Halfblood Journey

by Rheaume, Laura

  Meruge’s hand was back on her shoulder and it suddenly weighed a hundred pounds; she felt herself being driven forcefully downward. As her knees crashed into the ground, lancing her with a stabbing pain that made her cry out, the woman in front of her was shot: her chest was knocked back and her arms flew out to each side. Then she was falling, too, just like Mercy. The only difference between them was that she fell like a rock onto her back and Mercy was pushed forward onto her stomach by Meruge, who cursed and dropped to his knees next to her.

  Mercy would have cursed too, because it really hurt, but she was having trouble breathing. She tried again to suck air into her lungs, but they were among the things in her chest that were not working right. Her arm, with its pair of red scratches, lay in front of her face, blocking most of her view. Someone had told her about that, about the scratches. Who was it again? Someone important...She wished someone like that would have come instead of these guys.

  She tilted her head and saw above her the soldier who had wanted to tape her mouth. He was hunched over, staring down at his stomach. She blinked, because he was getting fuzzier.

  Mercy felt a wave of exhaustion flow over her and she gave in to her heavy eyelids. It felt good to shut out the stinging smoke and the annoying light...

  Voices from behind her haunted the deepening fog. Something about being sloppy...That irritated her. Everyone was always criticizing her, even strangers. Didn’t they know that it was their ways that were strange, not hers? She was getting really sick of it.

  Now they wanted her to get up. No, too sleepy, she argued, noticing that things weren’t hurting so much anymore, not her fingers or her head. Not even the fire in her chest.

  -----------

  He stared at the blank, cracked screen, unable to believe what had happened. It had been damaged in the fight, probably when he had thrown himself down when the grenade went off. Involuntarily, he cringed as the doctor pulled out the next shard from his back, another unfortunate result of that decision. His whole backside was covered with them, and some were in deep enough that the Kin man had to work hard to get them out.

  “Try to be still,” the doctor said from above him.

  “Please hurry,” Scythe urged. It had already taken up fifteen precious minutes, and the man had barely gone past his shoulders. “Even better, just take the major ones, and I’ll get the smaller ones removed later.”

  “Still.”

  Scythe grit his teeth and tried to relax. He was laid out on a bed in one of the few rooms that was not either partially blown up or damaged by gunfire. At first, he had been torn between the urge to leave immediately and the need to stay and have his injuries attended to. Temper had made him see the harsh reality that he wasn't in any shape to help others. So, he had agreed to a light inspection of his back; it had turned into an infuriatingly time consuming operation. The doctor insisted it was necessary treatment, and from what he could tell, the Kin was right, but Scythe was extremely unhappy about how long it was taking.

  “You will need stitches for several of these,” the man mentioned offhandedly.

  Shit.

  “Could you please call Temper?” he asked. When the man hesitated, he added, “I’ll be able to relax better if I can speak with her.”

  That seemed like a good trade-off to the doctor, so he strode quickly out of the room and returned within a minute with the Kin woman.

  She frowned at what she saw of Scythe’s bare back. “That must be very painful. Can we get you something for it?”

  “I had some aspirin. That is all I need for now.” There was no way he was going to take anything more potent. He couldn’t afford to have his wits dulled. He held up his tablet. “I need this repaired right away.”

  She took it and turned it over, “It is more than the screen, the board has been bent...It may take a while. Why don’t I get you another for you to use…”

  “No, it has to be this one. I need the information on it to locate her.”

  “The hard drive is damaged,” she said doubtfully.

  “I know,” he closed his eyes, trying to quell his growing impatience.

  “I will see what I can do. Scythe, there is a thing that is bothering me…”

  He opened his eyes and tilted his head to look up at her.

  “Do not move,” the doctor reminded him. He began working on a particularly deep piece of glass, and it felt like he was sticking a blade into the skin instead of pulling something out of it.

  Scythe tried to breath shallowly so his back wouldn’t rise and fall any more than necessary. He asked Temper, his voice reduced to a breath, “What?”

  “Mercy said there were three arrows, but we have only two men here.”

  “There were more that came down the chimney into the outer room.” There was a whole team of men littering the floor of the round hall. The Humans had managed to bypass all of the formidable security by moving outside the building and scaling what had been considered until that night an impossible feat. The outside of the immense, cone-shaped chimney was one of the most impressive sights in Quo Ire. It was completely covered with flat copper sheets that were joined from underneath in such a way as to have no indentations or ridges. Besides being smooth, it was also extremely steep. It was still unclear to the investigation unit how they had been able to ascend it--not to mention eliminate four separate outer security teams--quickly and quietly enough to avoid being detected.

  “Yes, but Mercy clearly said that the man shot three arrows, one each at the dragon’s wife and child and one at the King. I only see two clear arrows.”

  Scythe said, “You think there might be another attempt.” The doctor’s hands had stopped moving.

  “Yes,” she said reluctantly.

  “Who did you tell?”

  “I wasn’t sure how I should mention it, but I will inform my cousin of my suspicions now,” she said, turning to go.

  “And the guards and the captain of security,” Scythe called.

