Rebellion

by CM Raymond

  “So, you sent your army?”

  Karl snorted again. “What blazing army? We were simple folk, digging around in the dirt. The rearick were tough—everyone was who survived the madness—but never warriors, not until then. There was this one guy—Krayton—he was the biggest son of a bitch among us. Almost your height, as a matter of fact. Guy could hammer out a seam underground faster than I could pick up my damned hammer. All us young rearick looked up to him. I practically worshiped him.

  When the council in Craigston decided it was time to send a group to fight the remnant, there was only one mother fucker crazy enough to lead the charge. The rest of us followed looking for adventure… or just a change of scenery.”

  “You’re telling me you rushed into battle against the remnant on their territory with nothing but a bunch of mining kids with hammers?”

  Karl laughed. “That’s the short of it. Yeah. More honor in battling to save the world than digging in the dirt. Wasn’t a hard argument to make, actually. And we might have been kids, but we were damned good with our hammers. The work had made us strong and resilient. We learned to fight the good old fashioned way… by doing it. Spent years in the Madlands, hunting those bastards down and sending em into the beyond. Hell, they were already halfway there when we got to em.”

  “I can’t believe you actually went into that place,” Parker said in awe. “Everyone in Arcadia says it’s haunted.”

  Karl shook his head, but he didn’t laugh. “Don’t know if it’s haunted, but those lands will haunt my dreams for a long time. Craziest territory I’ve ever seen—filled with ruins from the old world—the whole place screams of death. The remnant—they’re fierce fighters. But they put no stock in building homes or baking bread. All they do is destroy. When you live like that long enough—the earth adapts to it, takes on their nature. Let’s just say the Madlands are aptly named. Nothing survives there unless it’s tough. And if you don’t know how to fight, you learn it fast.”

  Parker nodded at the hammer at Karl’s side. “Good thing you were a quick study.”

  “Aye, well, we did spend most of our days hammering rock before going on the hunt, so there’s that. And yes, nothing makes you learn to fight as fast as kill or be killed. Like you, today.”

  Parker nodded and finished his plate. He had no idea about the history of the rearick. He always just assumed that they were born badass fighters—that it was in their blood. If Karl had to learn it, it gave him confidence that he could learn it, too.

  “So, you won,” Parker said.

  “Depends on what you mean by won. We whittled them down, aye. Kept the mountains safe. But the remnant survived. They still exist, and maybe they always will. Maybe they’re our curse to bear for the ways our ancestors lived. Who knows. But we pushed em back far enough that we would walk for days before finding one or two of the bastards. It got to the point where we felt secure heading back to the Heights.”

  “Bet it was good to be home…”

  “It was...” Karl paused, choosing his words. “Different. During those years, a lot had changed. Trade grew and grew with the Arcadians. Those damned rocks became even more valuable. Soon enough, the mining company had more power than anybody. Everyone knows they control Craigston now. But the rearick, they don’t care. They’re getting fat on their work. Hard work for a good life—there’s no shame in that. But when you sell your soul for more and more and more—then yer no better than the remnant.”

  Karl stirred the fire with a long stick; the flames went higher.

  “Deep down,” he continued. “My people are good people, but Adrien has corrupted more places than just Arcadia. You can be sure of that. The rearick never saw the danger that man posed to their hearts. But maybe we can convince them of the danger to their bodies.”

  Parker thought about the rearick, how their resilience never prepared them for an assault on their consciences. It forced him to think about the Boulevard. He knew his people were tough, but just look at the men lining up to work in the factory. With the promise of coin, almost no one stops to consider the cost.

  Karl interrupted his thoughts. “Anyway, got pretty damned tired of the rearick rat race. Everyone trying to gather more and more gems for more and more coin. Hell, they could have it. That’s why I started riding with the teams hauling down to Arcadia. At least it let me stretch my legs and bash some heads in—even some remnant heads on occasion. It was the closest I’ve gotten to feeling useful since those nasty days in the Madlands. Until…”

  Parker looked over at the rearick who appeared lost in thought.

  “Until I met your Hannah,” Karl finally said

  Parker laughed. “My Hannah? She’d kick your ass if she heard you talk like that.”

  Karl snorted. “Course she would. She’s got spirit and power. And she’s blazing smart. I’ve met a lot of highlanders and lowlanders, but I’ve never met anyone like that girl.”

  Parker couldn’t help but smile thinking of her. “Yeah. We’ve been together forever—but never been together, you know? She’s my best friend. Most people in the Boulevard thought that she was just along for the ride when we hustled in the streets, but truth is, I couldn’t have done it without her. But everything’s changing now.”

