The woman’s lips twitched in approximation of either a frown or a smile. “We need to plan for complications, though. Starting with the fact that we need to gain access to the village, which was built at the height of post-Collapse turmoil. It has stone walls several times our height, and the entrance is monitored. If we’re caught, they won’t be giving the shuttle to us.”
I frowned. “Wait, are these unsuspecting civilians down there? An actual village?”
The sharp-faced woman nodded. “These villages have been used in training exercises for centuries. It’s an honor, and the reward is substantial.”
“So…we need to avoid civilian casualties, then.”
The woman shrugged. “I didn’t say that. They will treat us the same as anyone, regardless. It’s part of it.”
“If they catch us, they’ll regret it.” One of the soldiers smiled.
“Dispensing regrets isn’t the goal,” I said, determined not to see how far these soldiers would go. “The goal is to get over the walls unseen, commandeer the shuttle, and be gone.”
“Unseen? Floated over many walls, have you?”
My fingers flexed in muscle memory. “No, but I know my history. Fine as they were, the stonemasons of old Irgath did not build perfectly smooth walls.”
A few uncertain glances were traded, but the woman nodded. “Worth a shot.”
We didn’t deliberate. Action decided, we moved quickly, each position determined, scouting and signaling to one another in silence until we found the section of wall we thought would be best. I had to admit, it felt good to be part of a team again. To know my role, and how to fulfill it. I hadn’t felt such confidence since I’d boarded the Kaitan.
In a way, the moment I had met Qole had changed my understanding of the world and myself, made it less comprehensible. Nothing like a crisis of morals to shake your confidence. Perhaps the realization should have discomfited me, but instead, now I had a moment of surety: lessons learned had compensated for confidence lost.
We were professionals, trained at the highest level, myself even more so than my companions. So I wasn’t surprised when, even in broad daylight, our presence went undetected. We didn’t even slow when we approached the wall, looming above us, a dark shadow against the bright sunlight, its presence as intimidating as the increasing roar of the wind. The sharp-faced woman, who I learned was called Aris, crouched at the base of the wall, cupped her hands, and from a full run, I launched myself at her makeshift step. She lifted as I jumped, and my fingers latched onto the rough rock above.
My toes scrabbled, caught, and held on to crevices beneath me, even as I reached down, hand outstretched for the others.
There was no need to look. A strong hand grasped my wrist, and the moment I felt the pressure, I heaved. Then they were above me, grunting as they pulled themselves up to the upper ledge. I became a human link, channeling soldiers below into the peaceful world above. The last one reached down, grasped my aching arm, and hoisted me up onto the wall.
I crouched, wary of our exposed position, but there was nothing to fear—no one was there.
No one was on the wall. Nobody on the narrow paths between the tidy stone houses that barely reached the height of the walls. The realization began to sink into me, as I surveyed the village below, that it was deserted. The roar of the wind was stronger here, an eerie contrast to the emptiness of the streets below.
Cold pooled in my stomach; something wasn’t right. I glanced at the others to see if they realized that our good fortune stretched credulity, but if they did, they gave no sign. They moved on, jumping to the nearest house and melting down the side of walls into the narrowest of alleyways when the distance became too great.
As I followed, I remembered my rooftop escape from Nirmana with Basra, a brush with another way of life, one so foreign from my own. I couldn’t help but wonder about the lives of the people in the houses we passed.
As it turned out, the entire population of the village was crowded around the landing platform—the shuttle, in particular. But after a moment’s reflection, I realized that it was a sizable gathering, yes, but it was almost entirely composed of either the very young or the very old. It was the village, but only a part. I drew up short, trying to understand. The cold in my stomach began to solidify into fear.
“Stand aside!” The handsome man of our group, Bentus, did not hesitate. He strode forward, power radiating as the crowd parted before him. “We’re taking this shuttle.”
“What?” A young boy remained in his path, uncertain in his defiance. “What do you mean…Ow!” he cried as Bentus’s hand on his shoulder tossed him out of the way.
I still didn’t say anything. It was clear that in just a few steps, we could be in the shuttle, in orbit, and perhaps on our way to a successful conclusion to these games. But this was a test, I was sure of it, a test that was using innocent people to see how I would react as a ruler.
The problem was, I had no idea.
“That’s enough.” The voice was clarity, conviction embodied. For one elated moment, I thought Qole was here with us, and I looked up.
It wasn’t Qole, but everything about her reminded me of Qole. The woman’s youth was inconsequential next to the intensity of her eyes, her utter lack of fear in blocking our group. Purpose, not bravado, brought us to a halt.
“Whatever reason you’re here,” she said calmly, “it has to change. Everyone is in danger. If we don’t all board the shuttle, we’re going to die.”
“What do you mean?” A strange surreality crept under my skin. Like the dreams that visited me at night, I was being forced to revisit what I couldn’t change. “What’s going to happen?”
“The dam”—the young woman enunciated each word like a chisel—“has burst.”
My mouth went dry. “That’s not wind,” I said, almost a whisper. “Is it?”
There were many dams in these canyons, I knew, holding back enough water to make an inland sea.
