Renegade: A Young Adult Dystopian Page 23

  He snarled. “This is really a priority right now?”

  He was unhinged as his voice rose serval octaves. “How long?”

  Brokk stepped forward. “How long, what?”

  The world tipped as he whispered, “Have you been lying to me?”

  Spitting on the ground, he jabbed with his claws at Memphis’s chest. “Memphis, you can be a prat. How do I explain something I don’t understand? That I never wanted? How can I tell you about a part of myself that I fear most above anything? I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want to admit it to myself.”

  He shook his head, snapping, “That’s not answering the question.”

  Brokk growled. He knew they had to go now, but the world had stilled and it was just them. Just this. Brokk shook. “Our world is falling apart, Adair is waging war, Emory is on a different planet, and all you care about is that I haven’t been telling you one secret? One?”

  “Yes, I do care. Because we have always been us. But everything is a lie. Emory knew. Why didn’t you think to tell me? To trust me?”

  Brokk paled. “Emory found out by chance, Memphis. I never wanted her to know. Never.” His shoulders sagged. “And now she won’t know anything, thanks to me. Not you. Not this world. Not me.” The words hung between them, as their silent argument did before. Memphis, reluctant, knew Brokk was right. He normally was.

  “She can’t live a life that is always torn in two. She would never move on, never fully experience what that life would offer her. Is that what you want?”

  He gnashed his teeth. “I want her to be here. I want us to be together.”

  Brokk stalked up to him. “What, so she can die? Stop whining and look at the reality. Adair will hunt her down, manipulate her, and use her like he did Roque and Nei. He will hunt all of us down.”

  Memphis shoved his chest hard. “Get away from me, now.”

  Arching his brow, he snarled. “No, for once, here’s the ugly truth, Memphis. She didn’t feel the same way that you do. Your image of your relationship and life together will never be what she wants. As one of her best friends, trust me, I know. She had a crush on you, and you have been in love with her for years.” Both of their chests were heaving, and Memphis’s ability rose, roaring to tear through, to obliterate something, as the pieces became blaringly clear. He had gone back in time to free them from Bresslin. How many times had he done this? What did he know? Had he seen?

  “Get away from me. You have been controlling this situation all along. Have been controlling her all along. Me all along.”

  Brokk shook his head. “You’ve actually got to be joking, right? Memphis, no.” He stepped closer.

  Blanching, his ability filled him. “Get away from me, now.”

  The ground shuddered beneath their feet, their impending doom clawing closer and closer toward them. He stared at the sky, ashes floating and cascading down at them, overtaking and blotting out any color lingering there. Looking past Brokk, he watched as the first line of dabarnes roared toward them, their festering skin and bloodied teeth coming into focus. All this promise of being the saviors with no guarantee that they could get Emory back, that they could even survive this. Shifting his weight, he spun, his decision steeling in his heart. Something heavy slammed into his temple as the world spun into a giant mass.

  He saw Brokk’s face, his eyebrows knitting together as he whispered, “Hold on. Please.” He dropped, his body colliding with ice, as he was plunged into oblivion.

  25

  Adair

  He landed on the ground in a plume of smoke. His fingers dug into the dirt, shifting and searching, as the sun broke over the horizon. The smoke settled, curling around his feet in black and purple hues. The brisk morning air collected dew, and as he rose, small puffs of mist flaring in front of him.

  “My King?” The dabarne’s voice brushed up against his mind, as the creature prowled to his side. It was a question and a recognition, and he bared his teeth as he fixated on the city in front of them. They had travelled through the night, groups of his army breaking off, Adair feeling the shifts of energy like stars streaking across constellations, creating a beautiful serenade of screams that followed him from below. His fire. His carnage. He rolled his neck slowly, bones cracking, as Sarthaven and his father waited for him down below. A distant thought tugged at his mind, that once, a lifetime ago, this city had been his lifeline, his hope to explore and to create. Swallowing hard, the thought dissipated, as one thought filled his mind, the magic ripping through his bloodstream, building and building.

