The Broken Cage (Solstice 31 Saga Book 2)

by Martin Wilsey

  The flutes and guitars played as her voice ached with emotion. The black flutes were impossibly pure. People covered their mouths with their hands.

  The flutes wept to a silent crowd.

  Barcus looked at the audience now. There was a table of armed men on the floor below. They were the only people not silent. They whispered in harsh tones to each other.

  The music continued with the audience enthralled.

  Barcus saw Grady slowly moving through the crowd below. At that, the men on stage stood, and the five of them played, making it sound as if they were an entire orchestra. The lead singer, the woman with red hair, played a solo of such complexity, Barcus would not have believed it to be possible.

  They played in perfect harmony and with high intensity. Their hands flashed as they plucked the strings and even drummed on their instruments as they played.

  The final stanzas she sang, alone, in volume.

  And then, quietly, soulfully, sorrowfully, while looking directly at Barcus, she sang the ending, as if she knew him. The crowd was frozen by the echoing silence as she finished her last note. No one moved on stage.

  Then, the applause crashed in like a wave, as she drew her hood back up, still looking at Barcus.

  Po was at his elbow. “What's wrong?”

  Barcus looked at Worthington.

  Then, Mason was there at the railing, between Barcus and Jimbo.

  “That is Wex,” Mason said, as he watched Grady slowly approach the stage, as people, now on their feet, continued to applaud. “It's the only way she could get here. She doesn't want to go back.”

  Ulric said, over the crowd, “Grady carved the flutes. He was right. They are amazing.”

  “You must take her with you,” Mason added.

  “Mason, we have to go,” Ty said, urgently. “Now. Please.” There was fear, almost panic, in her voice.

  Wex saw Grady then, and stepped off the stage, directly into his arms.

  Barcus noticed that a commotion was beginning. Two armed trackers argued with the male musicians. There was yelling and one of them was dragged off the stage by the two men.

  Worthington was about to speak, when he noticed Barcus, moving through the crowd below. He must have gone over the railing. Po followed then, her cloaks billowing.

  “Dammit,” Jimbo said to Rand. “Get them out of here.” He pointed at Mason, and Ulric.

  Rand moved, without a word, and they followed.

  Worthington brought up the rear.

  Barcus heard what the man was yelling over the crowd. He had a gruff accent.

  “This music is heresy. They are using magic. These women must be punished.” He dragged the man off the stage. “If you won't. I will.”

  He threw the man down, crushing his instrument beneath him where he fell, and climbed on stage, drawing a knife.

  Barcus saw the two women crouch and back away, separating, with their flutes in their right hands.

  They were in a fighting stance. He wasn’t sure the tracker saw it. He acted as if they were cowering. Nothing was further from the truth.

  The man rushed at one of them. Her movement was fluid and circular. Her clothes hid her feet and arms, and there was no warning as she dodged, spun, and landed the flute with a horrible impact on the bridge of his nose. It broke his nose and both eye sockets. His brain would never survive. He dropped like a wet bag of sand.

  Screams went up and a panic started, as people began to run. More of the High Keeper's soldiers seemed to appear out of nowhere, scanning for the problem and not yet finding it. Knives cleared sheaths. The soldiers had followed Wex there. They were to ensure her return.

  Suddenly, Grady was at Barcus's elbow with Wex. She stood face-to-face with Barcus, looking him right in the eyes, measuring him. She seemed to recognize him. She said, as the chaos increased around them, “Barcus, I have waited so very long to meet you. Hear me. We have little time.” She drew closer, spoke directly into his ear, “Tell him the cage is broken.”

  “Tell who?”

  “You’ll know. He’s been waiting for you,” she said, and then she noticed Po. Wex gasped, at the sight of her, she leaned down and whispered, “Never stop. Ever.” And then, she was gone.

  Po began pulling Barcus. People were screaming.

  The two small women jumped from the stage and moved through the crowd like dozens of other women dressed like them. The male musicians disappeared behind the stage, leaving the body alone on the floor there.

