by Taylor Kole
Perhaps counseling would do him some good. The experience felt like a meaningful dream where once he woke and tried to interpret the lesson, it kept fading until all he had was this feeling something profound had transpired.
Despite being home for two and a half days, he hadn’t bothered concocting a lie for his weekend. When she inquired, he simply shrugged or leaned on his prolonged illness. During their time together, she mostly studied him. Neither would deny his change.
With this postcard from Skinner, perhaps Karen worried her boyfriend had been off naked wrestling with another man. He imagined, with her perception of him being indecisive and malleable, the thought of him being a closet gay wasn’t hard to believe.
He’d been wondering a lot if she knew him at all, or if she cared for him in any meaningful way. He wanted to believe she loved him, but couldn’t. Because if she loved him he would select a friend for the ivory pass—as was his right—fill them in on Junea and his child, and trust they’d take care of her.
When considering her affection, he always landed on the same belief: Karen viewed their relationship as something to endure.
Was it more than that to him?
The body builder reminded him of himself days ago. Unlike the behemoth in the photo, Josh had been as nimble as a circus trapezist. His muscles carried ten times the density; his strength enough to outlift an entire stage of competitors.
“You like that photo?” Karen said, peering at him from behind her rectangular, six-hundred-dollar frames.
With a heavy sigh, Josh whispered, “I used to look like that.”
She coughed a laugh and brought her hand over her mouth to suppress an eruption. Glancing at the journal next to her, she composed herself and said, “Must have been before I met you.”
While staring at the definition, he lifted his upper lip in a silent snarl.
“Maybe a dream?”
“Something like that,” he said as he rose, placed the postcard in his back pocket, and went to power on his computer.
XX
Nighttime presents the greatest dangers, thought Junea. Trappers and eviscerators hunted equally day or night, but they were only two on a long list of creatures looking to eat. The flying spears appeared mostly after sunset. Their noisy wings provided a warning, but flight gave them an advantage. With snouts equipped with a pair of sawing blades to zip through thin barriers like leaves, finding shelter from them was often futile. Demons also patrolled the ground with hundreds of feet; hoppers rubbed their legs together blotting out other nighttime sounds, creating a place or tremendous danger.
Regardless of the increased threats, she and her party had to wait for darkness to exit Reysona. Many villagers would betray Reysona and Junea’s child to the golden guard, and she couldn’t blame them. Once the black skies carried enough light, one could make out shapes they left.
Exiting an hour before the suns flared to life was their best chance. Luck, perhaps good planning by her father, favored them. Suns rose and set in opposing fashions. If the suns set west one day, they would rise from the west the following morning and set in the east, then rising in the east and so on.
Reysona lay in Bristalius’ southeast. That morning’s east rising suns would give them faint light that much earlier.
Junea, dressed like a dairy maiden with a hood pulled over her head, waited with two warriors in a shack near the main gate. Flavius and another hunter exited first, and under the near black sky, Junea observed Bellora and her new fling, Ursus, biding their time until the signal was given for them to exit.
Bellora had grown increasingly worrisome in the forty days since JoshRidley’s departure. Her snide remarks struck more personal. She maintained a distance. Any time Junea expressed joy at the fulfilling pregnancy, the girl retorted with sarcasm, and fewer and fewer apologies for her behavior. Until her father inserted Ursus.
Bellora shined and fawned every time the man appeared. Recently, she inquired as to Junea’s condition and showed happiness and support for the growing life, followed by discussing plans to have her own child.
Bellora strolling through town, her hands magnetized to the scarred arm and chest of the seasoned warrior, put things more in tune with Junea’s expectations. It seemed once Bellora learned she’d spend a year in seclusion, she cozied to the realities of life, and to the officer who most attracted her.
If she couldn’t mother a half-god, Ursus would make a fair replacement. A survivor of hundreds of exploits beyond the wall, he was only now reaching an age where his hair grayed, meaning the ideal male temperament for a house mate. He was sturdily-built, yet he remained swift. Years ago, he had bested Nero in a bloody duel over male pride.
Junea counted softly. At thirty, one of her escorts tapped her shoulder, and after a second to ensure the coast was clear, they raced from the shack, across the dirt road, and through the opening.
Once past, two of her father’s most trusted men whispered their well wishes and closed the small gap in the wall.
Even though the child in her was the size of a peanut, she felt its weight during the scramble from the inner gate to the outer. It pulled on her innards. By the time they regrouped near the final barrier, she breathed heavily and felt like she had to push her bowels.
Flavius wore a satchel on his back full of seasoning, seeds, and rations. With the rains arriving every fourteenth day, finding water would be a simple task. Nutrition was plentiful as well. Particularly if you were willing to dig into the earth and consume any of the slimy or crunchy mites churning beneath the damp soil.
Flavius stabbed the base of his salca into the ground, and while adjusting his belt and sword scabbard, pulled everyone close.
“We are going to move just over the ridge, out of sight or Reysona. We will wait for light and continue. We all have a rough idea of the route we must take, and its perils-”
Junea didn’t know the route. She was counting on the men to navigate.
