Call of the Chosen- Broken Kingdoms

by Michael DeSousa

  “You’re blinding me, you loaf,” she hissed, surprised at her own anger.

  “Oh, oh, I’m sorry, uh, …ma’am,” he said, stumbling on the word ‘ma’am’ as if he had to guess.

  “Ma’am is correct,” she shouted, tearing the curtains from his hands and plunging the inside back into darkness. She placed her hand over the veil on her head, feeling the course buds of new hair as raw emotion rose inside her. “Yes, I am a ma’am,” she said, trying to conceal an angry tremble in her voice.

  “I…still need to know. What’s your business? And where are you headed?”

  “As far from insensitive loafs like you as I can,” she replied, feeling the heat rise in her and a need to tear something up with her teeth. A pencil, paper, pottery, anything. “Are all man on this road inconsiderate or have I been blessed with an abundance of fools surrounding me?” Her chest rose and lowered, her breathing quick and shallow. She had to admit though, there was something enjoyable in all this. A sense of control —no, domination and self-possession. A small sin, she rationalized. As long as it got her through.

  “Now you know why I don’t know her business,” the coachman said.

  “Well, if she’s ill, Sato has healers and even a few surgeons,” the soldier replied. “But they probably won’t help unless you’re on their tour lists. But, if you’re hungry, the mess hall serves anyone who can pay.”

  “Money,” Sil smacked her lips. “Does everything come down to greed?” She then edged forward off her seat and knocked the small door to the coachman’s box. “Get moving; I won’t suffer another moment with this man.”

  “We good here,” the coachman asked.

  “Yea, yea, just go,” was the reply and the stagecoach jostled forward as Sil slid back into her seat. Ill? That man thinks I’m ill? Sil supposed she’d have the same reaction seeing a woman without her hair, but why did it make her so angry? She relaxed her clenched fists and closed her eyes. Being away from her routines, her prayers, and meditations, the impure world outside the Temple was already corrupting her. Find Gene, and everything will be back to normal. Just then, her knife came to mind.

  During the travel, she had slid the knife out from behind her and strapped it to her right inner thigh, hoping it would be better concealed there. And now, she found herself reaching down to touch the handle, remembering the Doyenne’s words. But Gene must understand. She will.

  “We’re here,” the coachman announced. “Sato’s Mines. Just give me a minute to find the center of town.” Eventually, the stagecoach slowed to stop. Sil slowly drew the curtain away, letting her eyes adjust to the light as a whiff of bitter metallic scents brought a smile to her face. Home. “Remember, I’ll only be here a few days, then I’m headed back. If you’re coming with me, it’ll be a bit cramped in there, so you’ll have to sit up here. We’ll…deal with that guard somehow.” Sil then heard the man step off the box seat and saw his back as he walked away, leaving her alone. Alone. She hadn’t been alone like this since…ever.

  “No, I won’t fear,” she said quickly, raising her chin and squaring her shoulders. Besides, this was her home; how much different could it be? Opening the door and stepping outside, she found herself in the town square. The stagecoach she rode, among others, had their horses secured to posts by ropes while a simple canopy shaded them from above and grass troughs feed them.

  She spotted the community hearth, a squire brick lined pit, unlit with a tall post beside it, and raised high on the post was the deep blue flag of the Empire and the rough sketch of the world continents. Tiny sown stars marked capitals —lands conquered, presumably.

  The square was empty, but that didn’t surprise her. Shielding her eyes from the sun, she guessed it had to be at least an hour past noon. Everyone would still be working in the mines, probably first shift. First shift would be exploratory work and expansion planning, trying to find new lodes after the rock had settled from the previous day’s second shift mining. She was pleased she still remembered after so long.

  Wooden buildings lined the edge of the square just as she remembered. Some thatched, others tiled. Everything as she remembered, only…cleaner, newer. The Empire must not have changed—

  She whipped her head behind her, and to her surprise, she saw her old home, the Casmarus household, a three-room log building with a tiled roof. It was one of the newer and so better houses in town, but it looked small now compared to what she was accustomed to at the Temple. Still, the building didn’t appear to age at all. The Empire must really care about keep things new, a small remittance against their evils.

