“Go,” he says. “I’ll stay with him.”
I step back, but before I get far, my mouth opens and spills the words that jump to the forefront of my mind, never giving me a chance to stop them, to chain them up before they break free. “You should come with us,” I say, not understanding why I am offering him a chance to join me, “you and Grelyn.”
“You’re wasting time.” Trevors’ harsh voice jerks me into action. “And, Noni, after tonight, we’re even.”
I nod, acknowledging his statement before I turn and sprint into the darkness, back to the mining compound, back to Chase, to free him. I understand Trevors’ words: I helped him rescue Grelyn and this is his way of repaying that debt. I race through the night, hunkering by the first outbuilding I come to and wait for the sentry to pass before jumping to my feet and darting across an opening to another outbuilding, making my way to the workers’ quarters. Another arbiter paces back and forth just feet away from me as I peer around a corner and wait for her to turn back around, heading away from me. Her feet crunch the gravel in a bored manner as she skips just a little in an effort to entertain herself, swings around, and stalks away with her indolent demeanor on full display for the stars.
I spring from my hiding place and race to the worker’s quarters when the screeching sounds of a siren ring out, drowning the peaceful night with its call to action, waking anyone slumbering and forcing everyone outside. Frozen, my legs refuse to move as doors bang open and half-dressed arbiters run out of their quarters, tying their weapons’ belt around their waist as they search for the reason for the sirens going off in the first place, while workers spill out of their quarters wanting answers to the same question.
“There she is!”
The same arbiter whom I had watched moments before who wished for some sort of excitement, points at me as she shouts.
I run. Arbiters surround me, thwarting me at every turn as spotlights dance behind them, hoping to find me. Dashing down a narrow passage, I push myself as fast as I can go, hoping to get away, but a group of arbiters block my path. My feet skid in the dirt, kicking up clouds of fine dust as I stop and turn in another direction, racing between two outbuildings, desperate to get away. I burst into an opening, and gasp the moment a hard object slams into my chest, knocking me backward, forcing the air out of my lungs. An arbiter leers over me with a sneer on his face and a baton in his hands. He raises it, ready to strike me again when I jut my feet out, entangling them around his ankle and twist, knocking him over, and as he crashes to the ground, I scramble to my feet and run, stumbling a little as I regain my balance.
Shouts well up around me as arbiters surround me and my mind races for a solution, but I think of nothing as my breaths come in gasps and turn another corner. An arbiter tackles me and we crash into the ground, and I cringe as pebbles work their way underneath my skin, scraping it away. I roll onto my back and fling my fists, catching someone in the jaw, receiving a kick to the stomach for my efforts as more hands seize me, jerking me to my feet and forcing me to the center of the compound as the spotlights focus their beams on my disgrace. A plastic tie is wrapped around my wrists, cinched so tight that it cuts into my skin and warm blood drips from them, leaving a miniscule trail in the sand behind me: bright red in the glittery black earth. A hand shoves me forward in an attempt to force me off-balance, but I regain my composure, much to the ire of the man who pushed me. In response, he sticks out his foot, tripping me, and I stumble to the ground, landing hard on my right shoulder, but I refuse to show any pain, to give these bastards any satisfaction in seeing me suffer.
“What have we here?” Commandant Gant steps out from among the gathering crowd of arbiters and workers, stopping with the toes of his dusty boots just inches from my eyes as he stares down at me, gloating.
“Back to your quarters!” yells an arbiter.
“Let them stay,” says Commandant Gant. “They should watch what happens to anyone who challenges my authority.”
His authority? Does he think he is Arel now? I spit on his boots. A baton strikes me on the cheek in response as Commandant Gant raises his hand to stop it. He kneels down, placing his face in front of mine, allowing me to see the stubble on the dark skin of his upper lip. “I told you that accidents happen in the mines.”
As he stands up, I force myself to my feet, refusing to allow my spinning head to cause me to topple over as I recover from the latest blow to my face. The slow wave of nausea dissipates as I straighten myself, standing with an erect posture, refusing to show weakness. Displeased, Commandant Gant glares at me, but turns away when a commotion arises as someone pushes their way through the crowd, dragging someone by the shoulders and my heart sinks into my stomach as Trevors appears with Renal, tossing him to the ground the way a person treats a piece of garbage.
