Renegade: A Young Adult Dystopian

by Mallory McCartney

  He growled, low and harshly. “Ceol.” The metal shuddered to life, the collars vibrating against theirs throats, as Memphis’s mouth hung open.

  Heat flared along his wrists, and his throat, and he grinned manically as his ability roared back into his body, his ebony claws sliding back into his skin, his canines clicked back into his gums, his body no longer stuck, half-shifted and broken. His body exploded, the metal shattering from the force, shards flying every direction as he shook his head, his teeth bared and his hackles up. Padding toward Memphis, his growls climbed with every second.

  He looked up to Memphis’s ashen face, and his smooth voice filled his mind. “Now, try not to catch any skin.”

  His mammoth jaws spilt the metal as he bit down hard, the jagged edges ripping through his cheeks as he moved from the wrists to the ankles. Blood filled his maws, but his wounds mended flawlessly, and as Memphis fell, he spun to face the Academy, the smell of decay and the sharp tang of metal filling his heart. He was not one who took lightly to being chained like a dog. My name is Brokk Foster, and I will not break.

  Shakily, Memphis came up to his side, his hand resting on his golden fur. “You are going to tell me how you knew...” He trailed off, not able to find the rest of his words, his bruised face swelling with every second. He knew what he wanted to say but couldn’t, and he growled in response.

  “My thoughts exactly.” He climbed on his back, whispering in his mind. “To war?”

  “To Emory,” he thought.

  Memphis climbed on his back and said, “I don’t have any weapons.”

  “You are a weapon.” He threw the thought out to him, and then they were running. Breaking through the tree line of the forest, he dodged viciously as a dabarne rolled in front of them, covered in thick vines, wrapping and growing, as he recognized the first-year student fiercely assaulting the monster, sweat collecting on her brow as she concentrated, the ground shuddering. Flinging his weight forward, he pushed off his haunches, cutting through the air, catching the knife sailing through the air directly at her back.

  The blade broke in his jaws, and he was completely disoriented. The courtyard raged around them, students attacking the army of hundreds, the darkness pushing in on them from every side, every angle. Screams overlapped through the ice, through the ash, through the blood. All around him, bodies dropped beneath ebony claws, through razor sharp teeth and ear-splitting roars.

  “On your left!”

  He spun, but Memphis launched himself off his back, meeting the charging sleek body, its elongated nose pulled back over its teeth. Landing hard, he felt the wave of energy leave Memphis, and then the creature froze, hissing viciously. Brokk launched himself at the creature’s throat. In mere seconds, it thudded to the ground, cracking the ice with its weight. Fire blazed behind them as Memphis sprinted toward his back as a first year charged the line, fearless. He galloped and Memphis flung himself to him, and soon they were weaving through the battle. Fire and flesh, ability against darkness. The ground cracked and shuddered, as he threw his weight right, skidding out of the way of the ice spear flying toward his heart. Gripping his fur, Memphis raged against the creatures’ minds, each wave like a shooting arrow landing a killing blow. His muscles were on fire as he galloped, twisting and jumping through the remains of the courtyard, and he wanted to stop, he wanted to throw up, he wanted to scream. All around him was blood. Staining the courtyard, staining his soul.

  “No!” Bresslin’s voice cut through the fight as he snarled, pushing faster, his nails clawing into the ice as they scrambled up the stairs, the force of the army charging behind them.

  “Get inside now!” Memphis roared to the remaining students, and the cries as they tried to follow slashed through his heart, each voice being cut off, fading into the roars. He couldn’t look back as he charged through the open doors. Memphis slammed them shut behind them. His friend jumped off, falling to his knees, shaking his head, cursing, staring at the ground.

  Shifting back, he threw up, the force and sting of the acid burning his throat.

  “Brokk, we have to go now. Find Emory, no one else made it.” No one else. No one else.

  His rage hardened around him. “Are you sure? Memph, we have to go back out there. We have to save them.”

  Those ice blue eyes seared into him. “Do you really think we would be in here if there was a chance someone was left behind?”

