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CHAPTER 1 THE PURPLE THIEF MAGEIA UNKNOWN YEAR 1018 - SINCE CREATION KINGDOM OF ARDANIA RIMLY TEMPLE Those standing on the Rimly Dais were the next to die. Stripped of their clothing and humanity, the four men and women were condemned for their defects. Seen or unseen, Mageia couldn't tell from where she stood, but their whimpering sent sharp pains through her heart. The announcer unrolled his parchment. "Hail Fairs of Ardania! Today we shall please the Diviine Six, who spoke so many years ago to cure our hearts and land of the defected and the weak using sacrifice." Mageia Unknown clenched the hilt of her sword as the crowd cheered, hungry for the sight of blood. Her purple eyes glared from her cloak’s hood, scolding the Ferry Priest in his black robe with green stitches of boats, reciting a prayer for the souls. The families of the lost wept as they moved closer to the dais, shouting their goodbyes and pleas for mercy, which fell on deaf ears. “These people are guilty of blasphemy and associating with the dangerous rebels, the Blesseds,” the announcer continued. “They are enemies to our sacred kingdom and have been chosen by our anointed Priesthood and the Diviine Six to be sacrificed for the beginning of our holy ceremony. May the gods accept their sacrifice and bless the Kingdom of Ardania.” “Holy Hamino have mercy,” Mageia muttered, hoping the ancient god whom the Blesseds worshiped was alive and angry at the evil unfolding today. The guards on the emerald-green platform forced the first man to the beam and strapped him down so he couldn’t move. The executioner stepped forward, prepared his sword, and with one swift motion, severed the man’s head from his body. Blood squirted everywhere. Its metallic odor clung to the spring breeze whipping across the cobblestone courtyard of the Rimly Temple. Mageia’s stomach curdled. She hated working during executions, but it was the best time to collect from the pockets of those who found these proceedings pleasing and holy. “Blessed be!” some shouted, eyes flickering to the sky, lips moving in silent prayers. A hand tugged her sleeve. She caught eyes with Gavin, a teen member of her family who had a noticeable defect of dry bumpy patches from his neck down to his chest causing his brown skin to appear purplish. The burn in the 16-year-old’s eyes reminded her of what they came to the Rimly Dais to do. When she nodded, he slipped away into the crowd. Swift and with years of great skill, Mageia pick-pocketed coins, purses, timepieces, fancy pipes, and anything her sticky fingers touched. Within her cloak, the sack attached to her waist grew heavy but not heavy enough to weigh down her silent feet. She was of a woman’s average, law-enforced height, about five feet by six inches, no reason to make her stand out. Many, like her, wore cloaks or robes with their hoods flopped onto their heads to block the spring’s angry sun. So, she weaved through the rowdy crowd undetected. Midlaan soldiers and guards in their greens and black were unaware of the many thieving fingers doing what they knew best right under their noses. The temple guards grabbed the second Strange, who gave a heart-wrenching scream as they forced her into place. The Ferry Priest muttered his prayers over the whimpering woman. The crowd’s ruckus heightened in anticipation. Mageia averted her eyes as the sword came down. A memory of standing on the dais of the Diviine Temple made her chest tighten. I need to get out of here, she scoffed, wishing she could run on the platform and cease this evil. She decided to finish up early and eased through her section, head low and hands prying and taking. Then someone bumped into her from behind the same time her hand dug into her next victim’s vest for a timepiece hanging from a silver chain. "Hey, watch it, lady," the man snorted, only for his eyes to widen, feeling her hand in a place it shouldn't be. Their eyes met, and fear crawled onto his face as he screamed. "Purple Thief!" With no hesitation she sprinted through the crowd, pushing people out of the way. “Stop her!” She heard the man shout. Not today, she thought as she broke free and headed eastward through the Rimly Marketplace. People squealed and jumped out of the way in fright of her Strange eyes. The guards and soldiers nearby snapped into pursuit. She remembered the many escape routes that could lose her pursuers and their heavy armor. She scanned the Mideri Wall trailing behind the stalls on her right. With calm assurance and much practice, Mageia repositioned her bag of stolen valuables and climbed onto a man’s smelly onion stall. “Oh gods, get off!” he screamed. Ignoring him, she climbed the stall’s wooden poles onto the roof, the only sturdy roof she had taken notice of weeks ago. With careful footing, she tiptoed to the other side, jumped, latched onto the wall’s protruding stones, and began climbing with reptilian speed. Her pursuers grew frantic. They rerouted, running towards the stairs of a wall post. The two lone guards inside the post scurried onto their feet and began running towards her. Unfortunately for them, she was too far away. She climbed over to the other side of the wall into the neighboring city of Strana and descended into the thick vines of overgrown trees and disappeared into the woods. Laughing to her core, she ran through the woods and entered an alley leading to Hamala Marketplace. Barely out of breath, she glanced up at the wall where the guards scanned anxiously below and chuckled. She had outwitted them again. She strolled eastward towards the hills and plains of the Hillside, passing through many neighborhoods of Strana. To rest her feet, she stole a ride on the back of a horse-drawn wagon hauling hay and pulled her hood very low over her eyes. Just because the slaves working the fields were Strange like her, didn’t mean they all could be trusted. If she were ever caught for her sticky fingers, this could be her life, condemned to a life of servitude until exonerated by a master, the Crown, or death. But the risk was important to feed her growing family. An hour later, she comfortably walked through the Dauntless Mountains to the secret cave entrance of her home. Checking for followers or stragglers, she entered the curtain of yellow-flowered vines and let her feet guide her through the familiar dark pathway until she spotted light ahead. Mageia gave a short whistle sequence and waited. An owl’s hoot responded from beyond the cave, granting her access, and welcoming her home. “Hala, Dean,” she called out, sensing her best friend was nearby. Indeed, the 