A Light From the Ashes

by Rachel Anne Cox

  Kyle placed the knife down deliberately and faced his wife for the first time since he’d been home. “Will you let me get through what I have to say?”

  Gemma looked at him with questions in her hazel eyes but didn’t say anything else.

  “The Triumvirate is removing Zacharias from the Senate. They are going to replace him with someone else from our village. They believe he has succumbed to dementia and can no longer serve. So at least his ruse worked in fooling the soldiers.”

  Gemma continued to look without speaking.

  “It’s really probably for the best,” Kyle stumbled on. “He’s tired so much lately. He needs to slow down. Honestly, I’ve been thinking ever since you told me what happened, it might not be a bad idea to try to get him across the Border. We know we have friends on the other side we’ve helped escape. He could find them, and they could help him. Just to keep him out of danger in case the soldiers come back. A slap across the face is the least they could do to him.”

  “May I speak now?” Gemma’s voice had an edge Kyle wished he could avoid.

  “Go ahead.”

  “Of course I know a slap is the least they can do! That’s the very reason I want to keep him close. What if he’s caught trying to cross the Border? There’s barbed wire now. They could shoot him. And how do we know our friends on the other side could be any help to him? That’s taking an awfully big chance. And who the hell does the Triumvirate think they are? The law does not allow them to choose the senators. They are going to replace him with someone else? Not even allowing a vote? This is out of control. This is just them tightening their grip more and more. And how do you even know you can trust this ‘friend’ in the Corsairs anyway? He’s one of them, after all. We can’t trust a Corsair.”

  “Alright, stop it. That’s enough. You’re the one who’s out of control. You can’t just say everything that pops into your head. Yes, he’s a Corsair, but so was I. Not everything is black and white, Gemma. No one is either all good or all bad. It’s just not that simple. Wouldn’t it be nice if it were? He’s my friend, and he’s a Corsair. Now, as for the rest of it . . . who do they think they are? They’re the Triumvirate! They made the law, so they can change it. Do I like it? No. But that’s the way it is.”

  Gemma took a deep breath, turning back to the stove, and started serving the dinner. “Well, you know they’ll pick someone they think they can control.”

  “Exactly. Someone they think they can control. Not necessarily someone they do control.”

  “Do you know who it is going to be?”

  “Me. I can work in the Senate the same way Z did. I can carry on his work and let him rest finally as he deserves.”

  “Okay, okay. I was wrong about them controlling the person. Of course they won’t control you. But I won’t budge on sending Z over the Border. I’ll bring him here to live with us.”

  “Now, that’s not the best idea, given our situation with the Senate. We don’t want them thinking he’s controlling me either. Just think about the idea of sending him . . .”

  “He’s a grown man, Kyle. We can’t send him anywhere he doesn’t want to go. He’s not a child. Besides, I can’t send him away. He saved me and Sam. You have no idea what he sacrificed for us. No, I won’t do it. No. No. No.” She kept repeating the word. Denying all of the information that was overwhelming her.

  Kyle walked over to his wife, placing his hand on her arm. He looked in her eyes, and for the first time in a long time, he considered the toll this life was taking on her. The tears were forming in her eyes, though she breathed deeply to hold them back.

  “We’re not going to do that,” she continued. “We’re not sending him away.”

  “I care about him too, Gemma. Will you just . . .”

  “Nothing more to talk about. Your soup’s getting cold.”

  * * * * *

  The curfew never bothered Sam. He trusted his instincts and his ability to avoid detection. So he decided to go back to Sophie the night of the Corsair’s visit to Zacharias after making sure Gemma would be with him. As the hill rose up to the left of the road, Sam saw the tall grasses bowing as if in prayer to the rising moon, having been brought low by the weight of winter snows. They had not yet regained their stature.

