“This isn’t a good time, Tim,” the woman Timofei called Alba says. She pinches the bridge of her nose and groans.
“I know,” he replies, “and I wouldn’t interrupt you any other time, but this is Honour Frie. I thought you should meet him.”
Her eyes light with fire. “You’re Honour?”
I nod, more than a little confused.
“I’ve been waiting a long time to meet you,” she tells me. “Welcome to The Guardians’ base.”
“Alba.” Dalmar coughs with an out of place nervousness, approaching the dark-haired woman. She’s in her mid-thirties—impossibly old for someone in The Forgotten Lands. “I thought you’d better have this,” he continues, placing his folded-down computer on the table she’s leaning against. I expect to see him grimace in pain but his wound is entirely healed already—Guardians magic. “It has everything on it.”
“Thank you,” she says with a genuine smile. “You’ve risked a lot for us. I’m more grateful than I can tell you.”
“You don’t have to thank me,” he rushes to say. He smiles—a shy thing that’s gone quickly. I look between the two, more confused now than ever.
I say, nervous but without a choice, “Can I … ask something?”
Alba nods.
“My sister, she was … taken to States. I wondered if you’d be able to find her. I don’t mean for you to bring her back, I can’t ask that, but could you find out where she is? So that I can find her …”
Alba’s dark eyes flash. “I’m not sure that would be wise.”
“Please,” I say. I hate how desperate I sound, how desperate I am. “I need to know that she’s all right. I don’t care what she’s done—she’s my sister. I need to know she’s okay.”
“I think you will care about what she’s done,” Alba says, “once you find out the full extent of her actions.”
“I won’t. I just need to know they’re not hurting her.”
Her lips twist into a grimaced smile. “Oh, I don’t think they’ll be hurting her.”
“You can’t know that for sure.”
“They’ll be rewarding her.”
“I …” I open and close my mouth. Why would they be doing that?
“You see,” Alba says, “Horatia has betrayed you. She has betrayed your entire family. Why do you think they are dead?”
“No.” My voice is brittle.
“She was having a relationship with a military Captain and feeding him information simultaneously. She’s the reason your family died, and she’s the reason you’re being hunted.”
“No.”
“Whether you choose to believe me or not, the reality of it will stay the same. Your sister is a traitor to you. She was chosen on Victory Day so that the military could take her to their City without suspicion.”
“I … I don’t care.” I’m surprised to find the words true. I know she left me, and if The Guardians are right she betrayed me, but I don’t care. She’s my sister, my family, and she always will be. Nothing will change that, and nothing will change my love for her. I don’t care if she’s damned us all; I still need her to be okay. I need her to be safe. I can live with everything else as long as Horatia isn’t hurt.
Alba’s eyes narrow. “What?”
“She’s my sister,” I spit out. “She’s my blood. I need to know that she’s all right. Please.”
“What good will it do?” This comes from Timofei who’s watching me with an odd expression.
“I can’t lose her. I’ve lost everyone else. Not my sister. Never Tia.”
“Honour, she’s gone,” Alba says. Her voice is softer than before. “We can’t do anything about that, and at the moment we couldn’t communicate with our contacts in States even if we wanted to ask about her.”
I stumble away from her, shaking my head. “There has to be something,” I plead. “Please. I’ll do anything.”
“Hon.” Dalmar pulls me away. I curse the vibrations in my chest—sobs waiting to happen.
“I’m not being cruel, Honour,” Alba says. “I’m sorry.”
I manage to dip my head. It’s not a nod but it’s close enough.
“Now leave me alone, all of you.”
I turn to leave the office, Dalmar and Hele at my sides and Timofei in front of us, but Alba clears her throat.
“Tim,” she says, amusement and fondness in her voice.
He spins gracefully and regards her with dark eyes and a smirk. “You did say all of us.”
She groans. “Not you. Besides—you left for half of the day yesterday and your movements are unaccounted for. You and I need to have a little talk.”
Timofei grins, unaffected by what has happened to my sister. “Talk? Are you sure?”
Alba narrows her eyes and I just manage to jump out of the way as Timofei kicks the door. In the small gap as the door is closing I see Alba grab Timofei and pull him to her.
“Are they … together?” I ask Hele.
“That’s a question many people want an answer to. Nobody knows, but that’s their business and not ours, so don’t you be so nosey.”
“Yeah, Hon,” Dalmar says, a faraway look on his face, “listen to your mother.”
He doesn’t manage to dart out of the way as Hele slaps his arm playfully. I laugh, feeling weightless for a moment before the loss of my sister returns in full force and drags me down.
12:22. 03.10.2040. Forgotten London, Edgware Zone.
Dalmar and I sit in my newly assigned room, playing snap with an old pack of cards. It’s the only game I know but Dal says he’ll teach me all the ones he can play by the end of the week. He’ll beat me at those too.
He sits back, grinning slowly, predatorily. He knows he’s won, but he likes drawing out his victory.
“Put the card down, Dal,” I say, rolling my eyes.
“I’m only making the most of your loss, you bitter harpy.” He laughs, flipping and twirling his card before placing it on the top of the pile. “You don’t need to be so grumpy. You never know—you might win next time.”
