Iron Blood

The Night Before



I take another deep breath, inhaling the thick smoke that taints the tavern. The smell of ale and whiskey mingles in the air and a tangled web of voices rise and fall in cohesion with music played by the hologram band, followed by an occasional laugh or shout. Candles set about the tables softly illuminate the room and a fire roars ferociously in the singed hearth, heating the ragged, cold souls of those sitting about.

My eyes skim the room lightly with minute interest. As with each night, the customers mainly consists of skill laborers’ relaxing from a grueling day of working under the nippy and grey weather our capital city is known for. A few travelers stick out among them, noticeable since their arms are absent of the mandatory blue and red tattoos every citizen of Principal must bear.

Hollers erupt from a table in the far corner, drawing my attention to the two large, black scorpions performing their deadly dance. With pincers held high and tail stingers weaving, both try to gain the advantage over the other. Customers hover around the makeshift arena and cheer their selected champion while a dark-skinned man smiles and collects bets.

Sighing I return to work, focusing on the mug my callous fingers burnish with a stained cloth. Weary and tired from little sleep, I scuffle back a yawn. It takes me little time to finish and I set the cloth down to examine the handiwork, satisfied with the result. My face reflects on the distorted surfaces, a worn-out smile crossing my lips. Lilac eyes stare back with their natural intensity and I tuck fallen strands of brown hair back into my ponytail.

Being a tavern wench, I’m told on a constant basis to take better care of my looks. That the prettier you appear, the more eyes you catch and therefore, the more coins you are tipped.  “Evelyn,” the other wenches routinely chime, “you should wear your hair down. It’s such a shame to not show off your beauty. If I had those eyes, I could win any man’s heart…and money.” I always respond with a shrug, wanting to point out that all the lotions and make-up in the world could never buy a life outside of the poor districts. Not unless you were a night-walker and were ‘lucky’ enough to catch a noble patron’s desire.

The thought leads me to think of my sister and I swallow the familiar bitterness. It leaves a foul taste in my mouth and I wash it down with another swig of ale. The scorpion duel ends abruptly with gleeful hollers and angry retorts, pulling me out of my thoughts. I make my way through the tables towards the dispersing crowd, filling empty mugs with practiced cheerfulness. Kelvesh, the dark-skinned man, throws me a triumphant grin as he leans back in a chair, placing his boots onto the table and tossing the bag of winnings in one hand. I glance around to make sure George, the tavern keeper, is not within eyesight. Satisfied to not find him, my aching legs slip into the chair across from him.

“You look happy,” I remark.

“And you look tired,” he retorts, smile widening.

“Do you ever tire of swindling money from hard-working people?” The sight of the mutilated corpse of a scorpion and the almost-dead body of the other makes me grimace.

Kelvesh gently picks up the winner and places it into a container on the floor. “I simply entertain your guests.” He leans closer in, continuing in an exaggerated whisper. “Isn’t that what the Council wants? For us to be distracted from our imprisonment?” The man winks at me and I scoff to mask a laugh.

Citizens know better than to speak out against Principle, especially in public places. Even the slightest remark could be seen as a threat and is punishable by death, or worse, being sent to the helionite mines. The Council has soldiers posted at every popular gathering, such as our tavern. They reassure us the soldiers are there to scout out any sign of terrorism but little do my fellow citizens know that the real reason is to scout out any sign of a rebellion.

“Where have you been the past fortnight? You left me to fend for myself against the other wenches,” I purse my lip half-jokingly. Kelvesh has been the closest thing to a friend for the past seven years. I got hired here when I was fifteen and he joined shortly after, making a deal with George to give him half his winnings if he was allowed to entertain the customers. It was hard for me to become anything but acquaintances with the other wenches as I not only tend to be a loner, but the interests of girls my age did not captivate me like it did them. My reality left me too preoccupied to care about things like fashion or men.

I never spoke of Orchid’s profession to anyone for the shame and guilt runs deep within me. Seven years ago, our mother abandoned us and soon after our father succumbed to fever. We were left to fend for ourselves. Only a couple years older than me, Orchid immediately took on the role of a parent, as she felt it was her duty as the eldest to take care of her younger sister. While she entered the trade of night-walking to ensure our survival, she ‘convinced’ George to take me in for half wage to keep me away from her line of work.

