Legion Lost (23 page)

“You
were talking in your sleep, you know,” he murmurs.

A
whole new kind of dread consumes me as I wait for him to continue.

“You
kept talking about Prudell. Your face was so angry. I’ve never seen anyone look
angry in their sleep before.”

I
turn to face him, looking up into his beautiful eyes.

“I
guess I’m just different,” I say, hearing the volume of disappointment in my
own tone.

“You
really are,” Stirling replies.

I
can see the kiss coming before it happens. First, it’s in the way that
Stirling’s gaze moves from my eyes to my lips. Then, it’s in his long neck as
it cranes down and his shoulders curve to match my height, his face closing in on
mine with the tangy scent of fresh fruit juice on his breath. I could stop this
right now. I could move away, knowing full well that this kiss is built upon
the lie I’m living. I could be fair to Stirling. I could pretend that this
moment isn’t something I’ve wanted since the first time I argued with him and
faced his stupid arrogant grin.

But
for this moment only, there is no pretending. I let him kiss me, with one long,
lingering kiss that sends a shiver through every part of my body. When it ends
and Stirling steps back, I open my eyes, instantly worried by the sight of a
grin on his face.

“What
is it?” I ask, terrified that I have done something wrong.

“Nothing,”
Stirling replies, running a finger over his own lips. “I thought it would be
different, that’s all. Actually, it was exactly like kissing a girl. Isn’t that
strange?”

Not
as strange as he might think. I just smile, relieved that this moment has come
and gone without any kind of disaster occurring. The disaster, I realise with
instant dread, is something that is sure to be waiting later down the line.
This kiss has started something bigger between us, and the lies I’m telling
Stirling will only get worse from here on in.

*

The
mountainside in this part of the Highlands is beautiful. The land here is
rugged and wild, untouched by the machinations of the System and its
destructive leader. Here, there are no tree lines to mark the borders of the
forest. Greenery extends everywhere I look as I ascend a set of stairs carved
into the rock face of the mountain itself. Malcolm holds office at the summit
of this peak, and I’ve been told that I’ll see the place clearly once I’m high
up enough. I had thought that the feeling of open space on the wasteland was
bad enough, but now I can’t bear to turn around and look at the vast empty air
that surrounds me on this slope. The altitude makes my chest ache as I march on
up the steps, and I’m grateful for the heavy silver clouds that have settled to
keep the sun off my back.

There
is a plateau just below the very top of the mountain, and at first I think that
Malcolm is sitting at a table and chair in the middle of nothingness. It is
only when I get closer to the man that I realise he is within a structure comprised
of completely clear walls. They’re made of some kind of glass, with barely
visible joins at the corners and edges—the only hint that the walls exist comes
by way of a silver tunnel that slides up along one side of the roof. It looks
like some sort of ventilation pipe, like the ones we used in the Underground,
and when I enter the glass box by way of a sliding door, I feel a stream of
temperate air coming from above me.

“Do
you like it?” Malcolm asks proudly. “Virtually invisible from above, and very
handy for keeping an eye on everything.”

He
isn’t kidding. The view from this incredible height takes in miles of the wild
Highlands to the north, as well as spanning the wasteland in the south. The
Legion is a tiny black box in the distance, and beyond it, I can see shimmering
white lines emerging from the flat, crimson earth. The lines connect to dozens
of large domes in the same white hue, far larger than the Legion, capable of
containing hundreds, if not thousands of people inside each one.

“Is
that the System?” I ask.

Malcolm
nods, rising to stand beside me.

“That
whole horizon is the System’s northern border,” he explains. “On a clear day,
you can see the spires of Mancunia from here.”

Prudell
and Stryker are caught in a struggle for their share of this vast patch of dirt
we call a nation. From this distance, it all seems so petty, until I start to
remember that people are dying down there. People are dying because Prudell has
control of our country. And I am alive because Malcolm wants to put an end to
that control.

