Well, almost all of them.
He walked the length of the room and back before making his answer, letting his feet crunch on the gritty, dirty floor. It was the exact same texture and feel it had been six years ago. He chose to say nothing about killing the guard, since that's most likely what she wanted him to do. “You could've easily brought me back with your tracking devices.”
“But why not at least attempt an escape?” she pressed.
He gave a frustrated sigh inwardly. He thought he knew what she wanted him to say, but he also knew it would confirm an idea of hers and he didn't want to give her the satisfaction. He shrugged.
“Oh, come on,” she said. It was now her turn to be frustrated, only, unlike Nathan, she showed it. “There had to be a reason.”
“Fine. I wanted to come back.”
She gave a cry of triumph. “You didn't completely want to come back, though, right?”
She seemed to be able to read his thoughts, and the crazy thing was, he found himself being forced inside himself to tell her everything. “I didn't. But something told me to, so I did.” Of course, Nathan didn't tell her that part of the reason for returning was his mission to kill the queen, but it would hardly have surprised him if she knew that as well.
“Perfect,” she said, her face actually beaming.
“Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why is it so perfect?” Nathan asked, letting a note of sarcasm slip into his voice.
“We've been successful,” she said. “You wouldn't understand.” She picked her mask and hood up and put them on, carefully adjusting them to sit just so. “You may leave now.” Her voice was very satisfied, and even smug.
Nathan stalked out and slammed the door hard behind him. Instead of having questions answered, he had even more than before.
:::::
The train was a long silver snake coiling over yards upon yards of track. Everyone piled in in a rather unorganized fashion. Nathan tried to chose the train car that had the least number of people inside, but it didn't really work. All of them were packed tight, with someone for every seat and a few people standing. The leader had their own special train cars that were much more luxurious – or so the rumour went. There certainly were none in his car.
The trip itself was uneventful. It took about one night's length and they arrived at the Capitol about mid-morning. Nathan had been unable to sleep, unlike most of his fellow passengers, as nervousness and adrenaline kept him awake most of the night. He spent a good chunk of time thinking up of a better plan than the few fragments he had with him at the beginning of the trip. Having a good plan made him much more confident.
He knew that there would be many other people crowding the station when they came in, from other facilities and countries, and in all the confusion he was sure he could slip away and blend in with the crowd, even with the bodyguards. That would keep him from really being noticed by anyone. Then, he would be swept in to the palace by the crush of people coming to swear allegiance to the new queen. Once inside, he would once again use the confusion to get away and maybe hide in a small room.
And then, it would merely be a matter of waiting for the kill. He would chose some hiding place that the queen would probably pass by frequently and then wait for the right moment. Food and water would probably become an issue at some point, but he had packed a little of both and he hoped that would keep him for long enough.
Ethan nudged him in the side. “We're here.”
Nathan yawned and stretched as though he had just woken out of a deep sleep.
Ethan looked a little frightened and almost as Aaron had the night he and Dylan ran away. Nathan resolved to keep a close eye on Ethan, or as close as he could, to make sure he didn't run away as well. They had never found Aaron or Dylan and Nathan supposed he would always wonder what had happened to them.
Then, he remembered that he wouldn't be able to keep an eye on Ethan. He'd probably never see him again. But he couldn't say goodbye. That would be ruinous to his plan. He'd just have to tough it through without any such formalities. It would be hard, but worth, especially if the plan paid off.
“Everyone prepare to leave the train as it starts slowing down,” a voice coming in over the loudspeaker said. There was a shuffling of feet and bags as boys grabbed their bags and such and got ready for the scramble to get outside. Nathan yanked his duffel bag out from under his seat and held it close to him. He didn't want to take a chance on it getting lost. He stood up, trying successfully to keep his balance as the train jerked into the station. Ethan stood beside him, a faraway look on his face. Nathan didn't interrupt his thoughts. The less people who noticed him right now, the better.
The train screeched to a halt and the doors flew open. A crowd of boys rushed out of several of the train's cars and Nathan went with the flow, letting himself be buoyed along by the seeping ebb and flow of this particular wave of humanity. He started walking sideways through the crowd – it was less noticeable than turning his back and walking, or running. In a little while he was able to get away from the boys that had been in the same train car with him and had moved into other crowds.
As he suspected, several other trains had pulled into the station at around the same time his had and a crush of bodies filled up the station. He was soon walking through boys that weren't from his facility. This is too easy. He half expected someone to stop him after he thought that, but no one did. All he hoped was that a roll call wouldn't be taken. That would probably get his absence discovered much sooner than he wanted.
Leaders were calling out and saying that all the boys should follow their group leaders to the palace. They were also giving instructions on what to do when they entered the palace and what would be expected of them, but Nathan ignored this. It was unneeded information and right now he needed his mind clear. He went along with the group he was currently in as they moved in the direction of the glittering palace on the hill. He was glad he'd been here before, or he'd probably have been distracted by the splendour that was all around him.
They came to the palace about half and hour later.
