The Will of the Many (Hierarchy Book 1)

THE MORNING OF THE IUDICIUM, I’m awake hours before dawn. The cold void of night still waits outside; I can faintly hear the sounds of crashing waves on the distant shore, intermixed with the soft sigh of the breeze that brings it. My mind is full of plans and worries. I’m constantly revisiting ideas for how to approach the next few days, trying to decide whether they’re good. Adequate. Flawed.

Eventually, though, the lightening of the sky outside is noticeable enough that I stretch and emerge from the warmth of my bed, dressing with overly careful motions. Dreading what’s to come, if I’m being honest. Even if the dome didn’t await, the stakes would be painfully high. As it is, when I allow myself to stop and think about the consequences of failure, I can barely breathe.

Indol, Sianus, and Prav emerge from their rooms at the same time as me; unlike most days, we do little more than exchange polite, slightly stiff greetings before heading to the quadrum. There’s no small talk, no excited chatter.

We’re among the first to arrive, giving muted salutations to Praeceptor Nequias and Praeceptor Scitus before standing patiently, a little apart from one another. There’s about ten minutes of waiting in the chill as people drift in. Teams gather; soon there’s a low murmuring as hushed discussions begin. Aequa and Callidus appear at almost the same time, a few minutes after me.

“It’s cold,” Callidus grumbles softly as he sidles up to me, rubbing his arms vigorously and glancing sideways over at the other groups.

“So manly,” says Aequa as she casually bumps my shoulder with hers in greeting, hands carefully bundled beneath her cloak. The weeks of training with Callidus, Eidhin, and I have made her comfortable with us to the point of, to my vague surprise, friendliness. “Did you sleep?”

“Like a lamb.”

“Liar,” they both murmur in unison. All three of us smile. Nervousness falling away just a little.

Soon enough all eighteen of us are present, Prav rolling his eyes at Tem as the boy stumbles blearily into the quadrum last. The teams are mostly as I expected: Indol stands alongside Axien and Cassia, Emissa with Marcellus and Titus, Prav next to Valentina and Tem. Iro is the one who selected Belli, it turns out. The red-headed girl is talking quietly to Felix, her other teammate. She’s seemed more alive over the past few weeks. This morning especially, she looks as sharp as she ever did. Focused.

Finally there’s Sianus, who’s taken Ava and Lucius. Somewhat unpredictable choices, given their families are all from different senatorial pyramids, but the two Fourths have always been friendly. They’ll work well together.

“We’re all here?” It’s Veridius. He’s at the top of the stairs to Jovan’s temple, his voice echoing across the icy stillness of the quadrum and cutting through any vestiges of conversation. “Firstly—congratulations to all of you. Simply by being here, you’ve proven yourselves to be among the elite of Caten. You will be leaders in the Republic. I expect I’ll be reporting to some of you before long.” He smiles, and there’s a murmur of polite laughter.

“But before any of that, we need to determine your final rankings.” He gazes out over us. “The Academy isn’t just about telling you how to use Will; it is meant to prepare you for the experience of wielding it. And that means leadership. Will is ceded, but that does not always mean it is cheerfully given. Pyramids are not built on friendships. We are stronger together, but every block in a pyramid is still an individual. One with its own opinions. Its own goals and desires. Loyalty is only given to those who can convince the ones lifting them up that they will succeed.”

I can see a few faces frowning. Emissa and I exchange glances. Veridius continues, “There is a single Will-imbued object being guarded by two Sextii somewhere on the island. The Heart of Jovan.” He draws our attention to the life-sized statue that adorns the entrance to the temple. After a moment, I see what he’s referring to. A triangular-shaped hole where the golden symbol of the Hierarchy used to be, on the left side of Jovan’s chest.

Some shuffling of feet. None of the others had noticed it was missing, either.

“The victor of the Iudicium this year will obtain the Heart, get back here, and return it to Jovan. If that student is from Class Three, they will become Domitor. And those on their team will be ranked at the top of Class Four, and rewarded accordingly.”

There’s a pause, a breath, as I and the rest of Class Three process the statement. Callidus and Aequa are looking at the ground. None of the other Fourths seem surprised, either.

“And if one of our team replaces the Heart instead?” Indol asks the question we’re all wondering.

“Then they are the victor of the Iudicium. They receive a reward which they have been privately offered. And the Class Three rankings are determined by other means, which I will explain when we arrive.”

There’s another silence, this one longer. My stomach twists as I try to reason against my sudden nerves, my urge to start second-guessing Callidus and, in particular, Aequa. I can see the other Thirds doing the same. Unconsciously leaning away from their teammates. Eyeing them. Assessing them.

“Rotting gods,” I hear Iro mutter under his breath. I glance across at him, and our gazes meet. A wryness to his glare. A shared frustration. Maybe the strongest connection I’ve had with him.

