Darkness Falling: Soldiers and Slaves (15 page)

“If I was the Enforcers,” one of them was saying, “I'd catch those traitors real fast. Ya jus'gotta be a bit smarter, if ya ask me.”

He held up his hands as if he were holding a White Energy gun, one eye squinted shut as he aimed for an invisible target.

“It's like this, boom boom pow kaboom!” the room echoed as he mimicked the noises. “Then ya bury the bodies.” He dusted off his hands to impress upon the simplicity of his solution.

“No one did ask ya,” the other boy grumbled. “What do ya know about bein' an Enforcer? Ya can't even shoot a gun. Besides, they tried that didn't ya see?”

“I saw,” the first boy said. Dejected, he began scraping the wall close to where he was standing. “Y'ain't any fun, Jek.”

Brosen glanced over his shoulder at the boy. A tuft of brown hair poked out from under his cap. He must be Leyk. The other boy's hair was darker and slicked back with sweat. At least it was a start in getting to know them.

“I heard the bastards blew up Ro'Tesche-En,” Jek said.

Brosen focused on his work, clenching his teeth. Refuting the lies of the media would only draw unwanted attention. Perhaps someday the truth would be revealed. He doubted it.

“That's what traitors do,” Leyk responded casually, as if he were well versed on the subject.

“You watch the news about the traitors?” Jek asked, eyeing Brosen suspiciously.

Suddenly glad his hair was dyed, he took a moment to consider the question.

“Not really, my mistress doesn't allow us to watch the screen.”

He felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. He had hesitated too long; they wouldn't believe him.

“Hey,” Leyk said, taking a moment to examine Brosen closer, “Where ya from anyway?”

Brosen's mind went blank. “Ro'Tesche-Ala,” he said. “Where are you from?”

“Dad works in the engine room,” he said. “Ma is from Gillinera,” she stays there. “Dad said workin' the ship'll make me a man.” Leyk puffed out his chest proudly.

Relieved his question turned the conversation, Brosen merely smiled with a patient nod,

Jek turned away and started chipping at the rust on the wall behind him. The slump in his shoulders combined with his withdrawal from the conversation said as much as a vocal answer. He must not have parents. It was a common tactic for the orphan kids when others were talking about family.

“Yer traveling with a lady?” Leyk asked.

“That's right,” Brosen said.

Leyk tilted his head, curious. “Is she yer wife?”

“No.” Brosen blushed, quickly turning back to his work. “She works with me. We're friends.”

Focusing on scraping he decided it was a futile job. The ship was so badly rusted they might poke through to the other side.

“Yeah, right,” Leyk snorted. “I saw ya get on the ship. Ya 
love 
her. I bet ya like t'k
iss
 her.”

The boy made kissing noises and Brosen felt the back of his neck growing hot.

“See, look, Jek,” he laughed. “I 
knew
 it!”

“Shut up, Leyk,” the other boy mumbled, still upset by their previous discussion.

“Bunch of crybabies,” Leyk sighed, rolling his eyes as went back to work.

Brosen wondered if other people were questioning his relationship with Impyra. He hoped not. Leyk was just a boy and prone to tease people, that much was obvious. He wouldn't be upset if Impyra was thought of as his wife. The assumption would give them a simple explanation for their companionship while traveling. Impyra might not like that idea, though. She would look at him with mistrust in her eyes as she tried to calculate what darker purpose using such a title would include.

He realized he was scraping the same spot over and over. Brosen stopped to stare at the wall.

The reality was there must be something obvious in his behavior toward her if the kids noticed. That was the first time he'd allowed the thought to fully take hold. In his mind her face flashed through all of the moments they'd spent together. She was quiet and unassuming yet also a force of nature. He didn't know how to describe it, but hearing it out loud made it tangible.

Enforcers weren't allowed to love.

They could empathize, maybe. Love, however; was unacceptable. The only bonds allowed were with their fellow soldiers to ensure they functioned as a team. Breeding was not an act of partnership. The bloodlines must be continued. Their assigned mate was a warm body to carry their seed into the next generation. When that child was old enough it would be plucked from her arms and sent through the training machine.

