Young Writers Society

Zita’s dream started with fire. She was in a large stone room, and everything was burning. The room seemed to have no beginning and no end, just endless walls of blazing fire around Zita’s one little space of safety. A little circle of frigid air in the middle of a wildfire. She was shivering, so, so cold in such a warm place.

She began to make out things in the flames. At first, they were just blurs, but as they came into focus, it became clear what they were. Bones. Fields of bleached-white skeletons covered in blankets of red. Something fell from above her. It fluttered down into the flames before she could tell what it was. There was another, and another, until it was raining thick sheets of what Zita now knew were feathers. Red. Blue. Green.

☽O☾

Zita woke in a cold sweat. It took her a few seconds to remember where she was, but when she did she calmed down. She drew a shaky breath. Let it out. Drew another…

“Nightmares?” Kivvien asked tenderly from beside her.

Her closed eyes must have answered that question, or maybe she nodded, she wasn’t sure.

“You want to talk about them, or would you rather suffer in silence?”

“Suffering in silence sounds great, thanks,” Zita responded sarcastically and stretched.

Kivvien chuckled and steered them around a pothole.

“Where are we?” Zita asked, now noticing the change in the forests around them. Where before the trees were red and yellow, now bioluminescent trees of all colors glowed faintly in the fading light. That was also when Zita realized she’d slept the whole day.

“We just passed the border into Rykvor about a mile back,” He answered without taking his eyes off the road, “You’ve been sleeping for quite a while,” He commented.

Zita combed her fingers through her ratty hair to no avail. She tried again to work out the knots and failed. She gave up. “Yep, how much further?”

Kivvien took a comb out of the inside pocket of his coat and handed it to her, “About a day or two if we make good time. Imani and Emily have been switching in shifts, so if we can keep it up as well we should get there in one.”

Zita nodded along as she worked the comb through the tips of her hair, “I’m up for it.” She yanked out a particularly tough knot.

“Glad to hear it.” Kivvien flicked the reigns.

Kivvien was right, it took them only a day to reach their destination when the pair took turns sleeping and driving. When they arrived, it was Kivvien’s shift on the reigns, and Zita was sleeping dreamlessly beside him, her head resting on his shoulder.

“Hey,” He nudged her awake.

“Mhm,” She mumbled and shifted.

“We’re here sleepy head,” Kivvien teased, nudging her once more.

That one did the trick. Zita opened her eyes, “Already?” She groaned, stretching.

“Yep.” He inclined his head to the busy street, where, barely visible through the throngs of people, was a run-down inn covered in faded, chipped mosaics.

Zita shrugged and made a gesture like ‘lead the way’. Kivvien steered the wagon into a tunnel two buildings down. The tunnel wound downward through platforms upon platforms of parked vehicles, with a sheet of glass, shimmering with enchantments, separating the dry side from the underwater side. They found a place and parked. Once all the kids had been unloaded and counted, Imani used lengths of rope she found in the bags and had the kids all grab it, Kivvien, Emily, and Zita included, then she grabbed the front and led them all out into the street.

The inside of the inn looked no better than the outside. The floor was covered in worn red carpet, and the murals that once adorned the walls were almost nonexistent. The receptionist sat behind a comically large desk for his small elvish stature so he towered above the newcomers, neatly shuffling papers four stories up while he couldn’t be more than three feet tall.

“MATRIF!” Imani called up to him.

The elf leaned dangerously over the edge of his desk, “Ah, Imani,” He said, his voice magnified by some unseen charm, “You’re early! And with extra guests!”

“COME DOWN HERE MATRIF!”

There was a sigh, then the elf vanished. A moment later, a panel opened at the base of the desk and the elf pattered out straightening his vest, “Yes, Imani?” He said in his squeaky voice, now at normal volume.

“There was an emergency situation,” Imani explained calmly, “I’ll need rooms for all of these children and a caravan to stop by my old Stop for salvaging.”

Matrif nodded, “It’s as good as done, ma'am. I’ll book your rooms now, you may have the entire thirty-third floor, let me know if there are any extra rooms.” With that, he turned on his heel and hurried back into his desk.

