The Fractured Prism (The Prism Files Book 1)

by Brendan Noble

  The throne room was decorated with the ornate ice-blue shade of the Hughes family. A carpet stretched from the entrance of the room up to the throne, with the color extending onto the throne itself. The large stone room was obviously meant to look like the throne room of a medieval king. Wannabes. Small sitting and standing areas were also scattered throughout the room, where I assumed members of the court would meet to conspire about some useless and unimportant plans.

  I shuffled slowly down the carpet, taking it all in. Before me sat King Timothy III himself, leaning back as his large frame filled the throne, dressed in some stupid royal garb with the icy-blue colors matching his eyes. Like all royals, he was untagged, instead marked by his royal family ring: a platinum band accented with his family’s colors. He studied me with interest as I approached. I knelt when I felt I was near enough, but not too close.

  He said nothing for a while. His forehead wrinkled with his furrowed brow. Should I speak? But wasn’t I supposed to wait for him to speak first? Ugh, I hate this. Eventually, he broke the silence, his deep voice filling the room, “Stand, and let me look at you.”

  I did, groaning a little too loudly in pain.

  “I was told you had incurred an injury. How is the wound?”

  I hesitated.

  “Go on.”

  I struggled to maintain eye contact. “Deep enough to hurt like he… to hurt a lot, your highness. Thank you for asking.”

  He nodded with what little neck he had. “Well, I am pleased to hear that those criminals did not kill you. One of them is in our custody, though, I am told you were more… effective… with your blade when it came to the other.”

  I didn’t respond and stared at the ground.

  “It is alright. You were protecting my daughter, were you not?”

  “Yes, your highness.”

  “What possessed you to believe you could fight two men on your own?”

  I glanced up at him. “Two thugs were threatening someone with no means to defend themselves. Not that your daughter is weak or anything…” I caught myself before continuing. “Didn’t matter what I thought I could do… uh, your highness.”

  His cold eyes narrowed. “Still, that is a lot of prohibited weaponry for a Red Tag to possess on top of breaking curfew.” He waited for me to reply, I didn’t. “What were you doing out that late at night?”

  “Meeting a friend, your highness. I, um, I had not seen him for a while as I have been busy with my work.”

  “I see.” He paused for a moment, his brows furrowed. “Where is your work assignment? Who is your owner?”

  My assignment is to make the UPF’s lives living hell. “The eastern St. Paul steel mill, your highness. I am owned by the government.”

  His eyes narrowed, his voice questioning. “Ah, I see. So, you work near that place you Red Tags call the Enclave.”

  “Correct.”

  “Do you live in the Enclave?”

  “Yes, your highness.”

  “What do you know about the Militia?”

  I sighed. “I don’t know much. About as much as any Red I guess. They’re a bunch of rogue Reds and Oranges fighting against the Prism.”

  He stood with some effort and approached me slowly, his eyes studying me. “Terrorists, Ivan. They are terrorists threatening our fragile peace. Do you happen to know the names of anyone in this ‘Militia?’” He finished uncomfortably close to me, his eyes like daggers.

  I kept looking him in the eye, trying to equal his intensity. “No, I do not.”

  He pushed harder. “Are you, yourself in The Militia?”

  “No, your highness.”

  His glare continued, not accepting my denial. My attempt at a solid look in response broke as the doors opened behind me. I looked back to see Julia, flaunting a knee-length coral dress and gliding down the aisleway. Her blonde hair flowed behind her as her heels clicked against the marble floor. “Father, why are you interrogating him?” She stopped a few feet behind me. I turned so I was out of the way of their glaring match. As her eyes met her father’s, I swear that the temperature in the room dropped a few degrees. Her turn to save me…

  “Julia, I am just ensuring that he is not dangerous, and you know that. With the amount of knives he was carrying, who knows what kind of nefarious activities he participates in?”

  Julia released a heavy sigh of disapproval and pursed her thin lips. He has a point and she knows it. She looked at me for half a second, her gaze softer, before snapping back and continuing the glaring match. Frustrated, she flung her arm towards me. “Ivan saved my life, dad. Who cares if he is a Red?” She is bold for a twenty-one-year-old third born.

