Amendments (8 page)

              Kit watched the king walk away.  He thought, “Give me the opportunity and I’ll put a sword through that man’s belly.”  Then Kit turned to the alley.

              Kit ducked his head under the rags that were strung across the entrance to the small alley.  The smell of unwashed flesh met his nose as he looked down disgustingly at the people who made their home there.  “I’m looking for— ”

              “We know who you’re looking for,” one dirty elderly woman interrupted.  “No one who’s dressed like you comes to us unless they want to see her.”  The old woman raised a boney, shaking arm and pointed.  “She’s through there.”

              Kit stepped over the trash and the people who resided in the filth and went to another set of rags blocking his view.  He started to brush them aside when the dirt underneath his feet suddenly stirred causing him to be flung forward and fall to his hands and knees.  What he'd been standing on was not dirt, but a disgustingly dirty and frail old woman.

              “So you came, Kit.”  The woman’s voice was sad and quiet.

              Kit stood and went to brush the dirt from the knees of his clothes, but found he was only putting more dirt on from his hands.  He scoffed and finally took a good look at the woman he was to meet.  She was filthy, covered in rags, and sat atop a pile of trash.  It was hard to place her age with all the filth covering her face, but if he had to guess, he'd say around seventy.  It could be that the dirt made her look older, though.

              “So you are her?  The one who made the straghs?”

              “I am nobody.  Dead.  Forever.”

              Kit gave a frustrated sigh.  “Why did you summon me to meet you after all this time?  I have done as you asked over and over.”

              The woman shifted and a new wave of human stench met Kit’s nose.  “I need you for something more, Kit.  Something
much
more.”

              She coughed for an oddly long time.  When she finally stopped, Kit asked, “Well, what is it?”

              “The Lumin is dead.  All my hopes rested with the Lumin just like so many other fools.  What I need from you, Kit is to become another Lumin.”

              Kit laughed.  The absurdity of what she had just said was immense.  Kit stifled his laughter when he saw the seriousness that remained on the woman's dirty face.  “That’s impossible.  There’s only one Lumin and she's dead.”

              “The Lumin is only a title given to someone who can use all three vigors.  I need you to gain the ability to use the other two.”

              Kit shook his head in disbelief.  “You’re serious?  So what you’re saying is that I need to…,” he trailed off.

              “Yes, Luxin Kit.”

              “But how?”

              “I can get you to the dragons.”

              “And melt my skin off?”   He laughed again.  “Why would I want that?”

              The woman’s voice became even more sinister.  “Because I can get you to Grandel.”

              Kit suddenly became serious.  “I see.  Well, let’s get started.”

Chapter 9

Acceptance

              Luxin Adeel finished making the alterations to Grandel’s appearance that morning.  She had worked on it for days.  Grandel hid in his dwelling during the process so no one, not even people from Talik, would realize what was happening.  Adeel even found a solution in town that discolored his skin so he had a pale ring around his neck.  It looked exactly like what the slaves from Chrion had from their slave collars.  Adeel had fought with Grandel the whole time about his plan, but nothing would change his mind.

              Grandel now wore the rags of a refugee and made his way down the side of the mountain from Talik.  He moved toward the refugee camp, which had grown substantially in the past weeks.  Isis flew in the sky nearby.  As usual, the feelings that came through the permanent sye connection between them made him feel more free and unburdened than he felt like he deserved.  He sent images and feelings back through the connection reiterating the need for Isis to stay clear of him while he was in the camp.  He sent images of her flying high overhead, keeping to the wilderness, and only visiting him at night when he was alone.  She didn’t respond, so Grandel assumed she understood.  He was beginning to detect a certain orneriness in the hawk's personality.  She probably understood his commands, but was annoyed at being told so many times, so she didn't respond.

              Grandel approached the outermost tents of the Returner camp.  He saw no one watching the perimeter and slipped easily into town.  The conditions were not good.  Hastily made tents and a few wood hovels were the only settlements.  Some people moved about doing work, but most simply sat and looked hungry.  He quickly realized that his physical build was too robust to pass as one of these people and he feared it might give him away.  Most of them looked half starved.

