204 A.B.

(5 years before the Runner's Rebellion)

Most of my friends think I'm lucky to have been drafted into the King's guardship, rather than as a soldier in the Wastelands.

The notice arrives at our home shortly after my eighteenth birthday. Every day for the past year my mother has approached the post with a mixture of fear and trepidation, knowing that at any moment I could be shipped off to the desert. It's not her fault, I am her only kid, after all. When my father was drafted the King never bothered to return his body to us.

Now, she clutches the unopened parchment in shaking hands, eyes already welling with tears and worry written all over her prematurely-lined face. I have to take the notice from her and tear it open myself, skimming the words and muttering under my breath.

"It's time, isn't it?" My mother sobs into a handkerchief. "My baby is going to war."

"Guardship." I say, dumbly, furrowing my brow as I give the notice another read-through. "I've been selected for guardship."

"What?" The handkerchief flutters to the ground.

I grin, handing the letter over to her. "It's going to be all right, Ma, you don't have to worry. I'll get to serve my year of service right here in the City."

"Oh, thank the gods!" She tosses the letter aside and envelopes me in a hug. I stand nearly a foot taller than her but she still manages to squeeze the breath out of me. That kind of strength comes only from working as a laundress seven days a week.

I force a laugh for her benefit, but inside I'm fuming. Guardship? I'd rather double my shifts down in the quarry. I know what those corrupt bastards get up to; arresting Fragments for the tiniest of transgressions and shaking down the merchants trying to make an honest living off their wares. The very thought of suiting up and joining their corrupt ranks turns my stomach.

I glance over Ma's shoulder at the unassuming slip of paper. For a moment I consider tearing it up and marching straight down to the barracks to receive my Wastelands deployment. Taking up arms in that crazy, confusing war would be infinitely preferable to this assignment.

But one look at Ma's happy, tear-stained face and I feel my resolve fly out the window. It's only one year. One year and then I can go back to the quarry and my normal life. How bad could it be?

* * * * *

Gods, this uniform is warm. Does no one realize the absurdity of wearing leather in the desert?

"Hey, newbie, focus up." The captain in charge of our orientation calls me out and I immediately straighten my shoulders. My fellow guards shoot me curious looks and I do my best to ignore them, internally cursing my tendency to colour easily.

"Apologies, sir." I say, trying with some effort to keep the disdain from my voice. "I was just wondering if there was a summer option for these outfits. Perhaps a kilt would be more practical?"

There is a titter of laughter and I grin. It's good to know that some Intacts have a sense of humour. As one of the few Fragments present at orientation, I am acutely aware that I am an object of curiosity.

"Save it for the mess hall, soldier." All right, so the captain is one of those 'serious' types. Good to know. "As I was saying, the ability to follow orders is the most important asset we look for in a King's guard. If you have a problem with that, then you are welcome to serve your year in the Wastelands."

Don't tempt me, Captain.

I glance around the training field, noting the smug expressions on the faces of the other recruits. Clearly, I am the only one here who thinks that being selected for guardship doesn't mean that the sun shines out my ass.

One overly-confident Intact in particular captures my attention. He and his cronies stand off to the side, watching the captain raptly as though he is about to deliver the secret of eternal jackassery. He's tall, taller than the rest of us and his mouth seems to be drawn in a permanent smirk, pulling the side of his mouth up into a satisfied half-grin. I dislike him immediately.

Naturally, as soon as I've made up my mind about tall, dark and dickwad, he decides to look over at me. I blink and immediately turn my attention back to the captain, suddenly intensely interested in whatever protocol he is droning on about. Crap. It's probably fair to say that I won't be making any new friends.

Gods, I hate it when I'm right.

They corner me after orientation. I am heading back to the barracks, already fantasizing about curling up on my paper-thin mattress, when I am cornered by Sir Smirksalot's thick-necked buddies.

"Looking for directions?" I ask. My back is pressed against the cold, stone wall of the compound as the lost boys crowd in around me. I crane my neck but Sir Smirks himself is nowhere to be found.

"You've got a lot to say, haven't you, Fragment?" Toadie number one has an unfortunate unibrow and way too much oil in his hair. He says 'Fragment' like it's something he choked on during breakfast. "You may be a guard but that doesn't change your faction. Perhaps you need a reminder that there is still a chain of command."

"Is that right? Maybe I missed something. Did you lot get a promotion since this morning?" I grin. "I was under the impression that we are all pawns in some losing game of chess."

