Still Falling: Book 1: Solstice 31 Saga (26 page)

Then after a moment, he ran.

He didn't stop until he was back inside that farm cottage. He realized he burst in a bit fast and slammed the door a bit too hard.

Grady was stirring the fire.

“I think I'm going mad,” Ulric said.

“What else is new?” Grady said.

“No, I'm serious this time. Insane. I am hearing and seeing things.”

“Really?” Grady glanced over at several empty bottles on the table.

Ulric followed his glance and a bit of doubt crept in.

“Like that time in Winton when the Black Trackers had come to kill you, but all they did was stand at the foot of your bed and watch you sleep?” Grady asked as he stood up straight to glare at him.

Ulric reddened but said, “It's not like that time. This was...” he was going to say “real” but then he remembered there were no tracks in the fresh snow.

“There are three more hours until dawn. Get some rest,” Grady recommended. Ulric didn't argue.

There would be no rest. The cello had started again. He didn't dare mention it to Grady.

Ulric drank his way into oblivion. He woke with a raging headache and a mouth full of rancid wool. There was a fire in the hearth and a pitcher of water and a cup on the table next to the bed. The curtains were pulled closed to keep out the painful sunlight.

Driven outside by his bladder, he could hear Grady humming softly to the horses in the barn. The snow had stopped, and the skies were a hard gray. Looking to the meadow, he could see his own tracks going to a spot in the middle and returning in a panicked pattern.

Once relieved, he went to the barn. Grady was brushing the second horse. All three horses were eating grain in large amounts. Ulric knew there was more there than they could take with them.

There were many tools laid out on a bench. He didn't know what they were used for, but he understood that Grady knew. Hooves and tack maintenance of some kind.

Grady spoke first. “You're never going to touch another drop again, right?” He smiled and looked over the horse’s back. When Ulric didn't initiate the standard set of curses, Grady's smile faded.

“Did you know that they say a frozen anvil is the best to lay your head upon?” Ulric said, and he touched the frost on the anvil that had formed as Grady's work had moistened the air.

“Yes. I've heard that. The cold distracts you so you don't know when the blow is coming, and the anvil rings louder so the horned one knows you're on the way,” Grady said.

“Last night wasn't like the other times, Grady.” Grady looked at him. Ulric’s eyes were pleading. “It was a ghost. It took her years, decades, to find me. But it was her.”

“Who?” Grady asked.

“She played the cello. Tunes I had forgotten. She had our family crest tattooed on her back, the moon with clouds...and one of her legs was...gone. Replaced by a steel pier. It had to be her.”

“Let's say it WAS a ghost. We still need to make breakfast.” Grady moved to the third horse.

“We will stay here today and leave tomorrow, in the morning. Give the horses a chance to rest and eat their fill. They also have a good tack room here. They won't mind if I refit a bit. They even have deep snow spats for the horses’ legs.”

Ulric said nothing. He always deferred to Grady on these matters. The last thing he wanted was to be on foot again. Grady could walk anywhere given the time. Not Ulric.

“Only one leg?” Grady asked the simple question. “Do you know her?”

Ulric was always surprised at how matter of fact Grady was. “Yes. Long ago. She was a...slave.”

The word made Grady stop.

“A slave?” He asked.

“Yes. A household slave. She played and read for us. For me,” Ulric said.

“I have known you to be thick at times, drunk often, a whoremonger and worst of all a Keeper in the pulpit. But I have never heard you talk about having slaves. Crest marked slaves? Seriously?”

“Yes.” It was a single word confession.

“Did you live in the southern isles then?” Grady was fishing for details about the past he had never heard about. “Twenty-five years ago?”

“Thirty-five actually. It was while I lived on my parents’ estate. My father prided himself on not knowing how many slaves he had. It was over 300.”

Grady had stopped now, listening intently. “All marked?” He could not keep the awe out of his voice.

“She played for me. She also...” He looked up, and Grady was wagging his eyebrows.

“No. Not that. She... She shaved my head.”

“Now I'm jealous. By the way, I have a good edge. Anytime today would be good. Oh, and I found your hat.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

But Not Your Blood

“The Shuttle Transport Unit identified Christopher Black by his HUD implant ID. He and his ship had disappeared decades before but he remained on the official Be On the Look Out (BOLO) list because of his family connections. Stu reported it to Em. Em immediately identified his connection to Chen. Stu never mentioned it, as he was never asked.”

--Solstice 31 Incident Investigation Testimony Transcript: Emergency Module Digital Forensics Report. Independent Tech Analysis Team.

<<<>>>

It took much longer to reach Greenwarren than they expected. When they finally approached, Ulric wished it had taken longer.

They could smell the smoke when they were still miles away. Grady knew what was burning. It was the first time they had smelled the greasy smoke of a funeral pyre this size.

