Darkness Falling: Soldiers and Slaves (21 page)

“Let's just get going,” Impyra pleaded. “We have coats. We'll be fine.”

“I don't think they'll let us leave.” Brosen said, opening the door to join in the welcome.

There wasn't any way they would survive long with only the ratty old coats from the ship. It had been a nice gesture; enough to get them across the bay but not a permanent solution. He didn't like having to rely on strangers, either. Their current situation gave them little choice.

Opening the door, he unfolded himself from the cramped vehicle. Impyra wiggled her way out, her face flushed as she composed herself.

Patting each child on the head as he went Virikoor introduced his family. “This is Harvoor, Gritcha, Patarice, and Ergert.”

“Hello,” Impyra bobbed her head awkwardly.

“And this is Soorina, th'sun of m'sky,” Virikoor leapt forward, catching her in hug.

She laughed, pushing him away, embarrassed.

“Come, come breakfast's ready,” Soorina motioned for them to follow her into the small house.

Brosen didn't understand how they all fit into such a tiny space until he realized the front of the house was just that. The hill had been hollowed, opening more space for rooms beyond the small kitchen. Inside the earth it was warm; a sensible solution to long winters months.

Brosen and Impyra joined the family as they gathered around a small table, sitting shoulder to shoulder with the children. Virikoor helped Soorina bring plates of hotcakes and ham, each dish properly portioned for the age of each child.

“Thank you,” Brosen said uneasily as Virikoor handed him a plate.

“Do you think Gilly and the others will be all right?” Impyra asked once they were all seated

Virikoor took a large mouthful, considering her question as he chewed.

“We've been through worse,” he said at last, pulling up his sleeve to reveal a lighthouse tattoo.

“Not at th'table,” Soorina swatted his arm back.

“Gilly never told me about how you escaped,” Impyra continued.

Brosen was surprised she knew anything at all. “You're an escaped slave?”

“No,” Virikoor shook his head sadly. “I was released.” His eyes were distant. “I went back fer 'em. Gilert an' Moorya.”

Soorina held her husband's hand lovingly. “It's hard fer 'im to talk on, see?”

“Moorya was your sister, the one like me?” Impyra asked

“Impyra,” Brosen said, not wanting to press the issue.

“It's fine,” Virikoor waved his fork at Brosen. “It's fine.”

“Moorya was jus' a girl yet,” Soorina said before he could continue. “The ol' master wouldn't let 'er go. He was goin' t'let Gilert leave, but 'e wouldn't go without 'er.”

“They were very close,” Virikoor agreed. “He tried t'sneak 'er out when 'e was released.”

“You weren't kept by nobility,” Brosen noted quietly.

Only private owners were known to free their slaves. Nobles liked to breed lineages; it ensured a greater chance for loyalty.

“The ol'master's da was a war hero, back when th'army was more than jus' Enforcers. Earned a bit o'land and 'ad a fishin' business. Our da was captured in th'war. If Moorya hadn't 'ad them powers,” his voice trailed off.

“That's why Gilly joined Cap'n Dei'Brenen, he 'elps run slaves to th'Far Lands.” Soorina said quietly. “But it's jus' been a small operation.”

“Until we came along,” Brosen shook his head.

“We'elp hide 'em an' send 'em on their way t'the contact 'cross the border.” Virikoor shrugged.

“There's a contact across the border?” The news lifted a heavy weight from Brosen's shoulders. “That's good news.”

Virikoor smiled, taking another mouthful of breakfast.

From outside there was the noise of a vehicle sliding on snow. Soorina's eyes widened as she stretched to look out the window.

“Enforcers,” she whispered.

“Quickly, to the bunker.” Virikoor said.

Moving as a solid unit the children cleared the table. Soorina ushered Brosen and Impyra deeper into the house. At the end of the narrow hallway was a hatch in the floor.

“Down here, stay quiet,” she said, pushing Brosen forward.

There was a short, steep staircase into the darkness. He half walked, half fell into a small root cellar. Impyra was close behind him. Soorina closed the hatch over their heads just as a loud pounding came at the door.

Standing close together, Brosen could feel Impyra's breath on his cheek as they stared up at a crack between the floor and the hatch. A small stream of light filtered through.

“We're searching for two traitors who may be in the vicinity,” a deep voice said from the front of the house.

“We've seen no one,” Virikoor said, his accent thicker than before.

“How many people are in the house?”

“Only six, me an m'wife an' children.”

