Renegade: A Young Adult Dystopian

by Mallory McCartney

  Adair watched the water churn, and he shook his head. “How is this possible? You’re magic?”

  The voice mused. “Ancient, but essentially, yes.”

  Gaping, he was speechless. From the shadows, giggles formed, and the four figures he was all too familiar with strode slowly toward the pool, gazing at him hungrily. He whispered, “And your friends here? Who are they?”

  The water flickered, the form moving, gazing behind at the creatures. The voice sighed. “These are echoes of my once masters. Bound within my magic, they are like ghosts. Unable to hurt you, but stubbornly present.” Their giggles crawled toward him, making him shiver. Rubbing his hands together, he realized that the inky smoke had started to churn on his skin.

  “They marked me.” His voice was hollow, and the magic rippled around him, stirring.

  “You and I, and even the essence of them, are all connected. There is no turning back now, Adair. Follow your path that we both know is true.”

  He stood, looking all around him in wonder. It was a flicker of recognition, of that pull of gravity that had brought him here. The darkness that he always thought he should hide, that worked against him, maybe he had been wrong all these years. Maybe the forces of this world had been leading him here. To this moment.

  Air hissed between his teeth as he exhaled, and he murmured, “And the price?”

  The shadows pressed in, the pool dimming, and the whispers closed in. It was laden with heaviness, and joy as the ancient voice replied, “Blood for blood. The price to access your power is to spill that who has hidden us here. You must destroy the Faes.”

  Ice ran threw his veins at the lust in those words. He opened his mouth and then closed it tightly. A humming filled the air, and he could practically taste the endless possibilities. He stepped forward. “And how is this power worth it?”

  Laughter echoed around him. “Anything you desire will be yours, Adair. Raise a city, raise an army. It will be endless. This book contains unlimited knowledge and unlimited resources and power. You will remake this world.”

  His hands trembled, the Gortach’s previous warning clinging to him. He took another tentative step. “And I will be King?”

  The voices purred. “Yes.”

  His cheeks flushed, the thrill surging through his stomach. He was so close to the pool, the silhouette towering over him. He stood taller, his mind racing and his heart breaking, giving in to who he was. What he was and always had been. This time, he wouldn’t bow to anyone else. He couldn’t. Without hesitation, he stepped through the outline, the water splashing down on him, flattening his hair, as he whispered, “I will do it. I will end them.”

  The light died at his words as he dove into the pool, the vastness of it an illusion when looking in. Whispers exploded through his mind, unrelenting and sharp, as the water changed, inky smoke blooming within the pool. You are ours, Adair. Ours.

  Pain, hot and lacing, lanced through him. It felt like his bones were shattering and splintering, his stomach turning molten. The taste of ash filled his mouth, and screams echoed around him. Or maybe it was him. He was dragged deeper, an unseen current ripping at his clothes. Water clogged his senses, filling in through his nostrils, spilling in his mouth. His lungs burned, igniting and with each second begging for oxygen. Dots danced in his vision and he flailed, screaming, “Help me!”

  No one answered.

  He succumbed, stilling his body and mind to the pain, his fear, and he leashed it. Water filled his lungs, choking him. Steadiness filled him, his ability coursing through his soul. Onward, he was dragged down, the pressure popping his ear drums, until beneath him, the crystals flared once more, deep crimson red. Roaring filled his senses as the water started spinning and spinning, the cyclone raging against him. His body contorted, twisting and splitting, and he was dragged violently up, tearing through the water. For a moment, he was suspended in the air, choking and dragging in wet breaths. Before he crashed down.

  Wind howled around him, and he slammed onto hard sand, his ribs cracking. The water was gone, leaving coolness in its wake. Coughing and sputtering, water spewed from his mouth as his lungs desperately took in oxygen. He was soddened and shakily he raised his head. He was in a small, clear space the wet sand hard beneath him. Fresh bruises had already started to form from the fall, and wheezing, he stood. All around him, the crystals radiated, bathing him in light. The ground beneath him shuddered, as he looked behind him.