  “Well, I’ll start there,” she said, walking her way toward it. The ground was still mostly dust, empty of grass from all the foot traffic. It was still a mining town after all, maybe with new people, but a town nonetheless. And with a town, there’d be families, children, gaming houses. pubs and eateries —and Sil hoped, gossip.

  When she reached the door, she placed her hand on its wood and smiled longingly. She imagined her mother home cooking. Father would be in the mines at this time of day, but Sil would be sewing her father’s tattered working clothes. Right about now, she would be racing off to help setup the large pavilion where the miners would gather and plan the second half of the day. Gene was already in the Holy City by that time. She never visited, not even when their parents died.

  She lifted her hand away from the wood. Now, another family was probably inside —a more deserving family. But, her parents were right; this mining town was no place for a young girl to grow up. She knocked on the door.

  “Right there,” a course voice sounded, probably a husband or father. “For the Sevens’ sake, it’s my day off.” He opened the door and his eyes widened, sullen red eyes with a shadow of a thick beard bristling out of his face.

  “Hello—”

  “Lost miss,” he asked, scratching his beard. He pointed his finger behind her. “Mess hall’s that way. I swear to the Almighty, we always get—”

  “No, that’s not why I’m here,” she explained. Why was she there? To see her old house? “I’m looking for someone.”

  “Looking for someone,” he replied, crossing arms. “If someone’s lost, they won’t be lost for long. Everyone around here usually ends up following their nose. Mess hall, miss, is what I mean. I’m sure you’ll…” He yawned. “Now, let me enjoy my rest.”

  But before he could close the door, she asked, “Do you live here?”

  “Live here? Of course, I live here, along with two others. Don’t tell me they assigned you this house too? Nah, that’s gotta be a mistake.” He looked her up and down with an annoyed smirk. “They try to keep us separated, you see.”

  “Us separated?”

  “I’m saying, miss, you can’t be assigned here.” He pointed from him to her and back to him, continuing, “Indoor, outdoor plumbing don’t work well together, if you get my meaning.”

  “No, I don’t,” she said flatly. “What do you mean by ‘assigned’?”

  He slapped his cheek. “Beast!” —Sil felt her face flush, an initiation spell swirling in her hand— She quickly let the spell dissipate, scolding herself inwardly. Her anger. She must reign it back in. “You new, huh? Well, go to the main office then.” He pointed again along with another yawn. “You’ll have to register, blah, blah. The whole routine. Someone’ll help you out. Then you’ll get assigned a place to stay for your tour. There, good now?” He smiled widely before slamming the door on her.

  Exhaling slowly, she prayed to the Golden Lady to make up for the man’s blasphemy. But it didn’t help; she still wanted to torch the building down.

  The Mess Hall, she thought, putting the altercation out of her mind and reminding herself of her mission. That man pointed in the direction of the old Town House where everyone would gather once a week for news, coordinate work, and for dances. “Yes, the perfect place to find people,” she whispered as her stomach growled. Maybe she could eat something too. —And if there was time, she’d visit her
parents. If there was time. She wouldn’t dare let that coachman leave without her. If she couldn’t find a lead here, she’d have to pay a visit to Princess Zana as the Doyenne suggested, but receiving audience might be difficult. She never scheduled one in the past but guessed it would take be days or weeks. All the more reason to find something here!

  She tightened her veil and lifted her chin up before walking across the town center and down one of the side roads.

  Amazing. Everything looked so new and clean. The buildings were washed of dust and grim; the windows cleaned and sparkled in the sunlight. Even the road was laid beautifully with slabs of cut stone with blue fillings. Not as beautiful as the Holy City but compared to the dusty mud-soaked hole her town used to be, this seemed like a king’s capital. Sil snickered, focusing her gaze on the far end of the road. She refused to admire the work of blasphemers.