“Alright then, you heard him, floor thirty-three.” Imani led the group into a hall next to the desk and into an elevator in three groups, the younger kids with her, and the other two with either Emily or Kivvien. Zita got into the elevator with Emily and was immediately swarmed by kids. Emily just walked up the wall and stood on the ceiling, looking irritatingly amused at Zita’s struggle as she pressed their button. The elevator lurched upward and rattled up the shaft. A few kids screeched and Zita covered her ears, the sound pounding at her brain.

Emily almost fell at the sound, “Hey!” She exclaimed, “We’re fine, don’t scream.” she reverse-dropped to her butt and crossed her legs and arms with a pout. Zita resisted the urge to snort at her blatant childishness but decided that would be childish. She settled on rolling her eyes.

The elevator dinged and their doors whooshed open. The kids trampled into the bland hallway, taking Zita with them whether she liked it or not. The following chaos somehow ended with Zita alone in the hall as the other kids scurried off to various rooms all around. She huffed and looked around. Every room was identical save for the numbers in the middle of the stark white doors. One of the doors opened behind her. She whirled around to be faced with a red-head girl in her mid-teens.

“You lost?” She asked, crossing her arms.

Zita should have ignored the sassy tone in the arched eyebrow, instead, she matched them, “If I am?”

“Well, I might just help you out.” The mystery girl laughed as if that were the most ridiculous joke she’d ever heard.

“Yeah?” Zita brushed her hair over her shoulder.

“Ooooh, a hair flip.” The girl waved her gloved hands in the air, “So scary.”

Zita rolled her eyes, “Are you done?”

The girl opened her mouth to respond, but was cut off by a voice behind Zita, “Ash? I didn’t know you were here,” Emily said cheerfully.

The girl, presumably Ash, gave what appeared to be a genuine smile, “Emily!” She exclaimed, her previously insufferable attitude suddenly almost as cheery as Emily’s.

Emily dropped to the floor and gave Ash a hug, seemingly not even noticing Zita. The hug lasted painfully long, and when it did end, Ash and Emily were suddenly deep in a conversation about international politics. Zita cleared her throat.

“Oh! Zita, sorry,” Emily apologized, “This is Ash, we’ve been friends for, what is it, like, two hundred years now?”

Ash nodded, grinning, “Yep, I think so, we did meet on the Mayflower?”

Emily’s head bobbed, “I think so.”

Zita waved, “Hey, um, where am I staying?”

“You didn’t hear me call out the rooms?”

Zita shrugged, “I couldn’t really hear anything in that chaos.”

Emily took a piece of folded notebook paper out of her glove, “Alright you’re in room number…” She scanned the page, “Forty-two.”

“Thanks,” Zita said, slightly puzzled, and went to her room. As expected, the room was dingy at best. The only source of light she could see was the window, complete with a stunning view of next doors’ brick wall, and the whole place smelled of mildew. Not trusting the provided blankets, Zita lay on the bed and curled in a ball. She fell asleep soon enough, but her dreams were no more pleasant than the night after the fire.

She woke in a cold sweat. Her whole body was stiff, her wings most of all within their bindings. She groaned. The numbing salve had finally worn off. There was a knock at her door, “I’m up!” She called.

“Breakfast ends in an hour,” The mystery voice said and moved on.

Zita dragged herself out of bed and followed the other kids downstairs to a depressing little breakfast hall. She ate alone and returned to her room without seeing a single sign of either Kivvien or Emily. By noon, she was pacing the length of her room in complete and utter boredom. She composed a ballad in her head to distract from the constant memories that tried to slip their way into her conscious thoughts. A knock sounded on her door.

“Come in,” She said, still pacing.

Kivvien tentatively stepped into the room, leaving the door open, “Hey, Wolf Eyes,” He greeted with a wave.

“Wolf Eyes?” Zita questioned with a raised eyebrow.

Kivvien shrugged, “You don’t mind, do you? I like giving people nicknames, and, well, your eyes-” He gestured vaguely at her face, “-look like some wolves’ I’ve seen.” He shrugged again.

Zita rolled her, apparently wolflike eyes, “Wolf Eyes is fine.”

