Elected (The Elected Series Book 1) (23 page)

31

“All of it’s missing?” My voice is bold, the anger bubbling over like lava from an active volcano. If there’s no more nirogene, we won’t be able to manufacture armor glass. “Search the whole country! Use all of the guards.”

“Yes, Elected.” The young man quickly follow my orders.

I turn to the other two guards who are standing in the doorway. “Take a team on bikes to the hills. Ensure harvesting is still in process.” They nod and turn to go. We’ll have to harvest a lot more before we can create any of the armor glass.

Then I look toward Griffin. “Is there anyone among your group who would steal this? Grobe?”

Griffin shakes his head, the muscles in his face and neck tight with tension. “No, I can’t think who. Grobe wouldn’t be interested in it. He wants widespread technology use, so he’d be the last person to take it away from others, especially when they were so close to using it for something other than just prevention of rust.”

I nod in agreement. We spend a few minutes trying to work out different scenarios, but we can’t think who in our own country would be motivated and able to steal that much of the chemical without detection.

“So it was stolen by Mid?” I ask.

“That theory makes the most s
ense,” says Tomlin. “Our armor glass would have stopped anything flying over the border. It’s strange how just when we decide to put up the glass, the whole nirogene store is stolen. As if Mid knew this would be their last opportunity.”

Armor glass, besides being incredibly hard and able to stave off rust also has a unique property affecting mechanical sensors. The undetectable vapors emitted at all times from the glass substance, render airrides and any other overhead mechanical objects unusable or unstable, at best.

“Like they could hear us talking about it over the last few days,” Vienne says.

We go on like this for a few minutes more, but an intense pain overtakes my stomach. I grimace, trying to go unnoticed. They’re so caught up in conversation no one sees me becoming more and more uncomfortable. Finally, I can’t take the cramping anymore. I’m sure I must have a fever now because my forehead is perspiring in sheets.

Through clenched teeth, I say “I’m going to the hills. We’ll figure out your situation, Griffin. Don’t worry. We won’t let the execution sentence stand.”

I don’t give them much time to respond as I fear I’ll cry out in pain if I don’t have a moment to myself. I hurry out of the prison into the fresh air and jog home with my hand on my abdomen. I do intend to visit the hills, but first I have to change clothes, as I feel like I’m perspiring through my armpits and down my arms. I also need to grab my horse, as I don’t intend to walk miles to the hills right now.

When I reach the front doors, I pull them open fast and breathe a sigh of relief as the cooler air inside the house hits my face. I walk toward my bedroom, passing by a couple of maids without acknowledgement. Inside the room, I stumble over to a set of drawers and pull out a fresh pair of pants. Glancing at myself in the mirror above the wash basin, I’m surprised to see my skin is white and taut, like linens freshly bleached and left out too long in the sun to dry. There truly are droplets of water running from my scalp down my cheeks. I gather my discarded clothes into a pile and pull on the new ones.

However, the linen pants that have always fit so well are falling around my frame. I pull the drawstrings taut, but there are still gaps at the waist. I’m losing weight fast. I know I haven’t had the stomach for eating recently, but the weight loss is too much, too aggressive. I look at myself in the mirror, and a cramp overtakes my stomach again. This time, I’m directly over the washbasin when I heave a sickeningly green puddle of vomit out of my stomach. The gush smacks into the bucket of water with a slurp, and the feeling of sickness overtakes me again. I retch a total of three times before I can raise my head again.

I stare at my red eyes in the mirror and grab a piece of cloth nearby to wipe off my face. I need to be strong to lead my people through this latest crisis. I need to take a pill already.

I pull a thin shirt over my head and leave the room again, the precious vault key on a cord, flapping against the bindings around my chest. I want to conserve the purple pills, but I don’t think I can wait out this sickness. Whatever it is, I don’t seem to be getting better. In fact, as the last few days have gone by, I seem to be feeling worse. Losing weight, throwing up, my face growing more pallid, not to mention the constant pain in my chest. This last symptom grows more noticeable as my sweaty bindings feel like they’re constricting my lungs. The cloth around my breasts was the one thing I didn’t change just now. It would take too long to undo myself from the linen to waste the time. Now that I’m resolved to take a pill, I can’t get to it fast enough.