18-year-old gave a low chuckle from his perch on a boulder. He flapped his auburn hair out of his green eyes, exposing a pink birthmark trailing the right side of his face like a permanent blush. He lowered his spear, and the three Elders did the same. “Lady Mageia, fine day?” “It was indeed a fine day,” she said, throwing him the silver timepiece she stole from the man she spooked. He caught it and grinned at its elaborate designs. She heard him scramble off the boulder and fall on her trail. “Yer back early,” he said in the foreign accent she’d grown accustomed to. Uh oh, she thought, a knot forming in her throat. “Yeah, I know.” “Geia … Did’ju get spotted?” he asked with a hard strain in his voice. "Uh …" she said, feeling her friend's face twist hard. “Wait.” He stepped in front of her with a hand raised. “Yuh got spotted, didn’t yuh?” She shrugged and slipped around him. “Uh … Yeah.” She bit hard into her bottom lip, knowing exactly where this conversation was heading. Dean Unknown gawked, unable to get a single word out. He followed her under the drape of colorful vines into the heart of the encampment. A place she has called home for nine years. Huts made of nature's debris covered with stolen or handmade blankets sat scattered about. Clothing hung along vines, ropes, and tree branches, drying under the noonday sun. Handmade decorations and artwork from the children dangled in the breeze across the pathway and anywhere needing the color of life. The smell of venison and vegetables lingered in the air, making her stomach grumble. She unlatched her cloak and exited the pathway into a circular clearing. A large firepit sat at the center with a lit flame within. Strange children ran around playing tag, and when they saw her, they cheered, ran to her, and clung to her waist. “Hala, young ones,” she chuckled. “Hala! What did you bring us this time?” a boy asked, peering up at her with crooked eyes. “Hopefully, enough valuables to bring in more delicious sweets,” she said, scuffing his hair. They cheered joyously and ran off, careless of their deformities and illnesses. “This is yer first spotting in what? Five months?” Dean picked up the troublesome topic, and Mageia gave an irritable sigh. “What happened?” “I’ll give my report during the meeting,” she said. She continued across the Pit into a smaller trail leading to more huts. The biggest one sat towards the end, almost shaped like a cottage, with a window and a door made of wood planks. This one belonged to her. “This is terrible, Geia,” he said, hand clawing into his hair. “Yer the Chief of the Lost Ones. Yer the role model fer everyone.” “I know, Dean,” she grumbled, untying the sack of stolen items from her waist and plopping it into his hands. “Yuh don’t act like it,” he said, eyes wide and firm. Her best friend in the entire world had lost his sense of humor. She knew why but facing the truth would bring the waterfalls. "But I'm fine, Dean. I escaped the temple grounds with my head still on my shoulders." His angry face flushed red, and the muscles in his arms flexed. The treetops surrounding them began to flutter in a sudden breeze causing the hairs along her arms to stand. Here comes the lecture. “Yeah, thank Hamino yer head is still there,” he shouted which only strengthened his accent. “I told yuh the oth’r day y’shouldn’t be a collect’r. Yuh have purple eyes, and there’s not much yuh can do to conceal ‘em. If yuh get caught, what’re we supposed to do? It’s too risky for yuh to be out there, but you insist. There’re other things you can do ‘round here, like huntin’ or teachin’ combat to the children.” “But you know staying within this forest will drive me insane.” She looked at the ground and tapped her boot into the stones. Guilt and regret washed their way into her soul. “Slipping through the cities is where I feel free.” “Yer not a slave, yer not in the Dungeons or the Runes with shackles on yer wrists and feet and men barkin’ crap at yuh. You are free, Geia!” He then turned towards the fluttering trees and shouted, “We are free!” “Dean!” She sighed and scrunched up her nose. He was right. It did feel good to steal from the heartless Fairs, but she had a family. They had a family. One they created over their nine years of scavenging the cities to survive. He was her strength when hers failed, and vice versa, and she knew he cared a million moons for her. He jabbed a finger in her face, and she slapped it away. “The cities call yuh the Purple Thief because yuh stand out.” “I’m quick on my feet—” “It doesn’t matter when the archers pop from the ground,” he said, gesturing with his hands. “Dean!” “Don’t be ungrateful. Yuh have a family here that loves yuh. I love you,” he said, poking himself in the chest. The back of her throat stung, so she sucked in the fresh air to clear it up. She grabbed onto his shoulders and peered into his face. His stern green eyes, like the fresh grass of spring, wavered with hurt and disappointment. She never wanted to make him upset or worried. “Dean. I hear you. I am so sorry. It was an accident.” “I cannot lose yuh, Geia.” She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him in for a hug. His embrace about her waist tightened, and she breathed the scent of leaves on his skin. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. Dean sighed as the breeze around them dwindled. “Yeah, yeah. Now let me go. I need to return to me post.” Mageia laughed and shoved him away. He indicated the sack in his hand. His cheeks deepened pink, and his chest puffed up. “I’ll take these to the collection basket,” he said. “I’m going to freshen up and do my rounds of the perimeter,” she said, backing up to the door. “I’ll let yuh know when everyone’s back for the meeting,” Dean said, eyes jumping from the ground to her face. “Okay.” “Okay,” he repeated and turned away, stiff and awkward. He walked away, scratching the back of his neck. Mageia wished she could give Dean the world. He deserved it. Everyone in her family deserved more than sleeping in huts and depending on stolen valuables for food and necessities. But the world they lived in was unfair. And any Strange in the kingdom would die to have the freedom they had. Heart now burdened with reality, she entered her hut, scented with bundles of lavender tied to the walls. The beautiful purple flowers not only reminded her of her eyes, but they were her mother's favorite. It comforted her soul to believe her mother watched over her from the Serene. She changed into a fresh clean tunic and allowed the breeze from the window to cool her dark-brown skin as she peered at her reflection in a mirror with copper