The Veil (13 page)

Scarlett apologised to the Elf she had just bumped into and then walked behind Del, deftly slipping the stolen currency card into his hand.

Delagio was up next.

“Hey, buddy. I changed my mind, give me that big sucker there,” he said to the vendor, pointing at a large firework emblazoned in blue and gold symbols. “So I’m allowed to set this baby off at the waterfront anytime before curfew right?”

The vendor chatted happily with him, using a reader similar to the Pixie’s in the Aquadome to scan the sale onto the currency card. Meanwhile, Sophia placed her thumb against the fuse of a huge water firework standing proudly in the centre of the stall and held it there until the string turned red.

“We’re up.”

Alex and I moved in the direction of the door at the same time as Delagio and Sophia walked away from the stall and towards the Railport, Sophia dumping the firework in a bin and Del slyly handing the card back off to Scarlett.

Utter chaos ensued.

The firework shot up like a rocket, exploding into a shower of vivid water colours in the night sky – but not before its fuse set off countless other, smaller fireworks. They screamed out in a hundred different directions, smashing into walls and scudding along the floor, leaving trails of sparks and streaks of bright water in their wake. A few managed to shoot through the various doors of the shopping Ziggurats, exploding in shuddering echoes and showers of rainbow rain, followed by the shattering of countless fragile ornaments and the screams of scattering paint-covered shoppers.

Sorry, everyone.

Panicking citizens put as much distance between themselves and the volatile stall as they could. The vendor was chasing after the various fireworks like a headless chicken, as if he somehow thought he could gather them back up and stop the carnage. He gave up quickly, covering his ears and joining the dispersing hordes. Alex and I stopped in our tracks, pretending to be stunned. The Lightwardens broke away from the door, running over and hurling verbal abuse at the vanishing vendor. I glanced up and saw that the patrolling wardens were all distracted, staring in complete disbelief at the insanity happening below them.

“Now!”

We bolted to the door – dodging water fireworks – and I frantically tapped in the code on the panel. The door clicked open and we both slipped inside.

9

Alex

The contrast on the other side of the door was like night and day. Where the districts of Fenodara were ornaments polished to perfection, the Partition was like a neglected trinket, confined to the depths of a dust-covered attic. 

Thick steam curled from vents fixed to the tall walls, which bowed outwards like bloated stomachs, leaving barely enough room for Gabriella and me to stand side by side. The whole area stunk like rotting meat and was oppressively hot. But by far the weirdest part of all was that a steady pattering of rain fell on this side of the wall, and when I looked up, the sky was as dark as pitch and dark clouds flashed like fresh bruises as lightning flared up behind them.

What the hell?

Gabriella signalled for me to move down the narrow alleyway. Placing the back of my damp hand to my nose and trying not to gag against the foul stench, I followed her. We crept down the dark street, being careful to watch our step on the uneven and rain-slicked cobblestone, which had the grip-defeating addition of a web of slick moss weaving through them. We crouch-walked for a few minutes until I felt Gabriella tap my arm.

“Look.”

She was pointing up at a grimy sign mounted on the wall. The black letters had dulled to grey over time, but the message was still as sharp as when it was first written.

WARNING TO ALL DISPLACED.

IF YOU ARE READING THIS SIGN WITHOUT A LIGHTWARDEN ESCORT, THEN YOU ARE OUT OF YOUR ROAMING BOUNDARIES. RETURN IMMEDIATELY TO YOUR DESIGNATED ZONE OR FACE LETHAL CONSEQUENCES.

YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.

I stared at the sign. “Just what the hell is this Partition place?”

“Nothing good I’m betting.”

We moved faster down the seemingly endless passageway, which twisted and curled around itself like the entrance to some hellish labyrinth. Apart from more of the signs, we passed absolutely nothing of any note…unless you counted different types of stains spread across the wall – several of which were at head height and looked unnervingly like blood spatter.

Eventually the alleyway reached a crossroads. I peered down the intersecting routes and saw that they were empty, each stretching off to a vanishing point on the horizon.

“Which way?” I whispered.

“Straight. Last thing we need is to get lost in here.”

So we kept moving ahead, passing by several more offshoots, which made the Partition feel like a freakish mix of a labyrinth and how I imagined Victorian London to have been.  We reached another intersection. I glanced down one of the side streets and jerked backwards, slamming my hand against Gabriella and pressing her to the wall.

“What’s wrong?”