  The road opened to a small plain of beautifully managed apple scented grass where in the center stood, like an idyllic scene, the Town House, a large logged building with a kitchen and chimney at the far end. Words “Mess hall” were written in a few languages above the open double doors. She could read all of them except for a flowing cursive-like script that seemed to be from the far east. The Empire made some additions here as well: a pond where two were fishing, a blue tented pavilion nearly as big as the Town House, and a stage, presumably for entertainment. She turned her nose up against them; how much blood paid for it all?

  Two, here at least: her mother and father. After the Brothers’ war ended, the armistice agreement had Prince Landrie allow the Sato Family to ally themselves with the Empire; her town was annexed. The transfer was not smooth, however. Sil wasn’t here, but from what she learned, there was a skirmish when the transfer happened. Lord Sato’s son was injured and her parents dead. She came down with Mothers Lyn and Fea and the Doyenne for their burials. Gene never bothered to show —already a month late at the time. Never answered her letters, either, except one very hurtful letter, berating her for burying their parents along with their possessions without her, saying that Sil should have been there, saying Sil should have died with them. That she should have left the Temple and defended her parents. As if Gene would pry herself away from any of her obsessions. The nerve of that selfish woman! Did she expect the dead to wait on her selfish ambitions too?

  “I will find you,” she said through a tightening jaw.

  When she entered the Mess Hall, the place was set up as she expected: a cafeteria with long rows of benches and chairs and at the far end was a serving station with menus plastered above. A few people loitered about, probably too late for breakfast and too early for lunch. Maybe one of the servers would have seen Gene. Her sister had to eat after all.

  She quickly caught sight of what she guessed was a servant, a woman dressed in blues and a white dirty apron, cleaning off a long counter that stretched the length of the far wall under the serving station.

  Catching sight of Sil, she stormed over to her, frowning. “You’re too early,” she said, wagging her finger in the air while holding onto her red rag. “Next meal’s in an hour.”

  “Oh, I’m not here to eat,” she said with her stomach protesting. “I’m actually looking for someone.”

  The servant woman eyed her, placing her hands on her hips. “Haven’t seen you around?”

  “I’m…new here,” Sil said, deciding it would make the conversation easier. It wasn’t untrue.

  “Oh, well that makes sense,” she said. “Off season newcomers are always confused. Where you from?”

  “Actually, I was hoping you can help me find someone?”

  “Yea I gathered that already. You’ll want the Main Off—”

  “Yes, but the Main Office said I should talk to a woman with tan eyes and silver hair,” Sil quickly blurted out. “Have you seen her?”

  The woman darted her eyes to the ceiling, scrunching her mouth to one side. “No…I… No, I don’t think so. A sister, maybe? If I haven’t seen her, she isn’t here yet.”

  Sil sighed, feeling defeated.

  “Well, what’s her name?”

  She opened her mouth but then closed it, shrugging her shoulders and fighting off a sheepish smile. Her sister fought against the empire. It wouldn’t be smart to haphazardly say her name here or that she was looking for her. “I don’t know what name she uses now,” she said instead.

  “A woman with more than one name?” The servant woman narrowed her eyes on Sil.

  “Uh, well, maybe you’re right. She just hasn’t arrived yet—”

  “I’ve seen her,” a voice rose from the one the tables. A darker skinned man sitting with his arms crossed and his head hidden behind a dark brown brimmed hat, pushed his brimmed hat up with his finger so he could see her. He rose from his chair. Much older than her with an eyepatch and terrible scar that ran under it, he wore dark leathery colors, too clean too be a miner, with an unbuttoned long dark coat perfect for concealing items. He smiled, revealing teeth too perfect for his face. He was wealthy, Sil knew right away, and a shiver ran down her spine. Despite reservations, she thanked the servant woman and walked toward him, trying to keep her ankles from buckling.

  He opened a hand toward a chair on the opposite side of the bench and Sil quickly sat, afraid her knees would give out. Golden Lady, see me through this.

  “So, who are you looking for,” he said, sitting back down and leaning forward with his elbows on the table. A bemused expression stretched across his face which did ward off some of Sil’s apprehensive, so much so that it flared her annoyance instead. Was he just going to waste her time?

  “You said you knew,” she replied flatly.

