“RUN!”
People turn and look at me, while some flee, knowing what is to come next.
“Just run!” I scream into the mic and my shrill voice echoes throughout the mine, filling it with panic. “Run for the wildlands and its hills! Go anywhere! Get out! NOW!”
Three Arelian aircraft fly low over the mine in formation, and I drop the mic, fleeing the area as fast as I can as explosives fall from the sky, detonating upon impact, showering everyone in fire, dirt, and a deafening blast that causes my ears to ring. As the dust settles, I stand alone by the loudspeaker, coated in grime as I look around in a daze, searching for Chase, but all I find in the smoky haze are shadows, some running, some stumbling, others wandering in a stupor,—ghosts in the night. Worry seizes me. Where is he? Did the bombs kill him? Scenario after scenario enters my mind, each worse than the other, and just as the image of Chase laying on the ground with his arms splayed and intestines hanging out of his mangled and charred body grips me, my voice pushes his name through my mouth in a desperate attempt to find him.
“CHASE!” My wild movements force me to run in circles, shouting his name, the desperation in my voice evident. “CHASE!”
No answer. I cannot find him. He’s… Renal. Remembering that he is alone with Trevors and unable to defend himself, I rein in my emotions, but tears seep through my tempestuous barrier and ease their way down my cheeks, leaving streaks in the grime on my face, and I turn away, heading for the transports.
“NONI!”
Chase! I whip around, finding him crawling out from underneath a pile of rubble, and run to him, grabbing hold of him, refusing to let him go. His arms embrace me with the same unwillingness to let me go.
“Are you hurt?” he asks, and I smile, releasing a silly laugh, thinking that it is I who should be asking him the same question.
“Are you?” My fingers wipe the blood dribbling from a cut on the left side of his temple. The screeching intensifies. “We need to run!” I tell him.
We hurry away from the loudspeaker, joining the others who are desperate to escape the wrath of the Arelian fleet—Arel never allows dissonance to go unpunished—our hands clasped together, squeezing the blood out of one another as we refuse to let the other go. We race through the mine, dodging others as more bombs drop from the sky spewing their vengeance on those unfortunate enough to be in their path, filling the darkness with fiery light, making us appear as nothing more than silhouettes in the night. Our feet rush over the ground, sinking into the soft earth, but we refuse to stop. More aircraft pass over us. An arbiter stumbles beside me. Letting go of Chase, I hurry to her and help her up, and she thanks me before scurrying away. We are all at the mercy of Arel now. I rush back to Chase and we take off again, not daring to look back as more explosions shatter the mine behind us, sending plumes of rock and ore high into the sky that arcs and rains down upon us as we try to escape, causing me to cringe as pebbles stab the base of my neck.
Movement catches my eye. Turning, I see Grelyn struggling to crawl out from underneath the bodies of two men that have her pinned to the ground. She gets about halfway out when the screeching starts again as orange spots of light appear in the night and repetitive popping reach my ears. They’re using their Gatling guns. Grelyn will never get free in time. I show her plight to Chase, and we race over to her, each grabbing hold of the bodies that weigh her down and haul them off her, allowing her to crawl to freedom. The planes draw nearer. Each of us charge away from the open area and to an outbuilding where we dive to the ground and crawl underneath just as the aircraft pass over us and bullets riddle the ground, leaving tiny craters, and the side of the building, filling it with holes. I start to move, but Grelyn snatches my arm and pulls me back.
“They’re coming back,” she says.
Though all I see is darkness, Grelyn sees the planes as though it is daylight, and I allow her to prevent me from going into harm’s way. “Where’s Trevors?”
“We got separated,” she replies.
“Where’s Renal?” I ask her.
“Don’t worry about your friend.”
I glare at her, incensed by her lack of concern for Renal, but remind myself that we have bigger problems as the aircraft pass over us, releasing a hailstorm of gunfire that cuts down anyone in their path, not caring who gets killed so long as the uprising is put down.
“When I say,” says Grelyn, “run and head for the west end of the compound.” She cranes her head, looking up at the sky, her unnatural blue eyes seeming to glow, making her appear almost catlike. “Now!”
We all crawl out from under the building and jump to our feet, running as fast as we can away from the mine, away from the screams, and away from the fires. Chase and I link hands again, not wanting to get separated. More explosions, more fire threaten to overtake us as dirt mixed with bits of what used to be living people continue to fly through the air, pelting us with their fury. I lose sight of Grelyn. She always was a faster runner than me. My lungs threaten to give out on me as my legs start to turn to rubber, but I push forward, determined to escape this nightmare. I glance at Chase and he looks back at me as we try to encourage one another. Our feet pound the earth as the sounds of the night drain away from me, growing silent, overtaken by the screech on an Arelian aircraft closing in for the kill, and time stops around me, allowing me to observe every ounce of suffering of the people around me, and I feel as though I’m not moving at all, but instead am trapped on an ever-turning wheel. My legs continue to propel me forward, despite the sensation of not moving as the bombs draw closer. I mouth Chase’s name, but before I can finish, an explosion sounds behind us, and its shockwave propels us into the air, causing me to fly, turning over and over, until I crash into the ground, rolling across its slimy ooze, made that way from the blood of those around me. When my mind stops spinning, when my body stops moving, I am on my stomach with my arms stretched out in front of me and my hair nothing more than a tangled mess covering the back of my neck. I lift my head. Chase lays just a few feet away from me, unmoving.
