Darkness Falling: Soldiers and Slaves (22 page)

The most prominent truth, however; was her wish to break the marital contract. This was a disgraceful affront to Fei Arentey and the Fa. She didn't care, but her family must make amends as swiftly as possible.

“Turn, please, your highness,” the seamstress said, twirling her finger in the air.

Gleyth sullenly obeyed. From her new angle she was able to see herself in her mirror. The gown was beautiful; embodying everything a princess should represent. Silver fabric glittered softly in the lamplight of her room. The bodice was intricately beaded with tiny diamonds, sapphires, and emeralds; signifying in color the joining of two houses. A long train hemmed with lace trailed out behind her.

All that was missing was a joyful bride happily embracing her destiny.

Beyond her reflection she could also see the city in the mirror. Many of the buildings were dark. Heavy snows pulled power-lines down during the day. Gleyth knew it was unlikely anyone would be sent out to fix them. Perhaps it was better that she was being taken away from Rau'Tesche-Awn. Soon it would be nothing more than vacant ruins surrounding Empire Tower.

“Mother,” Gleyth said quietly. “I'm tired. Isn't the dress good enough?”

Thella stood, making a slow circuit around her daughter. The seamstress stood aside, sleepy eyes drooping as she waited for the verdict.

“Very well,” Thella said.

Grateful, the seamstress began unfastening the buttons at the back of the gown.

“Tomorrow,” the Queen said firmly, “you will rise and bathe yourself. A light breakfast will be brought to you, and you will eat. You'll need your strength.”

“Yes, Mother,” Gleyth sighed.

“Once you've finished eating the ritual dressing shall begin. A full honor guard will escort you to the ceremony.” Thella bit her bottom lip. “They will be armed,” she added as an afterthought.

Gleyth frowned.

“Now, go to sleep. Good night.” Thella planted a single kiss on Gleyth's cheek.

The seamstress dipped into a fast curtsey before following the Queen into the corridor. Behind them the door was closed and locked by the guard outside.

Waiting to ensure they were gone, Gleyth scurried to pull a nightgown out from beneath her bed. It was the one she'd been wearing the night before. Holding it close to her face she caught the faint scent of Kevie on the fabric. She'd hidden it to prevent the slaves from carrying it away to be laundered, and after the day's events she was glad.

Sliding it on over her head, Gleyth walked to her window to stare out at the dying city.

In a few hours it would be midnight, her time as High Princess was coming to an end. She was surprised to discover a great sorrow growing within her heart. Yesterday she merely wished to do more for the world. Today she realized how little she meant to those who called themselves her family. The loneliness of her life was not imagined. She never understood exactly how alone she really was.

*
 * *

“Wake up,” Brosen whispered, shaking her shoulder gently.

Impyra opened her eyes, stretching. “What time is it?”

“Just after midnight,” he said. “It's time to go.”

She sat up slowly, yawning. There was a nervous energy to the air.

“Did something happen?” she asked.

“No. Why?”

Reaching out she could sense nothing different in the small house.

“I was just worried,” she said after a moment.

It must be Brosen's energy, she decided. He normally was a force of calm, even in tense situations. The tingle of anxiety that filled the room was unusual but understandable.

He handed her the backpack. It was heavier than ever before, stuffed full of food and her old clothes. They walked quietly out into the main room, not wanting to wake the children. Warm coats, scarves, hats, and goggles were sitting on the table. Virikoor was standing in the darkness, staring out the window.

“It's all clear,” he said.

They began bundling up.

“The goggles will keep your eyes warm and free of snow,” he explained. “Put the gloves on first before the coat. It will protect you from snow blowing up the sleeve.”

Impyra tied the hood firmly under her chin before winding the scarf tightly around her mouth. The coat fit much better than the one given to her on 
The Water Skipper.
 Besides keeping them warm, the gear would also serve as a good disguise. Once their host was content that they would not freeze, the lead them out to the garage.

