Shattered Exile

FOUR Affirmation-1

FOUR

Affirmation

‘Relax! Kirika sent me.’

Nathaniel narrowed his eyes, as though the act of doing so would allow him to see more clearly – which it would not. The Teacher shifted his critical gaze towards Krisis, and then back to him. Satisfied, finally, that they were indeed who they claimed to be, Nathaniel nodded in acceptance towards him, before inviting them in.

‘Please, come in. I apologise for my lack of hospitality, but I needed to be certain that it was you.’

‘I understand – Kirika informed me that Krashnar is back in the vale.’ he replied, as both he and Krisis entered Nathaniel’s tree.

‘I trust that no one saw you come here?’

‘Nathaniel, Riknar has been released – by Krashnar no less. They found the fisherman’s body down by the old bridge. Kirika has since instated a curfew; no one will have seen me come here.’

‘I see. The situation is escalating.’

‘How is she? Has her condition worsened?’

‘Physically, there is nothing wrong with her – hence there is little I can do to help. Her body is not actually damaged in any way, but the thing is still in there, controlling her mind in some ghastly manner.’

‘You refer to the parasite Kirika saw?’

‘Yes. We have not been able to identify its origin. But it appears to have a hold over Rayna’s mind. She seems to be experiencing some kind of paralysis, or maybe the beginnings of a fugue state.’

‘That bastard!’

‘Please, keep your emotions in check Lothnar – we can deal with Krashnar later. You need to clear your mind and focus. Perhaps you can help Rayna to expel it from her mind?’

‘Take me to her.’

At once, Nathaniel led them both up a narrow set of spiralling stairs towards the top of the tree. Lying in her room upon her bed – seemingly asleep – was Rayna. The light bringer lay unnaturally still. He had expected to see Rayna’s chest rising and falling regularly, in the manner typically expected of one deep in slumber. Instead, there was little or no movement; Rayna was either breathing extremely shallowly, or not at all. Krisis approached cautiously, with his slanted yellow eyes fixed on the motionless light bringer. The dire wolf sniffed at the air around Rayna’s motionless body, then began to snarl incessantly.

‘Krisis senses the evil within her.’ said Nathaniel warily.

‘Yes, there is very little which passes him unnoticed.’ he replied. ‘Though I have to ask, Nathaniel, is she still with us?’

‘Yes, I am certain of it, despite being unable to communicate with Rayna. However, both Kirika and I hope that, with your ability, you will succeed where we have clearly failed.’ said Nathaniel expectantly.

He could see the quiet desperation in Nathaniel’s eyes. Although Rayna was not technically his daughter, The Teacher clearly cared a great deal about her wellbeing – the two had an inescapably close relationship. Although Rayna now inhabited his consenting daughter’s body, Alarielle’s soul also resided within it – if only as a silent observer. Yet despite the strange state of affairs, Nathaniel had accepted the arrangement for what it was. When Alarielle’s soul was ripped from its moorings, the sad tale had almost destroyed The Teacher. However, Callum’s unexpected rebirth as Rayna – in his fallen daughter’s body no less – gave Nathaniel renewed purpose. Rayna had become Nathaniel’s surrogate daughter, and when she released Alarielle’s Narlakin captor – recovering his daughter’s soul in the process – that relationship had been cemented. Nathaniel now stood upon a precipice, ready for a jump towards uncertainty; if he failed to connect with The Guardian’s mind, Nathaniel stood to lose not only Rayna, but Alarielle too. He tried to clear his mind, ready for what needed to be done, though his recent failures continued to prey on his mind, causing him to doubt his own ability. Nevertheless, he needed to try; as a former member of his scouts, he owed Alarielle that much. Turning his attention back to Rayna’s prone body, he opened a conduit to his mind, inviting in whatever dark cacophony preyed on the light bringer’s soul. He dearly hoped that he would not fail Alarielle – not for a second time.

Project Phoenix: further proof that Trix had indeed orchestrated the killing of Mr L. Cameron. Murdering the retired software developer was clearly not a recent agenda item – Trix had been planning the event for some time. In all likelihood, the software engineer first conceived the distasteful plan prior to the inception of the government’s policy to forcibly relocate their kin – the Shadow class – who referred to the unethical programme as the Rout. The abhorrent policy, specifically targeted towards his class, was designed to move the growing number of Shadow class members elsewhere. The official manifesto claimed that the Exodus – the government’s title for the initial proposal – would enrich the lives of the Shadow class, by providing them with the opportunity to start over. In reality, rounding up the Shadow class was a heinous operation. Squads of Peacekeepers had been deployed throughout the metropolis, sanctioned to use cruel weapons in order to subdue members of the Shadow class, before loading them into unmarked transports – a process reported by the media as “escorting”. The final destination of the windowless mobile prisons was never made public – to his knowledge at least – though it was generally believed that it was beyond the perimeter wall of the metropolis. Government officials had claimed that anonymity was entirely appropriate, and indeed necessary to facilitate the Shadow class’ forced emigration.

The Project Phoenix data stream contained numerous data objects, all designed to carry out specific functions. Although the object code ultimately meant nothing to him, the associated meta-data was at least readable by the layperson. Most of the objects had nonsensical names that meant nothing to him, though there were others, which he could in fact interpret – one in particular stood out: ‘siren-one-seven-one’. The cursed object briefly riled him; the code was presumably the routine programmed into his analogue communications device, responsible for attracting the attention of the bloody corpse lying by his feet. Trying desperately to contain his anger, he closed his eyes and regulated his breathing, attempting to calm his rapidly beating heart.

‘This shouldn’t be taking you so long.’ bleated Trix annoyingly in his ear.

‘If you weren’t so f*****g messy, it wouldn’t!’

