Dark Chains

I blink the bright light out of my eyes. I sigh; I bring my hand up to shield my face, squinting as I sit up on my elbows. A comforting summer breeze rolls through the meadow, making the long grass around me bend gracefully under the gentle movement.

“Roxanne!” a feminine voice calls from a distance behind me. “Roxanne, where are you? You’re supposed to be at work!”

I quickly pop up from the grass, turning towards the voice. I’m careful not to be seen by Mom, though, hiding as best as I can.

The last thing I want is to go back to that dump that Mom calls a jackpot, since I come home with full pockets every day. Scraps of metal that I take can easily be used for counterfeit cisra. The swirly coins are enough to trick Mom, at least.

I do have a job, and I do get paid. But my cisra goes towards the cause, not our family. We do alright without the spare cisra.

As Mom heaves a sigh and turns from my direction, I quickly stand and run away from her, through the tall grass as it pushes against my shins. When she hears the rustle of the grass she calls after me, but I know she won’t be fast enough to catch up. I hold in my giggle, but not my open grin.

When I reach the city beyond the meadow, I take a purple scarf from my pocket and tie it around my neck. But I quickly tuck it into my collar when I see some rendos walking around. If seen wearing something purple with pride, you could be killed.

The streets are not a safe place for someone like me.

Even with my scarf concealed, I stick to the shadows. I’d rather not get into a tumble with a rendo, no matter the reason. The face of a slum girl will surely have me stopped. There is no such thing as being looked at. Not with a face like mine.

As I move through the crowd, my nimble fingers slip into pockets and purses, swiping wallets and other things that may be of value.

Oh, yes. Pick-pocketing is my hobby. Now, the cisra I make off of that goes to the family, since we actually need some to get along. Who knew?

As I pass through an alley, a silhouette appears out of the shadows. A blade is pressed against my throat. Though in a near-death scenario, I can’t help but grin.

“Lazado,” says the wielder of the blade. “I caught you.”

I prod him in the stomach with my elbow. “You can’t call me a lazado if you’re one, too.”

A boy folds together in front of my eyes. Green-blue eyes skim over my face; a scarred lip stretching into a grin. “I still caught you, picky-pokety.”

“Honestly, Riggs, that’s a stupid nickname.” I begin to walk away. I don’t have to look back to know that he’ll follow. “On your part.”

Riggs quickens his pace to catch up to me, brushing his shoulder ever so slightly against mine. “Stupid, maybe.” His small smile grows into a mischievous grin. “But fitting.

“Are you on your way to the meeting?” he asks in a low voice, close to my ear. I don’t look at him; I’m too busy tracking down the rendos with my eyes.

“Meeting?”

Riggs raises an eyebrow. “Mm-hm. Did you not hear?”

I frown. “I’m not exactly in the big loop of lazado gossip, you know. Living on the other side of town doesn’t help.”

He shrugs with his head. “Guess not.” He cocks his elbow, and I slip my hands through the gap without hesitation. “Come on. We’ll go together.”

“What do you think of it all? The forradem, I mean,” I murmur as we weave through the crowd. “Their dreams and goals seem very far out there.”

When I look up at Riggs for his reaction, I see desperation. He worries at his lip for a few moments before responding. “I’m willing to do anything for freedom.” He glances down at me. “Are you?”

I think of my job. Mom and Mika—my sister—living in poverty. Stuck there. No hope of ever living somewhere better. Not here, in Sotet, where you’re born and you die without purpose.

But the lazado want to change that.

I do too.

“Dark chains,” I whisper. Riggs nods, and we say the next words together: “Our dark chains must be broken. Once thought unbreakable. But if we can break, so can they.”

Riggs scoffs. “This is so stupid.” He kicks a rock out of our path as we pass through another alleyway. “I mean, what difference even is there between us and the royals?” He says the title of our rulers like it tastes bad. “Aren’t we all human?”

“They’re tongues,” I murmur. “They can make you do anything they want you to with only a few words.” I glance up at Riggs for a few moments just in time to see his face go pale at my next words. “They’re demons.”

“That’s just the chain of the kiralyi family, though,” he responds. “What about the branches? The lights? They’re weaker than the tongues.”

I shrug with my head. “Maybe. But they still have abilities. They’re stronger than us.”

A fire of emotions—anger, fear, and everything in between—burns in Riggs’ eyes. “I’m going to put my hands around one of their throats.” The grim tone in his voice makes me want to shrink away—or grab a weapon and join in. “Even if it kills me, I’m going to kill one of those bastards first.”

I nod slowly, understanding. But I can’t agree. The thought of death still makes me want to cower, or cry—or both. But I don’t let that kind of weakness show. Not in front of Riggs.

