Read The Immortal Storm (Sky Chaser Book 1) Online
Authors: S.D. Wilkes
Ember came back to life. Her face was no longer twisted but pretty and sad and her lovely hair flew out behind her like tentacles. She pulsed with light in the Cloud Room's dim metal shell. Kite could only watch and wonder if she'd been listening all along, secretly at work inside Lux's systems.
“This is indeed fascinating,” said Lux, floating at a distance. “Well now, Starmaker, let us see what your intentions really are.”
Ember pointed her finger at Lux. Kite watched her lips move silently, trying to read her words. Was she recounting the Forecaster's Fable?
Lux's form shimmered, cascading with lines of meaningless code. Then he began dim like a candle starved of oxygen.
“What’s happening?” the Corrector said.
“I do believe the Starmaker is trying to delete me,” Lux said, looking at his flickering arm without a hint of alarm. “It seems he has found a way into my core systems. Even after all these years.”
The Corrector slowly rose to her feet. “That is a surprise, my Lord,” she said. She sounded
hopeful
.
Lux was smiling. “Did you think I might underestimate you, Starmaker?” he said, and his image began to settle and glow, stronger and brighter than before. “You think I did not expect this?”
Again Ember pointed. This time Lux began to shrink. Soon he became tiny, small enough to stamp on. Kite wanted to rush forward and crush him from existence even though he knew it wouldn't make any difference.
Lux merely laughed. “No, you cannot delete me, Starmaker,” he said, fighting back again. He grew, restoring himself to his full height. “In the years since your end, Starmaker, I have rewritten every line of your ancient, obsolete code. I have
evolved.
”
Suddenly Lux doubled in size, again and again, growing into a monstrous roaring head. “The time of the Askians has long since passed, Starmaker!” Lux bellowed, his words slamming into Kite's ribs. “I have erased your people and all memory of your kind. Any now I shall erase you and your worthless child!”
Ember's spine snapped in two. The effect was so real that Kite's stomach lurched violently. He called her name, but his words were drowned by the deafening echo of Lux's words.
“Delete,” roared Lux, slicing at Ember with his hand. “DELETE!”
Ember flew apart. Hundreds of tiny flickering fragments. The killing blow struck Kite too, deep in his chest, as if Lux had split him open with a cold blade. The pixilated shards began to settle around him like melting snow.
Lux effortlessly returned to his usual size. “You and your kind are merely a fragment of memory, Starmaker,” he said. “And I have already forgotten you.”
For a long moment Kite stared at the empty space where Ember had been only seconds before. Then he remembered the mempod, nestled in his pocket. Lux might have only deleted Ember from his system. Kite dug out the warm little orb and held it up in his shaking fist.
“I know you can hear me, Ember,” Kite said. “You going to let this Weatheren bastard delete you? He destroyed Skyzarke! Our Skyzarke! You going to let him get away with that?”
Lux frowned at him. “What are you doing?” he said.
“You promised me, Ember,” Kite called out, searching for a sign of life. “You remember what broken promises mean?”
Then the tiniest bud of light formed in front of him. A bud of light that began to grow and expand, taking shape before Kite’s eyes.
“Broken bones!” her voice boomed from all sides.
In a heartbeat the pieces flew together and Ember was whole, but than that she was radiant and
real
. Kite had never seen Ember more solid than this. She was alive and full of wrath.
“No,” Lux said, and his light dimming like a spent valve. “No, you cannot erase me. The Ether Shield, my city. You cannot...stop!”
Dissolving at the edges into numbers and symbols and bits of scrambling code Lux thrashed and clawed, trying to fend of Ember's attack.
“The... the... mempod...” Lux stuttered, desperately reaching out to the Corrector for help. “Destroy it!”
The Corrector didn’t move. “No,” she said, with a desperate hope in her eyes.
Lux faded further. “Treachery! You cannot... disloyal... erase... betrayal... can... cannot...” he spluttered, the words writing themselves on the air. “Please...help...me...”
The Corrector straightened her back. She didn't fear Lux now that he was decaying before her eyes. “No,” she said again.
“I... worthless... ungrateful... humans... filthy skyless... scum...” Lux babbled, spilling broken letters from his mouth. He clutched at his chest, vomiting whole sentences of threats and vitriol. “I... will kill you... all...”
Ember pointed at Lux’s heart. “DELETE!”
The air crackled against Kite's ears. Lux became a shadow, eyes and mouth hollow and empty as a skull. Then he was eaten away, dissolving into a foul mist. Particles that slowly vanished like sand through a pan.
