The Regenerates (3 page)

Hans and Florentine burst into the room.

“Ven! Are you okay?” said Florentine. “We heard the news about your friend. That’s just horrible! Can’t your mother do something?”

“She’s trying now,” said Ven. His mouth felt extremely dry. “We just have to wait.”

Hans looked at him, concerned. “Hey, if there’s anything we can do–”

“No, nothing. But thanks.”

Florentine’s eyes watered and she sniffled as she took Ven’s hands. “It’ll be fine. Don’t worry!”

“Thanks, Florentine.”

“Do you know what happened? Why was she sentenced all of a sudden? What did she do?” asked Hans.

“Nothing. She hasn’t done anything
.
”

A strange, pulsing anger was spreading through Ven like a wave, along with another abnormal feeling. It was confusion. Abolition Day normally meant nothing to him. As much as he was grateful when it had passed, to him it was just a particularly unpleasant holiday that came and went. The Sentenced were no one to him. In fact, he used to laugh at them. If they hadn’t bothered to commit the crimes in the first place, they would have been able to keep their lives, simple as that. But Coralie was different. She never broke the rules, never stole from anyone and had never hurt anyone. She might be opinionated at times, but she was a model citizen.

Ven’s stomach jolted. The woman yesterday who had reacted to Coralie’s comment – surely she hadn’t gone to the authorities? As he slowly recollected the moment, however, his heart began to sink. Every sentence mattered. No matter what, the Stratum Order was to be worshipped and given the highest respect. Even a single negative remark was considered a potential threat to the Order, and every threat had to be eliminated. Why hadn’t he given more thought to how foolish that notion was? Were they really that restricted in their speech? Had the previous Sentenced all been executed because of a silly comment they had made by accident? It wasn’t just them – their immediate families were executed, too.

The look on Ven’s face was enough to cause Florentine’s lower lip to quiver. She glanced at Hans for backup, but he stared back helplessly.

“Ven,” said Florentine in a soft voice, “are you sure you’re alright?”

Ven said nothing for a moment, then walked over to the door. “I’m going out,” he said, leaving a concerned Hans and Florentine in his wake.

Ven didn’t know what he could possibly do to alter a sentence. It had never been done before. While he could only guess what Coralie’s crime was, he had to at least try and say something to the Grand Magistrate. His mother was in a respectable position and had served Kayn and his father for many years. Surely Kayn would hear him out before making a decision.

As he made his way to Council Hall, he tried to mentally rehearse what he would say, but his mind was too frantic for him to think. Finally, he reached the entrance of the hall and stopped. The massive door was still missing, and repairs were being conducted by diligent workers. Inside, Kayn sat at the end of the hall, deep in discussion with several council members. Ven gulped. He’d never spoken to the Grand Magistrate before, and despite his young age, Kayn Stafford was powerful and intimidating.

Ven took a deep breath and motioned for a nearby guard. “I need to speak to Lord Kayn. Is this a good time?’

“One moment. I’ll let him know.”

The guard walked down to the end of the hall and whispered something in Kayn’s ear. Kayn looked up in Ven’s direction, and Ven felt his heart leap. The guard motioned for Ven to come closer. As he neared the end of the hall, his legs feeling like jelly, he recalled Kayn breaking that strange man’s nose and splattering his blood on the floor.

“Yes? What can I do for you?” said Kayn, smiling brightly.

Ven began to feel at ease. “I didn’t mean to bother you, Lord Kayn,” he began, “My name is Ven Kealy. I just – I have a concern to address with you.”

“Of course. What’s the matter?”

“It’s about one of the Sentenced. Her name was just added recently and I think there’s been a mistake.”

“Oh? What’s her name?” Kayn asked, reaching over to a stack of papers in front of him.

“Coralie Hasset, sir.”

Kayn went down the list, then stopped. “Oh, here she is. She was added last night, I believe. Let’s see what it says about her crime. Hmm…questioning and insulting the Stratum Order. Three strikes for that one. Very disappointing. What else… Oh, there’s another Hasset listed here. It seems her whole family are a group of troublemakers.”

Ven’s blood went cold.

“It says here her father had a bit of a scuffle with some of my officials regarding his work ethic. Something about him refusing to test his new pistol prototype on one of the Sentenced to evaluate its efficiency.”

