The Legend Trilogy Collection

by Lu, Marie

  Kaede veers sharply to one side. We miss the building by a hair. Then we’re down, really down. The jet slams into the ground and skids, flinging our bodies forward hard against our seat belts. I feel like my limbs are ripping off. Civilians and soldiers alike run out of the way on either side of the street. A few sparks crack the cockpit; it’s random gunfire, I realize, from shocked soldiers. Crowds line the roads several blocks away from us—they gape at the jet careening across the pavement.

  We finally come to a halt when one of the wings catches the side of a building, sending us crashing sideways into an alley. I jerk roughly back against my seat. Our canopy pops open before I can even catch my breath. I manage to undo my seat belt and leap dizzily up onto the edge of the cockpit. “Kaede.” I’m squinting to see her and Day through the smoke. “We have to—”

  My words die on my tongue. Kaede’s slumped against the pilot seat, her buckle still wrapped around her. Her pilot goggles sit on top of her head—I guess she never even bothered to put them on. Her eyes point vacantly at the buttons on her control panel. A small bloodstain soaks the front of her shirt, not far from the wound she’d received when we first got into the jet. One of the stray bullets had gone straight through the canopy and into her when we crash-landed. Kaede, who just minutes ago had seemed invincible.

  For a moment, I’m frozen. The sounds of chaos around me dull, and the smoke covers everything except me and Kaede’s body strapped into the pilot seat. A small voice manages to echo through my mind, penetrating the black-and-white fog of numbness, a familiar, pulsing light that gets me going again.

  Move, it tells me. Now.

  I tear my eyes away, then search frantically for Day. He’s not sitting in the jet anymore. I scramble onto the edge of the wing and slide down blindly through the smoke and wreckage until I hit the ground on my hands and knees. I can’t see a thing.

  Then, through the smoke, Day rushes up to me. He pulls me to my feet. I’m suddenly reminded of the first time I’d ever seen him, materializing out of nothingness with his blue eyes and dust-streaked face, holding out his hand to me. His face is slashed with agony. He must’ve seen Kaede too.

  “There you are—I thought you’d already gotten out,” he whispers as we stumble through the jet’s wreckage. “Make for the crowd.” My legs ache. Our crash landing must have given me head-to-toe bruises.

  We pause underneath one of the wrecked wings just as the first soldiers rush to the jet. Half of them form a makeshift barrier to keep civilians out, their backs turned to us. Other soldiers shine lights across the smoke and twisted metal, scanning for survivors. One of them must’ve spotted Kaede because he shouts something at the others and motions them over. “It’s a Colonies jet,” he shouts, sounding incredulous. “A jet made it past the Armor and right into Denver.” We’re temporarily hidden from view under this wing, but they’ll see us any second now. The makeshift soldier barricade separates us from the crowds.

  All around us and throughout the city are the sounds of breaking glass, roaring fires, screaming, chanting people—only those closest to our jet’s wreckage seem to realize that a Colonies jet crashed at all. I glance at where the Capitol Tower looms. Anden’s voice is ringing from every city block and from every speaker—a live feed of his image must be broadcasting to every JumboTron in the city . . . and in the nation. I look on as several furious rioters fling Molotov cocktails at the soldiers. The people have no idea that Congress is sitting back, waiting for their anger to spill enough to put Razor in Anden’s place. There’s no way Anden will be able to calm this crowd. I imagine the same protests sparking up across the country, in every street and city. If the Patriots had succeeded in publicly broadcasting the Elector’s death from the Capitol Tower’s speakers, there would already have been a revolution.

  “Now,” Day says.

  We rush out from under the wing, taking the soldier barricade completely off guard. Before any of them can grab or shoot at us, we’re through, ducking into the crowd and melting in with the people. Instantly Day lowers his head and pulls us through the thick pockets of arms and legs. His hand is clenched fiercely around mine. My breath comes out ragged and forced, but I refuse to slow us down now. I push on. People shout in surprise as we barrel through.

  Behind us, the soldiers raise the alarm. “There!” one yells. A few shots ring out. They’re after us.

