Legacy

by Travis Brett

  Sparks moved deeper into cover, heart hammering. Why the hell were the militia leaving Reformation square? Was it because Sparks had destroyed a power station? He liked that thought — it meant that he had done something important.

  The first line of militia passed his hiding spot. He watched them carefully. They didn’t walk like fighters. It was obvious in their footing, their stance and the way they held their weapons. These were men who spent more time eating than fighting. Pathetic. But, Sparks noted with a frown, they were well armed. Many had crossbows, and dozens had the most cowardly weapon of all: guns.

  Sparks listened to what the militia were shouting.

  “Shit on Candle!”

  “Kill them all!”

  “Fuck the bloody muties!”

  When they had passed, Sparks crept to the alleyway corner and peered out. Where were they going? There was only one answer that made sense: they must have found Candle’s hideout.

  That left Sparks with a choice. He turned to the four towers of the Ministries, then back to the militia. Should he follow them, or use this opportunity to get into the Ministry building?

  Wasn’t much of a choice. If he didn’t follow then he would be left out of the fighting. And that wasn’t an option.

  He kept to the shadows as he stalked the mob. Not that any of them bothered to look behind. Two streets on, he saw one of the militia separate from the pack and step into a side alley. Sparks smiled, quickening his pace. Once all the militia were ten paces from the mouth of the alley, Sparks darted inside.

  The militia had his back to Sparks and was pissing on the ground. His axe leaned against the alley wall beside him. It was almost too perfect.

  Sparks snuck forward and grabbed the axe. “You should have held it in,” he said casually.

  “What the—” The militia spun around, nearly spraying Sparks with piss.

  Sparks rammed the axe’s handle into the man’s throat, silencing him, then kicked his kneecap, hard. In true manly fashion, the man didn’t let go of his dick as he fell, landing face first.

  Sparks placed his boot against the side of the man’s head, pushing it firmly against the ground. He placed the edge of the axe against his neck. “You thinking about screaming?”

  “Oh shit. Oh shit. You gotta be—”

  “Shut up and this might not be your very last piss.”

  The man quickly shut his mouth.

  “Much better. Okay, so I’m going to call you . . .” Sparks gaze passed over the militia’s thick mane of blond hair, then to where he was desperately fumbling to buckle his trousers. “Small. Is that okay with you?”

  Small nodded, eyes focused on the axe.

  “Good. Now let’s start with the easy question. Where were you going?”

  Small didn’t answer. Sparks pressed the axe down harder.

  “Argh. Stop, please! We’re going to the southern power station.”

  “Why?”

  “That’s where Candle’s hiding!”

  Sparks frowned, confused. “Why would he be there? The Ministry controls the stations.”

  “I don’t know, I swear!” Small was turning pale. “We only got our orders tonight.”

  “And what were your orders?”

  “To capture Candle, as all of the other mut—” Small stopped himself before he could finish saying muties.

  “Is Juliette with you?”

  “Yes.”

  Sparks raised the axe. “Anything else you think you should share?”

  “I swear I don’t know any—”

  “Cool.” Sparks slammed the butt of the axe’s handle into Small’s temple, knocking him out. He tossed the weapon and returned to the street. None of the militia were coming back to find their lost man.

  Sparks grinned as he set off after them. This was going to be fun.

  26

  “Wake up.”

  Roman grew aware of a hand on his shoulder, shaking him. Without bothering to open his eyes, he grunted and tried to squirm away. His aching body didn’t want to move.

  “Wake up, Roman.”

  “Fuck off,” he muttered. He had been dreaming of something . . . bad. He couldn’t remember. Gavin had been in it, his freakish eye glaring at Roman.

  “Wake up, damn it.”

  “You should listen to him, Boss. We gotta go.”

  It felt like he had only been asleep for a couple of minutes. He forced one eye open. With a groan of dismay, he recalled the events at the Haven. Spencer got away. Ruby was captured. Fuck.

  A pair of large hands grabbed his body and pulled Roman from his chair. He staggered, but the hands held him upright. “What’s going on?” he mumbled.

