Skybreach (The Reach #3) Read online

  Mark R. Healy

  Copyright © Mark R. Healy 2015

  markrhealy.com

  Cover Art Copyright © Mark R. Healy 2015

  Terms and Conditions:

  The purchaser of this book is subject to the condition that he/she shall in no way resell it, nor any part of it, nor make copies of it to distribute freely.

  This book is a work of fiction. Any similarity between the characters and situations within its pages and places or persons, living or dead, is unintentional and coincidental.

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  1

  2

  3

  4

  5

  6

  7

  8

  9

  10

  11

  12

  13

  14

  15

  16

  17

  18

  19

  20

  21

  22

  23

  24

  25

  26

  27

  28

  29

  30

  31

  32

  33

  34

  35

  36

  37

  38

  39

  40

  41

  42

  43

  44

  45

  Join My Mailing List

  About the Author

  Acknowledgements

  Also by Mark R. Healy

  1

  Jozef Gudbrand stared out through the dusty window slats of the old workshop, the watery yellow light from outside scoring his face with neat horizontal lines in the gloom. Beyond the window, Gaslight was slowly stirring into life, its first bleary-eyed denizens emerging into the marketplace to set up their stalls and arrange their goods in preparation for the day ahead. For all they knew, this day was just another turn of the endless wheel that represented the drudgery of their existences, another unremarkable span of their unremarkable lives.

  In reality it was so much more.

  How little you realise, Jozef thought to himself. Take heart, my fellow sufferers. The cycle is at an end.

  He derived no pleasure from the burden of his knowledge, no satisfaction. He did not feel superior to these others for simply knowing what was about to take place. He was merely the man on top of the mountain, the first to see the sunrise.

  These others, too, would soon see for themselves.

  After today, nothing in the Reach would ever be the same again.

  Jozef breathed deeply as he thought of how far he’d come. He cast his mind back to the beginning, when he’d first walked the streets of Link preaching his ideals, offering his vision of the future to any who might listen. Very few had given him the time of day back then. He could almost read their minds as they walked past. Their disdainful gazes had spoken louder than words.

  Crazy man. Crackpot. That’s what they’d thought of him.

  He’d borne it all with good will, never losing faith, never giving in.

  Slowly, he had found the ears of his first precious followers. They were meagre urchins, the hopeless and the downtrodden, those who had nothing else in which to place their faith, but they were enough to make a start. Over the months and years that followed, Jozef’s followers had swelled in numbers as others came to understand the truth in what he preached. Once the balance had eventually tipped in his favour, things had happened quickly, and then his destiny had been assured.

  Now, all these years later, Jozef was ready. He’d waited a long time as he’d drawn his plans together, gathering resources, assembling the people who would carry out his vision. He’d overcome setbacks that would have destroyed most others.

  He’d come through it all, stronger and more resolute than ever.

  It’s time.

  He turned away from the window and looked around the darkened workshop. Dust motes swam in the slanting beams of light, stirred by the shuffling of his feet. He remembered this place from the old days, when men and women had once busied themselves for hours on end, hammering away at machine parts that had been strewn across the benches, toiling through the day until their hands had become calloused and their fingernails clogged with grit. It had been a recycling plant of sorts, taking in old, broken mechanisms and reducing them to their individual parts, then reassembling and forging them anew into functional machines.

  How fitting, Jozef thought, that the Earth’s new beginning should start here, in this place that had once created promise out of hopelessness, purpose out of dysfunction. Today, the Reach itself would begin this same process of renewal, undergoing a transformation from a ruinous waste into something of worth.

  The path for the Reach was the same as that taken by those old damaged mechanisms. The first step was always to destroy. Only then could one begin to reassemble anew.

  Jozef walked across the room and stepped through the doorway, into an adjoining room where almost thirty men and women crouched silently in the darkness. He stood before them and looked at each in turn, first at their eyes and then at the circles that had been etched on their foreheads, knowing that this would be the last time many of them would hear his words. The last time they would even draw breath.

  Jozef felt their loss keenly, even before they had gone, but he knew that he could not turn back now. He had to press on, give them the courage to carry out what had to be done.

  He slowly raised his hands and closed his eyes, bowing his head. The throng responded immediately, climbing to their feet. Their garments rustled softly and their boots whispered and scratched against the floor, and then they stood, silent.

  They watched him intently, waiting for his guidance, and Jozef slowly raised his head and opened his eyes to behold them once again. He was a tall, thin man with long, spidery fingers, and now he brought those slender digits together before his chest as if in prayer.

  “Children of Earth,” he began, “we stand on the brink of a momentous occasion, a battle that will be remembered down through the ages. The tale of this day will be retold many times, and the names of each and every one of you will be amongst those that are uttered by the storytellers, the keepers of history. You will be remembered. You will be revered.”

  Jozef looked out amongst them and he could see the trepidation, the uneasiness that was bubbling just below the surface of their outwardly calm expressions. He stepped forward and began to walk among them.

