Dreams of the Chosen

by Cawell, Brian

  He steps down from the platform to stand among them.

  ‘Who’s in?’

  All around the room, hands go up. Male and female, old and young; he watches them and his heart warms to them.

  ERIN’S STORY

  Within hours of arriving, we had a handle on the way things were in Berra.

  Without attracting too much attention, we could move through the markets and the living quarters of the town, observing what life was like outside the walls.

  A feeling of change was in the air. Not huge – not an irresistible movement – but a glimmer of hope. As if the possibility of such a thing were not as distant as it may once have seemed.

  That’s the thing about change. It starts slowly, like a feeling or an unformed idea, but once it takes hold, it builds. Among the mundane thoughts of work and family, we caught a number of momentary flashes of something more. The ‘what if’. The dream.

  What if things could be different?

  What if the Guard were no more?

  What if the Hartmans could really be toppled?

  And under all the ‘what if’s, echoing like an unheard harmony, was an idea. The Scarlet League – the mysterious band of rebels, whose exploits were beginning to make inroads into the collective unconscious of an entire city.

  Suddenly, it wasn’t so hard to imagine cracks appearing in the solid walls of the Citadel.

  The news from inside wasn’t as positive as we’d hoped for, though. A visit to the wall, and Armin informed us about Adam.

  Sharonne was devastated, naturally, and they were taking stock, seeing what they could do to formulate an escape plan that didn’t involve him.

  – We need to contact these rebels, I said, to no one in particular.

  – We do? Bran replied, though the others had also turned to look at me.

  – We do. I think we might need some help, before this is all over, and they might just be interested in helping spring some high-profile prisoners from the clutches of the Citadel. Great for building the legend.

  – The legend?

  When Reggie asked the question, and I realised that though I’d been thinking about the Scarlet League strategy, I hadn’t actually discussed it with the others.

  – These rebels are building momentum. With small acts of civil disobedience and stunts like painting slogans on the Citadel wall, they’re slowly building public awareness for themselves. The secrecy is part of it. Apart from protecting themselves from the Guard and the soldiers, it also creates a mystique. And that’s how legends grow. In the end, people don’t fight for freedom – it’s much too abstract to die for. They don’t even fight for food – they just make do. Instead, they fight for a story – a concrete vision of freedom, written in actions and exploits. That’s the power of the legend, and it’s why they might be willing to help us. All we have to do is figure out who this Blakeney is. He’s the one with the vision.

  – That shouldn’t be too hard. Leana this time. All we have to do is find one of the rebels, and crash one of their secret meetings.

  – And convince them not to lynch us.

  Bran, of course. But he had a point.

  Becoming a member of the Scarlet League was no easy choice. It was a dangerous decision that carried with it the risk of torture and death, at the hands of the Guard. Strangers with knowledge that might threaten your safety, might represent a threat that had only one remedy. A permanent one.

  – Which is why I think we should focus on Blakeney himself. He’s more likely to see how the big-picture advantage could outweigh the threat. And if we can catch him on his own, we may just be able to convince him.

  I stopped speaking at that point. It was only an idea; I didn’t have any kind of concrete plan. Still, I couldn’t shake the notion that the League would be somehow tied up with the success – or failure – of our quest.

  The Citadel

  February 2, 3384ad

  ADAM

  Adam speaks without prelude, before the door has swung closed behind him.

  ‘We have him, Bainbridge! They took the bait and raided one of the secret stores last night. Got away clean with food and wine.’

  ‘Which store?’ Hartman is staring into his eyes.

  Adam hesitates.

  ‘Out with it, man! Which store did they raid?’

  ‘Number twenty-four.’ The words are barely more than a whisper.

  The colour drains from Hartman’s face.

  ‘You mean . . .’

  Adam nods, reluctantly.

  ‘After all this time? He – I trusted him with my life. I don’t believe it.’

  ‘He was the only one who knew that location would be unguarded. None of the other stores was touched. It has to be him. That was the whole point of setting the trap.’

  The moment of weakness is replaced by angry determination.

  ‘Guard!’ The two men stationed near the door approach on the double. ‘Take a squad and arrest Thaddeus Mink. Take him to the basement and await my instructions.’

  Momentary confusion touches the Guards’ faces, but his anger overwhelms their surprise.

  ‘NOW!’ he shouts, and the two men turn and run from the room.

  He makes a fist and holds it up in front of him.

  ‘I will oversee the questioning myself. He will scream their names, before I have the pleasure of watching him beg for death. You’ve done well, Adam. The traitor could have killed me in my sleep.’

  ‘And no doubt would have, when he judged the time right.’

  Hartman moves towards the door, then stops, and turns back.

  ‘By the way, boy. We have a visitor you might like to say hello to. Myriam!’ The old woman appears almost instantaneously. ‘Take him to see the Lady.’ A pause. ‘Thank you, Adam.’

  Adam de Vries smiles to himself with satisfaction, as he watches Hartman leave.

