City of Stone (The Watchers Trilogy, Book Two) Read online

  Once more, my father raises up his arms to quiet the crowd. Once more they fall silent at his command.

  “We have a long journey ahead of us across the scorched earth. We will go deep into the old mountains, to the city of Petram. Some of you may have seen it before. Most of you won't. We will be safe there. We will regroup and strike back.”

  Murmurs grow again. I look at Jackson and Theo and Ellie. Our faces show that none of us know what city my father is talking about. None of us have any idea of what to expect.

  “We will camp here tonight,” Drake continues. “Tomorrow, we will begin our journey.”

  He turns to me and reaches out with his hand, beckoning me to take it. I slip my fingers into his and he coaxes me to his side. Standing on the precipice, I feel the burn of thousands of eyes looking at me.

  “This is Cyra. She is the one who saw the war coming from afar.”

  The rumbling in the crowd grows louder.

  “And....” he pauses briefly, “...she is my daughter.”

  The noise increases.

  “I have been reunited with her from across the world. All of you who have loved ones across Knight's Wall, across the regions, even on the sea cities...know that one day soon, you will be reunited too.”

  Cheers sound again. The mountainside explodes with the trumpets of hope.

  My father speaks to us quietly amid the din, turning to Jackson and Theo and Ellie.

  “Step forward,” he says.

  The others come to the front. Eyes discover them for the first time. Drake's hands rise again, and silence soon follows.

  “These young men and women are now part of the fight. They have travelled far but there is still much further to go. We welcome them to the Deadlands. We welcome them to our cause. Together, we are stronger.”

  One final time, the crowd roar in anger and hope. They look upon my father, upon Drake Drayton, like he is the Messiah reborn.

  Perhaps, in this strange new world, he is.

  After his speech, we work our way down into the valley, clambering over loose rocks and following the path down the mountainside. When we reach the people, I notice the looks on their faces. The smiles and expressions of joy at seeing Drake alive and well, the set jaws and images of suppressed fear and grief, hidden under façades of fury.

  People come forward and greet him, greet the rest of us. They shake our hands and pull us into hugs. I hear my name in mutterings, see people look at me like they're looking at something they don't understand. It reminds me of my time on Eden, of the constant feeling of eyes on me. Now, though, they look at me with awe and respect, not contempt and disgust.

  I see the others getting similar treatment, all except one. Theo walks alone, undisturbed by the crowd. None thank him, none approach him. They just look at him with distrustful eyes, whisper and glare as he passes.

  In reaction he keeps his head low and follows quietly, face sullen, eyes refusing to look to his left and right. I break free of a hug and go to his side. I take his arm and wrap it around mine. He smiles weakly as I lift my head high, coaxing him to do the same.

  “Ignore them,” I say into his ear. “They'll learn to trust you, don't worry.”

  He nods and says nothing.

  Soon, we're reaching the far end of the crowd, where a small series of large tents have been erected. I notice guards around them, dressed in battle armour and holding automatic weapons. Survivors of the battle who'd managed to escape. There aren't many of them here, but enough to offer protection to the people. And enough to ensure order is maintained.

  From the central tent, a man comes forward. He's fairly young, perhaps in his late 20's, and fitted with a ruggedness that many of the people here share; unshaven, wildly tanned, dressed in torn and tattered clothing.

  Drake's eyes meet his, and they come together in an embrace.

  “Markus, I'm so glad you made it out,” he says.

  “And you, sir. I was afraid you'd got lost in the tunnel.” An impish smile washes over his face, bringing a short laugh from my father's throat.

  “I've travelled it enough to know it by now, Markus.” He turns and introduces us. “Everyone, this is Markus, my trusted advisor. He knows these lands like the back of his hand. Nothing goes on in the Deadlands without him knowing about it.”

  “Sir, you flatter me.” Markus sends his eyes over each of us individually. “It's great to meet you all. I'm sure you will all be great assets to our cause. We have tents erected for you to stay in. The guards will help get you set up for the night.”