  He whispered, more to himself, “I go in first, alone. Cesan is mine.” Approving roars and cackles rippled behind him as he unsheathed his blade, his reflection shimmering in the steel, distorted by blood. He stalked toward the city that once was said to bustle with life, flourish with culture. It was the heart of their country, where trading routes were established with the Shattered Isles, the first King of Kiero sat on his throne, where the monarchy was built. And destroyed.

  Now the towering buildings were tainted, red and black smears staining the ivory cement. He shivered, clenching his blade tighter as the first wall of magic hit him like a breaking wave against a rock. Smoke curled, floating above the streets, and he could hear the distant cries, the shuddering roars. So not all the dabarnes came to the Academy. His footfalls were soft against the dirt, the late summer air humid, making his clothes stick. The homes and towers curled toward the sky, and as he drew closer the true might of the city unfurled around him. Excitement surged through him, as he approached the blackened gates, the curled metal creating beautiful designs reflecting the dawn.

  The tang of magic intensified. A guttural growl sounded behind the gates as they creaked open. “And who are you?” Slow steps sounded as the owner of the voice came into view.

  Adair stood still, raising his eyebrow in cool composure. Inside, he blanched, ripping against his confines, sickened yet unable to watch, unable to do anything. It resembled once having been human. Its grey skin was now decaying, its blackened eyes taking him in, the bone structure poking violently out from its skin, no muscle mass holding anything strongly. Its hair hung limply, leeched of any color, the white the same as bone. Not answering as the creature shuffled toward him, sniffing, tilting its head.

  Its voice grated, “Once, I dreamed of being like you. Like him—” he motioned to behind at the city, “—born into a world with no ability, no power, no status and watching a world thriving with magic. And all my life, I could do nothing.” It smiled, which was more like a grimace, showing a mouth empty of teeth. “Until now.” It bowed its back, this creature that once had been a desolate, screaming shrilly as spittle flew from its mouth, and it charged toward him. Magic rippled out, the creature thinking it was powerful enough to destroy him.

  Adair stood his ground, chest heaving, as a fire burned through his veins, consuming him. His anger, his lust, exploded through him, fusing with his magic, and he smiled darkly, the voices cooing at him, and behind that cage, he was urging him on. The creature was maybe a few paces from him, its eyes bulging, completely overtaken by the madness of the magic racing through it, feeding on it. It leapt through the air, and he ducked, slicing up, the blade cutting through flesh, and the body hit the ground heavily. Panting, he bowed, not caring that he had been showered with blood. Placing his hand on the ground, his magic poured into the earth. Blackness oozed down his arm, flaring underneath, as the ground caved in, splintered toward the city. He ran, following his magic. The buildings around him shuddered as his power flared, and every single standing architecture cracked, blackness running through them like a spider web. His shield flared around him as the city crumbled down. Screams were crushed, roars silenced, and the world was one of dust and bone. The dust settled in the rubble as he flicked his shield down and ran again. The streets were winding, but he had recreated the map, huge chunks of buildings blocking roads. He veered left, and sprinted down the road, blood running down the cobbled streets as the tang of
magic lessened. All except one.

  It was a siren call. Always to him and him alone. He raced, gritting his teeth, pushed harder, leapt over rubble, and in his wake his magic flared, destroying, burning, and searching. His surroundings were a blur, and he was vaguely aware as he whirled to face a manicured courtyard. In the middle stood Cesan. Cement rubble rose and shot toward his father under his command.

  Snarling, Cesan flicked his hand, turning the rubble to dust. “You’re not the only one who has learned new tricks, son.” The ground quaked as Cesan grinned, his cloak floating around him, and resting above his brow, an inky black crown, the base made up of bones with jagged spires. Huge vines shot through the ground, racing up to ensnare Adair, and he cackled, his fire exploding from him with such force that Cesan staggered back. A wall of green flames encircled him, and for a second, Cesan was entranced by the inferno. A second was all Adair ever wanted.