  On the opposite edge of the pool, stood a shadow of the magic, his voice laced with anticipation. “You and Adair will be one.” The air trembled as the ancient magic roared around him. Bracing himself, he watched as the shadow before him yawned, stretching wide, turning opaque. He couldn’t move, his breath caught in his chest as he watched the gleaming crystals dim, turning black as night. And then they exploded.

  Flying back, his head and back cracked against the hard shards, nausea rocking through his body. Sticky warmth crept down the back of his neck. He tried to sit up and was thrown back again by another shock wave, the shards of crystal turning to dust before his eyes, the particles clogging his throat, coating his skin.

  “Adair.”

  Wheezing, he sat up, and they were waiting for him. Those familiar pitiless eyes, the edges of shadows clawing toward his heart. Coughing, the iron taste of blood filled his mouth, oozing out of the corners of his lips. Pale hands grappled at his chest, his clothes, pushing him back and holding him still, their faces barely visible in the darkness. He watched in horror as that looming darkness stirred and shot forward, slamming into him. Inky dust particles bled and sank into his skin, into his mouth, into his soul. And he was met with a pain he had never known before. Screaming, he felt the tendons in his neck rip, his limbs flailing, fighting against the ancient force. Laughter rattled in his consciousness and he was slammed back.

  His body flush to the wet sand, he bared his teeth as the voice commanded, “Do not resist me.”

  Whimpering, his core was ignited into fire, and everything he knew shattered. He watched as the magic of the Book bled into him, grain by grain, shadow by shadow, wriggling under his nails, rippling under his skin. He felt each pump of his heart battling against the rushing heat in his veins, pumping faster and faster and faster. The magic splintered through his chest, and he roared in agony, bowing against his invisible restraints.

  Coos and whispers circled around his mind, filtering through every thought, every memory without hesitation, and he felt the stain of blackness seep into every single one of them. The darkness swept through him as quickly as flames, the magic binding and securing itself deep within him. The world started to spin on its axis as gravity gave way once more, and he was falling. His entire world had no rhyme or reason as the magic ravaged him, swelling and crashing repeatedly. The wind howled, and he was drowning in ash and malice that overtook him.

  Centuries could have passed, or maybe it was just an illusion of the drawn-out seconds. His breathing evened out from the wet rasps of his lungs filling with fliud. The heat within him dulled and cooled, leaving him hollow. His muscles, previously having been ripped, bruised, and bloodied, were filled with newfound strength. His cracked skull and ribs knitted together and mended. The blood dried off his skin.

  His eyes flew open, adjusting to the dull light around him instead of the midnight he had grown accustomed too. Laying on his back, the study was a newfound perspective, the bookcases and table coming into focus. And Roque, unconscious, sprawled next to him.

  The Book, Adair. He stood, grabbing the worn leather from the floor, and a welcoming warmth spread through his fingers at the touch. Straightening his jacket, he caught his reflection on the opposite wall as he slid the book in his pocket. His skin was pale and drawn, but his eyes were pitch-black, no definition or dimension. Just empty. Crossing the room, he quietly stalked toward his reflection, every movement sharper to him. The glass fogged with his breath as his gaze roamed, drinking in every ounce of him. Or them.

  Finally.
Furrowing his brows at the strong voice settling within him. Flexing his fingers, he brushed the glass, smearing the mist. Finally. Shaking his head, he pushed the magic back, wrenching his gaze away. He was in control.

  Crossing back across the room, he knelt by Roque’s side. “Now what should I do with you?”

  Kill him. His pulse purred with the calling, his bloodlust raising its ugly head. Swallowing, he formed a plan. You promised us, Adair. Kill him. This time it was the voices from his nightmares, their sharp, chilling words shivering down his spine. He leaned in closer, his hands shaking. Roque’s pulse was weak, his irregular heartbeats flickering against his jugular. Do it now.

  Clenching his teeth, he spat, “No. I need a plan. Do it well.” Looking up, the trace of dawn bled into the sky, washes of pinks and golds smearing across the sky in bold strokes. He rubbed his jaw, “The funeral is in a couple of hours. I need some answers first, and there is only one way to do that.”

  Looking down at Roque, his plan became clear, a sly turn of his lips and the dark magic fused in his blood. If you betray us...

