Fragmented

by Madeline Dyer

  Jed gets up and looks down at me. The light in his eyes changes.

  “Anyway, I should not be discussing this with you.” He points at his injured thigh—or at least, I think he does. “It is the painkillers, making me more lenient. Women should not ask about Seer matters, S’ven. Remember that. I am nicer than the other men, but you must try to fit in.” His expression darkens. “If you do not, it will only bring bad things for you.”

  I try to pretend that it doesn’t sound like a threat.

  “What? You actually believe this?”

  Corin stares at me after I’ve finished telling him what Jed said, an amused look on his face.

  “It’s obviously stories, Sev. No one actually sees Gods or Goddesses.”

  I squirm a little. The air’s too hot. I don’t like it, but at least we’re the only two here.

  “It’s just going to be their lore, their culture,” Corin says. He’s wearing a tight black T-shirt and baggy gray jeans; he looks good. I feel stupid in my curtain day-dress compared to him.

  “But what if it isn’t? What if it is true?”

  Corin raises his eyebrows. “You’re actually contemplating this, even when the Zharat refuse to accept that women can be Seers?”

  I sigh. “But I haven’t seen a God or Goddess. What if they’re right—women aren’t proper Seers?”

  Corin snorts. “Given how many times you’ve saved us from attacks, I’m not even going to answer that.”

  I lean forward, lower my voice. “But I still haven’t seen a God or Goddess. I don’t know which one of them made me a Seer, gave me these powers.”

  “And you’re not going to,” he says. “Because this is a load of shit. I’ll tell you what, it’s probably hallucinations that the Zharat Seers get, makes them think they’re seeing Gods.” He gestures around. “Or volcanic gases messing with their heads. This isn’t real, Sev. And don’t doubt yourself. You are a Seer. All this is just stories. They’re trying to explain things we don’t know about. Things we’re not supposed to know about. Seer stuff is stuff of the Gods and Goddesses. And the spirits too. We’re not supposed to know how it works, no one does. But it’s human nature to fill in gaps, to invent stuff, and that’s what the Zharat are doing. And—”

  He breaks off as an old man seemingly appears out of nowhere and rushes toward us with surprising speed. Then Corin stands up straighter and puts his arm around me.

  “You two.” The old man points at us with a long finger that shakes. “Chief says Esther has just awoken, that you can see her. I’m to take you there. Follow me.”

  For a second, Corin stares at him, mouth open. Then he scrambles forward, pulls me along too.

  The walk is long, and we weave through many tubes. I lose track of the way after the fourth or fifth turn and concentrate on walking as quickly as I can, avoiding the many toddlers who run the tubes in gaggles, laughing and shrieking. A couple of older children walk behind them, and they nod at us as we pass.

  Some minutes later, the old man stops at a low doorway and pulls back the drape to one side, then indicates for us to go in.

  Corin goes first, I follow.

  Esther is lying on a heap of blankets and furs. Her head turns as we enter. Manning is seated, staring down at her. The look on his face makes my skin crawl. Esther smiles at Corin and me, then turns her gaze—quickly—back to Manning.

  “I have been welcoming her to the Zharat,” Manning tells us, and he pats the pale green scarf that’s draped over Esther’s neck. “She, too, is now one of us.” He pauses. “I will give you some time. But,” he adds, gesturing toward the shadows of the room where I now notice a small man stands, “my attendant will remain here.”

  Manning leans in close to Esther and murmurs something to her for a second. Then he leaves the room. Corin and I step up to Esther’s bed. She struggles to sit up a little, and Corin helps her.

  “What did he just say to you?” he asks.

  “Nothing.” Her eyes narrow, and she shifts her weight a little.

  “How are you?” I look at her right shoulder, where she got shot. It’s carefully bandaged now, and there’s no sign of blood.

  Esther grimaces. “Better, I suppose.”

  Her skin is pale and gaunt still—reflecting a greenish tinge from the scarf—but there is some warmth in her cheeks. Although her eyes have a little life in them—a spark of hope—they’ve sunken back into her face, making her look deflated somehow. But her hair is clean. Not greasy at all, as if someone’s washed it recently. Manning? I frown a little. No, he’s the leader of the Zharat. He wouldn’t have time.

