Darkest Designs (8 page)

And his ancestors?

Again, a secret. Their ancestors were Louers that makes them Louers. Ancestral law states that you are of the same clan as your parentage. No one was allowed to change allegiance.

“But that's not fair,” she cried. “Children have a right to choose what they believe. They shouldn't be punished by who their parents are.”

Even as she said that, she could think of many instances in her own world where just that had happened and continued to happen. Those born into slavery, born in jail, born to different races. Each of those offspring had an uphill climb to get free of their heritage. It appeared to be no different here.

Unfortunately.

Shaking her mind free of those depressing thoughts and tucking the knowledge that Dillon was a Louer back into the corner of her mind, she turned to the more immediate issue.

“You said there is a Toran here. Who and where?”

Eric.

“Really?” she shouted. This time she danced around Dillon, joy rippling through every part of her. “We're saved!”

Dillon stared at her and blinked.

She groaned in disgust. “Dillon, it means someone is here to help us.” She continued to skip in small circles. “I presume he's on his way to us? And we should stay until he finds us?”

He landed at our old coordinates, where you found Dillon.

She laughed. “I knew he'd find us. Does he have the new coordinates?”

Paxton has just given them to him.

“Good.” She said with satisfaction. “Then he should be here any moment.” Then she frowned. And tugged Dillon several steps over. “Just so he doesn't land on top of us.”

She stared and stared at the spot. Nothing happened. She glanced around in case he'd adjusted the coordinates slightly and still nothing. She turned back to look at the original spot.

And there was Eric.

His grin flashed, huge and full of relief.

“Woot!” She launched herself into his arms. “I knew you'd come!”

He picked her up and swung her around and around. “Oh, I'm so glad to see you.”

He put her back down and gave her a blistering kiss.

She pulled back slightly and beamed up at him. “Maybe I'll have to disappear again, if you're going to welcome me like that!”

“Trust you.” He glanced around. “Man is this is a weird place.”

She snorted. “Tell me about it!”

He smiled down at her, then froze and spun around. “What the…”

“Yeah, what a surprise, huh?” Storey glanced at the sleeping Dillon. “I still don't understand that whole 45 degree angle sleeping thing.”

“He's asleep?” Eric dropped his to a faint whisper. He bent over slightly to look closer.

“Yes. I think he's been asleep since he arrived. According to the stylus that was a long time ago.” She shrugged. “He's spoken to me a couple of times, but then always nods off again.”

“Unbelievable.” Eric shook his head. “How did he survive here?”

Storey wished she knew. “I have no idea. I think he went into a sort of hibernation. The stylus doesn't think he'll survive if we try to take him home though. That his muscles, after not experiencing gravity in so long, won't support him. And that's just the beginning of the problems. The thing is, I can't leave him.”

Eric stared down at her. “This isn't a Louer child to return to her parents. This is an adult male Toran. If he dies while going home, surely that's better than this quasi-dead existence.”

That whole death with dignity thing. She sighed. “I hate to kill the poor man. And speaking of family,” Storey winced, not sure how Eric would react. “He says he has a brother, named Paxton.”

Eric's head swiveled to stare down at her in shock. Then back at Dillon. “It couldn't be.”

“What?” When he didn't answer right away, Storey poked him in the chest. “What couldn't be?”

“Paxton did lose a brother when they were young men. He was playing up to the ladies while porting and fell In-between.”

She gasped and turned to stare at Dillon. “Oh no. Then we definitely can't leave him.”

“Neither do I want to take him home to his brother to die.”

She didn't know what to say. “Stylus. Is there anything we can do for Dillon?”

His body won't be able to handle living in the other dimensions.

“But he's not alive here either,” she said in frustration. Then caught Eric's look. Right. He couldn't hear the stylus.

Quickly she explained what she she'd heard. “According to the stylus, Dillon can't live in other dimensions, but it told me earlier he won't be able to survive much longer here, either. I don't want to believe that.”

“But there is no other way.” Eric wafted his arm in the thick soup. “Either desert him to this endless darkness or take him home and he will either live or die, but at least he'll be home again. Think of his family. This would mean tremendous closure for them.”

Storey opened her mouth to speak, but a weird noise sounded.

What the hell was that?

***

A heavy droning noise, one Eric had initially taken to be a part of this strange space, increased like an amplifier steadily turning higher and higher.

“Storey, what is that?” He had to yell over the noise.

Then the noise cut off.

The look on Storey's face was…stunned. Yet…preoccupied?

“Storey?” What's wrong?” No answer. Eric leaned in. Her gaze was intent, but focused inward. She had to be talking to the stylus. He'd seen that same look before. A part of him was jealous. To have that kind of connection – special.

Although, from looking at the contortions in Storey's face right now, he wasn't sure the process was particularly comfortable. He reached out and stroked her shoulders and upper arms. “Storey, are you okay?”