  We barrel ahead through the crowd. Now and then I hear people exclaim, “Is that Day?” “Did Day come back in a Colonies jet?” When I glance behind us, I can tell that half the soldiers are heading the wrong way, unable to tell which direction we took. A couple of others are still hot on our trail. We’re only a block away from the Capitol Tower now, but to me it seems like miles. Occasionally, I get a glimpse of it through all the bodies pushing and shoving around. The JumboTrons show Anden standing on a balcony, a tiny, lone figure dressed in black and red, holding his hands out in a gesture of appeal.

  He needs Day’s help.

  Behind us, four soldiers are gradually catching up. The chase saps away the last of my strength. I’m panting, struggling to breathe. Day is already slowing down to keep pace with me, but I can tell we’ll never make it at this rate. I squeeze his hand and shake my head.

  “You have to go ahead,” I tell Day firmly.

  “You’re cracked.” He purses his lips and pulls us forward faster. “We’re almost there.”

  “No.” I lean closer to him as we continue to make our way through the people. “This is our one shot. Neither of us will make it if I keep slowing us down.”

  Day hesitates, torn. We’ve already been separated once before—now he’s wondering if letting me go means he’ll never see me again. But we don’t have time for him to dwell on this. “I can’t run fast, but I can hide in the crowd. Trust me.”

  Without warning, he grabs my waist, pulls me into a tight embrace, and kisses me hard on the lips. They’re burning hot. I kiss him back fiercely and run my hands along his back. “I’m sorry I didn’t believe you,” he breathes. “Hide, stay safe. See you soon.” Then he squeezes my hand and vanishes. I suck in a breath of icy cold air. Move it, June. No time to waste.

  I stop where I am, turn around, and crouch down right as the soldiers reach me. The first one doesn’t even see me coming. One second he’s running—the next I’ve tripped him and he’s flat on his back. I don’t dare stop to look—instead, I stagger back into the furious crowd, weaving my way through people with my head down until the soldiers have fallen far behind. I can’t believe how many people are here. Fights between civilians and street police are breaking out everywhere. Above it all, the JumboTrons display live feeds of Anden’s face, his expression grave; he’s pleading from behind the protective glass.

  Six minutes pass. I’m only a dozen yards from the base of the Capitol Tower when I notice that the people around me are slowly falling silent. They’re no longer focused on Anden.

  “Up there!” one person shouts.

  They’re pointing at a boy with torch-bright hair, who’s perched on a Tower balcony on the opposite side of the same floor as Anden. The balcony’s protective glass catches some of the street’s light, and from here, the boy is glowing. I catch my breath and pause. It’s Day.

  BY THE TIME I REACH THE CAPITOL TOWER, I’M soaked in sweat. My body burns with pain. I go around to one of its sides that isn’t facing the main square, then survey the crowd as people shove roughly past me in both directions. All around us are blinding JumboTrons, each displaying the exact same thing—the young Elector, pleading in vain with the people to return home and stay safe, to disperse before things get out of hand. He’s trying to console them by dictating his plans for reforming the Republic, doing away with the Trials and changing the way their career assignments are given. But I can tell this goddy political talk isn’t going to come close to satisfying the crowd. And even though Anden is older and wiser than June and me, he’s
missing that crucial piece.

  The people don’t believe him, and they don’t believe in him.

  I bet Congress is watching all this with delight. Razor too. Does Anden even know that Razor was the one behind the plot? I narrow my eyes, then leap up to grab the second floor ledge of the wired building. I try to pretend that June is right behind me, cheering me on.

  The speakers do seem to be wired up the way Kaede had described back when we were in Lamar. I bend down at the ledge right below the rooftop to study the wires. Yep. Wired in almost the same way I’d done it on the night I first met June in that midnight alley, where I’d asked her for plague cures through the speaker system. Except this time, I’ll be speaking not to an alleyway but to the Republic’s entire capital. To the country.