Early on, Kelvesh seemed to recognize the sadness I carried for he always made an effort to give me a small portion of his coins every night we worked together. At first I kept my distance from him, interpreting his kindness as a darker motive. But he slowly changed my opinion with his similar humor and brotherly attitude towards me. He even stepped in when a customer pushed my boundaries by slapping me on the ass. I know many find our friendship odd but it did not matter. To this day, my belief is we truly bond because we share a sordid past, though what exactly his tragedy contains is still a mystery to me.

“I’m sorry, Ev,” he says apologetically, using the nickname only few call me, “I was away on business.”

I raise an eyebrow, apprehensive in asking more. “Business?”

Kelvesh nods and for a split moment a shadow crosses his face. His reaction lets me know not to pursue the matter. As I begin to change the subject, my name is shouted from behind the bar. I turn to see George glaring at me, disapproval seething beneath his expression. Wiping his chubby hands on his apron, the tavern owner points at the door. I nod understanding, relieved to be dismissed but disheartened knowing my earnings would be cut for misconduct. He returns to the kitchen, shouting something incoherent to the kitchen staff. My gaze returns to Kelvesh who slides me three coins across the table. Gratefully I thank him and stuff them into my skirt pocket, heading to the front door. With a wave to gesture a final goodbye I leave behind the warmth of the tavern.

The chilly, night air greets my skin with goosebumps. I sigh jadedly, eager to get home, and begin the walk to my apartment in the Sage district. There are a total of five districts in Principle, each with its own name to signify its wealth. At the bottom is the Creta district, which holds the slums of the city. Only rats and corpses gather there to feast on discarded trash. Next is the Porcian district that claims the nightwalkers and those who indulge in other dark entertainment. The streets crammed with run-down, muddled buildings, women and men alike prowling the streets for customers to please or an audience to amuse. Having spent two years among those outcasts permitted my defiant view on the Council to fester and grow into utter distain.

I force the disheveled memories to abate by focusing on my feet, each step taking me closer home. The Sage district holds the traders, laborers, and all law-abiding commoners. Most would consider Sage to be one of the safest areas as a high volume of soldiers patrol the streets. Almost a third of Principle lives here, giving it a high risk for riot outbreaks. I remember the last one, incited by the levies collected for not adhering to the tax raise, ended with dozens of citizens dead. Our punishment for the act of disobedience was outlawing any edible meat for seven months, enforcing the entire elimination of live cattle and beloved pets. I think of Juniper and grimace at the thought. The brutal retaliation quelled any thought of rebellion-for the time being.

The fourth district, named Helm, belongs to the nobles and wealthy foreigners. It is there that estates and lavish apartments decorate the cobbled streets. On the top of it all is the Diamen district, home to the Council themselves and where any and all official business takes place. All these districts, no matter how distinct they are from one another, were built so tightly entwined that only a gate separates them. That is, except the Diamen district that is separated by a wall of metal and stone. I don’t believe I’ve met anyone who has even taken a step beyond that wall, besides the soldiers. The only time I have seen the faces of the Council would be on the screens that are scattered about the city to show important announcements.

At the center of the city, surrounded by the districts, is the Central Plaza where nobles and commoners alike gather for festivals and market days. It is also where public executions are held for all to view. Fortunately, no executions have occurred in years as the Council has found the punishment of slaving away in the helionite mines a more suitable option.

I pass underneath the bright orbs that hover above the streets. A gust of wind gathers my skirt and I stumble, a group of young girls snickering at me as they walk by. I curse underneath my breath and regain my composure. All I can focus my thoughts on is getting into my bed and falling asleep.

At last, I see my home come into view as I turn the corner. My nerves calm instantly when I see the light pouring out from the windows on the top floor. I walk up the steps of the white-bricked building and pull out my keys from the hidden pocket hemmed on my skirt. Entering the main corridor, my dragging feet climb the several flights to the top, each step causing them to cry out. As I pass each door, I visualize the neighbors I only know through passing on the stairwell. The old woman who sings the same opera song, La Carmalta, every day like clockwork. The newlywed couple that’s fighting always consists of unrelenting screams followed by a loud, annoying make-up session. The strange man whose scarred face and jaded eyes always creep me out when they lock on mine.

