Something smacks me in the face, bringing me to a halt as I regain my senses and feel around, trying to determine what has stopped me, but the cold feeling of steel, despite the grime crusted on it, tells me that I have reached a ladder. This is the moment of truth. There is no going back. I climb the ladder, clinging to it as though it is my life saver, and ascend through the dark opening above me, until my head bangs into a metal barrier, causing bits of dirt to fall away and splash in the water below. This must be the way out. I push against it, but just like I had feared, it refuses to budge, except there is no way for another person to squeeze in here to help me open it, meaning I will have to do it myself. Feeling the eyes of my charges on me, waiting for me to give them their freedom, I climb a bit higher on the ladder, until I am on the second to last step and hunched so far over that my knees touch my chest.
I ram my back into the manhole cover. Nothing. I ram myself into it again, hearing a small pop, but it still refuses to allow us passage. The feeling of claustrophobia threatens to overtake me as I remain hunched in this cramped space with sweat pouring down my chin and dripping onto my shirt, while my breathing quickens from the fear of failing settling in. Memories of the woman I had tried to help escape Arel course through my mind, and for a moment, I am back there, clutching her mangled body in the middle of a minefield, while the dogs’ incessant barking warn me that I will be their next meal as punishment for my failure. Guilt grips my shoulders as I remember how I had led her to her death in my efforts to help her, and how I was responsible for her fate, but it doesn’t have to be the same outcome here.
Right here, right now, I can make certain that the people with me have their chance at a better life. What they do afterward, is up to them, but I will not let them die here in this sewer full of waste, as though they are refuse themselves, not wanted, never missed, and deemed unworthy of a chance at life. Summoning all of my strength, I push hard with my legs and slam my back into the metal barrier above me, ignoring the pain that seizes it and the marks it will leave, and push with every ounce of strength I have, until it moves. I refuse to stop, refuse to slacken my efforts, but push even harder as cool air slips between the cracks and dust rains down around me, coating my sweaty face, but I do not care. I cannot stop. I cannot quit. With another great push, I throw myself into the manhole cover, and it pops free, releasing a tremendous clang as it flies upward and lands on the ground, teetering on the edge of the opening, but I straighten up and push it to the side, glad to be free of the imprisoning darkness of the tunnel.
I glance around, overjoyed at seeing the tall grass around me, obscuring my view of the wall, meaning that those on it will be hard pressed to see my bit of rebellion, and the trees are not far. Laughter begins to emanate from me, but I stop myself, reminding myself that this is not the time. Hauling myself out of the opening, I lean over on my hands and knees, urging them to hurry up as a faint glow appears on the horizon, warning me that my time is short. One by one, I help them out of the darkness, and watch as they snake through the grass and into the jungle of trees beside us. No words pass between us. There is no time, nor is there any need. I watch as they disappear, wondering what will become of them, where they will go, and remember that none of us ever know what the future holds, but we can decide what happens in the present.
The glow on the horizon grows brighter, reminding me that I must get back to the manor before the sun is up. I jump into the hole, and pull the manhole cover over it, sealing it once more, as I bury myself in the darkness, but it doesn’t seem so oppressive anymore, as thoughts and half-plans work their way through my mind, giving me ideas, ideas that Arel tries to trample into submission.
I hurry through the streets, not caring if I run into arbiters on duty. I haven’t time to worry about it, or to be cautious. If I fail to get back into the manor by sunrise, my time on this earth will come to a close. Punishment is always swift in Arel, and dissonance is never tolerated. Windows remain shuttered, and the streets empty, with only the echo of silence for comfort as I turn down street after street making my way to the manor. Almost there. I turn another corner and come out on the street leading to the manor, and the memory of me riding on the back of a trolly in an effort to not be late on my first day in the eastern sector rushes into my mind, but I shunt it aside.
The sun pokes over the horizon as I crawl through the fence, doing my best not to tear my clothing on the lose bar that I have moved to the side a little so that I can squeeze through. The thudding of shovels delving into sludge hits my ears, telling me that Chase and Molers are still cleaning up the sewage that has leaked and covered the atrium. Once through the fence, I place the bar back in place, hoping that its indiscretion continues to go unnoticed, and dart across the lawn, using the long shadows of the building as they try to preserve what twilight is left, before the sun has a chance to rip it away from them. Before I reach the shelter of the thorny branches of a coveted bush, Chase spots me, and our eyes lock for a moment, but Molers must have seen the sudden change in his gaze because he turns in my direction, but before he spots me, Chase scoops up a handful of sewage and chucks it into Molers’ face. Enraged, Molers rounds on him, closing the distance between them in two steps, swinging his fists, and knocking Chase to the ground. I stop. My heart aches as Chase plows into the sewage and it covers him, coating his clothing, making him look like some sort of mud creature, as he tries to regain his footing, but Molers leers over him, bending low and placing his knee in the middle of Chase’s back. My feet shift and take a step toward him but the harsh hiss from Sheila as she holds the basement window open,—she must have stayed up waiting for me, watching for me, and noticed me standing frozen in the middle of the grass, unable to tear my eyes away from Chase’s plight—and Chase shaking his head, like he did at the mines when the guards jumped him, force me to stop, breaking my heart into two as I struggle between the two paths placed before me.