trims. Stolen, of course. She fixed her long tight curls into a ponytail, only to allow her fingers to slide down the back of her neck to her birthmark. Plumpy and in the shape of an elongated hexagon with a small dot in the center, the birthmark could be mistaken as a branding by hot iron, but her parents told her she was born with it. Sometimes, she found it hard to believe and figured her parents didn't want to openly admit they branded their baby. Though they made her promise not to show or tell anyone, they never got the opportunity to give their reasons and the truth. It did bother her at one point, but now it was just a reminder of where she never wanted to end up again. Caged. She double-checked her short sword at her waist and left to check on the outer perimeters of her home. ~*~*~ Every Lost One was at the Pit except two of their Elders, Liivel and Faebrin, who were patrolling the entry gate. Eighteen children under thirteen sat amongst the other ten teen Elders, waiting to discuss the day. Finger foods and fruit juice were passed around as Mageia took her seat at the head of the circle beside Dean. “Okay, everyone!” she said, getting their attention. “From our collectors, please tell me if you’ve been spotted for the record.” “I,” said Sissi, a 12-year-old collector with some defected fingers joined into one. “How did that happen, fer the record?” Dean said, writing in the record book. Her cheeks flushed red with embarrassment. “A woman saw me digging into a lady’s purse in the Olesha Marketplace.” “Okay. Learn from your mistake,” Mageia said in a kind yet firm tone. “I will. I thank Hamino I was not caught,” the girl said, bobbing her head. “Blessed be,” everyone said in unison to the god most people in Ardania denied. Mageia nodded. “I, too, was spotted.” This made a few eyebrows rise, shocked at the most experienced one in the family. She had no excuse except the fact that she let the proceedings on the dais distract her. “I was caught by the very person I was picketing. I will learn from that mistake and thank Hamino I was not caught.” “Blessed be,” everyone mumbled this time. “If that’s all, what say to the hunting crew?” Mageia said. Their family’s main five hunters wearing camouflaged colors to blend with nature, handed over their small record book to Dean. Jaice, their 16-year-old leader, stood with a pleased smile, shameless of her dry bald head unable to produce hair. “We were able to catch two rabbits and two big fishes from the lake.” “Very good, Jaice. Our cooking crew will make sure we dine well tonight. Nanthe tu,” Mageia said with an appreciative nod. “By the sound of things, everything is going well. All thanks to the magnificent god above.” “Blessed be,” everyone said. “As we all know, today’s many executions will continue towards tonight, bringing in Ardania’s Annual Fair Ceremony.” This brought a few groans, for this long-winded ceremony only reminded the Strange about their misfortunes and forced Fairs to treat them with phony smiles and showers of unnecessary kindness. The ceremony was always held in the second month of the year when spring revealed her beautiful blossoms and comforting weather. For three midnights, six Strange from all crosses of life are sacrificed at the Diviine Temple for the kingdom’s atonement. Of all the holidays Ardania observed, this one revealed the darkest side of the kingdom. “I know. I know. Like the years before, we will get through this. What we’ve gathered and hunted will be rationed until next week after the festivals. To honor those being sacrificed, no one will leave the encampment to enjoy the cruel festivities. No one will leave unless it’s for an important reason,” Mageia said as she caught eyes with Dean and felt a lump in her throat. “We will honor Holy Hamino instead.…” “The god of that rebel group?” Dean whispered. “Are yuh sure about that Geia? We shouldn’t serve any of the gods. None seem to care about what’s happenin’ in Ardania.” He had a good point. The Diviine Six only wanted Strange blood and there hasn’t been any proof of existence from the ancient god of the rebels. But her parents did secretly worship him though… She sighed. “Well, then, we can honor the innocent souls of the Strange who have died this year. I want everyone to find something they treasure or value the most, and we’ll sacrifice it into the flames of the Pit tomorrow at midnight.” A deathly silence fell upon the encampment. Only the breeze rustling the tree branches acknowledged its presence. “May their souls rest peacefully in the Serene,” Jaice said, eyes watering with sorrow. Mageia fumbled with her fingers, the knot in her throat extending to her wet eyelids. A gentle hand touched her arm, and she looked up at Dean, whose eyes were dark and determined. Then as the saint he was, he took over the meeting. "We will double security and keep our noise low to avoid attracting wanderers for the next few days. If yuh have any questions, little ones, feel free to ask any Elder. If that would be all, the Elders will go through the collection for today and have our meetin'." “I have something to say,” Gavin said. The Strange boy glanced at them with sorrow and uncertainty. “What is it, Gavin?” Mageia said. “I saw children being led into the Taefo.” Murmurings and gasps arose, and a new tension swarmed in and stiffened Mageia’s spine. Dean’s eyes darkened with anger. “This talk is not fer young ears, Gavin!” Mageia’s heart fluttered and sunk into her gut, despite the boy’s stupidity. “I asked around and—” Gavin tried to continue. “Yuh what?” Dean yelled. Mageia grabbed and squeezed her best friend’s clenched fist. “They said the High Priest had some damn dream from the gods claiming they want the defected blood of children or something evil of the sort. They plan to sacrifice them at midnight to bring in the Sacred Day." Gasps and weeping erupted amongst the group. Mageia’s breath shortened as she soaked in the twenty-five faces of her family. “Dean, they stopped sacrificing children three years ago,” Mageia said, remembering her joyous prayers to the gods for touching the king’s heart to change that law. She then saw herself again standing on the dais of the Diviine Temple, but this time the executioner’s dagger lured closer to her little wrists bound to a stake. “Dean …,” she said, squeezing his fist. “We have to save them.”