She shook her head. “It’s the Irgath River. It’s far away, still, but it’s coming. And when it does, nothing will be left.”
“Then we need to go now.” One of the members of our group couldn’t keep panic from fraying the edges of his voice. I couldn’t blame him; the roar was ever present now, and I wondered if I would see a solid wall of water if I peered up the canyon.
“We can’t! Not everyone is here!” the young woman shouted. “We’re farmers, not soldiers on a training mission. Most of us are out in the fields. I’ve sent people to warn them, and organized the rest to be ready when they get back. They won’t be long, I promise.”
“Then we’ll send your pilot back to pick them up,” snapped Bentus. “We’re a little short on time to hold out for a pack of dirt-diggers.”
“No.” A thousand speeches were in the strength of her refusal. She slowly drew an ancient ion pistol from her belt, the chamber whining to life as she did so.
She was better than him in every way but one: force. With savage satisfaction, he kicked the weapon out of her hand, and his fist flew to her face.
And then my hand was on his wrist, my fingers white from pressure, stopping him. I couldn’t remember deciding to, but there I was, staring into his outraged eyes.
I threw his arm aside, sending him staggering back several steps. “This is a game to us,” I bit out, my voice uneven. “It’s not to them. We wait.”
His face purpled, but it was Aris who spoke. “It might be a game to you, Prince, but for us, it’s our future. We need to succeed. We have people depending on us.”
“I believe you.” I stared her down. “But wanting to advance is not the same as wanting to survive.”
There was a moment of silence as the two of them gathered to face me, arms in a fighting stance. The distant roar of unimaginable tons of water was the only backdrop, taunting me with the stupid insignificance of
our standoff in the face of it. With my inability to change the future.
I barely had time to swear before they were on top of me. I brought my forearms up, blocking punches, my legs working frantically to give me ground and counter the kicks they sent my way. I tried to sink myself into the calm, invincible peace I had felt when I’d fought my own guards in my family’s citadel. I reached for the surety that had guided my hands.
But I couldn’t find it. I was in the same place, in a sense, in a position re-created by the very people who were supposed to serve me. And then I suddenly understood the test. Whoever was conducting the Forging wanted me to make different choices, to show how ruthless I could be, but not against my own soldiers. They wanted me to dismiss the villagers’ peril and take the shuttle. Winning this tussle would mean I’d failed a clear test of my ability both to lead troops and to accomplish the necessary goal, whatever the cost. It would mean I’d fail the Forging. And failing the Forging meant losing everything. My ability to help Qole.
In a sick twist, I had to refuse to defend these people to continue defending her. But the only way to do so required killing the very thing that made me want to help her in the first place.
I found I wasn’t capable. I wasn’t filled with certainty or peace, but I knew that much.
They rushed me, and I twisted, watching a kick fly past. I felt a detached sort of pride in dodging the next serious attempts to bring me down, as routines born of endless drills came to life. I danced back, avoiding each strike. To the untrained eye, it would have been beyond impressive that not a single blow landed from five opponents. But I knew I had committed a grave tactical error: despite wanting to protect the villagers, I didn’t want to fight these people, my own comrades, again, and with that mind-set, I had failed to map a strategy to win.
The realization came just a few seconds too late, even as one of the soldiers tried to tackle me. I met his attack by unimaginatively throwing my weight into him. He was a husky youth, wild-eyed, and my feet scraped across the stone as he pushed me backward. We grappled for a few seconds before something hard connected with my jaw, rattling my vision. I dipped my head, tried to use him as a shield, felt someone kick my legs out from under me, tried to roll, and was lifted into the air. The stone flashed into my field of vision.
The crack echoed through my skull and pain seared colors too bright to bear across my vision. Then it was black.
There we go, all done, I told myself. Forged right out of existence. I couldn’t pry my eyes open, but I heard the sounds of combat around me, the dull thud of fists on flesh, the grunts and pained yells. It was all just so stupid, I thought deliriously, as I felt blood pool underneath my face, mixing with the shooting pain spreading from my temple. If this was what was involved in ruling, I wanted no part of it.
My eyes flickered open to see the feet of others shuffling past me. My vision swam, blurred, and I closed my eyes again, ready to let the blackness wash the pain away. It was after they were shut that my brain informed me of what I had seen.
Qole, doubled over and gasping, trying to fight in a battle that could only end one way.
My eyes opened again. The pain roared back, louder than the water, but I welcomed it, let it fuel me. I knew my mind had played tricks on me. I knew it wasn’t Qole, but I knew something else: my father had felt the same way as the conductor of this test. He’d thought the only way to defend my family, to rule, was to betray his own values.
I wasn’t him. Qole had taught me that.
And, bigger picture be damned, it wasn’t in me to let these people be sacrificed.
I stood up.
When I had fought the Bladeguards, I’d felt peace. It wasn’t peace that flowed through my veins now, but rage. Rage at the injustice that seemed to follow my family everywhere. Rage that everything that mattered to me was in danger. Rage that, despite the skills and abilities beyond the reach of many I had been given, I could effect little change for the better with them.
Well.
