How many of them won’t make it? How many of them will die on the way because I led them here? I led them here to this pathetic, pitiful, weak city full of cowardly leaders.
When we emerge from the tunnel and back into the pouring rain, I shield my face and watch as the grumpy soldiers—who’d been roused from their beds—bark orders, pointing and waving for my people to head west down a street bordered by buildings that are taller than most of them have ever seen.
I’m baffled, overwhelmed, and staggered by their size.
I’d heard stories from the Elders, and had been able to imagine life in Warrenville using their vivid descriptions and drawings, but this…this is beyond my level of understanding. How do they get these buildings to stay upright? What are they made out of that’s so sturdy, they can withstand the raging wind? Do they bend over like saplings with strong gusts? Do the people inside shake in fear when the storms get stronger?
Lights shine in windows. Some are muted by curtains. Others are open and people walk from one side to the other.
The rest of my people must be feeling the same sort of awe that I am.
They stand and gawk, craning their necks to look up and up at these tall structures stretching into the sky.
It has to be intimidating and frightening to the ones who have grown up in the northernmost territories. All they’ve ever known are hovels and campfires. Like us, they’ve probably only heard stories of artificial lights and trees that grow out of hardened surfaces.
There are cars everywhere; they’re exactly like I pictured. Grandfather and the Elders had done a great job of describing what these machines looked like. It’s strange the things you latch onto; here we are in the middle of an unfamiliar city, where my people are one meal and one night’s sleep away from slavery, and all I can think about for a full minute is nothing but seeing how a car actually works.
The structures are so high. The glass windows are so clear. The lights are in many different colors, glowing blue, red, orange, and white.
It’s so ridiculously overwhelming that for a brief moment, I forget who I am. I forget that I’m a Kinder. I forget that Finn and I, mere hours ago, defeated a vanguard of five hundred men, by ourselves.
I spot Finn through the crowd. He looks over, sees me standing beside Captain Targon, and waves. I wave back, and it’s Finn’s face that snaps me out of my reverie.
“Captain Targon?”
He barks at a young soldier, approximately my age, for not moving quickly enough, then says, “Yes?”
“Why aren’t we fighting back? Why are we just going to let the blackcoats take everyone and make them slaves?” I want to tell him about my abilities, about Finn’s abilities, but I don’t know how he’ll react to a true Kinder in his midst.
To him, I’m a child. He hasn’t even properly acknowledged the fact that I led a thousand people a hundred miles, if not more. He hasn’t noticed that I was a leader among men, women, and children. For that week, they looked up to me, they respected me, and they listened to what I said. I won’t deny the fact that I got used to it. I admit that I rejected the idea at first, but I grew into my place.
Here in the city, however, I’m back to being nothing more than a pawn.
Someone else, someone much higher up the chain of command than Captain Targon, is moving the chess pieces around the board.
If I tell him that he has two Kinders in his midst, he’ll laugh me out of the city.
I should show him. I should lift him over my head. I should bend time and see what he says then…
He scoffs. “Fight back? You’ve spent too long in the woods, scout.”
“We can’t give up. Not like that. Not so easily. I just don’t understand—”
“You’re not supposed to understand. Look at you. Look at where you are. You’re a scout from a hundred miles away who grew up climbing trees and eating rabbits. You’ve probably never seen a flashlight or spent time in a restaurant. You’ve been detached from society your whole life, and therefore, Scout Mathers, you have no idea what’s really going on here. It’s not about fighting back. It’s not about a war. This is politics. Do you even know what politics means?”
I shake my head.
“Politics is when the people in charge ruin things for everyone else.”
I immediately think of General Chief Hawkins.