  “What’s the last thing you remember?” I ask, just as I see the Zharat mark on her arm. It’s lower down than the one on mine.

  Corin frowns at me, as if it’s a question I’m not supposed to ask.

  Esther takes her time thinking, and Corin frowns at me again. But he doesn’t say anything.

  “It’s all mixed up,” she says. “Little bits here and there…merging into one another.” She pauses. “I got shot, I remember that. And I was with Three. He was carrying me… Then I was on my own… And he was…” She coughs; her body shakes. “I remember you two though. You, Corin, you pulled the bullet out. That hurt.” She attempts to laugh, but the sound is weak, makes my throat tighten. “After that, there’s not really much. Just little bits. I saw the sky, the Turning. Then heard you talking, but I can’t remember what you said… But that man—Manning—he saved me.”

  Corin’s gaze snaps upward. “What?”

  “There was a spirit trying to get me. The Turning. I thought I was going to die. Manning… He saved me from it.” She smiles broadly.

  Corin nods a little gruffly, then asks her about her health and the healing process. The two of them talk for a long time. I begin to feel more and more like an intruder on the siblings. Esther shows obvious surprise when she learns Corin proposed to me.

  “I had to,” Corin says, and his eyes dart up, meet mine.

  Had to. I try not to let the words affect me. He had to… He didn’t want to.

  “Manning’s been really nice to me,” Esther says after a while.

  “Manning?” Corin’s voice is edged in darkness.

  Esther nods. “He’s been looking after me. And telling me about the Zharat, teaching me their ways. He says that women aren’t allowed to ask many questions to a chief, but he doesn’t mind if I do. He said there’s a spark about me, that I’ve got…charisma.”

  Corin makes a noise in the back of his throat that’s halfway between a snort and a cough. “Stay away from him.”

  His words aren’t quiet, and I glance across at the Zharat Manning left in the room. He hasn’t reacted to Corin’s words. Maybe he didn’t hear them? But it’s wishful thinking, I know.

  Esther struggles to sit up. “Stay away?” Her voice is high. “That’s a little hard when he’s the only one who’s been coming to see me, the only one looking after me.”

  I narrow my eyes. “You were awake?” My voice is quiet. “You haven’t just woken up—today?”

  She shakes her head. “It’s been just over a day. I think. No, maybe longer. I was sleeping a lot. And Manning was here at one point, because I was having nightmares, and he said he’d watch me, keep them away.”

  Corin curses, then lowers his voice. “He told me that I’d see you as soon as you were awake, that the healers couldn’t be disturbed. We were only just told we could see you. We thought you’d only just woken up.”

  The three of us descend into silence, and I look uncomfortably toward the small man in the shadows. Manning lied. And he held Esther’s welcoming ceremony in secret. I shudder a little, then I look at Esther carefully. I want to ask her something, but I’m not sure what exactly. Or how.

  “Have you been looking for Three?” Esther’s voice breaks into my thoughts.

  I look away, feel sharp pain in my chest. I take several deep breaths, then look up at the skylight. It’s perhaps the biggest one I’ve seen, and this
room has the freshest air. I gulp.

  Corin glances at me. “It wouldn’t do any good.”

  Esther turns on me. “What? You didn’t try and find Three? You left him?”

  He’s dead.

  The words burn me, and I want to say them, to tell her, but now I can’t. Not after that dream. Not after I saw Three lying on the bed, chained up, at a compound.

  But that was just a nightmare, I remind myself. Corin told me that.

  “We had to—” Corin begins, but cuts himself off.

  Instead, Corin busies himself with getting a lighter out of his back pocket, then a cigarette—not a proper one though. A crudely made Zharat one. I wonder if he’s going to smoke it in here, go against what Nyesha said. Even though there’s lots of fresh air here, and the walls are thick—and we’re nowhere near the magma chamber—we’re still in a volcano, and I don’t know how dangerous it might be.

  Esther stares at us. “You didn’t go and look for him? Didn’t go to any Enhanced towns? Not even the nearest ones?”

