by Franc Ingram
Leith sat her down in one of the few chairs they'd pulled to the front line. Oleana stared up at him.
"Forgot." She tried to sit up straight but almost toppled over in her chair instead. Leith had to prop her back up, but she knocked his hand away. "I'm not an invalid," she insisted.
"Didn't say so. Do say you drunk, making noise, and trying get killed. Battle be on. No time for nonsense."
Oleana snorted. "Well if you'd told me there was a fight going on I would've prepared myself. Then I could have helped out."
"How?" Leith said before he could stop himself. Oleana straightened, anger growing behind her brown eyes as he spoke. "I mean it handled. Should be resting. Need you to heal."
"Ain't no amount of rest going to heal this," Oleana slurred, waving the stump of her arm around. "But of course, you wouldn't tell the drunk cripple about your battle plans, she'd just get in the way. You've forgotten if it wasn't for me you wouldn't be around to give anybody orders," Oleana spat. She stood up, only to land back in the chair when she couldn't catch her balance, flailing an arm that wasn't there. Leith reached to help but she pulled away from him. "Maybe you should think about that the next time you give me that look of pity." She tried standing again, this time slower. She made it off the chair into a crouching position then straightened until she thought she was steady enough to try to walk. "I'll just take my useless wreck of a body back to the kitchen to scramble up what little booze is left. For such a grand tower, it has a lousy selection of drinks." Oleana headed back into the dark.
"Make sure she makes it back to The Tower," Leith order the two Rangers.
He hated seeing her like that, didn't know what to do for her. Who Lorn had brought back from Failsea wasn't the Oleana they'd hoped to be reunited with.
01110010
Kameke hadn't experienced fear in so long it took her a long time to identify the tightness in her chest. Standing before the barred gate, she didn't know what she had to be afraid of. Her life had been long and fulfilling. If she died that night, she would meet her end with no regrets. But it wasn't the past that had her so worried.
She'd waited more than a century for the Heirs to find her, even longer than that for lasting peace to encompass the world. Kameke could tell the world was on the cusp of a new era, and she didn't want to miss it. She had reasons to live past the next few moments for the first time in a long time. So even though she knew giving Ivar the chance to talk was the right thing, she was also scared of it going fatally wrong.
Kameke shook off her fears. She leapt up onto the two-foot-thick bar keeping the gate closed. She took another deep breath before jumping high enough to leave the door behind, then grabbed hold of the wall that covered the top of the door. Three more large pulls and she was at the top. She looked left, then right, at the archers lined up on the tightly woven vines that created Evermore's protective living wall. Her sudden appearance startled the ones closest to her. Kameke found herself looking down the shaft of a few well-aimed arrows.
Kameke smiled. She didn't fear them. She hadn't lost all of her edge. She ran and jumped off the wall. She spread her arms wide, letting the cold air whip past her as she fell. Then she tucked herself into a ball, softening the impact as she rolled forward on the grass before coming to a stop and finding her feet again. Four angry yetis surrounded her as she brushed debris off her arms.
"I am the Keeper of the Crystal Tower and I demand an audience with Ivar."
"What makes you think you have the right to demand anything here?' one of the yetis asked, moving out of the shadow of a large tree. His odd timbre grated Kameke's ears. Everything in her screamed he was unnatural.
"This is my city. A neutral place. You dared attack it without provocation. It is you that has no right," Kameke said, looking the talking yeti in the eye.
"Bold words for someone so outnumbered. You don't need to talk to Ivar, anything you want to say can be said directly to me. Seth is the only name you need worry about."
"Tell me what you want, and we can negotiate things without violence. You're putting innocent lives at stake with these foolish attacks." The other yetis moved a step closer to Kameke, making her heart beat faster.
The yeti in charge rubbed at his protruding chin as if considering Kameke's offer. "We want the dictators that call themselves kings to surrender to us. Then we'll leave the rest of you in peace."
