Emperor's Shadow (Elite Book 1) Read online

  The Dragon and Wolf Gangs had been on good terms for as long as Vince could remember. At the very least, the alliance pre-dated the

  oldest surviving member of either gang. Although Zone 1406 was a marketing district, the merchants there always had an amendable understanding with the Dragon. Although a few of the newer members got caught stealing every so often, most of the orphans served as messengers and delivery boys.

  The buildings in this zone were often taller than two stories. Being the commercial hub for the nine surrounding population centers, the trades brought with it wealth as well as access to material called “cement.” Without any room to expand outward, the people naturally built toward the sky. Aside from several large open areas littered with stores, most of the zone was lined with tall buildings, creating dark alleyways.

  “Is that your girlfriend?” a voice asked, creeping up behind Vince as he walked down one of the many deserted alleyways the merchants used to store merchandise they found impossible to sell.

  “You are always so original,” Vince mused with a smirk as a lean-looking boy appeared from behind a trash pile. “Minzy.” He acknowledged the Dragon Gang enforcer with a polite nod. It wasn’t that he was afraid, of course; Vince could easily take the newcomer on should a fight break out, but it never hurt to be political. Besides, his older sister had told him to “play nice.”

  The Dragon circled around slowly, carefully examining Vince’s body. After a few silent moments, the enforcer’s face tightened in thought, which, considering his brutish looks, made his face look extremely amusing. While Vince had the good sense to choke back his reaction, Isha simply did what any small child would. She pointed directly at Minzy’s face, and laughed.

  Vince felt himself about to follow Isha’s example, so he quickly broke the tension. “Well now, Minzy, aren’t you getting a little too close and personal right in front of my girlfriend?” he joked.

  “Ewwwww,” Isha responded, prompting Vince to slap her little arm playfully.

  Minzy took a large step forward, and ended up inches from Vince. The two boys sized each other up in continued silence that slowly became painful. This awkward standoff continued for moments, until Isha got bored, and kicked the Dragon in the chin.

  Instead of getting angry, Minzy’s face lit up with a smile. “I heard you got totally fucked up by two of the Beetle boys,” he teased while giving Isha’s small yet chubby legs a playful squeeze. “That their handiwork?” he asked, pointing to the long mark on Vince’s face.

  “Lucia.” Vince shrugged.

  Minzy grinned. “Your sis is so—”

  Vince interrupted his friend, knowing perfectly well the kind of generic joke Minzy would crack. “Don’t, my friend; you know I am obligated to fight you to defend her honor. I’m sure Isha here would make a great bludgeon,” he joked, ignoring Isha’s protests. “I’m late for work.”

  Without another word, Minzy gestured for the pair to follow.

  The rest of the journey through the zone proved to be much less eventful, thanks to the presence of one of the Dragons’ own. Several times, passing orphans exchanged nods of acknowledgment with the enforcer but made no attempt to approach. At the edge of the zone, Minzy waved the party to a halt.

  “Don’t worry about the Beetles, they are a bunch of spineless little shits.” Minzy attempted to poke Vince in the ribs, causing the Wolf to take a step back. “Wow, you probably got some serious bruises under that shirt, huh?” The enforcer chuckled.

  “All right, what do you want, man?” Vince asked. His friend was acting rather strangely.

  Minzy cast a look around before asking in a lowered voice, “Are you going to the Tryout?”

  Vince shook his head. He hadn't really considered it. The only Tryout he could attend, given his lack of alchemical talents and dearth of education, was the martial contest. It all just sounded like a lot of unnecessary blood, sweat, and tears. And even if he succeeded against all odds, and by some miracle survived the gruesome twelve years in the Academy, he would just become another Elite. Last time he checked, they were the enemy.

  “Don’t bullshit me, V. I’ll see you when the big day comes. Money and power is always a good thing.” Minzy waved goodbye to Isha, and disappeared behind a corner.

  “He ugly,” Isha complained.

  Minzy’s voice came echoing out from other end of the alley. “I heard that.”

