What Tomorrow May Bring

by Tony Bertauski

  But Tokanu wasn’t smiling back. He told one of his marshals to go and ask the Raines for reinforcements, then walked over to Oamir’s desk and picked up the ledger. He flicked through it and snorted before throwing it back on the desk.

  “Careful with that,” Bowe said. “You know how important it is to get the numbers right.”

  “Looks exactly like our ledger, only with fewer names.” Tokanu paced back and forth in front of Bowe. “And you mean to tell me you prepared all this in one day?”

  “We were hoping something like this might happen.” Bowe’s spirits were sinking again after the euphoria of getting the door open. Several Raine marshals were rushing to join Tokanu.

  “I don’t believe you,” Tokanu declared, stopping to stand in front of Bowe as the Raine marshals added to his forces. “However, I don’t understand what’s going on. Everything you’ve said has added up and I have underestimated you before. This is too big for me. So you will go inside with me, and I’ll take you to the Guardians. The rest of your people had better do nothing untoward, or they will be slaughtered.”

  “Of course.” Bowe held his hands up, palms out, then turned to the brotherhood and the Bellanger escay. “Everyone move away from the door, back against the cliff there. Sit down and wait. There seems to be a problem. I’ll go inside and get it sorted, then come back and get us all in.”

  Bowe followed Tokanu across the Bellanger threshold with two marshals flanking them. Inside the Refuge, all four entrances fed into the same large cavern. The walls were too smooth and the dimensions were too regular for it to be anything but man-made. As they entered, an escay family was being admitted through the Grenier door.

  Tokanu marched immediately toward the back of the cavern, which opened up into a tunnel with a steep downward slant. They descended. “We’d better hurry. Helion will set before long, and I still have many people to process.”

  “As do I.” Bowe quickened his pace to match Tokanu’s. He took a quick look back to the entrance cavern, where four distinct pools of purple light marked the four doors. Then they turned a corner, and it was gone from view. The torches that lit the tunnel were widely spaced, so most of the time there wasn’t much light. With the steepness of the descent and the sudden turns, Bowe had to concentrate on watching his feet to make sure he didn’t trip. The tunnel was wide, though—two two-man rickshaws would easily be able to pass each other, and the ground was more even than most streets in Arcandis. Tokanu kept up his fast pace, and after a while, Bowe needed to jog a step or two every few paces to keep up with him. As yet, the heat hadn’t diminished much and the air was heavy, making it hard to breathe. Bowe was soon panting. Luckily, Tokanu noticed and slowed.

  Bowe lost all sense of direction after a few turns, but by their frequency and regularity, he could sense the tunnel spiraling deeper and deeper down into the rock. They had passed several groups of escay by the time the descent eased and then stopped. Bowe could see several torches up ahead as the tunnel straightened. Now, at last, he noticed a refreshing coolness in the air and heard a rhythmic rushing sound above his head.

  Did the tunnel lead to Bowe’s salvation or to his death? The first part of the plan had gone as well as could be expected, rusty hinges notwithstanding. He was going to get an audience with the Guardians. Now it came down to their decision. Could Bowe persuade them—or at least two of them—to make an exception to the rules of the Green Path just this once?

  At the end of the tunnel they entered a large chamber; they were now in the Refuge proper. A number of smaller tunnels met here, and various people were going about their business. It was like a busy crossroads in Arcandis, only a darker version, since the number of torches was still sparse. Tokanu knew where he was going; he immediately led Bowe and the two marshals down one of the tunnels. They needed to lean against the wall at one point to allow herders to bring a cow and calves through. They passed several openings before reaching a place where six marshals stood. Two marshals from each family. Bowe swallowed.

  “I need to see the Guardians,” Tokanu announced to the marshals.

  “About what?” a Grenier marshal replied.

  “I am asking permission to execute him.” Tokanu pointed his thumb at Bowe.

  Thanks for the support, Bowe thought.

  “Since when do you need permission to execute Deadbeats?” The Grenier marshal touched the hilt of his sword. “If you’ve become too squeamish to do your job, I keep my blade sharp.”

