by T. C. Edge
And as I look at him, and prepare to plunge the dagger right into his chest, I speak with a growl and a grimace.
“For everyone you've killed...for every life you've destroyed...I sentence you to death, High Chancellor.”
And with those words, a final smile rises on his lips, and I send the knife right into his heart.
33 - To Kill a Snake
I stand and stare at Knight's body, hardly believing the sight ahead of me. From his chest, his knife protrudes, stuck right through him. Around him, a pool of blood gathers, spreading out across the floor, sticky and dark.
I feel the touch of Priscilla's hand on my arm, freeing me from my trance. She turns me to her and pulls me into a hug, our mutual love for Theo bringing us to this place. And when she pulls back, a question rises on my lips.
“How?” I whisper.
She reaches into a pocket and takes out a small, empty vial. She places it in my hand for me to inspect.
“Poison?” I ask.
She nods.
And then I realise...
The whiskey.
The final smile of satisfaction on Ajax's face, rising as Knight sunk the contents of his glass. Priscilla had poured it. Together, they poisoned him.
“It was designed to be slow acting,” she tells me. “Slowly, it numbed his senses, took away his abilities. That's why he didn't see me coming. That's why he could do nothing to stop his death.”
“And Ajax knew?” I ask. “He knew all along?”
“Commander Ajax saw how Theo's death had affected myself and Emerson, even if no one else did. He opened up to me, told me he was working with you. I...I knew it was the right thing to do. Augustus lost control a long time ago. He's shaped this country into something twisted, something that few of us truly wanted. Perhaps, now, we can work together to change that.”
“And the other Councillors?”
“Few remain loyal to Knight. Most have been cut from his inner circle, have grown disillusioned. We have a chance to build a better world now, Cyra. Thanks to you.”
We both look down once more at Knight's body, Emerson standing beside us.
“He really thought he'd live forever,” he says quietly. “But he never saw his own death coming.”
“It's the one thing he couldn't see,” I say. “Watchers can't see their own end. He'd seen no further into my future, or so he thought. Really, there was nothing left in his.”
Together, we all turn and slowly walk from the room.
“What about the soldiers up above?” I ask.
“They will follow whoever is in charge,” says Priscilla. “They have no true loyalty to Knight. Few do. They will be weeded out, in time. For now, the Council will take charge of the city. You, Cyra, must return to your camp. Bring your leaders here.”
“But...what Knight showed me,” I say, my concerns renewing. “My friends, Ellie and Link, are being held somewhere. The Eden forces are closing in...and there are spies in our camp...”
Priscilla lays a calming hand on my shoulder.
“All will be taken care of. The forces will be called back. Your friends will be released.”
She smiles at me, her voice soothing.
“Take a breath, Cyra,” she says. “It's over.”
We walk down the long corridor and into the lift. Up we go, rising through the city that seems, suddenly, less intimidating, less claustrophobic with the vise like grip of Knight having been released. I breathe out long and hard as we reach the deck and step back into the mansion.
Soldiers wait outside, standing tall and ready to take orders.
Priscilla turns to them, and speaks with the confidence and authority of someone used to issuing commands.
“High Chancellor Knight is dead,” she says impassively. “His body is on Underwater Level 6. See that it is brought up here.”
The guards look at each other nervously, but no one even asks what happened.
“Yes, Councillor,” is all they say, before stepping into the lift and disappearing.
“You see, Cyra,” says Priscilla. “Sheep, who have lost their shepherd. All they need is a new one.”
Walking with Theo's parents, I'm led out of the mansion, into a hovercar, and back across the city towards the aircraft hangers. People still watch me as I pass, not knowing what has just taken place, unaware that their lives, perhaps, are about to change.
When we reach the hangers, I step out and am led towards the Graves' private plane, the same one she arrived in only days ago to negotiate. Her personal pilot performs some checks as we step into the giant space.
“Emerson, give him his brief,” says Priscilla. Her husband walks off towards the pilot.
“He will fly you back to the wall, Cyra. We will take care of everything here.”
“I...I have so many questions. I can't thank you enough.”
“There is no need, my dear. You have done more for this country than myself or Emerson could ever hope to do. I'm just ashamed it took the death of my own son to make me realise. Go back, Cyra, and return with your leaders. We will build a new world together.”
She gives me a hug as Emerson returns. He, also, pulls me in with a warm smile across his face.
“Theo was lucky to have been Paired with you, if only for a short time,” he says.
I feel a tear building.
“Thank you, Emerson,” I croak. “I miss him.”
“We all do,” he says. “Let's make him proud, what do you say?”
I begin nodding as the pilot climbs aboard and starts the engine.
“We'll see you soon, Cyra,” says Priscilla. “And don't worry about your friends. I'll get them sent back to you immediately.”
The building tear spills over, dropping down my cheek and into the corner of my mouth.
“Thank you...” I whisper, tasting the brine.
They smile once more and, as a couple, turn and walk out of the hanger. And they, like me, walk with a weight lifted from them, stepping lighter, standing taller, looking brighter than ever.