"This might be a joke to you, but some of us take the guardship seriously." Unibrow's lip curls as he cracks his knuckles. "You would be wise to show some respect."

"No need to be so unfriendly." I raise my hands in surrender, my eyes darting around the semicircle. "You're creating a hostile work environment."

"Keep talking." His voice lowers dangerously. "See what happens."

"Look, maybe we got off on the wrong foot." I take a step back and my shoulders slam into the wall behind me. "Clearly, your aspirations are limited to carrying out the King's dirty work. It's not my cup of tea, but, hey, good on you. Dream big."

When his meaty fist comes flying at my face I'm not even mad. I asked for it.

Blood spurts from my nose and I throw up my hands to protect myself, covering my head as the blows rain down on me. Someone punches me in the solar plexus, knocking the wind out of my lungs and I fall to my knees, gasping as I struggle to regain my breath. It isn't long before I lose track of where the attack is coming from and how many there are. I curl into a ball and tuck my head into my arms, gritting my teeth while they continue to punch and kick. Stars dance in front of my eyes. Welcome to the guard, Marc.

"Hey, hey, what are you doing? Get off of him!"

The gorilla currently stomping on my back is pulled bodily away and I groan, unfurling my limbs. Sir Smirks is holding Unibrow by the collar, shoving him and the rest of the lost boys away from me. I attempt to sit up, holding an arm across my ribs. No doubt there is already some colourful bruises decorating the skin beneath this impractical leather armor.

"This Fragment wants to run his mouth about the guardship." Unibrow shakes free of Sir Smirks' grasp. "He needed to be taught a lesson."

"And I thank you for that." I grimace, wiping a hand across my bloody nose. "Will there be any homework, professor?"

Unibrow lunges at me again but Sir Smirks shoves him back easily. "Take it easy, Stephen."

"Yah, take it easy." I finally manage to stand, using the wall for leverage. "Save some of that rage for harassing the people who can't afford their taxes."

Stephen's face turns an interesting shade of purple while Sir Smirks regards me with a mixture of annoyance and cool indifference.

"Why are you sticking up for this waste of air, Will?" Stephen snarls, his piggy eyes never leaving mine. "You said yourself that they shouldn't be letting Fragments in the guard."

Charming.

"Just because I don't agree with it, doesn't mean that I think we should be bloodying the new recruits." Will places himself between myself and my new friends. He towers over the rest of them by a head and everyone but Stephen takes a step back. "Besides, you're not proving anything by ganging up on him. Five against one? Anyone could see that this isn't a fair fight."

"Only because no one informed me we'd be raising fisticuffs today." I say. A metallic tastes fills my mouth and I spit onto the sand, wrinkling my nose at the nasty red glob staining the ground. "If I'd known I would have brought my sister along."

"Shut up, Fragment!" Stephen yells. I fight the urge to throw him a wink as Will pushes him back again.

"Get out of here, Stephen. He isn't worth it. If the captain catches you fighting, you'll be sent out to the Wastelands." Will places one large hand against Stephen's chest. "You don't want that, do you?"

I watch with satisfaction as Stephen's shoulders heave up and down. His ugly face drains of all colour while he considers Will's words.

"Fine." He growls, eventually. "We're done here." He steps back. "You had best watch yourself, peasant."

"It's been a pleasure." I raise my hand as he stalks away, his under-evolved buddies following in pursuit. Only Will hangs back, waiting until Stephen is out of range before turning his attention back to me.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" He demands. His calm tone has dissipated and he now appears thoroughly pissed off. "Are you trying to get yourself killed?"

"Trying? No." I push my floppy blonde hair back off of my face. "These tussles are just an unfortunate byproduct of not having a father rich enough to buy my way out of the draft."

The muscles in his jaw tighten as he clenches his teeth. "We haven't all been drafted, you know. Some of us are here by choice."

"It must be nice to have the option." With my hair out of my eyes I finally manage to get a good look at Sir Smirks, aka Will. He is about my age, with a mop of dark curls on his head and the pale skin of someone who spends too much time indoors. I'd wager that pulling those neanderthals off of me is the most physical labour this guy has ever endured.

His dark brows furrow. "You know, you have a pretty negative attitude for someone who was just saved from an ass kicking."

"Saved, was I? Funny, it doesn't feel that way." My words come out slightly slurred and I realize that my lip is swollen. I touch my mouth tentatively and wince. "Your friends sure know how to make a guy feel welcome."

