by CM Raymond
Jed swallowed hard. The man was an idiot, but his instinct for survival finally caught up with him. “Yeah. I get it. What do you need?”
Adrien smiled. “I need you to make a very public—and very brutal—example of one of the Unlawfuls. Something the people can’t ignore and won’t soon forget. Make them realize just how easy they had it under the patrol of my Hunters.”
“But… the Unlawfuls; they’re all in hiding. My angels have been looking, but the fear is working. I couldn’t find one if my life depended on it.”
Adrien sneered and looked at the dead bodies surrounding the Prophet. “Let’s just say your life does depend on it, Jedidiah. But don’t be so naive. I don’t give a shit about whether they have used magic or not. I just care that you get the job done. It’s all in the presentation—the medium is the message, my friend. Got it?”
Jed nodded. “Loud and clear.”
Adrien nodded. “Good. And don’t fail me again, old man. Or it’s your body I will be using to send a message.”
CHAPTER FIVE
Ezekiel swirled the elixir around the bottom of the crystal goblet. He couldn’t have wiped the smile off his face if he needed to. Lilith, the Oracle, had taught him much about magic, and he’d learned a thing or two on his own since he had seen her last, but sitting in the small den of the monastery, it would have been hard to convince him that the mystics’ brew wasn’t the most impressive damned magic in all of Irth.
The taste was perfect, and it got anyone who drank it to the best buzz of their lives. But then it went no further. Getting shit-faced on the drink wasn’t a possibility, and Ezekiel was happy for the fact since he’d been drinking it for hours. Not to mention, he knew that when he awoke in the morning, he would feel refreshed and ready for the day.
Mystics knew nothing of the hangovers that pints of mead in the most respectable of pubs would dish out if one went even a bit too far.
“It’s good, right?” Hadley asked from his seat just a few feet away.
Ezekiel looked up and grinned. “Like you even need to ask.”
Hadley was their host, and, as far as Ezekiel could tell, was sitting in at the helm while Julianne was away. The last time Ezekiel visited the monastery, they had a visit from a group of Guardsmen sent from Arcadia on what seemed to be a diplomatic mission.
Unfortunately, they didn’t get a chance to ask anyone about it, because before much talking could proceed, a Guard with an itchy trigger finger blasted a young mystic just on their side of the welcome mat. Ezekiel still wondered if it could have been deescalated, but he knew that wasn’t what he wanted then, and not what he wished he had done now.
He was happy that he was there to take the Arcadians down.
Ezekiel had been there for the sake of his own diplomacy. With the state of Arcadia as he found it under Adrien’s regime, Ezekiel had teleported to the Heights to ask the mystics for their help. He was surprised to find the people being led by a young, beautiful woman named Julianne, who had taken up the mantle of leadership after the death of Ezekiel’s former student, Selah.
It was no surprise that the mystics were skeptical about helping Ezekiel with his mission to take back Arcadia. Although wise in all things, the mystics were a peaceful group who preferred the taste of their elixir to the taste of bloodshed.
But after the fighting had stopped, and one of the Arcadian Guards lay dead at Ezekiel’s feet, Julianne realized that something needed to be done to keep the Chancellor from bringing war to their doorstep.
The mystic, a true master, had done what Ezekiel thought was all but impossible. Her power allowed her to look exactly like the dead Guard, down to the number of hairs on his head. It was an impressive use of the mystic arts, and she immediately put it to good use.
She left her peaceful studies up in the temple and led the remaining Guards back to Arcadia—with a slight modification to their memories. She’d been in the city for weeks, playing bad guy and spying for Ezekiel.
“How is she?” Ezekiel asked.
Hadley looked up from his own cup. “Julianne? She’s fine. Strongest damn mystic I’ve ever seen.”
“Yeah,” Ezekiel sighed. “And so young.”
Hadley smiled. “Years can be misleading. You of all people should know that. How old are you now?”
Ezekiel smiled. This young mystic was certainly curious. Ezekiel trusted him, but he wasn’t yet ready to tell him about Lilith’s other powers. “Trade secret I’m afraid.”
Hadley took a large drink from his cup. “I’ll try not to pry... much. But I learned it from Julianne. We were trained together. Selah had taken a few of us to learn directly from him. But we were young—I hardly remember life in the lowlands before Selah found me. I immediately knew that Selah had called us for a purpose, that he wanted someone to take his place.”
He laughed and shook his head. “Sven and I knew it wasn’t going to be us, no matter how much we trained. It was always going to be Julianne. She’s a natural. Kind of like your young student.”
