The Key of F: a young adult fantasy romance (Freedom Fight Trilogy Book 1)

by Jennifer Haskin

  “I think you saved the bondsman’s life by hiding his tools.”

  “I know that much, but do you think it means anything?” Fale asked.

  “If you stopped his death, then death may be looking for him. He may be in danger. Or you, Fale, for interfering.” Nelson leaned his head to his hands and massaged his silver temples.

  “Or it could be nothing.” Fale hoped.

  “You’re playing with fate. Maybe you’d better follow him home tonight, or hang out like young people do. Keep your eye out for danger because we can’t warn him,” Nelson suggested.

  “He’d think I’m crazy,” she protested. “He might anyway.”

  “But you’re friends, right?”

  “Um, we used to be…" Fale’s face began to burn; she chewed on her lip.

  “Fale?”

  “Do we have to talk about this?” She started to sweat.

  “Was he unkind to you?” Nelson planted his hands on the desk and began to rise.

  “No!” Fale put her hands up. “I asked him out once, a long, long time ago. He shot me down. The whole ‘you’re too young and innocent’ thing. ‘It’s me, not you.’ You know. I was probably just really infatuated, but we are way beyond it now. I really don’t want to follow the guy around, okay?”

  Nelson chuckled and propped his chin on his steepled hands. She glared at him. “Look, Fale, I know you can protect yourself, and so can he most likely, but neither one of you knows what’s coming for you; and the poor boy has no warning at all. Humor me. I will feel better tonight if I know you two can protect each other.”

  “Fine,” Fale pouted. “I’ll look for him after I train. He’ll be walking home from work by then. I know his route,” she mumbled.

  Nelson smiled at her. “I’ll ask the University Metaphysics professor what he thinks about changing visions, without mentioning you. Come to the apartment tomorrow night and we’ll figure this out.”

  “I may need some of your books on legends. You might have to search for a few,” she thought out loud. If her father knew about the visions, maybe there was something related to the key she wore. His last words were forever etched into her memory like fingerprints in cement, “Guard this key, no matter what. It’s your destiny." She whispered the words to herself.

  “I’ll get some ready for you. What do you need?” Nelson asked.

  “Anything about the Key of Effailya.” Maybe knowledge of the old novelty from her father would unlock some secrets to what was going on; maybe it would point the way to the secret people he met with. There had to be a reason it was passed down to her. As an eight- year- old, she had been so consumed by her sadness; she had never thought about researching it. That, and she had nowhere to look without telling others about the key. She had glanced over the books when Nelson got them but didn’t remember what they said. She couldn’t talk to people about it; she didn’t want anyone to realize the key she wore was important. It was her secret, and she kept it. She had made up stories when she was a child where she could find a princess locked in a tower and be the only Takanori warrior with the key to free her.

  “They’ll be waiting with my secretary,” he said. Fale crossed the room and hugged Nelson around his thick neck. She could feel his muscles bunch as he gripped her tightly. “We’ll be all right, Fale. We always are.”

  As he stroked her wild hair, Fale’s mind flashed back to many nights of them holding each other like this as she cried hysterically for her father. “I don’t know what to do with this gift. He didn’t tell me anything. He just left me.”

  “I won’t.”

  She held onto Nelson tightly, as if he were being pulled from her desperate fingers. He would always be there to save the day- or do his best to keep her safe- wouldn’t he? Instinctively, Fale knew this time no one would be able to protect her, and she could feel in her bones, things were about to get worse.

  Chapter 3

  Fale fought hard at the TacTrac. She loved the peaceful atmosphere there. It was always so good to see the delicate art hanging on papery walls; to feel the shiny, smooth wooden floor; to smell the incense permeating the air in great white plumes of drifting smoke. That night, her regular evening training kept her mind tuned to her body, rather than her surroundings or her circumstances. The light and airy building was at odds with her heavy mood; she worked up a sweat, going through the motions with her brows drawn.

  “You are on fire today,” Izzy panted.

  “It feels good to empty my mind for a few hours,” Fale confessed.

  After completing side, spin, heel, hook, rear and front thrust kicks, the girls went to cool down with abdominal work. As her body moved with fluid strength, Fale’s mind raced with anxious thoughts.