I watch them leave, before climbing aboard the aircraft. The pilot looks at me from the front.
“OK, Miss Drayton. Are you ready?”
“Yes,” I nod.
“Well strap in, and relax. Let's get you home.”
The journey back to the wall is quick, quicker than ever before. I sit and watch the world pass by, a tension remaining inside me. The pilot asks me to call ahead to let them know it's me coming in, and I take my opportunity to ensure that Jackson has several guards placed by his side to protect him.
With that, I feel a little more at ease. When we land right outside the ruins of the military base, however, that sense of ease turns to one of great relief.
Waiting for me on the ground, I see the face of my father staring up, smiling wide. Next to him, Athena and Troy stand, along with the two Generals and Markus and Stein. Leeta, too, brought from Petram, looks up into the sky with her hands cupped to her cheeks. All eagerly await me, still unaware of exactly what has transpired.
I go and wait at the door as the aircraft descends, ready to jump out as soon as we touch dirt. I press the button for the door, and leap to the ground, not waiting for the ramp to extend, before piling towards my father. He gathers me up into his strong arms and twirls me around, before dropping me back to the earth.
I then turn to Athena, and show her a display of affection that usually makes her uncomfortable. Then Stein steps in and envelops me, his yellow smile larger than ever. Behind, Leeta waits her turn, shaking with excitement. She almost pushes Stein away such is her eagerness, whispering into my ear.
“Oh darling, you're safe...you're safe.”
Even Troy gets to feel the full force of my embrace, and Markus too. I stop short of the two Generals, waiting patiently for me to pass on any news.
They look at me eagerly, a hundred questions on their lips.
But none are asked. Standing ahead of them all, I take a breath, and smile wide.
&n
bsp; And then I speak.
“Knight is dead,” I say. “The war is over.”
A short silence descends, followed by a murmur which morphs into a roar. They all hug and clap and shout out, and beyond, people begin to wander forward to see what the commotion is all about.
“THE WAR IS OVER!” shouts out Troy, turning to the assembled audience. “KNIGHT IS DEAD. THE WAR IS OVER!”
The excitement immediately begins to spread, out through the people nearby, up towards those on the wall. High above, I see a guard stand and look out over the Deadlands. He cups his hands to his mouth and shouts out, repeating Troy's words.
And then, gradually, from the other side of the wall, the sound of thousands of voices begin to roar and cheer as one, the world growing with the tumult of victory.
A bright smile rises on my face as I turn towards the gate. People already start flooding across, symbolically crossing over into the mainland, now made safe. They dance and whoop and cheer out, their feet kicking up dirt and creating a low smog of dust that hovers over the surface of the desert.
My father pulls me in again amid the growing din.
“What happened, Cyra?! What in the world happened?!” he asks, amazed.
“Soon...I'll tell you soon,” I say, stepping back. I turn, and begin running towards the gate, shouting back as I go: “and I want to hear all about Petram...”
Through the burgeoning crowd I battle, running for the gate. They see me coming and cheer my name, and a chant begins to raise.
“Golden Girl...Golden Girl...” they call, opening a channel for me to pass through.
I reach the gate, now flowing like water from a breach in a dam with a rush of soldiers and refugees. They pour out and join the rest, people running out and spreading far and wide, their fears eliminated, their hope and faith rewarded.
Onto the other side I pass, rushing across the Deadlands to the field hospital. Ahead, I see Cassie and Carson, hugging tight. They see me and I'm smothered up in their arms, three siblings, reunited, now saved.
Among the many injured, I see smiles despite the pain, joy despite the suffering. Medics and nurses and carers alike, all still working hard, hug and kiss and laugh to the skies. I scan the scene, and then I see him. Cassie and Carson release me.
“Go to him,” my sister whispers.
Through the mess of bodies I walk. Through the din, my senses focus only on the young man ahead. He stares at me with a small smile, white teeth set against his golden skin, and his blue eyes shining brighter than they ever have.
I look upon him, standing by the side of his stretcher, his body wrapped in bandages, his left forearm and hand missing. A body ravaged by war, but his spirit as strong and beautiful as it's ever been.
“Hey, you,” he says to me.
“Hey,” I smile.
Together we step in, and our lips press together, and our bodies wrap into a tangle that I never want to unravel. Tears flood down my cheeks, and a future free of war and death and pain comes to me. A future with the man in my arms. A future with everyone I love by my side.
We stay locked as one for some time, the world continuing to erupt in a party around us. And then, over the clattering noise and joyous clamour, I hear the faint sound of a plane descending. I look up, and from the mainland I see a shape emerge.
“Ellie! Link!” I say.
The plane hovers above the wall, and then begins moving towards the field hospital. I stare up and, through the glass windows, see the face of that innocent girl from Lignum staring out. She points down at me, and I see her mouth moving. The plane drops, the people clearing, landing a dozen metres away.
And as soon as the door opens, the little figure of my best friend comes bursting forward and jumps towards me. Behind, Link walks more stoically, not given to such displays of emotion. And walking by his side, with her small hand in his, is his young sister.
They did it...they found her.
