Secrets of Silverwind

by Sanders, Richard L.

  “Is Miriam here?”

  “Who?”

  “Miriam Ceteris.” He handed the torn page from the directory to the man. “According to this, she lives here.”

  “Ohh,” the man said. “No, she doesn’t live here anymore. This is from an old directory. A really old one.”

  “Do you know where she’s moved to?”

  “Hmm. I think you’d better come inside.” He allowed Caythis to enter. “Just make sure to wipe your feet. House rule.”

  “Okay…”

  “Name’s Jon Wilkins.” He held out a meaty hand, Caythis shook it.

  “Nice to meet you,” he felt more than a little awkward.

  Jon led him through the tiny living room and into a basic kitchen where a woman in an apron was cooking some food. A couple of young kids sat at a tiny table expectantly. They shied away when they saw Caythis.

  “That’s Ethan and Davin,” said Jon. “And this is my wife Kelly.”

  “Pleased to meet you.”

  “Now kids, don’t be shy, this man is an enforcer.”

  Their eyes lit up, especially when they caught sight of the sword in Caythis’ backpack.

  “Wow! Awesome sword!” They said excitedly, jumping to their feet.

  Kelly laughed and reached out for them. “Mind your manners,” she said. And Jon caught the younger one as he ran across the room, scooping him up in his big arms.

  Caythis soaked in everything. The close family, the warm home, the feeling of peace and happiness they had. He envied it. And it made him feel alien. He didn’t belong in such a place. He’d never fit in in such a domestic setting. It was a whole different world, he realized as he looked around the room, spotting family pictures hanging on the walls and small achievements stuck on the refrigerator. And this house was not familiar. He had never been here before.

  “So what happened to Miriam?” Caythis asked.

  Jon led him away from the children, who were now occupied by a coloring book—they were fighting over it. “I don’t know how to do this except to come right out and say it. Miriam died. She’s been dead six years.”

  “Oh,” said Caythis. A strange cocktail of emotions hit him. He didn’t remember her, so he couldn’t feel her absence. But he was still very sad to learn this news. To know someone of extreme importance had once existed in his life, and had been ripped away—it was a strange, cold, unpleasant feeling. And, even though he didn’t remember her, it was still heartbreaking. It made him mad too. Mad at himself. Angry that he could remember Raven’s death so clearly and he couldn’t even remember his own wife’s passing. Or anything about her.

  “I’m sorry,” said Jon. He was kind and sincere and Caythis was grateful for that.

  “Thank you, at least now I know. Tell me, did she have children?”

  “No.” Jon scratched his head. “I could take you to her resting place, if you’d like.”

  Caythis looked up. “I appreciate all you’ve done. If you’ll just tell me where I can find the spot, that’ll be more than enough.”

  “I could drive you there, it’s no inconvenience.”

  Caythis smiled weakly. “I appreciate it, I really do. But I’d prefer to do this alone.”

  “I understand.”

  Jon gave him directions and Caythis made to leave. Thanking Jon once more, and his wife—who’d insisted on unloading half a dozen freshly baked cookies on him. He wasn’t in the mood for them, but accepted them anyway, with a smile, and put them in his pack. These were good people. He’d try to remember them. He left and followed the sidewalk for a long time.

  The cemetery was gated and beautiful. Flowers had been freshly placed on every grave. He followed a narrow path, walking reverently, searching the grave markers for Miriam’s name. They were organized by date of death, so it didn’t take long.

  He arrived at a quiet corner of the cemetery. Flat on the ground was the white washed stone with her name carved into it. On top of it was a single white flower. Caythis knelt down and picked it up, smelling it. Its scent was earthy and alive. He set it back down gently and read the inscription.

  She’d lived for twenty-seven years when she died. Making her the older partner, for sure. But that was still too short of a life for anyone to have. “My beloved wife,” he read and his voice faded into a whisper. “Although her body was sick, her spirit will live on forever in my memory. Caythis Ceteris, Husband and Friend.”

