Darkness Falling: Soldiers and Slaves (24 page)

“We don't know,” Sheyra said cautiously. “Talon is sending Jairon and Therin to investigate.”

“I must go there,” Lorsen's words became urgent. “I must go. Lineya is there.”

Sheyra felt her heart break. “No, I'm sorry, I know this is hard. She's not there.”

“Yes, she is. She's in that light.”

Doctor Kellis sighed, crossing her arms over her chest. “Denial is part of the grieving process,” she offered.

“I must go.” Lorsen turned, walking purposefully back toward the ship's interior. “Where is Talon?” He asked.

“In the wheelhouse,” one of the crewmen shrugged.

Sheyra hurried after him, not confident that he was past the worst of the shock he'd suffered. She followed him up to the wheelhouse where Talon was quietly observing the crew. The boss' face remained as stoic as ever.

“I must go with Jairon to investigate the light,” Lorsen said without explanation.

Talon appeared thoughtful. “What do you have to offer the expedition?”

“My daughter is there, calling me toward the light.”

The boss considered this carefully. Sheyra waited nervously for her answer. Perhaps they could lock him in the quarantine as well until he was no longer a threat to himself.

“Very well,” Talon said. “They're leaving soon. I'd hurry.”

“Thank you.” Lorsen gasped. “You won't regret this.”

He pushed past Sheyra who stood stunned at the decision.

“I don't understand,” she said.

Talon turned her attention back to the open sea. “A man in sever grief is a threat to this environment. If nothing else, once he's returned to the continent it will be easier to subdue him or let him run as necessary.”

“You mean they'll kill him,” Sheyra stated flatly, feeling anger welling in her chest.

“No. But, if he remains here he could easily kill himself or others. Being contained as we are can be detrimental to someone who is unstable emotionally.” Talon smiled patiently.

Sheyra breathed a little easier. Perhaps Talon was blunt but Sheyra believed what she said.

“You can have the rest of the day off, recruit, to mourn your loss. Get some rest.”

Sheyra did not hesitate. Alone among strangers, she fled to her quarters to take Talon's advice.

*
 * *

Gleyth watched the bustle and flurry of activity as the slaves packed her room. Clothes were neatly folded into boxes or hung in garment bags for transport. Her small items were wrapped and packed away. She felt an intensifying sense of panic as the reality of her situation became clear.

This wasn’t her home any more.

Although she was a princess, Gleyth did not have many possessions. Besides her wardrobe, her jewelry, and her beauty products, there were only a few trinkets and objects of sentiment. The few books she was allowed belonged to the Tower and could not be taken. It was disconcerting to see her entire life fit into a few boxes.

What was worse, she hadn’t considered her departure would be so abrupt. She had thought that there would be a few days more after the wedding at least, especially with the continued bad weather. Instead, the nobility were fleeing the city. Their initial decision to wait out the storm had been a mistake. The longer they waited the more treacherous travel became. With the wedding done new initiative was taken to return safely to their Towers.

“If we wait much longer we will be trapped here until the winter ends. My father must return to govern,” Arentey told her gently.

She didn’t see much of a problem with being trapped in Rau’Tesche-Awn for a few months. It was strange how only two mornings before she desperately wanted to escape the Tower; now she did not want to leave.

When the packing was done her things were carried away to the garage. She sat heavily on the bed, watching the snow blowing past her window.

“Gleyth?” Arentey said from the doorway. “It’s time.”

Slowly, she stood. Her feet were heavy, making it difficult to walk. This would be the last time she left this room. When they next visited she would be housed with the other guests. It was a difficult thought and she attempted to push it from her mind.

Arentey offered his arm. She took it reluctantly, glancing back one last time at her bedroom before he pulled her away. Two Enforcers escorted them into the elevator, reminding Gleyth that she was still under the watchful eye of her father and her husband.

Down through the Tower they traveled, below the Gallery and into the garage. Fa Marden awaited them. She had never ridden in an EOV, and certainly not one equipped for difficult conditions. Her curiosity was quashed by the reality of the situation. Arentey and his father took seats by the doors while Gleyth was made to sit where possibility of escape was less likely.

She didn't tell them she had no plans of escape. Instead, she knew exactly what she was going to do. First she would produce an heir for Fei Arentey. Once the child was viably delivered she would petition to be removed from the Tower at Rau'Tesche-Enra. If his proposal of giving her freedom in exchange for a child was in earnest, surely he would not object.

The EOV passed beyond the walls of Empire Tower, rolling out into the full force of the blizzard. Gleyth stared up at the falling snow, mesmerized. Such pure, gentle flakes; unassuming and beautiful. Underestimating them was a deadly mistake.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Riding in the wind and snow was difficult. Even after the sun rose the air remained bitter cold and unforgiving. They stopped once to eat and stretch their legs, unsure of how far they'd traveled. After their brief rest they continued on, going as fast as the modified motorcycle would allow.

Evening was closing in and Brosen knew it would be dangerous to travel another night. They needed shelter. Impyra huddled against his back, shivering. He wasn't faring much better. He didn't want to die frozen solid in the middle of a forest.

“Can you see the light?”

