Darkness Falling: Soldiers and Slaves (4 page)

“Brace yourself!” It was the only thing she could think to say.

The motorcycle began to lift into the air. She forced the machine rise to her will, tilting it as if they had jumped from an incline. Clearing the blockade, the Enforcers below stood in shock. A few kept their senses long enough to fire their guns, but the blasts were absorbed harmlessly into the draw of power Impyra needed for such a feat of strength.

Once they were through the bike arched back toward the earth. Brosen struggled to keep it steady as the tires screeched against the pavement once more. Impyra loosened her grip. The world was spinning around her.

“You're going to need to shoot again!” He shouted, but she felt the world slipping into darkness. “Are you hit?” His voice was frantic.

“I... I can do it. Just a second,” she stuttered. 

Pulling in energy once more, Impyra pushed herself into a sitting position, turned, and fired. The blast went crooked, only wounding the thick metal wall. She tried again and heard an explosion as the blast impacted with the engine of a EOV. The other vehicles merely edged around smoking car to continue the pursuit.

“I can’t,” she fell forward, leaning against Brosen's back.

“You can't faint now,” he said, panicked.

Impyra closed her eyes. The world tilted wildly inside her head. If only she could lie down for a while and have something to eat, then she'd be ready to fight. She felt Brosen reach back to take the gun. A White Energy blast barely missed his back tire, causing him to veer across the road.

Brosen held the gun by the trigger with the grip. In one swift motion she felt as he turned, holding the thing at arm’s length, and fired. As the energy flew out of the barrel the entire weapon moved in an upward arc.

White Energy went flying in fragments as it followed the path of the gun, but part of it flew true. Two EOVs were hit, one in the tire and the other in the windshield, the other two vehicles were forced to stop as the road was too narrow to pass. Impyra groaned. Shaking her head, she began to surface back to reality. She opened her eyes in time to see Brosen steering them away from a ditch.

“I need to rest,” Impyra said blearily.

“Maybe that will slow them long enough to give us a break until the helicopters come.” He grumbled.

Speeding down the empty road, she hoped that wouldn't be soon.

* * *

The long black vehicle had only made it a few blocks before the siren began to sound. At the same moment Xander’s phone buzzed in his pocket.

“What?” He sneered as he placed it to his ear.

“The Emperor requests your presence immediately, your highness.” The familiar voice of the commander of the Tower Guard spoke rapidly. “The escaped slave was never brought to the hospital.”

“Of course she wasn’t,” he said sarcastically, disconnected the call. He slammed the side of his fist into the vehicle door. “Back to the Tower, now!”

The driver sat up straight in his seat. “Yes, your highness,” he said, attempting to keep his voice steady.

Resting his chin in his hand Xander stared out of the darkly tinted window. His mind was dark with violent thought. Once more she had embarrassed him, it wasn’t a trend he wanted to see continue. Regardless of what his father had in mind, Xander knew exactly what he wanted; Impyra’s life would end by his hand.

It wasn’t long before the vehicle was passing through the Tower gates and rolling into the garage below. Before it came to a full stop Xander opened the door and stepped out. His gait toward the elevator mirrored the rage within. He waited impatiently for the doors to slide open. There was always a delay living within the Tower. Although the elevator could reach the top floor in less than two minutes, the dark blue and silver interior felt like a prison when one was in a hurry.

At last the doors opened into Ka Harn’s office which was the entirety of the seventy-first floor. There were no walls but instead the room was encased in floor to ceiling windows which allowed a view of the city in every direction. The Emperor was looking towards the south, his hands clasped behind his back.

“Father,” Xander began, but Harn lifted a hand to stop him.

“You already know what you’ve done,” the Emperor said without turning.

“And I intend to remedy my mistake,” Xander kept his voice calm despite the simmering anger within.

“I’ve already obtained the services of the Enforcer’s partner to aid you in this. He will be able to better predict the movements of the criminal than anyone else, especially you.” The insult was not lost on the prince, who could only curl his lip in a false smile. “Treve En-Harn. He is waiting with the helicopter.”

“Yes, Father,” Xander bowed stiffly, reminding himself that he would not always be taking orders from an old man.

He did not wait to be dismissed. The situation was too critical for pleasantries, instead he rode the elevator up to the roof. The wind snapped and popped against the energy surrounding the Tower, ruffling his hair. Air could pass freely through the Field Energy. It was particles in the environment, such as dust or pollen, which caused the disturbance.

A sleek black helicopter waited with its blade already spinning. Three Enforcers stood beside it, fully geared for battle. They snapped to attention when they saw him. Two of them he knew already, they were regular pilots in the Imperial Guard. The other must be the one his father had mentioned.