CHAPTER 2 TRUTHS AND PROMISES Once they had dismissed the children to the supervision of their best sitters, the ten Elders joined to continue the dark topic at the Pit. “Gavin, yuh should've come to Geia or me instead of sayin' it in front of the children," Dean said in fury. “I know. I’m sorry, but it bothered me, and it couldn’t wait ‘til after the meeting,” Gavin said, anxiously rubbing the side of his neck where the Markers had given him the Crescent Mark as a child for his defect. “Dean, we have to do something,” Mageia said. “What do yuh suggest we do, huh? Rescue them?” he questioned, widening his eyes at her as if she’d lost her mind. “Yes,” she said, hands clenched at her sides. “Children are supposed to live and enjoy life. Not be dehumanized and die in front of reckless fools who enjoy the sight of blood. I know how that feels, remember?” “Geia …” Dean said, shifting his feet and giving an irritated sigh. “I agree with Geia,” Jaice said, loud and quick. “We have rescued many children over the years.” “Yes, but the Taefo is the hardest,” Dean said. “We managed to rescue three children—three from there long ago—” he jabbed three fingers in the air, “—Esan, Esa, and Jayta, may she rest in peace.” Mageia swallowed hard to restrain the grief from losing 10-year-old Jayta to her blood disease two years ago. She was surrounded by family when she passed peacefully into the Hall of Souls. “And we still cannot thank you both enough,” 17-year-old Esan said, rubbing his twin sister’s back. They both shared a similar sunken face due to their heads mashing in the womb. “Rescuing someone from the Taefo—let alone a group—is risky,” Dean said. “But it’s possible,” Mageia said, ignoring him. Dean approached her, grabbed her by the arms, and peered into her face. “Geia. Remember the countless times tryin’ to rescue children from there? They all failed. They all ended up being recaptured and facin’ the slice either way.” “But we were children then. We are grown now,” she said, breaking free from him to look at the teens. “We have trained our entire lives to scout orphanages, slave holds, temples, and infirmaries, learning and studying how to maneuver with stealth. For goodness' sake, we've picked too many crowds to keep count. Why not scope the Taefo with the daylight we have left and see if it's even possible to do a rescue?" “The Taefo has expanded since our last attempt,” Dean said. “It has expanded, but I cannot say so for the security and the staff,” Gavin inputted. “How many children did you see?” Mageia asked. “At least three little ones bounded by chains,” he replied. “Did yuh hear how many children they already have inside?” Dean interrogated in pure annoyance. “No, but I can find out,” he said. Dean shook his head. “No. I don’t want yuh going back there.” “But the patrollers are familiar with me. They think I’m some Strange with family inside,” he said. “He’s right, Dean. Gavin’s been keeping an eye on the place, so he’d know what to look for,” Mageia said. “I promise to be careful,” Gavin said with an assuring nod. Dean flexed his jaw from side to side and placed his hands on his waist. "We should vote.” Mageia sucked her teeth, hating the need to vote. Am I not the Chief? She wanted to say. “Hands raised for those who think this rescue is a good idea,” Dean said. “We don’t even have Faebrin and Liivel here,” Mageia said. “Still, raise yer hands,” Dean said. Seven of the eight before them raised their hands, receiving a scoff from her young redheaded friend. He did not need to ask the opposing question. Dean huffed. “Fine, but let’s plan some of it now,” he said, glaring at Mageia, who gave him a guilty but appreciative smile. ~*~*~ The evening sun hung like a golden flame in the sky when they finished planning. Everyone dispersed to do their given tasks, hearts and minds set on doing what was right. Rescuing children was always the priority of the Lost Ones, especially before the Fair Laws prohibited executions of children three years ago. Some unease settled in her gut at the odd decision of the Priesthood and the Crown to defy the Laws. And the fact that they kept this a secret until now only boiled her blood with fury. Did the High Priest really have a dream from the Diviines? She packed the valuables necessary for a fair trade with a good friend and prepared to leave. She headed westward back into the Old Forest to an abandoned well. A heart-wrenching screech within the treetops brought her slamming into a tree trunk. She pressed her back against it, eyes scanning above for the dark predator. Cravers. The bloody bat-like creatures, the size of three men, could pick up a person like a pillow and fly them away to their nest for a meal. They were dangerous, sneaky, and swift like a thief. Unable to see the mystical creature that had found its way from the deeper east side of the Dauntless, she quickly ran the rest of the way to the well. She climbed in and continued into the underground of the Old Forest and the Hillside. Under Ardania were old tunnels and sewers forgotten by officials but known by anyone who wished to get around without raising suspicion. Mageia went her normal route that took no more than two hours in and through Midlaan, waving buzzing flies from her face and scrunching her nose at scurrying rats and the putrid stench. She ascended from a grate in a lone alley hidden by stacks of crates and crossed into an adjoined alley behind Grinner Street known for its many rows of fooderies and handmade accessory shops. Before long, she slipped into the back door of a bakery, triggering the bell above. For a minute, she sucked in the marvelous smells of pastries, bread, jams, and chocolates, causing her mouth to water and a smile to sweep across her face. She passed the steamy hot kitchens and went to one of three rows of tables, placing her bag down. Her hungry eyes eyed the many trays of food steaming hot from the ovens. Quickly, she washed her hands in the water pump's basin and plucked one into her mouth. She moaned with delight as the sweet cream oozed down her throat. “You could’ve greeted first, Mageia,” a young, cheery voice said. A boy exited from the door to the kitchens. “Forgive me, little Zane,” she grinned at the boy wearing an apron greased and stained with work. “I’m not a little boy anymore,” he said, crossing his puffed-out chest. “Papa said I’m a man now.” “Oh? I must’ve missed the new law stating how ten-year-olds are adults now.” The boy made a silly face at her as a bellowing laugh erupted about the room. “Look who we have here,” the owner said, entering from the dining area, now busy with customers. He turned and locked the door before approaching. “Hala, Ser Trekon,” she said with a slight bow. "Don't be chivalrous; come and give me a hug," he said, and she did, unable to stop sniffing in his buttery scent. “You’ve been at it again,” Trekon said, waving an accusing