A vague memory floated past his conscious mind. Did he hear that voice or just imagine it?

“What?” he asked.

“I said do you see that light?” Impyra said louder, her teeth chattering. “Over there!” She pointed to her right.

At first he only saw the silhouette of trees against the sunset. It must be what she was seeing as well. He kept glancing in that direction, however; until he noticed a golden glow reaching toward the heavens in the gathering twilight.

“What is it?” he asked.

“Maybe it's that place on the map. What was it called?”

“I don't know.”

“Let's check it out,” Impyra insisted.

Brosen hesitated. “It could be dangerous.”

“Look,” Impyra pointed over his shoulder.

An old wooden sign covered in snow appeared at the side of the road. He could not read the Renenoors lettering but the arrow carved beneath it was direction enough. The road branched, leading in the direction of the light.

“It might be warm,” Impyra said, hopeful.

Cold and dead or warm and dead; between the two Brosen would rather be warm. He turned the bike off of the main road. Impyra sat up straight behind him, hands on his shoulders. It felt as if she were attempting to stand up.

 As the sun sank behind the mountains the glow increased. What was at first just a blur in the distance began to take the shape of a tree. The trunk was possibly greater in diameter than the Outer Wall of Empire Tower. Reaching upward the branches spread above their heads; a tangled spray of limbs coated in snow.

“I can't believe it,” Impyra breathed. “The energy is amazing.”

Brosen slowed the bike. Impyra leapt off, running excitedly toward the tree.

“Wait!” He called after her.

“It’s a building, Brosen! The tree is also a building!” she shouted over her shoulder.

A building?

His eyes traced the trunk until he noticed an arched door and small round windows positioned at odd intervals. Stopping the motorcycle completely, he hurried to follow her.

Trees were not large enough to be buildings. They also did not glow. There had to be another explanation. It must be a building that looked like a tree. As Brosen drew near he could see that the bark was intricately carved with strange curling designs.

Impyra stood before it, staring upward in awe. She pulled her glove off and lifted her hand.

“Wait!” he called, but it was too late.

His heart raced in that moment, but nothing happened. He took a deep breath, feeling dizzy from his momentary fear. What did he expect? It was just a tree.

Impyra placed her hand against the bark. She stood, mesmerized by the tree, stroking its flesh gently. He stared up, craning his neck to see the nearest branches. Nothing about this place made sense.

“It’s a building, but it is alive,” she whispered. “Don't worry, we’re safe here. This tree is very old. It isn't part of the Empire.”

“How do you know?” he asked, still cautious that it could be a trap.

“I can hear it,” her words were dreamy and far away.

Unnerved, Brosen pulled off his glove. If Impyra could hear the tree, then maybe he could too. The bark was rough and oddly warm. At that moment he realized he had never touched a tree before. He had seen a few, but he had never taken the time to connect. His senses opened up, allowing the soft, woody scent to fill his lungs. His eyes followed the spiraling carvings emblazoned with leaves and small animals meshed with the intricate texture of the tree's skin.

Something touched him, deep within his mind. He could hear it whispering softly, but he could not understand. His anxiety began to lift from his mind. The tree comforted him as if he was just returned from a long journey. This place had always been a part of him although he could not explain why.

That without words does not exist,
 his mind echoed his training.

“Can you feel it?” Impyra’s voice seemed far away.

“I don’t know,” Brosen muttered, saddened by the lie.

Impyra reached up, taking his hand and placing it firmly against the tree. She pressed down hard as if she were worried he might pull away. The bark dug into his palm.

An intense rush of energy ripped the world away from them. The tree was nothing more than a pillar of light growing from the surface of an endless black mirror. A strange noise pulsated around them; it was music, singing. The energy washed against him in waves, drowning him in the comforting song. Brosen struggled against it, drinking in warmth and light as his defenses were torn away.

Caught up in a swirl of memories he kept locked safely behind a wall in his heart, he was overwhelmed.

“No matter where you go, no matter what you do, I will always love you.”

His mother's face blazed before him, her glowing smile and soft laughing eyes appeared as real as the last day he’d seen her. Her long wavy hair was a silken cloud around her face. Where was she now? Enforcers never knew what happened to their mothers.   

They took him away from her. He was just a little boy. Anger swelled in his chest as he remembered being isolated. He didn't conform to the training the way the other boys had, and he needed to be monitored.

They were going to release him from the program. He was old enough to understand that “release” meant death. He had to live, he had to pretend and hide his true self. If he didn't learn to be the same, he would never have a chance to make a difference.

He could never make a difference. There was too much pain, too much suffering, too much poverty. Struggling against a system that didn’t allow for helping people, only herding them into submission until they died, he had failed. If only he were stronger. If only he was brave.

Impyra was brave. She faced the impossible and she defied it. Her eyes were an endless black mirror on which anything could be reflected.

Heart pounding as if it wanted to rip free of his chest, Brosen couldn't breathe. The energy was racing through him faster now, much stronger than anything Impyra had ever shown. He could not keep up with the swirl of emotions. Before he was washed away forever by insanity, he pushed himself away from the tree, yanking his hand free of Impyra's grasp. The light let him go, leaving him in the dusk and the cold. He crouched on the ground, holding his head in his hands.

