The Monstrous Citadel

by Mirah Bolender

  “Are - - - all right?”

  Reality rushed back in. Her head jerked back up. The man in rags looked back at her. His eyes were as gray as the Sweeper’s had been green, and the telltale crackling of magic echoed from him. He swung another arm down and grabbed her just above the elbow.

  “Let’s get - - - back on solid ground.”

  Laura’s voice didn’t seem to work, so she simply nodded and grabbed on to him. In her awkward ascent, she had to twist around, and even with magic on his side the man needed to lie on his stomach to keep from being pulled down himself. She rose inch by torturous inch, finally coming close enough to swing a leg up and over the edge. She rolled onto the pavement with a shuddering sigh of relief.

  “Thank you,” she wheezed.

  “It’s lucky I got to - - - in time,” said the man.

  How had he—Laura raised her head to look at the plaza, and quickly decided that, no, she didn’t want to know. The last Rexian Sweeper must’ve been put out of commission somehow. Hopefully less violently than his fellows, but considering their determination that was unlikely. Wait. Determination. Rex knew full well that thieves and Magi had escaped into the city, and with all that noise this location couldn’t stay secret long; they wouldn’t stop chasing until they caught or killed him. She had no time to lie here. She had to get Okane out of here now. She pushed herself up.

  “I’m really thankful for the help, but I have to leave,” she said, crawling for Okane. “If they find us again I don’t think I can fight them off.”

  Okane hadn’t moved. She shook him lightly, but his eyelids didn’t so much as flicker.

  “He’ll recover in time,” the man in rags said grimly.

  “Do you know what happened?” she asked.

  “Rex employs a special brand of crowd control,” said the man. “Think of it like a felin’s influence. One grenade drains the energy of twenty people.”

  “No wonder he’s out cold.” Laura pulled Okane’s arm over her shoulders and tried to lift him. Maybe it was her own jitters or maybe he was just heavy, but she had to drop back to her knees. “Um, any idea when he’ll wake up?”

  “It depends on the victim.” The man in rags helped lift Okane. He looked at her again, eyes like quicksilver, and Laura’s stomach dropped. “But he will recover. Let’s move him before anyone else shows up.”

  Laura started walking, and quickly realized that she had no idea how to get back to the truck. She’d tracked Okane through the Sweeper ring, but as far as she knew, the larger Gin pieces hadn’t been incorporated into the armory network; how could they, when at least one of them rotated away from Amicae every year? Perhaps she could try linking to Clae’s ring, but hadn’t that crystallized beyond all hope?

  “Are you a Sweeper?” she asked.

  The man didn’t answer but gave her a supremely dark look and she decided that no, he was not.

  “I know you’re not like those people, that’s obvious! I’m just trying to figure out whether you’re familiar with the city or only the fields.”

  His brow rose. “- - - believe I am a farmer?”

  “You’re dressed like the people outside. I mean…” She looked pointedly at his clothes.

  “Rex doesn’t care about presenting me to anyone,” said the man. “What is - - -r escape route? How many others are here for infiltration? Is this Eos’s work?”

  “Eos?” Laura repeated, baffled.

  The man looked crestfallen. He looked ahead rather than at her.

  “How many?” he said again.

  Laura’s first instinct was to say nothing, but this man had already thrown himself into danger for them. Who would he rat them out to, the very people he’d attacked?

  “Just the two of us. The only other person we’ve been working with we found in the city.”

  “And where is she?”

  “In the getaway truck.” For the life of her Laura didn’t know where to find it, but elaborated, “In the alley by Gregory’s Garments. I don’t suppose you know where that is?”

  “I do,” he said, and towed them away.

  It took forever to reach the shop. The man walked with purpose, but he kept leading her down alleys and side streets. She learned the reason after a trash can behind them overturned and a Rexian handler ranted at his Sweepers for his own clumsiness. The Sweepers looked at him with vacant, lifeless expressions that made Laura shudder. She’d almost met her death at that kind of face. To make matters worse, it began to rain. Cold, wet, and tired, Laura refused to complain; she at least had a coat to warm her, and the man had nothing. She was so turned around, she almost didn’t recognize it when the truck came into view, the windows of Gregory’s Garments shining dully beyond it.

  “Zelda!” she called.

  A figure moved at the truck’s side, and Zelda cried, “What the hell? How did - - - get out?”

  “It doesn’t matter,” said the man.

  He and Laura heaved Okane into the vehicle. Laura climbed in to lay him down beside Clae. As far as she could see he had no injuries, so she turned back to the man—652, according to that scrawled tattoo—who watched with a hopeless expression.

  “Hell yes it matters!” Zelda snapped, coming alongside them. “If one of the paragons gets out and snaps a Sweeper’s neck, they’re going to take serious action!”

  “They had already taken serious action,” the man defended.

  “But why?” Zelda hissed. “The most well-behaved of all the paragons? Why break out now?”

  “Because.” He clenched his fists, looked back at the truck. Zelda frowned at Laura a moment before understanding dawned.

  “No.”

  652 ignored this. “Get out of Rex, quickly. Staying so long already means their forces have spread out, so be careful not to be seen.”