I look forward to the smooth feeling it will have going into my system. Everything inside me that is hurting will dissipate within moments. I pass our main foyer and the kitchen and then take two flights of stairs down into the bowels of the house, a section rarely used. I’m in front of the heavy iron door in moments. Already the key is out and in my hand. I plunge it into the ancient door and turn it to the right as I’d watched my mother do countless times. When I hear a faint click, I push on the door. It moans under my weight but scratches open, metal scraping the concrete floor.

Inside the small vault is a set of white shelves. It’s dark in here since the room has no windows and, of course, I don’t have Griffin’s fireflies or electricity to show me the way. But I feel along the shelves until a glass bottle connects with my hand. I unscrew the lid without even having to see the vial and drop one small pill into my palm. Then I turn, feeling along the wall to make sure I don’t stumble as I exit the vault.

And I run smack into something hard and fleshy.

A hand reaches around me to cover my mouth. Before I can scream, the figure turns with me so we’re staring face-to-face. Even in the dark, I can make out my assailant’s features. A sense of shock envelops me.

Our cook, Dorine, looks back at me with a large grin on her face.

“I’ve been biding my time. Waiting for you to come down here to get a pill for yourself,” she says. “You’d think with the traces of poison I’ve been gradually depositing in your food, you’d have ventured down here well before now.”

I mumble, trying to get out some words of protest, but Dorine’s hand stays clenched over my mouth and right now I’m too weak to push her off.

“Not that I don’t like you well enough, Elected, but you can’t keep hoarding all these pills just for yourself. My son...” Her voice cracks. “My son is so thin now. It’s just a matter of time. I need these pills!” Dorine puts a knife up to my throat. “I don’t want to hurt you, Elected, but don’t make me do anything rash.” She reaches around me for the door and pushes it back wide open. Then she turns with me in her grasp, pushing me forward. “Now, don’t make a peep.” She lets go of my mouth but still holds the knife to my neck. Her other hand rakes across the shelves and clasps a few glass bottles. She reaches back up to the shelves again and again. Quickly, she empties all the pills into a pouch on her apron.

“You don’t need all of those. If your son has cancer, two or three pills will do the trick.” I breathe shallowly, aware that Dorine’s knife draws droplets of my blood from my neck as I speak. Her hand shakes.

“I can’t take that chance, Elected.”

“You won’t get away with this.”

“We’ll see.” Then she backs up slowly, easing the knife away from my neck. I immediately put a hand to my throat to stave off the bleeding.

Dorine heads for the stairs in front of us. As soon as she’s a few steps up and away from me, I call out with all the force I can muster. She looks back with an angry scowl and then launches herself faster up the stairs. I keep yelling for the guards, screaming “Thief” and “Dorine, get Dorine!”

I run after her but find I’m having a hard time getting back up the stairs for all the cramping in my stomach. I swallow the one pill I managed to keep hidden in my hand. I hardly have time to savor the feel of the drugs shooting into my system before I’m running up the stairs after Dorine at top speed.

Already there’s chaos on the first floor of the house in response to my shouts. People are running around, trying to find Dorine as I continue to yell out her crime. Most of the guards are already gone, complying with my earlier request to look for the nirogene. There are only three guards who come to my aid now, running with me in the direction I think Dorine has gone.

“The stable!” I cry, thinking she’ll know to get away on more than her own two feet to outrun my pursuit. We run out to the horses but find Dorine has already grabbed one and is galloping away, the stable door open and banging against the wall in the breeze.

“Grab some horses. We’re going after her!”

There’s a flurry of action as the few guards follow my orders.

“Ya!” I yell to my horse. I pump its bridle and begin our hot pursuit of Dorine. I think we’ll easily catch up to her, as she’s obviously never ridden a horse before. The terrain ahead is the flat wasteland on the way to the border hills, easy to traverse on a horse and easy on which to keep Dorine in view. I see the horse bucking her, as if it too realizes its rider is up to no good and wants her dismounted.

