The Golden Citadel

Chapter 1

Chapter One

As the lowest-ranking Apprentice in the Healers’ Quarter, I rarely have a good day. And today isn’t going to be one of them.

When I arrive at work, Chrissy, the Head of Healers’ Apprentices, greets me with a scowl. ‘You’re late, Ellie. Again.’

Chrissy is the very image of perfection, with her shoulder-length dark hair, bronze skin and delicate limbs. Unlike me – with my haphazard bun, long nose, too-generous curves and unremarkable brown eyes.

She’s standing next to the Central Hub of the Healers’ Quarter, a circular structure with monitors that show the patients’ vitals. Four other Apprentices are huddled around her, glaring at me with disdain.

‘I’m sorry. I stayed up late to read about healing liver injuries,’ I mumble.

Chrissy clicks her tongue. ‘Being late is no way to improve your ranking, Ellie.’

I sigh. I don’t know if there’s any way for me to improve my ranking. My magical powers don’t really seem suited to anything – Healing included – so Stella, the AI who helps govern our city, assigned me to seven different Quarters in my three and a half years of Apprenticeship.

I’m always playing catch-up. I know the drill by now: asking Stella for reading materials, staying up late at night to read, foregoing any kind of social life.

But even in spite of my best efforts, I’m often one of the most incompetent Apprentices in whichever Quarter I happen to be in.

In my twenty-one years of life, I’ve only ever been the underdog.

‘I’m pulling three points from your score,’ she says.

‘This is unfair,’ I say. ‘If I lose any more points, I won’t be able to attend the Healers’ Ball next week.’

Chrissy shrugs. ‘I suppose you’ll have to work harder, then. You’ll have to earn an invitation.’

As if I don’t try hard enough. Ranking is a big deal in our city: it’s the measure we’re judged by. I’m low-ranking, so for Chrissy and many like her, I’m as good as dirt.

Chrissy picks up a backpack full to bursting and says, ‘We’re going into Field Healing Simulation today. Though, by Mars, I have no idea what Stella was thinking to assign you there. We need to hurry, or we’ll all be late.’

I perk up at hearing about the assignment and pull the long, green Healers’ tunic over my T-shirt.

Field Healing Simulation is a treat – we get to gawk at the hot Warriors before we’re called in to help – and besides, ‘superficial and stab wounds’ is one of the fields I’m now confident that I can handle.

This day has just gotten three hundred per cent better.

We stalk through narrow corridors at a brisk pace, until we reach the west atrium. It’s a wide chamber with metal-panelled walls, at the junction between the training arena and the healing chambers.

Chrissy rummages in her backpack. ‘The Warrior Apprentices are doing Battle Simulation today, since the Test Missions are coming up. Which means that top Healer Apprentices might be selected to support the Warriors in the field. Any questions?’

Yes, I do have one. Why am I here? I’m no top Apprentice, so there’s no chance that I’d be selected to support one of the Warrior teams.

Still, when Chrissy pulls out a Pocket Healer from her backpack and hands it to me, I accept it without a comment. It’s a rectangular device, the size of my palm, with a shiny, emerald-green case.

Well, maybe I do have one comment. ‘It’s a PH seventy,’ I say.

‘Yes, and?’

‘I have no healing powers.’

The sort of magic that the people of The Citadel wield often decides what sort of path they’ll take in life.

People with healing magic obviously become Healers.

People with structure-changing magic become Engineers.

And people who can generate weapons with their magic become part of the most revered Quarter: the Warriors.

My power is of the undefined sort, which shouldn’t be a problem.

There are Healers with powers, and there are the so-called ‘tecchies’, like me, who learn to operate the healing devices.

We have highly performant ones, which need resina crystals to work – there are very few of those, because the only kingdom that mines them, the neighbouring Piken, is constantly at war with us.

And we have the PHs. Which can be operated by Healing Technicians who know what they’re doing and what they’re asking for from the device, which means years and years spent studying healing.

I’ve only been in this Quarter for three months.

‘Can’t I get a resina-operated PH?’ I try, although I’m pretty sure it’s useless.

This is me, though – always trying, no matter how grim the odds are.

‘No,’ Chrissy says. ‘This is what you get. Head of Healers’ orders.’

I sigh again – not for the first, and not for the last time today – and follow the rest of the Healer Apprentices to the stands of the training arena.

We take our seats, close to the battleground, which is still covered in a milky-white dome obscuring our view of what’s going on inside. The arena is built like an amphitheatre that could fit at least fifty thousand people.

No Gladiator Games are scheduled today, just training, but still the stands are half full with people of all ages. I’m wondering what the fuss is about, when pictures of the teams that are about to start battling appear on the surface of the dome.

One of the Healers, Lucy, squeals, ‘Top Team is training today. We’re in for a treat.’

Top Team are the four best Warrior Apprentices: Xandra, Mace, Allen and Julian.

Everybody knows their names – they’re featuring in nearly every promotional video that’s being screened, from commercials of dancing classes to clips about better nutrition.

Today, they’ve been divided on opposite sides, teamed up with other top-tier Apprentices, and set loose in the arena to fight each other.

This is what passes for quality entertainment. I wouldn’t be surprised if today’s training is broadcast all across the Golden Citadel.

My eyes stop on Mace Hardfield’s picture and my heart starts to pitter-patter. Then the dome falls, leaving just a sliver of a shield right in the middle of the battleground, dividing the two teams – and Mace is standing just a few dozen feet away from me.