Orchid greets me with a singing welcome as I finally enter my home. The entire place smells of lily and sweet lemons, fragrances that I have recognized as her since I can remember. She comes to hug me, pushing through the various rich drapes she adorns the apartment with. I embrace her warmly and she pulls away with a scrunched nose. “A bath, perhaps?” she orders more than asks, turning so that the tail of her silver dress dances. I rub my eyes, wanting nothing but to go to bed.

Reading my thoughts she shakes her head. “I will not allow my sister’s horrid smell to stink up the apartment. Now go bathe before I leave so I can serve you a warm meal.” I glance down at her lavish outfit, her black hair pinned up and her lilac eyes popping with dark eye-liner.

“It’s Monday, Orchid,” I state blandly.

“Well,” she replies, her calm demeanor barely able to suppress her enthusiasm. “Adim wants to see me and I’m not going to disappoint him.”

I raise an eyebrow and snort, immediately regretting my action when her smile drops. Carefully, I ask, “Wouldn’t his wife be asking why her noble husband is not in bed with her?”

Orchid lights up. “She is in Morteve, visiting her parents. Her return has been delayed due to unfortunate weather. No airships will be leaving from there tonight.”

“Unfortunate for her,” I comment with no amusement, but my sister laughs. I suppress my tongue from any further discussion as I know, just like all the other thousand conversations we have on the subject of Adim, it will be futile.

I know I should be ecstatic. A reasonable person would know that being a mistress to a noble like Adim would mean living a comfortable lifestyle. But my sister is blinded, mistaking his gifts as acts of love not lust. I have seen what men do to nightwalkers, seen the result on my sister. How many times did I catch her weeping in her room? How many bloodstains have I had to wash from her clothes? But Aiden is different, or so my sister insists. Ever since they met in a chance encounter at Central Plaza two years ago, Orchid stopped going out to visit anyone but him. In a matter of weeks we went from living room to room in the Porcian district to a decent, stable apartment in the Sage district.

I still remember when we first arrived here. How amazing it was to have warm water and my own bed. But I always remind myself of the price my sister paid to get us this place. I hold nothing against Aiden for I understand the way of life and accept our circumstances. But this was different. This was dangerous. For the first time in my life I saw my sister giving more than just her body to a man.

A small bark snaps me back to the present and I look down to see a mop of white hair jumping on my leg. “Juniper!” I warmly exclaim, picking up the dog. Juniper wriggles excitedly in my arms and I hug her tightly to my chest. Orchid sighs impatiently so I put the small hairball down and head to the bath. Juniper stumbles and clamors about on my feet.

I close the door and turn the water on, steam immediately rising from the clear, collecting water. I strip myself of my clothes and toss them aside, Juniper pouncing on my shirt before snuggling into it. A mirror stands before me, reflecting my grimy, light skin caked with sweat and ale. My unshapely figure is tall and slim; my earlier years of hunger showing in my scrawny arms and legs. What an attractive girl I have yet to become.

The thought makes me laugh as I compare myself to my sister’s curvy shaped hips. Where she has a full, luscious bosom I have small, unimpressive breasts. She charms anyone she meets with such an optimistic and sweet nature, despite all she has endured, and walks with such grace that many mistaken her for a noble’s daughter.  I, on the other hand, avoid any contact with other people outside of work. If I were to approached and engaged in conversation by a stranger, it would not last very long. My short, blunt responses would always turn them off and they would come up with some feeble excuse to leave. I would never admit the envy I always feel when all eyes turn to Orchid when she enters a room. But I know it isn’t just her glamorous dresses and hairdos. If she had been born in the Helm district, men of the highest status would be flocking to her openly, knowing having her as a wife would be a prized trophy.

Life, unfortunately, had given her a different path. Instead of a life of lavish comfort, she got me. Orchid would always tell me she would never trade me for anything and her lifestyle was made by her own choice. But in the dark corners of my mind, I always wonder where she would be without the burden of a younger sister to care for.

