Call of the Chosen- Broken Kingdoms

by Michael DeSousa

  “Oh, that was careless of me,” she said.

  Siga rubbed the side of his face, sighing. “I’m not torturing the boy, Z.”

  “But you would,” she snapped back. “If it helped you conquer more lands.”

  Anger flashed across his face for moment. “I am not conquering anything,” he mumbled, sounding almost childish.

  “Yes, yes, I know,” Zana answered, bringing another cup of water to Mend. She smiled at him, comforting him by placing her hand on his shoulder. It was a nice gesture, but… Don’t think about her; don’t give her away; Keep playing that piano. “You’re just trying to save our world, isn’t that right? You’re not conquering anyone at all.”

  “No, I’m not. Look around, Z. All those other…countries, states, kingdoms. Those people this morning. We waste resources posturing against each other. Some isolate themselves. Others set themselves up as the Almighty himself for the all pejoratives I get. We waste time re-exploring what our ancestors already had centuries ago. No, we can’t have another Catastrophe. We must pool our resources. This time, we will be ready, even if I have to force everyone to cooperate.” Another Catastrophe? Now, that sounded ominous. But Mend supposed Siga had to justify decimating as many cities as he had somehow. He probably believed he was the ‘good guy’ in all this, and those, Mend knew from experience, were the most dangerous kind of ‘good guys.’

  But a part of him was curious to learn more. Morbid, deadly curiosity, sure, but how else was he going to know if his rummaging through Siga’s mind was a fluke. He already had what he was sent to do, no harm in trying for more. And besides, Roach said it herself, ‘information is money.’

  “But isn’t that always your solution,” the princess snickered, helping Mend drink his water. “‘Force’ everyone to cooperate.”

  “Sometimes children need to be discipled before they can mature. Only then, united, do we stand a chance.”

  “Is that what we are,” she answered, frowning. “Children to you?”

  Mend, with his head supported by Zana’s gloved hand and slowly drinking down the water, tried his luck getting into Siga’s head. Of course, it would leave him vulnerable too, but they seemed too engrossed in family gossip. So he concentrated his attention on Sig, who had his head bowed down in his hands. He tried what he did before, imagine throwing something into Sig’s mind. Maybe that’s how it worked—

  Zana jerked his head straight, an unamused cold stare from her. Was he that obvious? She shook her head sternly, letting his head drop to the pillow.

  “Z…,” Siga said as she passed him by. “Let’s talk about this later. Not in front of our hero.” Siga raised his head. He looked tired suddenly, his eyes sullen a bit with tension wrinkling his forehead. “Glen. I know you don’t believe me. Or trust me. But I’m trying to help you, help everyone. I am not going to hurt you. You saved my world, our world. I just want to get to know you better. Share something, anything about yourself. Our people on the island are going to want to know something about you.”

  Like what? What could he possibly share that wouldn’t betray one of Roach’s best paid patrons, reveal his purpose, and stop him from become the biggest news on the island. He felt a sudden clawing in his mind, like a hand guiding the fog of his thoughts. They began shifting to—

  “I lived in a tower once,” he panicked. Doesn’t he ever stop?

  “A tower? So that’s it. That’s why you’re being so evasive. What was your crime?”

  “Sig,” Zana warned.

  Siga batted his hand. “I’m not hurting him.”

  “But he is tired, and really, how reliable can he be with the concoctions your doctors have given him.”

  “Oh, he’s fine. I formulated those remedies myself. They’re meant to strengthen and clear the mind.” Strengthen and clear the mind? Was that why Mend was able to use his skills better than usual?

  Yes, came the answer with a grin from Sig. Mend immediately started playing his piano in his head, hoping it was doing something to stop Siga from reading more.

  Mend glanced up to Zana, a worried look on her. She wasn’t going to be able to help now.

  “Glen, please,” Siga said with irritation escaping his voice. “Why were you held in a tower? What was your crime? I am not going to celebrate a criminal.” His hazel eyes pierced into him like a hawk tracking its prey and for a moment, Mend forgot the song. Sig’s eyebrows flashed, his mouth tightening to a line. “I know that room, that place. That’s the Red Rock Tower. Landrie sent you!”