  Within minutes, and for the last time, Thaddeus Mink, the sadistic Head of the Citadel Guard, will be entering the torture room – a place where he has derived so much past pleasure.

  See how you like it from the other side, Thaddeus.

  Adam’s smile turns to a wide grin of satisfaction, as he follows the old woman from the room.

  SHARONNE

  Sharonne remains silent for a moment, after Armin has finished.

  ‘The Scarlet League?’ she says, finally. ‘That’s what they call themselves?’

  ‘That’s what Erin says.’ Armin is lying on the floor, eating an apple, with his feet up on the lounge.

  ‘And the leader calls himself Blakeney?’

  He nods, taking a huge bite, and chewing loudly.

  She considers for a minute.

  ‘Of course! It’s the Pimpernel.’

  ‘The what?’

  ‘The Scarlet Pimpernel. It is an ancient story. It was one of the oldest books in our library at home and it was Adam’s favourite when we were children. I remember him reading sections to me. Then I read it myself, after he left. The hero was a man called Blakeney – Sir Percy Blakeney – and he was one of the ruling class in a country called England. There was a revolution taking place in a neighbouring country, so he disguised himself and gathered together a group of his friends. They would go on adventures, rescuing people who were about to be executed and bringing them to safety. He called himself the Scarlet Pimpernel, after the tiny red flower he signed all his letters with.

  ‘Whoever this Blakeney is, he knows the story. But—’

  ‘But what?’

  ‘I always thought that we had the last copy in the world. Most of the other Families don’t even have libraries, and such a book is – Unless—’

  ‘I know I said I wouldn’t pry without permission, but if you’re going to go all vague on me—’

  ‘It is Adam, Min. Don’t ask me how I know, b
ut this Blakeney character – he has to be Adam. It all fits.’

  By now, Armin is sitting up.

  ‘We can make anything fit, if we need to badly enough. Listen to yourself, Sharonne. I read Hartman’s mind, remember? Adam’s working for him. It’s his job to destroy the League. How could he—’

  ‘What better cover? Who is the last person Hartman would suspect of leading the League? The man he has set to destroy it, of course. It all makes sense. It is exactly what the original Pimpernel would have done – pretend to be the opposite of what you are. I know him, Min, as well as I know myself. He could not have changed that much and this is exactly the Adam I knew.’

  She stands and paces up and down, as she speaks. There is an excitement in her that has been missing since their arrival at the Citadel.

  ‘Besides,’ she continues, ‘there is one way to find out. When he arrives, go inside, and you will know instantly.’

  ‘Which might happen sooner than you think. We have company.’

  A knock on the door. Sharonne turns to him.

  ‘Is it—’

  He nods, and she shouts, ‘Come in!’

  Then she is running towards the opening door, just as her brother enters. Before he can register his surprise, she has thrown her arms around his neck, driving him against the door.

  ‘Sharonne?’ he manages, before she kisses his cheek so hard it makes speaking impossible. Then he hugs her tightly and lifts her off the ground.

  She is crying when she steps back and he too is wiping moisture from his eyes.

  ‘They told me you had been kidnapped by Ferals,’ he says, finally.

  ‘Just one of Father’s fantasies,’ she replies. ‘Blame anyone but yourself. I missed you.’

  Adam just looks at her.

  ‘Me too.’

  In the moment of silence that stretches between them, Armin approaches and holds out his hand.

  ‘Armin,’ he says, as Adam shakes it. ‘Nice to meet you – Blakeney.’

  For a heartbeat, the significance of what he has said fails to register. Then Adam steps back.

  ‘How did you—’

  But Armin has turned to address Sharonne again. He bows in a courtly fashion and smiles broadly. ‘You were right, my Lady. As usual.’

  ‘Sharonne?’ Adam is in shock. The secret he has worked so hard to conceal hangs in the air, naked and revealed.

  ‘I should have mentioned it, Adam,’ she says. ‘You can never keep secrets from Armin. Not that I needed his help. I mean, Blakeney? You might as well have written your name in paint on the wall of the Citadel. Did you think I would forget the story?’

  ‘I wasn’t expecting you to come. And I didn’t think anyone else knew the story. I was congratulating myself on my extreme cleverness.’

  ‘Well, your secret’s safe with us.’ Armin has picked up the remains of his apple and takes another huge bite. ‘Not a bad cover, though. Hartman’s hatchetman.’

  Adam grimaces.

  ‘I know. Not my first choice, but I had to win him over and when he asked me to investigate myself, I thought, what the hell? I always did like my stories with a good dose of irony. And it allows me to get up to all sorts of mischief.’

  ‘Like framing the Head of the Household Guard?’

  Adam looks at his sister. ‘You really can’t keep a secret from this guy, can you? Esper?’

  ‘And then some. Armin is a prodigy. What is this about the Head of the Household Guard?’

  Adam grins.

  ‘Mink. Thaddeus Mink. He’s a sadistic monster who’s tortured more people than the Spanish Inquisition.’

  ‘The what?’ Armin frowns.

