The Raising (The Torch Keeper Book 3) by Steven dos Santos

Author:Steven dos Santos [dos Santos, Steven]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Curtis Brown Unlimited
Published: 2016-01-19T23:00:00+00:00

NINETEEN

The engines of the Trundler transport vehicle grind to a halt at last with a clatter of clunky metal. I’m surprised it’s made it as far as it has, considering all the damage it sustained from those cannons on Haven, not to mention the battering we took when the vehicle crash landed on the surface, despite the chutes breaking our fall.

Outside the viewport windows, the landscape is vast and bleak. Enormous, craggy mountains fill the horizon. The sparse vegetation is dry and brown. Funnels of dust flurries sweep the countryside, tossing spinning tumbleweeds to and fro.

The remnants of the road ahead shimmers with distortion caused by the intense heat. These were once called…highways. Yes. That’s the word. Not sure how I know that, but I just do.

Or Queran Embers does.

I’m about to pop the hatch to go out and investigate, when Digory emerges from the cockpit with a tool kit and pushes past me. “We have almost reached the coordinates you gave me. If repairs cannot be made, we will have to hike the rest of the way.”

He opens the hatch, letting in a wave of heat and dust, before slamming it behind him.

At first, Digory, who’s a lot more familiar with the Flesher tech than I am, was able to patch a few holes and run some electrical bypasses to keep the systems functioning. That got us through the first few hundred miles or so. It was actually kind of eerie to watch him sit as still as a statue, eyes opened and far away, as he patched in and communicated with the craft via their shared consciousness. There was something very spiritual about it, at least more so than the hypocrisy at the Priory.

Eventually, the makeshift repairs began to give, beginning with the cooling systems. As the outside temperatures climbed to the hundred degree mark, it made the environment extremely uncomfortable, at least for Cole and me, who had no choice but to strip down to our tanks and shorts. Even then, we were both slick with sweat, while Digory remained relatively unaffected, except for when I caught him standing in the shadows of the cockpit, his right hand gripping his left, which was twitching uncontrollably.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

He quickly stuffed his affected hand out of sight. “It is nothing. Just a little recalibration of the nanotech, that is all.”

Then he turned back to the exposed circuit board in front of him and ignored me.

I didn’t buy it then, and I still don’t buy it now.

Since then, he’s been even more aloof than usual. And practically every night for the past week, I’ve awoken to the sounds of him thrashing in his bunk, muttering mostly unintelligible words.

Last night, I picked up a distinct fragment.

They weren’t supposed to be harmed.

Not sure what it means. But when I try to approach him and broach the subject, he snaps at me, like he did earlier.

“You should focus your concerns on the welfare of your bother.”

“Fine. I won’t ask again.”

“Maybe he’s weirded out about you, too.

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