by Ehsan Ahmad
Kerreslaa moved his finger to a range of mountains several hundred kilometers east of Seven. “Never been much activity here. But long-range visual sensors have picked up smoke from manmade fires. First was here, second here, third here.”
Next to each sighting was a reference detailing date and time. Kerreslaa had traced a path along a narrow pass, what looked like one of the few ways through the mountains.
“The southern end of the range borders the desert area. Could be Kinassans moving north. If they go much farther, they can threaten Seven and Nineteen.”
“Any more from the sensors?”
“No. The long-range relays were scaled back about two years ago. Directorate orders—to reduce expenditure, of course.’
“Of course.” Vellerik leaned over the display, studying the times of the sightings, using his finger to measure distances. “They’re moving quite quickly.”
“I believe they use some kind of animals well adapted to the desert. There’s no one left here or on the surface who actually fought them. We have detailed files, though.”
Vellerik checked the last sighting of smoke, which was from the previous day. “They could reach Nineteen within a week.”
“Yes.”
Vellerik pointed at the northern end of the pass. “We need to get here, before they have a chance to spread out or move on Nineteen.”
Kerreslaa ran two fingers across his brow.
“Tell the Count,” said Vellerik. “And tell him I’m dealing with it.”
“But the costs—every time we use the shells.”
“We’re not going to use them. It’s time my squad experienced some real soldiering.”
“The Kinassans often attacked in force. Hundreds, at times.”
“Thousands, as I recall. But I do not anticipate a problem.” Vellerik glanced down at the display. “Especially as we will be there first.”
He turned to Kerreslaa. “Tell him immediately or he will question the delay. And have the shuttle put on standby—I’ll take the troop down tomorrow morning.”
Kerreslaa seemed slightly taken aback by his enthusiasm. “Yes, Captain.”
“Send me all the files. Everything.” Vellerik keyed his com-cell on his way out. “Triantaa, assemble the men. Cargo bay. Ten minutes.”
10
Sonus was back in the mine. After his period of respite up on the surface, a full day’s work in the tunnels came as a shock: the deafen-ing noise, the weight of the drill, the juddering movements that seemed to shake every bone in his body. Worst of all was the dust. More than a dozen times, he had to stop, put down the drill, take off his mask, and cough out the black muck. It left his throat raw and his stomach bitter; he longed for a job up top, but the communicator never came to his rescue. Unable to eat anything at lunch, he was almost on his knees when the shift finally ended.
He was in a team of four, but the others hadn’t said much. His fellow workers could be roughly divided in two: those who viewed him as a collaborator no better than the Lovirr and those who saw him as a sensible pragmatist who did his best for himself and others where he could. It seemed these three were in the former group.
Sonus left his drill where it lay for the night shift and activated the drone that would collect the terodite he and the team had carved out in the last hour or so. The machine’s magnetized tentacles hauled in the fist-sized lumps of terodite, ignoring the other deposits that came out during the drilling.
Sonus released his hot, blistered hands from the gloves, then followed the trio as they trudged up the sloping shaft; another crew would be down soon to continue their work. The men didn’t even have the energy to talk to each other, and there was barely more conversation when their path converged with a larger tunnel and they joined the queue waiting for the elevator. A pair of Vitaari guards watched attentively—their behavior had changed notably since Talazeer’s arrival.
When the elevator came, Sonus was one of the last inside. Ignoring a couple of sharp looks from some unpleasant characters he’d encountered before, he stared resolutely through the gap in the doors as they ascended. Two of the workers nearby discussed dinner, one describing how he would improve the tasteless rations from his stock of herbs and spices. Two others agreed to meet later to play an improvised board game that had been running for several months, each taunting the other about their performance. Another worker—a woman—spied a familiar face and asked a man about his wife. Sonus listened carefully, as he always did. Somehow, the people of his planet found ways to enjoy even these lives. He thought it rather wonderful.
Another coughing fit came upon him as the elevator shuddered to a halt. Standing aside to let the others out, he retrieved a handkerchief from his overalls and dabbed the dark spittle from his mouth. Others suffered, of course, though few as badly. He had no more of the medication left, but he could hardly ask Kadessis for another favor now.
It was a price he was happy to pay. Qari was now settled in the kitchens, and the Lovirr Nomora had promised to help. The precise nature of what Sonus had to provide in return remained vague—Nomora had said that he and his compatriots would ask for nothing until they had shown good faith by holding up their end of the deal. This surprised him, and after a lot of thought he’d realized it was because of the value they placed on what he could offer.
Sonus had often wondered if there was some kind of organized resistance movement out there, but the last place he’d expected to find it was amongst the Lovirr. He was curious to know how many there were. Surely it couldn’t just be the Lovirr involved? And where? He suspected they might be after the same thing Tanus had wanted—weapons.
Dragging his eyes off the gun in the hands of the guard stationed outside the elevator, Sonus ambled after the others, wiping grime from his face with his sleeve.
“You all right?” Karas was suddenly beside him, arm over his shoulder.