“Two patrolling Lightwardens, coming this way.”

“Did they see us?”

“I don’t think so,” I glanced around. “But they will soon.”

“Go back?”

I looked behind me and saw nothing but the path, stretching on into oblivion. “No, we won’t have time.”

“
Merda.
I was hoping we could avoid being seen.”

I paused for a moment. “Maybe we still can. Climb on my back.”

Gabriella didn’t argue, but instead hoisted herself onto me, wrapping her legs around my waist and arms around my shoulders. I crouched down, drawing energy into my legs and then jumped, feeling the rush of momentum tug at my stomach. I reached the apex of my jump – some thirty feet up  – and thrust out my limbs, pressing them hard against the narrow walls and keeping myself fixed in a horizontal position. The rain slid like ticklish fingertips down the nape of my neck and dripped to the ground below. My palms felt unnervingly precarious against the slick wall, and I could feel them slipping a centimeter for every second I held us in position.

I can’t keep us here for long.

Below, the voices of the wardens became louder as they passed along the path parallel to ours.

“Could it be a couple of escaped Displaced?” one of them asked.

“I doubt it. Last tag count has all the Displaced accounted for across the city. Besides, did you see what the male target did to the Arcroller? Almost flipped over fifty tones of Whitegrain steel. Not a chance one of the Displaced would have the strength, we don’t feed them enough.”

They both let out a chuckle and then let the subject drift to the festival.

At the same moment the Lightwardens turned down our path, my palms slipped several inches as they lost purchase, and we slid down the wall.

“What are you doing?” hissed Gabriella.

“I can’t hold on much longer!” I whispered.

“You have to!”

I narrowed my eyes and pushed the flats of my hands as hard as I could against the wall. But the surface was just too damp and slippery, and for a horror-inducing second, I lost my grip completely. We both slid ten feet down the wall. I reached out desperately and grabbed hold of a piece of jutting stone that was enough to lock us back in place, staring down with wide eyes at the Lightwardens’ heads. Neither of them looked up as they marched right beneath us. We stayed locked in position – me holding the tiny bit of stone and Gabriella wrapped around me, her cheek pressed against the back of my head and her steady breath playing against my ear – until long after their voices faded into the distance.

I dropped my arms and I fell the remaining twenty feet back to the ground, landing with barely any sound. Gabriella slipped from my back.

“That was close,” I breathed, wiping my grime-covered hands on the bottom of my robe.

“You did great.”

“Glad I could be of service,” I said with a grin. “So, which way now?”

“Wherever they came from must lead to something, so let’s go down that way.”

“Hold on one second then.”

I crouched down and smacked my knuckles against a section of the brickwork, sending a scattering of stone streaking out onto the street. “Now we know which direction we came from.”

Gabriella gave an approving nod and then we both turned down the street that the patrolling Lightwardens had come from. It wasn’t long until we passed through a simple latch gate. Almost instantly the passage opened out into a huge area, which could only be described as some kind of shantytown. A sea of mismatched buildings built poorly from old metal were crammed together, the poorly built walls thick with grime and rust. We passed by one and saw that the entrance was barred with thick adamantine poles. There were no windows and the inside was full of shadows.

We peered in and I saw a mass of bodies, crammed into every corner of the cramped building. At first I thought everyone was dead, until I saw one of them stir and move out from the mass of limbs, staring right at me. It was the unwashed face of an middle-aged Pixie – probably in his mid-two hundreds. His hair was matted against his face, and I saw with horror that both of his wings had been clipped down to stumps. He made a sound and woke several others. They all started to move, detaching themselves from one another to try and get a look at us.

I grabbed Gabriella and stepped away from the opening, hiding from sight. The Pixie wrapped his scarred hands around the bars and I saw a metal band with an electronic number fixed tightly to his wrist that glowed blue. It read Displaced #8972. My stomach did a flip.

These are the people we saw in the black robes.

He reached out a hand and feebly felt the air, as if trying to use his hands to test what he couldn’t guarantee his eyes had seen. “Water,” he croaked. “Water, please.”

What the hell is this?

Gabriella stood frozen to the spot, an expression of pure horror etched on her face.

“Come on,” I urged, pulling her reluctantly away from the forlorn Pixie.

“Alex, we have to help them!”

I stared right into her wide eyes. “Gabriella, there’s nothing we can do right now. We need to keep moving.”

