Dispocalypse

by M. A. Rothman

  Tristan lifted the medallion up by the gold chain, and as it turned, Willow noticed a shimmering image on the back just as he lay it in her hand.

  As Willow grasped the medallion by its edges, she flipped it over. There was an outline of a glowing white hand on the back. She showed it to Tristan and asked, “What’s this?”

  Tristan shrugged. “I’m not sure. I remember Mom telling me that the inscription was special and would keep me safe. Other than that, I’ve no idea what it says.”

  Confused, Willow glanced at Tristan, then back at the medallion. It was only when she looked closely that she even noticed the odd wispy inscription etched on the back. The glowing image of the splayed hand was the only thing she’d seen at first, and Willow silently wondered why Tristan hadn’t mentioned it. A prickly sensation ran up and down her spine.

  She carefully placed her fingertips on the outline of the glowing hand and suddenly the object clicked, making Willow bleat with fright and nearly dropping the medallion.

  Tristan’s mouth fell open in shock as he gasped, “It’s cracked!”

  “But ... but, I barely touched it.” Willow cupped the medallion in her trembling hand and noticed a black seam running along the edge that hadn’t been there before. As she stared, the crack slowly yawned open to reveal a hollow cavity.

  Tristan leaned forward and peered at the inside of his medallion. “I never knew it could open ... what’s that brown thing?”

  Turning the partially open medallion toward the window, Willow noticed a wrinkled brown object the size of a small pea, nestled comfortably in a bed of wool fibers. “It looks like a seed.”

  Cupping Willow’s left hand, the one that held the medallion, Tristan slowly pressed on the open lid of the medallion until it clicked shut.

  Willow noticed the nervous expression on Tristan’s face as she slid the medallion back into his hand. The glowing image of the hand on the back of his medallion was left unmentioned by her.

  Tristan gingerly raised the medallion to his lips, kissed it, and draped the chain around his neck, putting the medallion back beneath his tunic. He gazed at Willow with a spooked expression in his eyes. “Let’s keep that to ourselves.”

  “Of course.” Willow’s stomach tied itself in a knot and the unease that Tristan revealed suddenly spread to her.

  Tristan stood and helped Willow to her feet. “Let’s get home. It’s almost time to start packing for the Academy again.”

  Willow nodded and wondered why the discovery of the hidden compartment had spooked Tristan. As they walked back toward their waiting carriage at the base of the hill, Willow’s stomach churned. Clearly it was unhappy about something.

  Moments later as the carriage hurried through the streets of the capitol, Willow felt a flush of heat in her face and all of a sudden her skin felt clammy. Feeling the burning heat in her nostrils as she breathed, she knew it wasn’t something as simple as an upset stomach.

  I have a fever.

  Willow skipped dinner and went to bed early. It was still light out when Lilly left the room, leaving behind a pitcher filled with iced water and a glass at Willow’s bedside table.

  Willow’s eyes burned with that sticky heat that she only felt when she had a fever. An involuntary shiver raced through her as she wrapped thick blankets around her and prayed that the fever didn’t last long.

  She laid her head on the firm, feather pillow and closed her eyes as her teeth threatened to chatter out of her skull. Willow snuggled deeper into the warmth of the blankets and ever so slowly, felt the stiffness of her muscles relax as the chill began to diminish. Hearing the sound of her own heartbeat in her head, the slow steady rhythm helped Willow relax, and soon the darkness of sleep finally claimed her.

  Her mind’s eye awoke and Willow panicked as she looked down at herself, wrapped up in the extra blankets Lilly had provided. Not now. Certainly not here!

  Dream walking was one thing in the safety of her own home, but doing it at the Governor’s mansion ... Willow was petrified of what she might see.

  Suddenly, she sensed somewhere outside of her room, the whispered voices of Tristan and someone else. Willow’s curiosity overcame her trepidation and she willed herself in the direction of the voices.

  It was as if she were a ghost. Walking the passages of the giant house without concern for walls, doors, or people. Nobody could see her, and nobody could stop her from observing things–even if they intended to keep them secret.

