Illegal King

by Mason Dakota

  I lay on the ground, dehydrated from exhausted tears and hungry with no memory of my last meal. Had it been days since I had eaten? The pounding in my skull ached too much for me to even remember that simple detail. I couldn’t even recall what Chamberlain and Alison had served at their wedding.

  A lifetime has slipped away since then.

  If I focused hard enough, I could remember what was important at that joyous day. I could remember the miracle of Chamberlain standing. Alison’s face when she saw him. The look they shared in their eyes when they exchanged their vows. The cheers of joy at their kiss. The feeling within me when I saw Evelyn. The words Chamberlain spoke to me at the wedding. The touch of Evelyn’s skin when we danced.

  Every second of it a lifetime away now.

  There was a deep pain and fatigue in my bones. Things were different now, though. Pain was still present and still crippling but the ache of the virus was gone. I felt cured and knew it to be true. Raven had saved me.

  I had survived—only because an assassin had mercy for me—only to await an execution I had no chance of surviving. Every card had been spent and lost at the table, leaving me numb and hopeless. Gabriel was dead. I was going to die next. My friends were going to die. And all because we did what was right.

  So this is a hero’s reward? I should have switched sides a long time ago.

  From the door opening I watched several armed soldiers storm into the cell with blaster rifles and shifters. I wondered if they decided on a firing squad instead of a hanging. Maybe those blasters are so powerful I wouldn’t feel a thing. I would only see a flash of red before it was all over. I think I would very much like that if I could choose. I was getting so sick of pain.

  Familiar it was, but a cold lover even still.

  One of the soldiers approached me. He held a scanner of some sort. He scanned each of my cuffs and one by one they clicked open and fell to the floor. Immediately, two soldiers grabbed me and hoisted me up onto my feet. They forced me to walk. I did so at a limping pace.

  My wounds had been bandaged and cared for just enough to ensure I would live long enough for a public execution. I don’t ever remember seeing the doctors—maybe it was during one of my nightmare sessions, but I found it oddly amusing there were eight soldiers escorting a crippled man out of a cell. Maybe that level of respectful attention was its own small reward.

  I never tried to resist them. I had already given up. I just wanted death to be over with. I had danced with death for too long to be afraid of it. Maybe a darker part of me had decided that I had suffered enough for a people who hated me, a people who wanted me to be their villain even after every sacrifice I had made for them. If my efforts accomplished nothing more than for me to be hated, despised, and rejected, then I was done with this game. Death is a cruel dance partner and doesn’t like others to lead.

  Who knows? Maybe my perspective had always been warped. I never thought of myself as a hero, but I at least considered myself a good—well maybe decent—guy. But if the rest of the world thought differently, maybe they were on to something. I might really be the villain in all this. After all, I did destroy the best chance my people had of surviving an inevitable war. Good intentions didn’t matter if doing something good meant those I care for paid the heaviest price.

  Too bad it’s too late to change sides and have a do-over.

  They led me down a series of hallways of cemented windowless walls, possibly an underground bunker or prison—maybe even outside of Chicago. After ten minutes of a limping gait the soldiers forced me into a white room so clean it sparkled. A central desk made of glass with a cushioned chair sat up against one wall. Against the opposite wall were eight chairs. In each chair sat a handcuffed person. An empty chair waited for me.

  I gasped when I saw my fellow prisoners and a rush of joy overwhelmed me. There they all sat: Evelyn, Erikson, Alison, Michael, Chamberlain, and even Thomas and Lorre. Each of them looked as beaten and hurting as me. Upon seeing me they all smiled.

  Well, except for Erikson and Lorre. Lorre never smiles and Erikson is a jerk.

  But seeing their faces reminded me of why I did what I always did. It was because of them. These people—these wonderful and dysfunctional people—were my family. They made me a better man, made me want to be a better man. Because of them, I wasn’t a lost monster. I wasn’t a villain, and I knew so because if I were the villain, they were, too. And these were the best people I knew.