My bath is quick and I slip into my nightgown with some effort, my body aching and begging for rest. Orchid pulls me to sit and carefully places the hot soup she made for me on the table. Despite my protests, my stomach grumbles as I stare at the broth. I carefully bring a spoonful to my mouth. It scalds my tongue but instant warmth travels through my body. She pats my hand and takes a seat across from me, letting her chin rest on her arm.

“If you do not want me to go, I’ll stay home. You know you come before any other in my life, Evelyn,” she says tenderly.

Her statement surprises me. I know how much she missed Adim during the week as her routine would be to lounge about and stare out the window quietly. But Orchid has always made the effort to spend time with me because she was all I had. Somehow what she says quenches my uneasiness and I suddenly feel guilty for my earlier remarks. She has sacrificed her entire being to making sure I’m taken care of and the one time she has found actual happiness, I have to gripe about it.

“No, I’ll be fine. I’m just tired,” I reply with a smile, “This soup is amazing. Thanks.”

Orchid rises with a flourish. “It’s your recipe. Okay, I’m late. Don’t wait up for me! I love you dearly.” She kisses my forehead and grabs her coat before heading out.

I’m left alone, but I enjoy the serenity of the silence that now falls over me. After my hunger is satisfied I put the bowl of remaining soup on the floor for Juniper. It takes every ounce of energy to get into bed and pull the covers over me. In a matter of minutes I’m drifting off to sleep, finally able to let go of the day’s stress.

If I had known what was to come, I would have never let my sister leave.







I

I awake to a tongue licking my face.

Juniper gives a small whine as she jumps on my chest. My mind is still foggy with sleep and I turn to bury my face deep into my pillow. It’s my day off and I’m in no rush to begin it. Her whining continues softly as she paces on my back, sharp claws prickling my skin. After a few moments I shove her off of me.

“What is it?” I lash out, her long ears folding as she cowers back. I soften my tone and hold out my hand to her. The morning light peeks through my dark curtains. I only get to enjoy this scene on my rare days off as I always left before dawn and returned home after dusk. I enjoy the still calmness, but become increasingly aware that there was no noise…at all.

“Orchid?” I call out.

No response.

I pull myself out of bed and walk through the apartment but there is no sign of her. It was not really alarming to wake up alone since Adim came into our lives. Before, our number one rule had been that Orchid always be home by dawn. But today she was probably relishing in the fact that Adim had all this free time and was in a blissful fantasy playing wife.

I decide to get dressed to go shopping for some food with the tips I got last night. If I gathered some vegetables and possibly haggled for a calf leg, I could put together a pretty good meal for the two of us. Putting on my every-day white tunic, I glance at the tattoos on my arms. Matching blue and red tattoos of flaming smoke rose from my forearm to my shoulder, a brand all citizens receive on their tenth birthday. The Council always said it was to show the unity of our city.  I knew it was to serve as a reminder of who you belonged to.

Peeking out the window, I expect to see the streets occupied by playing children. Instead, an unsettling scene was playing out. The entertaining holograms were turned off and the few citizens about were all staring at the screens. I make out one of the Councilmen, Raphael, as his mouth moves but I cannot hear the words. Even if I open the window, the sound would just be carried away and all that would be left is garbled nonsense. I chuckle softly thinking about the earlier conversation with Orchid on getting a screen. She had wanted to get one for us but I adamantly refused, stating such a product was only intended for the rich and would be wasteful since we did not involve ourselves with politics.

Now, I begin to regret my words and quickly close up the apartment to head out. As I walk down the stairs, the elderly woman’s door was propped open. The Councilman’s voice flowed out and lures me to stop and listen. I move up to the door, making out the image on the small TV stand.

Images flash of a woman in chains, a young woman. It is only when they do an up-close shot that all air escapes from my lungs and I grip the sides of the door to keep myself from falling. Mortified, I realize who it is.

On a platform in the middle of the Central Plaza, where a crowd of hundreds gathered so closely that no one can move…

…is my sister.

The elderly woman hears me and turns. Recognizing me, she tries to stand and calls out, “Honey, is that your sister?” I do not have time to respond as I take off down the stairs and outside.

