Graveyard of Empires

by Lincoln Cole

  “I’ll do better next time,” the smaller brother said.

  Scott was lithe in stature with a big nose and freckles. He was filled with boundless energy. He was also nice and friendly to people, well loved by all of the adults who knew him.

  At least, he was when his brother wasn’t around.

  His older brother, Remy, was almost ten. His features were entirely different: he was stocky like his father with wavy black hair, brooding eyes, and the face only a mother could love. Actually, I’m not even sure, Kelvin thought quietly, that his mother could love that nose.

  Though he’d never say something like that out loud; the brothers looked nothing alike, and Kelvin occasionally kidded them that Scott must have been adopted.

  Something rustled in the woods. Probably an animal.

  “I mean you really have to hold on. If he bites you, he bites you, but you gotta hold on.”

  “I know,” Scott said, a whine in his voice. “You don’t have to keep telling me.”

  “You had a hold of his tail. If you just held on for another few seconds, I would have been there to grab hold.”

  “You were there,” Scott said with an exaggerated gesture. His blonde curls bounced on his head. “You were right there. You could have jumped on the dog like you said you were going to.”

  “I was lining up to tackle the sucker,” Remy countered defensively. “But you let go before I could.”

  That was as far as Scott would argue. He looked up to his big brother: if Remy said he was about to tackle the dog then Remy was about to tackle the dog.

  Not that it mattered anyway. The dog got away. It didn’t make Kelvin unhappy. Remy liked to hurt animals. Kelvin didn’t.

  There was a crash.

  Someone screamed.

  Kelvin Caipton jumped to the side with a sudden yelp as something small and brown crashed out of the woods next to him. He raised his hands defensively and stumbled onto his butt, heart jumping into his throat.

  The ‘creature’ staggered off balance and landed face first in the dirt right next to him.

  He instantly regretted his yelp when Remy burst out laughing.

  And he felt even more cowardly when he realized his ‘attacker’ was a kid. A kid several years younger than himself, no less.

  “You frigging wuss,” Remy said, guffawing. He lifted the little kid off the ground and dusted off his shirt. “Is this big bad monster gonna get you?”

  “Yeah,” Scott echoed, following his brother’s lead. “He gonna get ya?”

  “Shut up,” Kelvin mumbled, his face heating up. “I was just caught off guard, is all.”

  Kelvin looked over at the small kid that had almost run into him. “Hey,” he said to the newcomer, hoping to change the subject. “You okay?”

  Kelvin was pretty sure he’d seen the kid around somewhere. Traq, maybe. Yeah, his name was Traq. They both lived in the same city, but it didn’t have a dense population. There was only one school with about four thousand students. Maybe that was where he remembered him from. He wasn’t sure.

  He looked to be around four years old and scrawny, with short black hair and a confused expression on his narrow face.

  The confusion disappeared a moment later, replaced by a wide grin as the kid leapt over and yanked a stick off the ground. He wielded it with both hands as he spun to face the woods. “I’m not a kid! I’m a giant miniature space alien! Stand back while I destroy this scum!”

  His proclamation was followed a second later by another figure bursting out of the woods and leaping into the clearing, waving his own stick. “On guard!” he shouted, oblivious to the onlookers.

  Everett Wells, Kelvin realized. The only kid in school with a rich father.

  Everett avoided most kids at school because they would pick on him and steal his money. He avoided Remy like the plague because Remy’s father was a drunk, and Everett’s father fired him from the robotics facility a few weeks earlier.

  And Remy wasn’t about to forget that.

  “Get him,” Remy shouted.

  Kelvin didn’t particularly dislike Everett, but he didn’t like him either. He stepped forward and caught Everett’s arm before he could get away. Everett had a terrified look in his eyes as he understood what he’d stumbled into.

  “Get away from him!” Traq shouted, jumping to his feet and raising his stick.

  Remy whirled and punched out, catching Traq in the ribs. He was almost twice as big as Traq, and at least twice as strong.

  Traq fell to the ground, dropping his stick and grunting in pain.

