The Battle of Tyrell: Cynthia by Nicola Collings (new books to read .TXT) 📖

Prologue

This tale takes place in the colourful, yet complicated City of Tyrell. Colourful because of it’s wide variety of people and complicated also because of it’s wide variety of people. It’s not an ideal place to live; in fact, if you were to move to the city, then I guarantee that within a week, you’d be looking at houses in another city! People don’t move to Tyrell City. People from Tyrell City move to other places in Tyrell City because other cities in the country would probably discriminate them for their origin.

                I shall explain; within Tyrell City, there are four regions. The city itself is built in a small but steep valley and it’s houses spreading right out to the surrounding highlands, but stopping and giving way to a vast desert beyond. At the centre if the city is, the quite astutely named City Centre. This is where you’d find the typical shopping centres, the schools, train stations, monuments and tourist attractions. It’s a shame that the only thing that the City Centre is missing is tourists. This is in the centre of the valley, deep in the heart.

On one side of the valley, the gold of the grey city, is Boundary. Boundary is filled with big, modern houses built from pale bricks, wide, tarmac roads, black, neatly paved drive ways, posh cars, neat, well-kept front gardens, trees and, most importantly, Horizon House. Horizon House sits at the top of Boundary, gazing over the surrounding Valley and it houses the Mayor and the people who govern Tyrell. Boundary is where you would find the successful business men’s houses, the policemen’s homes, the most expensive schools and the people who are most well off and can afford their electricity bill, along with taxes and gifts for their children at Christmas.

The opposite side of the valley is called The Wynde. Looking at The Wynde, you would notice the tall, dark brown-bricked, historical buildings built extremely close together, the narrow, cobbled roads running up the steep hill like black veins, the black, slate rooves, some which had ancient gargoyles nestled in the corners. This is probably the most historical part of the city, the only part with the original, iconic, gothic buildings from centuries ago. It is here you would find the people who live in small, confined flats down narrow streets, people who have no real jobs but get income by other, more shady means, people who dress in a certain way, people who are looked down upon by the rest of the city. Oh yes, discrimination is a big part of life in Tyrell City! People who live on The Wynde live in a tight community, look out for themselves, concentrate on surviving, not luxury.

The last region of Tyrell City is the Outskirts. People out here are middle-class, normal, in-between people who aren’t defined by where they live. They aren’t defined by money or status but go about their daily lives, rarely involving themselves in the conflict between the prejudice and the survivors.

There is another part to the city, a part that people learn about in their history lessons and are told about in the form of legend. The city’s Underworld lies beneath The Wynde and spreads out beneath the whole of the city and some of the desert or wasteland that surrounds the city. It is only legend, not many people speak of it. Years ago, in medieval times, the king decided to ‘cleanse’ the city of the vermin. To do this, he decided to build a wall around the section of the city where the peasants lived and dwelled. Doing this, he entrapped the peasants and effectively, ordered his men to build another city on top of their city. Their city was buried deep beneath, the only hope for them were the people who knew better, who knew that one day, the kings plan would fail him; vermin would find it’s way back into society somehow. So a secret group was created, people who were part of the kings court were given keys to secret entrances to their underground city. These people who were entrusted to passages to the Vaults, which in turn, would allow passage to what the people called The Warrens. These people were called the Descendents. People in league with the descendents, were known as disciples. Together, they believed that one day, the people of the Warren would once again, rise and punish the king for his actions. Of course, the legend was soon forgotten about.

This is who we are. We are survivors, living against the harsh inner rims of society who call themselves sophisticated but are really just tyrannical beasts posing as human beings. Or so I say; I’ve yet to meet someone who isn’t from The Wynde, who actually accepts us and isn’t a complete bitch. People say, however, that a Black Parade will soon rise and take back the city. What once belonged to the myths of the Warrens and what was once held in hands of black and gold, of The Wynde and Boundary will be reclaimed. Those who claim they are gods, who drove the warriors beneath the city itself, will fall to it. And all it’s descendents.

At the top of The Wynde is Duskgate Mansion. My house. It sits at the peak of the hill, surrounded by trees; it’s huge, gothic structure reaching above the tallest pine trees. My parents are dead, so I inherited it. The mansion itself is only the tip of the iceberg, there are more chambers running deep into the earth, reaching the Vaults through the Archives and the Cellars, through it’s many rooms. The mansion itself rivals the beauty that of Horizon House, the two houses stand face to face, forever locked into each other’s sights. It holds authority; as do I. As my parents died, I and the house inherited the secret of the Descendents. I know for a fact that the rumours are true. I am a key holder. I see the future from my bedroom window.  I can see almost all of Boundary from my bedroom window. It seems a shame that so few people can witness such a beautiful sight.

