Renegade: A Young Adult Dystopian

by Mallory McCartney

  Brokk passed him the dried-out meat and water jug they had acquired from Tadeas. The man had hungrily taken in his best friend like a prized possession, ignoring him and Alby. Exhaling through his nose as he took a deep swig.

  Running a hand through his flaming hair, Alby whispered, “How far do you think Cesan will go?”

  Brokk snapped his attention to Alby. “Who knows? Cesan has made his decision, and we have to go through with ours.”

  The unsaid words hung between them. Staring into the flames, Memphis tried to find his answers in the flickering oranges and pulsing embers. The tides were turning over spite and power. Turning his gaze upwards, he took in the starless night. Deep, never-ending clouds had whisked away any trace of them. It felt like the entire world was holding its breath. Maybe it was. In the end, it wouldn’t matter. He knew he should tell Brokk about that day in Sarthaven. About the whispers.

  Rolling his shoulders, he murmured, “I’m going to try to get some sleep.”

  Brokk raised an eyebrow at him, sensing his turmoil. Alby nodded, saying goodnight, and he grabbed his pack and weapons, stiffly making his way to the tent. Groaning, he threw the flap back and lowered himself onto the floor, pulling his jacket tighter around him and using his pack as a pillow. Breathing deeply, his eyelids fluttered closed, and his body slowly uncoiled muscle by muscle. The voices of the camp became a distant hum as he fell deeper into his exhaustion. His ability was waiting for him at the other end.

  It was like sharp talons shredding his barricade, his dark desires throwing all he had into the action. He flinched, his eyes flying open as a cold sweat broke out over his skin. He felt each wall dissipate, breaking to his will. His world tilted sickly, and he was pulled under. He was like a hunter prowling, swiftly and surely. It took him seconds before his ability curled around Tadeas’s mind. No. no. No! He was scrambling, trying to throw those walls back up, scrambling to bring himself back into the haven of himself. His ability shattered through Tadeas with ease and precision. The king was talking adamantly to his companions and had no idea that Memphis was swept into the depths of his consciousness, searching and reaping. He was obliterated in the current of memories and thoughts, being pushed under. His power snarled and snapped, shifting through the unnecessary details, like a bloodhound on a scent. He now had one intention, and he would not fail. Emotions and images flew by him until a name started echoing through him. Roque. Roque. Roque. He was slammed into the memory, and everything he knew bled away.

  Roque slammed his hand on the oak table, breathing hard, looking completely unhinged. Tadeas raised his eyebrows, crossing his arms. “How are we going to trust one another, Roque, when you won’t break away from the mistakes of the past?”

  Roque laughed darkly, shaking as he sized him up. “What happened with my father has nothing to do with the situation at hand. You waltz in here expecting not only me, but my family and my school, to bow to your every demand?”

  Tadeas became still, as he drawled, “We have bowed to Kiero’s demand for years. I have watched my people that I love to be shackled, enslaved, and destroyed. I’m not asking for your bleeding government, I’m asking for your trust. Allow us to build together, Roque. You and I both know how precarious your situation has now become. Do not allow one man to destroy it.”

  Roque frowned, staring at the polished oak as if he would find his answers. “He is my best friend.”

  “Who has now put your world at stake.”

  Roque raised his gaze. “There are innocents in Sarthaven. They will get caught in the crossfire if I go through with this. Cesan is too cunning and knows me too well. He will expect me to stay true to my word. I just transferred the communication this morning. As king, he will expect a trial.”

  Tadeas smiled sadly. “No one said achieving the greater good was going to be easy. People will die, but it won’t be for nothing. We need each other as allies. Cesan will expect a trial, but what he won’t foresee is our allegiance. Let me end him.”

  Roque snarled. “And what do you expect in return?”

  Tadeas smoothed the front of his jacket, clucking his tongue. “As I said, I want our trading routes reinstated. I am here to compromise, not to threaten you. We can both keep our secrets and uphold our life, Roque.”

  “And what is that supposed to mean?”

  He smirked. “Sailors gather a lot of information on their travels. Let’s just say you are a hot topic amongst the Shattered Isles.”

  Roque paled, chewing his lower lip. “I don’t want to enter another war.”

