City of Stone (The Watchers Trilogy, Book Two)

by T. C. Edge

  I look at them, one after another. Three people I care so deeply for. Jackson, on the left, chin up, jaw set, staring forwards at me. Despite everything around us, he manages to smile at me. I know he's doing it for reassurance.

  Ellie, in the middle, looks around at the audience. But she doesn't show fear. She shows anger, and hatred reflected back on the people. Then, I see her eyes turn and stick, unmoving, off to her left. I follow her gaze and see Link, standing on a raised platform to one side. He looks back at her, and on his face I see pain.

  Next to Link, Ajax stands. He stares at me, and only me. There's something inside those grey disks that plead with me to take Knight's offer. His expression isn't of hatred as he looks at me, as his eyes roll over the others and return to my face. No, it's much worse. I see pity.

  Finally, I turn and look at Theo. His face hangs low as the barrage of abuse continues. Around us, clear partition walls protect us from oncoming fruit and garbage and other missiles, thrown from the crowd. Most go for Theo, the wall near him quickly growing filthy and covered in grime.

  I look again from one to the next. Jackson, smiling. Ellie, grimacing. Theo, drooping.

  How can I kill any of them?

  Suddenly, the loud booming voice of the announcer sounds again.

  “And now, please welcome your host...”

  A hush sounds, the world turning almost deathly silent.

  “... High Chancellor Augustus Knight, and the Council of Eden!”

  The announcer calls loudly, his voice shattering the sudden lull. Every single eye turns to the raised platform to my right, the platform where Ajax and Link stand, loyal protectors of the city and its tyrant. I notice other guards standing around. Some have those cold, staring expressions that come with time spent without fear. More Watchers, more slaves.

  As the world looks on in anticipation, a stream of men and women step out from a door at the back of the platform. They're all dressed in robes and gowns and fine livery, the neutral Eden colours of white and black adorning them all. They file out and take seats in luxurious chairs, nothing but puppets paraded by their master.

  I look down at Theo again, and see that his eyes have raised now. They search the Councillors as they appear, only looking for two. He looks almost broken, face pale, expression empty. A flash of pain passes across his face, and I turn to look back at the gathering Council.

  Out walk his parents, taking their positions on the top level, one below a marvellous throne. Their faces are blank, but even from this distance I can see the turmoil in their eyes. Whatever their beliefs, whatever their loyalty, they are about to watch their son die.

  They don't look at Theo though. I see them speak to the other Councillors to their side, look out into the crowd, even look down at me. But not their son. They don't look at him once.

  I turn back to him, and see him still staring at them. Then, after a few moments, he looks away, and hangs his head once more. The glint of a tear, trickling down his cheek, is easy for all to see.

  A hush dawns again as the stream of Councillors ends. Four guards walk out, taking positions either side of the grand throne. Everyone stares. No one breathes. The deepest silence I've ever known dawns.

  Then, through the door, he steps. Covered in darkest black, he flows out from the opening, his hands behind his back. He moves towards his throne, raises his hands up into the air, and nods his head towards the gathered people of Eden. It's an invite to welcome his arrival with cheers.

  The world once again breaks out in roars; this time of joy, of admiration, of respect. Knight stands there for a time, revelling in their reverence, holding the smile from his face to maintain his impassive poise. Then, slowly, he raises up his hands again to call for quiet. The end to the clamour is immediate.

  “Today,” he says, his deep voice cutting through the air, “we welcome to the stage four young people who have lost their paths. Deserters. Conspirators. Traitors.”

  A rumble of discontent follows. He has to raise his hands to calm them.

  “Each one of them have run from their duties. They have joined the rebels. They have planned to assassinate me and destabilise our society. The penalty for these crimes is death.”

  More roars. More rotting fruit and garbage is thrown.

  “However,” he continues, “I am a fair man, and I believe in second chances. Cyra Drayton must make a choice. She must decide on one to die. And she must be the one to do it.”

  Mutterings flow like a wave across the throng. A sense of excitement grows at the impending drama. And then, suddenly, the calls begin.