  With arms draped over each other’s shoulders, Tristan sat next to a boy who looked as if he were fifteen. Unlike the plain gray tunic and pants Tristan was wearing, the boy wore a red-silk robe with gold-threaded embroidery. They looked a lot alike and almost immediately, Willow knew it had to be Tristan’s younger brother.

  “Rolf, I’ve missed your ugly face.”

  Rolf snickered and shot an elbow into Tristan’s ribs. “I just can’t believe you brought a girl home with you. Please tell me it isn’t one of those farmer girls. Those scrawny things are so ... so ... well, you know Dad’s going to have a fit.”

  Tristan chuckled. “No, she’s a merchant girl. Quite nice actually, her name is Willow.”

  “Ugh, I suppose that’s tolerably better than the stick-like farmer girls, but a merchant girl is just going to try and make you fatter than you are already.”

  Tristan yanked Rolf’s head down and rapped his knuckles playfully on the top of his head. “I’m not fat, and neither is she. You’ll see. And besides, I hate the prissy peacocks that Dad thinks are right for me. The only reason they even look at me is because Dad is the governor. If it weren’t for him, they’d look at my mom being a merchant, turn their noses up and walk away.”

  “Well, you know I don’t really care that much one way or another. Neither of us are in line to be governor anyway. It’s Dad who’ll be giving you the stink-eye, followed immediately by Karl.”

  The rage burning inside of Willow flickered upon hearing mention of the Governor. Thoughts of overthrowing the government flushed through her mind. Step one was to become a soldier, then she could recruit others to her cause and lay out plans for the revolt she knew needed to happen. But it was too early for her to do anything about him. Not yet. She needed to exercise a little patience, and things would work out.

  Tristan frowned. “So where is he? I presume Karl is with him?”

  “Dad’s carriage should be arriving any moment. Him and Karl were meeting with the Steel Fist for a security debriefing before they came home.”

  Tristan gave his younger brother a one-armed hug and stood. “Well, I suppose I should probably get dressed in ‘proper attire’ or he’ll be really annoyed.”

  Rolf chuckled and shook his head. “He’ll be annoyed anyway, don’t you worry.”

  Willow scanned the streets of the precinct, her mind traveling much faster than any horse could possibly go. After searching through the thoroughfare and not seeing any carriages, she sensed more than heard a prickly voice that set her nerves on edge. It reminded her somewhat of the Headmaster’s voice, but infinitely more sandpapery and somehow if felt oily ... seductive ... attention-grabbing.

  Willow spotted a carriage moving along a side street, having just left a well-protected compound. It was being escorted by at least two-dozen soldiers in the front as well as the back.

  Moving her mind arrow-like toward the carriage, Willow quickly found herself inches away from the man who was responsible for so much misery in the world. The man who held humanity in his iron grip.

  He was older, easily in his fifties–possibly his sixties. The wrinkles around his eyes gave them a dark hollow look, almost as if he were staring out of pits from an empty skull. Willow couldn’t even tell what color his eyes were, nor could she see any white whatsoever. Probably a trick of the shadows in the carriage.

  Sitting next to him was an older, more robust version of Tristan. It was Karl, Tristan’s eldest brother and the same person Willow saw cavorting with a demoness the last time she dream
walked. He had a darkness about him, just like his father. Something Willow hadn’t sensed in either of the younger brothers.

  Karl leaned over to his father and smirked, “Did you hear what the Fist said? Tristan actually brought some of the trash home with him this time.” He shook his head slowly. “Sure, maybe one of the fatties could be fun for a romp in the sack, but to let her stay in one of our guest rooms–like a person that actually matters? I’m telling you, Father, he’s always been odd, but this is beyond acceptable, don’t you think?”

  The governor hummed and sniffed with disdain. “I always said that when you wallow with the herd, you catch their fleas. Let’s just hope your brother plays with his new toy and gets sick of her quickly enough. He’s never had much of an attention span.”