  Tadeas nodded. “Leave it to me. We will bait Cesan, and then it will be done.”

  Pausing, Roque sighed. “Okay. Do it.”

  Tadeas bowed mockingly. “Your word is my command.”

  He collided back into the present so hard he rolled over and emptied the contents of his stomach. Gasping for breath, he threw up his iron walls, sealing them tight, and the well of voices quieted until it was just him, only to notice how silent outside the tent was. The hairs on his arm rose as he silently stood, slinging his pack over his shoulder and unsheathing his weathered sword. Everything made sense. How hard Tadeas pushed them to reach the capital, how loud they were being. It was practically ensuring Cesan would come sniffing. To fall into the king’s trap. Only for Tadeas to kill him with no chance of justice. To hear both sides.

  Rage ripped through him of how fast Roque had risked them all, had bent to the claim of being King. What did Cesan know? What was Roque afraid would be found? Cold sweat soaked through his shirt as he pushed the thoughts down for now. The firelight danced outside, and he could see Brokk and Alby’s silhouettes, their voices a low murmur. That’s when he heard the howling. Distant at first, like a humming in the night. Then drawing unnaturally closer, faster, the sounds of hundreds. He shot out of the tent, taking in his friends bathed in the glow from the fire, all of them frozen. It was the same effect as losing all sense of clarity. The lurching panic, and then helplessness, as you grappled to hold onto anything.

  The screaming started first at the north end of the camp. Brokk stood, all color draining from his face. Memphis spun, taking in the nightmare forming. Their bodies were like sleek armored plates, gleaming and muscular. Their elongated torsos were like serpents, twisting and flexing as they propelled forward with long black legs. Their bald bodies shimmered like water against the firelight, reflecting their drooling maws and inky teeth. Their orange eyes gleamed with madness as they cut down through tents and bodies. He had heard of creatures of dark ancient magic before. Ones that were told to children to keep their fears heightened and curiosity in check. But as he saw the first monster rip the throat out of one of Tadeas’s men, this was the farthest thing from bedtime stories of old.

  Utter chaos broke out as Brokk threw himself forward, shifting in one motion, as his colossal paws thundered, shaking the earth. Alby drew his sword, and immediately became invisible. Roars rose from the creatures as he assaulted them, unseen. Heart thundering, Memphis drew his own.

  Everything moved in slow motion. He felt himself take in the numbers of the monsters as they poured into the camp, their rage and their might crashed into their own. It was a battle of tyrants. Yelling, he bounded forward, his ability already two steps ahead of him, reacting in his fear. His talons exploded, slashing their dark minds, grasping their will, their bodies, holding them still as Brokk made his landing blow. He ducked. Slashed. Growling, thrusting his blade forward. His ability cut and unbound the creature’s minds. He was a darkened duet, of body and ability, the two forces creating a lethal harmony. Their inky talons, and severed bodies filled his senses as he heard The King of the Shattered Isles roar.

  His consciousness slid into Brokk’s. “Brokk. The Isles.” They were one unit, had always been one unit. The giant wolf before him, the fire reflecting in his intelligent eyes, as he flung himself onto one of the creature’s backs, his claws digging into the black flesh. The anguish of the monster’s cry split through him, adding to his
adrenaline. This was too convenient. Too easy. These creatures born from the night had known where they would be. He ran, bloodcurdling screams surrounding him. To his left, a man was crying. To his right, a student was screaming as a monster slowly tore into his arm socket, his blood spurting over them both. The smell of smoke clung to his lungs as bile seared his throat, spilling through his lips. But through his panic, he didn’t stop.

  His mind whirled, trying to connect the dots as he fought his way over to Tadeas’s men. Too many had already fallen, fellow students, teachers. Iasan was the only one in Memphis’s peripheral left standing, his body fluid and blurred as he cut through them. He was pure malice, snarling and yelling. Fighting to get to Tadeas as well. He ran hard, not looking back, but his mind brushed up against Alby’s and Brokk’s consciousness. They were following behind, weaving through the carnage. His fear sliced through him, consuming, as one by one the fires were extinguished. The flash of steel, the screams, the clashing of the fight surrounded them blindly. Move. Move. Move. The power was intoxicating as he snuffed out each creature’s mental stability; his ability was like a poison and he relished in it. Their executed blows became sloppy, giving them the upper hand. Tadeas clapped his hands as wind and water exploded as one, capturing their enemy. And drowning them.

