Burn

by Keri Arthur

  “Is there a problem with the electricity supply here?”

  “Only in that all citizens have set weekly allocations and tend to reserve it for cooking, heating, and other necessities rather than lights.”

  “I would have thought light to be a necessity.”

  “Many in the outer circles use candles—they’re cheap to make and easy to replace.”

  I snorted. “Candles went out with the dark ages.”

  “And the dark ages came charging back the day the Mareritt took over.”

  “But wouldn’t it be easier to control the population if they ensured living conditions were at a comfortable standard?”

  “As I’ve said before, the Mareritt don’t think like the rest of us. And they certainly don’t care about Arleeon’s population other than what use they are in the fields, mines, and factories.”

  I frowned. “Factories?”

  He nodded. “Huge buildings in which they process meats, fish, grains, and vegetables for transport back into Mareritten.”

  “So they’re basically stripping Arleeon of its resources?”

  “Indeed.”

  “If they’ve been bleeding us dry for hundreds of years without proper soil management, it's a wonder the entire continent isn’t barren.”

  “At least 45 percent of occupied Arleeon is on the cusp of being irredeemable.” His voice was grim. “I suspect that’s what’s behind the recent reports of unknown activity in the White Zone. Esan still controls a third of Arleeon, and they want our wealth of soil and minerals.”

  There was movement on the tower closest to the road we were using, and a heartbeat later, light speared through the gathering dusk and spotlighted us.

  I pulled the hood over my head, then raised a hand to protect my eyes against the brightness. A metal box slowly descended from the top of the platform to the small building at its base.

  “We’ll be stopped by guards up ahead,” Kaiden said softly. “Let me do the talking.”

  “Given I’d rather kill the bastards than talk to them, that’s probably a good idea.”

  He snorted softly. “Trust me, it’s a desire I share but one that’s not practical in this situation. Say or do nothing that’ll raise suspicion.”

  “I’m not stupid, Kaiden.”

  “I know you’re not. But I also witnessed your battle for control when we left that pod in Break Point, and I’m well aware just how close to the wire it was.”

  Which suggested he was reading me as well as I was reading him.

  The metal box disappeared into the building at the base of the tower, and several seconds later, a doorway opened and two men appeared. Their guns were held loosely by their sides, suggesting they weren’t really expecting trouble—although the large gun atop of the tower continued tracking our progress and would no doubt do a whole lot more damage than the ones either guard carried.

  The oldest of the two stepped into the middle of the road and held up a hand. The other stayed to one side, one arm resting casually on the barrel of his rifle.

  Kaiden stopped. “Is there a problem, officer?”

  “There’s a curfew currently active in Renton,” came the gruff reply. “Why are you out?”

  “Sorry, we came up from Hornton to visit a friend and weren’t advised of the curfew.” The deep rumble of authority had left Kaiden’s voice; in its place was a high note of both nervousness and contrition. The man could act. “I’d planned to be here by midafternoon, but the skid is having engine problems.”

  The Mareritt grunted, his gaze moving past Kaiden and catching mine. I bit down on my lip and lowered my head, hoping he took it for nerves rather than an attempt to control the flames stirring within.

  “Name and address of your friend?”

  Kaiden provided both and then said, “He said he’d notify the appropriate authorities about our arrival if it looked like we were going to be late.”

  “Ren? Check it.”

  The other Mareritt spun and walked back into the building at the base of the tower. After a few seconds he returned, this time holding some kind of flat tablet. “You Kai Jenkins and spouse?”

  “Yes, officer.”

  The Mareritt grunted and held the tablet out to Kaiden. “Thumbprint.”

  Kaiden dutifully pressed his thumb onto the screen. There was a flare of light, and after a pause, a green light flashed. “Approval given.”

  The man in front of us stepped to one side. “Hurry on up and get inside. No movement until the morning or you’ll be incarcerated.”

  “Thank you, officer.” Again, Kaiden’s voice held just the right mix of contrition and relief.

