We splay out around the campfire, and I’m just about to grab a piece of meat when a movement in the thicket catches my eye.
I freeze.
Someone’s standing no more than a couple of yards away, peering out from behind a large, dead tree. A dark silhouette but for twin pools of firelight swirling in the eyes.
My heart jams up my throat.
“What’s the matter?” Digory asks.
I jab a finger toward the tree. “There’s someone over there!”
I spring to my feet and make a run for it, but Digory races after me and grabs my arm. “Careful! Look at the pylons. We’re at the sonic fence perimeter, remember?”
He’s right.
The tree’s barren limbs continue to sway, casting shadows on the massive columns like skeletal fingers, curling and beckoning.
The figure’s gone.
“There was someone there … ” I whisper.
Digory’s hand squeezes my shoulder. “It’s okay. We’re all very tired and stressed—”
I grab his hand and tear it away. “Don’t … patronize … me! ”
“Lucian—”
But I whirl before he can finish and tromp back to the campfire, kicking up flurries of earth in my wake before dropping cross-legged near Cypress. I can’t even tell the difference between the heat generated from the roaring blaze and that which boils my blood.
He feels sorry for me …
Gideon leans forward. “I’m sure you did see something, Spark. This place is crawling with Imps watching our every move, keeping tallies on our progress, making sure we don’t try and desert.”
“I’m sure that’s exactly all it was,” Ophelia squeaks, linking an arm around Gideon’s and squeezing.
Cypress clears her throat. “I think Spark saw something else.”
Of all the things I thought she’d say, that wasn’t one of them. “You do?”
Green fire dances in her eyes. “I think it was one of the Lost Recruits.”
“Excuse me?” Ophelia interrupts. “Did one of the Recruits get lost?” Her index finger bobs at each one of us in turn. “Hmmm. I counted five. I think we’re all accounted—”
“She’s referring to the Fallen Five,” Digory announces. He plunks down on the opposite side of the circle from me.
“But they’re just a myth, right?” I cast my eyes around the campfire. “I mean, they’re not real … are they?”
Cypress bites her lip. “Oh, they’re real.”
I remember hearing the story of the Fallen Five from Cassius when I wasn’t much older than Cole. He used to say that they’d come for us in the middle of the night and whisk us away from our beds if we weren’t careful. The thing is, on many of those endless nights, while my folks slaved away in the mines, I cowered in my cot, hungry and cold, and prayed that they would.
Is Cole thinking the same thing now?
Ophelia’s eyes twinkle. “Looks like I’m the only one who’s never heard of these Falling Five.”
“Fallen,” Gideon corrects her. “The Fallen Five.”
She giggles. “Sorry. So where exactly did they fall from?”
Digory tosses a twig in the flames. “The Fallen Five were a quintet of Recruits drafted on Recruitment Day, just like we were. Ten years ago.”
Ophelia bounces on the sand. “So by fallen you mean that they all fell, as in failed, during the Trials, and no one was promoted that year, is that right?”
“Partially,” Digory responds. “No one was promoted that year because no one ever made it to the Trials.”
Ophelia frowns. “I don’t understand. What happened to them?”
“They vanished,” I say. “All five of them. Without a trace. Shortly after arriving at Infiernos.”
She glances at the tree, then hugs her knees. “M-maybe they had an accident and were lost—”
“They were on an FTX just like we are now,” Digory continues. “Their packs and supplies were found. Everything was intact … except for them.”
She shakes her head. “It’s just a story meant to frighten children! That’s all!”
“It seems to be working,” Cypress mutters.
Gideon folds his arms. “You know, I just thought about something that hasn’t crossed my mind in years. When I was six, my folks and I lived next door to a family whose daughter was recruited. Tasha Gillespie, her name was. I was pretty young at the time, but I remember being scared when she just disappeared and never came home. I thought she’d done something terrible and her parents had sent her away. I couldn’t sleep for weeks, afraid the same thing was going to happen to me. That was ten years ago. Maybe she was one of the Fallen Five … ”
“I think the Establishment murdered them,” Digory says. His words are a needle that weaves an icy thread around the ring. “They probably found out one of the Establishment’s many secrets and were silenced before they could expose it, like everyone always is.”
I lean in. “Sssh! Careful, Digory,”
Cypress yawns. “I think you’re all giving the Fallen Five too much credit.” Her gaze pierces Ophelia. “They weren’t lost in some pathetic Field Training Exercise.” Next she fixes on Gideon with a glaze of contempt. “Nor was it some terrible punishment by their parents.” Finally, she turns to skewer Digory with her eyes. “And they weren’t martyrs, sacrificing their lives to the Establishment for the good of our society.”
“Then what happened to them?” I challenge her.
She turns to me and I brace for what’s coming. But instead of dripping with mockery, her eyes are pools of emerald bitterness. “They were deserters, cowards, nothing more.”
Her words stun me. I can’t conceive of the implications of what she’s saying. Any notions of fleeing I’ve ever had are quashed when I think about Cole and how he’s depending on me to come through.
“Cypress, deserters aren’t just risking their own lives,” I say. “Their Incentives … anyone they leave behind … they’re all subject to punishment. That’s why we’re all here. How could anyone do what you’re suggesting?”
