Waking Olympus (The Singers of the Dark Book 1)

by Peter Yard

  In the middle distance to the left were the ruins of a once large old building a few walls poking out of the dirt, some blackened by an age old fire. There were soldiers guarding it and a team of people in rags working, digging, carrying loads of debris. Overseers walked among them dressed in the latest fashions with whips in hand lashing out, seemingly at random at the workers who were dressed in shredded rags. In his mind he saw blood dripping from the shreds of cloth, as if it was ragged flesh. They had leather collars.

  "Slaves."

  He was starting to remember. This whole depressing, decayed atmosphere … the death of hope and humanity. It all came back.

  He was perhaps nine. There was a family that needed a few children for a special occasion. His owner had given him as a loan to the refined household, just for the event. The Lady of the House had come to his Owner's villa one afternoon. There was muffled talk, all in private in a locked room. But adults forget how well they could hear as a child, he heard it all; he understood that he was to perform a role and nothing else. The matron of the house wanted children to serve at formal parties, she thought it would be a sensation, a new trend, he should look cute.

  Next day he was delivered like a package to the servants quarters of the household. He was washed and dressed in fancy clothes. Do this, do that. Don't do this, don't do that. The staff were paid servants, he was only a slave. Property. The scars from the whips hidden under the fine clothes. It was a soirée. He held an elegant plate of small bite sized pieces of food with strange, outlandish adornments, none of which he was allowed to eat of course.

  There was a discussion on the tides in the bay and wave patterns. How they would affect the shipping.

  He walked up to them and let them take one of his offerings. He couldn't help it. He spoke.

  "Which way do the waves bend when they enter the bay? I've noticed that waves change direction when the depth changes."

  They looked at him strangely. As if the teapot had just spoken.

  He was whisked away by a maid who was about to scold him when a young woman in a red party dress approached. The maid addressed her as "mistress".

  "So little one. You want to talk to adults as an equal? Not just as a free child. But as an adult. Most curious. Come with me."

  "I only wanted to talk about what I had seen and what it means?" He said.

  "What it means? How about you consider what your situation means?"

  She grabbed him by the arm and led him to a room at the back of the mansion. There was a man sitting there. Big, bearded, dressed in leathers and skins as if he had just come from a hunt. Several elaborate knives were tucked into his belt, and a sword in a leather scabbard on his left side.

  "Henry. Take him." She said.

  The man casually walked up to him and grabbed him. Pushed him down onto the floor on his back and pinned him there.

  The woman walked over to him in her so elegant dress and pulled out a dagger with a wavy blade. He had never seen such a thing but it spoke of pain and terror.

  "It is called a kris, beautiful and deadly, remember this and remember me."

  He pleaded, he didn't remember what he said he just pleaded like the child he was.

  He didn't see what she did but he felt it. There was a nightmarishly sharp, blinding pain in his left kneecap. She dug the point of the dagger into his patella making sure she didn't damage the 'property'. Just piercing the bone a bit. She removed the blade, leaned close to him.

  "Little one. Let this be a lesson, learn as I did, if you don't want to be stepped on then become the one who steps on others. I'm doing you a favor."

  When she got up he saw that she was shaking slightly. The look on her face was strange as if she was distressed and excited at the same time. It was more frightening than the blade.

  She looked at Henry. "Tell Alfonse that he isn't suitable for tonight but I will want him again. Take him back and tell him I don't want him damaged."

  "Yes, m'lady."

  "I've told you before, don't use that archaic feudal address around me. Address me properly."

  "Certainly, Ms Markham."

  Alfonse was not happy. He got out a whip and raked it across Mikel's back a few times until he saw some blood. He strode about dressed in an unseasonably thick leather coat. Perhaps it hid weapons and armor so he could deal with his 'business associates'.

  "I've had another who's been giving me problems. Even more so. Can't sell him. Can't even put him on the streets, he'd bolt just as you would."

