Resurgence (12 page)

‘I don’t want them to do that.’

He rubs my shoulder and then pulls his hand away, blowing into it for warmth. ‘Perhaps you won’t have a choice.’

I try not to but a shiver ripples through me, slowly at first until I end up shaking my head dramatically. It’s not the cold. I try to change the subject. ‘Can I ask you
something?’

‘That depends on what the question is.’

‘Where did you get the scar?’

He laughs. ‘I didn’t expect that. I thought you were going to ask something deep.’

I shrug but I’m not sure if he notices.

‘If you think about everything I’ve lived through, war, upheaval, rebellion, buildings collapsing and everything else, it would probably amuse you to know that I got this because of
a girl.’

I have to cover my mouth again to stifle the sniggers.

‘Thanks for the sympathy,’ he adds.

I’m still laughing. ‘I thought you were going to say it was in some battle, holding off Kingsmen.’

‘If anyone asks, tell them it was in a fight. There were eight of them, all massive with broadswords. I fought off seven of them but the last one caught me in the face before I fought him
off too.’

‘What really happened?’

He smiles ruefully and purses his lips, thinking carefully about a reply. ‘When you finally make your choice between those two boys, make sure you don’t end up losing them
both.’

Time to change the subject again.

Below us, four Kingsmen have stopped patrolling and are sitting around a makeshift table made out of a jagged strip of wood. They are laughing and drinking, playing some sort of game with dice
and gambling various things that I can’t make out in the dark.

‘Why would the King choose Oxford?’ I ask.

Vez points towards the green again. ‘I’ve been thinking about that. I think the square is key.’

‘Why?’

‘It’s in the open and yet it’s somehow survived. The grass is long but I bet they cut that tomorrow. Everything is going to be filmed so the green and pleasant land thing will
look good. This place is going to be packed with people. Most of them will want to see you. Some will want you killed; others will be quietly rooting for you. It’s so open that there’s
no easy way for you to get in and out.’

‘If there are going to be that many people, I could easily blend in.’

‘Of course – but you’re going to have to show yourself at some point and where are you going to go then? Anyone in the crowd who wants you caught will come after you for the
reward or the glory and then the King and all his men will be in the square.’

He makes a lot of sense. Inviting so many people ensures there will be eyes on me everywhere. I’ve already shown them in Windsor and Middle England that I am capable of getting out of
places when trapped. This is the opposite – open, packed, dangerous.

‘He needs to make an example too,’ I say. ‘He must know people’s opinions are changing. He’ll hear it from the Kingsmen in the cities. Even if he doesn’t,
then Bathix will know. He’s the brains.’

‘Who’s Bathix?’

I explain about the Minister Prime’s real name, adding: ‘Bathix will want people here to see what happens if you dare to defy the King. I saw it with the Reckoning. The Kingsmen were
giving out flags and getting everyone to cheer. They’ll want that adulation – thousands of people happy and waving. If they manage that and then kill me, Imrin, or both of us, they get
across that double message – look at all these people who appreciate the King, and look what happens to those who don’t.’

We sit quietly for a few moments, watching the activity below. One Kingsman bangs the table in frustration and another pumps the air with his fist. I start to shiver but Vez takes my hands and
blows into them, his breath warming me within seconds. When he speaks, it reminds me of the way my father used to talk to me as a child, forceful but inviting me to make my own decision. ‘You
can’t come back here without a plan.’

I am ready to return to the church and stand, offering my hand to pull Vez up from the ground.

‘It’s a good job I’ve got one then.’

We make such good time walking back to the church that I get a few hours’ sleep before Opie wakes me by snuggling into my back. There are blankets between us but I
pretend I am still asleep, Vez’s warning still fresh in my mind that I have to be careful not to lose both Opie and Imrin.

Opie, Jela, Pietra, Hart and I have a room to ourselves. As everyone else wakes, the first thing they want to talk about is how good Jela is with the crossbow.

Considering the power of the blood bomb I carry with me, it almost seems ridiculous that we are fussing over small weapons, but none of us knows what may come in handy at a later time.

