The Black Stars Page 14

  Fangborn weren’t escaping from the laboratory, Mason knew. There was an outside force at work.

  * * *

  Mason wanted to visit his mother to see her progress, but classes went late. After class, rhadjen were forced to stay in their rooms. Groups of Rhadgast patrolled the halls at all hours. Mason focused on his studies, discovering the ways of the Rhadgast. He used his communicator and learned that Susan was on top of things: the Earth Space Command was quietly preparing for the coming battle.

  Now all Mason had to do was make sure the Tremist were prepared, too. If they caught on that the humans were gearing up for war, they might take it the wrong way. The humans and Tremist made a treaty because they had a common enemy. Yet it seemed like there wasn’t enough trust to fight that common enemy side by side. Mason wanted to laugh, even though it wasn’t funny.

  Six days later, Mason sent a message to the king through Reckful: Sir, we need to talk.

  On the seventh day, Mason got the best and worst news of his career as a rhadjen: his friend Merrin Solace was coming to the school.

  Chapter Twenty-six

  News spread within a day.

  The king’s daughter. The princess. The princess is coming here to train!

  Mason felt a little jealous. Several girls who called themselves the Stone Squad, for a reason Mason hadn’t been able to figure out, officially declared Merrin a member of their group, even though Merrin hadn’t taken the test yet. Mason wanted to tell them that Merrin already had friends, thank you very much, and would have no interest in joining their squad.

  Mason got his first glimpse of Merrin in the Inner Chamber, when she was about to take the test.

  Two new rhadjen were with her, boys who looked like twins, with bright green hair. Mason almost waved, but he didn’t, and Merrin never noticed him. Seeing her again made his stomach flutter in a way he wasn’t quite sure he liked. He felt a little sick. Her violet hair was pulled back in a ponytail, with two locks that escaped the tie and framed either side of her face.

  Mason wanted to warn her about the horror she would surely face inside the cave. The powerlessness ate at him. He tried to reach her, but there was simply no way to make contact. His only hope was that she’d be placed on his team, since Jiric was currently a monster and all.

  The assembly of students left, and Merrin went down into the elevator with the two green-haired boys.

  Mason caught up to Tom on the walk back to the dorm. “All we need is Stellan and Jeremy now, huh?”

  Tom shook his head. “She shouldn’t be here. Not with all this happening.”

  Mason felt the same, but he wasn’t about to tell Merrin that.

  In the dorm, Lore played some kind of card game with Po, and the others were reading textbooks in their bunks. Mason sat on his bed with his legs folded underneath him, feeling very much alone. He missed his crew.

  Mason sat like that for thirty-four minutes. He counted.

  And then the door opened and Merrin appeared, clad in new robes.

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  “Congratulations,” Lore said, rising and walking toward her. “Welcome to the Stones.”

  Mason stopped breathing. Merrin’s robe had violet accents on the wrists and neck. There was no mistake; he was not suddenly colorblind. What happened in that room?

  Merrin looked shaken, her nearly translucent skin somehow paler than normal. The skin around her eyes was flushed purple, like she’d been crying. When she saw Mason, she walked toward him and pulled him into a fierce hug, pressing her cheek to his. He could feel her trembling.

  “Missed you, too,” he said softly.

  “That was awful,” she said, pulling back. She squeezed his shoulders, as if making sure he was really there.

  “Yeah,” Po said from his bunk. “It’s never a good time.”

  Mason took Merrin’s hand and pulled her back toward the door. “We’ll do introductions later,” he said.

  He shut the door once they were outside, and Merrin sniffed, wiping at her eyes.

  “You can’t be here, it’s dangerous!” Mason said.

  Merrin raised an eyebrow. “Dange—Do you know who you’re talking to? Did you forget what we did last summer?”

  “Well, no, of course not—”

  “Then why would you think I can’t handle anything that comes our way?”

  Someone was currently turning students into Fangborn, that was reason enough. Any one of them could be next.

  “I don’t think that. You’re right. But this place is dangerous. More than you know. The test isn’t even the start of it.”

  She pressed her fingers to her forehead. “The test … yes, the test…”

  “Merrin?” He reached out to put a hand on her shoulder, but her eyes were closed, so he let it fall.

  “It was my brother. He was there.”

  Mason’s mouth fell open. “Your brother? You have a brother?”

  “Yes. I’ve only met him a few times. He’s older than me, and … cold. I had to choose between him and several people from the Coalition for Life, the organization I’ve been working with? I chose to let him die.”

  That didn’t make sense. The test was supposed to show the person you cared about most—why would Merrin see a brother she barely knew? They did it on purpose, Mason thought. They wanted to make sure the princess became a Stone.

  What had Reckful said? We find the person most important to you. What a scam. If it had been someone Merrin truly cared about, she would’ve picked Blood.

  Right?

  Mason heard the whispers of multiple robes and turned to see a Rhadgast patrol of four moving down an adjacent corridor, passing out of sight.

  “How did it end?” Mason said. “The test.” He wanted to know why she was wearing robes of the wrong color.

  She shook her head, biting her lip.

  “You can tell me,” Mason said.