  Sam considered the interrogations that had begun and how much they were like the pointless interrogations of his youth. The soldiers already had all the information they wanted before they ever started questioning anyone. He knew then as he knew now the only purpose behind the cross-examinations was to exhibit power and give the excuse for the soldiers to attack unarmed civilians when they were “uncooperative.” It made Sam uneasy to see the patterns being repeated.

  The blowing wind in his face, ruffling the grass free of its genuflection, reminded him of a sea breeze and the beach grasses. Even a few miles from the coast, he thought he could detect a hint of salt in the air. He imagined the waves at his feet, caressing him, calling him. The moonlit nights he and his friends had spent at the beach, avoiding patrols, digging for clams, finding fun even amidst the danger. There were times when the recess, the evacuation of the wave, would call to him to follow it out to sea. As it rolled back from the beach, his feet would grow cold, and he would begin to sink into the sand beneath him. He craved the caress and the intimacy of being one with the wave again. But did not follow it. He knew the dangers of chasing after something that would leave and then overtake him. That was not the way to happiness. The way to happiness was to learn to stand firm on the beach, sure of the strength in his own space. Happy to be with the sea when it returned, but knowing he’d be just as happy standing in his own footprints.

  Sam’s thoughts naturally turned to Sophie as he traveled back to her house. He was glad he had left Ethan with her for the boy’s sake. He didn’t need to see what had happened to Z at the hand of the Corsairs. Besides, the boy seemed to genuinely care about Sophie. The two had taken to each other immediately. In the past couple of weeks, as Sophie had fought her way through the horrific nights, dreaming of her daughter and her illness, sometimes screaming out as the pain ripped through her body, Ethan was always the first by her side to calm her, wipe her forehead with a wet cloth, and hold her hand as she fell back into an exhausted yet fitful slumber. Sam would stand in the doorway, aching to do something to help her, but feeling powerless to do more than be with her and be a witness to her suffering. As she would sit up in the bed, not knowing where she was, with Ethan wiping the sweat from her face, her eyes would look toward Sam. Her blue eyes, now gray more than blue, seemed to be lit from within, and they bored into Sam’s chest with the heat of melted steel, questioning him, begging him for relief he was unable to give. Why? Her eyes seemed to call out to him. Why are we only given people to love for a time? What’s the point in us fighting for survival if, when all is said and done, we won’t survive? But he had no answers. No answers for Sophie, and no answers for himself.

  As the night met the morning, the earth clothed herself in a robe of mist, clinging to the fields outside Boswell. Sam noticed a shadow moving over the horizon near the river, and he wondered who would feel as comfortable as he did in riding along the edge of the law. As the sun started to rise, he could see the fog in moving swirls around what he now realized were the legs of a horse. This was a rare sight, as all the horses Sam knew of were in the possession of the Corsairs and no soldier ever went out on his own. Something had to be wrong. They weren’t traveling at a quickened pace but seemed to saunter along at the horse’s will rather than the will of the rider. It made it easier for Sam to get closer while still avoiding being seen.

  He ran across the field toward the rider, stopping at a live oak tree. An old rope swing hung among the tree’s heavy and drooping branches, barely hanging on, with rope and seat long ago warped by age and rain. As the horse turned toward a barn almost hidden in the parent grove of trees, Sam realized where he was. This was the north field of Sophie’s farm. And the rider of the horse, Sophie herself.

/>   Sam’s eyes had to adjust to the dark barn, but it took his other senses longer to adjust to the memories the smell of the barn evoked. Sweaty leather, sweet hay, and of course the smell of the horse itself. He thought of his father’s barn, full of the farm implements, the care his parents took with animals before the slaughters began. Sam paused in the doorway, entering quietly.

  Sophie stood just outside the stall. She and the horse seemed to be talking to each other without any words. He was a bay, his red coat shiny against the aged wood of the stall. Sophie ran her fingers through his black mane, touching her nose to his white one. Sam took a step forward, and the boards under his feet creaked.

  The barrel of a pistol appeared at Sophie’s waist without her moving from her position in the least. Still fully intent on the horse before her, she spoke quietly, “You’d better not move any closer. He tends to be kind of jumpy.”

