Jay Posey - Three

“Yeah.”

“Will you sit with me? Until after?”

“Yeah.”

After a moment, Three added, “I’ll do more. I’ll remember you, Dagon, of the Empty Frost Clan.” It wasn’t a platitude. It was an oath, and a blessing. A pledge between brothers. And a comfort from a fear Three knew in a vague way, a fear he knew Dagon was feeling the full force of now. Something they’d each learned from their own houses, long ago.

They weren’t wired. There was no digital afterlife for them. But as long as a brother remained, they would be remembered.

Dagon smiled faintly. His breathing slowed. And quietly, Dagon, the Grave, died.

After a time, Three rose and went into the back room of the small building where they’d been hiding, and roused Wren. The chemlight still glowed softly. He was surprised to see how soundly the boy had slept that night, when so much danger had been so near. Even now Wren moved sluggishly, hair matted to the side of his head with sweat, looking as if he could sleep through the day. It was several moments before he noticed.

“Where’s Mr Carter?” he asked suddenly. There was no way to soften the blow, so Three didn’t.

“He’s dead, Wren. Dagon killed him last night.”

“Where’s Dagon?”

“Dead too.”

“You?”

Three nodded. Wren hid his hands in his face, but not before Three had seen the glimmer of tears welling. The boy cried silently, and Three let him for a time. But there was work to do.

“Come on. I need your help.”

In those bitterly cold hours before dawn, with Wren at his side, Three worked to scavenge and build a makeshift metal basin. Together, they prepared and wrapped the bodies of Mr Carter and Dagon. Three lay the bodies side by side in the basin, then stood back, with Wren close by.

“Want to say anything?”

Wren was quiet and still. But just before Three stepped forward again, the boy spoke.

“Mr Carter was a great man. He was kind, and strong, and he always made me feel safe.” He paused. And to Three’s surprise, he added, “Dagon was a good friend. He did some bad things, but I don’t think he really meant them. He was a good friend.” He looked up, eyes and cheeks shining in the weak light. “Do you want to say anything, Three?”

“I think you covered it, kid.”

Wren nodded, and as the sun was just beginning to redden the sky, Three stepped forward and set the bodies alight. They stood in silence as the flames took the remains. Wren watched deep into the fire.

“We’re going to fight today, aren’t we?” the boy asked.

“Yeah.”

Wren thought for a moment. Wiped his cheeks, his eyes.

Nodded.

“OK.”

It was still early morning when they set out, headed back towards Morningside. Three couldn’t help but wonder how long it would take Asher to find Fedor, and to react. And what that reaction would be. Today would decide everything. Three had accepted that. Embraced it. It was the end, however it turned out.

“What do you think, Wren? Ran or Jez?” Three glanced over his shoulder at the boy following a step behind. His eyes were downcast, but he seemed to be standing taller than Three remembered.

“Jez,” Wren said after a moment’s hesitation. “But you’ll have to be careful. She’s got… magic. Or something.”

“What kind?”

The boy shrugged. “She talks to people. They do stuff.”

“Why not Ran?”

Wren didn’t answer.

“Is he stronger?”

“He’s nicer.”

Three wanted to press the issue, but decided it didn’t really matter. He’d have to deal with them all at some point anyway. The order didn’t seem to make much difference. Except Asher. He’d be last.

“I think maybe — maybe we won’t have to fight Ran,” Wren added. “At the end.”

“Are they together now?”

“No.”

It was a new approach. At first, Three didn’t think it’d be possible. Then, when he’d realized Wren’s gift, he hadn’t wanted to risk it because he’d feared it would give them away. But now the risk… well, this close to the end it didn’t seem to matter one way or the other. Whatever came, he would deal with it.

It had taken some convincing. At first, Wren was afraid to try, was afraid he couldn’t do it, but Three had coaxed him into it. Sure enough, he could do it. Was doing it. For the first time since this had all begun, Wren was tracking them . Masking his own signal, tracerunning theirs. Leading them to the very people that had been hounding them for so long.

Wren wouldn’t go near Asher, not even across the digital, but the others he seemed more confident about. They were still in the city, but they weren’t holed up in the Governor’s compound. They were roaming the streets. Searching.

“Got your knife?” Three asked.

Wren nodded. “But I don’t want to use it.”

“You might have to.”

Wren swallowed. “If I have to.”

They pressed on towards Morningside as the outskirts of the city began stirring into life. Three scanned the surroundings, searching for signs of danger, soaking in the feel and flow of the people that were just beginning to appear. The outcasts, or those deemed not worthy to live within the walls. The closer he and Wren got to Morningside, the more active it became, as the men and women outside prepared for another day of bartering inside. Wren took quick steps to catch up and grabbed Three’s hand with casual familiarity.

“What do they sell?” Wren asked suddenly.

It was a good question. There didn’t seem to be much that the people outside of Morningside could provide to those inside. Hand-crafted trinkets, perhaps. Something just endearing enough to attract the charity of a wealthy city-dweller. But Three’s quick eye saw little in the way of goods among those preparing to enter the city. It clicked for him, then. Most of the outcasts that made a living in Morningside probably did so by selling themselves, in one way or another. Indentured servitude. Freedom for security.

“Don’t know, Wren. Maybe they’re all musicians.”

“That sounds fun,” Wren said. Then with barely a pause added, “How do we get inside?”

“Quickly,” Three answered. “And with big smiles.”

Wren looked up, not understanding. Three just looked down and winked. Wren held his hand a little tighter.

Within a few more minutes, a gate was looming ahead of them. Not the same gate they’d entered before, though not far from it either. A steady trickle of people had already started making its way into the city.

“Hold on a sec,” Three said, stopping. Wren turned to face Three, and in the next moment Three had him under the arms and was picking him up. Three lifted the boy up over his head and set him on his shoulders.

“Won’t they be looking for us?”

“Yeah,” Three said. “But we often see what we expect, and miss what we don’t.”

As they approached the gate, Three moved up alongside a woman who was carrying two large cases, one stacked atop the other. She was a few years older than he was, with wrinkles just starting at the corners of her eyes. Brown hair pulled back in a loose knot, with wisps floating on either side of her face. Not particularly attractive.

“Ma’am, we’re headed the same direction,” he said, smiling. “Can I carry those for you?”

The woman smiled faintly but shook her head. “Oh no, I can manage. I do it every day.”

But Three was already taking the top case. The woman tried to protest, but she needed both hands to hold the other, so there wasn’t much she could do. Three fell into step with her, close enough so their shoulders brushed as they walked, and just kept smiling.

“Whew, one of these is heavy enough,” he said. “You must be the strongest woman in Morningside.”