Adrenaline flooded my body, and my vision narrowed on the nearest soldier. He was in the act of planting a foot against the chest of an elderly gentleman who had dared to intervene.
The kick never landed. Almost casually, I snatched his hair and yanked his head back as I snapped a kick to the shin of another soldier. As that target crumpled, gasping, I pulled harder, bringing the hair, and its associated skull, to meet my knee.
They rallied, retaliated. They had only just brought me low, and could do so again; I could see the thought on their faces. But that had been Nev, uncertain and alone. This was Nevarian Thelarus Axandar Rubion Dracorte, and I had righteous fury on my side.
Bones cracked, joints popped, and limbs bent as I held nothing back. I dismantled them. They reeled back from me, clutching at battered parts of their bodies, attempting to regroup. Aris scooped up a rock, and without a second thought, I kicked up the photon pistol that had been dropped on the ground, snatched it in midair, and pressed it to her temple.
Everyone froze, as we locked wild eyes. My breath heaved, and my hands throbbed with what were sure to be shattered bones.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the kneeling form of the defiant young woman, so much like Qole, and my finger tightened on the trigger at the thought.
So much like Qole.
My hand started to shake. Everything here had been engineered. There was no organic element in any of it, outside the pain. I was an insect under glass, put under the precise pressure that would squash it. A web of choice spread out before me, each rippling consequence as horrible as the last: Win the Forging, destroy the village. Save Arjan, destroy my family. Help Qole, lose her forever.
People with centuries of resources, of experience at deceit, ruled these systems, and as much as I might imagine otherwise, I was, one way or the other, a pawn in their games.
The water was now an overwhelming roar, ever closer than before. Whatever else was fake, that danger was real.
My finger tightened on the trigger. I turned, walked into the shuttle, and shot the control panel to slag. If I can’t win, I thought, it might be time to play a different game. Ruthless as the generals might be, I didn’t think I was a resource they were willing to let go just yet. It was a bluff I was willing to call.
I stepped back outside, to the stunned gaze of the crowd. “There,” I said, calm for the first time in days. “If they want anything useful out of me, they’re going to have to save the lot of us.”
* * *
They hadn’t bothered keeping us in suspense. With a nausea-inducing lurch, gravity had reversed, and we were lifted up the cliffs. Below us, a gargantuan wave careened along the canyon walls, scattering the village as though it were a toy model. I was launched at a different angle and trajectory than the others and, just before I slipped out of consciousness, had time to think on how impressive and rare the tech was that allowed tractor beams to be used on humans directly.
I came to when I was dropped unceremoniously on the rough-hewn stone ledge. On one side, the shelf ended in a cliff that plunged farther into the canyon. On the other, sitting upon a stone platform, was everyone else: Gavros and Talia and the other military leaders. Devrak was there too, as was Qole and the priestess, all of them seated behind a table. The priestess was still dressed in her simple khaki jumpsuit; her presence was utterly incongruous next to the uniforms on either side of her. Even Qole fit in better. Or at least appeared to. I shivered.
The generals looked concerned, worried almost. Gavros stood, an infopad in front of him, where I could only assume notes on my performance had been accumulated. Talia tried to speak to him, but he launched into the verdict.
“Your tactical ability is demonstrably sound. Your strategies, if rash, are effective. We will consider that a moderate success. As for the rest…” He set the pad down. “It saddens me to say that in the history of this trial no one has fai
led quite so profoundly.”
“What?” I was incredulous. “Because I can read the end game and see how pointless it is?” I knew it was wiser to bite my tongue, but exhaustion wore away diplomacy. “There was one end to that, General—either I stripped away my humanity, or I lost. I wouldn’t be fit to rule if I made that choice.”
“That you think in such narrow terms is a failure itself,” Gavros said angrily. “The test is different for everyone. Your grandfather Axandar’s was a test against aggression, and he won without striking a single blow.”
I squinted. “Er. How?”
Gavros waved an impatient arm. “Someone tell him.”
Devrak stepped up beside me. “Your grandfather threatened to outright kill anyone who fought him, but to reward anyone who joined him,” he said quietly. “Everyone opted to join, particularly given his reputation.”
Distantly, I wondered if my father had accomplished the same, completing his Forging without violence. But I knew the answer without asking. My father and I were a lot alike in some ways.
I tried to grasp for an excuse even as shame nipped at me. “That…sounds like cheating. It’s no different than what I did.”
“Cheating?” Gavros was incredulous. “How many rules did you hear us announce?” He sat down with a huge sigh. “The problem isn’t that you chose to break the rules, because there aren’t any. What you just did was impressive. It was more than impressive. But instead of convincing others to follow you, you threw a tantrum.”
“I wouldn’t call that a tantrum, Gavros.” Talia spoke from her seat. “I would say that he became a leader.”
“He can’t just opt out of difficult decisions in real life, Talia.”
“No,” she agreed, the faintest trace of acid entering her words, “but eventually every leader realizes they have to act without the approval of others.”
“There is also the matter of Ms. Uvgamut,” added Gavros.
Qole’s eyebrows shot up, and Talia’s voice grew colder. “Oh?”
Shadow Call Page 22