  The King made an exaggerated motion to the sky as if he were looking for godly support. “You might not care, my daughter, but I do. You cannot trust people like him. You should not have been out there in the first place and neither should he! We will talk about your punishment later, Julia. Go. I will speak to you when I’m finished here.” He pointed with his large arm towards the door. The platinum and ice-blue ring on his finger sparkled in the light.

  She gave me a helpless look that held a wish to stay and a million different questions at once. I nodded to let her know it was okay to go. Wherever this conversation was heading, I needed to do it myself. She pounded out of the room, each footstep cracking like thunder through the chambers.

  The King turned to me again. “Regardless of my skepticism, Ivan, I am thankful for what you did. My hands are tied, though, due to your… condition. Julia has expressed interest in having you act as one of her servants, but I cannot trust you in a position that could bring harm to my daughter. Unless I say otherwise, you are to not go near her, understand?”

  “I, uh…” I cleared my throat. “Yes, your highness.”

  “Your presence will make many uncomfortable. Therefore, you will work out of sight in the theater, assisting the technical crew in preparation for the next show.”

  Theater? Weird, but whatever. “Yes, your highness.”

  “You will be employed by us, and you will be given a room in the servants’ wing. We will provide you food and a room as well as any other items you might need to complete your work. You will be watched closely, though. Do not fail or you will regret it. Understood?”

  I was overjoyed and my eyes watered. I must be dreaming. It’ll be difficult to coordinate with the Militia, but a job with the royals, my own room, and my food provided for? Wow! Though, I would like to see Julia again. I dropped back to a kneeling position. “Yes. Thank you, your highness.”

  “Good. Now, Phillip will drive you to wherever you live so that you may pick up your things. You may have your radio back, but not your knives. You need to prove to me that you deserve my trust. Now, get up and go.”

  “Thank you, your highness.” I left the room in a daze. Today is strange.

  Chapter 9

  “Coyote to Delaware. Come in Delaware.”

  “Hey Coyote. You alright? El Capitan…”

  “Rendezvous point. 45 minutes. Out.”

  Chapter 10

  It wasn’t hard to convince Phillip to leave the car on the north end of the bridge and let me go into the Enclave alone. The guy would have stuck out like a sore thumb in an area where being an unathletic Blue was dangerous. Plus, he would have gotten in my way.

  “You have half-an-hour, or I tell the King you fled.”

  It was risky to meet with Delaware on such a time crunch, but talking with her was more important than forgetting some crap at home. I opened the cellar door in the abandoned house we had set up as our rendezvous point years ago and went down the stairs. The room smelled of a thousand fires long past, but the soot had remained.

  She was waiting for me. Her anxious look turned to worry when she saw me grasping my side. “What happened? Where were you?”

  I grabbed an old chair and threw myself onto it before explaining what happened as quickly as I could without leaving out any important details.

  Her look chan
ged slowly to confused amazement. “I… I don’t know if I believe you or if you just got hit way too hard in the head.”

  I painfully stood and put my hands on her shoulders. “Listen, Del. I don’t have much time. This is a lot to take in, but I need you to do something for me.”

  Her eyes were curious. “Anything.”

  “I need you to be my leader here, as acting lieutenant. I will do what I can, but I need you to help execute the plans. I’ll be available via radio occasionally, but you’ll be making a lot of decisions. El Capitan will tell you more.”

  “Coyote, I…”

  “You’re ready. I wouldn’t put you in this position if I didn’t believe that. I’m not going to be gone, just a bit further away, and I think we can gain something from me being closer to the royals.”

  With tears in her brown determined eyes, she hugged me. I groaned in pain but hugged her back gently.

  “Now, I need to go before Phillip leaves without me. Go talk to El Capitan. We have a lot of work to do.”

  She let go and looked up at me, her round face full of intent. “I won’t let you down, but I’ll miss you.”