Ven could feel his legs going numb. Kayn had a somewhat amused look on his face.

“So, Ven, I’ve just read their crimes to you, yet you say there’s been a mistake. Please explain.”

“They, um…” All that came out was an inaudible stutter. “I’m sure she said it by accident, Lord Magistrate. She probably didn’t mean it. She’s a very good person and she follows every rule. She’s been a family friend for years.”

“Tell me,” Kayn interrupted, “were you there with her when she made these remarks? Because if you were, by all sense of logic you should be reprimanded as well for not stopping her.”

“I – I did stop her, Lord Kayn, and she apologized for it.”

The smiling face from minutes ago was now nothing but a hideous mask. Ven stood there in hopelessness, anger rising in the pit of his stomach.

A voice rang out from behind him. “Ven!”

Ven turned to see his mother carrying a stack of papers wearing a look of terror. She rushed over to Kayn and bowed her head.

“Lord Kayn, I’m very sorry. Please forgive my son for whatever he might have said. He’s just a little distressed right now.”

“No, no, Rosa, don’t look so terrified.” Kayn smiled, his eyes now cold and bloodless. “We were just having a nice discussion. He had some questions about one of the Sentenced and I cleared them up for him. Everything’s alright now.”

“Thank you. We’ll be on our way,” she said, seizing Ven by the arm and dragging him away.

“Oh, and Ven?” Kayn called after them. “I’d be more wary of the company you keep. Continue associating with people like that and you’ll put your lovely mother in trouble. Take care, now.” He gave them one more twisted smile.

Without warning, a boiling hatred erupted inside Ven. He wanted to take the pieces of rubble on the floor and throw them at Kayn’s face.

“What did I just tell you?” said his mother as they made their way back home. “I specifically said
not
to do anything rash. How could you, Ven?”

“He’s evil.”

Ven’s mother gasped and clutched her heart. She grabbed his arm, sprinted inside her room with him in tow and closed the door, bolting it behind her. Before he could open his mouth, she slapped him across the cheek.

Ven staggered. She’d never struck him before.

“Do you want to get us killed?” she whispered, tears welling up in her eyes. “Because if you say another word, it will be more than Coralie you’re going to lose.”

“Mom, I’m sorry.” Ven’s throat began to swell. “He threatened you too. You haven’t done anything. Has he done this before?”

Ven’s mother could no longer hold back her tears. She pulled Ven close and hugged him. “If Kayn is the way he is, it’s because his father was like that, and his grandfather was like that. His threats are empty so long as I continue to do my job well, as I have been.”

“But mom, Coralie… It’s not fair. She can’t die.”

His mother had nothing more to say. Her face was contorted in pain.

“Ven, Coralie is like a daughter to me, and her parents are like family. It isn’t fair, you’re absolutely right, but my hands are tied. Kayn’s decisions, along with those of the Elders Council, are final. I’ll give it one last shot tomorrow, but after that…”

Ven broke away from her embrace, ran to his room and slammed the door, praying that this day had been nothing but a bad dream. He picked up a beautiful vase from his dresser and flung it at the wall where it shattered, showering the floor with colorful glass.

As night fell, he wondered where Coralie and her parents were right now. Were they in a jail cell like the other Sentenced, counting down the days to their impending deaths? What could they be feeling? He lay in bed, nauseous, disgusted and frustrated with everything. He racked his memory for images of all the other children his age and younger who had been hung in front of him during previous Abolition Day ceremonies. What had their crimes been? Something petty, perhaps. A while ago, his mother had had him sort the crime reports of the Sentenced. He laughed darkly as he recalled their offenses: Unlawful use of transportation. Disrespect of Coran texts (Placed personal objects, food and drink etc. on top of ancient documents – discovered during Drudger Inspections). Attempted contact of foreign civilians through forbidden technologies and radio devices. Attempted to alter and dismember transport pods for personal use.

He couldn’t sleep now. Would he get to speak to Coralie again before it happened? There had to be something he could do…

Then it hit him. Ven got out of bed, snuck into his mother’s bedroom, opened her dresser drawer as quietly as he could and picked up the stack of keys that would allow him access into almost every room on the estate. He slowly tiptoed outside, grabbed a night robe and snuck out the door. He kept a tight grip on the keys so they wouldn’t make any noise.

