Contender: The Chosen: Book 1

by Taran Matharu

  Cade had finally realised what the markers were for – rough estimates for how far the vipers would travel every ten seconds as they charged through the canyon. Which meant, if Quintus had guessed right, that they would likely be at the wall in less than a minute, and giving the defenders three throws each before the monsters were directly below them.

  As the evening wore on, Cade began to think that it hardly seemed worth the practice, but Quintus seemed pleased enough with their progress, slapping them on their backs and grinning widely. He supposed three throws from twelve slingers meant thirty-six chances to kill or injure the vipers. If every one hit, that was a third of their enemies gone. Of course, that was an optimistic estimate.

  As the last light of the sun disappeared, the red moon was already high in the sky, its smaller white counterpart combining with the rusty glow to produce a light akin to the last moments of sunset. Only then did Quintus stop the exercise, gesturing for them that he was done for the night.

  The others staggered down the steps amid groans of exhaustion, some massaging aching shoulders. Cade only hoped they would not be aching tomorrow afternoon when the timer would reach zero. They needed to be at their fittest. Fortunately, they would have some time to rest tomorrow, with their only task being to carry stones to the tops of the walls. And then, in the early evening … they would fight.

  Cade stayed up on the walls, taking one final look at the future battlefield. How many others had stood in this exact same place over the centuries, preparing to do battle? Had they felt as ill-prepared as he did?

  There was something the others seemed to have forgotten, but Cade could not shake it from his thoughts. This would not be their final battle. Victory here meant only that they would have joined the game. And judging from the bones below, it was a game that would get far more deadly as time went by.

  Was taking part in this game just delaying the inevitable, prolonging their agony? Quintus had been here over a year, yet even that amount of time in this place seemed unimaginable.

  Cade was sure that Quintus had never fought in the game. Only guarded the wall until the timer started, and then he had run away. Cade wanted to know what the young legionary had heard from the other Romans, the ones who had been there before Quintus and the rest of the Ninth Legion had appeared in the desert.

  Some hint, or clue, even if he drew pictures on a wall, or Cade’s half-remembered Latin allowed some understanding through.

  Cade turned, only to see that Quintus had not joined the others in the Keep. Instead, he was hurrying for the tunnel, clutching his sword and sling. That was strange. What could he want out there, in the dark?

  There was a pit in Cade’s stomach as the answer swam unbidden to Cade’s mind. Quintus had finally seen for himself what they were up against. And now he had decided to return to the jungle. Cade could hardly blame him. The legionary had done more than enough for them. And yet Cade felt his feet moving, taking him down the stairs and after Quintus.

  He picked up his pace as he entered the tunnel, only to see that Quintus was already much of the way down. Cade might have shouted, but of course Quintus would not hear him. Instead, Cade broke into a jog, forcing his aching, injured legs to move.

  If anything, he wanted to thank Quintus and send him on his way. No hard feelings, no guilt. It was the least he could do.

  By the time Cade exited the tunnel and into the meadow of tree stumps, Quintus was nowhere to be seen. Cade scanned the trees, searching for the boy’s retreating figure. It was quiet, a stark contrast to the orchestra of animals that he usually heard at night. Here, on the edge of the enormous trees, the only sound was the soft susurration of the breeze and the gentlest buzz of insects.

  Thinking he was too late, Cade turned to return to the Keep. Only then did he see him, just out of the corner of his eye. The flash of Quintus’s pale, naked ass as he waded into the plunge pool of the waterfall.

  This was no goodbye. Quintus was skinny-dipping.

  ‘Oh, for heaven’s sake,’ came a voice from behind Cade.

  He turned to find Amber glaring at him. She held what looked like a scavenged curtain from the Keep, folded like a towel over her arm.

  ‘Had the same idea as I did, did you?’ she demanded.

  ‘Uh-umm …’ Cade stuttered.

  ‘Well, come on,’ she said. ‘But keep your eyes and hands to yourself.’

  She strode off towards the waterfall, leaving a bewildered Cade to look after her. Quintus was nowhere to be seen, lost in the mist. Clearly, she wanted to wash off the sweat of the day, and not in the company of almost a dozen naked teenage boys.

