Relias: Uprising (34 page)

 “My turn!” Morlo yelled. “I got mine! Everybody listen.”

 Seraphine squeezed her legs tighter and giggled. Sable saw it and concealed a smile of her own.

 “So I was one of the top leaders in the Arctanican Empire. Part of a militaristic triumvirate, right? En I was just sittin’ around in one of those big Quo-skin tents we had- you know, the ones with the big areas in the middle for meetings and stuff? We had those set up as a mobile military outpost. So my uncle Gamrik used to hate Durants- the Arctanican Empire had everybody but he really
really
hated Durants, and Unca Gamrik kept harassing one particular Durant town up in the Diamide mountains and kept doing it over and over and over.”

 Morlo took a bite from his unreasonably small food ration and grimaced at his miserly portion. “I’m gonna die if this is all I get. Anyway, so this particular Durant town was the home of the Scarsboroughs and they had taken in a young stray kid who they called Mylo who had no idea who he was and thought he was just some pathetic little weeny. Well good ol’ Gamrik went in there, pissed off little Mylo, flipped some massacre switch and Mylo went completely apeshit.” Morlo took another bite from his ration and took a quick swig from his canteen. “Anyways it turns out it was Luke.”

 “Now it’s six years later. So there I am, sitting inside my big leather circus tent thing watching some ugly women dance and people outside started getting angry and, when it comes to the Arctanican Empire I was a big deal. Okay? A
big
fricking deal. So anyway, a crowd came in all pissed off and surrounding three guys. One was Luke, one was Miles and the other was Sam.” Morlo looked towards Rush’s members. “Alighieri. So anyway Luke comes in, introduces himself and says he’s been sent by Peter Scarsborough as a part of some massive campaign to unite the clans or something. So Luke gives this whole ‘join us or be conquered’ speech which, you know me, it pissed me off pretty good. So I stand up and I yell at Luke like I was getting my kidneys removed with a rusty tire-iron and tell him that if he doesn’t get out of my town then I’d beat his bloody backside backwards. So then he tells me that I’m small for a Barbarian and I tell him he’s got disgusting chicken legs and call him ‘Wee Man Semprys’. So
then
I get down into the center of the tent and say that if he backs up his crap and takes me down then I’d join up with the Durants and even give Luke a full body massage if he could just bruise me.” 

 Pitt was completely wrapped up in the story and was enjoying it thoroughly. “…And then what?”

 Morlo laughed and went to take another drink from his canteen. “I got dropped in less than ten seconds, that’s what. Lucky for me Luke didn’t want that massage.”

 It was a story that Sable hadn’t heard, and from the look on Tess’s face neither had she. Tess smiled broadly, resting backwards on her hands and trying to detach herself from the group. Her smile faded fast and melted into an expression of regret and sadness. Sable couldn’t imagine what it was. All she knew was that she hadn’t had a solid night’s sleep in almost a week and she wasn’t going to stay up any longer than she had to. She rolled over onto her other side away from the fire and hugged herself for warmth. Settling herself on the cold, dense floor, Sable took one last look down the long, darkening hallway. The child in her couldn’t help but imagine some demon or ravenous monster skittering manically from the darkness to rip her apart and drag her away.

 As she closed her eyes she saw Seraphine slip away from the group unnoticed and crawl into one of the small caves branching off of the main cavern. She slid herself into the hole feet first and spread her blankets across herself, laying on her side and facing away from the group. She pulled the blankets up under her chin and brought her knees to her chest and set her chin on them. And like Sable, she too hugged herself. But she wasn’t doing it for warmth. And, though she didn’t know it, somebody else was keeping an eye on Seraphine.

 Pontious was concerned, though from the disconcerting ferocity he always wore on his face, that fact was lost on most. But through partially closed eyes, Sable picked up on it. She knew Pontious’s story. Seraphine wasn’t much older than his sister had been when she died. And seeing him give the occasional, discreet glance over towards Seraphine’s resting place, there was both sadness and resolve in his eyes. It didn’t take too long for Vyvyr to pick up on it. His eyes on the fire, Vyvyr gave Pontious a reassured pat on the shoulder and told him she’d be okay.