  He lunged, the tears spilling onto his cheeks as he choked out, “We have to save them.” The hallways of the Academy were eerily quiet, the lights flickering faintly. The pounding outside grew and grew and it was all he could do not to tear himself apart. He knew what he had to do. Looking up, he looked Memphis dead in the eye. “You have to find her. We will never out chase them. I can hold them off for as long as I can but find her.”

  Memphis crossed the space between them. “And what, leave you to die? You’ve got to be kidding me. Now is not the time for some noble sacrifice!”

  He could feel the force shiver up his spine, into his bones, as he whispered, “You have to.” Not looking back, he shifted and then exploded through the oak doors. The wind howled, snow stinging his eyes, as he bayed, the sound ominous and haunting. Run, Memphis. And he launched himself forward, landing heavily at the base of the stairs. Shifting back, he quickly picked up a discarded sword, gripping the hilt as he strained against the storm. Squinting, his tears froze, as he roared, “Bresslin!”

  The sword slashed down toward his chest, missing him by a hair breadth, as he raised his blade to meet it, sparks hissing between them. Her voice was sickly sweet. “You are becoming more annoying by the minute, Mr. Foster.” Coming into view, Bresslin pushed against him, making him bow as ice ran up his forearms and up the blade. She smiled. “You are only mildly stopping the inventible. But I am curious to how you and Mr. Carter managed to escape your confinement.” Not answering, he ducked, slicing at her shins making her step back. She snarled. “You never were one for many words, were you? A pity, to end up like your classmates after all.” She charged, slamming the blade down, as his arms became numb from each block, the vibrations crawling up his skin.

  She was relentless as the gleaming edge carved and dove toward him, missing him only by an inch. The storm picked up as he slipped on ice. Stinging soared up his right arm as he felt the flesh tear, his blood spattering onto the ground. He rolled as Bresslin’s sword cracked through the ice with ease right where he had been. Charging, he connected with her waist, throwing his weight forward, trying to pin her. Her boots connected with his chest and he was sent flying. Shifting as he landed, his claws dug into the ice, screeching with the impact. All around them in a tight circle, the dabarnes watched, drool dripping from their maws, their yellow eyes eagerly waiting for the command to end him.

  “Enough. Do you really think you could win against us? This is so much bigger then you could ever dream, little shifter.” The snow pelted across his face, the army disappearing with each passing second as the world whited out around him. Until they were the only two left. Throwing the sword down, his golden eyes stared at her and all she was. Her lips curled, the challenge clear, and he was running. Shifting in a fluid motion, he barreled toward her, baring his teeth.

  She shrugged, taking him in. “You have a valiant heart, I will give you that much.”

  All he could smell was smoke. The tang of winter. Of blood. His heart breaking with every footfall. Bresslin smiled as she snapped her fingers, the storm ceasing. The snowflakes hung in the air, transcending gravity, gleaming like diamonds in the afternoon light. Each intricate pattern was amplified as the sun touched the defined edges, shining like stars among the carnage. Bresslin whistled merrily. The ranks of demons split, as he slammed to a stop. They created a pathway of savagery, and his world tilted as the Gortach loped down toward him, Emory chained and in tow behind him. Shifting back, he sprinted toward her, roaring. The world became washed in red as his sanity was cut loose.

  “What did you do to her?”
he screamed as Bresslin prowled around him, assessing his reaction.

  She tutted. “Now, I take offense that you think I did that to her. It was all too easy, really, to overtake such a legendary school. One that of course doesn’t need any form of protection, the residents were always enough.” She smiled bright and sharp. “Our acclaimed heir was found trying to enter a tunnel, but she won’t say who she was following.” The Gortach had reached them, Emory not meeting his gaze as silent tears slipped down her cheeks.

  Bresslin grazed the sword’s end underneath her chin, forcing her to look up. “I was upset to see someone had beaten me to the pleasure of killing your parents.”

  Rushing up to her, Brokk’s fist slammed into her stomach as his left connected with her jaw with a sickening crack. She laughed, darkly spitting blood as he stood there, his chest heaving and his mind reeling with what she had just said. “Ah, I finally touched a sore spot. Yes, it’s true, the King of Kiero is dead, along with his weak wife. It is finally time true leaders step up to the task of ruling this country.”

