Page 92 of Swords of Soul and Shadow (Gate Chronicles #3)
NEVER CHANGE
Kase
AFTER THE FIRE, KASE HAD given up smokes. He’d only started because he knew his father would hate it. But now, cigarettes only made him think of the fire that killed his sister and countless others. Quitting had been easy.
But every once in a while, the itch came back, the tingling in his fingertips that begged for release.
The tunnel wall scraped his shirt as he leaned against it, arms crossed.
He’d found his way back to the scene where he’d played Hanged Man’s Nebula.
Sergeant had advised against it, but Kase didn’t care.
He had business with his old friends. His fingers twitched involuntarily.
A quick puff or two would’ve smoothed away his anxiety.
Sergeant had followed him anyway, even if he’d disagreed. He’d probably make good back-up. Maybe having him watch his every move could be a blessing, not a bother.
Or a little bit of both, at least.
Sergeant hadn’t interfered with his patrols yet, even if Kase flew a little longer than necessary. He’d also been unsuccessful in convincing the other pilots to join him, and he hadn’t had the courage to face or ask Laurence Hixon, the greenie Kase had dueled in the induction ritual months ago.
Well, there was a reason the others hadn’t been called in when the Cerls attacked.
Kase needed to hurry with this little rendezvous, because he had things to do.
Things like finding Hallie and seeing if she could beg off whatever she was doing for a few hours.
He thought she’d said something about training with Saldr, but Kase hadn’t been paying too much attention. He’d been too distracted by her lips.
Oh, and he also had a few patrols scheduled. Those were important.
But he had a purpose for being in this part of the Catacombs. Kase squatted next to an older gentleman wearing clothes that had seen better days. “The men who like to play Nebula over here. Have you seen them?”
“Not since two nights past.” The man was missing a few teeth. He gestured to a few other fellow refugees. “Didn’t like them much.”
“Why?”
The man scratched his red-bearded chin. “There’s two type of men who play the Nebula—the desperate and the idle. Most of us fit into the first. Those ones fit into the second.”
Kase stood again. He looked back at his shadow. Sergeant inspected the surroundings and people, scanning for trouble with a hand on the sword at his waist. He was listening, but he didn’t want to show it.
Kase chewed on the edge of his lip and made up his mind. “I think the men are part of One World. What have you heard of them?”
The old man coughed hard, his lung wheezing with each inhale.
After he calmed down, he gave Kase a steely look.
“Listened to some of them afore, and I would’ve agreed, but after they went ahead and betrayed us with those blasted Cerls…
” He looked at a few of his fellow refugees, some which were leaning in.
“It’s probably best those boys never show their face in these parts again. ”
Well, at least Kase could agree with him on that. Still didn’t help him find Eravin. He held out his hand for the man to shake. “Best of luck to you, then.”
The man’s equally shaggy eyebrows rose into his mussed hair, but he shook his hand. Kase bowed as he continued down another tunnel.
He asked around until his feet hurt. He couldn’t check his pocket watch to see just how much time had passed, because he still hadn’t bothered to find himself a new one, but he knew Hallie would be expecting him soon, and he wanted to clean up a little before he saw her next.
Picking up his pace, he turned down a new tunnel, losing count of just how many he’d traversed.
The only difference between them all was the state of the refugees.
The closer one got to the central cavern, the less bedraggled the refugees’ clothing became—only because they’d started out looking much finer, though Kase was certain he’d spotted a lower-city councilman still donning his sleeping clothes.
Stopping a few times, he asked about Eravin and the others, but no one seemed to know who he was talking about.
A few had spit when Kase mentioned his name rather than his description, though.
Seemed as if Eravin’s little stint with One World had backfired.
Too late to save Kyvena, of course. He did wonder if the capital would’ve still fallen if One World hadn’t taken root there.
If the people had known of the destruction to come, would they still have taken to the streets, protesting the Stradat Lord Kapitan and chanting for his death?
And Kase’s.
Only one person gave him anything to work with, though she narrowed her eyes at his approach. Kase swallowed his exhaustion and uneasiness.
“Good morning,” Kase greeted, giving her a tentative smile. The only indication she heard him was the subtle raise of her brow. “I’m looking for someone. Early twenties, close-cropped black hair, goes by Eravin. You seen him?”
The woman stared at him, eyes narrowing once more before she finally nodded. “Last night.”
