by T. C. Edge
The statue of the Chancellor looms ahead, growing larger with each step we take. And beneath it, the tall archway offers short passage towards a pair of large, wooden double doors beyond.
Before we reach them, they open to reveal two further armed guards, dressed in the same long black coats as the others that surround us. They join our flank and we continue on into a huge hallway, so ornate to be considered grotesque in a world of such inequality. Across the walls, huge paintings hang, with beautifully carved sculptures adorning the room's corners. Ahead, a grand staircase leads upwards, covered in a deep red carpet, and above, a wide gallery looks down from the floors above, offering passage in a dozen directions to the various others quarters of the house.
In a world as functional as Eden, a place of straight lines and simple stylings, the entire place appears completely out of place. A relic of a bygone era that no longer exists here. Perhaps a memory for Knight himself, a reminder of an older world he once knew.
For me, it's merely another show of his sickening wealth and power, of the terrible disparity of the world that has led us here in the first place.
We turn to the right, leaving the grand hall behind, and enter a corridor that's wider and more opulent than any I've entered before. I'm guided to the end and a door. We reach it, and the guards step back, leaving Ajax to open it.
“We'll be right outside, Commander,” they say.
Ajax offers a typically curt nod in reply, twists the handle, and inside we go.
The image that greets me turns my stomach. The sitting room ahead is more lavishly appointed than even the great hall, but it's not the gaudy decorations that threaten to empty my insides.
I look on, and see several men, sitting in grand armchairs, holding glasses of whiskey between their fingers, and cigars between their lips. Their casual conversation is brought to a close as we enter, and all eyes turn to me.
Mine find only one man.
Augustus Knight sits in the middle of the room, in the grandest chair of all. One leg crossed over the other, he hardly reacts at my entrance, as if he's expected it for many weeks.
Perhaps he has.
Beside him, to his left and right, three other men sit. All I know, but one more than the others; Emerson Graves, Theo's father. And behind him, hovering in the background with a decanter of whiskey in her hand, Priscilla stares back at me, looking unsurprised by my sudden appearance.
It's Knight who speaks first, his face curling into a twisted smile.
“Well, what an honour to see you again, Golden Girl,” he says.
I stand upright and stare back. He doesn't deign to move from his seat, his demeanour so calm and relaxed.
“I'm glad to see that you've come to your senses,” he continues. “Thank you, Ajax, for picking her up.”
Ajax bows his head. In the background, Priscilla moves across with a subservient scamper to refill Knight's glass, as if she's nothing more than a common house servant.
“Thank you, Priscilla,” he says, without so much as looking at her. She, too, bows and takes a step back.
Knight looks at me for a couple of moments, the rest of the room silent. Then, with a sudden click of his fingers, he calls: “OK, everyone out. I want to speak with Cyra alone.”
The movement of the old Councillors is immediate. They don't slowly rise and depart, they jump from their chairs as quickly as their old limbs will allow and slide from the room.
Just before Ajax departs, Knight calls him back.
“I don't think the restraints are needed,” he says.
Ajax steps in and takes off my handcuffs. My arms swing down by my side as Knight looks on, smiling.
“OK, Golden Girl,” he says sardonically, “come and take a seat.”
I hear the door click behind me, and hover for a moment in the doorway. Once more, Knight's voice calls to me, inviting me forward. I step in and don't argue, perching on the end of a chair one away from him.
He smiles at my choice, swirling his whiskey around between his fingers. He sniffs at it and sets it on a small table to his side.
“So, Cyra, tell me why you're here.”
I take a breath, and calm my beating heart.
“I've had enough of the fighting. You wanted me before, Chancellor,” I say, trying to sound respectful. “So, here I am.”
He nods along, but soon his bobbing head turns into a shake.
“Oh...I did want you, yes. But, Cyra, things have changed now. You've changed them.”
I suspected he'd say as much. I know, now, that it's my death that he seeks. To squash my name, and with it, bring an end to this rebellion.