  “THEO! THEO! THEO!”

  A chant begins, not a chant of support, but one of anger. They growl his name, point fingers, hundreds of digits darting in Theo's direction. I look up and see Ellie and Jackson looking over at him, eyes so full of sorrow. Then they look to me, and show utter confusion. It's obvious that they weren't told about this at all.

  But I don't see hope inside their eyes. Hope that maybe I'll go with the crowd, kill Theo, and they'll be able to continue living.

  No. I see pity. I see defiance. I see eyes that say 'no, don't do it Cyra'.

  The crowd chant for a while, before the hands of Knight calm them. Once again, he speaks slowly, deliberately, building a show.

  Demonstrating his control, his power. He speaks again.

  “Only Cyra can make the choice,” he says. “I am lenient. If she kills one, the other two will be spared. If she doesn't, they will all die here today.”

  On cue, several guards appear at ground level, surrounding me and the others. Dotted around the two stages, they stand with automatic weapons pointed at each of us.

  “Now, it's time for Cyra to decide,” calls Knight. “Only she can choose. Only she can save her friends.”

  I look to my right at Knight, and see him staring directly at me. See that cruel, twisted smile I've seen so often in my visions. Visions that have brought me here, to this point in time, right to the brink of my fate.

  And now, from here, it's down to me to affect the outcome.

  He's right. Only I can choose what happens now.

  33 - The Clock Ticking

  As Knight takes his seat, the crowd begins to roar again. It's so loud I can barely hear the thoughts in my head, but one name keeps on reaching my ears.

  Theo.

  It's he who I look at now. His head still down, I watch as he takes a couple of deep breaths, as if he's readying himself for what's to come. Then, slowly, fearlessly, he raises his eyes directly to me, and I see him mouth through the din: “do it.”

  I shake my head.

  “Kill me.”

  I shake my head again.

  “You have to.”

  I look away, turn to Ellie, to Jackson. Both are staring at me now. Both are mouthing the same as Theo.

  “Kill me, Cyra. Choose me.”

  Inside, I feel my heart already breaking. Such bravery. Such valour. I feel proud to call each of them my friends.

  The crowd continues to make their thoughts known. Some, close enough to me, shriek so loudly that their individual voices reach my ears.

  “Kill Theo! He won't be missed!”

  “He's scum. Theo deserves to die the most!”

  I look at them, and feel my body beginning to burn. I grip the pistol tight and, without thinking, raise it to them, pointing it directly at their heads. The guards around me all firm up their stances, ready their aim at me.

  The partition walls between myself and the crowd would stop the bullet. But I don't care. I want to scare these stupid, ignorant people.

  Faces show fear and alarm, and natural instincts cause people to duck and raise their arms to protect themselves. The sight makes me smile with disgust.

  A minute passes, and still, I have no idea of what to do. One bullet, one shot, one kill. Maybe I should use it on myself...

  I look back up at Knight, whose arrogant, sneering smile continues to linger on his face. I can tell he's enjoying this,
loving every second of it, forcing me to confront the very thing I hate and fear the most.

  I turn away. I don't know where to look. My mind wanders, searching for an answer to an impossible question. I close my eyes tight, try to block out the endless roar, and disappear into my head.

  I stay there as long as I can, forgetting the world around me exists. I see the faces of Ellie and Jackson and Theo flash before me, see them at their happiest times. Smiling, laughing, joking...kissing.

  Then, a voice rushes into my ears. A shout so loud it cuts straight through the din and forces my eyes open.

  I look straight at Theo. His eyes are fierce, his face red with effort as he shouts.

  “KILL ME, CYRA! JUST DO IT!”

  His scream is so intense that the crowd begins to hush. Suddenly, everyone is staring at him, panting and breathing heavily. The whole of Eden falls silent.

  “You heard them,” he calls, his words echoing between the stands, flowing through the city streets. “Ellie and Jackson don't deserve to die. I do. Save them, Cyra. Kill me.”