  “Memphis!” Alby’s yell cut through him as his friend flickered into view beside him. There was a crack that was deafening as hot pain laced through his back. His body was dragged down and then back. Dirt and blood filled his mouth as his scream ripped from his throat. A thick muscled tail wrapped around his torso as he took in the snarling creature dragging him closer.

  The creature’s voice was silken as it rattled throughout the folds of his mind. “You are not like the others. You have pieced together that we are not here by coincidence.”

  He snarled, kicking, trying to twist out of its iron hold. It snarled darkly as he took in the saliva dripping from its massive jaws. Its eyes seemed to grow brighter the harder he resisted.

  “The true king has come. We grow hungry and tired in the darkness, always skittering to the shadows. The era of your kind is coming to an end.” He dove through the creature’s walls. His consciousness was sleek and dark, no kindness, no humanity to be found. Only a hunger for death.

  Memphis snapped down their mental connection. “What are you?” He was now pinned under the monster, the creature’s saliva coating his face, filling his nostrils, dripping into the back of his throat.

  “We are the dabarne and have been long forgotten with the age of dark magic until the acclaimed king promised us freedom. One where we could hunt freely. If we started with you.” All he felt was the creature’s dark joy as the dabarne pushed his giant paws into his chest, lowering his teeth, snapping and vicious—

  There was a flash of golden fur and immense relief as the monster was ripped free from his chest, leaving him wheezing, his lungs burning. Brokk flipped it on its back, the dabarne screeching, withering under his friend’s pin. And then silence. Brokk bared his teeth at the lifeless form before loping back to him. His giant muzzle nudged his shoulders, and he could practically hear what he was saying. He had to move. He felt the slipperiness of his blood-soaked back, his energy draining with his movement. The chaos of the fight reigned around them, swords meeting flesh, bodies being lost in the darkness of the night. Memphis heard men crying, their wails, their pleas for mercy. He could taste their innermost thoughts as they died.

  Gulping deep breaths, he shakily gripped Brokk’s heaving side, hauling himself onto his friend’s back. Brokk didn’t delay. He shot forward as Memphis gripped his fur. Memphis just took in snippets of what was happening around them, as if his mind couldn’t process it fast enough. His panic was in full bloom, choking him, making his world spin. His ability roaring around him as he absorbed the carnage, absorbed the monsters’ rage, and he swooped in and destroyed their sanities. Each dip into their consciousness resonated within him, and he realized that the dabarnes were all thinking in unison, as if their minds were linked. Memphis broke through another iron wall. We work for the acclaimed king. And another. We asked the darkness and were shown that you were coming. And another. We know you are coming to kill him. And another. So, we will kill you first.

  His mind reeled as Brokk twisted, almost throwing him off as they avoided a roaring dabarne. Cesan had used these dark creatures to flush them out. It wasn’t a rouse for Cesan at all. It was a trap for them. He searched in the night for anyone they recognized. The air rippled with slithering bodies and glowing eyes. Tadeas. Iasan. They were nowhere to be seen.

  “Memphis! Brokk!” Alby charged toward them, covered in blackened blood that wasn’t his as he ran full tilt toward them. The tents around him crashed to the ground as the dabarne that was hunting him roared, charging forward. Their friend flickered between visible and invisible as he sprinted through the destruction. His weapon had been discarded as he hurled forward.

  Brokk growled as they plummeted, but they were across the camp—they wouldn’t make it in time. Brokk pushed faster, but he knew he couldn’t carry him and run at his full potential. Do something. Anything. The world tilted and he prepared to shift his weight, throwing himself onto the ground so Brokk could make it there. He felt the ripple through the air, like a charged electric shock.

