by D. S. Murphy
Next to him, the woman in the corner blended in so much she was practically invisible until she shifted her position. Her jet black hair fell like a curtain, framing her pale skin and slanted eyes. She met my gaze with a slight nod. Although also draped in faded layers of fabric, she was wearing sweatpants and a pair of pink sandals, and looked far more comfortable, curled up on a leather couch. The chipped mug at her side read Difficult Roads often lead to Beautiful Destinations.
“Emily, this is April Liu, our resident doctor. We have healers who help with smaller things when we need them; herbs, setting bones. April is more of a research specialist than a practitioner.”
I nodded, though I didn’t know exactly what any of that meant. We had healers in the compounds, but they didn’t need to do much, since our weekly allotment of elixir kept most health issues in check. I took a seat at the table cautiously.
“And I believe you’ve already met Steve Haggs,” he nodded behind me. I turned to see the man with the scarred lip and short hair, hovering behind us near the stairs. He nodded at me and I scowled back.
“You mean the ugly bastard that shot me?” I said, crossing my arms. “Yeah, we’ve met.”
I didn’t know what Jacob wanted or why I was even here, but I wasn’t ready to let my guard down; even after Jacob nodded to one of his guards, who poured me a steaming cup of coffee and a frosted blackberry scone. He watched me take a bite. I tried not to moan, it had been days since I’d tasted anything so sweet. The coffee was bitter and grainy, but strong enough.
“We watched the trials, you know. We don’t usually play citadel propaganda down here but I find it’s best to keep informed. That was some performance.”
“I wasn’t acting,” I shot back. “Just trying to survive.”
“That isn’t true,” Jacob said, eyeing me thoughtfully. “You tried to help the other chosen, even though some of them turned on each other; turned on you. And when faced with a slagpaw, you lowered your weapons. Not much surprises me, but I’ll be honest, that moment shook me, as it did many others. Somehow, you tamed a slagpaw. Then rather than winning the trials and claiming your prize, you escaped the citadel with a handful of rebels and two other chosen. My question is… why?”
“Why what?” I mumbled, stuffing the rest of the scone in my mouth.
“I need to know what’s motivating you. I need to know my people are safe.”
“You think I’m a danger to them?” I asked.
“Aren’t you? The chosen represent everything we fight against. Most commoners are so far beneath the elite’s register, we don’t even matter. You however, have the king’s personal interest. Chosen by his own son, Prince Damien. Set to inherit a position of wealth and status, and yet you threw it all away. That would make you seem reckless.”
“I’m not here to be insulted,” I said, frowning.
“Why are you here?” Jacob pressed again.
“I don’t know,” I sighed, pushing my dark hair out of my eyes. I was tired and frustrated and dirty. “I didn’t exactly plan things out. I just knew King Richard was going to kill me for defying him. He wanted me to kill the slagpaw, to marry his son, to become his symbol for defeating the rebels. When I didn’t comply, I left him no other choice.”
“You’re a danger to him,” Jacob nodded. “You aren’t the first from the compounds to risk the journey to Havoc, seeking sanctuary.”
“I don’t need your protection,” I said.
“Then what do you want?” Jacob asked.
The question put me on the spot and I hesitated. It had been so long since anyone asked me that, and Jacob’s intense gaze made it seem like he really cared about the answer.
“My brother and sister,” I said finally. “The king took them as hostages against me. Now that I’ve escaped, I’m afraid of what he’ll do to them.”
Jacob held my eyes for another moment, then leaned back, folding his hands together and considering me in silence.
“Look, if you don’t want me here, I’ll leave,” I said, hoping he wouldn’t call my bluff.
“It depends what you brought us,” the woman spoke up for the first time.
“Wait, what?”
“My contacts in the citadel told you there may be an antidote. They asked for your help. Did you find anything, anything in Damien’s house or study?”
The journals, the papers.