  Our eyes lock together, and everything else in the world blurs to nothing. My hand begins shaking, tears roll down my cheeks.

  “Raise that gun...point it at my heart...do it...”

  Almost automatically, I feel my hand rising up. An electric charge runs through the crowd as I slowly bring the tip of the barrel in line with Theo's chest.

  “Good...now do it, Cyra...pull the trigger. Pull it. Pull it!”

  Silence.

  My hand shakes, my vision blurred by tears. Then, another voice.

  “No...”

  I'm shaken from my trance. My eyes turn a little to the left. Jackson stares at me.

  “Kill me, Cyra,” he says calmly. “You three are Watchers. Maybe you can do some good in this world. Not me. Kill me, Cyra. I've known you forever...and I've loved you forever. But it's time for us to part...forever. Kill me.”

  I gulp, and my hand shudders, drifting between Theo and Jackson. Still, the crowd stays quiet, watching the drama play out.

  Another voice joins in. Quiet, innocent, gentle...but determined.

  “No, Cyra, kill me. I...I don't want to live any more.”

  I look at Ellie with shock in my eyes. Hers start on me, then drift up towards Link. She speaks directly to him.

  “I lost the boy I loved, but seeing him like this is even harder,” she says. “I loved you, Link. And look what you've become.”

  Her voice is cold, packed with disappointment and misery. Her eyes come back to me.

  “I don't care about death,” she continues. “I don't fear it.” A tear runs down her cheek. “I welcome it. Kill me.”

  All three now look at me with pleading eyes. All three willing to die to save the other two. I look out into the crowd now, and see some faces begin to change. The disgust and hatred fades, replaced by pity, by sadness, by respect.

  No longer do they roar or cheer. I hear whispers, sense confusion in their own convictions. I even hear one person shout out, breaking the silence: “save them all. Show mercy, High Chancellor.”

  His words bring some of the crowd out of their stupor. Others call out.

  “Spare them.”

  “Let them all live.”

  I look around and find the faces of pity. Those who haven't been so caught up in the clamour to see us killed. Those who might even, like me and so many others, see the inequality in the world. Those who, most likely, have tasted the bitter life of the mainland before being sent here.

  It gives me hope. Not hope that Knight will relent and bow to the people. But hope that there are still good people here. That they haven't all been corrupted and twisted and turned into heartless, selfish, drones. Hope that Knight's cruel world isn't agreed with by all the people here. That good people remain, fighting for what's right.

  A period of awkward confusion follows. The dissonance in the crowd grows, until the voice of the announcer, loud on his microphone, bellows out for quiet.

  “Silence!” he calls. “The High Chancellor would like to speak.”

  I turn up, along with all eyes, to see Knight once more standing, arms aloft. He slowly rotates his head, inspecting all of those before him. Now, though, his eyes have grown darker. His posture is more threatening. And when he speaks, his voice contains obvious signs of displeasure.

  “You call for mercy,” he says, “for people who would assassinate your ruler. You call for them all to be freed, for such crimes to go unpunished.”

  His voice turns to a growl as he speaks. I see the Councillors around him begin to shrink into their shells.

  “I have shown great leniency to people who would seek to destroy me, destroy us, destroy everything we have built. And you have the audacity to ask for more!”

  He stands taller, lifting his chin higher, staring out at the people as they duck and avoid his gaze. His next words create total silence: “the next person to utter another word against me, will join them up on that stage.”

  Total silence. He leaves it a moment for his words to sink in.

  Then, he talks directly to me.

  “Cyra,” he says. “It is now time for you to choose. You have heard from the crowd. You have heard from your friends. Kill one, save two. And save yourself. The choice is yours.”

  He smiles again at me from his high perch, from his throne on top of the world. Everything in his palm, everything under his control. His eyes light as he utters his final words.

  “You have one minute to decide. If you don't by then, all of you will die.”

  Guns are suddenly cocked around us. All the guards take aim at our heads. My friends stare at me, quiet now, eyes pleading for them to be the one.

  “One minute,” calls the announcer loudly.