  Barcus made brief eye contact with Jimbo. “Jimbo, get them out. We will meet you back at the ship,” Barcus said, over HUD comms via EmNet, to Worthington, still calm.

  Jimbo was already out the door. The crush of people stopped Barcus from going the same way, so they moved to the back. Barcus turned to see a man, with the bloody sword raised over his head.

  Grady, from behind the man, shot the man in the head.

  They had room, suddenly, because everyone ran, in every direction, away from them. Barcus could see blood on Grady’s chest as he and Wex moved into the crowd as they fled.

  “Barcus, this way,” AI~Em said.

  A line displayed in his vision that led to a side door. He grabbed Po's hand and moved. The gun she was holding disappeared into her cloak.

  The door opened into a narrow alley that ran towards the back. The directional line led them at a run. Barcus, then Po, and finally the two women with flutes ran into the alley. This led to a paddock in the back, where individual horses were tied up. Three stable boys stared at them. The line he followed led along the wall and over a fence into deeper darkness.

  Barcus paused, for a moment, once everyone was over the fence and asked, “Where's Grady? He’s been wounded!”

  AI~Em replied, so he and Po heard. “Grady got out with Wex. He will be fine. Worthington and Rand got out with the others. Now. Run,” AI~Em yelled, into their minds. “They’re coming.”

  CHAPTER FORTY

  They Ran

  “Suddenly, it was chaotic. We were separated. But, Em was tracking us all. We were sure we’d gotten out but Em was either glitching or lying or both. None of us knew what was really going on.”

  --Solstice 31 Incident Investigation Testimony Transcript: Captain James Worthington, senior surviving member of the Ventura's command crew.

  <<<>>>

  They ran.

  Barcus had no idea where they were. The woman named Jude was leading now. She stopped running when running began to draw more attention than they wanted.

  A maze of alleys eventually led out to a crowded market square.

  Jude whispered, “This is the night market. It allows households to get their fresh goods before the day starts. Move slowly through.”

  They merged into a lane that bustled with fish carts and crates of fruits and vegetables.

  “This way,” Jude said, quietly.

  They traversed almost the entire length of the market and were headed for the western exit, when AI~Em chimed in on comms, “There are soldiers converging on the market. Follow me.”

  AI~Em appeared and turned away. She left a virtual vapor trail behind her, in their HUDs. Barcus turned, stopped Jude, and indicated for her to follow him. AI~Em entered an alley and moved ahead quickly.

  Jude said, “I am sorry, my Lord. I don’t know you well enough to follow you. Cine.” It was the other woman’s name. She hesitated, lowered her hood, and stared at Barcus. “He has a rider.” And, the two flute players turned and disappeared into the market.

  “Where are we going?” Po asked, still holding Barcus’s hand as they fast walked down a series of dark alleys and courtyards. The sounds of the night market faded behind them.

  They finally entered a large cross street. Instead of instantly following the vapor trail in his HUD, Barcus and Po moved to the center of the large area. There was a watering trough for horses and a utilitarian fountain. They quietly, ran to it.

  “I want to orient myself,” Barcus whispered, as he looked up at the bright, m
oonlit sky.

  They were moving closer to the Citadel, not away from it, back towards Ronan’s estate.

  “Barcus, you must hurry.” AI~Em’s voice became urgent, in his head.

  Just then, they both felt AI~Em’s presence wink out.

  The vapor trail disappeared. His HUD went dark. He was hailed on his direct HUD channel.

  It was Chen’s personal ID code. Chen was dead. Chen was under a pile of rocks on the side of a lonely mountain.

  Barcus opened the channel, but said nothing, putting his finger to Po’s lips, so she said nothing.

  “Barcus, I only have a few seconds! There is no way I can prove to you what I say is true. Use your gut.” It was Chen’s voice, in a near panic. “Em is lying. Her AI has been corrupted, seized. Don’t trust her. She is running another…”

  The comms terminated.