  “I know that there is fear in your hearts. I do not begrudge you that.” He raised his voice. “But let there not be doubt. Let there not be hesitation. This day, you must find the courage to follow the path that has been laid out before you, and you must tread upon it with clarity, with surety in your heart.”

  As he passed along the rows of his followers he looked each of them in the eye.

  “You know what is at stake when you step outside this room today. You know what will be lost if we fail.” He passed a boy, no more than sixteen years of age, and saw the anxiety in his young face. He sighed and reached out a hand to the boy’s shoulder. “Let me tell you a tale of long ago, a memory of when I was but a young boy, much younger than you.” The boy glanced at him and Jozef smiled reassuringly. “There was a bazaar not far from my home, and one winter morning there appeared a performer, an entertainer with a long, thin moustache and a tall black hat upon his head. He had brought with him a narrow tent, taller than a man and not much wider. Beside it was a brazier of dazzling blue flame. The showman waited there patiently while the crowd around him grew, a mysterious little smile on his face. Other children gathered around me, and we asked of him, ‘What is it that you do?’
, but he would only smile back at us, never offering an answer. Finally, when the crowd had swelled to a dozen deep on all sides, he disappeared inside the tent. There was silence for the longest time. Anticipation. It went on for so long that the crowd grew restless and began to cry out, and some began to leave.

  “Then the blue flame suddenly died, and with a flourish a window opened in the tent. There appeared within two small figures – two magical creatures – a glittering, golden horse and a silver man with a head like the crescent moon. The two of these creatures cavorted about before our very eyes, hovering in the air as if by magic, and a tale began to unfold, a story of love and friendship, of betrayal, and then friendship lost. It was captivating, enchanting. Neither I nor those around me could tear our eyes away from it, not even for a second. While those figures danced, there was nothing in our worlds but the spectacle before us.

  “But then, something happened. Something awful. As the tale neared its conclusion, the figures became entangled. They could no longer move freely. There was a snapping sound, and the creatures jerked violently and then slumped as if they were dead.

  “In that moment, the illusion was broken, and I understood. There was no magic, no wonder. These were merely puppets suspended by thin black strings. When the strings became entangled and broke, everything fell apart, and I saw the truth behind the illusion.”

  Jozef spread his hands wide. “For too long, the Consortium has held the strings over this world, crafting their own vision, imposing their own will. They have dangled their illusion before the people of Earth for longer than any of us can even remember – the illusion that salvation lies above.” He thrust his finger toward the ceiling. “That the only way for us to survive is to escape this world and to occupy another.”

  Jozef turned away from the boy. “But I am here to tell you, Children of Earth, that they are wrong. They preach this falsehood merely so that they may continue to line their pockets and stoke the fire of their own greed. When we sever the wire that holds up this illusion, when we destroy the pathway to the other worlds, our brothers and sisters of this world will no longer waste their time and energy on their attempts to escape. They will turn their gaze back upon the Earth. They will look inward once again. Only then will we begin to search for the remedy to the sickness that pervades this world instead of merely attempting to run away from it.

  “We will heal this Earth,” Jozef said, and the belief, the conviction in his voice rang out across the room, lifting the hearts and minds of those around him. “We will restore her to her former glory.” Jozef smiled. “We will do it the only way that it can be done – together.”

  He looked among them again, and now he could see that they were ready. They were primed for what they had to do.

  “Andie,” he said, turning to a young woman beside him. He gently touched the circular scar that had been carved on her forehead. “For whom do you give yourself?”

  The woman blinked and swallowed back tears.

  “For my mother, out in the lowlands,” Andie said, her voice thick with emotion. “I give my life today so that she may live tomorrow.”

  Jozef nodded, turning to the next man, repeating the gesture. “And you, Reinhold?”

  “My brother and his family down in Link.”

  “Good,” Jozef said, touching his hand to Reinhold’s cheek. “Good.” He turned back to the rest of them. “You are about to stand toe-to-toe with these men in crimson, these demons who stand watch over our enemy. You have heard the stories about them. You have heard what they can do. But do not forget that they are men. Just flesh and blood, like you. You have strength in numbers and you have the will to overcome them. That is all you need.”

  He returned to the head of the assembly and drew himself up, spreading his arms wide again and allowing his dark robes to dangle below him.

  “Remember who you are.” He touched the circle on his own forehead. “You are Children of Earth, and you will not forget she who gave you life, who gave you sustenance. You will not disown her or disgrace her memory. You will not leave her behind.” He closed his eyes and steepled his fingers together before his face. “Mother, watch over us.”

  Those before him followed his example, clasping their hands before them.

  “Mother, watch over us,” they said in unison.

  Jozef nodded. “It is time.”