Her eyes drop to her lap. “How could he?” she whispers. A shaky hand swipes across her face. Then she bolts to her feet and marches into one of the shelters, throwing the flaps open and disappearing inside.
For a few minutes, nobody says anything. We just stare at each other across the crackling flames, watching the shadows dance across the orange glow on our faces.
Who is she talking about?
“Do you really think the Fallen Five were murdered?” I finally ask Digory. “Cypress seems certain they’re alive. But if they are alive and hiding out, why haven’t any of the Recruits over the last nine years caught a glimpse of them?”
“Yes, I do believe the Establishment killed them,” Digory answers. “But if by some miracle Cypress is right, there’s a very good reason none of the other Recruits has ever seen them.”
Adrenaline revs my heart.
“What is it?” Gideon asks.
Digory tosses more twigs into the fire. “After they disappeared, the Establishment moved the Trials to another base—whether this was done to cover up evidence or prevent it from happening again, that’s open to debate.”
“But the location of the Trials has always been kept secret! How would you know—?” I stop myself. His connections within the rebellion … “I understand.”
He nods. “If Cypress is right, we may get our chance to solve the mystery of the Fallen Five.”
Ophelia rubs her arms. “Why’s that?”
He looks around. “This year”—he lowers his voice—“the Establishment decided to return the Trials to the original venue.”
My eyes open wide. “You mean—?”
“We’re the first to return. That’s why they installed those pylons around Infiernos. Whatever happened to the Fallen Five,
it happened right outside that sonic fence.”
I glance back at the narrow path creeping into the jungle. It’s framed by a canopy of interlocking branches that resemble gnarled fingers clasped together in dark prayer. A wisp of mist curls forth like a dying breath. I hug myself, trying to rub some feeling back into my marble skin.
Seventeen
It’s the last night before we’re set to begin Phase Three, the final stage of our training before the Trials begin. I’m on adrenaline overload and can’t sleep.
A groggy Gideon trudges into the barracks in the middle of the night and taps me on the shoulder. “You’re up,” he grunts before collapsing onto his cot. For the first time, I’m grateful to be on CQ duty.
In no time at all, I’ve slipped into my uniform and out the door, briskly walking the perimeter of the barracks, trying to burn up the anxiety churning through me. I plow through my rounds in record time. Along the way I encounter pockets of soldiers making supply runs, performing maintenance checks on vehicles, packing up equipment. In each instance, they look haggard, as if they’ve been pulling double shifts. A couple of times they drop their voices to a whisper as I walk by, as if I cared what secrets they harbor. When I’m done, I’m still jumpy with nervous energy and decide to jog up the three-hundred-plus steps to the top of the circular Observation Tower.
Even though I’m breathing heavily by the time I arrive at the top, I can’t help but think how much more stamina I’ve built up during my training. Six weeks ago I’d have probably passed out after about a hundred steps.
Six weeks. Seems like a lifetime.
From up here, I have a moonlit view of all of Infiernos. About fifty yards ahead of me, at the base’s front perimeter, the sea crashes against the shoreline. Further down the beach, I can just make out the cove hiding the bay where the freighter docked on our arrival. Behind me and on either side, the complex stretches several miles inland—the giant dome, the other barracks, the training fields, the landing strips, the officers’ quarters—all surrounded by the massive pillars of the sonic fences, which occasionally spark when some unfortunate animal veers too close.
I strain my eyes, trying to make out what lies beyond the base, but even in the moonlight I can’t see anything through the darkness and haze. For a moment I wonder if we’re actually on an island at all … maybe we’re on a peninsula, and, if so, what is it connected to?
I turn my head back toward the ocean and lean over the railing, gulping a lungful of salty air from the rippling black sea, allowing it to wash away the mustiness of the barracks. I haven’t felt this invigorated in months—ever since Cassius’s betrayal.
Above, millions of stars blanket the night sky. Back home at the Parish, I don’t remember ever seeing so many of them, what with the smog from the Industrial Borough clogging up our skies. It’s beautiful and mysterious all at once. If I tilt my head at just the right angle, to block out my surroundings, it’s as though I’m floating in space, which seems about right.
I’ve never felt so far away from everything I’ve ever known.
Movement behind me.
Despite the roaring of the wind, I can hear my heartbeat. My grip tightens on the railing. Maybe I won’t live to compete in the trials after all. Maybe Cassius is planning to assassinate me before I get the chance to have my revenge.
I whip around.
Digory’s lips are curved in a dazzling smile, reflecting the moon’s gleam that surrounds him in a halo. His hair shimmers like liquid gold.
My muscles relax.
He holds his palms up, his eyes mirroring my surprise. “I didn’t mean to sneak up on you. I called out your name, but I guess you didn’t hear me.”
I smile back. “Why aren’t you in bed?”
He stuffs his hands in his pockets. “Couldn’t sleep. Just like you.”
I nod. “It seems everyone’s been tense lately. And not only about the Trials. Have you noticed all the anxious looks, and the whispering? I’m not just talking Slade and the other officers—the enlisted are looking pretty wired, especially those recon units.”
