The Lotus Effect (Rise Of The Ardent)

by Bridget Ladd

  Xander’s jaw clenched as he turned the handle, having to use both hands and putting his entire body into it. The lever knocked at every rotation and I shuttered, fearing the noise would give us away. Finally, after three more cycles, Xander reached the end, and Mrs. Fawnsworth’s battered feet appeared over the ledge. I rushed to try and pull her over, but Xander held me back, quickly stepping in front of me to gently maneuver her broken body to the stone. I tittered from foot to foot, trying to find an opening to help ease her to the ground.

  I couldn’t stop the flow of tears that cascaded down my cheeks as I took in her abused body. Her face almost unrecognizable.

  My fault . . . .

  Xander carefully removed the bindings that had dug their way into her skin and I reached to gently remove the gag from her mouth. Mrs. Fawnsworth moaned and slowly opened her eyes. She looked frightened at first, but then smiled weakly once she recognized my face. Her own face and lips were a horrible shade of blue.

  “Lily?” she managed to ask even though it pained her to do so.

  “Please, don’t speak . . .” I whispered, knowing I had to remain calm even though it was the most difficult thing I ever had to do. I rose up on my heels so I could remove my jacket. Disregarding the sharp sting of the wind, I placed it across her body.

  Xander lifted her head so she could sip water from a canteen that he had removed from inside his coat. She glanced at him curiously, then refocused her bleary eyes on me.

  “I’m so . . . so sorry they did this to you. This is all my fault.” I cried softly as I laid my chin on her chest and reached for her hand.

  She shook her head like she always did when she meant to scold me for my thoughts. “This was never your fault child,” she said so faintly that I almost missed it.

  Realizing we were running out of time, my mind sprung to action. “We’re going to get you out of here,” I said, squeezing her hand softly to reassure her. “Come on Xander, help me . . .” I pleaded as I got to my feet, my voice trailing off when I finally looked at his face.

  Xander leaned over her with dark hood bowed and tenderly swiped his thumb across her forehead. The look of remorse he held within his shadowed eyes infuriated me as he continued to crouch before her.

  “Help me!” I growled at him through clenched teeth. I could not understand why he still sat there, unmoving. “Please.”

  But he had already realized something I refused to admit.

  Mrs. Fawnsworth reached up and grabbed my hand with a strength I didn’t know she possessed. “No. Child, I am too far gone to be saved. I can already feel the peace of death coming to take me away,” she said weakly.

  I shook my head in denial; the tears that clung to the end of my lashes became suddenly too heavy to support.

  She gestured for me to come closer. Feeling my lips begin to tremble, I complied slowly, hesitant to hear her next words. She grasped both sides of my face before continuing, “I always cared for you like my own,” she said, swallowing with some difficulty, “and I want you to know that I am proud of you for what you did. Just remember that when the time does come. You fight, and you live. This was not—”

  I felt the strength from her fingers ease as her hands fell away from my face.

  Catching one hand before it would’ve hit the stone, I looked away as an angry numbness began to fill my body. Rushing my veins, surging through me like hot venom.

  Placing her hand gently across her chest, I reached for the knife at my hip and stood, turning my attention towards the door the gruff-looking guard had come from.

  Pulling the knife from my belt, I started walking, faster now, my steps determined to enact my revenge. My hands and face no longer affected by the chill of the wind for my skin was brimming, boiling.

  I reached for the door’s handle—just before I felt Xander grab me from behind, making me drop the knife from my white-knuckled grip. He snatched the hilt of the knife right out of the air before it too would’ve hit stone, and flung it angrily over the Wall, into cloud-filled abyss that lay beyond.

  “Don’t.” He shook his head in warning.

  I shoved him away.

  I wanted to hurt him; I would hurt anybody that stood in my path now that I was scorching with an uncontrollable fury. Uncaring I now had no weapon; I reached for the door again.

  He grabbed at my batting arms and turned me to face him, gripping me so tightly I had no other option but to stand there and breathe. I inhaled a gasp from within me, as though I had just broken the water’s surface. “Lily, listen, you need to calm down,” he said evenly, though I could tell he was finding it difficult to take his own advice.

