by D. S. Murphy
We were ushered down a central, well-worn path lined with torches, that led straight to the main cabin. Once I got closer I realized just to the right there was an outdoor court of sorts, with a tall black chair made of glass and plastic. Men and women followed our progress, blocking off our exit and crowding in from the sides, forming a kind of procession through the town. More people gathered behind them, until nearly everyone in the fortress was behind us.
The man sitting on the large black chair was bare chested, with heavy necklaces of gold and silver, and a helmet made of antlers, holding a tall, jagged spear. As we approached, I could see the chair was made out of smart phones. I’d found them before, in the wild. Nearly every human had carried one once, and nearly every time you came across a pile of scraps and bones, you’d find one of the shiny black bricks nearby. Damien told me once every single one was connected, allowing humans to speak across thousands of miles.
The man rose when we approached, raising his hands for silence. He had long red hair, with beads braided into his beard, and a bright blue slash across his eyes.
On each side of his throne, tall spears pierced two round objects; an elite skull with gleaming long fangs, and a dried-up husk of a heart. Spread out before him was a thick rug made from slagpaw, including the stuffed head. The eyes had been replaced with large black balls with the number 8 on them.
My heart beat a strong rhythm against my chest and dread flooded through me. Would Penelope be safe here?
“Welcome,” he said, “to the shire.”
The man stood and smiled when he saw Luke, then pulled him into a hug. At this, the men around us took their hands off their weapons, but didn’t lower their guard or back away.
Someone was pushing through the crowds and I smiled with relief when I saw a dark skinned man moving towards us. Jacob had given up his dramatic furry armor and trinkets in exchange for form-fitting travel gear, and a dark leather coat with straps and a hood, built for utility.
I looked behind him, but couldn’t find anybody else I recognized. Havoc was so large though, and I’d only had a chance to get to know a handful of people during my stay.
He smiled, but his face was tense as he looked over my little band of companions.
“I’m a little surprised to see you,” he said.
“Not unwelcome I hope?” Trevor asked, shaking his hand.
“Not entirely, no.”
“I’m glad to see you too,” I said. “We weren’t sure you made it out. We saw the explosions.” Was that only a few days ago? So much had happened since then.
“Where’s everyone else, from Havoc,” Trevor asked. “They can’t all be here?”
“There are other homesteads, like this one. Did you find what you were looking for? The antidote?”
“No,” I said, biting my lip. That was the truth of it, though it seemed far too simple, it would have to do for now.
Jacob nodded, thoughtful, but didn’t seem too disappointed.
“We can talk more later,” he whispered quickly, squeezing Trevor’s shoulder. “If you’re allowed to stay.”
“Wait, what?”
“I’m only a guest here,” he said. “I’m not the one in control. And Luke’s uncle is... eccentric. They have their own ways and customs. If you want to shelter in the shire, you have to obey their rules.”
“The shire?” Trevor asked.
“From a book he likes,” Jacob shrugged. “The hero was called Sam as well.”
I glanced over towards Luke, standing next to Sam. He was frowning and arguing, but his uncle leaned his forehead forward until it touched his, then shoved him away. He stood in front of his black glass throne, which was on a small raised platform. It put him several heads above us, so he could address the entire gathering. There were probably a few hundred people around me, and the pressed in close as he began to speak.
“We have new visitors,” he said, his voice carrying above the rush of the waterfall down the hill. “And although they are friends and family, they will not get special treatment.”
“We only came here to meet up with Jacob,” I said. “We’re not staying.”
“It’s too late. You’ve been here, you know our location. We cannot trust you to leave, so you must be initiated.”
I frowned and crossed my arms.
“As more of you came,” Sam continued, “I had to find a way to prove your strength and loyalty. We have few rules here, and only one maxim: a life for a life.”
“A life for a life,” the crowd behind me answered. Chills went down my spine. It was a like a strange mimicry of Richard’s renewal ceremony, but wild and untamed.
“Firstly, we share. Twenty percent of your belongings go to the community and stay here to support the community. It must be given willingly, not taken. Though there are more ways to pay than physical possessions. You can also trade in skills, knowledge, or services. Do you accept?”
I looked back at my comrades. We had very little other than the clothes on our backs, and they’d already taken our weapons.
“We accept,” I nodded.
“Then, there are three ordeals, which you must pass. Each challenge will reveal one of our values, but we will not share it unless you pass.”
“We’re not here to play games,” Trevor said.
“This is non-negotiable.”
“Can’t I just vouch for them?” Luke said. “You know me. I trust them.”
“You may vouch for one of them. If they break the rules, your life would be forfeit. A life for a life. But you cannot vouch for all of them, because justice must be swift, and the debt must be paid.”
“Fine,” I said. “What do we have to do?”
“First, we cannot have any addicts. Users or abusers cannot be trusted. The first test is of willpower and self-reliance.”
He took a vial of elixir out from a thin case in his pocket, and held it up. The shiny blue liquid sparkled in the light. I wondered where he got it, or if they brewed it themselves from whatever dead elite were adorning his makeshift outdoor theater.