  Mikel could tell he was getting angry, and he had been drinking. He couldn't do much himself, locked as he was in one of the bamboo cages, hunched down. Sometimes other children were here but the others must have been sold. Mikel hadn't been sold, maybe he didn't look compliant enough, perhaps a touch rebellious or independent.

  Alfonse came back into the room dragging a boy, his hands bound behind him, his name was Paul, he was slightly older than Mikel and had blond hair and brown eyes, he was only dressed in ragged short pants. He had a tender nature or so Mikel thought based on the little he saw of him.

  Then in front of Mikel, Alfonse slowly cut him into pieces as he screamed. Every time he tried to look away, Alfonse would yell, "Look! Or I'll do this to you next."

  He wondered why guards, or neighbors, or any passerby who had any decency didn't burst in through the door. There was so much blood, he prayed for little Paul to die quickly or faint. But the screams just went on and on.

  He watched as Paul was cut into pieces, screaming. Endless screaming. Then it did end. Then Alfonse fed Paul to his dogs, bit by bit, in front of Mikel. He was shivering in terror and numb at the same time; deep inside there was a white hot rage growing. He wanted to rip the cage apart, but he knew he couldn't, he wasn't strong enough, and if he tried he would get a dagger in the throat, or worse.

  That night Mikel had shut his eyes and tried so hard to forget what he had seen and heard and felt. But it went round and round, always there.

  He had been requested by the same household as last time. So he went along, dressed in smart clothes, but not too smart, he was only a slave acting as a servant.

  He was met at the entrance to the ballroom by the woman he had talked to last time. She saw the hollow look in his eyes.

  "I see your master has instructed you in the ways of the world. Obey and live, and maybe someday you will be the master."

  It was a mindless party. He did what he had to do. Always there were flashes of Paul, screaming.

  Back at the dingy slave dwelling that night Alfonse had been drinking again.

  "You know, you little piece of crap, I do get favors, financial ones, from that damn Markham family. Resting on their laurels. Almighty conquerors — in their imagination. They do have coin but I don't get enough."

  He staggered over casually picked up his favorite big stick and whacked the cage, for no apparent reason. Then he smiled, pointing the stick at him and jabbed him, through the bars and straight into his ribs. Mikel doubled up in pain.

  "Damn that lot. Maybe they like toying with you but I need some cash. I'm selling you tomorrow. If you aren't sold then you'll be meeting your friend." Alfonse said.

  Mikel didn't feel any fear, his emotions had hit some saturation point. That capacity was exhausted.

  The next day at the slave market, horrors were still floating in front of him whenever he closed his eyes. It didn't look like he would be sold. Then a softly spoken man, hooded in a plain brown cloak came up and talked to him. Alfonse stepped up to intervene but the man flashed something at him. Alfonse's eyes went wide, there was a look of fear in his eyes. It thrilled Mikel.

  He talked some more to Alfonse then to Mikel, and then took him by the hand to his new life.

  He was back in the here and now. A warm night was falling, faint putrid smells, acrid smoke but a fading of activity, as if the earth was preparing for sleep. They were in great danger, he was in Lindin and this was a bad place to remember. Tei had moved him behind a half f
allen, carbon scored, gray wall. He was shaking with fear and rage and pain. So much pain. For his family butchered, for other slaves casually murdered or mentally scarred. There were tears running down his face. He knew it was bad but he couldn't stop.

  Tei said, "Mikel! What is it? Oh gods! What was I thinking coming here?"

  He remembered now. Remembered the relaxation mantras he had been taught, the practice that had saved him after he came to Lind. The breathing exercises. He took a deep breath and clenched his fists, breathed out and relaxed his fists. He repeated the process, again and again. Repeated the mantras, again and again. Felt the wave of relaxing muscles flow from the top of his head to his toes, and finally within his mind. At last, he looked at Tei, who was starting to breathe too deeply and quickly.