  “Get lost,” Remy said.

  Traq stood up slowly. “Let him go,” Traq said, his voice high-pitched and squeaky.

  “Or what?” Remy asked, narrowing his eyes. Traq didn’t answer, just continued to stare at Remy. “Or you’ll stop me from doing this?” he asked, turning and punching Everett in the stomach. Everett grunted and then moaned, a pitiful sound.

  “No!” Kelvin shouted. Traq charged Remy.

  It was too late. Remy spun and threw his fist, clobbering Traq just under the eye. It sent the small kid flying. Kelvin winced as Traq collapsed to the ground, dazed.

  Remy stood over him, triumphant.

  “Want some more?” he asked, but Traq was barely coherent. “Didn’t think so.”

  “Remy, you didn’t have to hit him so hard,” Kelvin said.

  Remy turned to face him. “He’s just a little brat,” he said, then punched Everett again. “And if he knows what’s good for him, he’ll stay do—”

  Remy was suddenly flying through the air. He hit the ground several feet away and fell to his side with a grunt. Confused, Kelvin looked around, trying to figure out what happened.

  Then it hit him, a blast to his chest. It felt like a huge weight slammed into him, knocking him back and pushing the air out of his lungs. He hit the ground and nearly blacked out, trying to suck in air.

  When Kelvin was finally able to breathe, he forced himself to sit up. What he saw shocked him.

  Traq was standing over the pair of brothers, small, spindly and panting with the broken stick in his hand. Scott was unconscious with blood running down the side of his head and Remy was cowering in the fetal position.

  And he was begging Traq to stop.

  3

  The expression of pure rage on Traq’s face matched—or maybe exceeded—what Kelvin had seen in Remy’s eyes.

  Kelvin Caipton blinked, wondering if the world had gone crazy, and tried to stand up.

  “Don’t move!” Traq said sharply, stepping away from Remy. He went to a small pile of rocks.

  Kelvin froze in place. Traq picked up a stone, eyed the edge, and dropped it, then picked up another. Oh god, Kelvin realized suddenly, he’s searching for one with a point.

  “Traq,” Everett mumbled, picking himself off the ground, his voice shaking with mingled fear and shock. He looked disoriented but otherwise unhurt. Kelvin touched the side of his own head, and the fingers came back wet with blood. “We should go.”

  “Not yet,” Traq said, picking up another rock.

  “Traq, please, my mom will get mad.”

  At the mention of ‘mom,’ Traq seemed to relax. He shook his head and took a deep breath, blinking repeatedly. “Yeah…” he said, absently dropping the rock on the ground. “I guess we should go.”

  And like that, the look of rage was gone. If Kelvin hadn’t seen it he would never have believed Traq was capable of such anger.

  Remy and Kelvin were still lying on the ground and Scott was unconscious. The sight of blood on his friend’s forehead made Kelvin’s stomach twist painfully, but he didn’t dare move. He barely even breathed as Everett and Traq walked away.

  About six meters farther up the wood line, Traq stopped suddenly and dove into the woods. “Yes! My new weapon!” he said, stepping out of the trees with a long stick in hand. “This is my war blade, and I’m the hero now. You get to be the space monster! You can’t catch me!”

  And then he wa
s gone, disappearing into the woods like a phantom. Everett hesitated for just a second—possibly judging how the last few moments had fundamentally changed their relationship—before obediently chasing his friend into the woods.

  I bet he never catches him again, Kelvin thought.

  I sure wouldn’t.

  Another thirty seconds passed. A chickadee sang from above. It then fell silent as if sensing the somber mood. The wind whistled past, pushing his hair in his face. Kelvin gingerly picked himself up off the ground. He went over and helped Remy stand up, ignoring the fact that his big brutish friend was crying.

  They stood, staring at the spot of woods the others disappeared into. A long few minutes passed before Remy turned to Kelvin. All traces of anger were gone, replaced by equal parts fear and awe. “He threw me.”

  “Threw you? How? He’s tiny,” Kelvin asked.

