Page 4 of Alchemised

T HERE WAS A NECROTHRALL SOMEWHERE NEARBY.

A LONE and able to focus, Helena could smell the rotting meat and chemical preservatives.

The Undying used the dead like puppets to perform any undesirable or menial tasks.

Chained and waiting, she wondered what this one was being used for.

She peered around, looking for any shadows beyond the curtains.

“Marino?”

Her name was whispered so softly, it could have been a breeze.

Turning, Helena made out a face peeking through the dividing curtain. She squinted hard, and her eyes managed to focus enough to make out a pale face and hair.

“Marino, is that you?”

Helena nodded, still trying to see who it was.

“It’s Grace. I was an orderly in the hospital.” She crept through the curtains as she spoke. She had a heavy Northern accent, the kind that pulled hard on the consonants.

“Sorry, I’m—disoriented,” Helena said.

“I didn’t expect to see you here.” Grace came closer, youthful yet sunken features emerging from the dimness, her expression both frightened and curious.

Helena’s eyes widened.

Grace’s face was disfigured with scars, long cuts that bisected her cheeks and chin and nose. Not the accidental marring of injury. They were intentional.

Helena tried to lift a hand, but the shackles on her wrists were too short. “What happened?”

Grace looked confused, and then—following Helena’s stare—reached up to touch her face. “Oh, the cuts? We all have them.”

“What? Why would the liches—”

Grace shook her head sharply. “ Keep your voice down. ” She glanced around quickly, sniffing at the air before looking back at Helena again, her eyes angry.

“They use the greys for listening sometimes. There’s one in here, can’t you smell it?

You can’t call the Undying liches. ” The word came out barely a whisper.

“If they hear—there’ll be—consequences.”

Helena nodded quickly, afraid Grace might flee if she wasn’t careful.

Grace crept closer.

“The Undying didn’t do this.” She gestured at her face.

“We did it ourselves. The Undying can do anything they want to us—to anyone labelled Resistance. It’s the thing nowadays to keep greys instead of staff.

Other times—they just want something to play with.

At a party or—after a night out.” Her face twisted.

“No one interferes. Even the ones who aren’t Undying or in the guilds will go along with it because they all hope it’ll give them a better chance of earning immortality, too. ”

Grace gave a jerky, stilted shrug. “But if you’re messed-up looking, they won’t keep you for long.” She drew a shaky breath and then peered hard at Helena. “Where have you been?”

Helena shook her head, trying to absorb everything Grace had said. “They took me to a warehouse—after—”

Grace’s eyes narrowed.

Helena stared at her searchingly. “Is the Eternal Flame still—”

“No.” Grace shook her head violently, and her expression turned angry.

“They’re all dead. Every one of them. After Luc was dead, they sent the rest of us out to the factory Outpost below the dam.

Most of us can’t leave. Takes months of good behaviour to get permission, and we have to wear these.

” She held up a wrist cuffed with a copper band, brighter and more fitted than Helena’s.

“We have to check in morning and night. There’s a curfew.

If anyone’s missed for more than twenty-four hours—” She swallowed.

“If they don’t turn up, the High Reeve’s sent to hunt them down, and they’re always dead by the time he brings them back.

The Warden likes to string them up, leaves them hanging for days sometimes, and then when they’re starting to rot, she’ll reanimate them and have them ‘work’ with us for a while before they go to the mines.

Says it’s so we don’t forget the rules.”

“Who—” Helena forced herself to ask, even though she was afraid to know.

Grace hesitated, eyes softening slightly. “Lila Bayard was the first one he brought back.”

Grace was saying something else, but Helena couldn’t hear her. All she heard was “ Lila Bayard was the first, ” over and over.

Not Lila …

Grace’s voice came slowly back. “The Warden had her put into paladin armour and stationed at the gate. She’d been dead awhile already.

Must’ve gotten pretty far. More than half of her face was missing, and she didn’t have the prosthetic leg anymore, so they welded a steel bar on to keep her upright.

She—It can’t really move. Just stands there.

We go past every day.” Grace seemed to finally notice Helena’s expression; she looked down.

“She’s mostly bones now. The Warden thinks it’s—funny. ”

Helena shook her head, struggling to accept it, but of course Lila was dead. For Luc to be captured and killed, his paladins had to be killed. That was the oath they took, to die for the Principate.

