Rise of the Legion

by Chloe Cullen

  Eva held her hand open to her brother. “It’s a silver coin!” she said wonderingly, “we can buy us some food.”

  Cori watched the boy’s eyes drop to the coin, and then back to her, his eyes still portraying that of accusation and distrust. She didn’t blame him, not even a little bit.

  Cori took an unsteady step away from them, the flower grasped too tightly in her hand. She nodded once to Eva and her brother, and turned around to hurry after Trey, feeling as though something were holding her by the throat.

  26

  ONE MONTH AFTER THE MASSACRE

  Thoren was a mess.

  When he got up each morning, the pounding in his head and the roiling in his belly told him he had been drinking too much the night before. But still, he had just as much, if not more, the next night. It was all he could do to silence the burdensome thoughts swirling inside of him. He felt like he had one foot in the darkness, the other foot toeing towards the light, begging him to return to it. But his family had always been the light in his life, and now he had lost most of them. All he had left was a father, who was so busy being the new President that he hardly had any time for his son.

  Thoren rolled over in his bed, legs twisted up in sheets, his head pounding anew.

  With a groan, he sat up, and placed his head in his hands, willing himself to find the strength to move and get through another day.

  It took another forty-five minutes for him to bathe and change into his uniform before he slogged down to the dining hall.

  “Gods above, Thoren. You could at least try to tame that mop of hair you have,” Soraya said with a small giggle as he sat down next to her to eat his meal.

  He slid her a half grin, before running a hand through his hair, probably making it stand up in odd directions even more than it already had. “I don’t know what you mean, my hair always looks good.”

  Soraya laughed again, her eyes sparkling at him. He had noticed her flirting with him the past few weeks, and he had to admit it was a nice distraction from the mess around him.

  Thoren looked around the room, seeing the lingering devastation on almost everyone’s faces. There were so few faces left… they had lost so many people four weeks ago. They were all on edge, the betrayal of those who were responsible for that day had cast a shadow over what had once been a large family. Now, they all looked at each other with suspicion, with fear. His father had been undertaking inquiries the past month, investigating each current member and trainee. Thoren didn’t know what had come of it yet, or if anything would.

  Ryker plopped down into the seat across from him, sighing down at his plate of food.

  “Man, I’m not sure I can take another day of this,” Ryker said miserably.

  Thoren looked up at him to see the dark shadows under his eyes. Ryker was one of the Legion Five, and so was charged with assisting his father to search rooms and interrogate the remaining Legionnaires and initiates for any sign of malfeasance.

  “I wish I could help,” Soraya said sympathetically.

  Ryker tried to grin at her, but it came out looking pained instead. “It’s time like these you’re glad to not be a Five, huh?”

  Soraya laughed quietly. “Maybe. But I still hope to be one day. We should be having trials soon to replace Maxyn.”

  “Mmm,” Ryker mumbled around a mouthful of his breakfast, “not sure when though, I think Maveron feels his first task as the President is to make sure we’re safe before worrying about Maxyn’s replacement.”

  Thoren watched Soraya nod, a heavy feeling in his heart at the thought of the trials potentially coming up. There was someone who was painfully absent from this conversation, and it weighed on him.

  “Will you enter, Thoren?”

  He looked over at a younger boy, an initiate, who sat near Ryker. Thoren was fairly sure his name was Sam, and that he had taken a few training sessions with the kid. He had been rather good from what he recalled.

  Thoren tried to smile at him, but he wasn’t sure it was convincing. “Perhaps, I’m still considering it.”

  “You should,” Sam said breathlessly, his eyes wide as he looked to Thoren, and then Ryker, almost as if he couldn’t believe he was sitting there with them. It was cute.

  He smiled and nodded at the boy, focusing back down to his plate.

  At that moment, Valentina strode over to them, a grim expression on her face. She sat next to Thoren and faced him.

  “Hey,” was all she said in greeting.

