Icarus

Part 9

Lyr woke up to a pounding headache, which was only made worse by the high-pitched pop music blaring in the background. Forcing her eyes open, she saw nothing but a faint glow coming through her blindfold. Trying to move, she hissed in pain as pins and needles shot through every muscle.
“So you’re finally awake. I was beginning to worry Toral had given you too much knockout drugs. He’s done it before.”
Lyr remained silent, taking stock of her surroundings. She was laying on her back, restrained to some kind of firm padded surface. The room had the sharp, dry kind of coolness that only came from air conditioning. She could hear one person’s footsteps and breathing, and she smelled what seemed suspiciously like floral perfume. The voice had sounded female, upper-class, and vaguely amused. This was awfully nice for a torture chamber, but maybe they were trying to make her let her guard down.
Lyr flinched as soft hands touched her face, undoing the blindfold and gently pulling it away. She blinked, letting her eyes adjust to the rush of light. Her vision blurred painfully, then cleared to reveal a room that was neatly organized, overdecorated in pink and gold, and appeared to be set up for some kind of makeover, with an open walk-in closet, makeup table, and an open door leading to what was probably a bathroom. Two other doors were visible from the table she was laying on. One was a set of hinged glass double doors that led out to some kind of balcony overlooking the city, and the other was a normal enough sliding single door, albeit a lavish one. Even the fingerprint lock next to the door had golden swirls around it.
Sitting next to Lyr’s table, wearing the barest hint of a smile and a bit too much makeup, was a pale young woman with strings of gold beads and copper pearls woven into her dark curly hair.
“You’re probably wondering who I am. My name is Narida, and I’m your stylist and dressmaker.”
Her smile grew into something more genuine.
“I’m the one who gets to make you all pretty!”
Lyr blinked in total confusion. “Uh, not that I'm complaining, but I thought I was going to get tortured? Do you mind telling me what the hell’s going on?”
Narida giggled.
“Tortured? Don’t be silly, Toral was just trying to scare you. Honestly, he scares me too. He’s pretty nasty. But don’t tell him I said that, he’s one of the Elites’ best agents. He might think I was having treasonous thoughts!”
“Are, are you an Elite?”
“Oh, of course not, sweetie. I’m so flattered you thought so! But I’m just a servant.”
“Where are we? Are we in the Towers?”
Narida pointed at her. “Bingo! Smart girl. Now, you’re not getting tortured, and we need to get you all gussied up for your family reunion.”
The woman actually clapped her hands. Something was definitely wrong. Nobody was really that cheerful. Then her actual words sank in.
“Family . . . reunion?” Lyr croaked. “I have family here?! Am I an Elite?”
“No, but your grandpa’s one of their most interesting courtiers. He’s the court inventor! You probably don’t remember that, though. Everybody’s been saying you’ve had amnesia, is it true?”
“Um, yeah.”
“Oh, you poor thing! I hope it all comes back soon, honey.”
“What about my parents?”
Narida’s face fell.
“So you don’t remember that either? Well, I think I’d better let Sir Reynold, that’s your grandpa, tell you himself. Now, let’s get you untied. Toral is so overkill with this kind of thing.”
As Narida bustled around untying her, Lyr let the revelations of the last few minutes percolate through her brain. Finally, she sat up, stretching cautiously until her joints popped.
“So, if my Grandpa’s an Elite Courtier, why do the Elites have wanted posters up for me?”
“Cause everyone thought you’d been captured by the Blackskulls! They probably would have brainwashed you into helping them.”
“What are the Blackskulls?”
Narida shuddered.
“These awful terrorists who are trying to take down the Elites and plunge everything into anarchy! People say they wear all black with a skull and bones on their chests like old-time pirates, it’s awfully spooky.”
Lyr shuddered too as memories flooded her brain.
“I think they might have been trying to capture me. Before I got brought here.”
“Oh, Fates, that must have been terrifying! You’re so brave, Jorella.”
“That’s . . . not my name . . . “ Lyr began, then gasped as another wave of memories overtook her.

She was a little girl again, with an older bearded man looking down at her with a fake smile.
“Where are we going, Grandpop?” Her small, younger voice asked.
“Don’t worry about it.” Her Grandfather said.
“Where’s Mama?”
The man’s face twisted with rage for a second, then smoothed out into a falsely kind expression again.
“Jorella, I told you not to worry about it. So don’t worry about it. Right now, it’s just you and me, and we’re going on a little adventure to Port Nerona.”

Another memory hit her, this one of standing in front of the Elite Towers, still clutching her Grandfather’s callused hand.
“This is where we’re staying now, sweetie. We’ll live like kings, and you’ll be able to use your science-magic as much as you want. You’ll have the best teachers money can buy, and you can work in my new workshop with me.”
She started to bounce up and down, not caring that her brand-new shiny shoes were pinching her little feet.
“Cool! When can I show Mama all the things we make?”
There it was again, that flash of barely controlled fury, replaced by a condescending smile.
“When she comes to visit, Jorella. We’re living here now, but you can write your Mama e-messages every day and maybe she’ll come visit.”

Then a third memory. She was older in this one, somewhere around ten, and furious, standing amidst the mess she’d just made of a huge tech workshop.
“You lied to me!!!! You told me Mom was alive!! You said she’d visit any day, and you’ve been saying it for four years, dammit!”
Her Grandfather walked towards her, hands held out in a pleading gesture.
“I didn’t think you could handle the news at such a young age. I’m sorry for the deception, but I didn’t want to break your little heart by telling you we were fleeing a war that took your parents. I was trying to make something good for you out of that tragedy. And haven’t I?”
The last sentence had just enough reproach in it to make younger Jorella’s shoulders slump.
“You have, Grandpop. I know that. I was just upset.”
He nodded.
“I understand. Come now, dry your eyes and show me that coding sequence again. You’ll always be my little Jorella.”

Then the fourth and final memory, not even a coherent image, just words, swirling around in the chaos her mind was becoming.
“Jorella! Jorella, go to your room!”
“No! You are never telling me what to do again, you assheaded kidnapper!!!! You sold me to the Elites!! This was never about making a good life for me, was it? It was always about you. More money, more influence, more power for you, all because you had me. Well, you don’t anymore!”
Then a rush of cold air on her face as she flew away from the city somehow, controlled at first, but then too fast, much too fast. She was falling, and then something behind her exploded, sending waves of white-hot agony across her arms and back. Her own screams pierced her eardrums like broken glass as she continued to fall, until she hit water with a deafening smack and everything went dark.

Lyr opened her eyes. Everything in the pink makeover room was blurry again, but this time it was because of the hot tears streaming down her face. She was a science-mage. A slave, to her grandfather and to the Elites, and her parents were long dead. Nobody could save her.
Narida put a gentle hand on her shoulder.
“Jorella, did you remember something? You sort of spaced out for a few minutes. Are you okay, sweetie?”
Lyr flinched.
“Don’t call me Jorella!” She snapped, making Narida recoil. “Please.” She added in a softer tone, not wanting to take her anger out on the bubbly older girl. “I, I prefer being called Lyr now.”
“Okay. Are you ready for your makeover, or do you need a second . . . ?”
Lyr wiped her tears, squared her shoulders, and nodded.
“I’m ready now. Might as well make a good impression.”
“Oh, goody!” Narida squealed. “Time for me to work my magic!”