Brosen remembered his mother; the vague image of a smiling face in a halo of brown hair, her green eyes glowing tenderly. That was all he knew of love.

The tangle of emotion sat heavily in his chest. He couldn't understand it but he also couldn't let go.

“Hey!” Jek shouted next to him. “Are ya gonna scrape or do we call the cap'n?”

Brosen blinked, wondering how long he'd been lost in his thoughts. “Sorry,” he tried to smile. “I was thinking.”

“Almost time to eat,” Leyk said. “You can think then.”

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Garinsith spread a black cloth in the shape of a circle on the floor, carefully smoothing out any wrinkles in the fabric. At the center he placed the Bloody Sirka, a blade he knew well but had long since put out of his mind. The enchantment was one of his first attempts at shaking the pillars of history.

Long ago a discontented chieftain desired to overthrow the balance of power and lead the tribes. Turning the Ekar to his cause was simple, but a greater obstacle stood in his path; the Dreave. Mighty warriors capable of magic, the unnamed clans ruled the northern plains undisturbed while the named clans hid in the safety of the Na'Effilan Forest. The Ekar would not have succeeded in taking the land from them without assistance. Young Petor granted their wishes with enchanted swords and armor for the war.

Garinsith caressed the cold steel, savoring the memories of days long past. 
Death. 
The magic hummed behind his eyes. For a moment he considered sharing the history of the Bloody Sirka with his soldiers, but decided against it. They wouldn’t understand the reasoning behind bringing the Dreave under the yolk of the budding Empire and birthing the Enforcer army.

“We are ready to begin,” he said, kneeling with the sword’s hilt before him.

The Mutilators took their places; Lethel to his right, Tyn at the blade’s tip, and Kevie to his left. Placing their hands in their laps, they bowed their heads in meditation.

“Be wary as you reach out to the sword,” Garinsith warned them. “It is devised to take hold of your desires, feeding off of them and enhancing your skill. The enchantment is vampiric in nature, seeking blood and thus empowering the wielder to feats far beyond his own ability.”

He closed his eyes, allowing his mind to open and embrace the ancient spell.

Blood. 
Garinsith felt the urge for destruction tear at his defenses.

Why should he continue to play such manipulative games when he could be the true leader of the world? The Akar may have been struck down by the wrath of Syerset once, but that was initiated by intense magical warfare upsetting the balance. He alone would not be at war. It would be a simple task to take control. No one alive would be capable of defying him.

Taking the sword in hand, Garinsith quietly rose to his feet. In a single arch he swung the blade, first ripping through Lethel’s throat. She gurgled in surprise, eyes wide, before falling on her side. Kevie leapt to his feet, but too late. The Bloody Sirka tore through his abdomen and he staggered back, confused. Tyn was lunging forward, energy charged at his fingertips in the hopes of stunning the Master Keeper before he could strike. Instead, Garinsith pierced is chest, putting his full weight behind the thrust and shattering the Mutilator's rib cage.

Garinsith pulled back, tearing at the force of the illusion with the sheer will of his mind. He would not succumb to the suggestive nature of the blade.

We don’t need them. 
The words filled his mind.

Grasping at the thread of energy he wrenched it free from the metal.

You hide behind the weak. Take command!

He forced his own will into the sword, suppressing the energy until it began to relent.

Garinsith
 had forgotten the tangled and evasive manner in which he’d woven the spell, preventing tampering from the likes of his cousin Winifred. She was one who would disenchant objects to ensure they did not fall into the hands of the Ekar, rather than seeing the use in granting power at will.

At last he felt the enchantment quiet, his mind grew still. He listened as the metal resonated naturally with its connection to the earth. Garinsith floated in the peaceful darkness of his own mind. Around him, the undisturbed life energies of his soldiers flickered brilliantly, supporting him in his work.

Only then did he begin the task of laying a new enchantment along the remaining grooves of the old, much like reusing the foundation of a collapsed building.