  Thoren looked around at everyone else, before looking back to her in confusion. “Hey, Val. What’s up?”

  “I wanted to let you know… because you and she were, like, friends,” Valentina began, and Thoren felt his whole body turn rigid.

  “Is it Cori? Is she okay?” A hundred thoughts flooded his brain at once, and he imagined all sorts of ridiculous scenarios where she’d been hurt out there on her own, or worse. Soraya, next to him, seemed to have perked up as well, eyes fixed on Valentina.

  “I heard a rumour and I just told your father. But someone matching Corisande’s description was seen to the east, in the markets by the harbour.”

  Thoren breathed out a sigh of relief. “What is my father going to do about the rumour?”

  Valentina shrugged. “He didn’t say.”

  Thoren stood from the table.

  “Where are you going? We have a training session this morning,” Soraya said with a worried expression.

  Thoren searched for an excuse, but found none, his brain coated with a fog where he could only see one face amongst it. “I, uh… will have to skip today’s training. You lead it, Soraya. See you later.”

  He walked away from the table, uncaring if they had an issue with him bailing on his responsibilities. Thoren suddenly had only one thing on his mind.

  By the time Thoren had ridden in a carriage for an hour, it had started to rain, the sound of the water hitting the wooden roof of the carriage becoming louder the closer they came to the East Markets.

  As they arrived, Thoren didn’t bother shielding himself from the icy droplets as they pelted his face and quickly soaked through his uniform.

  He stopped in front of a small pub and peered into the grimy window. She had been spotted around here recently. She couldn’t have gone far, maybe she was even staying somewhere near here.

  His breath clouded in front of his face, and he could feel his fingers turning cold, so he dug them into his armpits as he kept walking, passing by a number of establishments, and briefly entered each to take a look around at the faces inside before leaving again. Every stall he passed by, he ducked underneath their awnings and asked in a loud voice to be heard over the rain if they had seen anyone matching Cori’s description.

  He searched for hours, and no one seemed to know anything about a female with long blonde hair and green eyes.

  Just as he was feeling like he should give up, whether it was fate or something else entirely, Thoren passed an alleyway, and had to back track after noticing a small movement in the depths of the darkness.

  When he retraced his steps and stood in the mouth of the alley, he squinted against the curtain of rain and mist spraying off the cobbles and narrow stone walls, to make out a figure crouching partway down the alley. They were shielded from the rain minutely by a few crates and scrap of cloth over their head.

  The figure was small, clad in dark slacks and a thin white sweater, and was undoubtedly female. Thoren felt his heart leap in his chest, both from hope and fear. He didn’t want it to be her, soaked and freezing, alone in an alleyway. But he was also desperate to see her face.

  He started down the alley, his eyes never leaving the crouched figure with their arms hugging around their knees, but then he noticed someone else enter from the opposite end and stalk towards them, a Legionnaire on patrol. Moving quickly, Thoren pressed himself against the wall, hidden by a stack of crates. He was not supposed to be here… if he were sighted and his father found out, he would be in a lot of trouble. Cori was techn
ically a rogue Legionnaire, which was an offense that was punishable by de-branding and exile.

  He stayed still, hoping the Legionnaire would pass them both by without much notice. Then he heard the shout. He heard her shout, and then he was sprinting from out of his hiding spot and towards the two, his feet slapping in the puddles of water on the ground.

  He moved without thinking, but when he saw the figures and their stances ahead of him, he ground to a halt and threw himself sideways behind a pile of soggy cardboard boxes and peered over the top, gleaning that neither of them had heard his approach with the rain sounding around them in a cacophonous chorus.

  It was Cori right there in front of him, and he felt the breath leave his chest in a rush of air. Her back was to him, and her hair streamed down her back in a stringy, wet mess. She was poised for a fight, a dagger in her hand, readied and pointed at the Legionnaire in front of her.

