Idols. Margaret Stohl

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СКАЧАТЬ Fortis.

       Fortis is back at the camp.

      I reach for him in my mind, and I wrap myself around the thought of him.

       Calm. Unshaken. Two boots planted in the dust, coat flapping in the unnatural wind.

       That can’t be right.

      I close my eyes, and hazy glimpses of words on a screen appear in my mind.

       Null.

       That’s the one word that comes into focus—even if I have no idea why it’s there or what it means.

      I open my eyes. “Fortis is still back there. He’s okay, but we need to help him.”

      Ro looks at me like I’ve lost my mind. “No. We’re getting out of here.” He shakes his head. “You want to take on the Lords? The No Face themselves? Even I’m not that crazy.” He thinks for a minute. “Almost, but yeah—no.”

      “We can’t let Fortis sacrifice himself for us,” I say to Lucas, but he’s already looking at Tima, eyebrows raised in an unspoken question.

      Tima reacts quickly. “But we can’t stay here. We’re too exposed. They could easily find us.”

      “So let’s beat it,” Ro answers.

      “Six potential snake-free escape routes,” she says, scanning the rocks behind us. “I counted on the way up.” Ro snorts. “Given our relative positioning and the Lords’ approach vector, our optimal chance to escape unnoticed is this way.” Tima might as well be Doc’s little sister, sometimes.

      I look at her. “But not for Fortis. That’s not his optimal chance.” He was so calm, I think. He knew what he was doing. He knew what he was giving up for us.

       Would I have done the same? Given myself over to the Lords, to save my friends?

       Would anyone?

      “We have to go,” Lucas says, and then sees my face fall. He softens his voice. “Hey. Come on. We’re no use if we let ourselves get taken too.”

      I turn to Tima, but she only shrugs. Ro looks at me, grim. Not letting go of my arm, he pulls me behind him, half dragging me through the red dust. “Let’s go. Now.”

      I yank my arm away, but I’m too frightened to say anything. Lucas and Tima are right behind us.

      We run. I try to stay low as I weave through the carved rock, trying to avoid impaling myself on a cactus.

      Behind us, the silver ships land, kicking up clouds of grit and brush, creating a massive billowing whirlwind of dust that masks our escape.

      I hear strange, grinding mechanical noises of a technology I cannot understand—and Fortis shouting.

      I turn around when I hear the explosions—Fortis’s trademark diversion—and try not to think about the thick black smoke billowing into the sky behind me.

      We keep running. We’re going too fast for me to feel anything, now. At least not Fortis.

      As we run through a narrow passage in the rock, I see Ro stop behind a large boulder. He waves us through, and Lucas and Tima keep on going. I pause and see Ro wedge himself behind the boulder—which is easily four times his size—and start to push. Which is pointless; I’ve never seen him move anything that size before.

      “Ro, what are you doing?”

      He doesn’t answer, but I feel the energy build between us. Then I understand.

      The rock is heating up from the inside.

      Ro is focusing his rage, as though the boulder were the Sympas who killed the Padre.

      There is no way Ro can move that boulder—not even with all his power—but there is also no way he can contain that much anger.

      Something has to give.

      I run downward, clear of the path—until I sense a burst of heat, and the massive rock crashes into the pathway, blocking it and hiding our retreat.

      Before I can process what has just happened, Ro scrambles up and over the boulder, flushed with satisfaction.

      “Okay—that was awesome,” he says. I reach for his hand but he pulls it away. “Careful. You know what they say. I’m hot.”

      “They really don’t.” I’d say more, but there’s no time.

      Instead, we run and we keep running—and we don’t stop, ever, not for a second, not until Tima tells us we’re clear.

      Not until we are all the way down the red cliffs and wading through an icy river, our feet numb.

      We press against the cliff wall when we hear the shrill sound of the Lords’ ships taking off, and the loud crack as they disappear into the clouds.

      We wait, the air hanging thick with silence.

      Dread.

       An impossible quiet. That’s all they’ve left behind. Again.

       That’s what they do, the No Face.

       Take everything I care about. Everyone.

       And leave silence. Not peace.

      And all I have left is a feeling—a horrible, hopeless feeling—that I am losing something essential, something urgent. A part of my own self, a thing that makes me complete.

      Because Fortis is gone. I believe it now.

      I push myself as hard as I can, searching and probing, stretching out my consciousness as far as I can—but there’s nothing there. Nothing to feel.

      Fortis is nowhere near. And that infuriating mess of a Merk wasn’t just a mercenary but the leader of the rebellion. He was the leader of my adopted family, and after the Padre was killed, he was the only excuse for a father I had.

      I’d cry, but the place where the tears come from is broken. I can’t. Maybe I’ll never cry again—which makes me so sad I want to start bawling.

      Fortis would hate that.

      So instead, I listen to my heart pound and Brutus bark and Tima worry and Ro and Lucas argue—and try to remember what it is we’re fighting for.

      GENERAL EMBASSY DISPATCH:

       EASTASIA SUBSTATION

      MARKED URGENT

       MARKED EYES ONLY

      Internal Investigative Subcommittee IIS211B

      RE: The Incident at SEA Colonies

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