I shook my head, not knowing it was possible for someone to be so adorable and awkward at the same time. I swiftly exchanged my shirt for his mother’s. It was slightly too big for me but not terrible.
Trent wasn’t outside the door when I left the room but was waiting for me in the living room instead. His expression showed he hadn’t quite recovered from his embarrassment upstairs. At least I wasn’t the only one who felt a little uncomfortable sometimes.
“You ready then?” he asked, looking down at a spot on the carpet instead of at me.
“Yeah, I just need to put this in my bag,” I said, holding up my concert t-shirt.
Trent shuffled to the side, giving me a wide berth to get to my bag. I shoved the shirt inside.
“Ready.”
“Cool. So I think it will be best if we Travel to a spot in the forest that’s a little closer to the city center and then walk from there. It’s about four miles away, so it would be a long walk otherwise.”
“Sounds good to me.” Not that four miles would be difficult for me to run, but it would take Trent some time to go on foot.
He took my hands in his, avoiding my eyes this time, and we disappeared from his living room. We reappeared in a thick part of forest. I didn’t need any help keeping my balance after landing, a fact I was proud of.
“Hey, that was pretty good, eh?” I laughed.
Trent laughed too. “Definitely an improvement,” he agreed. “Look, Ava, I’m sorry about up in my parents’ bedroom. I didn’t mean to—”
I cut him off. “Seriously, Trent, no big deal.” I held up my hand to stop him from saying anything more. He smiled and seemed to relax into his usual self.
Our conversation was casual as we walked the half mile remaining to the city center. I asked Trent about his schooling—the vision I’d seen made me curious. He explained that school attendance was mandatory until age 12. After that, parents had to pay to keep their kids in school, so only those who were well off were able to continue.
Once you were finished with school—whether at age 12, 18, or somewhere in between—you were required to take what they called your Power Final. This was used to place you in your civil service position where you’d serve for the rest of your life. You were also given your own social rank at that time. Everyone had to take their Power Final by age 18 at the latest. That meant less than two months for Trent.
“That doesn’t seem very fair,” I pointed out. “A student at the age of 12 wouldn’t have much opportunity to develop their talents, I would assume. So they likely wouldn’t receive a very good placement.”
“Exactly. It’s a system designed to keep those in poverty without any way to break the cycle. To make matters worse, once you take your Power Final, you are not allowed to live in your parents’ home, which means there are plenty of young kids out there trying to make it on their own.” Trent kicked a rock in his frustration. It sailed through the air and hit a nearby tree trunk with a thud.
“How does Tenebris enforce that law? It seems like it would be very difficult to check up on every household all the time.”
“Have you noticed my father is missing his right thumb?” Trent asked.
I was confused by his question, but answered anyway. “Yes, of course. I didn’t want to be rude by asking, but I’ve wondered why.”
“Once, when he was helping my mother get her cart into town, he gave a beggar on the street an orange. One of Tenebris’ guards was watching. It is illegal to give any aid to a member of a lower social ranking than you are. The punishment for such a crime is not set in stone—essentially the guard can do whatever he pleases. In this case, he felt like chopping off my dad’s thumb.”
“Ugh... that’s barbaric,” I said, my stomach heaving at the thought.
“It is indeed, but in some ways, my dad got off easy. I’ve seen plenty of people whipped mercilessly in the city square and some even put to death for a ‘crime’ that simple. Tenebris wants to keep us in submission. Giving us any idea that we might get away with helping someone—banding together—he views as a threat. He knows the best way to maintain control is to keep us divided and in fear.”
“Why didn’t your dad heal himself?” I asked, still sick at the thought of someone as gentle as Sam facing that kind of consequence for an act of mercy.
“My dad can heal nearly any physical injury, but he cannot return a severed limb. His abilities don’t stretch that far. I’d guess that’s why the guard chose that particular punishment for him.”