  Without them, I would be an entirely different person…

  I opened my mouth to say something but was too late. I was rudely interrupted by a swift kick in the back that knocked me to the floor. “No stalling! Sit and remain quiet! Speak and we start shooting,” barked a soldier. Strong arms picked me up off the ground and forced me into the empty chair. More handcuffs locked in place on my right arm, waist, and legs. The chairs were bolted to the ground.

  The soldiers all stood there, terrifying in their red battle armor in a white room. Their blasters pointed at us. There were seventeen of them. Their threat didn’t take away the smile on my face when I saw Thomas and Lorre. I couldn’t speak to them, but I could look at them and nod at each one of my friends—skipping Erikson’s gaze of course. I think they understood my message.

  We were going to die, but at least we were going to die together—as a family. That made two small rewards for the day so far.

  Moments later a set of automatic doors on the far wall by the desk opened and in strode four more guards… and Emperor Adam Rythe.

  Rage quickly replaced joy and I found no restraint in my voice. I immediately screamed, “MURDERER! You killed him, you monster!” If I was going to die, I would at least use the gift of my tongue God gave me to say what I wanted.

  As soon as I spoke every blaster in the room moved to me. I heard countless clicks of weapons being primed and ready to fire. I wondered what twenty-one blaster rifles would do to me if they fired…and what would be left. They might have killed me then if the Emperor hadn’t quickly shouted, “Hold your fire!”

  Mercy from a monster. Another small reward. That’s three victories more than my usual daily quota.

  Very slowly the guns lowered and the Emperor strode a step closer to me.

  “Let Griffon have his say. We owe him that much. After all, he saved Chicago’s Noble population,” he said.

  “You vile insect! You murdered an innocent man and framed me of crimes you committed!”

  “Now Griffon, I think we both know Gabriel, the director of Nebula, was far from being an innocent man. But before you cast judgment on me, you should know that he willingly turned himself in.”

  “You lie!”

  “See for yourself,” said the Emperor as he pushed a button on the desk. Part of the wall opened to reveal a large monitor screen. It played a video of Gabriel and Adam standing in some sort of office. I saw the faintly visible, fake tattoo on Gabriel’s neck, and he was wearing the same clothes I had last seen him in.

  Was this his idea of rescuing Thomas and Lorre—by meeting with Adam Rythe?

  “Are we at an agreement then? I surrender and in exchange you promise that Griffon and any arrested with him won’t be executed, but instead imprisoned,” Gabriel said on the screen.

  “You ask too much to have me treat a few Outcasts like they were Nobles,” said Adam in the video.

  “That is my price. I give you what you want, and you give me what I want.”

  “Are you giving me an order, Gabriel?” Adam feigned shock and outrage.

  “Yes,” said Gabriel. There was an icy venom in his voice and a threat in his stare. A spark of fear flickered behind Adam’s eyes.

  “You…the leader of Nebula…wish to trade your life for some scoundrels? I’m intrigued to know why.”

  “I’ve been running from you for a very long time, Adam, and I’ve done a lot of damage to your regime in that time. Be happy I’m turning myself in peacefully. Accept the deal.”

  “Oh, I’m happy. Don’t get m
e wrong. That response, however, failed to answer my question, Gabriel.”

  Gabriel hesitated in the video before taking a deep breath and saying, “Because the key to getting the war you want is not with me, it’s with Griffon. Rebels will flock to Richard. The key to controlling him is Griffon, and the key to controlling Griffon will be his allies. It’s always been about him. No matter what you do, he’s going to be the one to decide how your war will go. He will be your greatest enemy…and your greatest ally. You can’t see it, but you can respect my judgment enough to use that for your advantage.”

  “You seem sure I will catch Griffon,” said Adam.

  “Don’t play games with me Adam. We both know you’ve had this planned for too long. You’ve manipulated Richard to start this war, and I am not unaware of what lengths you’ll go to make it happen. Catching Griffon and all those with him is inevitable. What I am asking is that you don’t kill him. Keep him alive and he will prove beneficial to you—so long as you also keep those he cares about alive as well. Otherwise your plans will fail.”