  “No man, not with his hands. With his brain. His eyes…turned purple.”

  Kelvin didn’t know what to say. He turned around to wake up Scott but froze when he saw three figures off in the distance watching them. One was a short man with light skin and wavy brown hair, one a tall man with graying hair and a mustache, and the other was a tall woman with raven black hair.

  They were wearing brown clothes that looked plain and cheap, but Kelvin could tell the group didn’t fit in. They weren’t from around here. They were watching, shocked looks on their faces.

  Kelvin watched them for a few moments and then the three turned and hurried down the road.

  Chapter 4

  Sector 6 – Geid

  Argus Wade, Traq Lane

  1

  “What the hell was that?” Jeremiah asked, rushing on. The shocked and terrified look on his face would have been hilarious to Argus if it wasn’t for what had just happened. “What the hell was that?”

  “What was what?” Vivian asked mildly. She pretended like she was calm as she fell into step behind Jeremiah, but Wade could see it on her face. She was just as shocked and unsettled as Jeremiah.

  “…That!” Jeremiah said, gesticulating wildly. “Whatever just happened back there?”

  Argus took a deep breath. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said. “I saw some kids fighting, but it isn’t our business to get involved.”

  “He did something,” Jeremiah argued, waving his arms. “That kid flew when the little one looked at him.”

  “Kid was scrappy,” Argus admitted. “I’ll give him that.”

  “No way could he win that fight,” Jeremiah said. “No chance.”

  “Well, he did,” Argus replied.

  “But he couldn’t. Not without using some sort of…”

  “Jeremiah!” Vivian said sharply. Jeremiah froze and they all stopped walking. He turned to face her. “What are you saying?”

  “I’m saying that the kid…”

  She stared him down and he trailed off.

  “What…are…you…saying…?” she repeated softly.

  Jeremiah looked helplessly at Argus. “You saw it?” he mumbled.

  Argus shook his head slowly. “I didn’t see anything strange,” Argus said. “Just a few kids fighting.”

  “Just a few kids fighting,” Vivian agreed.

  Jeremiah shook his head weakly. “But…”

  “You think you saw something strange,” she said, “but it was your mind playing tricks on you. Nothing else.”

  He didn’t respond.

  “If you say you saw something different, and it gets back to the Ministry, how will they take it?”

  The look on Jeremiah’s face was utter defeat as he realized what Vivian was saying. If Jeremiah told the Ministry what he saw, they would think he was crazy, and probably kick him out. There was no way anyone would believe him because something like that wasn’t possible.

  At least as far as Jeremiah knew.

  “It was a crazy fight,” Argus added. “Happened so fast.”

  Jeremiah hesitated, then said, “Yeah, really fast. The little one probably just hit him really hard.”

  Argus stifled a deep sigh of relief and started walking again. “Just a fight,” he said. Then, he added lower, “Just one hell of a fight.”

  2

  It took almost an hour before Jeremiah had fully calmed down, and by then his own mind had put its internal filter to work. He fully accepted that he’d just missed a part of the fight and nothing untoward had happened. Certainly no child had gone flying through the air for no reason.

  Argus envied his ignorance. Jeremiah grew up in the Ministry but knew nothing about the tortured souls he worked alongside. He didn’t know that Argus and Vivian had a guillotine resting casually on their necks, and one wrong move would send it slicing down. Unlike Jeremiah, Argus knew exactly what had happened in the fight, what the little kid had done to his attackers.

  The only problem was he also knew it was impossible.

  Argus and Vivian finally found an excuse to slip away, explaining that they would pass out pamphlets while he preached in the center of town. He looked disgusted by their suggestion and didn’t even offer to accompany them, saying he could find his own way back to the ship in a few hours.

  “It isn’t possible,” Vivian said as soon as they were alone.

  They found an empty stretch of road with stumps and rocks and sat down. Fields of barley swept into the distance, dancing on the breeze.

  “Not at all,” Wade agreed. “Not without an implant.”