Trix did not respond to his terse reply – presumably, even the socially awkward hacker knew when to shut up. At any rate, his eyes were opened once more, and so he resumed his search for the required data object.

‘Found it: “one-seven-one-remote-console” – this is the object, correct?’

‘Yes, execute it.’

‘How is this going to connect you to my access panel?’

‘It won’t – at least not directly – but I can connect to it, and it will then interface with your access panel.’

‘Connect with what – there is no networked tech in my hide.’

‘I will use the data-strap.’

‘But you severed that thing’s data-link!’

‘I did, just not permanently.’

‘I misjudged you Trix. You deceive and withhold information; nothing is straightforward with you.’ he said, scornfully.

‘Irrelevant. Execute the code Callum.’

It was pointless debating ethics with Trix. The self-proclaimed software engineer had tunnel vision and would do almost anything to achieve his own goals. He realised now that he had judged Trix poorly, and in doing so had inexorably tied his fate to that of the untrustworthy hacker. Swallowing his pride, he ran the code as instructed. Several lines of code flashed across the holographic access panel, yet aside from the brief display of meaningless text, nothing – visually at least – appeared to happen.

‘I’ve run the code, what happens now?’

There was no response from Trix. Perhaps, having completed his task, Trix no longer required his unique skills, he mused. Doubt started to cloud his mind, and he began to wonder if indeed he had done the right thing by giving his accomplice an invitation to the access panel.

‘Trix!’

‘Be patient! I’m trying to establish a connection.’

‘Fine. I’ll just stand here next to the dead elderly gentleman, shall I?’

‘No, you can dispose of the body. Just leave his bio-key connected to the Infonet. I will do the rest.’

‘What?!’ he replied, completely bewildered by Trix’s lack of empathy.

‘The body needs to be disposed of else the hab will reek once it starts decomposing.’

‘Are you serious?’ he said, still shocked by Trix’s words.

‘Why wouldn’t I be?’

Trix’s response horrified him, but there was no point in arguing the toss over their opposing perspectives on the issue. In point of fact, Trix was likely correct. The body would eventually decompose, and the stench would potentially draw others to the crime scene. Still, disposing of a body within the metropolis was completely unrealistic. He supposed it unlikely that Trix had given the matter any real thought, since his immoral accomplice had clearly intended for him to resolve the issue himself. Since he could not exactly light a fire within the hab, he supposed that his best course of action would be to contain the smell. Finding the means to isolate the stench of a decomposing cadaver, however, would be difficult. He pinched his arm to remind himself that he was not in fact going mad, and that the scenario playing out before him was actually happening. Everything seemed surreal to him now, like a dream – or rather, a nightmare. He felt cloddish and detached from the world, more like a spectator than an actual willing participant in the dangerous game they were playing. Trix was in control now, and he had unwittingly allowed himself to be manipulated by his wicked accomplice. Although the reward, dangling before them, was becoming ever more tangible, the cost of realising their goal had increased dramatically. In a single day his moral fibre had been dealt a massive hammer-blow. He was now a murderer, and only one step away from becoming a “cleaner” too. He knew with all certainty that his actions would become a stain on his psyche. Whether they succeeded or not, there would be no erasing the day from his memories.

‘Fine, I’ll sort it out.’

‘You are not Rayna! Who are you?’

‘Am I not speaking with Rayna?’

‘She is unavailable right now.’

‘Then who are-- Alarielle?!’

‘Yes, I am she.’

Hearing the words shocked him. Although Rayna had informed him and Nathaniel of the presence of Alarielle’s soul shortly after the events at Scrier’s Post, part of him, it now seemed, had doubted the light bringer’s claim, if only on a subconscious level. Now, Rayna’s unlikely claim had been validated, first-hand, by himself no less. The inescapable fact that Alarielle’s soul still clung to Freylar made his head spin. Since losing her soul to her former Narlakin captor, he had chided himself repeatedly for her loss. Despite bringing Alarielle’s body back that cycle, after their ill-fated mission to the Narlakai borderlands, neither he, nor his scouts, had been able to save her soul. The loss had affected them badly. Though he had never openly admitted his affections towards her, losing Alarielle had been hard – not least on Nathaniel, who had been devastated by the loss of his daughter. Fortunately, Kirika had managed to pull Nathaniel back from his overwhelming despair.

‘Alarielle! It is me, Lothnar!’

‘Lothnar! How is this possible?’

‘Through my ability, although...I was expecting to connect with Rayna, however, your soul must be dominant right now.’

‘No, I am merely an observer. I cannot, for instance, operate our shared body. Only Rayna can do that.’

‘Nonetheless, it is good to hear your voice – or rather your thoughts – once again.’

‘It is good to converse with you too Lothnar.’

‘I have missed you. We all have.’

He wanted to say more, but the notion was a purely selfish one, and besides, the timing was poor. Nathaniel and Kirika were depending on him. He was determined not to let them down, and in doing so further add to the stain of his recent poor achievements.

‘But...where is Rayna?’ he asked, eager to learn of the light bringer’s fate.

‘The black liquid inside us clouds Rayna’s mind. It is influencing her thoughts and has locked her within a dark prison of her own making; it is forcing her to relive her darkest memories.’

‘If the parasite is responsible for her catatonic state, how then can we disrupt its hold over her?’

‘I have been trying to contact her, but the black liquid is thwarting my attempts to do so. Perhaps, if we work together, we will have the necessary fortitude to cast it out?’

The thought of working alongside one another – if only with their minds – filled him with renewed vigour. Perhaps the joint undertaking would also see his fortunes improve, he mused.

‘Yes, I believe you are right, though where do we start? I do not sense her presence.’

‘Right now, her mind is looking inward – it seeks to avoid external contact. However, I have been searching for it since the black liquid violated her, and have discovered its whereabouts. Let me guide you.’