Brosen took his place at the front of the motorcycle with Impyra behind him. Another pack had been secured to the back. It was a much larger machine than Brosen’s old bike had been.

“As long as th'snow's not too deep and soft, you'll be able to move. Go off road if ya need, but top speed is not very fast. Goin’ slow will help keep ya warm, but it’s bad if ya have to run.” Virikoor said.

“We'll do our best to stay out of sight,” Brosen assured him.

“Th'road starts jus' up in those trees.” He pointed to the west.

“Thanks for everything,” Impyra said. “I hope Gilly makes it back soon.”

Virikoor smiled. “He's a tough one,” he said. “Go now.”

Brosen started the motorcycle and they pulled away from the house. Impyra waved one last time over her shoulder. This time she hoped her departure would not bring hardship upon those she left behind. 

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Coffee in hand, Dreger Lei'Orthra unlocked his laboratory to begin another day of work. His team was currently in the middle of cataloging all of the new microbes he found within the cell tissue of his infected test subjects. It was tedious, thankless work but he enjoyed it immensely. His assistants were less enthusiastic. Over the past few days, three assistants called in sick complaining of plague-like symptoms.

Dreger found it absurd.

Great precautions were taken to ensure the safety of his team. They all wore the proper protective gear and were inoculated with the most current vaccines. Dreger knew the truth, his young assistants were not interested in data analysis. Better to call in sick than spend another day staring through a microscope. Many young scientists were dazzled by the excitement of making life changing discoveries or inventing revolutionary devices. The truly passionate were always found out during the long hours of data entry.

Swinging the laboratory door open, Dreger was hit immediately with the putrid stench of decay. He coughed, nearly dropping his coffee. He used his free hand to shield his nose, turning the light on with his elbow. A dark shadow darted across his field of vision. Cold fear lodged itself in the pit of his stomach.

“Hello?” he called out, attempting to sound unafraid and failing.

The door had been locked. He was sure of it. Just now he'd used his key. There was only one other possible solution; one of the slaves had escaped during the night.

“Stay where you are,” he warned, his voice shaking. “Go back into your accommodations on your own and I will overlook this little incident.”

He was met only with silence.

Normally when anything exciting was happening the other test subjects would act out; yelling, banging the bars or glass of their cells. The quiet was even more unnerving than the usual outburst.

“Hello?” Dreger said again, slowly stepping forward to give himself a better view of the room.

The Extractor blocked much of his view of the cages when standing in the doorway. As he changed his position he began to count; one, two three, four, five. All of the subjects were in their proper cages. Relaxing a little he moved a little faster, noting the infected subjects within the glass cells were all awake. The woman crouched against the far wall; the young man peered out from the blankets of his cot, eyes searching for something unseen. The final subject, a middle aged man, stood right against the glass, snarling.

As he approached, Dreger noticed that all three subjects were covered in red lesions, some of which were oozing a green puss. He leaned in closer to the glass to inspect the man’s abdomen. With his attention focused he began to feel the uneasy sensation of someone standing behind him. The hairs on the back of the scientist's neck stood up. He whirled around to see that he was alone.

“Sssssttt!” the man behind him hissed menacingly.

Spinning back, he was caught in the gaze of the male slave; red eyes glowing from within.

“This is a fascinating change,” Dreger said to himself, half intrigued and half terrified.

From his pocket, he removed the small camera that he carried around for documenting such changes. He took a quick picture of the slave’s face. The flash blinked brightly in the dim lab and the slave howled, throwing himself backward and covering his eyes.

“What was that?” A confused voice shouted from the corridor.

“I don’t know, hurry,” said a second voice followed by the sound of running.

Dreger's two remaining assistants, Neyl and Sam, burst into the laboratory, eyes wide. They paused, panting, and turned to look back into the corridor. Already enthralled by the new symptoms exhibited by his subjects, Dreger had already forgotten his own fear and quickly disregarded their behavior.

“Come look at this,” Dreger called to them.

