by Bridget Ladd
The Magistrate himself hardly sounded excited about it.
Looking up towards my father, I found my mother now sitting resolutely beside him. I rolled my eyes. Looks like Mother has finally found her seat.
My father made a stern face towards the announcer to do something. The lanky man caught my father’s glare and literally jumped to attention as though he was dodging bullets aimed at his feet. He smiled nervously towards the Magistrate and reached for the amplifier.
The Magistrate grumbled, handing it off with a none too gentle shove before shuffling his way back to his seat.
“Is this not such an exciting turn of events Ladies and Gentlemen? This knowledge may come as a shock to many, but consider yourselves lucky to be among the first to say you have witnessed the Edge and now will have a whole new respect and love for the safety that City Prosper provides! We must thank the Council for their trust and desire to keep us safe!”
The bit about safety got the crowd clapping, slowly at first, but finally worked itself into a healthy applause.
I felt like I was going to be sick. Maybe it was all for show, but the people were so easily led down a path of distorted information and lies that it made my heart wilt with sadness. They deserved so much more than this.
I looked towards Xander, a question in my eyes that would have to wait. The Edge was surrounded by a force field of unimaginable size, according to his information. Would they remove it during the Barrage? While we fought? So that now we had the option to topple off the sides? Or would they prefer us to use it as another weapon? Toss our opponents against it, toasting them into crispybits? Neither sounded the least bit exciting at all.
The Lands of Requiem. I now knew it was only just a small sectioned off part of the Outlands. Funny how everything I dreamed about finding the truth of had always been right in front of me. Whether the Council of Elders named it in memoria to those who fell to the weapons of their brethren, the Lands of Requiem always sounded fitting a name to call the broken up territory. The hymn of death was the only tune to ever be sung in such a place.
A few of the other fighters fidgeted in their positions across the platform. Since I had arrived last onto the stage, I had Xander as a buffer between Scottie and myself. He looked rather smug and dandy even if his face was still slightly covered in the green and purple hues of healing. Scotty’s ability to fight didn’t bother me, his perverse and sick sense of nature did. Seeing him smiling made me suddenly remember one of the advantages for signing up for this in the first place.
The Announcer shuffled quickly down the steps and stalked closer to the crowd. Throwing his hands up into the air, he shouted, “What say we get this started! Shall we?” The crowd cheered anxiously as a pair of acrobats bounded and flipped their way into the arena, kicking up all manner of dirt and dust in their wake.
I closed my eyes momentarily, waiting for the cloud to settle around us, a look on my face that I’m sure said I was clearly unamused. I opened my eyes to see the two acrobats, both with strangely painted faces, approach the golden tubes that were connected to the large projector to our right. Turning my head sideways, I regarded the display—the only sign of interest that I would allow.
“I believe thirteen years of waiting is quite long enough!” The announcer turned, gesturing towards the purple-striped acrobat. “Please, if you do not mind as to revealing the first and second round fights to take place tomorrow. Reveal the mist!” the announcer commanded loudly.
The acrobat inclined his head and smiled menacingly. He curled his painted white fingers around a large golden lever and pushed upwards. Steam shot forth from the tubes, creating a steady stream of white vapor.
The announcer grinned and stared slyly at the crowd. “Round one is to be between . . .” he called out, revving up the crowd by drawing out his words.
The other acrobat, dazzled in a shocking shade of blue, cartwheeled his way over to the projector and kicked the lever into the air. Scottie and Giles’ faces lit up the wall of steam. Next to theirs were the heavily mustached Gerald Chapman and Hugo Miller of Sector 3.
Through my nose, I sighed despairingly. The selection of the rounds was supposed to be at random, but the Council Sponsored Sector 7 against impoverished Sector 3 seemed so unbalanced a match that it could’ve only been chosen to kick start the Barrage in the Council’s favor.
