The Lotus Effect (Rise Of The Ardent) (37 page)

Chapter 39

Becoming A Unit Of Utter Destruction

I awoke the next day feeling well rested and hopeful. But then I remembered.

Today was the day.
The final battle.

I blinked, wishing the dim light would help coax me out of bed. Xander was already on the move, packing his things and strapping on his leg armor, the springs of his mattress hardly even making a sound as he did so.

“Glad to see you finally awake,” Xander said as he sat on the edge of his bed, notching the strap behind his knee with a firm click. “I was beginning to think you’d fallen under a powerful spell. A spell in which I would have to break.”

He rose from the bed and brushed down the brown tunic he wore beneath his armor. “But I doubt you’d be fond of such an endearment,” he said with a half grin.

I frowned at his comment and sat up stiffly, stretching my tired body. Ignoring Xander’s watchful gaze, I swung my legs over the edge of the bed and looked up carefully, forcing my brain to piece together what I needed for the day. At the end of a yawn, I blanched, looking down the length of my arm and saw that I sat in my frilly nightgown like some bedraggled Dollymop. I pulled the covers up over me again, not understanding why I was suddenly so embarrassed. Xander had seen me wearing this for what seemed like a thousand other occasions already.

Xander sniffed outwards, finding something amusing. He turned his back as he strapped on his shoulder armor, allowing me my privacy.

With a late to react, sleepy nod towards his back in greeting, I quickly and clumsily grabbed at my things to make for the washroom. Closing the door behind me, I scowled upon seeing my reflection in the mirror. My hair stood in haphazard tuffs around my face—my scarred eye making me look even more savage. After sufficiently taming my hair and wetting my tired eyes, I heard Xander knock on the door, a light rasp in the quiet still of the morning.

“Yes?”

“Will you allow me to help you with your armor?”

“What? Why?” I asked though the door. “I’ve not needed your help for the previous fights.” Thinking he had another wry explanation in which to humor me with, I opened the door to look at him. My eyes however, widened upon seeing him.

Now fully armored, Xander looked glorious as he stood before me. And though marred with divots and dark smudges, his armor still shone brilliantly in the early morning rays that managed to enter the small window of our hut.

He looked at me, gray eyes thoughtful and not hiding the joking mirth he had earlier. “My father once told me of an ancient tradition, upheld by warriors long past who aided their brethren before battle. They suited each other into their gear before fighting, believing that it honed their power of trust, of their ability to fight as one—eventually allowing them to become a unit of utter destruction.”

“I’ve never heard of such tales.” I rested my shoulder against the door’s frame. “Where did your father learn of this?” I asked, genuinely curious.

Xander shrugged. “I don’t know, but I do remember the day of his final fight. My mother helped with his breastplate while I struggled to notch his belt that was almost twice my length.” He smiled inwardly to himself before his feature’s tightened, his jaw shifting as he remembered the injustice of that battle. “Technically my father did win that day.”

I nodded in sympathy. “Your father won because he fought for something special. For his family.”

Perhaps it was their love that truly protected him. Armored him.
The act of sending him to battle confirmed the notion of love’s protection into a physical manifestation.

Xander smiled sadly. “He did. He always fought for us.” His eyes fell to mine then, waiting for an answer.

“Oh—my armor. Well, if you must,” I said quickly, but then I sighed, ashamed by my uncaring attitude. “Thank you. It takes me forever on my own anyways,” I added with a smile, not wanting to make it seem I was being disrespectful towards his father or his mother’s memory.

Xander gestured for me to step from the washroom and into the open space beyond. I had already laced up my tight jumpsuit and was working on my shin armor before he’d interrupted. “You’ve already suited up. This seems a little one sided . . . . When am I to help with
your
armor?” I asked, eyeing him.

“How about after today’s battle, I’ll have you take it all off for me?”

I narrowed my eyes.

Xander grinned. “You’ve already helped me plenty,” he amended. He reached across my bed and handled my shoulder pauldrons reverently in the palm of his hand. “Turn around for me,” he said, twirling his finger in the air.

I raised an eyebrow at his order, but didn’t argue. There was something about him that exuded such confidence, such care. And when he looked at me now, armored and deadly, I felt as though I was the only thing he saw.

He stepped closer and gently pushed my loose hair over my shoulder, his fingers barely brushing across the skin of my neck, raising the little hairs on my arms.

I remained silent as he went through the motions. Xander exuded focus and seriousness through his energy, energy that even I could detect. It was a sacred moment, not to be broken and marred by abrasive words.

A moment to honor our final battle.

He reached down and slowly maneuvered my left arm into the air—his skin hardly even touching mine and yet I could feel the strength of him ripple and energize the air around me. Placing the larger three-tiered shoulder pauldron firmly atop my arm, he reached under, grabbing the straps and pulled tightly, securing it into place. A few stray strands of my hair caught in the lotus-bulb spikes that spiraled to protect my throat. I reached to disentangle them, but Xander was already aware.

