Neeka Featherstone

by R. J. Lucas

  “I think we all have,” Isaiah agrees, joining our conversation.

  “Is he your father?” Papa asks her.

  “He has raised me since I was an infant. I was abandoned at Gehenna and he found me,” she explains. “He took me in.”

  “That happens often,” Isaiah adds.

  “That’s where Papa found us,” I say. “Me and my brother, Eli. I was just a toddler at the time.”

  “Luckily, there are still people like your Papa and the fat man who care enough to raise an unwanted child,” says Isaiah.

  “I don’t think Hugo ever actually cared about me,” Amari says. “He just wanted a slave. I’ve been doing his bidding ever since I can remember, especially once he found out I have a talent for healing people. He likes to get as much as he can out of his fighters.”

  “We are breaking out of here,” I say, finally contributing to the conversation as she stands to leave. “When we bust out, you should come with us.”

  Amari looks nervously at the guard who is still talking with Braam.

  “How would the baldagaar keep track of the bets though?” the guard asks. “It’s not like they can talk.”

  “It’s a joke,” Braam says, frustrated at the guard’s stupidity. “It’s supposed to be funny.”

  “Which part is funny?” the guard asks.

  “I didn’t tell you that part yet. You have to let me finish the joke…”

  Amari turns back to us, her voice even quieter now. “I tried to escape once when I was only seven.” She gestures toward the half-mask that covers part of her face. “This hides the scars of my punishment.”

  “Come on healer,” the guard yells. “You’re done for today.”

  Amari offers me a final smile before she walks away. When they leave the cell, only quiet remains and I already feel like a part of me is missing.

  “I never got to tell him the punchline,” Braam says, breaking the silence. “Bobblegash!”

  “So, you want her to come with us?” Papa asks. His question is flat and difficult to read.

  “You don’t think traveling with a healer will be useful?”

  “I think stealing someone of value from here will be tricky.”

  “Papa,” I start to whine.

  “But her story is a sad one. They shouldn’t be exploiting her like this, and she may never get another chance to escape.”

  “Thank you, Papa. No one deserves to be a slave.” I lean over and kiss him on the cheek.

  “I’ve been thinking about Isaiah’s offer,” he says. “And building a new home in Graven Pointe sounds pretty appealing to an old man like me.”

  “I’ll do whatever you say, Papa,” I tell him, and I wonder to myself if I am being honest or telling him what he wants to hear. After all, Solomon is still alive, and I need to remedy that situation.

  15 - The Pits of Gehenna

  The sounds and smells of bodily functions from the men in this cell can be overwhelming at times. Although, I must admit I have been a contributor on occasion.

  As I lie here trying to fall asleep, my mind races. I think of Amari and how the fat man uses her and how I want to rescue her from this forsaken place. I imagine our escape and what it will be like to finally run through the open air again and be free. I think of Eden and how the world will change once Solomon is dead.

  Everywhere I go, there is suffering. I don’t want to live in a world where people are treated so badly. Where the powerful are free to exploit the weak. Where free thought is crushed and ruined, and love is as rare as precious stones.

  Maybe Isaiah and Papa are right. Maybe we should make a new home in Graven Pointe. We could build a small cottage with a garden out back. That does sound nice, especially if Amari is with me. I smile at the thought, but quickly brush it away, knowing that would never happen as long as Solomon still rules.

  My thoughts shift back to reality, knowing that I need rest for tomorrow if I am to survive the arena again. I roll over, searching for a more comfortable position and find Papa sitting up, looking at me.

  “Papa, what are you still doing awake?”

  “Did I ever tell you the story of Pyram and Levi?” he asks, staring at me with eyes wide and intense.

  “I don’t know,” I say, trying to think back to all the stories Papa has told me over the years. “Does it have anything to do with a baldagaar and a bookie?”

  “This isn’t a joke, Neeka. I’m serious.”

  “Okay, Papa.” I say, uncomfortable with his serious tone.

  “It’s a story of two men from Fairebourne. One was a protector and one, a Royal.”

