by Dan Decker
That is why he killed Nelion, Adar thought bitterly. It was all my fault. My mother's promise hadn't extended to Nelion because she hadn't been a part of my life at the time.
When Adar arrived at the next street, he looked over the human bodies he found there and determined Karn was not among them. None of them were the right height or build. The dead Hunwei were all too large to be turncoats.
He was about to step out, but something made him pause. Uncertain what it was, he took a closer look.
The street had a number of homes, along with a baker and tailor shop. Most of the buildings were three stories high, but there was a tall gray brick home several houses down from where Adar stood peering out of the opening between buildings. At five stories high it took up double the space of the other structures on either side. It was set back further from the street and had a well-tended garden in front. The shrubs had been pruned, and statues of a man and a woman dominated the front yard. Adar was unable to recognize whom they represented and assumed it was either the owners of the house or some of their ancestors. A waist-high fence enclosed the structure.
After waiting for several counts, he decided it was safe enough and that he'd just been hit with a wave of paranoia.
He hadn't taken more than a few steps into the street when a couple of Hunwei came out of the five-story home.
At first, Adar didn't think much of it when he noticed them from the corner of his eye because they were short. He assumed they were human. He must have recognized something was wrong on a subconscious level because he turned without thinking. When he saw their black armor, he brought up his own blaster on instinct.
Melyah, Adar thought. It can't have been more than a few minutes since I last killed one of these human traitors and already my guard is down again. I'm either lazy or too focused.
It was going to take awhile for him to get used to seeing humans eyes staring back at him from within that black armor of theirs. He could not be caught unaware like this again. He'd be dead the next time he did.
As he sighted his blaster in on the first, Adar was happy to see the turncoats still hadn't noticed him. He pulled the trigger and a blast exploded out of the end of his weapon. Half a moment later, he heard the satisfying woomph of the blast plowing through the turncoat. A mist of blood and ash filled the space where the Hunwei turncoat had been standing as it was knocked over.
It had only been a few weeks since Adar had first heard the sound of a blaster and already he had become quite comfortable with it. It no longer filled him with terror as it once had. The man had gone over easier than his two-foot taller comrades. The Hunwei often weren't even fazed by the force of the blast when it hit them, though they still died if it hit them in a vital place, same as everybody. From what Adar could tell, the basic Hunwei anatomy was similar to a human. If they were hit by a blast in the middle of the chest, they seemed to die easily enough.
Adar turned towards the other but threw himself to the ground when he saw the turncoat had a blaster aimed his direction. The turncoat fired as Adar fell. The blast came close enough to hitting him that he could feel the heat of it passing just over his back.
He hit the cobblestones of the road with a jarring sensation. Pain shot up through his elbow as it met a jagged edge of a cobblestone that jutted up from the street. It was enough out of the way of the normal traffic that it hadn't been worn down with use or noticed by one of the city engineers.
Biting off a yelp of pain, Adar rolled to his knees and brought up his blaster, firing off a shot. The turncoat had already anticipated what Adar would do and had disappeared behind the fence.
Adar aimed at the approximate location where the Hunwei had gone and fired several shots through the treated wood. He nodded his head when he heard another woomph as the blast made contact with his target.
He stood, already mid-stride in the direction of the large home when he noticed three more Hunwei turncoats had followed out from behind the first two. They all had blasters pointed his direction.
Chapter 4
Soret cried out when the doorway of the arch reappeared, cutting her off from her father, Barc. The door had opened out into an alley in Zecarani, now it was just a wall of brick.
Even though the Hunwei had been rushing towards the door moments before, she tried to push towards the arch. She intended to learn if swiping her thumb across the top would open the door for her. She couldn't just leave her father behind without trying something.
Karn got to her first and held her back.
“What are you doing?” Karn was usually a quiet and even-tempered man, but his voice was strained and had an edge to it. His tone gave her pause. “Have you lost all sense? Or just gone suicidal?” His voice rose as he spoke and while it barely approached above a loud conversation for somebody else, for him, it was as good as yelling.
“My father’s out there still!” Soret said. “We have to get him.” Even as the words left her mouth, she realized the futility of what she was saying. The Hunwei would be on the other side of the doorway now, trying to figure out how to get to them. There hadn’t been much space in the rock where the door had been located on the Zecarani side, so she supposed that they were miles away by now, if not on the other side of the earth.
Or in the middle of it, she thought.
She shivered, goose flesh running up and down her arms as a cold sweat broke out all over her body.
“The man that stabbed Jorad in the back. That was your father?” The disdain in Karn’s voice was evident, and she arched her neck, intending to stand up for her father. Barc had been in a difficult position. It killed her that despite Jorad’s actions, she had had no other choice but to stick close to him because of the Hunwei. She’d tried to get her father to see reason but hadn’t been able to prevail.
Karn stared down at her, and she became afraid that he would hurt her. His stoic face was pulled back in a small frown, and his eyes had narrowed slightly. He held her gaze, his jaw working.
Your precious Jorad just killed two boys I grew up with, she thought, but couldn’t force herself to say.
