Chapter 26
Tension hung tangibly in the air of Domus, carrying with it an expectation of dread in the empty silence that so often precedes catastrophic events. People went about their routines like any other day, but there were no warm greetings among neighbors or stories swapped in passing. They moved woodenly, their frightened eyes constantly glancing up at the tunnel mouth where a six-man guard stood watch against invasion.
Alex crouched outside his shelter, looking out over the city. The hushed sound of Domus was unnatural, like being in a crowded area and suddenly having the power go out. It frightened him, not just for himself, but for everyone else too. Winston had wasted no time informing his people what had happened in Thrain’s den and the potential repercussions. Not that he had needed to explain. The Domites knew their adversaries well, they knew that the Nocuous were ruthless and power-hungry. For someone to enter into one of their dens and attack, there was only one reaction that could be expected.
So now the people of Domus spent every minute in fear, wondering not if, but when, the attack would come.
Alex knew it was his fault. No one had needed to say it, he saw it in their eyes, in the reproachful way their mouths set in a grim line when they looked at him. His insistence to go after his dad had put everyone in harm’s way, just as Winston had predicted.
It was an odd thing to feel so responsible for these people. He wasn’t from here, this wasn’t his home.
But things had changed. Somehow Alex had changed. He cared about them.
Was this home to him now? He’d been in the Under for nearly two months. So much of what he’d learned, so many of the people he’d met, had impacted who he was becoming and how he felt about the world. He’d only just scratched the surface of this place, but he felt a bond with these people. In fact, he felt a bond with the Under itself, even though he knew so little about it. There was so much more he could do here. His modern knowledge of the world could help them live better, healthier, and happier lives. And maybe, just maybe, he could help them find a way to rid the world of the Nocuous forever, allowing them to come back to the surface where they belonged.
Alex glanced over at his rock-man, still leaning at an angle in his practice area, and thought back to when so many people had gathered to watch him learn to use the suit with the sword. They’d cheered for him, shared in his victory when he had mastered the killing stroke. It was hard to reconcile that they might be his people now, he was just so very different from them. Maybe all it took was for him to allow them into his life. He’d kept himself at such a distance, only letting a select few to get close to him. He had been doing the same thing his whole life. After his mother had gone missing, he’d closed himself off and kept his circle of friends small. He’d blamed his lack of friends on everyone else’s lack of compassion, but maybe that wasn’t really true. Maybe he’d just been so angry from losing someone so dear to him that he’d needed to direct that anger somewhere.
Maybe the people of Beaver, Utah hadn’t been as awful as he’d made them out to be in his mind, and maybe his classmates had been justified in their belief that he felt he was above them. Because the truth was he had been condemning them all for something he believed, not something he knew. The same way people in the Under had condemned Tabitha and her sister for so long.
Tabitha. She’d finally spoken once Winston had rendered his verdict, or lack of one. She’d quietly thanked Jonathan, just a few words, but her heart had been in her voice and her gratitude had been clear. She’d then asked Alex to allow her some time alone with her sister. He had, of course, agreed immediately. He’d wanted to say more, beg her forgiveness, but it wasn’t time yet. Besides, he knew that kind of forgiveness would need to come in time, as a choice she made on her own. Thinking again of all the people he’d hated for so long in Beaver, Utah, he knew that true forgiveness wasn’t a favor or a compromise, it was a bestowed grace. He could ask it of her, but it wouldn’t be the same as if she gave it freely.
Was he really beginning to feel that he could move on in his life? To let go of the resentment he’d held onto for so long back home? Down here, none of it seemed real. His life on the surface seemed like a long-ago dream and none of what he’d done until he came to the Under, big or small, seemed to have any significance. EMIT, Silas, PJ and the rest of the kids at school—even Leeann—didn’t hold the same sense of importance for him that the people of this place and their plight did.
It was an odd thought: that the Under seemed more substantial to Alex than the world above when the only reason the people down here existed was to protect that world. Did all those unknowing, spoiled people on the surface even deserve the sacrifice made by the citizens of Domus?
Of course they did. Because these people were those people, too. They were the same, just separated by hundreds of years of technology and sunlight. Winston, Jonathan, Tabitha, Abner—every person in Domus probably had relatives on the surface somewhere. Relatives who had no idea their bloodline had continued all this time, somewhere deep beneath their feet.
Alex smiled down on the city benevolently, allowing himself to feel for the first time a sense of connection to it, even embrace it. He made a decision: today he would make an effort. Today he would go into the city and meet more of its people. If Tabitha would speak with him, he would go to her first and tell her how he felt. He would thank Abner for his high spirits and all he’d done to bolster Alex’s confidence. Even Jonathan and Winston with their strict code of honor—he would thank them too. He would make himself a part of the community he lived in instead of living outside of it.
Alex ducked into his shelter to grab his jean jacket and his blade.
He barely had his hand around the hilt when the sound of an agonized scream shattered the silence of the city, followed immediately by a second.
Alex was out of his shelter in a flash, desperately searching for the source of the scream. The city below him sprang into action, frantic voices rose from a murmur to shouting.
Another scream ripped through the air and Alex whirled. High above him, at the top of the steps, the warriors who’d been on guard were backing out of the tunnel mouth. He scanned the group of warriors, frantically counting. One, two, three, four… where were the other two? There had been six!