  Karl drummed his fingers on the arm of his chair as the carriage rolled along the streets. “Do you want me to make sure he doesn’t get too attached to his plaything?”

  “No.” The governor raised a finger for emphasis. “The house staff haven’t reported that they’ve had any nocturnal visits. For all we know, there’s nothing going on.”

  “And if there is?”

  The governor gazed at his son, and for an instant, Willow thought she saw a flicker of flame-like light in those dark eyes. “He’ll have to learn to take care of his dirty laundry. Just like I took care of his mother.”

  Karl chuckled and Willow’s vision snapped back to her bedroom as she rocketed into a sitting position and gasped for breath. Her heart thudded heavily in her chest and the only thing she could think of was, “I need to get out of here!”

  Betrayal

  Riding back to the Academy was awkward for Willow as she held onto Tristan, who was seated in front of her. Charger kept his steady pace as Tristan talked animatedly about how he’d explored some of the neighboring precincts as a young teenager. It was interesting, but Willow’s mind was preoccupied with what she’d seen in that carriage the night before.

  “Willow, what’s wrong. I’ve been talking and talking, but I don’t think you’ve said three words since we left the capitol. Are you okay?”

  “I’m just still feeling a little queasy for some reason; don’t mind me.” Willow rested her cheek on Tristan’s back and sighed. No matter how nice he was, Tristan would never understand. She couldn’t exactly tell him that his father and older brother are evil, and anyone who said that about the governor was certain to find themselves exiled or worse.

  Tristan reached behind him, put his hand on the side of her leg and gave it a gentle squeeze. “I’m really sorry you don’t feel well. Is there anything I can do?”

  Shaking her head, Willow blinked away tears and leaned against Tristan’s back. “Just keep talking. I like to hear about your childhood.”

  Tristan pointed at a nearby hill with a large splintered tree trunk, showing obvious remnants of some kind of fire. “Five years ago I got caught in a storm and saw the ball lightning slam into that tree, blowing it up....”

  He continued talking and Willow knew that this was the last she’d be able to see of Tristan. For her sake as well as his. Nothing about this Spring Break had gone as she’d expected, and she silently prayed for no more surprises in her life.

  Steering Willow to her bed, Mel forced her to sit, and then jumped onto her own bed, sat cross-legged and asked, “What do you mean you had a great time, but you and him don’t have a future?”

  Willow knew that Mel would grill her on her week at the capitol as any good friend would, so she’d practiced what she was going to say. It all seemed to vanish as Willow saw Mel’s excitement and hope turn into the pointed questioning of an inquisitor. “Come on Mel, you know how different we are from the Dominions. They don’t mix with the regular folks, and do you seriously think that one of the Governor’s sons would actually be allowed to marry a merchant? Did you know that Tristan’s mom wasn’t married to the Governor? She was a D’Vanden-Plas.”

  Mel nodded with a surprised expression. “Of course, didn’t you? And besides, Tristan’s a second son. He’s not in line for the governorship. Dominions sometimes marry others, it’s up to them.” Mel leaned forward and gave Willow a sly grin. “And if it really came to it, I could think of worse things than being a D’Vanden-Plas.”

  “Mel! Tristan and I aren’t together. And besides, I’m not interested in ... I won’t be someone’s mistress, I don’t care who it is.” Willow shook her head at Mel. Sometimes her friend was so enamored of the Dominions that she blinded herself to everything else.

  “But I thought you liked him and he really liked you–what’s the issue?”

  “It was never like that.” Willow sighed, “Listen, even though I didn’t exactly meet the governor, he arrived the night before we returned—”

  “Awesome, I’m sure he heard about you staying there. He’s got to at least assume that Tristan is thinking of you in a serious way.”

  Willow pursed her lips with frustration. “You don’t get it, do you? I heard the governor talking to Karl, his oldest son. No way am I the kind of person they’d want to see with Tristan. I don’t want to talk about it—”

  A loud knock came at the door and Willow hopped off her bed, opened the door and was greeted by Shireen, a classmate from down the hall. She was especially wound up as she smiled and hopped excitedly on the balls of her feet. “Willow! You’ve got to come to the cafeteria, they just posted the latest rankings on the wall!”

