The second was about loss. The next morning, walking to the left of the arch line to block the sun, she told me that growing up she had two best friends—Mo and Drex. All three of them were talists and they feared the beginnings of The Compound, so they planned Haven. Drex was nurturing and ambitious and Mo was in love with him. When Trinity got to him, Mo never accepted that he was gone and wouldn’t come back to her. Even when she died, she called for him.
Climbing over a hill of rubble where the arch line had collapsed, Barley told me that sometimes people we want to matter, shouldn’t and sometimes, even if they do matter, we have to let them go and do what is right for us. I’m not sure if she was talking about Mo and Drex or me and Solar.
It doesn’t matter either way. I already chose to let Solar go. He can destroy himself or not without worrying about me. I need to make sure that I’m alright; he can’t be my worry or responsibility anymore.
I opened up to him—let myself need him—and he proved that I’m better off on my own.
I don’t need someone to hold me. I don’t need a friend to listen. I don’t need a mentor to tell me about sorrow. I don’t need anyone.
I’m just a risk anyways.
I lose everything I love.
That night she told all of us about the attack on Haven in late spring, around the time I was captured. They had built their village northeast of Lavon Lake and lived undisturbed for more than fifteen years. The border guard must have caught sight of them and they organized an attack.
Weapons already raised as they approached, the Guardia soldiers massacred the peaceful village for offering safety to the talists that Trinity was capturing. They killed the majority of those that made their home there, including Mo, and captured just one: Mo’s son. At the mention of him, Barley went silent for a few minutes before telling us that Eli had confirmed his death.
Which death in The Compound was his?
There were so many.
She told us that she escaped with a fraction of the original population and she offered them a choice: they could leave Trinity behind and set out to find a home further away or they could stay close and continue their goal of offering safe haven. All of them chose to stay and, when The Compound fell, they all spoke up on behalf of aiding those that escaped.
When Anza told me about Barley’s offer to bring some of us to Haven and told me that she wanted me to go, I protested.
“You need to heal, Peony,” she had said simply.
“I can heal here,” I told her.
“You need distance from Solar,” she clarified. “You need to figure out who you want to be without his proximity influencing that decision.”
“So make him go!” I had countered.
She had shook her head, solemn. “Barley doesn’t need him up there picking fights.”
“You don’t, either,” I offered, softer. I felt like my best friend—my only friend—was sending me away. It felt like I was a bother or she didn’t want me around anymore. Or, worse, that she didn’t want to be the next thing I cared about getting wrecked so she decided to get rid of me first.
“Eli and I will handle Solar,” she’d said.
It makes sense now. Barley and those at Haven decided to risk losing what little they had left to help us and Anza didn’t want to make it worse. She knew that whatever Solar ended up doing to process his stuff would end up destroying Haven. Again.
When we finally arrived in the new Haven late on the third day and Barley gave me a room to myself with a straw-filled mattress bed, I accepted what Anza already understood: to process, to heal, I needed some space.
Barley left me alone the first week and I did exactly what I had done back at Anza’s base: sleep, eat, and keep to myself. Without Anza there, I don’t think I spoke a word.
Unlike before, it helped.
At first I worried about Solar, but I reminded myself that he wasn’t mine to worry about. I wondered if he was doing better without me around, too, but there was no way to find out so I let it—and him—go.
The constant fear of what was next dissipated, as well. Barley sent anyone directly involved in the day to day of the rebellion to Anza. Here, there wasn’t a palpable threat of being discovered. Even those that survived Haven’s first attack were calm.
The second week Barley began taking me on walks. She taught me the geography of the area and related it to places I knew or had heard of in Trinity. I learned how and where to hide and multiple ways back to Haven. For the first time in years, I had the freedom and knowledge to leave and go where I wished.
Of course, I didn’t risk going far.
I could feel myself opening up again. I began eating meals with the group and listening to their conversations, interested in who they were and what they had to say.
The third week, Barley took me to a nearby creek. We sat on the bank in silence and let our legs hang over, dangling above the rushing water.
“Who do you want to be, Peony?” she finally asked.
-
At sunrise, I return to Haven to meet with Barley. Normally I’m not up until now, but the unknown kept me awake; I cannot plan ahead for events kept secret. I knock quietly on her door; she has a small cabin to herself. The door opens and she motions for me to come in, smiling.
I step inside and find myself holding my breath. A man stands in the center of a sitting room wearing the same mix-matched leather clothing that everyone does here, now including me. A sword hangs sheathed across his back and I notice a dagger slid behind the straps of his boot.
“Peony, this is Garret,” Barley says.
He scoffs at her, a smile lighting up his expression. “Please, call me Jax.”
She rolls her eyes, then notices my eyebrow raised in question. “His name is Garret, but Mo always called him Jax after the weapons master in one of her favorite books.”
He nods. “That woman loved books. Whenever I went scavenging, I always had to find a new one for her.”
“Peony,” Barley begins, turning back to me, “I know that you know Anza sent you with me to recharge and then help however you felt comfortable.”
I nod.