  "I will be fine, Tei. I — I just remembered a whole lot of things, all at once."

  He told her. Not all of it, just a summary. A bloody, chilling summary.

  "Gods! Damn! Here I thought you were some clueless child shielded from the real world. This was a mistake. I've got us into danger. I wasn't thinking."

  "I am fine. Really. We'll get out of here. Tonight. I really don't want to stay any longer. Too many memories here."

  "It will be too dark to leave, it will also look very suspicious. We can leave first thing tomorrow. You've been here before?"

  "No. Just the slaves and the attitude. Makes me very uncomfortable."

  They got back onto the main thoroughfare heading back the way they came. Some others were on the same path. They were the overseers from the excavation.

  Mikel approached one. Tei reached out to stop him, too late.

  "Hello sir, Mark Oconnor, a merchant from Bethor. Recently set up my business. I thought I'd visit the Plains to see what the Cities needed." He offered his hand. The other fellow accepted it.

  He was dressed in a dark waistcoat, with light colored britches, he couldn't tell the colors in the fading light.

  "See our quartermaster, he should be able to supply you with a list. It would be very welcome."

  "Looks like you're digging. Foundations for a new building? Or perhaps a metal mining venture?"

  "Those would be boring but more useful. Lindin is pretty much mined out these days. My own family got rich stripping the skyscrapers way back. Nothing profitable about this however, I have to babysit a group of academics from the College of Bethor. Some archeological 'dig'. Looking for surviving parts of the Lindin Library." He ended it with a conspiratorial sneer.

  They talked about the weather, the opportunity for hunting in the area, fishing. All poor from what the overseer said. Then they farewelled him.

  "Mikel? How did you do that? How could you just shut that off?" Tei looked worried.

  "When I was young I had to block it out. So I used the hope of a new life, a new way of looking at the world. It turned my old world into a bad evil dream, irrelevant and best forgotten. Now I not only have hope but anger. I can reject everything they stand for with glee; deceiving them is a joy."

  Tei put her arm in his, holding on to him, not just an act now. Even in the fading light, she could see the tears in his eyes.

  At daybreak next morning they left.

  There had been some rain in the area they were going through. The grass was bright green, glistening with raindrops like diamonds, bright starlike points sparkling from individual drops, the clouds rapidly breaking up and disappearing to the west, the sun low in the east. Insects were buzzing, the world looked too clear and perfect to be real.

  "Mikel? Are you all right?"

  Mikel was in the lead, which was unusual, and hadn't said a word in more than an hour.

  "Not really. Still so many terrible things in my head. Let's talk about something else. Hey, what was that fellow talking about? An 'archeological dig'? Since when was Bethor interested in broadening their minds? I smell a rat, or a lot of rats."

  The hardness in his tone was new. Whatever he had remembered had changed him, Tei wasn't sure if this would make him a liability. She had seen others blinded by hate leading their team into certain death, ignoring all reason and strategy. It only ended in slaughter. Fortunately, Mikel was still a novice and not in command of anything. This admission made her wonder why he was still on this trail with her, why didn't she just send him back?

  "Hmm. Can't say. You are right, it is very unusual. Who would fund it and why?"

  "Why excavate a library? Surely, all the papyrus would have long since decayed?" he said.

  Tei almost stopped as if startled. "That's it! I was so busy trying not to get noticed it didn't occur to me before. The Cities when they were in decline transferred a lot of their knowledge to paper and papyrus, but they also converted some of it into a permanent form. There were stories that the Cities made some books of thin sheets of nickel with information printed onto it. Lindin had the greatest library. They must be after designs of weapons. They would only do that …"

  "If they were going to start a war. A very big war."

  Tei didn't speak anymore because she was afraid of sharing her suspicions about what would come next.

  Mikel did not speak because the memory of his last message to the Center was fresh in his mind, and now there was a vision of an army of enslavers on the march. It hurt so much he wanted to physically scream, instead he picked up the pace. He knew he would be part of this war one way or another. He didn't fear it now, he welcomed it.