The young man saluted. “Treve En-Harn, your highness,” he said, his brilliant glowing eyes shining out from within his helmet.

Xander frowned in annoyance. “I don’t care,” he snarled. “Speak when you are spoken to.”

The Enforcer dropped his hand and didn’t respond.

“Do you understand?” Xander spoke very slowly in a mocking tone, leaning forward to make his point.

“Yes, your highness.” The Enforcer kept his eyes looking straight ahead, showing no emotion.

At least he was well trained.

Xander pulled himself up into the helicopter. The others took their places, two pilots in the front and the Enforcer across from him near the door.

The Imperial helicopters were one of the greater advancements of technology. With enhanced blades and the use of energy they were nearly silent in flight. The chopper lifted from the roof. Above them the field energy appeared to slide away, producing a small opening through which they passed with ease.

“What intelligence do we have on the traitors?” Xander asked the Enforcer.

“The most recent report states that they were heading south and jumped the barricade at the southern wall.” Treve answered.

Xander raised an eyebrow. This was getting more interesting all the time; a fun little game of cat and mouse. He also knew Impyra wouldn’t be able to keep playing her little tricks for long, especially not of that caliber.

“They’re going to need to rest,” Xander said.

“If we don’t catch them on the road they’ll most likely seek cover in Ro'Tesche-En, it’s the nearest town from here.” Treve offered.

Xander glared at him. “I know that,” he snapped. Again Treve looked at him without feeling. He didn’t even flinch. “They won’t be able to hide from us. What else do we know?”

Treve pointed out the right side window. Another helicopter had fallen in formation with them. “We’ve got support,” he said. “Shots were fired during the initial confrontation. Two Enforcers were killed.”

Xander smiled. That was good news, knowing that the soldiers wouldn’t hesitate to fire on one of their own.

“Whatever happens, we are not to take the girl alive, do you hear me? The other one, I don’t care about. She has already been tried and is to be executed. I’d prefer to be the one to do it.”

“Understood, your highness,” Treve said firmly, then shifted his attention to the road below, white energy gun at the ready.

Xander grinned. The true test of loyalty: to gun down a friend at an order from a person of power. If this one could pass the test he might be worth having in the Tower instead of out on the streets.

Rau'Tesche-Awn was slipping away behind them. Beyond the wall the once fertile fields and farms were nothing more than a gray, dead wasteland. It shouldn't be too hard to find them. Commerce and travel by road were nearly nonexistent and the roads were clear of traffic. It would only be a matter of time.

CHAPTER FOUR

To say that business was bad was laughable.

Sitting behind the bar of the Imperial Inn, Sheyra leaned heavily on her elbow and stared up at the blank screen on the wall. For a while she thought about turning it on just to fill the silence. Watching news of how prosperous and wonderful it was to live under the rule Ka Harn Kei'Oren didn't sound appealing at the moment. Her empty little tavern was enough proof of the rampant prosperity and she didn't need to be reminded.

The inn had been left to her by her father who had, like many others, died in the Senna Plague. The old, the young, and those who were already sick hadn't stood a chance against the pandemic. It hadn't really surprised her when the cure and the vaccine had come too late. Ro'Tesche-En had been hit hard. Once the illness had finally been stopped over half the town was gone. Those left alive had fled in the wake of the tragedy.

Sheyra was the last remaining citizen.

With black hair and dark copper colored skin that was indicative of the Ekar people, she had been told she was pretty numerous times, but Sheyra didn't really care for flattery. Standing as tall as an Enforcer but slender, she often considered herself too skinny although she had a hardy appetite. She was also strong and carried herself with confidence. Her father raised her to be proud and intelligent, paying a lot of credits to obtain the licensing needed to educate her in reading and the mathematics to run the inn. Unfortunately, he didn't foresee the decline of the Empire.

It was late morning and there wasn't hope of a customer for lunch. She thought about cooking something for herself but had little motivation. Having held on for five years to the tavern out of respect for her father it was hard for her to admit that maybe it was time to move on. No one would buy it from her. What credits her father had left in his inheritance were dwindling away to nothing. She could stay and starve, she knew, but that didn't sound appealing.

Contemplating the gravity of the situation she began to hear a low rumble outside. Sheyra held her breath, listening closely. Was that a vehicle engine? As curious as every other young woman from a small town, Sheyra rushed to the front window and peered out. She crouched down to try to hide from whoever might be out there. Rolling slowly up the street was a motorcycle carrying two passengers. The hair on the back of her neck pricked up and her stomach knotted.

Trouble was coming.

