by Julian North
Her cold will appeared at the fringe of my consciousness, a pair of eyes in the distance. In her mind, she saw what I had done. She recognized the opening that led to my innermost mind. It shocked her. Once inside, she could impose her whims upon me.
The temptation was too great. Her calculations were simple: the reward near incalculable, and she knew of no risk. At worst, the hole would close and she would kill me with the knife. Kristolan’s probing eyes soon became the whole of her will.
A magnificent beast of legend appeared within my consciousness and flew hard at the passage into my mind—a dragon born of dreams. The creature had eyes the same color as Kristolan’s set within its massive, tapered head. Its wings were like emerald glass, its scales gleaming like amethysts set out in the sun. The beast soared with the agility of a hawk and the grace of a swan. But for all its beauty, there was no mistaking its hunger. It was a creature with greed in its heart. It was Kristolan’s will sent to claim me, but it carried the essence of her mind within its phantom form.
The way to my mind remained opened. The dragon’s eyes darted about, searching for danger, for deception. It came to the precipice. Somewhere, Kris hesitated. Then the beast flapped its great wings, thrusting itself within the barrier, seeking to evade whatever trap I might spring at the last moment. It passed completely through the immense sphere that had defended me, a roar of delight escaping its lips. Victory. Until the dragon slammed into the unyielding power of Alexander’s mind, waiting unseen within my own.
His will lashed out at Kristolan. She recoiled with agonizing fury. I sensed her confusion, which quickly turned to fear. She had never dared face a highborn mind. She did not understand the implications of attempting to impose her dominance on a highborn triller. The will she had sent was linked with her own mind, her essence. A highborn triller did not merely defend a mind; a triller could attack through the link. Kris had ventured out of the castle that was her own self, and placed herself in a battle against two trillers. I shut the icy sphere surrounding my being, sealing her in. There would be no escape. I closed in on Kristolan like an unstoppable glacier. She struck at Alexander, then me, with the desperate madness of a cornered beast. Waves of anger pushed against me. My mind held. But Alexander buckled. He stopped attacking her. He doesn’t want to hurt her, I realized.
Kris and her dragon knew no mercy. Free from her brother’s attack, she came at me. A blade sank into my mind. Somewhere, I screamed. White-hot pain cut through me. She was so much stronger than me; I was a mere leaf in the wind. She pounded my will. Without Alexander’s help, she would destroy my mind. Pressure built around me. My cold sphere trembled. It walls drew inward. I was afraid. I glimpsed a void worse than death. Never trust a highborn.
A storm of cold swept over me, its power enveloping me. At once, I grew stronger. A familiar presence returned. Alexander’s strength blended with my own. Kris’s onslaught faltered. I hammered my will against hers. Alexander did the same. There was no hesitation this time. We attacked, our wills and minds linked. The strength, the madness, the desire that made up Kristolan fell before us. Together, we ground her mind to dust.
The hand at my throat went limp. I snatched the knife from Kris and slashed at her minion beside me. The blade sank into his throat. A geyser of blood erupted upwards. Alexander exploded through the darkness, his shoulder striking the dying man, sending him toppling down the stairwell with an ugly thud.
Kortilla remained nearby, in the darkness. I prepared to meet her assault with a trill. But somehow she came at me with tears rather than hate. Alexander tried to jump between us, not trusting what he saw, but I held him aside with an outstretched arm. I knew Kortilla’s soul as well as my own. She had vanquished whatever ills Kris had put into her head. I grabbed my friend in my arms, my sister. I didn’t want to let go.
CHAPTER
FORTY-FOUR
We set down on the landing pad of Alexander’s Manhattan home just as dawn broke above the eastern horizon. Mateo and his Corazones exited first, each dirty, exhausted, and elated. The bonuses Alexander had promised them were enough that they might count themselves rich—by Bronx City standards. For the next few months, at least.
Mateo stayed behind on the roof to wait for me. He looked at me with a face far less innocent than I had seen before. He was even more haggard than his men, and I feared it wasn’t just from the long days and nights he had endured. My throat went stiff at the sight. A reminder of my failure.
I didn’t say what I felt. I held him, for just a brief moment, then let him go.
“Go see Aba,” I told him.
“I’ll put in a good word for you,” Mateo said.
“It won’t do any good, but thanks.”
He left to join the others. Those he considered his blood.
Kortilla and Nythan exited next. I had put in the best word I could for Nythan with Kortilla. He had come through for me in the end, and Kortilla could do worse than to spend some time with our resident genius. I certainly needed Nythan if I was to going to find a cure.