  I stare in all directions, my heart now thrashing inside my chest. The gun shivers in my hand, held loosely to my side.

  “Fifty seconds.”

  I stare up at my friends. They begin speaking to me again, all at once, pleading their cases.

  “Shoot me, Cyra, shoot me now!” says Jackson.

  “Me, Cyra. I don't want to be here any more,” says Ellie.

  “I don't deserve to be here,” says Theo. “I'm the one they want dead.”

  My hand lifts, guiding my pistol from one to the next.

  “Forty seconds.”

  They continue to call at me, getting more aggressive now. Their shouts blur into one, only serving to confuse me. The crowd begins to rumble once again, murmurings fluttering through them like blowing leaves.

  “Thirty seconds.”

  “We're all going to die, Cyra!” calls Jackson. “Shoot me. You have to make a choice!”

  “Just fire, Cyra. Look at me,” calls Theo. “Aim at me, and fire.”

  I feel my pistol dragged along by his words.

  “Good,” he continues. “Point the gun at my chest, steady your aim. And fire.”

  The others fall silent.

  My hand shakes so much I can barely keep the barrel steady.

  “Aim, and fire!” he calls. “Fire!”

  “Twenty seconds.”

  I feel my finger pressing on the trigger, and I close my eyes. I begin to pull, waiting for the click of the gun, the explosion of the bullet.

  “Do it, Cyra! Do it!” Theo shouts.

  “Ten seconds,”

  I'm sorry. I'm so sorry...

  The crack of a bullet sounds.

  Loud, slicing through the silence, echoing harshly in the air. I open my eyes and look straight ahead. My finger lingers on the trigger.

  But I didn't pull it.

  The world explodes with more cracks of thunder. One gunshot. Two. Three. Four. Five.

  They come one after another in quick succession. And with each one, a guard drops to the earth around us.

  And suddenly, the crowd erupts into turmoil.

  34 - A Friend Returned

  I stare forward from the stage, my eyes darting everywhere. The crowd begins to scream and r
ush. People flood in all directions as the sound of gunshots continue to ring out. I focus, and listen, and see the sight of wispy bullet trails angling down from high buildings. I follow their line and see two men, holding rifles, taking aim from windows high above us.

  Drake, my father, with Markus by his side, shoots with incredible precision. Guards fall without having time to react. People rush in all directions, trampling over each other, screaming as they attempt to flee the carnage.

  I look at my friends, still tied up on their plinths. They stare around, struggling to free themselves and join the fight.

  I have to save them.

  I shoot forward, launching myself from the stage. I pass a fallen guard as I go, scooping up his automatic weapon, rushing up onto the stage to join the others.

  “Ellie,” shout the boys. “Free Ellie first.”

  I'm quickly by her side, fiddling with the ropes binding her wrists. I give up quickly, raise my gun, and fire. The bullets slice through the thread, and she lurches free. Immediately, she jumps down off the stage to seek her own weapon. I quickly go to Jackson, next in line, and shoot away his bonds. Moments later, Theo's hands are free.

  Ellie reappears, having gathered a small arsenal, and passes the guns out. Taking aim, we all look up towards the Councillors' platform. It's almost bare now, the old members of Eden having fled when the first gunshot hit.

  But not all. Standing there, behind his bulletproof shield, Knight watches on with a strange smirk on his face. Several guards remain by his side. They don't engage. They just stand there, next to the most powerful man in the city, offering him no protection that he cannot give himself.

  But I know that it's all for show. I wonder if anyone else knows just how powerful he is...

  Slowly, he turns, with a final smile in my direction, and begins casually walking away towards the door, flanked by his guards. He disappears into the darkness as the chaos ensues, more guards pouring out from various vantage points around us.

  “We have to get out of here!” calls Jackson. “Right now!”

  We all drop off the stage and take cover. Bullets whiz from all directions now. Above, Drake and Markus continue to drop Eden soldiers like flies, keeping them away from us, protecting us from the heavens. Angels on our shoulders.