"Yes, well, Stephen isn't much for pleasantries." Will glances over his shoulder. "If I were you, I'd steer clear of him. His father is Lieutenant Griss. Tick off the Lieutenant's kid and you'll find yourself court-martialed without so much as a penny of stipends for your family."

"Good to know." I say, dryly. Looking back at Will. "So, if you weren't drafted, how did you end up here? Couldn't your family get you some cushy apprenticeship?"

His brows lower further. "I'm here because this is precisely what my family doesn't want for me."

"You don't say?" He has my interest. "So what are you, some kind of rebel Intact? A rich kid from the wrong side of the tracks?"

All right, let's add Will to the list of people who lack a sense of humour.

"I'm here to serve my time, same as you." He replies, darkly. "I'm keeping my head down and following orders. If you want some advice, I'd suggest you do the same." Without another word he spins on his heel and strides away.

I finger my busted lip as I watch him recede into the distance. Sighing, I straighten my armour and shove my hair out of my eyes, stifling a groan when my hand collides with another bruise on my forehead. It's probably safe to say that I won't be winning any beauty pageants anytime soon.

One day on the job and I've already made an enemy of Lieutenant Griss' son, had my ass handed to me by a group of pea-brained knuckle-draggers, and pissed off the one guy who might have a conscience.

You're not in the Fragment district anymore, Dorothy. I remind myself. Will's warning rings in my ears. If I screw up out here then I could find myself out in the Wastelands without so much as a "thanks for trying" for my worried Ma.

Suddenly, Will's suggestion to keep my head down sounds like the best idea I've ever heard.

* * * * *

The guardship's not so bad, really.

Sure, the hours are long and the food stinks, but you'd be amazed at how quickly you can justify harassing people when you take on the 'better them than me' mentality. So far, my duties have included confiscating rations from hoarding families, turning a blind eye when one of my fellow guards accepts a bribe, and arresting the odd thief.

On the bright side, it turns out that the City is really terrible at keeping records of every person they arrest, so more often than not my perp will 'escape' on their way to the gaol. I still go to bed at night with that unpleasant feeling of guilt weighing heavily on my chest, but the tiny notebook I keep to mark down how many days I have left of service helps to keep me motivated.

On my days off I'm able to go and visit Ma. She's always thrilled to see me and I can see that the extra pay is going a long way to putting some meat on her wiry frame. So, all in all, things could be worse.

There's been talk of rebellion, again. It happens every few years and usually amounts to nothing. The older guys down in the quarry used to talk about our last failed attempt, their voices dripping with disdain for how poorly the attack on the Palace was executed. After a few pints the lads and I would brainstorm our own ideas for how we'd take down the Intacts, but those plans were always hypothetical. As much as the Fragments would like to see change, no one is ballsy enough to actually try and execute anything.

It seems that is no longer the case, however. The captain has received word that a group of Fragments are once again conspiring against the King. He has traced the source down to a particular house deep in the Fragment district, and will be leading a small squad to go shake down the would-be rebels.

My heart sinks when he calls my name, and sinks further when Stephen and Will are also commanded to step forward. Since orientation, I've gone out of my way to avoid rubbing elbows with the poor-little-rich boy and his motley crew. Now, it seems that we are all going to be able to spend some quality time together. Lucky me.

The supposed-rebel lives in a small flat at the top of a four-storey apartment building. We leave our horses tied up outside and trudge up the narrow staircase. It's late - later than we are normally required to work. There's a full moon sending shards of blue light in through the narrow windows. I lag behind the group, dragging my feet as we follow the captain up to the final flat. Stephen Griss, ever-eager, is practically stepping on the Captain's heels in his eagerness to be the first one through the door. I scowl at his hunched back, imagining him tripping and smashing his ugly face on the stone steps.

This should be a pretty straightforward arrest, but I can't help feeling that there is something weird about the whole assignment. Why are we here so late at night? And why are so many of us needed to capture one person?

We finally reach the top of the stairs. The captain doesn't bother knocking, instead stepping back while Stephen and another guard throw their weight against the rickety wooden door. It flies open, splintering on its hinges and we file inside.

The main room of the flat is small, made smaller by the piles of books scattered over every surface, stacked one on top of the other in rickety towers on the floor. It's not so different from the place I share with Ma, really.

A man is standing in the centre of the room, his hands raised peaceably when we barge in. He has dark hair shot through with streaks of grey and wears the dirt-stained clothes of someone who works in the quarry. I squint my eyes but I don't recognize him.

"What's this about?" His voice is deep but I can sense the note of panic hiding behind it.

