Darkness Falling: Soldiers and Slaves

by R. R. Willica

  “The only reason they were armed or dangerous was because they were forced to defend themselves,” Sheyra felt infuriated by the knowledge.

  “Although that may be true, it is not something anyone would know. The important thing now is to make you disappear,” Therin cut the discussion short. “I'll have to send someone for the car. The ferry has been out on another job.” He handed her a single key. “This is for the garage,” he said pointing back toward the house. “Don’t forget to lock it. Once the search settles we’ll come back.”

  “Help me unload the trunk first,” Jairon said.

  They hadn’t been able to gather many supplies before fleeing the tavern. Jairon, Lorsen, and Therin carried the few small bags of goods to the fishing boat while Sheyra followed Therin’s instructions. Normally the garage would have been a perfect hiding place for a vehicle. If not for the tracks left in the snow, there would have been no reason to suspect the abandoned house had been disturbed. Sheyra hoped the steady snowfall would erase the signs of their passing before the Enforcers arrived to investigate.

  Locking the garage door behind her, she hurried back to the pier. The deck was small and clear of clutter. It wasn’t a large boat, but the wheelhouse had seats enough for all of them. If nothing else, they were shielded from the cold. Jairon untied the ropes securing them and pushed away from the dock. Sheyra watched the snow covered shore, wondering if she would ever see her car again.

  Therin started the engine before removing his hood. His hair was shaved close to his head and a neatly trimmed beard adorned his chin.

  “You traveled with the prince’s slave,” it was not a question. “The boss is going to want to know information on her and why the Empire is behaving so strangely.”

  “Aren’t you to boss?” Lorsen asked uneasily.

  Therin laughed unexpectedly. “No, but I'm very close to the boss.”

  Jairon leaned toward Lorsen and whispered loudly, “Very, very close.”

  “Don’t start,” Therin pointed a finger at his colleague in a playful manner.

  Lineya was kneeling in her seat to get a better view from the window. “Where are we going?” She asked.

  “Not far. See, over there,” Therin pointed out into the ocean.

  Moored in the deeper water away from the shore waited a giant naval ship, which grew larger and more impressive as they approached. The fishing boat was minuscule in comparison. Sheyra wished Brosen and Impyra had stayed with her; they could have found the protection they needed. She also felt justified in her plans. The Resistance was more than a handful of unhappy citizens as Brosen believed. Real change was brewing.

  “We normally don't come in this close. This is a special occasion.” Therin glanced at Sheyra but did not comment further.

  Pulling up parallel with the port side of the ship, Sheyra arched her neck back to peer up at the matt gray hull towering over them. From her current angle she was unable to see the top deck.

  Therin lifted a two-way radio and pressed the call button. “I have cargo ready to load.” he said.

  “Understood; we're ready with the crane,” A voice crackled through from the other side.

  Crane?

  Sheyra could see long straps being lowered from above. Jairon and Therin hurried onto the deck to catch and secure them to the boat. It was clear this was a common procedure. Jairon may have run the shop in Ro’Awnor-Clee but his familiarity with the workings of the Resistance meant he was more than just another villager. He must have been a planted recruiter.

  Within a few minutes the boat was secure. Jairon and Therin returned to the cabin.

  “Ready to load,” Therin said into the radio.

  “Preparing to lift. Standby.”

  “Hold on,” Therin told them.

  Sheyra wasn't sure what she was supposed to hold on to. The straps pulled taught. She watched the side of the ship as they were carried up into the air and over the gunwale. The crane lowered them slowly onto a special platform which cradled the fishing boat. Crew members rushed to secure the boat in place.

  Therin was the first to disembark. Jairon helped Lineya down. Sheyra jumped lightly from the platform, landing unsteadily on the deck. Jairon reached out to catch her arm.

  “This must be the troublemaker, then,” a lilting female voice said from behind her.

  Sheyra turned. A tall, muscular Ardnilian woman observed the new arrivals. Her hair was short but woven into tight braids at the crown of her head. Her dark eyes glowed with internal power. Sheyra gasped. Did the woman have Enforcer blood?

