by Marlow York
A murmur rippled over the crowd. No one knew the Fiero and the Grakkir had attempted an attack. However, given how strange both clans were and how both refused to assimilate into modern, high-class society, most of the City Dwellers were not entirely surprised by this news.
“Our society is a glorious, but fragile system,” the man continued. “As you all know, it is of the utmost importance that each clan, and each member of said clans, do their part to maintain harmony with each other. If one pillar should fall, we all go down together. It is unfortunate the Fiero and the Grakkir did not understand this concept. Without the generosity of the City, the clans would fall. And so, it has come to pass.
“Do not fear!” The man’s voice boomed with assurance. He slowly lifted his arms as if to embrace an old friend. “As long as the City shall remain in power, the world will be at peace. For the glory of the City!”
“For the glory of the City!” the crowd echoed.
On command, small aircrafts hardly bigger than dinner plates flew out of the Citadel and soared over the crowd. A light pink mist sprayed from their undersides, shimmering as it drifted onto the cheering citizens. They gleefully accepted the sweet-scented mist and began to laugh and dance amongst themselves.
“For the glory of the City! For the glory of the City!” the crowd chanted.
The man beamed over the crowd before turning and walking back inside the Citadel, casually holding a delicate handkerchief over his nose and mouth until the heavy doors were shut behind him.
“Nicely said, Chancellor.”
A younger man was waiting inside the building. He slowly clapped his hands while a smug grin spread over his face. He was middle-aged, but his face looked like that of someone at least ten years younger. His dark eyes seemed to pierce through whatever they looked at. He dressed plainly in dark clothing, but his chest was decorated with various medals.
“It’s all in the winning smile.” The Chancellor demonstrated, his face brightening. “After all, I learned from the best.”
The younger man scoffed but suppressed a small grin. “It’s fine to make the citizens smile, but we don’t have that luxury,” he said. “Everyone else has gathered. Let’s go.”
The two men walked down a long passageway. Through the frosted windows, they could hear the distant chanting of the citizens celebrating below them. They entered a room that was guarded by two stone-faced men. A circular table filled most of the space. Large television monitors covered three of the tall walls, each shifting between surveillance footage and still shots. The Fiero and Grakkir villages—before and after the attacks—were prominently displayed on most of the monitors.
The dark-haired man took a seat at the head of the table; the Chancellor sat on his left.
“Let’s get started,” the dark-haired man said, his booming voice startling many of the other people at the table. “What information has been gathered from the disappointingly short interrogations?”
The largest man in the room, by both height and muscle mass, nervously cleared his throat. “General, sir, I have compiled the write-ups from my Interrogators, but the final summary is quite short, I’m afraid.”
“Go on, Executioner,” the General said impatiently.
“The Grakkir were not easy to break,” the Executioner began. “To be honest, none of them were fully broken before they died—”
“Then what do I pay you for?” the General interrupted.
Though the Executioner stood nearly a foot and a half taller than the General and had the physique of a seasoned Warrior, he faltered under the General’s harsh gaze. The others at the table shifted nervously.
“Right, sir.” The Executioner gulped. “We managed to confirm the suspect was indeed living within the Grakkir village.”
“Did any of them say that exactly?”
“No…none of them gave a direct answer. As I said, the Grakkir are not easily broken.”
“Do not tell me what I already know as though I am a fool!” the General boomed. “The Grakkir have one of the world’s most dangerous armies outside of the City, and their loyalty to each other is the only thing that surpasses their physical strength and knowledge of war tactics. If you wish to spend so much time making assumptions, wouldn’t you assume the highest-ranking military officer on this earth already knows everything about our enemies?”
The silence that fell over the room was as heavy as a boulder. No one dared move a muscle, lest they become the next target under the General’s piercing glare.
“General, if I may,” the Chancellor piped up nervously. “Perhaps we should have the Executioner read his notes without any digressions?” The Chancellor smiled at the Executioner encouragingly.
The General’s eyes cut from the Executioner to the Chancellor. He sighed slowly and leaned back in his chair, lacing his fingers. “Read it,” he demanded curtly.
The Executioner swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing like a frightened duck on water. He lifted the paper to his face and cleared his throat. “Suspect confirmed to have been in Grakkir village. Duration: estimated since after the attack on the Fiero village. Role in Grakkir clan: unknown. Name: unknown. Age: unknown. Friends or relatives: unknown.”
“Then what do you know?” the General snapped impatiently.
The Executioner’s voice trembled. “Gender: female.”
Another hush fell over the room. All eyes turned to the General, who perked slightly at the new information. “Confirmed?” he asked.
“Yes,” the Executioner said, confidence rising in his weak voice. “One of the prisoners accidently said ‘she’ during an interrogation, confirming both her gender and existence within the Grakkir village.”
