by T. C. Edge
I can change it.
And I will. I have to.
We stay in the chamber for a little while, before getting cabin fever and going to explore. Ellie tells me that whenever she used to have things on her mind back home, she'd go walking, trekking through the deep woods.
“It gets the blood pumping, makes you feel better,” she says with a brisk stride.
I take her word for it, and within five minutes am already feeling a little lighter. We start by exploring the immediate area around our room, but find that everything appears more or less the same. Long passages filled with rooms cut into the stone and simple wooden doors; accommodation for those living here.
It reminds me of Surface Level 8 on Eden, one of the only places I felt comfortable on the great sea city. There, it was a maze of metal rooms, stuffed to the brim with good people doing simple, menial tasks. Here, the metal has been replaced by rock, but the people appear the same. Innocent people, just living out the lives they've been given.
We retrace our steps to the central chamber and find it bustling with activity and excitement. People seem to recognise us as we wander through, and I sense that word has already spread of our arrival.
At one point, a little girl runs up to us, breaking free of her mother. She tugs at my leg to get my attention, and I kneel down in front of her.
“Are you a Watcher?” she asks, her eyes big and brown and full of wonder.
The question surprises me. Over on the mainland no one knew what a Watcher was. Even on Eden, we operated very much under the radar. Here, though, our abilities seem to be well known; a source of fear and suspicion for some, and fascination for others.
Looking at the girl, I stretch an index finger over my lips and say quietly: “shhhh.”
Her eyes bulge, and she giggles and runs back to her mother. I smile after her, and note the look of admiration on her mother's face.
Ajax always told us that Watchers act with no hope of reward from others. They save lives without expecting to be honoured for it. They are selfless, servants of the people. I always struggled with that, although I did understand.
And as we continue to walk through the chamber, and more people point and whisper, a feeling of pride swells inside me. A feeling that I will help save these people willingly. And my reward, my only reward, will be freedom.
9 - A Vision Clearing
Having done at least a couple of laps of the main chamber, Ellie and I find a relatively quiet spot where we can take a break. We sit on the floor in a little huddle and discuss the events of the previous few days.
It feels good to have Ellie back. Ever since Link's death a couple of weeks ago, she's spent much of her time either crying, sleeping, or simply being alone with her thoughts. Now, with the excitement of arriving in Petram filling her veins, she appears to have returned to her usual loquacious self.
She natters on about various topics, focusing on the wonder of the city and her desire to do all she can to take down Knight. It appears she mimics my thoughts in that sense, the two of us very much on the same page. In truth, it's probably the same page that everyone on this side of the wall is on.
Chatting incessantly as if she's suddenly rediscovered her voice, Ellie is only cut off by the sight of Theo and Drake appearing from a passage on the left of the chamber. I stand immediately and begin running over to them. Ellie follows behind, mid sentence.
“So, what happened?!” I ask, panting as I reach them.
My father is, as always, first to talk.
“We had a long conversation with the Master and he has said he's willing to accept Theo into our cause.”
“Well, that's good,” I say, looking to Theo.
He shrugs.
“He didn't appear particularly pleased about it.”
“Well, people are on edge, Theo,” says Drake. “You know his reasons.”
“What reasons?” I ask.
“I'll let Theo explain that one. I'll be back to speak to you later. Show Theo to his room will you girls.”
“Where is it?”
“It's the one on the left of yours.”
Drake reaches forward and delivers a peck onto my cheek before hustling off into the crowd.
“He's a good man, your father,” says Theo, watching him go. “He really fought my corner.”
“I honestly don't know why it needs fighting! You've done nothing to make these people suspicious.”
“Yeah, well, it's less about me and more about my parents.”
“What do you mean?”
We begin wandering slowly through the crowd as Theo explains, making our way back towards our living quarters. Once more, we get plenty of looks and stares. With Theo now in tow, many are of suspicion.
“As you both know, my parents are Councillors. I understand that people are going to be naturally wary of me.”
“But as long as they know what happened with you, they'll trust you.”
“Well, that's what your father explained to the Master. He took some convincing, though, because he knows Eden well...and he knows my parents.”
We all stop in our tracks in the middle of the chamber.
“What! How does he know your parents?!”
“Because he was on the council himself once,” says Theo. “Decades ago, according to your father. He was a threat to Knight's rule, so he was banished. He doesn't trust anyone, by the sounds of it. So yeah, he isn't a fan of my parents, and he isn't a fan of me. You should have seen the way he looked at me.”
Theo allows himself a sort of nervous laugh. Ellie and I just stare at him, completely dumbfounded.
“So you're saying this guy, the Master, was one of the most powerful men on Eden decades ago?”
“Yep, that's what your father told me.”
“Jeez, that's heavy,” says Ellie. “But if he was a Councillor himself, isn't it a bit hypocritical to not trust you?”
Theo shrugs. “I didn't really think of that, but yeah, that sort of makes sense.”
“Yeah, good point Ellie,” I say. “Maybe now that he's okayed you to stay here, people will stop being so sensitive. It's ridiculous.”
Again, Theo answers with a nonchalant wiggle of his shoulders.