  But then it started to happen again: my vision turning white around the edges. Dots darted erratically like fruit flies across Xander’s chest. I tried to blink them away, but still they danced even behind my closed lids. My ears chimed a high pitch ringing, my palms turned clammy . . . my skin was hot, and now cold. I’ve felt this feeling before as a child—I was going to pass out.

  Xander grabbed my shoulders, realization marking across his face. “No, no, no . . . this wasn’t what I meant. Don’t do this. Not now.”

  I laughed. An odd sound. “You sound like my mother.” I put my fingers to my eyes. “Can’t quite help it, Xander. My body does what it wants. Just leave me. It’s no more than I deserve.”

  I chuckled madly again, but then my face pulled sharply back to where it should’ve been when I eyed Mrs. Fawnsworth’s graying body, lying just beyond Xander’s blocking shoulder.

  My heart sunk heavily to the pit of my stomach—an all too familiar poison was seeping into my veins now, forcing my body to relax, making it lose all its functionality. I started to ease my way to the ground into a wounded heap, but a long hooded and cloaked stranger instead decided to scoop me up beneath the knees and hold me tightly against a chest fitted with the handles of metal objects. Objects that jabbed slightly into my side, weapons hidden beneath the cloth. “Stay with me, Lily. You can go into shock once I get you home,” I heard the stranger grumble distractedly.

  Xander. My mind scrambled to find its sense.

  “We can’t . . . just . . . leave her,” I whispered in-between each breath as I looked up at his sternly calculating face. My darkening vision was surrounded by a clouded ring of heavy tears; the blurring droplets causing my lashes to look like the dark spindly legs of spiders.

  “Yes we can. And we have to.” I watched as his nose and mouth blew out a plume of steam in the crispness of the night, allowing my mind to wander around in the dull, empty shell that it was.

  All my fault. This was All. My. Fault.

  Mrs. Fawnsworth’s final words of urging me to ‘fight’ and ‘live’ echoed in my head against the other worries.

  “Put me down.” I pushed at his neck, trying to slip my hips upwards and out of his grasp. “I said put me down.”

  He stopped, allowing me to place my boots back onto the stone. I swayed some before I steadied myself.

  “Don’t be ridiculous. You’re going to pass out. I can sense it,” I heard him say hotly from somewhere at my back.

  “I’m going back for her body,” I retorted angrily.

  Xander grabbed my hand in my retreat, spinning me roughly around to face him. “Now you’re just being stupid.”

  “I can’t—”

  “Lily—there are four guards approaching from the east end, two more from the front entrance. I’d estimate that we have less than fifty seconds to make it down this stairwell, ten of which have already been wasted while arguing with you.” Xander snatched my jacket from Mrs. Fawnsworth’s lifeless body and tossed it back at me. I automatically put it on, but then—then the smell of a tortured Mrs. Fawnsworth hit me.

  My eyelashes flitted, I felt my vision sway.

  Xander growled, cursing at himself before quickly snatching my left arm, hauling me across his shoulders and lifting me from my feet like I was nothing more than a sack of grain. He secured his hand tightly around the inside
of my right knee, holding me firmly in place across his neck. A wounded warrior’s carry.

  Not caring anymore, I just lay there, numb, as my head bobbed against his shoulder. Why should I argue? There was no point. Like Mrs. Fawnsworth: it would only get us killed.

  Apathetically, I watched as Xander swiftly made his way down the length of the fortress and stopped when we reached an uncovered stairwell. I suppose he figured these had less traffic due to the lack of warmth that the rock provided.

  If so, he was right. We found no opposition.

  This could have been prevented, the thought continued to invade my mind like a nagging sickness.

  Xander made his way down each step, his breathing becoming heavier, but still remaining steady. Down, down, down we went, further and further away from the only person I had ever truly loved other than my grandmother.

  I counted out sixty seconds in my head: I was still conscious.

  “I’m not going to have an episode. You can put me down now,” I whispered, my voice gruff, emotionless.

  He shook his head as he peered around a corner. “Not yet. Patrols.”