Racing through the streets, my mind tries to make sense of what is happening. I slow as I come upon the gate to enter the plaza. Trying to look as relaxed as possible, even though my heart was threatening to explode within my chest, I walk in calmly and examine the scene before me. On the large screen towering behind her are the Councilmen. They sit behind a round table in bright robes of red and blue with hands clasped and postures demanding reverence. There are six of them, each look older than five times my lifetime. Raphael is still speaking, his tone absent of any emotion but utter distain.

“-will never be tolerated in Principle. This nightwalker has committed the ultimate crime against another citizen and as a result, she will suffer the greatest punishment.” He looks down at Orchid with a searing stare that pulsates with revulsion. Spitting behind him enforces his sentiment, the act being a sign of the upmost disrespect. I look at my sister and she is on her knees with her face downturn. Her sweat-matted hair sticks to her face and neck, hiding what must have been weeping as her shoulders are shaking. The screen shifts to her and it sets the crowd off. Angry cries and shouts of obscenities are hurled at her.

I am affronted by the reaction; many in the crowd know her or at least of her and surely doubt must cross their mind. Orchid is anything but dangerous!  But I know their reason for adding their voices to the outcry stands only on fear. No one dares to challenge the Council. After all, their word is ‘truth’ and anyone who disagrees will surely be singled out as traitors of Principle.

My mind kicks in and I call out helplessly for her, my voice drowned out by the hateful words. I try to shove and squeeze my way through the tightly-packed bodies, but Orchid might as well be on the other side of the world. Disregarding the crowd, Rafael continues, “Orchid Lee has been arrested, charged, and found guilty on the murder of Adim Vaylor, noble son of the prestigious Vaylor household.”

The words slam into me with such tremendous force that I find I cannot breathe.

Murder?

Orchid loves Adim, she would never cause any harm to him! She left last night to be with him. Whatever befell him could not have been of Orchid’s doing. I find the strength to push myself further into the mass, trying desperately to get to her. I must stop this. I must explain that she could not possibly have done what they say.

I’m crying out for her now, the raw fragility in my voice gaining the attention of those around me. I scream her name once more before a hand grasps my arm so forcefully that it cuts me off by surprise. Orchid’s head shot up as she recognized my voice and searches through the audience for me, her eyes locking onto mine. Even with the vast distance between us I can see the desperation in her face.

For a moment everything stills around us. The air is so thick that my chest feels like its caving in. My mind reels with options of how to save her, how to rescue her from this nightmare. The screen shows the distinct change in her eyes as if she knows what I’m thinking. I can almost hear her voice now, whispering as she always did when I was afraid; trying to ease me even though she knew what was coming.

Everything will be okay, Ev. We have each other...

The corners of her mouth curl up faintly but she looks away, the livid sounds around me returning as a wave of tumbling noise. I find myself being pulled back through the crowd by my assailant, but I use every ounce of my energy to ground myself where I stand. Soldiers holding guns appear through the Helm district gate and begin to approach, pulling the attention of the surrounding people away from me. They march in a synchronized rhythm as they gather onto the stage in strict formation. Their upper faces are hidden beneath metal, masquerade masks, their serrated noses gleaming in the light.  Everyone falls quiet when the soldiers halt, all eyes on the disgraced woman before them.

Two of the soldiers step forward and roughly pull Orchid up to stand. A close up on my sister shows the multiple whip-lashes on her arms and legs. Her tied hands shake uncontrollably in front of her.  Few murmur in pity at the torture she obviously endured but say nothing more. After all, this girl is an announced murderer. They shove her to the far left of the platform and her knees give in. She gracefully recovers, an art perfected from years of abuse.

“Justice will be shown today for the Vaylor family. As we all know, the tragic loss of this husband and son has caused irreparable damage to a well-respected household of Principle. As leaders of this city, my fellow Council and I are here to quell any animosity that may be felt by this horrific act of violence. Here to witness the execution of his murderer are his parents and wife. May the light always shine upon them and give them the strength to carry on.”

