(Originally published April 7, 2011 at DivergentZen.WordPress.com)
Okay, here is the short story adaption of the first 30 minutes of the Divergent Chill screenplay I wrote, which was adapate from the original Divergent Chill short story I wrote. So, it goes like this: shorty story –> screenplay –> short story.
I’ve been unable to find the short story on any of my hard drives. I suspect I might have actually written it by hand and it’s in a notebook somewhere. But this is still pretty interesting. Though it takes place 10 years after the events of the novel (don’t worry about spoilers, much of this won’t be canon by the time I get to it), my original vision of Chill’s character and personality is quite different. And the tone of the story reads more like a detective serial in some respects. I’ve really never written anything quite like this before, stylisitcally speaking.
Just a quick note, this short story hasn’t been thoroughly edited and is only a couple steps above a rough draft. Enjoy:
Semi-Original Divergent Chill Short Story
Divergent mothers birth their redheaded, emerald-eyed daughters nameless and leave them as soon as they can feed themselves. Most die. The guards protecting Nesma’s gate were clad in jagged black hauberks crested with a fiery silver sun. In the Silver Sun Empire of man she became known as the Divergent whose skills had earned her the name, “Chill.” The guards let her pass for this reason, but only after checking her for weapons.
Nesma was as she had imagined it. Cities, which were walled, always reeked with stagnant humanity. Nesma was no exception. She got a nostril full and grimaced.
The groundlings went about their lives of trading in the market and working their crafts in small shops. The nobles traveled about in wheeled carriers tugged along by a dual row of Briams. Of all the slave races, the Briam worked the hardest. They seemed to be built for the work with bodies short and stocky. They had half the height of a man, but twice the muscle. They required little in the way of food and water to survive. Their females delivered litters of three to five children. But, as a race they were poor of hearing. This weakness cut them twofold. They were whipped for constantly shouting and nobles preferred getting their attention with a whip rather than shouting themselves.
Water remained scarce in the region. A dry fountain still stood in the middle of the town square. Five years ago Nesma’s new Duchess had it constructed as a promise to the groundlings that new sources of water would be found. Now it collected animal droppings and occasionally the urine of drunken groundlings.
Children pointed at her and whispered to each other as she crossed between rows of dwellings. The dwellings were small, one room with a ladder to a room above with a balcony overlooking the muddy street. And they were all connected, seemingly carved out of stone. She entered this poor part of Nesma to avoid any city guards thinking of starting trouble with her. But, she still drew attention. Mothers quickly took their children inside and quickly bolted their doors shut.
She found the building Alden had described to her in his note when she finally cleared the groundlings residential area. It was made of cut timber with a tiled roof. It had a sturdy wood door at the front and she figured there would be another door in the back. She knocked, as she had been instructed, soft, soft, hard, and soft.
She heard the bolt sliding behind the door and it lurched open. Alden’s rageborn bodyguard stared down at her with his feral red eyes. Few of his kind remained. They were taller than most men with longer arms and legs. Their skin had the shade of granite. He bore the tattoo of loyalty on his bear chest. It resembled two hands claps in friendship as blood trickled out from between them. Because of their spiritual beliefs in the power of tattoos, controlling them was easy.
He spoke with a cold, murderous voice, which was more of a characteristic of his people than a reflection of his actual intent.
“Chill, Master Alden awaits you. Please come inside. Seek comfort where you find it.”
She stepped inside. Fairy flies trapped inside glass globes gently illuminated the inside with an indigo light. They were difficult to catch and feed properly, but they were safer to use than fire. Alden was wasting the light they could generate in a day, though. He must be hung over from another night at the noble tavern, Shrike’s Place.
Alden didn’t stand up to greet her. He just kept his feet propped up on the table he used as a desk while his Talarian attendant gently massaged his shoulders. Though they were slightly smaller in frame than humans and their irises were silver and shimmered in any light, the Talarians were regarded by men as most beautiful of all races. Their features were slender and their skin soft and pale. Their hair fell in long dark drapes ranging from teal to indigo.
The Talarians were the most mistreated of the slave races in her mind. The men of many noble houses often sated themselves on their stock of Talarian females. Male Talarians were usually discarded at birth, but sometimes saved to replenish the stock. Even Alden had a Talarian, as much as it angered her.