  Tightening his jaw, he snarled. “I know. Just trust me.” Until Roque and Nei Fae are killed, the power will remain dormant. Rolling his shoulders, he murmured, “That’s exactly what I am hoping for.” He worked quickly and steadily, and by the time the sun crested the horizon, his plan was set in motion.

  16

  Memphis

  The sun blazed over the horizon, casting the world into clear brilliance. Sunlight kissed the forest, sharpening the landscape. Blood oozed slowly and thickly from his mouth as his head hung limply, his hair unbound, staring at the ice encrusted ground. Each snowflake lay delicately on the ice, the swirls and twists mesmerizing him as he stared. Pink slowly stained the peerless white. The cool weight of the silver handcuffs and choke collar dug into his bruised skin as flashes of the night dragged through his mind. The hours had dissipated with his pain. His family was gone. Years of dreaming of what he would say to them, what his parents would be like when he returned one day. Making the trip back to their cottage by the sea and forcing them to see he was changed. He had always been, and would always be, their son. And the hope of them becoming a family again, brushed away in the matter of a few words. In the matter of a war that his parents were defenseless against.

  Tears slipped quietly down his frozen skin, his breath coming in forced drags. Lancing pain rippled through him, making him wince. He was sure some ribs were broken.

  “Well, well, I have to say I am surprised of your resilience.” Lifting his head weakly, Bresslin stalked toward him, her hawk eyes cutting. Daggers flashed against her black leather pants and knee-length boots. Her blood-red cape flowed behind her, her armored chest glinting.

  He spat, growling. “I will end you.”

  She smiled, flashing brilliant teeth as the air churned behind her, the monsters and creatures born from darkness creeping behind and closing in on him. Their yellow and orange eyes, their twisted long bodies, their blackened flesh and long snouts. Some had wings, were as tall as trees, or had fangs that jutted out below their jaws. Their hairless skin slithered over the ice, silent and predatory.

  Lowering herself down, her breath hot against his face, she purred. “No, you will not. You both can’t seem to wrap your heads around the fact that things are unfurling, have been for years with much planning, years of waiting for the right moment to act. Years of gaining the Faes’ trust so they would be exactly in the position they are in. Scrambling for a broken crown when they can’t even see the war coming right for them.”

  “Through the means of dark magic!” He sputtered, blood dribbling down his lip.

  She unsheathed her blade, stroking the steel along his jawline. “Our means, though of power long forgotten, have been most... successful.” She grinned and stood, addressing the prowling monsters behind her. “Shall we go for a stroll with our guests? I do believe we are late to a certain funeral.” The answering roars and pounding of clawed paws collided into him, vibrating to his core. Bresslin twisted back to him, pulling at the long chain attached to his collar. “Now, you will be coming with me, Mr. Carter.” The heaviness of the chains bit into his skin, every ounce of the contact leeching him of his ability, until the familiar buzz in his mind was nothing more than just an imprint, an empty hole carved into his chest. Yanking the end, his neck snapped in whiplash, as she spat, “Now.”

  The sharpness of claws sliced against his wrists, cutting shallowly as two lumbering dabarnes unlocked his chains from their icy confinements. Their breath was hot and heavy on his neck, reeking of decay. His shoulders screamed in protest as one loosened and then the next. His hands fell heavily to his sides, and he staggered up, slipping on ice. Chuckles resonated around him as he straightened, clenching his teeth.

  With a rougish smirk, she hissed, “Bring the other.” He focused on Bresslin, and she winked. “He is a little worse for wear. The Gortach’s methods... are thorough.” Lunging, he snarled, and she whipped the chains, making him bow. “I would not try that again.” Yanking him up, she dragged him behind, the snow and ice cutting into his numb limbs. On the far side of the clearing, the Gortach came into view, and Memphis’s heart dropped into his stomach. Brokk was dragged behind, unconscious. Blood and bruises covered every inch of his skin. Dark and polished claws sprouted from his knuckles, stuck in transition, his usually short cropped golden hair bloodied and ragged.