It is good to hear the excitement in their voices, Pietra’s more so than anyone’s. ‘We went out to the woods and Jela was shooting the knots in the trees, hitting them dead in
the centre,’ Pietra says. ‘Then she was shooting the squirrels. One of the others made a stew from the meat.’

Jela has been with us through everything and it is fantastic she has found something she’s good at. She sits on her pile of blankets, an appreciative yet slightly embarrassed smile on her
face as she rests a hand on the crossbow sticking out from under the covers that she has slept with.

‘It’s mainly Frank,’ Jela replies modestly. ‘The crossbow he made is flexible but solid and the arrows fly perfectly straight.’

Pietra shakes her head knowingly. ‘You still need someone who can aim properly.’

I turn to Opie. ‘What have you been up to?’

He grins, his face lighting up in the way Imp’s does when he has been caught up to no good. ‘Hart and me had a bit of . . . fun.’

He glances sideways at Hart and the two of them collapse into a fit of childish giggles. Jela and Pietra both roll their eyes and I can tell they’ve spent the previous evening trying to
ignore the other two.

‘Let’s hear it then,’ I say.

‘They’ve been fighting,’ Pietra says before either of them can speak.

When I look closer, I notice a scuff of mud above Opie’s eyebrow and a small graze under his chin. Hart has a cut under his eye and his lip is swollen, even though he is still smiling.

They each begin to snigger again, so Jela continues. ‘Frank is helping to build an armoury and he said we could choose whatever weapon we wanted to try out. Pietra and I took the crossbow
outside and they tried pretty much everything else.’

‘We weren’t seriously fighting,’ Opie says, finally calming himself.

‘So you were play-fighting like children then?’ I am joking but neither of them denies it. I brush my finger along Opie’s graze and he flinches away. ‘How did you get
that?’

‘Hart hit me in the face with a spear handle.’

Hart gasps in mock outrage. ‘It was an accident and you got me back anyway.’ He lifts his top to show a bruise just under his ribs.

I find myself matching the other girls’ apathetic faces.

Boys
.

‘Did you find anything you were particularly good at?’

‘Not really,’ Opie admits. ‘We’re more familiar with everything now though. How was Oxford?’

‘Empty except for a few Kingsmen. There’s a patch of grass in the centre and they’re putting up big screens and these pylon things. I guess they’ll be there to block the
sonic weapon.’

Jela asks the question they have likely all been waiting for since the King spoke about my ‘trick’. ‘How do you know he wasn’t talking about your teleport?’

‘All he knows is that we helped the Offerings to escape through the stained glass. They would have taken the box underneath it and pulled it apart trying to find out how it worked. Their
head scientist was Porter – and we know what happened to him. Even if they could have worked out the teleporter, all they will get is that you need two doorways. The only two people who might
have been able to reverse engineer it like I did are Porter and Xyalis. They’re both dead.’

I lower my voice as I mention that Xyalis isn’t alive any longer. I doubt we’re being spied on but it doesn’t make sense to broadcast it too widely.

‘The only thing it can be is the sonic weapon,’ I add. ‘Imrin stole that from the office in Middle England – it’s technology they’ll already know
about.’

Jela nods. ‘So if it hasn’t been blocked, why don’t you grab Imrin and teleport out?’

I shake my head. ‘We don’t know what it’s going to be like. They’re setting up that green as some sort of focal point. He could be chained up, locked in a cage, or
anything else – so I can’t rush in and take him. If I present myself, they could grab me and take the teleport box. Aside from not being caught, the last thing I want is for them to
have that technology. The King would be able to walk his armies into the middle of our towns and cities and out again. There wouldn’t be a hiding place for anyone.’

The joy from the talk about weapons practice has drained away as the reality dawns. ‘What are you going to do?’ she asks.

‘
I’m
going to go and get Imrin back. The fewer of us in danger, the better – I only need Opie with me.’

The rest of them complain loud and long. When he later finds out, Knave joins in, insisting he should go and that he has men who can help too. Only Vez tells them to leave me be. Opie
doesn’t complain about being by my side but I sense he would rather there were more of us going to Oxford.

