A World of Ash: The Territory 3 (14 page)

Squid’s eyes opened like rusted window shutters. He blinked to clear away the dry, sticky sleep that had stuck his eyelids together. He was folded awkwardly with his shoulder jammed into one corner of the dark cell and his legs bent so that his feet were in the opposite corner and his knees were up at his chin. It wasn’t a comfortable position; in fact it didn’t even remotely resemble a position anyone would choose to leave their body in for hours at a time. As he tried to move, his muscles and joints objected with sharp pains and dull aches. He had been stretched in some places and contracted in others, but at least he’d been able to sleep. As he maneuvered himself to stand in the tiny cell Squid found himself oddly thankful that he’d grown up sleeping in the outhouse on his uncle’s farm. That wooden box hadn’t been much bigger than this, so he’d become used to sleeping in tight spaces.

His uncle had been an awful man but Squid still missed him, a feeling that was surprising. He knew now that he hadn’t really been his uncle, nor had his aunt been his real aunt, and almost everything they’d told him was a lie. His parents weren’t criminals. They hadn’t been farmers-turned-thieves. He wasn’t born in the Outside. In fact, even his name was a lie. His mother had called him Samuel, not Squid. Though that was one thing he couldn’t imagine. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t think of himself as anything but Squid. That was strange, he thought, the way you got attached to the names of things. If you changed the name of something did that make it different? Or would he be the same underneath whether he was a Squid or a Samuel?

The days of living on the dirt farm had been hard, but there had been a simplicity to that life that Squid looked back on fondly. If Uncle hadn’t stopped him going to school maybe he would have been happy there. Well, if not happy, then at least content. He never wanted anyone to question his commitment to the quest he’d been given, but there were times he wished he’d never gone to the market that day, never met the Diggers, never heard about prophecies and weapons against the ghouls. Then, of course, he’d never have met Lynn or Nim, or found his mother and learned the truth about who he was. But still, when all this was over, if he ever made it out of Pitt and if somehow the rest of the Territory managed to survive, then he thought he might go back to the farm and start turning dirt again. Maybe his mother would come with him, or Lynn, and he could find joy in that simple life.

The opening of his cell door drew Squid’s attention away from those thoughts. He looked toward the swinging steel, not that it was possible to look anywhere else in this cell. Squid guessed he’d been in the darkness for more than a full day. Long enough that even the dull flickering of the gas lamps was enough to make him squint as his eyes adjusted. There were two Holy Order clergymen standing outside his cell, two others outside Nim’s cell, and two more outside his mother’s cell. He saw Nim and Sister Constance being led out of their cells just as he was, the clergymen holding their arms in a tight grip, up high around the bicep. They were not being gentle.

“Mother, Nim,” Squid said. “Are you all right?”

“Shut up,” a clergyman barked before the others had a chance to answer. Without speaking, the red-cloaks led them away down the corridor.

“Where are you taking us?” Sister Constance asked. When none of the red-cloaks answered her she added, “I am still a Sister of the Church. Tell me where you are taking us.”

“The warden wants to see you,” one of the Holy Order answered but would offer no more explanation than that.

They walked in silence, knowing the clergymen would be quick to come down on them if they spoke, but Squid knew he had been right. The warden would be desperate to know how they had defeated the ghouls in the colosseum. The clergymen led them up several levels of rock-carved stairs away from the slot cells, and then along one of the wooden walkways that spiraled around Pitt’s main chamber.

At one point ten or more clergymen ran past, their red cloaks splaying out behind them and each holding a nightstick, the type they used on prisoners to subdue them but not severely injure them. The prison was loud. It was nothing compared to the roar of the colosseum, but shouting, banging, and yelled orders echoed around the space. Looking over the side Squid saw the source of the noise far below them. In fact there were many sources of noise. Sporadic fighting between blue-uniformed prisoners and red-cloaked clergymen was occurring throughout the many levels of the prison. Squid looked at Nim. The Nomad boy smiled. They had sparked something in these people. At least some of them were standing up to the Church. It seemed they were continuing to fight in spite of the odds.