  Sheyra stepped forward to introduce herself. “Sheyra Gei'Dessa,” she said.

  “No,” the woman stopped her, raising one finger authoritatively. “We don't use the tags of tyranny here. You are Sheyra, nothing more. And I am Talon.”

  “Are you the leader of the resistance?”

  “I am. You are now one of my soldiers. You will train hard. You will learn from your mistakes. This isn't a game to be played. Do you understand?”

  Sheyra thought of her father's inn, of Brosen and Impyra sailing into uncertainty, and of Lorsen and Lineya struggling to survive after losing everything. All of it was a direct result of the Empire destroying the lives of the people.

  “I understand.”

  “Good,” Talon smiled but her eyes were calculating. “It's already getting late. Nakiya will show you to your quarters. Get cleaned up, get rested. Eat. Tomorrow you'll have a busy day.”

  Another Ardnilian woman hurried forward. “This way,” she said, motioning for Sheyra to follow.

  She hesitated, glancing at Lineya and Lorsen.

  “They'll be all right. Therin's taking them to the infirmary.” Nakiya assured her.

  Knowing it was for the best, Sheyra waved goodbye. She would see them soon, or so she hoped.

  * * *

  Brosen tumbled onto his bunk. Lying flat on his back he stared at the bottom of the cot above him. Scraping rust may not be difficult work but it was tedious and mentally exhausting. Although tired and hungry he wasn't going to eat without Impyra. She hadn't returned yet, but he was sure she would soon.

  The drone of the far away engine combined with the hypnotic swaying of the ship caused Brosen to relax. Without realizing it, his eyes drifted shut.

  Surrounded by darkness, snow began to fall into the void. It was not cold, although he thought it should be. Taking in his surroundings, Brosen realized he was standing on an endless black mirror. When he looked down he could see his reflection staring out at the horizon where a golden light burned brightly. He began to move toward it only to discover that he could not; the light moved with him to keep the same distance between them.

  Can you see the light?

  The soft voice touched at the very edge of his mind. He didn't understand the question. Of course he could see the light, it would be impossible not to see it.

  A sense of urgency prompted him to walk faster. The snow swirled around him in blinding flurries. There was something important about the light. He needed to reach it before it was too late.

  Faster, he began to run.

  The light was growing in size although he could not get any closer. His heart was racing as fear began to grip him, slowing his steps until it felt as if he were running through deep mud.

  It was too late.

  The light exploded into a million flying shards. They shot in every direction at incredible speed. One flew directly at him, piercing his heart.

  Brosen jumped, slamming his head on bed frame above him.

  “Shit!” he dropped his head into his hands to nurse the pain.

  The dream clung to him, gauzy and confused. Glancing at the window he saw that it was dark. Impyra still had not returned from her work.

  “Shit,” he growled. How could he be so careless to fall asleep?

  He hurried out into the narrow corridor. It was empty. First he would check the galley. Impyra was powerful. She wouldn't allow anyone to take advantage of her, not after everyth
ing she'd survived. Even so, he couldn't help feeling protective. Recalling the captain's inquiry about what services she might provide was enough to cause concern.

  Outside, two sailors were attempting to clear snow from the deck. Although the snowfall was relentless there wasn't any wind. It was as if the world was wrapped inside a frigid white vale.

  Brosen opened the door to the galley to a wave of warmth and laughter. He descended the stairs slowly, not wanting to draw attention to himself. If anything bad was happening he'd rather catch them in the act. Aware that he'd left the gun in the cabin he wasn't sure what his plan was and he didn't have time to make one.

  “The people are starving?” He heard Impyra speaking in a deep, mocking tone. “That's weird, I have enough food. I know! Maybe they don't know what food is!”

  The sailors’ laughter roared and echoed off the walls of the hull. Brosen stopped at the bottom of the stairs and couldn't believe what he was seeing. Impyra was standing in the doorway to the kitchen. Every eye was on her.

  “Thella, go tell the peasants they can't eat rocks. I think they forgot again. And bring me a steak!”