  “You can say that again.”

  “With her magical awakening, and now with the mission, she’s on another level. I’m certainly the one along for the ride now. And I’m struggling to hold on.”

  Karl grinned. “Hell, kid, I’ve never been any good in relationships. It’s why I’ve done everything I could to stay out of em, but I’d have to be a blind son of a bitch not to see that what you two have is something special. Magic and mission’s not gonna change that.”

  A chill ran down Parker’s spine. “So, what should I do?”

  “Scheisse, kid, I know more about being tall than I do about love. You’re barking up the wrong damn tree.”

  “Great, a life of experience, and you have no words of insight for something that really matters.”

  Karl scowled, pulling on the burning water. “I happen to think my words of insight kept you alive today, that’s pretty important. But I will tell you one thing about being with a person like Hannah.”

  “What’s that?” Parker asked.

  The rearick paused to look Parker in the eye. “Don’t screw it up!”

  ****

  Treading down the hall, Gregory headed straight for the large room on the basement floor. He had to get away from Hannah, to escape. Several floors of space didn’t quite feel enough.

  “Stupid,” he muttered to himself as he descended the stairs to his workshop on the back side of the basement.

  Of course, he knew that Hannah would be able to read all his thoughts once they were connected through the mental magic, but for some reason, he didn’t think that his mind would get away from him. Hannah had a way about her. Apparently irresistible, she had pulled in Parker, Hadley, and now Gregory—who, until a few weeks ago, wasn’t even sure if he was interested in women.

  He wasn’t against the idea of women, but he had never met one that shared his interests, or, when he was most honest with himself, would be interested in him. Although he knew that Hannah wasn’t going to fall for the Chief Engineer’s son, she really seemed to like him as a friend—something he probably just screwed up forever.

  “Why the hell would she like me?” he whispered as he fished around in his cloak’s pocket for the key to his workshop. And then, it struck him. Maybe Hannah—and all of them—really were just using him to get into his father’s office to steal the plans. For a moment, he considered himself a pawn in Ezekiel’s elaborate plot to take over Arcadia.

  The idea gave him pause, but not for long.

  He pulled the key out of his pocket and unlocked the door. Smiling, he realized that the lock itself was only a request for people to stay out. If anybody wanted to see his workshop, it wouldn’t take much work at all. Especially, now that Hannah was learning how to travel wit
h her mind.

  Stepping into the room, the magitech lights snapped on. Gregory grinned, knowing that it was his father who had created the design for the motion lights when he wasn’t much older than Gregory was now. The shadow his father cast was long, and Gregory had spent all his life in it, following in his footsteps. For the first time, he was stepping out. He couldn’t help but wonder if he was making a terrible mistake.

  Pacing across the small room, he stood over the workbench that he had made from bits of scrap left behind by the real Girard years ago. Resting in the middle of the table was a long bronze rod.

  Rolling the shaft in his hand, Gregory tested its balance.

  Nodding, he said, “This is going to be perfect.”

  Maybe I do have some purpose after all.

  ****

  On the third day of their journey, Parker and Karl had fallen into a comfortable silence together. Parker, usually a talkative man, didn’t mind. It gave him a chance to think.

  He was glad for the trip. Until then, he knew Hannah, and of course his mother, but the rest of Ezekiel’s ragtag group of rebels were foreigners in his world. They were still, for the most part, a group of strangers bound together with a singular goal.

  His time with the rearick had given him a chance to connect with one person of the team—the member who he thought might end up being its quiet cornerstone. Karl was strong—in body, mind, and integrity. He had more experience than anyone, except for maybe Ezekiel. And like Ezekiel, the rearick knew the power of loss and regret.

  Hearing the story of Karl’s people—how the rearick had fallen into a life of greed and consumption—saddened Parker.

  Hearing that and seeing the life of nobles from a bit closer than he ever had forced Parker to realize that maybe there was something to growing up in poverty. Happiness for so many in Irth was defined by working through a progression of desires. Once someone achieved the object of their lust, another took its place. But in the Boulevard, things were different. They didn’t have the convenience of such consumption, so they found their joy elsewhere. Some in drink, others in song. For Parker, he had found it in the companionship of a girl who could have the power to overturn the world.

  Legs straining, Parker pushed up a sharp rise. The terrain had gotten increasingly difficult—which Karl assured him was a good sign. Beams of the sun pushed through the forest canopy and promised that they would soon emerge on the other side.

  The rearick, short and stout, breathed heavily in front of him. But it wasn’t a sign of fatigue—Karl simply breathed heavily all the time.

  They crested the hill, and Parker pushed through the last row of trees and out into a barren pasture.