Alden massaged his temples and spoke with a slight moan as his servant pressed her slender fingers, which had pitch-black nails, deep into his tense shoulders.
“Chill, good of you to come. I have your payment well at hand. Why don’t you take a seat and we can talk for a moment.”
She regarded the beardless man for a moment. He was young and his face had yet to begin to form wrinkles. His eyes were blue and his hair blond as all the rest of the men within the Silver Sun Empire. Alden claimed he worked as a merchant, but she had performed far too many tasks for him to believe he was merely a merchant.
She pulled the rickety chair from out of the corner of the dusty room and set it across the table from Alden. She sat down carefully and the chair wobbled.
Alden sat up.
“That’s enough for now, Reza.”
The Talarian bowed slightly and left the room. Alden caught the expression of disgust on Chill’s face.
“Please, Chill. Had I ever had need for such a servant, would I not have purchased ten of them long ago? A Talarian can make as excellent a body guard as a Rageborn.”
She rolled her emerald eyes.
“What’s the new job? You wouldn’t ask me to sit down and talk when you’re hung over if it wasn’t a good opportunity.”
He leaned in towards her, bracing his elbows on the table.
“Actually, this isn’t about a job. This is something else. I wasn’t out drinking last night, because I was celebrating. I was confirming certain rumors I had heard.”
She squeezed her right hand into a fist in just the right way to pop all her knuckles.
“Go on.”
“I like to think I have an enlightened view on the world.”
“Did you know there is going to be an execution tomorrow?”
“So?”
“Apparently a Talarian slave girl murdered Duke Medwin while they were sharing his bedchambers.”
“The girl was probably just giving him a massage.”
Alden grinned and rubbed his stubble.
“Without a doubt. So, I heard you ran into some trouble crossing the Gerinn River.”
“The ferryman wasn’t interested in taking a Divergent along. Apparently, we’re bad luck you know.”
“You also have poor attitudes.”
“I figured a man who helped people cross the river his entire life would have learned to swim.”
“Not everyone appreciates on the job hazards like you do, I’m afraid. I had to pull a string or two with the local authorities down there. They wanted your head for that little incident.”
“Tell me more about this execution.”
“I’m afraid to. You’re so impulsive sometimes, drowning ferrymen and such. Why if I told you the widow, Duchess Castalia, was probably just using the poor little servant girl as her scapegoat and was planning to outlaw other such personal attendants within the city, you might run off and cause a lot of grief.”
She bit her bottom lip, contemplating the seriousness of the situation in Nesma.
“I guess I should collect my payment and be on my way.”
Alden pulled a bag of coins from his belt and tossed them to her over the table.
“Chill, don’t you have a Rageborn friend named Beriszl in the city? He was recently traded to Duke Medwin to be his bodyguard.”
She tied the coin string to her belt and nodded. Alden’s usual roguish expression dropped for just an eye blink. She saw sorrow.
“Is there something else I should know, Alden?”
Alden leaned back and rubbed the back of his neck with a heavy sigh.
“I just have a feeling. However this turns out. I just want you to know…”
She crossed her arms.
“To know what?”
“I wish divergents were a little more open minded about their concepts of purity.”
He winked at her. On any other day, she would have backhanded him across the room for being so lewd. But the truth was he hadn’t answered her question. She forced a smile and left, popping all the knuckles in her left just as she had her right, moments before.
The noble’s area was heavily patrolled. Slaves, Briams and Talarians, went about the various chores assigned to them. Most Briams spent their day either mining the hillsides or carrying buckets of water down the mountainside. A few were used in construction efforts. Talarians were tasked with domestic concerns. They did laundry, tended gardens, and other such things.
This area was much larger than the groundlings residential area, but not because there were more nobles than groundlings. The nobles owned large estates with well-kept manors and fields for food production. Groundlings worked the fields for their own subsistence and the more skilled groundlings operated as artisans, producing furniture and silverware, as well as weapons and chains.
The silver sun guards were not accustomed to her being in the area, but strangely, they had didn’t hassle her. It all troubled her. Alden was up to something big in Nesma.