Cautiously they approached the warehouse that burned. The snow was deep and undisturbed on the road. The first tracks they discovered were all around the huge fire.

Somehow, the warehouse had been collapsed into a giant pile before it was set ablaze. This did a much better job disposing of the bodies. The odd tracks surrounded the foundation and then led off down the road to the northeast, directly into the village.

“These look to be more than a day old,” Grady stated with certainty.

“What kind of tracks are those? They are like hoof prints, but round with uniform claws, but huge,” Ulric said, flask in hand.

They followed the tracks back to the center of town and straight out. They stabled the horses at the inn. There was lots of feed grain, hay, and space.

Grady found the inside had been neatly stripped. Pots, pans, food, and worst of all, the liquor. A search of the cellar revealed that most of the wine was still there. It would have to do.

Grady set about making fires in the common room and in a bedroom on the same level.

Ulric claimed a bottle of wine and a large chunk of cheese and sat in front of the fire.

“Why did they do it?” Ulric asked.

“Do what?” Grady groused.

“Burn them. Why bother?” Ulric looked in that direction.

“To chase their ghosts away on the smoke.”

“Do you believe in ghosts, Grady?” Ulric asked.

“Yes I do, my Lord. Do you?”

“Yes. I believe a ghost led me here. I have no idea otherwise what the hell I am doing here.”

“She sent us. We could not do otherwise,” Grady said in a whisper and emptied his clay mug, one of the few that were left. He refilled it and Ulric's.

“I saw the High Keeper once, Grady. Did I ever tell you that story?”

“Yes my Lord,” Grady said.

“It was at the winter festival in Exeter. It was a beautiful day, and I was shopping in the festival market with her. Suddenly, he was there in the same spice vendor’s tent. I didn't recognize him, he was in plain clothes. But I recognized...”

“My brother, Tolwood.” Grady finished for him then tossed back the rest of the cup’s contents.

“Yes. I knew he was the Lord High Keeper’s bodyguard,” Ulric said.

“You talked about coastal curry,” Grady said in a well-practiced tone.

“We spoke at length about excellent coastal curries,” Ulric added.

Glasses were filled again and again. Ulric wasn't sure when Grady had gone to bed. The fire had grown low. The ghosts would come again soon.

Ulric was right. She did come. The silhouette he found in the corner of the great room could only be her. The outline of her short bobbed hairstyle was not allowed on this planet. Especially to slaves.

In the darkness, she said not a word. She moved to drink from a mug, but for no other reason.

“Why do you haunt me now?” he said to the darkness in the corner. The reply was barely a whisper.

“There is a great task that needs doing,” she said.

“Yes, I know,” Ulric confessed.

“And you are not the one to do it,” she whispered.

“I also know this.”

“There is a man that just wants to be left alone,” she whispered.

“Yes?”

“And he is not you,” she continued quietly.

“I don't deserve to be left alone.”

“You will go to him,” she ordered from the shadows.

“I was already.”

“You will tell him everything he asks.” She was very precise in the pronunciation of her words.

“I will?”

“Almost everything,” she added.

“I have tried to forget everything,” Ulric said.

“You will find peace there.” The whisper became even more quiet.

“I will?” There was a trace of hope in his question.

“And pain. And death. And blood. So much blood.” She whispered directly in his ear now.

Ulrich sobbed.

“But not your blood,” she added.

“Why are you telling me this?” he begged.

“You will leave here in the morning. You will follow the tracks in the snow to the north. If you ever want to sleep again, you will never mention me, ever again.” The threat was clear in her tone.

And she was gone. The weight of her was gone.

***

“Did something happen?” Grady asked as he climbed into the saddle. “Why so suddenly, so urgently?”

“We are not getting any younger,” Ulric was in the saddle and starting to move already.

“I hate it when you drink so much strong tea.” Grady, with the provisioned pack horse in tow, began to follow him.

They found the tracks easily. They were clear, and the road was easy. They made good time, far better than usual.

“Why are you so quiet today?” Grady asked, noting that he wasn't drinking either.

“I'm thinking about Cassandra. The image of her that you have on your flute.” He fell silent again.

“She knew all along she would not see us all the way there,” Ulric said.

“She knew the High Keeper was going to scour this region again. She also knew there was nothing she could do to stop it,” Grady said.

“This time,” Ulric finished. “It's the only thing that let her rest and let go in the end.”

“Save me from prophecy. I don't want to know. But I promised her I'd get you to where you wanted to go,” Grady said. “I never thought it would be here. I have never seen a place that needed a Keeper less than here.”

They fell into silence again, moving north.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

A Son of Earth

“Data corruption and deletions were widespread during this time. Detailed medical data did exist as a useful baseline for eventual subsequent events.”

