Darkness Falling: Soldiers and Slaves (17 page)

“I saw no need of a replacement. My heir was produced and the other womanly duties are easily fulfilled by the staff.” Fa Marden explained it as if taking a second wife was as easy as deciding whether or not to have a second cup of coffee.

Ky Thella smiled at him, eyes wide. It was both vindicating and disheartening to watch her mother squirm. Did she regret choosing to marry Gleyth into a Tower where she would only be valued for the heirs she produced? Was it really any different than the Queen's life with Ka Harn?

Gleyth wished she could run.

Glancing wistfully at the doorway she was surprised to see Kevie enter and quietly seat himself at a table near the door. She smiled in spite of herself, comforted by the Mutilator's presence; her protector. It was foolish to dwell on her feelings. She would never know the reality he offered.

“Ky Gleyth?” surprised that Arentey dared speak to her again, she turned and forced herself to smile. “Are you well?”

“Yes, of course, I was thinking about something else.”

Someone else, 
she chided herself.

An Imperial guard appeared at the door. He scanned the room until he found her mother among the crowd. Gleyth watched him approach the table, bowing to Ky Thella before bending to speak softly in her ear. She paled slightly before nodding and dismissing him. The Queen stood.

“Attention,” she said, her voice carrying over the din. A hush fell on the room. “I've just been informed of good news. Before dawn Kei Xander and the Master Keeper Petor Garinsith shall set out on the hunt to end the reign of terror in the community from the escaped traitors. Let us all join in wishing them a safe and victorious journey.”

The gathered ladies applauded. Without thinking, Gleyth turned to look at Kevie. He nodded to her solemnly. She folded her hands in her lap. A mix of emotions tumbled through her mind.

Xander would be away from the Tower. That was always something to celebrate.

Impyra may soon be dead; it was a cruel punishment to end her tortured existence.

Kevie would leave and may never return. The idea hit her harder than she anticipated; a hollow pang of sorrow and regret. Swallowing hard against the lump in her throat, she turned instead to look at her future; Fei Arentey was cheerfully congratulating Thella on the news.

Trapped.

There had to be a way to escape. Her appetite gone, Gleyth stared into her teacup, fully detaching herself from the conversation.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Easing onto the accelerator to push through a stubborn drift of snow, Sheyra felt the back tires begin to slip. She held her breath. Holding the wheel steady, she felt as the tires found purchase at last. The car lurched forward. She released her breath slowly, relieved. Soon it was going to be impossible to drive.

“We're almost there,” Jairon said, his voice trembling.

He was pale, clearly afraid they would slide off the road. Even if they survived a crash they could easily die from exposure in the cold. They were only a few kilometers south of Ro’Awnor-Clee. It would be frustrating to freeze to death when town was so nearby.

“Turn here,” Jairon pointed at an opening in a stand of trees to their right. “It’s a road,” he explained without being asked.

Beneath the trees the snow had been unable to accumulate as heavily as on the main road. The branches bowed under the extra weight, some of them scraped loudly against the top of the car. Sheyra imagined the trees leaning in closely to trap them in an icy embrace. She was glad when the road opened up to reveal a beautiful estate, it’s garden stretching down to the sea.

“What is this place?” Sheyra asked, noting the windows were boarded shut.

“It belonged to a wealthy merchant. He owned ten ships in the harbor. His family and all of his slaves died in the first few months of the plague, before the vaccine.” Jairon explained quietly.

Sheyra frowned. Money was not always enough to save lives.

“The contamination has been cleaned to be safe enough to use as a base?” Lorsen asked, leaning over the seat to get a better look at the house.

Jairon shook his head. “This isn't the base. This is just a meeting place. Follow the road around.” He pointed to the side of the house.

Sheyra could only imagine how spectacular the home had once been. Snow drenched topiaries stood guard over long dead flowerbeds awaiting the return of spring. Tall lanterns lined the driveway, dark and unable to light the way. At the back side of the house the yard began to slope downward. Waiting at a private pier was what appeared to be an old fishing boat. A man bundled in a heavy coat with a tightly drawn hood stood on the dock.

“There he is,” Jairon opened the door before Sheyra stopped. “Therin,” he said loudly, waving his arm.

The man came forward, catching Jairon in a friendly embrace. Sheyra glanced back at Lorsen who observed his friend warily. Trusting Jairon was different than putting the life of his daughter into the hands of a stranger.

Unafraid, Sheyra stepped out of the car. The man turned to take stock of her, his eyes barely visible over a heavy scarf. His skin was darker than any she’d ever seen. In that single moment all of the rumors proved true; the Ardnilians were part of the Resistance.