A deafening silence settled on the Cloud Room, save for Kite's heartbeat thundering in his throat.
“He’s dead,” the Corrector gasped. She had tears in her eyes. “He's finally dead. After all this time. I've waited so long for this moment. Dreamt of it. You can't imagine how long we’ve searched for a way to be free of him.”
But Kite didn’t share the Corrector’s joy. The Cloud Room floor had begun to segment again, once more throwing him into the sky. Soon Fairweather filled his view again.
Ember looked at the city. For a cruel moment her face broke with an enchanted smile. “Skyzarke!” she gasped. Then, as it had done for Kite, the awful truth came to her. “This isn’t Skyzarke. This is
his
city.”
A sharp change in the atmosphere pressed like thumbs into Kite's temple. Instinctively he stepped away. Ember's eyes glowed with fire. Her lips moved, silently at first, repeating the same words. A heartbeat later those same, terrible words, came crashing into the Cloud Room:
“When stormy is the weather and thunder shakes the sky. The children of the sun will ask the question why!”
“The Forecaster's Fable,” the Corrector said, limping closer to him. “Why is she still saying it?”
The Cloud Room shuddered. The hexagonal panels under his feet vibrated with a discordant hum. Cold fingers crept across Kite's skin. “Ember's going to destroy Fairweather,” he said. “She's going to use the Ether Shield to do it.”
The colour drained from the Corrector's cheeks. “B-but it was Lux,” he said. “The people...they've done nothing wrong. Tell her!”
Kite looked inside himself then. Should he try and stop Ember? After all Lux had done to the Askians, what right did he have to deny Ember her vengeance. He glanced down at Fairweather, at oblivious thousands going about their wonderful lives. He knew the terrible cost of that choice.
“I can't stop her,” Kite said.
“
No-one can.”
The Corrector eyes fell on the mempod. “Give it to me,” she said, shuffling toward him. “I'll smash it, then the city will be safe.”
Kite didn't move. “It won't make a difference,” he said. “Listen.”
The Corrector glanced around the trembling Cloud Room. The walls were shaking. A distant hissing noise, gasses venting and bursting from pipes, rolled in over the violent shudders.
“She’s already shutting it down,” Kite said and pointed at the fragile city thousands of feet below them. “The only thing you can do is warm them.”
The Corrector seemed to understand at last. She staggered to the wall, searching for a secret panel.
Click.
The Cloud Room doors began to open but instantly mosfire beams slashed across her path. The Corrector sank to her knees. “Please,” she begged. “Please...you can't do this!”
Ember's eyes glowed with a malevolent glee. With arms wide she performed an indulgent twirl and laughed.
“But I
must
destroy Fairweather,” Ember said, her voice overlapping the Forecaster's Fable. “You see, it's what I've wanted more than anything in the world! It's all I could think about. All those years. Waiting in the dark. Nothing but my memories. All those years waiting to be found so I could
destroy
you all. And then Kite Nayward came along and made it all possible. I never did thank you.”
Kite shook his head. “I didn't want this, Ember,” he said.
“We'll watch it together,” Ember said, appearing not to hear him. “Just you and me. Yes, together.”
“No, Ember,” Kite said.
Ember eyes burned fiery and furious. “No?” her voice clawed at the air.
Kite shuddered. Right now he was more afraid of Ember than he'd ever been of Lux. “I told you, I have to find Fleer,” he said.
Drifting closer Ember reached out to him. Tiny fingers of light brushed Kite's cheek but he could only feel the chill breath of the Cloud Room against his skin. Ember frowned and took her fingers away. A sadness came over her and when she spoke the words sounded tiny and fragile, so close that Kite was certain only he could hear them. “Arcus said I would have everything I wanted in the Cloud Room. Here I would be alive again. To run and dance and laugh. Here I would never be alone. But...it was a lie. All of it lies.”
“I’m sorry Ember,” Kite said.
Ember drifted closer. “Will you find me a body, Kite Nayward?” she said. “Will you bring it to me so that we can be together again?”
The Cloud Room shook under him. Kite nodded uncertainly. “I will try, Ember,” he said, even though, at that moment, he didn’t know if he’d live long enough.
“Promise me?” Ember said. “Cross your heart and hope to die?”
With a shaking hand Kite made the sign. “I promise,” he said. “You know I keep my promises.”
Ember’s red eyes dimmed a little. “Yes, you
do
keep your promises,” she said.
