Light of Epertase 01: Legends Reborn (20 page)

Terik asked, “Why not send one battalion to Lithia as a support unit?” The others stared, unsure of that tactic. “The battalion could take supplies and weapons and help the Lith soldiers prepare for the coming threat. Secretly, they could press King Logan to accept your offer of refuge. If he refuses and the war comes, they will support the front lines while remaining out of the fray. If the Liths begin to fall, our battalion will retreat to our front lines. That is our best bet as I see it.”

Aidric shouted across the table, “You are writing them off with that plan.”

Terik frowned and shook his head. “No, no, no. This is a time for tough decisions.”

Aidric stood up. “Tough decisions do not mean we let our neighbors die.”

“No, you would just like to sacrifice Epertase.”

“Enough,” Elijah shouted while rubbing his forehead. “I’m afraid Terik is right.” He took in a deep breath, and then released it with a sigh.

Dru asked, “What do we know about them? The enemy, that is.”

“I have read through Logan’s and Paisel’s reports and have had them rewritten for each of you. James will issue them prior to your leaving. We know the Teks are tens of thousands strong at the least. We know they have machines and explosion-making devices. We know they appear battle-hardened. You will be able to read everything for yourself after our meeting.”

“Does Lithia stand a chance?” Dru asked.

Elijah frowned and looked away.

Aidric spoke up. “I volunteer to lead my battalion to the front lines of Lithia”

Elijah made eye contact with him and saw his intent. His eyes were angry, his face determined. Elijah expected nothing less from him. “Very well, Aidric. Prepare your soldiers.”

“Do not worry, your highness. I will bring you the Tek commander’s heart.”

“I know you will. The rest of you, embrace your families and get plenty of rest. Soon we go to war with an enemy greater than any we have ever seen.”

Andon asked, “And the Liths who are displaced from this war?”

“We will make arrangements to accept an influx of possibly one hundred thousand-plus refugees in the coming weeks. I have sent word to King Logan that all Liths are welcome here.”

“While I agree, I don’t believe we have the shelter, food, or clean water for that many people.”

“It will be difficult but we’ll find a way. We have no choice. Liths are hard workers. They will work in the farms. We will request any Epertasian family that is able to accept at least one Lith family. I have spies gathering information as we speak. I will get word to each of you as more is known. In the meantime, I have ordered our eastern defenses to redeploy and head toward the northwest. If the enemy conquers Lithia, we believe they will move east through the Lowlands with little resistance. We don’t believe the Lowland border will be our only front in this war and are trying to determine from where else the enemy advances. For now, if there is nothing else, you are dismissed.”

The classroom consisted of little more than individual pieces of carpet on dirt floors for the children to sit on. During class, a window on the back wall was the only hint of an outside world, though it was hardly ever opened. A single lecturer, called the superior, stood at the head of the room. In the summers, the rooms were thick and muggy; in the winters, as cold as the outside.

Seventeen-year-old Dillon shared the classroom with thirteen classmates, all of whom were his age and had been his classmates for the past twelve years. Clay, his only friend, was no longer with the class, disappearing a year earlier after asking the superior too many pointed questions once too often.

As with each school day of his life, this day began with a reading from the only official textbook he had ever been given. Their lesson was the same history lesson he’d heard a thousand times or more. Unlike his brain-dead classmates, Dillon never accepted the stories as gospel. As far as he was concerned, the book was full of lies and shit.

“Read ‘
The Dam
’,” the superior ordered, referring to the opening chapter of the Lowland bible.

Dillon, like his classmates, knew how to read, but unlike his classmates, he could read words not contained in their bible. With all other stories forbidden by punishment of death, Dillon’s mother had secretly taught him the art of reading with smuggled books. She never told him how she came into possession of the books, how she was able to read them herself, or how she had gained such insight, and he never asked. His mother called him special, but he’d already become aware of that years ago by how the other children treated him.

He opened his worn-out, hide-bound text to the first page. He read faster than the other children but was wary not to finish a page before the masses. The story read in large, bold letters:

“Recitar! The greatest land of all known lands. Seven hundred years ago, our ancestors, the knowers, told of rising water in the Northern Sea. They warned Epertasian nobles that Recitar set the lowest of all the countries of the land of Epertase, including the corrupt Lithia to the west. The knowers predicted devastating floods if drastic action wasn’t taken and offered to speak to the Epertasian leaders, King Daniel and Queen Lillian. The Recitarians were ordered to flee their city and settle to higher ground with no efforts made to fortify the lower lands. The knowers begged King Daniel for a different solution but he denied their requests for ‘their own good.’

“The knowers returned with the news. The Recitarian people mourned the prospect of losing their homes. In response, they tried to wage a rebellion. However, the plans were thwarted as there was no strong leader to guide them. The revolution was about to disintegrate.

“And then a young hero emerged. His name was Lord Fice and he was of the mythical tribe of Gildonese. He was fearless and all-knowing. The Great Lord Fice took command of the rebellion and organized an election to name a king. Impossibly, the vote was unanimous; Lord Fice was now King Fice of Recitar. When the villainous King Daniel and Queen Lillian refused to recognize his rule, he threatened to secede from Epertase at once.

“At first the dictator King Daniel threatened invasion, but the great people of Recitar rose up and stood defiant. Daniel raised their taxes and sent soldiers to end their rebellion, but King Fice would not waver. He lopped off the heads of the invading soldiers and mounted them on pikes along the main streets of Grand Villa.”