  “We can do it,” Zelda said quietly. She paused, then said, “Don’t get in too much trouble.”

  “Of course not.” The man in rags turned away, heading toward the alley’s mouth again.

  “Wait,” said Laura, “aren’t you coming too?”

  The man paused but didn’t turn around, as if by looking at them he’d seal his fate and come along despite his best wishes. “It’s best that I don’t.”

  “Rex doesn’t treat traitors well,” said Zelda. “Traitors die.”

  “Everyone dies, Zelda.” He tipped his head back, closed his eyes against the rain. “I doubt Rex will see fit to execute me. They have no proof, after all, whether or not I killed any Sweepers. The witnesses are dead.”

  “They’ll find out,” Zelda hissed.

  “They’ll find out too late to convince the organization of anything. No. I will simply be a paragon who escaped his cage and yearned for freedom. Any rumor of a renegade Magi man will be tied to me. I will be the focus, so - - - can escape.”

  “That’s the same kind of bullshit he spouted before he ran off.” Laura flung an arm in Okane’s direction. “We can escape this way. We have a truck, we have Zelda’s magic—”

  “Rex doesn’t let their prizes go easily. If - - - want to escape, - - - must first beguile them. Don’t worry, foreigner. I’ve lived many years here. I will live many more. Take care of him. Please.”

  He ran from the alley before Laura could protest any more.

  “Don’t bother chasing him,” said Zelda, watching his disappearance with grim features. “He knows the consequences far more than Okane did. He’s strong. If he says he’ll survive, he will.”

  “But—”

  “But nothing. If we want to get out of Rex, we have to do it now. Five hours was a generous estimate, and we’ve already used most of it.”

  Laura glanced from Okane to the alleyway, still torn, but she wasn’t about to risk it now. Zelda got the idea and doubled back to the front of the truck.

  The vehicle moved much slower now, blending into traffic instead of racing, so Laura sat on the floor without trouble. She pulled off her coat and tucked it under Okane’s head, hoping it would work for a pil
low. He stirred at the movement.

  “Okane?” Laura leaned closer. “Hey, can you hear me?”

  His eyes flickered open. He blinked blearily at her before groaning and reaching up to his face. He rubbed at his head, face screwed up in pain before something occurred to him and he tried to sit up. Between the movement of the car and his own instability, he didn’t make it. He flopped back down, and she reached out to steady him.

  “Don’t worry, you’re okay. You’re with me and Zelda. We’re going to escape. You’re okay now.”

  “Laura,” he rasped, “where’s that man?”

  “The one with the red numbers?”

  “Yes! He was just … Where did he go?”

  “He helped carry you here and went back into the city. Why, did something happen?”

  His eyes were wide, maybe panicked or maybe just disoriented.

  “He called me Valens,” he breathed.

  “What does Valens mean?”

  “That’s my name. I haven’t told—No one should know that name!” He covered his face in his hands and whispered, “My name, my name,” with increasing horror.

  The truck rolled on through the streets of Rex, darkened shops and packs of Sweepers and soldiers. Laura caught glimpses of them out the back, but no one stopped the truck as it ambled its way into a line of other military vehicles. As soon as they joined the procession, people stopped looking at them entirely. They might as well have been invisible, all the way down to the outermost wall.

  A group of soldiers stood at the main gate, making a show of inspecting everything going through. The line must’ve gone for hours when finally a pair of guards moved toward them. They barely took in any detail of this particular truck’s appearance (the bullet holes should’ve been a giveaway) before declaring it acceptable and waving it through. Laura almost laughed as they drove through the gateway and out of the city entirely.

  Enormous lamps fixed atop metal fences lit the surrounding farmland as bright as daytime. It took what seemed like an eternity to leave its halo, and the line of trucks began to drift, leaving more and more space between the vehicles. This was cover enough. While passing through a darker section, Zelda broke away to follow one of the farm roads. She went without headlights for a long while. The glow of the agricultural lamps grew small behind them and the road uneven beneath them before the truck came to a stop. There came a rapping sound against the back of the cab. Zelda was calling her up.

  “I’ll be right back,” she told Okane. He only groaned.

  She climbed out and circled to the front, where Zelda leaned out the window.

  “This is as far as I’m going,” she announced.

  “Only here?”

  “I only said I’d get the happy couple in and out, right? Good luck from here on.”

  It took a minute for this to really sink in. Laura had to swallow a lump in her throat. “Are you sure? I meant it, when I said you could go to Amicae. With us in tow, it’ll be even easier to get you in safely.”

  “Tempting, but no. Not now, anyway,” said Zelda. She looked to the distance, where the other trucks had gone. “I’ve got unfinished business here. I’ve had plans in the works for a while, but - - - two made me consider them seriously.”

  Laura didn’t understand, but she nodded anyway. “Will you leave us the truck?”

  “I’m not that heartless! Go on and take it.”

  “I don’t suppose you could tell me how it works?”

  Zelda sighed and leaned back, gesturing at the equipment. “It’s just a less comfortable version of the usual car. Steering wheel, ignition, brake. Simple. It’s got a big gas tank, so just keep driving down this road here and it’ll get you to the satellite town, no problem. Just don’t push too hard on the gas or brake and it’ll be smooth sailing.”