He removed each and every strand, careful not to pull, and placed them at my back.

I blushed at the kind, yet somewhat intimate gesture. My lips could still feel the way his had felt on mine in the Requiem. Sure and confident. My cheeks feeling exceedingly warmer, I quickly turned my face away and waited for him to continue.

After securing my tiered elbow guards and bracers into place, he then moved over to my right side. The right side always took a fractional amount of time as compared to the left. There was only the bracer and small shoulder pauldron to see to, and yet he still took his time as though he was savoring every little detail, making sure everything was perfect.

I shifted on my feet, feeling anxious to get on with things and yet deep down I felt calmed, moved by this kind gesture of camaraderie.
 

I wondered if the warriors he spoke of were ever comprised of both male
and
female fighters? Or between those who cared deeply for one another regardless of gender. If they did, I can imagine the act of armoring each other before battle had other motivations behind it. I bit my lip at the thought and tried to push it away,
fast
. I knew Xander was reading every emotion that crossed me now.

How could he not
?

His face was hidden from me as he worked from my shins upwards, making sure that each strap was pulled tightly and secured properly. He then reached for my breastplate and stood from his crouch. His eyes sought mine as he rose, a thousand words hidden beneath his gaze. A thousand words that told me he
had
read me—sensed my lapse in thought.

Bloody hell
. I averted my eyes to the floor as his face came close. I could feel his warmth as he reached around to grab hold of the straps at my back. From the corner of my eye, I thought I saw his mouth curve in that knowing, slanted smile of his. Maybe I was imagining it, but thinking better of it, I probably wasn’t.

Xander made sure the spiraling tree of my breastplate was in its proper position before he stepped to my back and secured each and every clasp.

Taking a deep breath, I tested the room between my girth and was satisfied—but also pleasantly surprised he neither secured it too loosely nor too tightly. Applying my breastplate was always so troublesome. The act was usually comprised of a lot of fussing and mumbled curses before the armor was finally adjusted to my liking.

Xander forced me to spin on my heels suddenly, making me look at him. His hands rested on the sides of my arms and even through the armor, I could feel his presence soak into my skin, filling me with strength and courage.

“One last thing.” He reached down and took hold of my holstered axe belt, swinging it around my waist and deftly catching it with his other hand. He ran the strap through the buckle, locking it into place with a satisfying tug.

He grinned and looked up at me. “It appears I’ve gotten more efficient at notching a belt over the years.”

“So it appears,” I agreed with a smile, thinking of the small boy who fumbled to help his father prepare for battle.

 
I stepped back, looking over my armor and appraising his skilled hand. Looking up again, I smiled my thanks, finally able to take a breath now that he was finished. The tension of the moment was over, yet the sacredness of our actions lingered with every movement, every breath.

We closed the door to the hut and looked to each other before stepping out to face whatever challenges the day threw at us.

Together
.
And as one.

Chapter 40

Farewells ~ Forgotten Memories

Dex called out to us in greeting as we rounded the edge of the trail that led from the Compound. “Solve that riddle yet?” he asked, rubbing his hands together that ended with a small clap. He took one look at me before he turned and started backpedaling down the path in front of us. “Judging by your face, I’d say yes.” He sighed. “I’ll walk you there if you like?” he added. “The citizens are being directed to the amphitheater as we speak. Briggins built some nifty high-rise seating so views won’t be obscured. Manic credit waste’n buffoon he is if you ask me.” Dex scoffed and tilted the tip of his hat further over the bridge of his nose.

“Good thing no one asks you, Dex, otherwise you would’ve been found face down in a ditch long ago,” Xander chimed in at my side.

Dex shrugged guiltily. “I like takin’ my chances. Makes me feel dangerous.”

Xander rolled his eyes. “Then maybe next time you should sign up for the Barrage instead of boozing it up on the corner of fifth. Sector 3 could use a good fighter like yourself.”

Dex grunted, throwing his hands into the air. “Man’s gotta run his business. All good anarchist plans need someone on the inside.”

“Dex!” I scolded. “Keep it down.”

Dex gave me a look. “Or what? I’ll give you away?” His eyebrows lifted. “You made your intentions pretty clear last night.”

“Briggins
murdered
my mother. Tortured and killed my maidservant.” It was all the response I needed.

Dex nodded somberly before falling into step at my side.

We took the less traveled paths that led to Sector 9, hoping to avoid the crowds. We came upon only a few stragglers who also knew of the hidden routes. When they saw us, they stopped and bowed their heads, respectfully allowing us to pass as they stood reverently in our wake.

“The people adore you,” Dex said as we walked further down the street.

Looking down at my hands, I spoke through the clot that was beginning to form in my throat. “Surely they’re just excited to see us fight. After this is all over, if I happen to survive it, the admiration will disperse,” I said flatly.

Dex shook his head and smiled. “Don’t be so modest. Rumor is they’ve not seen a braver Mistress since Lady Ever—”

“My grandmother. I
know
,” I interrupted him, my nerves forcing my tongue. The news of my mother’s murder had turned me mean, all hard edges. I sighed and tried not to think of the overwhelming responsibility that now resided upon my shoulders.