  “He began to cry, and I tried to explain. I—I told him I couldn’t let five people die just because he was my brother. And he said…”

  “What?”

  “He said I could choose to die myself. But I told him I have important work to do with the coalition. And I just … I didn’t want to. Every time I’ve talked to him, he’s complained about humans.” She dropped her voice to a whisper. “My people.”

  Something cold trickled down Mason’s chest, behind his sternum. Mason hoped he never had to meet Merrin’s brother.

  “My father is coming to talk to you soon,” Merrin said, clearly trying to change the subject.

  “Oh good, I’ve missed the king,” Mason said.

  Merrin laughed shakily, still wiping at her eyes.

  “Come on,” Mason said. “Let me introduce you to the team.”

  * * *

  That night, Merrin joined the group in their hunt for the gloves. Po had taken a liking to Merrin, Mason could tell. Mason kept catching Po staring at her. Mason did not like this. When Po looked at Mason, Mason was sure to convey how much he didn’t like this with his face. Po only smiled sheepishly and whispered, “The king’s daughter…” as if that somehow explained everything.

  The walk back to the ruins had no idle chatter this time; everyone was tense, eyes flitting to the shadows, postures low and ready. Merrin, being a Tremist herself, had fit into the group immediately. Lore was very kind to her, but Risperdel was slightly aloof.

  Once at the ruins, Po pointed out where the battle with the Fangborn had taken place. Merrin nodded as Po told the story.

  “They seem to be getting along splendidly,” Tom whispered to Mason. They were trailing behind the group.

  “So?” Mason said.

  “So, nothing,” Tom said, but he was grinning like an idiot.

  They split up, Mason, Tom, and Merrin forming a group. It was nice to be just the three of them again. Mason liked his dorm mates, even Lore, but now he felt like he was part of a team again. You need them, he thought. You can’t do everything yourself. As they stalked the ruins, M
errin told them about the work she’d been doing in the coalition. “It’s like saving the world in a different way,” she said. Mason preferred saving it the way they were used to.

  * * *

  The search was uneventful. Until Merrin stepped on a rock in the room of a random house, and the stone pushed through the dirt floor. She lifted her foot and looked at the stone. After a moment, the stone sank deeper, disappearing into the floor with a mechanical grinding sound that was not natural. The mechanisms sounded a million years old. Mason and Tom were with her, and they all shared a look: Of course we’re the ones to find it.

  Mason was about to call for the others when the ground began to vibrate under them. Small pebbles dropped down from the ceiling. Dust filled the air, rising off the floor in a sandy mist. A square in the floor the size of a table began to slide toward the wall, opening a hole right in the middle of the room.

  The hole had a set of stairs leading down into pitch-black darkness.

  “I’ll get everyone else,” Tom said, but suddenly the hole began to close.

  “Did the stone pop back up?” Mason said urgently. He looked at where the stone had been, but there was only a small round hole.

  This could be their only opportunity. Mason thought about the gloves, and what the Uniter had been able to do with them. Having them would change everything, he knew it in his heart. Calora’s book had been clear. When it came time to face the Fangborn head on, Mason wanted to be ready.

  He was prepared to sacrifice himself if it meant the survival of both races. But he couldn’t ask that of Tom or Merrin. He didn’t want to.

  Without the gloves, they were truly lost.

  The hole was half shut now.

  “Mason…” Merrin said, but she knew him well enough. Tom made a grab for Mason’s arm, but Mason dodged it, jerking away and sidestepping for the stairs. Please let this be the right call. It was possible the room was just some kind of secret storage area. There had been nothing special about the house, nothing to say it had belonged to the Uniter. But it was worth the risk to find out for sure.

  Mason slipped down the stairs on his butt to avoid getting crushed by the door.

  “Mason—!” Merrin screamed, but her voice was cut off when the door sealed shut.

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  The darkness was complete. He could hear thumps through the stone above him, probably Merrin and Tom running to get the others. Then there was silence, a silence so perfect Mason could hear his heartbeat. He could hear the air traveling in and out of his lungs. If he’d been wearing his ESC uniform, the built-in vitals monitor would’ve been vibrating like crazy: calm yourself.

  Mason’s eyes adjusted, but he still couldn’t see anything. He held his hands out before him and fed power to his gloves, hearing a low buzz echo off the rock walls. His palms glowed with red light that painted the walls in blood. A corridor was in front of him. Mason took a calming breath and started forward.

  The first hundred feet were featureless, but then out of the gloom he saw a door. It was ornate, like the doors to the Inner Chamber, with swirling patterns and pictures that were hard to see in the crackling red light.

  “Why are you here?”

  The words came from the door, a recording. The quality was nearly perfect, but Mason could tell it didn’t come from an organic being.

  Mason figured he should try telling the truth. Why not? “I seek the gloves of the Uniter.”

  The door said no more, and several long seconds passed.

  “Why do you want them?” the door said at last.

  “Because we face a grave threat … and we need all the help we can get.”

  “Who are you?”

  “Mason Stark, cadet of the Earth Space Command, and now a rhadjen.”

  The door was quiet for a moment.

  “Many have found this door, but none have passed. What makes you different?”