Helena swallowed hard. “But surely somewhere—the Resistance—”

“There’s no Resistance!” Grace said in a harsh whisper.

“You think the rest of us were going to keep fighting, with everyone in the Eternal Flame dead? There’s no point.

The High Reeve kills everyone. Any hint, even whispers get people killed.

He has this—this monster he uses for hunting.

There’s no point in running away or resisting or organising unless you want to be the next corpse. ”

Helena fell silent. Grace watched her warily, fidgeting and seeming ready to bolt at any moment.

“Who’s the High Reeve?” Helena hoped it was a safe question to ask. She didn’t remember the title.

Grace shook her head. “I don’t know. He still wears a helmet the way the Undying did during the war. The High Necromancer’s too important for public appearances, so he sends the High Reeve instead. He’s some kind of vivimancer, but not like the rest. He kills people without even touching them.”

“Resonance doesn’t work like that,” Helena said, correcting her reflexively. “Without an array, a stable channel has to be formed through contact, and then—”

“I know how resonance works,” Grace said sharply.

“But I’ve seen him do it. Last week—” Grace’s voice failed; her throat bobbed several times.

“There was a smuggling ring. There’s been a grain shortage.

Most of what we get on the Outpost is rotten.

A few people were bringing in extra food.

It wasn’t even a lot, but the Warden heard rumours about the prisoners organising.

Ten people in all. Public execution. The High Reeve did all of them at the same time.

Did it ‘clean’ so they’ll last longer in the lumithium mines. ”

Grace seemed to shrivel as she spoke, as if the memory were enough to paralyse her. “All there is now is surviving. That’s all that matters. ” She whispered the last words as if they weren’t for Helena, but for herself.

“Why are you here, Grace?” Helena asked, glancing half-blindly around. “This isn’t—we’re not at the Outpost, are we?”

Grace shook her head. “No. They call this Central now. Houses all the Undying’s experimentation.

I—” She choked. “I have three brothers. They’re littler than me.

None of them were old enough to enlist, so they weren’t in the Resistance rosters.

My brother Gid, he’ll be old enough to work soon, and he can come off the Outpost. He’ll get real wages when he does. We—we just have to make it till then.”

“Grace …”

“They’re offering really good money for eyes. Just one, and it’d cover us for months.”

Helena looked at her, bewildered. “What do they want eyes for?”

Grace shook her head. “I don’t know. I just want the money.”

If she weren’t chained to the bed, Helena would have reached towards her.

“Grace, if you do this—that’s not ever going to be healable—”

Grace gave an abrupt, almost wild laugh. “I know eyes don’t grow back. That’s why the pay’s good.”

“Yes, but—”

“Why should I keep them?” Grace sounded nearly hysterical.

“So I have two eyes to watch my brothers starve? There’s no food!

” She wasn’t whispering anymore. The scars on her face reddened, growing stark.

“You don’t know—you don’t have any idea what it’s like now.

Where have you been? Why didn’t you save Luc?

You were supposed to, but you didn’t. He died!

We all watched it. And the Bayards are dead.

And everyone in the Eternal Flame is dead—except you.

And you think I should care about my eyes? ”

Before Helena could answer, or Grace could say more, the sound of footsteps drew close.

Terror washed across Grace’s face, and she fled.

The curtains on Helena’s other side were shoved aside, and several figures filled the space. As one came towards the bed, Helena recognised her interrogator. The lines on the woman’s face were stark with tension.

Helena couldn’t make out the others behind her, but they were an unnatural grey that instantly made her skin crawl, the space within the curtains filling with the smell of preservatives.

“It’s this one,” the woman said. “Quite secure, as I assured you.” She glanced nervously towards the figures, which seemed to move as a collective.

Necrothralls. They were all necrothralls.

She looked at Helena. “The High Necromancer has sent for you. He wishes to watch your examination personally.”

Helena’s chest clenched, and she pulled against the restraints. “No.”

She couldn’t. She couldn’t see him again. The only time she’d ever seen the High Necromancer, Morrough, he’d killed Luc.

Luc, who’d been the whole world to her.

Helena had enlisted in the Resistance and sworn fealty to the Order of the Eternal Flame—not out of faith, but because of Luc Holdfast. Because she might not believe in the gods, but she had believed in him, that he was good and kind and cared about everyone.

She’d promised she’d do anything for him.

But he’d died before her eyes.