The Lightning's Claim

by K. M. Fahy

  “I just…” Noia looked down at Vina.

  “What?” Kitieri prompted.

  “We’ve never been out this late before, unprotected. I know we just had a Strike, but that doesn’t mean anything. The lightning could come at any time.”

  Kitieri lifted her hand, feeling the soft breeze on her fingertips.

  “What are you doing?” Noia asked, one cheek scrunching up in confusion.

  “Testing the air,” Kitieri replied, dropping her hand. “We’re safe for now.”

  “How could you possibly know that?”

  Kitieri avoided her gaze.

  “I can feel it,” she said. “The air gets thick and heavy before a strike, and it smells like metal. It’s easy to breathe right now, which means we’ve got some time.”

  Noia continued to stare, looking at Kitieri like she was insane.

  “Are you an electric element or something?” she asked.

  “No,” Kitieri said. “I can just feel it.”

  Silence fell between them, and Kitieri felt the heat flushing her cheeks.

  “So.” She cleared her throat. “You’re a member of the Church of Histan, then?”

  “Yes,” Noia replied. “I was born into it.”

  Kitieri considered her next words. She had no wish to offend, but it was difficult to understand why anyone would go along with either of the Churches’ tyrannical system of government, and the red officers that patrolled their district left a particularly bad taste in her mouth for Histan’s Church.

  “I’ll be honest,” she said, “I haven’t heard much good about the Church of Histan. They seem a little…”

  “Strict?”

  “I was going to say brutal, but sure.”

  Noia shrugged. “I guess it could be called that. But they’re the lawmakers. If they weren’t like that, people would just do whatever they wanted.”

  “I guess,” Kitieri said, brows furrowing. “Have you thought about going to the Church of Enahris? I heard another miner talking about how they’ll sometimes help with food now.”

  “Yes,” Noia replied, “I’ve heard their current Baliant is fairly generous, but they wouldn’t help a member of the Church of Histan.”

  “I see.”

  “What about you?” Noia asked. “I’ve never seen you at services before, but it seems like you must belong to the Church of Histan as well.”

  Kitieri snorted. “Why, do I look the part?”

  “No.” Noia smiled with a soft blush. “You just live in their district and you’re going to buy a Gadget from them, so I assumed. People only buy Gadgets from their own Church.”

  “Oh.” Kitieri’s grin faded. “No, my family doesn’t belong to a Church.”

  Noia stopped in her tracks, and Kitieri turned back to her.

  “What?”

  “You’re illegals?”

  Kitieri laughed nervously, glancing over her shoulder. “Illegals? What are you talking about?”

  “Everyone has to choose a Church,” Noia said. “Most people stay with their Church of birth, but a child can choose to move when they come of age at fifteen. You didn’t know this?”

  Kitieri shook her head.

  “My parents never told me that. They didn’t agree with how the Churches ran the city, and never took us to any services or events. When they died, we just… kept living the same way. I took up my father’s job in the mines, and we focused on survival. With no Gadgets in the family, we’ve stayed secluded from the rest of the city. But that’s finally about to change.” Kitieri shifted the bag that hung over her shoulder, reassuring herself that all the money was still there.

  “What happened to them?” Noia asked.

  “My parents?”

  “If you don’t mind me asking.”

  Kitieri watched her feet as they continued on their way, grappling with the deep emotions that lived beneath the surface.

  “We assume it was the lightning,” she said. “They went out to run an errand one day, and just… never came back. There was a Strike that afternoon, so we think that must be what happened.”

  “I’m so sorry,” Noia whispered. “But—the Blue Killer only takes one. You think it took them both?”

  “I always figured they held each other when they realized they couldn’t escape it. It’s the only thing that makes sense.”

  “That’s so awful,” Noia said. “I know how it felt when Beran didn’t come home—I still cry every day. I can’t imagine losing both parents in one Strike at that age.”

  Kitieri tried to swallow the lump in her throat.

  “Everyone’s lost someone,” she said. “So many dead, and still nobody knows why it’s happening.”