  She nodded, passing through the door.

  Another sharp pain lanced through his back as the doctor continued his work. Scythe pressed his forehead into the mattress and counted the seconds between each slow breath.

  -----------

  Why did people fear the dark? It was so quiet and safe. Nothing here to hurt or scare you. Nothing and no one to worry about. The dark wasn’t so bad.

  Waking up was bad because it brought the pain with it. Mercy tried not waking up, twice, but it turned out she didn’t get a choice.

  Someone moaned when she tried to roll over on the cold, hard floor; she immediately rolled back when her ribs caught on fire.

  Holy shit. That hurt.

  Breathing in hurt, breathing out hurt, moving at all hurt like crazy. Where was the dark when you needed it?

  She painstakingly moved her throbbing head enough to look around the room. Only a little bit of light shone in from a small, high window behind her head. She was in what looked like a locker room, with a couple of long, skinny benches and some metal cabinets along the wall. Past her feet, she saw that the only door was closed.

  She lay there facing up at the ceiling and trying to breathe with only tiny, shallow movements. She lifted her sore, stiff hands, grateful that they were no longer tied up, and ran her fingers over the huge bump and a couple of tender spots on her head. Then she felt around her chest. What she found chilled the skin on her face and made her dizzy. The vest they had made her wear was still there, but it was messed up in two places, just below the holes in her shirt. Underneath it all, it felt like she’d been hit with a bat about fifty times. Tears began to pool in the corner of her eyes and her nose started tingling.

  I almost died. I should have died.

  The crying made the pain worse, but she couldn’t stop. He tried to tell her. He knew. He had been worried because he knew that the bullets didn’t care if she had seen a vision of herself when she was older.

  You must take care, Mercy. I really don’t like that scent.r />
  She had told him, had believed that she would be fine, but she had been stupid. Again. When was she going to learn? When was she going to stop being so incredibly naive?

  She made a tiny whining noise when one trembling finger rolled over a round, metal bump that was stuck in the vest.

  I should have died.

  She never worried about herself. She worried about them, the people she loved. However, because she was so careless, they were always anxious about her. They had to worry because she didn’t care about herself.

  I do, though, she argued with herself. I care about myself.

  Then why are you so weak?! Why are you so incredibly stupid?! Why are you lying here with a couple of bullets in your chest?

  She knew that if she had died, it would have hurt them terribly. She thought of her father, the person she was closest to. She thought of how he would have suffered if she had died, and she cried harder. Her gentle, kind father...didn’t deserve that.

  It was her fault. She knew it was her fault, because she just expected everyone else to watch over her. Her parents, the border patrol, Scythe, everyone. She was just a huge burden on them. She had even told herself that she was going to try to grow up, but it was just a load of bull. Lying to herself, lying to them…

  She jumped, and then moaned at what that did to her, when the door clicked and opened.

  “You up, heh?” a young man asked her, walking in with a tray which he set on the bench next to her. “How you feeling?” His eyes widened when he noticed her blotchy face, and he deliberately looked away from it, focusing on her shirt with concern. “You got pretty lucky, miss. Bet it hurts, though, am I right?”

  “Where am I?” she asked, wondering why he was being so friendly.

  “Well, this is just one of our holes for now. Want some help up?” He held out a hand.

  A slight shift convinced her that she never wanted to move again. “No. Am I a prisoner or something?”

  “Yeah, well, something like that. I’m not really sure. I’m just the food guy...and the clean up guy. I cleaned up some nasty scratches you had and one cut...” He paused when he saw her expression.

  Something like a prisoner. Her chest burned again, but she fought the tears this time. She didn’t want to show him how weak she was. As a matter of fact, she just didn’t want to be weak. Since she knew that if she talked she’d probably just cry, she just clamped her jaw tightly and stared at the ceiling.

  “Here, want some of this?” he held out some kind of sandwich. “I have juice, too.”

  “No,” she said, because she wasn’t hungry at all and the idea of moving enough to sit up was beyond horrible.

  “Okay, I’ll just leave it here.” He got up and opened the door. “If you need something, just holler and someone will hear.”

  She nodded reflexively before she caught herself, and then wondered why she trusted people so easily. If she had met him in line at the market, she would have probably chatted with him the whole time. If he had lived in her neighborhood, they might have been friends. How could he be so kind and also be a terrorist?

  And how could she be so dumb as to not know that someone could be both?

  Chapter 27

  Temper sat by her cousin’s wife, who was recovering slowly from the night’s events. The woman was talking aimlessly, mostly to comfort herself, but Temper was paying very little attention to it. She was mentally reviewing the information that Mercy had given her about her vision.

  Now that it was clear that the girl’s visions were not just fanciful dreams, but visions of the future that she herself could verify, she knew that she would have to submit an addendum to her report. What it would mean for the girl, she could easily guess, and she wasn't pleased with it in the least. She had put those troublesome thoughts aside, however, as she tried to recall what she had said about the last arrow, the one aimed at the Dragon himself. She wasn’t having much success. She had already informed the King and his security of her suspicions and they had taken her seriously, increasing the number of guards and sending out extra patrols to look for potential trouble. So far, nothing else had come to light.