“Keep moving,” one of the clergy snarled, noticing the grin pass between Squid and Nim. “You won’t think yourselves so clever soon.”

Squid, Nim, and Constance walked over a hanging bridge of wood and rope that led across the vast drop to the top of the tower that rose, all-seeing, up through the many levels of the central chamber. Entering the tower they found themselves in a small room with several chairs. Ahead of them was a doorway adorned with a wooden plaque, the single word on which indicated that this was the office of the warden.

“Sit here and wait,” one of the clergymen said. “The warden will see you in a moment.”

Squid dropped heavily into one of the wooden chairs and Nim and Sister Constance sat on either side of him. Four of the clergymen left while two remained to guard them, standing by the doorway to ensure they wouldn’t harbor any ideas about leaving.

Squid felt his mother place her hand on top of his own. He looked at her and found her smiling at him. He smiled back.

“I’m sorry I didn’t do what I promised,” Squid said. “I’m sorry I didn’t get you out of here.”

“Nonsense, my love, you saved me in the colosseum. I would be a ghoul if it wasn’t for you jumping down like that. And you found the vaccine. That is amazing. I’m proud of you.”

“It wasn’t just me. I couldn’t have done it alone.”

“Probably too modest as always,” Nim said.

“Nim, you have my thanks too,” said Constance, lifting her gaze to meet the Nomad boy’s. “I’m glad my son has such a loyal friend.”

Nim’s cheeks reddened but he looked pleased.

“Well,” Squid sighed, “what does it matter now? The Holy Order has the vaccine and we’re prisoners. The other prisoners are still fighting but I don’t think it will be enough.”

“Where there is a will, there is a way,” Sister Constance said.

“Is that some religious thing?” Nim asked. “Are you gonna tell us that this is part of God’s plan and that he’s gonna ensure we succeed?”

Sister Constance shook her head. “No,” she said. “I’m not sure I believe that God intervenes in this world anymore. But I do believe in you.”

Then the door opened and the three of them stood to see the Warden of Pitt framed in the doorway. The Black Priestess Regina was not a tall woman. She was taller than Squid, but in his experience this was not uncommon and so he knew he wasn’t the best yardstick for gauging height. He supposed most people would have described the priestess as being of medium height, and yet she was as physically imposing as someone much larger. There was a sense of scale about her. Squid immediately wondered what punishment she had in store for them. She seemed the kind of woman whose imagination would give birth to unpleasant things.

“Enter,” she said, before turning and making her way back inside without waiting for them. The clergymen standing by the door moved forward and Squid, Nim, and Constance had no choice but to follow the priestess.

The warden’s office was cluttered. A large dark wood desk was the focal point of the room but floor-to-ceiling shelves bordered the back and side walls. They were filled with thick, leather-backed books, stacks of curled paper, small spiny plants, and dusty ornaments of glass and clay. There were even some objects Squid didn’t recognize that might have been from pre-Reckoning times, in particular a large glass-fronted square that looked a bit like the so-called computer that Fiona had appeared on. He wondered if this was home to memories in the same way Fiona was, but judging by the blank screen and the thick layer of dust it didn’t seem like it worked anymore.

The Black Priestess sat behind her desk. There were no chairs anywhere else in the room so the two clergymen and the three prisoners stood.

“You are not the first to escape from Pitt,” Priestess Regina said. “No, that honor belongs to some long-forgotten soul. But you are the first to do so while I have been warden and while I was under strict instructions from the High Priestess to see you locked away and forgotten forever, no less. I knew your escape would have been impossible without inside help.” The Black Priestess turned her attention to Sister Constance. “I understand why you behaved the way you did, Sister Constance. This is your child. Love can make poor judges of us all. But that does not make your actions any less treasonous.

“And you,” Regina returned her attention to Squid and Nim, “what a display in the colosseum. Do you know what the prisoners are saying about you?”

Nobody replied.

“No?” the Black Priestess continued. “They are saying you’ve been touched by God himself, made into a weapon against the ghouls, but we both know that it was these that touched you, don’t we?”