Searching the crowd of faces in Sector 3, I noticed they held the same doubtful reservations. I looked for the little boy who had spoken so kindly to me before, Hugo Miller’s nephew, and didn’t see him. I did however see Dex arriving late, weaving and dodging his way towards an empty seat. Slapping his legs as he sat down, he looked up at the platform, catching my eye. He tipped his Stetson styled hat towards me and waggled his fingers in a greeting.
I wondered if he managed to arrive at the same conclusion that Xander and I already had. Seeing my mother speaking to the native from Sector 1 made it quite clear, in my eyes at least. Mother never spoke to the common citizen.
My resentment rekindled as I looked up, towards my mother’s box, finding her staring down at me with a stern expression. I locked eyes with her, not relenting to her gaze. Not forgetting my other objective either, I reached inside my shirt, tugging on the chain of the locket necklace, and let it rest openly upon my neck.
It was an outright attack on her pride and she knew it. Her eyes narrowed and she broke the connection, staring once more towards the steam’s projection.
I turned back to the screen just in time to hear the announcer call out, “The competitors of Round 2 are . . .”
Our faces lit up the wall of mist. Xander’s and mine.
My image was a stifling one from the past. I was wrapped in a green formal gown with my hair twisted up into elaborate knots. I cringed, knowing that was how the Council wanted everyone to perceive me—the snotty, stuck up Council Head’s daughter who thought it would be fun to go about the common folk, getting her hands dirty for once.
Then appeared the faces of our competitors—Bubbles McGee and Henry Harnister. Bubble’s image was of him bare chested and sweaty, his knuckles bloodied from a past victorious street fight. His partner, Henry Harnister, sported a monocle and top hat which set off his equally impressive mustache.
Blanching on the inside, I managed to keep a straight face as I felt the heated eyes of the Council fall upon me. They wanted a reaction. They expected to see me cower.
What they didn’t seem to recall, however, was that I quite recently serve to disappoint.
The now gleeful announcer bounded back onto the platform. “The first and second rounds will take place tomorrow at noon. We will announce the subsequent rounds as the Barrage progresses. Remember to arrive to the Requiem early enough to save yourselves a seat!” He turned, bowing slightly to the crowd. “Thank you for attending the sixth consecutive Genesis Ceremony. And with that I bid you farewell.”
Two guards approached the end of the platform and gestured for me to step down. I shook my head at the taller one’s offer of assistance and began following them. I looked over my shoulder. The other fighters were now being ushered off the stage, each of them, even Scottie I noticed, carried wary expressions. It wasn’t required, but as we made our departures we were soon surrounded with a stifling swarm of gratuitous applause—the crowd’s way of thanking us.
As Xander and I entered into the tunneled exit, I was stopped short by a man who held the insignia of the Council upon his breast. He ushered me to the side, a hand on my shoulder. Xander grabbed his arm and pushed it away from me, his eyes threatening. Though soon, he looked to the man’s jacket, catching the angular looking mirrored ‘P’ symbol on the lapel—it’s end dipping to form an ornate key. Xander turned his eyes to me, his eyebrows rising slightly in question.
Xander tilted his head in apology towards the man before he backed away silently.
“I apologize for apprehending you such as this Madame, but I have been instructed by the Council to confiscate a possibly dangero
us item in your possession.”
That was rather quick, Mother.
“Whatever do you mean?” I inquired dumbly.
“The necklace Ma’am. It is to be acquired for your safety.”
“Ah, I see. This bit of scrap has you worried?” I shrugged, tugging it from my neck. “They can have it. It’s not worth anything after all. Only believed it would bring me some luck.” I handed it over to the man who looked visibly relieved.
He nodded my way and smiled. “The Council thanks you for your cooperation.”
I inclined my head towards the man and eyed Xander’s shadowed form from over my shoulder. Xander stepped forward into the soft casted light of the tunnel and offered his elbow, formally wrapping our arms together.
That night, Xander and I walked together arm and arm through the crowd-less streets as we silently assessed our own thoughts. We could still hear the buzzing murmurs of the crowd far behind as they prepared to leave the stadium. Not a soul lingered in our path. No one would dare pass up the rare opportunity to observe the events of the Barrage.
