War at the Wall (The Watchers Trilogy, Book Three) Read online

  “Let them through,” he says. But keep guns on them at all times.”

  A soldier rushes up to General Richter.

  “Sir, do you want more soldiers on the wall?”

  General Richter looks at the Master, then speaks.

  “Yes, Lieutenant. Line them up shoulder to shoulder. We want to show our strength.”

  The Lieutenant nods and rushes off. Moments later, another dozen men are hurrying up the steps and joining the soldiers already manning the outer wall. Weapons are raised and held to shoulders, all pointing out beyond the gate.

  The Master turns to us.

  “I want only members of the war council,” he says. “And Jackson.”

  I open my mouth to talk, but the Master cuts me off.

  “The rest of you, stay back by the gate. We don't need too many voices in this.” He glances to the rest of the senior city members with piercing eyes. “I will do the talking.”

  Then he turns back to the giant gate ahead of us and we all wait in silence. A minute passes before a soldier shouts from above once more.

  “They're coming through the passage now.”

  Guns stay poised as the sound of engines fills the air, of tyres crunching over stones and gravel. Then, the engines cut out, I hear doors open and shut, and the guns above us are cocked menacingly.

  The Lieutenant jogs up the steps to the top of the wall, takes a look, then comes back down to General Richter's side.

  “They're unarmed, sir, and have their hands raised.”

  General Richter looks towards the Master. The leader of our party nods.

  “Open the gate,” says the General.

  Slowly, the grand gate begins to open, grinding loudly as gears turn. Slowly, the sight of the small force of Eden soldiers appears ahead, hands above their heads, staring forward. I count only six, two at the front, and four standing behind.

  The Master waits for the gate to open fully before walking forward confidently. To his left and right, the members of the war council follow, along with Jackson. Drake looks to me pointedly.

  “Stay here,” he warns.

  I stand rooted to the spot alongside Ellie and Leeta.

  “It's OK Cyra,” says Leeta, “I'm sure your father or Jackson will relay everything to you after.”

  I don't answer. I just watch and try my best to hear what's going on ahead. A howling wind picks up, obscuring the voices ahead as the two parties meet. I see polite greetings and feel a burn of anger inside. If it wasn't for Knight, we could all be allies. Yet in the coming days we might well be face to face on the battlefield, shooting to kill.

  I close my fist by my side at the thought. Ellie seems to notice. She closes her own palm around it to try to soothe me.

  Several minutes pass as I try to decipher the tone of the conversation. On occasion I hear the odd word drift from ahead, but its all out of context, nothing making sense. The conversation appears to begin cordially, before turning a little more heated.

  Then, from nowhere, I see them turn to me, simultaneously. All of them, turning as one, looking at me, and then returning to their discussion. I see Drake and Jackson, in particular, in animated form, shaking their heads, pointing fingers aggressively. The Master, the Generals, and Professor Lane appear calmer, a debate appearing to open up within our group, moderated by Stein in the centre of it all.

  Again, they look at me. Not all of them this time. One or two, then another pair. Ellie's palm closes tighter around my fist.

  “Maybe we should go,” says Leeta timidly.

  We all know they're discussing me.

  I can't take it any more.

  I march forward, my feet uprooted, my balled up fist slipping out of Ellie's cupped palm.

  “Cyra!” says Leeta. “What are you doing!”

  I don't listen.

  I storm forward, and within a few quick paces all eyes ahead have turned to me again. I see a grimace on Jackson's face. My father shares the same expression. Aside from Stein, who maintains his warm countenance, the others look at me with impassive stares.

  “You're talking about me” I call as I approach. “I know you are.”

  “Cyra, go back,” says the Master firmly.

  “No. This is about me, and I want to hear it.”

  I join the group, and look upon the soldiers of Eden. One appears to have taken the lead. He looks at me with a sneer that reminds me of Knight's arrogance.

  “So, what's going on?” I ask the man directly. “Come on, tell me!”

  His sneer turns into a malicious smile, but he doesn't speak. No one does.

