Cordolium - Part 6
Back into the fray once more we dive…
Here is the next chapter of Cordolium.
In truth, I envision Cordoium as the first part in a five book series. As I have been working and writing, I have been working on developing out full drafts of all the books. As of right now, I am finishing up the third book in the series and working on outlining the fourth book. So what you have been reading here is still early in the overarching story.
I can’t wait to share the full story with everyone. There are so many great characters and moments I want you all to meet. My hope is to one day send out the first full draft of Cordolium to agents and publishers and get this book out there into the world.
But that’s in the future. For now, here’s the next chapter…
Oh. Also.
Homer is now Galen.
Lorenzo is now Teagan.
I got tired of their old names.
Sorry.
As became the practice, Emma and Oron spent their time getting treated for their wounds, jogging their memories, and trying to regain their strength. Exhaustion still lingered in Emma’s body but if everything they had told her about the last few months was true, she had no place to be tired. No longer was she a damsel of the Hughes house under the watchful eye of father. She had to get stronger to set things right. She had forged her weapon, but there was still a long way to go.
The compound they were staying at belonged to the old man, Galen. He presented himself as a friendly man, plump body with a thin face covered in wrinkles and gray hair. The lines of his face seemed to age him more than he actually was. He looked to be in his late sixties, but his strange yellow eyes gave a hint of youth to his look. Dr. Galen Windemere was a researcher of the art of Orenda. A doctor, a scientist, and a bit of a philosopher, Galen had a hand in most conversations about Orenda and its applications. Despite not being a knight himself, he had done enough work over the years that his word seemed to carry weight in enough circles that some of the Great Cities paid him quite a bit of money for his advice.
That money afforded him several homes around the world. If he, Frankie, and Teagan were to be believed, Galen Windemere had dwellings in nearly all the Great Cities. Some were simple summer homes while others were more akin to research facilities. As Emma learned more of her past, the concept of multiple homes did not seem foreign. The Hughes had a network of manors in several cities themselves. Yet, the idea of operating several research facilities around the world boggled her mind. Galen needed to travel a lot to keep tabs on things, but he was traveling with a time table, a plan. Emma enjoyed traveling just to travel.
Dr. Galen built this particular compound on the outskirts of Ena Larisa, one of the oldest cities in the world. According to him, being near the city afforded him some protection from the dark creatures looming in the wildlands; yet, he couldn’t bring himself to live within the walls of the city and be subject to their laws and regulations. Out here, he was free to conduct his work how he saw fit. All he needed was a few privately armed guards to watch the walls around his compound, and buildings to keep him safe. He had a large house filled with enough spare rooms to house a battalion of knights, a garage stocked with cars and trucks, and a garden to grow his own food. Nearly a dozen people lived on the compound and reported to Galen, other than Alma and Ezra, but most were doing odd jobs or smaller tasks that didn’t require them to see him every day. So, Emma never really saw most of them other than the guards at the gates. That, and Teagan and Frankie.
Teagan and Frankie were his assistants. Scrawny Teagan seemed like an eager and jovial young man. Probably fresh out of his schooling, he lacked the maturity that came with growing up. Oron and Emma were not quite clear on what his role in all of this was, but he seemed to be the one in charge of managing Galen’s daily tasks and correspondence. He had a hard time reading the room, which irritated Emma when she was trying to focus on something other than Teagan’s ramblings.
Frankie was twenty two, just a year older than Oron and two years over Emma. They had a good head on their shoulders, and while they could be more mature than Teagan, sometimes they chose to ignore it. Frankie would chat your ear off if given the chance, even if you didn’t fully understand what was being said. The two of them worked under Galen transcribing his old notes and assisting him in his endeavors. While they both managed the work, Frankie seemed more adept at the digital side of things. When they were not working with Oron or Emma, Frankie was often tucked away in one of the computer rooms scanning documents and uploading data to servers miles away.
