Nemecene: The Epoch of Redress (3 page)

Easing her stride, she succumbs to a rush of conflicted emotions as she recalls the senselessness, the transgressions, the horror.

With the resultant slowing of thermohaline circulation, causing a further increase in oceanic dead zones, the deep recesses of the seas became toxic and cloaked with a thin green shroud, infused with whatever oxygen was available. Contaminant spewing algae indiscriminately replaced fish and marine mammals and periodically stirred from the depths, releasing lethal hydrogen sulphide bubbles to the surface and carpeting bordering shorelines with a film of golden powder. The chemical cesspool living in the air, land, and water incited a chain reaction, leading to the cataclysmic anoxic event that very nearly annihilated their great civilization.

Savage gusts of wind, encouraged by the burgeoning thermal gradients over endless expanses of territory, took siege and enlisted the noxious vapors into their fray, affording them no chance to convert to their more benign format. The gale force stream strengthened with the unseasonably cold dawn sky and syphoned in the deadly mix of ever-present sulfur dioxide and mist, to give birth to a charging front of dense fog tainted with yellow death.

The tempest grips her. Motionless at the fringe of the plaza, Nathruyu struggles to center her spirit. She feels powerless, her body frozen in the face of a stealth airborne demon, as she watches her children gasp for their last breath and slump lifeless to the ground, in a puddle of malignant cinders, their twisted forms blanketed in blonde ashes. The features of the terrified swarms hopelessly scrambling to outrun the accelerating poisonous mass live locked in her soul, and the bravery of the ones she failed to protect, crushed in the panic, further strengthens her will. Her limbs, burdened with the weight of child after child sinking helpless in her arms, desperately groping for her, ache with regret. Kneeling in the midst of a field of torment, she offers peace to the brave and comfort to the fearful. Her eyes weep the tale of her anguish, and her flesh becomes stone in its path. As the storm's assault disperses, all that persists is the tarnished wreckage of ignorance and deceit.

Nathruyu arrives at the gate with a deep, cleansing sigh, poised to embrace the forthcoming business and her latest challenge. Examining the kitchen area for contours, she places one hand firmly on the garden fence and leans into it for an instant, calm as the starry heavens. The building turns dark, and with a graceful swoop of her balletic build, she nimbly sails over the pickets and tucks herself quickly and quietly in the space between the hedge and the outside wall of the house, a significant distance ahead. She waits.

Soon, the Ministry hounds will come, and the trials along with them. Although they cannot audit her daily activities, her general whereabouts for the latter three months are not a mystery anymore. She has been diligently cautious not to lead them to her cause, for fear of disrupting the larger intent, but private forces inside the Ministry are at work, hampering her ability to conceal her motives and spinning a web she must test faith to confront. Safe behind the broad blooming shield of the hedge, she grabs the opportunity to draw in its intoxicating perfume and to meditate on her crusade in light of the recent awareness. The generous petals of her shelter rejuvenate her skin with a pale rose brush and fill her blood with a radiating flush. The hunt is in progress, and she must accomplish her task before they arrive.

She closes her eyes and delays a moment to reconnect with her purpose. There is a tenet bigger than life that she must honorably uphold. She cannot grant her resolve the scantest weakness, no matter how callous and heinous her actions are judged to be, and she must continue, detached, for if she were to falter, her diligence would have been for not, and the cycle would commence anew.

To the unenlightened, the children appear to nap when she collects them, holding them close to her chest as she carries them. Away from their bed, she retreats, gliding in utter silence, anticipating their treacherous voyage and forgiving their confusion. Pressing soundlessly past the ears of that which cannot hear, she takes them to the place where all manner of suffering will finally cease. They are so delicate and fresh in her care, cleansed of the madness and whole again. She sways from side to side, with them nestled in time, their bodies still toiling with all that is new, but soon shall yield to the essence of truth.