  Caleb slung Roman’s arm over his own shoulder and led him to the door. “I’ll explain on the way.”

  Outside, the rain had stopped. Roman regained enough consciousness to let go of Caleb and walk unaided. It was still dark, so he couldn’t have slept for more than four or five hours. Tan led the way, looking as exhausted as Roman felt.

  “Where are we going?” Roman asked.

  “South.”

  “Why?”

  “The militia are on the move,” Caleb said. “All of them.”

  “What?” Roman shook his head, trying to wake himself up properly. He must have misheard. “Juliette wouldn’t—”

  “She is.”

  “How do you know?”

  “She sent messengers to every available mercenary crew, offering a small fortune for a one-night job. Tonight.”

  “Juliette’s never hired mercenaries before.”

  “She has now.”

  Roman frowned. “You think many will take the offer?”

  “They’re a greedy bunch, so some will. But most won’t, I reckon. I spoke with an old colleague. He turned her down as soon as he heard what she wanted.”

  “Let me guess,” Roman said, knowing there was only one reason why Juliette would leave Reformation Square, “she’s discovered where Candle is hiding.”

  Caleb nodded. “I reckon she had men watching the Haven. After the attack, all they would have to do is tail Candle — he would have led them right to his base.”

  “Which is where?”

  “That’s the strange part. It’s the south power station.”

  “Huh?” Roman rubbed the sleep from his eyes. “Candle has taken over the station?”

  “Juliette thinks so.”

  “All the electricity from the wind farms goes through that station, right? So Candle could cut the power to the entire city . . .” Roman trailed off as he looked up at the nearest street light. It was still on.

  “Apparently.”

  Roman frowned. He felt like Candle was two steps ahead of him, planning something that he couldn’t see. Why destroy the lights and the fuse boxes wherever he goes, then take over a power station and not cut the power?

  “This isn’t right,” he said, mostly to himself.

  Tan laughed. “That’s a fucking understatement of the decade. We got into this mess because you wanted to kill Candle, for Juliette. Now we’re going to try stop Juliette taking Candle, because we need him. That’s fucked up.” Tan spun a long serrated blade in his hand as he talked. Roman hadn’t noticed it before. “Oh and it gets better: Gavin cut my hair! In case you haven’t noticed, that’s worse than not right.”

  Caleb chuckled. “Your hair looked stupid anyway.”

  “It was stylish and you’re just jealous.”

  “Tan,” Roman said. “Where the hell did the knife come from?”

  “Oh, this? I pinched it from behind the bar while Griff was out the back.”

  “You knew he had it?”

  “No. I was looking for another drink.”

  Despite himself, Roman grinned. “Typical.”

  Tan shrugged. “I don’t want to die sober.”

  “We’re not going to die.”

  Tan raised an eyebrow at Roman. “It’s us against over a dozen Adrenalites. And the militia. I don’t know about you,
but I ain’t betting on us.”

  Roman’s response died in his throat. Tan was right. There really wasn’t any denying it. So why are we even trying? He dug his hands into his pockets, hunching his shoulders as he quickened his pace again. Guess I am just a stubborn bastard. Even if he didn’t live through this, he couldn’t live with himself if he gave up.

  Because if it were Ruby trying to save me, she wouldn’t give up.

  * * *

  “Roman?” Ruby pounded on the door to her own home with her uninjured hand. “Tan?”

  No answer. Ruby kicked the door in frustration. Her key to the door’s multiple locks, which usually hung around her neck, was gone. She couldn’t remember where she had lost it — maybe Gavin’s thugs had taken it, or it had fallen off somewhere.

  Ruby shivered. The rain had stopped an hour ago, just as the sky was beginning to lighten, but her clothes were still damp and clung to her skin. She wanted nothing more to than to lie in front of a warm fire and sleep. Just the thought of it filled her with longing. It felt like weeks since she had last slept.

  She looked up the wall of her house towards the window on the second story — the only one they hadn’t boarded up. Normally it wouldn’t have been a hard climb to get up there. But her legs were weak from exhaustion, and her right hand was crippled. This was going to be a challenge.