  Impyra grinned as the sailors applauded. Brosen was bewildered but also relieved. Impyra noticed him and waved. The crew turned in his direction.

  “Thar he's at,” Captain Dei'Brenen shouted from across the room. “Yer friend here does a mighty fine impression o'the Emperor.”

  “Yeah,” Brosen tried to smile. Impyra approached, her eyes glowing gleefully. “What were you doing?” He whispered.

  “Making friends,” she shrugged.

  “I was worried,” he began, then glanced around, aware they were being watched.

  “Sorry, I didn't realize it was late.” She looked over her shoulder at the opening to the kitchen. “Gilly started making jokes about the Emperor and then I started doing my impression. I think it's terrible by they thought it was funny.”

  Brosen blinked. “Gilly?”

  “He's the cook.”

  This was the last thing he'd expected from Impyra. Lowering his voice, he said “Aren't you afraid they might report you?”

  Stunned, Impyra laughed. “These guys? No, not at all. They make just barely enough credits to live on. A few jokes about the Emperor is part of their life. Actually, I'm pretty sure many of them hate him.”

  It may be normal for the sailors to make jokes about the Emperor, but it was treason. In Rau'Tesche-Awn the fear and the regular presence of the Enforcers reminded the community to watch their words. Part of Brosen's duty included policing the populace for any dissension. No one was allowed to speak out or object to the Empire in any way. Brosen couldn't remember hearing anyone make such jokes in his entire life. Learning that Impyra already knew a mocking impression was surreal.

  “Are you feeling all right?” She asked, concerned.

  Brosen wasn't sure what to say. “I was just worried,” he explained. “I'm fine. This is just different for me.”

  She nodded. Maybe she understood.

  “I'm hungry,” she said, changing the subject.

  “Right, too bad we can't ear here.”

  Her eyes widened. “No, it's fine. Our food is fine.”

  “What's wrong?” he asked but she grabbed him by the arm, dragging him out into the cold.

  “Nothing,” she said. “Just trust me.”

  * * *

  Gleyth lay still in her bed, listening to the snow sizzle against the Field Energy outside her window. Her mind reeled anxiously as she considered her future. Rau’Tesche-Enra was an ocean away. She would be trapped in a Tower with Fa Marden and his army of concubines with little hope of seeing her family. Her only hope was to convince her father that she should not be married. Hovering on the edge of confidence and doubt, she was trapped between believe she should try and giving up completely.

  Across the room the door opened. Startled, she sat up, her eyes searching the darkness.

  “Who’s there?” She whispered loudly.

  “It’s me,” a voice whispered back.

  A dark figure was silhouetted against the dim light in the corridor. Gleyth rolled from the bed, putting it between herself and the intruder. As the figure moved she saw the familiar glint of green. It was Kevie.

  “What are you doing here?” she whispered sharply.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, his postured slumped and his voice troubled. “We’re leaving soon and I had to see you one more time.”

  Gleyth stood up straight, her long white nightgown feeling thin against the space between them.

  “I don’t understand,” she said.

  “Neither do I,” Kevie admitted. “All I can tell you is that you may be married before we return, and I don’t want you to be.”

  Gleyth folded her hands nervously. Was it going to happen that soon? She’d thought there would be more time.

  “I know we’ve only just met, but you’re special. You’re different than everyone around you even if you try not to be, and I wish I had more time with you.” Kevie hung his head. It was strange to see him behaving this way. “I can’t explain it. I know it doesn’t make sense.”

  She wanted to run to him and admit that she wanted more time with him, too. He understood her better than anyone else in her life. If he could convince Garinsith to help, she could flee the Tower and the world of Sa’Toret-Ekar. Her intuition told her that the Master Keeper would not grant such a wish, but it was far less terrifying than confronting her father.

  The Tower may be her prison, but in that moment she could make a choice.

  Gleyth walked slowly around the bed to stand in front of Kevie. Reaching out, she took his hand. His glowing eyes locked with hers in the darkness, drawing her in. She didn’t move as he leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss upon her lips. Warmth flooded her body. It was forbidden. She knew it must be done.