  Now that she mentioned it, a dip in the chill waters of the pool seemed like heaven. He might not have thought of it, especially given the size of the fish he had seen in the waters of the river, but Quintus seemed to feel safe enough in the plunge pool. And he had lived there for a good while.

  So Cade followed Amber down to the water, trailing behind her with his hands in his pockets. To his surprise, Amber leaped into the water fully dressed, knee-high socks and all. Only then did she remove her clothing, throwing each item on the bank, treading water all the while.

  ‘What?’ Amber said, as Cade eyed her wet garments. ‘They were filthy, might as well give everything a wash at the same time.’

  Cade dithered by the bank a moment longer, but one raised eyebrow from Amber had him jumping in. It was numbingly cold, even after the day’s sun. For a moment he let himself sink, his boots thumping on the rocky bottom. Then he pushed off and emerged with a great gush of breath, still acclimatising to the temperature.

  It was a relief, really, to have the cool water seep over him and wash away the accumulated sweat from the day. And this water seemed far clearer and cleaner than the silty river water Cade had taken a brief dip in yesterday, though not so clear that Cade felt embarrassed to take off his own clothes and throw them on the bank.

  For a moment, Cade and Amber looked at each other across the water, obscured by the heavy mist that accompanied the billowing roar of the waterfall beyond them. In the dim light of the red moon, the water was dark, too dark to see anything below the neck. Even so, it was a charged moment. They could die tomorrow. It could be their last night together, and here they were, alone.

  Well, not quite alone. They could both see a naked Quintus crouched on the far bank, quite unashamed as his pale buttocks mooned them from across the dark water. Nothing like a good mooning to take the romance out of a moment. That and the Codex, floating in silent watchfulness above him.

  Still, Amber swam closer, as it was hard to speak over the roar of the waterfall.

  ‘Shame about the boat,’ Amber said, first to break the silence. ‘That Finch seemed a proper git. Did you know him long?’

  Cade grimaced at the reminder of their lost vessel.

  ‘I knew him for six months, and he was even worse before,’ he said.

  Amber peered at him for a moment, then furrowed her brows.

  ‘You’re not like the others,’ she said.

  Cade shrugged. ‘I thought so too at first … but we’re not so different. Not where it matters. They’re good guys, for the most part. Good guys who made some bad choices.’

  She smiled at him. ‘I guess you’re right. But what I really meant to ask is … why did your parents send you to reform school?’

  Cade hesitated.

  ‘Was that too personal? Don’t answer, it’s fine,’ Amber said, and for the first time he saw her blush from cheek to cheek.

  It was endearing, and he hadn’t realised just how intimidating she’d seemed until now. She seemed so fearless … so certain.

  ‘No, it’s OK,’ Cade said, sighing. ‘My old school found a dozen laptops under my bed in my dorm. Thought I’d stolen them, but it wasn’t me.’

  ‘Laptops?’ Amber asked. ‘Where have I heard that before?’

  Cade laughed. ‘I keep forgetting where … or I guess I mean when, you come from. Laptops are portable computers.�
��

  ‘You fit a dozen computers under your bed? Must have been a big bed,’ Amber said.

  ‘They’re a bit smaller than your time,’ Cade chuckled. ‘Man, I wish I had my phone to show you. It would blow your mind.’

  ‘I think I’ve had my mind blown enough over the past few days,’ Amber groaned, splashing some water on her face. ‘I keep thinking I’m going to wake up. But I never do.’

  Cade nodded, and for a while they stayed silent, just enjoying the night air.

  ‘You know as much as me now. Any thoughts on what this place is?’

  Amber considered for a moment, her face pale in the moonlight as she trod water.

  ‘Have you seen anyone or anything beyond your time?’ Amber asked.

  ‘I mean, the Codex and the forcefields are pretty advanced, but I don’t know if they’re from our future.’

  ‘What if they are?’ Amber said. ‘What if these so-called gods are people from the future? People who discovered time travel, and use it for … this? For fun?’