  What is happening to me lately? Do other people see visions, too? Do they come true? This is more like one of Nelson’s books, not my boring life. Why me? If Keron is in danger, then is it really up to me to halt fate again?

  Fale’s face scrunched as every question in her mind led to a new concern, but she had no answers. She desperately hoped Nelson could find any intel about her father’s friends. One person was all the connection they needed for a start. Maybe someone in the underground had information to offer.

  “Want to talk about it?” Izzy prompted, her copper-colored skin glistening with perspiration.

  “I can’t." Seeing Izzy’s wounded look, she continued, “It’s about Keron.”

  “Oooh.” Izzy nodded, thinking she understood. Izzy would automatically assume Fale’s pensiveness was due to residual feelings of affection for Keron and pain from his rejection. Even though it had been three years, Izzy was one of the few who knew how much it meant to her. Fale felt a lump of shame at misleading her friend, but now was not the time to disclose her mystery.

  “Have you had any more of those weird feelings?" Izzy asked.

  Fale vaguely remembered mentioning her tingling inklings to Izzy during a walk a few weeks ago. Fale didn’t know what brought it to Izzy’s mind now, so she was stunned into silence. What should she say? How much should she disclose?

  “Hello? Fale?”

  “Yes? I mean, no. I haven’t. Just a few.” She trusted Izzy, but everything was different now. She had changed a vision; what else had she changed? If Nelson thought she could be in danger, she didn’t want to bring Izzy and the TacTrac into it. Izzy might workout at the TacTrac, but she would not do well with real danger. It was better to say nothing. She shook her head sharply.

  “Well, I’m here if you need me." Izzy began leg lifts, propping her head with her hand, her hair sectioned into short two-inch braids spiked all around her head like a shiny black cactus. She smiled. It was the great thing about Izzy. She wouldn’t pry, but she would be there in a second if Fale needed her.

  “I know you are.” Fale copied Izzy’s movements, and they finished their workout.

  “Hey, do you wanna go on a call with me?” Izzy sat up and stretched her leg, touching her toes.

  “What do you do?”

  “Oh, it’s easy. The D.O.C. takes a big basket of food and stuff to some poor family who’s recently lost the mom or dad to the fantocci barracks.” Iz switched legs.

  “The D.O.C.?

  “Daughters of Control- we help out.”

  “Yeah. It’s awful,” Fale said. “I thought fantocci lived at home?”

  “They can’t support a family and pay back society at the same time, silly.”

  “I guess not. If you think the fantocci owe society.” Fale pushed up on her elbow.

  “Of course they do. Those poor people go through all those surgeries and stay at the hospital for a long time. Somebody has to pay for all of that- and the taxpayers do, so they have to pay it back.”

  “But for their whole life?” Fale sat with her knees locked and stretched toward her toes.

  “Well, you have to think, there’s more than one surgery- and plastic surgery- and fantocci make very little money. Plus, you must figure in the people who don’t make it;
and those who don’t adjust to their new body part. Who pays for them?”

  “Other fantocci?”

  “Exactly. You got it.” Izzy beamed at Fale.

  “What about the families?” Fale would hate to lose Nelson from an injury.

  “They can go and visit at the barracks any time they want.”

  Fale stopped stretching and asked, “Any time?”

  “During visiting hours, of course. It’s why I’m going so late, the family I’m visiting tonight is over at the barracks. The father lost a foot and half a hand.”

  “What happened?” Fale asked.

  “The machine at the plant dropped smelt on his foot, and he reacted, trying to wipe it off, but the gloves they have aren’t fireproof- not enough, apparently.”

  “Oh no.”

  “So, do you want to come with me?” Izzy grabbed a towel and wiped off her face.

  “I can’t tonight; I have things to do.” Fale wiped her face as well.

  Showered and changed, they exchanged a one- armed hug and Fale hoisted her shoulder bag across her body then set out to find Keron. She left the polished floors and papery walls of the TacTrac for the harsh metal buildings and concrete of downtown Alloy City.