chubby finger in her face. “What’re you talking about?” “The Purple Thief was at the Rimly Temple again. I was petrified,” he said in a squeaky voice, mocking a proper woman he must’ve overheard. His son laughed aloud, promising to sound exactly like his father in the future. “It was hectic but necessary, Trek,” she said, plopping into a chair and eyeing a row of buttered biscuits. “And dangerous. You do know you needn’t steal when you have me to assist.” The baker and a former Royal Knight Escort stood at least six and a half feet tall like his Giant-Folk ancestors, the Ardeans. He plopped into an armchair big enough to hold his massive form and stroked his trimmed beard. “You have a family to care for. I don’t want you caring for another,” she said. “You should still reconsider this stealing lifestyle,” Trek said. “You teen Elders are getting old enough to work small jobs that won’t ask too many questions. And like I said, I can help you and your family more.” Mageia frowned and pursed her lips to restrain her frustration and annoyance over this topic. Trekon frowned too and gestured to his son. “Zane. Go help your mother.” The boy’s shoulders drooped along with his face. “Yes, papa.” Once the door shut behind the boy, Trekon leaned forward on the chair’s arms. "When my daughter and that lug of a husband she has need me, I pitch in, do I not?" “Yes, Trek …” “And when this handsome lad grows into a fine young man and has his own family, I will continue to pitch in, will I not?” “You would.” “And when a good man made me promise to take care of his family if anything happened to him, was I supposed to say no?” Mageia rubbed her lumpy birthmark. She remembered sitting on her stepfather's lap, wrapping her arms around his neck, drenched in sweat from wearing his armor for many hours. The image of his smiling face still weaved its way into her thoughts. She was seven when he was assassinated, and though they were not blood-related, she loved and missed him, nonetheless. Even after his death, she remembered how her mom continued to hide her from the world, fearful that one day she’d be taken and executed for her purple eyes. Sadly, that did not last long. “No,” she said. “It’s strange how much he cared for us—for me—since he wasn’t my father. I feel I still know nothing about him except he was just a knight.” “Not just a knight, my girl. He was Ser Leon Holt, Commander of the King’s Army,” he said in admiration. “An admirable man, he was, and the only one with a heart compared to those in his company. Don’t forget, Mageia, how he somehow pleased King Thadd enough to persuade him to welcome refugees fleeing Gorana during the Gold Madness with open arms. He even made sure they were kept excluded from the Fair Laws for four years until they decided whether to leave or stay. Without his good heart, you and your mother wouldn’t have made it.” “Yes, I know the story all too well, Trekon,” Mageia said with a smirk. “He fell in love with her beauty despite the fact she was pregnant with me and took us into his home.” “And he didn’t turn you in when you popped out with purple eyes,” Trekon reminded her. “No. He married that fierce mother of yours and helped keep you a secret for a very long time. I swear, Leon was a great man and a better commander than the one we have now. Our friendship only grew over stuffing our bellies in the kitchens. So, he asked me to step in and take care of the family no one knew he had, and I shall keep my promise.” “If you two were so close, even with my mother, why can I not use my surname of my father’s?” Trekon sighed and shrugged. “Look, Mageia. Whatever Leon and Valasia were up to, no doubt it had something to do with your eyes. So, whatever truths and promises they endorsed in you, I refuse to hear any of it.” He held up a hand to silence her, seeing her mouth open to speak. “I only want to do what’s right and care for you and your family. I don’t want to know anything. The less I know, the safer we are under this roof.” “Trekon, you are a good man.” “A good man who’s about to lend a favor. You know, you’re only supposed to pass by any time after nightfall.” “I know, Trekon. I really need your help.” “I knew it.” He smirked. She smiled ear to ear. “I brought something to trade for your assistance.” “Mhmm. Jewelry?” Mageia bobbed her head. “Only the finest timepieces and bracelets for your lovely wife, Lady Lisa, to sell.” “Gods, help me; she’s going to be up all night going through it all,” he said, eyeing the sack she revealed and placed on the table. He then grunted. “What is it you want?” “We heard the priests are sacrificing children tonight.” “Damn, you heard,” he grumbled, rubbing his beard. “Please tell me you’re not thinking about—” “A rescue? Of course.” “Mageia …” he started and leaned back into his chair. "They do not deserve to die, Trek. The king is breaking the law he passed three years ago about executing children. If the Crown offered free monthly Checkings and lowered treatment costs, it could make a huge difference for people being marked Strange at a young age. They could rid the idea that you can become Strange just because of an unexpected injury. We wouldn't have so many slaves and don't forget the poorest of us all working in the Runes, mining for emeralds they would never get to wear in their entire lifetime. Trekon, I need to do this. Those children do not need to stand on the dais like some performance." “Mageia. You cannot save them all,” he said, voice heavy with sorrow. “What if it was Zane?” "Don't do that, Geia," he said, averting his eyes to the wedding ring he knowingly twisted around his finger. “I’m sorry, but it’s true. You can be Fair one day and Strange the next, all because of a stupid prophecy, cruel laws, and the Crown filling their pockets with peeks they surely do not need.” “You sound like your parents,” Trekon said, falling deep into memories. “Then help me. Help them.” The man's wide chest expanded and deflated as he pondered the danger he could put his family in. Mageia hated doing this to him, but what she needed him to do was simple, and no one would bat an eye about it. “Diviines help us all. What do you need me to do?” ~*~*~ With Trek’s part in motion, a satisfying, warm feeling grew in her gut, erasing threatening doubt as she made her way home. Once she and the Elders regathered to review their plan, she believed everything would play out well. Ardania was like an old man stuck in his old ways and traditions, never willing to change. The Taefo never had great security, and the building’s back end along the Mideri Wall always provided a sneaky way to get inside. If whatever