“So…” Kivvien shifted uncomfortably, “Right, um, I had a reason to come here…” He rubbed the back of his neck, unintentionally ruffling his sandy brown hair, “Imani wants me to ask you if you would like to be trained in combat magic. I mean, we’ve got the whole school system thing that you probably haven’t been told about yet, but I’m talking about maybe if you wanted to-”

“Just spit it out,” sighed Zita, cutting him off.

“Right, um, what I’m saying is, would you want to become a protector?” He cringed under his own words as if he was asking her if she wanted to lock herself in a small room with a starved dragon.

It took Zita a moment to process. “Ummm…”

“But you don’t have to,” Kivvien said quickly, “We just offer every new person, and you can quit whenever during the training.” He cringed again as if berating himself for giving her a reason to want to join.

If only just to watch him squirm, Zita said, “Sign me up.”

Kivvien looked like he wanted to do anything but that, but he signed dejectedly and waved her after him into the hall. They weaved through the labyrinthine halls, pushing through secret doors into dark passages and continuing to chat as they did.

“You shouldn’t have said yes,” Said Kivvien, pressing a hidden button inside a merman statue. The statue moved aside to reveal the stairs behind it.

“You really hate it that much?”

Zita couldn’t see Kivviens expression from behind him in the narrow hall, but his shoulders tensed ever so slightly. Zita wished she hadn’t noticed, because her mind was instantly overwhelmed with the need to run to get away. She silently reminded herself that Kivvien wasn’t one of her siblings, and that him getting tense didn’t signal an impending beating. Despite her efforts, her wings throbbed with the expectation, and memory, of pain.

“I wouldn’t say I hate it,” Kivvien was saying, stiffly, “It’s just...it’s dangerous. I don’t like seeing people get hurt.” They came to a solid wall. Kivvien knelt down and traced a symbol on one of the bottommost stones. It glowed and the wall vanished. They entered the second passage.

Zita managed to calm down enough to say quietly, “Like at the inn?”

Kivvien gave a stiff nod, “We lost five people, four kids and one adult seeking shelter. I really wish I wasn’t as numb to that as I am.” A large oak door appeared suddenly in the gloom. Kivvien pulled out a brass key and unlocked it with a loud click. After forcing the heavy door open with some difficulty, the inside was revealed to be a circular room, with raised stands all around the edges made of polished white stone. Zita’s first thought was that this was an arena. She wasn’t sure how she felt about that image under a place like this.

The stands didn’t stand empty, rather, they were filled to capacity. In each of the five platforms that extended over the crowd with thick steel cables, stood a middle-aged person, only one of whom Zita recognized. Imani stood in grey robes, her wings covered to show the formality of the situation. If Zita wasn’t already nervous, she was now as ever pair of eyes in the place was pinned on her and Kivvien.

Kivvien bowed his head respectfully and folded his hands behind his back, “I apologize for being late on the behalf of both myself and my companion.”

Imani gave a respectful nod of her own, “You are dismissed Kivvien, take a seat.” Kivvien guided Zita after him into the stands where there was barely enough room for the both of them on one of the benches between an elf and an unusually thin troll.

Imani Raised her hands and what little chatter there had been died down, “Most of you know why we are here, but for those who don’t, I’ll recap.” She paused for a second and scanned the crowd, making sure everyone was paying attention, “This is this year’s annual Kid Stop meeting. Every Director and Stop Leader in Nerdifae are here. We are here to discuss the growing number of attacks on the Stops. Anders, you begin.” She gestured to a burly man to her right, who wore the typical kilt and tunic of mermen when they took on a humanoid form.

The man, Anders, cleared his throat, “I have had a total of six attacks in the past year. I’ve lost five months worth of supplies and three of my protectors have lost their lives, though, thankfully, none of my kids were injured.”

The director to his right went next and so on, each presenting grim statistics of a growing body count that sent Zita’s stomach sinking to her feet. Finally, that last person went. The man on Imani’s left was rather handsome, with a dark ponytail hanging down his back and a lean, muscular figure, but Zita’s eyes narrowed at his dark eyes, which conveyed something...other than the solemn expression the rest of his face displayed.

