40

Tiv

Thursday 17th September, Year 827

As our ship moored at Thruck harbour with the dawn, I looked out to the war-strewn cityscape. Xander's face bloomed with a grin while we discharged the cargo. It withered quickly as an explosion ripped through the air beyond the dock, sending tremors through the earth. Winged monstrosities surged from the heart of destruction, disappearing into the distant sky. A chill coursed through me.

Our orders were clear: suppress Thruck's rebellions and dispatch their leaders. Despite my reluctance to take lives, such reservations would likely fall on deaf ears with Father. So there I stood, in the country I grew up, ready to help destroy it.

We had been given the same instructions for several big cities around Vakoso, luckily Harroworth was not on the list. We were to ignore the Umbrith; they were seen as a murderous ally who could help to kill off the rebels. Previous regiments had reported they did not attack those from Lambent, so we were told to ignore them and hope they would do the same. Yet as I looked at my peers, dressed in their polished uniforms and armed with weapons that glinted in the light, our presence seemed unnecessary. The rebels were fighting their own battle within their country; it had nothing to do with us.

"Put the fire out before it has time to spread," is what my Father said.

I supposed he had a point. However this fire had been raging for three years and I was fairly certain he started it.

It felt surreal standing in the abandoned visa office. The last time I stood there my Mother's body was still warm and I was being torn away from the perfect little life I did nothing but complain about. A suppressed fragment of me writhed at the thought of 'home'.

I had come with Xander, Amelia, Eddie, Regan and three others. Amelia was not speaking to me for my behaviour on the boat the previous evening however I could not remember what I had done, therefore refused to apologise for it. She was probably gaslighting me anyway. Marco had arrived earlier in the week with another group including a man named Jakori, Tala, Kale, Jonas and two others. There were fifteen of us all together. There was another group coming next week. I tried to stay detached from the notion we were topping up the numbers that had been lost in an explosion two weeks ago.

Dressed in the stiff fabric of the Day Guard uniform, I shuffled uncomfortably. Its grey and navy threads bit into my flesh, reminding me I was now on the side of something I used to hold nothing but disdain for.

As the morning passed, more and more people protesting Lambentian authority arrived at the harbour to shout and swear at us. We stood atop a platform, looking down into the open area below where the crowd gathered, rifles hung loosely by our sides. Xander peered down at the mass below with a grimace that did not need words to convey his empathy for their plight.

"They brought it on themselves." The corner of my mouth turned down as I echoed the mantra I knew deep down wasn't truly mine.

For a moment, time recoiled. I was trapped by the memory of Sarah Hall's father gasping for breath as a black bag was forced over his head. My breath hitched in my chest; I banished the memory with vehemence. The sooner we were away from the scum, the better.

"Good to be back?" Xander quipped dryly.

I looked down at the people below me and thought of Alayna. Anger bubbled uncomfortably.

"No," I spat.

Xander leaned closer, his gaze piercing. "Reckon you'll go see your girl?"

Tight-lipped, I stared into the throng below where hateful cries echoed up to us—snippets of demanding freedom and curses at our presence.

"No," I repeated through gritted teeth.

"Drop the scowl; it's spreading." Xander's admonishment came with him massaging his forehead as if my sullen mood caused him pain.

"Pardon me?" I asked.

"Argh, nothing," he murmured, shaking his head. "You know, your brother plays his own games. I wouldn't trust how he portrays himself and I would trust most of the crap he's told you about these people. The things he's told you about your old girlfriend aren't exactly true either."

"How do you know Marco and I speak of this place? Of her?" I asked.

"Because nobody in our group can keep anything to themselves. Amelia told Tala who told Kale who told me," he grinned.

I stared at him, agitated; I didn't find this fact as amusing as he did. Though his musing caught me off guard somewhat; I had never heard Xander talk badly of anyone, nevermind Marco. They were friends to my knowledge. Xander never seemed to have an opinion about anything unless it was sports, cars or women who wore too many items of clothing. He was so apathetic about other matters he never formed any opinions around them.

This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

"Thank you for the concern, however I really would rather not talk about her. She was an egregious mistake and I don't intend to see her or anyone else from that damned city ever again," I muttered.

"Sounds like it," Xander muttered.

Before I could press his snide comment, Marco arrived effectively ending our conversation and jeered judgmentally at the thugs that had turned up to protest. Some of the things he said weren't far off what I was thinking which annoyed me; I didn't like being on the same wavelength as Marco. The protesters wore basic clothing, almost like rags. They looked dirty. Like the slaves they'd been forced to be. For a moment I felt cruel for letting them suffer such a harsh existence when I could easily return to the comforts of Lambent if I chose to. Well, if Father allowed it. This thought was expelled from my mind as I noticed a face in the crowd I recognised.