Ezekiel stared in his mug, then nodded. “Hannah’s the most naturally gifted magic user I’ve ever seen. Her emotions, they don’t hinder her like they do most magic users. They lift her up. I’m curious to see how her abilities will develop, especially now that you are helping. It is a shame that Julianne couldn't be a part of the training. I taught Selah the mystic arts, and he taught Julianne. But she can use it in a way that I never could. You mystics have come a long way in my absence. That magic she’s working in Arcadia right now... That’s something special.”
Ezekiel sipped on his drink. The hundredth taste was as good as the first.
“I have been in contact with her,” Hadley said. “Julianne was hoping that she would have seen you back in the city by now.”
“Well, actually, that’s why I’m here. My plan is to do just that, to get back into the city. But Hannah needs more training. I need you to teach her in the way of the mystics.”
The young man laughed. “You downplay your own abilities, Ezekiel. But I’m not fooled. Selah told us stories of the Founder, after all. Why don’t you train her yourself?”
“The mystic arts, they’re more than ability. They are an attitude, one that can only develop in a community like this. And, I fear that…” His buzzed mind wandered to Adrien, his student, and all that he had taught him as a boy. “Guess I’m afraid that if I’m her only teacher, I might leave traces. You know, something that Adrien might be able to recognize, pick up on. I can’t risk something going afoul.” He paused a moment, allowing his concerns to coalesce. “The risks are too great.”
The two men looked at the fire for a spell, bathing in the warmth provided by it and the drink.
Finally, Ezekiel spoke again. “But there’s another reason I brought her here. I need to go away for a while. A few days, maybe a week.”
He laughed but wasn’t sure why. “Hell, I have no idea how long. But Julianne inspired me, and I think I’ve come up with the perfect plan to get Hannah and me back into Arcadia. But first, there’s someone I need to find, and I can’t take Hannah with me, not on this quest. And leaving her alone so close to the city... well, it didn’t go so well the last time.”
Hadley grinned. “We’re happy to have her here, of course. But it doesn’t seem like she needs a babysitter. She’s already quite the young woman.”
“Hands off my girl, Hadley.”
The host put his hands in the air. “Ah, so you’re playing the role of teacher and protective father, huh? Have no fear. She’s safe here. I’ll teach her what I can in the time that I have. But Ezekiel…”
There was a long pause, and then finally the old magician asked, “What is it, Hadley?”
“Julianne is important to us. She did what she needed to protect the Heights. But don’t tarry too long. She is the best mental magician in Irth, but it doesn’t mean that someone won’t sniff her out. Let’s not leave her in the lion’s den for too long.”
Ezekiel finished his glass and g
ently placed it on the table. He considered another, and then decided it was time for sleep. The journey would be long and difficult. “I will do my best, Hadley. I ask you to do the same. But there’s no guarantee that we won’t all be thrown into the lion’s den before this is over.”
****
The smell of eggs and bacon hit Parker in the face as he left his bedroom and headed for the kitchen. Breakfast in the morning had been a tradition with his mother since as long as he could remember, and although their rations had been cut in half due to his dwindling income, he was glad for what little they had.
While Parker had been hustling in the streets for most of his life, he had been able to keep his mom in the dark. But after he beat the odds in the fighting pit—and a giant of a man named Wildman Hank—Parker’s true income became known. Ever since then, Eleanor, Parker’s mom, had refused to let him try any new cons. But that cut down on their income significantly
Between her pestering for him to become an honest man, and the increased presence of the Governor’s men on the ground in the market, Parker decided it was time to try to move into the legitimate workforce. He dragged his feet, but things were getting tight enough that it was time to take it all very seriously.
“Factory is hiring,” she said as she shoveled more than half the eggs and bacon onto her son’s plate. “Mitsy’s son just got hired on. He’s working all the time I guess. You should apply.”
“Yeah. Thinking about it. Probably go and check it out today.” Parker smiled, but he was not happy about the prospect.
While he knew a lot of the men from the boulevard had accepted these new factory jobs lately, his con artistry afforded him maximum freedom. And with little work, he could procure the kind of wages that Hewett, Mitsy’s son, likely made in a full day working a mindless job in the factory.
But taking care of his mother was most important. And if he got made by the Guards, it was likely that things would not go well with him, especially with the city still on high alert since Hannah decided to avenge her brother’s death and almost took out a city block in the process.