Gavin had noticed during his scouting was accurate, Mageia knew no one would decide to change it if they had no reason to do so. She reentered her home through one of their secret northern entrances and ran into two children playing near the barrier. After scolding them, they apologized and promised never to go past the barrier again and followed her back home. “Geia, about time yer back,” Dean said. She approached the Elders standing around the Pit, now fully lit and casting a burnt orange light onto their worried faces. Her smile dropped into her churning gut. “What’s wrong?” she asked, searching the fury on Dean’s face. “We have a problem.” He stepped aside to reveal Gavin. Gavin looked petrified as if he had just found out the world was coming to an end within the next hour. “What is it, Gavin?” “They are breaking more traditions and claim it’s been accepted by the gods.” Mageia gasped as she recalled her conversation with Lisa. “What more are they breaking?” Gavin shifted his feet, shoulders tensed, and his brown eyes reflected the orange embers of the firepit. “They’ve decided to give two children per god.” His words struck her hard as she did the math. “Twelve children!”
CHAPTER 3 THE RESCUE “The rescue is canceled,” Dean firmly said. “I agree. The risk is higher with twelve children,” Jaice said as she wiped away tears. “No. We can’t give up,” Mageia urged. They all stared at her with eyes screaming at how crazy and foolish she sounded. “Are yuh some god we don’t know about?” Dean taunted. “Because I’d love to hear yer ideal plan on stealing twelve children from a building built to keep people in.” “We have a few hours left.” Her heart began to pound against her ribcage. “And Trek has already done his part.” “No,” Dean said harshly. Mageia stood her ground. “No. Gavin, did you sketch out the new Taefo?” “I did. I did. Plus, I scaled the forest side a few times again.” He glanced at Dean guiltily. “Good. Let’s look over it and readjust the rescue plan.” “You’ve gone mad,” Dean said, eyes blinking at her as if trying to see if she was herself. She glared at the boy, hating his constant need to belittle her authority and mentality in front of the others. “Dean. We need to talk. In private. Now!” She ordered and stormed to her hut without looking back. She paced the grass, wishing to punch something or someone. When Dean stepped into the clearing, she lashed at the boy. “What happened to you, Dean?” “What’re yuh talking about?” “You used to be on fire for these rescues and defying the impossible, but now … now you just make me look stupid in front of everyone.” Dean flexed his jaw and gave a long sigh. “I’ve grown wiser, I assume.” Mageia gawked in disbelief. “And I haven’t?” “It’s not like that.” “What? Did you lose your heart along the way?” “That’s not fair, Geia.” He shook his head. “I don’t want to risk the family we have now.” “So, you’re just going to allow those twelve children to die?” “What if they’re so sick that they aren’t transportable? What then? We don’t have twelve backs to carry ‘em out,” he pointed out, and when she had no decent response, he continued. “I doubt the gods would be pleased to leave them behind while we take the others.” “We will have to change it,” she said. “I believe in my heart that everything will be fine if we plan well. Dean, we must encourage others to be brave and, yes, be smart about it, but also willing to risk their own life to save another. To at least try to save another. I know we cannot save every Strange in the damn kingdom, but there is this feeling deep in my soul telling me we shouldn’t turn our backs on these children.” For a minute, her best friend stared at her until his hardened expression softened. He tsked a few times in his internal struggle to stay reasonable. “Dean, we have to do this. We have to at least try. They’re only children,” Mageia pleaded. Dean tsked again and combed a frustrated hand through his auburn hair. His cheeks darkened, and he shook his head. “Geia, I don’t think this is a good idea, but—,” he sighed, “I hate it when yuh do this.” “Do what?” “Mention yer heart and soul.” He rubbed the back of his neck, something she knew he'd do whenever he felt nervous or anxious. “Yuh know I love yuh, right?” “Yes.” She didn’t know why he’d mention this right now. An unusual awkwardness arose between them as he continued to stare at her. Heat rose in her cheeks and her bottom lip slipped between her teeth. She swayed on her heels and folded her arms, which calmed her anger, frustration, and awkwardness. She loved Dean a lot and hated whenever they'd argue, but they both were strangely stubborn in their ways. “And I’d do anything fer yuh,” he continued, still rubbing his neck, now just as red as his face. “Yes, I know you would, Dean, and same here,” she said. She waited patiently for Dean to ponder the rescue and the new risks since there were now twelve children instead of six. His green eyes finally dropped from her face, followed by a few tongue clicks and sighs. “Alright,” he resigned, voice low and fragile. He sharply inhaled. “We’re going to do this rescue. And when we’ve succeeded, we’re leaving this forsaken kingdom once and fer all.” Mageia beamed and nodded. “That sounds good to me.” “May those above bless us and be on our side fer once,” he said and gave a mischievous smirk. ~*~*~ Their rescue group of seven wandered through the tunnels, listening to the rise of celebration above in Strana. Nightfall arrived an hour ago, and they knew time would speed up in their dire need to be ahead of it. “Okay. Let us pray that Junet did what Trek instructed. We will work swiftly and silently,” Mageia instructed. “Dean, Gavin, and Esan, you’re with me.” They ascended to the ground on the west side of Strana, within a dark alley perched behind a line of stores and the high scale of the Mideri Wall in the distance. To their relief, no one was around, and by the sound of voices and music, the celebration lay further down the street, promising to extend within the hour. With stealth, they passed three stores to Junet's carpentry shop. The smell of wood hung strong in the air and no lights were on upstairs. Piled neatly around the back of the store's cutter stations were wood scraps and barrels of wood shavings. They scanned the area for the two planks supposedly placed for Trekon to pick up, but they were nowhere to be found. “Fut,” Dean cursed on the other side. “Can we still do it without the planks?” Esan asked, readjusting his eyepatch. “No. We have to go with plan B,” Mageia said, already hating the thought of it. The back door popped open with the sound of scraping