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Chapter 85

Luckily, I have excellent reflexes, so I easily sidestep the projectile debris, with Coal at my shoulder, who spins and catches it like it weighs nothing, which I find very unhelpful because I'm trying to convince people he's not dangerous or intimidating. It doesn't help when he casually begins to toss the fifty-pound-or-so rock from hand to hand like it's all a great game. Thanks a lot, man.
"People!" I yell in exasperation. I pick out Glass from the crowd, sporting a large and bloody gash on his leg, but other than that, besides from looking hassled and harried, evidently unharmed. "Please! Just listen!"
"Yeah, listen to her, and don't chuck another brick at her head or you'll regret it!" Coal adds meaningfully behind me, stopping his game of one-man catch for a fleeting moment to glare pointedly at the guard I remember beating up, who apparently threw the projectile. I turn and glare at him.
"Not helping." I growl in a hoarse whisper, him shrugging carelessly, and going back to tossing his giant rock.
"We've already lost enough of us, don't you think?" I stare threateningly at one wispy young woman with obvious radiation poisoning, her skin a deep purple, palms of her hands a lighter magenta, her three eyes small black slits in the thin face, who's nervously holding a tribal spear. The staff clatters to the ground. "We don't need to narrow that number down even further."
They stare expectantly at me, and I realize, now that I've got their attention, and a temporary peace between sides, I have no idea what to do.
"What now?" Someone calls helpfully from the back of the mob, which stands about ten feet up the trail from me and coal, a barrier of rubble between us.
"Good question..." I turn to face Coal, eyebrows raised, asking a silent question. A Prince should be good at that speechy stuff, right? He gives an almost imperceptible shake of his head, and I make my expression sappy, widening my eyes, slanting my eyebrows upwards, elongating my face ever so slightly, giving him the serious puppy eyes. He glares expressionlessly at me for a moment longer, before sighing defeatedly and, with a twist of the shoulders, hurling the chunk of mountain out into the stormy sky.
"Fine." He turns back to me, then to the mob, awkwardly placing his hand over the brand on his neck like it will conceal his true identity, then running the fingers through his hair, giving it an even more perfect windblown look. "What now?" He mouths thoughtfully, only a whisper of sound passing his lips. What now?
"What now?" He says a little louder, as if testing the words out in the air, bringing his hand down from his hair to his right shoulder, absently searching for the scabbards that aren't there. "That's really quite an excellent question."
He winces in pain from talking, the exertion from the fight finally catching up with him, and he gently slumps against the looming wall of the mountain for support.
"What, now?" His gaze shifts over the crowd, meeting the eyes of every one of the hopeful rebels. "Wouldn't you like to know?" He whispers softly, looking out at the sky now, face dazed and dreamy, as if in a trance, and stays like that for so long, I consider waving my hand in front of his face, when he startles me.
"What!" He shouts with sudden ferocity, making the mob flinch slightly. "That's what you want to know, isn't it?" He turns and holds the concerned-looking mob with his gaze. "That's all you've ever wanted to know?! What now?"
Now he's on a roll, and he pulls away from the wall, heading straight toward the mob with the labored steps of an injured man. "What's going to happen now? What do you do with yourselves, how do you live another day? What will tomorrow bring? Will you survive the night?" Apprehension, and maybe even awe, dawning on the faces of the survivors, who back away ever so slightly as Coal nears, showing no sign of stopping.
"What! Life is one big question, isn't it?" He stops and circles the group, which crowds closer into itself, as if trying to find safety in numbers from this strange feral beast. "Is there a cause to fight for? Will you live your entire lives feral and half-wild in the Wold, struggling day-to-day, while those in the City are spoiled with riches beyond your imagination? Are you going to stand to be treated like this? Like common animals?"
As he speaks, his growl grows steadily to a roar, and now a few of the mob are nodding, then stopping before their comrades can notice they agree. But Coal doesn't stop.
"Glass," He says, stopping right in front of Glass, looking down on the tall man despite the fact that the doctor is almost a foot taller. "You said your mother was a great healer, right?"
Glass swallows, and straightens slightly in pride, nodding, pushing his glasses proudly up the bridge of his nose.
"And why can't you be as great a doctor as her?" It's obviously rhetorical, and Coal doesn't wait for an answer, surging onwards. "Because the folks up at the City say you're Impure, that's why." Glass frowns, considering this.
"I'll bet you you're twice as good as any old City healer, and no less humane," Coal backs away slightly from Glass, giving him space, but continues to stare straight into the man's vivid green eyes. "But does that change anything?"
Coal backs away and looks out at the entire mob again, as some of them begin to shake their heads angrily.
"No!" He shouts, waving his hands, trying to pump them up. "No, it doesn't! And you know why? DO YOU KNOW WHY?" He roars above the lightly falling rain, the relentless wind on that lonely mountainous path. "'CAUSE THEY SAY WE'RE NOT GOOD ENOUGH!"
This time, the noise is in protest, roars and hisses of anger from the crowd, and they shout their approval.
"They say that we deserve this life! That we deserve to live like Beasts! Heck, they say we are Beasts!" The rain drizzles slowly onto the sections of unharmed path, making them slick and shiny like a mirror, reflecting the story as it unfolds, Coal struggling for breath, but pushing forwards while he has their attention, face tense in pain. "They say-THEY SAY, THAT WE DESERVE TO DIE!" He roars in another bout of rage, and now the audience boos indignantly, fists pumping in the air.
"AND DO WE?" I fall away from the dreary mountain path, the lonely little war party. I see before me a churning mass of armored warriors, hefting tattered, multicolored banners into the air, standing before a massive wall, before which Coal stands, a bow across his back, enraged, driving his army onward. "DO WE?!!"
"NO!" The mass screams back, a concussive rolling of voices like a giant, deep wave rushing over me.
"So what now?" Coal says, suddenly quiet again. Now before me I see again the small, sad little cluster of assorted misfits, hanging on to the lost Prince's every word. "What. Now?"
I inhale suddenly, having forgotten how to breath until recently, and take a step forward, feeling dreamlike. I walk forward in the smoldering silence, and place a hand on Coal's shoulder. He gives me a serious sidelong glance, and I nod with silent consent, like, I'm here for ya, buddy.
What now?
"I'LL TELL YOU WHAT NOW!" He roars suddenly, shoulders tightening under my hand. "I'LL TELL YOU!"
The survivors roar back to him, something unintelligible, kinda like "MRAAAA!". "NOW, WE FIGHT! FOR OUR LIVES, FOR OUR RIGHTS! NOW, WE FIGHT FOR EQUIVALENCE! WE FIGHT FOR OUR FREEDOM!"
His wolf-like roar of challenge is all but drowned out in the cheering, the screaming, of the small mob, who punch their fists in the air and bare fangs and crack knuckles. They're ready to fight.
To defend our freedom.