After twenty minutes of galloping hard, we’re closing in on her. Our entire party is almost to the hills. Dirt billows up in back of us in large clouds, but I don’t see it. I’m focused on the scene in front of me. I don’t take my eyes off Dorine’s figure.

She’s at the base of the hills now, at the entrance to the nirogene mines. She slides off the horse and runs into the mines, her apron, holding all of the pills, still with her.

“She’s in the mines!” I yell, although the guards can clearly see her escape path too. No matter, we’re close now. She won’t get away. The three guards leap off their horses and run into the mine behind Dorine.

I grab onto my horse’s mane, ready to jump down and run in after the four of them, but at that second, a fiery explosion bursts from within the mine’s entrance sending me and my horse flying backward in a tumult of arms, legs, and spraying dirt.

32

Fire belches from the air al
l around me,
so hot I can feel it searing my throat. I’m thrown from my horse, landing hard on the ground. The horse stumbles back onto its feet, screams in a pitch I’ve never heard from an animal before, and then gallops in the opposite direction of the explosion. From the ground I see people scurrying in all directions. Some try to get into the mouth of the mine. Others run along the hill away from the scene. Dust and black ash are everywhere.

I get up on my hands and knees, assessing myself for anything broken. There doesn’t seem to be damage, but I’m sure I’ll ache later. A miner runs to my side, holding onto my elbow to help me stand.

“I’m ok,” I gasp. “Help others.” The words come out as large coughs, black ash mixed with my own spit.

I cautiously move closer to the mouth of the mine. Large boulders obstruct the entrance.

“Can we get these moved out of the way?” I call out to the small group of miners gathered around the cave’s opening.

The head miner steps forward. “Elected, the entrance is completely blocked. We’ll start trying to move the stones, but we’ll need more manpower.”

“How many people do you think were inside the cave?”

“Maybe thirty. Half our miners were inside, gathering more nirogene, and the other half was carting more supply to the chemists to get it locked away and safe.”

I try to pull out some of the smaller rocks. They’re wedged in hard. “Okay, have three men go back to the village and gather reinforcements. Then start a headcount of the miners. Find out who exactly is missing! And everyone else, grab hold of these stones with any tools you have available!” My words ring out louder than the flurry of activity surrounding us.

Work on my commands starts immediately. In an hour’s time, the miners who left on bikes to gather help are back, reinforcements arriving on horses to facilitate as fast a return as possible. Everyone is heaving with the effort to move the rocks and get any survivors out of the caves.

I doubt Dorine or my three guards are alive. They were all too close to the entrance when the explosion occurred. I think of the pills as well. East Country’s entire store has now been destroyed, and my mother’s threats about the safety of the Elected family reverberate inside my mind. I wonder who set the explosion and what their motivation was. Perhaps Dorine or her son manufactured it to bar the entrance and buy some time to administer the pills. But if so, their timing was remarkably wrong. Dorine surely killed herself in the process and destroyed all of the pills at the same time. Or maybe whoever stole the chemists’ nirogene earlier today set the explosion so we’d be unable to harvest anything more.

Tomlin rides up on a horse behind me, and I have a chance to explore both theories more fully. I fill him in on status of the miners still inside the cave, Dorine’s deceit, and what the lack of pills means for the Elected family’s health going forward.

“I knew you weren’t feeling well,” he says, raising an eyebrow when we’ve talked through all the other issues. Tomlin looks me over from head to toe.

“Yes, but don’t worry. I got one pill in my system before Dorine ran.” I take a moment to assess myself now that I have a break. I feel a little better. I don’t think I’ll throw up, and I’m not perspiring. But my chest still hurts, and the dizziness hasn’t dissipated. I refrain from telling Tomlin about either affliction but am inwardly confused. The pill should have taken care of everything. Did it not work on me? Or do I need more than one pill for the particular poison Dorine gave me?

Tomlin interrupts my thoughts. “Tell me your theories on the nirogene again?”