  “So you haven’t heard of this Bellanger family revival business, either,” Tokanu muttered. “This could be a big mistake.” Then, louder, he said, “This is more complicated than simply executing a Deadbeat. I need to talk to them.”

  “Very well,” one of the Lessard marshals said, moving aside for him, and the rest of the marshals grudgingly did the same. The Grenier marshal gave Tokanu a glare as he passed, but didn’t object further.

  Tokanu entered the chamber. Bowe waited expectantly. There was a decent chance Tokanu would return and run him through by way of answer. By rights, that’s what the Guardians should do. Bowe had lied in their name, claiming they had given him permission to open the Bellanger door.

  So when Tokanu re-emerged, Bowe held his breath and tried to read the Lessard marshal’s eyes. Tokanu moved to stand in front of Bowe, and…nodded. “The Guardians will see you now.”

  Bowe released a long sigh and walked into the Guardians’ chamber. It was a small room with three thrones, each holding one of the three Guardians. Kesirran’s wrinkled skin had the color and texture of melted candle wax in the low light. Beside him, Stenesso, half a head taller than the other two even sitting, glared at Bowe. Several marshals flanked the thrones.

  “Leave us.” Sorani waved away the marshals.

  The marshals looked at each other for a moment. Then Stenesso pulled a broadsword from the scabbard at his hip and laid it across the arms of his throne and addressed the marshals. “Do you think I am unable to defend myself against this boy?”

  The marshals swiftly exited. There was a moment’s silence before Kesirran spoke. “Who could have known that saving that baby twelve years ago would lead to this moment?”

  “I should have argued harder for his death,” Stenesso said. “Things would be simpler for us now.”

  “Simpler, indeed. But perhaps not better.” Sorani studied Bowe. “What do you have to say for yourself?”

  The exchange gave Bowe confidence. It seemed that Sorani and Kesirran at least were not totally hostile to this development.

  “First, I’d like to apologize for telling Tokanu that I had your permission to enter the Refuge when I did not.”

  “Deception is the milk that nourishes the ascorim,” Sorani said, “and nothing to apologize for. I’m surprised that Tokanu was taken in so easily. His life, of course, hangs in the balance, depending on what we decide here.”

  Another person whose life I’ve risked on the whisper of a hope, Bowe thought. “I’m offering you an opportunity,” he said, “and I think you already know what it is, and why it is needed. The structure of society in Arcandis has remained unchanged for centuries, led by the four great families. Twelve years ago, one family fell. Since then, the imbalance has grown. It might take another few sexennia, but the stasis of the three families will not hold.”

  “What do you base such grand claims on?” Stenesso rubbed a finger up and down the flat of his blade. “A game of Harmony?”

  “I cannot prove the imbalance. But I think it is as evident to the three of you as it is to me.” Bowe didn’t want to actually accuse Stenesso of making a power grab; he was sure that Sorani and Kesirran were more aware of the situation than he was. “Now I have a solution. I have formed the genesis of a new Bellanger family. New ascor, new marshals, escay loyal to the Bellangers. Even a new ascora. Bellanger Mansion has been reoccupied these last few weeks. The Bellanger colors and emblem have been dusted off and redisplayed. I told those at the gate that the Guardians have revived the family. A
ll you have to do is go along with that story and it will be done. The Bellangers will be back. Once more there will be four families. That is your opportunity. It could very well be the last chance you have to regain the old balance in Arcandis.”

  Stenesso stood up and began to pace back and forth behind Bowe. He held his sword in his hand, making Bowe feel nervous. “Sorani, Kesirran—you agreed to this audience against my advice. I will now tell you what is wrong with his assertions. First, change isn’t always a bad thing. There were four families, and now there are three. More power to go around.”

  Bowe could see a tightening around the eyes of both Kesirran and Sorani, and he knew that Stenesso had made a mistake. If three were better than four, it wasn’t a big jump to suggest that one was better than three.

