Ignite

by Andre Pisco

  Lightning struck the clouds above them hitting the greenish dome in the center and making it nothing more than an ancient memory. The slight smile on the group's faces was replaced with horror, eyes open, hands shaking, slow breathing and a distorted view. They could hear the chains being dragged across the floor and they only saw the soldiers with them in their hands. The rest was gone. Max tried to pull away and eventually tripped on a rock, falling flat on the floor.

  "N-no," Lucy said, looking up, seeing her barrier disappear, transformed into dust, "This won’t end like this," she said, falling into despair.

  "LUCY NO!" Neil screamed, trying to stop her.

  He reached for her arm too late. Dozens of small green threads flowed from the palm of her hand towards the leader. He stood still, tugging at his oversized mustache, almost as if accepting her attack as a challenge. Her energy was about to reach him when a yellow light dazzled them for a few seconds. As soon as they opened their eyes again, her attack had dissipated, completely obliterated in the air.

  "What happened? How? "She asked, breathing faster, her sweat dripping to her tongue.

  The man laughed, taking pleasure in the discouragement of the group, but didn't explain to them what had happened. The soldiers were within yards of them, there was no salvation. They were delivered to the mortal fate and, only with great luck, they would survive.

  "Let's not give up so easily," James shouted, clenching his fists.

  "Kantos," the man said.

  One of the soldiers, an energy user of air, stepped out of the line and walked over to him. He didn’t remove the armor, nor questioned the leader. He just raised his hand, swiveled his index finger three times, then closed it. Gravity disappeared where the young men and woman were. A tremendous pressure pushed them down without them even being able to open their mouths. They knelt, and finally, their bodies clung to the ground. It was as if a herd of horses was stepping on them constantly and there was no escape. They could feel the footsteps every second, but it was no more than the earth pulling them down, taking away their remaining energy. Their HP remained the same, but their consciousness slowly disappeared. They would close their eyes, open them again, and close again. Waves of air hit their vital points until they felt nothing but the breeze escaping through their clothes. Small tears in their clothes and fragile skin appeared. Alec’s ears began to bleed, as did his nose. Fresh blood-spattered their faces.

  "You can stop," the leader said, looking serious. He didn’t seem to feel happy about having to make a decision with deadly consequences.

  Kantos opened his hand and lowered his arm. Gravity had been restored, however, none of them could move. Lucy had fainted and the rest were still recovering. They felt like their legs had come undone and their arms were trampled. They would open their mouths but nothing came out except a sound like a whistle interrupted in the middle. The guards ran to them and put the cuffs on their feet and arms, chaining them to each other. As if that weren’t enough, they also put brown gloves, that drained all the energy they had left, on them. They also removed small bottles of energy, which were attached to the belt, and gave two sips to each; enough to get up, but not to start a revolt. They helped the group to stand before they moved away. They marched, behind each other, in a calculated and choreographed way, their feet reaching the floor at the same time. Lucy was still on the ground. Her long pink hair was now stained with dirt, and her legs were covered in small cuts open, bleeding into her shoes.

  "If she doesn’t get up, leave her there." The man said and turned his back.

  "No! I will take her! Just help me put her on my back." Neil pleaded, using what was left of his weakened voice.

  The two soldiers, who were returning to the line, looked at the chief. He approved and turned his face away. They took Lucy's body easily and threw it at Neil's back. He bent down so she wouldn’t fall. Because of the handcuffs, he couldn’t bring his two arms together or carry her around. He couldn’t hold her back either. He had to maintain that position all the way, even though his whole body trembled with every step he took, even when his weary knees felt the pressure and begged for a moment's rest.

  Another soldier had the end of the chain in his hand and didn’t hesitate to pull it when he thought the group was delaying its leader to return to the city. The old metal scrubbed on the skin, flaying it to an open wound, subject to infection. The gale shivered over their whole body, now covered with misery inflicted by others and by time. The night was on the way, and it was already possible to see the darkness lying on the horizon. The aggressive gusts of wind, the small sand rocks that were transported all over the desert, and even some that pounded mercilessly on the faces of young people, as well as nocturnal animals coming out of their hiding places, always looking for a new source of food. The night was an invitation to danger, to the mysteries that live outside closed doors.

  "How do we get out of here?" James asked, as quietly as he could.

  "I don’t know, but I'm sure they aren’t taking us to Relics,” Alec replied, trying to raise his arm, enough to scratch himself above the eyebrow. It was a futile attempt, frustrating him enough to inadvertently bite his tongue.

  "We have not used our asset yet. We have to wait until they leave us alone." Lucian added.

  "Can you summon your spirit animal even without power?" James asked, surprised by the information. There was a hint of envy in the way he asked the question, giving it some dubious intonation.

  "Yes, but I cannot protect it," Lucian replied.

  "Be still." The man who held the chain commanded. He pulled it hard, tearing the skin off Neil’s legs, who fell on his knees, still with Lucy on his back.

  Max let out a groan of pain as well, the metal shaving part of his hand, leaving a long red mark that contrasted with his skin tone. The pain gave them no rest. They had been walking for almost an hour when they saw flashing orange lights in the distance.