Kameke shook her head. "The Heirs of Eternity have the right to be kings. They have proven themselves under the trials that The Twelve set out for them."
Seth snarled. "What gives The Twelve the right to dictate who rules us? What have they done for us?"
"Without them, your kind would never have existed. Neither would the ultras. We owe The Twelve everything."
Seth rushed forward, grabbing Kameke around the neck. She was so shocked, she hung there limply as she struggled to think what to do. "I owe Father everything. No one else. He tells me to eliminate the Heirs, that's what I do."
Kameke pried the yeti's claws from her throat, falling a foot to the ground. "Then there can be no negotiating between us. I'll relay your answer to the others." Kameke turned to leave, but Seth grabbed her shoulder and turned her back around.
"Why would we let you leave?"
A cold panic set in and Kameke's crystal shield shimmered, threatening to collapse. She could feel Seth's claws digging into the meat of her arm. Seth noticed it too. He squeezed tighter, holding Kameke still as he backhanded her across the face. Kameke fell to the ground, her cheek burning.
Kameke looked up to see the other yetis moving in, but the archers above were ready for that. They let loose a slew of arrows, forcing the other yetis to scatter or get hit. Seth was too close to Kameke to risk aiming at. She had to deal with him or be captured.
Seth went for her throat again, but even with the fog of dread clouding her mind, Kameke was quicker than him. She rolled to the left while Seth stumbled past her. She got to her feet and ran for the wall.
She leapt, but something grabbed her leg and yanked her back down. Kameke hit the ground hard, pain shooting up her legs and into her back. She couldn't remember the last time she'd felt such pain. Starring up at Seth's snarling face she was reminded of Leith's words to her minutes ago. He told her to come back. Kameke wasn't one for breaking her word.
Anger replaced fear, then calm certainty replaced that. Her crystal skin solidified. She could feel the weight of it press down on her milliseconds before Seth's claws raked across her face. Kameke felt nothing. She was protected.
Seth let out a sharp howl of pain as one of his best weapons shattered against Kameke's hardened skin. She pulled her knees up to her chest and kicked Seth in the chest with both feet. He went flying backward, smacking against the wall. Again, an earsplitting howl cut through the night air.
An arrow whizzed past Kameke's right shoulder. She turned to watch it land in the chest of a charging yeti, but it only slowed him. Kameke bent her knees, so when the yeti collided with her, she grabbed it by the fur on its chest, lifting it up and over her. The two of them came to a stop with the yeti on its back and Kameke sitting atop it.
Kameke elbowed the beast in the face repeatedly until she heard something crack. The yeti's struggles fizzled and Kameke thought she was clear until she heard a warning come from above.
"Behind." Kameke turned to see Seth was back on the hunt for her blood.
The yeti moved stiffly as if injured, but with a frightening determination. Kameke looked around her. The conflict had attracted attention from more yetis and the archers were struggling to keep them at bay. Kameke knew a prolonged fight would only increase her odds of losing.
She spotted a break in the yeti line and she ran without thinking. Seth trailed her, but she could see that with every step blood oozed from his side. His collision with the wall must have impaled him on some of the nasty thorns. It didn't take much for Kameke to pull ahead.
She veered toward the wall, crouching low before leaping as high a
s her legs could carry her. When her momentum died she gripped the wall with as much force as her thin fingers could manage. The waxy vines objected to her intrusion. They moved to wrap around her, much like they had to the yetis devoured in the building of the wall. Kameke didn't give them time to add her to the collection. She braced her hardened feet against two large thorns and pushed off. Two more bounds and she was at the top of the wall between two of the archers that had helped save her life.
"Thanks for your timely assistance," Kameke said, trying to keep her usual calm, despite her heart thumping against her ribs.
The young man who'd speared the last yeti gave her a slight bow. Kameke wasn't good at judging ages but he still had the plumpness of youth in his cheeks, and a softness to his eyes that reminded her of Lorn when they first met.