  “Do they have implants here?”

  “The Ministry doesn’t stretch this far from the Core,” Wade said. “I bet they don’t know anything about them. We need to find him.”

  “That might be dangerous,” Vivian said.

  “Doesn’t matter. What he did…what he is able to do defies everything we know about the implants and the Ministry. He could be worth everything.”

  “To the Ministry?”

  “To us,” Wade said. Then he winced and looked around. There weren’t any people nearby, but he pitched his voice lower. “He means so much to us.”

  “We have to turn him over.”

  “We can’t,” Argus said.

  “You know the laws.”

  “To hell with the laws,” he replied vehemently. “After everything, you think I care at all about their laws? This is different. This changes everything.”

  “It changes nothing,” Vivian said. “He’s only a child, and our duty is to bring him to the Minister for education and training.”

  “We can’t,” Argus said. “He’s different, and they will be afraid of him. You know what they will do to him if we bring him in.”

  “You know what they will do to us if we don’t.”

  Argus couldn’t disagree. “I know what they will do. We will be Keepers as soon as they find out.”

  “Exactly.”

  “And that’s it? That’s all there is for you? Let them destroy this child as long as were safe.”

  “Argus…”

  “Who cares what happens to him as long as—”

  “Argus, stop,” she said quietly.

  “We can’t take him back,” he said. “No child deserves that.”

  “So what, then?”

  “We leave him. Pretend it never happened.”

  She shook her head slowly. “What if Jeremiah says something?”

  “He won’t, he doesn’t even think it happened anymore. He just thinks it was some child’s game.”

  “But what if he mentions it. Just in passing or as a joke. He won’t know, but they will. Then they will find the child, know we withheld it from them, and we will be punished even more harshly.”

  “So what then?” Argus asked.

  Vivian spoke quietly. “We handle it.”

  “We what?”

  She stared at him.

  “No,” he said, vehemently. “No way are we murdering a little kid. He hasn’t done anything.”

  “You said yourself what they will do to him. What we can do is far more humane,”
she said. “And we don’t have a choice.”

  “There is always a choice,” Argus argued. “We can’t sink to that level.”

  “Then you prefer we all suffer and die?”

  He was silent for a long moment. “I’ll think of something.”

  “You always say that.”

  “And I always think of something,” he replied. “Maybe our guide can help figure out who this kid is. He used to live here.”

  He clicked on his communicator. The pilot answered after a few beeps.

  “Hello?”

  “Jack?” Wade asked. “We are looking for a kid we saw earlier. You might know his parents. He was small, maybe seven or eight years old. Curly black hair. Maybe he—”

  “Oh, you mean Traq?”

  Wade raised an eyebrow. “Traq?”

  “Yeah. Not a lot of kids out here. It’s mostly adults and elderly because young families move closer to the city. You must mean Traq Lane.”

  Argus coughed. “Lane? Any relation?”

  “He’s my nephew,” Jack replied. “I haven’t seen him in about a year. I can find my sister for you, or give you her address. She’s outside Averton, and I’m sure she hasn’t moved.”

  Argus glanced over at Vivian. “Yeah. Sure. Give me the address.”

  3

  Traq’s house was a squat one-story affair with patched gray siding. It was constantly damp with mildew and faded with age, but impeccably clean. His mother took good care of it.

  There was no restroom or shower, but instead, each room held a chamber pot for when the public facilities were closed. Such facilities consisted of a communal outhouse with two attached showers and a hand pump. The ten surrounding houses shared it.

  Traq bounded into his home, pushing aside the crimson curtain blocking the doorway with a big grin on his face. It only took a second, though, to realize his mom was upset.

  “Did you hurt those kids today?” Rica asked.

  The question didn’t sound like an accusation, but it was tinged with worry. Her eyes were puffy, but her voice was calm.

  It was then he noticed the two other people in his house. A man in a woman in brown clothes sitting in their living room chairs. The man was overweight, barely fitting into the chair, and one of the legs was wobbling. The woman had sharp feature and gray eyes.