I paused, debating whether or not I should ask my next question. I was fairly certain I knew the answer and it wasn’t a happy one. I decided to ask it anyway. “What’s going to happen to you? In two months?”
Trent stopped walking, and I followed suit. He hung his head for a moment before meeting my eyes with a sad smile on his face. “I have no choice. I will be a Zero, forced to leave my parents’ home, and left without any way to provide for myself. It’s the reason my parents have sacrificed so much to keep me in school for as long as they have. We are not a wealthy family, and it has been difficult to pay for the schooling, but they have wanted to delay the inevitable as much as possible. One way or the other, though, my time is up in two months.”
I was stunned. I had no idea what I could do or say to comfort Trent. A renewed hatred for Tenebris rose inside me. This ridiculous system served no purpose but to keep him in power and the people afraid. “There has to be something that can be done,” I whispered.
Trent looked at me sadly. “There isn’t, Ava. As long as Praesidium exists, we are nothing more than captives in Cyrus. It’s no wonder your dad left and never wanted you to know about this place.”
Though I wish Dad had been truthful with me, I suppose I could see Trent’s point—Cyrus wasn’t the place I had always dreamed. My father must have realized this and wanted us to escape before I became attached to the realm. Was it better to live in a world without magic but a place where I could be free? Or dwell in a land where societal limitations mocked the undeniable power that ran through my veins—through every Cyrun’s veins? I wasn’t sure.
Chapter 13
Magia
The city center was amazing. In my brief exposure to Cyrus thus far, I’d gotten the feeling that the way of life here was very old fashioned. The city said otherwise; it was a bustling metropolis, as busy as any major city in the human world, yet sustained by infrastructure that seemed a logical impossibility. For example, the bridge we crossed that connected the countryside to the city appeared to be suspended in midair. No supports of any kind were visible below or above it.
The architecture, too, was beautiful but didn’t make sense according to any physics I’d learned in school. The building that seemed to stand tallest—though it was a close competition with several others—twisted and curved around itself in a beautiful, spiraling pattern. Its glassy surfaces reflected rainbows in different directions like the minute facets of a diamond.
“Welcome to Magia,” Trent said as we stood at the base of the bridge, an enormous smile on his face—a stark contrast with his mood in the forest.
“It’s incredible!” I gushed. “How does it all work? It doesn’t make sense.”
“Magic, of course,” Trent laughed.
Oh. Right. I guess I’d never met or heard about anyone with abilities that could create structures like the ones before me, but I suppose they must exist.
“And King Tenebris? He lives here?” I asked, tense at the thought.
“Yes, but the palace isn’t visible from this spot. It’s actually on the other side of the city. It’s magnificent as well.”
“Best to keep our heads down then, eh?”
“Definitely,” Trent agreed.
We walked the remainder of the short path ahead, entering a cast-iron gate that read, “Welcome to Magia: Capital city of Cyrus,” above our heads.
The storefronts we passed were a mixture of the unknown and familiar. Some seemed absolutely normal, like the books
hops and produce stands. Others were foreign, with advertisements that boasted of products that would “turn an enemy to stone” or “rid your home of gargoyles”.
“Trolls?” I asked Trent, reading the headline of a newspaper a man carried tucked under his arm. “Are all mythical creatures real in Cyrus?”
“Depends on what you mean. ‘All’ is probably too generous. I’ve never met anything that would be called a Boogy Man, though I’d imagine whatever he looks like, even his mother has a hard time giving him good night kisses,” Trent joked. “But as far as most of your standard ‘fairytale’ creatures, yes. There are trolls, dragons, pegasi, goblins, unicorns—you get the idea.”
I thought about my previous encounters with the garden gnome, mermaid, and vulonine. I wasn’t sure I was too keen on the idea of meeting the other creatures around here. Though the gnome did have its charms.
Despite the exciting displays in shop windows and the smiles on many faces, there was a sad side to Magia, hidden in the shadows. Several people with nothing more than rags for clothes lurked in the darkness, their faces gaunt with hunger, their eyes silently pleading the words they could not speak.