--Solstice 31 Incident Investigation Testimony Transcript: Emergency Module Digital Forensics Report. Independent Tech Analysis Team.

<<<>>>

Po held him as he burned. She had never felt a fever so hot.

The wounded areas swelled and bruised in the first few hours. They seemed to hum beneath her touch. A few hours after that, they cooled and began to recede.

She left his side only to bring him water. Even in his stupor, he knew enough to swallow. She held him through the afternoon, counting every rapid shallow breath. The afternoon turned to evening, evening to midnight, when the snow began to fall heavily, bringing a crushing hush on the gatehouse.

Sometime after midnight, she sensed a change in him, a relaxing. His breathing normalized. He seemed like he was just in a deep, heavy sleep.

Po cried again, silently this time.

As the tension faded from Barcus, it dissolved from Po as well.

She fell asleep.             

***

Barcus woke up thirsty. The thirst was the rope that led him back to the light.

Then there was a pain, a dull throbbing ache in his skull, a burning ache that felt like a weight on his chest.

His face itched. It was almost like the itch had a sound. A silent sizzle. He could feel it more than hear it.

When he tried to reach up and scratch, he realized Po was there, her head on his shoulder, her cool hand on his chest. His arm was around her. He could feel her skin beneath his hand.

He looked around the room, and his mind started working again.

Clever girl.

There was a half glass of water on the bedside table. It had been moved right up to the bed. He could reach it with his right hand.

Slowly he drank, eventually drinking the whole thing.

Using a tongue control, he activated his HUD and requested, “Status.”

“You are awake,”
Em replied.

He restated the silent request, “Status.”

“
You have been unconscious for 17 hours and 49 minutes. Your primary concern right now is that you have lost a lot of blood. There are more Hemotropic Stims in your med kit, but you cannot take them without food and lots of water. Your blood pressure is very low. Do not try to stand.”

Barcus whispered, “Why do my eyes itch so much?”

“
She used too many Nanites. After delegation, the extra Nanites were dispatched to other areas. They detected a small amount of retina damage, a common issue with maintenance personnel. With most people actually.

“It has also begun to snow heavily. Po needs to attend to the animals soon. Olias will not be back until this afternoon, maybe longer.

“Po was awake until about an hour ago. She never left your side. She could use the sleep, and so can you.”

Barcus had begun to fade before Em had finished the sentence.

***

Po was in a wonderful dream, and she struggled to stay asleep. Even as she said this to herself, the dream came into clearer focus. Barcus was holding her, warm and naked in bed. Her back was to his chest. His left arm was her pillow. His right hand held her left breast. Their legs were perfectly tangled and aligned. She could feel his soft breath on her ear and her neck.

Then he moved.

It seemed a vain attempt to increase the amount of skin in contact.

She opened her eyes. This was not a dream.

Her right hand covered his as he held her. The events of the day before came crashing back to her. She took a deep breath and held back the tears that wanted to come again. Gently, she rotated into him. His hand softly drifted off one breast and over the other as she turned, across her ribs, her back.

His eyes were open.

He was studying her face as she studied his. It was deeply bruised. The swelling was gone. The gash was now a ragged pink scar, almost completely healed.

“Thank you,” Barcus whispered.

“You are not a Keeper, are you?” Po asked.

“No. I told you that,” Barcus replied.

“What are you?” Po asked, nearly unable to speak as his fingers traced her spine.

“I am...thirsty,” Barcus replied.

Po smiled and could not stop the tears, even though she laughed.

“I am afraid,” she said.

“I will always protect you,” Barcus whispered.

“I know, but that is not why I am afraid.” She drew back a little so she could see his chest, examining him again. “I am afraid because I might have lost you, not because I am weak, but because I am ignorant.” She sat up on one elbow, stretched her hand up to the windowsill, exposing her beautiful breasts inches from his face.

This is why he didn't see the gun she had retrieved from the sill until the muzzle was next to his face.

“This is a weapon.” She let him take it and place it on the table. “And that,” she pointed at the still open med kit. “That is magic medicines. I think I need to know these things before stories about cute kittens finding their mothers.”

“That,” she pointed at the Plate, “is more than it seems. Now it's more than a Keeper’s Plate.”

She sat all the way up, without being self-conscious. “And this is impossible.” She traced the jagged scar. It was pink and new. “It looks six weeks healed already.”

“You're right. I need to tell you everything. You may not believe me,” Barcus said through a scratchy voice.

“You need water!” She began to climb out of the bed and the moment she was climbing over his naked hips, straddling him, is when she seemed to realize she was naked. Their eyes met for a moment, then she was off him.