My vouching might have done a bit of good. He’d kept Kortilla’s attention for a few hours, which was no easy thing to manage. I pulled her beside me. Nythan stopped as well, not quite willing to relinquish her company.
“Sorry for dragging you into this,” I told her.
“We’ve been in this together since we were five, hermana. Blood takes care of blood.”
Alexander exited just as the engines finished powering down. The rooftop became quiet without their constant hum.
“What will happen to Kris?” I asked him.
“The latest update is that she is still unresponsive to stimuli. Her organs are functioning, but brain activity is minimal. Our doctors have moved her to a private facility. They’ll keep a close eye on her and report any change to me.”
“Can you cure this thing?” I asked and pleaded. “Once Nythan gets you the controlColonies and the data, can we actually save Mateo?”
“There are treatments,” Alexander assured me. “You told me Dr. Willis mentioned some of that to you. I have access to some very fine medical personnel. Get him there. It gives him time, at least. That’s all I can promise for now.”
“That’s good for one person. What about the rest of Bronx City? And all the other places the Waste may be lurking.”
“I’ll make arrangements to set Nythan up at a new facility in Bronx City. I’ll get him as many resources as I can. Perhaps we can track down Dr. Willis, or her research, at least.”
“I know everything she knows and more,” Nythan boasted, his chest puffed. I knew without looking that Kortilla was rolling her eyes. “We’ve got the data and rods.”
I shook my head. “Nythan, you may be almost as brilliant as you think you are. But you are but one sixteen-year-old mind. We need Rose-Hart scientists, the company’s money, its labs.”
Alexander hesitated. “I’ll try.”
“But Kris is…you’re Landrew’s heir now, right?”
“As I mentioned before, it’s more complicated than that. Arik is actually the oldest. That’s why Kris needed the controlColonies. For leverage.”
“But you have some unique advantages, don’t you, big guy?” Nythan pointed out. “Like being able to trill for instance.”
Alexander looked at Nythan as if the smaller boy had struck him. “I’m not my sister, nor my father. I will not manipulate minds for such a purpose.”
“That’s why the bad guys usually win,” Nythan replied.
My life had often shown me that Nythan was right. I remembered Kristolan’s words about Alexander: A fighter, a creature of honor, a fool. She’d named me as being the same. She was wrong. I hadn’t forgotten where I came from: the bottom of the iceberg. I would not abandon my people. Alexander’s wealth allowed him to afford such a thing as honor. I would fight, however I must.
A fresh blaze of light from the east caught hold of us, the rays shining through a corridor of soaring towers lined up like soldiers at atte
ntion. It was a fiery passage that could lead anywhere. I looked around at the people who stood beside me now. Trust was a rare thing. Loyalty even rarer. I wrapped one arm around Kortilla, and the other around Alexander. Nythan dared to nudge in next to Kortilla.
“As a wise captain once said: ‘We have done the impossible, and that makes us mighty,’” Nythan proclaimed.
I smiled at him, and the rest of my friends around me. We still had battles to fight. But in that moment, this world seemed just fine.
THE END
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AFTERWORD
Thank you for going on this journey with me. And it has been a journey. Age of Order was inspired by my experiences dealing with school admissions for my young sons in my adopted home of New York City—truly a dystopian experience. While this book takes place in a distant future, elements of the society reflected within these pages are all too real. The story grew from this seed, then took on a life of its own. Writing in the dim hours after my kids went to sleep, the story came together remarkably quickly, as if aching to be told. I hope you found something that you enjoyed within these pages.
I must also offer a reminder and some apologies. First, let me remind everyone that this is a story. Those of you familiar with New York City may recognize certain locations, words and sentiments. Please remember that all of this is fiction. Next, to those of you who participate in track and field: I am sorry. I used plenty of artistic license. It was all for the story. Finally, readers familiar with naming customs in many Spanish-speaking countries will have recognized that I made some compromises for the story in this area as well. Daniela Machado should really be Daniela Machado Avila. Kortilla’s proper name should be Kortilla Gonzales Menendez. During editing and beta reading it became clear that some English-speaking readers unaccustomed to the different naming conventions kept thinking they were spotting errors in the text. The hyphenated highborn names were causing additional confusion. My solution was to strip Daniela and Kortilla of their maternal names. The compromise still itches.
Writing Age of Order has been a privilege. That you have taken the time to read it is an honor. I offer my thanks and a deep highborn-style bow.
Blood takes care of blood.