Jela, Pietra, Opie and Hart all head back to the woods to try the weapons again, leaving me to spend a few hours with Frank. Considering what he has to work with, his creativity is astonishing.
He has made three spears from tree branches and a broken saw. The wall of his work room is covered with diagrams drawn in chalk of ideas he has for weapons with which we can defend ourselves. To
the side, he has written a shopping list of items he thinks he could be able to incorporate into other projects.

As impressive as it is, it shows how the Reckoning could have worked had it been used correctly. Instead of hiding underground, Frank could have been creating something to improve the lives of
everyone around the country.

When he has helped me to create what I need for my plan, I head to our bedroom, wrapping myself in blankets and closing my eyes.

* * *

The next thing I know, I am flailing wildly and struggling for breath. Opie had been shaking my arm gently to wake me but pulls away sharply, telling me I am safe.

Considering the lack of sleep I have had until recently, my new-found ability to drop off instantly is almost worrying. When we hid in abandoned buildings and the woods after initially escaping
from Windsor, I slept so lightly that any rustle from animals, or anyone turning over in the night, would have me wide awake, alert and ready.

It takes me a few seconds to realise that the bedroom is full: Opie, Hart, Jela, Pietra, Frank, Knave and Vez are all here wishing me well and asking again if I want anyone else to accompany me
to Oxford. I am more concerned that I didn’t hear any of them approaching than I am about heading off to rescue Imrin and face the King and Minister Prime.

I could have waited for Imrin to leave the castle and gone last. Instead he was stranded and it is my responsibility to get him back.

After re-checking I have everything I need, Opie and I set off on foot. Although the teleport box seems to be functioning, I don’t want to risk a malfunction that could leave me in a place
where I cannot meet the King’s midday deadline.

As we have done for years, we talk effortlessly about Martindale, remembering the people who are now either dead or imprisoned. Between us, we come up with so many memorable things that the
six-hour walk passes in no time.

It is almost dark as we arrive on the outskirts of Oxford and I lead Opie to the bank where I sat with Vez the previous evening. There are many more Kingsmen on the streets, patrolling in packs
of five and six and sticking to rigid routes. They are not sitting around gambling any more. As the search parties begin to spread out, we retreat further until we are lying on our fronts under
piles of leaves, watching from a distance.

As well as the two giant screens which are now in position, there are four tall black pylons with small circular dishes on top. I didn’t bring the sonic weapon but can’t help but
wonder if there is something more sinister going on. At the absolute least, they stand on the corners of the green, creating an imposing arena.

It is a cloudy night and we can’t see much through the gloom. Opie says that I should sleep and that he will keep watch. I don’t argue.

Miraculously, I am again woken up by him gently rocking my arm. This time I don’t jump but I realise I have slept far more in the past few days than in the three weeks before that. My body
feels full of fire, full of life as we lie silently watching trains arriving in the distance on the far side of the city. Some hum back and forth almost in silence, but others are like the steam
train Opie and I once stowed away on in Martindale. The engines chunter noisily until they stop, pumping huge plumes of smoke into the air.

Hour by hour, more people pour from the transport into Oxford until all we can see is a throbbing mass of humanity, stretching far into the distance. I want to ask Opie if he can hear my name
being carried by the wind as they chatter excitedly, but I fear a negative reply – proving my own paranoia. I can sense it though. ‘Silver’ they are saying, so many people
whispering the word to one another that it feels as if they are calling me to them, demanding my presence.

With a little over an hour until midday, I check my pockets again. Fear is inherent in every thought and I worry that I have missed something. Opie has a simple job to do – mix into the
crowds, get close to the front and not be recognised. It is a cool morning and he has a hat pulled over his ears. Even with his height, he should have no problem fitting in. I am the most wanted
person in the country and becoming one of the crowd will be harder for me. The biggest thing in my favour is my size. I am thin enough to slide through gaps between people. A ‘sorry,
mate’ here and an ‘excuse me, love’ there will hopefully get me to where I need to be.