“It’s
Raja, right?” Malcolm asks. I nod. “Do you have a last name?”

“Not
anymore,” I reply.

“Fair
enough,” the Highlander says. “Tell me then, Raja, are you any good at
shooting?”

So
this is the assessment stage. It may not be as blunt as Briggs’s obstacle
course, but Malcolm has the same agenda in mind. He wants to know what use I
can be to his cause.

“I
haven’t had much practice with a gun,” I admit, “but I think I’ve got a pretty
good eye.”

The
Highlander rubs at his angular, stubbled jaw.

“Stirling
tells me you can run like a devil,” he continues. “I’m interested in whether
you can climb too.”

I
furrow my brow, remembering my escape through the narrow corridor of earth in
the Underground tunnel, and the scramble I made up Briggs’s high climbing wall.

“Yeah,”
I reply. “I’m a good climber.”

Malcolm
walks back to his seat at the table, beckoning me to take the other chair
opposite him. He flexes his gnarled, battle-worn hands before leaning his chin
on them. His eyes are trained on me, looking deadly serious, but also visibly
consumed by thoughts. I don’t like the idea that he’s having thoughts about me,
it makes me want to squirm in my seat.

“At
precisely twelve noon tomorrow, Governor Prudell will be sitting exactly where
you’re sitting right now.”

The
air conditioning vent is right over my head, but it doesn’t stop me growing hot
under my collar at the pressure of Malcolm’s icy gaze.

“I’ve
met her in this little fish tank a few times before,” Malcolm explains, “for
negotiations and other such parlances of war.”

“Peacefully?”
I ask.

I
find it hard to believe that sworn enemies could sit and talk as easily as
Malcolm and I are talking now.

“Very
peacefully,” Malcolm answers. “Prudell has come to consider this place as a
safe space for meetings.” The Highlander leans forward, his eyes taking on that
slightly manic gleam. “But I think it’s time we changed all that.”

He
points to the ceiling, and I find myself looking up into the airstream
overhead. A wide grid covers the entrance to the dark recesses of the pipe.

“This
ventilation shaft brings air up from a unit deep inside the mountain, next to
my private quarters,” Malcolm explains. “When Prudell is here tomorrow, my room
will be left unlocked. I keep a loaded, silver-tipped pistol in the bureau’s
top drawer. It contains a single shot.”

I
remember that pistol, and the feel of its icy barrel at my throat.

“It
would be possible,” Malcolm continues, “for a small, slight soldier with a keen
eye, to take that pistol and scale the inside of the ventilation shaft, all the
way up to this spot right on top of us. That soldier would be totally undetectable.”

My
throat runs dry at the suggestion in his tone.

“You’re
saying that Prudell could be assassinated, whilst she’s sitting right here in
front of you?” I ask.

Malcolm
nods solemnly.

“There
would only be room for one shot,” he explains, “because her men will all be
watching me from the other side of this glass. The assassin would have to slip
back down the vent fast, to vanish back into the crew below. The guards
wouldn’t dare march down into the thick of my recruits to find one suspect—they’d
be too outnumbered.”

“Why
are you telling me all this?” I ask, fearing that I already know the answer.

Malcolm
slips a piece of paper from his breast pocket, passing it to me across the
table. I unfold it, finding a diagram of how the outer buildings connect to the
ones inside the mountain. Below this are directions on how to find the vent
room.

“Because
you’re the first competent soldier I’ve met who’s small enough to fit inside
the vent,” Malcolm says unapologetically.

There’s
a silent moment between us as I stare at the diagram before me, marvelling at
how easy the whole operation seems. The scrape of a chair gets my attention,
and my eyes flicker up to see Malcolm leaning forward at the table again.

“I
can see it,” he says slowly.

“See
what?” I reply.

“The
rage in you,” Malcolm answers. “I can see it in the way you clench your jaw
every time I say that evil woman’s name. Whatever she’s done to wrong you, or
your people, this is your chance to avenge them. I know you want that, Raja.”