  “Sophie, it’s me, Sam. Remember? I didn’t mean to startle you.”

  Sophie lowered the gun, placing it back in her belt.

  “I guess that answers the question of whether or not you’re alright to go riding alone.” Sam moved hesitantly toward horse and rider. “I saw you riding out there. I just wanted to make sure there wasn’t a Corsair sneaking around.”

  Sophie continued her private communication with the animal before her.

  Sam pulled an apple from his pack, coming close enough that the horse smelled a treat, acknowledging Sam’s presence for the first time. “May I?” he asked Sophie.

  She nodded.

  “What do you call him?” Sam asked as he introduced himself to the animal, announcing himself as a friend with the proffering of the gift.

  “Pip.”

  “Good name. Great Expectations is my favorite book.” Sam smiled at the added connection between them.

  “I guess, in a way, I figured we were both orphans. That’s why I named him that. Besides, he looks like a Pip.”

  Sam picked up a brush from a nearby shelf and began brushing down Pip’s silky coat.

  “You’re good with him,” Sophie observed.

  “I had a horse once. Not for very long. It was during the First Revolution. Found him wandering in the woods after a battle. So I kept him. His name was Strider.”

  “What happened to him?”

  “After the war, the Corsairs took him back.”

  “I guess you’re wondering where Pip came from.”

  “I can guess. You don’t have to tell me. It’s just good to see you up and around.”

  “It’s easy being with Pip. He doesn’t need anything from me. I don’t even have to speak if I don’t want to.”

  “I’m sorry. I suppose I should leave you alone.”

  “No, that’s not what I meant.” Sophie’s voice faltered for a moment before she continued. She ran her hands along Pip’s long neck, taking her time to find her words. “I know you’ve been helping. You’ve been here for me, leaving your own life behind. I’m not sure I can repay . . . I don’t know why . . .”

  “Don’t worry about that. It’s the code, after all. You owe me nothing. But I don’t want to overstay my welcome. If you feel like it’s time . . .”

  Sophie placed her hand lightly on his arm. He felt the heat coming from it, flowing into his cool skin.

  “I’d like you to stay.”

  * * * * *

  “I can’t stay long, Tower. I’m expected back at home,” Gemma explained. “But I needed your help.”

  “Did you find Aishe?”

  The winter runoff from the mountains swelled the creek behind the cabin to almost overflowing. Its normal trickle was a rush that served to drown out their conversation in case any of the children should be about.

  “Yes, I found her. But I’m not going to bring her over the Border. As far as anyone is concerned, she is still a member of the Watch and will take up her duties again as soon as possible. I will be telling my commander that she was set up.”

  “What really happened?” Tower pressed.

  “That doesn’t matter. And honestly, the less you know, the better. But I believe we can use this situation to fuel the rebellion, which will inevitably come.”

  “I’m not sure what you mean. Rebellion beyond what the Watch is currently doing?”

  “I mean a real fight. Another revolution, and the last one if we can plan it right.”

  “You can’t be serious. If past revolutions were crushed when they had more guns and resources, how can we possibly have a war out in the open?” Tower expressed Gemma’s own fears as they both instinctively looked around them.

  “We can use the Corsairs’ own resources against them. We have operatives in all of the work camps, right? We can start siphoning the supplies from the camps and government farms. Then when the time is right, we will strike. Our last raid gave us guns and horses. All we really need is food and clothes to supply the Watch army.”

  “How will this situation with Aishe be a catalyst?”

  “We can tell the commanders the Corsairs staged the whole murder to blame on a Watch member. The Corsairs are already retaliating. The floggings and interrogations have begun. When we don’t deliver a scapegoat, they’ll step up their punishments. They can’t continue to rob people of their humanity piece by piece and expect us not to respond. The way I see it, we either resist or we’re serving their interests.”

  “We, lie you mean.”