The corridor she travels is narrow and temperate, her coat framed by the naked tunnel as she hurries onward. The flapping of leather upon granite grows louder on occasion, waking her passenger slightly. The drowsy eyes watch her fleetingly, then drift back to a dreamless sleep. She must keep her secret until it is complete, or
they
will know and seek out her charge, reinfecting the child with the illness from which she has been saved. Too many young minds have been programmed and controlled, the few taking liberties from and with the many, but the era is looming when the children shall choose. Until that epoch, she dutifully obeys her directive, in spite of barbaric rules of what is right and what is wrong. Notwithstanding the remnants of compassion enduring in her physical being, it is her conviction, above everything else, that will conquer the weak and ill-informed.

She crosses the hidden doorway, and into the open she flies, painstakingly ensuring no injury befalls her precious cargo. The bundle is marginally responsive. Her lustrous long hair shimmers in stride against the setting sun, as the solar crest sinks below the horizon and they race to the river bank. The girl's absence duly noted, Nathruyu prepares for an overnight vigil, since they are frantically searching, and, as always, effective sanctuary during the following days is paramount to her survival. If the hounds pick up her scent and intercept the process, there will be no semblance of clemency for her carelessness, for a transition is marching steadily forwards, and souls shall be laid to rest. Even if her agility should facilitate an escape, the girl must not return with images that can speak. She has seen too much.

She opens her eyes and gazes at the hillside, the neighboring structures mere outlines etched into the rustling slopes. The hunters are there, by the water's edge, and eventually they will share the valley with her.

As Nathruyu hones in on the noises in the house above her, groggy footsteps, a cupboard door squeaking, dishes clanging, she cocks her head, and concedes that it must surely be difficult for them, trying to find their way in obscurity with limited sight, but there is no assistance she can provide. She must not allow them to detect her until their hearts are ready to accept who she is and what she has done. Elize is especially fragile at the moment, and any additional complexity might derail her and compromise her critically needed focus, which currently lies fragmented in her mind.

A chair screeches, and then she hears someone walking towards the window, pausing for a bit with the fingers of one hand peeking around the trim. Nathruyu interrupts her lungs. The lumbering is clearly Keeto's, rummaging around the cabinets for something to feed his developing body. He hesitates, then pushes himself back, slams a book shut, and mutters his displeasure. The stars have not yet invited the moon to shine, and, exasperated, he collides with a stubborn stool.

As her ears follow the plodding of his slippers, she ponders the irony of consciousness. Before there is darkness, there must be light, and without darkness, there cannot be light. If only they believed and would acknowledge the truth, she would not be running from misguided righteousness, because vision would reenter the spiritually blinded, and her deeds would be revered on the stage of redemption. The twins must make the leap.

The room falls quiet as the thumping fades, and she concentrates her attention on a faint glow in their father's study further down. Silently, she springs from her handy refuge and lands near its source. As this also surrenders its light, she gently positions herself beneath the ledge of the open pane, depressing the soil underfoot with the slim heel of her shoe, and stays with her hand the whispering leaves of the bushes, alert to the distraction they may have provoked. Her heartbeat skips when she hears hushed movement in the house, and then the boy's tenuous voice.

"Hello? Anybody there?"

Day 1: Late Evening

W
here is it? No, no, no… Aw don't run out of charge. Crap! I can't see a thing anymore. Ouch. Oh, I hope no one heard that. Someone's in the room. Crap crap crap! Just drop to the floor, Eli, and stop breathing and maybe they'll just go away.

"Hello? Anybody there?"

Sounds like Keet, but not a hundred percent on that. I sure hope it's not Father or I'm busted. Think fast, girl, you've got to sound convincing, just in case.

"Hello?"

There it is again, a little more faint. Ah, it's Keet and he's sounding a little scared. Hehehe. Time to have a little fun. I'll throw the light in the corner by the window and see what he does. Good, he's heading there. I can sneak up behind him now and grab his ankle.

"Eek!"

Got you back. Oh, this is priceless. I wish it wasn't so dark so I could see his face.

"Eli, you little witch. I almost lost my meal on you, and it would have served you right too."