“A boat is waiting to take us to the other side of Solivagus. All of you, follow me,” finishes Veridius.

We start walking, trailing after the Principalis. Callidus and Aequa fall into step beside me.

“You don’t have to worry about me,” says Callidus quietly.

“Or me,” adds Aequa, giving the boy a glare for not including her.

“We couldn’t say anything.” Callidus is apologetic.

“I know.” I give each of them a long, searching look, then exhale. “I know.”

Inwardly, I’m still uneasy. Callidus, I trust as much as I trust anyone. Aequa, though… I wonder now if I made the right choice. Even her newfound friendliness of the past few weeks suddenly seems suspicious. But showing any of that won’t help.

We trail mutely after Veridius.

THE NEXT TWO HOURS PASS in hushed discomfort.

Veridius takes us down to a sheltered cove via a Will elevator in the Praeceptor’s quarters; once there, we board the waiting boat and begin the journey around the island. It’s unbearably tense, too crowded for any private conversation. Dawn shimmers on the horizon, though its first rays are hidden behind a thick bank of clouds. The wind whips violently, cutting through my cloak. Several of the others shift uneasily at the choppy motion of the waves. Belli’s confidence is temporarily lost to nausea.

As the northern tip of Solivagus comes into view, Veridius starts moving among us, silently handing out satchels. I open mine and peer inside. There’s spare clothes. Rope. Rations enough for several days.

Scitus hugs the shoreline, the boat’s hull scraping sand as the sun finally creeps from behind the clouds. Another Will elevator carries us up the sheer northern cliff face, onto a small, open plateau before the trees begin. I shuffle as I spot a dozen men and women grouped together at the forest’s edge. They look lean, hard. Each one wears a deep green cloak.

Once we’re assembled, Veridius signals to Nequias, who tosses him a small sack.

“Each of you in Class Three will receive one of these.” He pours out its contents. There’s a white stone triangle framed in gold, with a cord attached to it. Alongside it in Veridius’s palm are six stone spheres, all different colours, as well as a much smaller black bead about the size of a pea. He holds up the medallion first. “Don’t lose this, and don’t break it. While the Iudicium is underway, this is your life. You won’t be allowed to replace the Heart of Jovan without it.”

Nobody says anything as we process the implications. Veridius hasn’t said it outright, but it’s immediately clear that if we’re able to take another Third’s medallion, or smash it, we’ll eliminate them from the contest.

Veridius waits to make sure we all understand, then holds up one of the coloured stones next. “These track either one of the other medallions, or the Heart of Jovan. Indol, as our top-ranked student, gets all six. Emissa, as second, will get five—everyone’s except Indol’s. Iro will get four, and so on.”

“Rotting gods,” mutters Callidus, and I have to agree with him. Everyone’s going to be able to track us, and we will be able to track nothing except the Heart itself.

Then Veridius displays the last, significantly smaller black bead.

“These are for your safety. You’ll need to swallow them.” He holds up his hand as a discomforted murmur goes around from the Thirds. “They will pass through your bodies after a few days without harm. But in the meantime, we need to ensure we’ve taken every precaution. There are alupi in these forests. Venomous snakes. Deep ravines. So we have decided that each of you will have two Sextii assigned to tracking you. You won’t see them unless they’re needed, but they’ll never be more than a quarter hour away.” He indicates the group standing at the forest’s edge.

“How will they know if we need them?” asks Sianus.

“Smash your medallion. Or leave it behind.” Veridius says it matter-of-factly. “It’s paired with this internal tracker; if the one in your stomach gets too far from its sister medallion, it will alert every single safety team. One of them will come to collect you.”

Emissa shifts. “So we’d be out of the contest, in that situation?”

“Yes. If a safety team has to come and get you, then you go back to the Academy with them. No exceptions.”

“Will we know when that happens to someone else?” It’s Prav.

“Only if the medallion’s broken. The safety teams will go after the internal trackers, nothing else.”

Silence as we all calculate. So if a Third is eliminated by having their medallion taken, there won’t be any indication for the rest of us. Those stolen medallions could easily be used as decoys. Snares.

“What about us?” asks Axien, indicating everyone not in Class Three with a vague wave.

“You’ll have medallions that the safety teams can track, too.” Veridius produces another stone triangle with cord attached, this one black and framed in silver. “If you place it against a Class Three medallion”—he demonstrates; there’s a strange warping in the air around the two pieces of stone as they touch—“then they become linked, to the exclusion of all other connections. If a Third wins, any Fourth who is linked to them shares in the victory. And if a Fourth wants to replace the Heart of Jovan themselves, their medallion still needs to be linked to the medallion of a Third. Otherwise it won’t count.”

Another silence, this one strained. So the Fourths can switch teams. Or they can steal their Third’s medallion to win on their own.

