“Huh . . . What’s a husband?” I ask about her earlier statement, though I'm still very confused by the handshake.
She smiles and glances at the men across the field. “You would compare it to a United. But here, in the free-lands, we choose whom we want as our United. I chose Conall, and he chose me.” Dixie is obviously proud of her choice. She stands taller as she speaks of him. “He is a fine man.” She nods and walks toward the two men. When she reaches them, she couples her hand with the taller, darker man’s hand.
Odd that she said he was a fine man and not a fine Exalted. It seems what’s important in the Republic is not what’s important here.
My eyes stay on the couple from a distance until I see the first hint of volunteers come into the field. Grudgingly, I join the other three Exalted trainers. What a motley crew of volunteers. These can’t be them. I instantly feel like Toledo Lake has no hope of protecting themselves. There are about four-dozen people of all ages and sizes. There are about two-dozen villager men that seem to be in decent shape for citizens, but the rest of them . . . There is an extremely overweight man in his thirties, a frail gray-haired woman with glasses, a few teenage girls who are all giggling as they gaze upon me, a young man in his early twenties with only one hand and burns on his left cheek, and many others that I could never see being shooters. In addition to those four-dozen villagers, there are seven others . . . they aren’t Exalted, but I can tell they are something other than regular. They look disfigured though no one stares at them like they are abnormal. Physically, parts of them are like the Exalted—larger and more muscular—and other parts are small and weak like those of the villagers. Are they half-breeds?
Disgusting.
Exalted aren’t meant to reproduce with citizens or marauders. It goes against nature.
Behind me, I hear Conall laughing. “What’s wrong with you?” he questions me with a smirk.
“Cap doesn’t really expect us to train these people to shoot, does he? Weak marauders and half-breeds?” I blurt out with disgust layered on my words.
Conall turns furious. He marches up to me, bringing his angry, red face close to mine. He spits in my face as he growls at me. “They are people just like you. People. Not marauders. Not half-breeds. People. Remember that.” He slams his hands on my chest and shoves me away from him.
My first reaction is to take a swing at him, but before I’m able to, Dixie places a calming hand on my shoulder. “You have a lot to learn, boy. And so do they." Her voice is soothing as is her demeanor—a stark contrast from her wild hair and her high arching eyebrows. Being near her is like sleeping on my feet. "Now help us train these people, or leave.” She gestures to the forest behind us. Her suggestion is tempting.
As I consider my choices, I think about what Cap told me. I think about Mena and my instructions from my new Republic to bring her back for punishment. I was going to do what they demanded of me—to my friend and classmate—I didn’t even question it. I would’ve killed her if they told me to. Is that how people should think? How I should think?
“I’ll help,” I tell Dixie. “Though I don’t know what good it will do,” I mumble under my breath, “besides, my weapon is the ax.”
Dixie’s shoulders tense as my words reach her ears, but she doesn’t respond to my snide comment. With a pleasant smile, she says, “We’ve all been through Exalted training, and we’ve all trained with various weapons. Even though your training with the bow was not as extensive as that of the ax, I know you are good enough to help us train. We all are good enough.”
Once Dixie decides our conflict has finished, she turns toward the group that has gathered before us. They wait patiently for instruction, though I’m sure most of them heard my harsh words and are not as calm on the inside as they appear to be on the outside. Dixie addresses the quiet crowd, “Thank you all for coming today and volunteering to protect our community. We are all here to protect our village and our freedom. So, first, we will have you all try out the bow. We need people with a steady arm and a good aim. Those of you that aren’t chosen; you can help us form arrows and make bombs. You’ll all have very important jobs, so don’t be discouraged if we don’t choose you as an archer.”
As Dixie splits everyone into groups, Conall and Everett drag a dozen haystacks with bull’s eye targets on them onto the training field. They line them up along the edge of the field in a straight line, while I help Dixie dole out the bows to the first person in each line. We also place arrows into heaps on the ground approximately fifty yards from each of the targets—slightly closer than we would normally practice.