“Honestly, I don't care any more. People can think what they want. That's their right, I guess.”
We continue walking, reaching the passageway and navigating the maze to our room. We show Theo his basic quarters, and I notice the slight raise of his eyebrows at the state of the accommodation. I guess that's a habit of living life in luxury, one that's hard to break.
Of course, he doesn't say anything. That was the old Theo. This one seems careful never to put a foot wrong, even around Ellie and I. I guess he doesn't want to give anyone reason to doubt him.
Once settled, we decide to take a trip outside onto the plateau to get some fresh air. Foolishly, we do so without putting any extra layers of clothing on. When we reach the front of the central chamber and emerge into the late afternoon air, the full force of a ferocious, biting wind hits us.
It's colder than anything I've ever felt, but we battle on, unwilling to travel all the way back to our rooms to fetch more clothing. Outside, things seem to be slowing down as the sun dips. We walk through streets of cobbled rock, passing soldiers marching in formation and civilians going about their business.
Up ahead, the gates appear to be open. We wander forward and take in the sight of several dozen refugees, all huddled up tight together as they fight the cold and plod towards the safety of the mountain.
“They just keep coming,” I overhear a soldier say.
It makes me think of Jackson and the thousands he leads, hundreds of miles away. God knows how many more will have arrived by the time they turn up.
“This is mad,” says Ellie, watching as the fresh batch of refugees pass us by. “Is everyone from the Deadlands going to come here?”
“Is seems like the only safe place now. Anywhere out in the open is too dangerous,” remarks The
o.
“Yeah, but surely Knight knows about this place? Surely he'll know that the Master is here, that we're here. He's going to want to take us out where we feel strongest.”
Theo nods as Ellie speaks.
“You're right. It's pointless for him to send soldiers out, mopping up these small settlements. He'll be forming a plan to take this place, you can be sure of that.”
“You know, Theo, you're gonna be quite an asset around here I reckon,” I say. “With all your knowledge of Eden and Knight, I mean.”
“Eden, maybe, but I don't know much about Knight.”
“Well, still, the people here would do well to remember how important you could be. Rather than trying to doubt you all the time.”
Theo smiles at me, his eyes lingering a while, before we continue on our tour.
We carry on wandering for a short while, soaking up the atmosphere of this new dwelling. By the time we return inside, the light is fading and dinner is being served. We join a long queue and wait our turn to be handed our rations, before finding a spot to sit and eat.
After a hardly satisfying feed, we once more return to our rooms. Once there, there appears to be little to do but to sleep. I lie on my bed and, for the first time in a while, take out my mother's watch and run my thumb along the cracked edge.
Maybe it's just being here, in new surroundings. Maybe it's all this talk of Knight and revenge and war. Whatever it is, my thoughts dwell on my mother that night, before searching and exploring my past. I drift off and return to my home town of Arbor, to the simple days I once spent picking fruit, negotiating for medicine in the market, hiding from prying eyes with Jackson in the woods.
I linger on that thought, on how all I wanted back then was to stay where I was, take care of my mother and, in an ideal world, get Paired with Jackson. And now, here I am, in a land where you can make your own choices, pick your own partners. And Jackson, although miles away right now, is here with me.
The sight of Theo pops into my mind. The feel of the kiss he gave me a few days ago. Of the kiss he gave me weeks ago, as the city was attacked around us. Both of them felt right. They felt natural.
But how can that be? I've known Jackson all my life, loved him for as long as I can remember. How can a kiss from someone else feel anything but wrong?
My mind continues to wander, the two young men vying for the attention of my subconscious. Two young men who, in weeks, maybe months to come, may just be lying dead next to each other at my feet.
And then I fall deeper, cascading down the familiar rabbit hole. Thoughts of loss bring on the sight again, slightly clearer this time. I can see the expressions of those I love and care about now. They grimace in pain as they pass, as they die. They're lying on a flat surface, one made of planks of wood. It looks familiar, something I've seen before, but I can't be sure of what.
Then my eyes snap open in the pitch dark of my latest home. And one single thought dominates my mind.
The vision is getting clearer...so it must be getting nearer.
10 - The Master
A hand on my shoulder wakes me. Lingering memories flutter in my mind, quickly dispersed as I see the face of my father looking down at me.
“Cyra, get up, he wants to meet you.”
I blink hard and see light spilling in from the passageway outside. Lieutenant Murphy stands there with a torch, shining it into the room.
“What...what time is it?” I croak.
“Not yet dawn. Come on, get dressed. I'll wait outside.”
Drake steps back and walks from the room, leaving the door ajar. I feel exhausted as I let my legs fall from the bed and hit the cool rock floor. I quickly gather up my tattered clothes and dress to the tune of Ellie's light breathing as she sleeps.
Sleepy eyed, I go to the door and find Drake and Murphy in casual conversation outside, their voices nothing but whispers.
“What's going on?” I ask, my brain still foggy.
“I'm taking you to meet the Master,” says Drake.
“Now? Why now?”
“The Master doesn't care for sleep. He keeps unusual hours.”