My mind races as I process the rules. We’re disadvantaged—something I expected—but it’s not impossible. These rules are going to sow a lot of doubt among the others. No wonder Veridius recommended picking people I trust.

“If one of our teammates returns the Heart,” I say suddenly, “how are the final positions in Class Three determined?”

“If you’re eliminated, you’ll move below anyone not already eliminated in Three. Otherwise, the order remains as it is presently.”

I can see a flicker of worry cross Indol’s face at that news. Good. As long as he survives to the end, his position won’t change if one of his Fourths is the winner. That’s surely going to create some extra tension between Axien and Cassia.

“As far as boundaries for the contest go,” continues Veridius, seeing no one has a follow-up, “there are two major rivers that divide the centre of the island from its east and west. None of you are to cross them. If you do, you’ll be immediately eliminated.”

Expected though it is, that still hurts. The dome is on the west side of the island.

Veridius points to the south. “Also, anyone within three miles of the Academy’s grounds is considered to have finished the Iudicium. So don’t think you can simply head back to the entrance and wait for one of the other teams to bring you the Heart.” He glances at the sun. “You all have until sunset on the third day. If the Heart of Jovan isn’t returned by then, then there’s no winner, and only eliminations affect rankings.”

I swallow. That’s not much time to do what I need to do out here.

Veridius looks across at Scitus and Nequias. “Anything else I’m forgetting?”

“They shouldn’t kill one another?” suggests Scitus cheerfully.

“Ah.” Veridius chuckles. “What the Praeceptor means, is that you need to be mindful of your actions out here. Show restraint. We’ll know when two teams run into one another.” He sighs, as if regretful the reminder’s even necessary. “Any other questions? If you have them, now is the time.”

Nobody speaks.

Nequias begins handing out medallions, starting with Indol’s team. Veridius joins him, giving Indol one of the small black beads and watching intently as he swallows it. The Principalis makes him open his mouth afterward, going so far as to look under his tongue. Then he hangs the paired white medallion around Indol’s neck, murmurs a few words in his ear, and signals for him to leave.

Indol starts moving, trailed by Cassia and Axien. They reach the edge of the forest, but then Indol stops. Turns.

“Fourths!” The Praeceptors and Veridius pause, and we all turn our attention to the tall, dark Catenan. “You all know I have the advantage here. Anyone who wants to join the winning team, can. One of us will be waiting a mile or so to the north of the Heart of Jovan until dawn tomorrow. All you have to do is turn up with your Third’s medallion.” His gaze sweeps over us. “I’m the only one who doesn’t benefit from replacing the Heart myself. Don’t forget that.”

He delays to ensure his words have registered, then vanishes into the trees. Two of the Sextii at the edge of the forest stir; I can see them peering at what looks like a thin stone circle, almost a foot across. They don’t move, though.

Emissa gives me an uneasy look. I grimace back. Smart, on Indol’s part. Frustrating for the rest of us. I can see Scitus glancing over at Veridius; the Principalis just shrugs. Not against the rules, clearly.

Nequias and Veridius keep moving in order of rank, handing out medallions and trackers, Veridius fastidiously checking the small ones are swallowed by the Thirds before letting them break off into the forest. Emissa gives me a final smile before she disappears. I take note of her direction, and the directions of the others, though I doubt any of them will maintain them for long. I can also see that the Principalis is deliberately taking his time. I open my knapsack and chew a little bread while we wait.

“You think we need to worry about an ambush?” It’s Aequa, voice low despite no one being close.

Callidus shakes his head before I can answer. “We’re not worth the risk. Not this early.”

“I doubt it too,” I agree between mouthfuls, “but it might still be tempting. Not being able to track anyone makes us not much of a threat, but also the most vulnerable. And I’m the only one guaranteed to displace everyone if I win.” I see his dubious expression and grin. “You’re right. It’s a bad move. But you have to remember to account for other people’s stupidity.”

Callidus snorts, but accedes the point. “So how do we go about this?”

“We can’t expect to eliminate everyone, so we obviously have to go after the Heart. But we will get ambushed if we head for it directly.” I chew. “We go around. Try and stay out of it for the first day, day and a half. Hope that some of the others get knocked out. Play it by ear.” It’s not much of a plan as far as the Iudicium goes, I acknowledge to myself. But my first goal is to get to the dome.

Sianus, Ava, and Lucius finally disappear into the thick undergrowth, and Nequias and Veridius walk over to us. It’s been about twenty minutes since Indol first left. Several of the Sextii pairs have disappeared into the forest now, too, examining those circular plates as they go. It must be how they’re tracking us.

“How are you feeling?” asks Veridius quietly as he hands me the small black bead, along with a water skin.

“Nervous.” I put it in my mouth without hesitation and swallow, allowing Veridius to examine beneath my tongue afterward.

“Well. At least you’re honest.” He hesitates. “Be very careful out there.”

