by Jeanne Allen
Sarah shrugs, turning her face away from me. “I, um, wouldn’t say that I know her know her. More like, I figured this is the best place to go, and she’s young, so she’s more likely to listen to us, I think.”
I rush over, grabbing Sarah by the arm and turning her to face me. “Why did you make it seem like you knew her? We could have gone to another one of the islands in Region Twelve. We didn’t have to come to St. Lucia.”
My hands prickle as worry travels its way into my limbs. I’m not just concerned because Queen Njay is said to be brutal. None of the Phósopoi monarchs take kindly to strangers.
Especially strangers without travel permits, the back-of-my-mind voice snarks.
I’m reminded of my run-in with Kira and her cronies. If King Richard responded with such hostility, and he’s known to be too lazy to make much trouble, then what will Warrior Queen Njay do?
Thinking of Kira reminds me of Daisy, but I push the thought away to focus on the current situation. We couldn’t bring Daisy with us because her King would have known if she left. Students leave PhosU all the time, even in the middle of the semester, so sending for my new friends was more logical than sending for my old ones. Still, I wish she was with us now. Her ice Gift would be pretty useful in the hot and humid Caribbean weather.
My runaway thoughts are broken by the sound of people running toward us from the direction of the water.
Kieran throws his arm around me. “See? Just overslept is all.”
I look up at him, pursing my lips; his ill-timed humor reminds me of Lucas.
“Rose, run!” Sarah screams.
I look over to discover not the Red and Blue livery of Region Twelve soldiers, but instead, the grotesque forms of the creatures that attacked us in the motel room. I quickly count five of the strange creatures, their faceless heads stretching as they slowly make their way toward us. With them are a few Keńos and what I assume is an Agora, because surrounding her are three tall men with their swords drawn.
“It’s an ambush!” Lakshimi calls out.
She and Birdie rush to join Sarah in creating a wall in front of me.
“Rose, what are you doing? Run!” Sarah yells, not even looking back at me.
I hesitate. The sound of my heart pounding in my head distracts me from thinking clearly. I know I can help in this battle, like I did in the alley, but I’m also not completely sure of how to use the powers Kin gifted me.
Sensing my hesitation, Kieran releases his grip on my shoulders and steps away so he can face me, the sounds of our friends fighting nearly drowning out his words. “You can do this, Princess. We need your help.”
“Stay,” Raul agrees, coming from somewhere beyond the trees to our back.
I hadn’t even realized he wasn’t with the rest of us.
However, it’s not the words of my friends that spur me to action. It’s Sarah’s cry of pain.
I look up and gag at the sight of her missing arm, depositing my lunch on the ground next to me. The blood pouring from the wound stains the green around her a bright-red. She doesn’t even stop for a second. She grabs the sword she stole from the enemy Kladí with her good arm and slices clean through his neck. As she moves on to the next Kladí, a new arm starts to grow in place of the old. By the time she’s beaten the advancing Kladí back a few steps, her arm looks like nothing ever happened. The only evidence she was injured is the blood stains on her jeans and t-shirt.
I stare at her in awe for a moment, my feet rooted to the ground by the miracle of her insane Gift, before the sounds of our other friends fighting their own battles urges me into action.
I rush to help Lakshimi, who stands in front of one of the faceless monsters, lazily avoiding his swings and lunges. The patchwork bulbous skin on the monster stretches to reveal even more blue and purple veins as he attempts to catch Lakshi, whose bright-yellow Gift continues to gather along her hands and arms.
I call on my Agora Power. The welcome sight of my electric blue mist calms my nerves enough to focus on the battle. The whips form easier than in the motel room, and again the color of the mist changes to incorporate the golden hue of Kin’s Gift. I swing the whip at the monster, who cries in pain but doesn’t stop his attempts to grab Lakshimi.
I can’t wrap my whips around the monster like I did with the cat-man before because I’m too afraid of accidently hitting Lakshimi.
“Back away!” I yell at her.