  EmNet was back up and the vapor trail was back. AI~Em was in mid-sentence, “…water and then we need to get moving again.”

  Po looked at Barcus with wide eyes and said nothing. Barcus looked away toward the vapor trail path.

  Barcus moved, as he thought.

  “Em, slow this down. We got away. I need a recon BUG straight up 100 meters. I need to know where I am. And, give me a tactical map of the city, showing the route we will take.” His HUD clock showed 1253 hours.

  They paused in the deep shadows of a new side street that smelled of dung, and angled up a slope.

  The tactical map came up first. It showed a meandering route that would have them back at the estate, by dawn.

  He thought to himself, plausible.

  “Where are Jimbo and the others?” Barcus asked.

  “They are having problems just now, and I should not distract them,” AI~Em replied.

  Just then, Po’s cloak fell away from her suppressed handgun. She still held it, pointed down, in her right hand.

  “Barcus, I hear running.”

  A moment later, Barcus heard it, as well.

  He let go of her other hand, and said, “Go,” in a quiet, urgent, voice.

  He drew his own gun, and moved with her, walking backwards, covering their retreat. Po hurried to the mouth of the street, holding her gun in both hands.

  She was about 100 feet ahead of him, at the next intersection; she waited until Barcus looked at her, so he would see the direction she went.

  When he looked, she moved, both of them losing line of sight.

  This movement continued for several minutes. At times, Barcus would lead and Po would cover their backs. But, the sounds of feet got closer in the maze.

  For a few minutes, they flat out ran, at AI~Em’s encouragement. They paused in another set of shadows, listening. The running feet grew faint.

  Without a word, they began another covered retreat. Po led this time. There were so many alleys in this city. Without the vapor trail, they would have constantly hit dead ends.

  It happened, again.

  AI~Em seemed to wink out. Chen’s voice said, “You’re being driven to a…” AI~Em winked back in, as if nothing had happened.

  A moment later, Barcus heard two quiet shots. Po shot at someone. He turned to run toward her.

  Two crossbow bolts entered his right leg, at almost the same moment, one six inches above his knee and one six inches below. It sent him sprawling onto his face, before he reached the corner. The hard impact on the cobbles drove the wind from him, and made him lose his grip on the gun.

  It slid away.

  The Telis blade cleared its sheath and severed a man’s arm clean off just below the elbow as he reached for Barcus. Another, leaning down, was stabbed under his chin into his brain so far it protruded from the top of his head. His body collapsed onto Barcus and against the crossbow bolts in his leg. He heard the snap as he drew out the blade and rolled over on top of the corpse.

  The club to the back of his head brought him darkness, before he could drag himself within reach of his gun.

  ***

  Po turned the alley corner and approached an opening to a wider road. A soldier, with a crossbow, entered the alley in front of her. He raised the crossbow, but before he could fire, she shot him in the face and the heart. He was dead before he hit the cobbles.

  She looked both ways into the street; it was clear. She waited. Then, the vapor trail disappeared. Barcus didn’t come. She kept looking, to make sure it was still clear.

  He didn’t come.

  A Citadel soldier rounded the corner, where she expected to see Barcus, followed by another, and another. The first two died never even seeing her, her black clothes hid her in the darkness. More soldiers poured out.

  She ran.

  She wanted to come back around, behind them. She took the next right without pausing and ran. Then, the right again, and again, expecting to find them.

  It was a dead end.

  She ran back and took the next right. It ended in a pig sty.

  She was panicked now, running full tilt. She took rights and lefts, looking for something familiar, as the buildings became shabbier and more deserted.

  “Barcus, where are you?” she paused. “Em, please help me!” She knew she was loud. There was no reply.

  She ran. She had to find him.

  CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

  EmNet is Down

  “While we were in Exeter, distracted, it happened. We were separated. It flew out of control, fast, and we never knew it was about to go so far sideways. We expected a simple pickup. A night in a soft bed and a breakfast. A cakewalk.”