A blur of movement catches my attention, sparing me from making a choice a I could never live with, as Renal rushes out of the manor and grips Molers by the shoulders before throwing him into the ground. The fury on Molers’ face chills me. I have seen it before, too many times. He looks in my direction, but before he has time to register that it is me out after curfew, Renal rams his fist into Molers’ face, blocking me from view, and I sprint into the bushes and crawl through the window while Renal’s back still faces me, and before Molers can recover. Before I close the window, I glance back at the Renal as he towers over Molers, daring him to challenge him, to question his authority, and once again, I wonder if Renal is a Marshall, sent here to ensure that the eastern district remains in line and adheres to Arel’s authority. I imagine the glare on Renal’s face as he waits for Molers to make a move; it’s a look I’ve seen once before when he stopped Molers from killing me the day I interfered when Molers struck Sheila. I continue watching the scene unfold before me, unable to tear my gaze away.
“You’re dismissed,” Renal says to Chase, without taking his eyes off Molers.
Chase scrambles to his feet and runs inside, glad to be away from the test of authority between two high-ranking arbiters.
“I gave you strict orders,” Renal says to Molers as he kicks the shovel to him, daring him to do something, but Molers remains on the ground. “Since you seem to have all this extra time on your hands, you can finish up here.”
Molers picks up the shovel and stands up, as the sun peeks over the building, illuminating the two as they stand in a mixture of sewage and grass. He always searched for a chance to flaunt his authority over others, but never challenged anyone when the odds were not in his favor, and right here, right now, they have abandoned him, and he knows it. The shovel strikes the ground as Molers scoops up creamy, black, sludge and dumps it in a wheelbarrow, but his face tells me that he will have his revenge. Renal notices it as well. He leans into Molers, so that no one can hear what he is about to say, and whispers into Molers’ ear before stalking away.
As go
lden sunlight spills across the grass, I am reminded that my time is up. I need to get back to my room, and fast. Sheila smacks my arm, holding her slender, pale hand out, waiting for me to give her Amal’s wristband. I do. I start to say something, to thank her for her bravery, but she stops me.
“I’ll be fine.”
After a quick hug, I race down the musty hallway of the cellar, and up the stairs, not caring if I make noise, since I haven’t much time to get back into my quarters before the other arbiters wake up and leave their rooms, while those returning from duty walk through the front door. Pipes bang as water turns on in the bathrooms, and I quicken my pace, hurrying through the door to the main floor, and taking a quick peek to make sure that no one spots me as I rush to the stairs leading to the second floor. I take them two at a time, my heart beating against my chest from the exertion and the anxiety that surrounds me, threatening to suffocate me in an effort to make me fail. A door opens as I reach the top of the stairs and I duck back behind the wall, before the woman leaving her room can spot me. She rubs her eyes and drags herself to the bathroom, while her night shirt hangs off her should, exposing the top part of her right breast, without bothering to stifle a yawn. Her grogginess plays in my favor. Once she disappears, I race for my door and do not wait for it to open all the way before ramming my way through and letting out the air that has been trapped in my lungs since Molers’ confrontation with Renal. Safe in the confines of my room, I slump against the door as the sun fills my window, allowing me to view the wall that surrounds Arel, and my thoughts drift to the people I helped escape. What will become of them? I will never see them again, or know their fate, but I hope they find the peace they are looking for.
As the sun rises higher, a red-orange glow stretches across the top of the wall, lasting only for a split second, before it disappears, but it catches my gaze, and I stare out at it, as though seeing it for the first time, and knowing its true purpose, its true nature. The sun’s warm rays fall upon my face as I study my enemy, hardening my resolve to help others escape its imprisonment, and the tyranny of those who built it.
Chapter 20
Discretion
My foot reaches the last carpeted (the brown color of the carpet has turned a darker shade, and it now seems to crunch underneath my weight, giving me a sickened feeling) step of the stairwell, settling on the cracked wooden edge of its surface, before allowing me to step down onto the main floor of the manor so that I may begin my day. My hand still rests on the railing, and the nicks that make up what once had been a smooth and polished surface that reflected the yellow light pouring in from the stained window, and its grimy edges. Lost in the moment, and forgetting where I am because of lack of sleep, I imagine what this manor must have looked like, brand new and filled with arbiters for the first time; but, perhaps, it has not always been filled with arbiters but served a different purpose before being reassigned.
I spot Sheila near the kitchen and hurry over to her, hoping that everything is all right, that she isn’t in any sort of trouble because of me. None of the other arbiters seem be paying any attention me, which is just as well; I prefer to go unnoticed. I slip through the doors to the kitchen with its counters full of baskets of fresh fruit, and the musty smell of dirty dish water fills my nose, glad that the cooks are elsewhere, leaving Sheila and me alone.
“Is everything…” I begin.
“I’m fine.” She hands me a plate with buttered toast, crisp apple slices, whose intoxicating smell causes my mouth to salivate, scrambled egg, and cooked ham. I look at the toast and its inviting texture, wondering where she has gotten it, since arbiters are not supposed to eat bread very often, and are denied it on most occasions. She must have read my mind because she laughs, saying, “Molers has toast snuck into to his room most nights. I borrowed some on a permanent basis.”