  There was a large group of people milling about which included the King's advisors, high ranking military officers, and some members of their family. There were also some ten guards in the room and many more in the Hall of Fire. It hardly seemed like a time to worry about the King’s safety. However, that was what she had thought earlier.

  “Let me pass! I’ve served the King and his father before him for thirty years!” the outraged voice of their earlier guide, the King’s steward, echoed down the hall. The King nodded to one of his advisors, who walked around the still significant piles of rubble, broken furniture and glass until he passed out of their sight. He could be heard speaking quietly to the guard and within a moment, returned with the old steward by his side.

  Temper watched the old man who had been a good and trusted friend to her family all her life cross the room in a rush. He huffed and pulled the sleeve of his blue uniform out of the advisor’s light grip. She stood and casually walked over to stand by her cousin, signaling to her kinswoman with a wave that she would return momentarily.

  “My Lord! I can hardly believe what has happened! Did the halfblood do all this? I am so sorry, my King. We should never have permitted such a…”

  “Calm yourself, Yagre. I and my family are fine, but, let us have no talk of the incident, and certainly no talk of halfbloods.”

  “Of course, my Lord! Your Highness would never subject himself to such vulgarity! Please, accept my apologies.” He bowed low and held it, his head and back bent down as far as they would go. When he straightened, he asked, “Why don’t I bring you something to eat?”

  “That would be welcome, my old friend.”

  “Yes, of course, my Lord! Right away!” He hurried out of the room and within moments returned with a tray laden with various delicious smelling treats: small sandwiches, puffed pastries filled with meat or creamed cheese, sliced fruit, cheese squares and sweet sugared rice balls.

  “Come, let’s eat!” The King said, clapping his hands loudly. Then he looked at Yagre keenly, “You, first, old friend.”

  The man blinked and his heart missed a beat. “My Lord. It is not my place.”

  The Blood Dragon laughed, “Tonight, nothing is in its place. Come, what will you try? I’m sure you know that the meat pastries are my favorite and have been since I was a child. Why not try one?” He reached over and held one up.

  “I couldn’t my lord…” His eyes were as big as a Human’s, and they didn’t move from the golden pastry held in front of him. He seemed to be unaware that he was shaking very slightly.

  Iron rang through the room, and several observers flinched when it hit them, “I insist.”

  The man’s hand shook as he took it. They all watched as he stared at it for a moment. Then, his shoulders slumped and he bowed his head. “My Lord, it has been my honor to serve you.” He put the whole thing in his mouth and chewed, his eyes on the floor.

  “Hold this man,” the King ordered, and then said to Temper, “I believe we will need your friend once more tonight, cousin.” He added, when the man before him began to choke, “Quickly now.”

  -----------

  Ian was in a panic. They had been searching for hours and hadn’t found a thing. The attacks had finally stopped and the city was strangely quiet, as if it were still in shock.

  Certainly that was how the majority of people looked in the streets: dumbfounded. This was the Capital, after all, the center of Kin government and society, a city that hadn’t seen violence in over two hundred years. Terrorist attacks were what happened in far away places, like obscure bordertowns; explosions, fires, insurgents randomly murdering the innocent...these were things only seen on the television, which made watching them kind of like watching a movie or a show. Somewhere not too far down in the subconscious, the viewer didn’t really believe it had happened. And if they did, well..
.it only happened to those people…

  It couldn’t happen here. It couldn’t happen to us.

  Their military truck had been spotted and attacked by terrorists shortly after losing track of Anora. She had been right behind them before the explosions started going off throughout the center of the city. When they noticed that she had fallen behind, they circled back to find her, but were penned in by two jeeps on a small side street. A host of rifles and a few warning shots encouraged them to follow directions and file out of the truck. Instead of killing them outright as Ian had expected when they were forced to line up along the wall, the terrorists, after making a quick call, detained them and then made preparations to transport them.

  They were divided into two groups, and despite his protests, he was separated from Mercy, who was loaded into the first jeep with Steven and the injured man they had picked up with Anora’s help. When her jeep pulled away, Ian saw his first opportunity to act without jeopardizing anyone in their group. He used his power to shield them as well as deal some lethal damage, and together with the obviously experienced and well trained Orin and Jin, he was able to overcome the remaining group before a minute had passed.

  After restraining and loading the two surviving soldiers onto the very seats that were meant for them, they followed after the first jeep. Since they had to carefully go around two other rebel groups that were in the area, it took them longer than it should have to locate the vehicle that had carried Mercy and Steven away. A short time later, they found it, turned over and smoking; it had been shot up heavily and the fuel tank had ignited. In and around the wreckage were bodies of Kin police forces as well as some of the terrorists that they had seen mere minutes before. Steven they found riddled with bullets. They also found their own captive, alive, but in even worse shape than before after having been thrown from the vehicle. Mercy was not among them. At first, he had been grateful to find her missing instead of dead, but, as the search for her stretched on and on, relief was replaced with a bone gripping fear.