“Chase,” I whisper.
No answer. I reach for him and try crawling to him, but pain grips me and I am unable to move, to go to him, as darkness closes in around me, and my mind threatens to shut down. Consciousness eludes me, and slips away, and as I rest my head in the dirt, allowing bits of it to fill my ear, the last thing I see this night is the toe of a boot, with bits of flesh and blood on it, inches away from my face.
Chapter 15
Veiled Words
Pale pink sunlight swarms over me as I sit by the wall-sized window, staring out at the meandering crowds in the street below, little ants scurrying about to get to where they need to go, unaware of my solitude, of my heart pounding in my chest, desperate to break through my ribcage as my pulse races from nervousness. The last week is a blur and its multitude of events blur together, forming strange memories, memories that I cannot sort through or decipher what is real and what is imagined. My lungs fill themselves with the circulated air of the building, glad to be free of the staleness of quarantine. Quarantine—that is what they told me it was, but it felt more like a form of interrogation by placing me alone in a room with just a cot, a toilet, and a sink, permitted to see no one and waiting to see when I would crack and lose my mind. I wonder if they did same to Renal, if he is even alive. What happened to Chase? To Trevors? Or Grelyn?
My head rests against the cool glass, pressing into it until it aches a little from the pressure, but I ignore it as I watch the people below. A boy in a white uniform with the emblem of the council on his back darts down a walkway just one floor below me. Any near him dart out of his way, aware of the law: council business shall not be infringed. He runs to the other end of the walkway, his white uniform glowing in the fain sunlight, and disappears through a set of glass doors that open and close as he passes by. The moment he is out of sight, I turn back to the people beneath me as they resume their business, wondering how much longer I am to be kept waiting.<
br />
A slight cough diverts my attention, and I shift my head to glance at the Marshal that had brought me to the Command Division to be interrogated about what had happened at the mines. The Marshal stares straight ahead, hoping that no one heard his slight cough, and I turn back to the window and my musing about the day to day activities of the crowds below, allowing him his peace of mind. Sickness is weakness, weakness is failure, and failure is death. This is my world. My gaze shifts to the wall and the horizon beyond it as I wonder about the people who live in the wildlands. Does failure also mean death for them? My mind wanders to the barbarian who had helped Chase and me when we were lost in the wilderness, and once again—I have lost count of how many times this has happened—I wonder what became of him.
A tremendous clang fills the hallway as the black, steel doors open, allowing someone to step through them and I jump to my feet, standing at attention, while the Marshal accompanying me does the same. My veins feel as though they are going to burst as my pulse thumps so loud that my ears are unable to hear anything else, as I strain my eyes to see who has been released, almost jumping when I see Renal’s familiar face. He stops in the corridor, salutes the arbiters standing guard, and walks off, not bothering to glance in my direction as he walks past, and the joy I feel upon seeing him alive and well dissipates.
“Arbiter Noni,” says one of the arbiters by the door, while the two beside him remain at their post.
My lead feet drag themselves across the carpet, stirring up some static electricity, as I force them to carry me to the room beyond the overbearing doors, apprehensive about what would greet me once I cross the threshold into its dark underbelly, making me wonder if I am about to pass into Hades. The memory of me finding a book, a real one buried deep within the vaults of the training facility—it must had been overlooked when the others were burned so long ago—fills my mind as I remember reading the forbidden text, learning about the mythical underworld for the first time. An instructor had caught me with it and struck me in the face with it after snatching the book from my hands. Is this what the people in that book felt, I wonder as I stare into the empty abyss beyond the steel doors. The arbiter that had called my name clears his throat, impatient for me to hurry into the interrogation chamber, and I pick up my pace, pausing for just a moment as I steel my nerves and inhale until my lungs can hold no more: Hades has no hold on me.
As the darkness swallows me, the doors close, sealing shut, forbidding me from ever leaving this place, but I remain rigid in my posture, determined to not show the slightest indication of fear as I step toward the podium, draped in a beam of white light. I take my place at the dais, blinking a little in the light as I face the high table before me and the three arbiters seated behind it.
“State your name, serial number, and your business here,” says the one in the middle.
“Arbiter Noni, serial number N27461,” I reply, “and you summoned me here.” The defiance in my voice rings throughout the chamber and a part of me wishes I could take it back, while another tells me to let them hear it.
“You’re a bold one,” says one of the council members with a dark edge to his voice.
I glare at him, refusing to avert my gaze or allow him the satisfaction of thinking that he had intimidated me.
“You have been summoned here because of recent events at the mines,” says the one who had spoken first. “Care to explain?”
“What am I supposed to explain?” I ask, unsure of where the arbiter council is going with this.
“Of your actions there.”
“Perhaps you can be more specific,” I say, growing impatient at this roundabout way of asking me what had happened.
Silence rings in my ears as I wait for one of them to speak, but when no one does, I open my mouth. “There was a rebellion and you put it down.”
