Darkness Falling: Soldiers and Slaves (11 page)

She played her part as the good princess. Thankfully the event was short. The nobles departed to their apartments to rest until the evening's festivities. Gleyth fled back to her own rooms and closed herself in. Soon the house slaves would come to dress her for the ball. She felt her stomach knotting and her heart racing in distress.

It was all too real and happening far too quickly.

She wasn't ready to get married. She had lived her entire life in Empire Tower with only brief stays with her uncle as a child. There was so much of the world she wanted to see and experience. Xander was right, she was nothing more than a slave to be bought and sold.

Exhaling a long breath, Gleyth sat on the edge of her bed. Impyra had the right idea. They weren't going to let her go without a fight. The only way out was to run.

“I can't do this,” Gleyth said to the empty room. “I can't stay here. I'm not going to do this.”

Her decision put her in motion. Taking a bag from her closet she began stuffing it full of skirts and blouses. She zipped it shut and put on a long, flowing blue coat and tied a scarf around her head. With a last look at the room she had occupied since her birth, Gleyth shed not a single tear as she hurried into the elevator. The guard had not yet been increased for the evening's events. It would be easy to avoid notice. Watching the elevator doors slide shut far slower than they ever had before, she took slow and calculated breaths.

Empire Tower had three exits.

The first was the garage. Although it was tempting to pretend she could steal one of her father's cars, she knew they were heavily guarded by Enforcers.

The second was the roof, but she would need clearance and a helicopter. Trying to convince herself that she could drive a car was plausible, but even in her heightened state of anxiety she couldn't imagine trying to fly.

The final exit was located on the first floor, known as the Gallery, and the front doors to the Tower itself. Having fallen into long disuse, they were almost as much of a relic as the historical artifacts that surrounded them. None of the Tower's occupants, be they Enforcer or nobility, had any reason to walk anywhere. Taking a vehicle was quicker and safer.

Due to her insatiable curiosity, Gleyth knew the mechanism to unlock the doors and open the way through the Field Energy was still intact. All that was required to step through into the courtyard was a simple eight-digit code. She was not taking her time to think her plan through to the end. Her confidence in being able to decipher the code was based on delusions of desperation.

The Gallery was so named because it was a museum of relics of the Empire's heritage. Artwork, armor, weaponry, maps, old coins; anything that spoke of the glorious rise of Sa'Toret-Ekar was displayed there. Gleyth was one of the few people who spent time there for enjoyment. She saw the value of the past but her father did not, which meant the Enforcer patrols were few and far between. She felt her anxiety swell as the elevator came to a halt. The doors opened on the familiar space which suddenly seemed sinister.

Dark shadows swallowed up much of the Gallery, which stretched the length and width of the Tower. Pools of golden light bathed solitary artifacts in their displays from small spotlights set into the ceiling. Located below the rim of the outer walls, it was difficult for the sunlight to add its warmth to the interior lighting. Gleyth stood frozen in place, her eyes darting in anticipation of any Enforcers that might be nearby.

The doors were about to close when she steeled her nerve and stepped out, chiding herself for her fear. Walking as quietly as she could, she reminded herself of the many times she had visited without a single confrontation. The displays which usually offered comfort transformed into excellent sources of cover and the opportunity to be ambushed. Ahead of her the large double doors materialized out of the shadows.

Gleyth's heart raced and she began to walk faster.

Intricately carved with filigree, the doors were a reminder of when Empire Tower had been more than glass and steel. Gleyth exhaled sharply and placed her hand against the cool wood. The hum of the Field Energy was audible beyond, sizzling as it protected the Tower from dancing snowflakes. To her right was the small control panel; a silver plate adorned with letter and number keys and a small digital screen. She only needed to enter the code and she would be free.

The wrong code would sound the alarm.

Her mind was a swirl of ideas as she tried to think what her father would consider suitable to protect the Tower from invasion; her birthing day or perhaps Xander's? Maybe it was a random series of letters and numbers. She stood with her hand hovering just above the panel, lost in thought.

“Running away?”

Startled by the voice, Gleyth jumped. She sucked in her breathe to stop herself from screaming. Turning her head, she saw Kevie standing just outside the pool of light around the door. His green eyes glowed through the darkness.

She tried to think quickly. “No, I was just going to walk in the yard. I need some air.” He was starting to make a habit of appearing when he was least expected. “The Tower can be rather stifling.”