She shakes her head, turning to give me a serene smile before she disappears completely, her bright-yellow mist fanning out to reveal a large tiger in her stead.
I blink rapidly. “Beast-type,” I whisper.
I watch, dumbfounded, as the larger-than-average Siberian Tiger lunges at the monster, ripping off the head as quickly as Jackson beheaded them before. Another cry of pain distracts me. I curse myself for standing and watching during what is surely a battle for my capture. I turn toward the sound to see Birdie clutching her arm and stumbling back from one of the enemy Kladí.
“Birdie!” I yell, running toward her.
The Kladí advances on her with the same slow precision I remember from my first encounter with the Keńos, what feels like a century ago. My stomach lurches again at the blood pouring from the cut on her arm, where the claws on his hand slashed straight through to the bone.
Birdie stumbles and falls.
“Someone help her!” I scream, but everyone’s busy with their own battles, and I’m too far away.
All I can do is try to run faster as I watch in horror as the Kladí attacks again. A deep red line appears across her throat as I arrive, pure gold lashing out in front of me as my whips wrap themselves around the Phósopoi’s neck. Without thinking, I pull the ends and the whips grow brighter as the pale blond hair of the Kladí flies into the air. His head lands with a sickening thud several feet away and the body falls on top of Birdie’s.
I waste a few precious minutes dragging it off.
“No. No. No.” Tears stream down my face as I attempt to stop the blood flowing out of her tiny body, but it’s no use. He killed her the moment he cut her neck.
Birdie, like me, was young and didn’t have the self-healing properties of a Mature Phósopoi.
Taking her thin arms, I drag her body to the side and prop her up on one of the palm trees surrounding the clearing. Carefully, I fold her arms in her lap. The red of her blood looks unnaturally vibrant against the pale white of her skin. I watch in sick fascination as Bernadette’s natural blush and tone turns dull and sallow. I don’t know how long I sit there, staring as life drains from my friend, but the distinct sound of Sarah’s war cry startles me out of my trance.
Looking over, I can see that the battle is nearly over as the stench of death permeates the field. The logical part of me, which took over to keep the emotional part from breaking down, marvels at how far I’ve come if I can recognize death and battle by scent.
Luckily, though they’re tired and injured, the rest of the group seems to be doing well. And winning. The only attackers left standing are the remaining two Kladí and their Agora, who looks like he hasn’t lifted a finger during the whole fight. The sight of him brings my blood to a boil, the anger clearing away the daze I’d been in.
Slowly, I force myself to stand and shake out the prickles in my limbs from kneeling for so long.
I’m about to advance when he looks my way. The white of his teeth gleam against the deep tone of his skin. Lazily, he calls out to his remaining Kladí in a language I don’t recognize. The Kladí run over, despite their own injuries, and as soon as they touch hands, deep red mist envelops them, and they’re gone.
Sarah cries out in frustration, stabbing the sword in her hand into the body of the nearest monster. “Coward!” she calls out to where the Agora had disappeared.
After a few moments of heavy breathing, she moves to survey the rest of our group, pausing when she gets to me. My earlier burst of strength leaves me as soon as our eyes meet, and my legs give out. On the ground, I shuffl
e over to huddle next to Birdie’s body, my knees drawn up as I clutch at them to stop the shivering.
I’ve experienced death before, but never like this. Never someone I cared about; not even Mary’s death had been so devastating. I hadn’t known Birdie long, but our time together this last month brought us close. The cry of a large cat brings my attention to Lakshimi, who pads her way toward us. Bright-yellow covers her for a second, then she’s back to her human form, wearing the same jeans and kurti she’d worn before.
The tears streaming down her face match mine. “No. Not you. Please,” she begs.
Who she’s pleading with, I don’t know, but she kneels in front of the tiny body in an almost reverent way, gently using a hand to push away the hair on Birdie’s face. Blood covers most of the body and her face, but Lakshimi doesn’t even seem to notice it getting on her clothes and hands. She covers Birdie’s eyes and strokes her hands, like she did when we met with Cathal.