He already knew which spell he would intertwine with the blade. It must not only function in rending the slave girl powerless long enough to be captured, but also to speed the awakening of Syerset. There had once been such an enchantment used to bring the most powerful societies to their knees. His people simply named it the Seeker.

* * *

“Your Majesty,” The Imperial guard bowed and saluted.

“Yes, what is it?”

Seated at his desk, Ka Harn took a deep breath as if roused from deep thought. He had not heard the emergency notification buzzing on his computer, which answered automatically, and was startled by the sudden voice.

“There has been another purchase made with the ID card from the citizen of Ro'Tesche-En,” The guard said, keeping his voice steady. “Citizen Sheyra Gei'Dessa, or her card, is still in Ro'Awnor-Clee as of this morning.”

Ka Harn rubbed his chin, his face darkened by the news. “Has the Master Keeper been informed?”

“No, Your Majesty, we thought to inform you first.”

“Very well,” the Emperor said. “Unless they purchased passage as a ruse, it appears we have a third traitor to deal with. Send a message to Garinsith that he needs to complete his preparations as quickly as possible. We can't allow this cat and mouse game to continue.”

“Right away, Your Majesty,” the office saluted and the screen went dark.

Ka Harn rubbed his temples with a hollow sigh. His doubts for bringing the Master Keeper out of exile were growing daily. He did not trust that Xander would have fared any better. More lost lives and ruined villages would follow his vendetta, turning more eyes to scrutinize the Empire. He doubted that a civilian uprising was a major threat, however; there was also the possibility of one of the other lords might take their opportunity to raise their own dynasty in the chaos.

Throughout Gleyth's celebration he kept his eyes opened for any sign of distension. Promising Gleyth to Fei Arentey quelled one fire, perhaps, but there were eleven other clans to be aware of.

The light on his screen flickered again. He answered the call and the officer's face reappeared. “Your Majesty,” the young man said saluting.

“Go ahead.”

“The Master Keeper has informed me that his preparations are complete. He requested an audience when you're available.”

A wave of relief washed through the Emperor. “Very good, have him summoned.”

He released the call, leaning his head back against his chair. By the evening's end two problems could be resolved; the traitors in Ro'Awnor-Clee recaptured, and the threat of Xander's instability disrupting the noble guests.

* * *

Sheyra, Lorsen, and Lineya spent the remainder of the morning cleaning the tavern.

Sheyra began by teaching Lorsen an easier and more efficient way to mop the floor. He was surprised to discover that much of the grime was sediment left over from leaving puddles on the floor. His experience with cleaning was minimal before working in the tavern. Lineya wiped down tables and helped with the dishes. Perusing the food stores, Sheyra was able to prepare a stew that was at least appetizing and not overloaded with grease.

The Seafarer’s Lodge was still a horrible dive, but at least it was clean.

Lorsen unlocked the door in time for the lunch crowd, although crowd was a generous term for a handful of groggy sailors. Sheyra brought out bowls of stew, expertly dodging their lewd comments and hands reaching out to swat at her backside. In the sanctuary of the kitchen she clenched her jaw and grumbled, but reminded herself it was better her than Lineya.

“Why do they do that?” the girl asked, peeking out from behind the curtain over the kitchen door.

“Because no one ever taught them to behave respectfully,” Sheyra explained. “There are two types of men; the type that believes everything should be there property, and the type who don’t. It’s important to stay away from that first type as much as possible.”

Lineya nodded slowly, her eyes wide. It may be a futile lesson but it was one her own father had taught her, she felt obliged to pass it on.

From out in the bar the bell rang to signal another customer was ordering lunch. Filling a bowl, she ducked out through the curtain. She was surprised to see Jairon from the shop sitting at the bar. He stared at her as she approached; his expression was difficult to read. She had the impression that he was upset with her, but perhaps he was only in a bad mood.

As she set the bowl in front of him he leaned close and whispered, “Do you have a minute to talk?”