But that’s just the way things work.

My name is Cynthia, and I can see The Black Parade rising in the east; we are ready.

                Part 1: A Call to Arms.

                The Mayor sat at his desk, opposite the window that looked out over Boundary. In the distance, he could make out the dark stain of The Wynde, and the tiny turrets of Duskgate mansion that were just visible above the canopy of thick, misty trees. He could see something brewing over there.

                Pulling his weight from the red, velvet chair, he went to stand at the window. Duskgate Mansion and Horizon House were forever locked in a hostile stare- it had lasted years, decades even. He would go as far as to say centuries, but on Boundary, people would look at him with odd expressions if he so even referenced the reign of King Yoran. It was not a subject they talked about in civilised terms.

                Let alone the fact that his family had been Descendents...

                Of course, that was a long time ago and the Mayor had made sure to have the passage way to the Vaults in Horizon House sealed off. An uprising was one thing that Tyrell did not need.

                But he couldn’t help but feel...anxious.

                People had been turning up dead. Wyvern Industries had taken part in a major cover-up that even the Mayor himself knew nothing about.

                The body count was rising. Maybe this is how it starts?

                He turned, breaking his gaze from the misty forest that crowned the hill. He needed to nip this in the bud. A pile of sterile white papers sat on his desk- the words that let him obtain more armed forces around Boundary.

                Would people see his moves as fearful, perhaps? Of course not! It was in his citizen’s best interests!

                And the deaths kept coming.

                The mask he kept on his face was full proof; people would only see a strong Mayor that wanted to keep everyone safe.

                But safe from what, he wondered...

                Just what was coming his way?

                                                                                                **

                                One Week Ago...

                The train station, at a glance, was empty, as it should have been that late night. However, fate had not been so kind to the 3 souls who were sat on the steps that led to the bridge to the other platform. Two of them were dressed in black and leather and denim; one of them had bright green liberty spikes and the other had long, black hair. The two guys contrasted entirely with the girl who stood before them. She had fluffy blond hair that fell around her shoulders like a cloud. Despite her apparent age of around 20, she wore a pink dress that looked as though it was taken from a young girls dressing up box; it gave her the appearance of a doll. She hummed, lightly and hopped from one leg to another.

                “Where are they?” asked one of the guys, taking a spliff from his mouth. He looked at the girl, rolling his eyes, his straight black hair swishing in the wind. The girl shrugged and continued to hum a tune.

                The guys exchanged glances. A normal passerby would have assumed that this girl was anything but someone from The Wynde, maybe even that she was the age she looked. In fact, the liberty spikes belonged to her brother. The three of them waited. The only sound came from the girl’s humming.

                Soon enough, footsteps came from down the platform. Two figures appeared from the darkness. These two young women were dressed in the same way as the two guys; studded leather.

                “Sammie!” one of the shouted and the doll-like girl skipped, laughing down the platform to hug the shorter or the two.

                “Amber!”

                Sammie launched herself towards Amber, embracing her. She then looked at the timid girl who followed in Amber’s wake.

                “Good news?” asked Sammie, her head cocked.

                Unlike Amber and Sammie, this girl had a messy cloud of jet black hair, the storm cloud to Sammie’s white, fluffy cirrus. At first, she looked at the floor, a solemn look on her face. Just as Sammie was about to speak, she smiled and looked up.

                “I got in!”

                “Oh my god, that’s amazing!” Sammie squealed and hugged her. “Nicki, you’re going to be an artist!”

                Nicki laughed along with the other two. “Not just yet, I have to go through the University yet and actually complete the course!”

                “You should have seen it, though!” laughed Amber. “The exhibition was insane! As soon as she dropped the sheet, you could hear all the gasps and you could see the looks on their faces! No one else’s was as detailed or as well-done. In fact, I’d go as far as to say very few others who took the exam even had talent!”

                “I’m just so surprised they actually let me pass and let me on the course.” Nicki frowned.

                “They couldn’t have said no. If they did, it’d make the University look bad. They were forced to ignore your origins! This is good! It means they’re finally having to put prejudices aside!” grinned Amber.  “See, I knew it could be done without war!” The other two girls looked at her.

                It was as if Amber was looking at something far bigger than a University application.

                They all knew what she meant when she said ‘war’.

                “So, Little Fly got into University!” A green unicorn appeared behind Sammie, a grin on his face.