  “A woman with tan eyes, and silver hair,” he said, glancing his eye between her eyes and her veil. “A relative?”

  “Have you seen her,” she asked, trying to be cautious.

  The man leaned back, placing his finger on his lips while regarding her for a moment. “Yes, you are a relative. Gloria was right. She’s your sister, maybe?”

  “Why won’t you answer my question,” Sil said, trying to hide the quiver in her voice. This was too much for her, too much adventure too quickly—

  “Because I already did,” he said, waving his hand for that servant woman —Gloria— to come over. “Would you like something to eat?”

  “No —yes,” she corrected herself.

  The man laughed. “Well, which is it?”

  Sil’s stomach growled.

  “I suppose it’s a yes then,” he said. “Gloria,” he shouted. “Get Miss…” He paused, nodded at her, probably wanted her name.

  “Fyria,” she lied. It wouldn’t be wise to give her name to a stranger, she rationalized.

  “Fyria…,” he said slowly as though he tasted the word and found it unpalatable. “Get Miss Fyria here something to eat and I’ll just have coffee.”

  Gloria marched over, red rag in hand. She eyed Sil with the same frown as before. “I told her, it’s off hours.”

  “Please, Gloria,” he said, he said with a smile. “Just this once.” And she seemed to soften. “This might be the last time you see me.”

  “We can only hope,” she mumbled before running off. Sil relaxed at the exchange. This man couldn’t be all bad if —It was for your benefit. Sil jumped.

  “What’s the matter?”

  “Nothing, nothing. I…just… I don’t usually sit alone with strange men.”

  “Would you prefer if Gloria sat with us?” He crossed his legs and leaned further back into his seat.

  “I would prefer to know your name?”

  “Montgomery,” he said. “And to be honest with you, I’m looking for that same woman too.”

  Sil blinked a few times. “What? You are? How would you know they are the same?”

  “Please,” he said with a roll of his eye. “In my line of work, there is often a need for suspicions and …shall we say, strategic fibbing, but not here. I hope that we can work together.”


  My line of work? “I’m listening,” Sil said slowly, keeping her sights on him with her peripheral vision on his hands, which were crossed with one raised to his face, a finger resting on his lips.

  “Fine,” he said. “I’ll start.” He reached into his pocket —Sil flinched— and he chuckled before throwing a warding stone onto the table. It was a small white with gray marbled slab with writing chiseled and dyed onto it, but Sil didn’t want to take her gaze off him to read it. He shook his head. “It says, ‘Imperial Investigator Markus Montgomery.’”

  Sil’s blood ran cold. The Empire? Why are they after Gene? Because of the war?

  “You, uh…seem lost for words, Miss Fyria” he said, tilting his head toward her to favor his seeing eye. “You’re not…a criminal of the Empire, are you?”

  Before Sil could think, Gloria returned, placing a cup of coffee in front of him and a plate of …something that smelled wonderful in front of her. But that didn’t matter, not with her hands trembling so much on her lap.

  Gloria slapped Markus’s shoulder. “You’re scaring the poor woman,” she said. “You want anything to drink, sister?”

  “No, thank you,” Sil replied. “Why would the Empire want my —the woman I’m looking for?”

  “Your sister,” he said, before taking a sip.

  Sil froze, her heart raced; she hid her hands deeper into her lap. How was she going to confront her sister if she couldn’t even have a calm conversation? Sure, he worked for the Empire, but she’d done nothing wrong. She shouldn’t be so nervous. This whole ordeal was all Gene’s fault!

  “Easy there, Fyria,” he said. “Or should I say Mother Evening Star, or maybe just Celeste?” He waved his cup toward her head. “They kicked you out, huh?”

  “They,” she eked out, forming her hands into fists. He already knew so much. She wanted to get up and run, but she forced herself to stay. He knew something, and knowing that seemed to fill her with some confidence, though not enough to stop her hands from shaking

  “Celeste,” he said, learning forward. “I’m not after you so, relax. If I were, you’d be in my custody before you left that stagecoach, or dead. Sometimes, the empire wants people dead. Did you know that?”