“Your reckless behavior put everyone in danger,” Therin told her firmly. His voice was deep and his accent barely perceptible.

Sheyra wasn’t in the mood for another lecture. “I realize that. It isn’t as if running from the law was something I had practice in.”

“It is not fully your fault,” he said. “You're not a trained soldier. But one of your companions was.”

She hadn't considered that; Brosen's mistakes were all of their mistakes. Then again, she hadn't known her card was being tracked. She didn't even know when the initial flagging had occurred. If they’d known that they never would have used the card to begin with.

“What did the flag say?” It was the first time she’d thought to ask.

Jairon grimaced. “It said not to engage you and report your location to the Enforcers. That’s what they reported on the screen as well; that you were armed and dangerous.”

“The only reason they were armed or dangerous was because they were forced to defend themselves,” Sheyra felt infuriated by the knowledge.

“Although that may be true, it is not something anyone would know. The important thing now is to make you disappear,” Therin cut the discussion short. “I'll have to send someone for the car. The ferry has been out on another job.” He handed her a single key. “This is for the garage,” he said pointing back toward the house. “Don’t forget to lock it. Once the search settles we’ll come back.”

“Help me unload the trunk first,” Jairon said.

They hadn’t been able to gather many supplies before fleeing the tavern. Jairon, Lorsen, and Therin carried the few small bags of goods to the fishing boat while Sheyra followed Therin’s instructions. Normally the garage would have been a perfect hiding place for a vehicle. If not for the tracks left in the snow, there would have been no reason to suspect the abandoned house had been disturbed. Sheyra hoped the steady snowfall would erase the signs of their passing before the Enforcers arrived to investigate.

Locking the garage door behind her, she hurried back to the pier. The deck was small and clear of clutter. It wasn’t a large boat, but the wheelhouse had seats enough for all of them. If nothing else, they were shielded from the cold. Jairon untied the ropes securing them and pushed away from the dock. Sheyra watched the snow covered shore, wondering if she would ever see her car again.

Therin started the engine before removing his hood. His hair was shaved close to his head and a neatly trimmed beard adorned his chin.

“You traveled with the prince’s slave,” it was not a question. “The boss is going to want to know information on her and why the Empire is behaving so strangely.”

“Aren’t you to boss?” Lorsen asked uneasily.

Therin laughed unexpectedly. “No, but I'm very close to the boss.”

Jairon leaned toward Lorsen and whispered loudly, “Very, very close.”

“Don’t start,” Therin pointed a finger at his colleague in a playful manner.

Lineya was kneeling in her seat to get a better view from the window. “Where are we going?” She asked.

“Not far. See, over there,” Therin pointed out into the ocean.

Moored in the deeper water away from the shore waited a giant naval ship, which grew larger and more impressive as they approached. The fishing boat was minuscule in comparison.  Sheyra wished Brosen and Impyra had stayed with her; they could have found the protection they needed. She also felt justified in her plans. The Resistance was more than a handful of unhappy citizens as Brosen believed. Real change was brewing.

“We normally don't come in this close. This is a special occasion.” Therin glanced at Sheyra but did not comment further.

Pulling up parallel with the port side of the ship, Sheyra arched her neck back to peer up at the matt gray hull towering over them. From her current angle she was unable to see the top deck.

Therin lifted a two-way radio and pressed the call button. “I have cargo ready to load.” he said.

“Understood; we're ready with the crane,”
A voice crackled through from the other side.

Crane?

Sheyra could see long straps being lowered from above. Jairon and Therin hurried onto the deck to catch and secure them to the boat. It was clear this was a common procedure. Jairon may have run the shop in Ro’Awnor-Clee but his familiarity with the workings of the Resistance meant he was more than just another villager. He must have been a planted recruiter.

Within a few minutes the boat was secure. Jairon and Therin returned to the cabin.

“Ready to load,” Therin said into the radio.

“Preparing to lift. Standby.”

“Hold on,” Therin told them.

Sheyra wasn't sure what she was supposed to hold on to.  The straps pulled taught. She watched the side of the ship as they were carried up into the air and over the gunwale. The crane lowered them slowly onto a special platform which cradled the fishing boat. Crew members rushed to secure the boat in place.

Therin was the first to disembark. Jairon helped Lineya down. Sheyra jumped lightly from the platform, landing unsteadily on the deck. Jairon reached out to catch her arm.

“This must be the troublemaker, then,” a lilting female voice said from behind her.