“The elixir is to be used in emergencies or in battle. Never for enjoyment, to fill a need. You must be able to resist the thirst that drives all men mad.”
The guards pushed us into a line and Sam walked down from his stage slowly, uncorking the glass vial. I tensed when he passed me. My body’s reaction was stronger than I expected, just from the scent of the elixir.
My throat was dry, and all my aches and pains suddenly intensified, like I could feel my bones grinding together. I was sure my pupils were wider than usual; it suddenly seemed far too bright.
But I stood still, ignoring the bead of sweat dripping down my cheek, staring straight ahead until the vial passed me. He looked curiously at Penelope, before putting the vial away. Instead, he took out a knife and cut his own palm, squeezing his fist in front of Penelope’s face and letting the blood drip. My mind raced, thinking about when she’d last eaten.
Her last proper meal must have been the rebel in Sezomp. Since then she’d only had a little from us, her travel companions, and what I’d given her earlier. I knew it was just a snack and not as much as she needed. Her skin was pale and I saw her lips tremble, but she kept her arms crossed rigidly.
“Good,” Sam nodded finally. “You’ve passed the first test, the test of Mind. No addiction, only conviction. You will be responsible for your elite guest. One of you must feed her, make sure she never gets thirsty enough to lose control.”
“I promise,” I said, stepping forward.
“Then let us move to the second ordeal.” The crowd shifted around us, retreating to let us pass as we followed Sam to an area just inside the fence. Above us, a series of rope ladders led to lookout platforms in the trees.
Here on the edge of town, a long straight path of black ash led towards a large flat boulder. Fires in the camp were quickly smothered, leaving the hot embers for warmth and cooking, but never allowing the open
flames to leap free.
Men, in round helmets and fur vests shoveled hot ash from a nearby kiln and spread it out evenly along the dark path. It hissed against the wet ground.
“What is this?” I asked, my skin prickling in the sudden heat.
“The second trial,” Sam said. “Those who have grown up under the compounds, have learned to avoid pain, but that makes you weak; hopeful for your next renewal ceremony, thirsty for the elixir to ease your suffering. But pain is a gift, it’s what makes us human. This must be acknowledged and embraced.” He gestured down the scorching path towards the rock.
“Will it hurt?” I ask.
“Yes,” he said. “Tonight you will feel the pain and reflect on its messages. There will be no healing, no cheating with elixir, or elite blood. But you will survive.”
Luke was pressing his mouth together in a thin line, but he shrugged at me. He didn’t like this either, but it was out of his hands.
“If they think growing up in the compounds made us weak,” Camina whispered, taking off her shoes, “they’re misinformed. But I wish they’d just challenge us to a proper fight instead of all this showmanship.”
“Agreed,” I said, shrinking under the watchful gaze of the whole community. I hated being on display.
Jazmine shrugged it off.
“Come’on, it’s kind of fun. And it’s just ash; they’re right, we’ll be facing it everyday. It’s the whole world now instead of hiding in a protected compound, cleansed with elite machines. These humans are acknowledging that living alone, outside of the king’s reach, gives them freedom, but also responsibilities; of endurance and pain. It’s symbolic. There’s honor in that.”
“It’s pageantry,” Penelope whispered. “No different from how the king manipulates his subjects and creates loyalty. Tobias would have loved it here.”
“I’ll go first,” Trevor said, taking off his wet boots and rolling up his pants. Trevor was used to working in the heat, as a blacksmith, though I wondered how sensitive his bare feet were.
He winced when he put one foot against the coals, leaning forward with his whole weight. It sank deeply in the ash and dirt, nearly coming up to his ankles. After that he moved more quickly, taking careful strides across the burning ash until he reached the boulder on the other side and stepped onto it.
His eyes sought mine over the crowds and he nodded once. Luke followed, then Camina. April crossed the burning path with solemn determination. Jazmine was more of a show off, turning around halfway to tread backwards, before doing a standing backflip and a cartwheel.
Penelope and I were last.
“Tobias was always afraid of fire,” she told me. “Most wounds heal or mend quickly for elite, as long as we feed. Burns aren’t as easy to heal, and more painful. Plus, fire is one surefire way to kill them. Us. Engulfed in flame and burnt at the stake. He told me about what it was like, before, during the race wars.”
“It’ll be fine,” I said, squeezing her hand. “We’ll go together. It’s only an inch of ash.”
She nodded, holding in a deep breath.
I went first with her close behind me. The ash was already wet from the ground, and my feet were dirty, my skin damp. But they dried quickly on the hot coals. Halfway there I started to feel the pain, as my bare skin found hot red embers. I bit my lip to keep from jumping off the path, lifting the cuffs of my jeans higher around my bare ankles. I smiled when I made it back to the rock, damp and cool against my bare skin. Trevor and Luke gave me a hand up to the boulder. I turned around to help Penelope. She was only a few paces behind me when her feet started to blacken and burn.
I reached my hand out to her and she took it, closing the final few steps with an inhuman, yet graceful leap onto the stone. There was something ironic about asking an elite to prove her humanity. But she made it. At the back of the boulder was a low ledge in the rock filled with water. I pulled her to it so she could douse her feet, standing in the cold water with a look of relief.