  “Pyram and Levi?” I ask, “I’ve never heard of them.”

  “There is a reason you haven’t. Their story is one usually only whispered among people as a warning.”

  “Warning for what?”

  “Just listen. Pyram was commander of the protectors long ago. You were still just a child and Solomon was still a new ruler. Pyram had a reputation for being brutal and ruthless, not unlike Lord Solomon. He was feared throughout all the zones and in the outposts as well. They say if a man questioned his authority or gave him the slightest cause, he would brutally beat them to death with his bare hands. No one stood a chance against him and his protectors. He seemed to be made of iron and anyone breaking the law would run at the sound of Pyram’s name.”

  “Sounds like Atwood.”

  “Pyram would make Atwood seem kindly by comparison.”

  “Well, who was Levi?”

  “Levi was a Royal. A handsome man. Women fawned over him relentlessly. He could have had any mate he desired, yet he never took one for himself.”

  “Where is this story going, Papa?”

  “Quiet Neeka. I’m getting there.”

  Papa doesn’t usually talk this way to me. It surprises me, but I keep my mouth shut.

  “Levi had a small home in Fairebourne. It was a cozy cottage on the edge of the zone where he lived with his sister. One evening, his sister returned home from shopping at the market and when she entered the house, she found something shocking.”

  “What did she find?” I ask, now getting interested in the story.

  “She found Pyram and Levi lying together, wrapped in one another’s embrace.”

  In Solomon’s eyes, when a man lies with another man, it is appalling. He says the Great Creator forbids it and it is listed as one of the more serious crimes, punishable by death.

  “Did the sister report them?” I ask Papa.

  “Well, according to the law, you are required to report any criminal activities you witness. So yes, she reported the activity to Solomon.”

  “What happened to them?”

  “They were arrested and immediately sentenced to death. However, the following day, Pyram was able to overpower the guards and he and Levi escaped. They made it as far as Millglen before they were recaptured. You see, word had traveled faster than Pyram and Levi and when they arrived at the Millglen outpost, a dozen protectors were waiting for them. Pyram didn’t even try to fight this time. He and Levi simply embraced one another as the protectors opened fire, executing them on the spot.”

  “It sounds like they loved one another.”

  “Does it matter?” Papa scolds me. “If Solomon will have a Royal and his second in command killed so easily, what do you think he’ll do to a Middler or Pleb?”

  I’m not sure how to read Papa right now. I don’t know if he is scared or angry. Maybe both.

  Papa continues his story. “Anyway, they took their bodies; stripped them naked; bound them together; and cast them into the pits of Gehenna as a public display of their shame and disgust.”

  Gehenna is a loathsome place. There’s no question as to why it was chosen as the dumping grounds for all of Eden. It contains a steady flow of lava from the volcano’s mouth further East of Eden. Everything dumped there is disintegrated in seconds. The only problem is many people dump their refuse on the edge instead of in the lava flow. Not only does it reek of
sulfur gas, but the stench of rotting garbage and decaying flesh can be overwhelming. The refuse managers try to push the overflowing garbage and half-burned body parts into the flow, but it is a never-ending battle.

  Gehenna has become known as disgraceful and repugnant for those reasons. At times, you will see the poor and the sick as well as outcasts rummaging through the refuse, searching for anything that may still be edible, or picking out scrap metal that could be used for building a shelter.

  “Why are you telling me this story, Papa?” I ask, thinking I already know the answer.

  Papa lowers his voice to a barely audible whisper. “I’ve seen the way you look at the healer girl, Neeka. I don’t want your story to be the same as Pyram’s. I don’t want to lose you.”

  “I’m not going anywhere Papa.”

  “You must be careful, Neeka. Solomon is not the only one you have to worry about. If you are found out, anyone might report you. Sometimes we have to hide our feelings and bury them deep inside.”

  “I know, Papa,” I say and lay my head on his shoulder to reassure him. I know now his gruffness is an outward display of his concern for my safety.