wood on wood. Interior light flooded parts of the alley. Immediately, they all scattered for the shade of darkness, feet light on the ground and hearts racing wildly. Mageia and Esan ran to the side of the shop and slammed against the wall while Dean and Gavin dropped behind a cutter machine, slowly easing backward to the other side of the shop. Junet, the carpenter, mumbled annoyingly as he carried two long planks from his shop. Mageia glanced around the corner and quickly snapped back after seeing him approach. She felt the hilt of her dagger and prayed she didn't need to use it. The man continued muttering his disapproval of his present task and propped the planks against the wall. A part of the planks edged outward into the intersection, threatening to expose their hideout, but Junet gave up on making things look tidy. He grunted and stomped back inside. “That was close,” Esan whispered. Mageia couldn’t respond due to the knot in her throat. She gestured for him to follow. With swiftness, in case Junet returned, they hauled the planks back to the grate down the alley and lowered them to Faebrin, Jaice, and Esa waiting below. They followed a specific route, leading to wet cave walls and streams of water. They rose from an abandoned well in a small section of the Napan Forest. Mageia knew that during the day, this specific forest on the west side of Ardania was always busy with berry-pickers, guards, and soldiers. Despite the well’s untended presence, people knew about it, and she thanked the gods no young people had decided to use it as a hangout spot for the nightly festivities. "I can smell the Lower River," Jaice said pleasantly. Indeed, they all could smell the freshwater of the lower region of the Ardanian River three to four miles away. If only they could go to it and enjoy its beauty and coolness for a while, but they had an important mission to complete. “Focus, you guys.” Dean pointed ahead. “There it is. The Taefo.” About a mile away sat the five-level castle, built with brick stones black as coal and a partially flattened roof with seven pointed chimneys. Smoke puffed from three chimneys, adding to the building's dark and gloomy appearance. It sat at the end of the Mideri Wall, however, on the Midlaan side. Its west wing partly disappeared into the woods, with trees that grew to the height of its roof. “Okay,” Mageia began, “Gavin, you said they’re keeping them in the children’s quarters, right?” “Yes,” he responded. “Thank the gods they did not decide to relocate the room after the amended law, or this plan would not work,” Mageia said. “It’s the same room we were put in.” Esa glanced at her brother. “I can only assume they closed that way of entry and exit after your rescues,” Dean said. “So, we will try plan A. If anything goes wrong, yuh know what to do.” They all nodded. “Let’s go,” Dean said. They approached the Mideri Wall looming behind the Taefo and followed it towards the river. No patrollers were around, to Mageia's surprise. For a place to harbor sacred Strange for the ceremonial sacrifices, one would think it'd have better security. They stopped at a large drain tunnel that ran through the Wall and into an abandoned sewage system sealed years ago. Yet, after excavating around that time, she and Dean had figured out a way to enter the Taefo, which would be their Plan B. They climbed on top of the drain and stayed low as they walked along it. Slowly, it transitioned into a steep hillside meeting the lowest part of the Mideri Wall canopied by treetops. Dean gave a quick wave. They froze and knelt low to the ground as a patroller walked by. Thankfully, he was walking in the opposite direction towards his post, perched at an awkward turn of the Wall. By the time he would reach his post and sit down for a break, they would have at least an hour before he returned. “Move quickly,” Dean whispered. With Gavin, Dean carefully climbed the remaining portion of the Wall and disappeared over the rail. Then the remaining five passed up the two planks and quickly joined them. Staying low, they crossed the Wall covered in fallen leaves to the other stone rail, where Mageia and Dean began their task. They climbed onto the railing, and Mageia's heart skipped from the far drop to the ground between the Taefo and the Wall. Mageia ignored it and helped Dean slide one plank at a time to the roof's edge. Then they secured their side of the plank by nudging them together between the raised pillars of the rail once used by the authorities for their gangway. “Yuh ready?” Dean asked, alerting her that she was up next. She nodded. Dean gestured to the two rolls of rope around Faebrin's torso. One, they quickly tied its end around her waist while Gavin tied the other end around one of the pillars. The second one, Mageia, took and hung it from a shoulder. After one quick scan around, she was cleared to go, she stood to her full height. She took calm, steady breaths, and took small steps across the joined planks. They creaked under her weight, but she trusted Trekon had bought the strongest wooden planks from Junet. The other side of the planks began to slip a bit, so she quickened her pace and relied on her excellent balancing skills. Within a minute, she climbed over the railing of the Taefo’s roof. She wiped the beads of sweat off her brow before fixing the planks and securing them down with the thinner rope to the forgotten hooks embedded in the floor. She flashed her ducking friends an okay gesture, then began securing the rope around her waist to a nearby pole of an abandoned clothing rack. Then Dean, Gavin, and Esan safely crossed the planks by holding on to the rope while Jaice, Esa, and Faebrin remained on the Wall to receive the children. They hurried across the roof towards the abandoned laundry chute sitting beside the tall chimney head releasing dark smoke into the air. They froze dead in their tracks, and ice slithered through Mageia's veins. The door to the chute possessed a huge black lock to prevent anyone from entering or exiting. “Fut,” Dean cursed. “How’re we supposed to get that off?” Mageia and Gavin searched the roof, feeling their time beginning to dwindle and the fact that, at any minute, anyone could appear. Then she spotted a pile of stone bricks a few paces away. “There. Let’s use one of those to break it,” she said. “It will be loud,” Dean argued. “Then we have to be quick about it.” She scurried across the ground towards the pile. She grabbed two and returned to the laundry chute. Dean snatched one of the stone bricks from her hand and gave her a harsh, disappointed look. She swallowed hard, praying this would