  A door opened and the Children of Earth gathered up their motley assortment of tools – rifles, knives, handguns, packs of explosives – and began to solemnly file out and into Gaslight. Jozef followed them, watching as the last exited, then stopped at the threshold. Andie turned and hurried back to him, bowing before him reverently, and he reached out and touched her forehead again.

  “Go,” he said gently.

  She smiled, then opened her mouth as if to say something, then turned and joined the others without another word. Jozef watched them leave, and his eyes fell upon their destination on the other side of the marketplace. It was an innocuous-looking storefront with a glowing red letter ‘C’ over the doorway, the symbol of the Consortium.

  “We are coming for you,” Jozef whispered to them, now that this small fragment of his flock had gone on ahead. “Today we cut the first string.”

  2

  The klaxon sounded, booming from the heights like distant thunder, and another day in the Reach began.

  Knile and Roman watched the gates as the Enforcers began to configure entrance panels along the wall, causing them to fold neatly into one another. Sunlight spilled through the resulting doorways, and beyond that Knile could see the faces of those standing in line, waiting patiently to enter.

  “I don’t see her,” Roman said, craning his neck as his eyes darted from one portal to the next next. The two of them were positioned a good distance back from the gates against a wall, keeping well out of the way of the Enforcers, and from here the view was limited.

  “She’ll be there,” Knile said reassuringly, although he couldn’t deny that he too was uneasy. Gaining access to the Reach was never a thing to be taken lightly – it only took one cranky or overzealous Enforcer to ruin the whole operation.

  “Where did Silvestri get the fake IDs, anyway?” Roman said. “How do we know they’ll work?”

  “Just relax, Roman. Silvestri knows what he’s doing.” He glanced down at the youth. In the week since he’d been poisoned, Roman had made a good recovery, becoming stronger with each passing day until he was now looking relatively fit and healthy again. Perhaps he wasn’t one hundred percent yet, but he was getting there.

  Knile still hated to think of how close his young companion had come to death up there in the Consortium Infirmary. Although the entire incident had been unpleasant, they had at least come out of it unscathed. He was grateful for that.

  The first visitors were now being processed by the Enforcers, and some were even walking briskly through the open space of the ground floor on their way to their destinations. Knile looked from gate to gate in search of Talia’s face, but he could still see no sign of her.

  The last time he and Roman had waited here for her to reach the gates, things had not gone well.

  She’ll be fine, he reassured himself. Follow your own advice. Relax.

  “You’ve been talking to that guy a lot,” Roman remarked all of a sudden.

  “Who?”

  “Silvestri.”

  Knile noted a hint of disdain in his voice. “Yeah, I have. There’s a lot of planning to do.” He placed a hand on Roman’s shoulder. “You have every right to be distrustful of Silvestri and the rest of Skybreach, Roman. It’s only natural after what they put you through.”

  “I don’t know if there’s anyone I can trust at all, apart from you and Talia. Everyone else I’ve met lately has turned out to be an asshole.”

  Knile grimaced, thinking both of Hoyer Honeybul and of Emil, and how the machinations of those men had almost ended not only Roman’s and his own life, but Talia’s as well.

  “I can understand
what you’re saying. But if we’re going to leave this place we’re going to have to trust someone eventually. We can’t make it out of here on our own. Not all three of us together. And besides, without Silvestri, none of us would be alive. He led us to Lazarus, didn’t he?”

  “Yeah.”

  “And without Lazarus we’d all be dead.”

  “I guess,” Roman said reluctantly. Then his eyes widened and he stood up straight, pointing. “Look! There he is!”

  Knile followed Roman’s gaze and saw Silvestri striding across the floor, having successfully negotiated the Enforcers at the entrance. As he approached he removed his respirator and stowed it in his backpack, then stopped and looked around. Knile and Roman started forward cautiously, and Knile made a surreptitious tilt of his hand as he tried to catch Silvestri’s attention. As Silvestri spotted them, he veered in their direction and broke into that easy, relaxed swagger, complete with his trademark roguish smile.

  “Greetings,” he said, extending his hand to each of them in turn. “Nice to see you both in the flesh, and in one piece, no less.”

  “That’s how we generally prefer it,” Knile said with a grin.

  “Where’s Talia?” Roman demanded.

  “She’s in the queue,” Silvestri said, glancing over his shoulder. “We thought it best not to come through together, just in case–”

  “Just in case the ID you gave her doesn’t work,” Roman snapped. “You wouldn’t want to be dragged down with her when she gets caught.”

  Silvestri glanced at Knile uncertainly, as if attempting to ascertain if he approved of the boy’s hostility.

  “That’s enough,” Knile said quietly to Roman.

  “No, I understand,” Silvestri said. “If someone had given me Brimstone and tried to kill me, I wouldn’t be too trusting of their former associates.” Silvestri nodded at Roman. “You are right to doubt me, Roman. I hope that in time I can earn your trust.”

  “Get Talia in here,” Roman said. “That would be a good start.”

  Silvestri was about to respond when Knile brushed past him, staring at one of the gates.