              “Excuse me, ma'am,” Grandel called to a woman who was working in a small vegetable garden next to her tent. “I’m a new refugee.  Where can I find who is in charge?”

              “You want Menoh.  His tent is the one next to the Lumin shrine.”  She looked up from her work and noticed his confusion.  “The large wooden sculpture of wings over on the west side.”

              “Thank you, ma’am.”  Grandel walked away in the direction of the west side of the camp.  He was not looking forward to seeing Menoh again.  Grandel didn’t like the man the last time he met him.  Plus, if anyone was going to recognize him in The Returners, it would be Menoh.

              Isis picked up on his nervousness from high above.  Grandel sent the emotions of peaceful security but caution which told her he'd be fine.

              Grandel found the wooden Lumin sculpture and a large, burlap tent next to it.  A few dozen logs lay on their sides in front of the Lumin sculpture to serve as benches for a congregation.  Grandel saw what he assumed were supposed to be guards outside the burlap tent, but the two men had posture like they were half asleep.  One carried an old, battered sword, and the other had a large wooden club.  They only noticed Grandel when he was nearly upon them, and even then made no motion to stop him. 

              “Excuse me,” Grandel said to the two guards.  “I just arrived from Chiron.  Is this the refugee camp?”

              “You are in the right place,” one guard responded.  “I see the mark from your former bondage.  You are safe now, friend.”  The guard meant the band of light skin around Grandel's neck that passed as a former slave collar.

              Grandel acted as best he could.  “Thank you so much!  I was just released a week ago from Hess’erabi, and I came to see if this place really existed.”

              “Let me go get Menoh.  He will know what to do with you.”  The other guard went inside the tent.

              “What did you do before you were a slave?” the first guard asked.

              “Since I was seventeen, I was in the Chrion army.  Then I was a mercenary for a while, but I ended up being hired as a guard for a wealthy blacksmith for years until I was about twenty-five.  I still don’t remember how I became a slave.”

              “Really?  A blacksmith?” the guard looked pleased, as Grandel had hoped.  “I think Menoh will be glad to meet you.”

              “Why is that?” Menoh said as he unexpectedly exited the tent with the other guard behind him.

              The other guard motioned toward Grandel.  “This man was with the Chiron army.  He also was a guard for a blacksmith for years.”

              Menoh looked at Grandel with wide eyes.  Grandel was relieved that he did not see recognition in them.  “Is that so?  You didn’t happen to pick up any of the blacksmithing trade while you worked for him, did you?”

              “A bit, though I am no master,” Grandel replied.  Grandel felt exposed in front of Menoh, but the face changing disguise seemed to be working.

              “The Lumin has blessed us this day.”  Menoh motioned Grandel forward.  “Come here, friend.  You are safe here.  What is your name?”

              Grandel had decided to use the name of one of his favorite mentors from when he was in training as a teenager.  “Octavius.”

              “Octavius!  A royal sounding name.  One certainly not deserving of,” he pointed at the band of lighter skin around Grandel’s neck, “those vile things.”

              “I just want to be free and help however I can.”

              “And you will be, my brother.  This is a peaceful place.”

              Menoh took Grandel into his tent and had him go over everything he knew.  He was instructed to a few procedures of the camp, told where and when to get food, given a tent to set up and a place to do so, then was dismissed with instructions to start teaching blacksmithing the very next morning.  Grandel was relieved his plan seemed to be working.

              Over the next week, Grandel taught a few willing and strong men the craft of blacksmithing.  They made a quick facsimile of a forge as best they could.  They found a few hammers of different shapes after they sent a request across the entire settlement.  For an anvil, they used large, solid rocks that they carried from the cliffs north of town.  They smoothed a few of the rocks’ sides at different angles and curves and it worked surprisingly well.  They received trinkets, nails, and other metal objects that the townsfolk didn’t need to melt down and practice on.  They made a small, rock and clay hearth.  Within a few weeks, they had several iron blacksmithing tools, a couple short swords, several metal spearheads on wood poles, and about a dozen arrowheads.

