by Ann Bakshis
“I thought Lehen was going to be joining us,” I call over to Ares, while she assists Grainne with her harness.
“Bevan is bringing him out later this afternoon. Ford wants to make sure he is fit to leave the ward.”
Mair and Thane reach the bottom at the same time, which causes Mair to stomp her foot in anger. Ares instructs Grainne to climb the tree in front of Piran while I harness up.
The device is constricting around my thighs, making my shorts bunch up around my butt. Ares takes the rope I’d been holding and secures it around her waist before I begin my climb. The tree is a good eighty feet tall. I watch for a few moments as Grainne is slow to start, almost fearful of going high. I whistle to her, telling her to follow my every move and not look down. We go only twenty feet — as high as the rope goes — then make a slow descent.
Ares makes Grainne go up several more times without my help, and orders me to go and help Piran with his climb. She takes over his spot and instructs Grainne. This exercise goes on for several hours. Mair tries to out-climb everyone but fails to beat Piran or me. We break for lunch just as the sun is straight over our heads.
Jagger and several others from the Verdant faction bring us food and water. I ask him about getting black dye for my hair, to which he says he’ll see what he can do. As we’re finishing our last bites, Bevan appears with a very pale and frail Lehen by his side. The plate in his chest glows through the material of his training uniform. I run over to Lehen and wrap my arms around him, squeezing him tightly. He doesn’t wince at the pressure, which assures me he is healed. I begin to help him on with a harness, but Ares reprimands me and says Bevan will do it as we’re moving to another exercise.
I roll my eyes, which causes Bevan to laugh, then fake a cough when Ares turns to see what the commotion is.
Our group moves further into the woods, while Bevan and Lehen remain behind. Piran is carrying the equipment satchel slung over his back as we wander for ten minutes before Ares finally stops.
“Each of you take a weapon,” she states, after Piran has set the bag down in front of her. “Once you have your weapon you will each travel another ten minutes in whichever direction you wish. Try not to stay together,” she glares over at Mair and Thane as disappointment crosses their faces. “The last one to make it out wins.”
“Make it out?” I ask.
“Yes, Trea, this is a weapons exercise. You all take a weapon and target each other for a pretend kill. The weapons aren’t fully functional, all the safety mechanisms are on, and if someone was to get hit, well they would just heal, now wouldn’t they?”
“This is insane!” I practically scream.
Mair’s head is already deep inside the bag.
“Antaeans need to be prepared both in body, mind, and will. You’re all designed to kill people, why not practice it on those who can’t die.”
My fist begins to fly at her, but Piran has anticipated my move and grabs my arms from behind.
“Not now,” he whispers in my ear.
He releases me, chooses a weapon, and disappears into the forest. Thane and Grainne both choose a Levin gun, leaving a useless Beta gun and a Pugio blade in the bag for me. I take the Beta gun since I know I can cause serious damage with the blade, glare at Ares who is beaming from ear to ear, and head off into the woods going south, away from the others.
I walk longer than ten minutes, trying to make sure no one finds me. The sun drifts farther west the longer I walk, thinking perhaps I’ve found my escape from Tartarus and possibly Sirain. The forest finally opens up to a decimated landscape. Large concrete boulders sit among blackened earth. Marble steps that must have once belonged to a grand structure lay partially buried under dirt, and debris that lead up to empty space. I walk over to the stairs and try to remove some of the filth. Engraved at the top is an image of a bird with wings outstretched, clinging to a branch with its talons, and surrounded by sunlight.
A twig snaps behind me causing me to draw my weapon, almost shooting Bevan. Lehen is standing behind him.
“We thought you got lost,” Bevan says to me, arms raised as if surrendering.
“I was trying to get lost,” I respond, sitting down on the top step next to the engraving.
Bevan lowers his hands and sits next to me. Lehen remains at a distance.
“Why did you keep walking? Ares is furious.”
