Amena’s Rise to Stardom: Divine Warriors #0 Read online

  Amena’s Rise to Stardom

  Divine Warriors #0

  Kristen S. Walker

  Also by Kristen S. Walker

  Divine Warriors

  Riwenne & the Mechanical Beasts

  Riwenne & the Bionic Witches

  Riwenne & the Airship Gambit

  Riwenne & the Electrical Prophecy (2020)

  Amena’s Rise to Stardom!

  “The Girl Who Talked to Birds”

  “Vilqa’s Gift for the Sea Goddess”

  Fae of Calaveras Trilogy

  Small Town Witch

  Witch Hunt

  Witch Gate

  “Witch Test”

  “Midsummer Knight”

  “A Witch’s Halloween Surprise”

  “A Midwinter Night’s Dream”

  Santa Cruz Magic Academy

  The Reluctant Witch: Year One (January 13)

  “Merry Witchmas, Mom”

  Wyld Magic

  A Flight of Marewings

  A Pride of Gryphons

  The Duke’s Daughter

  “The Ghost on Winter Solstice”

  Anthologies

  Tales of Ever After

  2019 Halloween Short Story Challenge

  Stand Alone

  The Voyage of the Miscreation

  “The Pirate Cat and the Merkitty”

  * * *

  To learn about future releases, join my mailing list and get a free book!

  Copyright © 2019 by Kristen S. Walker

  Cover Design: MiblArt https://miblart.com/

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  © Kristen S. Walker and kristenwalker.net

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  Round One

  Round Two

  Round Three

  Pronunciation Guide

  Thank You

  About the Author

  Round One

  “But Mama,” I say again. I know I sound like a whiny brat, but I can’t help it. “I broke into that office last year. Isn’t there someone else who can go on this recon mission?”

  Mama folds her arms and gives me that stern teacher look across the dinner table. “It’s because you did it before that we want you to go. It should be easy for you to get the delivery schedule and get out again.”

  I roll my eyes up to the ceiling. “This is kid stuff. Any of your students could do this job without even breaking a sweat. I’m fifteen now, don’t you think it’s time I did something harder? Can I rob the warehouses with you after I get the schedule?”

  In Jabin, we grow and make what we can, but we can’t trade with normal villages without giving away our hiding spot. So we steal the rest of the stuff we need. Not from poor mainlanders, since they need it just as bad as we do. But in the nearby town of Pisan, there’s a shipping depot that collects all kinds of goods for the big cities. Soon their warehouses will be full of food from the harvest—the best part of the crop, reserved for fancy city folk who’ve never dirtied their hands in a field. My mission is to get their delivery schedule so the rebels know when is the best time to rob it.

  “Fifteen, but still shy of your Choosing Day.” Mama shakes her head and pushes the dirty dishes toward me. “It’s just a few months away, so we’re not going to jeopardize your chances. And this could be one of your last missions before you leave.”

  I groan and snatch the dishes up. It’s not fair I have to do chores on top of this mission, but I can’t argue my way out of everything. “Leave so I can do what? I’m not going to be Chosen for a city, Mama. I ain’t that smart.”

  “Aren’t,” Mama corrects me. She insists that us kids learn to speak proper, instead of mainlander slang. “And you have many skills, if only you would apply yourself to them with as much energy as you use complaining. I have no doubt you will be Chosen for something when the time comes. You could qualify for many ministries.”

  It sounds like she’s being nice but this is an old argument of ours. Truth is, I’m kinda nervous about Choosing Day. All fifteen-year-old kids, even secret rebel ones who have to sneak in, go through the same test to find out where they’re meant to train and work for the rest of their lives. Almost everyone gets assigned to the mainland, which is backbreaking work in the farms and factories. But if you have an exceptional skill in something useful, like teaching or inventing machines or accounting, then you could get Chosen for a ministry in the floating capital.

  “I don’t ‘qualify’ for any ministry,” I say, raising my voice as I cross the room to the sink.

  Houses in the cities, and even some in the bigger towns, have automatic dish scrubbing machines. We don’t even have proper plumbing. I hauled water in from the village well earlier today and heated it over the cooking fire.

  I pour hot water from the kettle into the basin and scrub the dishes by hand. “My best skills are sneaking and thieving.” And singing, I add silently, but the rebellion doesn’t care about singers. “Even if the gods see I’m a good thief, they won’t tell the government to put me in charge of all their important paperwork so I can learn their secrets.”

  Mama snatches the clean dish out of my hand and swipes it with a towel. “The gods have nothing to do with your test. Saying that there’s some kind of divine force behind Choosing Day is propaganda to keep us from questioning the results. People will test your skills and assign your job, and if you remember what I’ve told you about the tricks, you can get far enough to catch their eye. But it’s your abilities that will put you over the top. I have faith in you.”

  I pick at a stubborn bit of cheese crusted on the lip of a bowl. “Or I could get caught on this stupid mission tonight and spend the next two years in jail.”