  He felt crushed. He had no memory of her. So in his own words, she was dead. He felt supremely weak. He couldn’t budge from his kneeling position for a long time. He simply stared down with warm eyes, thinking of the life that had ended that he didn’t remember. What joys had they shared? He traced her name with his finger. And whispered. “I’m so very sorry.”

  After a few more minutes, he stood. Looked down at the marker one final time, and turned away.

  As he walked slowly back to the center of town, winding his way indirectly toward the capitol, his thoughts were devoted solely to Miriam.

  20

  That night he, Emon, and Jaden checked into separate hotel rooms. Before going to bed, Caythis and Emon sat and talked in the lobby, watching the twilight hours fade into darkness. Emon told Caythis about the negotiations, which had apparently gone badly. Jaden was too furious at the experience to relive it and, instead of joining the conversation, went for a nighttime walk then promptly to bed.

  According to Emon, the meeting went something like this. Jaden and Emon, after discussing the strategic situation, had received far too small a pledge from Skyhaven of support for the assault on Citadel. The number of soldiers and enforcers was much lower than they’d previously committed. Because Jaden was bringing less to the table than Silverwind had originally promised, Skyhaven felt they should do the same. Jaden had tried to explain that Silverwind’s forces were occupied with unexpected civil war and having to rebuild the bombed out parts of the city, whereas Skyhaven’s forces were mostly idle and available for deployment, however that didn’t seem to matter.

  “Why wouldn’t they listen to his arguments?” asked Caythis.

  Emon shrugged. “It was a political thing. Different members of the parliament didn’t want to send some of their forces if other districts weren’t doing the same. Since parliament has joint ownership, effectively, of the whole Skyhaven military, they all blocked each other and the result was a pathetic offering.”

  “What about the local enforcer Combine?”

  “They’re willing to cooperate proportionately with the military. If the government makes it a priority to focus on beating Rigil, they’ll assist with full force. But if the government of Skyhaven, supposedly representing the interests of the citizens, doesn’t want the war, the enforcers will take no part in it.”

  “Sounds like testimony from me wouldn’t have helped anything.”

  “You got that right. We even mentioned that you were here and your name didn’t carry nearly as much weight as the old doctor claimed it would. Some people wanted to meet you, but they seemed more interested in your autograph than your strategic opinions.”

  “I’m glad I didn’t go then,” said Caythis.

  “I wish I hadn’t gone. Waste of time. That’s why you and I are leaving tomorrow and Jaden will remain, to continue the negotiation. His aids should be here in the morning.”

  “Where are you and I going exactly?”

  “Necropolis. We’ll try our luck there.”

  “Necropolis?”

  “Oh that’s slang for New Andar. The colony there sits at the base of the ruined city, the skeleton of what Andar used to be still far outstrips what New Andar has managed to become. So a lot of us in the combine call it Necropolis. If you get transferred to New Andar, you can bet you’ll be living with a bunch of scavengers next to a giant ash heap.”

  “Sounds pleasant…”

  “Damn peachy is what it is,” said Emon. “A do-nothing paradise. Now, if you don’t mind, I’m going to clean up and catch some Z’s.”
<
br />   Caythis did the same. He didn’t sleep well, despite the comfort of his bed. He was probably in the safest place in the world, but he couldn’t silence his mind. His racing thoughts and persistent concerns didn’t go away. Most of all he kept thinking about Miriam. Wondering if, somehow, on some level, she was still alive. Could there be life after death? Or was that completely ridiculous?

  Eventually he caught a few hours of sleep before Emon pounded on his door, demanding he awake and get ready. “Let’s go before it gets hot!”

  Caythis blinked and looked at the clock. It was just after five in the morning. “Are you kidding me?” he said groggily.

  “Nope. Pretend you’re sneaking away from a clingy girlfriend before she wakes up and wants you to stay for breakfast. Always works for me. Now let’s get a move on.”

  ***

  They left Skyhaven.

