The Xillian Trilogy (The Xillian Rebellion)

by Maia Tanith

  My uncle nudges me with his toe. “Stand up like a man, nephew.”

  It is pure theatre and I want no part of it. I summon up all my willpower. My tongue is thick and heavy in my mouth, but I force it to move. “Nope. Comfy on the floor.” A small piece of disobedience, but my words make a ripple of nervous laughter run through the room.

  The Emperor glares at them and the ripple dies away to nothing. Then he turns his attention back to me. “Your slave has been caught red-handed with treasonous material. What do you say to that, boy?”

  Fuck fuck fuck. I wanted to send her away to stop just this from happening, but I did not act fast enough. Or did my actions push her into recklessness? However this came about, I am responsible for it. I am at fault, not her. I should be punished, not her.

  “My slave is disloyal?” I mutter with my thick tongue. It is getting easier to speak now that the immediate effect of the muscle relaxant is fading. “She wants to harm me? I do not understand why. I was a good master to her.”

  He throws me an evil look but otherwise ignores me. “She was caught with a disc containing classified material. How can you explain this, boy?”

  I can’t. I have absolutely nothing to say, so I stay silent.

  He doesn’t wait for me to speak. Instead he turns to Faye. “Who was this disc for? Who were you going to give it to?”

  Faye bursts into loud tears and wails. “I didn’t know it was anything bad. Truly I didn’t. The old man just asked me to give it to a friend of his and so I took it from him, and I was going to do what he asked. I am just a slave. I have to do as I am ordered. I meant no harm by it. Please, forgive me.”

  Am I the only one in the room who can see that she is faking her hysterics? That is not the Faye that I know. She would never call herself a slave and mean it.

  “Speak truthfully and I will be merciful.” His voice is kindly, and holds more sorrow than anger, like that of an uncle addressing a much-loved niece who has been naughty. Anyone who didn’t know him might almost think he was in earnest.

  “It was Yefrik,” Faye bursts out desperately. “I was to give it to him.”

  The Emperor gives a quiet nod. There is a disturbance in the guards as his fellows turn on Yefrik and pin his arms behind his back.

  He struggles against them in vain. “It’s a lie. She lies,” he yells desperately, trying to shake off the guards holding him, as if he could prove his innocence only by getting free of them.

  “Caidgrath had given me other things to give to him before,” Faye continues in a desperate babble. “It was easy to give him things because he was always hanging around.”

  Yefrik’s shouts are desperate now as the guards hustle him out of the great hall. “She has never given me anything. I am not a traitor. I swear it to you.”

  The Emperor fixes the captain with a glare. “Is what the slave says true? Has one of your men been conspiring against our beloved country? Against me?”

  The captain’s face is pale and sweating. Doubtless he realizes that his life hangs in the balance, too. Lack of loyalty is a disease that infects everything it touches, and no one is above suspicion. “I do not know, your Majesty. I had no suspicion that Yefrik was anything but honest. But it is true that he was sometimes to be found in the Queen’s apartments when he should have been elsewhere. I had him whipped for it.”

  There is a general mutter of agreement. Yefrik’s whipping is well known.

  “And you, nephew. What do you have to say about this?”

  “I have never conspired against you with Yefrik,” I say from my position on the floor. “I despise him.”

  “As only one traitor can despise another,” my uncle pronounces.

  It does not matter what I say now. I can see that. This is the excuse my uncle has been looking for. I am perilously close to twenty-five, and he wants no threat to his power. He is staging this discussion in public for a reason. He will pass judgement on me, and I will be executed.

  “But it is true that I was conspiring against your rule,” I add. I still cannot stand, but I can manage to support myself on one elbow. I lift my head and look him straight in the eyes. “You are weak and cruel and not fit to be Emperor, and I turn twenty-five in a few turns. I have been preparing in secret to take my rightful place.”

  A murmur of shock and some dismay runs through the audience. I have just sealed my fate.

  Whatever.

  I cannot care any longer.