Kevie's eyes shifted from her face to her bag. “I would state otherwise, but it isn't polite to argue with a princess.”

Gleyth frowned. “Who sent you to find me?”

Kevie shook his head. “No one, your highness, I was already here out of my own curiosity.” Gleyth didn't believe him, but he continued, “This is quite a fantastic collection. It's a shame it sits down here gathering dust.”

“Well, if you're not here to find me then maybe you'll do me a favor and pretend you never saw me.” Gleyth knew he wouldn't agree but she had to try.

Stepping forward he said, “Although I understand your desire to flee, doing so would not be in your best interests. They would probably just send us to bring you back.” He appeared taller than before and far more intimidating. With the door at her back she felt trapped. “From what I could see you don't know how to open the door.”

Gleyth stared up at him, her face calm as her heart pounded in her ears. He waited patiently for her to admit to herself that he was right. “I don't want to be sold,” she said flatly.

“I know,” he bobbed his head once in agreement. “This is not the way.”

She hadn't expected him to say that. “What is the way?”

“That is yet to be discovered,” he shrugged.

She allowed the silence to settle between them. Kevie waited for her to decide on her own, not pushing her to the decision they both knew she needed to make. Taking one step forward she gave in to his logic. He offered her his arm. Gleyth hesitated only for a moment before she took it, believing it a gesture of support rather than one of force.

The announcement of marriage was not the marriage itself. There was still time. She did not protest as he accompanied her back to the elevator.

“Were you really down here to look at the artifacts?” She asked as they doors closed.

He smiled at her slyly but did not answer.

* * *

As the elevator carried Kevie and the princess back into the Tower, Tyn emerged from the shadows. He paused for a moment to taste the air. This chamber was overflowing with stagnant energy. Many of the relics were enchanted, their magic dormant after years of neglect. Intertwined with the steady flow of Empire Tower’s operational energy it was irritating to his sensitivity.

There was one item in particular that drew his attention; a sword hung across the Gallery, the power which swirled around it was intriguing and hypnotic. Now was not the time to investigate. Instead, he would include it in his report to Garinsith and allow the Master Keeper to decide on whether it required further investigation.

Approaching the doors, Tyn examined the key panel. It was a primitive device by his standard. Placing his hand in front of it the code revealed itself through the energy that powered the thing. The door swung inward. The Field Energy withdrew just enough to allow him to pass. Once he was on the outside the Tower sealed itself automatically behind him. Tyn took note of a freestanding panel nearby which would allow him reentry.

Being outside of the Field Energy he felt freed from the confines of the restrictive Imperial gaze. He wasn’t one to enjoy the sensation of being caged. Gauging the height of the inner wall he leaped, his body flying upward, and landed easily on the top. Again he jumped onto the outer wall. It felt good to exercise his skill. Taking a moment to make sure no one was standing on the sidewalk below, Tyn hopped down. It was as easy for him as for a child to climb out of bed in the morning.

Tyn breathed in the city's energy. It was worse than the stagnating enchantments of the Gallery, stale and flat. He almost gagged. If nothing else, it would make it easier for him to sense what he was searching for; a hum of power not unlike that of the Master Keeper. He could feel it blooming to the south; a warm haze amidst the dregs of desperation.

With his head and shoulders bowed, Tyn began to walk at an easy pace through the vacant streets. Rau’Tesche-Awn was a strange place. The city had the appearance of something dead, but there was life everywhere. The people kept themselves locked behind closed doors. The businesses that survived did so quietly. They sky was choked with pollution from factories that still functioned. The Emperor may be turning a blind eye but those who could continue to crawled onward in an attempt to stay alive.

It was an instinctive, timeless struggle.

The emptiness of East Gate was contrasted by the fullness of South Gate. Tyn observed the people as he passed. They were primarily Ekaran by birth. He knew that as a people they tended to favor their own; slaves were of foreign birth as a general rule. The collapse was enough to create another gap in the system; that between nobility and poverty. Few people existed in the middle.

Following the trail of energy, Tyn found his way to a dilapidated old building. He stood across the street, impressed by what he saw. It wasn’t the original structure which stood on the land; the shadowy aura of an old temple could be seen resting on top of the crumbling stone. From within he could sense the writhing energy of the sick and dying.

