The Chosen

by Taran Matharu

  The mountain’s rock face made up the back wall directly opposite him, with a broad, rough-hewn tunnel in it showing stairs going downward. He padded across the deep atrium and heard the sound of rushing water at the bottom of the stairs. It seemed to go down only one story, but it was too dark to see much more than the stone floor at the bottom.

  “Love what the decorator did with the place,” Scott announced, and Cade turned to see the others had followed him in. “It’s got a real Blair Witch vibe, you know?”

  There was little furniture to speak of—just two dozen wooden benches and tables pushed up against the walls of the chamber, as if a school cafeteria had cleared a space for a dance recital. However, Cade was pleased to see medieval-styled torches ensconced in the walls.

  He approached one and found flint and steel tied on a string at the base, and after a few tries succeeded in lighting it, the sparks catching the tarred fibers on the top. The flame was weak and spluttering, but better than nothing. He tugged it from its holder and carried it through to the short passageway left of the entrance. There, a new surprise awaited him.

  Bunk beds. There were dozens of them, packed to the rafters, each three beds high and leaving barely any room to walk between them but for a single corridor of clear space down the middle. The chamber was as large as the atrium had been, and straw sacks filled most of them—rudimentary mattresses and pillows.

  Here, there were more personal effects—mostly wooden bowls and cups, but no writing, symbols, or artifacts of any note. No clues as to who had built this place, or why they had disappeared, but at least there would be somewhere to lay their heads.

  Cade heard raised voices and turned back. The others had gone into the other room across the hall. Cade walked over, just as he heard Finch say:

  “… worthless, it’s all worthless.”

  The room was almost empty. But it seemed that weapons had once been kept here, if the outlines in the dust were anything to go by. There were a few useless items scattered on the floor: the handle to a spear shaft, a broken piece of armor. The cheek guard to a helmet, a worn-through scabbard. There were also a few bent pickaxes that might be useful, though as Jim, Gobbler, and Finch brandished them, Cade saw the metal heads were hanging loose on their shafts.

  The three boys were armed now, and Cade could see Finch assessing the rest of the group with cold, calculating eyes. But Scott, Eric, and Yoshi hadn’t noticed.

  If Finch wanted to make a power play, Cade was sure Finch would pick him to make an example of. He was the weakest.

  “Here’s something,” Yoshi called from the corner. He’d lit a torch, and Cade saw him take something from a crate hidden in the gloom. Cade caught it as Yoshi tossed it over, and held it up to the light of his torch.

  It was an oval-shaped piece of lead, if its weight was anything to go by, around the size of an egg. On it, Cade saw letters scratched into the surface. Despite himself, he chuckled.

  “Something funny?” Finch asked.

  “There’s a Latin word on here: prende. It means catch.”

  “So?” Gobbler demanded.

  “This is a sling stone, like what David used to kill Goliath in the Bible. You can’t say the Romans didn’t have a sense of humor.”

  Finch growled with frustration.

  “I thought you said the people here couldn’t be Romans.”

  Cade shrugged and threw the stone back to Yoshi.

  “How the hell can you read Latin?” Finch demanded. “Seems a bit coincidental to me.”

  Cade considered his next words carefully, the suspicion in Finch’s eyes mirrored in those of the others.

  “I learned Latin in school. I was planning on majoring in…”

  The memory of a life cut short hit Cade in the gut then. College. Like that was going to happen anymore.

  “My father taught me, too. He teaches history. I’m more of a layman than anything—”

  “You don’t think it’s weird?” Scott interrupted. “That all this Roman stuff is here and you happen to know about it?”

  “Everything about this is weird,” Cade replied, struggling to keep the panic from his voice. Now even Scott suspected him.

  Finch’s stare didn’t waver. The distrust in his eyes was scary enough, even without the pickaxe in his hands.

  “Lots of people learn Latin in school,” Cade tried again. “I just happen to be one of them.”

  “Still seems too convenient,” Finch said in a low voice.

  “Maybe … maybe they picked me for a reason,” Cade ventured. “Maybe we all got chosen for a reason.”

  It wasn’t really an answer, but it was enough. The temperature in the room seemed to go up a few degrees.

  “If you can read Latin, maybe you can read this,” Eric said, pointing at the flat rock of the mountainside that formed the back wall.

  Cade moved closer and held his torch up to where crude letters had been scratched.

  Quis fortuna erit, vel bestiis devorari vel gladiatores fieri?

  “Um, my Latin isn’t that good,” Cade muttered, half to himself. He was wary of revealing his knowledge now—but based on what he thought it meant, it seemed too important to keep to himself. And pretending he didn’t understand it now could make it all worse.

  He furrowed his brow, sounding out the words.

  “I think it means, ‘What is our fate, to be devoured by beasts or fight as gladiators?’”

  He was met with blank stares.

  “Devoured?” Yoshi asked.

  “The Romans used to execute criminals in the arena by way of dangerous animals,” Cade explained, wondering if any of the others had ever cracked a history book in school. “Ever heard of the term ‘thrown to the lions’? That’s what they used to do to people, while thousands of citizens watched for entertainment. Unlike gladiators, they usually didn’t put up much of a fight, wearing nothing more than a loincloth, sometimes even placed there with broken limbs. I think the person who wrote this is wondering if they were put here with a fighting chance … or just to be slaughtered for the spectacle of it.”