  Just at that moment, Zana brushed against her brother’s shoulder with her hand.

  “Can’t you tell he’s frightened,” Zana said and that seemed to calm Sig. “Your blessing isn’t perfect, you know. Believe me. He barely survived exposer and now the man who holds his life in his hands is interrogating him. His mind’s probably racing and giving you what you want to see. When will you understand, you can’t believe every thought someone thinks.”

  Mend breathed a sigh of relief. Princess Zana, thank—No! Piano!

  Siga snapped back at Mend, but then grumbled. “I suppose it would be ridiculous to think Lan would send someone just to save me. Still, you did lie coming here. And you were in a tower for something?”

  Mend nodded, closing his eyes and pretending very hard that he was very tired; well, he didn’t have to pretend that hard.

  “You are hiding something,” Siga said.

  “I think he’s had enough,” Zana suggested. “Wait until he gets better. He’s not going anywhere.”

  “Yea, I suppose—”

  A knock came at the door. “Your Majesty.” Mend peeked open an eye and saw an older man walk in, bald and dark skinned. He snapped him into memory.

  “Ah, Cyne.” Siga rose from his seat. Thank the Almighty. “What is it?”

  “It’s Chief Engineer Sera Gallegos,” he said. “She’s finishing up her tour of the project and soon lunch will be served.” Gallegos? Sera! Yes, she’d get him out of this. She promised!

  “One moment Cyne. Please wait outside.” Siga slowly sat back down, a bemused expression on his face. Damn it! Mend heard the door close. “I know you can think straight, despite your fatigue. So. My Chief Engineer will get you out of this? Why?” Mend played that piano louder in his mind. “Lovely song, maybe you can play it on a real instrument sometime. Why?”

  Zana’s looked down on her brother, her eyes sinking and the corners of her mouth creasing to a frown. She wasn’t going to help him. Not anymore. He had to think of something. Sorry Sera, but this emperor is crazier than I thought.

  Watch your tongue, boy.

  You’re making my point, um, Majesty?

  Siga frowned.

  “Yea, I was in that tower.”

  “Then Landrie did sent you,” he hissed.

  But Mend focused on Sera, all his mind concentrating on her conversation with him. “Sera’s brother sent me,” he said. “Glen…another Glen.” Siga seemed to relax, easing into his chair.

  “Go on.”

  “He wanted to know how she was doing,” Mend coughed. “His messages don’t reach her. Couriers go missing.” Mend smiled with wry coarse chuckle.

  “I don’t waste my time making couriers disappear,” Siga replied flatly.

  “Well, that’s why I’m here. Now that I see Sera isn’t being flagged, tortured, or raped, I can go back and tell him she’s fine.”

  “You’re a very bold young man,” Sig’s voice grew hard. “Bold young men don’t enjoy long lives.” That’s OK. I don’t have much to live for, Your Heinous. “I already told you to watch your tongue.”

  Mend shrugged; he had worse things to worry about now. Siga would obviously check up on his story with that blond engineer. She’d be angry. Siga was already angry. And Roach…well, she was always angry. What did Mend have to lose now?

  “You see Siga,” Zana jumped in. “Sometimes there are just shadows.”

  Siga grumbled, appearing unsatisfied. He scratched at his chin. “Sera
’s brother must be wealthy then. He served in the war, last we knew.”

  “Oh so you know him,” Mend said. “Then you can send him a message yourself and let…me….go.” Siga’s eyes bore into him. Keep taking liberties with me, boy.

  “We do background checks,” Siga answered steely, and then nodded to Mend, “to prevent this. Did Lan mention anything about this, Z?”

  “No, nothing at all,” she shook her head. “It sounds to me nothing more than a concern of a brother over his sister across difficult borders. You would have done the same for me.”

  Siga seemed to soften at that, and Mend was grateful. Maybe he’d only be flogged instead of hanged. “Yea, I suppose,” he said. “But I’ll have to talk to Sera. There’s no way onto the island.” No way onto island? Mend held back a chuckle. Sure, there was, a great big gaping hole he used. He couldn’t have been the only —something struck Mend that moment, that familiar feeling of clawing in his mind, like a door being pried open with a metal bar. He tried to resist, concentrating on that song, but it was becoming too much, his thoughts shifting, losing focus as if falling asleep. You’ve been to Landrie’s Red Rock. I’d like to hire you for a new job, thief, he heard in his mind with Siga confirming it with a slight nod of his head.