"Those were some nice moves down there," the blond-haired youth said, slinging his bow across his shoulder. "You're braver than me going down there. Ain't no way I would have tried talking to those monsters." The look of terror that crossed his face when he looked down at the yetis pacing at the base of the wall made Kameke feel better about the shaking in her knees.
CHAPTER TWENTY: MARSAL
Lysander fixed Daycia with a skeptical look that lost its effect because she was paying him no attention. "You know I trust you with my life, but I really feel like going at the capitol in broad daylight is a less than ideal plan."
They had taken a minute to rest at the crest of a hill overlooking the city, Marsal. According to Daycia, it was the only real city on the island. The rest was a scattering of villages nestled among the trees. Lysander couldn't believe it. The city was almost as remote as Evermore. They'd walked for almost a full day without running into any signs of civilization other than the occasional dirt path. Lysander didn't know what clues Daycia was using to navigate by. There were no markers he'd picked up on.
Looking down on the city, Lysander could see the spiral pattern that defined the city streets and the volcanic rock tower at the center. Unlike Evermore, there were no houses lining the outer streets. It was all industrial looking. Shops for metal workers, craftsmen, fabric makers sat on one side of the city while training areas took up another half, with obstacle courses and targets laying out in full view for all to see.
Even in the heat of tropical midday, the city was active. People were milling about everywhere. Brown-skinned males with sweating bare chests carried heavy loads from one building to the next. Women in soft white dresses pushed loaded carts across town, attention focused on the task ahead. Even though Gaeth was a very isolated place, fishermen from Failsea, and even Caledon, bought nets, bait, and other essentials for their trade from the island. The city of Marsal was the heart of that industry. It was the dirty secret of the other three realms that no one openly talked about, but most knew.
Lysander wondered how happy those fishermen would be when they learned that new equipment was made from slaves from their own realm. Lysander knew many deep-sea fishermen were a country all to themselves, with loyalties to no one but the people who work their boats. To them, it didn't matter where, or how, their supplies came about as long as they were good quality for a low price.
"How are we supposed to slip in there unnoticed?" Jonathan asked from his purchase on Lysander's right.
"Trust me when I tell you, not one of the workers down there will give us a second thought, even if we strolled through town naked and covered in blood. They are so reliant on the Elevated to protect them, they don't even register threats from outsiders."
Jonathan grunted. "Come now, it's been hundreds of years since you set foot on this island and you want us to trust your word?"
"Time may have passed but my mother's tactics don't change."
"Even if the people ignore us the Elevated won't be so kind," Lysander added hoping to circumvent an argument between Jonathan and Daycia.
"They’ll trail us, but won't attack inside the city. They can't risk disturbing the people." Daycia straightened from her crouching position. She sighed heavily. Her face was taught. Lysander could tell she was having trouble keeping her frustration and worry at bay. "If we break into groups of three we can move around without drawing attention. We find where the slaves are being kept and map out their defenses. It’s a simple reconnaissance mission, then we make our way back here and go from there."
Jonathan looked like he was ready to complain so Lysander spoke up first. "Half the group stays here in case there’s trouble. Jonathan, you pick the groups to your satisfaction. We have two hours to get in and get out."
Daycia nodded, though Lysander had been hoping for her signature warm smile. Jonathan gave him a narrow look that Lysander was all too familiar with, but the older man said nothing. He just looked over his men with an appraising eye.
01101001
It didn't take long for Jonathan to make the groups. He put himself with Lysander and Daycia, leaving Zyair with two Darten men. Lysander couldn't tell if the move was strategic or petty. He suspected it was a little of both. They split up on the hill, coming at the city from different angles.
Jonathan insisted on taking point and neither Daycia or Lysander argued with him. Moving into Marsal, Lysander couldn't help but feel the pressure of fear pounding away at his temples, but as Daycia explained, people didn't give them a second look. There was no public outcry, no alarm sounds. People moved around them as they would any other faceless obstacle in their path.