  I turn back to the crowd, scattered across the rocky plains, and see few tents among them. Clearly, we're to get preferential treatment.

  “What about everyone else?” I ask.

  Markus looks at me.

  “What about them?”

  “Where are their tents?”

  “Well, many weren't able to bring their tents in the rush from the city. We don't have enough for everyone.”

  “So why us?” I ask.

  Markus looks to Drake, who just smiles.

  “My daughter has a hot head, Markus. I'm sure you'll get used to it.”

  “I only want equality,” I say, feeling as if I have to defend myself.

  “With not enough tent space per person, I'm afraid equality is impossible in this instance,” says Markus. “The nights are plenty warm here. The people have extra layers of clothing that we had stored in the caves for this precise eventuality. They will be fine sleeping under the stars.”

  His words are enough to shut me up.

  Markus turns to a couple of guards and ushers them forwards.

  “Can you please help these young men and women get set up in their tents. Um, Jackson, you can stay with...Theo, is it?”

  Theo nods.

  “Cyra and...Ellie, if I'm not mistaken, you can share. Sir, the centre tent is yours,” he finishes, speaking directly at Drake.

  “Well done, Markus. Now, I think we should talk about rationing and discuss our journey. Jackson, you should join us. The rest of you should go to your tents.”

  I make a quick attempt to be included, but am told that Jackson, as acting liaison with us, will continue in that role for now. It's clear that the rest of us aren't thought to have anything to contribute.

  “Take care of Ellie,” whispers Drake, taking me to one side. He says nothing of Theo, who quickly slinks off into his tent to escape the continued attacks of glares and staring eyes.

  He kisses me on the cheek and then turns to go into his tent. Markus follows. Jackson mouths 'sleep well' with a smile before disappearing too.

  “Miss Drayton, this way,” says a guard, leading us to our tent. “We have left some food in there for you for this evening. If you need anything, we'll be right outside.”

  “Thank you,” I say, before going inside with Ellie.

  It's larger than it looks from the outside. On either side are sleeping bags lying on mats, with plenty of space in between. A small, foldable table sits to one side, fruit and packaged food on top of it. With so many people sleeping rough outside, it's a luxurious space by comparison, and one that could certainly fit more than two.

  “Can I take that one.” Ellie stares at the sleeping bag on the right forlornly. “Link would always sleep on the left, me on the right.”

  “Honey, of course. Take any one you want.”

  She ambles towards it and collapses, curling into the ball she adopts whilst sleeping and facing the canvas wall of the tent. Before I can ask her if she's hungry for food, I can hear her snoring lightly. Grief has clearly stricken her of her appetite.

  Not me though. I devour a can of cold beans with all the gentility of a starving boar, before munching on a couple of apples and a hefty portion of fairly stale bread. Regardless, it all tastes like it was prepared for a royal banquet.

  My belly full, I retreat to my sleeping bag and lock myself inside it. Having slept the last two nights on bare rock, the feel of the mat and the soft cushion of the
bag is enough to send me off into the land of nod at warp speed. My eyes close, my mind tumbles, and before I know it I've been once more consumed by the terrors that await me in my dreams.

  A city on fire. People torn apart by bullets. Buildings crumbling, crushing whatever lies beneath them. Screams of terror and fear fill my head. The sights and sounds of death and destruction etched into my mind.

  I see the two other Leaders, their bodies broken by the falling ceiling, blood spewing from their burst veins. I see young faces, faces of children, of soldiers forced into battle, lying dead all around me, strewn among rubble like they were nothing but fallen bricks. Worst of all, I see Link, his face lifeless, our former mentor Ajax kneeling by his side.

  Sick memories, still so fresh, still so real. Hovering in the back of my head, waiting to pounce when my guard is down.

  Then things turn, things change. Fresh images come to me. Things I've yet to see. Not dreams but visions of an imminent future.