“The Pavilion of Parturition is on the opposite side of Bristalius, near the northwest border. Moving swiftly, we can reach the hideaway before tomorrow night falls. To do so, we must be expedient, use every minute of light. We will give our lives to ensure Junea’s arrival. We can brook no complaints. We must push ourselves for two solid days.” He snatched the salca from the earth. “Be swift, stay silent.” To Junea he said, “If you feel any debilitation, speak it. There are five strong men here, some of your rest may take place on our backs, but speed will be as valuable as the luck of the gods.”
After a night of restless sleep, hours on her feet, and a short dash, pangs of nerves affected Junea. Not enough to voice her woes or slow their pace. She would birth this child and raise it with the conviction to loyalty and honor his father displayed, or she would die trying.
“Single file. You two at the rear,” he pointed to Junea’s guards. “Ursus, you’re to take lead if I fall. Follow behind me. Junea after. You—” he pointed to the remaining guard, “Behind our lady.” Finding Bellora, he added, “You can fit in anywhere behind Lady Junea.”
Sending up a silent prayer for their safe journey, knowing each member who survived the trek increased her chances of enduring the next eight to twelve months, Junea fell into step.
Two shadow bars later, they reached a wall of intertwined jungle and took their first break.
After relieving herself in the center of salca-armed men, Junea removed a small pack she carried, set it to the side, and lay on her back. They had only minutes, not hours, to rest, but her lower back needed the break. The bounce in her belly increased with each stride until she worried her insides were tearing free and would soon drop from her body. Laying supine in the soft earth provided such a relief she temporarily forgot she relaxed in a forest full of inhabitants that would like to eat her.
They had spotted and avoided three trappers, identified another half-dozen fences, and, thanks to JoshRidley, shaved three shadow bars from their travel time by cutting through the territory previously held by
the first ant queen that he killed.
That army scattered before JoshRidley departed, returning this acreage to a higher level of safety. Still, while traveling in their territory, they had seen two confused minions, and smartly avoided them.
A shadow descended over her, and without having to look, she knew it would be Flavius.
“It’s time, my lady.”
Instinctively, she shook her head. Her back had yet to realign, but she stirred nonetheless and appreciated Flavius helping her into a sitting position.
Waiting for eye contact, he said, “We can give you a few minutes more, if a necessity.”
Junea clasped her hand over his forearm and shook her head, “No. I’m ready now.”
With his and another warriors assistance, she stood, keeping her eyes closed until her equilibrium settled. Upon opening them, she found three of the guards circled her, watching the dense green jungle around them while Flavius studied her. The affection touched her.
Bellora and Ursus were ten feet beyond the perimeter, their backs to the group, whispering. Junea couldn’t help but smile at the thought they discussed something romantic.
She had never considered Bellora the loving housemate type, but the probable rage of hormones crashing inside of her, and thinking she had finally found an outlet to unleash them, infused Junea with contentment. Life after JoshRidley would plod along. Her duty included honoring him by bringing his offspring into this world, and that only happened in the Pavilion of Parturition.
A quick round of hydration and off they went.
From here, the travel would be slower as they hacked and picked their way through thick brush. They had cleared a section like this before. The overgrowth decreased the likelihood of predators, but it didn’t totally eradicate them.
Death could strike from above. She searched the treetops.
The early afternoon grew warm. That and the few minutes of rest helped her fight the fatigue spreading in her limbs.
Climbing over and under the first group of knotted vines, she set her mind to the task—never slowing, pushing herself.
The following shadow bar—the time it took to reach the next clearing—passed without thought. At the meadow, the warriors found a game trail.
The path offered them swifter travel in an appropriate direction, but it presented an uptick in danger. Deciding to take the trail to save time, the group closed ranks and traveled close together, weapons out.
Five minutes into the cautious plod, as Junea’s tension ebbed, the earth beside her erupted like a geyser. She screamed and jumped to the side. Dirt and pebbles flew at her like the discharge of an IED. A demon burst from the depths of its Hell.
The trapper’s front two legs towered over the men. With the second pair of legs, it reached from the buried recess, rocketing at her. Time slowed as she saw the end of her life. At least I’ll die quick, she thought.
Before she could close her eyes and apologize to JoshRidley, the demon sped past her and tackled the hunter that had been trailing her.
Ursus pulled her in the opposite direction. Bellora’s screams pierced the air. Men barked orders as more hands tugged her until she was between Flavius and another warrior.
“To your feet!” Flavius shouted. “Run!”
Glancing back as she rose, Junea saw the spider atop the hunter. He was limp, but his eyes scanned as if the venom had only stolen his movement, not his life. Horror dawned as she realized that death in the spider’s chamber would come much slower than she imagined.
Meal in hand, the trapper retreated into its lair, sealing itself and its victim within the tomb.
The group sprinted for a full minute before Flavius slowed them, checked on Junea, and calmed the others. While everyone huffed and puffed, he took a reading from their surroundings.
Junea had never witnessed an earth-dwelling trapper, but she had heard enough to know they often attacked more than one victim, popping up to snatch two or three people, as if a salt house existed in the depths.
She watched their back , fearing she would see the beast rumbling toward them at any second.