“We're on the same wavelength, Chancellor,” I say, biting back my hatred. “We both want this war to end. We both want the country to prosper. Perhaps it's time we tried to work together...”
His smiling face draws a laugh from his throat, gurgling and crackling up from within.
“Oh, Cyra, we're well past all of that. There can be no future for us, and no future for you. I've known that for some time now. And, I suspect you have too.”
He peers at me closely, leaning forward and searching my eyes.
“Yes....yes...you have. You're here because you've seen me, haven't you? You knew you had to come here...you knew this was where your journey ends. Oh, let me tell you, I've seen it for a long, long time. Today, I know, will be the last time we ever see each other.”
His words dig inside me, scraping into my mind. I can't help but recoil from him, turn away.
He's seen all of this coming...he's seen it all already...
He stands, wrapped in black as always, and takes a step towards me.
“I know you haven't come here to give yourself to me, Cyra. You've come here to kill me, and to die yourself if necessary. Well, you'll achieve one of those.” He smiles again, and looks down at me. “You're a smart girl, Cyra. Too smart to think that your death will absolve your friends of their sins. Too smart to come here without a plan. I know that you're not working alone.”
My heart begins to drum in my chest as he steps back towards his chair. He reaches down and presses a small button on the table. A moment later, the door opens once more.
No...
Ajax stumbles in, his hands tied behind his back. To his sides, Knight's personal guards stand, holding him up as he sways and falters, his eyes blackened and cheeks bruised.
“What have you done to him!” I call, standing up and rushing forward.
“Stop!” growls Ajax's voice.
I stagger to a halt, shaking on my heels.
“No, Cyra. No...”
Knight smiles at the short exchange between us.
“Such a bond,” he says. “Master and student reunited...but, all too briefly I'm afraid.”
Knight moves towards Ajax, whose eyes stay on me. They urge me to stay back, to stay where I am. His head lightly shakes.
Stay back, I can hear him say. Stay back...whatever happens.
I keep looking at him as Knight approaches, hear the sound of his voice rumbling through the room.
“Oh, I don't usually like getting my hands dirty,” he says. “But you Ajax...for you I'll make an exception.”
I stand, breathing heavily, as I stay staring in Ajax's eyes. His stay with mine, and don't look away.
“Stay there,” he mouths. “It's OK, stay there...”
From the corner of my eyes, I see Knight reach to his side. And then I hear the sound of slicing metal, of a large knife being drawn from a sheath.
“I trusted you, Ajax,” he growls. “And you betrayed me. And for that...you're sentenced to death.”
I take a tiny step forward, and Ajax's eyes grow more stark.
“Don't move,” he mouths. “It's OK, Cyra...really, it's OK.”
I try to keep my eyes open, but can't. As Knight lifts his hand up towards Ajax's neck, bringing the knife to his throat, I shut my eyelids tight and don't watch.
“Goodbye, Ajax,” I hear Knight say. “Goodbye
, old friend.”
A silence falls, and then in the blackness I hear the sound of gurgling. I open my eyes a crack and see red, flowing from Ajax's throat. Then footsteps reach my ears, and I look to see Knight collecting his glass from the table. My eyes open a little wider, and Knight looks at me, then to Ajax, nodding his head to us both.
“To Ajax,” he says, smiling, before sinking the contents of the glass.
And as he does, Ajax drops to his knees, blood still gushing from his throat. He stares up at Knight, the last light fading from his eyes, and a strange smile of satisfaction grows on his face.
And with that expression locked in place, my old mentor dies.
32 - Confrontation
“Such a gruesome affair.”
I continue to stare at the face of Ajax as Knight cleans the blood off his knife. The sound of it being slid back into its sheath cuts a tingle up my spine.
“Take him out of here,” bites Knight. “Toss him out to sea.”
I don't allow myself a single tear as Ajax's body is dragged from the room, leaving a long trail of blood in its wake. I just stare at the sight, and feel the imminence of my own death looming.
Soon, I'll join him. Soon, I'll join my mother and Theo and Amy...