  When they got back to the camp Tei gathered everyone around and recounted what had happened, leaving out anything that would embarrass Mikel.

  Mikel sat away from everyone, just staring at the dirt, or admiring a grass stalk he constantly twiddled with his fingers. He wasn't even listening. He didn't see the occasional glances towards him.

  Tarvis came over and sat by his side.

  "Tei says that you had some problems in Lindin. Didn't say what exactly. You know …"

  Mikel could feel Tarvis coiling like a snake about to strike.

  "… I'll be straight with you, your Bethor accent is too good. I heard you practicing it before you went to Lindin. By Zeus son if you try to hurt or betray Tei, or us, I will slit your throat myself. You got it?"

  "That's bullshit, Tarvis! I've been in Lind since I was ten years old. I came from a village just north of Bethor. I was a slave in Bethor until the Wizards rescued me."

  "Tarvis!" Tei's voice, slow and edged with anger. "Leave him alone. He's okay. He has even more reason to hate Bethor than we do."

  Tei gently grabbed Tarvis by the arm and pulled him away. Tarvis, looking back at Mikel slowly understanding.

  Later Travis came over and sat next to him. There was only the sound of insects; chirps, clicks, the breeze in the grass, darkness had fallen, a slight rushing sound from the darkness beyond as if the night had a voice. Mikel still felt dangerous, like a booby trap waiting to wreak harm over all those nearby.

  "I'm sorry about what I said earlier, I didn't know. How are you holding up?" Tarvis said.

  "I've been worse."

  "Yeah, so I heard. You know, you're not alone in that son. You see everyone here has had to deal with tragedy in their lives, it seems we live in hard times. So they understand. Tei, 'boss lady' herself, do not tell her I said that, lost her twin brother to a bandit attack when she was young. Blames herself, don't tell her I said that either."

  He paused, looked at Mikel, then looked away into the dark. "My wife, love of my life, died in childbirth, lost them both."

  Mikel looked at him. A focused stare, lasting maybe three seconds, the stare you sometimes see, or receive, when someone re-evaluates another, seeing them truly for the first time.

  "I'm sorry. I …"

  "We all have our own unique pain. But sharing eases it better than anything else. Don't hide away Mikel."

  Tarvis got up and proceeded to light the fire; he built it in such a way that almost no smoke rose from it, he had dug a small pit and placed the fire inside it to reduce the chance of anyone else seeing
it, unnecessary here but it was a habit he couldn't break. He used Mikel's fire-starter kit, which he had taken a liking to, then they sat together, silent, occupying a cocoon of yellow, flickering light. Cozy, familiar, with friends.

  He didn't know what Tei thought of him now. Did she think him useless for his breakdown in Lindin? Was he a burden she would quickly dispense with, dispatching him back to Lind with an attached note: 'rejected, please don't insult me'. He would just have to push through this. Usually, when this feeling would come over him he would surrender to — or was it embrace? — his curiosity. It had saved not just his life and sanity but his spirit, it had helped make him a better person. He was curious, interested in all things and all people, and surprisingly he found a deep human bond with almost all of them. The hatred in Bethor was an aberration, a wall to keep the truth and companionship out. Or perhaps he was simply naive; no, it felt right.

  Tei came down the files checking on everyone and scanning, the horizon, the animals, the riders. And Mikel. She matched pace with him.

  "How are you?" She sounded concerned, even gentle. "I was very worried back in Lindin. You're a good man, Mikel, a credit to the Wizards. Don't worry, you'll do fine, we're all here to back you up. Any questions?" She smiled.

  "Well. There are some things that I have wondered about. No one in Lind could answer them for me. For example, why is Bethor so different? I mean there is the Center, and also the Traders they both respect knowledge and learning. Even tolerance."

  "And the original Cities. They were the same. You want to know what made Bethor so crazy?" She said.