“You do not sound pleased.”
“People died,” I say.
“Plebeians,” scoffs one of the councilmembers.
“People!” I shout, not caring if my actions seem rebellious. They have already made up their minds about me and this entire interrogation seems like a smokescreen for something else. “Citizens and arbiters alike died when you sent the Arelian aircraft to put down a rebellion that was triggered by Commandant Gant’s shortsightedness.”
The three arbiters behind the table converse among themselves in hushed tones, while my anger rises and boils over, and before I stop myself, my mouth opens and speaks what I have been wanting answers to since the marshal brought me to the command division. “Why don’t you tell me why I am really here? Or are you all too much of a cow—”
“NONI!” Commander Vye’s voice cuts me off as it reverberates around the chamber, saying my name in an endless array of echoes. I look around for her, but cannot find her in the darkness, though a part of me is comforted by the knowledge that she is here.
The members of the tribunal ignore my outburst as well as hers and silence engulfs us as we wait to see who will break it first.
“You were sent to the mines to increase production, were you not?” asks one of the members of the tribunal.
“Yes,” I say, my voice clear and even as I try to keep control over my emotions.
“And did you?”
“Yes, sir,” I reply. “Production had doubled.”
“And just before you were to return to Arel, the riot took place.”
“Yes.”
“And do you know what happened to Commandant Gant?”
“He must have died in the bombing,” I say.
Frowns appear on the faces before me.
“Are you aware of the report that Commandant Gant sent to Arel, concerning you?” asks one of my interrogators.
“No, sir,” I reply, though I am not surprised that he had sent one.
“He expressed concern about your friendliness toward the workers.”
“I made sure that they had food to eat, clean water to drink, and were able to rest when necessary.”
“And why concern yourself with such a replaceable commodity?”
Replaceable? My eyes narrow as I stare at him, wishing I could wrap my fingers around his throat, but I clench my fists instead in an effort to control myself. “I was charged with increasing production. When I arrived at the mines, I learned that Commandant Gant treated it more like his own private governance, instead of doing his job. I made the decision I did because when people are fed and rested, they are better able to perform the duties asked of them. You ensure that the arbiters under your command have adequate food and water so that they can perform their duties. Why should it be any different for the workers at the mines? Did I not increase production?”
“And what of the riot?”
“That rests on Commandant Gant’s shoulders. His continued refusal to accept my temporary command bred discontent and discord.”
“And he did not try to have you executed?”
“He did, after he tried to have Arbiter Renal murdered,” I reply, “but Arbiter Trevors stopped him.”
“Some say that you led the riot, that the workers of the mine followed you,” the arbiter on the far right of the table accuses me.
“Some say that Presidents Kumi and Tapiwa are involved in an incestuous affair, but do we believe them? No. Rumors are unreliable.” Afterthought scolds me for bringing up what no one in Arel is supposed to mention: the strange relationship between the presidents of Arel.
“You dare…”
“If you have reliable witnesses,” I say, “then, please, present them.”
The members of the tribunal whisper among themselves before facing me again. “Arbiter Noni,” one speaks for all of them, “your version of events have been collaborated by Arbiters Renal, Trevors, and Grelyn who all agree that Commandant Gant disobeyed a direct order and tried to have you executed, that he and some under his command had been secretly subverting the will of Arel. However, this is not the first time you have been brought before us.”
Something t
ells me it will not be the last.
“In the last year,” continues the one speaking, “your continued defiance, disrespect, and contumacy stain the Martial Diplomatic Corps. Therefore, you are to be remanded…”
“That will do.” Tapiwa steps out of the shadows, startling all of us, and I wonder just how long she has been standing there, and have the feeling that this is not the first time she has watched such proceedings, as I think back to the days after the bombing within the city and the day I was forced to execute the plebeian girl I had saved from a fire. It seems so long ago, but it also seems like just a moment ago.
“Madam President,” says a member of the tribunal, “we did not know you were here.”
“Of course not. I doubt you can see much beyond your own noses,” says Tapiwa.
“Madam President, this arbiter—”
“—was obeying my orders,” finishes Tapiwa.
Deft movement catches my attention, and I notice as members of the presidential guard take their place around the room to ensure President Tapiwa’s safety, just as curious as everyone else as to why she is here.
“Leave us,” orders Tapiwa.
“But, Madam President…” protests one of the members of the tribunal.
“Now.” The coldness in Tapiwa’s voice sends a shiver down my back as everyone within the interrogation room leaves through the steel doors, until it is just me and her.
“I have to say, Noni, that you never disappoint.”
I clamp my mouth shut, wishing now more than ever that I never brought up that rumor about her relationship with Kumi. She could execute me right now and no one would question it.
She paces in front of me and stops to study my face, to see if I react to her statement, but I keep my face emotionless like an arbiter is supposed to. “It appears that you have had quite an experience at the mines.”
“I have failed you, Madam President,” I say, my voice even and the tone calm. “You sent me there to ensure that production increased and instead, I have lost the mines and the damage is irreparable. For that, I know that I must—”
Ensnared (Enchained Trilogy Book 2) Page 22