  --Solstice 31 Incident Investigation Testimony Transcript: Captain James Worthington, senior surviving member of the Ventura's command crew.

  <<<>>>

  Barcus woke, facedown, on a cold, stone floor. He was dragged back into consciousness by the pain. His hands were shackled behind his back.

  He had been stripped down to his drawstring pants. He rolled through the pain and sat up.

  “Em, status,” he whispered.

  There was no response. The clock was the only thing in his HUD.

  0501 hour was what it said.

  Dammit.

  He tried to struggle to his feet. Even though someone had crudely bandaged his leg, there was still a puddle of blood there.

  Without warning, he convulsed and vomited, creating another puddle beside the blood.

  Head injuries. Was the HUD damaged?

  He tried to initiate a restart. Nothing. Just the clock.

  Dammit.

  His hands were numb, now painfully awaking to pins and needles. His fingers got enough feeling back for him to tell there were three links in the chain between his cuffs.

  Despite the pain, he worked the shackles under his butt and behind his thighs. With his left leg through, Barcus steeled himself for the right leg.

  He almost blacked out from the pain. He rolled over onto his side and applied direct pressure to the worst of the wounds that had opened back up.

  He tried to focus on the fat candle that danced and dripped down the wall in the small recess where it burned.

  Barcus fought the tunnel vision. His HUD clock mocked his efforts with 0553 hours. He struggled to sit up, again. Nausea returned, but he didn’t vomit, this time. He rested. At least, his hands were in front now.

  The pain became a burning ache. He explored his wounds. The lower one was easy to reach and went all the way through, back to front. But, it was the lesser of the two. The higher one did not go all the way through. Whoever pulled out that barbed arrow did more damage on the way out than it did on the way in. He wished, for a moment, that they had just pushed it the rest of the way through.

  Neither wound threatened his arteries, or he would have been dead hours ago.

  Someone talked at the edge of his hearing. Po would have heard that sooner.

  Po.

  His vision cleared as his anger and his fear rose. The fog lifted from his mind, as he scanned the room he was in.

  It was two meters by three meters and three meters tall. A d
oor was on the short wall. The room was empty, except for an iron ring, set in the back wall. There were two recesses, in opposite walls, with dripped wax; but, only one candle was lit. The door was some kind of black metal with a gap at the bottom wide enough to reach out a hand, and a window with bars.

  It was all darkness in the corridor.

  With the use of his hands on the floor and the wall, and fueled by anger, he slowly burned his way to his feet. He swooned, and nausea returned.

  After resting, he slowly moved to the door. Moving one meter had never seemed so far. Just as he reached the window, he saw candlelight coming down the corridor.

  He flattened himself against the wall, not knowing what he should do, could do. He raised his arms over his head, balanced on one bare foot. He hoped the shackles made a heavy enough weapon.

  He heard a bolt slide to the side of his door, and it opened.

  A small, naked, girl with a bucket opened the door and stepped in. Seeing him, she raised her left arm, in a defensive gesture, but didn’t drop the bucket.

  Barcus didn’t strike her. Her raised arm lowered, and she placed two fingers to her lips, hushing Barcus. Her hair had been cut off roughly and unevenly. He didn’t know if it was dark brown or just filthy.

  She only had two fingers on that hand.

  She was so thin, he knew she was starving. He saw her bones. He was amazed she was strong enough to carry the bucket.

  She brought a leaky, wooden mug from the bucket and handed it to Barcus. Half the water it held had sloshed out. But, he drank anyway.

  Next, she brought out an oily cloth and unwrapped a large, stale heel of bread, and said, in a whisper, “There are four guards, at the end of this hall, behind locked bars, with crossbows. If you ever go into the hall, they will kill you.”

  Barcus offered her the bread. She looked into his eyes, but he didn’t know what she was looking for, or what she saw.

  He mimed for her to eat it.