  "We're almost there." The man, who could be considered a hangman, warned them.

  The moon woke up and rose on the main stage. White light shone and supervised the night. The color was similar to Lucian's eyes now glowing brightly. An entity seemed to have seized his body, walking now with his eyes only on the moon.

  "Lucian, are you okay?" Alec asked, trying to get closer to hustle him.

  There was no answer. His lips moved, but nothing came out. He was in another world, a trance in which the moon had a hand. The lights of the city were getting closer and they could already see some shadows near a wall. It rose up to coincide with the highest point of the city and circled the whole of it. They lived there, in the middle of nowhere, protected and with a civilizing system that worked. The leader, whose fur boots left behind a large print on the ground he stepped on, spoke for the first time in hours.

  "Guys, we're almost there. Today we celebrate our capture!" He said, leading his men to madness.

  Festive songs echoed through the night. They jumped merrily, and the ground trembled as they trod on it with their metal boots. Their armor rattled against each other, and the people at the foot of the wall, with torches in their hands, joined with them, singing also the sounds with references to war and victories.

  "They're crazy. Crazy is what they are. They're going to kill us, aren’t they?" Max asked, panting. His heart beat faster and faster, to the point of preventing him from thinking rationally.

  "I doubt it. If they wanted that, they would have already done it. There's something they want from us," Alec replied.

  Neil was still carrying Lucy as she slept, breathing softly behind his ear. Due to the increasingly sharp arrows of wind, Neil had sweat trickling down his throat and hair covering his eyes. Lucy was slipping down his back, and not even him leaning, putting his back at risk, avoided such fate. They hadn’t drink or eaten for hours. Their bellies were growling and there was no longer saliva that gave moisture to their mouths. The faces marked by the consequences of the attack on the academy were proof of the lack of mercy that had
been inflicted upon them. They were no longer teenagers. They were out of the adolescence as soon as they stepped on the ground under the cave and now proved a life in which death didn’t hide.

  Chapter XI

  The soldiers were received by the entourage that awaited them at the wall's door. About ten men, all of them armed to the teeth, and another man and two women, the healers. They had white towels folded over their shoulders. There were also two litters on the floor. The wall was made of a kind of metal Alec had seen only once. He recognized it quickly by the way several beams of light came out of small stones embedded in the rocks. They brightened the space around them, but above all, it was an extremely rare, expensive, and resistant material. Wherever they were that had to be one of the main reasons so many people decided to live there. The soldiers removed their armor revealing different facial features, including two young girls, possibly sisters, who had hair in a ponytail and who were feared, as it was possible to observe by the respectful way men avoided looking them in the eyes.

  As the group reached the soldiers, Neil fell to the floor on his knees. His breathing was ragged and was preventing him from calming down. He put his hands on the ground, while the lack of moisture in his mouth and quick inhales closed the larynx faster than it was supposed.

  "HELP HIM," Alec yelled at the healers.

  They didn’t move. They looked at the leader, waiting for his authorization and only after he waved did they run to Neil. The two women placed Lucy on one of the stretchers, and the man used his energy to soothe Neil's breathing. Lucian was still out of the real world, but they had agreed not to talk about it. They couldn’t risk the last chance they had of leaving that place. They were led by 3 soldiers to the metal door that gave access to the city. It required a unique key, which apparently only a few had access to since they had yet to wait for another, older looking man to open it.

  The town was very different from what they expected. Max uttered a long "Ahhhhh" when he saw the technology running through the city. Drones were patrolling, with small cannons on their wings, yellow lights floating through the long corridors that were the main streets of the city and the adjacent ones, and small cars without tires that moved a few meters above the ground. There were people behind the half-open doors, peering through the opening, while others went out into the street and joined the chants. Some children hid behind their parents, humming the part of the songs they knew by heart. Others, barefoot, ran through the streets, dirtying their feet and having fun jumping into small dust bursts where they lay in the center and were left there until the whirlwind dissipated.

  "Technological cities are like that?" Alec asked.

  "Similar, but this is something totally different. I've never seen cars come so high, or lights without brackets. I think I know where we are ... Shit.” Max said, clearly panicked.

  "Where?" James answered with a question. His eyes were blinking constantly, trying not to complain of the pains that scratched the skin of his feet. Whenever the metal touched the wound it was as if someone was pouring a bottle of alcohol into it.

  "We're in Teclicity," Max said, still looking around. His eyes shining with fascination.

  "Tecl what?" James asked, gritting his teeth every time he opened his mouth. His vision diminished with every step he took, becoming almost like a tunnel with only one exit.

  "Teclicity!" Max said, raising his voice, "Do you remember when your father told us about a city in the middle of nowhere, that nobody knew where the exact location, but that was the source of many of the new technologies?"

  "Hm ... Vaguely. That was always the kind of thing a nerd like you liked to pay attention to.”