“I caught this one trying to escape, sir,” says Trevors.
Commandant Gant nods in approval.
I should have known. In a moment of weakness, I trusted Trevors and that trust has now gotten both me and Renal killed. I glare at him, but he ignores my glance as he stares straight ahead, unmoving and unfeeling, just like the Trevors I know and remember. I return my gaze to the commandant, challenging him, not allowing him the satisfaction of seeing me grovel.
“You came here and thought that you could change things,” Commandant Gant says, speaking to the crowd more than me. “You thought that you could force us to share our water, our food with these workers. They are nothing and are not our equals, yet you”—he snatches a baton from one of the arbiters and points it at me—“would have them sit with us as though they are. These people are filth, replaceable, and it is time that you all learn your place. Conform or die.”
The commandant stops in front of me his nose almost touching mine. “Kneel,” he hisses at me.
“No,” I reply, my voice soft, but stern, and it carries over the still atmosphere that settles upon us all as eyes watch us, waiting to see who will concede to whom.
An arbiter walks up to me and kicks me in the back of my left knee, forcing me to the ground and my knees slam into the hard earth as gravel digs into them, leaving jagged impressions. The moment the arbiter’s hand leaves my shoulder, I stand back up, rising to my full height in front of everyone and squaring my shoulders as best I can, despite my hands being tied. Infuriated, Commandant Gant strikes me in the side with his baton, but I remain standing.
“KNEEL!” he yells at me.
“No.”
My resolute voice echoes around us, hovering over everyone present, far stronger, far superior to his irate demands. Though my face refuses to betray it, I am smiling on the inside, aware that I have won this battle of wills, because if I am to die, I will do so on my feet and not begging for my life to the likes of this coward.
The commandant snatches a pistol and aims it at me, but before he can pull the trigger, before can bring an end to my existence, a single voice, clear and loud, rings out over us all.
“STOP!”
Chase forces his way to the front and steps out into the clearing, his grungy clothes dropping bits of dust with each movement, and his gaze meets the commandant’s, something that is unheard of, since plebeians are forbidden to look their masters in the eyes. “Let her go,” he says, his strong voice holding everyone’s attention, including Renal’s, who watches with his unswollen eye.
The commandant’s black face turns red with fury. He turns the weapon from me and aims it at Chase. I dig my feet into the dirt, prepared to jump between them, but before either myself or the commandant can make a move, Trevors’ voice stops us.
“Commandant, let me teach this refuse a lesson.”
Commandant Gant lowers his weapon.
Worried, I watch as Trevors walks over to Chase who remains rigid, refusing to cower in fear, knowing that he is about receive a beating, adding more bruises to the pale outline of the ones that have almost healed. Every crunch in the dirt from Trevors’ boots pierces my ears, and I start to move, bu
t the commandant’s hand stops me, and I watch in horror as Trevors bears down upon Chase, standing a head taller than him, and prepares to strike. Before anyone can react, Trevors shoves Chase into the gathered crowd and snatches the weapon of a nearby arbiter from its holster, twisting around and firing at the commandant, missing me and striking him in the shoulder.
All hell breaks loose.
The workers charge the arbiters, jumping on them and pulling them to the ground as they seize rocks and shovels, attacking any arbiter they see, while whistles screech into the night, drowned by the angry cries of the workers who have decided to no longer suffer Commandant Gant’s abuses. Breaking glass stabs the chaos as a stone is thrown through it and its shards crash into the ground, breaking into smaller pieces and mingling with the black soil. The cries of an arbiter calling for reinforcements from Arel force me to glance through the hole in the window and the command center behind it as panicked arbiters ditch their consoles. One goes for the weapons locker. I watch as he hands automatic weapons to arbiters rushing past, yelling at them to put down the uprising.
