Arc One: Awakening

Chapter 40: Wrath

Traversing the fine fog of Lumen's broad pavements, Bartholomew repressed a cough. Delorem's climate clogged in his day, but now it choked, suffocating in a bracing grip that kept its victims alive long enough to be useful before it brought them to their undignified end. Death wandered in the wake of the misery on bloodied feet, feeding off the scraps the governing families discarded in their goal for more and quicker. Three-hundred years had not softened this world into kindness; it made it worse.

A discomforting twinge tunnelled into his chest. Could he have prevented Delorem from reaching such stifling levels if he had woken from his sleep when planned? Had his grave miscalculation caused this grief and the escalating hostilities? He would never know. And that marked fact irked him more than he cared to admit.

He evened the wrinkles in his waistcoat and loosened the pent up pressure in his demeanour as he drew near the commotion of city folk amassing by the river. The barriers barely hampered their efforts as they craned their necks and aired their confusion in whispered theories and rumours.

"Are we going to be without water again?" an oily man asked his friend. "This'll be the third time this month the filtration's gone bust."

"I think it's a bit more serious than that," the woman beside him answered, snooping over the people in front of her and almost tripping over her curiosity. "Look, they're rounding up district guards."

Hearing her observation, the few surrounding her rose to their tiptoes, some scaling the riverside railings to watch the proceedings. Agents sporting night vision gear and long-nosed rifles escorted the apprehended officers to a cluster of unmarked vans. One of the agents removed his goggles and conversed with the woman overseeing the operation.

When her focus diverted to the increasing crowd, Bartholomew distinguished the stern, if not slightly rosy, features and gradually advanced between the gathered bodies towards her. A couple muttered their protests, but he ignored their grumbles and stuck to the rusty river barriers to remain unobtrusive to the process of arrests and eager gawping.

"Esther," he called, capturing her attention with a signal of his cane.

She allocated the agent his orders and addressed Bartholomew with a brisk nod. "I wondered when you'd show up," she said. "Or if you even would. We had to lock some of the gateways to be on the safe side. Miss Kingsrose has agents in most of the active ones now."

"That is good to hear," the professor affirmed. As she assessed the river boats patrolling and the dusky, inky hue of the night manifested in the water, he noted the splay of finger-shaped bruises folded around her throat. While she appeared unaffected by the attack, he promised Lilith she'd come to no harm. If he had known how dangerous Delorem had grown, he may have reconsidered sending a student there.

From the pouch on her belt, she extracted a clear packet and handed it over to him. "Are they the right feathers?"

"They certainly seem to be," Bartholomew replied. He inspected the fibres and the repeating patterns. Satisfied with their shape and design, he slipped them into his inside coat pocket.

"Shame," Esther sighed. "I was hoping for a reason to smack that smug grin off Ralph's face."

Bartholomew had little time to ask her who Ralph was and what this mystery man had done to agitate her. "Exactly what actions have the industry families undertaken in their attempts to hold the gateways?" he queried.

"Only what I told you on the call," Esther said, arms crossed tightly over her chest and her analytical stare studying the ongoing convoy of captured officers. "Penelope doesn't want any part of it, she warned me about what the others were planning. She wants the gateways free for all to use, but she's one against four."