Rebellion

by Rachel White

  Table of Contents

  Rebellion

  Book Details

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Rebellion

  THE EXALTED – ONE

  RACHEL WHITE

  When Rallis's country, Adesa, is invaded by the technologically-advanced sky nation of Jev, all he wants is to keep his head down, avoid attention, and survive. That would be easier if Rallis wasn't half-Jevite, and his cousin weren't muttering about rebellion.

  Then Rallis is approached by Amun, a soldier in the Jevite legion, who is seeking an opponent in the game kha. Though Rallis would prefer not to be anywhere near him, he reluctantly agrees—and discovers Amun to be friendly, kind, and intelligent. As they continue to play khas, the two grow steadily closer, and Rallis finds his allegiances torn.

  Then his cousin is arrested for resistance, and Rallis's world completely falls apart.

  Rebellion

  The Exalted #1

  By Rachel White

  Published by Less Than Three Press LLC

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner without written permission of the publisher, except for the purpose of reviews.

  Edited by James Loke Hale

  Cover designed by V. Rios

  This book is a work of fiction and all names, characters, places, and incidents are fictional or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual people, places, or events is coincidental.

  First Edition November 2018

  Copyright © 2018 by Rachel White

  Printed in the United States of America

  Digital ISBN 9781684313853

  Print ISBN 9781684314317

  Chapter One

  Unnday, Rallis went to pick up Miana's medicine, since she was desperately in need of it.

  He was late doing so. Miana's supply had been running low for days because she was deep in the throes of an episode and because the sticky, wet summer air was terrible for her cough, but he had been resistant to go out. Another Jevite legionnaire had just been killed, and Jev was coming down on Adesa very hard: increased patrols, new regulations, a strict curfew. It was hard to take on the risk.

  But Miana's illness was getting worse, so he gritted his teeth and left the motherhouse for the physician's shop and spent half an hour waiting for Physician Gerr to see him, listening to the hum of Jevite fliers overhead, hoping there would be no trouble on his journey home.

  Physician Gerr—a younger daughter of House Gerr—was an older woman, narrow and spindly and brusque. She passed the bundle of Miana's medicine to Rallis with no pleasantries. "It's seven now."

  Rallis tucked the bundle into his bag. "Seven?"

  "Seven." Gerr's gaze was sympathetic but uncompromising. She held out her hand. Rallis counted out seven coins and dropped them into her waiting palm.

  "It's more than it used to be," he said, keeping his voice casual.

  "Jevite law says ten percent to the Empire. My House needs to make a living same as yours." Gerr deposited the coins into the metal lockbox she kept on her at all times. She hadn't always been so cautious, but between the constant barrage of demands and rules from Jev and the desperation that was growing among the poorer Adesi, resources were becoming scarcer. It was no longer wise to be open about your money or your possessions. Miana, as Head of Rallis's motherhouse, had recently ordered new bars installed on all the outside windows and the door to the main courtyard.

  "I'm not complaining," Rallis told her. "I'll remember next time."

  "I know you weren't. Tell your Head hello for me. If her cough grows worse, let me know."

  "I will."

  Medicine in hand, Rallis set out for home. It was a twenty-minute walk from the physician's to the motherhouse through the market using side streets, which made him a little nervous. That hadn't been dangerous before the war either, but now the alleyways seemed darker and stranger than they used to. And it wasn't just Adesi cutthroats lurking in the shadows; if he encountered Jevite legionnaires, one wrong word might find him taken to the Red Square for imprisonment or torture or worse.

  Jevite legionnaires. He was seeing more and more of those lately. After Treaty Day, the Jevite emissary to Kavck had assured them publicly that Jev didn't mean—had never meant—to invade. Only to visit, supplement their resources with Adesa's—for Adesa had so much and Jev so little, and surely there was no harm in sharing?—and then they would all return to where they had come from, the citadels in the sky.