Remembering Chase and Renal, I spin around, searching for them—Commandant Gant has disappeared—and spot Renal, laying on the ground where Trevors had thrown him, struggling to move as people rush past him, kicking him with their feet, unaware of his injuries, or not caring. I run to him and land hard on my knees beside him. As I try to lift him up, the binding around my wrists remind me that I cannot move them. I need to free them. Desperate, I search for anything sharp that can be used while dodging the melee of workers and arbiters fighting one another, but all I find is grainy silt that continues to rise up my thighs as I sink into it. I yank at the binding, grimacing as it cuts deeper into my skin as I try to wrestle from my wrists. Moist blood trickles down my hands, coating the chilled tips of my fingers with its warm essence, but the binding remains. Just when I think that I will have to break my thumbs to get it off, Trevors appears. I aim a kick at him, angered that he betrayed me, but he deflects it ease and pins me on my stomach. A knife appears. Struggling, my feet slide in the loose soil as I try to wrestle my way out of Trevors grip when… the binding falls away from my wrists.
Rolling onto my back, I watch as Trevors puts his knife away and grabs Renal, lifting him onto his shoulder with ease, and runs to the nearest outbuilding. “Come on!” he yells at me.
I follow after him and stop. Not far from me is Chase fighting with an arbiter while another stands a few yards behind him, raising his weapon and taking aim. I seize the nearest arbiter, jabbing my fist on the underside of his jaw while snatching her pistol from her holster. Blocking out the sounds of the chaos raging around me as arbiters shoot at any who come at them and workers scream and attack those that have abused them, I aim the weapon and fire. I hit my target just as Chase manages to get the upper hand on his opponent. I charge for him, shoving a worker out of my way, knowing that I should help him, but there are only two people here I care about. An arbiter swings her baton at me. I duck, leaning back as far as I can and fall to the ground, dodging the fatal blow. She whirls around and swings at me again. Rolling across the ground, blood-soaked earth coats my uniform as I avoid her attempt to end me. The baton strikes the ground near my head. I jerk to my left, rolling onto all fours before springing at her legs, catching her around the knees and knocking her to the ground. She grunts as she lands. I jump onto her stomach, straddling her. She whips her baton at me, but I lean to the side, avoiding its sharp sting, and grab hold of it, wrenching it from her hands before pressing it down upon her throat.
“Stop,” I tell her, wishing she would stop struggling. She is one of me. An arbiter, doing her duty. “Please, stop!”
She goes for her sidearm, and my training kicks in, taking over my movements, and I ram the baton into her throat and twist, jerking her head at an odd angle and breaking her neck. Relaxing my hold, and consumed with guilt for what I have done, I sit up, staring at her lifeless form, knowing that I am the cause of her death—a senseless death.
“Noni!”
Chase’s voice jerks me from my stupor. I spot a girl about Shelia’s age struggling to break free from the grip of another arbiter, and I swing the baton, catching him in the back of his knee, forcing him to lose his footing. Before he stands back up, I whip the baton through the air and smash it into his face, breaking his jaw as a single, bloodied tooth flies from his mouth and settles in the dirt before another’s foot stomps on it, burying it. I jump up and run to Chase and grab hold of him, thrilled that he is alive and unhurt.
“The transports,” I tell him, guessing that Trevors must have headed there, since I cannot find him near any of the outbuildings, and it is what I would do.
We run. Workers and arbiters locked in battle litter the area before us as we push our way through them, dodging around them to avoid getting caught in the workers’ bloodlust. I veer to the left, dragging Chase behind me as a man puts the sharp end of a pick through the skull of an arbiter, splitting the cranium open and spilling its contents all over the blood-soaked soil. One by one, the arbiters fall, outnumbered and overpowered by the wrath of the workers, and as their numbers dwindle, the deafening shouts and screams dissipate, but I refuse to stop, wanting only to get away, to get Chase nad Renal to safety.