  Vince smiled and continued on his way. Maybe his friend was right, perhaps the secret to his dreams lay in the West. But there wasn’t any point thinking about it right now, with the Tryouts for The Academy still months away. As the boy walked, he spared a glance toward the capital briefly before factories blocked his view.

  The Imperial City stood in the center of the Northern Kingdoms, and in the heart of this vibrant capital, the Palace of Light never seemed to dim. Encompassed within looming, unscalable walls, the Imperial Palace was over six hundred acres of prime real estate that housed the royal family and the legions of servants and soldiers such nobility demanded.

  Darius strode down the long carpeted halls of the audience room, face red with anger. Six flustered advisors followed closely behind, yet none dared to overtake the riled-up young prince. Months prior, a foolish guard made the decision to get in Darius’s way, and experienced firsthand the alchemical prowess of the royal bloodline.

  Emperor Triton sat with regal posture atop his golden throne, and smiled with amusement. Two dozen layers of marble stacked upon one another propped up the seat of power, and added to the aura of control that came with the crown. All who came for audience with the emperor were forced to gaze upward to avoid disrespect, and it was just as the first founder had intended when building this grand palace. “How goes the trip—” he began but was promptly interrupted.

  “I’m almost ten years old, Father, way too old for childish playdates,” Darius snapped as he slowly came to a stop before the marble steps. “Also, don’t make me talk to Katherine ever again; she’s impossible!” the prince screamed, his voice shaking with frustration.

  A tense silence carpeted the whole room as the emperor slowly stood up off the throne and descended the steps. With each step the footfall echoed around the chamber. Such was his presence, even young Darius kept still, until father and son stood right next to one another. Reaching out with his right hand, Triton ruffled the prince’s well-groomed blond hair. “Is that the proper way to address your father?”

  Darius stomped his feet in anger, and chose to ignore the question. “She doesn’t respect my authority. Her whole family picks on me, the future ruler.”

  Triton reached down and gently lifted Darius’s chin, until their eyes met. “You can talk like a man and act with authority after you earn this,” the emperor assured him, pointing to a golden pin in the shape of the Ivy Leaf that rested on his right sleeve.

  “It’s not like I would fail the stupid Academy,” Darius protested.

  “Fail?” Triton’s eyebrows perked up in disapproval. “You must not settle for anything short of perfection.”

  “Katherine never studies or practices.”

  “That’s obviously not true. It’s no surprise you have never managed to defeat her in a single duel,” Triton returned with displeasure.

  Darius whipped his head around to stare at his entourage, eager to find the person who reported such an unsavory fact to his father. Finding no one willing to meet his eyes, he turned back to the emperor and frowned. “She’s a girl, of course she wins. Mother always used to protect you.”

  That comment drew a burst of laughter from the emperor as he picked his son up to cradle him in one arm with little effort. Deep inside, a sense of pain and loss crept up on Triton, but he quickly suppressed it. Not here, not in front of my son, he decided.

  Being lifted up only served to embarrass the prince further. Luckily, everyone in the throne room was wise enough to avert their gazes, lest they draw Darius’s ire later on. “True enough, that she did,” Triton admitted as the prin
ce wiggled himself loose and hopped back onto the ground.

  Darius wasn’t about to just let go of his frustration, as he planned on guilt tripping his father. “I will be Academy age soon,” he stated casually, leaning against the emperor’s legs.

  “And what would you like?” the emperor humored.

  “I want my own Riftborn,” Darius tested hopefully.

  “I have none to spare,” the emperor said. Those cursed creatures were extremely rare, and highly sought after by all who possessed power in the realm. Stronger than most humans, and immune to alchemy, they made the most ideal bodyguards. Or for those with greater ambitions, assassins.

  “Fine then, I want my own Shadow.”

  As if summoned, a man bearing resemblance to the emperor appeared behind Darius with uncanny dexterity. The newcomer sported full military attire, and multiple sigils lined the well-maintained sleeves, among them also the symbol of the Ivy Leaf. Unlike the nobles cowering behind the prince, he had no reservations about approaching the throne.