The captain draws his sword, leveling it at the man's throat. "Search the rooms." He orders us. "I want every person brought out here."

Stephen and Will disappear down the darkened hallway. A moment later I hear the sound of doors being flung open and the muffled cries of people disturbed from their sleep. My stomach drops and I take another step backwards, for a moment considering turning and walking back down the stairs to the street.

"I demand that you tell me what's going on." The Fragment man's voice has grown stronger, his brows furrowed as he stares daggers at the captain.

"You have been charged with treason and conspiracy." The captain's sword remains firmly leveled, his intent clear. "We have received word that you, Tobias Knight, have on numerous occasions, discussed your intent to rebel against our King. Do you deny it?"

The man pales. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh, I think you do." The captain takes a step closer, his lip curling in triumph. "The King takes these matters very seriously."

Will reappears, pushing a boy with wavy red hair ahead of him and into the room. The boy, clearly the man's son, stands in front of his father, blocking the older man's body with his. A moment later Stephen emerges, pulling a woman by the arm.

"I'm telling you, you've made a mistake." The man tries again, wrapping his arm around the woman's slender shoulders. "My family is innocent, it's me you want. I will go to the Palace with you, quietly, if you leave them be."

Stephen scoffs and places his meaty hand casually on the hilt of his sword. My heart begins to hammer heavily in my chest as I watch the family huddled together in front of the captain's sword. Something isn't right. This isn't a typical arrest.

Something is very, very wrong.

I glance around the room. I am not the only one who is confused; the other guards are shuffling in place, some unconsciously taking a step back towards the door. Will's gaze keeps darting between the point of the captain's sword and the family, as if he is desperately trying to put the pieces together. Only Stephen seems certain of his part in the unfolding events.

"You aren't required to come with us. We are under orders to make an example of you and your family." The captain is wearing an expression that I've never seen before, something between hardened resolve and judicious mocking,

"Please, you don't have to do this." The woman's voice breaks as she clutches at her son and husband.

"The King demands that any Fragment threatening rebellion must be dispatched of in a manner that will discourage supporters." The captain nods to Stephen who withdraws his sword, twisting the hilt in his hand.

"No!" It takes me a moment to realize that it is Will who has shouted, making a desperate grab for Stephen.

Too late.

The woman's cries shatter my ears and pierce my insides. I look on in horror as Stephen's sword lodges itself in the heart of the boy. His green eyes widen in shock and he utters a strangled gasp. Blood blooms around the wound and the boy drops to the floor like a tonne of bricks.

I can't move. I can't breathe. All I can do is look on in horror as the boy's father is grabbed and forced to his knees, made to watch while Stephen silences the woman's cries with a swift swipe of his sword against her throat. She gurgles, blood spewing from her mouth and coating her lips before she too, collapses.

A flash of movement near the hallway brings my eyes away from sight of the bodies sprawled across the floor.

A girl with wild, wavy red hair is standing in the single shred of moonlight. Her eyes are wide, seeing and unseeing as she takes in the scene. She is skinny, too skinny, all elbows and knees as she stands, quaking, in the entryway of the blood-splattered room. A dagger is clenched in her small fist, reflecting the rays of moonlight and illuminating the horror being played out in front of us.

The captain has the Fragment man - the girl's father - on his knees with a sword held to his throat. I watch as father and daughter share one last look and he utters a single word.

"Run."

The sword is drawn cleanly across his neck.

Time slows, stops, ends. I see the girl's face collapse in on itself, her tiny, sharp features converging together in an expression of utter grief as she watches her father's body slump to the ground, joining the carnage that used to be her family.

Will reaches for the girl, making to grab her wrist. She reacts immediately, bringing her dagger down on his forearm and raking its sharp point through his flesh. He shouts in pain, clutching his arm and jumping back as blood spurts out between his fingers.

"Get her." The captain's voice jerks me from my stupor. The girl reacts quicker than I could ever hope to, extending her arm and sweeping a lit lantern from the table. The fire catches instantly, engulfing the piles of books and creating a wall between us and her.

The heat of the flames finally coaxes my body back into action. My head swivels left and right, loose on my neck as I absorb the scene. Blood, blood everywhere. Staining the floor, splattered against the walls, drenching Will's arm. Stephen darts towards the exit and the other guards follow, tripping over one another in their haste to distance themselves from the butchery. Shouts of alarm echo up up at me from the stairwell as the building's residents flee from the flames.