  Stenesso continued to pace. His sword swung loosely in his fist, and Bowe could only hope he didn’t decide to end the diplomacy by taking matters into his own hands. “Second, the boy talks about reviving the family as if it’s already done. When, of course, it’s not. It takes more than emblems and pretty clothes.” He gave the back of Bowe’s cloak a swipe with his sword. “The Raine family’s fortune and power are based on their banks and mines. The Lessard family’s, on their ships and trade. The Grenier family controls the Eye, polices the city, and provides the military to defend it.” Plus, they now control the farms that were once the remit of the Bellangers, Bowe added silently. “The Bellanger family committed suicide not because they lost their emblems or their marshals, but because they lost their fortune and their power.”

  “This is true.” Kesirran leaned forward toward Bowe. “What do you say about that?”

  “I haven’t had enough time to regain the Bellanger fortune, but look at how far I’ve come in just a few weeks. Give me until the next Infernam. If the Bellanger fortune has not been restored by then, then seal the Bellanger entrance to the Refuge once and for all.” Bowe paused. “If, on the other hand, the fortune is restored, then the four families will once again rule Arcandis in harmony.”

  “And third,” Stenesso continued, “this little stunt subverts the Green Path. The Path is designed to only allow the very best Greens to become part of the ascorim. Bowe here has recruited Deadbeats who are in no way worthy of becoming ascor.”

  “All those I’ve chosen have ascor blood,” Bowe said, leaving unmentioned the fact that Stenesso had promoted a number who hadn’t. “Each of them provides skills that have proven useful to me and will in the future, should you allow us to proceed. An excess of ascor died twelve years ago, and if an excess is promoted today, it doesn’t mean that the Green Path has been subverted—just that an exception has been made to restore the balance. If the new Bellanger ascor revive the family within one sexennium, then surely that will prove that they are worthy.” Bowe could feel sweat creeping down his chest, but managed to keep any desperation from his voice. Kesirran and Sorani were listening, but it was hard to read their intentions.

  “Very well,” Kesirran said, “We shall consult about this in private and make a decision.”

  “No.” Stenesso placed his sword on Bowe’s shoulder. “We will decide here and now. I vote that he dies.” He moved the blade along Bowe’s shoulder until it touched his neck.

  I started the Path with a blade against my throat, Bowe thought. It seems fitting that it should come to an end in the same way.

  “I agree we should decide immediately,” Sorani said. “Helion will set soon, and we must either let Bowe’s new family in or kill them all. I vote we give this new Bellanger family the six years Bowe has asked for.”

  Kesirran leaned back. “So it comes down to me.”

  “Don’t make the same mistake you made twelve years ago, old man,” Stenesso said. “The Bellangers made their mistakes and paid the price. We need a clean break from the whole family. His presence caused this uncertainty. He creates this imbalance he is spouting about.”

  “So you admit there is an imbalance?” Sorani asked.

  As an answer, Stenesso growled in the back of his throat and edged his blade against Bowe’s skin.

  Kesirran addressed Bowe. “I don’t see how it’s possible that you can recreate the Bellanger fortune. You start with almost nothing, and you already have many dangerous enemies and not many allies.” Kesirran didn’t have to clarify that remark with Stenesso standing at Bowe’s back with a sword at his throat. “You have no money or resources to call upon, and just six years. It’s a hopeless cause.”

  “In a mansion of dead people, a solitary baby cried,” Bowe said. “How hopeless was the survival of the Bellanger family then? The baby has grown and the house now contains more than ghosts. There is a chance of rebirth. All I ask for is that chance.”

  Kesirran nodded. “Very well. I, too, vote that he be given another sexennium. But only one. They must either truly become one of the great families in six years’ time, or there will be no place in the Refuge for any Bellanger, new or old.”

  Bowe raised his fists, and elation exploded inside him. He’d done it. Then he realized that Stenesso hadn’t removed his sword, and, in fact, the pressure from the edge was tightening against his neck.

  “Stenesso, the majority still rules among the Guardians of Arcandis, does it not?” Sorani asked. “Unless I missed something.”