“Stay in your ranks,” one leader commanded as an uneasy shifting manifested itself in many units. There was lots of fidgeting and squirming to see the palace in all its glory. Nathan stood straight, his eyes ahead. This would be a difficult part of his plan. There were sure to be guards all over the place and slipping away unseen into a small room in the palace would be difficult.
It proved to be impossible.
Every time Nathan tried to break rank and slip away, the sharp eyes of the unit leader caught him and told him to get back in his place. It was a wonder that she hadn't recognized that he wasn't part of her ordinary unit, but Nathan didn't want to risk that happening, so he didn't try again after the first two or three attempts failed.
He cursed under his breath. It couldn't end like this. He didn't even know what to do if he was taken to the queen's presence. Besides trying to kill her, of course. He paused for a moment. Could he do that? Could he kill her in front of everybody? It would be unexpected, but he couldn't count on the unexpected to help him make his escape. It would be a suicide mission.
He stumbled along on the designated route, but his mind was busy.
Weren't sacrifices necessary in times of war and tyranny? He shrank from the idea of death, at first, but then as he weighed what it would truly mean to die a hero's death, he found himself gradually opening up to the idea. When Hunter died, he hadn't had a choice. He had had to die. But Nathan had a choice, and he found himself choosing the better part. It was not a question of death or glory anymore. It was the simple fact of death and glory.
No one looking at him could think that he was making the decision to die for his eyes stayed perfectly calm and clear and he kept walking at a normal pace. But inside he was charged with adrenaline and more than a little fear. His only worry was that death, when it came, would not be fast. Well, if it was to be a slow death, he would take his ow
n life. He still had his duffel bag and discreetly holding it closer to him, he could feel the outline of Hunter's – now his – knife inside.
He would use it well, and he only hoped Hunter would've been proud of what he was about to do.
They entered the large room where the queen was sitting – a miniature palace in and of itself. Nathan's unit was the first to enter, so they would go first. He suspected that the different facilities were divided into different days for the queen could not receive all the boys he had seen in the station, and those were just the ones that were like him and his fellows, no foreign boys.
He positioned himself so he would be the last boy to go up to the queen's dais and swear allegiance. He wanted as much time as possible to assess the situation, look for any possible exits in case he did have a chance to escape, observe his target, and see what the other boys did when they went up. It all seemed pretty straightforward. There were two bodyguards, Warrior Women he suspected, though he couldn't be sure, standing quite near the queen – though not too near. No escape routes were open for options except the door they had entered from and a very high, small window behind the throne.
The queen herself was young, probably only about Nathan's age, and gorgeous. She had blonde hair so light it was almost white, that shimmered like gold in bright lights embedded in the ceiling above. Her eyes were deep blue and her face was delicate, though strong. If it had not been for the look of pure disdain and cruelty in her face as she received each boys pledge of allegiance, Nathan would have hesitated. But those like her who looked down on those boys as if they were scum didn't deserve to live.
He drew the knife out of his duffel bag very slowly and carefully and slipped it into his belt as deep as it would go. Only a very small part of the hilt appeared, and he would move so fast no one would notice it. He hoped.
It was almost his turn. He took a deep breath and focused on keeping his body as calm as it would be. The thought of imminent death weakened his resolve so he focused on stoking his anger against the queen, not a difficult task. He remembered Hunter, saw the look of disdain in her face, remembered the children in the facility. Yes. The time had come for her to pay. For all of them to pay.
“Nathan Bordage,” the leader announced.
He stepped forward slowly. Now was the time. He fought the urge to make sure his knife was within easy reach as that would be a dead giveaway to his motives. He took a deep breath and walked steadily toward the throne. This wouldn't be easy, but who said anything was easy. The queen grew bigger in his line of vision.
When he was only a few yards away, he stopped. A few murmurs filled the room. He yanked his knife out of his belt and with a cry ran toward the queen. He heard gasps, but it was too late for gasping. He raised his knife and plunged down toward the queen's heart. He was almost...almost...
A strong arm pulled him back and his knife embedded itself into the queen's right arm. Not deeply, just enough to draw some blood. He twisted around and found himself staring up at the hard, angry face of a Warrior Woman. He slumped. It was over. He didn't even have the knife to commit suicide with. The queen took the knife out of her arm, looked at both the weapon and her bloody sleeve for a moment and then walked over to him, still holding the knife in her hand.
Nathan tensed himself. This is where it would end. She would stab him, just like he had just tried to do to her. Then, the queen did the most astonishing thing. She laughed. “Do you think, boy, that this is the first time someone like you has tried to kill me? I know all your tricks.”
He stared at her, not saying anything. Let her gloat.
“Take him away.”
“Dungeons, Your Highness?”
“Dungeons.”
Nathan didn't even try to resist. He had failed and he knew it. The queen still had Hunter's knife and it didn't look like she would give it back any time soon. Probably never. He'd failed Hunter, the children, and himself, and as the price for that failure he'd spend the rest of his days rotting in a dungeon.
Life was fair. He deserved it.