The shimmer of magic to repel malicious intent was strong. He dared not draw too close. Although he was there only as an observer, he did not wish to trigger the ward and feel its effects. It was not an ordinary protection, but something worth avoiding. Garinsith didn’t give his cousin enough credit, Tyn decided. It was proof that she was afraid of Garinsith as the Master Keeper suspected. That was a positive sign that she may refrain from interfering.

Her desire to hinder Garinsith’s plans would be far greater than a mere annoyance. She had the potential of success based on what Tyn had witnessed from a single spell.

Woven among the residue of Winifred’s presence and the life that still existed within the building itself, he could also sense the imprint of an Enforcer’s energy. That must belong to Brosen, painting a clearer picture of why the soldier made his choice. Beyond that there was another energy as well, something far stronger. The clarity of it was astounding.

The Balance
.

Taking a deep breath Tyn believed that they were following the right girl for the first time. There had been others in recent years, but all proved little more than rumor.

Winifred had housed not only the Enforcer but the slave. He tracked the energy as it made a line away from the building toward the south. Tyn closed his eyes to memorize the pattern within the thread. He would need it once they were on the hunt. She would not be able to hide, not so long as she lived.

Feeling that he’d gathered enough information for his report, Tyn turned back toward Empire Tower. As evening set in the air was growing colder; it wouldn’t be long before the true storm was upon them. He trusted that Garinsith would be ready.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

“We can't allow you to spend all of your credits on us,” Brosen insisted as Sheyra perused the departures board of the shipping yard.

“I'm not spending 
all
 of them on 
you
,” she said absently. “I think I'm going to keep that car, it's pretty nice and I might be able to use it.”

Brosen sighed. He glanced over at Impyra who watched emotionless as her companions argued. “I still don't understand why you want to stay here. You could just come with us.”

Sheyra shook her head, her black hair a shimmering cascade down her back. “No thank you,” she said. “I'm not interested in a sea voyage. Besides, I'll have a greater purpose staying here.”

He didn't know why he bothered. She was never going to listen and he was never going to agree with her plan to join the Resistance.

“This one; this one right here,” Sheyra pointed triumphantly as she read; “
The Water Skipper
 departing for Port Kooriellel, Renenook, at fifteen hundred hours; passengers accepted. Will consider discounted passage for those willing to work and who bring their own rations. Inquire with Hener Dei'Brenen, Captain, at pier eighteen.” Sheyra whirled around, flashing her brightest smile. “That's only four hours from now.”

Brosen couldn't disagree that it did sound promising. “We still have the issue that I can't use my ID and Impyra doesn't have one,” he reminded her.

Sheyra waved her hand in annoyance. “There's a little tactic called deception and I have a plan on how to use it.”

Brosen ran his hand through his hair. Her rampant optimism made him nervous. She tilted her head to the side, taking note of his uncertainty.

“Hey,” she said. “Have I let you down? Didn't I keep my cool when we were being shot at? Didn't I get us this fine car? Didn't I pick out the perfect brown hair dye?” Sheyra shook her head slowly. “You really should just trust me.”

Impyra was biting her lip in an attempt to hide a smile. Sheyra's good mood was infectious, but Brosen needed to stay focused on reality.

“Fine, what's your plan?”

“Easy,” Sheyra clasped her hands behind her back; rocking up onto the balls of her feet. “We just explain how we were robbed, and they took the bag with your ID cards. But, you have a sick relative in Renenook and you don't have time to apply for new ones.”

Brosen bowed his head. It wasn't the worst plan but he doubted it would work.

“I don't think a ship's captain would risk his livelihood on the word of two strangers when there are two escaped traitors roaming the countryside.”

Sheyra frowned at his negativity.

“Also,” he continued. “I have that,” Brosen nodded toward the White Energy gun lying across the back seat. Do you really think someone would rob a band of armed travelers?”

“Fine,” Sheyra said, crossing her arms. “Do you have any ideas?”

He wasn't willing to admit that he didn't, but his silence was enough. She grinned. He shook his head.

“Maybe,” Impyra said quietly, “Sheyra could tell him that we're her slaves, and she's transporting us to her sick relative as caretakers since she is unable to go herself.”

Brosen and Sheyra stared at her in quiet surprise. That was not a bad idea.