“This is about power and money,” Captain Targon continues. “There was never going to be a war. Please. The people running this circus have been posturing for months. ‘Give us your people,’ and, ‘No, it’s not right,’ and ‘Fine, then we’ll destroy your cities and take what we need.’ Deals were made over handshakes and whiskey. And that, my dear child, is what it’s all about. Your faithful leaders were waiting for the highest offer. Money, power, positions; a week from now President Larson and his cronies will be sleeping on silk sheets with a cushy cabinet position up north while the rest of us work in factories and mines until our fingers bleed and we die of exhaustion. The DAV is marching their army here for show. It’s a parade, nothing more. This was settled months ago. President Larson, he’s a Judas Iscariot if I’ve ever seen one.”
“A who?”
“He betrayed Jesus.”
“Oh.” While I’m familiar with religion, and God, and praying, I know nothing of the stories within the Bible.
I must appear confused, because Captain Targon adds, “A traitor, Mathers. In my book, that man is a traitor.”
“What about you? You’re in charge too, right?” I ask, innocently. “Will they spare you?”
“I’m the ant under a boot heel, Mathers. My options are as bleak as yours and the rest of these…sheep. I’m a sheep, you’re a sheep. We’re all livestock.”
The tone of his voice suggests he’s frustrated. I sense an opening. “Would you fight if you could?”
“Given the proper orders from higher up and a miracle or two—good men, weapons that worked—maybe, but I don’t see how we can stand up against what’s coming.”
I stare at the people who have become my flock and make up my mind. I’m not ready to send them to slaughter yet. I say to Captain Targon, “What if I told you that it really was possible, that we have something the blackcoats don’t?”
He humors me with one corner of his mouth turned up—again the look of someone bemused by a child’s nerve—and says, “I would say you’re insane, and then I’d ask what you meant by that.”
Chapter 4
Captain Targon doesn’t believe me at first. As I suspected, he laughs until he holds his sides and he has to wipe the tears from the corners of his eyes. People stare, most likely wondering what can be so damn hilarious in a situation like this. I knew this was coming, so I wait until he’s finished.
I notice the scent of food wafting out of a nearby building. It smells like sausage over an open flame, the kind we used to have back in the camp years and years ago before that freezing winter when all the pigs were slaughtered to keep the camp from dying of starvation. I was so young. Mother and Father were gone already, but Grandmother was still alive. It’s something I haven’t smelled in eight years, at least. Could I go inside the short, squat building with large windows, blue and red lights in the shape of the words ‘Eat Here’ and tell them I’m a soldier and that I demand food?
Even if I could. I won’t. I’ve lived as my flock has, like a good leader should, and I’m not about to start abusing my privileges now.
Captain Targon continues to chuckle, wiping his eyes with a dirty sleeve.
I haven’t been able to hear someone’s thoughts in days, and for that I’m thankful because I hated that ability, but right now, I wish I could get one little glimpse of what’s going on inside his mind.
I don’t have to wait long. He tells me outright that I should be locked up.
“Honestly,” he continues, “a Kinder? You? My dear child, the last one left was some old woman up north. We got word that a DAV commander, a man named Tanner, had murdered her in her village. A K
inder. My goodness. They’re gone, Mathers.”
I scowl and take a step closer to him. “Her name was Ellery, and she was a good soul. I watched her die, captain, and trust me, I avenged her death.”
He’s still doubtful and amused. “Oh, really? Did you? I have a hard time believing—”
“Did they also tell you that we killed every single soldier that raided my encampment? A group of Republicons helped us. Every single DAV soldier that destroyed my life and those families’ lives, except for that wretched Tanner, is gone, and you know what, he’s in that crowd somewhere,” I say, pointing to the throng of marching refugees. After James and the rest of his crew left, I don’t know who took control of Tanner, the prisoner, but after what he did to us, I can be sure that he wasn’t allowed to go free the moment my Republicon friends walked away.
James. I miss him already.
Captain Targon’s eyes widen. “You captured a DAV commander? When?”
“Right before we got here.”
“How?”
