Nada's Escape: Fighters' lies

17.1 Alex

Finley meets me at Seven's gate with a smile.

"I don't need an escort," I bristle.

"Of course not," he replies smoothly, "I was just looking for some company."

I ignore the lie and listen to our steps crunching in time on the gravel, sweat working its way down my back.

Finally I ask, "Have the ribbons come yet?"

He shakes his head. "I'll get them tonight."

That's cutting it fine... I listen to our steps on the gravel a little longer before I interrupt the silence.

"So I've been thinking... Who are these allies of yours? Can I meet them?" I ask, thinking about Macie's heavy load of worries.

"Sure. I can put the word out."

"Are they like a proper rebel alliance or what?"

"No, I don't think so," Finley replies, sounding a little confused by the question. "They're just a few people who are more... compassionate than your average Huntsmen. They're not planning to overthrow the council, just direct the council's attention towards more humanitarian ends from time to time. Some of the wardens are not too fond of the way children are treated in Seven. They looked the other way when I escorted you to the garden party the other day, for example."

Hmm... so Mildrith and Martin are probably allies then. "Right, so they're not interested in helping us escape Norgara altogether?"

"No, believe it or not this is actually pretty crazy for them. I'll still help you with that, as much as I can around all these oaths." He fiddles with the leather bracelet that binds him to the council. A strange, melancholy confusion threads through me, some instinct urging me to take his hand.

Stepping between the first houses, I am distracted as cooler air banishes the scorch of midday. A few more steps and I realise it's still warm, just bearable, unlike the desert heat. The deadly heat of summer according to the calendar on Finley's wall. I realise that this must be the edge of Huntsmen's magic weather shield, the one that somehow keeps the gardens watered.

"Actually, now might be a good time... there's someone who wants to meet you." Finley says.

"An ally?" I check with him warily.

"Yes, but if anyone asks we're there to organise some gear for you," he replies.

"What sort of gear?" My interest is piqued at the thought of meeting another of the elusive allies; perhaps another warden?

"Like battle gear. I know it feels like you barely got out of Seven but the council will expect you to learn to fight and eventually complete small missions."

"Learn how to fight," I scoff. Fighting is a necessity, not a skill to be taught. I might even go so far as to say it's a way of life.

Finley leads me to a small house made of red brick, just one street back from the marketplace. He knocks politely and a dark eyed woman opens the door with a pleasant smile. She wears a long, wide-skirted dress in pale green that contrasts with her dusky skin, hair pulled into a knot on her head.

"Finley, and you must be Nada. Very nice to meet you. What can I do for you both?" The woman smiles up at me, tranquillity in her eyes. Suspicious at her worm-like conduct, I glance behind her for the warden we must be meeting. Just a short white corridor, vase of flowers at the end by two open doorways.

"May we come in? Is Dagda home?" Finley asks.

"Of course," she offers, stepping back into the hall and leading us into a cosy kitchen. "Dagda's on mission I'm afraid. Can I offer you some refreshments? I was just about to eat a late lunch myself." Despite my rumbling stomach, I clench my teeth at the worm-like courtesy. I don't know why I'm surprised that true Huntswomen act just as soppy and polite as the worms in Seven.

"Actually I have some preparation to do. I'm going to leave you two to it." Finley declines and my eyes flick with anxiety between the two of them. I really don't want to be left alone in this strange house with this worm.

"I..." I think to protest but what excuse can I give? I am already taller than the diminutive woman, and she'd said her spouse was out. I am a fighter goddammit, I remind myself. "And you are?" I ask archly.

"Oh of course," Finley steps in, "Sorry. Nada, this is Alex. She's the one who's been wanting to meet you."

I nod cautiously, taking in this new information calmly. Finley waves farewell and Alex begins to pepper me with questions about my preference for sandwich toppings. I find I can't forego a steak sandwich and a glass of ice cold orange juice, despite my misgivings. To fill the silence and maintain some kind of control over the situation I start interrogating.

"Are you one of the ones who helped with the ribbons?"

"Yes and no. The ribbons weren't my idea but it was I who asked Finley to use you as a medium to the other girls." She replies, straightening the kitchen out under calm, slow-moving hands.

"And why are you helping us?" I ask between bites. She gives me a quiet assessment.

"I thought that would be obvious."

I chew hurriedly, urgent to fill the silence. What does she mean?

"I was once in Seven too. I had the opportunity for a new life and well..." She gestures at the kitchen around her, as if furnishings could explain the inner workings of her mind. "I would hate to see anyone else denied that chance merely by ill fate."

So Alex isn't a full blood Huntswoman? I struggle to remember how far back Seven had stretched before my own years there. How long ago had the bald teacher said the curse had been laid? A long time... I think, thirty, maybe forty years.

"Seven... how many of the women here came through Seven?" I ask. Alex doesn't seem surprised by the question, though her gaze rests heavy and dark on me for a moment longer than is comfortable.

"Excepting the very old... only a handful of full blooded Huntswomen are left. The rest are Seveners." She says. Shock ripples through me, upsetting my preconceived notions. Almost all the women in this settlement are human? How have they not risen up and overthrown the council yet?

Then I watch Alex, contented amongst the white laced curtains and orange-patterned crockery and I realise she's not a fighter. If she were, such little things wouldn't be enough to stop her searching for freedom. If she were a fighter she would never have sworn the pledge in the first place.

And that's the core of it I see, with startling clarity, there's a band of worms in Norgara, broken in by the system. This thought threatens to drain all hope from my struggle but I swear silently, to the last remnants of my sandwich, that I will break the cycle. I will not be a worm.