These two managed the household. They prepared meals, cleaned, and ran errands when needed. Emma knew of those tasks, but had no real practice in any of them. Oron had always handled those things. That was his duty as her retainer, and even after they left the walls of La Rezza he kept true to his role. In some sense, Frankie and Teagan were Galen’s retainers. He certainly had the money for it, even if he was not of a noble line.
Late one day, the sun dipping below the walls surrounding the house, Emma found herself walking the grounds alone. It had been a few days since the fight against Ezra and Alma and Emma played the fight over in her mind. She felt tense as she relived it. Behind her eyes, she wondered if there was an opening she missed. She held out her hand, forging her silver bo staff. Part of her felt excitement at the fact that she had been able to forge again. When she first found herself unable to forge, it felt as if her foot had been cut off with a dull blade. Still, another part of her prickled at how long it had actually taken.
“I’ve gotten weak,” she mumbled to herself. “I have to get better. I have to be strong.” She allowed the staff to dissolve, feeling it drift from her fingers as it faded to nothingness. When the staff disappeared, Emma felt a hole in her chest. It was different from her tender scars. This hole brought no pain or soreness, just an empty feeling. She thought she had known a lot about empty feelings, but she was wrong. As her memories came back to her little by little each day, she recalled conversations with her father, her brother, and her sister. Emma stopped moving. She had resolved to reach out to her sister.
Emma felt a much stronger connection to Scarlett than the others, but every time she got close to reaching out to her elder sister, she backed away and found other things to distract her mind with. Now she was pacing the grounds instead of confronting the small screen she had tossed on her bed. The fresh air was nice at least.
As she kept walking she passed the main gate by the garage. The scent of exhaust hung in the air. The two guards stood at their posts, nervous puppies waiting for their next command. Emma walked up to them and one snapped to attention. Might as well have some fun today.
“What are you two doing?” she asked, a coy tone intentionally slipping out.
“Guarding the gate,” the more relaxed guard answered. He was about Emma’s height but seemed fresh out of school.
“Really?” Emma cooed. “And here I thought this was a tower.”
“What?” The other guard pivoted from standing at attention to sounding confused. “I mean, What, milady?”
‘Great,’ Emma thought, ‘eager and not too bright.’
“She's just messing with us,” the bored guard groaned.
“I would never,” she lied. “I’m just curious. If you’re guarding the gate, why are you on this side? Aren’t the big bad monsters out there?”
“This is where we were posted.”
“You were posted on the inside?”
“Yes.” It sounded like a stupid way to guard the compound, but the more Emma thought about it, the more another reason started to creep forward.
“Can I go outside for a walk?” she asked the guards. Their eyes darted to one another and then back to her. Emma looked at the eager dumb one and could see tension in his brow. Drops of sweat began to form.
“You’re already outside,” the bored guard answered.
“Yeah, but I haven’t been out of the compound since waking up. I want to see outside-outside.”
“I’m sorry, but no. Master Galen said to not open the gate for anyone other than him.”
“Is that so?” Emma crossed her arms. “Are you two knights?”
There was a moment of hesitation and then, “No.”
“Then maybe I’m not the biggest threat Galen needs to worry about. What happens then if a daemon crawls over that wall?”
“We’ll hold it off till those other knights arrive.” The eager guard blurted as he swung his rifle off his shoulder and held it out. Emma reached out for it and the guard recoiled nervously.
“Come on,” she sighed. “If I was going to do anything I would not use a gun. They’re less fun.” The eager guard was even more nervous now. Emma had been serious, but tacked on a thin laugh to her words to try and ease the tension. It did the trick and the guard cautiously slid the gun into Emma’s hands.
Emma preferred not to use guns in combat, but she was certainly versed in them. She rested the buttstock in the crook of her shoulder and titled the rifle to inspect the receiver, the lever, and grip. Sure enough, etched into the grip she found what she was looking for. The logo of the maker was a shield with two spears crossing: the Hughes family crest. Emma suspected their armor was also from the Hughes Corporation.
“These are good guns,” she remarked as she tossed the rifle back to the guard. He fumbled to catch it. “Make sure you stay vigilant. Never know when a daemon will pop up. Or worse. Me.” She tossed her hair and walked away.
