The Continent (The Continent #1)(93)

Oh, God, I pray, let Noro, Keiji, and Takashi still live. Please, let them live.

As the men and women disperse, another message sounds from the sky: “Vaela Sun, if you live, please come to the center craft and await further instructions. Vaela Sun, please come to the center craft.”

Shoshi, still beside me, raises an eyebrow. “Important, are we?”

“I’m the only Spirian on the ground.”

His lip curves, but the smile is kind, not cruel. “You’re no Spirian, Vaela Sun.”

My throat tightens. “No. I’m not.”

He gestures to the heli-plane. “Shall I escort you?”

“I would appreciate that very much—but…but I must look for Noro and Keiji first. I have to know if they are all right.”

Shoshi laughs and claps me on the back, as though we are old comrades-in-arms. “Go to the anzibatu—if the boys are alive, they heard the message plain as we did, and they’ll be coming to see if you survived.”

I consider this. Hundreds—thousands, perhaps, lie dead or dying around us. Thousands more tend to the wounded, or mill about in groups across the battlefield—the Aven’ei with faces of grief or elation, the Topi fierce and angry. To search the throng seems an almost impossible task.

I nod. “I’ll keep a lookout from the plane.”

We pick our way across the field, Shoshi with his weapon still at the ready, though the Topi have largely cleared out. I think to myself that Shoshi probably sleeps with a spear in his hand, one eye open, ever on the alert.

As we step into the shadow of the great craft, Mr. Lowe looks down at me from the open cargo door. He clasps his hands together, smiles brightly, and instructs one of his men to roll out a long metal ladder.

I turn to Shoshi. “Thank you for saving my life.”

“There is no need to thank me.”

“I’m sorry, Shoshi. For what I said at the farm.”

He looks away, and shifts his spear to his left hand. “There is no need for that, either. Let us put away the past, in the face of new circumstances.” He bows and gestures to the ladder. “Give my thanks to the warriors above. They have done a good thing today.”

Mr. Lowe greets me aboard the heli-plane with a grin so broad it seems to stretch across his entire face. “Miss Sun, how relieved I am to find you alive!” He gives me a once-over and his expression turns to one of horrified concern. “But…are you quite all right? There’s…your throat, it’s badly bruised—what happened?”

I know I must look a mess; blood and dirt alike seem to be crammed into my every pore. “I’m alive.”

He gestures to a row of plush seats along the back of the cargo area. “Come and sit.”

“Might we stay here, near the open door? I am hoping a few friends might come to find me, having heard your message.”

“But of course,” he says, and we take a seat along the edge while a uniformed man affixes a safety harness about my shoulders. I keep a sharp watch of the battlefield below, hoping against hope that I shall see Noro, Keiji, or Takashi. “All set there?”

“Thank you, Mr. Lowe. I’m sure I cannot express my surprise at your interference, and my gratitude for it. I scarcely know what to say.”

He smiles and pulls a sheet of folded parchment from his breast pocket. He opens the paper and places it in my hands; it is the map I drew for the officials of the Spire. The Vale is encircled with bright red ink—one of the very few places I mentioned by name when I spoke of the impending Topi attack. He taps the paper lightly with one finger. “You said all that needed to be said, back in the Chancellery.”

“But the Spire voted to—”

“Yes,” he says. “And the West has chosen to act alone.”

“But…doesn’t that mean—”

He nods. “Exile for the West. I’m sorry, my dear. The Spire is dissolved—the nations are united no more.”

I feel as though I’ve been hit with a hammer. “But—that can’t be. Did you speak with the Chancellery before you came?”

“Of course. We petitioned the council to review and reconsider the plight of the Aven’ei. We were rebuked, and warned that to act against a majority vote is to enter into an act of war.” His eyebrows draw together, and I see for the first time how tired he looks. “The West was cut off from the other nations in the interim, pending our decision.”

“And you came anyway. Knowing it would mean the dissolution of the Treaty.”

“We did.”

“To save the Aven’ei?”

“To stop the ceaseless bloodshed here—something I fear we ought to have done long ago. How many thousands might have been saved?”

“You…you have a military force. How is that possible?”

He smiles. “Every nation in the Spire conducts a clandestine armed force, and has done so for years. Each simply turns a blind eye to the others.”

I press my hands against my forehead. “The Chancellor himself would be happy to see the Continent burned from east to west, and all the natives with it.”

“The Chancellery was charged with upholding the Treaty, and was dissolved with the Spire. We are an independent nation, as is the East, which declared to defect upon our action. The North and South have allied together—the borders are sealed.”