Soft laughter escapes my mouth at her joke. “How did you get so good at sneaking things?” I ask.
Her face falls a bit as unpleasant memories are drudged up, and my laughter dissipates at the somber note in her voice. “I had to, to survive.”
“Not anymore,” I tell her, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. She shouldn’t have to go to such lengths just to survive.
She smiles.
I take a bite of the toast, and finish it within seconds. “Thank you.”
Two arbiters stroll past the kitchen, and I know I need to get going, or we will be caught and punished, and Sheila’s will be more severe than mine. I hug her, doing my best to protect her from this world, but it is insufficient, superficial at best, as we both know that there is little else I can do. “Stay safe,” I tell her.
“Do the same,” she replies as I leave the kitchen with my plate of food.
Once in the dining room, I spot Amal, and his gaze is fixed on me, unnerving me, and I wonder how long he has been there, watching the door to the kitchen, waiting to see if I came out with anyone in particular. I stare at him, keeping my posture tall and proud, hoping that he doesn’t see through it or the anxiety building within me. Before I have a chance to force myself to walk past him and find a chair at the table, Commander Vye’s sharp voice breaks through my fears and snaps me back to attention.
“Noni,” she says, causing all murmuring within the room to cease, “a word.”
I hurry after her, clutching my plate close so that the food on it will not fall to the ground as my stomach gurgles at me, demanding that I feed it, and shove my way past Amal. Commander Vye and I reach the oval doorway underneath the stairwell, with me shoving the slice of ham in my mouth and swallowing it in two bites as I follow her into her office, noting the line of pens on the left side of the desk that still sit in a neat line, and the stack of reports on the other side seems to have grown. She sits in the chair behind her desk with her hands clasped before her, reminding me of my first day here and the terrible impression I had made, but something seems a bit off; she seems a bit worried, something I have never seen plague her before.
“Your duties for today have been suspended,” Commander Vye says, while I finish chewing the apples.
What? Suspended? Has she discovered that I have been sneaking out of the manor at night? Worry that my exploits the night before and the people I smuggled outside of the city fills my mind as it races to come up with a legitimate excuse, or anything to mitigate the impending consequences of my indiscretions.
“Ma’am?” I say, doing my best to keep the inflection out of my voice ao as not arouse suspicion.
“An old friend of yours is visiting the eastern sector and she has requested your presence. You are to meet her here.” Commander Vye sends the location to me and it pops up on my wristband, and I recognize it as one of the cafés in the plaza.
An old friend? Faya? The last time I saw here was before I had been taken to visit the outposts, before Chase and I were forced to rely on each other for survival after our convoy was attacked. She had mentioned coming to the eastern sector for a visit; perhaps she has finally gotten the time off to come. I have no knowledge of how things are done in the business sector, but the one time I was there, they did not seem to be as strict as the eastern sector, nor do they need to be.
“You will report there immediately,” Commander Vye tells me.
I salute her and turn for the door, but she stops me.
“One other thing,” Commander Vye says, and her shoulders sag just a little, a motion that would go unnoticed by most, but I notice it, “be careful.”
Concern fills her voice, and it unsettles me. I have always known her to be proud and strong, but today, she seems vulnerable, worn, beaten, and I wonder what has been happening behind the scenes, the secrets that no one ever sees. It seems as though it has been ages since I have been in her presence and talked with her, even if it was just her issuing me orders, and my mind wanders back to the conversation between her and Molers that I overheard, before Tapiwa sent me to the mines. I haven’t seen Renal much either. So much has happened in such a short period of tim
e, but I feel as though I have aged ten years, and she looks to have aged 20.
“Commander,” I say, keeping my voice low, “is everything all right?”
“You’ve, no doubt, noticed some changes around here.”
Some, yes, but I never thought about it too much, until now. There is a different feeling in the air, one of anxiety and tension, so overwhelming that it drowns any who are trapped in it. “I know the attack outside the tribunal…”
“It’s not just that.” Commander Vye’s eyes flicker to the door, making certain that it is shut, as she lowers her voice even more, forcing me to strain my ears just to make out her words. “There has been a series of unrests since you were sent to the mines.”
More than one? There has always been a bit of rebellion, but never enough to cause such trepidation within my commander.
“There are rumors of a group of rebels whose sole intention is to bring down Arel and its society.”
Sweat forms underneath the collar of my jacket. Sneaking people out of the city is an act of rebellion, and one that could be seen as trying to destroy Arel, and there has been a grumbling in the back of my mind that parts of Arel needs to change, though I am always reminded of the cost. “Sometimes change can be beneficial,” I say, choosing my words with care.
Commander Vye raises her eyebrows at me.
“Being sent to the mines required me to change.”
“How so?”
“I had to negotiate with others, not in words, but in actions.”
“I am aware of your exploits in the mines: how you demanded better treatment for the workers, reprimanded Commandant Gant, and the rebellion that ensued there.”
Ensnared (Enchained Trilogy Book 2) Page 31