51 Holding Out For A Hero

Five violent strikes to my door drag me, kicking, screaming, and unwillingly, from my sleep. I open my eyes to the sight of yesterday, the day before, and tomorrow, a mould-ridden scene of the wooden ceiling above me. The door to my shack bursts open, slamming on the wall as it does. A woman steps through. With sleep still in my eyes, and the streaming light of day blinding me, I don't immediately see who it is, but as my eyes adjust to the radiance, the woman's green, plaited hair and thin, crooked nose become discernable.

Sabina VI…

'Rachel, you lowly bitch, enough sleep. Get to work!'

Half-marching, half-walking, but being fully a bitch, the woman strides to my bedside, grabs me by my hair and drags me from my cot. As I fall from the bed, I hold my hands out in front of me to ease my landing; it helps, but the force of the fall still pushes all air from my lungs.

My pained groans and Sabina's vicious laughter complete the morning ritual.

No, wait...

Gritting my teeth, I bear the impact of the woman's boot striking my ribs. I suck air through my teeth, but I don't scream. I don't give her what she wants.

Kneeling on all fours, Sabina positions her lips to my ear. Her warm, moist breath tickles my face as she holds her position over me. Low grows rumble from her throat; She wants to do more, she wants to kill me, but she can't. Harassment and humiliation aren't enough for the woman, but it's all she has. That frustrates her. I frustrate her.

It isn't much, but even that little bit of power I have over her is enough for me most days, and on the other days, I cry. Silently and privately, I cry.

Today will not be one of those days.

'Get up and get to work!' Sabina screams before returning to her feet, marching to the exit, and slamming the door closed behind her.

I don't know how long I've been here. Months, I know that much. Two months? Maybe longer. I lost count.

That isn't true...

I stopped counting.

I had to. With each passing day, the weight of time became heavier. I had two choices, let it go or get crushed. I chose to let it go.

When George and his band of thugs took me from the coachman's house, I fought. I fought at every stage of the journey towards this compound. I fought when they told me they were going to use me to lure out my master. I fought to escape. When they collared me like a dog, binding me to this place, I fought to remove my shackles; I fought each blade of piercing agony that cut my neck like a knife with my every attempt for freedom. But in the end, I couldn't keep fighting…

I'm not strong enough...

I can't keep fighting, but neither will I surrender!

I know…

I know he's coming. Despite everything that tells me he won't, he can't, he shouldn't, I know he is, and when he gets here, he'll bring death in his wake. My only fear is he'll go too far, that he'll abandon whatever is left of his humanity and make no distinction between the innocent and guilty.

Geo VI...

He isn't a bad man. The people he takes in, they're not bad either… Most of them aren't, at least. He champions a righteous cause. Equality! Freedom from the oppression of the Clan system. Freedom from contributions. Liberty for the slaves; justice for the wronged. Everything I hope for, George risks his life for it. I believe in what he's building, I do, and it isn't as if I don't understand revolution requires sacrifice. I'm not so naive as to think what he seeks to achieve can be done without shedding blood, and if it were my blood he sought to shed, I couldn't resent him for it...

However, it isn't my blood he's after; It's Nero's, and for using me against the man I chose...

I can't forgive him. I tell a lie.

I won't forgive him.

I refuse to.

Nero wouldn't.

To stand by the side of a monster, I need to become a monster, myself. It's a bloody trail he walks; I've seen that. It's a road that promises nothing other than death, death, more death, and death.

He's already rubbing off on me…

I don't care. It's what I chose. I will not regret my choices, not even here; not even scared, helpless, and alone…

I don't know what manner of carnage he'll bring, but when he's laughing by the flames, and for what they've done to me, I truly believe he'll bring flames, I'll be there by his side, laughing along with him.

That's what I've chosen.

He's who I've chosen and the man that I chose; he's coming for me. I feel it. He's coming for me, and hell's coming with him.

Smiling from ear to ear, I lift myself from the floor, pat the dust from my gown, and walk to the exit of my cabin. I pull the door handle and step outside. The familiar sight of dilapidated shacks and large tents enters my vision. Mortals, women, men, and children exit their respective homes and form lines. Guided by habit, I join one such line. Tension Masters move down the lines pointing at each person they see, taking the morning count.

Equality…

Where's the equality in this? Mortal servants and Tension Master. How is this different from the Clan system?

Every day is the same. We wake up, we line up, they divide us, and we serve. Some days cooking, other's cleaning, other's still maintenance, but always at the service of "our betters."

"They defend us."

"They're the one's risking their lives to give us a better future."

"Don't you see, it's only natural for us to serve our protectors?"

Bullshit!

It's nothing more than propaganda to disguise the truth of what's really happening. Despite George's sincere efforts, and I do believe he's sincere, he cannot eradicate the desire of one man to rule over another. In the end, if he succeeds where everyone else has failed and truly abolishes the Clan system, he'll do nothing other than invert its structure. He'll place himself at the top, but there will still be a bottom. I have no doubt that where we mortals will remain.

Shit, here she comes.