  And since the emperor was so obliging and the two of them were becoming such good friends, sharing each other’s thoughts, Mend tried his hand in reaching into Siga’s mind too. —Mend burst out in laughter at what he saw. Zana started, looking between Siga and himself. But Siga knew. Of course he knew what Mend saw, his eyebrows scrunching together confirmed it. A slender woman in all black, dark brown oval eyes, a small scar under her right eye peeping over a black mask. Yep, he absolutely recognized her, his archrival and nemesis. The woman who had beaten him so many times on so many jobs, leaving messes behind —on purpose— for him to flub through. The woman who could never, ever, crack a smile to save her life —probably would enjoy her own funeral too. And she was here at the worst possible time and likely, for the worst possible reason. That Coming Shadow’s Agent, the ever serious, Rowena Lions. Had to be more of Mend’s infamous brand of luck again.

  “Two birds of the same flock,” Siga asked, with a raised eyebrow.

  “Oh no,” Mend said, chuckling. “I work alone. She’s just a…competitor. They do lousy jobs too. You were better…off…yea, I’m done.” Mend shut his mouth, seeing Zana take an interest in what he was saying.

  Zana laid her hand on her brother’s shoulder. “Oh, isn’t that interesting. I, too, see you’re not above outsourcing your labor, dear brother,” she said, thoughtfully.

  “I will say this, Glen,” Siga said, ignoring his sister. “You’ve adapted your skill much more quickly than I expected. Or perhaps the remedy’s been optimized?” He leaned back, considering Mend like a doctor deciding how best to carve up a cadaver. Mend was half-tempted to pry into Sig’s mind again, and probably would have found himself on a dissection table if that damn headache hadn’t returned. Besides, he knew Roe was somewhere nearby. His brainpower would best be used to figure a way to make her life more difficult. Sweet revenge. Nothing catastrophic, just make her have to work a bit harder like she did with him. That thought almost made his headache feel better.

  Siga rose from his seat. “Glen, rest well,” he said. “Believe me, I’m really heartened about your progress. I’ll have Cyne visit you later.” He turned to his sister, opening his hand toward the door. “Shall we have lunch?”

  Zana took a long mournful look on Mend. Maybe she knew what Siga would eventually do with him, and it showed on her face. Mend closed his eyes; he didn’t need that kind of encouragement to leave the island. If he could crawl, walk, or run, he’d get out of here.

  The two exited the room, leaving Mend alone with his thoughts. ‘Alone’ with his thoughts. yes, it felt exactly like that as if his head was back to having only one occupant. Even his headache lessened. So, that bastard was hurting him!

  Mend snickered to himself. He could have done better talking to those two, himself. If there was any way he could have screwed that conversation up anymore, he didn’t know how. At least Zana’s account with Roach was safe. And Roe. Siga had hired her too. For what? Probably murdering little children for their candy. Roe was like that —the Shadows were like that. All business. Mend shivered, a cramp knotting in his back. She had a weird sense of humor too, one that usual left Mend trying to escape one of her screw ups. Screw ups? No. She did it on purpose.

  Suddenly, Lora tore into the room like a cannonball, slamming the door shut behind her. She marched up to Mend’s bed and grabbed her hips, a deep scowl on her face. Not happy. Maybe, Siga told her how ‘gentlemanly’ he was, and now, Mend would find out the darker side of Lora’s personality.

  “I didn’t believe it when she told me,” she said, her voice completely different now, hard-edged and full of disdain, though familiar. But that could be because everyone talked to him that way. What in the Depths could have changed? “No, wait. I do believe it. She always said you had a special knack for turning candle flames into volcanoes.”

  “Uh…. Who? The Princess?” Had Roach told Zana about him?

  “Now what am I going to do with you?” She sighed tiredly, shaking her head. “So that’s what you look like without your ridiculous outfits, huh? It’s a been almost a year, a very good year not having to deal with your incompetence. Still don’t recognize me? Good, that’s because we take our jobs seriously.”