“Get on with your day, vermin!” a crass voice shouted. A glance behind told me it belonged to a man in a red uniform—law enforcement. He shouted at a haggard looking woman with a young boy by her side. “You know better than to put your indecency on display in Magia’s royal city!” The man waved his arms wildly, urging the two to move. “Go on, get out of the street before I whip you both in the square!” The boy gave a small whimper that broke my heart.
I started toward the woman and child, not sure what I could do, but feeling the urge to offer help anyway. A hand grabbed my arm. “Ava, don’t,” Trent warned. “I know it’s hard, but you’ll only make things worse for them and for you if you intervene. Trust me.”
I looked in Trent’s eyes, seeing the pain there that matched my own—the pain of helplessness. An ache grew in my chest, becoming sharper as I remembered this was his fate in two short months.
“A low profile, remember? You promised. Come on, my mom’s stand should be just up this road,” Trent said, indicating a turn to the right at the next intersection. Reluctantly, I followed.
We passed a dress shop with fancy evening gowns in its display windows and a candy shop that had some delicious looking sweets. Finally, we reached Em’s produce stand, which was parked in the middle of the street.
“Hey, Mom,” Trent said. “How’s business?”
“Oh, kind of slow, I’m afraid. There are a lot of stands out today, it being the weekend and all.”
“True. But everyone knows Emeritus Cavanaugh has the best produce.” Trent embraced his mom and kissed her cheek. She smiled in return.
“Would you like anything, Ava?” Em asked, gesturing at the delicious fruits and vegetables in front of her. I was actually very hungry but couldn’t bring myself to even think about eating. I kept picturing the frail woman and her child.
“No thanks, I’m fine,” I responded.
“Come on, it’s on the house, of course,” Trent said, picking up an apple and tossing it at me. I caught it lithely as an idea hit me.
“Do you think I could take just a few more?” I asked timidly.
“Sure,” Trent said, tossing three more at me.
“Thanks. I’ll be back in just a second.”
“Wait, Ava, I know what you’re thinking. Please don’t!” Trent called.
“I’ll be too fast for anyone to catch me. Don’t worry,” I said. And then I took off at my fastest speed, the buildings becoming blurs around me as I headed in the direction of the mother and son.
After a few seconds, I caught sight of them as they headed up the street that led to the bridge out of the city. They both wore tattered cloaks with hoods that hung below their necks. Perfect. I sprinted up behind them, dropped two apples a piece in their hoods, and then ran back to the produce stand. A few quick glances around told me I was safe. Nobody had spotted me come or go.
Then I caught the look on Trent’s face. He was furious. “I told you not to do that,” he said darkly.
“Do what?” Em asked.
“Ava just gave two beggars some of your produce,” Trent whispered to his mother.
Em’s face was surprised. “Really? I didn’t even see you go. How generous of you, Ava. Thank you.” She smiled and reached out to squeeze my hand.
“What do you mean, ‘thank you’?” Trent stuttered. “She could have gotten herself into serious trouble!”
“Son, we cannot allow tyranny to make us cowards. If there’s a way Ava can help without putting herself in danger, I’m happy she took the chance.”
“Thank you, Em,” I said, feeling awkward. I wasn’t looking for praise for my actions, though I was grateful she took some heat off me.
Trent gave a sigh that let me know he was still frustrated. He busied himself, straightening produce and restocking the bins with fruit that was stashed underneath the baskets on the cart.
We spent the next short while helping Em at the stand. I mostly felt useless as things weren’t busy enough for three workers, but I handled a few transactions here and there and replaced produce as I’d seen Trent do. Over time, he seemed to soften until he no longer held the tightness in his shoulders that told me he was annoyed.