Sheyra turned. A tall, muscular Ardnilian woman observed the new arrivals. Her hair was short but woven into tight braids at the crown of her head. Her dark eyes glowed with internal power. Sheyra gasped. Did the woman have Enforcer blood?

Sheyra stepped forward to introduce herself. “Sheyra Gei'Dessa,” she said.

“No,” the woman stopped her, raising one finger authoritatively. “We don't use the tags of tyranny here. You are Sheyra, nothing more. And I am Talon.”

“Are you the leader of the resistance?”

“I am. You are now one of my soldiers. You will train hard. You will learn from your mistakes. This isn't a game to be played. Do you understand?”

Sheyra thought of her father's inn, of Brosen and Impyra sailing into uncertainty, and of Lorsen and Lineya struggling to survive after losing everything. All of it was a direct result of the Empire destroying the lives of the people.

“I understand.”

“Good,” Talon smiled but her eyes were calculating. “It's already getting late. Nakiya will show you to your quarters. Get cleaned up, get rested. Eat. Tomorrow you'll have a busy day.”

Another Ardnilian woman hurried forward. “This way,” she said, motioning for Sheyra to follow.

She hesitated, glancing at Lineya and Lorsen.

“They'll be all right. Therin's taking them to the infirmary.” Nakiya assured her.

Knowing it was for the best, Sheyra waved goodbye. She would see them soon, or so she hoped.

* * *

Brosen tumbled onto his bunk. Lying flat on his back he stared at the bottom of the cot above him. Scraping rust may not be difficult work but it was tedious and mentally exhausting. Although tired and hungry he wasn't going to eat without Impyra. She hadn't returned yet, but he was sure she would soon.

The drone of the far away engine combined with the hypnotic swaying of the ship caused Brosen to relax. Without realizing it, his eyes drifted shut.

Surrounded by darkness, snow began to fall into the void. It was not cold, although he thought it should be. Taking in his surroundings, Brosen realized he was standing on an endless black mirror. When he looked down he could see his reflection staring out at the horizon where a golden light burned brightly. He began to move toward it only to discover that he could not; the light moved with him to keep the same distance between them.

Can you see the light?

The soft voice touched at the very edge of his mind. He didn't understand the question. Of course he could see the light, it would be impossible not to see it.

A sense of urgency prompted him to walk faster. The snow swirled around him in blinding flurries. There was something important about the light. He needed to reach it before it was too late.

Faster, he began to run.

The light was growing in size although he could not get any closer. His heart was racing as fear began to grip him, slowing his steps until it felt as if he were running through deep mud.

It was too late.

The light exploded into a million flying shards. They shot in every direction at incredible speed. One flew directly at him, piercing his heart.

Brosen jumped, slamming his head on bed frame above him.

“Shit!” he dropped his head into his hands to nurse the pain.

The dream clung to him, gauzy and confused. Glancing at the window he saw that it was dark. Impyra still had not returned from her work.

“Shit,” he growled. How could he be so careless to fall asleep?

He hurried out into the narrow corridor. It was empty. First he would check the galley. Impyra was powerful. She wouldn't allow anyone to take advantage of her, not after everything she'd survived. Even so, he couldn't help feeling protective. Recalling the captain's inquiry about what services she might provide was enough to cause concern.

Outside, two sailors were attempting to clear snow from the deck. Although the snowfall was relentless there wasn't any wind. It was as if the world was wrapped inside a frigid white vale.

Brosen opened the door to the galley to a wave of warmth and laughter. He descended the stairs slowly, not wanting to draw attention to himself. If anything bad was happening he'd rather catch them in the act. Aware that he'd left the gun in the cabin he wasn't sure what his plan was and he didn't have time to make one.

“The people are starving?” He heard Impyra speaking in a deep, mocking tone. “That's weird, I have enough food. I know! Maybe they don't know what food is!”

The sailors’ laughter roared and echoed off the walls of the hull. Brosen stopped at the bottom of the stairs and couldn't believe what he was seeing. Impyra was standing in the doorway to the kitchen. Every eye was on her.

“Thella, go tell the peasants they can't eat rocks. I think they forgot again. And bring me a steak!”

Impyra grinned as the sailors applauded. Brosen was bewildered but also relieved. Impyra noticed him and waved. The crew turned in his direction.

“Thar he's at,” Captain Dei'Brenen shouted from across the room. “Yer friend here does a mighty fine impression o'the Emperor.”

“Yeah,” Brosen tried to smile. Impyra approached, her eyes glowing gleefully. “What were you doing?” He whispered.