The golden boy of the Warriors’ Quarter. Top Team’s Captain. He’s wearing a slate-grey mission outfit, that shows his impressive physique. Mace drives a hand through his deliciously tousled, dark blonde hair, while barking orders at his team.

I shiver at the sound of his voice. Low, rough, and commanding. So different from the voice of the boy I used to know nine years ago – that’s how long it’s been since I’ve seen him in the flesh, not just in pictures in online articles and posters all over The Citadel.

I hope that Mace would turn his head and look at me – I’m standing so close to him. But then, anxiety takes over. What if he does look and sees right through me? What if he doesn’t even remember who I am?

I make myself look away at the rest of the arena.

The battleground has been modelled by Stella to simulate the landscape of the Disputed Lands – not that I’ve ever set a foot outside of The Citadel, but I’ve seen pictures.

The ground is rocky and uneven, with bushes and patches of trees.

Though thriftiness is one of the defining traits of The Citadel, no expense is spared for the Warriors and their Apprentices.

We live in a vast Citadel on top of a cliff, a city that has been at war with the neighbouring kingdoms since our Founding. Because of that, Warriors are the highest-ranking Quarter. The superstars. And people love to watch them fight.

Next to me, Lucy pipes up. ‘Hey, Chrissy. Are you going to the Healers’ Ball with anyone next week?’

Chrissy says, glaring at the arena, ‘I’ve earned an invite to the Commanders’ Ball.’

‘Really?’ Lucy’s eyes widen – she’s impressed, and so am I. While every Quarter will throw their annual party next week, one will top them all: the Commanders’ Ball. A select occasion, to which only the top Apprentices will be invited.

It’s legendary. Every single Apprentice in The Golden Citadel dreams of receiving one of the coveted invitations.

‘What did you expect?’ Chrissy shrugs a delicate shoulder, as if it’s nothing.

A whimper of protest escapes me. I’m struggling to receive an invite to the party thrown by my own Quarter, and I’ll only succeed if I manage to score a few more points within the next few days.

In the arena, the two teams get into position. Mace has been teamed up with Xandra and two other Warriors, while Julian and Allen have been assigned to the rival team.

The shield separating the arena in half falls.

Any further attempt at conversation is cut short.

Mace launches himself into battle, wielding his longsword with deathly precision.

Xandra is right beside him. Our city’s Warrior goddess, with her long, blonde hair, and her endlessly long legs, is the poster girl of The Citadel.

Xandra generates her short swords with her magic – weapons that look like metal, but much more durable and with a red glint – then begins cutting and slashing, coordinating her moves perfectly with Mace’s.

They’re really something to see.

Not before long, the other team starts losing ground.

Bolts of magical arrows shoot from the trees and Mace’s team begins backing the other team – the one that Julian has been assigned to – into a corner.

Like with Xandra, watching Mace and Julian battle is a thing of art. Julian is lithe, moves like a cat with his shorter sword, but there’s so much power behind Mace’s fluid, strong but graceful moves.

Very quickly Mace catches Julian on the wrong foot. Julian doesn’t parry fast enough, leaves an opening, and Mace slashes him across the ribs. It only gets worse for Julian from then on. He steps back and earns himself another slash on the inner side of his elbow.

Blood drips from his wounds on the mossy ground of the arena.

I mentally catalogue every single wound, going through the Healing Protocols in my mind. I have to be ready to spring into action: I’ll be assigned a patient soon. This is my chance to do some good, and earn some points, too.

‘Don’t they look amazing?’ Lucy says. ‘Especially Mace. He’s such a hottie.’

‘Honestly,’ says Chrissy, ‘Julian’s more my type.’

I cock an eyebrow. This entire conversation is purely hypothetical.

In theory, the citizens of The Citadel are equals.

But Warriors are something different altogether – special rules apply to them.

They’re only allowed to choose partners from their own ranks – other Warriors.

And if they have huge power levels, Central Command will choose their partner for them.

It’s a bit like the arranged marriages of the days of yore, but Command insists that it’s the only way to ensure that powerful Warriors will keep being born, and that is integral to our safety.

Even if it’s forbidden, Warriors sometimes still date people from other Quarters, something that Stella might not flag as an issue if it only amounts to a short affair.

In the arena, Mace leans forward, taking Julian by the shoulder, probably concerned about the wound he’s just inflicted on him.

Julian feints, catching his fellow Warrior unawares.

I gasp. Mace’s jacket gapes open, slashed through, and then Julian explodes into laughter.

Mace shoves his friend away from him, visibly annoyed, but Julian laughs even harder.

A trainer calls, ‘Julian Winters. Get to the healing chambers. The rest of you, get on with it.’

‘Alright, then,’ Chrissy says. ‘Lucy, you keep an eye on Mace Hardfield, see if he needs anything when training is done. Then do a quick assessment of the other team and report any significant injuries. I’ll handle Julian personally.’

‘How can I help?’ I ask. ‘I could look at the other team?—’

Chrissy gives me an irritated glare, as if suddenly realising that she has to assign me somewhere. ‘And work unsupervised?’ she says. ‘I don’t think so.’

‘If you’d just give me a chance?—’

‘Forget it, Ellie,’ she cuts in, rolling her eyes. ‘You’ll be coming with me. Try to stand in my way as little as possible, alright?’

It’s not alright. There are no limits to Chrissy’s pettiness, it seems. But there’s nothing I can say to make her change her mind. So I follow her quietly, those precious points slipping further and further away from my grip.