  “The land had all changed,” I mutter, but I sound pathetic.

  I drop my gaze to the floor, feel my face burn.

  “Then we’ve got to go now! We’ve got to find him!” She leans forward, tries to swing her legs over the side of the bed. “We need to tell Manning and—”

  Corin places a hand on her shoulder. “No. Three is good enough dead to us. Get your head around that, Esther. Sev has.” He glances at me for a half a second, then returns his gaze to her. “Don’t make this any worse than it already is.”

  But Esther turns on me. Her eyes narrow until they’re fine strips of accusatory light. “You abandoned him, Seven. We never do that—we always rescue each other. We rescued you. But you haven’t—not for your own brother? You left him. Your only remaining sibling… And you’re not even trying to get him back?” She shakes her head. “So much for family. So much for loyalty—how else are we going to survive as Untamed? You left him!” Her face darkens. “This is your fault. He’ll be Enhanced because of you.”

  I try to look away, but I can’t. I know she’s right. It is my fault. But there’s nothing I can do now. We can’t leave the Zharat. Manning made that clear when we joined. And I’d never find my way back on my own.

  No. Raleigh may not have my eyes any longer, but I have to stay here anyway. I can’t leave. They’d kill me.

  And Three has to stay there. Wherever he is. Enhanced.

  Because of me.

  The next morning, I don’t want to open my eyes. I don’t want this day to be happening: the day of the fight, the battle for me. But it is. And it happens too quickly. Everyone’s up, shouting and running about. Small girls watch with excitement, and lots of the women give me narrowed-eyed looks. I try to ignore them as I eat small pieces of flatbread and celery, wincing at the taste.

  “You are lucky,” Nyesha tells me later as she fixes my hair into what she says is a suitable style for the wedding. Apparently, the ceremony will happen straight after the fight—that’s the norm. “Manning’s had thirteen requests for you. Thirteen proposals.”

  Thirteen.

  I swallow hard, try not to show any emotion. If I don’t react like it’s happening, then it can’t affect me when it does.

  “And Yoliv’s applied to be your husband,” Nyesha says. “He’ll probably win. He killed three men during the last battle. He always gets the women he wants. We’ll be sisters then.”

  “What?” I pull away from Nyesha, letting my hair fall back across my face. “He killed men?”

  “Don’t worry, he’s nice.”

  “Nice?”

  Nyesha nods. “And you’ll see the all your suitors during the fight.” She gestures at my hair, then holds up some red beading and a length of fine silver-link chain. “Come on, let me finish this. And you wanted that crystal in your hair too?”

  I nod. My Seer pendant. The neckline of the dress Nyesha sorted out for me is too low to hide the crystal. But she said she could work it into my hair after I told her it was a prized possession of my mother’s—risky, I know.

  “It’s very pretty.” Nyesha wraps the sinew cord around her fingers a few times, holds it up against the golden beam that falls from the skylight above. “I can attach it to the silver chain, wrap it around, like this.”

  As she finishes my hair and secures the pendant into the elaborate twists, I can’t stop shaking. And then, all too soon, it’s time to discard the red top and jeans I covertly acquired this morning from the washing zone and pull on the vivid red, satin dress Nyesha tells me was her mother’s—one of the ones she wasn’t sent off in when she died. This gown is a lot longer than the one Soraya gave me—nearly floor-length—and it has shoulder straps. Earlier, Nyesha told me the color had faded to a dull pink—and even an off-white in several places—since it was last worn over thirty years ago, and she’d re-dyed it for me, for my wedding, after it became apparent there were no red dresses available for my welcoming. Apparently, one of my new day-dresses won’t do for a wedding—not fancy enough.

  I pause as we’re about to leave.

  “Is…” I flex my fingers. My new hairstyle’s already starting to pull at my scalp, and I can feel the telltale signs of a coming headache. “Do men normally die in these fights?”

  “They try to avoid it,” she says, then clicks her tongue, “because it’s silly given our number. But some men just won’t back down. They won’t admit defeat, so they fight to the death.”

  They won’t admit defeat. I think of Corin, of how proud he is, how arrogant he can be. How he’s told Manning he’s going to win.