We kept creeping past the squat buildings and were met with a similar sight in each one. Thousands of Luminar had been divided up and rammed into buildings that were far too small for even half their numbers. The stench emanating from inside was almost unbearable, and I could see that for the two dozen or so in each structure, there was only one toilet. It was a basic thing that was little more than a metal bowl standing a few feet up off the ground. My knot in my stomach had become a twisted ball of disgust as I witnessed the appalling state of their condition.

This is sickening.

Every face we saw was twisted into a desperately unhappy expression, and several of them bore the marks of a heavy beating. And every left arm had a tag attached to it, each showing a different number. I recalled what the guard had said.
“Last tag count has all Displaced accounted for.” The tags must be those bands on their arms. Those people around the city in black robes…this is where they keep them.

We both crept into a narrow area between two of the makeshift cells. “Alex, I think this is the White Keep.”

I shook my head. “No, there is no way they would risk keeping a member of the Alliance here with everyone where she could see all this. It’s far too risky. No, I think the Partition is some other kind of detainment area, where they keep those people in the black robes we saw.”

“But this makes no sense. Why would they treat working members of their own species like this?”

“God only knows,” I whispered. “Maybe they’re traitors. You said it yourself…there are probably thousands in the city. Maybe these are the ones they’ve caught.”

“That doesn’t excuse it. I wouldn’t treat my worst enemy like this.” She rubbed a hand across her face in agitation and looked around. “Alex, this is beyond messed up.”

“I know. What do you want to do?”

“The only thing we can. Keep going and try and work out exactly what’s happening here.”

We kept moving between the maze of decrepit buildings, pushing deeper into the detainment area. The ground around the huts was little more than soil, and in the beating rain it had turned to thick mud that sucked at the soles of our sandals and splashed onto our ankles.

A faint sound caught my attention, and I raised a hand, signaling Gabriella to stop. “I can hear voices. I think it’s more wardens.”

My companion stopped breathing, straining to hear against the howling wind and splashes of rain hitting mud. “You sure?”

“Trust me.”

“I always do.”

“I think we should get up on the roofs. That way we can see what’s going on properly and avoid anyone on the ground,” I suggested.

“Good idea.”

We both jumped up the side of the nearest building, flipping ourselves up onto the tin roof. As I landed, my foot knocked one of the panels away, exposing a square hole underneath. Groggy faces stared up at me.

Crap.

I shrank away from the opening, but no one inside made a single sound.
They’re too weak to do anything.
My stomach churned with anger.
No one has the right to do this to other people. It’s beyond cruel.

“You were right,” whispered Gabriella, crouching down next to me.

To the east, four Lightwardens were weaving between the buildings about three hundred yards away. Not taking my eyes from the guards, I slipped the loose panel back into place on the roof.
At the very least, I can try and stop them from getting soaked.

We scanned the sea of roofs and that was when I saw it. A large circular tower standing high above the shantytown in the distance, like a lighthouse guarding a sea of metal and brick.

“There’s the White Keep.”

Gabriella followed my gaze through narrowed eyes. “Let’s go.”

Without another word, she hopped from building to building and I followed, keeping my head low and footsteps light. The rain had broken into a full downpour, and the drops tapped like impatient fingers against the corrugated metal beneath our feet. I peered upwards, squinting my eyes against the battering rain and saw vengeful-looking clouds looming overhead.

This is much more like the Pandemonia I heard about.

My robes became a damp mess of material that clung to my skin and restricted my movements. But we kept pushing on, slipping silently along the rain-slicked rooftops. Some five hundred yards away from the White Keep, the maze of prison huts suddenly gave way to a large courtyard area. A grand set of steps led up to a squat but vast building with pale metal for walls and adamantine bars crisscrossing the countless windows. The front doors looked like they would take four tanks and an afternoon to open. Rusting statues lined the long cornice of the building, depicting Luminar soldiers in a variety of positions, all armed with deadly weapons. In the pouring rain, they looked like legendary warriors frozen in the midst of an iconic battle.

But it wasn’t the building that caught my attention. It was the army of child-aged Luminar standing in ranks, getting battered by the rain, but staying as silent and still as the statues beyond them. They wore nothing but black rags, with most of their skin exposed to the harsh elements. All were armed with metal Bo staffs and rusted helmets, most of which were a size too big for their heads. A cluster of Lightwardens stood in front of them, staring at the shivering children with no hint of sympathy in their collective expressions.