She overheard a group of three Talarians whispering about the Talarian girl accused of murdering the Duke. They worked in the Duke’s mansion and possibly his bedchamber. Alden’s suspicion seemed to be correct. These three knew the girl and didn’t think she was capable of murder. They called her the gentle wind in their language. Her actual name was Rhian of Air.
Guards rowed the front of the Duke’s manor. Given the circumstances, she doubted they’d let her through. But, Beriszl stood at the end of the row. He stuck out; taller than the humans around him and awkward in his silver sun armor. The commander stopped her when she tried to approach. The silver stripes on his shoulder plates identified him as such. She met his stare.
“What business do you have with Duchess Castalia, Divergent?”
She didn’t know if the man were being arrogantly presumptive, or if he was just unable to hide his own feelings on the matter.
“Actually, commander, I’m here to speak to Beriszl. He and I are old acquaintances and I haven’t seen him in quite sometime. Could you spare him a moment?”
“You can speak to him when he is off duty, Divergent.”
“Commander, when is a Rageborn ever off duty?”
“I see your point, Divergent. Perhaps I could momentarily assign him to guard you, to make sure you don’t cause any trouble.”
“Works for me.”
The commander waved Beriszl over. He came. Beriszl was strong and tall for a Rageborn. He always walked slightly hunched and swayed so much from leg to leg it appeared he was always about to tip over onto his side. He stood at attention as best he could, while the commander gave him specific orders to return shortly.
Beriszl followed her, silently to the edge of the noble’s area, near the Briam herd. Hovels made of everything from stone to straw, littered the landscape. Small campfires burned and she could smell meat roasting. All but the very young and infirm remained while the others worked.
Beriszl removed his helmet and rubbed both his ears.
“How long have they been making you wear that silly armor?”
“Since the Duke died. It’s punishment I think.”
“Tell me what happened to the Duke.”
“Someone slashed his throat.”
“You’re too good to let a Talarain girl sneak a knife into the Duke’s bedchamber.”
“Yes, I am.”
“Unless you allowed her to.”
He regarded her for a moment, wounded in both his hearts at the insinuation. She couldn’t see the tattoo on his chest, but she knew it was there and she knew what it meant to him.
“I’m sorry. Working for Alden has made me cynical,” she paused for a breath. “Alden suspects the Duchess had a hand in it. Apparently she wasn’t happy about the Duke’s growing harem.”
Beriszl picked at his bare toes. His arms were so long, he didn’t need to even bend over to reach his feet.
“Duke Medwin was generous for a human. Yes, he had many Talarians, but he only used a few for pleasuring.”
“Then why’d he have so many?”
He licked his fangs.
“Could I ask a favor? Wearing this armor is hot.”
She chuckled and nodded. Elemental use was a tricky business. For everyone who studied a lifetime and availed with accouterments, there was another who used the power as easily and naturally as they walk. Her ability fell to the latter.
She held her hand out and found the cold spot in the back of her mind, where the energy of the Ice Realm trickled through her soul. It had always been there, like a dangling eyelash teasing her peripheral vision, but she had gotten used to it. All she needed to do was concentrate on the cold spot, feeling the energy seeping from it, and will it to form as she directed.
The result this time was a ball of smoking ice forming out in her hand. Beriszl grasped the ball gratefully with both hands and began to lap it with his flat tongue.
“Looks like I didn’t make it too cold, like last time.”
Beriszl chuckled as he exchanged hands holding the ice ball to keep his fingers from going numb.
“Almost, Chill. Almost.”
One rule of elemental usage remained unexplained and had for centuries. No one had ever been able to tap into the water realm. An extremely rare few could create and shape ice as she had just done, but never could she do the same for water in its liquid form. And even using her powers in such a dry climate were taxing, leading her to believe she needed water for her powers to even function. It bothered her to think about from where she actually drew the water when the air and ground were so dry.
“All right Beriszl, answer my question. You have your ice.”
He sucked the moisture from the ball.
“For two reasons, I am sure. The Duke did not like his Duchess. She was from the Blacklands. The purpose of their marriage was to form a treaty for water rights. But, the Duchess brought no water. And the Duke was interested in Talarians with elemental skills. He desired to breed an ice users like yourself, to solve Nesma’s water shortage.”