  The wind stings my cheeks and whistles past my ears in gales, forcing me to constantly adjust my footing. I could die right now. I have no way of knowing if the soldiers on the rooftops will shoot me down before I can reach relative safety behind a balcony’s wall of glass, dozens of feet above the rest of the crowd. Or maybe they’ll recognize who I am and hold their fire.

  I climb until I reach the tenth floor, the same floor that the Elector’s balcony is on, then crouch for a second to look down. I’m high enough—the instant I turn the corner of this building, everyone will see me. The masses are most concentrated on this side, their faces turned up to the Elector, their fists raised in anger. Even from here, I can see how many of them have that scarlet streak painted into their hair. Apparently the Republic’s attempts to outlaw it don’t work so well when everyone wants to do it.

  On the edges of the square, street police and soldiers are striking out mercilessly with their batons, pushing people back with rows of transparent shields. I’m surprised there’s no shooting. My hands start shaking in rage. There are few things as intimidating as hundreds of Republic soldiers decked out in faceless riot gear, standing in grim, dark lines against a mass of unarmed protesters. I flatten myself against the wall and take a few breaths of cold night air, struggling to stay calm. Struggling to remind myself of June and June’s brother and the Elector, and that behind some of those faceless Republic masks are good people, with parents and siblings and children. I hope Anden is the reason no shots have rung out—that he has told his soldiers not to fire on this crowd. I have to believe that. Otherwise, I’ll never convince the people of what I’m about to say.

  “Don’t be afraid,” I whisper to myself, my eyes squeezed shut. “You can’t afford it.”

  Then I step out from the shadows, hurry along the ledge until I turn the corner of the building, and hop into the closest balcony I can find. I face the central square. The protective balcony glass cuts off about a foot over my head, but I can still feel the wind siphoning in from above. I take off my cap and toss it over the top edge. It floats down to the ground, carried sideways by the wind. My hair streams out all around me. I bend down, twist one of the speakers’ wires, and hold the speaker up like a megaphone. Then I wait.

  At first no one notices me. But soon one face turns up in my direction, probably attracted by the brightness of my hair, and then another face, and then another. A small group. It grows into several dozen, all of them pointing up at me. The roars and angry chants below begin to subside. I wonder if June sees me. The soldiers lining other roofs have their guns fixed on me—but they don’t shoot. They’re stuck with me in this awkward, tense limbo. I want to run. To do what I always do, have always done, for the last five years of my life. Escape, flee into the shadows.

  But this time, I stand my ground. I’m tired of running.

  The crowd grows quieter as more and more turn their faces up to see me. At first, I hear incredulous chatter. Even some laughs. That can’t be Day, I imagine them muttering to one another. Some imposter. But the longer I stay here, the louder they get. Everyone has turned toward me now. My eyes wander over to where Anden is on his balcony; even he’s looking at me now. I hold my breath, hoping that he doesn’t decide to order me shot. Is he on my side?

  Then they’re all chanting my name. Day! Day! Day! I can hardly believe my ears. They’re chanting for me, and their voices echo down every block and reach every street. I stay frozen where I am, still clinging to my makeshift megaphone, unable to tear my eyes away from the crowds. I lift the speaker to my lips.

  “People of the Republic!” I shout. “Do you hear me?”

  My words blare out from every speaker in the square—probably every speaker in the country, for all I know. It startles me. The people below let out a cheer that makes the ground tremble. The soldiers must’ve gotten a hurried order from someone in Congress, because I see some of them hoist their weapons higher. A single bullet zips through the air and hits the glass, sparking as it goes. I don’t move.

  The Elector makes a quick gesture at the guards standing with him, and they all press a hand to their ears and talk into their mikes. Maybe he’s telling them not to harm me. I force myself to believe it.

  “I wouldn’t do that,” I shout in the direction that the lone bullet had come from. Keep yourself steady. The people’s cheers turn into a roar. “You don’t want an uprising, do you, Congress?”

  Day! Day! Day!

  “Today, Congress, I give you an ultimatum.” My eyes shift to the JumboTrons. “You’ve arrested a number of Patriots for a crime you are responsible for. Release them. All of them. If you don’t, I will call your people to action, and you will have a revolution on your hands. But probably not the kind you were hoping for.” The civilians scream out their approval. The chants continue at a feverish pitch.