  Caythis noticed a coating of frost now covered many of the lawns and gardens. He exhaled and could see the ghostly essence of his breath. The air was fresh, crisp, and cold. The fast, chilly wind froze his face. After enduring it for a few minutes, he flipped his visor closed. The rest of his body was warm inside his enforcer armor, but he would have preferred not having to wear it. Choosing to do so only because it was this cold outside.

  And Emon had wanted to avoid the heat…

  “This place gives me the shivers for two reasons,” Emon’s voice crackled over the speaker.

  “Why is that?”

  “It’s creepy and it’s cold.”

  The path down seemed more treacherous than the way up. For some reason, Emon decided to go as fast as he could, blasting down the mountain, winding his way along a narrow edge, barely avoiding hazards and the occasional falling rock. Caythis chose to keep up with him, but had his left hand covering the brake at all times. If Emon were to go jetting off some cliff, Caythis had no intention of following.

  The main highway was virtually deserted, so they accelerated to full throttle. The fields and farms became a frosty blur and they soon found themselves in no-man's land. Following the dirt path west, aiming for New Andar on the far side of the continent. At full throttle, with no breaks, they could get there in three hours but Caythis hoped they didn’t keep that breakneck pace the whole time.

  “Nice to be out here in the open,” said Emon. “Freedom. Honest to god freedom. Breathe it in. Can you taste it?”

  “I can only taste stale, filtered air since it’s too damn cold to take off my helmet.”

  “Cheer up. It’s all about attitude.” He zoomed, skipping over some rocks, and bounced his way back on course. Caythis flew parallel.

  “There is a kind of peace out here,” said Caythis. “I must admit that. No one and nothing for miles.”

  “Now you’re getting it, kid. I’ll be honest with you, I didn’t want to come along on this charade. I don’t trust that old doctor, he's deranged. But being out here in no-man’s land makes it all worth it. It’s been too long. A few years at least.”

  Caythis let Emon do most of the talking. He humored him as Emon recounted the story of a young enforcer-in training. A misunderstood, rebellious boy who was, allegedly, an expert in both combat and seducing women. The tale told of how Emon had been a victim of circumstances and eventually dropped out of the academy a year early to accept a mediocre post in Silverwind.

  “That was two wonderful years before Lucida got her talons sunk into the place.” He went on and on, telling colorful and certainly exaggerated stories. Eventually Caythis got bored and began wondering about his own academy days. Had he been like Emon? Someone who grew tired of the academy and escaped classes and study whenever possible, or had he thrived there?

  “Were we at the academy together?” asked Caythis, interrupting a story about Emon beating up the kid who’d stolen his first girlfriend.

  “I didn’t even want her, that was the funny thing. I just don’t like people stealing from me. Know what I mean? If he’d wanted her, he should’ve asked me. Otherwise he gets an ass beating, Which is exactly what he got.”

  “I asked if we were at the academy together.”

  “Oh,” said Emon. “Probably. I don’t remember you, though. I spent as little time there as I could. And I didn’t exactly fit into those dumb cliques.”

  Caythis stared ahead thoughtfully, saying nothing. Emon’s stories continued for quite some time and Caythis was glad for the conversation, even if he was bored by the subject matter. He was surprised at how relaxed and friendly Emon was and that he freely gave some level of acceptance and trust, commodities Caythis found rare in this world. Ones he himself did not give away easily.

  They approached a large hill. Some of the flora had been permanently destroyed by fire. He blinked and saw the place in his mind as it had been five years before. He remembered standing there, at the top, encircled by fire. The silhouetted enforcer facing opposite him. Both with blades drawn…

  He screeched to a halt and landed the bike. Emon shot past and was forced to turn around. “What is it?” he demanded.

  “This is it,” said Caythis, approaching the hill on foot. He began climbing. The top was high enough that a fall would kill anyone who jumped, but by hiking-standards it was a very unimpressive climb.

  Emon, still on his jetbike, roared up next to Caythis. “What are you talking about?”