  But inside were dry clothes. And, more importantly, her bow.

  Ruby wrapped her legs around one of the steel beams that supported the wall and began to pull herself up. The knife wound on her leg stung as it rubbed against the beam, but she ignored the pain and kept going. Alternating her grip between her good hand and holding on with her thighs, she inched her way high enough to reach the windowsill. Grunting, she dragged her body through the window and into her room.

  Her bow and quiver of arrows sat in the corner. Ruby picked up the bow and kissed it. “I’ve missed you,” she said.

  On the other side of room sat her pile of spare clothes and straw pillow. She redressed into grey trousers and shirt, her second pair of boots, and a leather jacket. Lastly, she slung her bow over her back and hung her quiver from her belt. It felt damn good to be properly armed again.

  Ruby ripped her last shirt into rags for a new bandage. Her stomach churned when she removed her old bindings and she saw what was left of her little finger. Gavin had sliced it just before her first knuckle. Now it ended with a dark blood clot. A sliver of pale bone poked out. Still, Gavin got the worse end of the deal.

  Before re-wrapping the wound, Ruby moved to Tan’s room and took one of his half-finished bottles of whiskey. She took an arrow from her quiver, lodged it in her mouth, then poured the alcohol over the wound. Burning pain flared across her hand and up her arm. She mumbled a garbled curse through the arrow, spat it out, took a couple swings of whiskey, then a few more.

  She wrapped the new bandages around her hand, carefully arranging them so she could still use the rest of her fingers.

  She moved on to Roman’s room. Stacked against one of the walls was a collection of ancient books, tattered and worn, ready to dissolve into dust at any moment. The floor was cluttered with broken trinkets and gadgets of the Ancients, most of which Ruby didn’t recognize. She sighed. He still wants to be a historian. And he still could be. If only he wasn’t so stubborn.

  She left and set off towards the Mutt’s Tail. It was unlikely Roman was there, but she didn’t exactly have many other ideas.

  The bar was closed when she arrived. She pounded on the door, yelling for Griff. At the very least, she wanted another drink. No response. Frustrated, she kicked the door, rattling it from its hinges.

  Griff’s voice came from inside. “Who’s there?”

  “Ruby,” she responded. “Open up. It’s important.”

  A moment later the door swung open and Griff’s face appeared. His eyes looked her up and down, pausing for just a moment at the bandage on her hand.

  “I’m looking for Roman,” she said hurriedly. “Did he come here last night?”

  “Aye. He looked in much the same shape you do now.”

  Ruby breathed a sigh of relief. “When did he leave?”

  “Not sure. I let him and Tan sleep here. They were gone when I woke up.”

  “How long ago was that?”

  Griff scratched his balding head. “An hour ago. When the militia came through.”

  “The militia what?”

  “They woke the whole neighbourhood with their shouting. Hundreds of them.”

  Ruby pursed her lips. “Where were they going?” she asked.

  “South.”

  “Shit.” Ruby turned and walked away, heading south. Despite her tiredness, she set a quick pace. She was sure that wherever the militia were going, Roman would be there too.

  * * *

  Roman climbed the latest mound of rubble blocking the road — this far into the outskirts there were nearly as many collapsed buildings as there were standing. When he reached the summit the power station rose into view, a hundred yards ahead. Giant steel towers cut black scars in the morning sunrise.

  “Can’t see much from here,” Caleb said.

  Roman pointed to a building ahead, one of the last multi-storied structures this far out. “We’ll get onto that roof. It’ll give us a decent view of the place.”

  “Reckon that’s safe? I don’t like the idea of being crushed when the whole place comes down.”

  “What part of any of this do you call safe?”

  “Fair point.”

  Roman scowled at the rising sun. He had hoped to arrive before sunrise, but now they would have to approach without the cover of darkness.

  “Ever been here before?” Tan asked. During the journey, he had used his stolen blade to cut off what little of his frizzy hair that Gavin had left him. He looked barely recognizable without it.