  Fale worked up her confidence as she walked downhill toward an area of town that turned darker as she went. The colors on buildings looked dull and rusted from lack of upkeep and lights were broken or burned out. The streets there had no trash maintenance, and Fale stepped lightly around a colorless lump of plastic. It was not as bad as the ghetto quarter nearest the plant, where visitors breathed through their mouths rather than gag on the fumes of a range of human odors, but it was definitely lacking in charm.

  She saw him coming toward her, down the empty street she’d expected, his ginger hair curling from the heat of his long day of hard labor. Unlike most bondsmen, he carried his tools proudly. He hated being a servant, she knew, but he loved an honest day of earning his keep. Keron’s eyes were downcast, but Fale knew from memory that they were bluer than the blazing fire from the industrial torches at the plant. Long feathered lashes dusted freckled cheeks angled sharply to a remarkable jaw. He wore a green t-shirt, faded and soiled with handprints in oil and paint. His blue denims hung on his lean hips by a cracked leather belt bearing silver metal studs which happened to match his metal arm. Keron’s right arm and leg had been replaced by anatomically correct stainless valezsan as a child when they were burned beyond use in the plant where he was an apprentice. Stainless valezsan alloy, the strongest metal on the planet, was lightweight and highly resistant to corrosion. Commonplace in the buildings of alloy city, it’s expense made it very valuable around the country. Putting it in humans, though, somehow lowered their value substantially. Her heart clenched in her chest with a familiar ache for him. The sight of him turned her insides upside down. She shook off her old feelings for him and worked to be neutral; she took some deep breaths. Fale watched him walk, his boot strings bouncing up and down, as he walked past one more building. Then she announced herself by clearing her throat.

  “Hi.” She put up a hand. “You walking home?”

  Dumb question, Fale.

  “Yeah.” He grinned with one side of his mouth. “What’re you doing out this way?”

  “I was actually looking for you.”

  “Found me.” He flashed a white toothed smile. “What’cha need? Got somethin’ broken?”

  Just my heart.

  “Um, no. I was, ah, wondering what you were up to? If you wanted to, um, do anything? Get a pint?”

  “Fale - I –”

  “No, please, don’t think it’s like... I’m asking as a friend. Promise.”

  Keron looked around warily. “This isn’t a good time, Fale. You shouldn’t even be in this part of town after dark.”

  “Pshaw.” Fale pulled up her shoulders. “I’m a warrior.” She laughed nervously.

  Keron rolled his eyes. “All right. Come with me. I gotta shower; then I’ll walk you home.”

  “But-“

  “Let me think about it, ‘kay?”

  “Okay.”

  Fale heard the tinny crashing of a metal door nearby and spun into a defensive position with her legs apart, one hand up and the other reaching for the concealed dagger at her hip. Nothing jumped out at them. They stood in the circle of light from a working street lamp and peered into the darkness to watch a three- footed dog run into the street. Fale blew out the breath she had been holding and relaxed.

  Keron chuckled. “Wow. You’re jumpy. I thought the TacTrac brought you peace and quiet and all that.”

  “It does. Usually. But I have scary things on my mind." Fale turned her head as she saw a vision of herself and Keron running for their lives through a building full of sleeping people, about to be caught by-

  “Hey. You okay?” Keron grabbed her shoulder and spun Fale around to face him.

  “I don’t know,” she said shakily, looking into his eyes, a full head higher than hers.

  “You were making a choking noise.” He narrowed his eyes.

  “Sorry.” She scanned the area.

  “There’s nothing there. Let’s go before you creep me out.”

  “Keron, I -“

  “Well, what do we have here?” Three men stepped out of the shadow of the apartment building in front of them. The one in front was so dirty his skin could have been any color, but he bore the burn scars of a plant worker. He was the one who spoke.

  “A metal Fanty and a lady. Wonder what they’s doin’ in our part o’ town. Huh, guys?” The other two nodded and smiled; one drew a knife. “We’ll be takin’ those tools and the bag if’n ya don’t mind." The man held his hand out and curled his fingers a few times.