  Roaring, the flames split as he charged through them, and Cesan unsheathed his blade just in time, sparks flying from the steel as they met. Twisting, he slashed at his knees, his chest, his arms, forcing Cesan back toward the hungry flames. Rolling, Cesan attacked with magic, the force slamming into Adair. Bow to me.

  “Never!” Adair succumbed to the darkness within him. He was relentless, moving inhumanly fast, his blade an extension of his arm. The blade slashed through the back of Cesan’s knees, and he staggered as blood ran down his calves. Adair panted, slamming the pommel of the hilt into Cesan’s back, bones cracking from the force. He prowled around him, years of rage thrumming in his veins—all the times he made him feel small and worthless. All those secret meetings filled with blood and bruises. The hidden tears, the betrayal. Stopping in front of him, Adair plucked the crown off his head, twirling it between his fingers.

  His voice was low. “You know, I never told anyone what you did to me. You taught me to hate myself. That I was never worth anything.” He crouched down in front of him, slamming the sword into the dirt. “I believed you.”

  Realization dawned in Cesan’s eyes as he stared at the sword. “What did you do to her?”

  Licking his lips, air hissed between his teeth. He would play with his father. Take his time. Standing, he didn’t answer, and tossed the crown aside as the metal melted before Cesan’s eyes.

  “Adair, what did you do?”

  He didn’t answer, and he dove into his ability, the world leaving him. He was nothing but this neverending bloodlust, and he tore through the false king’s body, ravaging it of any power, leeching that same magic that burned through him. He took it all.

  Adair slammed back into his body as he watched his lifeless father crumple down before him. The inferno stilled, disappearing into pulsing embers. For a moment, all he could do was stand there. The power that raked through him was intoxicating and never ending. He trembled, and he completely lost himself. That him in the cage, the one who had fought, his once true self, was dead. Nothing stirred in him except those alluring voices, and they chanted one thing to him, purred to him, in pleasure and ecstasy. Dark King. Dark King. Dark King.

  Grabbing the sword, he sheathed it, turning to his army of dabarnes who had followed and in a fluid motion, bowed to him. Creatures born from darkness, things of nightmares. Snarling in pleasure, his voice roared, “Anyone who is of ability and wants to join my forces can. Rid the world of its weakness, rid the world of the doubt, of the lies. There is one king now, and all will either bow, or they will die.” The roars were shattering, and he screamed, “We are the future!” Made of might, born from darkness. Save only the powerful.

  Looking to the mountains, he grinned, the thought spreading through his ranks. “Bring anyone who wants to rebuild this world there. Go. But tell no one of this location. Ever.”

  The army roared, galloping through this city of ruins, and pleasure raked through him. He knew they would spread through the country like a plague. Soon the world would know his name. Adair started walking toward the Draken mountains, and he was remade. Everything was a distant detail, and he was his power. Listen to us, and you will be unstoppable. The smoke curled around him, and he took off, cutting through the air, less of a man, and more destruction. It was seconds before he was standing before the face of the mountain, and giggles sounded in his mind as he rolled his neck. He flipped his palm over, and on the opposite hand, a talon replaced his nail, sharp and dark green. He cut deep and slowly as his blood welled, dripping onto the dirt. Placing his hand on the cool stone, he dragged his flesh over it, tiny splinters of rock entering the wound. Stepping back, he looked at the blood-red slash and grinned madly as the stone exploded to dust under his blood, creating a doorway. All of Might, our Dark King. Alone, Adair stepped into the bowels of the mountains and didn’t look back.

  26

  Brokk

  He thundered deeper into the woods, two snarling monsters closing in on their heels. Froth collected at the corners of his mouth, and he wanted to stop. He wanted to give in. Memphis’s shirt was in his mouth, his friend unconscious and thrown across his back, the bloodied fabric the anchor between them. Stumbling, he snapped at himself and pushed harder, his quaking muscles drained of energy. Flashes went through his mind, leaving Emory, their idea of raising forces against Adair. Memphis, crazed and broken. He knew his friend wanted to leave, but he couldn’t let him, no matter how mad they were at each other. Even though Memphis could be a prat, he loved him.