“Step aside, every house must be searched.”

Heavy boots thudded against the wooden floorboards. Brosen felt Impyra tense beside him. The first door at the front of the hallway opened with a loud bang.

“Clear,” a second Enforcer's voice called out.

“Clear,” the first Enforcer echoed after checking the room across the hall.

Two more doors opened, both rooms declared free of any suspicious activity. Brosen could see them through the crack, dressed in full armor. They were expecting trouble. As if feeling his gaze, the Enforcer looked down.

“What's this in the floor?”

“That is nothing,” Soorina said, hurrying over. “Jus' a root cellar.”

“Check it,” he commanded.

Before Soorina could stop them his partner bent to open the trap door. Impyra grabbed Brosen's hand. He felt a rush of energy flow from the bottoms of his feet through the top of his head as the hatch swung open. The Enforcer shined the light of his White Energy gun down into the darkness. His eyes looked through them.

“It's clear,” he said, letting the door drop shut.

They listened as the heavy steps retreated back toward the front of the house.

“We need to check your outbuildings.”

“O’course,” Virikoor was saying. “I’ll show you.”

The front door closed. Brosen leaned heavily against the wall, lacing his fingers with Impyra's; that had been too close. Standing silently in the dark, waiting for the inspection to end. Virikoor returned and Soorina opened the hatch.

“They're gone,” she said apprehensively.

“I bet they came here because Virikoor is Gilert's brother,” Brosen pointed out. “You're putting yourselves at great risk having us here. We need to leave as quickly as possible.”

Virikoor, sat sadly at the table. “Gilly probably won't be home fer days,” he said. “Tonight, in the dark, we'll send ya' out. Do ya know how to ride a motorcycle?”

Brosen felt his face brighten. “Actually, I do.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

In the beginning, there were only the Spinners.

Spinning the thread of creation, they created the world and all life. Once their work was done their power was spent. Unable to influence their creation directly they were content to observe.

Born from the land, the first people were the Ekar; mortals who flourished and prospered. They knew little of the Watchers but named them for the attributes of the nature.

Tesche, the sunlight for guidance.

Awnor, the animals of land and sea.

Orna the fertility of fields and forests.

Darna, the water in all its forms.

Glavik, the darkness of the night.

The harmony of their creation pleased the Watchers, except for one who not content to merely observe. Desiring the lost power of creation, Glavik discovered that mortal minds often gave in to temptation. Unable to cause great change with his own power, Glavik reached into the hearts of the Ekar and began to twist their souls.

Famine, war, and plague spread, driven by the insatiable lust of for power. The plague, especially, was of great use to Glavik. As the mortals drifted near the veil of death a door was opened between worlds. Planting the seeds of darkness within the mortal form, the dead could rise as minions of the Dark Watcher's creation.

In desperation, the Ekar cried out to the Watchers who were helpless to aid in the people’s plight. Alone against a threat they did not understand, some of the people reached within themselves, discovering the spark inherent throughout all creation; energy. Realizing they were not helpless, they sought for those who were strongest with the gift.

Soon it became apparent what must be done. A sacrifice must be made. Two souls were offered to the Watchers. Entwining within the Light, they became a talisman of immeasurable power. Syerset.

The birth of Syerset was also the birth of a new Watcher; Deller-Brenth, the protector. Waves of energy flooded the land leaving new life in its wake. Two new races emerged from the Ekar, powerful in the use of magic.

The Tethselan, who were of the air.

The Akar, who were of the earth.

Able to clearly hear the voice of Deller-Brenth, the new races were tasked with protecting the Ekar from Glavik. Birthed from the same blood as the Ekar, they were also able to procreate and thus two more races emerged; the Dreave and the Sheadi.

Great civilizations were born, and prosperity once again flourished. Unfortunately, the temptation of power took hold in the hearts of the Akar and the Tethselan. Viewing themselves superior to those weak in the use of energy, they began to war for supremacy. Watching the turmoil with pleasure, Glavik once more attempted to gain control.

Two more souls were claimed by Syerset to restore the Balance.

The Tethselan, deformed and twisted by their own magic, fled into isolation. The Akar remained, foolishly believing they were capable of avoiding further corruption. There was no end to the reach of the Darkness.

Wishing to build an Empire, but bound by the restraints of Syerset, the Akar began to act as advisers to a group of Ekar who called themselves the Named Clans. Influencing the powerful men of the tribal people, the Akar hid among Ekaran society to achieve their goals.