  I am sick of living in fear, too afraid of my own shadow to make a stand. If I cannot live well, then I will at least die well.

  “You confess to being a traitor?” Spittle flecks the corner of his mouth and his face is so red I expect him to burst a blood vessel any minute. I’ve never spoken my true mind to him before.

  I sneak a look at Faye. She is listening to me, her eyes wide.

  “You are not the true Emperor, but the Guardian of the Throne. Acting against you is not treason. And I admit to wanting to take over as ruler, as is my birthright. I admit to caring for my planet and to wanting to save it from a brute who cares nothing for it. Who only cares for holding on to power, no matter who he treads on. Remember the people of Mei?”

  My voice is louder now, and I am speaking clearly again.

  “Remember an entire city condemned to death for your greed?” I look at the others in the hall. “He will not spare you, either, when your time comes. If he can condemn his own nephew merely for wanting to take back his birthright, what will he do to you if you dare to cross him? Will you end up like Caidgrath, with your eyes gouged out?”

  My words hit a nerve. Clearly some of them have not heard what has happened to Caidgrath.

  “He spoke against the genocide of the Meians, and he was blinded for it. Look around you. Take a good look. This may be the last time you see your friends, your family. You may be next. Or they may be.”

  “Enough,” the Emperor roars. “I will not have such insolence in my own hall. You are a traitor and will be treated as such. But as you are my nephew, and my own flesh and blood, for my sister’s sake, I will not execute you on the spot as you deserve. I sentence you to the Games, to take your chances there.”

  I hardly hear him. I am looking at Faye.

  Her lips move. “I am proud of you,” she mouths at me. “I love you.”

  My eyes mist over. “Goodbye, my love. I am sorry.”

  My uncle catches our secret glances. “And seeing as the slave has joined you in your treason, she will join you in your fate. To the Games with both of you and may that teach you that even my patience has its limits.”

  After one last lingering glare at the audience, he turns on his heels and stomps out, his red robes billowing in the breeze and his bevy of slave girls hot on his heels.

  The only good thing about this whole disaster is that Faye and I are thrown into the same cell to wait until the morning.

  My uncle’s pretense of mercy, being sentenced to take part in the Games instead of being executed right away, is just a show.

  In reality, it is just another way he has of making me suffer. Of forcing me to kill or be killed.

  He wants nothing more than to show me up as a weakling in front of thousands baying for my blood.

  Foolish man. With Faye by my side, I will fight and die as I should have lived. She gives me the courage to continue.

  I sit cross-legged in one corner, her hand clasped in mine. “I should have sent you away sooner. I am sorry you are dragged into this mess.”

  She squeezes my hand. “I am the one who spoke openly to Caidgrath. That was my mistake. I thought he could be trusted.”

  “You are not to blame. I should have trusted him sooner and perhaps this wouldn’t have happened at all. But if not him, then it would have been something else. My uncle would have set me up another way and manufactured evidence against me. He wants to be rid of me and doesn’t care so much how.” I swallow and grip her hand hard. “I am glad that I had the chance to speak out before I was sentenced
. I thank you for that. You gave me the courage to stand up for what is right.”

  She grips my own hand back with more force than I’d have expected from a tiny human. “I have never been more proud of you.”

  I smile at her. “And Yefrik?”

  Her face blackens. “He is a disgusting pig of a Kargan. I wanted to save you, and I had to say something to throw the Emperor off the scent. I am not sorry I turned him in. He may not be guilty of treason, but he is guilty of plenty of other things.”

  We are not left alone in our cell for long.

  Yefrik’s captain is the first to come by. He tests the bars and looks solemnly at us, then passes me a carafe of water and another of kiefe, the sweet beer that as always been my favorite. He shrugs at my words of thanks. “You would have been a good Emperor.”

  Another comes by a short while later with a tray full of food fit for a king. Faye’s eyes light up at the sight of it. She is always hungry. I don’t know how someone as small as she is can always be eating.