  Mason didn’t know how to answer that. It reminded him of the application for officer-specific classes at the Academy. What makes you uniquely qualified to be a leader in the ESC?

  Be honest, Mason thought.

  “Probably nothing. My people think I’m a hero, but I was just in the right place at the right time, with the right crew. There is nothing special about me. But I know that if I don’t find the gloves of Aramore, we’re all going to die.”

  The door was quiet for a longer moment.

  “Do you truly believe that?”

  “Yes,” he replied. “We’re all going to die.”

  “Do you believe there is nothing special about you?”

  Did he? Mason couldn’t be sure. Maybe there was, and maybe there wasn’t. Be honest. So he said, “I can’t say for sure.”

  Something clicked in the door. Mason took a step back, his hands already up, ready to feed more power to his gloves for whatever lay behind the door. He waited a moment, then nudged it with his toe. The door swung inward, revealing a brightly lit chamber much like the one in which he’d taken his test. It was completely empty, save for a dusty glass cabinet at the far end. Inside under bright lights was a set of black leather armor and a cape of crimson silk, suspended upright as if an invisible person were wearing them. And there, hovering below the sleeves, was a pair of Rhadgast gloves, identical to the ones he was wearing but pure black.

  Mason’s heart pounded. Why would the door open for him, after all this time?

  He approached the cabinet slowly, reverently, not wanting to make too much noise for some reason.

  He took another step, and the glass surface turned into a screen, displaying a video image of a Tremist with red and black hair, as tall as in real life. Mason recognized him from Broxnar’s class. It was Aramore the Uniter.

  “Greetings,” Aramore said. He spoke in a rare dialect, Mhenlo dai Fen, or People of the Forest.

  “Hi,” Mason replied.

  “You’re probably wondering why you’re here, why you’re the first one to be allowed through the door.”

  “Yes, I am,” Mason said.

  “Before my death, I built a program that would judge a person’s worth simply from their answers. Twelve people have reached my door before, and when asked why they deserve the gloves, they all recount their feats of strength. Their achievements. Their glorified battle stories. Their pride makes them unworthy to wield my power. After nearly five hundred years, you are the first I’ve judged worthy of entrance.”

  Mason was floored. He didn’t know what to say. He tried, “Thank you.”

  “Don’t thank me yet. I’m afraid it won’t be that easy. Because words are one thing. Now I need to see if you mean them.”

  Mason’s heart immediately began to pound faster.

  “Would you like to proceed?”

  A fleeting thought: Turn back now. But Mason knew he couldn’t. Not after coming this far. “I am.”

  A hundred tiny doors around the chamber snicked open. Mason spun around. In each hole was darkness.

  “Then show me what you’re made of,” Aramore said, dimming along with the lights in the room. Mason heard chittering from within the holes, and the first creatures poked their heads out.

  Gromsh.

  Not dangerous. Grubare has one, after all.

  They began to jump down from their holes, one after another. Fifty were in the room, then a hundred. When they opened their mouths Mason saw they had rows of needlelike teeth. He ignited his gloves, which now provided the only light in the room. What am I supposed to do? Mason thought. Fight them all? Hundreds of eyes reflected the light of his gloves back at him. It made the floor appear as if it were covered in a bed of moving sparks.

  And then the creatures struck. Dozens launched themselves at Mason, grabbing on and tearing at his clothes. He fell to his knees as they swarmed over his head and face, sharp claws digging at his ears and eyes. He called forth power from his gloves … but there was nothing there. They felt inert on his hands, lifeless. Mason swung his arms, batting two away at a time, but four groms
h would take their place. He fell onto his side as they began to bite at his fingers and neck, chattering excitedly to each other. Strangely, there was no pain.

  They were inside his robe now, crawling along his skin and biting at his flesh. So many standing atop him it felt like a hundred pounds. The room had to be four feet deep in gromsh. He inhaled sharply, and the head of one got stuck in Mason’s mouth. He inhaled through his nose, but the fur of another blocked the air. This isn’t real! This can’t be happening! But if it was an illusion, it didn’t feel like one. His chest grew tighter with trapped air, a burn that spread to his brain. His face tingled and then went numb.

  As the gromsh began to drown him, he realized the truth: heroes, however much a society needed them, were just people. He was going to fail his test, and the sum of his past accomplishments would not be able to save him. His last thoughts were for his team: Tom, Merrin, Stellan, and Jeremy. And now Po, Lore, Risperdel. Without them, he was nothing.

  The gromsh were weighing him down so heavily now he couldn’t draw breath, even if his mouth and nose weren’t full of fur. Spots exploded in front of his eyes. He shut them against the end.

  And all at once, the gromsh disappeared.

  Mason opened his eyes. He was alone in the room. The doors were gone, and he could breathe. He looked down at his clothes—they were intact. Maybe a little dusty from lying on the floor.

  Anger bubbled up inside him; sweat popped on his forehead. The implant was warm inside his brain. They tricked me again, he thought. I let them trick me again!

  “Ah, well done! I was hoping you would pass the second part.” Aramore was back. “I apologize for the deception. My computer was able to interface with your implant. Even though yours appears to be much, much newer.”