Sonus was glad to see him. “First day back in a while. You?”
“I will be when I get home.”
Karas noted the stained handkerchief in his friend’s hand. “It’s bad again?”
Sonus forced a smile. “I’m all right.”
“Quiet,” hissed one of the workers. Occasionally, a guard would hold up the line if there was too much noise, so most didn’t speak until they were outside. Karas and Sonus exchanged a look but kept quiet.
They were not far from the fading daylight when the group ahead began to slow down. Before long, they had moved to the right side of the main shaft and stopped. The two Vitaari behind them barked orders. Most hurried onward, but a few remained by the wall.
Sonus saw that there was a pair of women there, standing at the mouth of another tunnel. One of them noticed him and Karas and tugged the sleeve of the other.
“You. Karas.”
He and Sonus stopped.
“It’s Qari.” The older of the two women pointed along the tunnel, which had not been used for a while and was dimly lit by a few weak lamps.
“What?” said Karas.
“Qari—she’s there.” The woman was still pointing. “She was taken to the infirmary this morning, then we heard she’d been seen heading toward the mine. She’s standing by one of the old vertical shafts. Right at the edge.”
Sonus felt a chill wash over him.
“You lot—move along.” While one of the guards corralled the other workers toward the entrance, the other halted behind them.
Karas didn’t even seem to have noticed.
“His wife is in there,” explained Sonus. “Will you just give him a moment to fetch her?”
“What’s she doing down there?” demanded the Vitaari. “Hasn’t been used for weeks.”
“I know. He’ll be as quick as he can.” Sonus switched to Vitaari. “Please.”
Karas suddenly sprinted past the women and into the gloomy tunnel.
“What about you two?” asked the guard.
The two women hurried away, holding
hands.
The guard glared at Sonus. “You—go and hurry them up.”
Just to reinforce the point, he tapped the jolt-rod held in a holster on his belt.
Cold sweat trickling down his back, Sonus broke into a run. His boots kicked through piles of dust as he passed through the yellow light of a lamp, then into darkness again. His mind seemed numb, incapable even of trying to work out how this had happened. He just had to get to them, do what he could.
He stopped just before the last light. Karas was standing at the far edge of the lamp’s reach, back illuminated. One hand was out-stretched toward Qari, who was ten feet beyond him at the side of the vertical shaft. Sonus shivered as he saw the wide black maw just inches from her feet.
“Qari, what happened?” asked Karas.
She was standing completely still, arms by her sides.
“Qari!”
She turned her head toward her husband. “They took it. They cut me open and took it out.”
Sonus squeezed his eyes shut as the words leeched into him. Someone must have told them. Was this his fault?
Karas struggled to control his voice. “Will you… come away from there, my darling?” He moved toward her, then stopped.
“It was a boy,” whispered Qari. “I’m sure of it. I must go to him.”
“You will, my darling—one day. But not now. Not like this.”
“I love you, Karas.”
With a single step she was gone, swallowed by the dark chasm.
There was no cry or sound. Just the shock of it.
Karas seemed to break in two. His head dropped and he hunched over. From within came an animal cry.
Sonus was already moving when Karas ran forward and threw himself after his wife, bellowing her name as he fell.
Sonus dropped to his knees, unable to absorb what he’d seen. He thought of following them, but something held him there.
He had no idea how much time had passed when he heard heavy footsteps behind him. His mind seemed to have emptied itself of all thought and feeling, but when the guard gripped his shoulder, he tore himself free and launched himself at the Vitaari, smashing a fist into his chest.
Startled, the guard took a step back. Sonus hit him again and had his fist back ready for another blow when pain exploded into the side of his head. The last thing he felt was his face hitting the dust.
He awoke. He took in the cold, metal floor on which he lay and the thumping ache in his head before succumbing to sleep once more.
He runs through the streets of the capital. Looking back for a moment, he sees one of the ships looming over the Great Church, its vast hull gleaming in the sun.
On he goes, hearing more of the distant explosions that haven’t ceased since dawn. He passes corpses of soldiers in the road: some still holding firearms, some spears or clubs or swords. Crouching in an alleyway is an old woman, hands gripping her head. She recites a prayer loudly, voice defiant. In the Old Square, beside the sundial, a whimpering dog circles its dead master.
At last he reaches his home. He finds his mother and father there. Mother is gathering supplies; Father is sharpening a spear. They argue. She wants to run for the mountains, he wants to stay and fight.
Shouts from the street. Father runs past him, joins the men who have appeared outside.
Mother holds onto him, keeps him with her. They watch from the doorway.
There are only two of the invaders, but their weapons cut down most of the defenders in an instant. Father is still alive. The invaders kick bodies aside as they advance. When Father tries to get to his feet, one of them picks him up by the neck. The other grabs the spear from his hand, peers down at it, then drives it through Father’s chest. The bloodied tip punches out of his back.
The invader drops the body. They move on.
He and Mother hide in the house, hands over their ears, tears darkening the floor. Hours pass before she can speak again.