  “Am I to consider a pick-pocketer a threat to my throne?”

  Gabriel only smiled.

  “There is something you’re not telling me, Gabriel. Shall I have my men torture it out of you before I have you executed?”

  “We both know you would never get anything out of me.”

  “Then should I just have my men enter this room and kill you for threatening your Emperor?”

  Gabriel smiled and said, “That would be an unfortunate command for your men to follow. Do it and your men die and the deal is off the table. Don’t make me your enemy, Adam.”

  “You dare threaten me?”

  Gabriel chuckled under his breath and said, “I have toppled governments for this Empire and in spite of this Empire. Maybe the time has come for me to topple this Empire. Care to take that risk?”

  Adam hid his face behind a glass of brandy, but I like to imagine he was hiding his fear from Gabriel. He gulped down his entire drink, set the empty glass on the table, and said, “So I take this deal, and in exchange for getting you, Griffon…and his den of thieves are spared an execution and are promised imprisoned?”

  “Yes.”

  The Emperor straightened up in the video and said, “You must care very deeply for them.”

  “They’re worth it. You wouldn’t understand,” Gabriel whispered.

  He traded his life for ours?

  Eighty-Seven

  The video went black and the wall closed itself back up.

  I opened and closed my mouth several times before managing to say, “Gabriel…did that? He traded his life…”

  “For a group of thieves, killers, and liars. Quite shocking if you knew the man the way I did. But I couldn’t miss the opportunity to decapitate both Nebula and this Shaman nonsense in one blow. A noble and pointless sacrifice.”

  “You…you were behind everything. You could have unleashed a plague on your people!”

  “My people were never at any real risk. I had the cure long before your father ever heard of the virus and stole it. At most I would have only lost the Noble population in Chicago. A single city means nothing when compared to what’s to gain.”

  “You planned for this to happened?” asked Erikson.

  “Precisely. I let the creation of this virus slip into his hands to tempt him. As expected, Richard couldn’t resist stealing it. I needed the Nobles of this world united in my agenda and leadership, and for that to happen they needed an enemy they feared and wanted gone. But it had to be someone that didn’t connect back to me so none would suspect I orchestrated this.”

  “Griffon…” answered Evelyn.

  Adam smiled and nodded. “Quite perfect. Richard wanted a war as much as I. He needed the tools to make it happen, and I needed the leverage to control him once it started.”

  “So Richard is your terrorist, but you’ve framed Griffon in order to control Richard and ensure your plan’s success. Griffon’s nothing but blackmail to you,” said Lorre.

  Adam raised his hands and said, “I’m just sorry I had good men die in the process to make this all happen.”

  I felt like I had been stabbed. I gasped and struggled to breathe. I leaned back in my chair and blinked away the perspiration forming above my eyebrow. I couldn’t believe it. All of this, all the mayhem, death, and disease resulted from a single mad-man playing a long game of chess to get his Holocaust.

  “Why. Why do you hate us so much?” I whispered.

  Emperor Adam Rythe straightened up. “Your species ruined this world before ours was born. If it was not for our conquering this world would be uninhabitable. But kings cannot lay their heads down in a bed full of rats. It’s time we returned to a singular species on top of the food chain instead of maintaining the lie that your people matter or are needed. However, I couldn’t simply start killing Outcasts on such a scale without cause and support. You’d flee in masses to other countries, and I would be dethroned by sympathetic Nobles. No, this had to be a global agenda. For that I needed Nobles to fear your kind, and my efforts have worked. Now I have their support and soon this world will be rid of the plague that has haunted it for centuries.”

  “And what about us? What about Griffon?” Alison asked.

  “When all the Outcasts on this planet are dead, I will come back to gather you from the dark hole you will be put in and I will end your lives then as the final Outcasts. I couldn’t be doing this without you, Griffon. Nobles would be dying if not for you. So how else am I to properly thank you other than to kill you last.”