  Cade stared at her. ‘That’s messed up.’

  ‘Do you have a different theory?’

  ‘I’d like to believe people are better than that.’

  Amber laughed. ‘Quintus’s people weren’t better than that – they had gladiators. Why wouldn’t the people of our future?’

  ‘Because I believe in progress,’ Cade said, though his words lacked conviction. ‘We get better. Not worse.’

  ‘Tell that to the people who died in the Second World War,’ Amber said. ‘Or the First, for that matter.’

  Cade had no reply. She was right. Of course she was right. But he didn’t want to believe it.

  He could only nod in agreement. There wasn’t much else to say.

  ‘Turn around,’ Amber said suddenly.

  Cade did so, and he heard the splash of Amber clambering out onto the bank.

  ‘None of this matters if we don’t win tomorrow,’ Amber called. ‘Let’s just hope swords and stones are enough.’

  After counting to ten, Cade turned slowly, only to see her striding off wrapped in her curtain-towel.

  She was right. The mystery of why they were here could wait. There was a battle to be won.

  FORTY-FIVE

  Left alone in the plunge pool, Cade paddled closer to the waterfall. Soon he was lost in the cool mist. It was peaceful there, the empty dark of the water beneath him and the white fog above.

  Something tugged on his leg. Before he could react, Cade was pulled under, a silent scream of bubbles pouring from his mouth. He kicked out, panicking, and the grip released him. Cade clawed his way upwards, choking on the dark liquid. Frantic, he burst from the water … only to find Quintus laughing hysterically beside him.

  ‘You little shit!’ Cade yelled.

  Quintus laughed on, and as Cade’s heartbeat slowed to normal, he offered a reluctant grin. Once he’d calmed down, the legionary beckoned Cade to follow him.

  Together, they splashed to the other side of the plunge pool, where Quintus stopped to crouch on the round rocks at the bottom of the shallows.

  ‘Wish I could speak to you,’ Cade said, finding his own rock to squat on. ‘I bet there’s a whole lot you could tell us about how this all works.’

  Quintus’s eyes were closed; his toes wiggled beneath the water. Cade didn’t mind not being heard. It felt good to unload his worries.

  ‘These overlords. And the Strategos, whoever he is. They’ve given us the resources we need. Scattered the jungle with weapons and tools. It doesn’t make sense. It’s like they want us to win and lose at the same time.’

  He scratched an insect bite behind his ear and thought out the problem.

  ‘We need more. Guns. Armour. Codex, show me the map again.’

  00:21:22:34

  00:21:22:33

  00:21:22:32

  The drone hovered closer and projected the bird’s eye view of the area, glowing in the gloom, and Cade zoomed in to the Keep with a pinch of his fingers. To his dismay, he could only find a dozen or so dots in and around the Keep, one that represented the projector, the rest being the swords he had scanned.

  All the others were much further away, and as he explored them, few suggested that significantly better weapons could be found there.

  He stared at the moonlit treeline, contemplating whether they could justify heading out on foot to explore the closest of the blue dots. A cluster of them, that they might make it there and back from, before the timer ended, if they set out in the morning.

  The Codex told him they were Roman ships dating back to 36 BC, lost by Emperor Octavian in a storm. But he was sure the Romans would have stripped them of anything useful by now. All they might get were scraps, things the Romans had overlooked. It wasn’t worth the risk.

  No, they would have to make use of what they had here. Not that there was much. They only had two things from anything close to the modern day, the projector and the Witchcraft, but now the latter was gone and the former would only be useful in battle if they planned on dropping it on the vipers’ heads.

  An idea came unbidden to Cade’s mind. The diesel fuel in the Witchcraft could have been used to make Molotov cocktails. Fuel poured into the amphorae with flaming cloths attached, thrown on to the creatures as they massed at the base of the wall below.

  Hell, they could have just poured the fuel straight on to the vipers from the barrels themselves and dropped a burning torch to light it. It might have been a game changer.

  He cursed Finch under his breath, but it was no use crying over spilt milk. The Witchcraft was gone.