  Smaller settlements in the wilderness being overrun. People being mercilessly killed in their shacks. Gunned down by the soldiers of Eden, performing the work of their master.

  Augustus Knight.

  3 - The Road to Petram

  I wake in a cold sweat. The sight of murder once more sits locked to the front of my mind. Of innocent people killed in the name of control.

  I sit up in the darkness, my breathing fast. Outside, the murmuring of voices comes to me, male voices whispering in the night. I stand and creep to the front of the tent, poking my head out of the opening. There, the two guards stationed to protect our tent sit, talking casually around a fire.

  I step out into the night air. It's mild here, milder than anything I'm used to, even back home in Agricola. The lands here, parched and dried and dead, see little respite from the scorching sun. Even at night the air feels close and humid.

  Silently, I sneak from my tent, sticking to the shadows, and move to the tent next door. I creep in before being noticed, expecting to find Drake sleeping. He isn't. He sits upright, legs crossed, apparently deep in thought.

  Without even lifting his eyes to me, he speaks.

  “Cyra, you should be sleeping.”

  I advance inside. The tent here is slightly larger than the others, yet by the looks of it is only occupied by Drake.

  “I was sleeping, dad,” I say. “I had another vision.”

  He nods and lifts his eyes to mine.

  “Tell me.”

  “Settlements, out here in the Deadlands, getting ravaged by Eden troops. Its indiscriminate. They're slaughtering people as they go, moving through the country. We have to do something...”

  “There's nothing we can do,” he cuts in. “Not for them.”

  “But...we have to. We can't let people die like this.”

  “I'm afraid this is war, Cyra. Casualties will happen. These settlements, they could be anywhere, happening at any time. All we can control is our own path, our own destiny. Do you understand?”

  His eyes look deep inside me. They beckon me to agree.

  “I...I do. I just, it's so hard...seeing all this.”

  “I know. I've been seeing death in my sleep for years. It's hard to describe the sort of horrors that have occurred out here during my time. You will get used to it, Cyra. You have to.”

  “But what if I can't?”

  “You have no choice.”

  I steel myself, and think of the final thought that I woke to: Augustus Knight, the man behind all of this. He's responsible for so much pain, so much suffering. He needs to be destroyed.

  “Knight,” I whisper, my voice almost a growl. “I'll kill him. For Link, for all those innocent people...for mum.”

  Drake rises from his perch and nears me. His aura is stricter than I recall from my childhood. He's had to grow strong in the face of everything he's been through, strong enough to lead the people across the wasteland.

  But when he reaches me, a tenderness imbues him. It spreads through his body as his arms reach forward and pull me in. His voice grows soft, and a tear of pure hatred and sorrow drifts down my cheek.

  “Your mother was a wonderful woman, Cyra. It must have been hard seeing her succumb to the virus.”

  I tighten my grip on him.

  “It was.”

  “Knight will pay for that like he'll pay for everything else.” I pull back at the depth of my father's voice, at the anger inside it. He looks down at me. “It was he who released the virus in the first place. He did it to cull the rebels, to wipe them out. And when it spread...he didn't even provide all the people in the regions with the medication to fight it.”

  I shake my head in astonishment, out of instinct. The reality, however, is that nothing astonishes me any more. There are no shocks in this world for me.

  “He began building the wall before he let the virus loose. It was all a grand plan of his, Cyra. No one is safe from his evil and corruption. We have to kill him. If we don't, the world will never change. It will only get worse.”

  “Then we will,” I say. “I'll do anything.”

  I return to my tent shortly after, leaving my father to his thoughts. Ellie remains asleep, or appears to be at least, that familiar grimace lightly spread across her face. I creep back into my sleeping bag, but have no intention of closing my eyes. So I sit, and think, and stew on the iniquity of the world, on this new war that will consume us all.

  Gradually, the light of dawn approaches, a sliver of orange slicing through the tent opening. With it comes a gentle rumble of noise; of hundreds of bodies standing and stretching as the world awakes. Ellie stirs and wakes, her haunted eyes exploring her surroundings before finding me.