Ben Jameson stood on a platform below with several others, taller by far than anyone in the crowd. He looked exceedingly different—wild, tired eyes and painfully thin. He was so close I could have spoken to him, albeit it would have to be a shout. I continued gawking down at him and to my utter horror, his grey eyes found mine. Shock registered on his features momentarily however this quickly changed to anger. Not just anger, furious rage emitted from his body language and I was genuinely petrified. Not a lot scared me like Ben Jameson did. If looks could kill I would be a dead man.

You haven't thought that in a while.

That realisation forced my gaze from Ben's. My heart stopped as my eyes shot around the crowd of rebels searching for her face, I walked from my post to get a better look.

Marco grabbed me before I could go any further. "Where do you think you are going? Stay here.”.”

I turned my head back to where Ben was standing, and the fury on his face before was nothing compared to what it became when he noted Marco's presence. Ben barked something aggressively to the short, blonde man who stood next to him and nodded towards us. The man replied in a less aggressive way. Ben stormed off out of sight, pulling a skinny white-haired girl with him. She also looked terrifying, particularly for something with such a small stature. Like a ghost.

"Is that who I think it is?" Marco muttered.

"How do you know Ben Jameson?" I asked hoarsely.

"He's the guy that smashed up your car before we left. I made a point of learning his face," he said quickly.

"Yes. He's a lunatic," I swallowed. "If he gets a hold of us we are dead men. We need to move."

"What are we talking about?" Xander said, looking toward the platform where Ben had stood.

"Why would he do that?" Marco scoffed, ignoring Xander.

"Well I think he'd hate us because of who our Father is, however I'm also willing to guarantee Alayna told him you beat her up," I hissed.

"Alayna?" Xander asked. "Will someone tell me what is going on?"

He shut his eyes as if he was trying to listen to us carefully. Xander hummed after a few seconds. I completely ignored him. He had a habit of acting strangely when he was not told the information he wanted.

Marco turned to him, "Go away."

Xander shot my brother a withering look before turning from us, not taking his eyes from me. I tore my gaze away and began searching for Ben in the crowd. Would he attack us somewhere this public? I knew that he would. I knew we weren't safe.

"Brother, why are you worrying? You are trained in about fifty types of self-defence," Marco reassured.

"Oh yes…" I agreed, feeling stupid.

Marco dashed off and delivered rapid directives to our security detail. In response, several guards dispersed quickly. My gaze fell back to the mob, scouring it for the unmistakable blue of Alayna's eyes. I did not spot them and, to my utter dismay, I was disappointed.

Ben also made no more appearances for the rest of the time I was there. Nonetheless, the man he had conferred with earlier cast narrow glances our way while murmuring into his mobile phone. Ben was watching us. His grudge against Marco was clear, yet my actions had not wronged Alayna. She was the one who had severed our ties.

The deafening roar of an explosion suddenly shattered the air as a massive fireball erupted behind us. The shockwave slammed into our backs, nearly knocking us off our feet. Our ship, now engulfed in flames and billowing black smoke, had a hole blown into its hull.

A chorus of screams pierced the air—not fleeing from the blaze but surging towards it and violently attacking anyone barring the Vakosians' path to our supplies. Amongst them, familiars cast curses upon soldiers daring to approach. We were outnumbered however they were still tremendously outgunned. Most carried pointed sticks and bats for defence. The only decent weapons they had were the familiars who were the first to be gunned down. Our forces unleashed chaos upon anyone crossing from harbour to loading bay and when several rebels wrested guns from our side, a hailstorm of bullets arced towards us. Marco and I flinched as projectiles whistled past overhead; rough hands from our security shielded us into an abandoned visa check room, far from the barrier we previously leaned upon. While we had trained for years to come and fight in Vakoso, it was nothing more than another publicity stunt. I should have guessed there was no possibility in which Father would allow us near any real fighting. I wished he had simply confided that.

I paced restlessly, each step punctuated by screaming and gunfire outside. For a brief moment, I allowed myself a breath. Out of the window gulls circling in confused patterns against a sky streaked with smog from the fire below. I wondered how much fun Xander would be having. Or how little fun Tala would be having; she hated the war as much as I did. She signed up because Kale did, always making her distaste for the way the Vakosian were treated clear. Kale only signed up because Xander and I had. I felt responsible for them simply being there. It felt wrong not to be with them.

"I hate being stuck in here," I complained.

"Me too," Marco grumbled. "How hard do you think it will be to ditch the security team?"

I did not answer because I knew the chances were slim.

A few minutes later Amelia was forced into the small room, looking like she'd been dragged through a hedge backwards.

"They're beasts," she hissed.

"You don't need to tell us," Marco muttered, staring at the ceiling. "How the hell did Freesia manage to get out of this?"

"She's too important to be used for propaganda," Amelia scoffed, a hint of jealousy seeping into her tone.

"They'll not think twice about killing us if they get in here," I mused.

"Ever the optimist," Marco chuckled.

"I do not think we will manage to be here purely for propaganda purposes," I pointed out. "They'll be hunting us."

Amelia groaned and banged her head gently off my chest. "I need a hug."

I obeyed, wrapping my arms around her, all the while wishing she put my mind at ease the way Alayna once had.