“Conall, Everett, and Az, let’s all take up a bow to demonstrate shooting,” Dixie instructs. “Everyone, please watch your form. If you are left-handed, watch Everett. Stand with your feet shoulder’s width apart. You can either stand in a squared, closed, or open stance.” Dixie demonstrates each stance, moving her feet and hips for each one.
“Once you decide which stance feels best for you, attach your arrow to the bowstring. With your opposite hand, make an ‘L’ with your index finger and thumb while bending the remaining three fingers. While keeping your hand in this position, apply your hand to the bow grip, allowing it to rest alongside of your middle finger and onto the center of the thumb meat.” As Dixie explains, we all follow along and demonstrate so the villagers closest to us can see correct forms.
“Once you pull your bowstring back to load pressure, you can relax your ‘L’ formation. Now you’re ready to shoot. Remember your stance. Draw and release!”
The four of us let our arrows sail toward the targets. Dixie, Conall, and Everett hit the bull’s-eyes, while I hit the second ring out. My nostrils flare.
“Nice shot,” Conall mocks.
“Happy to take you on with the ax,” I counter.
The teenage girls all giggle as they witness our exchange. Dixie is quick to jump in to get the session back on track. “Everyone back in their lines. Let’s begin. Five shots each. First row is up.”
Grudgingly, I turn to hand my bow over to the first male in line behind me. He's the one that's about my age with only one hand and burn marks on his left cheek. I stand there gawking at him as he attaches a prosthetic to his handless arm. Once the device is firmly secured to his arm, he takes the bow from me. The bow slides into the curve of a “U” shaped metal hand. Then he belts it securely into place so the bow doesn’t move.
I don’t know what to think as I watch him string up his arrow and draw his bow. All I can do is shake my head and turn away. The other three Exalted are standing off to the side, ready to watch and select the elite group of archers. I walk over to join them, leaving the amputee youth to fail miserably.
“I’m telling you, give them a chance.” Dixie says to me as I join the little group. “They have had use of their hearts a lot longer than we have.”
"What does that mean?" I screw my face up at her explanation. She can't actually believe that these inferior bodies will stand up to an Exalted army.
"You'll see," she answers in her melodious way.
My body is rigid from the annoyance that has filled every fiber of my being by the time the last volunteer finishes. It’s the overweight man in his thirties. His cheeks are spotted with bright red splotches and he’s wheezing just from the exertion of holding and firing the bow. His arrow falls short of the target and slides across the ground. It doesn’t even stick in the earth. Even the old lady managed to do that.
“They all tried,” Dixie reminds me in passing.
I shrug. What does that matter?
“Great job everyone! Please help us gather the arrows, and place them back into the piles,” Dixie instructs the group.
Conall steps forward. “As we decide who will become archers, we’d like everyone to begin gathering sticks for making new arrows. You all know where to look. When it’s time for lunch, drop your material off here first. After lunch, return here to find out your next tasks.” Unlike Dixie, Conall is stern in his orders, but the group seems t
o respect them both equally. They do as they're instructed, returning the arrows to the piles and then heading off into different directions to find supplies.
After the last villager trails off, Conall says, “Time to decide.”
Chapter 8 / Dr. Fredericks
“Kill them! Kill them! Kill them!” Dr. Fredericks shouts at the First Republic of the Saved’s leader. “I want them dead. That’s the girl’s parents we captured. We need to kill them now!” Spit sprays from his lips as he hisses at the older man.
Dr. Leon leans back in his plush leather chair. He rests his hands on his plump belly. Dr. Fredericks’ hysterics do not ruffle him. He’s calm and focused as a good leader should be. “You want me to destroy our only leverage with her? No. I will not.”