A young man was driving. Sheyra could see that he was well built and well fed, which made her wonder where they were coming from. She could tell by his face that he was a charmer, even if his eyes were a little cold. Besides that, he was blond, which was extremely unusual, clearly born by foreign blood.

The young woman seated behind him had her head against his shoulder. She was also blond, which caused Sheyra's eyebrows to lift in surprise. Oddly enough, it appeared at first glance that she was asleep. The girl snuggled against him as if they were familiar lovers. Sheyra watched in anticipation as the motorcycle came to a stop just outside her door.

The man stepped off and the woman sat up blearily. Maybe she hadn't been asleep but something was wrong with her. She swayed in the seat. He reached out to help her but she knocked his hand away.

“I can do it,” Sheyra heard her say, her words slightly slurred.

“Fine, I don't care.” He grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest to watch as the woman pushed herself slowly over the seat.

Her right foot barely hit the sidewalk and she was falling. The man reached out and caught her, struggling to get her to stand. Leaning heavily on him she gave up. Was she drunk? Sheyra shook her head in disbelief. The man then retrieved a long White Energy gun from the bike. Trouble. She knew it.

Backing up toward the bar, Sheyra's hand touched the wood just as they came through the door. The man dropped the woman unceremoniously into in the nearest chair. She slumped forward on the table. Sheyra could see a large purple bruise peeking out from under her hair. She gave the man a cold stare but he merely shook his head.

“Are you open?” he asked.

“You gonna use those in here?” Sheyra asked, indicating the weapon with a nod.

“No. It's only for protection. We travel to a lot of dangerous places. As you can see, my friend is sick. We’re just passing through town, that’s all.” His brilliant, sky blue eyes filled with ice as he glared at her.

An Enforcer? That wasn't what she expected. At least he wasn't a bandit.

“I need to eat,” the woman groaned.

“I'm working on it,” the man snapped at her.

“Hey, I saved your life!” She protested.

“And I saved yours. Just wait.” He offered Sheyra a tight lipped smile. “Long day,” he explained.

Sheyra began to press the appropriate buttons on the ID scanner to take her attention away from their odd behavior. “All right. It’ll be twenty-five credits for two breakfasts.” At least it gave her an excuse to make her own meal.

“Fine.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out his ID. He stared at if for a minute before handing it to her. “I’ll also need to know where I can trade my bike for another vehicle.”

“Trade?” She almost laughed. “There's nothing in this town, if you didn't notice. Maybe something still runs down at Jareen's at the end of the road. He took off six moons ago, I don't think anyone will care if you take anything.”

He nodded his blond head solemnly. She could see a strange sadness in his eyes. She wasn't sure if it was for the thought of a small town rocked by tragedy or over losing something as rare as a motorcycle. Sheyra wondered who these people really were.

She ran the ID card. It beeped once and drew the credits. The name Brosen En-Harn flashed on the screen. She was right, he was an Enforcer. When she handed him the card he looked relieved. She desperately wanted to ask questions but kept her mouth shut.

Sheyra turned on the stove and dropped a pan over the fire. She stared into the fridge at the few available options. Eggs, toast, and fruit. That would look like breakfast and should be worth twenty-five credits.

The Enforcer took a seat next to his so-called friend. They didn't talk. If they were lovers, then they must be quarreling. It didn't take long to cook the food. Plating the eggs, buttering the toast, and slicing a few apples into small bowls was easy enough. She carried two dishes to the table before returning to the bar to sit alone.

“Sit with us,” the young woman said before biting into an apple slice.

“What?” Sheyra was surprised.

“It seem ridiculous that we sit here and you sit over there.”

It was a good point.

She sat with the young woman across from her and the Enforcer was to her right, shoveling food into his mouth at a rapid pace. She wondered if he would choke. They ate in awkward silence. Sheyra watched in amazement as each bite energized the young woman, bringing life to her eyes and color to her cheeks. That ruled out the possibility of her being drunk.

“I'm Sheyra,” she said at last, feeling the awkwardness had lasted too long. “I already know you're Brosen and an Enforcer.”

The couple exchanged glances.

“I'm Impyra,” the young woman said.

Brosen pushed back from the table. “It was good. Thanks.” Without further comment he walked out the door. They heard the motorcycle engine fire up and fade away as he drove toward the old vehicle dealership.

“He's good with words, huh?” Sheyra asked but Impyra only shrugged.

Wonderful, two people who didn't talk. Still it was better than the lack of people she'd had for company in the past few moons.

“Did he do that to you?” She asked, looking at the bruise.

“Nope,” Impyra said, staring back fiercely. “He 
did
 save my life.” That was all she would give.