  “I was here. This is where it happened. Don’t you see? This is where I fought Antares.”

  The memory was vivid in his mind, rushing back. He didn’t remember how he got here, what led him to this place specifically, but he knew where he was. Could hear the gunfire. Smell the water in the air as the enforcers threw about their magic, mixed with the dominant smell of smoke.

  “Seriously?” Emon landed his bike, sounding a great deal more excited than Caythis expected, and followed him. They climbed until they reached the top. They could have easily flown their bikes to the summit in seconds but something about being on foot made the experience that much more meaningful.

  “It was here,” said Caythis, stepping out into the center. The top of the summit was surprisingly flat, and the burned remains of what had been a ring of fire could still be seen. He walked around it, moved his hands, remembering some of the blows.

  “So this is where the world got rid of Antares…” said Emon. “I feel like I’m on holy ground.”

  “I’m a little surprised you’re this interested, to be honest.”

  “Are you kidding? I love history. Did you know that Antares was here to bait you into a trap? He and his force of rebels were moving around the summit and up that path,” he pointed vaguely into the distance. “And he had Rigil set up over there with the rest of his force,” he pointed elsewhere. “Rigil was supposed to hit your flank and take you by surprise.”

  “Yeah, I think I did know that,” said Caythis. But he wasn’t sure how.

  “Of course, Rigil betrayed Antares, letting him fall to you. Then Rigil and his force continued north to Citadel and, well, the rest is history as they say.”

  Caythis continued moving within the circle. Trying to re-create the scene in his mind. Hoping it would jog loose a few more memories. He remembered the huge cloud of smoke that had been overhead. How, through the visor, it had seemed bright green. He remembered too the chaos, and the violence. And felt regret. Regret that this situation had happened. That it had come to this. That he’d had to stand here, sword in hand, and face his adversary. Someone he’d once cared about.

  “So, where were you when you killed him?”

  Caythis thought about it. “I don’t remember. But it had to have been here. Somewhere.”

  “Damn, I wish I had my camera. What would be sweet is if someone else was here to take our picture. We could pretend to be fighting. Reenacting the great duel, on the battlefield where it actually happened, with Caythis himself! Oh that would be so awesome!”

  “No it wouldn’t,” said Caythis. He tuned Emon out and tried to focus. Hoping to remember something new. But had no luck.r />
  Eventually they hiked back down, collected their bikes, and pressed on. Caythis resisted the urge to look back.

  They could see the ruins of the city before long. The salty scent of the ocean was carried in the wind and it mixed with the old ash. Caythis breathed it in deeply. It was familiar and distinct. Nothing like the polluted air of Silverwind, or the cold dryness of Skyhaven. This air was wet and full, but now contained a smoky quality that hadn’t been there before.

  As they neared the ruins, it was amazing—and all the more tragic—how much there was. A huge area of terrible destruction. A whole city burned to the ground was no exaggeration. Caythis was in solemn awe.

  “The Rigilians claim that Antares was the most powerful being to ever live,” said Emon. “I never believed them… until now.” He whistled. “Antares was one bad ass.”

  “More like bad person.”

  As he stared at the heaps of ashes and ruins he remembered how things used to be. Andar had been a colorful, vibrant city with a unique, and loud, culture. Based on the sea’s edge it had always carried the slight scent of fish and a kind of rebellious spirit. There was soul here and, even in the massive destruction, the city’s soul lived on. Though faint.

  He could imagine the voices screaming as fires roared and buildings collapsed. Structures toppling on each other, gunfire thumping from street to street, children crying, people running like hell every which way. Desperate to escape the raining firestorm pouring down unjustly upon them. Destruction and terror that truly carried the severity of a god’s wrath. Antares had certainly had more power than any mortal should.

  As if reading his thoughts, Emon asked. “Why does nature give man such power?”

  “Or questions he can’t hope to answer…” mumbled Caythis.

  They continued travelling alongside the ruin, moving around the northeast quarter.

  “Necropolis,” said Emon.