Maybe it won't be so bad after all.
Knight's tall frame appears in front of me, and his cold finger touches my chin, rising my eyes to his. They're smouldering, the grey slate of his irises spitting anger.
“Don't think I didn't know he was faltering,” he growls. “I knew he let Link go the last time you were here. I knew he let you go when I sent him to Agricola to get you. Oh, I've known his mind all along. And now, he's brought you straight here to me...”
I feel empty. There's nothing left inside me. Nothing but a desire to finish things right here and now. To get the inevitable out of the way.
“Just kill me,” I whisper, staring at the pool of blood.
“All in good time, Cyra,” answers Knight. “I want to show you something first.”
He leads me towards the door, stepping over Ajax's blood as he goes. I follow, numb, the life already sucked from me. I don't fear death. I don't fear pain. Right now, I welcome it...
Coming here, I knew I'd be facing almost certain death. Either that or life as Knight's slave, like so many others here. I could take that if it meant saving people, stopping thousands of other innocents from dying.
But within me, I had a weak hope that Ajax and I, working together, would be able to subdue him. That, maybe, we'd find an opportunity to kill him. I should have known Knight had seen it all coming.
Out into the corridor we go, the wide smear of blood leading away towards the end. We follow it, reaching the main hall, and walking behind the large staircase. Beyond it, a lift sits open and waiting to descend into the depths of the city.
We step inside, and Knight presses the button for Underwater Level 6, the deepest level on Eden. I don't look at him as we go, dropping down level after level. I just stare forward at the silver face of the lift door, waiting for it to open to reveal my fate.
“You should feel honoured,” says Knight. “No one from outside of the Council is ever allowed down here.”
I don't answer. The door pings.
“Ah. Here we are.”
Callously continuing as if nothing's happened, Knight steps forward and I fall into step once more behind him. Underneath his black coat I can just about spy the shape of his knife, tempting me to move in and try to take it.
He glances back at me, as if knowing my mind.
“We're nearly there...” he says.
The corridor is just as nondescript as any other in this metal city. Silver and black chrome, lit in places by bright yellow lights that douse the place in a pallid glow. I see no doors as we walk, though, onwards down the tunnel, until one appears at the end. Knight approaches it, clicks the handle, and leads me inside.
The room is little more than a rectangle. Empty, fitted with no furniture at all. That soon changes when Knight speaks to Eve, and I realise that this room is just like the Grid, a blank canvas capable of morphing into whatever you might want.
A flat table springs up in the centre, nothing more than that. Knight looks at me with a glint of pleasure in his eyes, and then a hologram begins to glow, rising from the slab of metal, showing a three dimensional map of the mainland.
“Do you know what this is?” he asks me.
“The mainland...” I whisper.
He begins shaking his head.
“No...no...this is a picture of death. A picture of victory. Look,” he says, moving around the table and pointing to the coast, then to an area northwards along the wall. Then, he rounds to the other side, and lays a finger on the Deadlands. “My forces are closing in from all angles, Golden Girl. Soon, all of your friends will be dead.”
I look up at him, and feel that swell of anger rise inside me. He does nothing but smile back.
He speaks again to Eve, and large images appear on the walls. I turn to one and see the faces of Ellie and Link, captured, bound and tied to chairs. My lungs start to gasp as I turn to another, and see Jackson, lying on his stretcher, eyes closed, watched over by another of Knight's spies, hidden within our camp.
I turn to the conductor of it all once more, who stands ahead of me, laughing.
“Like I said, Cyra...soon all your friends will be dead.”
His words unleash me.
I pounce towards him as quickly as I can, his tall frame looming over me as I reach for his knife. My fingers brush past his coat as he steps to the side and away, chuckling. I lunge again, my eyes on his weapon, my fingers grasping nothing but air as I reach. He moves back, sliding this way and that, but each time I feel like I'm getting closer. With each movement he seems to be slowing.