  There was a moment of absolute stillness in the chamber, and then Stenesso removed his sword from Bowe’s shoulder, sheathed it, and returned to his throne. Bowe allowed the elation to return, and this time it was matched by relief.

  “Tokanu, get in here,” Sorani called out.

  Tokanu entered and Sorani addressed him. “We had to iron out a few details, but what Bowe told you earlier is essentially correct. We have decided to revive the Bellanger family. Allow him to admit people through the Bellanger door.”

  And as Bowe followed Tokanu out of the chamber, Sorani had one more thing to say.

  “The upcoming sexennium promises to be an interesting one.”

  Links

  Book 2 of the series, The Treacherous Path, is now available.

  Powerful forces threaten war and rebellion throughout Arcandis, and Bowe faces a terrible decision that will decide not just his future, but the future of the entire society.

  Find out more details here: http://davidjnormoyle.com/the-treacherous-path/

  The third book in the planned trilogy, The Collapsing Path, is due out in December 2014. The best way to find out when it becomes available is to sign up to my new release mailing list. Join up here: www.davidjnormoyle.com/mailinglist

  A prequel novella, The Cruel Path, is available as a free ebook. It is set thirty years before events in the main series. http://davidjnormoyle.com/the-cruel-path/

  Check out my website http://davidjnormoyle.com/ to find out about me and my other books.

  Alternatively, like my facebook page: www.facebook.com/DavidJNormoyle

  * * *

  THE RAIN, Joseph A. Turkot

  Dystopia, by Joseph A. Turkot

  Think of a utopia, and in your next breath you imagine a perfect society. Harmony unending. The living ideal. And something inside of us says we can never reach such a place by our own efforts. Any attempt at perfection falls short, by whatever degree.

  Think of a dystopia, and in your next breath you imagine the worst mankind has to offer—or more terrifying yet—the worst that will still come.

  It is within the compromise of both these extremes that we find the dystopian novel. Some kind of hope for progress, contrasted against a great decadence, whether it be man’s own doing, or the nature he is formed from.

  It is in such a struggle that our two friends find themselves. They are to each other more than they know, but a catastrophe that has ravaged the old progresses of civilization forces them to find out how much more, and what left of humanity remains alive in them.What does it mean to persevere? To possess resilience? To combat the loss of one’s own values? These are the kinds of questions I am interested in. These are the kinds of que
stions that Tanner and Russell face.

  If everything we suppose to be good about our humanity slowly starts to decay, merely because it has to, what do we throw away first? What do we decide to take with us to our graves?

  Some dystopian stories work upon the fantastical, and for that effort, produce a sense of wonder and awe. Some work upon the mundane realities of normal events, but push them so consistently that endurance itself is the last and only virtue. The Rain is a story about endurance in a dystopian world, where nature isn’t the reliable nurturer we egotistically assume it to be. Something awful has happened, and endless rain has drowned most of what was once called civilization and humanity. Russell says it’s the veneer. And he believes there is a place where it’s still thick. A place where it’s stopped raining. But as in all dystopian stories, weakness works ruthlessly upon the characters thrown into such dire hopes, and utopian fantasies are often never what they seem.

  I wrote this story as an exploration of the human spirit, and its willingness to find some kind of negative capability within the compromise of two ideals—the utopian and the dystopian—the very reflection of which has more to say about our own society than we might have ever imagined possible.

  THE RAIN

  A Post-Apocalyptic Story by Joseph A. Turkot

  Part 1

  Chapter 1

  There are a lot of stories about how the rain started.

  The thing that always comes to mind first isn’t the how though, it’s the how much. Back when they were taking measurements still, according to Russell, the numbers to know were 15 and 5,400. Now he’s slapped a new number on after those two: 8,550.

  15 inches a day, 5,400 in a year, and 19 years since the rain started. That’s 8,550 feet of rain. He still does the math, keeping track after all these years with that old formula. We have no idea if it’s accurate. But it’s important to think about it, he says, because it reminds us to keep moving.