The General’s back straightened. “That is something. Is that all the information you have?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Then sit down.”
The Executioner nearly collapsed into his chair with relief.
“Doctor.” The General turned to a woman sitting on his right. “Have you gotten autopsy results on the prisoners?”
“Yes,” the Doctor said, her voice as crisp as her white lab coat. Her dark hair was pulled into a tight bun that accentuated her dark, narrow eyes and high cheekbones. She didn’t need to glance at the notes in front of her. “Every prisoner died from snake venom.”
“Interesting,” The General said. “I never knew our prisons were infested with snakes. Best call an exterminator.”
Nervous chuckles circled the table.
The Doctor’s lips rose slightly at the corners. “What is most interesting, is that the venom was from several different species. If there were a colony living in the prisons, there would only be one type. Also, many of the snakes were not native to this region.”
“Could it be?” the General said, truly interested for the first time. He looked to a man with thick glasses. “What is there in our history about people with two Ancient Bloodlines?”
“T-two Ancient Bloodlines?” The Historian had never heard of such a thing, but he didn’t want to appear foolish. “No confirmed cases.” He nudged his glasses back up the bridge of his nose and shuffled through his notes. “But I may have read something—just one moment, please.”
“Never mind,” the General said dismissively. “I know we don’t have that information. It is unfortunate the development of a long-distance blood tester is going so slowly. Otherwise we wouldn’t have needed to wait until the on-foot inspection of the Fiero village after the bombings to take body counts and blood samples.” He looked at the Doctor again. “Come to think of it, how is that process coming along?”
The Doctor gave a tight smile. “I’m pleased to say the current Blood Test Module is reading 96.8% accurate results, including details of a subject’s heritage up to twelve generations back. However, it still cannot pick up accurate traces of multiple Ancient Bloodlines, given the fact that we have no confirmed human test subjects to practice on. It appears a long-distance Blood Test Module will have to wait until
we have the appropriate captive.”
The General heaved a disappointed sigh. His eyes flicked suddenly to a tall blond man towards the end of the table. “Commander, I have a question for you.”
The man perked up. “Yes, sir?”
“While your surveillance team was observing the attack on the Fiero village, did you happen to see the child running in the opposite direction of the other escapees?”
The Commander paused, his cheeks slowly turning pink. “Yes, however I marked it down as insignificant in the report because we wanted to focus our attention on the larger group, not a little girl. We assumed the Grakkir would kill her. In my professional opinion, I deemed that an acceptable risk to take.”
“Was it also your professional opinion to leave a Fiero unaccounted for when I specifically demanded all Fiero, living and dead, to be counted?”
The Commander held his tongue. “Sir, I…” He glanced at the other faces around the table, hoping someone would help him. He was met with silence. “Sir, I apologize. It was a mistake. It won’t happen again.”
“No, it certainly won’t.” The General snapped his fingers and two soldiers marched towards the Commander. They grabbed his arms and pulled him from his chair.
“General, sir, please!” the Commander cried.
The Commander’s pleas were ignored as he struggled against the soldiers pulling him away from the table. A third guard opened a door on the far corner of the room, and when it slammed shut, the Commander’s voice disappeared into deafening silence.
“Fortunately for the rest of the surveillance team, I like a challenge.” The General turned to the wall of monitors. Using a remote control, he flicked through images on the screen directly behind him.
“We must not make quick assumptions based on hunches, but we need to suspect every possibility. It was once ‘impossible’ for Ancient Powers to go dormant and resurface generations later, but now we know that to be true. Either our Fiero is being assisted by the Grakkir, meaning she was more than just a slave to them, or she somehow possesses the Grakkir bloodline and, subsequently, the power over an Animal God as well as power over the Ancient Fire. This is…” his voice faded as he found the image he was looking for and zoomed in. “…fascinating.”
The image had been taken at such a distance that it was impossible to discern the identity of the human form. However, no one was paying much attention to the human in the blurry picture. Instead, they looked at what could have been mistaken for a house’s support beam, or maybe even a tree, or a long shadow. Now that the General had planted an idea in their minds, they all realized the form was undeniably a massive snake.
Almost every person at the table rose to their feet, mouths gaping in awe and fear. Several faces paled at the sickening realization that such a creature could even exist, but two faces—the General’s and the Doctor’s—were nearly glowing with delight and fascination. They looked absolutely joyful.
“Haskil,” the General said, rotating his chair to address the only person still seated at the opposite end of the table. “Prepare a small fleet of long-range surveillance drones.” The General turned and smiled at the blurry image again. “We’re going hunting.”
Haskil’s clasped hands were pressed to his mouth in a pensive yet troubled gesture. Without a word, the man stood and strode out of the room.
