Renegade (5 page)

I lean in to take a closer look but don’t even know where to start. It is hard to distinguish what is leg and what is material, with the wound marked by mud and grass. There is a murmur of
voices behind me but I cannot hear anything over Frank’s moans.

As I am about to turn to the others to see if anyone has any ideas, a steady orange haze of light appears around us. Everyone looks towards me as if I can offer some sort of explanation but I
can only watch as a figure approaches from behind everyone. One by one they turn to stare as the silhouette gradually becomes the shape of a man. He isn’t particularly tall, but his shoulders
are broad and his hands are huge. He carries himself with an air of authority and danger.

At first I think he is a Kingsman but, as he nears, I can see he is wearing heavy black boots and a pair of jeans. Instead of a helmet, his shoulder-length hair is loose and blowing behind him
in the breeze. As everyone else notices him, they seem entranced, stepping to one side, allowing him to continue moving as he ignores them, heading towards me.

He is so close, I can see scuffs of mud on his knuckles as he glances towards Frank, and then looks directly at me. ‘Who are you?’ he asks, his voice deep and intimidating.

‘Just travellers.’

The man nudges open his long coat, revealing a lengthy knife clipped to his belt. ‘Who are you?’ he repeats.

‘Travellers. We were looking for somewhere to stay for the night when my friend accidentally stepped on the trap.’

The man peers towards Frank again before his eyes flicker back to me. He nods over my shoulder at the ring of fire. ‘Every spot of light you see is one person who is armed. You have ten
seconds.’

I feel everyone breathe in at the same time as I realise he isn’t messing around.

‘We’re travellers,’ I insist. ‘We’re moving north but got a little lost.’

The man scratches the stubble on his chin, narrowing his eyes as he tries to figure out if I am lying. ‘What’s your name?’

‘Olive.’

It is my mother’s name and the lie comes instantly. I still don’t know if anything was broadcast from the castle on our final evening. Silver Blackthorn could be either a nobody or
the most wanted person in the country.

‘You know transporting people across Kingdom borders is forbidden?’ He isn’t asking a question, merely telling me what we all know.

‘So is carrying a concealed weapon.’

I reply instinctively, matching his aggression with a small amount of my own. I did not expect to intimidate him but I did think I’d get more of a reaction than the nothingness he
offers.

‘Why are you here?’

‘We’re passing through. It looked as if there might be somewhere to shelter.’

‘Where have you come from?’

‘Beaconsfield.’

It is a risky lie but I cannot think of anywhere else in the South other than Windsor. He is unmoving.

‘You don’t sound like you’re from the South.’

‘My father wasn’t from around here.’

The man nods slowly, although his eyes are narrow and untrusting. His eyes flicker towards the ground. ‘Who’s he?’

‘That’s Frank. He really needs some help.’

For a few seconds, nothing happens but then the man stretches out his arm and clicks his fingers before letting out a low whistle. Half of the lights around us are instantly extinguished and
then there is the clump of footsteps until two more men join us in the clearing.

‘What do you reckon?’ the first man says to the other, motioning towards Frank.

‘We’d have to move him quickly.’

‘Will he live?’

‘No idea. He might lose the leg.’

The way they speak is so casual that it is as if they haven’t noticed Frank is a person in pain. The first man glances between me and Frank before making a decision.

‘Okay, take him,’ he says.

The other two put their heads under Frank’s armpits and haul him to his feet. He shrieks in agony as the wood that was in his mouth drops to the floor. I start to step forward but realise
they are trying to help him. One of them supports his damaged leg, the other taking the rest of his weight. Together they carry him out of the clearing.

‘Where are you taking him?’ I ask.

The man has his knife out of his belt and is twirling it between his fingers. ‘Somewhere he’ll be looked after.’

‘Who are you?’

‘You tell me and I’ll tell you.’

He could be one of the rebels I am looking for, or part of a localised militia group. One of the girls in the dormitory at the castle told us that she had not seen a Kingsman until she was
twelve years old. Instead, a group of local men kept peace in the area. If they had any problems, they could call Kingsmen in. Telling this man the truth is not a risk I can take, not with eleven
other people’s lives in my hands.

