Nukledeus

Nikodem was sitting on the roof of a building. The view of the city was magnificent, breathtaking and made him forget for a short moment his sorrow and loneliness. His friends would all have been amazed by the sight and Olek too.

The arkian woman who had captured him was sitting on the par.a.p.et near the door leading to this terrace, on the flat part of the rooftop. With a nonchalant and slightly bored air, she was carving a piece of wood with a knife. However, Nikodem was not fooled as he was very familiar with this behavior often used by the fearless Torgny. She was on the alert, but also self-confident as only the strong ones could be.

His friends were probably far away by now. He regretted his last fight with Sumai and felt sorry for knocking him out and leaving him just a stone's throw from the furnace. He was a good guy who didn't deserve to die like that. Feeling guilty, Nikodem lowered his eyes. His mind had been clouded at that time and he didn't remember much. He just hoped that someone had helped Sumai so that his friend had survived. He dared not hope for forgiveness.

He looked down and squinted, wondering where Fergus could be hiding in this strange place, and if Olek had survived and if he was still with Fergus. Nikodem held on to the idea that his little brother was alive somewhere in the great city that lay before his eyes.

Seeking refuge from the flames, Nikodem had found a hidden entrance into the thick wall. The door leading into the city was barricaded but he wasn't trying to break in, so he stayed in the hollow part of the wall. He just wanted to rest a little, while waiting until daylight and hoping the situation would calm down. Then he intended to return to the mass grave in search of his brother's body.

Exploring his strange shelter, he had found another corpse. It was a woman who had her throat slit. He had observed for a long time the position of the body and the gaping wound. Something told him that Fergus had committed this murder, but how could he know for sure? Unfortunately, he had no way to confirm this. Could it be a deception, an illusion created by his despairing mind?

He didn't really have a base for a comparison. He had never looked at his leader's fighting technique with the same intensity. He had so many regrets when he thought of his friends!

The woman's body was still rigid, "rigor mortis," according to the book he had borrowed from Fergus' grandfather a long time ago. The death happened less than two days before.

He had been carefully pondering his observations when a cold blade had pressed against his throat, startling him. "You will follow me nice and easy, if you do not want the same drawing on your neck." A woman's voice, sweet but nevertheless very convincing. He had obeyed.

Now he was waiting in this open-air prison for someone to talk to him. Without a weapon and without any landmark he could use, he had no way to escape. Moreover, he was in one of the highest place in the city with the only way out constantly guarded. And where would he go? He did not plan on asking how to find Fergus in this unknown and hostile city which had mercilessly burned some of his friends. It was useless.

Suddenly, a woman appeared in front of him. She was crouching, her face was thus very close to Nikodem's. Startled and a little frightened, the latter fell backwards and quickly crawled away. The new arrival was hideous, she was ugliness personified. Her face, marked with deep wrinkles, was pockmarked with scars. Her smile, rather toothless, put the final touches to the young man's disgust.

"Well, Flora, just where did you hide this lover of yours!"

Nikodem immediately turned beet red while Flora, who had captured him, just shrugged her shoulders.

"I hope you have the pentothal, Mathilde, replied Flora, deliberately ignoring the banter."

"Of course! By the way, I couldn't find Bertille with the girls guarding the prisoners. She probably left her post. I'm not surprised; I don't trust her anymore. I'm sure it was because of her that Suzanna almost died."

"You still accuse her without proof and she can no longer defend herself. This outsider found her before us and slit her throat."

"That's not true! I had nothing to do with it. I wouldn't have stayed next to the body. I'm not stupid!"

It was the first time he opened his mouth. His tone and his barely contained anger contrasted so much with his calm and self-confident attitude that Flora stood speechless for a moment. She had never had a great sense of repartee. Being good-tempered and easygoing, she liked peace and quiet. Yet in situations like this, she regretted not being able to take this insolent down a peg.

Old Mathilde enjoyed the tension between these two. She was not born yesterday and had seen far more unlikely couples, Daphné and Nicolas for example. The kind Flora and this young stranger seemed rather well matched. Mathilde sighed, the situation was unfortunately not conducive to idylls.

"I was relieved to hear she was going to be okay."

As one, the two youngsters looked at her, a bit taken aback.

"I meant Suzanna, obviously. At least we won't meet the disaster and chaos we had after our little Daphné's death."

"Chaos? Don't you think you're exaggerating?" The young woman was indignant at the overdramatic gestures that accompanied the quip of the older Shadow Girl.

But Mathilde wasn't listening to her. Her attention was now solely focused on the newcomers who started to invade the quiet terrace little by little. "It's so funny, she said, as if to speak to herself, as soon as Daphné's name is pronounced, Mona and her court arrive, with the good doctor Nicolas in tow."

Nikodem followed Mathilde's gaze and looked at the newcomers with curiosity. The one she had called "the good doctor" seemed a little out of breath. He was carefully protecting a baby girl who was, nevertheless, protesting against the treatment she had to endure. On the other side of the terrace, a small group was moving forward, their number growing rapidly.

Nikodem continued his silent observations. The members of this Arkian tribe obviously favored the movement on the roofs, making the most of the city's layouts, and their jumps would have made the best horses pale with envy.