“Where?”
She pointed in the direction of the Stradat Lord Kapitan’s tent. “Saw him sneaking round the central cavern while I was fetching rations. Listened to him preach a pretty sermon a few months back, but I didn’t take the bait.”
Kase started to thank her, but she interrupted him. “You look mighty familiar yourself. What did you say your name was?”
She noticed his guard for the first time and tilted her head. He shook his. “Thank you for your time—”
She grabbed his wrist. “You’re that Shackley boy. The one that burned the city, aren’t you?”
He met her eyes and tried not to wrench his hand back. He didn’t think she would punch him or curse him because her gaze wasn’t filled with hate. That didn’t mean she couldn’t do anything or call on someone who would.
But he was done running. He’d gone through the caves and fought his way back to Kyvena to answer for his crimes—he’d been ready to take responsibility. He hadn’t known he’d come back to find the city razed.
Besides, the world might be ending. What worse could this woman do if he answered the question truthfully?
Be honest, Hallie’s voice said in his head.
Of course his subconscious now spoke with her voice. She’d be proud.
Kase placed his other hand over the woman’s. “Yes. I can’t even begin to tell you just how sorry…”
He clenched his jaw to prevent the emotion from leaking out as he trailed off. Kase tried to find his words again, but the woman shook her head before releasing him. “I’m praying for you, Master Shackley.”
Well, that wasn’t what he’d expected.
Kase swallowed, nodded, and turned back down the tunnel. He couldn’t find any response to that.
He still didn’t know what he believed in, and after the last few months, he wasn’t sure what was real and what wasn’t.
His reality had been turned completely on its head.
He blinked a few times as he wove between men and women who weren’t Eravin.
Maybe when he had time, he could ruminate more on the subject.
Not that he knew when that would be, if ever.
Funny how time never did seem to be on his side, no matter how much he wished it would be.
“Pilot Shackley,” Sergeant said, dismissing a runner who had just delivered a missive. He read the short note and handed it to Kase.
The parchment had been ripped from some other document, covered in print on the back that made no sense out of context. The writing on the front was firm, almost too neat.
You will report to the Command Tent at 1200 hours.
Kase recognized the Stradat Lord Kapitan’s handwriting, but couldn’t ascertain the motivation behind the summons.
Maybe he wanted a report on his progress with the greenies?
That wouldn’t be a pleasant conversation.
He’d been sending him daily scouting patrol reports through Sergeant. Maybe it was about those?
He’d kept the hover invisible on his recent patrols to escape attention, but he’d spied Skibs circling the city on his dragon more than once, including one incident where he’d been near the Jayde Center, inspecting the ruins.
Kase had fired a few shots to warn him off, missing on purpose. He hadn’t included that in his report.
Skibs was clearly searching for something, but Kase didn’t know what. If it was the Catacombs, he could’ve inspected the gaping holes in the landscape created by bombs and cave-ins.
Whatever it was had to be important, and maybe he would lead them right to it. Then Kase could use it as leverage.
Maybe not the best plan, but as long as Skibs didn’t threaten those hiding below, Kase would give him the chance to reveal his hand.
He eyed Sergeant and held up the paper, asking the unspoken question. Sergeant merely shrugged, indicating he knew nothing of what awaited Kase in roughly two hours. Of course.
Kase stuffed the parchment in his pocket and made to go further down the tunnel. Just when he thought he’d reached an understanding with his guard, he became the Stradat Lord Kapitan’s pawn once more.
“Shackley! It’s him!”
Kase whipped his head around to find a man pointing an arthritic finger at him. Others followed the man’s finger and locked eyes with Kase.
Blast.
The crowd grew, pushing him to the side. The wall of bodies nearly swallowed him. Some screamed. He didn’t have a pistol. He didn’t have anything besides the missive with which to defend himself if someone sought to harm him, and a papercut wasn’t going to scare anyone off.
“Back up!” Sergeant yelled. Kase caught sight of the man waving his sword about. Several people screamed. Another few stumbled away, tripping on others or refuse. “He is under the Stradat Lord Kapitan’s protection, and any harm brought to him will be punished by the highest extent of Jaydian law.”
A few shouted back something rather crude about nepotism. Kase felt the heat on his neck. They weren’t wrong. Kase tried to speak, but Sergeant beat him to the punch.