by D. S. Murphy
“I understand why you feel bad for the rebels. It’s a sign of what a good person you are. But these words, they’re treasonous. You can’t talk about this to anyone else. If you were involved in any way with the rebels, I wouldn’t be able to protect you. Not even from my father. Promise me you understand.”
I nodded. He stared into my eyes a moment longer. Then he grabbed a long dark coat, strapped his sword to his belt, and headed for the front door.
“I’m going to help the guard with the search. Stay here, don’t let anybody in. And whatever you do, don’t go outside.”
I retreated to my room and turned on the lamp. Flashes of skyfire lit the room up with orange light, followed by cracks of thunder that made the room tremble. I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, trying not to feel terrified about the fact my fiancé was out hunting my best friend. Trevor tried to teach me how to fish when I was ten. He said it was all about patience, about picking the right spot and then waiting for the fish. I didn’t have the patience for it, but Trevor could sit there for hours. So how had he become foolhardy enough to join the rebels? But I knew the answer. He’d told me himself: he was here for me.
Part of me was angry at his presumption. After all, Damien was trying to protect me from Trevor. Why did guys always think I needed protection? Suddenly I remembered my mom’s note. I pulled it out of the pocket hidden inside my dress, and read it by the glow of the lamp.
It’s time you learn the truth about who you are.
What was she even talking about? Who was I? Emily Sharrow, daughter of Barbara and Edwin Sharrow. At least, I used to be. Now I was nobody, nothing. Except chosen. That was my role now. Trevor was responsible for his own choices. And yet, I knew he’d never have gotten mixed up with the rebels if I hadn’t been chosen. This was his way of getting back at Damien. He thought he could stop the wedding somehow, or win me back. He still thought there was hope. I brushed my fingers against my lips, remembering the way he’d kissed me in the alley. At least he wanted me, and loved me. Damien was practically a whole different species, and I still couldn’t tell how he felt about me. He’d live forever, and I’d grow old and die, and my life wouldn’t matter. We accepted the choosing because it was the way things had always been in Algrave. I’d never really considered what I wanted, because we didn’t have the right to choose for ourselves.
Did the rebels seriously think there was another way to live, without the elites? Without the covenant? I couldn’t imagine what that would look like. At some point I was lured to sleep by the rumbling thunder, and drifted off into a dreamless sleep. When I opened my eyes again, a dark shape seemed to fill my vision. I tried to move, to scream, but I was completely frozen. A weight settled on my chest, so heavy I couldn’t breathe, like it was squeezing the life out of me. I strained my fingers and toes, willing them to move. The featureless shadow leaned over me, and I thought I heard whispering, but I couldn’t understand the message. Then it was gone.
I gasped for breath, waking from the dream, half-expecting to find someone in my room, but I was alone. My pulse quickened when I realized something dark was sitting at the edge of the bed. My fingers reached for it tentatively. It was a black mask, like the ones the royal guards wore during storms. The tubes filtered out the ash so they could breathe in the wild. Marcus must have left it somehow. I wondered if he’d been the one to deliver it. The window was shut but unlocked. I opened it and looked down. A gust of wind teased my hair. I smelled something burning and pulled back quickly, pulling the hot ember from my hair and stamping it out on the floor. I’d nearly forgotten about the ash.
I spent another hour telling myself I wouldn’t go to the meeting. I had just promised Damien I wouldn’t get involved. But what if Trevor was there? I could tell him to give up on me, that I was happy with Damien. I could get him to go back to Algrave and be safe and find someone else. At least then he wouldn’t end up executed.
And then there was my mom. Trev said she didn’t have much time left. Her note said ‘If I don’t see you again.’ Damien made it clear he was going to follow the rules. The rebels would get punished for stealing. That meant he couldn’t give me any extra elixir to save my mother; it would make him a hypocrite. At least not until after the trials, or after the wedding. But what if that was too late? The thought of an empty chair at my wedding nearly brought me to tears.