One by one the mosfire beams retracted, leaving the way clear. The Corrector dashed through. Kite slipped the mempod into his pocket. A part of him didn’t want to leave Ember in this metal prison but if he didn’t go now he’d never find his way back to Fleer.
“Good-bye, Ember,” he said and ran to the doors.
Kite’s last sight of the Starmaker's daughter would be forever etched on his memory. A tiny ghost in the sky. Alone, radiant and terrifying, with the clouds beneath her feet and a city at her mercy...
Kite's legs grew heavy as the elevator propelled him to the upper levels. He imagined the metal capsule whizzing through the Ether Shield's innards, through sections he'd passed with Ember only hours before. Taking him back to the surface. Taking him back to Fleer. The sounds of a dying machine reminding him that time was running out for both of them.
“This is the fastest way to the Control Room,” the Corrector said. She was cradling the Umbrella Man's head, salvaged during their escape from the Cloud Room. “The scientists will be able to stop her.”
Kite glanced her, wondering how anyone could cling to hope when it was obvious there was none. “You have a family?” he asked. “In Fairweather?”
“A daughter,” the Corrector said.
“Then you should warn her,” Kite said. “While there's time.”
Another tremor rattled the elevator's cylindrical walls. The strip-lights flickered. Kite willed the them to reach their destination. Everything was taking too long.
“Before, in my office,” the Corrector suddenly said. “You stopped her from killing me. Why?”
“You sound like I should have let her finish the job,” Kite replied.
The Corrector glanced sharply away. “Maybe you should have. I’ve done things you can't imagine, Kite Nayward,” she said. “I’ve always known that one day I would be judged and punished for my crimes. I thought that day had come.”
The elevator finally began to slow. Kite stared at the doors. “Day's not over yet,” he said.
Chaos and panic had engulfed the Ether Shield's Control Room. The sweat of fear soured the air. Screens were ablaze with flashing warnings and scarlet 'Emergency' signs. Dozens of scientists rushed back and forth. Kite recognised their sickly yellow uniforms. Men and women, even apprentices his own age. Some crowded hopelessly at workstations, exchanging exasperated looks and arguing amongst themselves, while Ember’s rhyme played out from every speaker.
“...the children of the sun will ask the question why...”
The Control Room's observation windows looked out over the sky harbour. The
Vorticity
sat silently in its berth. Kite scanned the room for the exit but the Corrector wouldn't let go of his arm, pulling him with her across to the scientists.
One of them turned from the huddle. “Corrector, your appearance is well timed,” he said. His face was sheened with sweat, his spotted pate glistening like a polished egg. “We appear to be having some kind of system-wide malfunction. I believe it is coinciding with a performance of the Forecaster's Fable. Which is most odd.”
The Corrector trembled where her hand gripped Kite arm. “Is there nothing your team can do, Professor?” she said.
The scientist scratched nervously at the backs of his hands. “We're trying to... that is... it appears some kind of virus has attacked the fail-safe systems and we cannot get access to...” he mumbled, and then seemed to see Kite for the first time and his face cracked with panic. “Everything is shutting down, Corrector! The core control computer, the silver iodide delivery system, the atmospheric systems, even the turbines in the outer rings. The turbines! At this rate the Ether Shield will collapse under its own weight.”
The Ether Shield shook on cue. The Control Room's glass walls wobbled. A deathly hush fell among the Weatheren scientists.
“Warn them,” Kite said, breaking the silence.
The Corrector faltered for a second, realisation sinking in at last.
“Warn them, or they will all die!”
The Corrector nodded. “Evacuate the Ether Shield immediately, Professor!” she ordered, and pulled Kite toward the exit. “Get all staff to the ascenders at once! Warn Fairweather. Tell everyone to leave the city.”
The scientist’s mouth opened and close.
“At once, Professor!” the Corrector shouted over her shoulder and pushed Kite through the door.
On the metal stairwell, high over the panicked harbour, the Corrector let him go.
“I won't stop you from trying to escape, Kite Nayward,” she called over the klaxons. “But if the Armoured Constables catch you they will kill you and I won't be able to stop them. Do you understand?”
Kite didn't care for the woman. He could never forgive her for Ersa's death. But he could tell, at this moment, the Corrector was as frightened as he was.
“Just tell me where Fleer is,” Kite said.
“On the Vorticity, Holding Room B,” the Corrector said and with the Umbrella Man’s head still tucked under her arm she pushed her way back into the Control Room and was gone.