“I told you. I’m a Kinder and…Finn, the one right there with the black jacket, he’s a Kinder, too. We had a DAV vanguard chasing us for days, and we defeated five hundred men on our own, just the two of us, before we climbed to the top of Black Rash Mountain.”
He begins chuckling again and between heavy chortles that shake his round belly, he manages to say, “Really… I’ve never heard such...such nonsense, Mathers.”
I resist the urge to stamp my foot like an irritable child, but I understand this is an appropriate reaction for someone in his position.
Captain Targon crosses his arms over his protruding stomach and rocks back on his heels. He considers me for a moment and as I wait on yet another spate of laughter, I hear words forming in his mind, floating through a dense fog. I can barely make them out.
I wonder just how far she’ll go with this charade? If she thinks I’m going to believe her for one second without any kind of proof—
“You want proof?” I blurt out loud. “I’ll show you.” The reaction on his face is one of fear and amazement.
He stammers and backs away a step, unable to get a full sentence out of his mouth. “You—what—how did you know—”
“I told you how.” I tap the side of my forehead. “I heard it, so you better watch what goes through your mind, Targon.” I don’t address him by rank on purpose, and the lack of respect is beneath me—it’s petty, I know—but I am who I say I am, and this pathetic man needs to understand that I have more power and control than this entire city. I’m tired of his doubt. I grab his sleeve and yank. “Come with me.”
“Young lady, I am a commanding officer and you will release—”
“Now,” I order. “You don’t have a choice.”
He relents, and the shock of me hearing his thoughts remains in his eyes. He stumbles along behind me, confused and wary.
I shout for Finn and when he glances over at us, still urging the refugees forward, I ask, “Where’s Tanner?”
“About ten rows up,” he calls back. “Tom Barner was dragging him by the hair the last time I saw him.” Finn smiles, clearly enjoying that fact.
“Thanks.”
“What do you need him for?”
“Proof!”
Finn takes a look at Targon and nods knowingly. “You’ll know where I am if you need me.”
I wave and continue towing the reluctant captain. I raise my voice as loud as I can. “Tom Barner! Tom Barner, where are you?”
Up ahead, an arm raises above the crowd. “Here,” he shouts back.
“Come to the side, please, and bring that man with you.”
Tom Barner nudges his way through the crowd, sidestepping families and people so tired they can scarcely walk. I can see that he’s dragging Tanner along behind him, who is stumbling and fatigued. When they emerge from the river of lost souls, I see that Tanner looks much, much older than when he destroyed my world.
Good. Evidently being a prisoner himself has rapidly taken its toll. I have no sympathy for that murderer.
Tom Barner yanks Tanner’s hair one last time and pulls him upright in front of us. He addresses me as ‘Ma’am’ and the surprise in Targon’s face is unmistakable. A man three times my age addresses me with respect and Targon is clearly shaken.
“That’ll be all, Tom. We can take care of him from here.”
“Are you sure? I don’t mind. In fact, I was enjoying leading this heathen around like the rat that he is.” Tom Barner smacks Tanner on the back of the head.
Tanner takes it, though I can feel the rage in his glare. His nostrils are wide open.
I grin. “I’m sure you were, but my friend here needs to speak with him. You get some rest, okay? And Tom?”
“Yes, ma’am?”
“Thanks for all your help.” During our retreat, in the last couple of days before we made it to the capital, he had saved Cherise and her arm. His talents as a healer are unbelievable, and I’m thrilled that we have him around. If I’m able to convince the capital army to fight, we’ll need him.
He lifts his hat and bows, then squeezes the back of Tanner’s neck. “I’ll see you later, rat. Believe me, I’ll be keeping an eye on you. Just because I know how to heal doesn’t mean I don’t know how to hurt, either.”
“That’ll be all, Tom,” I caution, but my wink is a subtle note of appreciation.
Tom Barner salutes me—another reason for Targon to drop his mouth open—and then merges with the marching group once again. It’s not long before he disappears among the heads of hair, slumped shoulders, and dog-tired bodies dragging their feet. Even with the help of the city lights that brighten this courtyard like a full moon on a cloudless day, it remains hard to tell them apart. The rain falls, yet they’re covered in mud and grime.