  Silence followed.

  “Well, that’s reassuring,” came a voice from behind them.

  Cade turned and jumped in surprise. They weren’t the only ones who had crossed the desert.

  CHAPTER

  11

  “You should’ve locked that door behind you,” Spex said. “Those things could have followed you in.”

  “We should have,” Finch said. “Would have kept you out too.”

  “Sad to see you, Spex,” Gobbler said, earning himself a chuckle from Finch. Meanwhile, Jim stepped farther into the gloom, avoiding Spex’s gaze. Guilt was stamped on his face, plain as day.

  Spex’s eyes widened at the sight of Finch. He glanced at the pickaxes in the trio’s hands, and fear sparked in his eyes. There were no counselors here.

  Spex switched his gaze to Eric. “Sounds like you don’t know much more than we do.”

  Cade jumped in. “Someone wants us to think this place was built by the Romans,” he explained. “But that’s impossible—it was too long ago.”

  “The bodies were too fresh,” Spex agreed, his gaze flicking to the writing on the wall.

  He paused.

  “So this is a game?” he asked.

  Spex looked at Cade expectantly, but now Cade was reluctant to answer. It seemed showing off his intellect wasn’t going to do him any favors.

  “Whoever wrote those words on the mountainside wall seemed to think so,” Cade said as the silence dragged on. “But who knows when they wrote it. It could be before this place was even built.”

  “Well, maybe there are more clues here, maybe not,” Eric said. “But we won’t find out standing around.”

  He walked on without waiting for the others to follow. Soon the group was trooping into the main chamber again.

  Cade was glad to see Spex, even if they hadn’t spoken since the incident with Finch. It was a small comfort to have another perso
n there who wasn’t allied with Finch’s crew.

  Eric headed down the stairs built into the rock face, stepping hesitantly into the gloom. Cade felt relieved at the break from being their guinea pig.

  Below, they found a damp cavern, with water dripping from stalactites above. At its end, an underground river rushed from one side to the other before disappearing into the depths of the earth. A platform of wood had been built along its side, with holes carved into the tops to form a latrine. In fact, Cade knew it must be when he saw sponges on sticks lying on top—spongia, used by the ancient Romans in lieu of toilet paper. Everyone in his history class had gotten a kick out of that detail in the textbook.

  Of course, he didn’t mention this. He was beginning to think that solving the puzzle was less important than his place in the pecking order among the others. Any reminder that he was a history buff made them suspicious.

  Further inspection revealed that a wide pool had been carved into the cavern’s center, with a channel leading to the river, where the water seemed to slosh back and forth. A bathing area, perhaps, though with little in the way of privacy. Then again, the school’s showers had not been much better.

  “Starting to look like home sweet home,” Scott said as they made their way up the stairs. “Got our own spa and everything.”

  Even Finch gave a half smile at that one.

  They moved to one of the stairways and emerged on the second floor. To Cade’s surprise, they found private rooms there. Each was laid out identically, and many contained much the same: a wooden bed, fur blankets, a straw-filled mattress, a desk, a table, a chair, and rudimentary candles.

  Cade assumed these were the officers’ quarters, if this was indeed where a Roman army had once lodged. Again he kept that thought to himself.

  The stairs on either side continued, leading to the final floor. Here, they had more luck, emerging into a room as wide as the atrium, though with lower ceilings. A large, circular stone table stood in the middle of it, surrounded by rough-hewn stone chairs.

  And in the very center … sat a machine. There was no other word for it.

  It was grapefruit sized and teardrop shaped, set on its side and facing their direction. The front looked for all the world like the shutter of a fancy camera, while around it, complex mechanical circuits and wires lay beneath a hard, transparent surface.

  As they circled the room, Cade lowered his gaze in line with the tabletop, noticing something strange about the device. It was not on the table, but floating just above it.

  Scott caught his expression and stooped down to look too.

  “It’s floating,” Scott blurted.

  “So … that’s weird,” Spex muttered.

  “Looks like a camera,” Eric said. “Do you think they’ve been watching us with this thing?”

  “Must be,” Finch said. He turned to Cade and furrowed his brow maliciously. “Apu, why don’t you take a closer look.”

  Again, Cade seethed. But now was not the time to stand up for himself.

  He paused, hoping someone else would step up, but none seemed willing.

  He set his jaw, resisting the urge to huff with frustration. He wanted to prove himself, but did that mean always being the one they sent in first?

  Cade handed his torch to Eric, then climbed onto the table and approached the object. He dropped to his knees as he took it in his hands. It was light—unnaturally so. In fact, it was almost weightless. He let go, and the machine hung there.

  “Damn,” Yoshi whispered.

  Suddenly, a light flashed, and a flat male voice emanated from it.

  “Identified—Cade Carter.”

  “Shit,” Cade said, backing away.

  “It knows who you are,” Finch growled, raising his pickaxe. “You’re one of them.”