“I am Carlin,” He said sorrowfully, “I am saddened to report three deaths among my wards, and a full years worth of supplies stolen. Other than the dead, fifty total children have been injured, some severely, and four of my protectors are off duty due to their wounds until further notice.”

Zita tilted her head, the wheels already turning in her head. If there was one thing she knew how to do, it was read people, and the angle of his feet, tilted toward the door, the flicking of his eyes to the faces of the other directors, and the unconscious tapping of his finger on the side of his leg were to be of any consideration, he was hiding something, and he wanted to be anywhere but here.

Zita leaned over to whisper in Kivviens ear under the quiet chattering that had risen while the directors left their stands and vanished into the corridors behind them. “How many people knew where each stop was?” She asked.

Kivvien turned to face her, trying to shift so they weren’t uncomfortably close, “No one except who you see here. Not even the kids know where any of them are when they aren’t there, and they move around a lot. The directors are the only ones who know where every Kid Stop is and the Protectors know the location of the ones their director controls at any given time. Why?”

“Do you think… Do you think one of the directors is a traitor?” Zita glanced around to make sure they went unheard, not wanting to cause a scene.

Kivvien nodded, “It’s been considered, yes, but since we don’t know who it is, and we can’t exactly discuss it with each other. We don’t want to have suspicion tainting the system we built here. Imani handpicked every one of the directors when she started the stops, so we’re all mostly thinking it’s someone lower down if there’s a mole at all. Imani thinks it’s a rogue protector or someone who was bribed or otherwise baited, I myself, am under suspicion, which is fair, but still, things are tense.”

Zita felt the beginnings of a headache pressing at her temples. She pinched the bridge of her nose, “So…” her brain was still working in overdrive, her initial suspicion of Carlin battling with her unsteady trust of Imani, “If it is a protector…” Kivvien waited patiently for her to run every possible scenario with her limited knowledge of the situation, “but...why would it be a protector? Do protectors even know how to get that information?” Her eyebrows pressed together in her puzzlement.

“It’s not impossible,” Kivvien admitted, “but it would take a great deal of skill, at least a trainer level expertise in the magical arts and they’d have to be a near-perfect actor, but it could be done. The requirements narrow the list quite a bit, but I don’t know much more about Imani’s thoughts since I’m on that list.” He chuckled without humor.

“What’s a tr-wait, no, that’s self-explanatory, sorry.”

Kivvien opened his mouth to respond, but, just then, the directors returned from wherever they had gone. The room fell silent almost immediately this time and the meeting dragged on. Zita would have fallen asleep had she not been worried her wrapped wings would smother the poor elf next to her if she tipped in that direction.

Finally, it ended, and Kivvien led her back to her room.

“So, your training starts tomorrow at noon,” He said as he opened her room door for her, “I’m not sure who your instructor will be, but whoever it is will meet you in the ballroom on the main floor, it’s right next to where we came in. You can’t miss it, there’s a sign and everything.” His tone turned teasing for the last bit and Zita snorted, giving him a playful punch in the shoulder.

“I’ll find it just fine soldier boy,” he smirked at his new nickname and saluted before biding her goodnight and closing the door. The nightmares didn’t come that night, only the usual random flashes of color and the sound of muffled voices that seemed her version of the ever famous ‘dreamless sleep’ she had never had the privilege of experiencing. 

A/N

This chapter is a little shorter than some of my others, but it's still pretty long so I'm sorry about that. I'm working on it, but before I can do any major editing I have to get the complete first draft done, which will take some with my having to juggle it between my other project (a comic book I'm writing/drawing about time-traveling-space-wizards, it's pretty cool) and my, though small, still kinda sorta existant social life and mental health. I'm not trying to make excuses, just explain why the long word count. 

So, please do not correct my spelling (I have two people who do that for me already), yes I am working on the dialogue thing, and please do not go easy. Tell me everything aside from those two things, I am already aware of them and working on it. Feel free to be nitpicky, not that I could stop you guys if I tried.

Aside from the reviews, anything else you have to say about this is equally valued (I'm really curious about your predictions if you have any, I keep thinking I'm being too predictable and I'd like to see if that's true).