Renegade (25 page)

When everyone is at the bottom and we have finished apologising for bumping into each other, I strike the first of the matches. The light it provides is minimal and I have only taken three steps
when it is blown out.

‘That was a stupid idea,’ I say, nudging the person I think is Opie with my elbow.

‘I’m Faith,’ she says with a hint of annoyance at the fact I have hit the wrong person.

‘Sorry.’

‘This way,’ says Imrin’s voice. ‘Follow the walls.’

I reach forward until I feel the crumbling bricks and then keep one hand moving along as I walk in the direction of his voice. We round a couple of corners until the walls turn into a curved
shape. I am about to call out to Imrin to say I think we should stop when there is a gentle click which is instantly followed by a loud clang. Light pours from the ceiling above so unexpectedly
that I yelp inadvertently and cover my eyes. Through my eyelids I can see the bright white seeping through and blinding me.

Slowly I remove my hands and open my eyes a fraction but the light is too startling to see clearly.

I sense the others shuffling nervously next to me and, as my vision begins to return, six men with guns pointing directly at us drift into focus.

As we are marched through the tunnels, I try to tell the dark-suited figures that I was invited here by X. They don’t even acknowledge that they know who he is. The
question I asked him floats into my mind, word for word: ‘How do I know I’m not walking into a trap?’

He never answered.

Guns were part of our education growing up. We always knew they were used extensively in the war but, since then, they have become rare. With factories no longer producing ammunition, they are
almost obsolete. Until I saw the weapons in the guards’ hands, I hadn’t even thought about facing an enemy with guns – even the Kingsmen only have swords. With no trade between
countries, it means we have to create everything for ourselves. I don’t know how guns are made but there must be a reason why bullets aren’t being manufactured any longer. Whatever the
reason, it doesn’t seem to be affecting the people pointing the weapons at us and it is safest to assume the guns are loaded.

We are led through tunnels until we reach a sheet of metal stretching from the floor to the ceiling. The guard at the front swipes his thinkwatch against something I can’t see on the wall
and the barrier shoots up and out of sight. The next room is large and circular and the metal floor feels springy. The metal door slots back into place behind us but there are two other exits from
the room. Around the other walls are long workbenches, a few solid grey cabinets and one long bank of old-fashioned computer equipment. I can see the types of keyboards and screens I have spent
most of my life picking apart but have never been able to get working.

The guards stand in front of the exits, leaving Opie, Imrin, Faith and myself in the centre of the room.

‘You don’t seem massively worried by the men pointing guns at us,’ Opie whispers.

‘It’s not the first time we’ve been dragged underground by people with weapons.’

Opie coughs in surprise, making one of the guards twitch. ‘How often has it happened?’

‘Just the once – last time we were blindfolded.’

‘So this is a step up?’

‘Not really, they only had knives last time.’

‘Shouldn’t we be concerned they have guns pointing at us?’

‘Think of it this way: if they were going to shoot us, they would have done it already. Out there it’s just bricks. In here, there’s shiny stuff everywhere. It’s much
harder to clean.’

Opie is sounding increasingly confused. ‘You think they’re not going to shoot us because they’ll have more to clean up?’

I’m about to reply when Imrin beats me to it. ‘This is what it’s been like for the past month. People like pointing weapons at her.’

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Opie nodding. I am both annoyed and a tiny bit relieved, seeing as it is the first thing I’ve heard either of them say directly to the other without
talking to the group as a whole.

Before I can think about defending myself, the guards turn and walk through the doors, leaving us alone.

‘Does that usually happen?’ Opie asks, louder this time.

I start to reply but am distracted by the heavy clatter of someone approaching.

The first time I ever saw a Kingsman in person, as opposed to on screen, was in the centre of Martindale when I was six years old. My mum had held my hand and led me to the town hall, saying
there was something I had to see. At the bottom of the steps, a small red and white booth had been set up that was completely sealed except for a rectangular gap at the top. One either side,
Kingsmen were standing rigidly, their hands behind their backs. ‘Ignore them,’ Mum whispered when she saw me staring.

