Random Bits of Nonsense

Untitled Part 10

Before she can tie his hands, my sword is slicing through the wrist of the boar. Her hand and the rope fall the the ground, accompanied by the spout of blood and the ear-spitting scream. Jem spins, shock and confusion on his face as I silence her. The other boars stir, training weapons on Jem, the open air around him. The silver-eyed man narrows his eyes. "Who's there?! Show—"

I cut him off by blasting him and those around him back with a gust of wind. To the right and then left the trees burst into flames, roasting squealing pigs in their armor. There's thirty or so boars now, getting up from the dirt, and I might be able to take them. But this plan I have doesn't call for their deaths.

"If you're going to torture someone," I shout, "it's going to be me!"

Beside me, Jem's body goes stiff. A barely audible "No," escapes his lips.

"And who," the silver-eyed man growls, back on his feet, "is that?"

I take a deep breath. No going back now. "The person you actually need."

As I let myself be seen again, the silver-eyed man narrows his eyes. "A woman?" he gives a small bark of laughter. "What sort of idiots do you take us for!? We know the maker of this armor is Jam—"

"Do you?" I interrupt. There must have been something in the way I said it, because he doesn't keep laughing. Remember, this isn't a lie, this is true. You know this is fact. You believe this. You believe this. "I'd say me and Jem have even the highest powers in the Resistance fooled." I look at Jem with a smile, and I almost falter. He's pale and wide eyed, like he's seen a ghost. Please take that to mean what I want it to. "Everywhere I was supposed to be, he was the face they saw. Every time I was moving from place to place he was who people saw. But he isn't the one who does the work. He isn't the one that pulls everything together. I am."

Jem's hands are starting to shake, another "No," too quiet for Them to hear escaping his lips. Please Jem, play along.

"That's ridiculous!" the silver-eyed man exclaims. "Even if you were using shadow magic, someone would have noticed yo—"

"Did you sense my presence? Just now, before I attacked?" I ask. The man blinks, a look of confusion dawning on him. Realization, the surprise that he didn't. Drive it home. "See? Even you didn't notice me. Can you really say I'm lying?"

The other boars look uncertain. They look to the silver-eyed man, who seems to be deeply thinking about whether I could be telling the truth. A question forms in his cold, calculating eyes.

"No. No, no!" Jem shouts. I look at him. His chest is falling and rising, the panic written on his face. "No, she's lying!" His voice is dripping with desperation, pleading with the silver-eyed man to believe him. "It's me, I'm the one you want!"

"Jem—" I begin, but Jem cuts me off. "Tori, no! Please, please no! What are you doing? Why would you say that?!" he cries.

"They would have killed you," I say. He stops and looks at me, shock on his face. Dammit Jem, play along! "They'd have tortured you and broke you, and when They found out it was all a lie They'd have killed you."

"B-but I—" Jem starts. There's so much fear in his pale green eyes—and it's likely all for my safety. He runs his hands through his dark hair, franticly looking between me and Them.

"James," I say, moving toward him. I have to do this to sell this bit. I don't want to do this to your heart. Please don't be angry with me when you find out. Please don't hate me. I walk up to him and cup my hands on either side of his face. He takes a sharp breath in as my skin touches his. His eyes widen as they focus on me. "James, it's okay." I brush a lock of his hair behind his ear, and his body shudders. Dammit, why do I have to do this to you? You don't deserve it. "Your job is to protect me, and you have done an amazing job so far. You've done so much for me." I stare into his eyes, trying to will him to understand what I'm doing. "But, right now, is my turn to protect you. I can't let you be carted off to your death. I wouldn't be able to handle it." His already wide eyes get wider. Why, why, why?

I turn back to Them, my hands dropping from Jem's face. The silver-eyed man no longer looks thoughtful. He looks like he knows exactly what's going on. I just hope he doesn't see through me. "I won't make it easy for you once you have me," I say to him. "but, if you let Jem live, I will let you take me with no more resistance."

The silver-eyed man gives me a measured look, and I stare back at him, prepared for it all to fall apart.

"Fine," he finally says. Yes! It worked! I refuse to let any of my relief show. "You come with us now, and you have my word, this man will live till we meet again." When I nod, he gestures to one of the few remaining boars. The man moves forward, pulling more pagbarnian rope from a pouch at his waist.

I turn to look at Jem. His eyes are beyond sadness, beyond loss. "It'll be okay, Jem." I say. His body is so tense, his hands fists at his sides. I reach up and touch his face lightly, and watch as his pupils dilate. He doesn't see me anymore. Not the forest, the bodies, none of it. He sees the image I want him to: my room, the nightstand, the second drawer, the papers hidden on the bottom. Find Rose, Jade, one of their brothers. Benj, even. Have them explain. Then look at the notes. If anyone can do it, you can. My hand is pulled away then, into the rope being tied around my wrists. He blinks and looks at me, questions in his eyes. "I'll be okay." I smile at him—an encouraging smile, one of trust and belief, one that probably broke his heart—and then let myself be led away, into the cover of trees.

I don't look back at him as I'm walked out of sight.

I'll be okay.

I don't say a word as we approach an airship sitting in the middle of a small clearing.

I'll be okay.

They lead me into it and bring me to a bare room, save for two hard benches on opposing walls. The man in white tells the others he'll keep an eye on me himself, and to go do whatever and pilot the airship.

I'll be okay.

He sits on the bench across from me, staring at me. He doesn't have a triumphant, gloating look about him. He isn't trying to stare me down. For the first time I realize he isn't all that old. He looks maybe twenty, give or take a couple. Not much older than myself.

I'll be okay.

His brow is furrowed, his eyes narrowed, his lips pursed. It's like he's trying to figure me out. Not long after he sits, the slight jerk of the airship lifting off jostles me. He keeps his eyes on me, and I pick a spot on the floor to stare at.

I'll be okay...

I let out the faintest chuckle. "What's funny?" He asks.

I look at him then, and let the faintest of smiles curve my lips. "'I'll be okay.' What crappy last words."