Our walk became a surreal moment of realization and acceptance. This is happening. The Barrage is coming for us.
“Do you think we can do this? Do you really think we can change the Law? A law that has been unwavering, unchanged for almost eighty years?”
Xander stalled just short of the entrance to the hanger, releasing the formalness from his posture, and looked at me. “Absolutely.”
“And if not?” I questioned him further, finally meeting his eyes.
“If not? Then, Lily. We make them change it.”
Chapter 25
Ghostly Wisdom ~ Comfy Prisons
Early the next morning, Xander and I met a bleary eyed Dex in front of the hanger. The stars spread out across the sky and the sun would still be a while before making its own appearance. I shivered and tried to rub some warmth back into my arms as I stepped into the fog of morning. I disliked this time of day. It held an unnatural calm that turned me on edge.
“We have to relocate,” Xander said as he walked up, head now hooded, to my side. His dark gray coat trailed out behind him and no doubt concealed an assortment of sharpened items within.
“What do you mean?” Sleepily, I looked up at him. I knew we had to make our way to the Requiem, but I thought we’d be returning to the hanger afterwards.
“I was notified last night that we’re required to relocate to a sanctioned residence until the Barrage is over.”
“And you trust this information?” Dex asked.
“We have no other choice. All the fighters will be residing there,” Xander said frustratingly as he ran his gloved hand up the back of his hood. “The Council sees it as a safety precaution—to deter assassination attempts off the field.” Xander raised his eyebrow, unconvinced. “I think we can all safely say it’s only because it’s a convenient way for the Council to keep tabs on everyone.”
I frowned. “Fantastic. So not only do we have to worry about fighting in our rounds, but now we have to take care to not get offed while we sleep, or poisoned while we eat or have our—”
Xander turned his head. “I won’t let that happen. This inconvenience goes both ways.” He attempted a smile, a somewhat menacing one at that. “I work best when my enemies are near after all.”
I grunted at his attempt to make light of the situation. “Oh, come off it. We could be walking into a trap. Why after seventy-eight years would they decide to do this now? What if they sabotage our gear? What then?”
Dex grunted in agreement and waggled his finger at me. “Girl’s got a point, Xan.”
“We’ll just have to give them a good deterrence. Besides they promised us our own private quarters with proper security.” He looked to the both of us with mock enthusiasm.
I scoffed. “Someone please tell me this isn’t a trap. A would be prison even?”
Both nodded, speaking in unison. “No, it’s most definitely a trap.”
“Well, I’m glad we’re finally agreeing upon something.” I bent down to shoulder my satchel. “Dex, why are you even helping us like this? What’s in it for you anyways?”
Dex raised his eyebrow at me as if I’d asked why he decided to wear shoes every day. “Because I get to hang out with the likes of you? Why else would I?”
“Credits,” Xander replied as he walked past my shoulder.
Dex shrugged guiltily and smiled my way. “I have to say—I’m a little bit interested in seein’ how you maneuver that armor of yours out on the field.”
“You don’t have to work for us to see that,” Xander reminded him in a chilly tone as he bent to secure the luggage container that carried all our gear inside.
Dex smirked. “I know, but who’s gonna tend to her scrapes and bruises when the day’s done? I know she’ll not want your . . . well your hands are pretty nice, Xan,” he corrected with a shaky laugh as he looked wide-eyed towards Xander who had silently produced a dagger from somewhere inside his coat—his eyebrow raised, daring him to continue.
I cleared my throat to draw their attention. “Gentlemen, I think I shall tend to my own scrapes and bruises. Let’s save the fighting for later. Agreed?”
Dex laughed, grabbing at my head and giving it a shake. “I always knew your noggin was on straighter than most girlies’.”
I ducked away and punched at his shoulder with a scowled expression.
He grinned, though seemed to sober some before stepping back into place at my side. He crossed his arms and leaned in. “Besides, I’m not afraid of Xander’s cruddy daggers anyhow. He’s always pointin’ ‘em at me. But he’s really just all mouth and no trousers.”