“We did it,” I whispered. “That wasn’t so bad.”
“What else you got?” Jazmine taunted, with her hands on her hips.
“You have finished the second ordeal,” Sam said, “the challenge of Heart. No cowardice, only courage. Next is our third ordeal, and the most challenging.”
Sam raised his arms, lifting his cape off the ground solemnly.
“We must keep our community strong. There is no place for weakness. This is a base of force, not the last refuge of the weak. Every new resident must strengthen our numbers. Unfortunately, there is not enough room for everyone; at first I capped the upper limit at 50 strong men. Then 100. The limit is now 250, and it cannot be exceeded.”
“So?” I asked, dread running down my spine.
“Our rules are simple, by your arrival, others must leave. You must choose whose place you will be taking, knowing that you seal their fate by forcing them back out into the wilds. They will probably resist. You will take their place, by force if necessary.”
My blood ran cold at his announcement. I stood still for a moment, hoping I’d misheard him. The rain had almost stopped, and slow, heavy flakes fell through the trees, hissing near my ear.
I looked out over the crowd. Some had their faces painted like Sam, and were wearing skulls around their neck or waists. Anything rare or difficult to find or kill was displayed like some kind of vanity metric or social status. Bare arms and shoulders were dusted with white ash, and their long wild hair was braided around shiny things.
Some of the women wore tall rings around their necks to prevent vampire bites. Spiked armor, made of scraps of metal, covered their shoulders and arms. As their eyes met mine, they tried to look as fierce as possible.
Was this what humanity would become, if left to its own devices?
The king had warned me once, about the delicate balance that must be preserved, when he’d shown me his cave of bones.
And Damien had said something similar; that the wars were too horrible to be believed. Decades of brutal fighting and killing, nobody safe. Trevor and the other rebels seemed all too willing for the fighting to begin, but those in the compounds weren’t ready, and with this display, I knew the wildlings weren’t either. Their feeble armor, homemade weapons and jagged spears would be ineffective against real elite, when they came. They might kill a few, but they’d be no match for King Richard’s whole army of enhanced soldiers.
And even if they somehow did win, then what? The slagpaw would still roam the wilds. Humans would bow down to cult leaders and superstition, trading dignity and reason for brute force, food and safety.
There would always be some man on a homemade throne whose power came from those who were too timid to refuse. Sam wanted me to choose someone weak and battle them for my position, like savages. But if this was all humanity had to offer as an alternative to the compounds, maybe they didn’t deserve their freedom.
I crossed my arms, feeling rage build up in me.
“No,” I said calmly, crossing my arms before any of the others had a chance to speak.
“We’re not doing that.”
25
“Excuse me?” Sam said. A heavy tension filled the air as time seemed to stand still. The others gathered closer together behind me, in defensive positions.
“We’ve passed your stupid tests, and we’re not staying. We only came to meet our friends. We’re not citizens, we’ve given no oath or contract, made no promises. If you want to kick us out, fine. But we won’t risk other lives as callously as you think we should. No life is worth more than another.”
The men around us shuffled uncomfortably, tightening their grips around their homemade weapons.
“Final answer?” Sam asked, coming forward and pointing the tip of his spear towards my neck.
“Final answer,” Trevor said, swatting the spear away and standing to my side.
There was a rattling noise, that started from the back of the crowd and made its way forwa
rd. It was soft at first, as people began rubbing their palms together, then grew to a pitter-patter as they snapped their fingers, then a roar as they stomped their feet and clapped metal on metal, pounding their shields or shaking homemade rattles of crushed cans or beads inside glass bottles.
Actual thunder split the air behind us, and a flash of lightning cut through the sky – it was met by a chorus of howls and yells. But this wasn’t a war cry. It was a celebration.
Sam’s face broke into a grin, and he beckoned towards us with wide arms.
“I knew you could do it,” Jacob said, a half smile forming as he helped me off the rock. “To be honest, I almost failed that one myself, and most of the men from Havoc did as well. Steve was furious when they kicked him out.”
“What happened to him?”
“They made camp somewhere else. There are dozens of sites like this, each growing too large by the day, each with its own set of rules.”
“Wait, I don’t get it. What just happened?” Jazmine asked.
“Your friend was exactly right,” Sam said. “No life is more than any other; we’re all equal. That’s the true secret of our maxim.”
“A life for a life,” I nodded, my eyes widening.
“It’s like a trick question,” Camina said.
“Anyone who thinks only the strongest should survive, that humanity is just whatever’s left, they don’t belong here, we’ll never see eye to eye. You passed the ordeal of Soul – no cruelty, only compassion.”
“You know what humanity is really? It’s a healed femur bone. It’s taking care of a companion, even when your own life is at risk. Every other animal cares more about self-preservation. A mother might fight for her own children, sure. But only humans will put themselves in danger for total strangers.”
“But honestly,” Sam said, “I’m glad you passed our little test. Jacob has told me a lot about you, and what happened to Havoc, and I’ve been curious to meet the legendary Thorn Bearer.”
“The what?” I asked.