“No,” I said. “I’m sorry. I did find some things that might be relevant, but then we were going to Algrave, to save my mother. I was arrested there, and didn’t have a chance to get them. The king kept me locked up until the trials.”
“Then we’ve got nothing,” the woman said.
“Except a huge target on our backs,” Steve grumbled.
“But if the girl found some mention of the king’s research, it confirms that the antidote exists,” Marcus said eagerly. “It’s real. That’s already more information than we had before. We can still try to reclaim the documents.”
“Barely,” Jacob said. “And we’re all fugitives. There’s no way we wouldn’t get caught. Plus, the girl had a reason to be inside the prince’s apartments. If any of us tried that, we’d be torn apart.”
“We should cut them loose,” Steve said. “The king will be searching everywhere for the missing chosen. They’re a liability. Without the antidote, they’ve got nothing to offer us. We shouldn’t even be talking with her here.”
“I trust her,” Trevor said.
“And who the fuck are you?” Steve spat. “You spent most of your life in the compounds, you’ve only been with us a few months. No offense, but if not for her, you wouldn’t even be allowed in this meeting, so do us a favor and keep your mouth shut.”
“They’ve had training,” Marcus said, “they might be useful.”
“We need warriors, not pretty girls that went to an elite finishing school,” Steve said. “Any idiot can fight if given enough elixir, just look at the king’s guard.”
Trevor squeezed my hand under the table as the discussion devolved into arguments.
“So what’s our next move?” I asked finally. “You stole elixir, you must have a plan?”
“Not one I’m ready to share with you,” Jacob said.
“Honestly, we were hoping you would tell us,” April smiled, leaning forward.
“Sorry it’s a little hard to think, with this bullet in my shoulder.”
I’d barely felt it at first, with the elixir in my system, but now a dull, uncomfortable throb was spreading through my torso and arm.
“Let me take a look at that,” April said, pulling out a small medical kit. “Take off your shirt.”
I frowned, uncomfortable undressing in a room full of men. But they already thought the chosen were a bunch of fragile princesses. I didn’t want to help feed that stereotype.
My fingers tingled as I pulled off several layers, stripping down to my bra. My cheeks burned as Steve looked me over, probably checking me for weapons or wires.
“Clean through,” April said. I winced as she cleaned the wound with gauze and alcohol. “And already healing nicely. How much elixir did you have today anyway?”
“Three drops I think,” I said. Her eyes widened. She nodded, but bit her lip. I knew what she was thinking. I healed faster than normal humans. I was different. Renitent. I wasn’t ready to share that information yet, even though I was pretty sure Marcus already knew. I was glad April didn’t push the issue, or voice her thoughts. She bandaged me up and handed me my clothes.
“We should have provided you with a warmer welcome,” Jacob conceded finally. “Although, I’m glad you were shot.”
“Gee, thanks,” I said, pulling on my jacket.
“Steve told me you saved one of ours, a woman you barely knew. And when he shot at you, you put yourself in harm’s way to protect her. Why?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t think about it.”
“Exactly,” he smiled. His teeth flashed bright
ly in the shadows, which made me realize how dark it had gotten. A strand of hanging lanterns reflected in the calm pool around us, making it seem like we were on a floating island.
“While I can’t trust anything you tell me, actions speak louder than words. Your unplanned reaction tells me more than anything else about you.”
“The antidote was always a fool’s errand,” Steve said, changing the subject. “Now we can prepare for war.”
“Against the elite?” I asked. “There’s no way you can win.”
“Not in a full-on battle. But we can weaken their infrastructure. Limit their blood supply. Guerrilla warfare, pick them off one at a time.”
“We’re fleas on a dog,” Marcus said. “King Richard is ignoring you for now, but you don’t want to feel his bite once he gets annoyed. You haven’t seen what he can do.”
“We can’t defeat the king by force,” April said. “Not unless we can weaken him somehow, which is why we’ve been so focused on finding the antidote.”