Once we reach the edge of town, we slip into an abandoned warehouse that used to store coal. The black dust still covers the floor, and the air is still thick with the stench. I struggle to breathe for a few moments, but gain my bearings as we keep on.

A man standing at the curtained door stops us. Riggs pulls up his sleeve to reveal a burn mark in the shape of an L just above his inner wrist. The man looks at me, raising an eyebrow with question.

“She’s pledging today,” Riggs says quickly. A grin spreads across his lips. “Don’t worry. If she starts gossiping, she knows I’ll kill her.”

As the man opens the curtained door for us, I murmur, “You’ll kill me, huh?”

His grin only widens. “Sure will.”

“And I’m pledging today?” I ask as I untuck my scarf.

His grin fades. “Well you are, aren’t you?”

I pull up my sleeve and look at the mark already on my forearm. An S tattoo, marking me as a scrapper.

“I don’t know. I mean, don’t you think marking people for what they believe in is dangerous?”

Riggs puts his hand over mine and forces me to pull my sleeve over the mark. “Maybe. But think of the future. How cool will it be to say that we fought for a cause that changed the world?” His fingers curl around my wrist. “This is what we have to show for it.”

I stare forward as we approach a large crowd. Once again, I can’t agree with him. What if the Kiraly found out? They would send the rendos after us. Everyone with the mark would be killed on sight.

“Thank you all for coming,” says a woman to the crowd. She’s dressed in a purple combat uniform. Her rank couldn’t be more obvious. “This meeting was called to discuss our next moves. For now, our cause hasn’t exactly been seen as a potential threat to the kiralyiak. Our goal is to change that.”

Murmurs ripple through the crowd. The woman holds up her hand, and the chatter seizes. “The Board agrees that our next move should be a raid. Here, against the rendos.”

I look up at Riggs, concern written in my furrowed brow. But he doesn’t seem to see this situation as I do; he grins and cheers with the crowd.

“I urge you not to be nervous. Our goal is to only hurt the rendos, none of our own kind,” she assures us.

Our own kind. Even though I didn’t say them, just hearing the words puts a bad taste in my mouth. I hate how everything is separated like this. We all bleed the same. The only difference is that others are . . . magically gifted.

Maybe I believe in the cause more than I thought.

My fingers fly to my wrist where the skin already stings. I’m still not sure if I’m ready.

“The raid is an hour from now. It will start at the center of town and we’ll web our way out,” she explains. “Everyone is to conceal their face in some way. This is to assure that we lose as little as possible. We don’t want anyone to recall our faces afterward.”

Once again, murmurs ripple through the crowd.

She beats her right fist on the left side of her chest. “Our chains will be broken!”

The crowd copies her; beating their right fists on the left side of their chests. “Our chains will be broken!”

Riggs follows along.

I do not.

Suddenly, there is a force from behind me, and everyone falls to the ground. My ears ring for a few moments and I blink many times as I regain my bearings. My vision still isn’t normal when I force myself to my feet; neither is my fuzzy head. Screams of agony and surprise echo through the empty space, and Riggs pulls me to him, pushing us both to the ground. I plug my ears at the loud sounds as more explosions force the air out of my lungs.

After a few moments, Riggs is pulling me to my feet and we’re running. Out of the building and onto the streets. The side of my face is slick with something warm, and my head throbs with pain. But I don’t stop; I couldn’t stop if I wanted to. Riggs pulls us along and away.

Finally, Riggs turns to me. I only hear his voice from my left. “Rox, your head!”

My fingers fly to the right side of my face, which stings under the touch of my dirty fingers. My hand comes back slick with blood.

And I realize that I no longer have an ear.

Riggs covers my mouth and I scream into his hand. He says or mouths something; I can’t hear him over my own screams. He pushes me against the wall of the alley, and I push him away, angry and afraid.

He flies through the wall.

His eyes bug out of his head as he stares at me. Now I press myself against the wall, panting heavily.

“Roxa . . .” He swallows hard and looks me up and down. His eyes are strangely filled with . . . something like fear. “Rox, you—”

“Stay where you are, lazado,” says the voice of a rendo. I look over to see three of them pointing their guns at me. I turn to run the opposite way, but three more appear.

I look back at the wall to see that Riggs has vanished.

Tears well at the base of my eyes as I look back and forth from the two groups of rendos. They all point their weapons at me, slowly closing in.

“Please,” I murmur as one of them grabs me by the arm. “Please! I’m not even pledged to the cause!”

They drag me from the alley anyway, not listening as I babble on about mercy.

I’m too scared to remember that rendos nor the kiralyiak don’t know anything of mercy.

My blurry vision becomes worse as I’m dragged along the streets. We reach a vasuti. The back doors are opened and I’m pushed inside, my head hitting the metal floor with a thunk.

