by Yi Zhu
“Shut up, we'll finish this meeting in my office,” the female decided, her voice laced with impatience.
Sawyn's mind overflowed with relief as sounds of footsteps began again, traveling away this time. Slowly, she backed away from the door, her heart beating out of control. It was hard to believe how lucky she was, for the door to malfunction as she leaned against it.
Now that the immediate danger had passed, Sawyn aimed to finish what she had intended to do in the first place. There had to be something that no one would miss right away. She looked all over the room, and soon found her answer.
Chapter 13: Decision
“And that's the mechanism behind it.” Zed concluded his presentation with a deep bow. When he looked up, his heart sank.
The ambassador didn't look angry, suspicious, or alarmed. Even worse, he appeared regretful. “You are a foolish boy,” Neal stated.
“Is my design worthless?”
“The opposite; you are quite a prodigy, to be able to piece together the concepts without guidance.”
It would appear the situation was deteriorating. Somehow, Zed must appeal to this man. “But that doesn't make any sense,” the boy protested. Zed knew that he was being perceived as a danger to the Empire.
The ambassador shook his head slowly. “You are not the first person to approach me with such designs. Though you are, without a doubt, the youngest.” Neal paused, and his finger tapped against the table. “A waste, a terrible waste.”
“I know what happened to the others before me,” Zed declared, his voice confident. This statement made Neal's eyebrows perk up in interest. Good, the boy thought to himself.
“Somehow, I doubt that.”
“Then hear me out.”
Silence filled the room as the man sized up the boy before him. “I'll give you a chance.”
Zed nodded in appreciation and began. “They were all silenced.” There was no need to clarify what that meant; both of them were on the same page.
“Clearly, but why?”
“Technology like this doesn't rely on Fye, and therefore, is an extreme danger to the North.”
Neal nodded. “So why did you come here today? If you know this could be suicide,” he asked.
“Could be” was good.
“Because I was selected to become a farmer.” Zed had to actively suppress his anger as feelings of indignation washed over him once again.
“Better a farmer than dead.”
Zed looked at his creation, now lying on the ground. He loved science. He was willing to devote his life to it, and he was willing to give his life for it. Looking up, he met the ambassador's eyes. “That's where you are wrong. A life without potential is not a life worth living.” With that, Zed had cast his dice, and the rest was up to fate.
For a few agonizing moments, the man said nothing. Then, slowly, Neal stood up, and walked around the desk to stand inches from Zed. The ambassador raised his right hand, and Zed felt a bone-numbing chill originating from it.
Alchemy! the boy's mind warned. All of Zed's survival instincts urged him to run, to hide, and perhaps most foolishly, fight. Frost formed around the man's hand, and Zed's eyes wandered to the contraption on the ground. If only the “disk thrower” was loaded, I might be able to kill Neal, and make my escape.
Then what? The boy's cold logic fought through to the surface of his mind. Undoubtedly, the North would avenge someone of Neal's rank, and the resulting hunt would cost the life of everyone Zed had ever known in life, maybe even his whole home city. Such cruelty wasn't out of the question for the Imperials. It had happened before, to Zed’s parents.
If I die, I’ll die alone. Coming here was his own decision, at least it was a path he chose for himself. Perhaps if he surrendered, Sawyn's life could be spared. Doing his best to stop himself from shaking, Zed closed both eyes and prepared to die on his feet.
Time seemed to stop as the boy began to doubt all the decisions leading up to this moment. Why couldn't I just settle? Zed had been alone for so long, but fate had finally given him a new family. Despite her flaws, Sawyn filled the void in his heart. Damn, I do have someone to live for, he realized, perhaps too late.
The chill intensified but felt ... at least a few feet away. Slowly, Zed opened his eyes, to find a crystalline pillar taller than he was. Winter in the South never brought about snow, yet Zed had read enough to determine he was looking at ice.
Ambassador Neal was already sitting back in the chair, waiting expectantly. “Break the barrier.”
Zed simply stood, dumbfounded, as he tried to process this new development.
“Break it,” the man repeated.
“I d-don't understand,” Zed stuttered, but everything suddenly made sense; his life was not yet forfeited.
“If your contraption can break the barrier, then you can be a valuable asset.”
Zed mulled the statement over, and decided Neal sounded sincere. “But that also makes me extremely dangerous.”
“Quite right.”
“But if I fail, I am not a threat, but might become one later on. Although there's always the chance I won’t cause any trouble.”
Neal nodded.
“One outcome would lead to my demise,” Zed surmised, while attempting to gauge the man's reaction. There were no clues to be found in the alchemist's passive face. “There must be a chance for me to live, otherwise there would be no reason to test me.” Once again, he drew no response. It would appear the ambassador had spoken all that he intended to.
No matter how hard Zed tried to puzzle out this situation, all trains of thought led to a single course of action.
I just have to try.
Slowly, the boy bent down to retrieve the weapon that brought him so much pride. With a practiced efficiency, he strapped on the gauntlet-like device, all the while assessing the target in front of him. Even in this heated room, the ice showed no sign of melting.