A force slams into me, knocking me off my feet, and I roll across the ground as the sticky soil glues itself to my uniform, coating me in its horrifying entanglement of human entrails. Chase tackles my assailant, but he flings him off, throwing Chase to the ground and kicking him in the stomach, causing him to cough and gag for air. As I regain focus, Commandant Gant’s face bears down upon me, full of rage and with murder in his eyes as blood oozes from the wound in his shoulder, but he refuses to acknowledge it and the pain it must be causing him. He pulls out his pistol and fires a single shot—the noise echoes across the field, causing those nearby to stop and watch us—just as I move, and a warm sting grazes the right side of my neck, but I haven’t time to consider my blessings. I face him. The commandant pulls the trigger once more, but all he receives for his efforts is a clicking sound. His clip is empty. Pleased, a devious grin crosses my lips. I charge him. Commandant Gant dodges out of the way, but I spin on my heels and barrel into his side, forcing him to the ground and wrench his arm behind his back just as he throws dirt into my face, forcing me to jump back. I scoot backward, blinking and rubbing my eyes to clear them.
The commandant rushes me, but Chase appears, wrapping his arms around the man’s leg. He slams his boot into Chase’s face, but Chase’s efforts did what he meant them to do: buy me time. I get on my hands and knees, focusing on my enemy, and spring for him, catching his left leg and ripping it out from under him. He slams into the ground on his back, releasing a groan. Tightening my grip, I twist the commandant’s leg, dislocating his knee before jumping away. We face each other, each loathing the other as those nearest us close in, watching and waiting, forgetting that they had been locked in their own battles, and I realize that the one person they want to punish most is him.
“What are you waiting for?” Commandant Gant screams at a group of arbiters that have joined the workers to watch our fight.
They turn and leave, and my eyes widen as the workers gathered around us allow them to, since I had expected them to kill him.
“You fucking cowards!” screams Commandant Gant.
He glares at me, but I remain poised, ready for his next move. Commandant Gant lunges for me. I block his attack, wrapping an arm underneath his wounded shoulder and pressing a finger into the bloodied hole, ignoring his anguished screams that fill my ears before I break his collar bone ad fling him to the ground like the piece of refuse that he is. Hatred takes over me as I lower myself to one knee beside him and grab the collar of his shirt, lifting him up so that I can look him in the eye before finishing him. Scooping up the broken handle of a shovel, I ready myself for what I must do, but stop when I see Chase’s worried face and the look that shrouds it—the look that conveys
he does not know me.
“Do it,” urges Commandant Gant. “Follow your training.”
I stare at him and the blood pooling around him. Is this who I want to be? Eighteen years of training, of being beaten and whipped into the perfect arbiter commands me to kill the commandant and take his place as the chief officer of the mine, but if I do, what then? He deserves to pay for what he did to Renal and for how he has treated the people here. I scan the crowd. They want blood. A part of me understands their lust for it, nor can I stop it. The commandant will die tonight, but not by my hand.
I drop the shovel handle and it lands in the silt with a soft thump, sending a miniscule cloud of dust in the night air to float away, unaware of the death surrounding it. “You were right, commandant, accidents do happen in the mines.”
I step away from him and pause in front of the first worker I see. “He’s yours.”
Those that had gathered around us close in on the commandant and he disappears behind a hailstorm of raised fists and vengeful kicks as they unleash their wrath upon him, dealing out their form of justice. I turn away. No sorrow fills me over his demise, but a part of me wonders if I should have tried to help him live, and I remind myself that this is my world; this is what I am—a dealer of death. Chase’s hand settles on my shoulder with the gentlest touch, causing me to jump a little, until I realize it is him, and his sympathetic eyes bury themselves within mine in an attempt to comfort me.
A low rumble rises in the distant night, cloaked by darkness and mystery, and the hairs on my arms and legs stand on end, sensing an encroaching danger as my heart beats faster from the impulse to run, but I remain still, studying the dark sky, listening, and waiting. The grumble morphs into a small whine that turns into a horrendous screech as three aircraft zip past above us, scanning us. The Arelian fleet. Commandant Gant’s cries for assistance had gotten through. I rush to one of the loudspeaker towers and rip the mic out of its hold, pressing the button on the side and screaming into it.
Ensnared (Enchained Trilogy Book 2) Page 21