The two young men hesitated, but finally came forward to inspect the subjects.

“They weren't like that when I locked up last night,” Sam said defensively.

“I know, I know,” Dreger said absently. “Observe.”

He took another picture, this time of the woman. She shrieked, clawing at the wall in an attempt to escape. The young man ducked under the blanket sobbing, but the older man rushed forward in anger to pound on the glass.

“It appears they've grown sensitive to bright lights,” Dreger waved his hand toward Neyl, “write that down.”

His assistant scrambled to find a notepad.

“Doctor,” Sam tapped him on the shoulder. “Have you noticed the others?”

“What?” Dreger shook himself away from his observation as if waking from a dream.

Turning his attention to the cages he saw the telltale signs of the plague reappearing in the vaccinated slaves; yellowing skin, reddening eyes, and lethargy. They were also covered in small red welts.

“This new symptom spreads rather quickly,” Dreger was astonished. Yesterday the subjects in the wire cages tested negative for infection. “We need to quarantine them as quickly as possible.”

“Where?” Neyl asked. “All of the quarantine units are occupied.”

Dreger considered their options. The lab itself could be locked down until further notice, but that would greatly limit their ability to observe the new mutation. There was only one possible solution.

“Put them together with the others. Three groups; females, young males, elder males,” he pointed to each cell in turn.

His assistants exchanged an uneasy look.

“But, Doctor, the quarantined subjects have been hostile.”

“True, but that hostility is only towards us and not towards each other. Besides, it may be an opportunity to investigate the range of psychological disruption caused by the illness.”

He actually liked the idea more the longer he considered it. Neyl and Sam did not share his enthusiasm, and continued to stare at him nervously. Seeing that he was going to have to initiate the process, Dreger pulled on his protective suit and mask. Neyl and Sam reluctantly did the same.

“More subjects are easily obtained. The streets outside are teeming with them,” Dreger reassured them, completely misunderstanding their apprehension.

Unlocking the first cage, the frail young woman inside turned her head to stare at him through cloudy eyes.

“Too late,” she whispered as Dreger cradled her in his arms.

“Write that down,” he instructed Neyl, who fumbled with the pen in his thick gloves.

One by one they moved the slaves to the proper cells, using the camera’s flash to subdue the threat of attack. When it was done they stood back to watch. To Dreger's disappointment there was no interaction between the primary group and the secondary additions.

“We will continue to monitor their progress,” he sighed. “Shall we get back to our usual routine?”

Grateful to return to monotony after the events of the morning, his assistants readily agreed.

* * *

Fully dressed in her silver gown, Gleyth followed the Enforcers from her apartments into the elevator. Although the moment was not entirely different in appearance from the evening of her celebration, her demeanor was far from enthusiastic.

Shoulders slumped, head bowed, hands clasped tightly before her; the princess was the vision of a prisoner being dragged to her death.

During the morning rituals, Gleyth attempted to convince herself it was for the best. Instead of lightening her mood, she found herself sinking into heavy depression. Sorrow settled on her shoulders like a thick blanket, she did not have the strength to shove it off. The White Energy guns strapped to the Enforcer’s backs only darkened her thoughts further.

The ballroom had been transformed to better suit the purpose of a wedding. Instead of a clear floor at the center for dancing, tables were rearranged to make an aisle on which to parade the High Princess. Enforcers lined the path, all standing at silent attention and reminding everyone that the marriage was a forced affair.

Ka Harn stood upon the dais. His face was grim. The gathered guests did not applaud for their princess this time. Instead, unhappy eyes and the rustle of whispers followed her as she was lead passed. No music played.

To her surprise, Fei Arentey was smiling. That was the most unsettling part of all. Didn’t he care that his future wife would be his against her will? She thought that, at the very least, he would be angry. Instead, he beamed at her pleasantly.

“You look beautiful, my dear,” he said quietly as she was brought to a halt at his side.

Gleyth wasn't sure how to respond. She couldn't even bring herself to fake a smile.