  “Uh…. Lora, Sorry, I don’t—”

  “Mendeleyev Von Mendevoch, right? Rochelle’s little bastard kid.”

  Mend jumped from his bed, shooting cramps exploding all over his body.

  “You shouldn’t do that.”

  “What? Who told you,” he eked out over the pain.

  “Who do you think,” she said, coming over to him and easing him back into the bed. “The ‘Night Lady’”

  “Rochelle? Oh no…. That means she already knows, doesn’t she?” Mend sank back into his bed, feeling all the worse.

  “Damn right, she knows. She’s smart enough to keep tabs on you when you’re out.”

  “But wait. I don’t remember you back in Faf’r. Are you new? When did you—” She put her finger on his lips.

  “Shh.” She tilted her head as though listening. Mend couldn’t hear anything which meant she had the same skills as Roe and her sponsor Josie and the rest of the gang of Shadows —the Veiled Goddess’s stealth, silence, and enhanced senses. “They’re talking about you out there,” she said. She then turning back to him, chuckling in a sort of ‘I-can’t-believe-how-ridiculous-this-is’ kind of way. “No, I’m not part of your little annoying self-righteous crew.”

  Little annoying self-righteous? “So…then you’re…Oh, crap—”

  She gave him a sharp look, and he almost laughed out loud despite the pain. He should have recognized it before, but like Roe, he had only seen her eyes. Black eyes, perfect for her line of work. Black hair, dyed imperfectly auburn. He’d never seen her full face, though, always covered up in that black uniform they use. She was probably here waiting for Roe; she was Roe’s sponsor after all, the infamous ‘Shadow Girl’ assassin, Josie Summers.

  Mend grinned. “Sooooo Josie, wow…you’re not half as ugly as I expected.”

  “Cut the crap, Mend. Can you walk?”

  “Walk? I thought Roach asked you to kill me. It’s what you people do best, right?”

  “I wish,” she replied, leering uncomfortably long at his neck.

  Mend rolled his eyes. “It was a joke. You guys do know how to laugh over there, don’t you?”

  She crossed her arms. “I’m not laughing now, am I? You’re botching up my own plans here with your damn incompetence.”

  “Wish Rochelle asked Roe to save me instead,” Mend mumbled. “At least she takes pleasure in a abusing me—” Josie’s eye twitched. “Alright! Alright! I’ll cooperate. No, I can’t walk. Barely roll without tying into knots.”

  Josie r
eached one arm under his back and another under his knees. She tried lifting, but Mend winched in pain, his muscles cramping. She released him, shaking her head.

  “Too heavy,” she said, looking at his legs. “You don’t need them, do you?”

  “Not at the moment but put ‘em in bag. They might come in handy in the future.”

  She cracked a smile. “I can see why Roe teases you so much. You really don’t care about anything, do you? Not even your life. I suppose you don’t have to when there’s always someone there to fix your problems.”

  Mend looked away. That wasn’t really true. He did care about a lot of things, didn’t he? Nothing important came to mind. Money, the thrill of the job, maybe weekend drinking benders. Ah! My past! Yes, that was important to him, so important that he hadn’t looked into in years.

  Josie snapped her fingers. “Hey Mend. Snap out of it. We gotta figure out—”

  “You know what. Just leave me,” he said, relaxing into the bed. “Tell Rochelle I died in the exposer. It’s better that way.”

  Josie groaned. “Oh great, moody Mend is back. I thought you’d grow out of that.”

  “You don’t want to help me. I know that much. Not your crew’s style, right?”

  “No. My crew’s style is getting what we need no matter what.” She chewed her lip, studying the bed. She then reached under and did something that made the bed feel like it could roll away. “No…still too heavy.”

  “Then what did Rochelle tell you about me?”

  “To get you out of here,” she said, hidden under the bed. “I thought that was obvious.”

  “Why?”

  She popped up from underneath, her head level with his, scrunching her eyebrows together like she didn’t understand the question. “What do you mean ‘why’?”

  “Why are you doing what she asked you? You don’t work for her. We’re not on the same job. I know you’d rather just forgot I was even here.”