  It drew a contemptuous smirk from both soldiers and had me clenching and unclenching my fists. Thankfully, they weren’t paying me any attention.

  Kaiden carefully drove around them and continued on up the street. I resisted the urge to look back and concentrated on calming the inner fires. The slightest spark right now would not only give the game away but also unleash the tower gun that still tracked our movements.

  The rumble of the skid’s engine echoed through the narrow street. Ramshackle houses lined either side, their front doors almost within touching distance. There was little noise or light coming from any of them, but there was life—curtains twitched, indicating we were being watched. At the midway point between the tower behind and the one ahead, Kaiden turned left and pulled into an old lean-to attached to a small building. Like all the others we’d passed, it was little wider than the door and the two small windows that sat either side of it. An old brick chimney dominated the lean-to end of the building and at least meant we could take the chill out of the air once we got inside. If, of course, the people here were allowed firewood or coal.

  Kaiden switched the engine off, and the vehicle settled back onto its skids. “We’re here.”

  “So I see.” I eyed the multitude of barely patched holes littering either side of the chimney. If we couldn’t get the fire going, it was going to be a cold night. “Will your friend be home? It sounds rather quiet inside.”

  “It does.” Kaiden climbed off and then pulled a long cord from off the wall. After opening the front of the vehicle, he pressed the cord onto some sort of control unit attached to several rows of thin batteries and then flicked a switch. A light on the unit began to blink orange.

  With that done, he turned and offered me a hand. He pulled me upright, then nodded toward the rear of the lean-to. After a moment, I saw the gleam of metal. Not a camera this time but a simple listening device. They really didn’t trust anyone.

  I nodded and concentrated on keeping upright. My legs were stiff and sore after being held in the one position for so long, and my back was aching something fierce. I needed painkillers, and the sooner the better.

  “Brock did say he’d go visit a lover if we didn’t arrive on time,” he said, “so it’s possible he’s staying the night and giving us some privacy.”

  He didn’t release my hand. Instead, he guided me to the front of the house. The door wasn’t locked; Kaiden pushed it open, then stepped to one side and ushered me in.

  The moonlight filtering through the somewhat grimy windows provided enough light to see the interior was as basic as the exterior. The main room held a kitchen and a small living area, while to the right there was a bedroom, and directly opposite the front door was another lean-to that contained basic bathing and privy facilities. Furniture consisted of little more than a table with a couple of chairs, a number of old cloudsaks—large, wool-filled leather bags that were roughly sewn into the shape of a chair—and a double bed. Rather weirdly, despite the fact someone had to be living here on a part-time basis to give credence to Kaiden’s story, there was very little evidence of it. Certainly there was nothing in the way of the personal items or adornments that usually crept into any home.

  The old fireplace dominated the left wall and would have provided enough heat to warm ten rooms rather than the three here. There was no kindling set in the
hearth, but there were at least a few scraps of both wood and coal in the nearby box. It mightn’t last more than a few hours, but it would at least take away the worst of the night’s bite.

  Kaiden closed and locked the door, then moved across to the table. On it was a small candle, a box of strikes, and a note. He picked up the strikes, ran one stick against the rough edge to set the tip alight, and lit the candle. I could have very easily done it for him had he but asked, but it was possible the device out in the lean-to wasn’t the only one in this place.

  The pale light from the candle danced through the darkness, highlighting the dust and the cobwebs. Kaiden didn’t immediately pick up the note. Instead, he dumped the sleeping roll and backpack on the table, then moved across to the small kitchen area. After pulling a pot out of the cupboard under the sink, he filled it with water, then put it on the small cooker and hit two switches. A warm glow immediately appeared under the pot.

  “Right,” he said. “I’ve just activated the ambient noise generator. It should stop the device outside hearing little more than the murmur of voices.”

  “Won’t that raise their suspicions?”

  “No, as most people simply whisper when needed.”

  “I’m surprised they haven’t placed them inside homes, then.”