  ‘It was a – Look, never mind. I can give you a history lesson some other time. The point is, I needed a scapegoat to throw suspicion off the real members of the League, so I thought, who better to take the fall than the Butcher of Berra?’

  ‘Is that what they call him? “The Butcher of Berra”?’

  ‘If they don’t, they should,’ says Adam. ‘Anyway, right about now, they’re asking him the hard questions, which he won’t be able to answer, and they’ll think that he’s holding out on them. And pretty soon, he’ll know exactly what his victims felt like.’

  Armin examines the apple core, looking for any final edible bits.

  ‘Payback’s a bitch!’

  But Adam doesn’t hear him. He continues as if there has been no interruption.

  ‘Pretty soon after that, he’ll start giving them names. Any names, as long as the pain stops. And the only names he knows are members of the Guard. He’ll start with the ones he hates, but then he’ll just keep naming. And Hartman is just paranoid enough to believe he’s part of a bigger conspiracy within the Citadel.

  ‘The one thing the Guard has going for it is discipline and unity. If I can sow the seeds of doubt – and if I can get Hartman to rip the guts out of his own defences, once a person is named, he’ll find it pretty well impossible to deny it. How do you prove you’re not something? And if they’re tortured, they’ll give names, too, and the whole thing will spread. It’s like a virus – or a cancer. It doesn’t matter how strong the body is, it can always be eaten away from the inside.’

  Armin tosses the core into a basket beside the desk. ‘Remind me not to get on your bad side.’

  Adam moves across to sit next to Sharonne on the lounge.

  ‘I can’t believe you came all this way. If you’d sent word, I would have made the trip to get you.’

  She shakes her head.

  ‘After Mother died, there was no reason to stay and I had friends Outside. Good friends. To be honest, Adam, they are the real reason I came. And we could really do with your help.’

  42

  The Art of Misdirection

  The Citadel

  February 2, 3384ad

  JORDAN’S STORY

  The first we knew of the rescue plans, was when Adam de Vries came into the suite, followed by Sharonne and Armin.

  It took us completely by surprise, but we couldn’t say anything, as two Guards came in with them.

  Normally, there were six of them stationed outside the door to stop us leaving, though Hartman fed us the fiction that it was for our own protection. They didn’t trust us out of the suite – and I guess they didn’t trust anyone enough to allow them into the rooms with us alone, either.

  Adam and Sharonne began the act, while Armin used mind-speech to fill us in on the situation. It was like listening in stereo, with a different conversation in each ear.

  ‘Sharonne de Vries, I’d like to introduce you to Minister Jordan, Special Minister of State for Extra-Planetary Relations for the Federated Government of Deucalion, and to Lady Eliita of the Clan Historia.’

  – We’re working up an escape plan, but we have to be careful. We’re twenty floors up. Getting you out of here isn’t going to be simple.

  ‘It is an honour, my Lady. Am I right in assuming that you are related to Adam?’

  – Hartman is going to be tied up with conspiracies for the next few days, so it should give us time to finalise plans. We need to create a diversion, then spirit you away, so that no one has any idea where you went, or how you got there.

  ‘He is my older brother and I have not seen him in a very long time.’

  – What’s the time frame?

  ‘Well, he has certainly made a name for himself in the Citadel. Has Mr Hartman told you how indispensible he is?’

  – Not sure yet. But now we know where you are, I’ll be able to keep in touch. Hang in there.

  – Not much else we can do!

  And so it went, for about ten minutes. We didn’t want to push it. There was no legitimate reason for Sharonne to be there, except as a courtesy call – and the fact that she might want to catch a glimpse of the Other-Worlders.

 
As they left, I felt Eliita’s excitement, even through the Shield.

  – I told you they’d find a way, I said.

  The plan took a few days to hatch, but when they explained it, I could see Erin’s hand in it.

  By that time, Armin had filled us in on Adam’s double life and the turmoil he was spreading through the ranks of the Guard. Between Erin and Adam, I was sure the plan would be a killer, and they didn’t disappoint.

  I would pay real money to watch a chess match between those two.

  I remember Erin explaining once how she always managed to tie me up in knots on the board.

  – The trick is to get your opponent looking in the wrong place. It’s called the art of misdirection. I make a move with my rook over here, and get you looking for a flanking move, when the real danger is a lowly little pawn over there on the other side of the board. The more pieces you have in play, the easier it is to get your opponent looking in the wrong place.

  Well, they must have had a ball planning their strategy – after all, they had far more than sixteen pieces to keep in motion.

  But of course, no strategy can take everything into account.

  The Citadel

  February 5, 3384ad

  ARMIN

  There are twenty flights of stairs, leading from their living quarters near the top of the Citadel, down to the basement levels beneath the huge walls. As Armin enters the final flight, he thinks of the climb back up and grimaces.

  Three days of searching, and he has come to know that climb all too well.

  ‘Are you sure there even is a passage?’

  The question sounds like a whine. He knows it, but he can’t take it back.