made our way out of the depths of the fort, I was shedding the burden.
Ignoring me, Zach led me along another long corridor, unlocked a larger door, then paused. “I don’t know if you’re stupid enough to try anything, but don’t bother.” I tried to disregard the light and fresh air streaming in from the partly opened door, and to concentrate on his words. “You know you can’t fight me. The other doors leading to the ramparts are locked. And stay close to me.”
He pushed the door fully open. Despite the pain from my glare-struck eyes, the fresh air itself was intoxicating. I took heaving breaths as I stepped out.
The long, narrow rampart was unchanged since those escorted visits four years ago, in the first months of my imprisonment. It was a terrace, perhaps sixty feet long, protruding halfway up the sheer face of the fort. In front of us, crenellations toothed the wall that overlooked the drop below. Behind us, the wall of the fort continued vertically, carved straight into the side of the mountain. I heard Zach locking the door from which we’d just emerged, in the center of the rampart. At each end of the terrace, either side of us, identical doors were set in the wall, their solid wood crisscrossed by metal spars.
For a few moments I just stood there, head tilted slightly back, sun on my face. When I approached the battlements, Zach shifted to block my way.
I laughed. “Relax. You can’t blame me for wanting to see. My view’s been fairly limited for the last four years.”
He nodded but stayed close to me as I reached the edge and leaned over the waist-high wall to see the city below.
“I’ve never seen the city properly before,” I said. “It was night when they brought me from the settlement, and I had something over my head. And when they used to let us up here, we were never allowed near the edge.”
From this height, Wyndham was like a jumble of buildings tossed down the slope. It was too chaotic to be beautiful, but its size alone was impressive. The city clambered up the mountainside, as high as the base of the fort, but also spread out into the flat of the plain, where roads faded into the hills and the blurred horizon. The river meandered into view from the south, curving around the base of the city before disappearing into the deep caverns of the mountain itself. Even from this high I could see movement: carts on the roads; washing draped from windows, patiently flapping in the breeze. So many people, so close to where I’d been, alone, for all those indistinguishable days and nights.
Zach had turned away from the city. I did the same, leaning back next to him against the low wall. On either side of us, merlons rose to above head height.
“You said before that you don’t trust anyone here, except the Confessor.”
He didn’t respond, looked down at his hands.
“So why choose to live this way?” I asked. “I’m here because I can’t leave. But you could; you could just walk away.”
“Was this part of your bargain? That we have a little heart-to-heart? Because I didn’t agree to that.” He turned around again, looking over Wyndham. “Anyway, it’s not that straightforward. There are things I need to do.” In the clear light I could see how prominent the bones had become in his face. He exhaled. “I’ve started things here. They’re my projects. I have to finish them. It’s complicated.”
“It doesn’t have to be.”
“You’ve always been such an idealist. Things are simple for you.” His voice matched the tiredness of his eyes.
“It could be simple for you, too. You could just leave—go back to the village, work the land with Mom.”
Before he’d even turned, I knew I’d said the wrong thing. “Work the land?” he hissed. “Do you have any idea who I am, now? What I’ve achieved? And the village is the last place I’d ever go. Even after the split, I was never treated like the other Alphas. I thought it would get better, but it didn’t.”
Ignoring me, Zach led me along another long corridor, unlocked a larger door, then paused. “I don’t know if you’re stupid enough to try anything, but don’t bother.” I tried to disregard the light and fresh air streaming in from the partly opened door, and to concentrate on his words. “You know you can’t fight me. The other doors leading to the ramparts are locked. And stay close to me.”
He pushed the door fully open. Despite the pain from my glare-struck eyes, the fresh air itself was intoxicating. I took heaving breaths as I stepped out.
The long, narrow rampart was unchanged since those escorted visits four years ago, in the first months of my imprisonment. It was a terrace, perhaps sixty feet long, protruding halfway up the sheer face of the fort. In front of us, crenellations toothed the wall that overlooked the drop below. Behind us, the wall of the fort continued vertically, carved straight into the side of the mountain. I heard Zach locking the door from which we’d just emerged, in the center of the rampart. At each end of the terrace, either side of us, identical doors were set in the wall, their solid wood crisscrossed by metal spars.
For a few moments I just stood there, head tilted slightly back, sun on my face. When I approached the battlements, Zach shifted to block my way.
I laughed. “Relax. You can’t blame me for wanting to see. My view’s been fairly limited for the last four years.”
He nodded but stayed close to me as I reached the edge and leaned over the waist-high wall to see the city below.
“I’ve never seen the city properly before,” I said. “It was night when they brought me from the settlement, and I had something over my head. And when they used to let us up here, we were never allowed near the edge.”
From this height, Wyndham was like a jumble of buildings tossed down the slope. It was too chaotic to be beautiful, but its size alone was impressive. The city clambered up the mountainside, as high as the base of the fort, but also spread out into the flat of the plain, where roads faded into the hills and the blurred horizon. The river meandered into view from the south, curving around the base of the city before disappearing into the deep caverns of the mountain itself. Even from this high I could see movement: carts on the roads; washing draped from windows, patiently flapping in the breeze. So many people, so close to where I’d been, alone, for all those indistinguishable days and nights.
Zach had turned away from the city. I did the same, leaning back next to him against the low wall. On either side of us, merlons rose to above head height.
“You said before that you don’t trust anyone here, except the Confessor.”
He didn’t respond, looked down at his hands.
“So why choose to live this way?” I asked. “I’m here because I can’t leave. But you could; you could just walk away.”
“Was this part of your bargain? That we have a little heart-to-heart? Because I didn’t agree to that.” He turned around again, looking over Wyndham. “Anyway, it’s not that straightforward. There are things I need to do.” In the clear light I could see how prominent the bones had become in his face. He exhaled. “I’ve started things here. They’re my projects. I have to finish them. It’s complicated.”
“It doesn’t have to be.”
“You’ve always been such an idealist. Things are simple for you.” His voice matched the tiredness of his eyes.
“It could be simple for you, too. You could just leave—go back to the village, work the land with Mom.”
Before he’d even turned, I knew I’d said the wrong thing. “Work the land?” he hissed. “Do you have any idea who I am, now? What I’ve achieved? And the village is the last place I’d ever go. Even after the split, I was never treated like the other Alphas. I thought it would get better, but it didn’t.”
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