Crowds began to gather behind us, mainly of parents with their children, and just as my legs were beginning to tire, a man came out from behind the booth and shouted ‘Hello’ at
everyone. Although I had been transfixed by the Kingsmen, I couldn’t stop looking at the new figure. He was dressed all in purple and had a flowing dark cloak that rippled behind him in the
wind. There was something about his tone and the way he spread his arms that has stuck in my mind ever since. He would come back once a year until I was about ten and there would be some sort of
puppet show. By the time he stopped coming, I had forgotten everything about the act except for the fact there were Kingsmen there – and the way that man dressed and talked.

Despite the guns that were recently pointed at us, the metal, the electronics and the people around me, I am suddenly that six-year-old girl again as a man sweeps into the room through one of
the doors the guards just left by. A breath of air breezes across us as if we have stepped outside. He is tall but thin with tight black hair pulled away from his face and the hint of a beard. His
cloak is just like the travelling entertainer’s and he pronounces his words in a way that demands attention.

Before he can introduce himself, I know exactly who he is.

‘Ms Blackthorn,’ he says.

‘Minister Prime Xyalis,’ I reply.

His eyes narrow in surprise as I feel Imrin, Opie and Faith staring at me. ‘I’ve not been called that in a while,’ he says. ‘You really are as impressive as they
say.’

Head Kingsman Porter once told me about the first Minister Prime, who was the King’s right-hand man at the end of the war. He disappeared after a few months when he realised the King
wasn’t quite the man everyone thought and was replaced by Bathix – the person responsible for so much of what we escaped from at the castle.

‘Everyone thinks you’re dead,’ I say.

‘They’re meant to.’

‘You’re the person who invented the Reckoning.’

Xyalis’ eyes flicker to the others as there is a collective gasp. Our entire lives have been spent building towards the test which defines everyone who takes it – and now the
inventor is standing in front of us.

He doesn’t reply instantly, taking his time to choose his words carefully. ‘I wouldn’t put it exactly like that. I came up with the technology and the concept but it was never
meant to be used in the way it has been.’

‘How was it meant to be used?’ Whether he meant it to or not, Opie’s question is brimming with aggression.

Xyalis’ eyes scan Opie up and down, perhaps wondering who he is, or maybe trying to figure out if he is a threat. ‘The war was a terrible thing. So many people died and the country
needed rebuilding. Tell me something you’re good at.’

His demand is so direct that Opie blurts out an answer immediately and then puts a hand to his mouth, surprised. ‘Hunting.’

A thin smirk crosses Xyalis’ mouth. ‘Exactly, but let’s say you’re really good at sewing . . .’

‘I’m not.’

The smirk turns into a full smile. ‘Let’s say you are. You could spend your whole life
thinking
you’re good at hunting when you are really the best person in the whole
land when it comes to sewing. You don’t even know it. The idea was to find people’s hidden talents. That way, if that’s what they wanted, they would be able to use those skills to
help put the country back together again. Does that make sense?’

Opie nods. ‘I suppose . . . I still can’t sew though.’

I can’t stop myself from laughing because even though he is only in my peripheral vision, I know Opie has that look on his face to show that he understands even though he hasn’t
quite processed it yet.

‘I should apologise for the guns,’ Xyalis says, his initial expression of authority returning. ‘It wasn’t my choice but my guards are very protective.’

‘You could have at least told us how to find you,’ I reply.

‘If people are deserving of my attention then they work it out.’

It is pure arrogance but then, seeing as we found him, I suppose it is also a compliment.

Xyalis turns theatrically, sending his cloak flowing behind him. ‘Come – we’ll find somewhere more comfortable than this to talk.’

He strides away so quickly that I have to run to catch up. The corridors are lined with sheets of metal; the floor is made of a similar material, bouncing slightly as we walk on it. Xyalis leads
us into a circular room that isn’t too dissimilar to the one we left, except that it is around twice the size and packed with so many pieces of technology, both ancient and new, that I find
myself turning in a full circle trying to take it all in.