In that moment he was stripped of the training that had held him up throughout his life. He was not an Enforcer. He was a man; tired, scared, and alone in a world where everything was beyond his control.

“Are you all right?” Impyra's voice was close, right beside him.

Gently, she placed her hand on his shoulder.  

Brosen did not move. She had witnessed his defenses crumble and he wasn't sure what to say. Slowly, he turned to look at her; long red hair, pale skin, and emerald green eyes, all of it was just an illusion. For the first time Brosen realized Impyra was his mirror.

He had seen her true eyes, white, and void of existence. For a brief moment, when she was too weak to fight and shield herself, she had risked everything by allowing her true self to show. He had seen her, naked and afraid, just as she was seeing him now. That was why he had helped her in that first moment. They were the same.

“I didn't mean for it to hurt you,” she said, concerned.

Brosen shook his head, trying not to look her directly in the eyes; trying not to let her see the complete devotion and affection he had for her; not until she was ready.

“I just need a minute, it was just too much for me,” he wouldn't lie to her ever again. “We should go inside and see what this place is.” He hoped it would distract her enough to make her turn away.

She nodded, helping to steady him as he slowly stood. Dizziness rocked him, but he kept to his feet. Brosen squared his shoulders, unwilling to fear something that had attempted to comfort him, and moved forward.

The door opened at a touch of Impyra's hand, swinging on its hinges without effort. They stepped inside a room that was unlike anything that he had ever seen.

A vaulted ceiling spiraled above them, vanishing into the soft glow. Benches grew from the living wood, each of them facing a raised dais with a similar natural alter.  From within it was obvious that the windows were natural openings in the tree’s trunk, as was the door.  All along the walls were great carvings that depicted scenes of people and animals frolicking through the woods. As they walked, the people shimmered with a strange iridescence, which gave the appearance that they were changing color. Some of them were leaping high into the air as if taking flight.

Brosen paused, staring up at the most prominent carvings above the main alter. Impyra moved forward slowly, her arms reaching upward.

“They’re like me,” Impyra said, her voice trembled as it echoed through the chamber. “Do you see it? They change just like me.”

Brosen shook his head, not understanding. “What is this place?”

“Viynoofen,” a voice boomed.

They both jumped in surprise, turning to see a young man standing in a doorway. Long white hair hung around his shoulders and he was dressed in a long green robe. Brosen could not remember seeing any openings leading farther into the tree when they first entered, but he had been distracted.

“This is the temple of Viynoofen, guardian of the forest,” the young man said lifting his hands to the room around them.

“Who are you?” Brosen asked cautiously.

He smiled weakly. “I am the priest here.”

“We just stumbled across this place, we did not mean to intrude,” Impyra explained. “We're on a long journey and we're very tired and cold.”

“I know,” the young man said. “Viynoofen has granted you sanctuary for this night. Tomorrow you must continue your journey as soon as you awaken. It is of great importance.”

“Thank you,” Impyra bowed her head respectfully.

“Inside this room you will find beds,” he motioned to his right, and another doorway.

Brosen was sure there hadn’t been a door there. Either that or his mind was playing tricks on him.

“You may sleep here and I shall not disturb you.” The priest assured them.

Brosen glanced at Impyra, wondering if perhaps this place might not be safe.

“We should get our supplies,” Impyra said.

They hurried back into the cold and when they returned the man was gone. The door from which he had appeared was no longer there. Brosen examined the wall and could not see any sign of openings in the wood.

“There must be a secret door but I don’t see anything,” Brosen said quietly.

“I don't think you will find it,” Impyra shook her head.

“What do you mean?”

“He felt different,” she whispered. “He feels like he’s part of the tree.”

Brosen glanced around, wondering if the man would reappear without warning.

“We'll be safe,” Impyra assured him. “This place doesn't hold any hostility toward us.”

Remembering the power he felt when she placed his hand upon the trunk, he merely accepted that she had witnessed something far different than his vision. He trusted her judgment and was grateful for a safe place to rest.

* * *

The landscape rushed passed the window, a blur of white and darkness behind the veil of snow. Climbing from the coast through rural fields and into the wooded mountains they traveled unhindered.

Their location and the scenery around them didn’t matter; his mind was fully focused. Impyra's energy pulsed through him, growing stronger with each breath.

She must pay for what she's done.

Images of her face swam behind his eyes. Her never smiling eyes, her always accusing tone. She should have loved him. He elevated her beyond her station. She was ungrateful.

She must be made into an example.

How could she have not loved him? Other young women appreciated his fortune, his good looks, his power, but she did resist. What was wrong with him?

No one every understood you.

There was nothing wrong with him, it was her. She was the faulty one. That much was clear.

They enjoy watching you fail.

Bringing her to justice would prove them wrong.

Blood leads to position.

They would know he deserved to be Emperor.

Energy leads to power.

Day blended into night. Around them the storm intensified but the EOV pushed through without difficulty. The Enforcers drove in shifts. Xander would not allow for long breaks. Garinsith's soldiers endured the journey silently. Whatever critique of the prince's plan the old man might have had he kept to himself.