  “Same… uh… keep in touch.” I held up the radio. There was so much more I wanted to say but couldn’t in such a short time. We shared a heavy moment of silence before I shuffled towards the door.

  My so-called house was not far. It was an old bombed out brick ranch that still had one usable room. The rickety wooden door creaked as I entered and looked around the dull blackened room, met by the familiar smell of rotting wood and an excessive amount of dust. I was never one for decorating, so the space lacked any real personal touches. Charred wood and soot, classy.

  Shuffling over to the cheap, water-stained wooden dresser I’d recovered from one of the other abandoned houses years ago, I quickly collected a few pieces of clothing. I left some spare clothes and my weapons, since they would search my bag upon my return. I also left my Coyote bandana and black jacket, not willing to risk anyone finding something to connect me to him. Nothing else was worth taking, so I opened the door, took one last look at the place that had been my home for so many years, smiled, and headed back to see Phillip.

  Phillip wasn’t happy. He glanced at his watch. “It took you 37 minutes to grab one bag?”

  I shuffled up before throwing the bag over my shoulder and onto the ground. “Traffic was awful.”

  He rolled his eyes and searched through the bag. “You’re lucky the King doesn’t hate you, yet.” He pointed to the bag and then the car when he was finished. “Pick that up so we can return. I don’t want to miss the party tonight.”

  I slowly and painfully reached down and grabbed the bag. “What kind of party?”

  Climbing into the front seat, he looked back. “The kind that Reds aren’t invited to. Come on.” He slammed the door. Isn’t that every party?

  I climbed into the back with my bag. “Not even a classy Red?”

  He looked at me in the rearview mirror as he started the car and began the trip back. “You need to stick to the rules I taught you already, kid, if you want to make it a week.”

  I saluted sarcastically. “Yes, sir.”

  He just shook his head.

  It was getting late as we arrived at the Royal Household. Phillip pulled the car up through a side ramp I hadn’t seen earlier in the day. “The party has already started. I’ll take you to your room. You are to stay there and not interact with anyone, including the servants, unless told otherwise. Understand?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  We entered through the same servants’ entrance that we had earlier in the day. He guided me down a few hallways before opening a creaky wooden door on the right. “There you are. Get settled in. You start work tomorrow. Don’t be late.”

  I stood in the doorway and investigated the room, if you could call it a room. It appeared that they had repurposed the broom closet and squeezed a shoddy wooden twin-sized bed and a night stand into it. I sighed.

  “What? Never had a room to yourself before? Congratulations, you’re living the high life, Mr. Hero. Now, if you’ll excuse me I have a party you’ve made me late for.”

  I watched him walk away before calling after him. “Phillip!”

  He stopped, visibly frustrated, and glared back.

  “Thank you for everything, sir.”

  He nodded sharply, before continuing on his way.

  I threw my bag on the stone floor and shut the door behind me. It popped open. I tried shutting it again. It popped open. What did you expect? The King’s Suite? I slammed it one last time, pulling the door towards the latch, click, and smiled to myself, content with the little victory.

  The room had nothing but a night stand and a box under my bed for clothes. I looked at my bag, then at the night stand, then back at my clothes. Screw it. I plopped onto the bed. These two days had felt like the longest in my life, and tomorrow would be bringing a whole new set of challenges, but for today, I was exhausted, physically and mentally. New adventures, broadening my horizons, yay.

  Eventually, I found the energy to change out of yesterday’s clothes and into some clothes to sleep in. It was nearly the start of Fall, and the stone walls and floor filled the room with an isolating chill. I curled up in the thin blanket they had provided. It was neither comfortable nor warm, but I was exhausted and faded to sleep.

  Sometime later I awoke to my door creaking open, My instincts kicked into gear - not effective in a small, dark room when I was injured. Effectively, this meant that I fell out of bed and hit my head on the night stand as the single light bulb hanging from the ceiling illuminated my humiliation.

  A young Blue royal guardsman, no older than me, was standing in the doorway, looking puzzled. “Uh, Ivan 181375, right?”