              Whenever Grandel wasn’t training the new blacksmiths, he trained a handful of refugees who had volunteered to be town watchmen.  Most of the time, they practiced with heavy sticks that represented swords and spears.  As they were completed, they practiced with the metal versions.

              The recruits blocked and parried and practiced killing blows.  Grandel showed them how to chop and thrust without twisting and damaging their wrists.  They ran and did exercises to strengthen their bodies.  They also spent time in the evening searching for and then carving long branches from the woods into bows and stone-tipped arrows.  Soon, they all had working bows and practiced target shooting every day.  As they became better, and others saw their improvement while they practiced, more volunteered.  Soon, Grandel had a few dozen able-bodied men of all different ages doing sword stances and parries and shooting moving targets with some proficiency.

              At night, Grandel slept in a small hovel that he had built in the first week and improved upon every night.  Once Grandel was certain most everyone was asleep, he would signal Isis to join him.  She would fly down and be in the hovel in seconds.  She was quite a fully-grown bird by then and she sent images of a warm nest through the sye connection when she came.  Each other's company was reassuring to both.  She would burrow down in Grandel’s cloak next to him until just before the sky started to glow, then take off to hunt in the morning hours.

              Through Grandel’s work, he soon realized he felt something that had been foreign to him for many years.  His immeasurably heavy conscious was beginning to feel slightly lighter.

Chapter 10

Like Minds

              Noir and Ruith traveled together for the remainder of the day and talked the whole way.  Noir learned much more about the workings of Tier.  He learned more about how the din slaves were captured from the Tierian population, trained to use din, then forced to be the enforcing power in the towns and cities of Tier.  They were forced into this life because once a din user or potential user was discovered, their loved ones’ lives were put to the sword if the din user did not cooperate.  Many who discovered their affinity for din ran away from home to protect their families.  Tierian soldiers constantly used luxsyedins to detect vigor users of any type.  However, only din users were enslaved in this brutal way.  Potential Luxins and potential Syeters that were found were forced to be in the Tierian army.

              Also, Tier supposedly had a king who resided in the Tierian capital.  There was a fort there that housed the king's quarters called Fort Estelar.  Oddly, the king had not been seen by common folk in decades.  Laws simply came down via the soldiers and din slaves.  Those foolish enough to ask questions about the king or the laws were rarely heard from again.

              Despite these atrocities, Tier was a fairly peaceful place.  There was virtually no crime.  The economy of Tier was much more prosperous than Chiron.  Also, despite the vigor users being plucked from the population, if one followed the laws and worked hard, life was not bad in Tier.

              Noir talked to Ruith about Chiron as he had observed it.  Compared to how Ruith had described Tier, it seemed like Chiron wasn’t any better of a place to live.  Noir told him about the slavery that infuriated him so much.  He also talked about the poverty, extreme taxes, harsh climate, and much more.

              “So,” Ruith started after Noir had finished describing more about Chiron, “you ask about Tier like a tourist… and yet you describe Chiron like an outsider.  Where are you from?”  Ruith looked at Noir with what he thought was amused interest.

              Noir suddenly felt his forehead start to sweat.  He couldn’t tell him about coming from another world.  Also, Ruith asked in a knowing way as if he already suspected something out of the ordinary.  Then Noir realized he could simply talk about Talik.  “Remember?  I am from Talik.”

              “Indeed!  However, with my calculations, you have been alive for longer than that town has existed.”

              Noir was even more nervous.  The lie wasn't working.  “I have lived there since I was very young.  I don't remember anything before it.” Noir lied.

              “Hmm…” Ruith hummed.  It was obvious Ruith hadn’t bought his lie.  “You can keep your secrets.  I will not pry further.  However, if you are not from one of the two kingdoms, you need to get better at lying about it.  That could get you thrown in prison in either kingdom.”