  “Holy shit,” he said.

  It wasn’t the beauty of the open expanse that grabbed him. No more than a mile off, foothills, gentle and rolling, gave way to massive, majestic mountains. A range of them, spreading out east and west as far as the eyes could see.

  Each peak was snowcapped and reflecting the light of the winter sun in every direction. He had heard traders talk about the Heights all his life, but their descriptions paled in comparison to the real thing. An artist is admired if she could paint a realistic scene. But the Heights, as they towered over him, were different. Their glory was in the fact that they looked utterly unreal.

  “Shit,” he whispered again.

  Karl slammed him on the back. “Scheisse is right. Gets me every time, lad. I love her like another man loves a good woman.” He pointed his finger toward the Heights. “And that, Parker, is why I am fighting. I fight for her.”

  Karl took a step down and started moving again. “Now, let’s get to Craigston. We’ve got a lot of work to do.”

  ****

  Hannah’s leg bounced beneath the dining room table as she listened to Ezekiel and Amelia. Hannah could have fueled Adrien’s damn machine if they could convert her nervous energy into magitech. The masters talked her through the plan for the Winter Ball for the millionth time. If things went sideways, it wouldn’t be for lack of repetition.

  “Are you listening?” Ezekiel finally asked.

  “Huh? Yeah, of course, I am,” Hannah squeaked. She wasn’t, but it didn’t matter. The plan was ingrained in her mind.

  She glanced at Gregory, whose eyes were locked on the table. The kid had barely even looked at her since their mental encounter days before. When she lived on the Boulevard, few ever stopped in their tracks at the sight of her. Whether it was the dirt and grime, or just her status as a peasant, she was used to slipping through life unnoticed. It wasn’t a secret that she was attractive, but now she was finding that being drop dead gorgeous—or whatever the hell it was—was becoming a bit of a pain in the ass.

  “You got it, Gregory?” Hannah asked. She knew he did, she just wanted to catch his eye.

  Glancing up through his thick spectacles, he said, “Sure. We both have it. It should work.”

  Ezekiel slammed his hand on the dining room table, shaking the glass in the windows. His face, typically serene, was filled with severity. “Should is not an option. Should loses wars. Should will be the end of Arcadia. This must work. If it doesn’t, and you get made, all will be lost.”

  Hannah looked back at her teacher. She had never seen him like this before, but she knew how he felt. She, too, was pissed and ready to move. She stood, her own face now severe. “It will work. I’ll get those plans, or die trying.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Julianne wished that the shaggy hair and weeks’ worth of beard wasn’t just an illusion as the wind whipped around her bare face. The snow had come fast, and it came hard. Doyle’s pride kept the men from turning back and making camp in the cover of the last trees they’d crossed before reaching the barrenness of the Frozen North. Now, they were too far in to head back. It was Doyle’s poor decision that placed them here, but they all paid for his error. Julianne settled her mind, making peace with the fact that she might not return from this place.

  The Heights, the place she called home for most of her life, was nothing like the Frozen North. Harsh weather would come in occasionally, but it would roll over, always followed by the sun which healed the frozen ground. Here, the weather didn’t relent. It turned from bad to bastardly with hardly any warning. Some sort of evil magic rested in the jagged mountains, keeping them impassable—at least, that’s what the people of Cella thought. Now, as she surveyed the sea of ice around her, she was inclined to agree—although, she knew of no magic that could manage this.

  Visibility cut in half with every step. All she could do was follow behind Doyle, who trudged only feet ahead of her. Riding was no longer an option—it was too hard for the horses—and they needed the beasts alive and well enough to haul back their damned prize. That was the whole purpose of this insane quest.

  After an hour of pushing through the snow and hail, Doyle’s prints ahead of her disappeared. Heart pounding in her chest, she looked right and left, desperately searching for some sign of the leader of her party. All she saw was white.

  Out of nowhere, a hand grabbed her overcloak and pulled. She stumbled, her legs sinking into the deep snow, which threatened to pull her down.

  “Follow me,” Marcus shouted, as he pulled her into a crevice in the side of the hill.

  Huddling in among the other men, Julianne was comforted to see that Doyle and the Guardsmen looked as miserable as she did. Ice formed in their beards and crusted over their brows. They leaned together for warmth, and Julianne joined in. For the first time since she had started her masquerade as Stellan, the head Guard, she didn’t care if they found her out. All she wanted was to be warm again.

  Looking up, she realized that all the men watched her. They were waiting for Stellan to take control from the Chancellor’s assistant who was clearly out of his league. Doyle had gotten them into this mess, and it would have to be Julianne that would get them out.