Priestess Regina slid open a drawer in her desk and pulled out one of the small silver birds that carried the vaccine. Its wings were tucked in tight by its sides. It had not yet been activated. Squid moved forward instinctively at the sight of the bird, as if she had pulled out his most prized possession and was threatening it. The hand of a red-cloak caught him quickly by the shoulder. The priestess placed the bird down in the center of her desk.

“Your display in the colosseum and your speech that followed have caused quite a significant problem out there.” The warden moved her hand in a vague circular movement. “Many of the prisoners seem to have got it in their heads that they can fight us, but they cannot win. We control this place.”

“But,” Squid said, “you don’t control them. They are showing you that.”

“You cannot win either.” Priestess Regina lifted the bird from the desk and dropped it again with a metallic thud. “Even with this you cannot win.”

“Regina,” Constance said. “What if Squid truly is the boy from the prophecy of Steven? Then he is God’s plan for seeing us free of the ghouls forever. How would you feel if you were standing in the way of that plan?”

“Who am I to act against the word of the High Priestess? It is through her that the Ancestors speak. It is through her that God speaks. If she says the boy is false salvation then I believe her.”

“Unthinking obedience should not be our lot in life,” Constance said, though Squid could see that she would not convince the Black Priestess.

“No,” Regina said. “You have made your lack of obedience abundantly clear. There shall be no—”

The Black Priestess was interrupted as the door to the office burst inward.

“Priestess,” the panting clergyman in the doorway said.

“What is the meaning of this interruption, Clergy-Captain? Can’t you see I’m busy?”

“It’s outside, Priestess,” the clergy-captain said, still trying to speak while puffing heavily. “The towers and main gate, we’re under attack.”

“Under attack? By whom? Ghouls?”

“No, Priestess Regina, men, buggies loaded with men. They’re firing on the towers.”

“Well,” the Priestess said, “if they’re a raiding party of wasteland savages, drive them off.”

“But Priestess,” the clergy-captain said. “We’ve pulled most of our men inside to deal with the prisoner riot and it’s more than just a raiding party. There must be hundreds out there.”

Black Priestess Regina’s eyes narrowed at Squid. “Free up some men then,” she said. “Send them to defend the prison entrance.”

“Of course, Priestess,” the clergy-captain said. “But that will leave us less than fully manned to deal with the riots.”

“Free up some men then,” the Black Priestess snarled again.

“Priestess,” the clergy-captain said, clearly confused. “I’m not sure—”

Black Priestess Regina spoke without taking her eyes off Squid. “Tell your men fighting with the prisoners to draw swords. That will cull the rioters quick enough.”

The clergy-captain hesitated. Priestess Regina raised her eyebrows in twin arches as if daring the captain to ask for clarification of what she meant. Squid knew he didn’t need to. The meaning was clear enough. She wanted him to kill the prisoners. It seemed Priestess Regina was modelling herself on High Priestess Patricia more than adequately.

The clergy-captain nodded. “We’ll handle it. I’ll send men to the surface as reinforcements.”

As he turned to leave, a distant boom like a far-off roll of thunder reverberated in the air, faintly, but loudly enough that everyone in the warden’s office heard it. Nobody spoke for a moment. Squid was sure they were all trying to determine what that sound had been. Moments later it came again.
Boom
. An enormous fist pounding on a giant door.

“The main gate,” the clergy-captain said.

Whoever was attacking the prison was battering the enormous, angled main gate, no doubt trying to breach it and force their way inside. But why would anyone attack Pitt? What was there of value in this place of detainees and darkness? The only things stored here were the people the Church of Glorious God the Redeemer considered impure and unworthy of living within the ghoul-proof fence, but not so forsaken that they should simply be killed. These were those the Church thought could be redeemed in God’s eyes. Who among this human recycling plant was worth the effort of an all-out attack?

Not who, Squid realized, what.

The vaccine.

“They’re trying to breach the main gate,” the clergy-captain said to the warden. “I think that should be our first priority, Priestess. If the gate is breached it may not matter if the prisoners are controlled.”

“I agree,” the warden said. “Leave the prisoners. Protect the integrity of the prison. Drive the wastelanders back, whoever they are.”