  “What time is it?” she asks groggily.

  “A little past dawn,” I say. “Did you sleep OK?”

  Her answer is merely a shake of her head.

  “You hungry?” I ask.

  She considers the question before nodding.

  We eat the remaining food that was left the previous night. Mainly, I watch as Ellie eats, making sure she takes it all in. She doesn't quite gorge like she once did, but it's a start.

  Afterwards, we leave the tent together to find most people standing and preparing their things. Next to us, Drake's tent is already being taken down. On the other side, the tent occupied by Jackson and Theo is also being dismantled and packed up.

  I see Drake and Markus and Jackson in discussion to one side, sitting around a rock. Markus appears to be briefing them on something, perhaps the precise route of our onward journey. I search for Theo, but don't see him in the immediate vicinity. Then I find him, sitting alone, away from the crowd, watching as the sun continues its climb.

  “I feel sorry for him,” says Ellie, following my gaze. “Back on Eden, we were the outcasts. Now he is. We know how hard it is.”

  “But he led us here. He's turned against Eden. I don't understand why people are so suspicious of him.”

  Ellie shrugs. “I guess it's natural. I mean, I understand where they're coming from. After what these people have been through, I get it. They'll accept him eventually.”

  I know she's right. These people have been through so much, suffered so much at the hands of Eden. And here's a child of two Councillors, the authors of their pain.

  “Come on, let's go over to him,” says Ellie.

  She leads the way, and we sit either side of him on the rocky ground. He turns to each of us, one by one, and offers a weak smile.

  “Beautiful morning, isn't it?” he says with a feigned enthusiasm.

  Together, we look out at the rising sun. It looks like freedom.

  The morning passes by quickly. Soon we hear Drake's voice booming behind us, calling to the crowd to prepare to leave. We return to the makeshift camp and are provided with backpacks to carry. Food, clothing, tents and other materials are spread around the people, the burden dispersed among us all. With no vehicles, no horses or donkeys to aid us, the journey we're told will be long and arduous.

  �
�Three weeks?” I ask Jackson when he relays the information.

  “Apparently so, with this many people the pace will be slow. It's a hard trek, and we have to stay together.”

  I know there are injured among us. Those who escaped with their lives from the fighting but endured wounds along the way. The elderly, too, cannot move at pace, nor can young children.

  “It's possible we'll come across more refugees as well. The word is that other settlements are being raided. People are being driven backwards away from their homes.”

  “I know.”

  “Of course. Drake told me you had a vision last night.”

  “It's not going to stop. The vision I had last night won't have come true yet. This is only the beginning.”

  We continue on over the rocky plains, over the barren earth. It's a world unlike any I've ever seen or experienced. So lifeless, so still. On occasion we come across patches of ragged shrubbery, the odd waterhole where wild animals gather. They scatter as we approach, but we don't stop to fill our water stores. Not from here.

  Instead, we periodically reach the wells that have been dug and built across the Deadlands; lifesavers for those journeying through the wasteland. Water bottles are filled, larger containers carried by some of the stronger men are loaded, and the journey continues.

  Settlements are seen. Out here, so far from any major cities, they're small. The people are timid, but curious. They see this huge swathe of people marching across the land and they peer from their shacks and mini farms. Farms that I never knew could operate out here on the barren earth.

  Each time we find a new community, Drake and Markus approach, protected by a couple of guards. Sometimes they return with more refugees to add to the party. Sometimes they don't.

  “People are belligerent, Cyra,” Drake tells me. “They have lived here so long that they refuse to leave.”

  “But if the Eden soldiers come, they'll die.”

  “Probably, yes. But death isn't always the greatest motivator. They choose to stick it out here, and that is their choice. There's nothing we can do but invite them to join us.”

  On we go. Days pass. We trek for hours before taking short breaks. We rise at dawn and stop at sunset. Long days. Hard days. Necessary days.