 With the voices of those sitting around the fire echoing all around her, Sable closed her eyes and tried to sleep.

 But she couldn’t.

 The more she tried to sleep the more she thought about the coming journey, about everything that could go wrong; and there was so much that could easily go wrong. They were walking through monster infested mountain ranges with the First Legionnaire combing every last inch of it for Dark escapees. And sleeping at night out in the open would be unfortunately uneasy. Styklers, Hoppers and god forbid Razorbacks might be running around out there looking for something to either scarf down on sight or take back to their chicks or babies or whatever it was their young would be called. And knowing that that night’s sleep would probably be the best she’d have in a long time didn’t help matters.

 An invisible vice closed around Sable’s stomach. She didn’t want to do any of this. She was tired of fighting and tired of war. She’d been doing it for almost twenty years and maybe even longer depending on what things were like before she became an amnesiac. Or mind wiped or whatever it was they called her. She didn’t want to kill and even more she didn’t want to worry about
being
killed. How many times she had wondered why she didn’t just join the Commune citizenry and forget that any of this stuff had happened.

 It wouldn’t be hard to just buy into the charade. Everybody ‘participated’ in the political process. They voted, they went to debates and they went to those pathetic town hall meetings, and even though Sable knew that none of that meant anything it never hurt to pretend. She’d live without having to fight, without having to hide, and she might even be able to act or sing or do something like that. She might not make it but that was the beauty of it; she’d have forever to find out where her life could take her. It sounded beautiful. When the others fell asleep Sable could simply sneak off, evade the Legionnaire forces and find her way to a nearby town where she could stowaway on a freight train bound for Valhalla. She’d always loved that place. Clear blue water rippling gently over a white sandy ocean floor, clear blue skies, misty ocean air, warm nights sipping drinks at the cantinas… it was something Sable had always dreamed of and just the simple act of thinking about it made Sable want to give up anything she had to just for a taste of it.

 Then she thought of Luke, of Hendrick, of the Ditrinity, and knew that that life wasn’t for her. She wanted it. She ached for it, but it wasn’t for her. Her place was fighting Lynch and the Commune, not spending night after repetitive night seeking cheap thrills and unproductive relaxation. She wanted to enjoy life and there were many times when she did. But a life where nothing was accomplished wasn’t much of a life, and what more important thing could she accomplish than helping those she cared about?

 So with their conversations still going strong, with Pontious’s deep gravelly voice, Morlo’s loud, booming laughs, and Vyvyr’s dark intonations, Sable took a deep breath and relaxed. Her home was wherever the Ditrinity was, and wherever they went she’d go too.

Chapter 18

 A young man, his face indistinguishable beneath sheets of blood and heavy swelling, sat baking in the center of a halo of intense light. His eyes blurred with pain, blood and sweat, made him incapable of seeing beyond that light through the darkness. And save for his harsh, ragged breathing, the room was silent. Sweat stung his eyes, seared the gashes all over his face, and the area on his arm where they had shoved that red hot needle down his nerve still felt like his flesh was melting from his bones. Wires ran off of his every limb, while heavy cables were plugged into a thin metallic device at the base of his skull. In the other room, out of his sight and hearing, Frenz stood side by side with President Lynch while scientists and technicians worked with a multitude of machinery. Lynch stood quiet, almost spiteful, as he looked into the room at the helpless man strapped to the chair. He was quiet, unemotional. He was in his mid to late fifties, his skin starting to wrinkle beneath his eyes and around his mouth while his hair grayed around its edges. There was something about his appearance that exuded strength and a surprising dignity that none of the others shared. Flanking the two, with their hands behind their backs, were several higher ranking Counts, Counts Remus Emery, Mason Richards, James Ryder, and the eldest of the group, Paul Valkner. They stood two by two on either side of Lynch and Frenz, taking the scene in with quiet intimidation, save Ryder, who wore a disapproving scowl. Frenz, on the other hand, had difficulty containing his pride and excitement.

 “And you said my tactics were too extreme.” He said with a discomforting smile. “All of you. Complaint after complaint about how sick I am and how perverted I am yet here I stand having done what all of you combined could never do how many decades?”

