Chapter 41: Who You Are (Patreon)

About who you are.

Those words haunted me all the way back to Eoman’s hideout. They certainly sounded ominous, but I couldn’t say I was surprised. They’d been plenty of hints that Soren had been keeping secrets, and even Odenna seemed to know things about me that I didn’t.

“Are you nervous?” Adalinda asked. The celestial had unmanifested as was traveling in spiritform within me.

“Yes,” I admitted.

“Don’t be. Whatever it is Soren has to say, we’ll face it together.”

“Thank you,” I said. To take my mind off my internal turmoil, I turned my attention outwards to the surroundings.

It was still night, but there was a noticeable lack of revelry in the streets. Word has spread, I thought. Even the lowliest Devil had to know by now that Cantos was dead, and no doubt the infighting had begun in earnest.

Despite this, we saw no signs of fighting, and no one accosted us. Tomorrow these streets will look very different, I thought grimly.

We reached the hideout without incident and were let in without comment by the burly guard.

“Where’s Eoman?” Soren asked, stopping the first Raccoon he saw.

I didn’t recognize the man’s face, nor that of the other dozen or so Raccoons nearby. Eoman had sent out his scouts then, just like he’d told me he would, and by the looks of it, they’d found no shortage of survivors.

“Soren! You’re back. Did you hear? Cantos is—”

“I heard,” Soren interjected, cutting him off. “Eoman?” he asked, shaking the man to remind him.

“Oh. He’s in command room, I think.”

“Thank you,” Soren said. Leaving the Raccoon behind, we hurried on. My brother led the way and seemed to know where we were heading.

“Eoman isn’t worried about traitors anymore?” I asked, surveying the passing Raccoons.

Soren shot me a look. “We know who the traitor is,” he said in a low undertone, “and she isn’t here.”

She?

“Besides,” he went on, “the main base no longer secure, and you know, Eoman, he wouldn’t just abandon his people. Everyone has been instructed to gather here.” He shrugged. “Space is tight, but we’ll manage somehow.”

We drew to a halt at a closed door. Two Raccoons stood guard outside it, but at the sight of Soren, they drew back.

“So, you found her,” the first remarked with a grin.

“Well done, miss,” the second said, doffing his cap.

I didn’t have to ask what he meant. The news really had outrun us.

“Go on in,” the first Raccoon said. “They’ve been waiting anxiously for your return.”

They? Why did I get the feeling there was more going on here than I thought.

“Thanks,” Soren said. Pushing open the door, he strode through.

✵ ✵ ✵

The command center was a large room. A long rectangular table with enough seating for more than two dozen people ran the length of the room, but presently only two people occupied it.

Eoman and Odenna.

The pair had been deep in an animated conversation but at our entrance rose to their feet.

“Elana! You’re back!” Odenna with what looked suspiciously like relief on her face, but I doubted the honesty of the emotion. After all, we’d not parted on the best of terms, and even before that, she’d been more than a little hostile.

“And successful too,” Eoman said, beaming from ear to ear. “But come, sit,” he said, gesturing to two empty seats beside them.

Soren and I took our places, me leaning back with a contented sigh. It had been a long, tiring night—both physically and emotionally.

Eoman leaned forward on the table, pressing his hands together. “Tell us everything.”

I stifled a yawn. “Cantos is dead,” I replied caustically, still a put out by Odenna’s presence. “What else is there to know?”

Odenna’s gaze darted from Soren to me. “There must be more to the story than,” she said reproachfully. “From the tales flying around the poor quarter someone—you, presumably—decimated the Devils’ entire upper echelon.”

“Leaving the gang in disarray and ripe for the picking,” Eoman said with a fleeting smile.

“One or two of Cantos’ lieutenants may have died in the process,” I admitted. “And a few players too.”

Odenna sat up. “Players?” she asked sharply. “What players?”

“Show them the notes,” Soren said before I could respond.

“Notes?” Eoman echoed.

Mutely, I drew out the pieces of paper and laid them out before the Raccoon leader.

Odenna immediately bent her head to read them, but Eoman appeared in less of a hurry. He gestured to the blood staining the notes. “Cantos’ I assume?” he asked, arching one eyebrow.

I shrugged.

“By the Ancients,” Odenna exclaimed in a voice choked with emotion. She clutched Eoman’s arm. “They found it! After all this time, who would’ve believed it possible.”

He stared at blankly. “Odenna, I don’t know what—”

“The Hatchlings’ Trial! The Devils found it.”

Astonishment flickered across the Raccoon gang leader’s face so quickly I wouldn’t have seen it if I hadn’t been watching him closely. Saying no more, he jerked his head downwards to read.

My eyes narrowed. It was clear the dungeon was known to both Eoman and Odenna. More than that, it meant something to them.

“What do you make of all this?” I asked, scrutinizing the fervently reading Raccoon leader and elf.

“I don’t know,” Adalinda replied quietly. “But it appears you were right. There is a lot more going on here than we know.”