“Thanks Sweetie,” Steve grinned. “For your expert medical opinion. But maybe leave this up to the men who are actually doing the fighting. A few dozen pounds of C4 should be enough to take out the whole blasted palace, with the king inside it.”
I stood up, suddenly wide awake.
“You can’t do that,” I said, my fists clenched. “My siblings—”
“Then what do you suggest?” Jacob asked, probing me with his eyes. “You said they were in danger. How do you plan to get them out of the citadel?”
I looked around the table, we were talking in circles.
Something tickled at the edge of my memory. I looked up at curate Marcus and he nodded. If I didn’t have any ideas, these rebels were going to get themselves killed, Frank and Luke, probably Trevor as well.
“There’s something else,” I said, closing my eyes to concentrate. “I think Damien gave me a memory, when we – when I said goodbye. A blood memory. It was an unmarked grave in the woods, and a locked chest. I think it has something to do with John Patten or the cure, but I’m not sure what.”
“He’s probably just trying to trick you,” Trevor said. “Send you somewhere he can catch you again.”
“I don’t think so,” I said. “I think maybe Damien buried the antidote. I think he’s telling me to find it.”
“That’s a stretch,” Steve said. “Why would he do that? The rebels are his enemy. We would destroy him and his kind.”
I shrugged. Did Damien give me the memory on purpose, or had it slipped out? If so, was he keeping it from me?
My head was starting to pound. Jacob rapped his knuckles on the table and dismissed the meeting. The others filed out but Jacob gripped my arm before I could leave.
“It seems we’re allies, for the moment. I trust people who trust you. That’s enough to grant you safe harbor here, in the hopes that you prove useful. But if I sense you’re a threat or a danger to the people under my protection here, I will be forced to kill you.”
“Great,” I said, pulling my arm away. “Glad we’re being honest.”
At night, the halls echoed with the sounds of coughing, whispers, groans – from the sick, and some from the lovers, taking advantage of the darkness for a moment of intimacy. It made my skin itch listening to them.
Or maybe that wasn’t it. My skin felt itchy most of the time, and along with a headache that never quite went away, I was irritable and short-tempered. Marcus told me it was the thirst, and it was going to get worse, now that I’d had so much elixir.
By the third day, I was sweating and throwing up. Jazmine, Camina and I became bathroom buddies. The elixir had always made me feel powerful, but now I understood why Trevor called it a poison. I felt like I was dying, like my insides were rotting and sliding out. The fourth day I barely got out of bed, but by the fifth day, I was well enough to go searching for some food.
The cafeteria seemed to operate on a barter system. People could haggle for a deal, or use credits, which were earned by doing chores or favors. Unlike the minted coins from the compounds with King Richard’s face on them, these were just small scraps of metal with an “H” stamped on them. My mouth watered at one stall that was cooking some kind of flat bread, with pork and a fried egg inside.
“Allow me,” Beatrice said, appearing at my side and pulling out her purse. She bought two of the rolls and sat with me at a table to eat them.
“How’s your ankle?” I asked.
“A little stiff, but fine,” she said. “It could have been a whole lot worse, if you hadn’t been there. Buying you lunch is the least I can do for saving me.”
“At least I did something right,” I said, “not that it’s earned me any favors. Jacob doesn’t seem to want me here.”
“What are you talking about, you just earned yourself one of Havoc’s famous delicacies. Plus, I hope, a friend.” She smiled and I studied her face. Dark freckles spread across her cheeks. She reminded me of my mother. Barbara, the woman who raised me.
“Well, when you put it that way…” I smiled. “Do you have people here? Family?”
“I had a daughter once, but she died. My husband was with the rebels who got captured after the attack on the citadel,” she said quietly. “I’m still hoping for him to return but, with each day, I know the chances are lower.”