I look at him blankly.

He sighs. “You know your family history here. And your uncle wasn’t the only one. Students have died in the Iudicium. Taking it too seriously, risking their lives to win. You need to keep perspective. No matter what happens, you’re going to graduate in Class Three. You’re going to be given incredible opportunities in the Republic. Compete hard, Vis, but remember that there’s nothing out here worth dying for.”

I almost laugh. Ulciscor will see me in a Sapper if I don’t run the Labyrinth. I’ll either be ceding in Caten or on the run if I don’t win the Iudicium.

Taking it less seriously doesn’t feel like sound advice, at present.

“Thank you, Principalis.” I let him hang the paired white medallion around my neck. “I’ll remember that.”

He hands me a gold-painted spherical stone, no wider than my thumbnail. It pulls almost directly to the south as I cup it in my palm. “Don’t lose it,” says Veridius dryly. He grips me briefly on the shoulder. “Luck, Vis.”

Nequias has finished giving Aequa and Callidus their medallions. I nod to the Praeceptors, and then gesture to my teammates.

We head into the forest.

“You’re taking us very west,” observes Aequa, a little uneasily, about two minutes after the Praeceptors and the remaining Sextii are replaced by underbrush behind us.

The forest is thick, branches clawing across the narrow trail—more of an animal track—that we’re following. It’s a chilly spring morning and the leaves are damp when we push them from our path, frost only now fading from the grass, most clearings we come across still dusted in slippery white. There’s a stillness to everything, no wind, only faint birdcalls snatching at the edges of the hush.

“If anyone’s planning on ambushing us, we need to make them chase us—we’re best to get close to the western boundary, well out of anyone’s way. It will take a little longer, but none of the others will try to get the Heart without scouting where it’s being kept. We have time.”

“It’s a risk. Puts us behind,” observes Callidus.

“We’re starting at a disadvantage. We need to take risks.”

I forge ahead, not waiting for a response, trying not to show how desperate I am for Aequa and Callidus to just accept our direction.

We walk for about ten minutes, and then I hold up a hand, bringing us to a stop by a stream.

“What is it?” Callidus frowns at me. “We can’t delay if we’re going this way.”

“I have to get this tracker out of me.”

Their expressions turn from confusion to distaste as they realise what I’m saying. “Why?” asks Callidus. “It’s just for safety. The others can’t use it to see where we are.”

“It means we can keep the medallion and the tracker together, even if I’m not there. We can misdirect the other teams.”

Aequa and Callidus look at each other. “We’ll wait over here.”

I spend the next five minutes awkwardly jamming a finger down my throat and retching. The bread I ate earlier helps; I’m not sure the small stone would have come out, but the half-masticated chunks of white force it up. I give a racking cough, wiping acidic spittle from my mouth, as I pluck the black bead from the ground and wash it, and myself, in the clear running water. Then I spit for a minute before taking a long drink.

“Done?” asks Callidus wryly as I rejoin him and Aequa.

I hold up the bead in weary triumph, then tuck it into the pocket of my cloak.

We walk on for another hour before pausing to rest, quietly arguing our best course of action for much of the time. Without a way to know what the other groups are doing, we’re all but blind. Callidus is of the opinion that we should be staking out the Heart, risking an ambush in the hopes that we can make use of the chaos that’s sure to erupt once someone tries to take it. Aequa maintains that we’re better off circling completely around, positioning ourselves on high ground somewhere between the Heart and the Academy. That way we can move when it moves, pick our terrain, lay our own ambush.

I listen to both arguments, but neither of them feel like good options. I occasionally check the golden tracker for the Heart, but it continues to point solidly toward the middle of Solivagus. It’s not terribly accurate, though: it only shows direction, not distance. And as long as we’re moving, it will be difficult to assess whether the Heart is moving as well. Especially if it’s a long way away.

“We can’t win like this,” I say suddenly, interrupting Callidus.

“Inspiring,” observes Aequa.

“I’m not saying we can’t win. I’m saying we need to improve our situation before we try anything else.” I rub my forehead. “Did either of you see those stone circles the Sextii had?”

They both nod. Then pause. Then frown.

“Vis…” Callidus says slowly. “No.”

Aequa opens her mouth to agree, but instead her eyes go wide. There’s a crashing of foliage from my left. Callidus yells something incomprehensible. I flinch, on instinct twisting and raising my arm; something hard and heavy crunches into it, sending a shiver of agony ricocheting through to my shoulder. I howl in shock and pain and wrench away, only able to glimpse the threatening dark shape bearing down at me from the trees before I’m being tackled to the ground, the air knocked out of me. I gasp but to no avail, too dazed to fend off the next blow as it connects squarely with the side of my head. Or the next.

There’s more shouting, vague and panicked and furious. It soon fades, along with everything else.