“But, it’s illegal for slaves to use elemental powers and it’s even more illegal for any human to encourage them.”
He slurped the ice, again.
“That is my understanding, yes.”
“But, that doesn’t explain why the Duchess would want to kill Medwin. Or why she wants to outlaw Talarian servants in Nesma.”
“No, it doesn’t.”
The Briam began returning as the sun settled on the horizon, while the Silver Goddess Star only seemed to become brighter.
“Thanks Beriszl.”
“Thank you for the ice. I must return to my post.”
He forced his helmet back on and she heard him crush the ice in his mouth.
She stood for a moment and watched the Briam. The taskmasters stopped at the edge of the herd and the Briam entered in small groups of friends and family. They happily chatted with their thunder crack voices. After so many generations she wondered if they even knew they were slaves anymore.
Nesma’s lamplighters, a mixture of young groundlings and slaves, busily canvassed the streets of the noble and government areas. Maybe it was because she had remained in one place too long, or maybe it was because someone had become aware of her questioning of the Duke’s former bodyguard, but twenty silver sun guards marched towards her with their silver-star maces and shields ready. The magistrate led them.
She knew him through reputation as much he knew her through reputation. He had only held the position of magistrate in Nesma for a few years, but was renowned for being fair-minded. He wore the mantle well, a decorated silver robe embellished with cobalt suns. His hair was neatly braided into an eloquent ponytail and somehow served to give him an even greater sense of authority. He stared at her keenly past his needlepoint nose.
She turned slowly, not bowing, as Divergents bow to no one.
“Magistrate Lamont. It’s a pleasure.”
The guards filed out and semi circled her. She tensed.
“Why only twenty men, Magistrate?”
“It’s a good even number and enough to keep up appearances.”
“Appearances?”
“Yes, but let’s get to the point. It is too warm a night to dally about. Divergent Chill, you are charged with conspiracy and will be placed under arrest. Come with me and there will be no trouble.”
“Conspiracy you say? But Magistrate, you only brought twenty men.”
She felt the tension spike in the air around her. Even a hint of fear rose above the city’s stink. The magistrate remained calm and confident. He bunched his eyebrows for a moment in frustration.
“Divergent Chill, there is no need for violence, I assure you. I am confident you will be exonerated before the dawn. I only ask you come and wait for a moment or two in a cell with another prisoner while this is sorted out.”
“Nesma is as orderly as any city I’ve ever been to. You mustn’t have too many prisoners.”
“Just one, besides you.”
She bit her bottom lip and tossed her ruby hair in resignation.
“Truth be told, Magistrate, I was hoping for a fight.”
“As I would expect.”
Two guards hesitantly took her arms and led her away from the magistrate towards the city jail. The stroll to the jail was quiet and she could feel the nervousness radiating from the guards. They grasped her arms so tightly it was as if they believe they were holding on for their lives. Nesma’s government had constructed the jail underground at the edge of the government area. Bell towers surrounded the little grated portal in the ground and she noticed sentries in the towers, watching. The jail keeper stood by the grate with a heavy ring of key in his hand. He leaned over and grabbed a chain, which he used to hoist the grate open.
Faerie flies dimly lit the tunnel as it sloped downwards. Her guards forced her inside while the jail keeper followed, twirling his keys. Cells rowed the walls. The doors were walls of wood and iron, which could be barred from the outside with a metal rod. But she felt better knowing the magistrate hadn’t lied to her. There was only one other prisoner in the jail.
The jail keeper stopped her guards in front of the girl’s cell.
“We’ll put her in here. Maybe if the girl’s not alone, she’ll stop her whimpering and I won’t have to listen to that racket all night, again.”
The guards shrugged as the jail keeper unbarred the door and pulled it open with a heavy grating sound. The guards shoved her inside; glad to be rid of her. The door closed behind her and she heard the rod slide into place, locking her inside. There was no light inside the cell, except for a gentle indigo seam slipping in through the cracks in the door from the tunnel. A small and heavily barred grate in the ceiling revealed a piece of the cloudy night sky. At least there was fresh air, as fresh as it was in Nesma, in the cell.