  “The Church says it’s a punishment,” Noia said.

  “Yeah, yeah, I’ve heard that. It just doesn’t make any sense to me.”

  “Why not?”

  Kitieri scoffed. “It’s just not how the lightning behaves. It’s hungry for anyone—anything it can get. Hells, I’ve been targeted over and over, and I’m still here. So if it’s a punishment and the gods are after me, they’re doing a piss-poor job of it.”

  Noia stared at her. “Targeted?”

  “Yeah,” Kitieri said. “It fixates on you, and it’s like you can look it right in the eye. Have you never felt that?”

  “I… can’t say that I have,” Noia replied, frowning. “But punishment is what the Churches say.”

  “So according to them, your husband deserved to die. Do you believe that?”

  Noia winced, and held Vina a little tighter to her chest. The baby made a soft cooing sound before slipping back into her slumber.

  “I’m sorry,” Kitieri muttered. “That was—”

  “No, you’re right,” Noia said. Her eyes were sad, but the hurt was leaving their depths.Kitieri held her tongue as Noia processed her thoughts, walking in silence.

  “We’re taught that the lightning is meant to keep people in line,” Noia continued, “but everyone I’ve known who’s been killed was never anything but kind and good.”

  Kitieri’s chest tightened as the faces of her parents flashed across her mind.

  “I don’t know,” Noia continued, “maybe the Church is wrong. I was taught to never question their teachings, but why doesn’t the lightning ever take the wicked?”

  “Because they buy their security,” Kitieri said, her voice coming out low and gravelly.

  “That’s true,” Noia conceded. “Then, if not the divine, what do you think causes it?”

  “I don’t know.” Kitieri sighed. “None of it makes any sense. My parents were two of the most loving, devoted people I have ever known. All the pieces of shit that deserve the lightning have Gadgets, so I guess they’re immune to judgement. Those are the people that need a culling. The rest of us are out here working ourselves to death for pebbles, and they make absurd amounts of money off our labor. The entire system makes me sick.”

  Running out of breath, she sucked cool air into her lungs. She glanced at Noia, whom she expected to be looking at her like she was crazy again. Instead, she found knowing eyes and deep understanding.

  “All I know,” Kitieri continued, “is that the Churches don’t care about the people. They’re happy to let the poor die out here if it means they’re safe. Even if the gods do exist, why would they create a world just to rip it apart with this kind of terror? The only explanation I can come up with is that we’re some sick, twisted game for them. I can’t find anything to worship in that.”

  Noia nodded solemnly. “I don’t think our gods are evil, but it does feel some days as if maybe they’ve abandoned us.”

  “Are abandonment and lack of existence really all that different?”

  Noia grinned. “I guess not.”

  Turning a corner, they came into view of the towering Church of Histan, set across from an open courtyard. Its light, smooth façade looked like the formidable wall of a great fortress, broken only by tall, narrow windows and the shadow of a balcony protruding a
bove the main doors.

  Apprehension clawed at Kitieri’s heart; the mere sight of it made her want to turn around and go straight back home. She knew she had no choice, but she wished there was another way.

  Noia noticed her slowed pace, and turned back to her. “Are you all right?”

  Kitieri blinked. “Yeah, I’m fine. I just…” Something about the intimidating Church prompted her to speak the words that had been on her mind since dinner. “Noia, you and Vina don’t have to live on the streets.”

  Noia’s dark brows came together, and Kitieri continued before she could flat out reject the idea.

  “That’s your plan, right? You’re going to buy a Gadget and take to the streets to beg for survival.”

  “Well…” Noia looked away, rocking Vina. “I just can’t see any other way.”

  “I know.” Kitieri stepped close to her. “But I’ve seen what happens to those people, Noia. You don’t have to live like that.”

  “What do you mean? What happens to them?”

  Kitieri swallowed. Her nerves were on edge as the Church of Histan loomed above them, stark and foreboding in the moonlight.

