any home she’d ever seen. This place must consume more power than the entirety of Willowslip , she thought. Where does it all come from?
That wasn’t the most pressing question, though. Really, how could anyone be happy locked up in a stone box instead of surrounded by the warm, soothing buzz of the forest? In the suffocating darkness and stillness, Mia berated herself for not reading that stupid letter before the Dominus ever saw it. He must be lying. There was no way Father would have promised the clerics her service in exchange for some crazy treatment. And yet his behavior had been odd. Perhaps he had been telling her good-bye. With that thought in her head, she fell back into an uneasy sleep.
7 The Oath
Lumin Cycle 9515
Melia Kannon sat at a small table , back stiff, eyes fierce. She circled her arms protectively around her chest. The small room was an alcove deep in the Compound, dank and moist with the life-giving detritus that nourished the Crater Grove. It filled the air with its earthy fragrance and their lungs with tiny particles. Hans sat across from her, his face a mask of calm. Melia wasn’t deceived. She saw the slight twitch in his right eye. They sat there a long time. The room was like a tomb—neither one shifted or breathed audibly. The air was completely still. Finally Melia coughed, breaking the silence.
“It’s for the good of Lumin,” Hans said at last. “We must protect the key and our records at all cost.”
“Don’t you think I know that?” Melia snapped. “For almost twenty cycles, we’ve been under constant assault by those…Druids, as they’ve taken to calling themselves. They’re convinced that the Counsel erred and that the only way back to civilization is to restore the Network. Long-term consequences be damned.”
Gerard’s face flashed into her mind, and she had to blink it away and fight back tears. Rosewater’s people had finally finished her dear friend just this cycle while they were on a mission to the South. The Order already had sent a death notice to the SainClair estate, but it would be months before they heard anything back. The more lives the Druids took, the less inclined the Order was to try for a truce with them.
“I know that as well as you do,” said Hans, rubbing a hand through his spiky hair.
The brown of his hair was threaded with silver, his eyes severe, his brow low on his forehead. In that moment he very much reminded Melia of his uncle, Minister Draca, another dear friend lost to this madness. The list grew longer every cycle.
“It’s a burden you’ve borne with dignity. You’ve done a service to us all. But these attacks have been increasing in recent cycles. It’s no longer safe to keep the key and book on your person. They must be secured.”
“I made a sacred vow to Aris SainClair when she entrusted these items to me. Besides, the Druids only know about the key.”
“That may be true, but you know better than I that they’ll need both the key and records if they hope to restore the Network. Our only advantage is that they don’t know this, an advantage that could easily disappear if either object
Just twenty-four hours earlier, she’d been a free woman, camping under the rolling colors of the daily spectacle in the night sky and listening to the soft hum of the forest and its residents. Now she was trapped in the stagnant air of the Order’s cavernous Compound.
How in the blazes can they survive with their trees burrowed in the earth like this? In her daze-like state following SainClair through the underground compound, she hadn’t seen the elder hardwoods required to power the Order’s facilities. It was beyond the scope of any home she’d ever seen. This place must consume more power than the entirety of Willowslip , she thought. Where does it all come from?
That wasn’t the most pressing question, though. Really, how could anyone be happy locked up in a stone box instead of surrounded by the warm, soothing buzz of the forest? In the suffocating darkness and stillness, Mia berated herself for not reading that stupid letter before the Dominus ever saw it. He must be lying. There was no way Father would have promised the clerics her service in exchange for some crazy treatment. And yet his behavior had been odd. Perhaps he had been telling her good-bye. With that thought in her head, she fell back into an uneasy sleep.
7 The Oath
Lumin Cycle 9515
Melia Kannon sat at a small table , back stiff, eyes fierce. She circled her arms protectively around her chest. The small room was an alcove deep in the Compound, dank and moist with the life-giving detritus that nourished the Crater Grove. It filled the air with its earthy fragrance and their lungs with tiny particles. Hans sat across from her, his face a mask of calm. Melia wasn’t deceived. She saw the slight twitch in his right eye. They sat there a long time. The room was like a tomb—neither one shifted or breathed audibly. The air was completely still. Finally Melia coughed, breaking the silence.
“It’s for the good of Lumin,” Hans said at last. “We must protect the key and our records at all cost.”
“Don’t you think I know that?” Melia snapped. “For almost twenty cycles, we’ve been under constant assault by those…Druids, as they’ve taken to calling themselves. They’re convinced that the Counsel erred and that the only way back to civilization is to restore the Network. Long-term consequences be damned.”
Gerard’s face flashed into her mind, and she had to blink it away and fight back tears. Rosewater’s people had finally finished her dear friend just this cycle while they were on a mission to the South. The Order already had sent a death notice to the SainClair estate, but it would be months before they heard anything back. The more lives the Druids took, the less inclined the Order was to try for a truce with them.
“I know that as well as you do,” said Hans, rubbing a hand through his spiky hair.
The brown of his hair was threaded with silver, his eyes severe, his brow low on his forehead. In that moment he very much reminded Melia of his uncle, Minister Draca, another dear friend lost to this madness. The list grew longer every cycle.
“It’s a burden you’ve borne with dignity. You’ve done a service to us all. But these attacks have been increasing in recent cycles. It’s no longer safe to keep the key and book on your person. They must be secured.”
“I made a sacred vow to Aris SainClair when she entrusted these items to me. Besides, the Druids only know about the key.”
“That may be true, but you know better than I that they’ll need both the key and records if they hope to restore the Network. Our only advantage is that they don’t know this, an advantage that could easily disappear if either object
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