Just as I handed a stout woman her bag of produce, a loud voice echoed around us, halting my outstretched hand. The woman, too, froze. The voice didn’t sound like it came from a speaker like the annoying intercom system at school, yet it still surrounded us. Rather, it sounded like a person was standing in front of us, talking in a slightly louder than normal voice. I glanced around, confused, as the voice proclaimed, “Citizens and guests of Magia, his Royal Highness, King Tenebris, has requested a gathering at Tuttenham Square to begin in fifteen minutes. Please make your way to the square as quickly as possible. His Highness will be addressing the public in person. All individuals who can hear this message are invited to attend. Thank you.”
“Invited,” Trent scoffed. “More like commanded.”
I wasn’t sure what he meant by that, but it didn’t sound good. Em looked concerned. “We better get going,” she breathed.
I handed the woman her bag. She took it swiftly and then rushed to the other side of the street to join her husband. They hurried down the street together, arm in arm.
Trent and Em walked around the sides of her stand, unrolling long pieces of fabric that provided a cover. Catching on, I went to the third side and unrolled my piece. We fastened the pieces together, securing the cover in place.
“Thank you,” Em said breathlessly. “Come on now, quickly.”
We shuffled off down the road, headed in the direction of the crowd. As we walked farther and farther into the city, the crowds became thicker, causing our pace to slow dramatically. A hushed whisper hung over the throng as the gatherers speculated about what might be happening.
“How much farther is it?” I asked Trent.
“Just a few more streets. We should make it in time without a problem,” he whispered back.
After another minute, the street where we walked opened up to a very large square with a tall fountain in the center. People crammed in around each other, all sense of personal space forgotten. Beyond the fountain, there was a large building that reminded me of a courthouse back home. It had a wide staircase that led up to the doors of a white brick building with white columns spaced out across its face. A large balcony jutted out of the second story. With a jolt, I recognized the beggar boy from the street. He stood on the balcony, facing the crowd, with his hands and feet tied together, looking frightened. He couldn’t be more than eleven years old. His mother sat bound on a chair on one side of the balcony, her mouth covered with a rag. The panic in her eyes was evident, even from this distance. The tension in the atmosphere was palpable.
“What is the boy doing up there?” I asked Trent frantically. “What are they going to do to him?”<
br />
Trent didn’t answer. His expression remained stony.
I turned to Em and opened my mouth to ask her the same question, but she squeezed my hand and whispered, “It would be best to stay quiet for now, Ava.”
A man wearing a navy blue uniform and white gloves stepped out onto the balcony. “His Royal Highness, King Tenebris, king of the people of Cyrus,” he barked, turning sharply to the side to make way for the next figure to step through the door.
The king emerged onto the balcony, his hair jet black and smoothed behind his ears. His face and posture were austere, his eyes cold. He wore a black uniform with a red and gold cape draped around his shoulders. It dragged on the ground as he stepped forward to place his gloved hands on the railing. A simple gold crown glinted on his head. Around his neck hung a prominent ruby encased in an elaborate gold chain—Praesidium, the object giving him his powers. It shimmered in the sunlight.
“Citizens of Cyrus,” the king spoke, his voice as emotionless as his face. It carried easily over the crowd, just as the announcement on the street had before. “Bow to your king.”
I watched as Praesidium glowed a vibrant red at the direct command, exerting its powers over the people who were compelled to comply. I was fascinated by it—so fascinated that I forgot to obey the command. Trent tugged on my hand, pulling me down with him, his eyes glued to the ground.
I quickly obeyed Trent and bowed as well, though I did not keep my eyes on the ground as he did. I looked around the gathering, noticing that everyone was in the exact same position as Trent—knees and waist bent, eyes on the ground—except one dark haired boy who looked to be about the same age as Trent and me. He stood roughly 20 yards from where we were. He, too, was bent in a bow, but his eyes were searching the crowd, just like mine. He seemed to notice me at the same moment I noticed him. We made eye contact. A look of confusion crossed his features followed by a radiant smile.
The Cyrun Page 10