The stolen elixir! The rebels had a whole shipment of undocumented elixir, and I knew exactly where to find them. If they could get some to my mom, we could save her. It was the only way. I changed into dark jeans and a black turtleneck, then grabbed the mask and headed downstairs. As I tied a thick hooded cape around my shoulders and walked into the burning ash, I wondered what the rebels could do for me, and what they’d want in return.
18
I clung to the shadows and darted through narrow alleys as quietly as I could, but my heart pounded whenever I heard footsteps or voices. A dark shawl wrapped around most of my face, concealing the heavy mask. My breath was hot behind the filters, but the device worked as intended. A sudden torchlight drove me behind a stack of boxes, and six guards came into view. They were searching houses in teams, wearing masks like mine. I held my breath as they pounded on a door near me. Two of them stood outside, watching the street, while the others searched the house. It felt like an eternity before they came back out again.
“Clear,” one of them said. His voice sounded almost electronic behind the mask. Up close, the wide grill on the front of the device looked like a row of giant black teeth. One of them turned towards me, his eyes glowing red like the falling embers. With the mask, it made him look inhuman. I wondered how much elixir was in their system. Not that it mattered, just one of them could overpower me easily. Training had been interrupted by the attack, and since the renewal ceremony was cancelled, I hadn’t had any new elixir for several days.
I realized I’d developed a taste for it. Not an addiction exactly, I just felt weaker without it, more scared, less confident, and more aware of my body. Sluggish almost. Going out into the ash made it worse. Even though the mask filtered out the toxic ash, my anxiety was exhausting.
I checked my bracelet out of habit, forgetting I’d left it under my pillow. Zane had done a decent job repairing the broken latch, but now I was able to remove the diamond wristband on my own. The monitor read zero anyway, and I didn’t want to broadcast my location. But that also meant, if I got caught, I’d have no protection.
I waited until the guards moved on and allowed my breathing to settle. Part of me wanted to go back, but I was already halfway to the bridge. I darted out from under cover and sprinted the rest of the way, catching my breath when the bridge was in view. I waited for five minutes, hidden out of site. I was late, but I wanted to make sure this wasn’t some kind of trap. Just when I was about to make a move, a black object whizzed through the air past me. A surveillance drone. I wondered how many of them were out there, and whether I’d missed any others. Had they seen me? The blinking red light grew smaller as it moved down the street. I wiped my sweaty palms against my dark cloak, waited a few more minutes, then crept across the street to the arched bridge. I ducked over the side, onto the small dirt path below. Underneath was a narrow platform, but there was nobody there.
Was I too late? I could barely see the edge of the platform in the darkness, but I heard the water rushing by, carrying soot and ash out of the citadel. The roar of the water made it difficult to hear anything else, so I didn’t notice the door open behind me until I felt a hand on my shoulder. I whirled around so fast I almost fell in the river. Marcus grabbed the front of my shirt until I caught my balance, then grabbed my arm and pulled me towards the narrow opening.
“Inside. Quickly,” he said, disappearing into the darkness behind him. I took one last look around, then followed him inside. He shut the door behind me, lit a candle and led me through a low tunnel. He’d changed out of his curate robes, and was now wearing jeans, a dark jacket and his trademark knitted cap with ear
flaps. I realized now it was a disguise: it covered his unique haircut. Without it, everyone would recognize him as a curate. He still stood out, but at least now he could pass for a trader.
“What is this place?” I asked.
“Food storage, mostly,” he said. “They used to bring food in by boat, and keep it down here.” The tunnel led to a cavernous room with a low ceiling, illuminated by torches. Against the wall was a table full of pistols, and what looked like explosives. Several figures were huddled around a central pit. The remains of a smoldering fire cast an orange glow—just enough light to see in the darkness. I looked around for faces I recognized. Trev jumped up and gave me a long hug. He was wearing a black shirt and fingerless leather gloves. A black band of fabric wrapped around his bicep. I couldn’t tell if it was a bandage or a political statement.