“Captain Targon, meet Captain Tanner of the DAV army. The man who burned my encampment to the ground, the man who murdered my friends and their families, and the man who thought he’d murdered the last remaining Kinder when he slit Ellery’s throat.” I pinch Tanner’s cheek. “I bet you thought you were going to be a hero back home, didn’t you?”
Tanner opens his droopy eyes further. Hate burns inside them like hot coals and the rain does nothing to put out the fire. He works his mouth around as if it’s full of dry dirt and spits flecks of drool at my feet.
“Nice try.”
An arrogant smile lifts one corner of his mouth. “You’re still nothing but a pawn.”
“We’ll see.”
Targon steps over to the pitiful captain and picks at the symbols on his sleeve. “DAV captain, all right. How long?”
“Thirty years.”
“Hmm.” Targon grabs a corner of the emblem and yanks hard, pulling it free from Tanner’s jacket. “I respect anyone that dedicated to their cause, defending their territory, but all good things must come to an end, I guess. What surprises me is that an officer with three decades of experience managed to become the prisoner of a lowly scout. You let a—Mathers, how old are you?”
“Fifteen tomorrow.”
He nods and turns back to Tanner. “You hear that? I don’t care how it happened—check that, maybe I do—but you let a fifteen-year-old girl capture you? And you call yourself an officer? I’m appalled.”
Tanner looks away, shakes his head. “She’s—you didn’t see—”
“I’m not sure I need to see, but Mathers told me something interesting earlier. Highly unusual. She says that she and her friend are Kinders, and while I very much doubt it, she says that the two of them alone defeated your entire vanguard. Is that true?”
Tanner glowers at me from the corner of his eye and grits his teeth. “I… Yes.”
“Yes what?”
“It’s true. They—I’ve never seen anything like it.” I can tell that it’s hard for him to admit what he saw. It was hard for me to accept it days ago. I’m still in a state of skepticism myself. Tanner adds, “They walked around our bullets.”
Targon chuckles. “The
y what?”
“This one did. One minute, she was running straight at us; we lined up in formation and fired. The other one, he jumped like a—like I don’t even know what. Twenty feet in the air like it was nothing. And she was…she was right there in front of our whole regimen. Every soldier in the vanguard trained their sights on her and fired. One minute she was dead ahead, twelve o’clock, and the next… I blinked and she was right in front of us. I don’t know how she did it and then they were on us, both of them. Fighting, punching, throwing my men like they were goose-down pillows. So fast. Faster than anything you’ve ever seen and the boy, I swear it, he floated off the ground like he was flying.”
I don’t remember seeing Finn do that, but then again, I had been busy myself. Fighting half a vanguard on your own leads to distraction.
Targon listens intently as the failed DAV captain continues his story of how Finn and I demolished his entire group, minus the small handful of men that escaped into the forest to the north.
“And what happened to you?” Targon asks. “How’d you come to be in ropes?”
“I was…” Tanner coughs and looks away. “I was a coward. Instead of fighting I pretended to be dead. I hoped they would leave me behind.”
Targon looks down at the DAV badge in his hand, the one he ripped from Tanner’s sleeve. He slings it into a deep puddle at his feet. It floats there until one of my people steps on it, driving it to the bottom in a small splash.
“Appropriate,” Targon says. “Tanner, I don’t care how she did it, but your cowardice proves your worth. But, before I have one of my men remove you from my sight, I have one last question. Respond or don’t, but I think I already know the answer. Do you believe Caroline Mathers is a Kinder?”
“No. She’s the Devil.”
“How amusing and quite expected.” Targon puts his fingers to his mouth and lets loose with a shrill whistle that turns every head around us. “Golliher, get over here.”
A Pawn's Betrayal Page 3