  Even as he spoke, the object swiveled in the air, and a broad beam of light scanned across his face.

  “Identified—Finch Hill.”

  Despite his shock, Cade couldn’t help but smirk at that one.

  It spun again and again. Yoshi Endo. Eric Larsen. Scott Moore. Jim Webster. Cade even learned that Gobbler’s real name was Tom Andrews and Spex’s was Carlos Silva. It knew all of them … and it knew their faces.

  The voice paused. Then:

  “Contenders identified. Qualifier round commences in one hundred and forty-four hours.”

  An image appeared, directly in front of its lens. A digital timer, made of blue light. Counting down from … six days.

  05:23:59:59

  05:23:59:58

  05:23:59:57

  The hologram hung in the air, so real and perfectly formed that Cade felt like he could reach out and touch it.

  They stared at it, dumbfounded. Cade knew what they were all thinking. He was thinking the same thing.

  What is the qualifier round?

  Scott, unsurprisingly, was the first to break the silence.

  “Well, that doesn’t sound good.”

  “No, it doesn’t,” Eric agreed, waving a hand through the countdown clock. It flickered as he did so, but remained there.

  “I recommend we move as far away from this thing as possible,” Spex said, pushing his thick glasses up his nose.

  “If the last ‘games’ were anything to go by, a qualifier sounds like a walk in the park,” Scott said sarcastically. “And I was just warming to the place.”

  “More vipers?” Cade asked.

  “Or something worse,” Finch spat. “You saw the bones outside. That’s probably what happens to people who stay for the ‘qualifying round.’”

  Finch paced back and forth, twirling the pickaxe in his hand. Cade took a furtive step back. He knew what Finch was capable of.

  “The people who built this place left in a hurry,” Eric said, oblivious to Cade’s worries. “Armed people, and over a hundred of them at least. How many in a legion, Cade?”

  Cade hesitated.

  “Thousands,” he said.

  Spex had been staring into space, but now he looked up, the large eyes behind his glasses full of fear.

  “They didn’t leave long ago either, if the state of this place is anything to go by. Maybe a year or two?”

  Cade was relieved he wasn’t the only one with some common sense in the room. But at the same time, he wondered where else there was to go. His mind flashed to the cave he had glimpsed beside the Keep. Now, it seemed a whole lot more inviting.

  “There’s shelter here,” Gobbler groaned. “A roof, even toilets and baths. The wall will protect us. Did you see any bones in here?”

  “Maybe the people who built this place were those corpses we saw,” Cade muttered, half to himself. There was silence, until he noticed them all staring at him. He shuffled his feet.

  “I mean, they were supposed to be Romans, right?” Cade plowed on. “And the people who lived here were supposed to be Romans too, or at least Latin speakers. The writing’s on the wall, literally.”

  It made some sense … if it weren’t for the fact that this place was far older than the corpses had been. Could there have been two sets of Romans: those who built this place and the Ninth Legion who had been found in the desert?

  Whatever the answer, this story was getting stranger all the time.

  “So … let’s look at what we’re supposed to think,” Spex said, holding up his hands as he thought it through. “Romans were teleported to the desert, along with some dead bodies. They appeared there maybe two thousand years ago, maybe a few years ago. Then they came here and build this place, right?”

  Finch grunted in reluctant agreement.

  Cade suspected that the legion had been transported midbattle with the Picts, along with the football field–sized hunk of grass they’d found them on, but he didn’t want to complicate the issue.

  “All the while, they were made to play this ‘game,’ whatever it is,” Spex went on, his brow furrowed in thought. “Then one day they decided to leave, in a hurry.”

  “Maybe because the game got too hard,
” Jim said suddenly, earning himself another glare from Finch.

  “It’s where they went that I’m interested in,” Finch said, and Cade resisted the urge to snort derisively. Apparently Jim couldn’t talk to Spex, but Finch could.

  “So either we play this game or we leave,” Eric said.

  Scott laughed aloud.

  “Well, as much as I’m enjoying the game so far, my vote is we take our collective balls and go home. Right?”

  There were a series of nods and groans of assent. Nobody really wanted to leave the relative safety of the fort. And at the same time, everyone did.

  “We have a few days yet,” Eric said. “We’ll sleep here tonight—it’s as safe a place as any.”

  “Who put you in charge?” Finch demanded.

  “You want to go now?” Eric asked, motioning out at the darkened sky. “Be my guest. We’ll bury you in the morning.”

  Finch muttered something under his breath. Cade ignored him and looked to the doors on either side of the room—these were still on their hinges. Yoshi caught his eye and pushed open the door nearest to him.

  “A bigger bedroom,” he said. “More furs, that’s all.”

  There was a gasp, and Cade spun to see Jim staring into the opposite room.

  “Um … this one’s a room too. But there’s something else in here,” Jim said.

  CHAPTER

  12

  Just as Yoshi had said, the room looked much the same as the others, only with a bigger bed and what seemed like better furnishings, including ragged curtains that cast the room in darkness.

  But Jim was right, there was something different. A large, polished wooden box stood upon a table near the mountain-side wall. Cade noticed something else too—a book, sitting open another table.