Ursus calmed Bellora. He wiped her brow, kissed her forehead, all while she nodded incessantly.
The scene made Junea think of JoshRidley. Even with the speed of a god, had that trapper targeted her, she would have perished.
Seconds later, the group continued on their path.
XXI
Waking after a full day of travel and a night of sporadic sleep, Junea had initially believed herself made of wood. But after a quick bite and a few miles on the trail, her fatigued body, willed by her spirit, loosened and she trekked on without complaint.
Arriving as the day’s light waned, the Pavilion of Parturition was the size of an outhouse, albeit fortified with stone. Were the guards expected to erect a camp around its overgrown door, never knowing safety?
Flavius pointed to sharpened sticks around the structure. They were worn with age and bent to useless angles. A warrior tugged and scraped the moss and shamrock roots covering the entrance.
Opening the sealed door required the strength of two weary men, but once cracked, much of the door’s resistance abated. From the outside, it seemed made for one person. Inside, the hall sloped down and opened into a spacious dwelling the size of two homes.
Something reflective hung in the center. Its design allowed light to enter from the top and cast it to other surfaces around the room, providing ample light, even at this late hour. Lanterns dotted the walls for the nights. A pair of halls led to even more space, but Junea focused on the set of cots in the middle of the main room.
The tired band poured into the entrance. The sound of heavy sacks hitting stone flooring acted as a lullaby. Before two of the warriors closed the door, Bellora suggested they scout the perimeter. Flavius agreed, adding instructions for them to shore up the defenses during whatever light remained. Ursus and two others stepped out.
Junea didn’t have the strength to explore her new home. She dropped her satchel as if it weighed a hundred pounds and flopped on to the cot, totally spent. A minute later, she mined the energy to roll onto her side.
She would sleep away the next week. Then eat and bathe.
She heard bags being dragged and cabinets and drawers opening.
A minute later Flavius squatted next to her. “We made it.” He wiped a damp rag against her face.
Cold grime smeared against her skin, but it felt amazing. Safe. She smiled.
“JoshRidley would be proud of your courage and strength,” Flavius said.
She extended her hand, felt him take it, and squeezed. They had made it.
Pulling away, Flavius hydrated, then pressed the flask to her lips.
Thankful for his assistance, she drank greedily. He then gave her face and arms a cursory cleaning.
She heard him move to the wall of storage drawers and rifle through them, calling out the contents.
“Small tools,” he said as he banged a drawer closed and yanked open another. “Sealed packets of either medicine or food. Here’s a stack of instruction tablets.”
The warrior who remained inside returned from one of the halls, sounding excited. “There are full quarters down this way. Stacks of tablets, cloth, metal, wood, sealed containers.” He snatched another pair of supply bags. Before heading back, he addressed Junea, “There are more comfortable beds back here, my lady.”
The taut cloth under her head felt like a warm bath filled with water from Heaven’s eternal spring. Using the last of her energy, she lifted her head to shake it in the negative, but the hunter disappeared before she could.
Spotting Bellora near the slanted entrance, something peculiar in her stance held Junea’s attention.
Bellora observed the room with obvious angst, her gaze lingering on Flavius, then the hallway behind her, then the hallway where the excited guard had ventured.
Junea wanted to ask what troubled her, but lacked the energy. Rather than drop her head and sleep, she studi
ed her maiden. She had heard tales of people having fear of tight places, others where living underground frightened them. Watching the girl twist her head, bit her bottom lip, and fiddle with the handle of her dagger, Junea worried her chosen helper might be afflicted with both maladies.
Making eye contact, Junea nodded for her maid to come closer.
Bellora made eye contact, but ignored the gesture. She peered at the interior hall, over to the perusing Flavius, up the slanted corridor. After a beat where she seemed to listen for something, she padded toward Flavius.
Having used her reserves of energy, Junea dropped back.
“Weapons, stakes, fuel for the fires and bins for cooking,” Flavius said. “Gods be blessed, this must be the floating mattress.”
Unable to let go of Bellora’s strange behavior, Junea turned on her side and saw Flavius stood next to a metal box as high as his shoulders. Before she could really examine the unique design of the birthing vat, she saw Bellora creeping toward Flavius with a dagger clutched in her hand.
“Behind you!” Junea called out.
As Flavius turned, Bellora struck with the weapon, its tip aimed at his center.
Junea’s warning placed the young hunter on semi-alert, and by spinning in time to see the incoming blade, he avoided it piercing his heart.
Flavius screamed as the blade punctured his side and slid inches into his belly before his hands met Bellora’s, stopping her efforts to bury it to the hilt. Screaming, he shoved her away.
Stumbling back, she panted, her face contorted in hate, shoulders hunched forward, breathing heavy.
With her own yelp of outrage and shock, Junea pushed herself to a sitting position and fought a wave of nausea.
Flavius pulled the dagger free and blood flowed. He gripped the hilt, and from the look of determination in his eyes he intended to return it to its sender. Yet at his first step, his legs wobbled. He dropped the knife and fell to his knees.
The treacherous blade came to rest at Bellora’s feet. She promptly knelt and retrieved it.