Lord Roman Hughes insisted on a lot of things for his children. The best school and the best Orenda tutors for example. He also insisted that each of his children were trained in basic self defense and combat. Apparently, an ancestor of theirs had once been taken hostage, and Roman Hughes took the same oath as his father had and made sure they would never look weak again.
When she was little, Emma remembered going on a tour of the Hughes Corporation with her father, sister, and Oron. She had to have been around ten at the time. Her father showed his daughters how they made guns and armor and vehicles. “It’s our family’s duty to keep the people of our city safe. So we make these things to help those without gifts.” It was a nice line, and Emma found comfort in the simple words. Later, when she learned that her father sold those same weapons all over the world to other cities and towns, it felt like it was less about keeping the people safe and more about seeing how far he could carry the family name. There wasn’t a city or town that didn’t have some Hughes Corp product somewhere in its borders.
In many cities, the name alone could get you access to the upper echelons of society. Most noble lines were familiar with the nobles from other cities. Alliances and political marriages certainly never fell out of favor. Some names carried respect and weight with them. Others, not as much respect. And then there were names like Hughes. Names that courted offers from everyone and stopped whole conversations when mentioned.
Emma spent several of her younger years believing that she could carry the name Hughes to honor and glory. By the time she became a knight though she realized that her father had other plans. He would send the family name off in search of glory on the backs of his other children, and Emma was just along for the ride.
She shook away the memory as she entered the house. In the main room, Emma found Oron hunched over the table. She crept in behind him, trying not to alert him to her presence. Emma had always been light on her feet, she just chose not to. Better to force your enemies to acknowledge your approach. Your reckoning. Her feet gently floated across the floorboards, a bird fluttering in the wind, as she came up behind Oron. Over his shoulder she could see him doodling. Just doodling on a stray piece of paper. She had never known Oron to draw before.
Or, was it just a memory she had not uncovered yet? Did Emma just forget that detail about Oron, or had she never noticed? Neither idea sat well in her stomach, so she smacked Oron’s shoulder and shattered the silence in the room.
“Shit,” Oron bellowed as he spun to see Emma grinning. “Damn, Emma. A little warning would be nice.”
“For you.”
“Yeah, that’s the idea.” He shuffled his papers, sliding what he was working on before Emma scared him to the bottom of his stack. As the paper disappeared, Emma caught a glimpse of a sketch. It was of three figures: a man, a woman, and a child. It was a sad drawing. Emma said nothing.
“What are you doing?” asked Oron as he folded his papers up and tucked them in his pocket.
“Nothing. I’m bored.”
“Have you been to Frankie today?”
Yes,” Emma groaned. “Remembered lots of boring stuff. Dinner etiquette and silverware arrangement. Some of us studying when we were still in school. Still fuzzy on a few stretches, but I feel like it’s mostly there.”
“What about Galen?”
“I was going to skip that for today.” Oron looked at her, searching her face.
“You shouldn’t.”
“The scars are healing just fine. I’m mostly just sore every once in a while now.”
“Emma,” started Oron. “We need to be fully healed before we head out in search of him again. We barely made it out before, and I-”
“I know.” She cut him off.
“Sorry.” Oron’s voice sounded softer, like it retreated in him.
“No. Don’t apologize.” Emma sighed and sat on the arm of the chair. “I know I need to do it, but I’d really just prefer to head out now. I don’t want to lose any more time.”
“Once we have full control again, we’ll leave.”
“Promise?”
“You have my word.” Oron stood and gave a little bow to Emma, teasing her. She pushed his shoulder, sharing a laugh with him. She was glad that the memories she had found today were like this. Small. Insignificant. Happy.
Emma ascended the stairs, her hand sliding up the thick banister, to Galen’s study. It was a long room on the third floor with shelves of books and artifacts. A dim glow from a few desk lamps gave the space an orange hue. Galen sat at a large desk as he overlooked some maps. He had drawn lines and circled several different locations. When Emma opened the door and stepped in, he looked up and smiled. He seemed friendly, but Emma had a lot of questions that still went unanswered.