  Gemma sighed and realized convincing the Watch would not be easy. “It’s not something they haven’t done before. These punishments they’re inflicting aren’t justice. There’s never been any justice. No trials. No laws that protected the people. Only executions, tighter borders. We would just be beating them at their own game. There’s no bravery, courage, or even honor in a time like this, only doing what has to be done.”

  “You really think the commanders will get behind this?”

  “That’s where I need your help. You have to help me convince them. I need your military expertise. If we can approach them with solid plans and strategies, they’ll be more likely to get on board.”

  “That’s a tall order, Foxglove.”

  “But not impossible.”

  “No, I suppose not.”

  “When would you want the plans?”

  “Next week. We need to strike as soon as possible.”

  Tower sighed, unsure if he could deliver what Foxglove was asking, but feeling the zeal and merit of her argument. “Next week.”

  “They’ve given us no choice. Now we’ve come to the place where we must live free or die.”

  “Live free or die. Sounds like you’ve already come up with the battle cry for the rebellion.”

  PART II

  9

  CONSTANCY OF CHANGE

  Three Months Later

  The Year of 43

  S ophie stood at the creek’s edge, letting the force of the water rinse the soap off the shirts in her hands. The sun warmed her back and face, but the water was cold against her already chapped hands. She dunked them again, rubbing the shirts against a large rock as her Daj used to do. The river was full to overflowing from the mountains weeping the melted tears of the winter. Sophie was reminded again of how painful renewal and rebirth could be, although necessary and even beautiful. She focused her mind on the repetitive movements of dunking and scrubbing the shirts. She had learned this technique of clearing her mind through repetition in the previous months, and it was often the only way she could stave off the echo of the hole left in her heart after her daughter’s death. So many mornings she had awoken to the thought that there was nothing for her to get up for. She would force herself out of bed and make herself go through the daily motions of each task, no matter how meaningless it seemed. At least with Sam and Ethan around, she could tell herself she had to get up for them. They needed her to take care of the house chores. They needed her to make the meals. They needed her to be well. And so she pretended for them.

  She heard a splash and a giggle a little way downs
tream and looked up to see Ethan playing with a turtle near the water’s edge. He observed the turtle intently and helped him into the water before quickly jumping to his feet. He hopped on one foot over stones in the creek to reach the other side, and Sophie felt her heart leap with him. She worried he would fall in but resolved to let him have the freedom of play the spring day invited. It was good to see him playing like the child he was. So often in the past few months, she’d noticed how old he seemed for his age. He took on household responsibilities without being asked, helped wherever his small hands were needed, and often brought her the comfort of the wildflowers he’d picked for her during the day. Recently, however, she had begun taking him with her to the creek to wash the clothes. She would tell him she needed his help carrying the clothes in baskets to and from the house, but really she was only using that as an excuse to get him out of the house and into the outdoors for some leisure time, the kind of playtime children required and thrived on.

  Ethan looked upstream, shielding his eyes against the bright spring sun. Seeing Sophie running her tired hands through her hair, he stuffed the rocks and worms he’d found in his pockets and ran toward her.

  “Are the shirts done, Sophie? I can help you bring them back to the house to dry.”

  “Thank you, sweetheart. Yes, I suppose it’s time to go back.”

  Ethan stood close to Sophie, putting his arm quickly around her waist before bending to the task of gathering the clothes.

  “What would you like for lunch?” Sophie asked.

  “Could I have an egg sandwich?”

  “Sure you can. There’s applesauce still as well. After we eat, you can bring Sam his lunch out in the field, okay?”

  Ethan nodded, picking up his basket with one hand and taking Sophie’s hand in the other.

  Sophie was struck again by how tall he was getting. He was already taller than her shoulders even though he’d not even reached her shoulders when he first arrived. Everything changed so fast, season after season, the young saplings grew tall, expanding their leaf-laden branches. So it was with children, just as it always had been, the constancy of change.