I
wish he were wrong, but there’s no point pretending he is. Every time I think
of the Governor’s satisfied smile, flashes of Bhadrak’s body and Vinesh’s blind
eyes soon follow. Even if I turn down Malcolm’s proposition right now, I don’t
know how I’ll react tomorrow, when the woman who haunts my memories is right
here, waiting for a bullet to land in her skull.

“Valkyrie,”
I say.

Malcolm
raises a silver brow.

“It’s
the name of a System containment facility,” I explain. “Prudell has sent my
family there, and I want them back. Can you help me make that possible?”

The
Highland leader nods thoughtfully.

“I’ve
not heard of Valkyrie, but I’ll find it. I always find what I’m looking for.”

“Fine,”
I reply. “You help me, and I’ll . . . I’ll help you.”

Amid
the tranquillity of the majestic, peaceful mountains, I strike my first deal of
war.

*

That
night, Stirling sleeps by my side again, and I’m rested enough to stay up and appreciate
his slow breathing. Malcolm’s map stays with me in my trouser pocket, alongside
Lucrece’s little diary. Under no circumstances am I to divulge my plan to
anyone else. I wonder if Stirling would approve of Malcolm’s plan to rid the
nation of Prudell for good. I bet he wouldn’t. In some of my sleepless moments,
I’m not sure that I even approve of it myself.

Every
time I think of holding that deadly pistol in my hands, a retching, sick shiver
invades my gut. But one fleeting remembrance of all those who have died is all
I need to get the fires of hatred for the System burning again. One blind
moment of rage will be all that I need, like the shot I took at Briggs on the
obstacle course. One impetuous squeeze of the trigger, and the System will
begin to fall apart. One foul, unthinkable deed, and I can have my family back
at last.

Before
noon the next day, most of the Highlanders are called away to lunch, so as not
to appear threatening upon Prudell’s arrival. We rejects stand and watch on the
hillside as Malcolm takes a small, select group of soldiers up to the summit to
prepare for the meeting. Delilah is bringing up the rear of this troupe, her
silver mask glittering in the sunlight with every step she takes. Soon after
they have vanished from view, a deafening sound blares out across the sky.
Cutting through the clouds to the south of us, three white helicopters emerge.
They curve on the wind in a triangular formation, tilting to and fro like giant
birds of prey.

“Dat’s
it,” Goddie says, his hands over his ears. “She’s arriving. We’ve got to go in
now, right?”

Stirling
nods, taking hold of Goddie’s wheelchair to turn him around.

“That’s
right. I’ll find out what happened from Malcolm later. Come on, let’s get some
lunch.”

“Food.
Just the ticket for forgetting that there’s an evil dictator forty feet above
us right now,” Apryl quips. “You coming, Raja?”

I
realise that they have all started walking away, whilst my eyes have stayed
fixed on the helicopters in the sky. I have never seen one for real before, and
I marvel at the way they flutter like fragile things as they get closer to us.
It looks like they’re going to settle on the flat roofs of the compound
buildings that are higher up the mountainside. Prudell, the elusive figure
whose government has punished my people, is so close that I can feel my skin
prickling with nerves.

“Um,
no,” I stammer, trying to stay in the conversation. “Not hungry, actually. I’m
going to have a lie down instead.”

“You’re
sure about that?” Stirling asks.

His
brows are raised, and a strange moment passes between us as I see the old
suspicion flaring in his gaze. I shake the paranoid feeling off, giving him a
nod and my best fake yawn.

“I’m
still really tired.”

I
catch a look of deep disappointment in his features before he turns away, like
he’s upset about more than just missing lunch with me, but I can’t dwell on
that feeling. I have to put Stirling out of my head right now, as I wind my way
back towards the compound. The helicopters are fluttering in to land overhead,
and I have a mission to fulfil.