“Doubt it.” I huff a sigh. “And anyway, I have a right to be grumpy. My sister is halfway across the world with God knows how many strangers. She betrayed me and left, knowing she was leaving and not caring that she left me behind. The military here is hunting me, wanting me dead, and I don’t even know why—only that is has something to do with whatever Tia said to that Official. So I think I can be a little bit annoyed about a card game, don’t you?”
Dalmar looks at me for a long time and I’m about to apologise for being so down on everything when he speaks.
“Do you want to know why the Officials want you? Honestly?”
“Yes,” I say without having to think about it. Why wouldn’t I want to know?
“It’s not because you breached the border. Although, that did make you a bigger threat in their eyes.”
“Threat? What the hell am I a threat to? All I wanted to do was get me and my family away. Who would that hurt? What would that threaten? Nothing and nobody.” My voice turns into a growl.
“Why did you need to get away so badly?”
I think about telling him for a second. I almost show him the letter from my father and its warning, but I can’t. The letter is mine and Horatia’s, nobody else’s. It’s not that I don’t trust him, but I can’t tell anyone else about the letter until I’ve told my sister.
“We’re not safe,” is all I say.
He nods. “We’re not.”
“You were going to tell me why the military is after me.”
“I don’t think you’re ready,” he says as Hele bustles through the door carrying a tray full of food.
I want to ask him what he means, but I get the feeling it’s something he’d rather tell me without Hele in the room. And the food is enough to distract me for now. I haven’t eaten all day.
***
Miya
12:54. 03.10.2040. Forgotten London, Edgware Zone.
I don’t wake up unt
il early afternoon when Yosiah collapses onto the mattress beside me.
He nudges me when I don’t open my eyes. “I know you’re awake,” he speaks to the cover pulled over my head. “Alba sent someone to tell us we can use the library.”
I groan. “For what?”
There’s amusement in his voice. It sounds right on him. “Guardian training,” he says.
“You can go without me.”
“Miya.” His hand messes my hair where it sticks out of the blanket. I pull the cover down to glare at him.
“Trying to get me to hit you?” I ask.
“Trying to get you to wake up.”
“Ah,” I mutter contemptuously, “so you’re baiting me.”
He chuckles. “Whatever works.”
“So … what are we supposed to do in the library?”
“Familiarise ourselves with the history of The Guardians.”
“By … reading?” Nervousness kicks me in the stomach. I can’t read—my mother didn’t bother to teach me.
“Mhmm,” he murmurs. “I can read the books. You just try and find some kind of sense in it. You’re good at finding the logic in things.”
“Am I?”
He says, “Yes, very,” and he rolls his body in a way that allows him to slip under the covers. I think he might hug me and the thought sends my heart beating twice as fast as normal out of anxiety. But then Yosiah throws the covers off of us and I’m hit by cold air.
I scramble to get the covers back but Siah kicks them off of the bed. To get them back, I’d have to get up.
“I hate you,” I grumble.
“I know,” he says cheerfully, and he yanks me into a sitting position. He takes me by the shoulders and pulls me up to stand.
My eyes blaze at him, but my feet slip on the smooth ground and I tumble towards the floor. He catches me, of course.
“I still hate you,” I tell him as he steadies me.
He runs his hands over my hair, flattening the places sleep and his own hands have messed. “Sure you do.”
I roll my eyes in a show of exasperation but I can’t think. He’s touching me so casually, as if this is something we do all the time, as if we don’t go out of our way to avoid physical contact. I trust him completely but the touch still sets me on edge because it’s out of the ordinary. It’s hard not to flinch away from him.
He removes his hands and I start breathing again as he tells me, “Someone brought clean clothes for you. They’re on the table in the corner.”
“How thoughtful of our kidnappers.”
He laughs; sharp, loud, and sincere. We’re both shocked.
“You like it here, don’t you?” I ask, although it’s not exactly a question.
He turns his back, making a big effort of crossing the room to pick up the clothes he mentioned. “I don’t like it, but I feel safer than outside. And I suppose … I believe in what The Guardians are doing—working against States.”
I bite my lip to stop the smile. When it’s gone, I say, “Me too. If anyone could bring States down, it’ll be these guys.”
“Oh no. Your rebellious side is kicking in, isn’t it? God help us all.”
“Shut up.” I cross my arms over my chest. “You know it doesn’t kick in. I can’t turn it off.”
“You’re ridiculous.”
“I’m ridiculous? What about you?”
“Oh, shut up and get dressed.” He’s grinning as he puts the folded clothes into my hands. I feel warmth on my arm and I look at it in confusion. Yosiah has a hand around my wrist. I didn’t notice it happen. I wonder if he did.
“I …” he says tentatively.
I whisper, “What?”
“I’m glad I have you.” He rushes out of the room before I can say a word.
I look at the closed door, trying to work him out, but then I shake my head and get changed. I’ve known him years and I still don’t understand him sometimes.
*
When I find Yosiah ten minutes later, after having to ask someone in the corridor how to get to the library, he looks embarrassed. I slide into a chair at a shiny wooden table.