My mind flashed to the slagpaw I’d strangled in the trials, or the one that attacked me in my chambers. I’d only been defending myself, but knowing that they’d been human once, that someone could be missing them, filled me with guilt.
“That’s terrible,” I said. “I’m… sorry.”
“We do what we must to survive,” she said.
I frowned, but didn’t argue. I didn’t know why they couldn’t just stay hidden, rather than going out and looking for trouble.
“Thanks for the meal,” I said. “Have you seen Trevor?” I asked finally, when we’d finished eating.
“Training, most likely. Upstairs and to the right, you can’t miss it.”
I heard the clash of iron long before I found the makeshift arena—a flat, oval space with walls, surrounded by seats. I stumbled over a discarded leather boot with a long blade attached to it. It reminded me of the roller skates we’d used in the park, but I couldn’t see how it would be much use on the cement floor.
Men were wrestling, fighting with swords, or using plastic mannequins as target practice. They’d been dressed in fancy suits and dresses, to represent the elite, apparently.
Camina and Marcus were sitting on the side watching the fighters. I joined them quietly, watching the lessons. Steve was teaching a class to a group of kids, some as young as Loralie.
“The best way to kill an elite is with a bullet to the brain,” he said, brandishing his pistol. “We’ve got tons of guns and ammunition. They’re old, but they fire straight enough if you keep them well-oiled and maintained. But, we only use them in an emergency. Can anyone tell me why?”
A young girl with pigtails raised her hand, but answered before being called on.
“They’re too loud,” she said.
“That’s right,” Steve smiled. Then he turned quickly and fired towards one of the mannequins, exploding its plastic head into chunks and ripping chunks out of the concrete wall behind it.
The children squealed and covered their ears, or laughed excitedly.
“Down here, the noise is mostly muffled, though we still limit our shots to conserve bullets. However up there, outdoors, the sound will carry for miles. The best way to kill an elite is a headshot, from a distance, with a scoped rifle. Take one out, as long as you don’t miss, and make sure he’s alone. Otherwise, his buddies will track you down and kill you; if a slagpaw doesn’t get you first. If you have to fire a gun outdoors, move to a new location as fast as possible.”
“What about arrows?” a young boy asked, eyeing the rack of bow to the side of the arena.
“A crossbow bolt or arrow to the heart will work, b
ut you’d have to be at much closer range, and that kind of accuracy with a bow and arrow is goddamn legendary. They’re good for hunting small animals quietly, which is critical to our survival, but unreliable in a real fight. Since guns attract too much attention, and arrows are slow and difficult to use in close quarters, that leaves hand-to-hand combat. Can anyone tell me the limitations to fighting elite this way?”
“They’re too fast and strong,” a boy said.
“That’s right, Eric. The elite are much faster and stronger than any human. The best weapon, in close range combat, is a stake through the heart while they’re sleeping.”
“Why wood?” asked the first girl.
“Metal is too clean; the wound will seal, and they could still kill you, before you get away. A wooden spike leaves a big, round hole, it tears out micro-fragments of the cell walls. The wound is much slower to repair, and if they don’t pull out the stake quickly, it’ll be too late and the whole system will fail.”
I scoffed a little too loudly. So this was their plan for war – wait until the elite are sleeping and pick them off one by one? It might be practical, but it also seemed cowardly.
“You’ve got something to add, Chosen?” Steve glanced up quickly, using the title like an insult. In the compounds, it had always been an honor: an elite term of status and power, to be treated with respect and deference.
“Just that the elite will fight back. And they’re almost never alone. To get near one, you’d have to take out a dozen guards first.”
“Exactly,” Steve smiled. “Which is what we train for. Even with elixir, which will make us stronger and faster, no human can consume enough to defeat an elite. Once one is alerted to your presence, all you can do is run. But in order to defeat their guards and troops, we need elixir to fight our way out. Since we have a special guest today, perhaps I could convince her to give a demonstration of the fighting styles taught at the citadel?”