“I don’t want to go back,” I murmur, “not if you think that all the Antaeans are good for is for fighting. You might as well sell us to Collectors and gain a generous profit so we can duel for the rest of our lives at the stadium in Tyre for all of Sirain to enjoy.”
“Trea,” Bevan begins, but I abruptly stand up and head back the way I had come, Lehen walking closely behind me.
We rejoin the others. Mair is grinning as she’s obviously the victor. They all enter the woods again, but I don’t. Instead I go back to the trees we’d been climbing, and without the harness, I begin my ascent, Bevan and Lehen watching from below. The branches are thinner the higher I go. At the top, I lay my body along a tree branch, stretching myself out as far as possible, trying to gauge a precise distance between us and Tartarus. Only the utmost top of the main building is what I can see; the remainder of the skyline is dark lava rock sticking up into the air like mountains. Turning my vision south then east, I search for other signs of the destroyed architecture I saw earlier, but can’t see the ruins or anything else for miles, only tree tops that blow gently in a wind as it begins to blow harder.
The minutes pass. My name echoes up from below, but I ignore it all, and watch the violence of nature build. A storm front is moving in from the south.
Rain begins to fall miles away, a soft rumble of thunder in the distance. The clouds thicken as the rain comes down harder, the thunder almost constant. The rain finally reaches me, as my name is called louder from below, almost as if threatening. I try to focus my eyes towards the south through the veil of raindrops around me, as my ears pick up more thunder. I find it strange that no lightning has yet been produced. Straining my ears, I concentrate on a new sound, a whirring noise that ebbs and flows with the rain. It shifts east, away from my position. I continue to watch as darker clouds roll in, the rain falling harder.
The tree shakes violently almost knocking me from my branch. As I begin to shout down that something is wrong, a bright blue flash catches my eye. I know what that is, and it’s not lightning. I look over to my left and see another Quantum mortar falling from the sky, landing in the distance. This time when the tremor hits, I’m knocked off my branch and fall several feet before grabbing hold of another.
“Get back to the city,” I shout as loud as I can to anyone who might be below me.
I climb down fast, healing from the deep gashes I received in my initial fall. Lehen and Bevan are waiting for me at the bottom. Ares already has the children in the tunnel. Another round goes off and I drop the remaining ten feet to the ground. Lehen and Bevan each grab an arm and drag me down the steps into the tunnel while I try to catch my breath.
“What was that?” Thane asks, face ashen with fear.
“A Quantum mortar,” Bevan replies. “We need to move.”
Ares closes the door behind us while the children run down the tunnel, the satchel loaded with our gear and weapons bouncing against Piran’s back as he sprints. Once we’re back in the maintenance room, Ares tells the children to go back to their residences, and to say nothing about what they saw. Lehen, Bevan, Ares, and I take the stairs up to the vehicle hangar then the lift to the top floor. Braxton is on the other side as the lift doors slide open, relief replacing anxiety on his face.
“Thank goodness you made it back here,” he begins, as we pour out of the cramped space. “Holunder was about to send out a search party for you after we began seeing the mortars detonating in the distance.”
“No thanks to this one,” Ares spits, as she points her finger at me. “We would’ve been here sooner, but she wouldn’t come down from the damn tree.”
&n
bsp; “They couldn’t have seen her,” Bevan comes to my defense. “Anyway, I don’t think they were targeting us.”
“There’s nothing else out there,” Ares counters. “Of course they were targeting us. What else do you think they were doing, practicing?” Her voice rises, causing the heads of those watching the monitors to turn.
Holunder steps out from the meeting room, gesturing us to come inside. He stops Bevan at the door and whispers into his ear, which triggers Bevan’s retreat to the lift while the rest of us take our seats around the table. Caitrin and Rafer soon join us, followed several minutes later by Bevan and Grainne, who walk the circumference of the table, settling in chairs next to me.
“Grainne,” Holunder begins, as he takes a seat, “tell us what lies outside the boundaries of Tartarus.”
She begins to perspire as she clenches her hands tightly together in her lap. Her breathing quickens, her skin growing paler.