 None of them gave any kind of emotional response. Frenz’s words were bothering them, though. That much was clear. The fact that none of them had the courage to stop him was like sustenance to Frenz.

 “Praemon is back under our control for the first time in over four years.” Frenz went on, completely pleased with himself. “The biggest threat to the Commune has been disrupted in every way and now it’s become a simple matter of tracking down the Darks that escaped Praemon. We’ve got a good portion of the Legionnaire navy scouring the Byfayne mountains and have dozens of Forge tank emplacements set up along a large percentage of mountain tops in that region. They pick up a life signature that matches or’s similar to any homosapien be they human, Vampire, untransformed werewolf, Barbarian or Durant and they’ll blow whosever guts they are all over the hillside. All surrounding cities have been restocked with troops from the International Army and the First Legionnaire and are keeping a close eye on everybody who enters or leaves those cities.  We’ve got all shipping routes being tightly monitored with routine checkpoints along the major railways. As for the prisoners…” Frenz stopped himself, looking away from Trey and thinking to himself. He zoned out and smiled, as though remembering a funny joke and rethought his previous statement. “Talking about prisoner treatment would be irrelevant now, wouldn’t it?”

 “Most of those people weren’t even Darks, General.” Lynch stated firmly. “There are thousands of innocent people lying slaughtered in Praemon. There’s absolutely no way that we’ll be able hide that from the rest of the citizenry.” 

 “Then we play the blame game like we always have.” Frenz replied nonchalantly. “Just plant a headline saying ‘Darks Mercilessly Slaughter Thousands’ and put it in every major newspaper, slap a news story on the evening news, start a ‘Praemon Relief Fund’ back with our usual celebrity pals with all contributions going towards the poor and unfortunate escapees and call it good. In fact, with something like that it’d make the remaining Darks look worse and make us look even better. They’ll watch and read all that crap, say ‘Those poor, poor people’, send the money in. We collect the money and… Hell, we could even make a few bucks off of this.”

 “What about the Dark sleeper cells?” Lynch asked, moving the conversation along. “The Dark followers, the Relias disciples, how do you plan on eliminating them?”

 Frenz intertwined his fingers on the tabletop and shrugged. “Monitor phone calls, Subnet messages, make raids on suspected hideouts, typical detective work. But I think you’re getting away from the main point.”

 “Which is?”

 “That the Darks have been destroyed.” Frenz said with a condescending smile. “They’re gone. Finished. And now all we have left is-“

 “Luke Semprys is still alive.” Lynch stated firmly, the tone of his voice making it perfectly clear he still regarded Frenz as a failure. “The
Ditrinity
is still alive. You haven’t killed them. They aren’t Darks. They have their own plans, and until they’re dead you haven’t won yet.”

 That was the worst thing President Lynch could’ve said. Of course Frenz knew that Luke was still out there. What, had he been living in a hole? The fact that he had to bring it up made Frenz want to rip his chest open.

 “Semprys and his groupies are just another speed bump that we’re going to have to deal with.” Frenz said, controlling his tongue. “Give me time and I’ll deal with it.”

 Lynch nodded and said nothing.

 “And what happens when he starts coming after us!” Count Valkner interjected. “If he’s having that much fun with the Legionnaire then think of what he’d do with one of us!”

 “Shut your mouth!” Frenz yelled, the vein in his neck pulsing. “The Counts have more stabilizers in their use than the entire Legionnaire!”

 “That’s a lie!”

 “It’s hyperbole, you dumb prick!”

 “Enough!” Lynch said, saying what he had to only loud enough to be heard. Valkner and Frenz went quiet, though the Count cowered and Frenz boiled. Lynch was calm and collected and showed no signs of discomfort. “Now, what are you going to do with Luke Semprys?”

 “What you think!” Frenz replied, his temper going further from his control. “I’m going to find him and rip his lungs out!”

 “Stop blowing your own whistle and just tell me how you plan on tracking him down.”

 Frenz stopped speaking. He hated the man; he hated President Lynch almost as much as he hated Luke. There was something about Lynch that just pissed Frenz right off. For one thing, it seemed that Lynch was completely impervious to Frenz’s attempts at telepathy and mind control; he was one of the few suffered nothing from Frenz’s mental assaults.