The screen fixates on three people who stood at the front of the audience. What must have been his parents are shown with sunken, despondent expressions.  His father holds his shaking mother tightly with protective arms. Adim’s wife stood next to them looking like a fragile doll that would break at the slightest touch. She must have been flown in on an emergency flight to get the execution done as quickly as possible.

The soldiers shout in unison and raise their guns, taking aim at Orchid. She faces them with her chin up in newfound defiance, any sign of fear having vanished from her posture. Their fingers tighten on the trigger, waiting for the order to be given.

The Council nod in unanimity.

I don’t have time to make any move before the shots are fired.

A hand springs to my mouth, tightly muffling the agonizing howl tearing out of my throat. I see the bullets pierce my sister’s torso, spraying a red mist into the air behind her. Orchid is pushed back by the force but staggers to remain standing.

For a few grueling moments, everyone watches as blood begins to soak her torso.

She crumbles to the ground, one last cry escaping her lips.

“Adim…”

His name echoes through the air so inaudibly I don’t know if I am imagining it. Horrified, I look away, unable to process what just happened. Nausea lurches my legs to give in and I slump against the person holding me. I am pulled from the crowd that remained fixated on Orchid, oblivious that her sister stood feet from them. Rafael appears on the screen and continues talking, calm and unsettled as if a woman had not just been executed moments before. I hear nothing he says, the gunfire still resonating in my head.

I’m suddenly flung around to face whoever was holding me.

It was a man, I can tell by his broad shoulders and his unnaturally tall stature that looms over me. He is cloaked in a black shawl that reveals only a pair of auburn eyes. My mouth opens but nothing comes out, shock seizing my voice and thoughts. The man abruptly takes a hold of my chin, his voice a low growl as he speaks. “Repress your emotions. We do not have much time. You must get out of Principle, now.”

My eyes catch the screen, an image of my dead sister plastered for all to see. I fight the anguish threatening to force itself out and can only muster a pathetic whimper. “No. I-I must get home…I must get Juni-”

At my protest, the stranger latches onto my wrist. He could easily break it into pieces but I drive myself to return the stare with equal coldness. There is no way that I will leave my dog, the only link I have to my sister, to be brutally beaten to death by the soldiers. “I will not go until I get Juniper.”

A moment passes as he seems to calculate my response. The man utters a curse before releasing my wrist. “There will be guards at every gate looking for you. We must hurry if we want to get there before they do.” He pulls out a hooded jacket and presses it into my hand. I oblige and place it on, shoving my emotions deep inside.

The screen cuts off with Rafael’s farewell salute and the crowd slowly begins to disperse. He moves us stealthily into the large group disbanding from the Plaza to enter the Sage district. I glance back only once to see the soldiers hauling her corpse away.

We pass through the gates with no altercation as the guards’ watchful eyes pass over us. As we get further from the site of the execution, I hear the people around me talk in low whispers.

“That whore got what she deserved!”

“Did they really have to whip her like that?”

“She was such a beautiful girl, hard to imagine…”

“Better to get rid of the trash of Principle while we can.”

I resist every urge to turn to them all, to yell at their cowardice of not speaking up and at their blind ignorance. But I cannot think more of it as we slip away from them and hurry along a back-route home. I use the minutes to regain my composure. Every emotion fighting to be let out was forced down with clenched fists. We reach the apartment and it suddenly occurs to me that I’m not leading the way. I start to question him but abruptly drop it; the answer not important and frankly at this moment, I don’t care. No matter who this man was, he is my only chance at getting out of the city.

I hastily unlock the building door and clamber up the stairs to my apartment. My fingers fumble with the keys, sweat slicking my fingers, and they slip from my grasp. I gasp as they bounce over the edge and fall below. We look over the rail to see them hit the ground-

-right at the foot of a soldier.

Three masks look up at me and I back away. The door suddenly crashes behind me and I turn to see it lying in splinters, the man disappearing into the room. 

As I follow him inside, Juniper, awakening on the couch, jumps down and excitedly greets me. I reach down to grab the dog and shove her small body into a backpack I find by the bookshelf. Looking around, I scramble to take anything I know I cannot replace; some jewelry from our hidden box in the bathroom, the coins we had stashed away for emergencies, and the only photo ever taken of us. I signal him to follow me into my room as voices enter the apartment.