  “Speaking of the man, there you are, Manus,” Triton greeted.

  Manus stared at the prince with amusement. “You can have your own, once you inherit the throne.”

  “I will pick my own, don’t you worry,” Darius retorted. “Since I wasn’t lucky enough to have a younger brother.”

  “Believe me, having to deal with a younger sibling is not worth the pain. You have to listen to them blabber about all their victories in battle and troubles with women,” Triton teased, and was rewarded with a narrow-eyed stare from Manus.

  “Might as well get me nothing then, if you are going to be so unreasonable about it!” Darius declared, and stormed out of the throne room with his entourage following close behind.

  Manus watched with amusement as his nephew disappeared from view. “Reminds me of someone I know.”

  Triton smiled. “He did bring up a good point, though; we are running low on Riftborns. If possible, I would like one to protect my boy. It’s been years since we looked in the South; there should be several to be found should we search hard enough.” The Emperor rubbed his chin. “And if I had to guess, I'd say Katherine just got one.”

  “That would explain his mood.”

  “Fair is fair, though, the prince shouldn't lose out to anyone.”

  Manus simply nodded. “As your brother, I am going to tell you to stop coddling the boy; it will only make him soft.”

  Triton patted his brother on the shoulder affectionately. “And as my Shadow?”

  Manus lowered his head in a graceful bow. “Consider it done.”

  Chapter 4: Ambition

  “Piece of junk!” Zed exclaimed, and threw down the contraption out of sheer frustration. Sawyn sat behind him in the small room she now shared with her adoptive brother.

  It had only been weeks since she had moved into the little hut, but she already felt comfortable in this community. Despite initially casting suspicious glances at her whenever they saw her, the farmers accepted the story that she was Zed’s long-lost sister without much resistance. While it was unlikely that people believed the boy, no one really cared enough to pry.

  “It’s okay.” Sawyn bent down and picked up Zed’s failed experiment and gently set it on the table. By now, she was used to her adoptive brother constructing devices for days at a time. What she struggled to understand was how Zed managed to sleep so little yet still function. She often woke up halfway through the night to find the makeshift bed he had made for himself empty, and new machine parts littering the floor.

  Zed paced around in frustration. “I’m going to the dumpyard again. Maybe I can find some more parts there. Or I can—when’s the last time I ate?—Eh.” He shrugged after a few moments. He ruffled Sawyn’s hair and grabbed his coat on the way out, gently closing the door behind him.

  Alone once again, Sawyn heaved a deep sigh and laid back down. Whenever she had a moment to spare, she often spent it pondering her origins. “You are Sawyn,” she could recall a voice telling her, but she could never identify its source. All she knew was that something about the way the words were spoken evoked a strong sense of regret and loss.

  Feeling tired after the long day's work, she closed her eyes and quickly drifted to sleep, into a waiting nightmare.

  Sawyn couldn’t feel the ground below her, yet she wasn’t falling. The space around her was filled with grayish gas she couldn’t identify, her surroundings illuminated by a faint golden glow that shone from a distance. No air flowed through her nose with every pull she took; scared and confused, she felt her lungs begin to collapse. After a few moments of struggle, she lost consciousness.

  When she opened her eyes, the space around her was completely empty, devoid of the strange gas. Unable to gather her thoughts, she searched for the source of the glow, but found instead a citadel in the distance. A tower spiraled upwards in the center of the structure, its highest point disappearing into the heavens.

  Looking around and seeing nothing else in any direction, she took a step toward the light, and was plunged into oblivion.

  “Sawyn,” a voice called urgently. Sawyn opened her eyes to Zed standing over her, holding a cylindrical metal container. “Look!”

  Sawyn forced herself to sit up and tried to recall her dream, but to no avail. When she looked out the window, it was dark outside. Rubbing her eyes, she turned to her brother, who was evidently excited about something. “What’s going on?”