  Rolling my eyes to the night’s sky, I sighed and remained where I was.

  Xander had to stop only twice to evade a group of passing guards. And we were well into the cloud covered streets before even a commotion went up on the Wall. In my delirium, I wondered if they found Mrs. Fawnsworth’s or the guard’s body first?

  It didn’t matter. I had failed to save her. I had failed to bring her body back. I had failed at everything.

  Closing my eyes, I bitterly gave into the gentle sway of Xander’s steps and his rhythmic breathing. I had lost all sense of time and was shocked back into reality very quickly when I saw that he was now standing behind the concrete porches of the Estate.

  “It’s time to wake up,” he said, drawing his eyes sideways and up to meet mine. My head hung lifeless from his shoulder as I looked at him.

  Even in my weakened state, I didn’t miss the double entendre he was implying.

  He was right. I had most definitely woken up to the harsh realities that the Council presented to City Prosper. One way or another, they had to be stopped.

  Embarrassed he had to carry me like butchered meat, I kept my mouth closed as he lowered me to the ground. Not knowing what to say, I looked around. “How did you sneak past the Estate guards?” I finally managed to ask in a whisper, my voice still numb, empty.

  My eyes fell upon him then as he stared off into the distance behind me. There was something so intense about the way he studied his surroundings I realized, everything held a secret that only he could decipher. Xander was deadly, I knew that much now. He wouldn’t be underestimated by me ever again.

  He looked sideways at me, past the shrouding cowl of his hood. A look that said: You don’t need to know.

  Fine. He didn’t trust me. I wouldn’t trust me either after tonight.

  We walked back in silence to the side entrance of the servant’s quarters. Swallowing hard, I attempted to focus my attention away from the bile that rose in my stomach. The servants would never question why I was arriving home so late. After speaking to the male custodian earlier, they most likely already knew why.

  They would also soon find that I had returned alone.

  There was a moment then when we reached the door, the both of us standing opposite from one another, motionless: like statues positioned to forever stare at one another. Words were suddenly completely lost to me. I wanted to say something to him, but my mind was a muddled mess. He seemed not to care, looking very perplexed as he surveyed me.

  “You know, you might have a chance after all,” he said finally. “Even though, you nearly just got the both of us killed.”

  It was my turn to look confused. Then it clicked.

  “You know about me volunteering for the Barrage?”

  “Doesn’t everyone?” He raised his eyebrow at me slightly.

  I sighed and shook my head in consent. Images of Mrs. Fawnsworth’s broken body suddenly flashed in my mind, making my throat clench in remorse. I wish I could’ve comforted her just now, just as she had held me the night Grandmother disappeared. I lowered my eyes to the ground as I tried to not give way to the tears that were beginning to reform.

  “I failed her. I have failed everything,” I said so quietly it was almost to myself.

  Without noticing, Xander had stepped closer. He barely tilted my chin so that my eyes could meet his. A tender gesture.

  “You know, you’re right. You’re toast, Lily.”

  I frowned, pulling my chin away from him. And just like that: a part of myself came back to me. Like a snapped piano string, I was suddenly struck in the face by my anger. It was hot, unbridled.

  “Mrs. Fawnsworth is dead! She’s dead because of me,” I spat out at him. “She’s lying lifeless, and cold, and alone, and it’s likely she’ll never be sent to the winds! Just tossed over the Wall like a bit of bloody trash!”

  My mind was spitting, swirling: it was all my fault. Because of a stupid, stupid, selfish choice. But somewhere—somewhere deep down, a part of my mind was clawing its way forward: No. This wasn’t my fault at all. And they would pay.

  Xander pulled a breath in through his nose. He seemed aggravated. “Look. Use this anger.” He looked to the sky, reading something within it before returning his stare. It was potent, marked with experience. “Hatred is like molded bread. It can sustain you. But if you’re not careful, it’ll eventually make you sick.” He paused for a beat. “For what it’s worth, she died a proud woman. Hold on to that.” He fell silent again, turning his head as if he heard someone approaching. “You better get some sleep. Big day tomorrow,” he added absently as he slowly backed away from me.

