TKC 175 and 176
Lyra is inconsolable. Attis means much to her. In a manner I
do not fathom, Attis became me, her little brother Horin, to her.
“How will he cope alone out there?” Lyra wails as Damin
attempts to calm her. She shoves his questing hands aside. “He is just a boy!”
Abruptly I have had my fill. While I do not desire to hurt
my sister, reality is reality, and she needs to hear it without delay. “Lyra,
Attis will survive out there, I swear it to you.”
Clearly my tone arrests her emotional outburst, for she
stares at me. “And how can you know that?”
I step forward and Damin watches me warily. I ignore him. He
will understand. “Attis is now marked by Arc. He is a Glonu who has seen and
heard and knows. Young he may be, but he need no longer fear death out there.
In fact, I will wager his youth will draw others to him.”
“Marked how?” Lyra whispers.
“His presence. It isn’t a physical mark.” I saw his ‘presence’
up on the mountain when Attis realised who he was. Knowledge flooded into his
eyes, his spine straightened, and utter confidence overcame him. It set him
apart from others of his age; hell, it will set him apart in a gathering of
adults. Glonu will flock to him, while Ilfin will know to avoid him.
“You think he is dangerous,” Damin mutters.
“Not today, not too soon, but one day he will be part of an
army. I hazard the boy will vanish until that time arrives, for someone will
see his potential and protect him, hide him somewhere.”
“Glonu, you mean,” Lyra snaps out.
I incline my head. “Glonu, yes. To prevent that future from
ever coming to pass …”
“Arc must fall,” Damin states.
“Indeed.”
Lyra glares then at both of us. “We are meant to escape! To
save our souls from the slavery in place here! And now you actually suggest a
war in this place?”
Damin lowers to a boulder situated in the clearing we have
gathered in. We are well away from other ears. “A small unit. Most must leave,
yes, but a small unit must remain … to march on the Spire.”
Damin can be relied on to understand the nuances indeed. “Yes,”
I murmur.
“Count me in,” the fair man states.
Of course he is. “I already have.” He huffs, but sends a
grin my way.
“Wait just a damn minute,” Lyra says in her soft voice, the
one that signifies danger. The wise will run when they hear her assume this
tone. Neither Damin nor I can claim wisdom, however. We wait for her words, glancing
at each other. “Everything we discuss is heard. You do understand that?”
Less bite than I expected. I shrug. “I want them to know we
will come for them.”
“Ah.” Lyra lifts a finger, and I brace myself. “You know
nothing of the Spire, Horin. It is the greatest trap present inside Arc! It
will take everything we are!” Twin spots of colour adorn her cheeks. “We did
not undertake this mission to a sanctuary to die inside it! I refuse to lose
you and Damin to …”
I muscle forward. “… to what, Lyra? We are dead no matter
which way you look at this situation!”
“Hey!” Damin growls.
It is time to cease being accommodating. Growling also, I snap
my fingers for the orb and throw it at the ground. “Look!”
A hologram erupts into the clearing. Ghostly spaceships fly
through the spaces. It is a massive fleet.
“They are coming,” I whisper then.
Ya estamos, no hace mucho que llegamos.
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