  Laura doubted this, but didn’t argue. She stood aside as Zelda clambered out of the cab, sighed, and stretched.

  “So what do you want from us? The payment?”

  Zelda hummed, swinging her arms. “I went through a lot of trouble for a pair of idiots. Betrayal of my own city, the horror! I need a big reward to make up for it.”

  “Unless you’re accepting whatever supplies they were hauling, I don’t have anything to pay you with.”

  “I’ll come up with something eventually. Keep an eye out, all right? This isn’t the last - - -’ve seen of me.”

  “Thank you for all the help.”

  Laura held out a hand. Zelda eyed it before breaking into a grin and shaking it in a tight grip. “Ugh, stop being so sentimental. Save it for the invalid.”

  Speaking of which … “Could I ask one more question before you go?” Laura asked.

  “Oh? What’s that?”

  “What’s a paragon?”

  The smile slipped off Zelda’s face. “‘Paragon’ is what they call the purebloods, real Magi like dream boy. Hot commodity.”

  She turned and walked away, following the edge of the road. “See - - - later, dream team. Try not to get caught without me!”

  Laura pushed aside the canvas on the back of the truck, heaving herself up to see Okane and tell him what was going on. He remained sprawled on the floor, shaky and mostly unintelligible.

  “He knew my name, who here could know? Who—?”

  Okane had been afraid of recognizing someone in Rex, but he’d obviously never considered being recognized himself. When the man in rags had helped lift Okane, when he’d looked at her with his face so close to Okane’s, the resemblance had been painfully obvious. No one could look that similar without being related by blood.

  Laura went back to the cab, settled herself in the driver’s seat, gripped the wheel, and looked out into the night, black as an infestation, no stars or moon to light her path. Laura felt, for a moment, adrift from the world again. Suspended. Unreal. Lost.

  “I’ve done worse,” she told herself, flexing her grip. “I’ve been out in the wilds at night without even a car, and I did just fine there. It’s not like there’s a knuckerhole in the middle of the road. I can do this. I can totally do this.”

  Only somewhat reassured, she started the engine and flipped on the headlights.

  The road out of Rex led due east, toward the Malamare. It took a while for Laura to get used to the car, the steering and the pedals, but eventually she settled into a constant speed. The terrain was moderately hilly and undergrowth crept in on the roadside, at some points stretching out onto the pavement. The shape of Rex in the side mirror preoccupied her more. She didn’t think she’d relax until it was well out of sight. As she made a turn and dipped downhill, the city’s light vanished and she let out a long sigh. Finally. She pulled over to the side of the road, hitting the brake pedal and pulling back on the lever to her right. The truck shuddered and jolted, but eventually slowed to a stop. With the engine off, she closed her eyes and took her hands off the wheel. She’d been gripping it so hard her hands ached. She flexed them, hissing at the feeling.

  “That satellite better not be much further,” she mumbled.

  She jumped at the sound of a door opening. Dozens of terrible possibilities ran through her mind—wilds monster, Rexian follower, infestation—but the culprit was none of them. The door creaked on its hinges as Okane climbed up, settled himself, and pulled it shut behind him.

  “Hi,” he said.

  “Hello. Uh, nice to see you. It’s been—” She did a quick calculation. “—an hour now?”

  “Sorry I didn’t come up earlier. By the time I pulled myself together, - - - were already driving.”

  “Don’t worry about it. Are you doing okay?”

  “Fine.”

  She kept looking at him, and after a moment he averted his gaze.

  “I think that was the least-fine reaction I’ve ever seen from you,” she said.

  “I was a little confused,” he defended. “I mean, I wasn’t expecting that.”

  “You’re the one who told me other survivors may have been caught,” she reminded him gent
ly. “I mean, maybe he didn’t say it directly, but Clae hinted at this possibility, didn’t he?”

  “Yes, but I never—” He stopped, bit his lip. “My father traveled outside the haven before it fell, so he couldn’t be with the survivors. Mama always thought he was still out there somewhere, but for me … I never expected to see him again. Especially not after she died. I don’t even know if that man was him. Maybe I made a mistake, heard wrong.”

  Laura wanted to butt in, His eyes are just like yours, but convincing him that his father was alive might not be a good idea. Would he wallow in guilt over leaving the man behind? Would he want to go back for him?

  “What was your father’s name?” she asked instead.

  “I don’t remember. I only called him Papa at that point.”

  “How about your mother?”

  “Marina,” he sighed, his sadness almost palpable.

  “Marina and Valens, huh?” she mused. He nodded mutely and she repeated the names, committing them to memory. “Should I be calling you Valens now?”

  “No,” he said immediately. “I don’t want that name anymore.”

  “But you said it yourself, it’s your name.”

  “I’m Okane now.”

  “Why? I mean, I’m sorry, but you’re always offended when people like … say your eyes look like money or associate you with it. ‘Okane’ means money, and it’s something Sullivan slapped on you, isn’t it? Why would you want to keep that instead?”

  “Being Valens is what got me into trouble in the first place.”

  “I don’t think I follow.”