He didn't expect an answer. In fact the air was so thick and dense, he had to wonder if there wasn't something else going on. He kept glancing at Dillon to see if he'd been affected by either the noise or the weird atmosphere, but Dillon just swayed in place.

Paxton's brother. After all this time. How could they help him? It would mean so much to Paxton.

With another helpless glance at Storey, Eric lifted his arm and sent a message to Paxton, letting him know what he'd found. The old tech communication system was one of the boosts Paxton had added to his codex – Toranese code. Awkward, but functional.

The answer was immediate.

Eric gave a short laugh as he read it off. “
Not possible
.” He stared at Dillon for a long moment, realizing what a miracle it was that he should even be alive after all this time. It was as if time had stopped. So not possible. Yet the proof stood before him.

He painstakingly sent another message explaining that Dillon hadn't aged much in appearance, but appeared to exist in a semi-asleep state. Although capable of talking, he was confused. Writing on the codex was a slow and tedious process, but Eric did his best.

He added at the end that he didn't think Dillon could survive a return to any normal dimension.

Paxton replied, saying he'd confer with his stylus. Maybe they could come up with answers.

And that's when Eric remembered the big broken stylus he'd brought with him. He reached for it. As his fingers touched it, he realized the stylus was vibrating. He pulled it out to rest on his hand. The vibration pulsed so strongly the stylus physically rocked.

Damaged maybe. Dead…nope. It was foreign in a way. He hadn't had much to do with the styluses and this was the only one he'd touched that didn't burn him. Although there was a warning heat, it wasn't enough to force him to put it away. “Still trying to send out a warning aren't you? But you're not strong enough. What was I thinking in bringing you? How much help can you be in this state?”

“B…igg…er, tha…n you—”

Eric stared as Storey tried to speak again, but the words wouldn't come. “Storey?”

But she'd gone quiet again.

Too quiet. He stared into her eyes. All he saw was a reflection of the same look…from Dillon's eyes.

S
torey reeled under an onslaught of emotion and sound. It pounded at her from all sides. At first she'd been too slammed to understand. Then a pattern had formed in her mind. It wasn't just one external voice, it was two, with several conversations going on at once. She'd heard her stylus before. Many times. Its communication had an essence to it, a flavor that was her stylus. And that made it very distinctive from the other thoughts floating in her head. Plus it spoke with a certain rhythm. A different structure to the sounds. But now there was a new voice.

Speaking to the stylus and sometimes…maybe to her.

It wasn't Eric, though wouldn't it be cool if they could speak like that. She shuddered as another wave washed through her mind. She caught bits and pieces. Not that she understood them, but there was something recognizable and yet foreign at the same time in the interaction between the voices in her mind. She didn't dare get hung up on the concept of voices in her head. In her dimension she'd be seeing a shrink for that. In Eric's dimension…she had no idea. Most people couldn't get their mind wrapped around such things.

For herself, well…apparently she was different. And the longer she stayed out of her normal life, the more odd she became. Or at least the more aware she was of her differences.

A particularly sharp tone in her mind made her close her eyes. She knew Eric was trying to talk to her. But about what defeated her.

He pulled something out of his pocket. She wanted to laugh hysterically when the object registered in her sore brain. A broken stylus.
The
broken stylus.

Yes. Me.

Whoa. What was that…who was that?

“Are you speaking to me?” she asked out loud. She managed to shake her head slightly at Eric, hoping he'd understand that she wasn't talking to him. Carrying on internal and external conversations at the same time was impossible at the best of times; right now, though…

Yes.

“Are you my stylus?” Even though she knew it couldn't be, she had to ask.

No.

Then her stylus spoke.
He is our leader. You rescued him. We are grateful.

Oh my God. She was speaking to the broken stylus.

That is correct.

Now she didn't know who had said that.

We did.

She'd have laughed if she could have. At the moment, she couldn't tell the two styluses apart. And that wasn't right. She had a connection to her stylus. This broken stylus defied the Torans' belief about bonding and communication. Or had it?

No.

She sighed.
So how then?

The bonding increases the abilities between the holder and the soul bound stylus. Our broken leader is the best of us. He can speak slightly without being bonded.

Storey had to think about that.
What about the Louers? They have telecommunication. Why couldn't they speak to you? The Broken One was there.

To communicate both parties must be open. The Louers lost many in the early years after they were banished. Much knowledge has been lost. The survivors over time discarded the styluses as childhood toys, broken and forgotten. Not as instruments of value. They would not see a stylus as something desirable. Or the souls within as valuable. If they even knew that we were within.

She shared the information with Eric.

“How sad.” Eric frowned at her.

She nodded. This communication system was cumbersome. “Stylus, can you speak with Eric?”

Eric shook his head.

No. He is not open to such a form of communication.

Right. She asked, “Can't you two speak out loud so he can hear?”

No. We are not allowed to speak in such ways.

“Not allowed?” She pounced on that term. “But it is possible?”

A buzz hummed through her ear. And she realized they were speaking together, but not with her. So although she understood they were talking, she couldn't hear the conversation.