Scribes & Archers

Here’s another opening scene of a story I’m not ready to write. I think this is my favorite yet, and the character relationships gained a wholly different dynamic than I’d expected. I also love my POV character, having written her. She’s a lot of fun. Enjoy. :)

By the way, this world and organization just so happen to be heavily featured in two of the four stories in my Short Story Collection Vol. 1, so you should totally go check that out if you’re interested in this universe.

When Ash came to get me, I was already expecting it. He knocked more to alert me of his entry than anything else before opening the door in his usual crisp Grantech guard uniform and telling me what I already knew.

“Your powers have failed to manifest and you’re to be cut from the program.” Killed. I was going to be killed.

“Thanks for the heads-up,” I brushed a stray bit of hair behind my ear – one of those annoying bits that never fits in the ponytail but still constantly falls in your face – without looking up from my game of pyramid solitaire.

“We’re going now.”

I looked up at the tall guard – six one, if I remembered correctly, thus half a foot taller than me, and yet no longer intimidating after all these years – and pursed my lips. “Not until I finish this game.” I turned back to my cards.

I could tell Ash was trying not to roll his eyes. “We have to go. Ms. Class won’t be happy if I deliver you late.”

I sighed and scooped up the cards, tucking them back into their box and sticking the box in my pocket as I stood up and walked out the door of my “quarters.” My room was nice and all, but I wasn’t so naive as to mistake it for anything other than a cell. I headed toward the labs and it only took Ash a couple long strides to catch up and grip my arm to escort me like a loyal Grantech guard.

When we reached Lab Zeta – the only lab that was strictly off-limits to all but top-level personnel – Ash stopped and we stood around waiting for Miss Erdiana Class or one of her minions to arrive and let me into the room where I’d die.

After five minutes spent twiddling our thumbs, one of the scientists finally arrived and swiped their ID chip. The door buzzed and the three of us stepped into the room, Ash closing the door behind us.

“Please have a seat.” The scientist – who I noticed had a bulbous nose – gestured to a padded chair in the center of the room and I sat, tapping my booted feet on the air. If Ash let them go through with this, those lovely combat boots would end up with some other oh-so-fortunate test subject. I hoped they’d appreciate them.

As the scientist prepared a syringe of poison, I glanced over at Ash, standing straight and still next to the door. He spared me a glance just long enough to wink.