She could smell tears and fear and knew Rhian of Wind was hiding in the corner. Her little heart beat rapidly and her silver eyes just barely twinkled in the darkness.
“Rhian of Wind, right?”
She felt the girl’s surprised in the air, a sure sign of her elemental abilities.
“My name is Chill. I’m a divergent. I’m here to help you.”
Rhian’s throat cracked with dryness.
“Help me? How?”
She held out her hand and drew on her cold spot. It was a trick she had learned years ago. If she drew elemental energy into the world and didn’t shape it with her will, she could create a kind of freezing blue flame. The cell lit up just enough for her to see Rhian, but hopefully not enough to draw the attention of the guards in the surrounding bell towers.
The blue flame danced in her hand and it piqued Rhian’s curiosity.
“You can use the ice element?”
“Divergents aren’t given names by our mothers you know. I’m called Chill for a reason.”
Rhian slipped from the corner and moved closer to the blue flame. Her dark teal hair shined in the light and its relatively short length for a Talarian revealed just how young the girl was. Her silver eyes sparkled as she drew near and carefully reached out to touch the blue flame with her slender fingers and black nail.
“I would not touch the blue flame if I were you, Rhian of Wind. Not unless you’re trying to lose a finger.”
She stopped short.
“I can feel how cold it is. It’s amazing.”
“Well, it’s useful. So, tell me. What happened really happened with the Duke?”
She withdrew and pulled her knees to her chest.
“Don’t you know, already?”
“I’ve heard a lot of different stories. I’d like to hear yours, so I can help you.”
“How can you help me? You’re trapped in here with me.”
Divergents often got ahead of themselves. She wondered if she had fallen prey to this deficiency. Breaking out with the girl would be easy, especially with the authorities being sympathetic to Rhian’s situation. But, the consequences of the escape could be dire for all the other Talarians. Alden wasn’t clear about what he wanted her to do. It felt like everyone was waiting for her to solve all their problems.
“I can get you out of here.”
“You can?”
“Easily, but I need to hear what really happened.”
“Okay, I’ll tell you.”
Rhian shifted her knees to her side and held herself up with an extended arm.
“Duke Medwin, he was teaching me to use my element. He knows a lot about the elements, because he studied them in the military academy.”
“I know of this. Go on.”
“He was nice to me, kind. This made my sisters worry and I didn’t know why, until he sent for me one night. A Rageborn named Beriszl woke me and brought me to the Duke Medwin’s bedchambers. Duke Medwin waited for me inside. He had the entire room lit with incensed candles. It smelled sweet, the air. We sat on the bed together, while he told me about his plan to use ice element users, like you, so he could forever end the drought in Nesma. Duke Medwin could use the earth element and he explained that if an earth user and air user were to have many children, then it was likely at least one would have the ice element.”
She hid her rage, turning it into concern as Rhian bunched up into a ball on the floor.
“Medwin should have known the element one is born with has nothing to do with their parents. He also should have known the law and consequences of…”
“Half-breeds? Yes, he should have. My sisters told me of half-breed children. Duke Medwin explained what he wanted me to do for him and I refused.”
“You refused?”
“Yes, I said I wouldn’t do anything like that and he struck me and threw his weight on top of me. I was scared and I…”
“You what?”
“I didn’t mean to kill him. I just wanted him to get off me and I lost control of my element. I’m sorry.”
She reached out and put her hand on Rhian’s shoulder.
“Don’t be.”
Rhian sat up and touched her hand.
“Will you still help me?”
This complicated things. She had hoped to uncover some secret she could use to impugn the Duchess. That was what everyone was hoping for anyway. Only one course of action remained and it was one only a Divergent would consider taking, escape with Rhian and kill the Duchess. That was the only way to be sure the Talarians in Nesma would survive.
“Of course I’ll still help you.”
She rose and pulled Rhian up with her.
“Watch this.”
She pressed her hand generating the blue flame into the middle of the door and the temperature in the cell dropped quickly. The wood and metal groaned and squealed. She pulled her hand away, taking note of the thin layer of ice over the door.
“How will freezing the door help us Chill?”