“Really, Parker, a smart boy like you shouldn’t be out stealing from people. You should be putting your mind to work.” She tapped her finger on his temple and smiled.
“Thanks, Mother. But you know working in the factory is nothing more than being a monkey for the Capitol. I just want to—”
“Oh, you would move up fast. In a few short months, you could even be a manager or something. Now, that would make your poor father proud.”
Parker watched his mother’s eyes glass over, and he hoped he could get out of the house without another session of crying.
His father had gone out to find his fortune years ago. And like so many of the Arcadians who left the city walls for glory or riches, his dad never returned. Parker knew he was long gone, either by the hand of another or by his own choosing. Regardless, it was no use trying to convince his mother of this.
She would take the hope of her husband’s return to the grave. Everyone in Queen’s Boulevard had their way of getting through the day-to-day in their dismal existence, and he couldn’t blame her for having her own methods.
“I’ll go check it out today, Mom. I promise.”
“Good,” she said, smiling up at her son. “Now, eat your breakfast. I swear you are nothing but skin and bones.”
****
By the time Parker made it to the market, the place was jam packed. With the curfew still in effect, people couldn’t wait to get back out on the street after a long night holed up under the watch of the Guard.
“How’s it hanging, Parker?”
“A little to the left,” he said with a grin to the man selling cheese from a cart in his normal spot in the square.
Arcadia welcomed the farmers from outside the walls into the market each day, though they required a significant cut for the space. Stan, a short and stout farmer, could have almost been confused for a rearick, one of the sturdy miners from the Heights. But he’d been in the lowlands so long, everyone just assumed he was from short lineage.
Parker leaned against the cart and took in the crowd. “How’s the sales today?”
“Un-fucking-believable.”
“Really?” Parker was surprised. Everything seemed tighter since Hannah’s run in with the Guard. He thought everyone was suffering, but maybe it was just him. “What’s up with that?”
Stan looked over his right shoulder and then his left. In whispered tones, he said, “Dunno if it’s true or not, but there’s a lot of talk. Shit, you haven’t heard it?”
“Heard what?”
“People are getting scared. With the curfew and the increased security, folks are nervous something big might be on the horizon. Had some old broad, a noble, come up to me yesterday—bought all the cheese I had. Asked me to roll the whole damn cart right down the lane to her precious little mansion. People are legitimately freaking out. Well, not out loud, but they’re acting like a storm is coming.”
Parker looked around the square. The cheese-seller wasn’t wrong.
“Shit. Those kinds of rumors aren’t bad for you, though, are they?” Parker asked.
“Hell, no.” Stan laughed. “Charged that old cat three times what I’d charge one of your people.”
Parker smiled. “She can afford it.”
“Damn straight.”
As Parker opened his mouth to ask if Stan had any work for him, a commotion arose from across the square. Parker craned his neck to try to see what was bringing the people to life.
“I’ll catch you later, Stan.”
The man nodded as Parker made his way across the broad, crowded square. As he pushed through the crowd, he heard people saying all kinds of things.
“Serves ‘em right. They’ve been warned.”
“What the hell has this damned place come to?”
“About time someone took justice into their own hands.”
Parker waded through the crowd, pulling toward the featured attraction. A sick fear gripped his chest. As he broke through the final row, what stood before him made his stomach turn. An old woman, stripped naked, was tied to a pole held up straight by a pile of rocks. Her lifeless head hung limp. Across her chest was carved the word: Unlawful in hideously jagged letters.
Across from her stood a group of the Prophet’s disciples, a satisfied look on their faces like they had just seen a miracle. It wasn’t hard for Parker to figure out what happened. The Prophet had been preaching for weeks that Unlawfuls needed to be wiped from the city.
Finally, his disciples decided to take him at his word.
“This is the will of the Founder,” one of the disciples yelled. “The will of the Matriarch and the Patriarch. Their wrath will punish all Unlawfuls.”
Parker was mad enough to bash their skulls in. The fact that they could do something so sick, and in the name of Ezekiel... It made him wish he had Hannah’s power.
He would show them the Founder’s wrath.
But as he looked at the dead woman, he slowly realized who she was. Her name was Miranda, a tiny healer from the boulevard.
The woman probably had no real magic to speak of, but she worked herbs and medicines in order to help others. Parker had known her his whole life, but seeing her like this, naked and beaten to death, she was almost unrecognizable. She was a good woman, and she deserved better than this.
Parker decided that anger could wait. For now, justice required a different approach.