"I don't think I've ever been this anonymous," Lysander mumbled to himself.
"Welcome to life on Gaeth, where minding your own business keeps you alive longer," Daycia commented, sorrow evident in her tone.
Their group was to search out the inner rings of the east side of the city. Daycia said she knew of a couple places that may have been good for holding the slaves if they were still there. They strolled past a blacksmith hammering away at a scythe, taking Lysander back to the moment his father was run through by a similar looking man. The smell of his father's blood filled the air. He stopped short, so wrapped up in the memory.
"Lysander," Daycia called, grabbing his shoulder.
"I'm fine," he insisted, avoiding Daycia's gaze.
"You don't have to play tough with me," Daycia said. "If you could see the images playing in my head from my time here you would run screaming." Daycia wiped her hand over her face, erasing the deep worry lines that had plagued her since she boarded the boat, that kept from exposing her usual jovial face. "When I was young this city was just being built. We lived in these grand tents back then,” Daycia paused, temporarily lost in her past. “Well, calling those structures tents is an oversimplification. The structures were purple and creme colored silk drapes laid over a palm tree frame. At dawn attendants would pull the outer sheets," Daycia spread her arms wide, "exposing the whole place to the sunrise and the tropical winds. I often bathed with the new sun hitting my exposed back. Mother liked it because she could sit in her royal sun chamber and watch her tower being built brick by brick." Daycia paused and her sadness seeped through the cracks of her mask. "At the time it didn't occur to me to worry about how many died making that tower." She avoided looking at the offending structure. "The island's people were just a resource to be exploited."
"We know what we are taught," Lysander said, trying to soothe his friend.
Jonathan shook his head. "The reality of our world teaches us as much, if not more than our parents do."
Daycia took the insult in stride, "And that is why the gilded princess sided with the delicate humans, against the powerful Volcano Goddess." Daycia patted Lysander's cheek but said her mother's title with such contempt it scared him. He didn't like that hard side of her.
Somehow, they made it into the inner city without being noticed. Lysander could finally see the base of The Tower. They faced a set of double doors that were wide open, and people were lined up out the door.
"It's where Emmaray receives her people," Daycia explained. "They present her gifts and praise. She lis
tens to their problems, offers solutions or direct help."
"We shouldn't be this close," Lysander said taking a big step back. He was just within sight of the building, with a city block between him and it, but it still felt too close.
"Relax my boy, their attention is elsewhere and so should ours be." Daycia turned in a circle to get her bearings. "The last time I was here there was a storage house at the end of this street. It was built from the same rock as Emmaray’s tower, so it should still be standing. We should start our search there."
Daycia led the way while Lysander kept his eyes out for any Elevated that might have noticed them. In Caledonia, the Elevated stood out with their died red hair, odd clothing, and unique markings. Now being on an island full of the same people Lysander found it hard to determine who was a potential foe.
The building Daycia talked about was two stories tall and rectangular, taking up a full corner of the street. It was the first place, other than The Tower, that was actually guarded.
Daycia hugged the side of a brickmaker’s shop as soon as she caught sight of the guards circling the building in front of them. The heat of the kiln inside made the wall they were leaning against hotter than even the sweltering summer day.
"Whatever’s going on there is important enough to keep under guard," Jonathan pointed out.
"We need to take a look inside," Lysander said, daring Jonathan to object.
"How do you plan on accomplishing that?"
"You're going to create a distraction so Daycia and I can sneak in and take a peak around. Then we can exit the city as quickly as our legs will take us."
"What kind of distraction do you expect me...,"
"Figure it out, Jonathan. I'm sure a fine military man such as yourself can figure out how to keep a few guards occupied for a few minutes." Lysander gripped Daycia's hand and pulled her forward before Jonathan could say anything else.