work, and turned to scan the perimeter with Gavin. Dean stood tall, repositioned the stone over the lock, and went for it. He slammed the brick against the lock, and its clank echoed across the roof and the air before dying away. They froze and waited for a response, but none came. So, Dean did it three more times with as much force as he could muster before the old lock popped off. “Great job, Dean,” Gavin praised, beaming with joy. “Let’s keep movin’. We’re already fifteen minutes in,” Dean said, pulling the door up. Its creaking sound sent chills up Mageia’s spine, but like her two friends, she remained calm. They peered down into the dark chute and noticed the chute’s iron ladder was broken and partly gone, as expected. “Ladder,” Mageia said. Gavin took off the rope ladder he wore across his torso. They dropped it into the chute, hoping it would be long enough, and secured it. Mageia silently prayed as she descended the narrow chute first, sweat dribbling into her eyes and her arms sticky with nerves. Dean followed suit, but Gavin stayed at the top. Time was of the essence as she passed the fifth floor’s chute door and halted at the fourth floor’s door. To her relief, it possessed no lock. She placed an ear to the door, listening intently through the Taefo’s ruckus prisoners, and heard childish whimpering. She recalled information she had heard over the years about how the Taefo had begun to slack when it came to having watchmen in the rooms for the most important condemned. They’d rather stand in the hall to mingle with their comrades instead of babysitting grown people. So, Mageia prayed it would be the same for the children. She placed a foot on the chute's ledge, holding the rope ladder for dear life, grabbed the latch, and pushed her weight into it. It made a tiny creak that echoed through the chute, so she froze, waiting for a response. Hearing nothing, she creaked it open with great caution and peeked inside. The room possessed no windows, like some of the other quarters in the Taefo. Only two wall lamps were lit, and a small fire flickered in the fireplace, casting the room into a gloomy darkness. She allowed her eyes to adjust to the lighting and noticed her creaky entry had caught the attention of three nearby children. One, a boy no older than ten, perked up from his bed and pointed at something behind the chute’s door. Mageia froze and prepared herself for an inevitable fight. When nothing stirred after a minute, she glanced at the boy again. He slowly began to slip from the bed. Whatever he had pointed out, it had to have been a person. A dog would’ve already awoken and alerted everyone with its constant barking. She readjusted her footing and held onto the chute’s frame to continue climbing into the quarters. With a hand resting on the hilt of the dagger clipped to her belt, she peeked behind the door, trying to keep it from creaking. A gray-haired guard, wrapped in a thick cloak, sat beside the lit fireplace. His head hung back against the wall, his mouth wide open. His soft snores mingled with the shouting chaos of the prisoners outside of the room. By this time, the rest of the children were now aware of her presence and sat perfectly still in their beds as she tiptoed toward the guard. She gestured to Dean, now climbing inside, and he quickly got into action. The guard must’ve felt their presence because he choked awake. He only had a moment to gasp before Dean punched him straight between the eyes. He caught the guard before he slumped over to the floor and repositioned him in the chair. Dean gave her a quick smirk and stretched out his aching hand. Then they turned to the children, who were unable to sleep in their ordeal, faces crusted from hours of nonstop crying. Mageia knew a few hours from now, guards would enter with basins of water and sacred robes for the children to change into. With the level of celebration rising outside the front gates of the Taefo, a decision could be made to prepare the children earlier. They had to move fast. “Are you here to save us?” the little boy whispered, getting out of his bed. “Yes,” she said. “I need you to gather everyone, silently.” The sorrow in the boy’s eyes quickly lit in strong determination. He went to each child, all of them under the age of ten, with various ailments and deformities. Mageia thanked Hamino, seeing no one was sick to the point she’d have to leave them behind. They ushered the children to the laundry chute and, one at a time, they climbed up to the roof. One of the smaller ones had a very bad leg that curled inward. Leaving his crutch behind, the brave boy offered to carry him on his back. The rescue went quickly and smoothly to her liking, but the hairs along her arms sat on ends. Any sudden sound could have a guard enter within seconds. With soft feet, Mageia went to block the door with a chest of bed linens and toiletries. Beyond the only exit in the room was the muffled sound of men talking and laughing down the hall amidst the wails of the condemned. A slight whimper arose to her far left within the darkness, and she froze. Sitting in the corner of the room was a wooden crib. That’s when she realized she had counted only eleven children when it was supposed to be twelve. God above, she thought, approaching the crib. Lying asleep inside was a baby girl. The structure of her skull was unnaturally squeezed, a defect that automatically marked her for a mercy death. She waved Dean over and he glanced inside. “Great god. We can’t take her.” “But she’s a baby.” “Ay. A baby that cries. Plus, look at her skull. She has to have some type of brain damage.” “So, what?” Mageia’s eyes watered as she stared at the beautiful baby, whom the Fairs would’ve called ugly and unworthy to take care of. Didn’t this baby have a right to live, to grow, and to die free? She shook her head and carefully wrapped the baby from head to toe with the blanket she lay on. “I can’t leave her.” “Damn, Geia, she’s going to weigh us down.” “Just make sure everyone else gets out, okay?” She picked up the baby, and she stirred for a second. Her heart skipped. When she stilled, Dean helped to tie her securely around Mageia’s torso. Dean went to the last child, a girl, eyes coated white from blindness, and placed her on his back and began to climb up. Mageia waited until Dean and the girl were out of the chute and all the children were across the planks before she ascended. As she quickened her pace, her foot slipped on the ladder, causing her body to swing and slam against the chute. The thud echoed downward. The baby stirred awake as she clutched her close, and the chute erupted in wails.