  One by one, half the guards in the palace find some excuse or another to visit us. Most of them bring a gift: a blanket to stave off the cold, more food, as much kiefe as I could drink in a week.

  Some of them just bring kind words. Those are the best gifts of all.

  Faye

  So, I am condemned to die. And Khan alongside me.

  In some ways I have been waiting for this moment ever since I set foot on this planet and sensed the blood and death that waited for me here.

  I sit next to him in the cell, holding his hand. There is nothing else for me to do, nothing left to hope for. There is just the two of us, together.

  I smile at the guards as they wander past one by one, as if they were just passing, and hand Khan their offerings. They are telling Khan that they support him, that they love him, that he is one of them.

  Some of their words bring tears to his eyes.

  The sun goes down and we huddle together in the blankets we have been given. It is late, and we must face the Games tomorrow, but we do not want to waste time in sleep. We have so few hours left to spend together that we want to savor every one.

  Despite myself, I am dozing off when there is a soft rapping at the bars to our cell. I shake myself awake. Next to me, Khan runs a sleepy hand through his hair.

  Litha is standing outside the cell, tapping her foot anxiously. Her head turns furtively from side to side as she waits.

  I approach the bars, Khan right behind me. “Litha. You should not be here. You will get into trouble if someone catches you.” I don’t care so much for the guards, they can handle a whipping. Sweet Litha wouldn’t.

  Her eyes are red with weeping. “I needed to speak with you,” she says to Khan. “Your mother…” Her voice chokes up and she wipes away a tear. “She fell asleep this morning, just after I gave her her morning medicine. I was not worried at first. She sleeps a lot nowadays. But today she slept longer than usual for her. And when at last I went to wake her, she was gone. She had slipped away in her sleep.” She reaches out through the bars in an effort to comfort him. “I am sorry for your loss.”

  Khan bows his head. “She was not in any pain?”

  “No, not at the end. She looked so peaceful lying there, as if she was happy to leave her body behind.”

  Khan breathes in, a deep raspy breath. “Thank you, Litha, for bringing me this news. I am grateful to you.”

  “But that is not the only reason I have come.” She digs into her shirt and brings out a couple of small packets and hands them through the bars. “Diborane mixture,” she explains. “Along with explosives for good measure. The diborane will catch on fire as soon as it mixes with air, and the explosives will go up with a bang.

  “As soon as the wargs are released into the arena, rip them open, scatter the contents around and then run like hell. We will do the rest.”

  “We are to fight wargs?” Khan asks.

  “We? What are you planning?” I ask in the same moment.

  She shakes her head. “Yes, wargs,” she says to Khan. And to me, “Don’t ask.”

  Khan takes the packets and tosses one to me. “Why are you doing this for us, Litha? Why are you risking your life to help us?”

  “I am doing it for Faye,” Litha says. “She saved me from Yefrik when she could just as easily have shut her eyes and walked away. I am merely repaying my debt.”

  I shake my head. I don’t want her death on my conscience. “You don’t owe me anything.”

  Litha grins. “After tomorrow, you will be in my debt And I shall hold you to it. Besides,” she tells Khan. “I loved your mother and she always believed in you. I help you in her memory so her spirit can find peace.”

  Just then, a scuffling noise catches her attention. “That is Rodan’s signal. He let me in here and is keeping watch for me. I must go now. Stay safe.” And with one last look at us, she turns and hurries away.

  Her visit gives us new hope. I see it in Khan’s face, the thought that his people love him enough to fight for him. Maybe even to die for him.

  As for me, I just hope to live another day at his side.

  Khan

  We are taken into the arena the following morning.

  A huge crowd has already gathered in the stands. The atmosphere is somber and tense, a far cry from the usual drunken hilarity and viciousness that marks the Games.

  I hold tightly onto Faye’s hand as we walk out. We each carry a sachet of the fire powder that Litha gave us in our other hand.

  The Emperor is seated in the front row. I can see the smile on his face from way down in the middle of the pit. His whole body radiates a deep sense of satisfaction that he has won, and I am about to die.