“Karn,” Xarda said while Soret tried to get her voice to work. “I need help. Soret’s grieving the loss of her father. She knows opening that door will mean death for us all.” Xarda looked right at her. “I won't hesitate to kill you if you try again.” She spoke calmly, as it talking about potting a plant or going for a walk.
Soret shivered again and looked down at her feet. Bleeding Melyah, she thought, Xarda is right. She swallowed, her face turning red. She was certain that Xarda wouldn’t hesitate to back up the threat. Soret admired much about Xarda, but part of her wanted to throttle the woman. It was all the worse because Xarda was right, both in her assessment of Soret and the need to make a threat.
“Karn, I need bandages,” Xarda snapped. “He’s lost a lot of blood. Quick, go!”
Soret looked up as Karn’s eyes narrowed further before he pushed her away from the arch, releasing her from his grip. She opened her mouth, screwing up her nerve to defend Barc, but Karn had already disappeared down the hallway.
She put her back against the wall and sunk to the floor, trying to dig her fingernails into the floor but the smooth black tile slid out from her grasp. A mournful sound escaped her mouth that made the nearby Zecarani refugees stare at her, but she didn’t care what they thought.
Quivering, she tried to hold it back but it came out with a burst as she broke into quiet sobbing; hating herself for the display of emotion, but unable to do anything but let it out.
Her brief, bittersweet reunion with her father had left her in a worse state than when she’d thought him dead. She’d hardly been able to believe it when she’d seen her father on the street and had been overjoyed to discover that it hadn’t been her imagination. It really had been him. That feeling had been shattered by sorrow and tears when she had learned of the loss of her mother.
Jorad had killed Gorew and Thon. Right after that, everything had quickly gone t
o the lowest level of the ninth fire.
Melyah, she thought. I can’t stay with Jorad any longer, but I can’t afford to leave him either. When she thought of kissing him, she felt like she was going to empty the contents of her stomach.
Barc had been right behind her when she had left the baker’s shop, and it had seemed as though the tension between Jorad and him had dissipated. Somehow, things had gotten out of hand again. What had happened?
She shook her head, biting back a growl. She wasn’t very successful. How had things gone so wrong?
Finding her father should have been a joyful reunion, but instead, she couldn’t stop sobbing. This was all Erro’s fault. It had all happened because he was a jealous and bitter fool.
She sighed. That didn’t take any blame away from Jorad or her father, though.
The thought gave her pause. It was the men in her life that were the problem. She’d been letting them have far too much control over her.
Am I such a weakling that each of them feels they have to try to force their decisions on me?
She cringed as she looked over at Xarda, who was more focused on Jorad and didn’t appear to have noticed her most recent outburst. Xarda represented the exact opposite of who Soret was. While Soret doubted she could use the dagger that Jorad had given her, she’d seen Xarda practice with her sword. Xarda was as good as any of the men. She didn’t balk or cower at the sight of danger. She met it head on.
Xarda wouldn’t hesitate to kill me if need be, she thought ruefully.
“He lost consciousness,” Xarda yelled. “Quick, I need my bag.” The words broke into Soret's thoughts as she twisted around and took in Jorad, who was covered in blood.
So much blood.
At least, none of it had come from her father. She supposed she should be thankful for that. Jorad had shown restraint when it had come to Barc. She wondered what would have happened if she hadn’t cried out. A knot formed in the middle of her stomach. Jorad might have killed her father if she hadn’t.
Xarda was hunched over Jorad, she pulled out a dagger and cut away Jorad’s bloody shirt. Some of the blood had come from Jorad, but Soret knew much of it had come from Thon.
Soret had been fond of the tall, thick man. He'd looked as though he could rip a man in half but on more than one occasion she'd witnessed him perform a surprising act of kindness.
Little Jamy's kitten had crawled up a tree, and the poor boy had been in tears when Soret had found him. She'd been surprised when Thon had approached and without speaking a word had assessed the problem and managed to coax the kitten out of the tree and back into Jamy's arms.
An image of Jorad digging his blade into the man tore through her memory. Thon had been choking Jorad. Soret had believed that Jorad was going to die.
She had felt so helpless as she watched the fight unfold and had found herself wishing that she'd had Xarda's training. Surely, if Xarda had been there instead of Soret, she'd have been able to do something to help the situation.
“He's pale,” Xarda said. “I need water. Soret, can you fetch some?”
The words passed through Soret's mind, but they failed to register. She felt somebody shaking her and looked up into Xarda's anxious face. “We're going to lose him if we don't hurry. Quick, water. If you see Karn, tell him to run. That man never seems to understand urgency. Go!”
Soret found herself stumbling to her feet. With her first couple of steps, she almost tripped and grabbed onto a stranger for support.
For the first time since entering the Arches, she looked around and was surprised to see how many people there were. They'd been more successful at gathering people from Zecarani than she had thought.
With a mumbled apology to the man she'd latched onto to keep from falling, she hurried forward into the hallway, this time, more aware of the weary townspeople who rested against either side of the walls that had brick archways like the one they'd used to access Zecarani.