  I rubbed my head where it had hit the nightstand and slowly pulled myself to my feet. “At your service, sir.”

  He chuckled. “Are you alright?”

  “Wonderful. What can I do for you?”

  He smiled genuinely and reached out his hand. “I wanted to introduce myself. Jonah. I tend to patrol the southern part of the palace. We’ll probably be seeing a lot of each other, and I thought you might need a friendly face.”

  I shook his hand, confused. Dang, guy has a grip. “Thank you, uh, Jonah. Nice to meet you. Um, are you supposed to be talking to me? Phillip said I shouldn’t talk to anyone.”

  He chuckled and shrugged his thin shoulders. “What are they going to do, report me to the guard? Listen, I know you’re a Red Tag, but not all of us are pretentious snobs. Let me know if anyone gives you trouble. I’ll try to help. Around here, everyone needs someone watching their back. Especially a Red.”

  I smiled. “Thank you. You don’t know how much that means to me. I’m just trying to figure this all out. And I will return the favor however I can.”

  He nodded. “Well if you ever have any questions, let me know. Most people around here won’t be so accommodating, and it can take a while to figure out how the social spheres around here operate.” He turned his head as he heard a noise in the hallway. “I need to get back to my patrol. Too many important guests to be gone for long. See you around.”

  Chapter 11

  Sleep came quickly that night; it ended quickly in the morning, as well. I awoke to light flooding into the room and a curly haired Green Englishman yelling at me. I understood little of what he said in my sleepy stupor but did grasp that he wanted me to follow him to the theater. So much for a shower. Would they even let me use it anyway?

  I rubbed my eyes and sat up. “Yes, sir. Did I, uh, did I miss your name?”

  He looked proud, his English accent in full force. “Archibald, master of the fine arts and technical director of the Royal Theater. Now get ready, we have work to do.”

  As he waited outside, I quickly changed into some shoddy work clothes. Granted, all of my clothes were shoddy. I still felt a bit shell-shocked from the day before, but I had a feeling that the high and mighty Archibald wouldn’t be
showing me any pity.

  When I was finished, he was leaning casually against the wall, waiting for me in the hallway. His long jet-black hair covered part of his eye. I wondered if the royals only let him wear it like that because he worked away from sight: backstage in the theater. He guided me out the servants’ entrance and through the yard to the theater, an impressive sight with a pillared marble entrance that made it seem like we were entering another palace.

  Entertainment was what the royals valued most, and it showed. They had obviously spared no expense in the theater’s creation. Its dome ceiling was painted like a sky, creating a feeling that you were in a new world instead of just a theater.

  Archibald caught me gawking. “The ceiling is painted entirely new for every show. The country’s greatest artists, or what’s left of the country’s greatest artists, are brought in to work on it. It’s quite spectacular, isn’t it? We are preparing now for Chekhov’s The Cherry Orchard; opening night is at the end of next week.”

  I nodded as if I knew what he was saying. Chekhov sounded Russian to me. Of course they would put on a Russian play. The People’s Front and the royals each had their obsessions with Russia: the UPF with the USSR and the royals with the old Russian monarchy. I found the latter’s obsession ironic, considering how the monarchy came to an… abrupt… end in Russia slightly before the American one did, though the Queen herself was from Russia.

  He continued going over technical details of the theater as we went backstage. “I’ve been told you have no experience with theater work, correct?” I nodded. “Unfortunate. The last thing I need is to show a new guy the ropes so close to opening night. Hope you learn quick. Before we start, let me introduce you to the part of the crew that is here.”

  I shook hands with the dozen or so Green Tags on the crew as he explained each of their roles. None of them looked too fond of working with me. I couldn’t blame them. On top of being a Red, I looked like a mess because of the morning rush. Solid first impression.

  Much of the rest of the day consisted of various tasks involving physical labor and a healthy dose of sarcastic comments from the crew. Despite the mocking, I was actually glad to be working with them. They may have been Greens, but they were hard workers and ruthlessly efficient. Unfortunately, I was a bit slow with the pain in my side, but I clenched my teeth, determined to impress them.