Dr. Fredericks’ fingers curl and tense. His shirt is damp with sweat under his arms. There is even the threat of a nosebleed on the rise. He can’t figure out how his kingdom fell so fast. How did he get where he is now? He’s in someone else’s Republic, begging for help, and permission to kill his prisoners. “Then I will kill them myself," he states. "I will get my revenge with or without your permission. I obviously made a mistake by coming here.” He stands in front of his chair, ready to make a break for the door.
However, much like in Dr. Fredericks' own office, two guards flank the door. They are blocking his path of escape. He falls back into his uncomfortable wooden seat, defeated.
“I’ve sent a messenger to South America and another to the Third Republic with your unfortunate news,” he says and then bangs on the screen of the computer at his desk. “I wish we could communicate with these stupid things. Useless . . .” Once he regains his composure, he says, “We need to wait until we get word back from South America before we act. We can’t just go to war without permission. They may have a plan to salvage the Exalted, or they might want to just get rid of that Republic entirely. We still have two cities that haven’t had any issues . . . You know, they’ll want answers as to why you failed.” Dr. Leon looks upon the small man with superiority smeared across her face.
“You know nothing! It was your man that came to my city and started this mess! Your man! Not mine! I swear to you, I will take you down with me,” Dr. Fredericks threatens the smug man.
Upon realizing the truth to his words, the other leader quickly changes the subject. “Well, I suppose I can appease you a little while we are waiting. Would you like that?” He offers the tempting treat to the lunatic leader that he must host until further notice.
Dr. Fredericks leans forward. “What do you have in mind?”
Chapter 9 / Ethan
“Hurry, Val!” I call back to her as she struggles to keep up with me. She is fast, but Mena and I were always the fastest on our runs with the other Exalted. I’m frustrated by her weakness, especially now, when we must get as far away from those traitors as fast as possible. But then what? Where should we go? Who knows what happened to the Republic after we left. We can’t go back there. Mena said we have allies at Toledo Lake. Toledo Lake . . . that’s where we should head.
I slow and grab Val’s hand to pull her along faster. Her grip on my hand is tight and fevered. “Where are we going to go?” she asks between short breaths.
“Toledo Lake,” I answer while catching a glimpse of the raw cut above her eye. My stomach twists. I have to keep that from happening again. As we run, I pull her along, forcing her to keep pace with me.
Time passes. Birds, squirrels, and deer scatter as we disturb their peace with our hurried feet. We run and run, weaving around trees and jumping over bushes and debris. We don’t care that the wicked branches tear at our arms; we don't pause to take in the dense forest that we were taught never existed, and we don't talk about leaving Mena's parents behind. The most important thing right now is distance. Life.
But, the further we get from Mena’s parents, the more guilt I feel for not trying to do more. If Mena is at Toledo Lake, I’ll have to tell her that I abandoned them. She’ll never forgive me, and Val will never forgive me for letting this happen to her and our friends. A cold sweat breaks out on my forehead and down my chest.
I keep running and pulling Val along until I feel like I need to vomit. “Let’s rest. We should be okay now. We’ve been running for at least three hours,” I tell Val.
“Oh good. You’re so fast. It's impossible to keep up with you.” Val comes to an abrupt stop and bends over. She huffs as she tries to even out her breathing. When she finally catches her breath she looks up at me with her big doe-like eyes. “Do you know how to get there?”
“I have a general idea.”
“A general idea?” Val repeats. Her forehead creases as her eyebrows lift.
I shrug. “There should be scouts in the vicinity that will show us the way. Come on, let’s keep moving—we can walk for a little bit.” A crooked smile finds its way to my mouth. Val shakes her head and smiles in return. She has a great smile. I’ve never really noticed how warm she is—her smile, her eyes, and her skin . . . But she’s so skinny. It’s a wonder she did as well as she did in the trials. She's totally surprised me these past few months. I feel protective of her and drawn to her . . . But I also feel repulsion when I look at her—not towards her but towards myself—because I failed her—the same as I feel toward Mena now.