  A day had passed since Emory, since the fall of the Academy. A night of endless running, the once comforting blanket of night turning against him, harboring screams, breeding nightmares. Snarling, he leapt over a decaying log, his back paw catching, and they were both flung. They landed hard, and he swayed to standing, looking at his friend who didn’t stir. Snarls sounded behind him, and he knew he couldn’t run anymore.

  He spun, sides heaving as he took in the two circling dabarnes. They snapped their teeth, daring him to prove their dominance wrong. His hackles rose, and he dove down deep into his motivation for staying alive. And then he charged them, his growls guttural and deep. They clashed, claws ripping fur and skin, spittle and froth flying. Brokk sank his teeth deep into the rotting flesh, choking and gagging. He was body checked, flying violently as the second dabarne caught his throat, dragging him down. Its teeth lightly held him, any movement on his end would tear through his flesh. The second one prowled up to him, saliva dripping from its maws. He flattened his ears, his growls intensifying, fear lancing through him. A flicker of movement flashed to their left as a wild scream cut through the woods and a young girl charged toward them without hesitation, without fear. He was in awe of her courage and stupidity.

  The monsters stalled, and Brokk felt renewed energy surge through him as he shifted back, slamming his fist into the creature’s jaw, sending teeth flying onto the ground. The girl was pale and covered in dirt, her electrifying blue hair unbound. A small curved blade flashed as she sank it into the side of the dabarne, and it screamed. He parried, shifting back, and threw everything he had left at the wounded one to their left, and with a crunch of bones, dropped. The girl growled at the other one, but another scream tore from their right, and the three most unlikely people he ever thought to see ran past the trees. Alby. Wyatt. Jaxson. They threw themselves at the monster, blades sparking. The wet thud of steel into flesh echoed around him. He was frozen, dumbfounded. Once both forms were still, they chortled, relief flooding into their voices.

  Alby croaked, “Brokk! You guys are alive?”

  Wyatt spat, eyes narrowed. “Who’s the girl?”

  Jaxson wrung his hands. “No one else survived. Alby hid us, but then we heard howls, and followed them.”

  Overwhelmed, he ignored the flaring questions, and faced the girl. “Who are you?”

  Jutting her chin out, she snarled. “Bryd. My name is Bryd.”

  Tilting his head, he didn’t want her to answer the question that rolled off of his tongue. “Why are you out here?”

  Shrinking back, she stared a
t the blood staining the forest floor. “My village—” her chin wobbled, “—was destroyed by those creatures. I was one of the only survivors to escape. The rest of my village who didn’t perish left with them on the promise of glory with the Dark King.” A heavy silence fell over them as he raised his eyebrows to his friends, all of them knowing exactly who this Dark King was. She locked eyes with him. “Please. Help me.”

  Running his hands through his hair, he exhaled. “As long as we are out here, we are targets. Where can we hide where Adair won’t find us?”

  Alby croaked, “I can hide us until we figure it out,”

  Shaking his head, he paced. “No, look how drained you already are! I’m not having your death on my hands as well.”

  “I can hide us,” Bryd spoke calmly.

  They all faced to her as he whispered, “How?”

  She smiled and spoke to Alby, Wyatt and Jaxson. “Please, stand still.” She concentrated, and he almost dropped to the ground in shock as one second he was staring at the group and the next all that remained was the woods. She lit up at his expression. “I can cloak anything for any length of time. I can hide us, if you will have me.”

  The group returned and tears slid down his face as he broke down, completely and utterly. The last twenty-four hours choked him, and he just cried, ugly raking breaths dragging in as he caved in on himself. His heart broke as he thought of Emory a world away, and he silently promised himself he would cherish her safety until the day he died. He wouldn’t let her parents’ dream die, no matter how far they had drifted themselves. He saw his purpose sharply then, and he choked down laughter as he shakily stood, taking in the spitfire in front of him. “Yes. We will have you.”