The captain and Will are shouting at one another as the flames begin to lick their way up the walls of the cramped apartment. I know I should go, I know I have to leave, I know that it's only a matter of time until this whole place goes up like a tinderbox. Instead I step forward, placing myself between Will and the captain, stretching my arms out to keep them apart.

"Get after her, right now!" The captain yells at Will over my shoulder, spittle flying from his mouth. "That's an order, soldier!"

Will's dark brows are lowered, his eyes glinting as the light from the fire dances across his face. "I'll go after her." His voice is low, menacing, sending a cold shiver down my spine, despite the heat. "And if I can find her, I'm going to help her."

The captain lunges again and I just barely manage to hold him back. "Bring her to me or I will send you straight back to that prick father of yours."

"Screw you." Spinning on his heel, WIll tears towards the narrow hall, nimbly leaping through the wall of flame and heading for the back room.

The captain utters an inhuman growl, sheathing his bloodstained sword and turning to the door. "You coming?" He barks at me.

I glance back into the hall. Smoke has encompassed the entire room and I can no longer see Will or the girl.

"Sorry, Captain, but I think I share Will's sentiment." The words drip like acid from my tongue. "Screw you."

His face colours and a vein stands out prominently on his forehead. "Enjoy burning." He covers his mouth with his arm and ducks through the door, disappearing into the darkened stairwell.

My lungs burn, choking me. The smoke has now grown so thick that I can barely see an inch in front of my eyes. I crouch down low, drawing shallow breaths as sweat coats my face.

"Will?" I try to call out for him but my voice is hoarse. "Will?"

The flames lick at the side of my face, suffocating in their intensity. I crawl blindly towards the hallway, feeling around in front of me. My hands brush against something soft and I recoil, blinking the moisture from my eyes.

A pair of wide, green eyes stare up at me, glazed and sightless. The red-headed boy is sprawled out in front of me, his limbs spread awkwardly across the floor. I gasp and jump away, scorching my back against a pile of burning books. The boy continues to watch, his pale, freckled face accusing me of inaction, of standing frozen when I should have sprung forward. Oh, gods. What have I done? What haven't I done?

Something falls heavily on my shoulder and I cry out, at once collapsing in a fit of coughing. Will pulls me to my feet and shoves me bodily towards the door. Together we half-run, half-stagger down the stairs and into the street, joining the hoards of people gathered in the square.

I struggle to regain my breath, inhaling huge lungfuls of the cold night air. Glancing up, I can see flames spewing out of the topmost windows of the building. All around me are the cries of people, exclaiming over the sight of the building as it goes up in flames, or else mourning the loss of their home. The square is alive with the competing light of the moon and the fire, teaming with lost tenants and horrified neighbours. I wonder if any of them are looking for the red-headed family.

"Did you find her?" I ask, looking over at Will. His shoulders are bunched up tight, his eyes trained on the windows of the fourth floor.

He nods. "She got away."

"Good."

We stand shoulder to shoulder, staring up at the apartment building as the flames slowly eat it alive from the inside out. The screams of the Fragments fill the smoky air around us, their version of the unfolding horror barely scraping the surface of what we have just witnessed.

"I quit." I hear myself say, after a while. "I'm going to the Wastelands, after all."

"Me too." He says, dully. He turns to go, meeting my eyeline for the briefest of moments before glancing away.

I open my mouth to say something, then close it again. For the first time in my eighteen years of life, I find myself with no words.

"Yah." Will seems to have understood my sentiment exactly. He takes a step back. "Don't take this the wrong way, but I really hope that I never see you again."

"Likewise." I manage.

He nods. Black soot covers his face and hands, coating the leather armor of his uniform. He seems older, haggard, worlds away from the teenager who trudged up those stairs with me only a few minutes previous. We clasp hands, shaking once. There is nothing else to say.

I watch him go, a dark silhouette receding against orange flames. I don't know how long I remain in that square, watching him walk away long after he has already faded from view.

And so ends my very brief stint as a King's guard. I never had the stomach for it, anyway.

=====

Author's Note:

There it is! I hope you guys enjoyed the first chapter of The Burn. I really enjoyed writing from someone else's perspective, for once, and I'm really looking forward to exploring some more voices!

This book will update on alternate Sundays with The Wastelands, so I will post the next Burn chapter in 2 weeks. Who would you like to see next? I've been getting a lot of requests for Luca, and a couple for Harmen.

I also wanted to offer a quick shoutout to LameStuff, for the amazing book covers she has created for me!

See you over at The Wastelands next Sunday! As always, thank you so much for all of your reads, votes and comments :)

xo

Kate