“She is in here. Find her and kill her before she escapes,” someone commands.

The man locks my door and I rush to open the window. I squeeze myself out onto the back stairs. My door rattles as the soldiers shout on the other side. They slam into it and I know the door will only hold for so long. He follows me with a graceful leap, the door finally giving in as we rush down the stairs. “The target is out the window! Those on the ground move to the back!”

My breathing becomes shallow and adrenaline courses through me with exhilaration I have never felt before. He forces us to stop as soldiers with guns raised appear from above and below. Shoving me behind he stands ready to attack, though I do not know how much he can do against R-24s. The window next to us suddenly opens up and he hurls us in before I can react. Shots fire just as he closes it, shattering glass onto my back and hair. Wrinkled, frail hands help me up and I look into the face of the opera singer.  “Go out the front before they surround the building,” she hoarsely shouts and pushes me to the front door. Her eyes pause on me for a fleeting moment as she closes it behind us. “I know she harmed no one.”

Her words are more than I can bear and I pull the hood tighter over me to hide the tears. The woman slams the door just as another round of gunfire is shot, piercing through the wood and stone.

I immediately know she is dead.

My companion yanks me into his arms without pause, jumping over the railing. I let out a yelp as we fall the five stories, his landing surprisingly gentle. We burst through the front door, only to be stopped by two soldiers already waiting for us.





II

He steps forward with a menacing stance. They raise their guns but he back-kicks one, the weapon flying into the air. In one swift motion his fist slams into the soldier’s neck and he catches the gun, butting the other guy in the stomach - hard. The soldier halts as if the wind is knocked out of him and the man grabs his head, twisting it full circle with a simple flick of his wrist.

Within five seconds, the fight is over.

I look down at the dead men in awe as he puts the gun underneath his coat. We quickly leave the scene before the others discover us. He locks my arm with his and we immerse ourselves into the crowd that is still coming down from the plaza. Unaware of the chaos going on, they pay us no heed and continue to their homes where they will start their day as if nothing ever happened. We slip into Central Plaza quite easily as all the guards are briskly making their way to the Sage district, my name shouted on their radios. I hope that they believe we were still somewhere in there.

As if to answer me, I hear a commotion behind me when they close the gate we passed just moments before. The man picks up speed and I’m forced to nearly jog just to keep from being dragged along.

We exit through the first harbor gate and I look around me as the buildings become unfamiliar, never entering this area of the city before. Despite spending my entire life in Principle, I have never visited the harbor. There was never any need to, as I certainly could not afford a ticket onto an airship. Flying, excluding attacking neighboring cities to keep them I check, is a luxury only available to the nobles.

         As we approach the final gate into the harbor, I realize that getting through would be impossible. About a dozen soldiers line the doorway and I can see them examining every person extensively before letting them through. I feel queasy and every nerve in my body tells me to turn back. Maybe if I crawled into my bed and fell asleep, I’d wake to find all this is nothing but a dream...

         Just as we got into line, a portly fellow began to cause a scene. His rather dominating voice commanded the attention of those around him as what seemed to be a conflict between him and the soldiers became the focus of the onlookers.

         “Sir, once more, you are going to have to leave those behi-“”

         “What?! You are telling me that I cannot bring these in? Who in Principle’s name do you think you are in telling me what do to? Do you even know who you are addressing?!”

         The soldier sighs impatiently, the tiredness in his voice saying he is not going to entertain this man for much longer. But the man steps towards him and puffs out his stomach proudly.

         “I am Samuel,” he states pompously, using his hands in grand gestures to exaggerate his words, “Second-in-command on the greatest airship to ever fly these skies, that’s who! Am I going to have to get my captain to deal with you brutes? Captain Sutton will not be very happy that to hear she could not drink her ale tonight because you say so!”

         At hearing the name of the captain the soldiers seem to immediately change their attitude.

         “We apologize, sir. We did not know that Captain Sutton would be gracing us with a visit-”

         “Damn right you are sorry! Now help with these barrels and I’ll think about forgetting this whole incident!” The leading guard quickly orders the others to pick up a barrel, giving us enough time to walk right on in.