Sheyra stepped back. “Sorry, I only serve food,” she snapped.

He rolled his eyes, “Not like that. Thank you for letting me know how you think of me, though.”

Crossing her arms, she decided to give him a chance. “All right,” she said. “What do you want?”

He glanced over his shoulder, then at the barman. She wasn’t going to allow him to take her away to a place without witnesses. His behavior was far too suspicious. He seemed to know this as he gave up and spoke in a soft tone.

“Do you know you have an alert on your ID?”

The hairs on the back of her neck stood up. “What do you mean?”

Jairon licked his lips, “Yesterday when you came into the shop I saw it, but I had never seen you before, so I assumed you were passing through. You came back in with your friends, used the card again and I worried but still let it pass. Then, you show up with Lineya this morning and now I’m concerned. The Enforcers are tracking you.”

She felt her stomach turn accompanied with a strong desire to run to her car and flee. The room began to spin and she sat on the stool next to Jairon.

“I didn’t know.”

“Where are your companions?” he asked quietly.

Unsure if she should trust him, she drummed her fingers on the bar. What would he gain by telling her if he was going to turn her in? She couldn’t think of anything, unless he was completely sadistic and enjoyed watching people suffer.

“They’re gone, I put them on a ship yesterday afternoon.”

“Did you purchase their passage with the card?”

She nodded slowly.

“Did you use your card here?” He asked.

“Yes,” she hissed.

He let out a long breath. “Lorsen,” he said and the barman approached. “Did you see the flag when Sheyra used her card?”

“I did but I took it as a good sign,” he said.

“How can that be a good sign?” Sheyra asked. “Do you want the Enforcers to raid the place?”

Lorsen scratched his head, “No,” he sounded confused. “I figured she was real and not a plant,” he said. “I thought maybe you’d sent her.”

“I didn’t,” Jairon said firmly. “Why would I send someone with a flagged card to make a purchase?”

Sheyra felt lost by the turn in the conversation.

Lorsen shrugged, “No, but after I’d just talked to you in the morning and then she showed up, it just made sense at the time.”

Jairon sighed, rubbing his temples with his fingers. “It doesn’t matter,” he said. “It’s too late to do anything about it now.”

“Wait,” Sheyra put her hand up to stop them from continuing. “What is going on?”

Jairon and Lorsen exchanged a look. She frowned.

“Those two companions, you wouldn’t tell me before but maybe you will now. Who are they?” Jairon was gifted in sounding authoritative, far more than any shop keeper should be.

“Maybe I’ll tell you if you tell me who you are first.” She gave him a smug smile.

“You don’t have to tell me,” he countered. “I already have an idea and your silence merely confirms it.”

“I have an idea who you are, too. Sounds like we both already know all the answers to our questions,” she felt her anxiety changing to excitement.

He must be part of the Resistance. The longer they talked the more certain she became.

“Very well,” he glared at her. “Our conversation is over, but I do have a request for you.”

“What?” She asked, her tone softening.

“Get out of our town,” he said coldly.

Her heart sank. “What? No, I’m not going to leave.”

“Yes, you are. You’re going to leave right now, in fact, and never come back.”

“No,” she shook her head. “I’m here looking for you; don’t you get it?”

“Too bad,” he shook his head. “Maybe if you actually cared about the damage you’re doing I would consider it.”

Sheyra stood, untying the apron Lorsen had loaned her, and laid it on the counter. Without another word she walked back into the kitchen. Taking the clothes she had worn from Ro’Tesche-En under her arm, she gave Lineya a quick squeeze on the arm.

“Where are you going?” the girl asked sorrowfully.

“I’m sorry,” Sheyra said and quickly walked out.

“Sheyra,” Lorsen called after her as she stormed passed the bar.

She didn’t stop. She didn’t look at Jairon sitting smugly on the stool, quietly eating his stew. She didn’t notice the confused sailors watching the events unfold. Stepping outside, the frigid air bit through her sweater. The world was buried in clean white snow and it was irritating. She slammed the car door in an attempt to block it out.