Hours pass and soon the evening sky is visible through the treetops. Dusk in the forest is dark and oppressive, and even though I have the rifle that we stole from the traitors, I would feel better if I had my knives. I know Val has to feel the same about being without her bow and arrows. She keeps rubbing the top of her shoulder like her quiver should be resting there. Hopefully, Toledo Lake will have replacements for us—all the more reason to get there faster.
We pick up the pace, jogging until the woods are pitch black and we have no choice but to stop for the night. While our race was gifted with extraordinary strength and speed, we were not gifted with night vision.
Chapter 10 / Ryker
Even though I know we won't find them on the road to my old Republic, I go anyway. I go for Mena . . . and our friends and her parents.
The ride is quiet but goes by quickly. I know these roads and paths better than anyone. It's the same way Mena and I came when she wanted to see that this other Republic actually existed. That was only days ago. It's strange that we're already heading back.
We'll have to be more cautious this time though. They'll be on high alert now that Dr. Fredericks and his loyalist army have most likely fled there to warn them, and since their newly acquired scout, Az, has disappeared.
"What are you doing?" Mena asks when I pull off the road and park the Humvee behind a mess of rusted out, abandoned vehicles.
"We'll have to go by foot. We can't risk being seen. You remember how easily Az found us last time . . ." I shove open the door and jump out of the vehicle.
Trudi and Kwan both move to come with Mena and I on the quick scouting mission. I shake my head. "One of you needs to stay. Jenna can't be here alone and it'll take too long if she comes with us."
"I'll stay," Trudi volunteers, looking a bit ill.
"Great. Let's go," I call to Mena and Kwan. The three of us run, just inside the tree line. We cover miles in a matter of minutes. Kwan proves to be faster than I expected, which is good.
"Look," Mena stops suddenly. She approaches a pine tree and touches her index finger to a small hole in the trunk.
"How did you see that?" I ask her as I see the bullet lodged in the hole when she takes her finger away.
She turns to look at me. "I knew you'd be watching the road. Plus I already saw all the fresh tracks." She turns back toward the tree, her long brown hair falling over her slender shoulders. "Do you think they could've gotten away? Why else would this be here?" Mena starts searching the ground. She moves around quickly, this way and that, looking for more evidence or looking for blood.
Her face is strained when she turns back to me. "There’re signs of a fight, but I don't see anything else. What
does it mean?"
"Maybe they did get away. Let's go a little further, until we can see the South Gate. We can make sure they're not still out here. Okay?"
She nods, and I squeeze her hand to give her a little strength to continue on.
***
The South Gate is quiet.
Only the regular guards patrol, as they should. There's no evidence our friends were taken here, and there's no real evidence they didn't get away back up the road.
"Is that the other Republic? How did we never know about it?" Kwan asks.
"Secrets and lies, Kwan," Mena whispers.
"What do we do now? The three of us can't go up against an entire Republic full of Exalted." Kwan looks to Mena and me for answers.
I wait, letting Mena take the lead—they are her parents and friends after all. She's smart. She knows what to do.
She flips her hair over her shoulders and turns back toward the south, where we came from. "Let's go back to the Humvee. Kwan's right. We can't take on a Republic and that wasn't part of the plan. If they did happen to get away, then they'll be heading for Toledo Lake. If they didn't, we'll have to wait until Basav and the others cut off their supply to the Pump."
"Okay. Let's head back then," I say.
Kwan wastes no time. He takes off back to our vehicle. Mena starts to leave, but I grab her hand and pull her close to me. I move my hand to the small of her back and lower my mouth to her ear. "They'll be okay. They’re probably headed there now. Your parents and friends are strong. They're good fighters. We'll see them soon. I know it." My words to her are honest.
She simply nods and nuzzles her face into the curve from my shoulder to my neck. I wish we could stay her together for a while longer, but we need to hurry. The journey to Toledo Lake will take two days on these rough roads.
I kiss Mena's forehead and pull away from her. "You ready?" I ask.
United (Exalted Trilogy: Book 3) Page 3