         Any thought crossing my mind immediately ceases. My mouth dries with a sharp inhale as I take in the harbor. Enormous airships glide into the docks from above, billowing sails and a set of massive fans attached to the back creating a deafening whirr. The sun, out by a rare break in the clouds, refracts on the ship’s steel body, scattering light across the black waters. My eyes follow as the airships gracefully lands and hovers above the sea. The fans groan in protest as they slow to a halt. Ropes are thrown from the deck and laborers move quickly to help secure the airships. With one grand movement, the sides of the ship open up and two metal bridges slowly lower to meet the decks. A strong metallic odor captures my sense of smell as large carts wheel by with heaps of shimmering gray particles mounted on top. I quickly recognize it as helionite, the only mineral known to create the floating effect.

         Once while working, I overheard a drunken crewmember gibber on about how helionite is extracted. "They get the shtuff from the mines by the traitors taken there. I once saw the process-thing they do with it, melt and mold it with steel. Ships are built and tada-floating ships."

         "Hey you!" Another inebriated customer brashly called out, " Why don't they make other things with helionite? If I had control, I would make entire cities float or better yet, make those smart engineers make me a beast of a weapon! Get all the broads, eh?"

         The crewmember laughed and responded, "Principle controls everything, especially the man-o-facturing of helionite steel. They only wun it for warfare or transporting rich, fat nobles to the other cities. Anything else they do is hush-hush, top secret. I hear they-" He was cut off by a guard who took him outside. I never saw that man after that. 

         His bumblings had intrigued me into pondering the idea, yet I could not imagine that a feat like floating could be accomplished by a single metal. But here stood the proof. I continue to gawk as we move to the farthest dock, no one interested in a pair of underwhelming strangers when nobles that promise tips if assisted on or off the airships roam about. They stand out in their glamorous dresses and suits seemingly without a care in the world. It suddenly hits me that I will be getting on one of these ships with these people. People who witnessed my sister’s execution on their home screens as they leisurely ate breakfast and prepared for their day. I detached myself from the thought and slid my hand into the bag, petting Juniper who continued to whimper softly.

         “There,” the man states, nudging his head towards a rather small airship in comparison to the others. I could not help but feel unimpressed as we approached the weathered ship. Its fans sputtered with each rotation. Black, faded letters painted on the worn metal spelled out ‘Grand Splendor’, which it's far from being either.

         Getting on the trembling bridge, I took a deep breath and made my way onboard. There were only a few people working on deck, all looking more like criminals than sailors. We go down below on a ladder to the first floor to find a long hallway with doors on either side. The man points to the room on the farthest left. “That is your room for now.”

         I do not speak as I walk towards it. Entering, I find the cramped space holds only a twin bed, some crates, and a small port window. He takes a moment to say, “Stay in here until I come for you. Remember, you are an enemy of Principle now,” before closing the door.

         I sit on the bed and open the sack to let Juniper out. She immediately pounces on me with kisses to my hands and face. I set her down on the floor where she begins to investigate every part of the room and I lie down without taking off my shoes. Finally alone, I allow the suppressed emotions to overtake me.

                                                                                                             

                                                           *****



         I drift in and out of sleep, my sister’s death playing through my head in fragments of image and sound. My sobs continue until there are no more tears to weep, no more voice to wail. It left my body ragged and worn, my throat sore and hoarse. All the energy in me is gone, leaving a hollowness that makes me unable and unwilling to move.

         I keep raking my memory for anything that could possibly hint as to why Orchid would do such a deed. I scrutinize every conversation, taking it apart and analyzing each word.

         “Orchid, do you really think he loves you?”

         “Of course he does. It is only due to circumstances that we cannot fully be together. Someday, if you are lucky enough; you will understand this.”

          “I do not care to act like a fool. No offense.”

         She laughs, her voice like chiming bells. “Ah, sweet Ev. It is those that deny their emotions that are the fools.”

         “But what if he hurts you? What if he leaves?”

         “Do not worry for me. No matter what happens, I will always be here for you…”

         My fingers clench the crumpled photo of us. I ache for her laugh now, but I will never hear it again in this life.

         

                                                           *****

CONTINUE TO CHAPTER 3!