  Big day? I tried to read the meaning in his expression, but couldn’t—he was already melding into the shadows cast by the designs of the thirty-foot tall wrought-iron fence behind him.

  I gasped, covering my face with my hands, eventually drawing the lids of my eyes to my chin in aggravation. I was such an idiot.

  The Drawing. How could I have forgotten?

  Looking up suddenly, the two words I should’ve remembered the most, came to me. I peered into the foggy mists surrounding the Estate, my gratitude waiting unused on my tongue. My mind, though, had fallen silent, realizing that the mysterious young man who had saved my life tonight, had already disappeared.

  Chapter 8

  The Drawing ~ The One Word Name

  “Ladies and Gentlemen! Prosperitan citizens! Council members! And let’s not forget the little tikes,” the announcer began as he pointed and winked at a young boy and girl no older than seven name days as they ran past. The announcement bellowed from his copper sound amplifier. “I’d like to welcome you all to the sixth consecutive Drawing for the Barrage Tournament!”

  The sun gleamed off the amplifier as he turned to address the crowd. I sat near the edge of a Sector 3 row, hoping I wouldn’t be easily recognized. I had packed all of my belongings into the leather satchel that now sat beside my boots. Everything of necessity—my grandmother’s journal and the locket necklace taking precedence over some of my more lacy attire. I did, however, keep the green corset dress that Mrs. Fawnsworth had chosen for my Coronation. It may be of use if I have to make any formal appearances in the future. Or I could sell it, if running low on credits became an issue.

  Mrs. Fawnsworth . . . . My throat clenched and clotted with remorse again as the thought of her invaded my every sense.

  I will never get used to this pain.

  First Grandmother, now Mrs. Fawnsworth. Both gone.

  The roar of the crowd brought me back from my grief. I blinked away the resentful tears that started to gather. My mind was clouded by my lack of sleep and, well . . . among other things that happened the night before. I tried to rub the haze of sorrow from my face as the announcer started off on another rant.

  “Today I’d like—” The announcer paused as he spotted a group of strag
glers making their way to their seats.

  “Well hurry up, we haven’t all day. Unless you ruffians would like to volunteer your names, in which case I’d be willing to waste a little more time,” the announcer scolded the group. The three young boys laughed and shook their heads at him as they tripped over one another to find available seats.

  The announcer seemed satisfied once all faces, the group of boys included, attentively faced him. He brought the amplifier back to his mouth with a smile. “Today is the beginning in which all Sectors are brought together and unified under a singular cause. A glorious cause!” He shook his finger into the air for effect. “Thirteen years we have waited for this day. And we shall wait no longer! The Barrage allows for the opportunity to revisit the Laws of Prosper in the act of battle and ingenuity. Seventy eight years the Barrage has brought us together, and today we continue the tradition. That’s one year closer to complete Prosperity, which we should all be grateful for due to this flawless system!”

  I was not the only dissenter of that notion in the crowd. I could spot a few who refused to clap along with the majority. I guess it was all too easy to forget that the Council Sponsored Sector had always won the Barrage. No Sector acting on their own accord, and resources, had ever won.

  A flawless system indeed.

  It seemed as though the Sectors were all pining for the Council Sponsorship nowadays. For if they won with the Council’s help, the Sector as well as the fighters were rewarded generously. The Council, in return, would get their vote over the Law. Those particular Sectors would prefer instant gratification over a chance to redeem themselves completely with power over the Law.

  It was shameful and a disgrace. Though, with my privileged upbringing, I may be overlooking the fact that it was an opportunity they probably couldn’t afford to pass up. If called upon by the Magistrate—I knew where my loyalties stood in the matter.

  I risked a glance towards the booth where I knew my parents would be seated. It was an odd feeling to be on the outside looking in after I too had once sat there. If my name was to be called today—or even if it wasn’t—I could never be accepted back into that life again. A scary notion at first, but now that I saw how my mother was seated stiffly next to my father—I realized it was better this way. Almost as if I had been denied my right to the open air. Now, I could finally breathe.