Promise me you will not fight. You must not fight.
Sonus awoke again to find the pain had lessened. The power of the dreams faded, and his mind began to work once more. But then he remembered, and the horror of those moments in the darkened tunnel struck him like a physical blow. He hauled himself into a corner and sat there, arms wrapped around his knees.
This was real. After what had happened, after he’d attacked that guard, they would put him somewhere like this. He supposed he was lucky the Vitaari hadn’t killed him. He did not feel it.
The door opened. A woman he did not recognize brought in a mug of water and placed it on the floor. As she left without looking at him, a larger figure entered. Kadessis shut the door behind him. He folded his arms across his chest and stared down at Sonus. The Vitaari’s sleek black hair—usually tied back above the collar—now hung over his shoulders, making him appear rather wild.
“How are you feeling?”
Sonus found it strange that the administrator thought they could just talk. As they had before. As if things were the same. Nothing was the same, and Sonus wished he had constructed a weapon as Tanus had asked him to. He wished he had it in his hand right now so that he could blow the Vitaari’s head off. He looked at the floor and tried not to vomit.
“We are fortunate that the governor appreciates your abilities, Sonus. Having lost two workers yesterday, he is not keen to lose a third. The use of the jolt-rod is to be considered punishment enough. You will return to your usual duties as soon as you are able.”
Punishment enough. Kadessis obviously didn’t understand that the real punishment would never fade. The memory. The guilt.
“You are still affected by what happened,” continued the Vitaari. “That’s understandable, I suppose.” He walked slowly to the other side of the little room. “Or perhaps you blame yourself? You should not. I do not appreciate being lied to—or used—but I can see you were trying to do your best for your friends. But the blame lies with them for allowing this situation to occur at all. It was never going to end well.”
Sonus saw only the tunnel, then Qari and Karas. He pictured them lying together at the bottom of that dark hole, bodies bloodied and broken. How he wished he could believe in the Maker. How he wished all three of them were in a better place.
“You should drink your water.” Kadessis dropped a packet of tablets beside the mug. “I got these from the infirmary—they will help with the pain. You will be released later today.”
Kadessis opened the door, then stopped. “Perhaps you think it was me who alerted the governor. If I had realized she was pregnant, I would have. But it was not me, Sonus. I know who did, but I am not permitted to tell you, nor should you try to find out. I’m afraid you will have to put all this behind you and carry on—focusing on your work will help. I am sorry about your friends.”
He left, closing the door gently behind him.
They let him go as darkness fell. A single guard escorted him from the room within the tower to the walkway. The Vitaari departed swiftly, leaving him standing there alone. Sonus looked back at the lights twinkling at the top of the tower and the landing strip. The mouth of the mine was illuminated, too; he could make out the hunched figures of the night shift as they traipsed inside.
He thought again of the two bodies lying together, and tears formed in his eyes. He let them come, and soon he was sobbing.
By the time he stopped, both his sleeves were wet. He put his hand on the rail of the walkway. He could follow them. He could throw himself off and join them in the Kingdom with the Maker.
But he didn’t believe in it. Never had. When he was dead, he was gone and he could affect nothing.
Yet, however bad things were, there was a glimmer of hope for Corvos: what he had learned from Nomora had shown that. A faint voice told him that perhaps this had happened for a reason. He had lost everyone who had ever mattered to him now, and along with the pain came clarity.
He had deluded himself. He had convinced himself that survival was all th
at mattered, that there was a chance some of them might endure beyond Vitaari rule. He had thought himself rational, but in truth he had merely been weak.
They were all gone now. Family, friends, every last one. His promise to his mother didn’t matter now. There was nothing left but the fight now. And he was ready to fight.
Sonus wiped his face again. There would be no more tears. He would carry on tomorrow as if nothing had happened, but he was already making plans. He had work to do.
11
The third guard was the problem.
Cerrin and the three Vitaari had been out in the forest for several days—observing, planning, setting traps—and they had now captured six of the eight creatures the Count wanted. She had remained cooperative throughout and, despite her reputation, two of the guards had become far more relaxed. They no longer kept their hands near their jolt-rods and seemed happy to help with the work.
But the third guard—who rarely spoke, even to his compatriots—always kept his eyes on her. Cerrin reckoned he’d been specifically instructed to do so. Though they had ventured as far as three miles into the forest to locate and trap the creatures, he had maintained his vigil with a relentlessness that Cerrin begrudgingly admired. Her nemesis was named Kezzelet.
He was even sitting next to her now—in the rear of the vehicle behind the other two. Cerrin had thought several times of jumping off and making a run for it, but there was little chance of getting away. When lightly equipped and armed, the Vitaari could outrun her with ease. Worse still, they had two of the trackers like the technician had used on the hunt. Without them, they would not have found all the animals—the machines could somehow “see” movement and heat. Even if Cerrin got far enough away to hide, the guards would have located her. She had also not forgotten the governor’s threats: attempted escape would bring more punishment and end what had actually been a comparatively pleasant few days.