  “They did, initially, but it provided them with no benefit because people resorted to using hand signals.”

  I crossed my arms against the increasing bite in the air. “Does anyone actually live here? Because it really doesn’t look like it.”

  “They do when it’s not required as a safe house.” He moved back to the table and picked up the note, quickly unfolding it and then leaning closer to the candle to read it. “Lindale, a reader who’s affiliated with the resistance, will be here in the morning.”

  “What time is the curfew lifted?”

  “Probably with dawn—too many living in the inner three circles rely on Arleeon labor.”

  “Is it just the Mareritt who live there?”

  “No. There’s also a few hybrid serfs and some Arleeons who’ve switched allegiance in order to get ahead.” The grim note in his voice did not bode well for these traitorous souls should the Mareritt ever be driven from our lands. He motioned toward the back lean-to. “Facilities are basic, but the shower works if you want to clean up while I make us a meal.”

  “I will. Thanks.”

  I dumped the sleeping roll and knife on the table beside his stuff and moved into the bathroom. Facilities-wise, there was a privy, a basin, and a shower that looked almost old enough to have come from my era. There was also a stack of old but clean towels sitting on the shelf above the basin, along with several bars of unused soap that smelled faintly of lemongrass. I stripped off, turned on the shower, and stepped under the water. It was surprisingly hot and made me long for a bath so I could fully soak my aching body.

  Once I’d washed both my underclothes and me, I pulled on the shirt and trousers and headed out. The fire had been lit, warming the air and lending additional light to the small room. “I hope you’re not offended by the sight of ladies’ undergarments hanging about.”

  He motioned me to the newly cleared table. “I’ve got five younger sisters, so hardly.”

  “Are any of them kin?”

  He shrugged. “Three have the mote but certainly not the fire.”

  I frowned. “How old are they? Because the blood heat doesn’t really appear until bonding time, and that’s usually after puberty.”

  “If there are no drakkons to bond with, there is no heat.”

  My confusion grew. “Whether or not there are drakkons to bond with shouldn’t matter. The blood heat runs through the first ancestor’s line; it had nothing to do with the drakkons.”

  “Except that when the drakkon and kin were erased by the coruscations—”

  “They can’t have been erased,” I cut in. “The fact I’m here proves that.”

  “Just because you somehow survived doesn’t mean others did.”

  His disbelief remained apparent—and maybe that wouldn’t change even after Lindale either confirmed or denied my story. But then, who could blame him? I was having a hard time accepting the situation, and I was the one who’d been thrown two hundred years into the future. I waved him on.

  “Only the very young and the infirm remained. It not only weakened the bloodline but left few to teach.” He placed the pot on the table; inside was what looked to be a vegetable soup into which he’d broken pieces of the dried meat. “It’s reconstituted, but it doesn’t taste too bad, considering.”

  I sat down opposite him, scooped some soup into a bowl, and tried it. Declaring the concoction “not too bad” might have been pushing it, but it was at least edible. “If Esan is still free, why haven’t more of Arleeon’s folk fled there?”

  He shrugged. “For many, it’s impractical—they’ve kids or family they can’t move for one reason or another. Or the journey is too far or too dangerous. The Mareritt patrol the Grand Alkan River—which is now the border between occupied lands and free—and any escapees they catch are dealt with harshly.”

  I munched on a chewy bit of meat for a minute. “But if Esan also patrols, why don’t they come to the aid of those in trouble?”

  “We do, but the border wall runs the full length of the river, and while we patrol at regular intervals, it’s almost impossible to save everyone who flees. Many no longer even try to do so.”

  “I guess after two hundred years of occupation, there’s little point.”

  “There is always a point.” His expression was suddenly fierce. “This is our land, not theirs. We have to keep fighting the ice scum until they’re driven out of Arleeon or there’s none of us left to fight.”

  And he’d already admitted the latter was a closer eventuality than the former.