Sheyra sighed and collected the dishes, taking them to the sink to wash. The girl sat with her head cradled in her arms on the table, eyes closed. Whatever was wrong with her was clearing up quickly.

It was quiet enough that Sheyra might as well have been alone. Turning on the water in the sink there was a low pulsating sound. Thinking it might be the pipes, Sheyra turned the water back off. The pulsating noise continued.

Impyra stood up, her eyes locked on the door.

“What is that?” Sheyra said, but Impyra held her hand up for quiet.

A moment later she bolted toward the door with Sheyra right at her heels. Turning toward the noise they could see three black helicopters flying in formation against the blue sky. They were moving fast, heading toward the main street of Ro'Tesche-En. Helicopters never flew out this way. Sometimes Sheyra had seen them far off on the horizon traveling to and from Rau'Tesche-Awn.

They were nearly above the tavern when a booming voice called down from a loudspeaker, 
“Surrender peacefully and you will receive mercy!”

“What’s happening?” Sheyra asked, her stomach felt as if it dropped into her knees.

Why didn't she listen to her instincts? She knew they were trouble.

“Get back inside,” Impyra pushed Sheyra back through door.

As the door clicked in place with the frame, three bolts of White Energy exploded where they had been standing. Sheyra and Impyra were thrown to the floor, splinters of glass falling around them as the window shattered with the impact of the blast.

“We've got to get out of here,” Impyra said, grabbing the White Energy gun from the floor. “Is there another way out?”

Bewildered by what had just happened, Sheyra felt her mouth drop open but no words came out.

Impyra grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her, “Is there another way out?” She demanded.

The image of the rear door filled her mind. “In the back.” Her eyes darted in the direction of the storage closet across the room.

Grabbing her by the arm, Impyra dragged her to her feet and across the floor. No more shots were fired but she couldn't understand why the first ones had been; hadn't the voice asked for surrender?

The storeroom was long and narrow, lined with shelves which were mostly empty. The back door was solid wood. Impyra opened it slowly, peeking out. Together they crept along the side of the building through the alley. There was just enough room to walk between the Imperial Inn and the old general store which had long been vacant. When they came to the sidewalk they stopped. The helicopters had broken formation and were circling the town in three wide arcs.

Just then, an old white pick-up truck came rumbling up to the curb. Sheyra recognized it immediately as being Jareen's own vehicle. Brosen leaned across the seat and opened the door.

“Get in!” he shouted.

Impyra threw open the door and climbed in, pulling Sheyra behind her. “Go! Go!” She yelled and he floored it, tires squealed against the blacktop.

Sheyra glanced behind her, seeing one of the helicopters immediately take up the pursuit. “They're coming!” She yelled.

“I know,” Brosen said, his voice oddly calm.

From behind them there was an explosion of noise. Sheyra turned to see her inn engulfed in flames. “No!”

She couldn't believe what she had just seen. It must have been a hallucination or an illusion, but the fire continued to burn.

“The bastards blew it up,” Sheyra muttered.

“Can you drive?” Brosen's voice sounded far away.

“I can't,” Impyra said.

“Not you,” he said. “Sheyra.”

“What?” Sheyra asked, brought back to the moment by the sound of her name.

“Can you drive?” Brosen repeated urgently.

“Yes,” she responded, confused.

“Switch with Impyra then you take my seat,” Brosen said.

They turned out of town and were on the main road heading south. The cracked landscape was flying past and Brosen did not take the time to stop. Moving mechanically, Sheyra climbed over as Impyra scooted beneath her. Once they were settled Brosen opened the door.

“Wait,” Sheyra said. “What are you doing?”

“Just keep going as fast as you can and don't stop no matter what happens.”

His instructions were something concrete that she could hold onto as her mind continued to wrestle with her new reality. For a moment he released the gas pedal, the truck began to slow. Sheyra grabbed the wheel as he let go and slid out onto the runner, taking the White Energy gun with him. He pulled himself up into the bed, forcing the door shut. The helicopters were nearly on top of them. Sheyra pressed the gas and the truck accelerated.

“Surrender!”
 The voice boomed again, followed by what sounded like laughter.

“What is going on?” Sheyra demanded. “Why did they blow up my inn?”

“They're trying to kill us,” Impyra said, pointing at the back window.

“Yeah, I think I got that part. Buy why?”

Impyra didn't answer right away. “If we get out of this alive, I'll tell you, I promise. Just drive!”

Great. She was going to die and not even know why. The speed of the truck felt as if it matched pace with her racing heart. 

There was the sound of a White Energy blast. The back of the truck lifted up slightly before falling back hard onto the pavement.