She picked up her bloody dress and held it to her chest as she poured water for him. Realizing how bloody it was, she dropped it again and went to a chest and took out another one just like it. She stepped into it, and as she buttoned it at the nape of her neck, her stomach growled loudly.

“Po, I have lost a lot of blood. I need to take some medicine, but I can't on an empty stomach.”

Po looked down into the med kit. “You will tell me everything?”

“Yes, if you can keep secrets,” Barcus answered.

She turned and trotted out of the room. She returned just a few minutes later with a tray of bread, honeyed butter, cheese, ham and whole apples. There was a small pitcher of milk, too. She helped him sit up and put the tray in his lap. She drank deeply from the pitcher and while licking her milk mustache, she handed it to Barcus who did the same.

In silence, they shared the cold breakfast like it was a feast.

Po put a kettle on for tea and came back looking at the case and asked, “All right. Tell me what is next.”

“There is a white bottle in the lower right that is labeled 'Hemotropic Stims' that is full of pills. Do you know what a pill is?”

“Is this it?” She held up the correct bottle. “What is it?”

“Hand it to me. I'll show you.” He opened the bottle, shook out one pill, and closed the bottle. “This is called a Hemotropic Stim pill. I need this because I have lost a lot of blood. Loss of blood makes you weak. Lose enough and you die. This is a drug that helps my body replace the lost blood. But I need to drink a lot of water for it to work well.”

“Will this work on anyone? Or just Keepers?” she asked.

“Anyone,” Barcus answered.

“What if you take it without food or water?” she asked.

“You will hurt your stomach, maybe enough to make you vomit blood. Never take it alone. Take it with food and water at least. Never alone.”

“What if I take one now, uninjured, with lots of food and water?” she asked.

“Well, it won't hurt you. Actually, in a day or two, you will be able to hold your breath longer. Run farther without running out of breath. It lasts a week or two. But they are too valuable to waste like that.”

“Tell me about that.” She pointed at the handgun. “I know that is magic. I saw you use it. It killed the Telis. There is thunder in there.”

“It is a projectile weapon, like a crossbow, but more powerful. It’s called a handgun. It's very dangerous. And I want you to learn how to use it, just not now. When I am better, I will teach you.”

“Will this work for anyone? Or just Keepers?”

“Anyone. If you know how,” Barcus said.

“All of these things are forbidden, aren't they?” She looked at the handgun.

“More than you know,” he answered.

***

The next day they were finished with lessons by midday. They were packing the rifle back into its case as she asked, “Why is the rifle so much quieter, even though it seems far more powerful?”

“This rifle has a device called a suppressor. It keeps it quiet.” He indicated the 'muzzle' end of the rifle,
the end where the death comes out.
“It is made to be quiet to protect your hearing and to keep your location a secret. It adds size to the rifle, though. The handgun could have one, but then it would be bigger and more difficult to carry it.”

She was taking it all in as if it was not any big deal. She had a real knack for the AR. Barcus knew she considered it all to be magic. Even though he answered every one of her questions, he could now see why it was a consistent opinion. Once she had gotten past the taboo of it, she embraced it. Just like reading. She was very good with the rifle. Especially good. Unnaturally good.

He was rubbing his eyes, trying not to scratch his healing wounds.

She was there, gently pulling his hands down from his eyes. They were just outside the gatehouse. “You need to drink and eat and rest now.”

He was looking at her. He wanted to say something. “I am not a Keeper. I never was.”

“I don't care,” she said.

“I hate them. I'd kill them all if I could,” Barcus said.

“I believe you,” she said.

“I'm lost. I don't know what to do except survive,” he said.

“You and I are the same then,” she said.

“I will tell you everything if you want me to,” he said.

She nodded.

“I came from the sky. Not across the sea, not far over land. Not anywhere in this whole world,” Barcus confessed.

“There is a fable I heard as a child, about a man that came here from heaven,” she said.

“Oh, what did he do?” Barcus asked.

“He died. They killed him,” she said.

Barcus smiled. “Nice story. It is told to children?”

“The Keepers would kill anyone who told the story. It was forbidden.” She looked up to his face. “That ensured everyone whispered it,” she said.

She was still rubbing her wrists. He could tell she was working up to another highly taboo question.

“Have you ever been to...Earth?”

He raised an eyebrow at that. “Yes. I was born there. It was my home until I left for the sky. How do you know of Earth?”

“Earth is the place they scare children with whispers in the dark. Death lives there,” Po said.

She touched the scar on his face. “I still believe it. You are a Son of Earth. I have seen your wake. And I am still not afraid.

“Saying any of that out loud ensures a visit to the anvil,” she said.

“Ash and Em are both soulless demons, made from stone and death, tools, and reason,” she said.

She sounded like she was reciting something from memory.

“But they are my demons. Ours,” Barcus said.

“
They are coming,”
Em interrupted.