City of Dust: Completely gripping YA dystopian fiction packed with edge of your seat suspense. Michelle Kenney

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ

      Max’s words echoed through my head although I didn’t doubt it for one second. I flexed my fingers. Didn’t he know Outsiders invented the rule book?

      ‘What are you doing out here?’

      I was suddenly conscious he must have followed me to find me in this quiet part of the forest.

      ‘Just getting some fresh air, and exploring the local animal species. Interestingly, they seem to have a uniform number of legs.’

      He drawled rather than spoke, elongating all the s’s in any word. I stared at him intently. Despite Jas’s acceptance, this man could get under my skin, and the reddened jaws of his Cerberus were glinting in the evening sun, like some sort of portent of ill luck.

      ‘How long have you known Aelia?’ I asked.

      ‘For about as long as she’s been a Prolet.’ He leaned casually against a convenient oak, as though it was the most natural thing in the world for us to be standing here, discussing Aelia.

      ‘We grew up in the same corner of town. Then, when she won the funded medical place with Isca Pantheon, I joined the mineral miners. As you can probably imagine, it’s a rather popular choice in the wonderful metropolis of Isca Prolet!’

      He grinned at his own joke, revealing a blackened tooth near the front of his mouth. The neglect reminded me how different our paths had been. The sight of a lush, green forest had to be one of the most arresting he’d ever seen. And yet, he seemed so detached.

      ‘And then the PFF?’ I pushed.

      ‘And then the PFF,’ he closed.

      His head dropped to one side, as though he was assessing a laboratory specimen. And for a second we stood there, engaged in some sort of unspoken combat, before he sauntered across and paused closely enough to me to feel slightly uncomfortable. I held my ground, even while his slightly soured breath filled my face.

      ‘Just what is it that makes you so special?’

      I wasn’t even sure he’d whispered the words; they were spoken so quietly.

      ‘Rajid! Why are you out here? I wanted to talk to Tal before we head over to Art!’ Aelia’s sharp tone cut through the air. ‘The sun’s on the horizon; it’s time.’

      I glanced across at Aelia’s shadow, tense and agitated. Beneath the bough of a twisted hazel, she had clearly been counting the seconds until we could see Art.

      Rajid stepped back, inane smile resurrected, before sauntering after Aelia. And as I followed, I wondered again whether the Cerberus was more than a tattoo.

      ***

      ‘I’ll have to call an Extraordinary Council of the Elders, and a village-wide Ring to tally support after that. This is not something I can decide on behalf of Arafel, Talia. Should we choose to send a task force and then take these people under Arafel’s wing, we will undoubtedly compromise the safety of every man, woman and child living here. That action must not be taken lightly or without full, open acceptance of the possible consequences.’

      I stared at Art’s wizened face in the dim light of his study. His treehouse was tucked between the branches of the oldest ash in the village, and the closely knotted pale branches created a twilight space, even though it was only just dusk. It was the colour between day and night, and usually that soothed me, but today I was conscious only of Aelia’s anxiety.

      ‘I don’t think we have that sort of time, do we, Aelia?’ I asked, her twitching foot belying her calm expression.

      She shook her head swiftly. We’d been through it all in detail, and the more we talked, the more I felt her apprehension.

      ‘They’ve been gone for weeks. We think they’re hiding out in the tunnels beneath the city, but they must have run out of food by now, and they have no means of cooking whatever they may catch among the ruins. My fear is that they’re living off sewer rats and unclean water, with no access to light. Their prognosis is pretty grim, unless we get help in there quickly.’

      She spoke rapidly, her clinical training giving her strength although I knew she had to know most of the renegade Prolet families personally. As leader of the Prolet effort to integrate with Pantheon, she had to feel responsibility for their protection too. It was clear that whether Arafel helped or not, she would do everything she could to find them.

      ‘If they are in a weakened state, and Cassius releases his personal battalion of molossers or even strix, they won’t have the strength to fight or escape. And Cassius likes to make an example of those who challenge the system. I can’t imagine he will be content simply to parade sixty insurgent prisoners. He will want something in return – and I don’t mean their white flag.’

      I turned back to Art, hoping he would make an exception, just this once. He was Grandpa’s successor as leader of the Council, and infamous for his strong sense of fairness. He was also a stickler for the rules.

      Art stared at us both, his astute eyes getting the measure of Aelia swiftly. Then he drew a deep breath.

      ‘I’m sorry, Talia, but on this my hands are tied. The only thing I can offer you for certain is an extraordinary meeting of the Ring, followed by a vote. It will take a little longer than you will like, but perhaps that time is usefully spent considering the path that may lie ahead? None of Arafel’s hunters will know the ruined city tunnels, and if we are forced to engage with Cassius, there will be injury and loss of life.

      ‘I understand your urgency,’ he added gently, ‘but this decision needs thorough debate. We are hunters, farmers, survivors … not warriors.’

      I glanced at Aelia. She was pale and completely still.

      ‘I will call a Ring, but I cannot promise you the decision you want.’

      I nodded, knowing better than to push. We’d secured a meeting, and that had to be enough for now. Moments later we were dropping down through Art’s aged trapdoor to the forest floor beneath.

      I looked at Aelia, her face in shadows, her agitation tangible.

      ‘I know it’s not exactly the outcome we wanted. But just let Art talk to the village … I’m sure they’ll—’

      ‘I understand,’ she cut in shortly. ‘It’s a big ask, and Arafel is your home. You are all safe, while the insurgents … my people … Look, I get it, OK? I just need a few minutes to compose my thoughts before the meeting. And I need to speak with Rajid. I’ll listen for the Ring alarm and meet you there.’

      I nodded silently, wanting to say so many things but unable to find the right words. Aelia was my feisty friend who was as unpredictable as she was loyal, but this time we weren’t facing the manticore or some other beast of Pantheon. This time the stakes were so much higher. She spun on her heel and headed off into the darkness.

      Reluctantly, I started in the opposite direction, intending to find Mum and Eli before the alarm. The last of the afternoon light was receding and Pacha, the village lantern-bearer had begun lighting the beeswax candles suspended in willow rope jars from our treehouses. They illuminated a path through the forest at night, but the effect was to cast our homes into an ethereal half-light. Mum called it fairy-tale, but tonight their glow did little to soothe my nerves.

      ‘Tal?’

СКАЧАТЬ