  “I’m just worried about you both,” she said. “I’m afraid they’ll see a target, and your Gadget will be stolen. I’m afraid you’ll be robbed, or hurt. These people”—Kitieri gestured to the Church before them—“will do whatever they can to raise themselves up and beat us down. At the very least, without further protection you could be bombarded by those looking for safety during a Strike. That’s why all these elites carry weapons, and I’ve seen them used.”

  “What do you suggest?” Noia asked. “We have nothing. We can’t even—”

  “Come live with us.”

  Noia’s eyes widened. “What?”

  “Yes. The three of us can share a room, and you two can have Taff’s room. We’ll have two Gadgets in the house then, and you’ll have someone to watch Vina while you work. She’ll be safe, and you can save up for a better life for you both.”

  “Oh,” Noia breathed, “I couldn’t possibly—”

  “What other choice do you have?” Kitieri raised her palms. “The streets are no place for a baby, and you know that. Together, we can give our families a chance at a real life. Don’t you want that?”

  Noia’s eyes were glistening, but it was dark enough that Kitieri could not quite make out her full expression.

  “I… I don’t know what to say,” she choked.

  “Say ‘yes.’ We can take care of each other. This life is hard, but it’s a little less hard with friends.”

  A broad smile spread across Noia’s face. Before Kitieri could react, a thin, bony arm pulled her into a hug, with the baby cradled between them.

  “Thank you. Thank you so much,” Noia whispered into her ear.

  Kitieri hugged her back, closing her eyes. “Everything’s going to be all right,” she said.

  Noia pulled away, but her hand lingered on Kitieri’s arm. “Somehow, I believe you.”

  Relief washed over Kitieri. She knew better than to make friends, but this would be different. They’d have Gadgets, and the lightning couldn’t just take them on a whim. She’d been raised to protect what little she had in this world, but there was still room to care for others. If she hoarded what she had and locked someone out when she could have helped, how was she any better than the rich elites she hated?

  Noia looked back to the Church. “Shall we?”

  Kitieri nodded. “Let’s go.”

  They walked across the Church Square, its colored stones arranged in great circles centered around a tall, thin pillar. Kitieri’s eyes lingered on the pillar as they passed, traveling up and down its gleaming surface. Its placement seemed strange, jutting up from the circular stones as if it was some kind of monument. A statue of Histan felt the more obvious choice, but she guessed the pillar had its own meaning.

  Noia followed her gaze but quickly averted her eyes, training them back on their destination.

  “What?” Kitieri asked, glancing back to the pillar to see if she’d missed something that might have offended Noia.

  “I don’t like that thing,” she said.

  “What is it?”

  “It’s terrible, is what it is.”

  Kitieri waited for an explanation, but Noia remained silent as they walked. She considered pushing the subject, but let it drop. She’d ask again later.

  The pair came to the wide stone stairs leading up to the great double doors of the Church, each stair wide enough to require multiple steps before reaching the next. Gaining the top, Kitieri paused as two men in red uniforms moved to block the door.

  “What business have you with the Church of Histan?” one asked.

  “We’re here to purchase two Gad— uh, PCRs.”

  The red officers exchanged a chuckle, and Kitieri blushed. Everyone she knew called them Gadgets, and she always forgot they had that fancy acronym that stood for ‘Personal Cintra Reactor.’

  “Uh-huh, sure,” the other officer folded his arms. “Let’s see the money.”

  Kitieri pulled her bag in front of her, clutching the flap hard to keep her trembling hands still, and showed the man the contents. He leaned forward, scrutinizing the dark interior before jerking his chin toward Noia. “You?”

  Noia shifted Vina to one arm, fishing a purse from her skirt pocket.

  “Wait here.” The officer opened one of the great double doors, disappearing into the Church and leaving Kitieri and Noia standing awkwardly before the remaining officer.

  “Nice night.” Noia smiled at the man, who shot her an annoyed look as he shifted his Gadget on his shoulders, ignoring her comment. Kitieri tapped her toes in her boots, looking anywhere but at the pissy officer.