‘We’re travellers,’ I repeat. It isn’t even a lie.

The man whistles a second time and the rest of the flames disappear. More people emerge through the dense mix of bushes and trees. They edge closer until our group tightens, completely
surrounded. The strangers are dressed in clothes suited for outdoors, each carrying a knife. The man nods towards Faith. ‘Where have you all come from?’

Apart from the rustle of the wind, there is silence. I can tell from her face that she can’t remember the answer I gave. In my head, I repeat the word ‘Beaconsfield’ over and
over but the way Faith’s eyes dart from side to side is enough to make my hand flash towards the knife on my own belt. Before I can touch the handle, the man’s arm shoots out, grabbing
my wrist, before he viciously twists me around. I screech involuntarily, pain ripping through my already damaged shoulder. In a flurry of movement, I look around to see everyone from our group
being held by someone bigger and stronger. Faith’s legs are flailing but she is being restrained by the biggest person I can see.

Before I can try to fight back, my head is wrenched backwards with a sharp tug of my hair. My ears are bitten by the sharpness of the breeze as my hat tumbles from my head. The knife is yanked
from my belt and the jagged edge is pressed against my windpipe.

‘Last chance,’ he hisses in my ear. ‘Who are you and what are you doing here?’

I have no option but to tell the truth but before I can speak, there is a collection of gasps as a man’s voice sounds nearby. ‘She’s Silver Blackthorn.’

The grip on me is instantly released as I am pushed forward and peer up to see the man staring at me in shock. With my hat on the floor, my silver streak of hair is hanging
across my face until I push it behind my ear. There is a murmur of recognition around the circle as the other strangers say my name.

‘
You’re
Silver Blackthorn?’ the man says suspiciously, his bewilderment unmasked.

‘Yes.’

‘
The
Silver Blackthorn?’

‘I suppose so, how many do you know?’

The man again glances towards my hair before he nods to the person closest to him. ‘Blindfolds. Let’s go – we’ll take them to him.’

He grabs me again, this time slipping something around my eyes and fastening it tightly, before pulling my hair back and tugging the hat over my ears. There is nothing I can do.

‘Get their bags,’ he adds, and then we are marched away in the darkness. At regular intervals someone tells us to stop, before we are turned in a different direction and told to
start again. Whichever route we are taking, it is not the one Faith and I took towards the village. I can feel the softness of the grass and mud under my feet long enough for us to have covered the
full length of the woods. Under the bottom of the blindfold, I can see the faintest sliver of light but it is not enough to be able to get any sort of bearings. The only sounds I can hear are the
murmurs of our captors, repeating my name in hushed, worried tones.

I am not sure what to make of the fact they know who I am. If it was a really bad thing, I would surely be dead already, but that could mean that Kingsmen are on their way. The only thing I can
have any degree of certainty about is that at least some of the final banquet from the castle was broadcast.

Eventually the ground becomes solid, with the footsteps of a couple of dozen people reverberating around concrete streets. Under my blindfold I can see the grey of stone but there is nothing
that tells me where we are. We are told to stop walking and I hear a clatter I can’t identify before someone tells us to move slowly. Gradually we edge down what sounds like a set of stone
steps.

‘Are you going to seal it?’ a voice asks behind me, before someone else queries where we should be taken. When the floor levels out again, I feel a hand on my arm guiding me quickly
until I realise too late that I am being led away from the sound of the others.

I fight to yank my arm away but a hand grips me tighter, making me gasp and telling me to keep moving.

‘Where am I going?’ I ask.

I recognise the man’s voice as the same one from the woods. ‘Keep moving.’

‘Where are my friends being taken?’

He doesn’t reply but a gentle push in the bottom of my back is enough to keep me walking. I hear a door being opened and can tell we have entered a large room because the echo of our
footsteps lasts for a fraction of a second longer.

Through the gap at the bottom of my blindfold, I can see a faint glow of orange light on a floor I think is wooden. The man who has been guiding me moves away, before there is a second male
voice. ‘I thought I told you to deal with it?’