  “Ma’am? Please lower your weapon, I’m not going to hurt you,” the male Legionnaire said, half-shouting to be heard over the rain. It was not a Legionnaire that Thoren recognised readily, he was older and must be stationed in the East Market barracks. There were very few Legionnaires stationed in the markets. The man didn’t have a weapon pointed at Cori, but his hand was resting on the hilt of a sword at his side.

  Thoren debated whether to move, to get in between them, but then she spoke in a shrill voice and it was filled with what he could only describe as fear.

  “Stay away from me – all of you! You killed them… you killed…” Cori trailed off in a sob, and Thoren felt his heart shatter.

  “Ma’am, please… can I help you?”

  “No!” Cori cried at the man, and she took an offensive step forward, her dagger arm raised and ready to strike. The man took one look at her posture, the weapon in her hand, the look on her face, and wisely took a step back. “I want nothing from the Legion. Ever.”

  Thoren was taken aback at the wrath in her tone.

  The man held his hands out in a placating gesture. “I am only here to help, in any way that you need.”

  “I neither need, nor want anything from the Legion. You’re all dead to me,” Cori snarled.

  Thoren swallowed a lump in his throat. He had been debating showing himself but knew that he would be the last person Cori wanted to see. Even though Thoren had always been her best friend… he was a symbol of the Legion, especially now that his father was the President. He wondered if she knew that, and if she saw him… he wondered whether she would begin yelling at him the way she was yelling at the other man. He wasn’t sure he was ready to face her dismissal of him, and he knew that he wasn’t ready to lose her for good.

  As the Legionnaire backed away, telling Cori it was alright and that he would leave her alone, Thoren backed away also. He moved silently out of the alley and stepped around the corner, to lean against the brick wall, breathing unevenly.

  He couldn’t confront her, not now. He also couldn’t leave her alone like this.

  Thoren forced his feet to move away from her. He quickly surveyed the stalls on the waterfront and when he came upon a man with a trustworthy face selling exactly what he was after, he stopped to speak with him. Talking briefly with the man, Thoren made his request and then left.

  Thoren didn’t trust the man entirely, so when he left his stall in the hands of a young girl, Thoren stalked behind him in the shadows, the rain continuing to run in rivulets down his face and off his clothing. Thoren watched the man, who was hunched over the bundle of goods to keep them dry as he turned down the alleyway towards Cori.

  Thoren slid into the alley, keeping to the shadows behind the stack of crates he had hidden behind earlier and watched the man approach the figure now crouched again under her makeshift shelter.

  She looked up at his slow, ambling approach and rose to her feet, watching him warily.

  Thoren looked on as the man said nothing and held the bundle out for her. The bundle with fresh, warm clothes, a blanket and a small pouch with five gold pieces. Thoren knew it was enough that she could rent a room to keep safe and dry for a good while.

  Thoren couldn’t see her expression from where he stood, but she hesitated only for a moment before she slowly took the bundle from him and nodded her thanks. The man bowed slightly and began his walk back out of the lane without a single word uttered.

  Thoren only lingered long enough to see her spy the inside of the leather pouch of gold and to hear the gasp that reached his ears through the sound of the rain. He smiled bleakly, hoping she would be okay, and even though a voice inside of his head begged him not to leave her there, he backed away.

  He left her there.

  27

  A part of Thoren hated himself for what he was about to do.

  He could hardly believe his own brain, for conjuring up such ridiculous thoughts about Cori. She couldn’t be…

  It was simply impossible.

  He walked down the corridor a floor beneath his own rooms and stopped in front of the door to Cori’s room. Looking left and right as though he were about to commit a crime, he nudged open the door and stepped inside, closing the door quickly behind him.

  Standing and looking around, Thoren felt the rapid pace of his heart. He may not be committing a crime, but he was certainly being untrustworthy coming here while Cori was out patrolling with Trey.