  “Is someone going to tell me what the hell is going on!” I shout, looking around the muted group. My eyes finish on my father, pleading for information.

  It's Jackson, however, who speaks first. He shuffles to my side protectively. I feel a nervous energy radiate out of it.

  “It doesn't matter, Cyra. This is a waste of our time.”

  Drake inches closer to my other flank, enclosing me. His eyes glare hard at the Master.

  “Jackson's right. This meeting is over.”

  His teeth grit and he swings his gaze towards the Eden soldiers. They don't move.

  “I said...the meeting is over,” he seethes.

  As the howling wind picks up, the men begin to step back. Their leader parts with a few words, directed at the Master.

  “Think about it,” he says. “You have a week to decide.”

  Then he steps back, turns, and begins making his way back to his vehicle.

  Still, I have no answer. I look around the group again, this time staring at Stein. His eyes seem conflicted.

  “Aeneas, please. What's happening?” I say quietly.

  Stein looks at me with a measure of despondence written on his face. He takes a moment before, slowly, opening his mouth to speak.

  “They have offered us a deal,” he says gently.

  “A deal? What deal?”

  “They will leave the city alone, pull back, and retreat from the Deadlands across the wall...on one condition.”

  I feel my chest tighten. All eyes bore into me. I already know what he's going to stay next.

  “What condition?”

  He hesitates a second. Jackson's voice rises among us.

  “It doesn't matter what the condition is. We're not going to agree to it.”

  My eyes don't leave Stein.

  “What condition?” I ask again quietly.

  “I'm sorry, Cyra,” he says. “They want you to return to Eden. They want you to return to Augustus Knight...”

  7 - An Impossible Choice

  As I stand there, just beyond the great gate leading towards the plateau of Petram, furious debate once more begins to build up around me. Words are exchanged, opinions shouted out loud above the wind, aggressive stances adopted. Once more, Drake and Jackson close in to my sides, and I feel myself gradually slipping out of the group.

  Behind me, Ellie and Leeta come rushing up. Ellie takes my face in her palms and looks me dead in the eye.

  “What is it? What's going on.”

  I shake my head, not wanting to give voice to it, and begin wandering away. Ellie's arm wraps around me, Leeta shuffling along to my other side. The group behind us continue to war. My absence hardly seems to be noticed.

  Ellie continues to ask me what's going on as we go. Once we enter the warmth of the mountain, the howling wind cut off, I stand and face her.

  “Knight wants me back on Eden, El. I was always the one he wanted.”

  “No. He can't have you!” she says firmly, taking my hand as if I'm about to be torn away from her.

  “In exchange,” I continue impassively, “they'll leave the city alone.”

  My words lead to silence. Leeta and Ellie share a look.

  “I have no choice,” I say. “There is no choice. I have to go.”

  I wander away once more, down the passages away from the murmuring crowds, and into our room. Ellie and Leeta continue by my side, trying
to offer words of comfort where they can. But I know there's no option here. It's me or everyone else.

  I will return to Eden.

  It's not long before Drake and Jackson burst into the room. They find me on my bed with Leeta and Ellie sitting either side of me. Jackson's the first to rush forward. He bends down onto one knee ahead of me and takes my hands in his.

  “You're not going anywhere, Cyra. I won't let anyone take you. Knight is lying, it's all just a game to him.”

  Drake follows him in.

  “Knight is a manipulator. All this shows is that he's frightened. He's trying to avoid a head on fight. The Master knows this. We all know it. This is a good thing, Cyra.”

  I shake my head and avoid eye contact with everyone. I feel closed in by the bodies around me, by the words of comfort they spew out. Empty words, really. Lies.

  “We can't take that risk,” I say to my feet, nestled together on the floor. “We have to agree to the terms.”

  A chorus of disagreement swells in the room. Four separate people, four separate voices, all joining together in their own ignorance. I should feel consoled and heartened by their attempts to make me feel better, by the fact that they all care about me, love me.

  But I don't.

  I feel alone, isolated, smothered. I need to get out.