“Welcome to the resistance,” he said. It felt good to be with him, to feel his strong arms around me. He smelled the same, like home and safety. But then I remembered where we were and pushed him away.
“What were you thinking?” I said, jabbing my finger into his chest. “You’re going to get yourself killed. You all will.” I said, looking around the circle.
“You don’t know what it’s been like since you left,” Trevor said. “Rations have been getting smaller. People are hungry. Your mother, she’s not doing well. She can’t work at all.”
“So why aren’t you in Algrave, taking care of Jamie and Loralie?” It was unfair to hurl that at him, and I knew it as soon as I saw the look of guilt cross his face. Taking care of my family wasn’t his responsibility, it was mine.
“Because it’s not just about them,” he said, pushing his dark hair out of his eyes. “It’s the whole system. We’re kept as pets. A food supply, nothing more. They take everything from us, and we have no control over our own lives.”
“That’s not true,” I said, thinking about the way Tobias looked at Penelope. “The covenant—”
“A lie, the whole thing. The founders of Algrave never signed any agreement. We never agreed to any of this.”
My eyes widened and I looked over to Marcus, who nodded grimly.
“The historical records in the citadel show that a trial batch of children were allowed to survive and raised in the compounds, indoctrinated with the beliefs of the covenant, several generations ago. There were no founders, only prisoners of war.”
Is that what Damien meant, about his father’s system being based on a lie? I shook my head, refusing to believe it.
“But what about the slagpaw, the ash? The elite keep us safe, they provide food and shelter. The elixir keeps us healthy and strong.”
“The elixir is a poison, not a cure.” Trevor said. “Drink a little, it makes you stronger. Drink too much, and it will kill you.”
“So why steal it then?” I shot back.
“Because, it’s the only way to fight them. They’re too fast, too powerful. Before attacking the transport of elixir, we saved up for months, spitting out the renewal sacrament, collecting drops until we had enough. Many people have sacrificed, in many compounds, for our victory. Now we have enough for everyone; enough for a real revolution.”
“You’re crazy,” I said. “A few drops of elixir won’t make you as strong as an elite. You attacked one during your little adventure; he’ll probably get a medal.”
“You’re right,” Marcus said, stroking his beard. “It’s not enough. There’s something else we need. We’re hoping you can help with that.”
The group looked at me expectantly. I crossed my arms, waiting for Marcus to continue.
“King Richard’s history is a fable. He says that a virus wiped out humanity, and the skies were scorched during the wars. But from what I’ve read in the archives, Richard was just a man, a scientist. He was trying to improve humans with technology. He accidentally created the elites, the blood lust. Which led to the wars. It wasn’t the humans who burned the skies and created the ash, it was the elite. King Richard’s cure made them sensitive to sunlight. Apparently the electromagnetic radiation from the ultraviolet rays interfere with the healing function of the elixir.”
“That’s impossible,” I said.
“That’s not the best part,” Trevor said quickly.
“There’s a best part?” I asked, crossing my arms.
“According to the research, as I understand it, King Richard also made an antidote, based on alliinase, which constitutes the major protein component in garlic bulbs. It cleaves carbon-sulfur bonds, which are essential for the organic elements in the elixir to function.”
“It reverses the effects of the elixir,” Trevor said, taking over. “It basically turns elite into humans again. It brings them back to life.”
My throat went dry. This all sounded like fantasy.
“That’s how he controls the other elite; that’s how he got them to agree to his plan, the compounds, the covenant, the choosing—all of it. Any elite who didn’t agree with him, he’d give the antidote to and confine to the compounds. By giving them life, and making them human, he’d also be condemning them to death.”
Is that why Damien was afraid of his father? Because he didn’t want to be made human again?
“I still don’t get it,” I said. “You want to steal the antidote?”
“Even better,” Trevor grinned, “it’s already been stolen.”