We begin walking down the silent passageway, through the maze and into the main chamber. Dim lights, fixed on walls, mark our path. In the central chamber, the sight of hundreds, thousands of sleeping bodies greets me. A chorus of snoring and heavy breathing echoes around the place.
Silently, we walk across the room until we reach the opposite wall, embarking down the same passage that Drake took Theo the previous morning. As we go, the passages grow smoother, the rock walls chiselled flat, until we reach one that's more akin to a corridor. The ground beneath our feet levels out, and suddenly the interior of the mountain resembles a man made building.
Ahead, at the end of the hallway, several armed guards stand to attention on either side of a grand door. They nod respectfully at Drake as we appear, and open the double doors wide. Beyond, I see a wide open chamber with a large table in the centre. Once more, everything inside has been smoothed out, any rough edges eliminated. It looks like a board room of some kind.
“Thank you,” says Drake to the guards as we walk through the door. Lieutenant Murphy stops in the doorway and waits outside as we go in.
The door is shut behind us with a heavy thud. I scan the room, taking in my surroundings. The place is ornately dressed; wood panelling covers the walls, drapes offer dark colour. I even spot paintings hanging, several other works of art positioned in the corners. You would never know you're inside a mountain.
My eyes stop at one painting in particular. It's a sight I know well. A large city in the sea, high platforms rising from the raging surf. The tone is dark and brooding, the sky filled with lightning. You can almost hear the thunder just looking at it.
It's not the painting that interests me most, however, but the man standing before it. Draped in dark red robes, a small figure stands, back curved slightly, posture bent by age. White hair flows from his head to his neck, his skin pale and sallow. His hands, held behind his back, clasp tightly together, old and withered.
“How do you like my painting?”
His voice comes from nowhere. It's soft and deep, cracking slightly. He doesn't turn. He doesn't move.
I don't answer. I just look to Drake, who gives me a nudge.
“It's beautiful,” I say, after a moment's pause.
Now I see his first movement: his head shakes.
“No, it's not beautiful. It's the opposite of that.” His voice takes on a different tone. It cuts with menace.
Slowly, he turns, and for the first time I see his eyes. I'm quickly reminded of the first time I met Augustus Knight, how youthful his complexion was, but how deep his eyes were. Dark and deep as the ocean. I see a similar depth now.
The Master steps forward. He walks with a gentle ease, despite his age. Wrinkles dominate his visage, spreading out from his eyes and mouth. His lips are thin, and closed tight. His brow is low, hanging over his eyes, lending him an austere expression, an expression of authority. He moves towards me, eyes never leaving my face. I find myself fixed in place, and note the extra pumping of my heart.
Without turning his eyes from mine, he speaks.
“Drake, would you wait outside please. I'd like to speak with your daughter alone.”
Without a word, Drake leaves the room.
The Master continues forward until he's barely a foot from me. He peers closely at me, inspecting me. I feel uncomfortable, but don't budge.
“You'll have to excuse me for invading your personal space, Cyra. My eyesight isn't quite what it used to be.”
He steps back, seemingly satisfied, and takes a seat at the large table. He invites me to do the same.
“You know, it truly is fascinating meeting Drake's daughter. He talks about you all the time. You were his main motivation to join our cause in the first place.”
“I was?”
“Of course, you and your family. It's Augustus' greatest mistake, sending people o
ut here. All they ever want is to see their families again. It's how we've been able to build what we have, bring everyone together under a common banner. It will be his undoing.”
I stare at the man as he speaks. It's fascinating the paths life can take us on. That he was once on the council in Eden and is now fighting to destroy it.
“And you, sir? Do you have family on the other side of the wall?”
His visage darkens. I feel I may have overstepped the mark.
“I did, once,” he says, quietly. “A long time ago.”
He takes a moment to himself, before bringing a smile to his face and looking at me once more.
“I must apologise for this early call,” he says. “I wanted to meet you yesterday, but found myself too busy. Time, I've discovered, is short. I don't want to waste it on sleeping.”
“And why did you want to meet me, sir?” I ask.
His frown deepens.
“Cyra, you know why. You're one of the few people here who have the power of the Watchers. And, by the sounds of it, you're more gifted than anyone. You're now the greatest asset I have at my disposal.”
Asset? Disposal? I don't like his words.
“Now, I understand you had visions of the wall from Eden, many months before such visions came to fruition?”
“They didn't come to fruition,” I say. “The city was attacked instead. I was wrong.”
“I am aware,” he says dryly. “But as you know, visions are not set in stone. They can be altered. Regardless, my point is that you saw an event from a long way away, and a long time before it was due to take place. That is great power, Cyra. Very few others have it. In fact, there may only be one...”
He trails off, thinking, before returning to me.
“My current question is this: have you had any recent visions?”
“I have. I have them all the time.”
“Tell me.”
It's an order.
As I sit there, it's impossible not to think of Knight. Think of my first interaction with him, how he queried me on my visions as well. Then, I had no idea of his treachery. Now, I'm doing the same with a man I know next to nothing about. I am merely a pawn in this game. As he says, an asset. Once used by Eden, now by the rebels.