“Bernadette, my sweet, sweet girl,” she whispers.
I watch, fascinated. Several things click in my mind at way Lakshimi prays over the body. I’m so enraptured that I barely notice the touch on my shoulder.
I look up to see Raul, his eyes the same blank slate they usually are, but he frowns as he looks at the body of his friend. “Let them have a moment, Rose.”
I nod, getting up to join Sarah, who’s searching the landscape.
My legs shake as I make my way over to her. “What are you looking for?”
She pokes at a few of the slate colored rocks dotting the hill, her face grim. “Trying to find the entrance. I only know that it’s near these coordinates.”
“Forget the coordinates. Where are we, exactly?”
“The Soufrière Estate, in the Diamond Gardens. This place used to belong to the monarch of Region Twelve before they all went underground.”
“And thank the Mists we did, before the hurricanes.” The voice is rough and solemn, and the man who steps out from the path that leads the same way the ambush came from is just as serious looking.
His eyes are a milky-brown color, a few shades lighter than his skin. He’s tall like most Phósopoi and wears a bright-red sleeveless tunic that shows off his impressive build. A sash of bright-blue cuts across his waist, and the outfit is complete with black pants and a large sword that rests heavily against his left hip.
With him are two other Phósopoi in identical uniforms, though they do not carry swords. Their expressions are as dim as their commander’s, though the one on the left breaks character enough to give Sarah a curious look, his light-blue eyes widening as he takes her in, before resetting his face and drawing closer to his companions.
“You come from the Queen?” Sarah asks, her voice the same no-nonsense tone I’ve witnessed often when she’s in Elite mode.
“Yes, Aporthètos. Queen Njay wishes to offer her condolences for your friend.”
“So, you knew we were ambushed? And did nothing?” I ask, incredulous.
Sarah reaches over to put a silencing hand on my arm.
The leader turns to look at me, his face shows nothing, but I sense remorse in his tone as he addresses me. “I’m deeply sorry that you suffered such a loss on this day, madam, but we of Region Twelve do not have extra soldiers we can throw into battles that are not ours to win. As it stands, they killed our sentinels before ambushing you.”
Sarah nods, and I force myself to keep silent. I’m still a newbie to the world of the Phósopoi, all things considered, and I can recognize when I don’t know enough about a situation to make assumptions.
Observe and experience, but don’t judge, I remind myself. Something I’d learned in my Anthropology classes so long ago. That training could be useful now that I’m in a foreign setting. I’m thankful for that detached, logical side of me now, at any rate. It’s all that’s keeping me from shutting down completely.
“The fact that you feel such remorse, and that your weapon is not drawn, leads me to believe that your Queen is granting us an audience?” Sarah questions, eyeing the leader’s sword.
The man laughs, an odd sound coming from such a solemn face. “I do not believe for a moment my men could take you on. Even you alone would lay waste to us in moments.”
Sarah shrugs but does not deny his words. I’d seen her Gift in action during the battle, but had been too distraught to really watch her fight. I wish I’d seen the skills that won her the Games two times in a row and the fear and respect of nearly every Phósopoi we meet.
“My Queen extends an invitation to you. I will guide you to her Seat. My men will take the body of your fallen to our Death-keeper and ready her for burial or transport, whichever you prefer.”
“Transport,” Lakshimi says, speaking for the first time since she saw Birdie. “She would want to be buried near her family.” Her voice is quiet and cracked with emotion, but the strength behind her eyes has not diminished.
Lakshimi carries the same quiet strength I came to expect from her, which makes me admire her even more than I do already. She stands and gives one last look at Birdie’s body before making her way toward us.
Kieran rushes to give her a helping hand when, in a moment of uncharacteristic gracelessness, she trips over some rocks.
“I’m fine. I’m fine,” she mutters, squeezing his hand before pushing it away. She straightens and gives the leader a sharp nod. “Let us depart. I cannot stand on these grounds any longer.”
The commander gestures to his men, who rush to take away Birdie’s body. They disappear around the curve of the hill to the back.