  There was the pounding of hooves then a blinding white light as Nei Fae suddenly appeared. She galloped into the heart of the fight. The light beamed from her palm, radiating. Her pale hair was tied back and she sported several fresh cuts and bruises, but she pushed her horse right in front of the dabarne fearlessly as she snarled. “You cannot have them.” She met Alby’s outreached hand and hauled him onto the saddle. Tears slid down his bloodied cheeks, and Nei pushed her horse out of the way just as the monster slashed forward, teeth and claws snapping at the empty space.

  Brokk skittered to a halt as Nei yelled, “Sarthaven is already lost! We must go! Now!” Sarthaven has fallen. The capital of Kiero. Memphis’s blood pounded in his ears as his pulse echoed his shock. He snapped his ability in, gnashing his teeth at the force. Brokk tensed underneath him. And then they were flying. The pounding of hooves, the monsters’ roars as they clued in that they were retreating. That they were the only ones left to retreat.

  The ground quaked and shuddered from the sheer force of their chase. Snapping his ability was like trying to dominate a feral animal by sheer force, reeling from the impact. He gripped Brokk’s fur tighter within his grasp as a trickle of blood streamed from his nostrils. It was too much; he was losing himself to that sick serenade of destruction, of ripping the dabarnes minds apart. Shred by shred by shred.

  Leaning lower and gritting his teeth, he breathed himself back into his body, to the present and the looming forest ahead. Don’t look back. Don’t look back. Nei’s mare broke the forest line first as Brokk charged. Gravity left them as they cut through the air, landing hard in the sanctuary of the woods. Nei had reined her mount to a stop, sweat dripping off her brow as she whispered low and hard under her breath. Brokk flattened his ears, whining as they all took in the bloodthirsty army snarling and galloping toward them. No movement stirred from the camp, pulsing embers dying in the night. Winking out of exsistence. The world swayed, as he prepared to meet his end. Everything seemed to still, and blinking, he looked down to his blood-soaked clothes, to his best friend, to their now queen. Despite the bloodshed, despite their losses, he choked on his anguish as thoughts of Emory filled every ounce of his being. He wouldn’t see her again. He grappled for any way out, any way they could beat this.

  Instead, he numbly watched the army of darkness sweep down upon them, their blood-coated teeth, their deafening roars. Suddenly the ground rolled and churned underneath them like they were in a boat on the ocean. Brokk jumped back, growling, just as the trees shuddered to life all around them. As if they had just been in a deep slumber, waiting for their siren call.

  Branches, thick and unyielding, snapped down before them, the trees bowi
ng to the movement. Quickly, they layered, branch by branch, thick bark crunching from the impact. The forest, within seconds, created a shield. Bowing to the whim of their commander. Taking in Nei, the realization snapped into place.

  She bared her teeth as she wielded her mighty orchestra, the trees bowing and responding in a rapid rate. She was buying them time, commanding and controlling the elements, the earth beneath them and the trees surrounding them. A guttural groan escaped her lips as she looked at them and whispered, “Run.”

  Brokk shot forward, not looking back as he carried Memphis. Screams echoed in the distance and then the pounding of hooves behind them as Nei and Alby raced behind. Each tree they passed sprang to life once they were all clear, building and creating a deadly labyrinth for the dabarnes, their sharpened branches landing blows to the monsters. Branch met flesh, ripping and tearing as their screams splintered through the night. He cringed at the sounds of the woods dragging the creatures within their depths. Intricately, they wove through the twists and turns, the night turning darker with every passing second. Spotting movement from their side, he barely had time to react as a dabarne suddenly cut into their path. Jumping, Brokk swerved severely to the right. Right where his companion waited.

  Teeth met teeth as Brokk snarled and bit against the dabarne’s sleek throat. His world twisted as he was thrown off, his head cracking against a flat rock on the forest floor. Dots blurred his vision, tantalizing to pull him under just as the monster slammed his weight into his best friend with bone-crunching force. Brokk’s cry tore through his heart, as his mind shattered. He shot up and dove into his power, snarling as it laced forward, every nerve, every fiber latched onto by him. Those orange eyes landed on him as the dabarne sensed him. Letting go, every ounce of his energy exploded, and his ability crushed and broke everything that the dabarne was until nothing remained. The body hit the ground as he ran to Brokk. Relief coursed through him when his friend shakily stood, his hackles raising, turning his golden gaze to him.