“What do you mean?” she stammers, growing more nervous by the second.
“What sits miles beyond our borders to the east? The place you visit once a week that you think I don’t know about.”
She grows panicky as she looks from face to face, all eyes on her.
“It’s…a small village. Only about twenty people live there.”
“And you’ve been taking them food for how long?”
“For almost a year.” Her voice begins to crack from the pressure she’s feeling. “I knew it was wrong, but they were starving. I only took them leftover food. I never gave them anything from the domes.” Tears stream down her face. “They were starving, what was I supposed to do?”
Holunder leans back in his chair, hands pressed flat against the surface of the table.
“Rafer,” he begins after a few moments of silence, “tomorrow after the dust has settled and before the sun rises, I would like for you to take a couple of men and scout the village for any survivors. If any are found, you are to bring them back here, understood?”
“Yes, sir,” Rafer replies then rises from his seat and leaves.
“Grainne you are to go with him, since they know and trust you.”
“Okay,” she whimpers.
“I’ll go with you too,” I lean over and whisper to her, squeezing her hands that are still clasped together.
Her smile falters for just a moment as the tears return.
“Grainne,” Bevan says with a gentle voice, as he leans over the table, “how did you find this place?”
“By accident,” she starts, wiping the moisture from her cheeks. “It was during one of Ares’ training days. I was tired of Mair targeting me for the weapons exercise, so I thought if I just kept heading east she would never find me. That’s when I stumbled upon a couple of people hunting in the forest. I made sure that when I went into Sirain that they would still be fed, so I asked one of the workers in the Verdant faction to help me.”
“Who are they?” Caitrin finally speaks.
“I don’t know. They were strange, wore weird clothing, talked with funny accents. I knew they weren’t from Sirain or Hostem, so I don’t know where exactly they came from.”
“Well, what’s done is done. Trea, you are to join the party tomorrow so you will need to retire for the night since you’ll be up extremely early.” Holunder rises from his seat and exits the room, Ares and Caitrin following him.
Grainne leans over towards me and puts her head against my shoulder. We sit for a few minutes, Lehen and Bevan waiting with us.
Back in the residence building, the four of us queue up for dinner, Lehen at the Cerul table, and the three of us at the Sable table. Vier enters, sees Lehen, and goes over to talk to him while we clear our trays. The two get up and leave the eatery, jumping into a carrier as it swings around. Bevan, Grainne, and I go up the lift, practically trampled by children as they try to climb aboard while we squeeze our way out into the main room.
The images on the monitors today reflect the storm, with a message overlaying the display.
Memorial service for Lieutenant Keller will be held tomorrow afternoon at 1300 hours. Please dress in proper attire. *** All outside activities have been cancelled until further notice due to Tyrean activity.
Bevan leaves us, having taken note of the message, while Grainne and I stay for a few minutes.
“What is the proper attire?” I ask, since I’ve never been to a memorial service.
“Everyone wears a black uniform with stripes down the right side of the tunic in the color of their faction. You’ll have one for tomorrow. It may already be hanging from your bed.”
The bedroom is empty as everyone is down at dinner. Grainne is correct, there is a dress uniform hanging next to my bed. The clock above the room reads just past eight, so the washroom is currently off limits to the women. I begin to change into my nightclothes when Bevan opens his door to let us know the washroom is empty if Grainne and I want to quickly get in there. We enter the room, change our clothes, and rinse our mouths before turning in for the night.
CHAPTER 8
Grainne and I are roused from sleep just after two in the morning. We dress in the dark, head down the lift, and meet Rafer and five of his men at the spanners. They’re each armed with a Levin gun and a Dorongan: a short nosed weapon that fires explosive propellant rounds. Rafer hands me a set of my own. Grainne isn’t ready for real battle, so she doesn’t receive any. We take two carriers over to the main building, ride them around to the maintenance room, and exit through the tunnel door.