  “What did you do to him?” His scream sounded far away, like he was yelling underwater. The Gortach tilted his head, his stare unyielding, and Bresslin nodded. Like the pumping of blood, the hundreds of dabarnes started pounding their feet against the ice encrusted ground, the pounding growing and growing and growing.

  Bresslin strode forward with him in tow, as she yelled, “For years, you have hidden in the darkness! For years, you have been forgotten because of the manner of kings! We live in a world where Mixed Abilities are protected, yet such raw an ancient magic is crushed, killed, and shunned. Well, I want to change this.”

  The monsters bared their teeth, low growls rippling amongst the ranks as their excitement grew.

  Beating her sword against her chest plate, she roared, “For years, my husband and I have waited, gathering information and resources and building their trust. For years, we have bowed, but no longer. The Faes are weak, their dreams dissipating. The time for magic and ability to rule is now. What have I told you all?”

  “All is might!” They roared back, the ice shield cracking behind them.

  She toothily grinned. “Exactly.” Spinning around, she unsheathed her sword, dragging him behind. The shield of ice started to crack, thin lines at first and then huge monstrous cracks rippling. She started running, Memphis breathing raggedly as the shield exploded. The dabarnes roared, galloping behind them. Smoke oozed from their movements as they darted forward like inky comets, weaving to avoid chunks of ice smashing against the ground. They broke through, the sunlight fracturing through the remaining ice, splashes of colors dappling their skin.

  Sweat rolled down his nose as they gained momentum, cutting through the forest. Snowflakes started to fall once more, blanketing the heaviness of the end of summer with a biting cold. Ice followed their trail as they rushed toward the Academy. He watched the winds roar, his chains leaching his energy with every passing second. Ice encrusted the world, freezing it in this moment, with war raging toward the last remaining thing he cared about. Bowing his head, he could do nothing but run, the metal tearing at his throat.

  17

  Adair

  They were gathered in the courtyard, the morning light spilling onto the pale stones. Nei clutched his arm, unaware that her husband was locked in the depths within Adair’s clutches, unable to resurface. Emory sat beside her, still, her flawless skin pale against the promise of the new day. Her gaze flickered amongst the crowd, searching. Silent tears ran down Nei’s face as he stood, the Academy watching his every move. Students, teachers, completely unaware that Adair
was still adjusting to Roque’s body, his own resting in the hidden tunnels of the Academy. His disguise was impeccable. A predator amongst the grieving sea.

  It was a mass of black, their bleak wear contrasted by the four piers at the front. The fire was lit, the smoldering flames crackling deep indigo. He walked silently down the aisles, a stillness having fallen over them all. Looking to his right, he spotted Tadeas and Marquis talking quietly. Adair’s heart lurched painfully at the sight of the young prince who had no idea what he was about to bring upon them all. His mind scrambled as his footfalls echoed heavily, the whispers pressing heavily against his consciousness.

  You are wasting time. Gnashing his teeth, his hands curled into fists. Destroy them, and all your desires will be fulfilled.

  Gulping, he reached the front, turning slowly. The voices hissed at the edges of his mind, snapping and clawing at him. The wind tussled his hair lightly, a crispness clinging in the air. Bowing his head, his low voice rumbled. “Today, we mourn a great loss for our school. The students, teachers, and warriors from the Shattered Isles fought valiantly against dark forces our country has not seen. The capital has fallen, and we are spinning into times tinged with darkness. Yet we stand unified and take today to celebrate the life of our loved ones, our friends, and our colleagues. For they will live on within our memories and will never be forgotten.”

  The crowd sparked as tears spilled down their faces and the flames roared behind him. Nodding, a hush fell over the crowd once more as he pulled out crisp parchment. “We remember today Professor Iasan, Professor Ida, Collin Greenbay, Aedian McMulian...” The list went on, and Adair read through each inky name scrolled in Nei’s fine print. Each word, each beat, felt like ash in his mouth. Finally, reaching the last name, he sighed, gently placing the parchment in the flames, the paper instantly dissolving. He watched for a moment entranced as the ink bubbled and peeled, fading into the coals and smoke. The scraping of chairs slammed him back into the present and he boomed, “Now let us reconvene in the dining hall and pay our respects!”