“I’ve been thinking a lot about what to do with you and I don’t think simply helping is doing you justice. You are strong and capable of doing so much more.”
I study the simple wooden floor, unsure what to say. Barley thinks I’m worth something; she thinks I’m good enough to be who I want to be. A mixture of trepidation and excitement come together in my chest.
“I would like for you to train with G—,” she pauses and I look up. “Jax. Anza told me that you haven’t trained at all with your element and I think it would be beneficial for you to learn to fight without its aid first. Afterwards, you’ll learn the intricacies of your element and how to use it to augment your combat.”
“You want me to learn to fight?”
“Yes,” she says simply. A statement. Not only does she want me to learn; she thinks I’m worthy. She thinks I’m capable enough to succeed.
The exhilaration wins out and I agree.
-
After that, my days are Jax’s. At sunrise, we meet and run north along the creek’s edge for three miles and then we walk back, discussing my progress, my next goal, and his plan to achieve it.
I get a short break and then I run drills. He tells me that these are important because it teaches my body to move in different ways without me having to tell it to, as well as building endurance.
We eat lunch and then he teaches me different stances and techniques. I practice how to stand, how to move, and how much distance to keep. I learn what parts of my body can do the maximum damage and where to attack. I learn how to block, recoil, and defend.
We spar often and every time I think I’m improving, he makes it clear how easy he’s gone on me.
Once I’ve mastered those, he brings weapons: daggers, swords, axes, and staves. They’re real and he doesn’t hold back because I’m Aqua and can heal. The first night he
sent me back to my room with a dagger and told me that I needed to practice subconscious healing because, every time one of the blades had sliced into my skin in training, he was easily able to overtake me.
A week later, he asks me to attempt different tasks during our matches. He directs me to freeze the water in his body so that he cannot move or constrict the water in his muscles so that he falls to the ground. We practice until I can do these without breaking my focus on the fight.
Everything, he tells me, must be intuitive.
13
Eli
Barley sends a group of ten skilled talists to aid us, including two to help train ours: Haro and Lyciri. Aqua and Ignis respectively, the two are strong, thorough, and opinionated.
The day after they arrive, they split our group between themselves. Haro takes the Aer and Aqua and Lyciri the Ignis and Terra. Everyone is assigned a training time, either morning or afternoon and everyone attends except for me. I observe from a distance when I’m at the arch line base and I go on as many missions as possible. I always take my original group, despite their insistence otherwise.
“Why don’t you rotate your team?” Haro asked. I didn’t know why he was up before dawn; only those leaving were up and preparing.
“I like my group,” I told him. “They’ve built a connection and trust each other.”
“If you alternated the members of your team, more and more of the group here would be able to build that connection and trust. The goal is to build an army, not an elite squad.” He was matter of fact, showed no emotion, was attempting to be helpful, but was still an asshole in my opinion.
“My group is strong enough to pull these missions off,” I countered. “We don’t have the flexibility to train them on the job. It’s often life or death.”
“That’s what all this training is for, Eli. They’re gaining the strength you desire, but they still need the experience. Besides, your group will continue to miss the valuable training the more they’re gone. If you rotate, everyone gets the benefit.”
I stared him down until he turned and walked away, having already decided to ignore his unrequested advice.
-
We run through the trees surrounding the arsenal in a straight, silent line. If anyone were looking they would see a column of flames racing closer but I am counting on their arrogance, their confidence. I grip my torch tight with my left hand and focus on my footfalls.
When Barley sent her strongest to help, she said to start making noise with our attacks, but to carry them out without our elements. “We need the average citizen to be able to question Trinity and its decisions if they’re going to reconsider us,” she told Anza and me. “We need to sow distrust. We need them to think other vanillas have joined the rebellion before any of them actually will.”
Before we began our approach, I gathered everyone around an abandoned pile of turf and looked around at all of the familiar faces. I’ve enjoyed building my team up, always bringing the same group on my raids. Anza wanted me to drop Solar from the group, but he needs to get out and work through his shit, not stay at base and simmer.
“Tonight, I want you to see that we are capable without our elements,” I began. “Unless you need it to survive, do not connect to them. Do not use them.” I stared them down until their eyes shined fierce, determined.
“What do we use?” Andari asked. “We have nothing else.”
Rob lifted up a sod of turf with a holder and lit it on fire, passing it to Andari before lighting another for everyone else. “What we’ve got is deadly.”
When we reach the arsenal I toss my torch onto the roof and each of the others follow my lead until the building flames, the lone illumination in the dark. Shouts call from inside and the Guardia soldiers rush out, coughing as the smoke fights its way into their lungs. Before they are aware, I’ve pulled four pistols from my pack and passed them to Rob, Cillian, and Solar, keeping one for myself. I wait until Solar meets my eyes and nods before letting go of his.
“On your knees!” Rob shouts and they all drop without hesitation. Were they this cowardly when they ordered us around at The Compound?
“Put your hands on your heads!” I order and they obey.
I feel a rush building up inside me, an amalgamation of anger, control, and revenge that brings me back to Beth’s death. I work to swallow the taste of bile back. I don’t want to go there again. Not here.