  She didn’t want Arentey to be her husband. She didn’t want Kevie to be her husband. She only wanted freedom.

  Kevie gave her what no one else could, and there was one way to keep it in her heart forever. Stepping forward, she pressed her body against his. His arms encircled her in a tight embrace. Gleyth could feel the creases and seams in his uniform through her nightgown. The heat of his hands on her back sent a rush of lightning through her blood.

  His lips traced the line of her neck just above her collar. She gasped loudly as he rocked her back gently onto the bed. Allowing him to surround her with his strength she knew this was what she wanted. Soon she would no longer be Ky Gleyth Kei’Oren. If she must live her life as Fy Gleyth a-Fy’Arentey, she would have this one moment of defiance to remember.

  Kevie's hands stole below her nightgown, pulling it over her head as he caressed her skin. She felt herself melt into him, his body joining with hers. She griped his shoulders tightly, burying her face in his neck. He kissed her tenderly, moving slowly so as not to hurt her. A tear escaped her unbidden, knowing this would be the only time.

  When it was done they lay in a contented tangle, her head on his shoulder.

  “I didn’t expect that,” he said softly.

  “Yes you did,” she looked up at him, smiling slyly.

  He kissed her once more.

  “You can’t stay here,” she told him firmly. “The Enforcers do patrol during the night.” She did not want him to leave.

  “I know,” he didn’t move, holding her tighter.

  Gleyth felt this was her opportunity to tell Kevie what she knew was truly important. “Impyra isn’t a traitor.”

  “I know,” Kevie's voice was flat, emotionless. “Garinsith wants her alive.”

  “What about the Enforcer?”

  “Him, too, there’s more to this than even I understand; something about an old prophecy and the imbalance of power resulting in the fall of civilization.” He pulled lovingly at her dark hair, running his fingers through the silky locks.

  Gleyth thought about the citizens of the Empire and her father’s inaction. “Impyra will be the fall of civilizatio
n?”

  “Not exactly,” Kevie said. “This has happened before. When there is imbalance in the world's energy, chaos and destruction emerge. There’s an ancient talisman called Syerset which can restore the balance. Garinsith thinks that Impyra and Brosen are the ones capable of using it to that end.”

  Gleyth blinked at the darkness. Religion had been outlawed before the Ka Dynasty rose to power. All temples, texts, and icons were destroyed. Energy users were slaughtered not only for their power, but as a reminder that faith in anything more powerful than the Empire was forbidden. To hear Kevie speak of such things was alien.

  “That’s why I’m in danger,” she said quietly.

  Kevie nodded. “Everyone is.”

  “Garinsith wants to save the world? I didn’t think he had such noble intentions.”

  There was a long pause. Slowly, Kevie sat up. He looked into her eyes and frowned. “I serve Garinsith,” he said, “the Empire is an enemy to all people.” He furrowed his brow. “But Garinsith isn’t the savior. Impyra and Brosen are the saviors, or we hope they are.”

  “There’s something you’re not telling me,” she could see that he was torn between his loyalty and his emotion.

  “Garinsith,” he hesitated, “wants power.”

  She knew this was difficult. In that moment Gleyth understood. How could Kevie tell her that he was working for a villain? She took his hand, nodding slowly to relieve him from having to say the words out loud. The tension in his eyes relaxed. Despite that revelation, she still believed the Master Keeper’s world may be better than the one in which she lived.

  Kevie kissed her one last time. “I hope I will see you again when we return.”

  “Me too,” she said, not wanting to say goodbye. “Stay alive.”

  Kevie paused, squeezing her hand until he found the resolve to walk out into the corridor. Gleyth sat quietly on the edge of the bed, returned to her usual solitude as if awakened from a dream. She pulled her discarded nightgown over her head. His scent clung to the fabric bringing her both comfort and sorrow.

  She couldn't marry Fei Arentey. Her family was the cause of great evil in the world and someone needed to make a change. Gleyth knew it was her duty to help restore the balance.