:::::
Nathan was paraded past rows and rows of cells. Several of them were actually quite large and airy and, he was surprised to see, clean and quite comfortable looking. It could hardly be classed as a dungeon, really, but there was no doubt the people – or, rather, families – inside were prisoners. The listless way they moved and the constant sadness in their eyes showed that. He doubted that he'd be put in such a comfortable cell. These people were definitely not murderers or assassins.
Sure enough, he soon found himself walking down into a lower level, sandwiched between two Warrior Women, of course. The place he was now walking through was dank and dark and cries filled the corridors and bounced off the walls. It was a forbidding place, to be sure, and Nathan shivered at the thought of spending his days in such a place. There was no windows that he could see, and only one door, so it didn't look like escape would be a viable option.
“In here, assassin,” one of the women growled. She slapped him across the face to make sure he didn't forget the disgrace he was in and shoved him inside the tiny, smelly cell. It was cold too, especially since it was nearing the middle of September and things were chilly even outside. Thankfully, though, it wasn't wet. If it was wet he probably would have caught a cold or some more deadly disease and while he didn't really care to live, he wanted to die heroically, not by some sickness.
The keys gave an ominous rattle as they locked the door, sealing his fate both figuratively and literally. He wondered if he would even be fed at all. He doubted it. Well, first things first. He wasn't hungry in the least at the moment and he was full of energy, so he decided to explore his cell. It was built like box – perfectly square, with only about six feet in any given direction. He had to stoop down a little to stand up and there was really no point, as walking wasn't all that good, so he preferred to sit. Or crawl, as he 'explored'.
There was a small ledge on the side of the room farthest away from the door, but there was nothing on it. The floor seemed to be a sort of rough slate and the walls were brick or stone. It was difficult to really make out any definite details since the only light came from a small slot at the bottom of the door that brought in some weak light from the poorly lit hallway.
It looked as though things would be quite boring in here.
The pattern of Nathan's life grew to be exactly the same. He could only tell how many days had passed by the food that was brought him, and even that was a chancy guess. It had been late afternoon when he'd been thrown in this cell, so when they brought him his food a few hours later – or what seemed like a few hours – he concluded it was evening. After eating the surprisingly good food he slept. The food was some bread and stew that was simple but quite delicious. There was probably a mix-up. When he awoke, feeling as refreshed as he could be under the circumstances, there was some more food in his cell, pushed through the slot at the bottom of the door. It had to be morning. There was no way to really tell, since the small square of light on the floor never changed.
Two or three days passed in this fashion. Nathan had plenty of time to think, but he didn't allow himself to. Not much, at least. He had a vague idea that if he thought too much, he might go insane and having heard maniacal laughter from several different directions, mostly late at night, he suspected the same thing had happened to other inmates. He wasn't going to take that risk.
He viewed his situation pragmatically. Though it was boring to the extreme, at least he wasn't being tortured – not yet, anyway – and having also heard the screams of people echoing from deep in the palace, he decided he was lucky. There was really nothing he could do about the boredom, so he made up little games with himself, like seeing how many chews it took before he finished his entire meal. He also did as many exercises as possible, wanting to keep limber in case anything came up. And he often lay on his stomach as best he could and watched people's feet go to and fro with a sort of unpredictable regularity.
That wa
s the most interesting of anything he'd tried before. He made a little game out of guessing who's feet belonged to who and he was sure that if he ever managed to get out of this moth eaten cell, he'd pay much more attention to people's feet and shoes. They were extremely interesting. The Warrior Women wore heavy leather sandals, at least for indoors. The Guard Women wore a sort of cloth boots, and most prisoners were barefooted. Nathan still had his heavy hiking boots on, for which he was grateful. He'd heard mice, and maybe rats, scurrying his cell sometimes and he didn't much care to have his toes bitten off one night.
One day, perhaps it was the third or fourth, Nathan realized exactly what he was doing.
Nothing.
He was playing silly little games and not even trying to escape. Not trying to work out a feasible plan. He was watching people going back and forth, but he wasn't looking for a recognizable pattern, something that would make the guard and warrior schedules clear. He was just entertaining himself. And why was that? He was half afraid of the answer.
It was because he didn't feel like fighting anymore.
What about Hunter and the children and his own ideals? Were they really worth nothing to him anymore now that he'd had a small setback. He gave a little laugh that sounded bitter, even to him. A minor setback. Oh, sure, being trapped in an inescapable cell is a minor setback. He couldn't even-
And there was that attitude, that mindset again. He had to shake it off. Nip it in the bud, so to speak. Except he was afraid the bud that already sprouted and rooted itself in far too deep.
Chapter 7 – A Great Treasure
After his epiphany Nathan got down to business and really started working on tracking the guard's movements and seeing if any pattern evolved. It never did. They came and went at all hours of the day, Warrior Women, prisoners, and shoes that he didn't recognize thrown into the mix at all times. It occurred to him that perhaps this was done to throw off the prisoners from such an attempt that he was making, but the knowledge didn't make it any better.
Vengeance Is Mine Page 8