  Emory’s chin wobbled, but her voice was strong. “My parents were not weak.” The Gortach snapped the chain attached to her collar, wrenching her back. Brokk could not resist the current of wrath that burned in his blood. His world was one of tooth and claw, of instinct and reaction. The ground shuddered underneath him as the dabarnes lunged toward him, Bresslin giving the order with the swipe of her sword. Emory was pulled back, screaming his name. Charging toward her, straight into the heart of darkness itself, all he saw was her.

  Sharp teeth pierced and ripped into his haunches, but he leapt, missing another set of talons swiping toward his heart. The dabarnes were fast. But he was faster. There were maybe fifty in front of him, the rest falling behind. He snarled as they stomped their feet in dominance. Emory was about ten yards away. The creatures bared their teeth, racing toward him. Flattening his ears, he pushed faster, his surroundings becoming a blur. Five yards. The thick torso of a creature slammed into him, crushing the wind out of chest, pinning him. Its teeth snapped toward his throat but sinking his back claws into its hide, he pushed down, slicing clean through. Blood and sinew tore, as warmth spilled onto his side. Rolling, he leapt over the body, adrenaline roaring through him. Only to be met midstride with talons sinking into his haunches. Teeth sinking into his shoulder. His howled, pierced through as they pinned him, and all Brokk could see, all he could smell, was the blood and decay dripping from their jaws as they came closer. Panic settled into his chest as his body reeled from healing and rehealing, as the monsters around him feasted on his pain. Sinking their talons into his side, his ribs cracked and shattered underneath their pressure. Snapping, he thrashed, the vital drive to survive thrumming in his blood. All that he saw were gleaming teeth as they closed in on him, his howls tearing through him. No, no, no! He felt the shudder roll through the ground first. The dabarnes stopped, raising their heads, their attention caught by another. The group hissed around him, wrenching their gazes from their killing blow, their drool dripping onto his snout. His ears twitched as he craned his neck, catching a glimpse as the doors of the Academy exploded completely off their hinges. Adair stood in the doorway, smoke curling around him. At first, he just stood there, his mother and the army thrown off as he looked at the ground.

  Fear lurched through him as he heard the throaty chuckle. Adair looked up, his pale skin streaked with shadows, his eyes burning with malice. Tipping his head back, his lips curled back over his teeth. And the world erupted into mayhem.

  19

  Adair

  He bowed to this body, this skin, this man, barely containing the darkness churning in him. The winter wind bit at his skin, but he didn’t feel the cold. He didn’t feel anything. The shattered doorframe lay around him, and for a moment he couldn’t breathe as he stared at the blood-stained stairs and the carnage of monsters and students sprawled around him. A smile tugged at his lips as he looked up to the hundreds of dabarnes tilting their heads, assessing him. And what he was. It was such a waste, their power. Voices curled around his mind, burning into his heart. He honed into the one person that would answer for this.

  His mother moved through the ranks with a lethal ease, her voice breaking over her ranks with cool indifference. “Adair.”

  In the confines of his mind, he pounded against the bars, shattering apart, screaming. Why did you do this? The air stirred around him, and the ice started to melt underneath his feet.

  Bresslin snarled. “I will admit, I’m surprised you’re still alive.”

  You don’t mean that, you don’t mean that, you don’t mean that. Ice tore through his veins, and he could taste the power lingering beneath his skin, savoring it on his tongue.

  “Your father and I had every detail planned meticulously, for years.”

  Mom, please, no. Don’t do this. Not you. Not everyone.

  “You are weak, have always been ruled by your heart, and couldn’t see what we were doing before your eyes.”

  Energy exploded from his chest, suctioning the air in tight around him, and then expanded, the remaining windows shattering behind him from the force. The army was flattened from the impact, shards of ice and glass cutting into their hides. Bresslin was bowed, a shield of ice flaring up around her. Walking down the stairs slowly, the wind picked up, and he shivered in pleasure.

  “Enough!” She growled, ice cracking, jagged shards breaking apart, becoming long spears churning slowly in the air. All of them aimed at his heart. She roared to the army around her churning restlessly. “Now!”

  Not one moved.