Ellie flings her arms around me, squeezing tight.
“You saved us, Cy...you saved us,” she says.
She pulls back, tears wetting her eyes, and turns to see Jackson. Her eyes grow with sorrow and shock.
“Jack, your arm...”
She moves to hug him, more gently now, but he merely smiles and raises his stump proudly, wrapping it behind her back.
“I'm fine, Ellie,” he says. “I've been blessed with a spare...”
He begins laughing as Link joins us. He, too, looks at Jackson with shrouded eyes. The two young men shake hands firmly. I pull Link towards me.
“You found her,” I say. “You found your sister...”
He nods, smiling, as the small girl arrives in front of me. She looks up at me with big, beautiful brown eyes, wonder inside them.
“Are you the Golden Girl,” she asks.
And for the first time, I take on the mantle proudly.
“Yes, sweetheart,” I say, “I am.”
That night, a huge celebration is held, but I'm not there to see it. I know that there's still so much work to be done, so much to put in order, so many bridges to build and rebuild.
Along with Drake, Stein, Troy, and the two Generals, I return to Eden, leaving the rest behind. Along the way, I tell them exactly what happened, and hear for myself what happened in Petram.
Manson, it turns out, was found right in the lower depths, down as far as the systems of caves and tunnels would go. It was Drake who came across him, alone, and who stepped in to finish him, alone. Driven on by the murder of the Master, the rematch didn't last long, Manson weakened by a lack of food and water over the previous couple of days.
“I felt a little sorry for him, actually,” Drake tells me. “He lost his brother and sister. He was desperate down there, hidden in the darkness. His death was mercy.”
We arrive at Eden shortly after nightfall, our presence called ahead by Stein. When we reach the hanger, we find the entire Council awaiting us, with Priscilla and Emerson Graves at their head.
We gather together, and for the first time in many decades, Stein comes face to face with those he once served with.
“How are you, Aeneas?” asks Priscilla.
“Better than ever, Priscilla,” he replies.
They embrace, and Stein takes Emerson's hand, before greeting other Council members who he once called friends.
And looking on, I know that Stein has found his true calling once more. That he, along with Priscilla and Emerson, will help to forge the people together into a single entity again.
I stand back, and watch as the rest greet each other. Old military men like Generals Richter and Sharpe step in and shake hands for the first time with Councilmen and Councilwomen who have led such divergent lives. Troy does the same, and my father, once of the mainland, greets these people politely who have, at least in part, helped to develop the disparity that spreads from Eden, across the regions, and into the Deadlands.
But no more.
No longer will the world be run by a single city, the few dictating to the masses. No longer will people be forced to be Paired with those deemed appropriate by someone else, coerced by fear into performing a duty that they can never escape.
Things will change, and ahead of me are the people who will see to it. People from all walks of life, brought together under this single purpose – to change the world for the better.
But me...I look on with no such desire for myself.
I'm not born for this. At heart, I wish for nothing but a simple life; away from the staring eyes of others, away from the constant visions of pain and suffering that come to me in my sleep.
All I want is a life with Jackson, with my friends, knowing that they're safe. And knowing that the world is being put right by those I can trust.
That, in the end, is more than I can have ever hoped for.
Epilogue
The gentle sound of lapping waves filters into my ears. I sit on the cool shore, lying under the sun, listening to the lake flow and the birds and insects tweet
and buzz. I hear a cracking sound behind me, and turn to see Jackson lifting his foot off a twig.
“Trying to sneak up on me, are you?” I ask.
“Trying to surprise you,” he corrects me.
He takes a seat beside me, and from behind his back brings out a small hamper filled with bread and cheese and delicious looking fruits. Foods that, once, were produced and gathered across Agricola, only to be sent to Eden and the sea cities. Now, dispersed among all, luxuries everyone is allowed to enjoy.
I watch as he sets out a small blanket and lays down the food.
“How does it feel?” I ask.
He takes a break to frown at me.
“The new hand...”
I stare at the bionic arm he was recently fitted with, specially made by the geniuses on Eden, whose work is now being used to spread better health care and technology through the mainland.
He raises it up, flicks out each of his fingers, and creates a fist, before performing the more nimble task of picking a grape and passing it through my lips.
“I think I'm getting the hang of it,” he says with a wry smile.
He finishes setting out the food, and we sit up next to each other, eating as the water glistens ahead of us. It still feels slightly odd to be allowed to just sit and relax for an entire day, Sundays now free for people to enjoy as they wish. Each week, I come down here, to this undisturbed patch of beauty amid the rolling hills, and let the hours pass by without a single care in the world.
Across the regions, the world continues to change. Still, there are heady times ahead, much work to be done. But the difference is simple; now, everyone is in it together, everyone has their say. No longer is a single man responsible for millions. No longer is it he who decides their fate.
Reality, however, remains. Work needs to be done, duties fulfilled. The world, I have come to realise, will never be fully equal. That just isn't how it works. Some will always have more than others. As a baby can be born to grow up big and strong, handsome and smart, another might be less fortunate, cursed by an illness of disease that robs them of many of life's joys.