She smiled, turned, and thrust her heel out in a powerful kick. Her blow blasted the door, shattering it. Chunks of frozen metal and wood scattered outside the cell and crunched under their feet as she took Rhian down the tunnel.
The grate was even less of a problem. All she had to do was freeze the lock and give the grate a sharp push. The bolt snapped as the grate swung open, knocking the surprised jail keeper to the ground. This gave the jail keeper plenty of time to call for help and in no time, the bell towers were ringing with high-pitched tolls over and over.
Rhian struggled to keep up with her. The girl was three quarters her height and she was a Divergent, faster than any human on foot. The slippers she wore didn’t give her any traction on the cobblestone roads, either. Rhian understood when she motioned for the Talarian girl to climb onto her back.
Her escape route took her through the groundling area. The men of the households, awakened by the bells, stood warily at their doors. They would have nothing to do with a Divergent. She could hear the guards coordinating and chasing. They were much slower than her in their armor, even though she carried Rhian on her back. But, there were enough of them to surround her and seal her up at the gate. She was going to get a fight, after all.
She skidded to a sudden stop and almost dropped Rhian. Beriszl stood between them and the gate. And next to Beriszl stood Duchess Castalia and a row of ten guards from the Duchess house. Duchess Castalia was a striking woman, tall with gray hair braided with jewels. Her icy stare made even Chill shiver.
She set Rhian down.
“Stay close.”
Rhian nodded as they Duchess stepped forward.
“Divergent Chill, it is a pleasure.”
“No need for polite conversation, Duchess. I’m just leaving with the girl.”
The guards that had been chasing her, closed in from behind. Lamont was among them, watching quietly from their ranks. The Duchess counted the guards behind her.
“Only twenty magistrate? It seems you did not bring enough. No matter, I brought my Rageborn bodyguard. Beriszl, kill the Divergent and return the murderous child to the magistrate’s custody.”
Beriszl stepped forward, reluctantly.
“Kill her, now, Beriszl.”
Beriszl removed his helmet and tossed it aside while he rubbed his ears. The magistrate came forward with Alden. The Duchess face twisted with anger as her guards backed away from her and joined those of the magistrate.
“Is it some kind of coup on your part Lamont? I am the Duchess of Nesma! I’ll have all your traitorous head for this!”
Alden laughed and strode towards Chill.
“My dear Castalia, you’ll not see the dawn. You haven’t fooled any of us. We know you have a secret well in Nesma. One you were sent here to hide, so Nesma would waste away, leaving the Blacklands in the perfect position to move in and take up the mining in this area.”
“And what evidence do you have to support such accusations?”
Alden pointed at the dry fountain.
“You were the one who commissioned the construction of this fountain. And despite the efforts of Nesma’s ruling council to have it removed, you’ve always managed to keep it.”
“That doesn’t prove anything.”
“To the ruling council, no. But for me, and the things I’ve heard from the same Talarian servants you want to execute, it’s enough.”
“Go on then, remove the fountain and have your precious well. But killing me won’t save Nesma from my people.”
“Oh, we plan to remove the fountain, but we’re not going to be the ones responsible for killing you.”
Alden stopped next to chill.
“Chill, our partnership ends here, I’m afraid. The last job I have for you is to kill that wretched woman. You won’t be able to come back to Nesma for a long time and you won’t be entirely safe from other authorities in the Silver Sun Empire.”
“You planned all of this, Alden?”
“Yes, and I’m sorry. The Duke’s death was unexpected, but it catalyzed my plans for the Duchess.”
She glanced at Rhian who was pressed against her side.
“And what about her?”
“I can do nothing for her. If you’re concerned about her, you’ll have to look after her. But, I don’t know that you will.”
“So that’s what you meant about being open minded about purity. You were worried I’d abandon her to stay solitary, to stay pure.”
“I hope I’m wrong.”
The Duchess shoved Beriszl forward.
“My guards may no longer be loyal to me, but this Rageborn is. Beriszl, kill them all!”
Alden stared at the Duchess.
“Must you waste another life out of spite? Die with a hint of dignity.”
The Duchess spat.