  Shaking off his guilt, he strode forwards for the dresser and immediately began opening the drawers without another second of hesitation. Because the nagging feeling that he couldn’t get rid of was there since he had run into the Assassin the night before. The sound she had emitted when he’d run into her, and the general feel of her was similar. Too similar.

  He kept trying to string together the thought – that Cori could possibly be this person. A hired killer. He wanted to reject it so fiercely, but he needed to know.

  He rifled through the drawers one at a time, his cheeks heating when he briefly glanced into one that clearly held her undergarments. Finding nothing of interest, he turned to face the rest of the room.

  Thoren paced over to her bed and pulled the covers back, checking under the mattress and inside the pillowcases. Empty-handed and huffing, he took a step back from the bed and looked around once more.

  He rummaged around her belongings in the small bathing room and when he found nothing, he slowly walked back to her bed and started re-making it carefully. When he was done, he sat on the edge of the bed, eyes flicking around as though expecting to see some catch in the wall or hidden spot where Cori might be hiding that black outfit.

  But there was nothing.

  His head falling into his hands, Thoren groaned. He knew Cori had always preferred the small blades and daggers, and it was no secret that she was quick and nimble.

  Thoren groaned again, a sharp stab of pain flaring in his nose. But what hurt more, was the fact that after he had broken his nose last night, and the Assassin had gotten away, he had immediately run straight to the Compound and pounded on the door to Cori’s room.

  His heart had pounded so intensely that he thought he might keel over from light-headedness. Although, that could very easily have been blood loss, considering the dark stain that had been down the front of his uniform.

  When Cori had answered the door, her eyes widening from a sleepy stupor to shock, Thoren had almost slumped down right there in relief. He was almost positive if Cori had been who he thought, she wouldn’t have been able to get back to her room before he had.

  But he couldn't shake the feeling that when he’d had his arms around the Assassin, that the familiarity of it had been uncanny. The size… the way she moved… the sound of her rough exclamation…

  Thoren shook his head, and then regretted it when the area around his nose throbbed.

  He cursed and stood from the bed and forced his feet to move away from the Cori’s quarters, ignoring the need to rip the whole room apart to be certain there was nothing hidden there.

  ***

  Adeline was dreaming.


  She stood in the middle of a great and ancient forest. The thickness of the trees around her were so immense, that little light filtered through to where she stood. The forest was old, the trees wide and tall, their bases surrounded with undergrowth.

  The ground was spongy beneath her feet; and then Adeline realised she was barefoot, and she wore nothing but a white shift. Though she wasn’t cold, despite the wind that blew her long, dark hair around her face and moved the shift that brushed and tickled at her knees.

  She looked around, seeking something, and even though it should have been too dark for her to see beyond the trees directly in front of her, the woods ahead were illuminated by a bright, white light.

  Adeline’s breath caught at the figure stalking towards her on four limbs, the light emanating from the snowy white coat he bore.

  It was a wolf. A large, white wolf. Yet, she was not afraid.

  He padded towards her, and even through the thick fur coat, she knew that there was powerful muscle beneath, sinewy, and strong muscle that propelled him forward gracefully. Adeline could see in his icy blue eyes as he neared, that there was a wealth of intelligence in the animal, an ancient depth of knowledge within.

  She didn’t move from where she stood, just let the wolf approach her, their eyes fixed upon one another. Whatever would happen when he reached her was meant to be, Adeline believed that right down to her very soul.

  He prowled closer, the white glow radiating from him cast moving shadows as they hit and faded from the trees he moved past. Adeline did not need to shield her eyes from the glow, instead she adjusted to it, welcomed it.

  When he was close enough to reach out and touch, he stilled, and there was no need for him to raise his head for them to continue looking at each other; he was that large. Much larger than any other wolf she had ever seen. No, this wolf was easily three times their size. Still, Adeline was not intimidated or afraid, even as he bared his teeth with a low, rumbling growl.