‘They were just kids and said they were travellers. One of them was caught in one of our traps, so we brought him here. We were going to send the others on their way after scaring them a
bit.’

There is a sigh before the second man lowers his voice and hisses aggressively. ‘So why did you bring them here?’

I feel a hand on my head as the hat is wrenched away. My hair is uncomfortable as I shake my head, disorientated from the blindfold.

‘Is that . . . ?’

‘She says her name is Silver Blackthorn,’ the voice from the woods says. ‘There are twelve of them in total, so the numbers are about right.’

There are faint whispers but nothing I can hear clearly. Suddenly the blindfold is pulled away, leaving me blinking painfully into the light of the room. The dazzling green stars take a few
moments to disappear as the shapes of two men slowly swim into focus. I can see the man from the woods more clearly in the light, his eyes a piercing brown in a face lined by zigzag scars around
his ears. The other man is taller and less well-built, with blond hair and blue eyes. He is smiling.

‘
You’re
Silver Blackthorn?’ he asks.

My legs sag uncontrollably at the knees as I struggle to remain standing. The dark-haired man scrapes a wooden chair along the floor, placing it next to me. I can’t control my sigh of
weary relief as I finally lean back and take in my surroundings. The room is square with a low stone roof and a thick wooden table pushed against the far wall. Lining each side are wooden chairs
like the one I have been given. It smells of damp, like the back room of Opie’s house where the ceiling leaks.

‘Yes, I’m Silver,’ I reply.

The blond man is trying to control his excitement but failing. ‘So you actually escaped?’

‘What gave me away?’

‘I’m sorry about the blindfolds,’ he says. ‘It’s a necessity – if people knew where we were, we wouldn’t be around any longer.’

‘Who are you?’

The two men exchange a look, before the blond one nods slightly. ‘I’m Knave and this is Vez. We have our own community underground here.’

‘Where are we?’

Knave points to the door behind me. ‘Back there is the original crypt from a village church. Overground it’s covered with rubble – you’d never know we were here. There
was a large cellar and a few other basement rooms in which we now live.’

I start to speak but the words get stuck on my tongue as I realise the significance of what he said: ‘Your name is Knave?’

‘Yes.’

‘You escaped too.’

Before we left the castle, Hart helped me access the Minister Prime’s office. I stole the list of the names of every Offering that had been made to the King. Everyone was categorised by
where they were now. Most were dead but one name was marked as ‘AWOL’.

Knave looks at me, his head tilted in confusion. ‘How do you know that?’

‘I read your name on a list in the Minister Prime’s office.’

His eyes narrow in suspicion before I tell him the story of how I managed to see the names and how we escaped. I miss nothing out, telling him about Hart, Imrin, Jela, Pietra, Faith and the
parts they all played.

‘You worked together?’ he eventually says.

‘It was the only way.’

Knave turns to Vez and touches him on the arm. ‘Can you give us a few minutes? Check on the others and make sure the injured one is all right.’

Vez nods and strides past me, closing the door behind him.

‘Where are my friends?’ I ask.

‘Vez thought it best if we talk to you directly, rather than have everyone else involved. He’s right.’

‘What about Frank? His leg is really bad.’

‘We have a few medical experts and some meagre supplies. We’ll do what we can.’

I nod, relief spreading. ‘How did you get out?’

Knave takes a chair from the side of the room and sits opposite me. At first he just stares, eyes scanning me up and down. He begins slowly: ‘It was on the supply train that comes once a
week. I worked in the kitchens and figured out the schedule. Each week, I would sneak out when we were busy and go to the door that leads to the platform. One day it was left open slightly. I
didn’t know if there were going to be Kingsmen at the bottom of the steps but didn’t really care. There were only three of us lads left by then – everyone else had been killed or
traded. I ran and hid in a sack at the back of one of the compartments.’

I can’t hide my surprise: ‘That was our first plan but someone else got there first. He was caught and I’ve never seen him since.’

Knave apologises. ‘I suppose they started checking when they realised how I got away. I waited for an hour and then jumped as soon as the train reached a patch of grass that looked soft
enough to land on. I broke an arm falling but at least I was out.’