Chapter 13: 5 of Rings - Isolation

The sword he had thought he was falling on was actually her knife in his back.

“What if I just kill him?” Zeltzi’s rage simmered in her eyes. “No weapons, not even my cards. I’ll do it bare handed.” 

“We all know that just leads to more bloodshed.” Layna looked the young Devil over coolly, “Otherwise, I’d say go for it. I’d even hold him down for you.”

Yema swirled her tea languidly. “You don’t want to kill him, we’ve tried supervised integration, surveillance, isolation. We’re running out of options.”

“I could chop his hand off,” Zeltzi suggested through gritted teeth. 

“And then what?” The crystalline grief in Meihua’s expression was somehow more terrifying than the liquid fire in Zeltzi’s amber eyes. “They retaliate and who do we lose this time? Aunty? Some of the Workers?”

“Me,” Layna answered quietly. 

Everyone turned to stare at her, but her eyes were on the Devil. 

“I’m their next target.”

“How do you know?” Meihua whispered.

The leader sighed. “Ammon? Care to jump in?”

The Devil looked around the table, trying to summon an anger to match theirs. “I don’t owe any of you anything.”

Layna twisted her obsidian and asked, “Ammon, do you know when your sister is in your head?”

How did she know about that?

“Does she come and go at will or can you summon her?”

“No one summons Eri. But I can try to ask her for help.” 

The leader nodded for him to do that. He tried his usual methods, but his sister didn’t answer. He kept running into the perimeter of his mind: a garden wall, solid and covered in ivy. Looking around, everyone except Layna was avoiding his eyes. They had done something to block him from being able to talk to his sister, his only remaining family in the world, his patron and protector, mentor and partner.

“How dare you?” He hissed. 

“Our school children know more basic psychic defense techniques than you do,” Layna answered. “The morning you went to see Uncle’s kids, we hadn’t given you anything, and you didn’t have any defenses of your own in place.”

“You’re saying I led them to the farmhouse?”

“The church that burned down was branded for turning you away. The only people hurt are the ones you speak to outside of us putting protections in place.” 

He bristled, and then his shoulders sank as realization hit. “When I met with my sister most recently, something sparked a memory from the night before.” 

Looks flew around the table, the Reader pulled a card. But Ammon watched Layna. The leader looked confused, before slowly a hint of a smile twisted her lips. “Is that the reason for the glowing target on my throat?”

The Devil chewed his lip. “I didn’t—it wasn’t my intention—”

Layna leaned forward, “Ammon, what would Eri do if she had my baby brother in her custody after an attack like this?”

And so Ammon found himself, between Layna and Zeltzi on the Meetinghouse balcony, chin up, trying to ignore Zeltzi’s sword at his throat. Layna’s hand on her dagger, the other behind her back, obsidian between her fingers. Yema and Meihua were on Layna’s other side, outside the Devil’s line of fire.

The leader addressed the crowd gathered below the balcony: “For colluding with the enemy, knowingly and unknowingly, the council has voted to expel Ammon from the community. If you see him within the borders of protection, alert your superiors immediately, send up an alarm, but—for your individual safety and the safety of the community at large—do not engage.”

A murmur went through the crowd. 

“Additionally, we will continue to pursue those responsible for the recent attacks including those who issued the orders.”

Ammon’s eyes slid in that direction, alarmed: she was going after Eri? 

Before he could work through this train of thought, someone shouted up, “What about you? You sheltered, aided and abetted the traitor, or do you think you’re above punishment, Fearless Leader?”

Layna’s calm eyes brushed past Ammon’s, which widened as the crowd’s impatience swelled. She nodded to Zeltzi. Several fighters, led by a stone-faced Tor, stepped forward, surrounded him, and marched him away. 

He tried to resist. “What are they going to do to her?”

“That’s not your concern,” Zeltzi told him through gritted teeth. “Whatever you told your beloved sister, you put two targets on our leader: one on her neck and one on her back. You don’t get to suddenly start worrying about her.” 

He tried to look back over his shoulder. The guards shoved him forward.

The Devil was escorted to the town limits that evening. Instead of being dropped off on the road nearest the rest of civilization, the Devil found himself staring at the open expanse of deserted wasteland that limited the town’s back end. 

Ammon knew he didn’t have the equipment to camp in the desert until Eri noticed he was missing. He tried to contact her, as he had earlier at the council meeting, but ran repeatedly into the same brick wall and swinging vines that he had earlier. Each time he hit the wall, it grew taller, the ivy thickened, and his panic darkened the clouds overhead. 

Slowly, comprehension dawned: they had found a way to kill him without having to take responsibility for his demise. Bullets might not be able to take him out, but it was unlikely that he’d be able to survive in the desert with no food, water, or shelter. If he survived, they could claim they hadn’t done anything. If he didn’t, they could deny having known anything about it.

He rifled through his bag. His plant was missing. He looked back towards town, considering the consequences of returning to ask for it. Deciding it would just be one more thing to care for, he considered what he did have: about a day’s worth of water, a handful of snacks, a couple changes of clothes.

Could he make it the long way around to the other side of town? At least there he’d have a chance to flag down a vehicle that could take him towards home. 

Having settled on a plan, he looked up. A figure in unbleached cotton the same color as the desert sand, approached from the direction of town. She carried a bag over her shoulder, her single black braid draped over the opposite shoulder. As she strode toward him, the purple target pulsed on her chest like a heartbeat. 

She paused. The Devil expected her to look behind her, but she just looked him over. “Why are you still here?”

“Where did you expect me to go?” He snapped back. “Wasn’t the plan to leave me here to die?”

She just smiled. 

“What are you doing here? You didn’t come to see me off, did you?” 

“The council determined on exile as the consequence for helping you.”

“For how long?”

She shrugged, unconcerned.

“What happens after the exile is over?”

“If they’ve chosen a new leader, I make my case to them. If not, the council determines whether they want to reinstate me.”

“A new leader?”

She smiled at him. “A shame that you have already been expelled or you might have had a chance to take the position.”

The Devil’s jaw dropped. The sword he had thought he was falling on was actually her knife in his back. 

“You witch.”

He watched her saunter off into the wilderness, and called, “What if you die while in exile?”

She tossed a careless wave over her shoulder. 

Looking around, no one else was coming and no one followed. The Devil narrowed his eyes on the woman’s disappearing form.