“On this day,” Ka Harn began, “We witness the union of two houses; the Fa and Ka. Each clan has a storied history which speaks to their individual greatness. In times of war, the Fa have served as mighty generals and warriors for the glory of the Empire; in times of conquest the Ka have attained new lands with which to grow our mighty boarders. By joining these great clans together, we are acknowledging our hope for the future. State your names.”

“Fei Arentey Fei’Escareyn, heir to the Fa, future Lord of Rau'Tesche-Enra.”

Gleyth stared up at her father, eyes pleading. He stared down at her coldly, as if she were not the daughter he had loved.

“Ky Gleyth Kei'Oren, daughter of the Ka; High Princess of Sa'Toret-Ekar.” the words were flat in her mouth.

“Join hands,” Ka Harn instructed.

Turning toward each other, they did as they were told. Arentey continued to smile. Gleyth stared at him blankly.

“The clans are unified, a solid force against the savagery of the unnamed. Through this unity may the Empire prosper and grow. So it is done.”

A dull rustle of applause rattled through the crowd.

“You are now Fy Gleyth a-Fy'Arentey because you are mine. No longer shall you answer to the name of Ka.” Arentey said the traditional words of a husband to his new wife.

Gleyth's mouth was dry. “I understand,” she uttered the traditional response.

She didn't believe that anyone could feel joy or love on such an occasion.

“The ceremony has ended. Brunch and cake will now be served.”

Ka Harn turned away from his daughter. Seating himself at the high table, Fa Marden soon joined him along with Ky Thella. This would be the last time Gleyth would sit with her parents for any function. From that moment on she was nothing more than a lady and her sister Kerra was High Princess.

Seated next to Fei Arentey, her eyes locked with the table. It was the safest place for her gaze. A plate was set before her and she stared at the food without seeing it. Around her, the conversation was just noise.

She wasn’t sure how much time had passed before Arentey leaned close to her and said “I don't blame you.”

“What?” Gleyth turned her head, feeling angry and confused.

“I don't blame you,” he repeated, studying the piece of melon he had speared onto his fork. “My father is upset, but I'm not. To be honest, I wouldn't have chosen you, either.”

Gleyth felt her shoulders relax a little, surprised by her new husband’s attitude.

“To be fair, I did have a choice but it was minimal. I was given the option between you and Dy Leyla,”

Arentey nodded in the direction of the young woman seated across the room. She was a scrawny thing with large eyes and a pronounced overbite. Gleyth sighed, disappointed yet again. Appearance was clearly an attribute Arentey valued. It was unfortunate that she would have rather been chosen for her mind.

“The truth is, though, I would rather not marry into the nobility. I don't really see the purpose so long as we keep the bloodlines within the Named.” He shrugged. “After all, everyone's ancestor has made a contribution at some point, even if it was long ago. But, you know, we've got uphold the political charade.”

Although his perception was skewed, his reasoning wasn’t completely wrong.

“What does that mean for our marriage?” Gleyth asked.

Arentey took a drink from his coffee, savoring it before he answered. “As long as you perform your wifely duties and produce an heir, I'll leave you alone.”

“That's it?” She felt that could not be the only condition of the agreement.

“For the most part; you must also allow me free reign when it comes to my amusements. I don't want you to suddenly become the jealous type.”

“Oh,” now it made sense. “You have other women.”

“Of course,” he said. “Your brother had one. I have six. That was his mistake, you know. A man needs to have options. It prevents messy situations.”

Gleyth grimaced.

“Don't worry,” Arentey assured her, “all of them have been fixed to ensure no children are possible. You won't have to worry about some brat vying for the Fa.”

That had been the farthest thought from her mind.

“Basically, I’m going to be another member of your harem.”

“No, of course not; you'll be Lady of the Tower. Some of them might resent you, but you'll have your own suite of apartments and you can decide on your own slaves. In fact, perhaps your father will allow you to bring your favorites from here so that you feel more at ease.”