The room makes me uneasy. Tall bookcases stand in every available space, all filled with books. I’ve seen something like this before, in the community library in our zone, but this place is weird. The furniture is encased in a cold stone tunnel. Above us, the room curves and it feels like we’re trapped inside. The chair I’m sat in is comfy though, so I block out the ceiling and watch Yosiah read.
“The Guardians were founded in eighteen-eighty,” he tells me. “In London.” He looks up to check that I’m listening and goes back to the book. “The founder of the group is unknown, but people have mentioned through the years that they were young to play such a vital role in the organisation. It’s assumed that the founder was male, though never confirmed.
“The purpose of The Guardians is to safeguard and protect life. In the beginning, there was a group of men who thought that for humanity to continue existing, the best method was to extract the well-bred of society. They planned to begin a new community, removing those who didn’t fit a certain criteria. This was believed to be a foolish notion, and one that would not secure the continued existence of humanity but its downfall.
“These people, as a collective, were known as The Olympiae Club—an elite organisation with a sinister purpose. The founder of The Guardians has written in several documents that this group were in possession of a weapon of sorts, and that their aim was to eliminate those of the population who didn’t meet their requirements. This particular weapon is the same machine that caused the destruction we have come to know as the solar flares.”
Yosiah stops and looks up at me, his eyes wide and golden under this light. “The solar flares were caused by a machine …”
“Machines can’t make the sun flare, can they?” I rest my elbows on the table, frowning. “That doesn’t make sense.”
“I don’t know,” he says under his breath, genuinely puzzled.
“Keep reading.”
“Knowing that The Olympiae would inflict such a disaster upon the world, our founder made it so that a group of people existed who could counteract their actions. He knew that this group would not be able to keep The Olympiae from using their weapon, and that the world would be torn apart irrevocably, but he also knew that the devastation would not stop. The founder knew that The Olympiae would, again, attempt to rid the world of its people and decrease the world’s population until it consisted exclusively of the members of The Olympiae Club. Our purpose, even now, is to wait for that time—to expect it and to rise above it.
“The Guardians will be ready when The Olympiae resurfaces. It does not matter how many years it takes or how many leaders pass before the time comes. The Guardians will stop The Olympiae Club and whatever further disaster they plan on causing.”
“That’s it?” I ask when Yosiah bows his head.
Siah chuckles. “That’s only the introduction, not the whole book.”
“Go on then!”
He looks down for a moment before turning the page and starting to read again.
“The question lies in whether The Olympiae still exist. Many believe that the group have gone underground, much like our own group, and that they will rise again when they have perfected whatever plan they are forming. Others believe that The Olympiae have what they want—power, wealth, and complete control—because what was once The Olympiae Club is now the City known as States and its Ordering Body. It is unknown what exactly happened to The Olympiae, but one thing is certain and that is that men like those do not back down; not even when they have what they set out to get. Men like those want more than they possess, no matter what they have. The same is true of States, its President, and their leaders. Whether or not that is all a coincidence remains to be seen.
Yosiah turns the page, not hesitating this time before reading.
“This brings us to the joining of The Guardians and the rebellion. As you will all be
aware of, some years ago a rebellion raged in Forgotten London (later, in sixteen of the twenty four Forgotten Lands), led by a man known simply as The Unnamed (topic eighteen-point-one, page two-hundred-and-three.) This rebellion was short lived, and proved futile, resulting in the death of The Unnamed.
“It also led to the disbanding of the rebellion itself. Or so you have been led to believe. This is false.” Yosiah looks up at me, a glint in his eye.
“After the death of The Unnamed, a rebellion member came to The Guardians with a proposition. He suggested that since both The Guardians and the rebellion had a common goal; to protect the future of our people albeit from different threats, we should join together.
“It took several months for this merging to become an actuality, but The Guardians you know now are not only counteracting The Olympiae, but working to free the population from the tyrannical reign of States. Although the distinction between Guardian and rebel has since been lost, our goals have been married in one purpose, and we stand as one in the belief that not only will we one day defeat The Olympiae (who may or may not be proven to be the Ordering Body of States), but we will release ourselves from our imprisonment within the borders. We will be able to live our lives however we choose and not the way States determines.”
I struggle for words. “A rebellion is trying to stop the military? Trying to set us free?”
“Miya,” he says warily. “Don’t get too excited about this, okay? This is a Guardian book. They’re bound to say things like this because they believe it. But you know States, and so do I. I want to believe that The Guardians can do what they say, but … I don’t think it’s possible.”
I scowl at the book. “But you said you believe in The Guardians.”
He exhales sharply. “I believe in them to a certain extent. I want—” He cuts himself off and puts his head in his hands.
I’m sitting beside him before I know that I’ve moved. I say angrily, “It’s cruel, giving us false hope like that.”
He raises his head and smiles faintly. “I don’t think they meant to. Miya … I—can I talk to you about something?”
“You know you can,” I say, but a girl walks into the library and I know the moment is gone. She’s done nothing wrong, but I resent her immediately. Yosiah was going to open up to me about something, and she stopped him.