  Six months since Treaty Day now, and there were more Jevites in Adesa than ever. Legionnaires and their officers but civilians too. A sprawling temple to the Exalted was being constructed just north of the Yy motherhouse. When Rallis walked down the street, he often heard snippets of conversation in Jevite. They never intended to leave.

  He looked up at the sky, squinting to make out the Jevite citadels. They were just visible against the pale blue, small dots floating among the clouds. He had never been up there. Very few Adesi had, even before the war, for Jev was proud and antisocial and looked down on other countries, when it wasn't subjugating its neighbors for resources. Grimly, Rallis walked on and reached the motherhouse just in time to see a Jevite flier land before the front gate.

  Sick alarm rose in his throat as a legionnaire dismounted and approached. Was he there for Naravi or Miana? Though Naravi was the likelier candidate, considering everything he had been doing lately, Miana was Head of House Yy, and Jev was still trying to break Adesi spirits. They had already butchered most of the House Heads during the All Council massacre seven months prior, including Rallis's aunt, leaving Miana to take her place. He had thought that would be enough, but perhaps the legionnaire had come to finish the job. He would catch Miana ill and unguarded and unaware.

  Rallis intercepted the legionnaire just as he reached for the bell beside the front gate. "What's going on?" he asked. "Who are you looking for?"

  The legionnaire inspected him. "What's your name, citizen?" he asked in thickly accented Adesi.

  "Rallis Yy." He held out his hand, showing his House ring. The legionnaire didn't appear to recognize it. "I'm a member of this House. What is this about?"

  "Rallis Yy? Lieutenant Taarq has order me to bring you to the north garrison. Turn around."

  "Me?" said Rallis, disoriented. Expecting Naravi or Miana, the idea that he was the one in trouble threw him off. Had he done something in particular that would attract attention, or was it just bad luck? He didn't even know which one was Lieutenant Taarq, though the legionnaire spoke the name as though it meant something. "Why?"

  "Lieutenant Taarq has ordered it. Turn around."

  "Fine." Rallis turned around and managed not to lash out on reflex when the legionnaire, without warning, yanked both arms behind his back and clapped a restraint into place. It probably was just his bad luck. He had looked at Lieutenant Taarq wrong in the street or said the wrong thing to the wrong person. Maybe Lieutenant Taarq just didn't like his face.

  "Am I under arrest?"

  "This is procedure." The legionnaire pushed him forward, and Rallis went obediently toward the l
ittle two-person flier waiting nearby.

  There was hardly any room inside, and Rallis's arms were already starting to ache. The legionnaire flew erratically, dipping very low and then arching into the sky. By the time they landed in front of the north garrison, a squat, dark building that had once been a merchants' hall, Rallis was nauseated, dizzy, and nursing a pounding headache.

  He stumbled out and nearly fell on his face; only the legionnaire's firm grip on his upper arm keeping him upright. "This way," said the legionnaire tonelessly, marching him toward the garrison. Inside, they passed more legionnaires, clerks and assistants, the occasional well-dressed Jevite civilian. Finally, the legionnaire stopped him in front of a small office. The nameplate on the door was written in Jevite script.

  The legionnaire rapped on the door. "Lieutenant Taarq, I've brought Rallis Yy," he said in Jevite, mispronouncing Rallis's mothername, "as requested, sir."

  "Come in."

  The legionnaire opened the door and pushed Rallis none-too-gently through the doorway. Inside, a man in a Jevite officer's uniform was standing over a paper-covered desk, leaning down to write something. He was young and tall and lanky, with dark skin and close-cropped dark hair, and Rallis vaguely remembered seeing him on Treaty Day. Lieutenant Taarq, presumably.

  The legionnaire cleared his throat. "Shall I remain, sir? In case he causes trouble?"

  "Trouble?" Lieutenant Taarq repeated. He looked up from the desk and his eyes widened. "You restrained him?" he snapped. "He's not a prisoner! I said invite him here, not arrest him."

  "Sir—"

  "Release him immediately and then go."