              Noir wasn’t sure what to say.  The man was observant.  The two crawled over a large log in their path.  Ruith said, “I have heard stories about Talik before I met you.  I always figured the Tierian army would have smashed them years ago.”  Then Ruith turned toward Noir as if remembering something important.  “The Lumin!  Were you there?  What actually happened?”

              Noir had been asked this hundreds of times or more since Asiada had been murdered by his cousin over two months ago.  Every time he was asked, he again saw and relived that blade coming out of her torso from behind.  He gave the answer that he had given so many before.  “I only know what you know.  I don’t want to talk about it.”

              “Oh,” Ruith muttered obviously disappointed.  They walked on in silence for a while.  All of the events that had haunted Noir came to him again.

              Ruith noticed Noir's withdrawal.  “If it’s that bad, you should talk about it.”

              “I can’t,” Noir said somberly.

              “Why not?”

              “It… it’s too hard.”

              Ruith stopped walking and leaned on his hand against a tree.  Noir stopped and looked at him.  Ruith’s body became tense like before and his fingernails dug into the bark.  He gritted his teeth and closed his eyes for a long moment.  “I lied to you earlier, Noir.”

              “What?”

              “My family isn’t in the Tierian capital like I said.  They were murdered.  I was married and had a beautiful baby girl.  They were taken from me because I couldn’t stand to….”  He shuddered.  A piece of bark cracked and came off under his fingernails.  Ruith looked side-long at Noir and pointed to the scars on his face.  “I couldn't stand this for more than a few seconds.”

              Ruith stood there for a long moment.  Noir didn’t know what to say.  Ruith looked into the trees at the moon overhead and spoke as if far away.  “His eyes were looking straight into my eyes as they sliced him open above me.  I couldn’t stop looking at his eyes.  They were full of immeasurable rage and sorrow.  You just can’t imagine, Noir.  As soon as the creature’s blood hit my face, I panicked and washed the blood off my face in the underground lake.  I have never felt anything so wrong in my life.”

              Sadly, Noir said, “That’s awful.  I’m sorry.”

              “I was in the Tierian dungeon for two weeks.  I refused to go back to the chamber with Nidhoggr.  They told me my family would be in trouble if I didn’t comply, but I just couldn’t do it.  I couldn’t face his eyes again, so I ran back to my family.  I had to kill nine guards to get out, but when I got to my family….”  Ruith stopped mid-sentence and Noir watched the man’s shoulders lurch up and down with his sobbing.

              Noir politely stood and watched the man work through his grief.  Eventually, Ruith collected himself and turned to Noir.  He sighed and murmured, “It helps to talk about it.  It doesn’t change anything, but it helps.  Thank you for letting me share that.”

              Noir understood what the man was doing.  They could share in their misery and, somehow, possibly gain some comfort from it.  It was possible this man was making up lies or just trying to get him to talk, but for some reason, Noir felt like he could trust him.  Noir started his story from where he met Asiada.  He felt no need to leave out any details.  The only thing he changed was where he and Asiada truly came from.

              Noir sat as he told his story.  He stayed much more collected than Ruith had.  As Noir talked, he realized that it did feel good to get everything off of his chest.  When he finally finished with the death of the Lumin, Ruith did not say anything.  He sat and stared into the trees above for a while.  Noir welcomed the relief that came with telling someone else his story and lay on his back in the dirt on the forest floor.

              They sat in silence for a long while.  Noir found himself watching the constellations again as he had before he'd left New Talik.  He watched them slowly move overhead in relation to the branches before they finally got up and continued toward the next town.  The only thing that Ruith said about Noir’s story was, “So the Lumin really is dead.  I fear for our road ahead.  What will we do now?”

              The question bounced around inside Noir’s head for hours as they walked in silence.  What would he do?  The trees finally parted and a hill in the distance was covered with the stumps of logged trees.  A ways ahead of them was the glow of fires and glow spheres of a town.  A dirt path crossed the hills leading to the town.  The sight reminded Noir of the previous town’s events and especially of Ratt.

              “I know,” Noir uttered cryptically, finally breaking the silence.

              “What are you talking about?” Ruith asked, forgetting the question he asked earlier.

              “I know what we do now.”