“You’re my servant Beriszl. Do as I say. You have no choice. The tattoo on your chest binds you to me. Kill them all.”
Beriszl readied his silver-star mace and lumbered towards Chill.
“I’m sorry, Chill. You know I must.”
Alden whispered.
“You can take him, right?”
She glared at him and pushed Rhian away.
“Keep clear.”
Alden and Rhian backed away. Rageborns had two hearts. The largest worked like everyone else’s. It beat and pumped blood. The smaller one was different. It always beat slowly, except for when a Rageborn desired it to beat faster. When it did begin to beat faster, the Rageborn would become enraged. Their black eyes would take on a stark red color. Their scent would change and become so pungent it would sting one’s nose. And in this state, they would be many times stronger and faster than man or animal. Wounds they suffered would barely bleed and cause them no pain. There was only one sure way to take an enraged Rageborn down. One had to pierce their small heart.
She could hear Bariszl’s small heart picking up it pace and the smell it produced began to make her eyes water. He rose to his full height, almost doubling her own. His mace crashed down into the cobblestone in front of her, exploding the rocks with a terrible clang and leaving behind a hole large enough for her to fit inside. It was a warning. This was the strength he commanded.
But she had her own strength. She found her cold spot and willed it as she had done hundreds of times in the past to create a weapon. It was the weapon she always carried with her, hidden inside her.
A brilliant sword of ice and blue fire coalesced in her hand. Each time she created this sword, its structure came out different, but always clear and beautiful. Bariszl took a step back upon seeing the weapon. When they worked with each other in the past, she had yet to master this skill, and had simply relied on using icicles as stabbing weapons. It was only when she discovered her ability to generate the blue flame that she could begin creating the sword. An acute dryness filled her throat and mouth after its formation. As amazing as the weapon was, her fear had been realized. The longer she fought with the weapon in the dry air, the longer it would continue to draw water from her body.
Beriszl recovered from the shock of seeing her new weapon and came at her swiftly. His long legs and powerful muscles propelled him with amazing power and grace. His arms, nearly as long as she was tall, whirled and his motions were so powerful a slight breeze preceded him.
She barely leapt backwards in time. Beriszl’s mace hurtled from above like a shooting star and slammed the ground so hard the shock almost buckled her knees when she landed. Gasps came from everyone watching the fight as she waved away the cloud of dust caused by Beriszl’s blow.
Beriszl was not amused. He came harder and faster. Each time, he slammed his mace into he ground where she had been standing. The silver spikes of his mace flattened and bent more with blow. And the more he missed, the faster his small heart beat and the faster he became. She leapt and landed to immediately land and leap again. It became clear to everyone watching, the Duchess included, Beriszl would never be fast enough to catch Chill.
Beriszl roared, standing in the middle of his many craters.
“Fight me!”
Feeling slightly nauseas, she pointed her sword at the Duchess.
“I don’t want to fight you Beriszl.”
He roared again and bared his fangs at her.
“You must!”
She cocked her sword arm back.
“I won’t.”
Somehow, she let herself believe it would work. She flung her sword at the Duchess. The ice blade flipped end over end, trailing the freezing blue fire. For a moment, she thought she would succeed and be able to spare her friend. But it took Beriszl less than a moment to dart in front of the ice blade. He moved so quickly, some of the claws on his feet and hands remained stuck in the cobblestone where he had been standing, torn off by the sudden need for traction.
Beriszl’s tried to intercept the sword with his mace, but he couldn’t have known just how deadly the sword was. The blue flame burned so cold it made the mace as brittle as sandstone. The ice sword shattered the mace and pierced Beriszl squarely in the chest, while the blue fire blackened the surrounding tissue.
Beriszl fell forward onto his knees, gasping. The fingers on his free hand dripped blood from where his claws had been torn off. She wanted to move towards him, to say she was sorry. But, his gasping became a coughed chuckle.
“You…”
She stepped forward.
“Beriszl?”
“…made it too cold.”
She laughed but felt like crying. She couldn’t, though, because her eyes were too dry to make tears.
“I didn’t make it for you to eat.”