  "Yes, sir." The legionnaire fumbled with the restraints; they sprang open with a click, and Rallis's arms were free again, sore and tense, his shoulders and back aching. He stretched one arm and then the other as the legionnaire hurried out and Lieutenant Taarq looked on with what appeared to be sincere apology.

  "Forgive me," he said, his Adesi clear and practiced, displaying only a mild accent. "You're not under arrest. I hope you weren't treated poorly."

  "Your legionnaires don't know how to pilot their fliers."

  Lieutenant Taarq sighed. "They're not used to this atmosphere. It's heavier than what they've trained in."

  "Why am I here?" It was probably—certainly—too blunt, but Rallis, still airsick and disoriented, had no patience for tact. "If I'm not under arrest, why did you have me brought here?"

  "Please permit me to introduce myself. My name is Amun Taarq. You're of House Yy, correct?"

  "Yes," said Rallis, frustrated with the pointless pleasantries. "Lieutenant Taarq, why am I here? Did I do something?"

  "Do something?" Lieutenant Taarq's eyes met his, straightforward and earnest. They were strange eyes, far paler than normal, and they pierced through Rallis's skin like needle points. "No. Nothing like that. I brought you here because…" He gave a short, self-conscious laugh, gathering the papers on the desk into a loose pile. After a moment, he said, "I heard you play khas."

  "Khas." Rallis's voice was hard and unwelcoming. He couldn't help it. "The game?"

  "Yes."

  So Lieutenant Taarq was a madman. Rallis wasn't surprised—the surprising thing was that he hadn't heard about it sooner. It seemed the kind of news that would make local gossip, but perhaps he was usually better at keeping it hidden.

  "I know how to play khas," said Rallis slowly. "Why?"

  "I was hoping you would be interested in the occasional game."

  "You want to play khas. With me. Now?"

  "It doesn't have to be now," said Lieutenant Taarq, though he brightened visibly at the suggestion. "If another time is better… Of course, there's no obligation. If you don't want to, that's fine too. But if you're willing, I've been looking for an opponent for ages. No one else seems to know how."

  Not true, of course, but he was right that khas players were scarce. A holdover from the ancient Empire of Uranya, it was once the most-played game in Adesa—and Jev, from Rallis's understanding—but had fallen out of popularity over the years. Now it was considered old and traditional, a relic from a bygone era. There weren't many left who could play even a basic match.

  Which meant Lieutenant Taarq had searched and found Rallis. He must have asked around. The idea was repulsive—so too the idea of actually playing games against Lieutenant Taarq.

  "How did you…" Rallis began, and then stopped himself, thinking better of it.

  But Lieutenant Taarq must have heard the unspoken question. "I was speaking to one of your House Heads. She saw my board. When I mentioned that I didn't know anyone in the city who played, your name came up."

  He spoke brightly, as though it was an amusing story—a lucky coincidence. It wasn't chance that had brought Rallis's name to that House Head's lips. Whoever she was, she was probably patting herself on the back for landing Rallis in such trouble.

  And yet, how could Rallis refuse? Lieutenant Taarq held Rallis's life in his hands. He wouldn't execute Rallis for denying him—not in so many words, anyway—but he could make things extremely miserable if he chose. House Yy was beholden to the Jevite empire same as every other House in Adesa. If they found themselves on the bad side of a legion officer's opinion, Jev would make them pay for it.

  "Fine," said Rallis, finding it suddenly difficult to speak. "I'll play against you if you need an opponent. But not now. I have other obligations."

  Lieutenant Taarq bowed elegantly at the waist. "Of course. Please let me know what works for your schedule. It doesn't have to be that often—once a week, perhaps? Starting… tomorrow?"

  That was hideously often for Rallis's taste, but he summoned a blank expression. When he said, "Tomorrow. Yes," his voice hardly sounded strange at all, and Lieutenant Taarq didn't appear to notice anything wrong.

  "Excellent," he said. "I look forward to it. And I apologize again for the legionnaire's behavior. He'll be reprimanded. I did specify that they should invite you here."

  "Of course. I understand. Is that all?"

  "Yes," said Lieutenant Taarq, and cheerfully escorted him out of the garrison.