At the front of the group stood a tall woman with an athletic and warlike air. "Their leader Mona, no doubt," he thought.

A long chain linked her wrist to the arm of a small bald arkian woman in uniform. The clothes she wore reminded him of Chloé's outfit when Fergus had first brought her back to their camp. The duo Nikodem had before him could not be more dissimilar, they seemed to be worlds apart.

He felt someone grab his arm, without brutality but firmly. Flora then led him in front of her leader and bowed. He couldn't help but admire the brown curls flowing gently on her shoulders, a stark contrast to both the arkian soldier's baldness or the leader's impressive mane of hair. Regaining his senses and awareness, he quickly bowed in a similar way, unsure how to behave properly.

The approving look he received made him uncomfortable. The whole group was openly scrutinizing him, judging him, appraising him. He realized that there were only women except for the male doctor. The people in this city seemed really alien and unfathomable to him. They looked nothing like the people he had met during his travels, including the sedentary tribes with their strange customs.

The leader, Mona, barely spared him a moment and headed towards the doctor who was waiting in the back. Yet, Nikodem sensed no contempt in her behavior. He felt accepted and welcomed, and already wondered what his place would be in this odd gathering. And suddenly, all eyes had turned to him again. Uneasy, he wondered why he had become the center of attention once again.

"... No, he looked taller and more muscular, but I only saw from far away… And I didn't watch them for a very long time... He had hair like this one but not the same color. I'm quite certain he was not an arkian. Then I came as fast as I could to warn you. He was with… I'm sure I saw… That was definitely...Daphné's sister, I recognized her without a doubt. We must do something, we cannot leave her in Penance..."

The doctor seemed horrified at the mere mention of "penance", which worried Nikodem. The comments he had managed to catch confirmed his belief that Fergus and Chloé were in the city but there was no trace of Olek.

He ventured a question.

"Was there a boy with them? He must be about your size."

Nikodem tactfully omitted to mention Olek's age. Whether they were looking for a child or a youth who was almost an a.d.u.l.t wouldn't make much difference. As an outsider, he was already easy to spot, should they see him. Moreover, it would probably be safer for his younger brother if they were a little wary of him, thinking he wasn't as helpless as he looked. But most of all, Nikodem did not want to offend anyone, if possible. The group consisted equally of small bald people like this doctor – except only the one linked to Mona wore a uniform – and large people like Mona or Flora and this did not seem to bother them.

"No, I didn't see anyone fitting this description."

His question seemed to pique Mona's interest.

"Do you happen to know the guy who was with Chloé?"

"His name's Fergus. He's been following her around since he rescued her from drowning in the river."

He stopped for a moment. He did not want to judge his friend, he had never done so. He didn't really mean what he said, thinking that his words made Fergus look bad and weak. Slightly unsettled, Nikodem looked at the group of people and the smiles that appeared here and there made him flush once again. He didn't remember blushing so much in the last few years. He probably felt the effects of having all these women in one place. Maybe they thought he was stupid or jealous of Fergus.

"Why did they enter the City?", Mona asked after a pause.

"I don't know. I was just in charge of guiding Chloé near to the wall until she found the secret door."

"I can understand why Chloé would come back, but it's reckless and close to suicidal for outsiders to try to sneak inside. You were lucky to run into us instead of the Police or Special Forces."

With her commanding presence and "paternalistic" tone, Mona could only inspire respect and obedience. On the contrary, the orphan Nikodem had always been docile towards his elders, a quiet and shy young man.

"We were supposed to leave her there and then leave, but the Outcasts attacked us before we got close enough. We were outnumbered and then a fire broke out. So many people died, and I couldn't find my brother Olek."

He wasn't even trying to hide his grief and his distress. He looked like a lost kid, on the verge of tears. Despite her reluctance, Flora felt overwhelmed by compassion. She hated it. She squeezed her fists and suppressed her emotions. She had to harden her heart, and to kill, symbolically, the "kind" Flora. The weak wouldn't survive in Ark City, including the rebels. Her jaws clenched stubbornly, her eyes stared straight ahead in an effort to remain impassive, she waited, standing perfectly still, as Mona approached the young man.

The leader gently put her hand on his shoulder and Nikodem raised his head, exposing his face full of silent tears. He remained strangely calm. His features were not contorted in pain, he was beyond, in the depth of despair, on the brink of the abyss, a stone's throw from madness.

"We'll help the one you call Fergus. He'll soon be free."

She seemed sorry that she could not do more. She patted his shoulder as if to comfort him and withdrew her hand. Mona then turned to Doctor Nicolas "… and Daphné's sister as well, of course. It's time for action, my friends, and I can't wait to find out which side Noah will join!"

Mona rubbed her hands together, a creepy smile on her lips, she looked insane. The spark in her eyes, showing a mix of enthusiasm, anticipation and cruelty, was somewhat frightening. Nikodem looked in turns at Flora, the doctor, Mathilde and others he picked at random just because they were close by. No one seemed surprised. The doctor's eyes showed nothing but worry and apprehension, but his determined attitude indicated that they could rely on him and he joined the group of women for their battle cry.