* * *

Wini paused in her tale, glancing at her enthralled listeners. “The Dreave, a people born from the union of Akar and Ekar, wished to have the continent for themselves. The Ekar were just beginning to unite as a single people. They were in need of assistance because the Dreave were far stronger in energy use than the Ekar.

“Ta'Delan Tei Morset, the last of the Ta dynasty, was killed on the field of battle. The ensuing battles were akin to genocide rather than war. Ny Effilan was a daughter of a powerful general. It was she who led the people away from the chaos, but I was the one who guided her here.”

There was a long silence. Winifred gave her companions time to process everything they had been told. Their world had been bereft of myths, legends, and even much of history. Although she had simplified it as best she could, she wouldn’t be surprised if they found it impossible to believe.

“Are you immortal?” Mikal asked at last.

Wini smiled. “No, we are just far longer lived than the Ekar. I was born during the reign of Sa Taren Sei'Toret, son of Sa Toret who first united the Named.”

“Wait,” Alta said shaking her head. “This year is 1048. Didn't the calendar start counting when Sa Toret was crowned King?”

“That's right,” Wini felt very old. “One hundred years of our life is similar to ten years of your life. We grow and age very slowly. It is the gift granted us by Syerset's will. I was a young woman when Na Efflian fled the armies of the Dreave.”

“What happened to the Dreave?” Gegen asked.

The boy lay flat on his stomach, head propped on his hands.

“The Dreave are now the Enforcers, or what is left of them. It was my cousin Petor and my brother who eventually lead the Ekar north once more and overthrew the unnamed, shackling them into slavery. It was the beginning of the Empire we know today.”

Wini's eyes turned toward the stain glass window inlaid above the door to the Consular. Her youth had taught her the painful lessons of why the Akar were not meant to meddle in the affairs of the Ekar.

“If this is the city of the Akar, then where is everyone?” Mikal looked around as if he half expected more people to appear through the walls.

Wini swallowed hard against the lump forming in her throat. “They are all dead, murdered by my cousin, Petor Garinsith, and my brother Fredrick, in their desire for power. Only the three of us remain.”

“We came here so that you could stop your cousin,” Alta stated flatly.

“Nothing can stop Petor except for death, I know that now, but that is not the reason. The signs of Glavik's imminent return to the world have been mounting. Petor has sought to create an imbalance since our youth in order to draw Syerset out and claim its power as his own.

“This city was built to protect against the darkness. From here I am better equipped to protect the innocent. Anyone seeking the Light can find sanctuary here.”

Mikal and Alta exchanged a glance, not fully understanding but inspired by the sentiment.

“Do you think more people will come?” Alta looked toward the door expectantly.

“I hope so,” Wini said sadly, but did not allow herself to be overcome by her worries. “We've rested enough. Let's move to the apartments. It will be more comfortable there.”

*
 * *

Impyra emerged from a warm bath and dressed in new clothes; a heavy gray woolen sweater which appeared to be knitted by hand and the jeans were lined with soft flannel. She was also given pair of new boots. All of the clothing was donated, they learned. The people of Renenoors were resourceful and not as loyal to the Empire as the Ekarans were lead to believe. Slaves who were able to escape their masters often fled to Renenook in search of freedom in the Far Lands, and Virikoor’s house was one stop along the way.

In the main room, Virikoor and Brosen were hunched over the table. An old yellowing map was spread before them. Impyra sat across from them, her eyes tracing the lines and looping, elegant script of Renenoors writing.

“This road 'ere,” Virikoor pointed to a solid red line. “Don't go that way.” He jabbed at the paper to enforce the importance of his advice. “It's th'most direct route, but it's full o'check points.”

Brosen nodded, crossing his arms over his chest.

“This here,” Virikoor indicated a dashed red line instead. “It's longer, but mostly through forest an' not a lot o'people go that way. It's safer. Quiet.”

“What's this?” Impyra indicated a strange doodle that looked like a tree.

“That's probably not there anymore,” Virikoor sighed. “Empire cut it down.”

Impyra looked at it, feeling a strange connection to the tiny icon without knowing why. “What was it?”

“A tree, important to Renenook; Viynoofen, it was called.” Soorina said from over her shoulder. “My gran spoke of it when I was young.”

“We'll go right passed it.” Impyra said to Brosen.

“If it's there, we'll stop,” he said, understanding without being told.