  Zed tried to speak, but his excitement had robbed him of speech. Instead, he pushed the cylindrical metal container into her hands and pointed vigorously at the label on the container.

  “Fye?” She muttered the word printed on it, confused. In the three weeks since Zed had adopted her as a sister, she had picked up some common vocabulary. It hadn’t taken her long to learn that even mentioning Fye was taboo in the Southern Kingdoms. What would possibly interest her brother about this discarded container from the North?

  The airtight can felt light and strange in her hands, and she was taken by the impulse to hurl it away. At first she thought it was only the unfamiliar feeling of rusted metal against her skin, but quickly, it became apparent that the true reason for this aversion was buried deep in her mind.

  “This can is barely used!” Zed squeaked. “Now I can actually test my theories. First, I need to recreate a machine that can use it for fuel, then later modify the design to run on an alternative power source.” He clapped his hands and rubbed them together in excitement. “Just imagine, fighting the North with technology they could never dream of. They’ve grown reliant on this accursed chemical, and that will be their downfall.”

  Sawyn struggled to understand the situation. “They don’t have to use anything else. Fye is everywhere in the North.”

  Upon hearing her words, Zed froze.

  “This could change everything,” he said slowly, eyes wide with possibility. “We would no longer have to bear the disgrace of defeat. And they will finally see that they were wrong to disregard my potential.” His mouth twisted suddenly, and he spoke bitterly through clenched teeth. “Can you believe it that they deemed me fit only for farming?”

  Sawyn had more questions for Zed about the canister, about who ‘they’ were, but flashes of her nightmare kept her from staying focused as Zed went on about his plan of action. A wave of fatigue washed over her and quickly overwhelmed her with weariness, much to Sawyn’s surprise. Though she had spent most of her day assisting the farmers, she could not understand how she could be this tired.

  Zed’s voice softened as he realized how exhausted the girl looked. He gently removed his precious prize from Sawyn’s loosened grip, in case she might drop it. “Go back to sleep, Saw. Sorry I woke you up; I got too excited.”

  Sawyn was now too far gone to protest. Nodding, eyelids heavy, she lay back down in bed, and drifted into a blissful slumber.

  Zed cradled the can of gas in his hand, admiring the content meter on the side. Perhaps his eyes deceived him, but he could have swor
n that the gas level had showed a drop of a solid ten percent since he last read it. He turned the container slowly over in his hand, examining it for leaks. There was no low hiss of escaping gas. “I must have remembered it wrong,” he thought out loud.

  For a brief moment, Zed debated catching up on sleep, but his curiosity quickly got the better of him, and he plunged gleefully into work. After all, it was not every day that one got the opportunity to work with a functional power source.

  It took him a mere seven hours to recreate what had taken a team of Technomancers decades to invent. Most of the concepts he applied were found in the textbooks he had scavenged over the years. With Fye as a versatile fuel, it wasn’t difficult for Zed to create a contraption similar to the Techno weapons of the Empire. But perhaps he was getting ahead of himself once again, as the machine was only functional in theory.

  His latest creation was far from elegant in design, but that much couldn’t be helped. With only discarded parts to work with, Zed focused on practicality above all else. A metal sheet was bent four times, and sealed with nails and glue to form the outermost layer of this device. Inside the shell, a homemade generator tapped into the Fye container, and consumed the chemical in order to generate energy. All of the power would then be channeled through a coil at the tip.

  Most brilliant people share a desire for recognition, and Zed, a self-proclaimed genius, was no exception. He sat there, double-checking his calculations, waiting patiently for Sawyn to wake up. She would be amazed, he was certain of it. Hours passed, and Sawyn continued to slumber, even as light shone through the window to illuminate her sleeping form.

  Despite being an early riser, Sawyn seemed unusually tired. He moved in closer, listening, and was assured by her even breathing that nothing was wrong. Unable to contain his own excitement, Zed turned to the thick rectangular machine and began tweaking with the controls. Perhaps it’s better this way, he thought to himself. If the machine failed to function, he would have time to adjust it before she woke up.