  I stand up, suddenly, and push my way towards the door.

  “Cy!” calls Jackson.

  “I need to be alone right now,” I say, looking at the door. “Please, don't follow me.”

  I pull the handle and march out into the corridor. My emotions swirl around me, pushing me along until I begin to jog, then run, through the long passages, working my way deeper into the mountain, getting as far away from everyone as I can. I go without thinking, just running until I feel my legs go weak, my heart pumping so hard I feel it might explode.

  I stop, and drop to the rocky floor in the growing gloom, and shut my eyes tight. And against my black eyelids I see his face, pale, perfect. Evil.

  Come back to me, Cyra...his voice whispers in my ear, echoing down the passages.

  Come back to me...

  I stand again, and keep on running, bouncing along the rock walls, tripping over jagged stone, grazing my shins and knees and hands as I go. The pain satiates me, holds back the face of Knight. But still, that deep, resonating voice creeps after me, crawling into my mind.

  “Leave me alone!” I shout, holding my hands to my ears, squeezing them tight.

  His whispering words turns to laughter, grow louder. And I keep on running into the darkness.

  Soon, it's nearly pitch black. Behind me, the final light fixed to the passage wall flickers a dozen metres away. Ahead, only an impenetrable darkness looms. What lies beyond, I don't know. It's what makes the blackness so frightening.

  I stop and drop once more to the ground, and sit up against the wall panting. And in the quiet, the solitude, I begin to lose myself to an impossible urge to sleep. My eyes feel heavy, my body weary, and in the deep gloom, I drift away.

  I'm assaulted once more by Knight. In my sleep he's more powerful, more clear. He taunts me, circles me as he did back on Eden, his hands creeping over my shoulders, rising up to brush through my hair.

  “Come back to me, Cyra,” he whispers. “Come back to where you belong...”

  His smile grows larger, and I fall into his deep eyes, plunging down the well. And in them, the sight of a battle begins to form, of a great slaughter, of men and women being torn apart by bullets and explosions. I grimace and try to shield my eyes, but can't. Once more, Knight's voice echoes on the wind.

  “It's them or you, Cyra. You have the power to save them all...”

  And with those final words, everything begins to close in, and I'm finally consumed by the blackness.

  I don't know how much time has passed when I wake. The passages around me remain in near total darkness, but that never changes day or night. I stand, weary, and begin walking back towards the single light fitting on the wall. It hums as I get nearer, flickering incessantly.

  Gradually, I stumble and wander back the way I came, feeling drained, empty. It doesn't matter what anyone else says, I cannot stay here. I cannot let all these innocent people die for nothing. My father, Jackson, Ellie, Leeta, they all care about me, but they're all biased. They're not seeing things clearly. I am.

  And there's only one thing for me to do.

  It takes me a while to navigate through the mountain. I try to remember the way I came, but struggle. Instead, I just follow the lights as they grow brighter and more common on the rock walls, indicating a closer proximity to the central chamber.

  Soon, the sounds of breathing reach my ears. People sleeping down corridors, tucked up against walls in bundles of clothes and whatever makeshift beds they can fashion. All appear to be sleeping. It must be the dead of night.

  I wander on, hardly making a sound, passing sleeping children, girls and boys too young to die, too young to know anything of the world. Their faces are innocent, untarnished by the harsh realities of this life. They don't deserve to be a part of this war.

  On occasion, I see someone sitting up awake. Their eyes, blue or brown or green, shine out in the dim light. Some are glinting with tears, perhaps of fear, perhaps the remnants of a terrible dream. Others are stark, staring, bloodshot and weary, yet unable to sleep. I suspect many will be suffering from the same affliction of insomnia at a time like this. Not knowing if the morning will bring the end of their days, whether they'll be suddenly called to arms to fight and kill, or be killed.

  And once again, I hear the lingering memory of Knight's voice in my ear.

  You have the power to save them all...