“Is it what I think it is,” Soren asked, his voice strained.

“It is,” Odenna replied without looking up. “This changes everything.”

Eoman rubbed his chin. “Maybe.”

“Well, I’m so glad you three know what’s going on,” I said with unaffected sarcasm, “because I don’t. Will someone fill me in.”

Soren and Odenna exchanged glances while Eoman sat back, distancing himself both physically and figuratively from the pair. Interesting, I thought.

“We have to tell her,” Soren said.

Odenna’s face furrowed certainly. “I’m not so sure—”

“I am,” Soren interjected. “She’s ready.”

I was thankful to my brother for sticking up with me, but I was less than thrilled to hear that the pair had been passing silent judgment on me all this time.

How long had this been going on for? And when had they found time to conspire against me?

I’d always been under the impression that Soren disliked Odenna, but now I wondered if he had merely wanted to keep me away from the old elf.

Odenna was shaking her head. “It’s too big—”

“Soren’s right,” Eoman said, speaking up abruptly.

Odenna’s head whipped around to stare at him. “You rubbed your hands off this a long time ago, old man. You don’t get a say!”

“You did too,” he shot back.

Odenna slammed her hands down on the table. “I gave up the resistance! Not my duty to Shanis! I gave Penelope my word.”

“Your word!” Eoman said, his own anger rising. “We both know how much that counts for! And you said it yourself. This—” he waved the piece of paper under her nose—changes everything. The Insurgence could—”

“The Insurgence!” the elf exclaimed, shooting to her feet. “What did the resistance ever accomplish except to produce dead children!”

Shocked silence descended on the room.

Soren sat pushed back in his chair, looking pale. Eoman’s face was flushed, and even Odenna looked shaken by her own words.

My gaze flitted between the others, trying to make sense of the retorts Eoman and Odenna had been throwing back and forth. Understanding, I felt was within my grasp, but still frustratingly far. But this much I surmised, there was a lot of ancient history between the pair.

And a large part of it seemed to revolve around my mother.

Eoman deflated suddenly. “I know Swen’s death still hurts. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said those things. I understand why you left, and in your place, I might have done the same.” He held out his hands pleadingly. “Sit please, Odenna.”

Lowering herself, the old sat slowly.

Questions crowded my mind, and I wanted to spew them forth, but I held myself to silence. Swen, I knew, was Odenna’s son. He’d died tragically young, that’s all the old elf had been willing to reveal. Now, it seemed his death, too, was somehow mixed up with the resistance.

“Penelope’s dead,” Eoman went on tiredly. “I know how much you revered her, but we have to accept she is gone. Your responsibility is to her daughter now.” He gestured to me. “Look at her. She’s a grown woman. And a capable one by all accounts. Let her make her own choices.”

“I promised Penelope,” Odenna replied, looking equally as weary.

The time had come to intervene. “Promised her what?” I asked loudly.

Odenna didn’t answer and instead looked at Soren. “Go on. Tell her.”

Odenna closed her eyes, seeming to steel herself. “I promised you mother not to involve you in the resistance,” she said, opening them a moment later. “And not to let you become a player.”

I frowned. “But that doesn’t make any sense. It was my parents who left me the Class stones and the—”

I broke off. It hadn’t been my parents. Just my dad. And I had not told anyone about them. Not even Soren.

I turned to Soren. “Mum never knew about the stuff dad left me, did she?”

He shook his head. “She didn’t. Neither did I. Before…” he halted, then stumbling, went on, “before she died, mum extracted the same promise from me that she did from Odenna. You were too small to understand, or you she would’ve asked the same from you.”

I stared at him. “Why?”

“You had the family eyes,” he whispered. “She was afraid you carried their… other gifts too.”

I shook my head angrily. “That’s not why I meant. I mean why did she not want me to become a player?”

He swallowed.

“Because,” Odenna replied, taking up the tale, “she was afraid you’d die in the same horrible manner as many of your ancestors with the same gifts did. And just as she had.”

It took a moment for the sense of her words to penetrate and when they did my eyes widened in shock. “Mum was a player?”

“Yes, she was,” Soren, said bowing his head.

Once again, I felt off-kilter. Once again, I felt the world shift beneath me. Was nothing I knew of my history true?

I turned to Eoman. Of the three, he was the only one who hadn’t been lying to me my whole life, and as much as I loved my brother and Odenna, I couldn’t quite stomach the sight of either of them right now.

“I want to know everything,” I said, holding the Raccoon leader’s gaze.

Eoman glanced at Odenna, and she nodded resignedly. “We’ll tell you,” he said firmly. “But before we do, can I ask for your patience?” Seeing me about to protest, he held up his hand. “This is not only my tale to tell. There are others who are involved. All I ask is for the time to assemble them.”

I hesitated, then nodded. “Alright, go ahead.”

Eoman rose to his feet. “Thank you. Then we’ll reconvene here in an hour.”