  Mama sighs. “As you pointed out yourself, it’s an easy—” She coughs, covering her mouth with the dish towel. “Job. No guards,” she continues, but the cough comes back. She doubles over, hacking and struggling to breathe.

  I drop the dishes and rush to her side. “Take it easy.” I help her back into the chair. These coughing fits have been getting worse. I should have known better than to let her get riled up over a stupid argument.

  Mama waves her hand at the kettle, and I pour some hot water into a cup for her. Sipping on the warm liquid eases her cough, and she gradually calms her breathing down.

  I look away. Everyone in the village has some breathing problems because of the bad air in the lowlands, but the healer says Mama’s cough is worse because she didn’t grow up in it. She used to be a teacher in the capital, which floats in the sky above the smog. She should have stayed breathing that pure air. But when she found out she was pregnant with me, she didn’t want to give me up to the state-run school. She ran away from Olona City to join the rebellion, the only way she could keep her baby.

  I never had a choice. Sometimes I wonder what it would have been like if I’d gotten to grow up in the capital with all its luxuries, but then I’d never have known Mama.

  I rub her back. “Sorry, Mama.” I turn back to the sink and pick up the dishes like a good daughter. “My last mission, huh? I’ll take care of it.”

  The sun is still up when I’ve finished cleaning up from dinner, but the shipping depot in Pisan is miles away and taking a horse would attract too much attention, so I’ll have to walk. I grab my gear and change into black clothes. Black blouse, black trousers that are easier to move in than a proper skirt, soft black shoes for walking quietly, an
d a black cap with my bright yellow hair tucked up inside so it won’t catch the light. It’s not the height of fashion, but I’ll be able to blend into the shadows.

  At sunset, I climb down from our treehouse and head for the old tree at the edge of the village where I’m supposed to meet with my backup. I don’t need any help on this, but protocol says we never go out on our own. Someone else will go along with me to act as a lookout. At least I’ll have company during the long walk there and back.

  Except when I get to the tree, I see it’s Deryt waiting for me. Most girls would say he’s handsome because he’s tall with shaggy blue-black hair that falls in his dark, dreamy eyes. He’s self-conscious about being the tallest person in the village, though, because he hunches over and tries to hide. His good looks are wasted on a lesbian like me.

  I hold back a sigh of disappointment. He’s not the most annoying boy in Jabin, like some others who like to pick on girls, but he’s intense for a fifteen-year-old. He tinkers with machines all the time, finding old, broken gadgets from Pisan’s junkyard and rebuilding them, so I guess he’s some kind of mechanical genius. If any of us kids have a chance make it to a city on Choosing Day, it’s him. But it’s like he doesn’t think about anything other than gears and cranks. So much for interesting company on the trip.

  “Hey,” he says, lifting his hand when he sees me. “Are you the one going to the warehouse—”

  “Yes,” I snap, walking past him. I just want to get this stupid mission over with.

  He hurries to catch up with me, which only takes a second on his super long legs. He’s also dressed in black but he looks too awkward to blend in.

  I may be short, but I’m no slouch. I set a quick pace uphill through the jungle, choosing a narrow deer trail. We’re supposed to change up the routes we use in and out of the village, so it’s harder to find, and I’m the lead on this mission. I deliberately pick an older trail that hasn’t been used in a while so there’s lots of low-hanging branches that will make Deryt have to slow down and watch his head.

  Deryt follows without complaining, even though I can hear him struggling with the undergrowth behind me. The silence stretches out between us, but I don’t feel like breaking it. My nerves are still frayed from my argument with Mama.

  The air gets a little clearer as we climb. Pisan is halfway up the mountain where the smog isn’t as thick. Only outcasts and rebels try to live in the lowlands. The smoke from Pisan’s factories drifts downhill into our village.

  Finally, he clears his throat. “I’ve been working on a prototype for goggles that see in the dark,” he says. “Well, that’s not exactly true. They wouldn’t let you see in total darkness. But in low-light situations, they can enhance and refract the light to increase its effectiveness. The design’s based on something I read about how cats’ eyes work.”

  I glance back over my shoulder at him. “That sounds cool, I guess.”

  Deryt pats the knapsack on his shoulder. “Yeah, well, I was trying to have them ready for you tonight, but there’re some issues I’m trying to work out. You could try them, if you want.”

  I turn back to the path ahead. “That’s okay, I’ll be able to see what I’m doing just fine. The warehouse district has gas lamps all over.”

  “Oh.” He sounds deflated. “I was just trying to think of a way to help.”

  I shrug. “That’s nice of you, but there’s not much to help with. I’ll be in and out within minutes.” I hesitate for a moment, then my guilt gets the better of me. “Sorry I was rude. Just had a fight with my mom, but I didn’t mean to take it out on you.”

  “It’s no big deal,” he mumbles. I have to strain to hear him. “What did you fight about? I mean, if you don’t want to talk about it, that’s okay.”

  I reach up and hold back a tree branch so it won’t hit him. “Oh, it’s just the usual. I didn’t want to go on this mission.”