“I was beginning to think you were going to skip today,” Galen commented. He rose from the desk and moved to greet her. Emma brushed it off and remarked that she just lost track of the day. Galen didn’t question her. He pulled out two chairs and sat down in one. The other chair invited Emma to sit and relax. She took a seat, turned away from Galen and pulled the back of her shirt over her head.
“We’re only focusing on the back scar today.” She held her shirt close to her body.
“I understand.” Galen put the tips of his fingers over the starburst scar between her shoulder blades. “I know these stitching sessions are not the most comfortable experience. Yet, I hope you understand that I only want to help you recover.” Emma let his words bounce off her as she felt the rush of blood rippling through her back. Most of the damage had been under the skin, and each session with Galen stitched more of her muscle and more of her life back together. She hated to admit it, but it was helping. The two sat in silence for a few minutes as Galen worked and Emma healed.
“I’m going to call my sister, Scarlett, soon,” Emma finally expressed.
“That’s good. I think that’s a very good idea.”
“I’ll want to meet with her.” There was no response. “I’ll need to leave the compound.”
Galen took his hand off her back and leaned back in his chair. “I’m not holding you or Oron prisoner you know.”
“Then why can’t we leave the compound?”
“Lady Emma, you couldn’t forge a weapon until a little while ago.” His voice was still gentle, but a stern tone slid into the edges of his words. “If you left now, you would not stand a chance out there.”
“We’ll be fine.”
“The two of you have a history of running off and charging head first into dangerous situations. Forgive me if I feel like we need a little more precaution right now.”
“We didn’t know what we were up against before, okay. That is on us. But now we know. Oron and I will be ready.”
Galen grew quiet. When he did not return to healing Emma, she slid the shirt back on and got up. Galen got up as well, crossing past Emma and heading for one of his shelves. He reached up, above old tomes and jumbled notebooks, and grabbed a long wooden box. It was dark, like burnt wood, and Emma had an eerie feeling as the box drew closer to her. Galen wordlessly lifted the lid to the box when he was standing in front of Emma. Inside she saw a long blade of rippled steel etched with markings that ran from the razor point back to the black hilt. Galen nodded to the blade and Emma ran her hand over it.
“This is a soul blade.” Galen looked at Emma, his eyes piercing the silence between them.
“The one that…” Emma trailed off.
“No. Not that one, but one like it. Go on.” Emma wrapped her fingers around the hilt and lifted the blade. It was sleek, slicing through the air with no trouble. But it felt heavy in her hand. Heavier than it should. Heavy like it was burdened with the weight of a whole person. “Blades like these were meant to help warriors unlock their gifts. It was an age before we really knew what we were doing.”
“And we know now?”
“We know more than we did then. Blades like this were meant to unlock the soul, making it easier to manipulate. Other blades could do the same for the heart. But the methods they used to forge these blades were not exactly couth, and it didn’t take long for some to find darker uses for them.”
“Erebus.”
“Can you feel the weight of the blade?” Emma nodded her head. She focused on the blade and the world around her seemed to shrink. The edges of her vision faded to black. Voices whispered in her ears. Voices from long ago. Her fingers shook as she held the blade. This was not normal steel. Emma wondered if it was steel at all. She dropped the blade back into its resting place.
“That’s the type of weapon Erebus used to hurt you,” Galen continued. “He didn’t unlock your soul, he ripped it out.”
“I know, Galen. We know. But we’ll get them back.”
“I need you to understand the dangers of what lies ahead. I have been studying the art of Orenda for a long time. A body that can survive without either a soul or a heart is a rare thing. Almost no records of it exist. But the ones that do… You need to get your souls back, before it’s too late. We need to be smart about it.”
Emma could sense the trepidation in his voice. Galen had always been willing to talk about Oron and her losing their souls and how it happened, but he never wanted to touch on what came next. Now with the thought of Emma leaving the safety of the walls, he seemed a bit more willing to share. It was unnerving.