  *~*~*

  He returned to the motherhouse just as Naravi was leaving, accompanied by Faida Tlirr. They were talking in low voices to one another as they walked but paused when they saw Rallis. As he passed them, Naravi said, "Where were you?"

  "I had business," Rallis told him. "Why?"

  "You were supposed to get Miana's medicine."

  "I did. Are you going out?"

  Naravi's eyes narrowed. Beside him, Faida Tlirr looked as languid and imperious as ever. He hardly ever deigned to speak to Rallis, which was fine, as Faida was intensely opinionated and wildly arrogant and talking to him was trying. He saw himself as the angel of Nur sent down to bless Adesa; Naravi was fast becoming one of his loyal disciples. He would follow Faida into the fire, to Rallis's great displeasure.

  "And if I am?" Naravi demanded, more defiant for Faida's presence beside him. "You can't tell me what to do. What business were you on?"

  Rallis could lie, but the truth would come out eventually. "I was ordered to the north garrison by a Jevite officer. I spoke to him for a while. That's all."

  Faida made a contemptuous noise in the back of his throat. Naravi, sensing blood, went for the kill. "You were cooperating with a Jevve?" he demanded. Using the slur in a Jevite's hearing could get him imprisoned. "You're even more disloyal to Adesa than I thought, half-breed."

  "If you say so," said Rallis, starting toward the motherhouse again. "Don't stay out too late. Miana has told the servants not to open the doors past the twentieth hour."

  He could feel Naravi's impotent fury burning against his back. Any response to the heckling would only encourage them, but Rallis was seven years older than them and not naturally temperamental. It was easy to ignore their comments. As an added benefit, it drove Naravi mad. He entered the cool shade of the motherhouse entrance hall and shut the door firmly behind him.

  Miana was in her study
, resting on a couch with a book in her lap. She glanced up as Rallis entered and smiled. "There you are. I was getting worried."

  He joined her on the couch. "I'm sorry. I got caught up in other business."

  Briefly he relayed the story to her, watching the emotions play over her face: concern, and then thoughtfulness. "He wants to play khas?" she asked when he was finished.

  "Yes." Rallis fished the bundle of medicine out of his pocket and unwrapped it, passing her one paper-wrapped packet. "Here. Have you taken any today?"

  Miana carefully pulled back the paper's edges. "Not yet." She poured white powder into her tea and stirred for a moment. "Are you going to play him?"

  "I don't have a choice."

  "True." She sipped her tea, grimacing. "I hate how bitter it is. Be careful, then. After the All Council…"

  She didn't finish her thought, but he didn't need her to. The All Council massacre still weighed heavily on every Adesi's mind, even after seven months. Jev had called the All Council—the Heads of the hundred and fifty Houses in Adesa, including House Yy—to the capital city to speak with Jevite representatives, ostensibly in an attempt at a peaceful resolution to the war. Instead, legionnaires had herded them into the meeting hall, locked the doors, and killed them with strange alien weapons, then claimed it a victory in battle. It was a hideous, nightmarish thing to do, and controversial—to Rallis's understanding—even among Jevites, but it had worked. Already reeling from the difference in weapons and tactics, the loss of most of Adesa's leaders had been the death-blow for the war effort.

  Rallis's aunt Miia had been among the slain, and the role of House Head had passed to her daughter Miana, who was too young, too inexperienced, and too sickly. Hesse Yy, Miana's brother, had become her Hand; he was just as young and inexperienced, and hot-blooded, as well. But there was nothing to be done. Someone needed to lead.

  "I know," Rallis told her. "I'll be careful."

  Miana took another sip. "Did you see Naravi? He was going out with Faida."

  "I ran into them in the courtyard."

  His tone must have given something away. She sighed. "He's getting to be quite a handful. I meant to talk to him this morning, but he was snapping and storming around, and I just didn't have the will. I'll speak with him when he gets back." She rubbed her temple, pushing locks of thick dark hair away from her face. "If Hesse were here…"