Beriszl chuckled and choked. Then, he lashed out with a might backhand. The blow caught her across her chest. She managed to absorb most of the force by getting her arms up. What could have caved in her chest sent her flying backwards towards the stone fountain. She smacked solidly with the stone fountain. Her body immediately ached all over as her vision blurred and her breaths wouldn’t come.
Beriszl got to his feet and broke the ice sword off. He leaned over and grabbed a large rock, loosed from his blows. Limping, he approached her with murderous red eyes. She swore she could hear Alden and Rhina calling out to her to get up. As if it were that easy to shake off the pain she was feeling, when the same blow would have killed anyone else outright.
On the cold stone, she felt something. At first she grimaced thinking the moisture she felt was urine that hadn’t completely dried. But, it didn’t smell like urine. It smelled fresh and clean. There was a well beneath this fountain, where water flowed. In her agony, she could feel the water and it wasn’t far below her. She focused her hearing on it and could hear it gurgling, calling out to her.
Beriszl leapt high into the air, winding the stone above his head, to splatter her in the fountain. She waited for him, waited for just the right moment. As Beriszl came crashing down, she kicked and pushed as hard as she could to get clear of the blow. And at the same time, she tapped into her cold spot. This time, she didn’t tease the power out. She grabbed it, tore at it, and ripped it through her soul. Taking such power from the elemental realm, risked a terrible consequences, but she was desperate.
Blue fire lashed out of her and froze fountain and the surrounding ground in a bright blue flash. Beriszl’s stone smacked so hard with he fountain, the crack made her ears ring and was more than enough to shatter everything she had frozen. The fountain and the ground caved in, spilling her and Beriszl into darkness and onto a sheet of ice.
She got her legs underneath herself and landed much more softly than Beriszl. From the way he moved as he fought to his feet, she knew he had broken one of his legs. But she also knew that wouldn’t stop him from coming at her. In the dark in such close quarters, Beriszl could easily kill her, even as wounded as he was.
She had no choice now. This was part of being pure, part of being a Divergent. Divergents don’t surrender their lives. They fight and kill to preserve them. With a torrent churning beneath her, she summoned her sword, again. Its blue flame lit up the hole they had fallen into. The people above had gathered around the edges to watch. To her own surprise, her blade was much thicker, longer, and heavier. She quickly grabbed it with her other hand to hoist it up.
Beriszl mistook her surprise at the mass of her blade as a weakness. He swung at her head with his clawed hand. She spared him the suffering her freezing blade would have cause if she blocked his swipe and instead locked his feet to the ground with ice, cutting his swipe short and forcing him off-balance and forward. It was easy then. She stabbed her sword through his chest and through his small heart.
The fight was now over. Beriszl was dead. She let him and her sword drop from her grasp. The sides of the hole were still painfully cold to the touch, but she climbed out, anyway. Alden nodded as Rhian hid her wet silver eyes behind her pallid hands. The Duchess’s mouth fell open.
The wretched woman said things, pleaded, and even rationalized, but Chill’s ears were still ringing too loud for her to hear anything. The Duchess backed herself up against the city gate and its cold black bars. This was a good thing, because Chill had all but exhausted her elemental powers. She could barely feel her cold spot.
Her right hand flared up with what little blue fire she could summon.
“You were never worthy of Beriszl loyalty.”
She unleashed the last of her blue flame at the Duchess. The fire consumed the woman and a portion of the gate behind her. With a solid right punch, she shattered both and looked back at Alden.
“Time to say good-bye.”
Alden nudged Rhian towards her and the girl went.
“I’m sure we’ll see each other again soon enough.”
She took Rhian’s hand and it felt warm.
“Tell me on thing, Alden. How did you know about the well?”
Alden smiled.
“My new bodyguard of course.”
She smiled and turned away.
“Right…”
Rhian squeezed her hand as they walked through the hole in the gate.
“Chill, are you going to leave me alone in the wilderness?”
She stared at the barren land stretching out before them.
“No, we have a long way to go together.”
Rhian stopped outside the gate and scanned the same barren expanse, the dusty hills and the black mountains.
“But, where will we go?”
She tossed her red hair and grinned.
“Wherever the winds take us, Rhian of Air.”
And for the first time, she saw a light in Rhian’s eyes that wasn’t just a reflection.