‘Impressed?’ Xyalis asks as I realise my wide-eyed expression has given too much of myself away, making it obvious I know what everything is.

‘There’s a lot here,’ I reply.

In the only area that isn’t filled with banks of equipment, there is a circular table. Xyalis invites us to sit and then skirts around the edge. ‘You must be Imrin,’ he says,
offering his hand to shake, before doing the same to Faith. He will know them from the broadcasts but Opie perplexes him. ‘And you are . . . ?’ he asks, holding out his hand.

‘I’m Opie . . .’ he replies, but I interrupt before he can add anything else.

‘He’s someone I know.’

Xyalis clearly wants to hear more but I’m nowhere near the point of trusting him enough to give away anything more than I have to. He nods and sits across from us.

Before he can ask anything else, I get in first. ‘If the Reckoning was meant to be used as you described, what happened?’

Xyalis turns to face me, staring intently before replying. ‘It was Victor. It’s hard to explain what it was like as the war was ending. It didn’t finish because there was a
winner, but because people didn’t want to fight any longer. There used to be a King or Queen a long time ago but they were simply there and didn’t do very much. While the fighting was
still going on, there were secret meetings between people high up on both sides. Everyone wanted to find a way to make it all stop and they came across the idea of a figurehead everyone could unite
behind. The problem was that neither side wanted to give ground – so it couldn’t be the leader of either the rebels or the nationalists. They started researching the old royal bloodline
and that’s when they found Victor.’

‘He wasn’t anything to do with either side?’

Xyalis shakes his head. ‘Not only that, he was hiding away in a town somewhere in the south east because he didn’t want to fight. Apparently, when they went to find him, he thought
they were there to arrest him for refusing to be a soldier.’

It’s not exactly the story with which we have grown up.

‘So he went from hiding to running the country?’

Xyalis nods. ‘Essentially, but it was never meant to be like that. Everyone knew the leaders of each side had to step aside. I’d been part of the nationalists, mainly working with
technology. They took people from each side to form a government. We were supposed to work together to rebuild the country with Victor there as someone the nation would unite behind. The problem
was that he took things too literally. We thought he was this scared kid and that he’d listen to whatever we told him. After he first went on screen, everyone really got behind him and
that’s what made him realise he could do what he wanted. Instead of listening to us, he’d say, “I’m the King”, and that would be the end of the conversation. His first
big act was to take the leaders of both sides and execute them live in front of the nation. After that, he kept pushing it further and further. Suddenly, all of our ideas about things like the
Reckoning were either ignored or twisted to suit him.’

‘But didn’t you put him in place?’

‘Not me personally, but yes. We wanted someone who wasn’t one of us that everyone could say ended the war. It was nothing to do with him – he just happened to be born to the
right mother. Both sides got together to stop things but the public were so tired of both of us they would never have accepted any of us. That execution went down so well with the public that
Victor started believing he was exactly what the country needed. If anyone was caught stealing or committing crimes in the towns and cities, he’d bring them to Windsor and have them killed
live on screen. It made him more and more popular but quickly spiralled out of control. Before we knew it, it was too late. I knew almost straight away that we’d made a massive mistake but we
couldn’t do anything. The country loved him – but they didn’t see what was happening around the castle. People would be killed for making too much noise or using a word he
didn’t understand.’

‘Why didn’t you do something to get rid of him?’ Xyalis laughs but there is no pleasure in it. ‘If we had done anything, it would have started another war. He was the one
person holding the country together and yet he was completely crazy whenever the cameras were off. Instead of the Reckoning working the way I designed it, he made it more or less what it is now. It
pushes you much more than it was ever meant to and causes some people permanent harm if they’re not up to it. The system of Elites, Members, Intermediates and Trogs was his idea. He wanted a
way to know which people could be used in the way he deemed to be useful. I wanted something that would help everyone to contribute but he twisted it into a way of discarding huge numbers of
people.’