  Waving at Mel, Willow let herself get yanked from her room and led quickly down the hall toward the cafeteria. “My God, Shireen, what’s the big deal?” Willow wondered what in the world could have gotten the normally stoic girl so excited.

  Moments later, they reached the cafeteria, a small crowd of people gathered around the posting on the wall. Some students were laughing good-naturedly and she heard fragments of conversations.

  “Holy crap, is that the first soldier to hit the list?”

  “Damn it Zeno, you’ve been sandbagging us all....”

  “Ah hell, I got knocked off the list....”

  Shireen pointed up at the wall and practically squealed, “Willow, you did it! You actually did it. Why isn’t your choosing status updated? I thought by the last trimester, everyone has had their meeting with the Headmaster to update their choosing category.”

  Willow glanced up at the wall and a feeling of amused relief hit her. With the third highest cumulative grade in her class, it looked as if she was going to luck out of the Choosing ceremony’s final test after all.

  Before she had a chance to explain, another student in the cafeteria called out Shireen’s name and her companion wandered off, leaving Willow to her thoughts.

  Willow’s eyes were drawn to the giant student directly in front of her who stared at the wall with slack-jawed expression of disbelief.

  A smile stretched across Willow’s face as she tapped him on the arm. Zeno glanced over his shoulder and their eyes met. She playfully smacked him on his large bicep and laughed. “I always said you were smarter than you ever let on.”

  He carried a sheepish grin and tilted his head toward the wall. “So ... what are you going to choose?”

  She shrugged and grabbed Zeno by his muscular arm, dragging him toward the line that was forming for dinner. “Not sure yet, but let’s eat. You’ve got to tell me what your parents said about that new girlfriend of yours.”

  Zeno’s face turned pink and he mumbled, “Oh for Dominion’s sake, that’s a long and complicated story.”

  A warm feeling of happiness flushed through Willow as she patted him on the back and smiled. She had some serious decisions to make in the next couple of weeks, but for the moment, she looked forward to hearing how Zeno explained to his parents that the girl they’d wanted him to marry wasn’t the one he wanted.

  Willow startled awake as she heard the echo of heavy footsteps outside her room. She glanced over at Mel’s bed and noticed that her friend wasn’t in bed. In fact, her bed was still made and suddenly her door slammed
open.

  An armored soldier barged into her room with his arm extended as he pressed a finger on the top of a metal cylinder.

  A spray of noxious fumes enveloped her, burning her eyes and as Willow tried to yell, she felt her throat constricting. Before she even knew what was happening, she fell back as darkness enveloped her like a shroud.

  Launching herself into a sitting position, Willow yelled, lashing out at the image of the looming soldier. She felt a sharp pain as she smacked her fist into a nearby stone wall and she barely held back a cry of pain. Shivering, she squinted in the early morning daylight and tried regaining her senses.

  Looking all around, Willow found herself sprawled against a metal door with a shallow stone corridor stretching ahead of her. She smacked the palm of her fist against the solid metal, studying it from floor to ceiling. It had no knob, hinge or obvious way for her to open it. It may as well have been a metal wall. Turning from the door, Willow’s gaze traveled down the fifteen-foot-long corridor and beyond it she spied a thick forest with spiked rope-like vines hanging from the boughs of the trees. The vines waved menacingly in the breeze, looking like tentacles from some nightmarish monster.

  Something about the smell of the forest seemed odd. The coppery scent of blood was in the air and Willow felt a strange prickly sensation crawling all over her skin as if she were being nibbled on by a thousand ants.

  Willow tried to control her shivering, and was thanking her luck that she’d fallen asleep in regular clothes. She didn’t want to think about what it would have been like being half-naked at the edge of the woods. An eerie feeling of déjà vu washed over her as she focused on her surroundings. Willow remained statue-like, listening to the sounds of the forest, trying to make sense of what had happened.