“I’ve noticed. And we’re not the only ones—Cypress mentioned it too, and so did Gideon. Something’s definitely up.”
The black jumpsuit I’m wearing is made of thin material, hardly protection against the chilly night biting into my flesh and making my teeth chatter.
“Here, take this.” Digory removes the jacket he’s wearing and wraps it around me.
I try to give it back to him, but his hands hold it firmly on my shoulders. “What about you?” I ask.
His grin captures the starlight. “I’ll be all right. I’m pretty cold-blooded.”
He means it as a joke, but I can’t help but wonder what he’s capable of when the time comes to defend his people during the trials.
What I’m capable of.
Silent minutes flutter away into the night. This is the first time we’ve really been alone since arriving at Infiernos. I brace myself for some well-meaning questions or comments about stuff I really don’t want to talk about.
Instead, Digory tugs up the jacket’s collar around my neck and nudges his face toward the sky. “I can’t believe how many stars there are up there.”
I inhale cool saltiness. “I’ve never been away from all that cloud cover in the Parish. This is the first time I’ve ever gotten a really good look at the constellations.” I lean forward on the railing and point toward a particular cluster. “See there, I think that’s the one the ancients called Taurus.”
His shoulder grazes my own, his eyes following my finger as I trace an invisible pattern in the night. “Tau-rus? What’s that mean?”
“The legend goes that Taurus was a god disguised as some kind of animal—not sure what it’s called—a bull, I think. You see that outline that looks like a beast?”
He nods.
“Anyway, this Taurus fell in love with a beautiful princess while she was playing on the seashore and literally swept her off her feet, carrying her away and making her his lover.”
Digory turns and his eyes penetrate mine. “Leaving their symbol for all to see until the end of time. I like that.” He smiles again. “I don’t think I ever heard anything like that at the Instructional Facility. It’s one of those banned fairy tales the Establishment’s always going on about, isn’t it?”
I shrug, expecting him to bring up Cole’s story of the Lady, the story that Cassius used to damn us. He doesn’t. I exhale, plunging ahead before thoughts of Cole’s plight shut me down. “Apprenticing at the library and sneaking into the restricted section does have some advantages. The funny thing is, no matter how hard the Establishment tries to hide literature it doesn’t approve of from the world, the sky’s full of stories for all to see.”
Digory steps onto the lower railing, hikes a leg over the upper railing, and raises himself into a sitting position. “Like what else?” He holds out a hand to me. “Show me another story, Lucian.”
It’s as if one of those gods of the constellations is beckoning me, ready to sweep me away from the earth to live out the rest of my existence in the heavens.
I take his hand and allow him to haul me up beside him. “Let’s see.” My eyes scan the sky. “Ah, yep. That’s Orion.”
“Who’s Orion?” Digory’s face is lit up like Cole’s when I tell him about the Lady.
“Orion was a hunter.” I connect a group of stars with my finger. “You see how you can make out his bow and arrow?”
Digory laughs. “Yeah, I can see it. That’s incredible.”
“According to the restricted books,” I continue, “Orion hunted with two faithful beasts … now let’s see if I can … oh yeah … there’s one.” I trace another pattern in the sky.
Digory’s eyes squint. “I’m not sure I can make that out.”
“Of course you can. Here.” I take hold of his hand
in mine and make the outline again.
“Oh, yeah. Now I see it, Lucian.” His smile fades. “Wait a minute. That looks like a Canid.”
“Very good, Mr. Tycho. You’re looking at Canis Major. And that”—our hands map out another cluster—“is Canis Minor.” I wink at him now. “Or the smaller Canid, as you’d call it. These two aren’t as visible this time of year as their master.”
“Hmm.” His brows knit in mock annoyance. “I’m not sure I like this guy Orion so much if he hangs out with Canids. Are you sure his name’s not really the Imposer?”
I actually laugh out loud this time. “It’s not like that at all. The hunter was actually in love with one of seven sisters known as the Pleiades.” Once again I guide his warm hand in mine, indicating six bright lights.
“That’s only six,” he says, his breath hot in my ear. “What happened to the seventh?”
I purse my lips. “Alas, she didn’t return his love and went far away, never to be seen again.”
He shakes his head. “Poor guy.”
“That’s not the worst of it, though.”
He scoots closer. “What could be worse than having the person you love not want to have anything to do with you?”
My pulse gallops. “The poor, heartbroken Orion, wan-
dering around in search of his lost love, stepped on Scorpius”
—I guide Digory’s hand toward another distinct pattern—“and died.”
Digory flinches. “Ouch! Not the ending I was hoping for.” He chuckles. “I think I like the Taurus story better.”
The salt air stings my eyes. “Not every story has a happy ending, but that doesn’t mean it’s not worth telling.” I turn away. Concentrating on the brightest star I can find, I hope he won’t notice I’m doing everything possible not to give in to the ache I feel for my brother.
“I wonder what it would be like, Lucian, to love someone so totally, so … you know, so powerfully, that even the stars can’t contain themselves from proclaiming that love for everyone to see,” he says softly. “It must be the grandest feeling in the world.”