  Roman shook his head. He had never had a reason to come to this side of the outskirts before. Outside Legacy, on the south side, there was nothing but barren wastelands. That and the wind farms.

  “I did, once,” Tan said. “I lived out here for a couple months, while I was hiding from a completely unreasonable employer. Fucking eerie, this place is.”

  “What about the station?” Roman asked. “Did you ever go there?”

  “Nah. I wasn’t one to stick my nose in the Ministries affairs.”

  Caleb slapped a hand on Tan’s back. “As ever, you are the definition of uselessness.”

  They reached the building Roman had pointed out. He ran a wary eye over it. Some of the cracks in its walls were wide enough to slip an arm into. Tan stopped, hands on his hips. “Sure about this, Boss?”

  “Not at all. Come on.”

  The doorknob snapped off when Roman grabbed it, so he just booted the door open. Inside, small red leaves of rado-weed grew out of the fissures in the walls. The air reeked of the bitter herb. As they entered, Caleb ripped off a handful of leaves and chewed on them.

  Roman led them up the stairs. Almost every second step had collapsed, and the rest creaked in an unsettling manner. Clouds of dust rose from each footfall and Roman wondered just how long it had been since anyone had climbed these steps.

  The stairs led to a broken door, barely hanging onto its hinges, which opened onto the roof. With cautious steps Roman made his way to the edge and squinted against the sun as he looked down at the station. As far as he could see, it was deserted.

  The station was huge, probably close to a mile across, filled with giant steel machines that looked as dead and broken down as the rest of Legacy. Dozens of giant towers were scattered throughout it, linked by thick black wires. A part of Roman wondered what the place had looked like before the Days of Fire, and what it would take to restore it. He pushed his thoughts away — Roman the historian wasn’t going to help Ruby. Roman the bounty hunter was.

  He moved his gaze to the barren wasteland beyond the station. A chain of steel towers, each linked by hundreds of yards of wires, stretched out from the s
tation to the horizon, where the giant turbines of the wind farms stood.

  Caleb stepped up beside Roman. “Something is wrong,” he said. “No bodies.”

  Roman nodded. If Candle and his pack of Adrenalites had taken over the station, it would have been a bloody fight, but there was no sign of that. Strange.

  “Well, let me guess your next plan.” Tan took a step forward, balancing precariously on the edge of the roof, arms outstretched. “You want to go exploring this eerily empty and potentially dangerous hell?”

  Roman shrugged. “Not much else left to do.”

  “That doesn’t make it a good option.”

  Caleb raised an eyebrow. “What happened to your optimism?”

  “Optimism is like virginity.” Tan gave a thin smile. “You get fucked, just once, and it’s gone forever. And right now, we’re definitely—”

  “Hold up.” Caleb pointed down at the station. “You see that?”

  Below, a figure darted between the buildings. They weren’t wearing amour, so it wasn’t a militia. That didn’t leave many other options. Roman scanned the rest of the compound. He motioned towards a second figure moving between shadows. “There’s another one.”

  “Juliette was right,” Caleb said. “Candle’s here.”

  Tan cocked his head sideways, puzzled. “Still don’t make no sense. If Candle’s taken over this station, how come he hasn’t cut the power to the city?”

  “I don’t know,” Roman said. “But I think the only way we’re gonna get answers is if we beat them out of Candle.”

  “That’s pretty much your answer to everything isn’t it?”

  “It’s worked before.”

  Roman turned back to the stairs but Tan caught him by the arm. “This isn’t one of those times, Boss. We can’t just walk into a gang of Adrenalites and abduct their leader.”

  “Do you have a better plan?”

  “Literally anything else would be a better plan.”

  “We. Don’t. Have. Anything. Else.” Roman pulled his arm free. “And waiting isn’t going to change that.”

  “We’ll die!”

  It was disconcerting to see Tan so scared. He had never looked more sober then he did right now. Roman turned away, unable to meet his friend’s eye, and started towards the stairs. “You don’t have to come with me,” he said quietly.