  I finished the first bowl and helped myself to a second. And would have taken a third except for the fact that there was little enough left for Kaiden if he wanted another. I leaned back in the chair and rubbed my eyes wearily. The ache was still there, but the soup and the relative quiet had at least eased it to a background murmur.

  “What happens when Lindale clears me?” I asked.

  “Perhaps you should ask what happens if she doesn’t.”

  I opened my eyes and studied him. His expression once again gave little away but that odd connection between us flared enough to suggest that while he didn’t believe me, he didn’t entirely disbelieve, either. At the very least, he didn’t think I was working for the Mareritt, and that was an improvement.

  “I presume an attempt at incarceration and interrogation would follow.”

  “Attempt? If Lindale believes you are, in any way, a threat to either of us or the resistance, your mind will be rendered inert so fast you won’t have time to draw breath, let alone fire.”

  I smiled. It wasn’t a pleasant sort of smile, and his eyes narrowed. “There is nothing faster than the instinctive rush of protective fire, so I’d advise her against trying that, if I were you. Unless, of course, she fancies being crisped.”

  Something very deadly entered his expression. “You’d kill an innocent person?”

  “She’s hardly innocent if she’s attempting to fry my brain.” I met his gaze evenly. “I will find out what has happened to me, Kaiden, and if that means going through Lindale or you or a thousand damn Mareritt to do so, then I will.”

  He studied me for a few seconds longer, then rose, collected the bowls, and moved over to the sink. After washing up, he set a kettle on the stove and reached into a cupboard, drew out a small medikit, then tossed it over. “You’ll find painkillers inside.”

  “Thanks.” I was a little surprised by his thoughtfulness, given the anger I could still sense. I found the tablets and swallowed them dry.

  Once the kettle had boiled, he made two cups of what smelled like shamoke—a somewhat bitter brown bean that, when crushed and mixed with cane crystals, made a surprisingly pleasant hot drink—and broug
ht them over, placing one in front of me before resuming his position.

  The anger, I noted, had gone. Or, at the very least, had been fully leashed.

  “If you are deemed to be telling the truth,” he said in a voice so even it was as if the whole other conversation hadn’t happened, “then we have two choices—we either go back to Esan and report in, or we try to find how and why you escaped the coruscations.”

  “And whether there might be others like me.” Others like my sister and Emri—surely I couldn’t have been the only one to have survived.

  “If there’d been others like you, we would have heard about it.”

  “I can’t believe I’m the only one to have escaped. That makes no sense at all.”

  “Red, none of this makes sense.”

  That was an undeniable truth. “Do the coruscations still exist?”

  “The larger one does.”

  “Meaning they might still be frozen.”

  “If they are, I have no idea how we’ll correct that situation without killing them.”

  “There has to be a way—I came out of the coruscation alive, so it’s definitely possible.”

  “And things would be a whole lot easier if you could just remember how that all happened.”

  Another undeniable truth. “What happened to the other coruscation?”

  “We think it simply melted away.”

  I stared at him for a moment, my throat suddenly dry. No, I thought. That isn’t possible.

  And yet, it made perfectly good sense, given that in this time, the larger drakkons had disappeared, the Mareritt controlled Zephrine’s aerie, and the abilities of those who were kin had all but been forgotten.

  If the coruscation had melted—or otherwise disappeared—then it could only mean one thing.

  I might be the only true kin left in Arleeon.

  Five

  I gulped down the shamoke, burning my throat in the process, and somehow croaked, “The coruscations are magic. Magic doesn’t melt.”

  But even as I said that, I remembered again the utter cold that had hit Emri and me. It had not only encased us but had also frozen any ability to move. What happened after that—or how I’d gotten from there to here—I had no idea, thanks to the ice still holding my memories captive. But if we had been part of the attack force—and I refused to believe we weren’t—then surely it meant others must have survived the cold and the time that had passed. Neither Emri nor I had been the biggest or strongest of those who flew with my sister that day. In fact, aside from a number of my friends, we were probably the youngest amongst the three graces she’d led.