“Rob, Cillian, go and get as much as you can!” I call when all of the stragglers have escaped the fire. They tuck their guns away and rush in, their shirts pulled up to cover their mouths.
Aeroue watches from the door, passing weapons from the two inside to Eyara, Timber, Arlo, Estok, and Andari to fill their bags. Each keeps a pistol for themselves.
“I have a family!” one of the men says, cowering. “I have children; please!”
“And yet you make your living slaughtering children. Don’t you dare beg for mercy, soldier!” Arlo responds, voice rigid.
The soldier all the way to the right watches Eyara as she trades places with Solar, a grin plastered across his face. Does he recognize her from somewhere? Eyes still trained on her, he rises up and lunges for Timber. Eyara shoots, nicking his left ear. He drops to the ground, hand covering his ear as blood seeps out from between his fingers.
“Move again and I won’t miss!” she shouts. I sense movement to my left and I turn to see one of the others taking a chance to run while we were distracted. I aim my gun and fire. The man crumples, a stain of red spreading at his chest.
“We’ve got enough!” Rob calls. “Let’s go!”
-
We walk single-file through the darkness, our backs loaded with the weapons we stole from the burning armory. With the night’s chill pressing in all around us, each step is blind because we can’t risk any flames. Aeroue leads, guiding us by connecting with the ground below. Trusting her footfalls, the group follows exactly. I trail the rest, connecting like Cillian but feeling instead for anyone following.
“At rest,” I began earlier, when Estok asked, “the earth has this calm tone. When you are accustomed to it you can feel disturbances. Basically, I can tell where the soldiers behind us are and how far.”
“He can also smooth the edges of our trail, making it more difficult for them to track us,” Cillian added. I nodded my agreement, curt.
“Is anyone close?” Cillian asks when the first tinges of morning streak the sky.
“No. I haven’t felt them in about an hour,” I answer.
Cillian nods, turning back towards the group. “Let’s rest for a few.” He brushes his hand through his hair, pushing it back before dropping his bag of guns on the ground. He sits against the closest tree without waiting for assent.
“It’s different,” Estok says after a few minutes have passed.
“What is?” Andari asks.
“Fighting without our elements. It is more brutal. It feels more unnatural.”
“Almost more violent,” Timber adds.
“I always think of Stella,” Aeroue says. “Crow could find a way to do that to us or we could be in a situation where weapons would be more efficient. Any number of things could happen that would require this practice. It is better to be prepared.”
Their voices drift back into silence again, minds wandering the scenarios. As our fight continues, Trinity’s efforts to stop us will only increase. No matter how farfetched, we’ll probably have to find ways to overcome many of their considerations.
“He’s right,” Andari says. “To win, we are going to need every weapon in our arsenal, elemental or hand-crafted. That is the only way that we will defeat them.”
I grunt. “I’m glad you’re all starting to get what I’ve been saying all along.”
“Do you ever wonder what happened to the people we grew up with?” Timber asks, changing the subject.
“I wonder if my old friends ever think of me. ‘What ever happened to Eyara?’ Do they hate me because of the propaganda or give me
the benefit of the doubt?”
Arlo snorts. “I wonder if Old Man Sparrow is still running his shop drunk.”
Cillian’s laugh is a bellow. “Probably. Do you think the kids still play with the carvings he sold, while sucking on butterscotch?”
Solar shakes his head. “They don’t. My dad made those and traded them to Sparrow for goods whenever we were in town for trading.”
“Your dad carved those?” Cillian asks, skipping over the glaring fact that Solar’s dad isn’t around anymore to make the carvings. “They were my favorite!”
“Mine too,” Solar laughs. “So you were from Hickory?”
“Yeah,” Arlo answers. “Those were the days. We would do our chores as fast as we could in the hopes of having time to bike to town before sundown for a butterscotch.”
“Most days we didn’t but Ma always made sure we had Sunday to ourselves,” Cillian adds.
“Are you brothers?” Andari asks.
“Nah, we were neighbors.” Arlo takes a sip of his canteen and the silence fills the space held by our memories. Mine are filled with Duka. It’s fitting, I think to myself; he always butted into everything when he was alive, too.
“So much has changed,” Solar says, almost to himself.
“Do you think that we will ever have that back?” Ari asks, almost circling back to his original question.
“Not exactly as it was,” I answer. “It will be different for sure but maybe, if we do things just right, it might be just as good.”
14
Zazi
“He told me that it’s never too late to start over,” I tell the man behind the bar, hearing myself slur. I lift my glass to take another drink but realize it’s empty. Fuck. I push it towards him for a refill, careful not to push it over the edge… again.
“It’s too late,” I affirm, taking the glass, then clarify for his benefit, “Too late for me, not for another drink.”
“Are you sure about that?” he asks and I really look at him, or try to. His black hair stops just above his shoulders, layered to shadow his dark eyes. His skin is about the same shade as mine, but more golden compared to my walnut. He hasn’t shaved in a few days, but it looks good on him.
Rush of Blood Page 6