“At least, that’s what we think,” Marcus said. “Most of the records have been burned, deleted from the archives. But according to one of our informants, a few decades ago a man named John Patten stole the formula. He snuck it out of the citadel and into one of the compounds, a place called Quondam. The king responded by destroying the entire compound and killing everyone inside.”
I struggled to make sense of what Marcus was saying. A destroyed compound? What happened to a century of peace? Had there really been a rebellion so recently? Did it have something to do with what I’d overheard at the bar? The whole compound, swallowed up by ash, dead as a graveyard.
“Even if all that is true,” I said. “So what? Listen to yourself, King Richard destroyed an entire compound for this. Thousands of people. You can’t defeat him. He’s too strong.”
“Not if we find the antidote,” Trevor said. “If we get that, we can end all of this. We can be free to make our own choices.”
“Find the antidote,” I repeated, trying to catch up. “But you said the compound was destroyed?”
“We think John Patten hid it somewhere. Rumor has it he killed dozens of elite before he was finally captured, but they never retrieved the formula,” Trevor said. I didn’t like the almost reverent way he talked about killing elites, or the violence in his eyes.
“What has this got to do with me?” I said, crossing my arms.
Marcus pulled a faded photograph from his pocket, showing two men. One I recognized immediately: Damien looked exactly like he did today, apart from a much broader smile. The man next to him was handsome as well, but with a darker complexion.
“This is a photograph of John Patten and Prince Damien, taken before the rebellion.”
“They were friends?” I asked.
“Yes. We think that’s how John got access to the formula. Maybe Damien told him something he shouldn’t have, or he stole it when he was visiting Damien in the citadel.”
Damien had a human friend, who betrayed him. And then his father had him executed, along with an entire compound. No wonder Damien kept a close guard on his emotions.
“So what do you want me to do?” I asked.
Trevor smiled, and nodded at Marcus, assuming I’d just agreed to help them.
“Find out where John hid the antidote,” he said quickly.
“Sure, no problem.” I laughed and rolled my eyes. “Even if Damien knew, which I doubt, what makes you think he’d tell me?”
“You’re his chosen,” Marcus said.
“He barely talks to me,” I said.
“Men sometimes run their mouths, when they’re feeling satisf
ied.”
I blushed and looked away, staring into the coals of the fire.
I had no idea how to satisfy my betrothed.
“Wait, haven’t you—” Trevor cut in, his eyes widening in surprise.
“No,” I said, looking down at my feet. “He hasn’t laid a finger on me.”
Trevor looked relieved. At least one of us was happy.
Marcus, however, frowned at this information.
“There’s still time. If you get closer to him, he might let something slip.”
“No way,” Trevor said. “I told you this was a bad idea, it’s too dangerous. Plus, you’re not seriously suggesting she sleep with him to get information?”
“She’s chosen,” Marcus said. “It will happen eventually.”
My cheeks felt like they were on fire. They were talking about my virginity like a chess piece; something to offer up in exchange for a formula to bring down the elites.
“I can’t help you,” I said. “Do you even hear yourselves? John Patten was just one man, and he got his entire compound destroyed. What do you think they’ll do to Algrave if you get caught, or if I do? You’re putting my family at risk, you’re putting everyone at risk.”
“Maybe you don’t have to ask him,” Marcus said. “You already have access to his home, his study. He may have saved a copy of the formula, or written something down in a journal. Anything you find could be useful, just keep an eye out.”
“And why would I agree to that?”
“Because, there’s one more thing we haven’t told you yet. The secret of who you really are, and what you’re capable of.”
I held my breath. This was the information I’d come for.
But just then, the wooden door exploded and royal guard came pouring in.
Trevor grabbed my hand and pulled me into a dark tunnel at the back of the room behind some boxes. We had to stoop to get in. He covered up the entrance just as voices shouted behind us. Gunshots rang out, and I heard someone scream.