“This road'll take you high up in th'mountains. Here,” he pointed to the very edge of the paper, “is Doonrok's Fall. Th'road goes past, see? There's a bridge o're the river here. On th’other side is where you'll find th'road to the Far Lands. But be careful, the road’s a loop, see?” he traced the line farther north before it turned back toward the east and the sea.

“If we miss the turn we'll be heading back into the Empire,” Brosen repeated to show he understood.

“Right,” Virikoor smiled, placing his hands on his hips.

“The river might be frozen over. Is Doonrok's Fall easy to see?” Impyra asked, wishing it was on the map.

“Oh yes,” Soorina nodded. “It's a giant waterfall.”

“Now, I'll show you th'vehicle.”

Virikoor lead them out the door.  Next to the house was a small garage. He opened it to reveal a motorcycle, but it was not what either of them was expecting. The front wheel had been replaced with large ski, and the back wheel was more like a series of gears held together in a tread.

“Wow,” Brosen's face lit up as he admired the strange machine. “But, there's no way we can take your motorcycle.”

“It's not ours,” Soorina said solemnly. “It's used to take people over the border, and left with our contact on th'other side.”

“You mean it's donated?” Impyra asked, shocked.

Virikoor nodded, “Aye, jus' like th’clothes an’ other supplies.” He reached up and pulled the garage door shut. “Back inside, we don't want th'authorities catchin' sight o'ya.”

Back inside, they sat around the table to steaming mugs of tea.

“The sun'll be settin' soon,” Soorina said quietly. “You two should get some sleep. We'll wake ya at midnight t'be off.” She nodded down the hallway. “Th'back room on th'left's got two beds, but if ya prefer to share we don't frown on it.”

Impyra blushed, shocked at the insinuation. “We, uhm,” she stumbled over the words.

“It's not like that,” Brosen said, coming to her rescue.

“Oh,” Soorina blinked, surprised. “I'm sorry, I just assumed.”

Virikoor cleared his throat and his wife took it as a signal to take a long drought from her mug.

“I am pretty tired,” Impyra said draining the last of her tea. “I didn't sleep well last night.”

“Me either,” Brosen agreed. “Thanks,” he put his mug on the table.

“Good night,” Soorina smiled awkwardly.

Brosen followed her down the hallway. The room was small and the beds were nearly touching despite each one being pushed against an opposing wall. Impyra took the bed beneath a small window with the blinds tightly drawn. Laying in the dark she listened to Brosen wriggling in the blankets to get comfortable.

Traces of sunlight filtered through the cracks in the blinds. This little house in the snow would be a good home. She hoped someday to have something similar for herself and wondered if Brosen had similar dreams. What would he do once they were free?

Rolling on her side, she could see the outline of his shadow on the far wall. He was lying flat on his back, staring up at the ceiling.

“Why do you think Soorina thought we'd share a bed?”

He didn’t answer right away, and when he did, he spoke in a cautious tone.

“It's just how people think. You see a man and woman traveling together; you just think they're a couple. We did that as Enforcers all the time.”

“It's weird to assume things like that,” Impyra whispered.

“Two kids on the ship asked me about it, too,” he said.

“What?” Impyra laughed quietly at the idea.

“Yeah, they asked if you were my wife.” Brosen shifted again, rolling to face her.

She knew she wasn't ready for that type of situation. Xander had done terrible things to her for years. Brosen, however; was different. It was hard to imagine that a few days ago they hadn't known each other. She knew that he would never hurt her and that he would do anything to keep her safe, even if she didn't need his help. Beyond any doubt, she knew she could trust him. That was difficult to wrap her mind around.

In the dark, the blue glow of his eyes was a comfort. Impyra smiled. Closing her eyes, she allowed herself to fall asleep.

*
 * *

“Ouch!”

Gleyth tried not to move as the seamstress pulled back on the pin.

“I'm sorry, your highness,” she apologized, her voice shaking. “It's late and my eyes are tired.”

“You should get some rest,” Gleyth suggested hopefully. “I can wear the dress from my celebration.”

“Absolutely not,” Thella frowned from her seat on the bed, shaking her head slowly. “The wedding is less than twelve hours away. Your dress needs to be completed, and thankfully I’d had it started two seasons ago.”

Gleyth knew it was hopeless. Everything must be as close to perfect as possible to make up for her attempt at social change. Within the Tower rumors spread quickly from one floor to the next. Some of them held truth, such as her attempt to usurp Xander. Others were farfetched, such as trying to leap from her window, mimicking the escaped slave girl.