  Max's semi-closed gaze could cut James' arrogance in two. He looked at him as if to say that it wasn’t the time for childishness, but he didn’t have time to do so. The man holding the chains had placed himself next to him, putting a strong hand on his shoulder, telling him in his ear to not move. His voice, soft but carrying a bale, shivered Max, who remained silent, his life passing before his eyes as he looked desperate and opened his mouth for help. The sound clung to his vocal cords, too frightened to leave. He glanced at the man who had their fate in their hands. He had removed the armor and had a white face, with furry eyebrows that covered the tip of the tattoo. His almost non-existent lips didn’t line up with his big black, empty eyes, looking at Max, reading him and consuming his hope. He was not as strong as the leader, but he wasn’t far behind.

  "Then you know who we are." The man said, squeezing his shoulder until Max knelt down in front of him, "We'll have to sort this out." He added in his ear, his laughter as calm as scary echoing through the crowded streets and head of the boy.

  He called another soldier to accompany them and ordered him to call the leader. His voice thickened as he gave orders, his Adam's apple moving up and down.

  "You can handle it," James murmured, showing concern for his cousin for the first time. His eyebrows arched and his lips were drawn in.

  Everyone stopped. The short but impressive steps each time the boots touched the floor imposed respect on all citizens. The leader had the city at his mercy and he had a taste for it. He clapped his hands and asked them to continue, stating with certainty that they didn’t have to worry, that the young men were just outsiders and that they would be leaving once they had confirmed their good intentions. No one was brave enough to ask what would happen if the opposite was found, or perhaps they did, but they avoided talking about it in front of the children.

  "I see we have someone smart over here," he said, looking down at Max, who seemed even smaller at his feet. His foggy glasses blurred his vision, but he still saw his way covered by a giant.

  "I... No... It was a story..." Max tried to say, but the words were as shaken as the shivers that made his hair tremble.

  "You come with me," he said, in his powerful, sharp voice, "Kantos, bring him."

  Kantos, who was celebrating with the rest of the soldiers, hurried out of the mess. He removed the handcuffs around Max's skinned hands and feet and waited for the next orders.

  "Take him to Room 3. I'll be there. If he tries to escape, which I doubt, he is a mere healer; you have permission to stop him. Any means necessary." The leader said, emphasizing the importance of the last sentence, "As for the rest, hm, room 1 will be good for them. Tell the doctor that he has new guinea pigs," he said to the man still holding the chains. His fingers were already swollen from holding the iron.

  "What about the girl who was taken to the infirmary?" He asked in a monotone.

  "As soon as she wakes up, take her back to Room 1. Maybe we'll get a good buyer for her. Tell the doctor not to disfigure her as I speak to our contacts. And bring me their backpack. I want to know where 6 young people went to get that much money." He said, rubbing his beer belly, whose grumbling was almost like the roar of a wild animal.

  He spoke with a normality that both impressed and frightened the young. They heard words like "guinea pigs" and "disfigure" and their thoughts were drawn to the dark side of their mind. The pain burned their skin, burning from the outside in, pulling the idea of freedom into the background.

  The executioner pulled the chains, forcing them to follow him to a house at the end of the main street. Unlike the other buildings it didn’t have a modern look; on the contrary, it seemed to be dozens of years old. The white walls were stained and corroded by black and the ceiling looked ready to fall if a rainstorm struck it. Max also followed them, but a few yards behind, Kantos at his heels with a finger pointed at Max's neck, serving as a weapon ready to fire.

  The chants calmed down and now people exchanged stories of what had happened. Some claimed that the group had fought, others stayed behind, mysterious and with fans looking at them. Tales made legends by men who from the queues didn’t leave. The soldier opened the door, and the group followed him, with no other choice. The house was just a huge room with an old, chipped, black-bearded gentleman who had no status in a corner sitting on a wooden cha
ir. He was so focused on some blades in front of him that he didn’t even notice anyone entering. He wrote quietly, using a thin felt-tip pen, and sometimes paused, conjuring up with it in the air. Lucian woke up as soon as the ceiling intruded between him and the moon.

  The soldier wiped his mouth, gargling, to catch the man's attention.

  "Um, how many?" He asked. He had a soothing voice, even able to calm a turbulent tide.

  "Four for room 1, and ah... one for room 3. Right now, but there should be... one more for room 1 in a few minutes" He replied with some hesitation. His voice trembled and he shuffled his feet, struggling not to bother the man more than necessary.

  "Go ahead," the old man replied, handing him a key.

  The soldier took the key from the man’s hand and thanked him. The delivery happened in mere seconds, without an exchange of looks and with as few words as possible. The old man sat down and sank back into the swirl of papers. On the other hand, the soldier moved a brown and red carpet that was in the middle of the room, revealing a space that gave access to the basement of the place. He opened it, took a deep breath and straightened his clothes, before picking up the chains again. An improvised wooden staircase, with sharp barbs and fragile wood, led to a long, pitch black corridor.

  They descended, carefully, without being able to see what lay ahead of them. Drips fell from the rocky ceiling, supported by iron plates, in the face of the young people and on the floor. They echoed all the way, almost like a soundtrack appropriate for an honorable end. Max risked touching everything that was at his reach, trying to stretch his arms, the result of his recent freedom. Space was small enough for both hands to touch the mossy, damp walls without needing to have the arms stretched to the maximum.