  Adair flashed his teeth, and the magic within him hummed and thrashed until the energy was too much, his body withering and overpowered. He let go and the world erupted into flames. Brilliant, emerald fire roared around them, enclosing the army and his mother in the flames and bending to his will. He paused at the edge of the ring, his heart pounding against his ribcage. He saw his mother yell, the words lost to him as the spears of ice sliced through the air. A flicker of movement at the end of the courtyard caught his attention as the Gortach slithered in the shadows, a slim shadow dragged behind it. The fire hissed as the water evaporated. The Gortach was pushed from his mind, and all he could think about was the scene in the dining hall, taking in what he had started. And what his mother had finished.

  It was like wings taking flight as his soul filled one of the dabarnes, his command cold, smooth, and unbreakable. He breathed, walking around the flames as they towered toward the sky, the ringing of metal against claw and bone sounding as Bresslin fought for her life. Adair dove into that pool of magic and then he was flying. Black smoke swirled around him, choking his senses, until he materialized at the end of the forest, his eyes scourging the tree line. Where is she, where is she, where is she.

  “Adair.” Just the sound of his voice sent him reeling as he exhaled hard. Marquis was covered in blood, his jacket and shirt ripped, his chest heaving. His hands shook, the bloodied sword trembling in his grip. “What have you done?”

  He slowly rolled his neck, the bones cracking and he purred, “Marquis.” Run, Marquis, run. Dropping his palms, the emerald fire within them reflecting in Marquis’s sea glass eyes. “I hope you have been enjoying the change of pace. Now, you have two choices. Join me or die.”

  Marquis’s face paled, and recognition sparked in his eyes as he growled. “If you want me, come and get me.” No. The fire flew from his palms with such force, the prince rolled out of the way, his hair singing. He spat as they circled each other. “This is not you, Adair. You can stop this. We don’t want to live through a war in our lifetime.”

  He laughed darkly as fire flew from his palms. “It’s already begun.”

  The prince growled and ran forward as flame met water. Marquis’s ability roared to meet his, trying to neutralize the flames. He ducked, charging forward. His fist connected with his jaw and gut. Marquis doubled over wheezing.

  Adair laughed darkly. “Those were old tricks, Ma
rquis. A different time is dawning. I don’t want to kill you. You must bow to me.” Water roared from the prince’s palms. Adair flicked his ability and Marquis’s wrists snapped. His scream was guttural and animalistic as blood bubbled from his lips.

  Dropping to his knees, he panted. “They took her you know. Emory. They’re all dead. I tried to protect her. I tried to get her out. My dad and I survived, but she would rather die than have blood on her hands. We got out through the tunnels, but she was too late. Can you say the same? That you will look back on your life and know that you are worth the man you have become?”

  Adair shuddered, fire crawling up his arms as he licked his cracked lips. Groaning, he pushed back against the darkness, and for a second he broke through the cage as his true self roared to the surface. Clutching his head, he spat, stumbling back. “Get out of here now.”

  Marquis faltered, trying to get up supporting his wrists. “What?”

  “Marquis, run!” Those inky claws hissed and snapped, dragging him back down, down, down.

  You should not fight what you are, Adair. He rocked back and forth on his heels, tears slipping down his cheeks, the reality of his situation slamming into him. The world tilted on its axis and all he could smell was blood and smoke and ash, clotting his throat, coating his skin. His mother’s screams dying on the wind. Stop resisting us.

  His teeth ripped through his lip, and he bit down, blood filling his mouth. He had relished how it felt to overpower and rip Roque apart slowly and deliciously. Feeding off his fear, knowing his secrets and knowing that he had never done enough. And he had enjoyed killing him. After him, each life he took was like oxygen to embers, sparking and catching until he was an inferno. Emory is dead. She is gone.

  Painfully, the magic burned through his mind, through his blood, making him retch, his bile mixed with blood. He fingers dug into the frozen earth, and his skin should have split from his nail wrenching and tearing back. His skin remained flawless, and he howled, his anguish cutting through the woods, the emptiness of the Academy. You are ours. The pain he experienced before was nothing, nothing, to what seared through his body now. Sweat coated his body in a cool sheen as it ripped and tore through him, the magic devouring him. He didn’t know if his bones were dissolving into dust, and his heart lurched, beating too fast and irregularly.