  Eventually, I return to my own room. I don't intend to stay. Quietly, I open the door and peek inside. I see Ellie lying asleep in bed. I creep in and reach under my bed, fetching my backpack. I pull out my mum's watch and trace the cracked lines of the glass with my thumb. A tear begins to fall from my eye as I turn to look at Ellie once again.

  “Goodbye, Ellie,” I whisper. “Live happy, live long...”

  I exit the room as quietly as I entered, my things gathered on my back. I turn to look at Jackson's room, just behind me. I feel my heart constrict as I reach forward and grip the door handle. My hand shakes, and more tears begin to drift down my cheeks.

  “I'll always love you, Jack,” I whisper.

  But I don't open the door. I can't. My fingers pull back and I turn and begin pacing away down the rocky passage, wiping my eyes clean as I go.

  I don't get far. As I near the opening to the main chamber, the sudden sound of footsteps echoes down the passage from ahead. I consider tucking myself up against the wall and trying to pretend to be sleeping, but have no time. A silhouette appears, marching tall. I know the frame.

  Moments later, Jackson's face appears in the glow of the wall light.

  His eyes explode with relief as he sees me.

  “Cyra...thank God...I've been looking for you.”

  He pulls me into a hug. I find myself melting into his arms.

  “You're shaking. Where have you been?”

  He tries to pull back, but I only hold him tighter. He begins rubbing my back, whispering into my ear gently.

  “Shhhh. It's OK now. It's OK.”

  His words bring me to tears, break down the barriers I'd erected. I begin sobbing lightly into his shoulder.

  “What are you doing out here, Cyra?” he asks.

  “I can't let people die,” I mumble. “I'm going to the Master. I'm giving myself to Knight.”

  A sudden strength imbues me again and I pull back. I don't look into Jackson's eyes. It will only weaken me. I make a move to walk past him, but his strong hand reaches to turn me around and pull me back.

  “You're not going anywhere, Cyra. Do you hear me. I am not losing you to a lie.”

  “It's not a lie, Jack. I've seen it. We're all going to be slaughtered if I don't go. I have to.”

  “No, Cyra. Kn
ight's just manipulating you. He's got inside your head. We have to stand and fight. He just wants you out of the city before he attacks. He wants you alive.”

  “No, Jack...I can't risk it.”

  I turn again and begin moving off. Once more he drags me back, pulling me straight into his lips. He kisses me firmly.

  “I love you, Cyra. If you go, I'm going too. I won't lose you.”

  “He'll kill you,” I say. “He only wants me.”

  “I don't care. I'd rather die. Stay...for me.”

  “I...I can't. It's because of you that I have to leave. I can't have you die for me, or anyone else.”

  The sound of rushing footsteps comes from behind. We both turn simultaneously to see the diminutive shape of Ellie rushing down the passage.

  “What the hell's going on!” she says. Her eyes scan me, see the bag on my back. “Cyra...what are you doing?”

  “I'm leaving, Ellie. I have no choice.”

  She marches forward purposefully.

  “You're going nowhere. You're not going to bow to him. Not while I'm still breathing.”

  “But you won't be breathing if I don't give myself up, that's the whole point!”

  She's not having it.

  “We need you here. Knight will attack anyway, regardless as to what you do. You know him. You know he's just manipulating you. He's trying to cause disharmony among us, weaken us before he attacks. Why can't you see that?!”

  Her words are forceful. Her and Jackson move in, side by side, blocking my path down the passage. Ellie's next words have a finality about them that I can't dispute.

  “You're not going anywhere, Cyra Drayton.”

  I consider pushing past them. Neither of them could stop me. If I wanted, there would be nothing they could do. Nothing anyone could do. I could go straight out towards the gate and escape, run down the mountain, burst right into the Eden encampment.

  But I don't.

  I stop and look at the two of them, Ellie glaring at me like a disapproving mother, Jackson's eyes softer, compelling me to stay, at least for now.

  “Just think about it at least,” says Jackson quietly. “You always make such rash decisions. Now isn't the time for that. We don't even know what the war council want yet. Don't rush into this.”