  There was something else that Cade could use, though. Hindsight. His modern mind, and a machine with access to all Earthbound knowledge hovering in front of him. He considered that for a moment, and found himself drawing a blank. It wasn’t like he could make a gun or a computer out here.

  The bow had revolutionised warfare for thousands of years, evolving from the short bow to the recurve bow to the longbow. But he wouldn’t even know where to start. Finding and shaping the right wood, manufacturing the strings, making the arrows. A daunting task for one with the luxury of time. An impossible one without it.

  Perhaps if he put aside Iron Age weaponry and looked forward to the industrial age … to gunpowder. But again, they didn’t have enough time to make it, or the right ingredients.

  Cade heard a scratching sound, and was bemused to find Quintus had pried something from beneath the water with his gladius. A flat rock. Quintus continued prodding at it. Befuddled, Cade ignored him and turned back to his musing.

  What was Quintus’s equivalent? The Romans had used something called Greek fire, a form of napalm that would burn even on the surface of the oceans in naval warfare. But that recipe had been lost, and even if the Codex knew it, it likely contained ingredients they didn’t have access to. It was theorised that the substance was made from quicklime, sulphur and bat guano to name but a few potential ingredients. The mystery had fascinated his father for years.

  No, Cade was left with things that even a caveman would be better at making: spears. No better than their swords. And he knew from disastrous attempts during his childhood camping trips that a sharpened stick was not the same as a javelin.

  Bereft of tools and infrastructure, their modern know-how was reduced to that of a small child’s. It was useless.

  Oblivious to Cade’s gloomy thoughts, Quintus let out a yelp of triumph.

  Curious, Cade looked closer. The rock had been pried in two. Only it wasn’t a rock at all, but a mollusc of some kind. It looked much like an oyster, only far larger.

  So this is where all those shells from the trash pile came from.

  Quintus sawed his gladius into the fleshy grey oval that was the creature living within, then slurped half into his mouth. He caught Cade’s eye and proffered him the remaining morsel. Cade contemplated it, his mind and belly at odds with each other. It looked like a dinosaur had blown its nose on to a pickled lung.

  And t
hen he saw it. The solution to all their problems. Sitting there, in the palm of the legionary’s hand.

  ‘Quintus, you’re a genius,’ Cade said.

  He snatched the remains of the mollusk and swallowed it down triumphantly. It tasted as bad as it looked, but Cade knew he needed his strength.

  There was work to do.

  FORTY-SIX

  00:01:57:09

  00:01:57:08

  00:01:57:07

  ‘You’ve cracked, haven’t you,’ Scott said, shaking his head.

  Cade grinned and ignored him. He pushed more wood into the makeshift kiln he had made, a large, simple tube made of clay and straw, with an air hole in its base. Inside, the coals glowed almost white, and flames roared as they flared from the tube’s top. The heat was immense, but still Cade lowered his face and blew into the fiery maelstrom.

  ‘The others are wondering what you’re up to,’ Scott said, scratching the stubble sprouting on his chin.

  ‘I’ll explain later,’ Cade said. ‘Just keep looking for rocks.’

  Scott sighed and strode off, muttering under his breath. Cade busied himself with thrusting more wood into the kiln, glad that he had built it in the shadow of the Keep. The shade provided some small comfort in the oppressive heat of the day.

  He had barely slept, spending much of the night taking clay from the banks of the plunge pool and carrying it by hand to the relative shelter of the Keep and its walls, where the breeze would not disturb his efforts and the materials he needed were close at hand. A single gust of wind at the wrong moment could ruin everything he had planned.

  The wood added, Cade looked over his shoulder to survey the work that had been done that morning. At the top of the wall, dozens of rocks ranging from the size of a bowling ball to a space hopper had been piled upon the battlements.

  The problem had turned out not to be carrying the rocks up, but finding any. They had salvaged some of the rubble that had fallen from the structure, but the mountainside lacked boulders of a suitable size. Most of those in the plunge pool were too large, and even a smaller one they’d found had required almost all of them, a lot of cursing and several bruised fingers to hoist it to the top of the walls.