When they'd moved through them earlier, Soret had imagined all the different spots that they could have gone. So many doors. So many options.
The excitement of traveling was now the furthest thing from her mind.
She reached the end of the hallway and found Wes and Leron standing at the intersection chatting with several young women. Soret moved closer as she snorted, there was rarely anything else on the minds of those two other than women.
Just as she got to the group, she remembered she’d been crying and rubbed her face, hoping it wasn’t obvious. She touched Wes on the shoulder. Not even a full adult yet and the kid had already picked up too many bad habits.
“Wes, I need water. Jorad's been hurt, bad.”
Alarm covered the gawky youth's face. “I have a skin of water. I remember seeing a spring of water back by the...” He faltered, struggling for the words. “At the world.”
Soret knew what he meant but hadn't noticed that there had been a source of water there. She'd been so focused on the translucent globe that Adar had insisted was a map of the world.
“Give me what you have and go fetch more.” She thought of all the blood. “We're going to need a lot of it. Leron, go with him.”
For once Leron's face wasn't split into a mischievous grin. He'd moved while they'd been talking and had fetched a canteen from his bag.
“Take mine too,” Leron said. “Come on Wes, hurry!” Without waiting for a response, Leron broke into a run, headed back towards the hallway with the globe.
Soret wouldn't have been more surprised if Leron had sprouted wings and jumped into the air. That one always made her skin feel like it was crawling with worms. The most serious conversation could be going on around him, and all he could think about was smiling at the nearest pretty girl.
She took the water skin from Wes before he chased after Leron, shaking her head as she watched them run. Neither of them had thought to grab something with which to carry water, but they had both disappeared before she thought of it herself. Hopefully, they didn't get too far before they realized they needed something for the water.
Karn was already there when Soret returned to Xarda. Despite Xarda's words that Karn couldn't notice urgency, his face was pale, and he was covered in sweat as he peered down at Jorad. Several of Karn’s shirts lay beside Xarda. He held another that had been ripped into strips.
Jorad’s face was pale. The bruises were more fully formed than the last time Soret had looked at him, and his eyes were closed. He looked as though he had passed out. Blood was smeared all over his chest, and the makeshift bandage she had tied to his shoulder earlier had come off. The wound that her father had inflicted was now open to the air.
She shook her head as she took him in, uncertain what she felt. Her insides were a mixture of fear, anger, and betrayal. Yet as she stared she couldn’t help but remember how she’d felt before everything had happened.
She’d been coy with him at first, knowing that he was the sort that was here today, gone tomorrow. But the more she’d gotten to know him, she couldn’t help but lower her defenses to let him in. In the end, she’d decided to see where things went and if it went bad, the fact he would probably leave Neberan shortly afterward had seemed to be a benefit.
Melyah only knew how much she wished that Erro had left her alone once they’d broken up. Things would have been so different if that fool had just left her well enough alone. Her father would have been with her right now.
She gripped the water skin with one hand and the top of the copper canteen bit into the palm of her other hand. If Erro hadn't brought those trumped up accusations against Jorad, none of this would have happened.
She saw someone scowling in her direction from the corner of her eye. When she turned, she was surprised to see that it was Tere.
His eyes were bloodshot, his face grimy, and he was covered with sweat. A shard of glass hung from his coat, and a bunch of smaller flecks of glass had stuck to the skin of his neck. His lips were pulled back in a silent snarl as he took in Jorad.
; The malevolent stare hadn’t been for her after all.
She wondered if Tere had done something to Adar. Those two had been at each other’s throats from the first day, and Adar’s absence was conspicuous. She turned to Karn, thinking to ask him what had happened, but he and Xarda were still hunched over Jorad, heads close together, as they spoke in hushed whispers. It was for the better anyway that Soret didn't speak. Karn probably would have just sneered at her instead of answering the question.
Tere growled under his breath and muttered something, but Soret was unable to make out what he'd said. With a final glance at Jorad, he pushed his way through the people clogging the hallway. Strangely, he kept his hand in his pocket, as if he was clinging to something while he moved.
Soret couldn't summon the energy to wonder what it could be. The man had never been one to speak much unless he was angry. At night when the others had been settling down, he and Tarner had kept to themselves. If Tere had done something to Adar, Soret doubted that Karn would have returned with him. She put the thought from her mind.
“Where's the water? How long have you been standing here gawking?”
Soret turned to a red-faced Xarda. Feeling more than a little foolish, she thrust the canteen and water skin forward without any words. She opened her mouth to make an apology but bit it off before she started. Jorad stirred but didn’t open his eyes. Sweat ran down his brown hair through the blood on his face.
Xarda snatched them both from her hands. “We'll need more than that.”
Soret caught another glimpse of Jorad’s shoulder as Xarda turned her attention back to him. She tried to wake Jorad with several gentle touches to his face, but when that didn't work, she unceremoniously splashed water from the canteen on Jorad's face.
“Worry about the wounds first,” Karn said. “His pulse is strong, and he's breathing.”