  There had never been hope for victory. The game was rigged against me from the start—probably since the day I was born. I am only one man—nothing more than a resentful thief at heart. I never stood a chance against an Emperor! All I could do was just sit back silently and accept fate. There was no changing this.

  No one would be coming to our rescue.

  The victorious Emperor Adam Rythe looked at the weak and beaten Chamberlain, the only one yet to speak, pointed his finger, and said. “I promised Gabriel I would spare you and your friends, Griffon. But I must alter my agreement. I will not permit an Illegal to live. Let Gabriel roll over in his grave. This abomination will die.”

  I might have given up, but someone forgot to tell Chamberlain that the game was over. He wasn’t going to surrender like me.

  “I knew a day would come when we finally met, like a serpent meeting a boot,” said Chamberlain.

  Rythe looked offended that Chamberlain spoke to him to begin with. He spun on Chamberlain and shouted, “How dare you even speak to me, Illegal! I don’t know how you managed to live so long, abomination, but that’s going to be corrected very soon!”

  “I have the freedom to speak to you however I like,” said Chamberlain.

  Adam slapped Chamberlain across the jaw and said, “You have no freedoms. You are a mistake—a parasite I am going to exterminate!”

  Chamberlain cocked his head to the side and asked, “Would my father have punished you for that?”

  “Your father deserves death for raising an Illegal.”

  “He’s dead. You killed him already.”

  Adam smiled. “Good. You’ll see him soon.”

  Chamberlain straighten his back in his seat, lifted his chin proudly, and said, “His name was Bretton—as in former Emperor Bretton.”

  Emperor Bretton…as in the Emperor who ruled prior to Adam murdering him in a coup to take his throne thirty years ago. But that would mean…

  …Chamberlain was the rightful heir to the Noble Empire!

  You could have heard a pin drop in that room. Everyone—even the soldiers standing around—were stunned silent. My heart raced. I felt my pupils increasing in size. It took longer than it should have to release the breath that I had sucked in. Questions raced through my mind as my mouth involuntarily moved about like it was chewing information.

  Chamberlain Blair… the son of an Emperor? But how? How is it possible that my
best friend could be royalty as an Illegal?

  Chamberlain had a wicked smile on his face and even strapped to a chair he looked dangerous. Adam, going from shock to disbelief to rage in an instant, stumbled back a few steps. A second passed in silence, then another. The tension built with each held breath. Adam looked like a man watching his worst fear come true. Thirty years ago his first act in office had been to order the killing of every Illegal. Right then it became clear, his goal even then had been to kill Chamberlain, and now, after thirty years of blood and death, he had failed to squash his deepest fear. He wanted the throne, even had it, but if Chamberlain was alive it meant it could be taken from him.

  The biggest threat to the Emperor of the world was a humble Illegal with the right to be King.

  Adam turned to all the soldiers in the back of the room and said, “This man is a liar! He is not to be believed. That is an order.”

  “Angelia Foss,” shouted Chamberlain, “a beautiful Outcast, was a servant in the Emperor’s home. She and the Emperor fell in love, and she became pregnant. He was going to abolish the restrictions between the species so he could marry her, until this discovery led to your coup. You took his throne. You tried to have Angelia—my mother—killed. But my father got Angelia far away from you. A soldier hid her here in Chicago, had her name changed to Linda Blair, and she gave birth to a son—me. I think you always knew that there was still a chance she and I lived, so your first act as Emperor was to order the genocide of every Imperial Illegal, but you failed. Your past always catches up to you, Adam,” said Chamberlain.

  Adam looked as though a ghost had sucked the life out of him. His face went solid white, filled with dread and fear and evil under the skin of his marble cheeks. His reaction made me a believer.

  Is this what Gabriel meant by a secret that could change the world? Is this why Nebula protected Chamberlain by keeping him a secret his entire life? Was it because they knew he was really the heir to the throne?