  “Oh, I mind.” Keron grinned, he’d been ready for this fight all day. He was always ready and excited to engage, but being denied a full fight with the Rowdies at lunch had probably increased his desire for violence with the trio of attackers. He readied his battle stance. With his tools next to him, Keron sunk just a little, turned his left hip out, and pulled scarred fists up to his chest.

  “Keron, no! You don’t understand!” Fale jumped in front of him.

  “What the- ?” Keron’s stunned shout was so vehement, Fale jumped. She turned her head toward him to explain, and the man took his opportunity to rush them. He grasped Fale around the neck in a chokehold from behind, and wrapped his other arm around her ribcage, dragging her backward as the other two men closed in on Keron.

  “That’s okay,” the stranger hissed into her ear, “the key probably idn’t in dat bag anyway. Is it, sweetheart? How ‘bout we’s takin’ apart metal man to find it? He got any spare hidey holes?”

  “Leave him alone,” she gasped, clawing futilely at his arm.

  “So, the metal man’s the ticket, eh? Thanks, sweetheart. We be takin’ real good care o’ both o’ you.” The man’s spittle clung to Fale’s ear lobe. Her mind spun as she struggled to loosen his grip, but he jammed his other forearm under her chin, making it hard to breathe.

  Keron doesn’t know what he’s getting into.

  “Keron,” Fale squeaked a warning as she saw him pull out his blade and pick up his mallet. They were Keron’s favorite fighting, and winning, combination. Fale knew from Izzy’s tales, he was lethal in the underground Agency fights, but she was also no damsel in distress. Fale spread her legs wide and took a step around her attacker’s leg. She brought her arm over to wrap the man’s hands with her left arm and spun around, trapping the man’s hands between their bodies. Then she elbowed him in the face, kicking her knee into his groin. The man grunted as he dropped her hands and bent over. She ran to Keron, who was facing off the other two men. Fale drew her dagger and briefly registered the surprise on all three men’s faces. Stupid men, she rolled her eyes. She disarmed the one in a skullcap and Keron mashed the other one in the ear with his mallet. Fale thought she saw brain matter fly from his head. Uck.

  “Let’s go!” Fale pulled Keron’s t-shirt a
nd began to run in the opposite direction of the stunned, but recovering men. Keron snatched his tool kit from the ground, and they ran into the next alley with the speaker and the man in the skullcap in pursuit. Apparently, a mallet to the ear was a game ender for the third guy. Fale ran lightly over the debris in the alley. Keron ran with the stamina of a ring fighter. They made turn after turn, but their assailants pursued them doggedly.

  Keron opened a blue door on the side of a brick building. “In here,” he directed. Fale didn’t have time to see the sign next to the door.

  When her eyes adjusted, she found herself in a shelter fully housed with a crush of sleeping or near sleeping homeless people. Fale’s earlier vision slammed into her brain. A shelter where we’re running for our lives… They were coming for her. How could she change it? Since the last one was wrong, would this one automatically be wrong too? She couldn’t take the chance. They ran between people and over bags, pillows, and toys.

  Out of breath, Fale asked, “Have we lost them?" The blue door cracked open. “Get down,” Fale whispered furiously, pulling Keron’s denims as she squatted on the floor between two cots. They heard arguing at the door. There was no way to turn the overheads on after lights-out in a city shelter. Keron had chosen the perfect hiding place. There was a creak as the door slowly opened wider, throwing light across the room.

  Keron pushed Fale down onto the floor and gently lowered himself on top of her. She tried to move into a more appropriate position, one which didn’t have his arms bracing his body over her. He settled more firmly on top of her to hold her into place. “Keron,” she whispered.

  “Ssshhh,” he whispered softly in her ear.

  Down, girl. Fale attempted to control her breathing and waited until the attackers left, but the door stayed open and footsteps squeaked across the linoleum slowly.

  “Fale?” A man’s loud whisper. “Fale, we knows you in here.”

  Fale’s eyes popped open, and she stared into Keron’s questioning gaze. She shook her head slightly to his silent query. Everything in her wanted to pull Keron up and bolt for the opposite door, some primal instinct to run, but in order to change her vision, she had to remain where she was. Her hands were shaking where they held Keron’s forearms, as the men got closer.