With the harnesses safely secured, Zed stepped on the tip of the contraption for leverage, and, with all his might, began cranking the lever. Every exertion of effort rewarded him with a satisfying click as the gears fell into place. After three repetitions, the resistance became so great that the metal handle cut into his hand as he pulled back. Still, the boy soldiered on, unwilling to take any chances.
He didn't come this far just to give up. Such was his focus, he didn't even realize his left hand was slacking, physically unable to continue. The pain flooded his senses, but he suppressed it, his face betraying nothing. Recalling the trial runs he performed, Zed took two steps back, until he reached what he determined to be the most effective distance.
During the whole process, the ambassador simply observed the boy, taking mental note of his every move.
Zed felt no urge to pray for success, no desire to wish for luck. Instead, he believed in himself, and all the sweat and tears given in the forging of his weapon. Zed bent his knees slightly, to brace himself for the recoil. With a cry, he squeezed the trigger.
The gears spun with dazzling speed as the mechanisms performed their functions with efficiency. In the split second after firing, a thought flashed across Zed's mind. If the metallic disk failed to break the smooth, hard surface of the barrier, the resulting ricochet might kill him.
Zed's right hand went numb from the force of the launch as the projectile zoomed forward toward the Alchemical ice.
The disk met the smooth surface and dug in violently, causing cracks to spread through the whole barrier.
Neal looked at the boy who fell on the ground from the recoil, and then at the metal object now deeply embedded in a book shelf on the wall. He finally had enough data to make his decision.
Chapter 14: Division
The door to the ambassador's office swung open, and Sawyn looked up.
After escaping the close encounter with her prize safely tucked away in her pocket, she had returned to her hiding spot near the door. Thankfully, the guard had been too absorbed in her reading to notice.
> Brother will be so happy when I show him what I grabbed. She allowed herself to feel smug. It was the perfect present, something that the embassy wouldn’t miss, and useful for a young technomancer like Zed.
While Sawyn was in the middle of her daydream, the ambassador stepped through the open entrance and shut the door behind him.
That can't be good, the girl thought.
“Sawyn, is it?” Neal inquired. Seeing a nod from the kid, he continued. “I am afraid your brother will not be returning with you.”
No. She felt her heart sink as the terrible scenarios of what might have occurred inside flashed through her head. He must be dead! That stupid boy. Zed had warned her that this trip could prove dangerous, but part of her mind simply trusted Zed to resolve any situation. A moment later, Sawyn looked up at the man, her eyes burning with rage.
But before she could throw a punch, the door cracked open.
“Can I talk to her?” the familiar voice flowed out.
Sawyn's head whipped around to look into the door, confused. He's alive!
Neal nodded after a moment's consideration, and gestured for Sawyn to enter the room.
Something was wrong, that much Sawyn was certain. But she wanted to talk to Zed desperately; he would have answers for her. What did it mean that he wouldn’t return with her? Quickly, she entered the room and ran over to her brother.
“Saw.” He reached out and patted her head, his expression unreadable. “I did it; this has played out better than I ever dreamed.”
She shook her head in confusion. How could that be true? He couldn’t return with her. “Why can't you come home?”
Tears flowed out of the boy's eyes when she mentioned home. It was difficult for her to admit at first, but to Sawyn, the little place they shared was the only home she remembered, and the only one she cared about. She looked around for the ambassador, but the man seemed to have left on some other business. Cautiously, she took out the prize she had found and showed it to Zed.
Though the tears didn't stop flowing, her brother smiled. “Might of the Empire: Weapons of War. You know me well,” the boy said sadly. Despite all the emotions he was showing, Sawyn knew Zed was doing his best to hold back much more. “You should keep it and read it. I won't need it where I am going,” he continued.
Sawyn cocked her head in puzzlement. Her brother seemed to be happy and weeping uncontrollably at the same time. Frankly, his face looked … well, ridiculous. Suddenly, she became aware that Zed wasn’t the only one crying. At least one of us has to be brave, she thought, so she blinked her tears away and wiped her nose on her sleeve. “Where are you going?”
The boy's eyes lit up. “The Academy, Saw. I'm going to the Academy. I can study in the Grand Library; they have millions of books, millions!” He was practically screaming, but quickly checked himself. “It's where all the Elite Alchemists and the royal families trained. And if I graduate …” He shook his head. “I will find a way; they say Southerners can't be alchemists, but I'll find a way. And then I can graduate and become an Elite, the very first Southern Elite.”
It’s what he always dreamed of, and she knew it. Sawyn wanted to be happy for him, to congratulate him. But... “Let's go home,” Sawyn said instead, pitifully.
Zed averted his eyes. “I can't. The Academy is in the North, all the way north, in the heart of the capital. And I have to leave today. It's the only way.”
“We can run home.”
“There is no other way, Saw.”
Part of her wanted to slap him, to scream at her brother for abandoning her. But despite all of her anger and resentment, she understood. A place full of knowledge and potential, the Academy sounded perfect for Zed.
Yet, every fiber of her being wanted him to stay—no, needed him to. No longer able to control her emotions, she broke down and wept. For the home she finally found, for the family she had grown to love.