“I mean, I have my mark,” she rubbed her wrist absently. “If we could trace over Brosen's mark so that it isn't blue, it might work.”

“A little bit of makeup should do the trick,” Sheyra nodded enthusiastically.

Brosen groaned; more beauty products.

“This could actually work. You should be grateful you have such a smart traveling companion.” Sheyra punched him playfully in the shoulder.

He grimaced more from annoyance than actual pain. “I am,” he muttered awkwardly.

“All right, we'll get some eyeliner at the general store and more supplies for the journey. Then we'll head over to pier eighteen. The two of you will be away from Sa'Toret-Ekar in no time.” She ran around to the driver seat and shut herself in the car.

The store was two blocks up the street. Sheyra ran inside alone. Brosen sat in the back seat staring at the back of Impyra's head.

“It really is a good idea,” he said, feeling his cheeks grow hot at the compliment. He was glad she wasn't looking at him.

“Thanks,” She said. “It just made more sense.” Suddenly she turned around, kneeling on the seat. “Wait, what about the gun?”

Brosen rocked his head back onto the seat. “Maybe we'll just give it to Sheyra,” he said.

Impyra shook her head, eyes wide. “I can't be the only protection we have.”

“Yeah, I know.”

Sheyra reappeared and handed a small bag to Impyra. She sighed when she realized they were being moody again. He couldn't blame her for wanting to be away from their muted emotions.

“What's happened now?” She asked.

“The gun,” Brosen said.

“Don't worry; I have an idea about that, too. Here, give me your arm.”

Brosen hesitantly placed his hand on the back of the seat. She pulled up his sleeve and used the eyeliner to trace over the top of his Enforcer mark. The cold liquid tickled his skin but he clenched his jaw, forcing himself to remain still.

“Blow on it,” she instructed.

“What's your idea about the gun?” Impyra asked.

“I'm not sending my valuable slaves overseas without protection. If he can't agree to that, then we'll find another boat.” Sheyra started the engine.

“That might work,” Impyra agreed.

“Yeah, it's risky but I don't know what else we could say,” Brosen nodded.

Sheyra's mouth dropped open in shock. “Did you just agree with me? Maybe there is hope for you,” she laughed.

“Let's just get this over with,” Brosen sighed.

Docked at pier eighteen, 
The Water Skipper
 was a rusty old cargo vessel that had seen better days. The crew was a bunch of filthy looking older men; some of them appeared to be drunk as they wove their way unsteadily across the deck. Brosen felt his hope fading, but Sheyra wasn't fazed.

“I'd like to speak to the captain,” she said, walking confidently up to the nearest man. He was tall and wiry. A scraggly salt and pepper beard adorned his chin, bits of his lunch caught in the strands.

“That's me,” the man made a whistling sound as he spoke. “Hener Dei'Brenen, at your service,” he smiled, revealing that he was missing more than a few teeth.

“Very good,” Sheyra stood up to her full height, attempting to look important. “I must purchase passage for my slaves to Renenoors. I saw your ad on the departures board. It is an emergent situation. They would be willing to work along with what I can afford to pay.”

The captain looked them over thoughtfully for a moment. “Are they willing to do more than work?” he asked, his eyes lingering on Impyra.

Brosen started to step forward but Sheyra stopped him. “Absolutely not, and I will be assured that no harm will come to them during the voyage.” She held up the White Energy gun and handed it to Brosen.

Captain Dei'Brenen took a step back. “Well now, slaves ain't allowed armaments, lady,” he said.

“I can take my business elsewhere, but it appears you may be in need of the credits.”

The man thought it over, scratching his beard. “Well now, I don't want to get raided and have it discovered I'm transporting armed slaves.”

“Very well, we'll be on our way,” Sheyra turned and began walking back up the pier.

“Now hold on there, lady,” the captain said hastily. Brosen couldn't believe it had worked. “All right, but if I get my boat sunk for helpin’ murderers or somethin’… jus’ know that I’ll be takin’ my revenge.”

“Understood,” Sheyra smiled menacingly. “And if my slaves are harmed I'll be taking mine.” Despite her cheerful nature she could still be intimidating. “Now, shall we talk the price of the fare?”

“One hundred and fifty each,” he said.

“One hundred each and they will work, as I said.” Sheyra countered.

Brosen shook his head slowly. Haggling must have been her hobby, he decided.