I turn toward him, forgetting about my pain. “Someone doesn’t want us using nirogene at all. They’ve taken our stores and we’re conveniently blocked from harvesting more, at least for the time being. It’ll be maybe three or four days until we can begin harvesting again.”

“We need that armor glass up as soon as possible.” Tomlin puts a hand on his forehead in consternation.

“We could take down the glass from the prison—use it to cover as much of the border as possible.”

Tomlin nods, his hand rubbing his chin as he thinks. “At least that would be a start.”

We create a party of guards to begin tearing through the prison glass. It won’t be enough glass to cover the length of the border hill, but its unique properties could at least block some of Mid’s airrides from entering East Country. If that’s truly what’s happening.

“And Vienne?” I ask Tomlin. “She’s all right? There are guards protecting her?”

“Yes, she’s staying close to Griffin in the prison.” Tomlin’s face is sad at the mention of our latest accused. “I know his execution will pain you and Madame Elected immensely.” He shakes his head.

I don’t say anything for fear I’ll blurt out my true intentions to ensure the execution doesn’t happen. I just nod and look down. I remember I need to ask Tomlin about the helmet, so I take the opportunity to ask my question and change the subject at the same time.

“Tomlin, there’s something else. I used the Mind Multiplier a second time. I originally questioned the validity of what I saw, but there was an airride in my vision.”

“An airride? So it’s true then? We’re being infiltrated by another country?”

“I think so. Based on my vision and what’s happened since then, all I can think is Mid stole our nirogene and then blew up the mine so we couldn’t harvest more. Somehow they knew we were about to build more armor glass and they’ve taken both actions to deter us. Perhaps they’re even clearing out what’s left of the mine’s nirogene harvest from their side of the hills as we speak.”

“Why didn’t you tell me, Elected?”

“I didn’t think what I saw was true, and my head hurt so much from using the Multiplier, I didn’t understand how everything fit together. You told me yourself—sometimes the Multiplier shows real images, and sometimes it just shows you versions of the truth in symbols. It was hard to interpret.”

Tomlin nods.

“But there’s one more issue too. I don’t know where the helmet went. I used it the night under the tree. It fell from my head, but when all of you woke me up, the Multiplier was gone. Did you take it? Do you know where it is?”

Tomlin is aghast. “No, I haven’t seen it since you asked me to leave it with Vienne.”

“Whatever happens, will you try hard to find it? If I’m not here, it’ll be your responsibility to retrieve the helmet.”

Tomlin looks at me oddly, his knuckles white as he knots both of his hands together. “Yes, but what do you mean by ‘if I’m not here’? What are you planning?”

“Just... will you find it?”

As I start to piece together specific plans in my head, I turn to Tomlin again. “And Vienne.”

“Yes, what about her?” His eyes squint as he looks at me.

“Will you watch her closely too? Make sure she’s safe?”

“Yes, but she’ll have many people watching over her, surely.” His words come out slow and deliberate. “You for one, correct?” He stares into my eyes like he can decipher my plans.

I cough and look down. “Mmm-hmm.” I don’t want to lie to Tomlin, so I don’t say anymore. When I look up at him, he’s still staring at me oddly.

“You know your people need you here, right, Elected?” His eyes bore into mine.

I meet his eyes for an instant but then look away into the distance. “My people need me to keep them safe. That’s what they really expect from me. Not my presence as a figurehead. I need to go see Griffin and Vienne. Will you oversee things at the hills?”

He nods but continues to stare after me. I’m about to walk away—to take one of the guard’s horses for the ride back to town—but I turn back to look at Tomlin.

“You’ve been my best advisor, Tomlin. My best teacher. I won’t forget that.”

He puts a hand over his eyes to block out the sun and gazes in my direction. Assessing my plans, he loses the formality of our relationship, calling me by my given name.

“And you, Aloy, were my best student. Remember to use what you know, wherever you are. Trust in yourself.”

He’s all I have left of my parents. In fact, for all my life, he’s acted like my guardian. Saying goodbye to him is like losing a father all over again. I nod at him, unable to speak for the emotion bubbling near the surface. Then I jump up onto the horse and ride away, refusing to look back.