  I lay down on my makeshift, straw bed and as I drift off to sleep, I have visions of a certain white-haired, silver-eyed angel lying next to me, locked in my embrace.

  16 - Forbidden Fruit

  I manage to get a little bit of sleep, despite Papa’s harrowing warning. Thankfully, I can’t recall my dreams the next morning. I am almost happy to start the day with the same boring routine of waiting around. The most exciting thing to happen all morning is the arrival of the food carts…the powers that be trying to rejuvenate our beaten and aching bodies. Looks like skitterer soup today with a side of lump bread.

  By late afternoon, the first group of men are taken to fight, obviously the warmup group. The guards hardly even acknowledge the men as human, more like garbage being taken to Gehenna. I can tell by the looks on the men’s faces they know their fate is sealed. I feel bad for them. Luckily, I haven’t had the chance to get to know any of them.

  I squat down with Papa, Isaiah, and Braam and listen to their discussion. They pass the time discussing sweet treats found in Eden.

  “Anyone ever been to that place in East Vanvale? The place with the good pastries? What’s it called?” Isaiah asks.

  “Shawna’s Bake Shop. I know the place well,” Braam says. “Their hzarla is amazing.”

  When we are not sharing our favorite spots for sweet treats, much of the morning is spent on and off discussing our escape. We watch the guards and become rather good at shifting our conversation if anyone comes within earshot. We watch for any weaknesses in the guard’s routines as well as taking the time to observe their attitudes and peculiarities. The way a man carries himself says a lot about how he will hold up in a fight.

  We decide to wait at least one more night to observe the guard’s actions in the dark before making our final plan of escape.

  “So, we’ll have one more battle in the arena,” I say.

  “At least one more,” agrees Braam.

  “The challenge is not just getting out of Arcmire,” says Isaiah. “Surviving the wastes and making it to Graven Pointe isn’t exactly going to be a slice of hzarla.”

  “We’ll worry about that when we get there,” says Papa. “We were doing just fine before those bandits showed up.”

  “I’ll bet you were,” Isaiah says and shakes his head, laughing at what unlikely survivors Papa and I seem. “What could possibly have gotten you exiled in the first place?”

  I speak up to tell the story. “I was caught entering Fairebourne without a pass. They even accused me of trying to steal from a Royal Mistress. I escaped before they could lay hands on me, but didn’t hide my face well enough, and one of the protectors recognized me. I was oblivious to this fact, however. A couple of hours later, they showed up at our home to arrest me and as they barged in, they discovered Papa holding forbidden fruit.”

  “Plums?” Isaiah guesses.

  I chuckle. “No, it wasn’t plums. Although, if I could have stolen some from Fairebourne, I would have.”

  “She means a book,” says Papa. “This particular one was on the forbidden list.”

  “Solomon probably wants the forbidden books for himself,” I say. “At least that’s the way it seems to work with everything else.”

  Now that I think about it, I’m fairly sure I got my rebellious nature from Papa. He had a nice collection of banned books. I say had because I assume when Papa and I were taken into custody they found his collection and burned it. I hope not, though. It would be nice to get back to Eden and find Papa’s hidden book room still intact.

  “I’ve got a small stash of banned books, myself,” says Isaiah, smiling.

  “You can read?” Braam asks Isaiah.

  “Which titles do you have?” Papa wants to know, getting excited.

  “I’ve got one called, ‘The Catcher in the Rye.’ That one’s about an outcast.”

  “Makes sense you’d like that one,” says Braam.

  “I’ve got another by a man called George Orwell,” Isaiah continues. “It’s about an animal farm.”

  “What’s that one called?” Braam asks.

  “I can’t remember,” says Isaiah. “I’ve got one, you’d probably like, Neeka. It’s called ‘Alice in Wonderland’ and it’s about a young woman who is too curious for her own good.” He smiles at me.

  “Papa, isn’t that the one you told me about?” I ask, remembering when I was a little girl and Papa would tell me stories of a magical mirror that allowed you to enter another world where magical potions and foods would change you. “I’ve always wanted to read that one, but it was one of the books the Protectors took after the first time we were caught with forbidden books.”