'Ember forsakes you, doesn't he bitch?' She didn't even wait to walk the short distance to stand beside me. She had to make it a spectacle, shouting at the top of her lungs so that everyone could hear her.

'That was a question. When I ask you a question, you answer it!' Striding towards me, Sabina grips the shoulder of my gown with one fist and strikes my stomach with the other. Gritting my teeth, I hunch over as pain throbs through me, rattling my organs. I spew blood and the little rations I had eaten last night onto the soil below before taking deep breaths through my teeth to regain my composure.

'He's going to kill you for that.' Rising to my full height, I stare into Sabina's eyes. 'I'm not a violent person. Most of the time, I wish he were more human, but right now, I'm thankful that he's not because when he gets here, he's going to tear you limb from bloody limb, and I'm going to watch.' Sabina's rebuttal, a further strike to my gut which drops me to my knees.

I look up at her, his smile on my lips, unafraid and promising of darker things. With a sneer, Sabina positions her arm to strike my face. The air grows hazy around her.

Tension!

Her fist rockets forward, and…

'Enough!'

I open my eyes.

Inches from my face, Sabina's fist hangs suspended. Looking closer, I see threads shimmering, tied around her arm. From behind my tormentor, a woman walks. Though aged in years, her eyes display the focus and strength of youth. She holds her hands like claws in front of her. From each of her fingers, a silvery thread stretches out towards Sabina, binding her arm in place.

'Mistress Kane! I did not mean… I was only teaching this unruly mortal to respect our cause. I wasn't going to-'

'If you truly respected our cause, would you show such treatment to the very people we seek to empower?' The elderly clenches her hands, and the threads snap from her fingers. Free from her restraints, Sabina turns towards the woman and bows to one knee.

'This girl isn't one of us!' Sabina says. 'She works against our goals. She places a single life above our struggle. If George can claim Nero's life, he'll have the resources he needs to advance into rank-four. From there, he'll be able to break into the Towers, stand alongside powerful mavericks, and bring them to our cause. That girl refuses to aid us in our efforts to see our dream made manifest. She should be punished!'

I look to see the mortals kneeling towards the woman. Faces I recognise, people who had come to me, confided in me, when met by Sabina's words, they nod along with her every syllable.

Slowly, Mistress Kane shakes her head. 'Young girl, if you were called to sacrifice someone you cared for, would you do so without hesitation?'

'For the cause, I give my blood; I give my life.' Bowing so low that her forehead touches the floor, Sabina repeats the mantra again and again. The woman walks to her, places a hand on her shoulder and permits Sabina to raise her head.

'For the cause, you'd give your blood and life. I don't question that, but would you give the life of one that you love?' At Mistress Kane's words, Sabina hesitates. Sounds judder from her throat, but nothing intelligible forms.

'What you ask of the girl is too much. Her sacrifice must be made. I won't dispute that, but to ask her to be happy to make it. it's more than we can ask.'

'I… I understand, mistress.' The woman walks past Sabina and offers me her hand. I take it. Despite her frail appearance, Mistress Kane pulls me from the ground, lifting me to my feet.

'Come, young one. Today, you shall be my assistant.' I follow behind Mistress Kane towards a large tent. Groans, shouts, and cries escape the enclosure, their volume increases as I near the entrance. With a wave of her hand, Mistress Kane slides the partition separating the interior of the camp from the outside and walk inside. I follow.

On thin, meshed cots people lie. Of different degrees, they're all broken. Some obviously so, bones poke out of their flesh, their limbs twisted into positions it shouldn't be possible to twist a limb, and roasted skin clings to cooked meat. For others, whatever ails them is less apparent. Clutching their heads between their hands, they thrash in their cots. If not for the straps fastening them in place, they would have long since replicated on their exterior the damage they have interior.

'These are the brave souls fighting to liberate the people from their fates in Gandel city. The three Clans that rule over that accursed city caught wind of one of our operations, and these are the few that survived their attack.' Mistress Kane turns towards me; tears swell in the corners of her eyes, they threaten to break, but she wipes them away.

'I don't blame you for resisting us, but I want you to see the results of your inaction. If we had a single rank-four Tension Master, we wouldn't only have to hide. We could fight back. One single life can't be worth all of this pain.'

I breathe deeply through my nose and exhale through my mouth. Clenching my fist and steeling my soul, I meet the gaze of the woman. 'I'm not going to help you. I believe in what you hope to achieve, I honestly do, but it's not my ambition. I want only to see the Towers. To stand beside a powerful escalade and witness things I can only imagine. As for your struggle, your pain, and your dreams of seeing the Clan system undone, what business is that of mine?'

Her eyes go wide, and so do mine. Word for word, I think that's what he'd say. The woman's hand blurs. There's no question she was going to slap me, but before her palm connects with my face, her wrist is stopped- held by the hand of a man with blond hair and piercing blue eyes.

'I didn't mean to interfere with your discipline.' The man says. 'But I just can't bear to see something so pretty marred.

Mistress Kane reclaims her hand from the man's grip and turns towards him.

'Who are you?' She asks.

'The name's Logan Mohan.

'It's a pleasure to meet you.'