Eventually, he retreats several paces, and pulls the knife into his own hand, gripping it tight. He breathes slightly heavily, putting distance between us, and I see his eyes narrow a little, hear the laugh fade away into nothing.
I stand ahead of him, face to face, just like I did in my vision, and see that confusion begin to build on his face, in his eyes.
He blinks hard several times, and then points the knife at me.
“This it is,” he says, returning that evil glint to his eye. “This is as far as I've seen into your future. Oh, I've seen this moment for some time, Cyra. This is where your journey ends.”
I stare back, watching him catch his breath, and a strange sense of calm saturates my body. A sudden relaxation spreads as I stand up straight and stare right back at him.
Slowly, my head begins to shake.
“No...” I whisper. “No...you're wrong Chancellor. This is where things end, but not for me. This is where things end for you.”
A flash of alarm strikes in his eyes. Confusion once more advances on his face. His nose crinkles into a grimace of anger, his eyebrows dropping, his grey eyes sharpening.
“Oh, you're wrong! You are so wrong!” he growls, taking a pace towards me.
I stand my ground, and take a long, calming breath.
“No...” I say. “I believe...”
He takes another heavy step forward, and another laboured breath. He begins to growl.
“You think this is the end for me! FOR ME!”
He laughs, lifting his chin to the ceiling, his cruel arrogance pouring from his mouth in that signature snort of enjoyment.
But I just smile back, watching him, as the laugh contorts and begins to change into a cough. As his eyes, full of disdain and spite, show confusion once more. And fear. For the first time, I see very real fear in his eyes, just as I did in my vision.
He reaches up to his mouth with his hand, coughing hard, and when he pulls his fingers away, his eyes widen further.
Blood covers their tips.
It trickles down his chin, smeared across his lips. He begins to wipe it away, coughing further, stark eyes now in turmoil as more blood erupts from his throat.
; He looks up.
“What have you done to me!” he shouts. “What have you done!”
I watch on, bewildered.
“What have you done!” he roars again.
Then, from behind him, I hear the click of the door opening, and a shadow moves into the room. Knight turns, and over his shoulder I see a face of hatred staring back at him.
“Priscilla?” he says.
Priscilla Graves walks forward, her arms by her sides, hidden beneath her cloak. She keeps her eyes on Knight as she steps towards him, as his own knife wielding hand drops to his waist.
“Priscilla, what are you doing here?” splutters Knight.
She nears him without speaking, and then her voice crackles with a terrible pain.
“You killed my son, Augustus. You killed my boy.”
Standing behind him, I don't see his face as her arm withdraws from its cloak, bringing a knife with it. I don't see the blade cut into his belly as Priscilla drives it forward. I don't see the expression in his eyes as he feels the sharp sting of the metal, the warm gush of the blood.
“I loved my son, Augustus,” continues Priscilla, her face etched in pain and revenge. “I loved him, and you destroyed him.”
She draws the knife out as Knight tries to speak, coughing up more blood. And then, behind, another figure looms, and I see Emerson Graves step forward. He, too, stares at Knight with utter hate as he plunges another blade into his stomach.
Knight drops to his knees, his arm going limp. Priscilla reaches down and takes the knife from his fingers, and then looks up to me.
“Cyra, come forward,” she says.
On shaking legs I move towards them, rounding the side of Knight's frame, cut down to the floor. For the first time I see the stab wounds, the blood reddening his cloak, pouring down his legs and gathering at his knees.
She passes me the blade that took Ajax's life, and nods at me.
“You finish this,” she says.
I hold the heavy handle between my fingers, and turn to look at Knight. His eyes stare back, expressionless now. His lips move, and words come out, quiet, whispering into the silent room.
“Do it...” he says, nodding oh so slightly. “Do it...”
I steady myself ahead of him, and look him in the eye. And as I do, I see the face of my mother, of Theo, of Amy, of Ajax. Of Lieutenant Murphy and the Master. Of all of those who he's killed, all of those he will kill. Of the hundreds of thousands who have died under his rule, and the many more who have been subjugated.