“What happens if we don’t get our souls back?”
“Apart from feeling hollow? You will die. Eventually.”
“How long?”
“Hard to say. But it will be slow. And it will be painful. Our bodies, our Cierges, are meant to live in balance, the soul and the heart shifting and flowing evenly. Without a soul inside your flesh, the heart will either wither and die, or worse. Like a lamp with no oil.”
“We could become daemons.” Galen nodded. Emma fell back into her chair. Her chest felt tight and her skin crawled. Knights were sworn to kill daemons. Emma never saw herself becoming one. She did not often feel or show fear, but her leg began to shake as she tried to steady her breathing.
Galen knelt beside her, resting his hand on her shoulder. “There are worse things than daemons.”
“No,” she snapped as she pushed him away. “Why didn’t you tell us?”
“I’m telling you now. I needed to make sure you were strong enough for the news.”
“You haven’t told Oron yet.”
“No, I haven’t.” Galen turned back to the door. They were still alone. “I have been worried about him and his memories. I was holding off on saying anything, but I know you’ll tell him.”
“Of course I’m going to tell him.” Emma shot up. She pushed past Galen ignoring his calls for her to stay. She couldn’t be with him right now. This had been what he was avoiding. Bodies need to be connected to the well of life and the well of memories. Without a soul, her and Oron were cut off, trying to live with half of who they were. At best they were going to die. Emma knew somewhere deep inside that was a possibility. But the prospect of becoming a daemon was too much. She had spent years training to kill daemons. She refused to let it end that way.
She stomped through the house and opened Oron’s door. She found it empty. Frustrated, she let out a muted scream and kicked a chair, hard. It flew across the room and cracked against the floor with a deafening rattle. Her breathing felt rushed and her head swam, dizzy and heavy. She needed to hear a voice of reason. And right now, trying to find Oron did not sound like the best course of action. She could barely keep her arms steady.
Emma went next door to her room and grabbed her screen off her bed. When her and Oron were able to access a fraction of their gifts, Galen felt it was safer to hand over their screens. These sleek pieces of metal and glass allowed folks to talk to one another from a distance. Giant relay towers that carried the messages on the air were built along the roads that connected the cities and within any town that could afford to have one. Obviously, talking to someone in the city was the easiest thing to do. Calls and messages were nearly instantaneous, and the city could send out alerts on any threats or lockdowns. Trying to talk to someone from another city was another thing entirely. The wildlands were a mix of dead zones and rough patches. Sometimes the signal was delayed or dropped altogether. Yet, it was vastly better than giving someone a letter to deliver and never seeing them again. Fortunately, Galen had a small antenna to piggyback off of Ena Larisa’s signal. Of course.
Emma held her screen in her hands. It was a newer model, far newer than the one Oron had received before they left their home in La Rezza, but the screen had been cracked and the sides were a little scuffed. She rolled the screen over and over. Emma pulled up Scarlett’s name on the contact list, held her breath, and then rolled the screen again. Everytime her hand hovered above the screen to call her, she pulled back. Just as she remembered growing up in her mansion and talking to her family, she also remembered lingering in the shadows, quiet dinners alone, and a stern hand looming over her.
Her finger tapped the glass with force, pulling up a list of names. Some of those names were people she had no plans of talking to again. Some of those names were dead. She flicked past them until she found the one she had avoided for far too long. Scarlett Hughes. Emma took a deep breath and then tapped the name.
Little dots danced across the screen as the signal went out, gliding from tower to tower. Emma’s plea to be heard, to talk, bounced from city to city until it found another screen in someone else’s pocket. Emma figured that Scarlett would pick up when she saw who was calling her, but she did not expect the speed with which Scarlett burst in on the line.
“Emma?” A silvery voice cracked. “Emma, is that you?”
Emma opened her mouth, but no words formed. She swallowed hard, pushing down everything that she had learned and everything that had happened in the last few days. Finally she found some words to use. “Hey, Scarlett. Miss me?”