I pinched the bridge of my nose with a chuckle. I eyed Dex judiciously before a thought came to mind. “Did you manage to get the Defyer implemented into my suit? I meant to ask you the other day, but I was busy. You know, having my ‘noggin’ knocked off kilter by my own mother.”
Dex’s smile faded. “How’d you know that? I was meanin’ to tell you,” He stalled, rubbing the stubble on his chin. “but figured I’d wait for a better time, thinking you’d be a bit more sensitive about it.” He shook his head, his eyes sad. “I’m sorry, Lily.”
“Oh, I’m sensitive about it all right,” I shot back, though with little verve. “I’m just not going to let it bother me. I have more important issues to deal with at the moment.”
“I don’t know, having your mother try to kill you is a pretty serious issue to have.” Xander spoke up suddenly, stepping away and turning from the container.
I averted my gaze, my eyes full of hurt. Ignoring them both, I started walking down the cobblestoned path that I knew led to the Requiem.
Xander reached for my wrist, stopping me.
I looked up at him, cutting him off before he could say anything. “You didn’t answer my question. Were you two able to install the Defyer? It’s okay if you didn’t. I can manage without—” I began to ramble, wanting to divert the issue of my murderous mother.
“Lily.”
“Xander. Leave it alone, please. I’d rather not discuss it.”
He dropped my wrist, which I found somewhat disappointing—my skin suddenly cold from his absence. He gave a small nod in understanding.
“You think they’ll have any liquor and women where we’ll be going?” Dex shouted out crudely from behind us. He stopped short when he saw that he might’ve interrupted a sensitive moment. The pinched look on his face, somehow, brought a smile back to me.
Xander sighed. “Yes, I’m sure of it. And yes, Lily, I’ve already installed the Defyer onto your breastplate. You should only use it in dire situations until you can practice with it more. It’s extremely powerful.”
Satisfied he was changing the subject, I nodded. “Today I suppose we’ll find out just how dire of a situation we can get in.” I grasped the straps of my satchel, finding comfort from the familiar smooth texture.
“First, how about we stop these street shenanigans and go find thi
s comfy prison of yours? I usually strive to not rise before the sun, and here we are standin’ around, blabberin’ like a bunch of old women over a distasteful tart. You know you’re gonna’ have to try it, might as well just shut up and eat it already,” Dex said, glaring with mock impatience.
I rolled my eyes and nodded in resigned agreement.
Dex grinned and reached down, positioning the luggage container to its wheels, and gestured for Xander to lead the way.
~
Xander came to a halt, about two klicks later, in the middle of the cobblestoned path and stared down an alleyway to his left. A large brass door stood at the end, nestled between two equally large brick walls.
“This is it,” Xander said while looking at the reflective surface, our images distorted oddly on the bronzed exterior. I was short and squat. Xander pulled thin and gangly. Dex—I’m not even sure I could begin to understand the jumbled mess his reflection had become.
“Are you sure?” I asked, looking around and not finding anyone walking the streets at this hour to help confirm.
My eye then caught movement to my right. An old man with torn clothes and a toothless smile sat on the corner, rubbing the chalky white dirt of the street onto his arms and face in a mad fashion, lathering it across his chest as if he were bathing. Leaving Xander and Dex to their search of the area, I approached the elderly gentleman and reached into my satchel, removing my last two remaining coins. I knelt before him, carefully placing them into his wrinkled palm. He wore no shirt and his chest and ribs caved pitifully inwards. “I hope you will make better use of this than I will,” I said quietly, looking towards Xander before I turned to go, but found the man grabbing at my wrist.
I stared back in surprise.
The old man opened his mouth, his voice rough and slight. “The cruel are cowards, the brave love mercy. Do not fear becoming a puddle in a cart driven path or a gazer of the stars, do both; lest what you deserve is taken from you.”
Swallowing hard, I crouched, unmoving at his lingering words. Much like Teizel—this man exuded wisdom in his madness, but in my current state of mind, I couldn’t at all understand from what he spoke of. Even his accent sounded odd, almost exotic.