Gentle fingers curve around my jaw, making their way up to the right side of my face. As the touch reaches where my ear used to be, overwhelming relief from the pain floods my senses.

I open my eyes to see a young boy standing over me. He works, touching his fingers to my wounds.

My fingers push through my hair to my right ear.

My right ear.

“You’re a mender,” I murmur, amazed. The boy barely acknowledges me and just gives a shallow nod in reply.

“Where am I?”

“Fova,” he replies.

I jolt forward at the mention of the far-off land, home of our rulers. “Did you just say . . . Fova?”

He glances at me for a few moments. “Indeed.” He gets back to work, healing a sprain in my ankle that I didn’t know I had. “You’re to see the Kiraly in an hour. He’s to judge you guilty or innocent. It is likely you will be executed for treason.”

“Treason? But I didn’t do anything! I just happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time.”

He keeps working, relieving the ache in my muscles with only a touch. I feel stronger. Healthy. “The Kiraly will decide that for himself.”

Suddenly, the doors on the other side of the room fly open, and a finely dressed woman, flanked by servants dressed in dark grey, storms in.

“Javito,” she says to the mender boy, “you are relieved.”

He turns from me to the woman, bowing slightly. Then he leaves the room, closing the doors behind him.

“What are we going for?” the woman, who I now notice as piercing blue eyes, asks one of her servants.

“A pretty peasant. Combat. That was His Felseg’s request.”

The woman nods. “Green. Deep green. With . . .” She studies me for a few moments. “No. Gold tassels. And where’s Lady Illuzio? She’s supposed to be here to make her look less like a rat.”

I press my lips into a thin line at the insult. But I don’t have much time to think it over. The servants quickly fetch me from the bed, undoing my clothes and dropping them to the floor without asking first.

“I know I’m not the one who should be asking the questions, but I must say, my curiosity often gets the better of me.” The woman’s lips twist into a foolish grin. But her aura suggests that she’s anything but foolish. “How come you’re the only one that was caught?”

A sharp pain enters my head, and the woman’s eyes search mine.

“You’re a reader,” I whisper.

The woman shrugs. “At best.” She glances at a clock on her wrist and heaves a sigh. “Can’t you work faster? We don’t have all day, you know.”

Once I’m dressed, chains are attached to my wrists, weighing me down. They’re dark and black.

Dark chains.

Dark chains must be broken.

We continue down a long hallway, the servants branching off and guards joining in. Patches on the left sides of their chest mark their ability. One is a reader like the woman next to me, the other is a maker: an illusionist that can make you see anything they want you to see at will.

“Lady Olvaso!” a voice calls from behind us. I turn on my heels with Olvaso to see a boy, dressed in black, approaching us.

No, actually, he’s obviously not a boy. Maybe only a year or two older than I am..

“Prince Nyelv,” Olvaso says. She bows low. I don’t follow.

A tongue. One of the most dangerous kiralyiak to ever walk the world. With only a few words, this man could make me bend to his will.

I stand my ground, trying to appear dominant.

His eyes catch mine for just a moment. As he studies me, I do the same to him. Dark eyes; so dark that I can’t even see his pupils. Glossy black hair, which matches perfectly with his clothing. If I didn’t know any better, I would think he was a stiffler, not a tongue.

He overlooks me. Good. After all, I’m no threat to him.

“Is this the peasant that is causing such a stir?”

“Indeed.”

He grins. “And I believe that we have something scheduled for tonight, Lady Olvaso?”

She heaves a sigh. “It would appear that we do. I would rather not talk about it at the moment, though. I also appear to be busy.” She raises an eyebrow at him, nodding her head in a small bow.

Prince Nyelv lets us pass, keeping his eyes trained on Lady Olvaso. While he seems to have some sort of admiration for her, she seems annoyed by his presence.

Pity.

“No, Olvaso is not my first name,” she murmurs as we continue down the hall. Reader. A mind reader. “My first name is actually Durva.” She studies me. “And I understand curiosity.”

I nod slowly, keeping the small bit of information—even if it won’t save my life in the end.

A guard approaches us. “Lady Olvaso, the Kiraly’s orders have changed. He’s attending to something at the moment, so the girl is to be thrown into a cell for the time being.”

Lady Olvaso nods, and suddenly the guards flanking us each grab onto one of my elbows. I flinch under their grip, and they continue to drag me down the hallway.

A large door is opened for me. I look back as the guards slam it closed, taking all the precious light of the outside world with it.

The darkness around me is as dark as the chains around my wrists. As dark as Prince Nyelv’s eyes. As dark as my heart.

I’m not sure if I can break these dark chains.

Surely, I will break first.