“I only aim to prove my worth,” I amended quietly to him in an apology, my thoughts drifting to a place I dare not go. If I planned to survive the day, I had to focus on the battle that was to come. Nothing more.

Absently, I picked at a bit of dirt under my nail until the white crescent reappeared beneath. I felt something lightly brush against the side of my face, making me jerk in surprise. It was Xander, a look of worry encased within his gaze.

“Lily, everything is going to be all right.” His eyes assessed me, never leaving my side. “One breath. One step at a time. You may be the one with the position of worth, but know that you are
never
alone.”

Swallowing, I realized his words were more comforting to hear than I would’ve thought. Taking a satisfying breath, I nodded my thanks, embarrassed that I could get so overwhelmed so quickly. It made me look weak, vulnerable even.

—
No.
I was being too harsh on myself. My vulnerabilities and weaknesses make me who I am. Showed everyone, including myself, that I was no better than the rest of the citizens. That even though I was a bit Abnormal, I was still
human
.

Our pace slowed and I glanced up just in time to see Dex move to the side, exposing the large opening that overlooked an enormous concrete stairwell.
 

The ruined and desolate landscape of Sector 9 stood beyond.

The half-crumbling once magnificent buildings and homes made my chest hitch painfully. So long had it been since I first saw this from within the safety of my father’s carriage—a site of horror and sadness that brought shame to my cheeks.

No. No. No.
I shook my head as a strange, sinking feeling, crept up from beneath my skin. I caught sight of one particular spiraling and broken clock tower that seemed . . .
 
familiar
—something I wouldn’t have seen from the lowered height of a carriage those many years ago.

I’ve been here before.

Looking away, I deserted the feeling. Ashamedly, I, as well as the rest of Prosper, chose to block this memory out; to continue our lives as if the Purge never happened.

“Do you often think of Sector 9? The way it used to be—from before?” I asked Xander quietly, returning my eyes to the horror before us.

“Every day,” he responded softly. “It was my home.”

 
Briggins was hoping to rekindle the fear and subservient terror back into the heart of Prosper by making us fight here. Maybe he did. Though, maybe, he awakened something else.

“That night, I had snuck back into the city,” Xander added. He turned, looking at me. His gaze was potent, brimming with a significance I didn’t understand. “I was only thirteen. Thirteen when I watched my Sector burn to the ground.”

The Council wanted us to never forget, and after this day, I’m sure we never would. A memory to be in our favor and not in the Council’s as they saw it.
Did Briggins have the power to act upon such threats?
If he did, the people of Prosper won’t stand for it. They’re a different group from what they were in the past. They harbored ill will and suspicion towards the Council and no longer will fall prey to their lies and tricks. They tire of being the mortar in which the Council walks upon; the hearthstone to their successes.

The faces of those who were already taking their seats below us confirmed my beliefs. No joy or excitement exuded from them. Only mistrust and disdain. They only partook in the viewing of the Barrage because they were expected to, and because they longed to think that maybe this year would be different. That maybe someone would finally break the tradition and change their lives for the better.

“Sad isn’t it?” Dex asked from my side, startling me.

I had been so lost in thought, I’d almost forgotten both he and Xander were still there.

“Very,” I struggled to say, my throat suddenly very dry.

“You cannot let this unnerve you. Let the anger, the hurt, all of it guide you, but not control,” Xander said, looking darkly across the broken landscape. His expression was cool and calculating, giving away no emotions. Though I knew the truth: he was affected by this place just as much as I. Or more.

I tore my eyes away, placing my hands to rest at my hips, fingers curled around the handles of my axes. “Let’s just finish this,” I said with a determination I was becoming more familiar with as of late.

Dex smiled proudly, ruffled my hair, and slapped Xander across his armored shoulder. Stepping away he took a good look at the both of us and grumbled loudly.

“Oh,
bloody bones
, give a man a hug will ya’?” I winced as he came forward and embraced the both of us, squishing my cheek against his chest. He released us shortly after, brushing down his shirt, clearing his throat, and acting as if nothing awkward had just happened.

“Is that moisture I see on your cheek, Dex? My god man you’ve become a softie,” Xander cajoled with good-nature, though still, I could tell he was trying hard to not show his own inner turmoil.

Dex stiff eyed Xander and huffed.

Xander smiled, a genuine smile that nearly reached his eyes despite the bleakness of Sector 9 looming before us. “Thank you. For everything, Dex,” he said sincerely.

Dex cleared his throat before he and Xander clasped forearms. “Yeah, well . . . try not to go gettin’ yourselves killed.” He looked away momentarily. “I’ve got a lot of credits ridin’ on your backs.” He’d said this to us so many times before, that now it’d become his own personal mantra.

Xander directed his attention back towards me. “You ready to do this?”

I sighed. “No, but what choice do I have?”

“You don’t. But let’s pretend you do. Let’s end this.”