  “People of the Republic.” They cheer me on as I continue. “Listen to me. Today, I give all of you an ultimatum.”

  Their chants go on until they realize that I’ve fallen silent, and then they too begin to quiet down. I hold the speaker closer. “My name is Day.” My voice fills the air. “I’ve fought the same injustices that you’re here to protest right now. I’ve suffered the same things you’ve suffered. Like you, I’ve watched my friends and family die at the hands of Republic soldiers.” I blink away the memories that threaten to overtake me. Keep going. “I’ve been starved, beaten, and humiliated. I’ve been tortured, insulted, and suppressed. I’ve lived in the slums with you. I’ve risked my life for you. And you’ve risked your lives for me. We have risked our lives for our country—not the country we live in now, but the country we hope to have. You are all, every single one of you, a hero.”

  Joyful cheers answer me, even as guards below try in vain to bring down and arrest stragglers, while other soldiers are trying fruitlessly to disable the rewired speaker system. Congress is afraid, I realize. They’re afraid of me, like they’ve always been. So I keep going—I tell the people what had happened to my mother and brothers, and what had happened to June. I tell them about the Patriots, and about the Senate’s attempt to assassinate Anden. I hope Razor’s listening to all this and seething. Throughout it all, the crowd’s attention never wavers.

  “Do you trust me?” I shout. The crowd answers with a unified voice. The sea of people and their deafening roars are overwhelming. If my mother was still here, if Dad and John were here, would they be smiling up at me right now? I take a deep, shuddering breath. Finish what you came here to do. I focus on the people, and on the young Elector. I gather my strength. Then I say the words I never ever thought I’d say.

  “People of the Republic, know your enemy. Your enemy is the Republic’s way of life, the laws and traditions that hold us down, the government that brought us here. The late Elector. Congress.” I raise my arm and point toward Anden. “But the new Elector is . . . Not. Your. Enemy!” The people grow silent. Their eyes are forever fixed on me. “You think your Congress wants to end the Trials, or help your families? It’s a lie.” I point at Anden when I say this, willing myself, for the first time, to trust him. “The Elector is young and ambitious, and he is not his father. He wa
nts to fight for you, just as I fight for you, but first he needs you to give him that chance. And if you put your might behind him and lift him up, he will lift us up. He will change things for us, one step at a time. He can build that country we all hope we can have. I came here tonight for you all—and for him. Do you trust me?” I lift my voice: “People of the Republic, do you trust me?”

  Silence. Then, a few chants. More join in. They raise their eyes and fists to me, their shouts ceaseless, a tide of change. “Then raise your voices for your Elector, as I have, and he will raise his for you!”

  The cheers are deafening, drowning out anything and everything. The young Elector keeps his eyes on me, and I realize, at last, that June is right. I don’t want to see the Republic collapse. I want to see it change.

  TWO DAYS HAVE PASSED. OR, MORE PRECISELY, FIFTY-two hours and eight minutes have passed since Day climbed to the top of the Capitol Tower and announced his support for our Elector. Whenever I close my eyes, I can still see him up there, his hair gleaming like a beacon of light against the night, his words ringing out clear and strong across the city and the country. Whenever I dream, I can feel the burn of his last kiss on my lips, the fire and fear behind his eyes. Every person in the Republic heard him that night. He gave power back to Anden and Anden won over the country, all in one blow.

  This is my second day in a hospital chamber on the outskirts of Denver. The second afternoon without Day at my side. In a room several doors down, Day is undergoing the same tests, both to ensure his health and make sure the Colonies didn’t implant any monitoring devices in his head. He’s going to be reunited with his brother at any minute. My doctor has arrived to check on my recovery—but he won’t be doing it in any sort of privacy. In fact, when I study my room’s ceiling, I see security cameras at every corner, broadcasting my image live to the public. The Republic is afraid to give people even the slightest sense that Day and I aren’t being taken care of.