The captain frowned. “All right, but they bring their own food.”

“Deal,” Sheyra said.

They followed the captain into a small shanty at the edge of the pier. It functioned as a small office. He swiped Sheyra's card and smiled.

“Two hundred credits approved,” the happiness in his tone was laced with relief. Sheyra was right, he had needed the credits.

While they were preoccupied Impyra tugged on Brosen's sleeve.

“I don't want to cross the ocean with Captain Whistles,” she whispered.

Her eyes grew wide with surprise when he laughed. Sheyra glared at them over her shoulder.

Still smiling he said, “I don't either but it's better than nothing.”

She didn't look like she believed him but she nodded anyway. He wouldn't let anything happen to her, but he didn't say it out loud.

“We leave right at fifteen hundred hours. Be on board or we sail without ya.” The captain growled. “No refunds.”

They walked back to the car and Sheyra breathed a sigh of relief. “That went well, don't you think?”

“Yeah, as long as we don't sink or get murdered,” Impyra muttered.

“Grizzly old seafarers are worse than they look,” Sheyra offered sagely.

“Easy for you to say,” Impyra frowned. “Now we just have to wait.”

“It's only a few hours. We should get some rest while we can,” Brosen suggested.

Sheyra let out a dramatic sigh. “Hopefully once you're in Renenook you'll both be a little happier.”

Brosen doubted it. Although he wasn't pleased with the ship he did feel as if a weight lifted from his shoulders.  He didn't know why the Emperor had halted the pursuit but he was starting to feel hope for the first time. Renenook was only partially controlled by the Empire. He'd heard of the Far Lands far to the north. They were territories free of Imperial rule, but also offered a suitable place to hide in the remote wilderness. All that remained was finding a way there while continuing to evade notice.

* * *

With a few hours to spare before the princess's celebration, Lethel took the time to complete her assigned task. Taking the elevator to the twenty-ninth floor, she found herself in the small lobby of the administrative archive. It was an uninteresting room with gray walls and gray carpeting. A collection of soft chairs was gathered around a low table sat empty to her right. In front of her a tall gray desk blocked the path to the door that lead into the records room beyond.

Seated behind the desk was a young Enforcer. He sat up straight at her approach to mask his obvious boredom. This was going to be far more amusing than expected. She observed the cloud of discomfort that passed across his face as he realized she was of similar blood. These Imperial Dreave were pathetic; nothing more than lap dogs with the fight bred right out of them. Lethel was a wolf by all standards, and she enjoyed toying with her prey.

“The Master Keeper requires the complete file on Brosen En-Harn and the file of Treve En-Harn,” she said coldly, pinning him with her eyes.

“Everything the Emperor has approved was already delivered to Master Garinsith's apartments,” the young man replied.

He was doing his best to look stern. How cute. She imagined the noise he would make if she cut off his nose. Unfortunately, she had promised to be on good behavior. Pity.

Lethel lifted her hand, showing her palm to the Enforcer. He stared at it, confused.  “The Master Keeper requires the complete file on Brosen En-Harn and the file of Treve En-Harn.” she repeated, her words slow and deliberate.

The Enforcer's eyes took on a glossy sheen and his face became expressionless. “Yes, of course,” his voice was flat and monotone as he spoke. He began typing on the computer. “Do you want that printed or the original?”

“The original,” That would be far more interesting.

The door to the record room buzzed before it opened. He moved as if he was pulled along by a string. Lethel waited patiently for him to shamble back out, manila folders tucked under his arm. He placed them on the desk before her.

“Is there anything else you need?” He asked.

Lethel considered his questions. She would like to leave him unconscious, but she knew that would not be tolerated. “That is all,” she said, releasing his mind.

The Enforcer was dazed. He shook his head and took little notice of her as she returned to the elevator. Once he’d regained his senses he wouldn’t even remember their interaction.

On the sixtieth floor, Garinsith was seated at a table near a window, a cup of coffee in his hands. She unceremoniously dropped the files onto the table with a thud before falling into a chair beside him.

“Done,” she said. “I hope we're leaving soon. This place is tedious.” Leaning back, she laced her hands behind her head. “They've diluted the bloodline so much that the Dreave are barely more than glorified Ekar. It's insulting.”

She despised the idea of her people being turned into slaves, and it disgusted her to know they had been stripped of their true power.