Dillon had an urge, like he always had, to shout his mother’s version of the story, but he knew it would do no good. His classmates’ minds were little more than mush and doing so would only lead him to join Clay, wherever he may be. Dillon waited for the other children to turn their pages and when they did, he did as well. The lesson continued:

“The wise and mighty King Fice ordered a wall built along the Northern Sea. After seven years, that wall, known as the Great Dam, was finished. The elitist Liths and Epertasians laughed from their higher lands while mocking the people of Recitar. They said the dam would never hold and the Recitarians were fools to stay. To further disparage the people of Recitar, they called them Lowlanders and beasts. King Fice embraced their taunts.

“Since the building of the Great Dam, the waters have indeed risen with each generation but with its rise the Recitarians have built the Great Dam higher and stronger.

“Epertasians and Liths alike were banned from this land, this ‘lowland,’ with extreme prejudice. The god-like King Fice created an army in defiance of the oppressors, keeping them at bay. He and his Gildonese pack rebuked all offers of peace until Epertase grew weary of their demands and out of fear, no doubt, granted Recitar its freedom.”

Dillon doubted that Epertase had ever feared anyone, but those doubts were what his mother had told him would cause him trouble. As he waited to turn the next page, he felt the superior hover over him from behind. A drop of sweat, or maybe it was drool, dripped into his hair but he continued, unfazed. He wanted to look up, but that would reveal his gift. All of the students turned their pages and he continued reading.

“At first, the evil Epertasians told the Recitarians the dam would not hold and the people would die. But, as evidence of King Fice’s unsurpassed wisdom, King Daniel’s men were wrong; the dam held.

“King Daniel ordered soldiers to slaughter the women and children of the Lowlands, but the just King Fice stood strong. As Epertasian soldiers bashed the skulls of babies with the butts of their swords, King Fice conceded no ground.”

As Dillon’s mother had taught him when the superior’s propaganda was spewed, Dillon remembered her bedtime stories. He repeated to himself the truth of Epertase’s legendary kindness. His mother encouraged him to not believe the venomous tales spoken by their, as she called them, captors. She told him of Daniel’s kindness and Lillian’s compassion. She rebuked the massacres that were taught in his school and said, if anything, it was Fice’s men who committed such atrocities on his people. Dillon often dreamed of escaping with her to Epertase and living how he knew in his mind and heart people should live. His classmates’ turning pages woke him from his daze. He flipped to the next page, which began a new chapter. This was where he had to be strong, where he had to ignore the words on the page. The new chapter was titled
The State of Your Lives
and he hated it.

“As Lowlanders you are nothing. You are worthless. You follow the great King Fice without hesitation. You will never leave these lands, nor speak with foreigners as they will kill you on sight. Your life is to obey the dictates of our government without question or face certain death as a traitor.”

“As Lowlanders you are nothing. You are worthless …”

Dillon stifled a yawn. This entire chapter consisted of the same paragraph, over and over again, like a hypnotic chant. He read on.

“As Lowlanders you are nothing. You are worthless …”

His reading was violently interrupted by the door to the classroom swinging open and banging against the wall. Dillon’s mother stood in the doorway, quite out of breath. The other kids continued to read without so much as a glance toward the disturbance.

“Dillon, come quickly,” she said, ignoring the superior’s stare.

The superior grunted, marched past Dillon, and grabbed his mother’s throat. “You never interrupt my class,” he said with a deep, menacing voice.

Dillon’s mother clawed at his fingers as the color drained from her face. Dillon looked to the other kids for help, but they continued reading, unfazed by the commotion.

Dillon rose from his rug.

“Back on the floor, now,” the superior yelled while squeezing her throat tighter. Dillon saw his mother weakening. Soon it was the superior, not her own strength, that held her up.

He ran toward his superior, catching the man off guard. The older man dropped his mother to her knees. “We knew you were different, Dillon,” he said. “You cannot fool us. You and your mother are enemies to the Lowlands.”

Dillon made a fist, his first fist ever. He glanced at his mother as she rubbed her neck and coughed on the floor. The superior approached. Dillon swung with all of his might. Flesh smacked against flesh and the superior collapsed, unconscious, to the floor.

The other children continued to read.

“What are you doing, Mother?”

“They are coming for us. They are coming for all like us.”

“Why me? Why am I special?”

“You are not under his influence. You see how these children behave. They do not question like you and I do. They are brainwashed and under his spell.”

“Whose spell?”

“Fice. He sent men for us and others like us. We must run.”

His mother’s tension was tangible. He grabbed her hand and led her back through the door and hallway from which she had come. There was no other way out of the small, rundown schoolhouse but the front door, so he had to take the risk. He cracked the door and peeked out.

“They’re here, Mother.”

She gasped.

One of the soldiers shouted from the dirt road at the edge of the walkway, “We know you are in there.”

“They’re everywhere, Mother. A hundred of them at least.”

“We can’t go out there,” she said. It was the first time Dillon had ever seen terror in his mother’s strong face.

“We will be alright. I will protect you.”

Something glass shattered against the outside wall. Then another crash exploded outside of the opposite wall. Within moments, a wisp of smoke trickled through where the walls met the ceiling. Dillon grabbed his mother’s hand and led her back to his classroom. All of the students were staring at their open books, oblivious to the light smoke stinging their nostrils. Some of them twitched their noses but made no effort to prevent it.

Dillon shook the kid closest to him and screamed, “Get up! We have to get out of here. They’re setting us on fire.” The student stared at his book. Dillon went to the next, and the next, but none of them moved.

The smoke grew thicker, banking down from the ceiling. Dillon coughed and ducked lower to the floor.