  “Why? I thought you said it was easy.”

  I kick a rock out of the way. “Yeah, exactly. I did this same job last year. I’m tired of always getting sent on these trivial jobs. Fetch this, track that—little kid stuff.”

  “But it’s still important,” Deryt says. Same line the adults feed me every time. “We need this food, and you’re finding out when we can get it.”

  “But I don’t care.” I throw my hands up in the air. “I can’t stand living like this, out in the middle of nowhere, where we gotta steal and make everything for ourselves. Just once, I’d like a normal day where I didn’t have to think about breaking into someplace, or delivering coded messages, or looking over my shoulder. Wondering when we’re going to get caught.” The image of Mama coughing flashes through my mind. “Breathing in this terrible air.”

  Deryt goes silent for a while. His family have been rebels since forever, so to him, I guess this is normal. Then he clear his throat again. “We all have to make sacrifices for the cause, but it’s better than living under an oppressive regime with no hope of change.”

  “I’ve heard the whole manifesto already, thanks.” I stop walking and spin around to face him. “It’s just that no one ever asked me if I wanted to be a rebel, y’know? We both got raised up to this, taught how to spy and sent on these missions with no choice. I’m not saying I love the Empire or I don’t understand how the law is wrong. But fighting back is hard. I don’t think this is what I want to do for the rest of my life.” I fold my arms and glare up at him. “How is that different from the government telling me how to live?”

  He stares down at me with wide eyes and his mouth hanging open, as if he can’t figure out how to respond. I must have blown his mind.

  Then he straightens up and a calm expression settles over his face. “It’s the same, because it’s still the Empire that’s forcing this on you. Even if you fight back, you don’t have a choice right now.” He puts his hand on my shoulder. “But it’s different, because this can mean something. The chance to have a choice in the future. So if you’re not happy, keep fighting.”

  I sigh and look down at the ground. “I guess.” Either way, it’s not going to help standing around and complaining about it. I whirl around and face the path again. “Then let’s get going. I gotta fight until I get that chance.”

  Shortly after midnight, I’m kneeling in the darkness while I pick the lock on an imperial warehouse door. No one’s around, so I sing softly to myself as I work. Some people think you need to listen when you pick a lock, but it’s more like something you do by feel. I’ve been picking locks tougher than this since I was old enough to reach them. I rake the pins inside the lock with my tools and feel each one snap into place, and before long, the lock pops open.

  It’s even darker inside, but it’s just a big, open space. I know from last year that the door to the overseer’s office is up the stairs along the east wall. I brush my fingers along the wall until I find the railing and I follow that up the stairs.

  The office door has a simple lock. I slip the blade of my dagger in and jiggle a little, and the door clicks open.

  Now I need to see. I strike a match with one hand and cup my other hand around it to keep from burning anything. All the file cabinets are along the wall. Looks like the overseer reorganized his paperwork a little, but he still labels everything. I find the drawer labeled “Schedules” and flip through the folders until I reach the most recent one.

  The overhead lamp switches on, blinding me. I whirl around and squint against the brightness.

  “Hands where I can see them,” a deep woman’s voice commands me.

  I blink and the colors of a guard’s uniform come into focus, followed by the barrel of a revolver pointed straight at me. Oh, great. So much for having Deryt on lookout. I raise my hands, the lit match still in one hand and the delivery schedule in the other.

  The guard keeps the gun pointed at me and beckons me forward with her other hand. “Come here into the light where I can see you better. You’re just a kid, aren’t you? What are you doing in the overseer’s files there
?”

  I try to look small and helpless. I’m short, so people often think I’m younger than I am. “Please, ma’am, I’m so hungry,” I say in a pleading tone. “Just looking for something to eat. Isn’t this warehouse supposed to have food?”

  The guard lowers her gun just a little and walks up to me, snatching the file out of my hand. “That’s not exactly food.” She glances at the schedule and tosses it onto the desk. “You’re just here to find out when your friends should hit this place. Yeah, I got suspicious when our food kept getting stolen every year right before the biggest shipment goes out. Looks like I just found the information leak. Turn around and put your hands behind your head.”

  I start to protest about the lit match in my hand, but it’s already burnt out. I sigh and turn around like she says. If I can’t get her sympathy, I might as well cooperate until I see my opening.

  She puts the handcuffs on me, not as rough as the last guard who arrested me, and searches through the pockets on my trousers. She doesn’t find everything, but she pulls out two of my daggers, the lock pick set, magnifying goggles, and the box of matches—enough tools to look pretty incriminating. “Pretty professional set of gear for a kid,” she says. “How old are you, anyway?”

  “F-fourteen?” I stammer out, hoping she’ll believe a small lie. Criminal sentences get way harsher when you’re fifteen and legally a young adult.

  The guard spins me around and looks me in the eye. “Short for fourteen,” she says, but her face doesn’t show if she believes me or not. “Skinny, too, so maybe you’re a little malnourished. I’ll get a hot meal for you when we go down to the station. Any of your friends around that I should know about?”