  “You are welcome to it when we get to Graven Pointe,” Isaiah says. “You’ll just have to read it privately and not in town. I know we aren’t in Eden, but Solomon’s laws still apply.”

  I look at Papa when he says this and think of his story about Pyram and Levi and how they weren’t safe anywhere. I start to wonder if running off to Graven Pointe will really solve our problems, or if it will just create new ones.

  The sound of crowds cheering in the arena grows louder as the arena access doors open. A guard comes back to our cell with no prisoners and yells for three more prisoners.

  “Those poor souls,” Papa says.

  The men struggle at first, before accepting their fate and falling into compliance. There is usually one survivor in the second round of men. I wonder which of the men it will be. I am sure they think about it as well.

  “How did you end up in Arcmire?” I ask Isaiah, still wondering what it’s like in Graven Pointe. I know it is different than Eden, but I want to know how different if this family man was easily captured and brought to this place.

  “It was my fault,” Isaiah says. “I made a stupid decision, and I wandered a bit too far into the Wastes.”

  “What were you doing?”

  “I was hunting. I make a mean Teyrelsk soup that pairs nicely with a glass of kiju.”

  “You drink kiju?” Braam wants to know.

  “Of course,” Isaiah says proudly, “I make it for Fairebourne and keep a little tucked away for the wife and I.”

  “And hunting Teyrelsk is illegal in Graven Pointe?” I ask.

  “No. Not at all. I just wandered too far into the Dread Wastes and encountered some bandits. They hover around the outposts waiting for people to make that mistake. The worst part is I know better. I always go out with a friend, but he was sick. I should have just waited for him to recover, but I really wanted soup that night. So, here I am stuck in this cell. I never got my soup, and meanwhile he’s probably over his illness and laughing at what a plugtail I am.”

  “He’s probably not,” I say. “He’s probably sick with grief that you were taken.”

  “He’d better be,” Isaiah says, and we all laugh.

 
When the laughter dies down, we all look at Braam expectantly. We’d shared our stories, but we know almost nothing about him. He tends not to talk about himself much. He would rather hide behind his dry humor.

  “Well?” Isaiah inquires with a lifted brow.

  “You wouldn’t believe it if I told you,” Braam says.

  “Try us,” I tell him and cross my arms, waiting for his story.

  “Alright,” he says. His legs are crossed as he sits on the floor. His posture is erect, as if he is about to describe an epic tale. “Once upon a time there was a Pleb girl with leg-proths who managed to find her way into Fairebourne on three separate occasions. She was no ordinary girl. Even though she had proths, she was faster than anything you’ve ever seen and able to escape easier than a baldagaar swallowing a gnatfly. That reminds me: Did I ever tell you the one about the baldagaar that choked on a gnatfly?”

  “Enough with the jokes,” I tell him.

  “Well, it just so happened the same protector was on duty all three times this little girl, who was faster than anyone, showed up and escaped his clutches. The twist ending of this fairy tale is I was that protector. We can all guess who the little girl was.”

  “I am the one who got you banished?” I ask, feeling a little guilty.

  “Well,” says Braam, “technically it was my inability to catch you or kill you that got me banished, but you most certainly had something to do with it.”

  “Sorry,” I say, and look at my shoes, realizing the consequences of my actions.

  “How is that finger,” Isaiah asks Braam.

  “It’s pretty good,” says Braam as he makes a fist and turns to Isaiah. “How do you not have any battle scars?”

  “I get plenty banged up out there,” says Isaiah.

  “You don’t look it. How is it you been here two weeks and you have fewer bumps and bruises than any of the other people in here?”

  “It’s not me,” says Isaiah. “I take a lot of hits out there, but the healer girl comes in and fixes me up every time, right as rain.”

  “You fight for your life every day for two weeks, but some girl comes in and makes your boo boos all better? Unlikely. Are you paying someone off, so they go easy on you? Kiju seems like a lucrative enough business.”