  Mercifully, the doors swung open quickly and they were greeted by the sight of a tall man in long black robes, silhouetted against a soft interior glow. A tiny gasp from Noia made Kitieri jump.

  “Chief Advisor,” she mumbled, bowing her head, “we’re so sorry to bother you.”

  Kitieri glanced between the two, ducking her own head as Noia threw her a stern look.

  “The money?” He lifted a dark eyebrow.

  “C-can we see the Gadgets first?” Kitieri asked, fighting the urge to take a step back. The man pursed his lips, but turned with a dramatic flare of his long robes to walk back into the Church. Kitieri blinked, watching him walk away until one of the officers waved.

  “Well?” he snapped. “Go.”

  Kitieri hurried through the doors beside Noia and the heavy door swung closed behind them, latching with a clang that echoed off the high, vaulted ceilings. Soft firelight illuminated the chamber from two lines of sconces in the walls, and a red runner down the grand center aisle quieted their footfalls. At the far end stood a giant, shining sculpture of a god.

  Histan’s image was striking in the lamplight. The statue stood taller than five men on each other’s shoulders, looking down on them with consternation as one fist hefted a great, jeweled sword into the air. Nothing about the sculpture’s presence was kind and welcoming, and Kitieri suppressed a shudder.

  “This way,” the Chief Advisor said, turning toward a side door. A narrow set of stairs took them up two floors before they reached a dim hallway, passing a series of doors.

  Finally, the man stopped, knocking on one such door. He looked at them for the first time since they’d entered the church, and Kitieri noted his squinty, narrow eyes and pockmarked skin. His dark gray hair, pulled back into a low ponytail, made his long face appear even more pointy and angular.

  When the door creaked open, a short, rotund man peered out at them.

  “What’s all this, Stil?” he demanded.

  “These women wish to purchase two PCRs.”

  “At this hour?”

  Stil rolled his eyes. “It’s not that late, Coff.”

  Coff poked his head further out the door, glaring at Kitieri and Noia. He looked them up and down, appraising them one at a time, until Sti
l leaned forward.

  “They have the money.”

  Coff cut his eyes up to the tall man, then disappeared into the room with a grumble. Stil gestured for them to enter before him.

  A few candles burned, but Kitieri still had to strain her eyes to see. Grunting noises came from where Coff appeared to be struggling with something heavy in a dark closet, and Kitieri stole a glance at Stil, who had his arms folded impatiently.

  The man turned, dragging two square packs behind him, and the dulled scraping sound of the metal through the black leather casing filled the room. With a dramatic huff, Coff dropped the packs to his sides.

  “Payment,” he barked, holding out an open hand. Kitieri pulled the flap of her shoulder bag open and grasped the little sack of black stones, relishing the weight of three brutal years leaving her palm as she dropped the sack into Coff’s hand. He ripped the bag open, counting out the caps and rounds. He shot her a sour look at the mess of bits that she hadn’t gotten the chance to exchange, but she watched him count every single pebble. It was all there.

  “Yours.” Coff beckoned to Noia as he pocketed Kitieri’s money. The old man felt the three caps in his hand, peeking into the purse just to be sure before shoving it into his pocket.

  “Your names?” he grumbled.

  “Kitieri Manon.”

  “Noia Kisson.”

  Coff scribbled the names into a booklet on the side table, then gestured to the Gadgets on the floor.

  “That’s it?” Noia asked.

  “What else would there be?” Stil asked. The condescension in his tone set Kitieri’s temper on edge, but she remained silent. “Take your purchases and be gone.”

  Kitieri knelt beside the square pack, undoing the double buckles of the front flap, and pulled out the backboard that gave the Gadget its structure. Embedded into the wooden board, a thick metal plate spiked out to five equidistant points, like those of an invisible star. At the tip of each point rested thin, flat shards of translucent purple cintra nestled into the metal. The things were bulky, but the space was necessary to activate the cintra’s electricity-nullifying properties as they vibrated against the metal and each other in reaction to the charge.