Pure desperation sent him sneaking past the night guards, lower and lower towards the basement floors until he reached the underground prison quarters. Used mainly for political prisoners, spies, and those sentenced for treason, this prison had been built in the deepest recesses of Lord Magistrate’s estate. So deep, in fact, that the guards didn’t even bother keeping watch on individual cells. There was no way to escape, anyway. If you managed somehow to exit through the main door, a row of guards awaited you at the end of a very narrow hallway.

Lucky for Ven, having a blueprint of every room meant he had an alternate means of entry. He felt like a different person, stealing keys and blueprints, and sneaking into prison to seek help from a fugitive. But what other option did he have? Even if this didn’t work, he could at least say he’d tried.

Ven checked the blueprint again. In the hallway beside the prison quarters was a small wooden door. He looked around him, and it seemed as though he was in the right place. There it was, towards the end of the corridor. Ven fumbled with the keys until one of them fit, opened the door, and crawled into the tiny space that lay beyond it.

It was pitch black and smelt damp. He hadn’t bothered to bring a lamp with him; he wanted to remain as invisible as possible. Ven felt his way around the small space, running his hands along the dusty walls until he could feel rough wood. Feeling for the doorknob, he rummaged with the keys once more and pushed open the small door.

The copper lanterns lining the prison walls emitted a faint glow. The cells were just around the corner. Ven prayed that the man Kayn had struck would be the only inmate, at least in this area. The last thing he needed was someone overhearing him. Ven tiptoed ahead, his heart racing. As he approached the cells, he slowly peered into each one. They seemed empty, save for one closer to the end of the stone hallway.

The man looked different up close. He seemed to be asleep, leaning against the side of the cell, his breathing heavy. Ven had expected him to look frail and injured from the beating he had taken earlier. Instead, he looked fit and able-bodied. Stubble covered his chin and his pale hair was unkempt.

His heart pounding faster than ever, Ven leaned in closer. “Excuse me. I need to talk to you.”

The man opened his eyes and looked up at him. He stared at Ven for a moment, tilting his head. “I didn’t know the prison guards wore night gowns. What is it, kid? Here to give me another update on my execution?”

“I’m not a guard, I live in the palace. I need to ask you a favor.”

The man raised his eyebrows. Ven swallowed. “My friend has been sentenced. She’s going to be executed on Abolition Day and I need to save her.”

The man didn’t respond right away, but something in his eyes told Ven he had the man’s full attention. “This is a first in Cor’s history,” the man said. “This friend of yours must be quite special.”

Ven turned pink. “She’s a family friend and she hasn’t done anything wrong. I can’t just sit by.”

“So why do you need my help?” the man asked. Ven looked away and the man began to chuckle. “Ah, I understand. You’re probably a high-profile elite with a clean record and a very comfortable life. It’s only natural that you’d seek help from a
criminal
to commit a crime. But there’s something more, I think.”

Ven swallowed, but kept his voice steady. “You have power,” he said, feeling foolish. “That explosion. You can use it again.”

“I suppose,” the man smiled. “Although it would be easier to do when I’m not chained up like this. Tell me, though – you must be a Highborn, right? Surely with your position, the Grand Magistrate would make an exception for a family friend.”

“I tried speaking to him,” said Ven, clenching his fists. “He didn’t even listen to me. He just brushed me off and threatened my mother.”

“He always was a little brat,” said the man. “Alright, let’s say I agree to help you. I’ll need something in return, and you may want to think this one over for a bit.”

“What is it?”

“I want you to steal the Magistrate’s Dagger embedded in Kayn’s throne. Give it to me, and I’ll carry your friend, as well as the other Sentenced, to safety. I’m an expert at sending people into hiding. They’re better off out of this twisted city, anyway. They’ll be able to begin a new life. So, what do you say?”

Ven stared at the man, dumbfounded. “You want me to steal a centuries-old symbol of Cor’s history? Do you have any idea what the Magistrate’s Dagger is? Without that, Kayn won’t be allowed to–”

“–Allowed to rule, yes. I know,” the man interrupted. “Why do you think I’m asking you to steal it?”