  His voice fills the arena. “My nephew, Khan, whom I loved and brought up as my own after the death of his father, has turned against me. He is in league with our enemies, conspiring against our empire. Though it grieves me to pass sentence on my own flesh and blood, for the sake of justice I must.”

  His words are with boos and hisses from the crowd. A chant starts in one area of the stands. “Khan, Khan, Khan.”

  Across the other side, someone starts to yell, “Let him go. Let him go.”

  That chant is soon taken up by others, until it seems like the entire stadium is chanting in unison.

  I stand there in the middle of the pits, and the crowds are chanting my name. Not to see me bleed, but to support me. To show their love.

  My people love me, and I am beyond grateful for it.

  The chanting of the crowd makes my uncle agitated. He stands up and waves his hands for silence.

  The chants continue unabated. If anything, they get louder. “Khan for Emperor,” they are chanting now.

  If there is one chant that is guaranteed to infuriate my uncle, that is it.

  He screams into the microphone, sending an ear-splitting shriek through the stadium. In the brief moment of near silence that follows, he yells, “I hereby pronounce a sentence of death.”

  I squeeze Faye’s hand. “I love you. I just want to tell you that one last time.”

  “I love you, too,” she says back to me. Her heart is strong and true, and she faces death with courage.

  With that, the doors set around the arena open. From one door comes a group of wargs, red eyes gleaming with the thrill of the hunt and hairy snouts dribbling with the thought of ripping into soft flesh.

  A scream from behind the second door, and out flies an ahlakaraptor, its talons outstretched. It screams as it flies around the arena, and those in the crowd cry out and duck away from its claws.

  From the third door, a group of cyborgs clank out. Their faces are slack and their steps slow and mechanical, but I am not fooled. They have been programmed with one thought in their minds. To kill. They have no concept of mercy and they cannot be distracted. Nothing will stop them from carrying out their allotted task but a complete reprogram, or by ripping out all the wires that connect their brain to the rest of them. Decapitation.
r />   The wargs are approaching us cautiously, testing out the air, leery of a trap.

  The cyborgs clank over slowly.

  The ahlakaraptor completes its circle of the arena and then plummets towards us, diving down to grab a warg which it rips apart with its razor-sharp beak.

  Blood and gobbets of flesh spray down onto us, and I feel Faye tremble next to me.

  “Disgusting dinosaur thing,” she mutters. “It has worse table manners than I do.”

  I laugh. Trust Faye to make a joke just as we are about to be torn to pieces. “Give it a break. It probably hasn’t eaten much for days.”

  “Just so long as it doesn’t eat too fast and sick everything back up on us. Then I would be really mad.”

  The raptor, having finished gulping down its snack, wheels above us, preparing to dive again.

  I let go of Faye’s hand. “This time,” I say, my hands poised to rip open the packet. “You chuck it at the wargs, and I’ll take out the raptor.”

  She nods.

  The raptor wheels above us. The wargs are circling behind, waiting for their chance to attack. “Ready?”

  “Ready.”

  The raptor dives straight for us.

  At the last moment, I rip open the sachet of fire powder and fling it on to her wings. It catches fire immediately, a sticky fire that she cannot shake off or put out, no matter how fast she flies. She aborts her dive and takes off into the air again, screaming as she goes.

  Next to me, Faye has set several of the wargs on fire. Their howls and yelps of pain add to the cacophony.

  I grab her free hand and we run.

  The air stinks of singed flesh. Burning feathers are floating down on to the pit, and on to the arena, setting fire to everything they touch. The crowd is screaming now and racing for the exits to escape the fiery death that rains down on them from above. I dodge one burning feather and pull Faye away from another.

  The burning wargs have managed to set the rest of their pack on fire. Howling with pain, they roll on the ground in a frenzy, tripping a cyborg who falls to the dust with a clatter. Everything they touch bursts into flame. They roll on the ground to try and put out the fire enveloping their fur, but the dust of the ground is set alight.