“I'm so sorry, Saw. I'll come back for you one day, no matter what.” He kissed her on the forehead. “Nothing can stop me, not even death or the Empire,” he stuttered out from trembling lips.
The children locked together in a firm embrace. And in what she believed to be the last few minutes with her brother, Sawyn found a place to lock away her heart.
In the conference room of the embassy, Neal finished briefing his advisors. For minutes, the ambassador had to shut down dozens of objections and concerns. He had found a rare prodigy—that much was obvious. With sufficient training, the boy would prove a valuable asset. Of course, his decision was unprecedented in so many ways, and protocol dictated he would have to go through the formality of addressing his staff. Ultimately, no one in the South would or could challenge his authority, and there were no reasons to drag the meeting out any longer. “An envoy will take him North, and put him under constant watch. Once the Tryouts are over, enroll him with my special recommendation,” he commanded, his tone making it obvious he would brook no argument.
For a few moments, silence fell over the room. But much to Neal's annoyance, a young officer raised his hand. Neal made a mental note to strike a negative mark against the foolish advisor, but nodded anyway.
“What if he somehow graduates and earns his Sigil? He would fall outside even military jurisdiction,” the annoying man inquired.
Neal sighed heavily and caressed the Ivy Leaf on his chest. The responsibilities of his station required him to stay in the South, far from his peers. But such stupidity in his staff made him miss the Capital. How long had it been since he had talked to another Elite? It was unfortunate that the boy, Zed, was possibly the first intellectual equal he had seen in years. Well, if the Southerner was given enough time and education, of course. Clearing his throat, he stood up.
“If the boy somehow passes the trials of knowledge, combat, and alchemy, there will be dozens of Elites who will feel threatened by his existence. If the boy can survive all the attempts on his life that are bound to follow, then he has earned whatever he wants.” With that, Neal left the room full of flustered young officers to oversee the transport details.
Chapter 15: Preparation
Weeks passed by as people all over the Capital prepared for the spectacle known as the Tryout. During this period before school began, the offspring of powerful alchemists simply relaxed as other less gifted Highborn children struggled to brush up on their academics. But nothing could compare to the struggles of the Lowborn, as only exceptional martial prowess provided them any hope of acceptance into the life-defining institution known as the Academy. While the contest wasn't technically to the death, given the high stakes, none of the contestants ever held back, and thus, losses often proved fatal.
“Go away, Isha!” Vince complained in his sleep.
Light began to come through the window in the little room in the orphanage at the crack of dawn. Lucia sat on the floor nearby, and smiled. As much as she wanted to let her brother rest, he needed to eat for his body to heal. “Dreaming about girls in your sleep?” she teased, while nudging him gently.
Vince rubbed his eyes, disoriented. How long was I out? he wondered. “Argh, it still hurts,” he whined, rubbing his eyes.
“Where?”
“Everywhere,” he complained and wrapped the blanket around himself, attempting to sneak in a few extra minutes. Much to his surprise, Lucia didn't kick him awake like she usually did. That realization made him so uneasy that Vince sat up in the bed to look at his amused sister. “What do you mean dreaming about girls?”
“You were saying something about Isha.”
Vince groaned. “Must have been a nightmare,” he said dismissively, soliciting a snicker from Lucia. “What kind of messed-up exercise do you have for me today?” he asked, despite not really wanting to know the answer.
For the past few weeks he had spent every waking hour fighting, running, and training for the Tryout. Within days his body was pushed near its limits, but he managed to survive it. Next, Lucia required all gang members to ambush Vince weekly, in order to
improve his reflexes. Most people made a game of it, and no serious injuries occurred.
Then, much to his chagrin, a side bet for whoever could inflict the most damage began, and every orphan's desire to earn extra rations made the game much more serious.
When Vince confronted Lucia, accusing her of starting the bet, she gestured him to come closer, and promptly knocked him over with a blunt object. But if the boy was being honest with himself, he should have seen that coming.
“Nothing. Just rest up, little brother.” Lucia shrugged with a smile.
Likely story, Vince mulled with suspicion. “Am I going to get jumped in my sleep?”
“No, you dummy, what would that even accomplish? Other than make you paranoid?”
“It's not much worse than getting beaten half to death every day,” he returned with an attitude.
“No, just rest.” Lucia reached behind her and grabbed a bowl of grub. She sneaked herself a spoonful before handing it to Vince.
Although he was feeling bitter, the boy accepted the food gratefully. If, for some reason, she was going to serve him breakfast in bed, it would be impolite not to dig in. But something nagged at him to stop, just as the spoon was about to enter his mouth. Was this another test? Lucia was certainly acting strange.
Though Vince didn't realize it, he must have frozen in position for a noticeable amount of time. Lucia cleared her throat and shook her head. “I'm glad I've finally drilled caution into your thick head, but you better not think so hard that you drop the bowl. If the others learn about you wasting food, they might actually kill you.”
Nodding his head, Vince started chowing down. The food today was very bland, the usual metallic Fye flavor aside. Tiny chunks of meat made their way into his mouth with every bite, quickly satisfying his hunger. He couldn't care less about whatever rodent provided him sustenance today, since the meal was quite filling.