  Oh Gods.

  He’s not going to back down.

  He’s going to be one of them. One of the men who die.

  I stand up. Then I gather the long skirt of the dress and run out the room, ignoring Nyesha’s exclamations. I power through the tubes, my bare feet hitting the stone hard. But I don’t care. I turn the corner, and take the next right, but I’m not certain of the map in my head.

  Still, I get to his room quickly, and I make good time.

  I duck under the drape and blink hard as my eyes adjust to the dim light. I look around. There are blankets stacked in the corner. A broken arrow lies on the floor, next to a bow.

  Corin stares at me. He looks alert, strong, ready. Then his eyes take in my dress and hairstyle, and I’ve never felt so silly.

  “How are you feeling?” His voice is warm, strong. “Still recovering okay after that kavalah attack?”

  I nod, but keep my eyes on him. He asked me this yesterday too, but I cut him off by telling him what Jed had said about Seers meeting Gods. “I’m almost back to normal. And I feel a lot better knowing Raleigh’s not got my eyes any longer. I feel freer.” I press my hands together; my palms are clammy.

  “Raleigh?” Corin frowns. “I thought it was Mart who sent it?”

  I shake my head. “No. It had to be Raleigh—it was how he was getting my eyes. Makes sense.” I try to smile, but I’m speaking too quickly. “But at least he’s gone now. I’m not putting the Zharat in danger.”

  Corin nods.

  Then I take a deep breath. I didn’t come here to talk about Raleigh. I need to focus.

  “You need to step down.” I say the words as firmly as I can, looking Corin in the eye. “You need to say you don’t want to marry me.”

  For several seconds, the look on Corin’s face doesn’t change. But when it does, it changes as quickly as a tropical storm descends on a jungle. His eyes darken, the corners of his mouth turn down, shadows fall across his face.

  “I—what? Seven!” He grips my upper arms firmly, his fingers pressing into my bare skin. He starts to laugh, then stops. His eyes are wide and are full of confusion—and a hint of betrayal. “No.”

  “You have to!” I tell him. “They’ll kill you! They will! You have to step down. Tell Manning now, come on, let’s go! We can—”

  I start forward, try to pull him with me, but he stops me.

>   “No!” Corin shakes his head. “We can’t! They—we can’t! Sev, you barely know any of those men! They’re strangers. All of them! You have to marry someone, so it has to be me… Don’t worry, I won’t get hurt—”

  “But you will!” I shout. And I’m shaking my head—as if the movement will shake the tightness out of my hair, my body. “Corin, please. They’ll kill you.”

  His jaw tenses for a moment. “I’m not giving up on you. I’m not, so don’t even say it again.” He presses a finger to my lips, then wipes away my tears with the back of his hand. His eyes are lighter when he looks up at me. “You can’t mean this,” he says. “You can’t want to marry one of them more than me.” He shakes his head. “Sev, they’ll expect you to be their wife. I won’t. I told you before that, with me, nothing would happen that you don’t want. I mean that.”

  I look at him so hard it hurts me. I take hold of his hands with both of mine, testing the familiar feel of their weight. The skirt of the gown swishes as I move slightly. “Corin, please step down.”

  “I’m not letting them get you—”

  I gulp, got to make him see sense, need to. “They’re not that bad—”

  He cuts me off by shaking his head. “Don’t delude yourself, Sev. You’ve seen them. You know what it’s like around here. Men have already tried to attack you once. We have to stick together. It has to be you and me.”

  I bite my lip, can’t bring myself to say anything more. Not when he says you and me like that.

  “Look, I’ve got to get ready. I’m not going to hand you over to those men, okay? I’m doing this. I’d rather die than see one of them hurting you.”

  I don’t remember moving from Corin’s room, but I must have, because now I’m in a lower tube called the Old One’s Arena, watching my suitors line up in the middle of the battleground circle. And all the Zharat men look more threatening, more foreboding than I remembered them. Corin’s dressed the same as them—just wearing a stylized loincloth—but he looks like a gazelle compared to the mountain lions who are sizing him up. And I never thought I would ever be likening Corin—of all people—to a gazelle.