The warriors faced the tunnel, barely glancing behind them as they navigated down the narrow steps backward. Inside, deep in the darkness of the caves, a last garbled scream could be heard before it abruptly ended.
In Domus, Alex saw movement around Sanctuary. He prayed to God that it was Winston and a group of warriors coming to aid, but they were still so far away he couldn’t make out any details.
The deep, rumbling sound of Thrain’s laughter echoed from of the tunnel and carried down to Alex, just moments before Thrain himself emerged from the tunnel, blood coating his face and chest. Even from where Alex stood, there was no mistaking the exultation and fanaticism in Thrain’s eyes as he advanced on the small group of warriors.
Where was everyone? Where were the rest of the warriors?
Alex looked back toward the city but just then Thrain lunged and struck, his claw-like fingers raking a jagged gash through the closest warrior’s throat.
The warrior toppled and fell from the edge of the steps, landing with a dull thump at the base of the cavern wall.
Three remained and it appeared they were going to die too. Thrain had come, just as Winston had said he would. He had come to take back what was his and punish those responsible for the thralls he’d lost. No one would be able to escape from the city quickly enough. There just wasn’t time.
It was all happening too fast. If Thrain moved into the city unchecked it wouldn’t just be warriors who died, it would be women, children—children like Sarah.
The laser was on and pointed before Alex finished the thought. He couldn’t see behind Thrain, the angle wasn’t right from so far below, so he pointed to spot halfway up the steps and closed his hand into a fist.
A
dull flash of light and he was there, arms wind-milling to keep his balance as he teleported onto the narrow steps.
“You!” Thrain’s unmistakable voice ring out.
Alex spun to meet the Nocuous’s enraged glare. Thrain bellowed, roaring in bestial rage, and lunged again, heedless of the threat the remaining three warriors represented, throwing himself toward Alex with everything he had.
The warriors met Thrain’s charge head-on. The narrow stairs were only wide enough for two men abreast, and just barely at that. Thrain would have had to go through at least one of them to get to Alex, but instead the warriors forced him to retreat up the steps with two long, jagged gashes in his chest from the warrior nearest him.
Amazingly, Thrain regrouped in seconds as if the wounds were barely a scratch. Instead, he turned his focus back to the warriors, growling menacingly. He didn’t speak or threaten them, he just slowly inched forward. His silence scared Alex more than if he’d been bellowing in rage.
Thrain appeared to be acting on his own. Nothing else had come out the tunnel behind him. Alex steadied himself. If there were no others, he could end the battle right now. With the suit, he could save the three remaining warriors.
Before he could talk himself out of it, Alex pointed the laser behind Thrain and closed his fist, turning to swing his blade backhanded as soon as he reappeared.
As before, Thrain was ready and managed to evade the killing stroke, but not before Alex sank his blade deep into Thrain’s neck. The Nocuous dropped to his knees, struggling to get up, his head jerking spasmodically as he pushed and clawed against the ground.
Repulsed, Alex reached down and yanked his weapon free of Thrain’s neck, intent on delivering a final blow. As he pulled the blade free, the Nocuous collapsed to the side and fell from the steps, landing on the rocks below, very close to where the first warrior had fallen.
“Is he…?” One of the warriors leaned over the edge, peering down to see if Thrain’s body was moving.
“There is no doubt,” another said. “He will heal, if his head was not completely severed.”
“What?” Alex gaped. Were they serious?
“You must go to him. Now. Before he heals,” the first warrior. “Use your Magnosphere.”
“My…?”
The suit. The people of Domus called it a Magnosphere. Alex still didn’t know exactly what that was, but he wasn’t about to let Thrain escape for a second time. Alex beamed the laser down and closed his fist, reappearing next to Thrain.
They had been right. Thrain was still alive and was now struggling to push himself up. How was it possible? The wound was gaping and hideous, the slice more than halfway through Thrain’s neck. The fall must have been from at least a hundred feet up. And yet still the Nocuous was alive, glaring at Alex out of the corners of his eyes.
“You are a fool,” the Nocuous gurgled. “My death means nothing.”
Alex heard yelling and pounding footsteps. Winston, Jonathan, and a small contingent of warriors were almost upon them. Amazingly, Thrain turned his head to watch their approach. He sneered when he saw Jonathan approaching with a copper sword in his hand.
“You may have taken my tools of war,” Thrain coughed, “but there are more. So many more!” The Nocuous spat blood on the ground in front of him, a thick, black, slimy gob. He slowly pivoted until both knees were on the ground, his palms flat in front of him. “I go to my death secure in the knowledge that Rasmus will slay you all!”
“Wait, what?” Alex hastened to stop the killing stroke that Jonathan had stepped up to deliver. “Rasmus? Is my dad there? Does Rasmus have my dad?”
Slowly, as if with great care, Thrain turned his head to look Alex in the eye. And then he laughed, long and painfully. It was a foul, gurgling, choking sound filled with thick contempt. Alex, so enraged by Thrain’s response, was unprepared when the Nocuous suddenly lunged toward him, mouth agape and hands outstretched.
But Thrain made it less than a foot before Winston brought his short black blade down on Thrain’s neck, ending his life and any hope Alex had for news of his father.