As soon as we’re on the forest floor, Rafer has Grainne take the lead. I walk with her so she’s not alone, while everyone else travels twenty steps behind. It takes us almost an hour to reach the village, but once we arrive, we see the terrible truth: there’s nothing and no one left.
Rafer turns on a torch he has strapped to his weapons belt and shines it around the rubble. Whatever buildings once stood here have been obliterated. Only fragments remain, tiny splinters of wood lay scattered across the valley floor along with concrete pebbles and shattered trees.
Grainne runs from one end of the village to another, looking for anyone. I look too, steering her away from areas where I can see bits of burnt flesh and bone, trying to shield her from reality.
“Why?” Grainne asks to anyone who will listen. “Why would they do this? These people weren’t anyone’s enemy…they barely existed.”
“The real question is how did Vladim know this village was here and we didn’t,” Rafer comments, turning over a burnt log with his foot. “What else is around Sirain that we haven’t discovered?”
We each take a section of the demolished hamlet, searching for any clue, no matter how small, about the origins of these people. Grainne holds a torch for me while I scour my area, but I only locate minute pieces of wood and cloth. I stand up and wander to the north, stepping over broken tree trunks, Grainne stumbling behind me trying to catch up, the light from the torch bouncing as she runs.
“Oof,” escapes her lips, as I hear her trip over a fallen log. “Trea, come here.”
I retreat and find her face-down on the ground, legs dangling over a large oak.
“Look,” she says pointing with one hand, the torch still held tightly in her other.
In the distance, leaning against a tree is a smallish man, slightly burned on his arms and face, legs extended outward, and eyes closed.
“Stay here,” I whisper to Grainne, as she rights herself, still aiming the torch in the man’s direction.
He doesn’t stir at my approach. Kneeling down beside him I notice the right side of his head has a traumatic injury. Probably from the impact of hitting the tree. He must’ve been outside the village when the mortars hit.
Judging by the gray tufts sprouting from thick brown hair, the man appears to be in his late sixties, much shorter than I am, but taller than Grainne. His clothing is made of gray wool, carefully stitched together, and lovingly patched. By the soles of his bare feet lies a small leather-bound book, its pages barely holdi
ng together. I pick it up as Rafer begins to call for us to return, place it in my waistband, and hide it with my tunic.
“The sun’s beginning to rise,” he says when we rejoin the group. “We need to head back.”
Breakfast has just started when we return to the residential housing. Grainne jumps into line, but I head for the lift, my prize carefully tucked away. Everyone has left the women’s room by the time I enter. I take off my soiled shoes before reclining on my bed, back against the cool cement wall, and remove the worn book.
The leather is cracked, yet soft. The spine is severely creased, causing many of the pages to hang loosely from the dried glue. I pull my knees up to my chest, laying the book against my thighs.
The first page is yellow from age, with a small note hand-written in curling letters in the upper right hand corner: “Property of J. Runyon”. Next to it is an intricately scrolled half-moon, a sword thrust through it, and a red jewel in the center. Carefully turning the pages, I scroll through the journal, taking notice of many detailed drawings with notations along the edges, which seems to be maps of some kind. Starting back at the beginning, I take slow methodical steps in reviewing each page, making mental notes of all boundaries noted, each marking of a known settlement, and every passageway into Sirain. Page three contains a sketch of Tyre. Acheron is detailed on page ten. Siedler Village on page fifteen. Tartarus, including the bridge over the fissure and the pillars at the entrance, is on page nineteen, Nuceira on page thirty. The three back pages contain a key to reading the maps. Each symbol indicates a specific type of structure, pathway, or landmark.
I tuck the book under my mattress, take my dress uniform, go into the washroom, and turn on the shower in the center stall. A small bottle with my name on it rests on the counter by one of the sinks. It’s the bottle of hair dye I’d asked Jagger for. Since it’ll take a few moments for the dye to coat my hair, I shut off the nozzle, place a towel around my bare shoulders, and douse my hair with the black liquid, making sure to get every strand.