Turning to the us, he gives a stiff bow. “I am Damarae, Captain of the Region Twelve Warrior Knights Division.”
“Greetings. As you know, I am Sarah Taylor. My companions wish to remain nameless for now,” Sarah says, gesturing for him to lead the way.
He gives another bow in our direction and walks off in the same direction the men went with Birdie, but when we around the corner, there’s no one to be found; just a waterfall cascading over what looks like a large portion of mineral rock.
I realize that the water sound I noticed earlier must have been the waterfall, because the pond it feeds into is still and peaceful. I look around for the entrance but find nothing but rock and bright-green tropical forest.
“Where—” My question is cut off when Captain Damarae strides up to the waterfall and placing his hand on the rock wall beside it.
He looks over his shoulder and shouts to us, “You’re lucky that the estate is closed today. We would have had to do damage control with a lot of humans if they stumbled upon your battle.”
As soon as he finishes talking, the rock wall disappears, showing an entrance to a dark tunnel. He walks confidently inside, and despite my misgivings about following strangers into dark tunnels, we follow.
As soon as the rest of our group is inside, the scraping of stone sounds behind us. I whip my head around to catch the last of the heavy stone door sliding into place.
“How come nobody ever notices that?” I wonder out loud.
Damarae chuckles. “Because only Phósopoi can see it. We paid heavily for an Illusion-Gifted Kladí to create the entrance.”
Before I can stop myself, I blurt out, “I thought the monarchs didn’t pay for labor.”
It was a source of contention for the younger Phósopoi, who did not like to follow the old way. Many of the younger students at the PhosU talk about trying to unionize and force monarchs to pay for the labor they commission, but none of the talks have produced any results. The Phósopoi community is still largely run by the elders, and with our slow birth rate, there aren’t enough of us in the young generation to really matter.
Sarah pinches my arm, but I swat her away. I’m aware the question wasn’t in good taste, but there’s no taking it back now. I’m emotionally drained from the battle and both unable and unwilling to wade through the niceties of rigid Phósopoi decorum.
Thankfully, Captain Damarae answers good-naturedly. “They don’t,
and neither does our Queen. But Region Twelve only produces Elemental-Type Gifts. The only exception being the Consorts, but even then, we only have three from other Regions. As a result, we have to pay another monarch for use of Kladí or Knights with other Gifts.”
I nod. I suppose it makes sense. Interesting that Region Twelve only produces one type of Gift. With a start, I realize that the logical detached feeling I buried myself in when Birdie died is starting to wear off. I’m coping with her death far better than I thought. I don’t know if it’s because it wasn’t my first battle or if it has something to do with whatever happened when I met Kin.
Deciding not to dwell on it further, I thank whoever’s responsible for my clear head and calming spirit and hurry to follow Captain Damarae down the dark tunnel. Small lanterns nailed into the stone walls are the only thing keeping me from tripping.
“Does your Region only produce one kind of Elemental-Type, or all kinds?” I question, moving closer to the captain to hear his answer.
“Mostly Fire and Water-Gifted Phósopoi. Though there are some other varieties, they are pretty rare.”
I tuck the information away, fascinated. Now that I know more about the origin of the Phósopoi, thanks to Kin, I’m even more interested in how each of the different strains from her seeds developed such a large range of abilities. I know that the abilities originally came from her, but I’m guessing they evolved as the Phósopoi started to Awaken with just one or two Gifts, instead of all of them like the original children of Kin.
Thousands of years of evolution can really change a species, as evident by the complicated societies developed by the humans.
We walk in silence while I ponder this new bit of information. We don’t see or hear any other Phósopoi, though that doesn’t mean they aren’t there. The tunnel is so dark that it’s all I can do to follow the bright-red and blue of the Region Twelve uniform as the Warrior Knights lead us through many twists and turns.
Eventually, the captain motions for us to stop.
We stand in front of what looks to be a wall of solid stone.
“Dead end, mate?” Kieran calls out, laughing quietly at his own joke.