Yngve, AR - Darc Ages

by Darc Ages (lit)

  The upside-down nose snorted every now and then, as dust blew into the upturned nostrils. His face was framed by a distorted jawbone which began up at the ears, narrowing down toward the thick, folding neck - in a way, the man's tattooed forehead was a bloated, independent chin connected to his skull.

  If a surgeon had cut up and peeked inside the man's forehead, he would have discovered a pained tangle of nerves, tubes, veins and muscles, that just barely functioned.

  Disappointed to find only fear in Shara's face, the guard let out a snort and released his hold of her arms. Shara, reeling away from the big man, thought she saw a leer on his lips. She ran inside Claw's house and into her room, then blocked the door with the bed.

  She sat trembling in a corner, listening to the heavy steps of the guard outside.

  Only a little while later, when Shara needed to go out, she realized what the guard's leer had been. His face had been full of grief, of hurt feelings - but turned upside down.

  Through the fear, she felt a tinge of shame. She waited a little more, before she carefully removed the bed and peeked outside. The guard was not around. She slipped outside and washed herself.

  When finished, Shara began looking for the guard. The cliff shelf was narrow, so it did not take her long to search the entire place. He was not in the clay-brick house, and the elevator sling was untouched - the sets of ladders had been removed before, and lay at the canyon floor below.

  Then a notion struck her, and she got worried. She ran up to the cliff edge and peered down. There was no body lying at the foot of the cliff face, no angry voices shouting up at her. Shara spun around at the sound of falling pebbles, and caught sight of the guard.

  He had climbed out onto a narrow path at the eastern end of the shelf, where the blinding light of the sun hid him from Shara's sight. When she had rushed outside, he had treaded his way back to the house.

  They both stood watching each other, the distance between them no more than ten meters, and waited for the other to say something.

  After a minute, Shara broke the silence: "I - I was afraid that you had... j-jumped o-over the edge. I'm so-sorry that I screamed... you s-s-scared me."

  The guard's mouth, placed where his eyes should have been, made a sour grimace - that is, a happy grin turned upside-down. He snorted again, a sound that evoked fright but actually was just an acquired habit.

  Even as she impulsively flinched at the sight, Shara knew that the Leper was no monster. What was it Darc had said yesterday? "All humans are Lepers." Nevertheless, she still feared the contagious touch.

  "Please... I ask you... not to touch me. The Plague... you understand, do you? Can you speak?"

  They both remained still. Then, surprisingly, the guard spoke - a forced, high-pitched voice squeezed out between warped vocal cords: "I... can... speak. But... hurts."

  He coughed and snorted, holding his face in pain.

  "What is your name?" she asked quickly. "I'm Shara."

  The guard looked at her, and now she knew his face was expressing joy: "I am... Up-Mouth." He coughed once more, and added: "Not be... afraid. I... will not touch... you."

  He sat down on the ground, and put away his spiked spear. Shara sat down too, and decided to continue the conversation; what else could she do? Shara did not think of it as such, but she was a historical pioneer: the first healthy woman in several centuries who actually talked to a Leper.

  Change which otherwise would have come much, much later, was now proceeding at a fantastic pace - thanks to Darc's influence.

  She found out a few things during their awkward conversation. The adult Leper named Up-Mouth sincerely believed Darc to be some kind of holy man, and Shara his blessed bride. The very idea of hurting her would have been sacrilege to him.

  If I ever get out of this alive, nobody in Damon City is going to believe what happened to me, she thought. As she carried on stuttering, fractured small talk with the deformed man sitting at the other end of the house, the hours passed... her heartbeat relaxed and the goosebumps receded from her skin.

  When they had agreed that Up-Mouth could nod or shake his head instead of speaking, the conversation went much easier. Up-Mouth was several years younger than Shara, she found out, and one of Claw's several family members. Apart from his upturned face, he suffered very few effects of the Plague, except for his toes which also grew upside-down.

  At Shara's request, he showed her his feet; and indeed his toes grew with the nails on the underside .

  "You poor creature," she mumbled. "Does someone help you with... your health? A doctor?"

  Shara managed to explain what she meant. Up-Mouth used his spear to draw figures in the sand, and told her in few words what she wanted to know. No doctors. Only shared knowledge of herbal remedies, a few cures, and crude surgery.

  He himself had been born almost unable to breathe, and his windpipe had been artificially adjusted. He said this without sadness or asking for pity.

  And Shara wanted to hold his hand and comfort him, even as she dared not touch the deformed, smiling Up-Mouth...

  Chapter 27

  Damon City's outer wall, if not all the property damage from the city battle, had now been repaired.

  At last the end celebration of the Summer Festival could take place, that was aborted by the Paskos' attack.

  The procession from the temple of the Goddess marched through the wider streets of Damon City, cheered by thousands of citizens. On her high-seat, in the middle of the parade of priestesses and novices, Inu waved her blessings to the people, like other high-priestesses in similar ceremonies across Castilia.

  Only this time, the procession avoided the castle and sent no emissaries to the city lord. It was a clear message, that Inu was displeased with him - and it was equally clear why.

  Dohan Damon could see the distant procession from the balcony of his rooms. He was as yet imprisoned in his home, and could only wave at the high-priestess, hoping she would notice the movement through a telescope tube.

  Once, he had been madly in love with her... as had most men. But it was impossible to love a haughty goddess like a down-to-earth woman of flesh and blood, like he loved Meijji. Would prayers help bring them together again?

  "Can you hear me now, Goddess? Is this your will?" he asked in a low voice, watching Inu's procession move away from the castle. The noise of the cheering crowds slowly faded.

  The public trust in the ruling family was wavering, and from the castle rumors of discord trickled out into the citizens' ears.

  Everyone knew that Sir Dohan, in spite of his heroic defense of the city, was placed under house arrest. In the days after the city battle, a time of numerous funerals and injured men, the church's priestesses were busy - but high-priestess Inu remained absent from these drudging tasks, seeking refuge in the cathedral and the Scriptures. This was generally regarded as a bad omen, since a high-priestess was considered a vessel of the Goddess.

  Inu's earlier declaration of the return of the King was now widely interpreted in the light of recent events. In the mouths and minds of the citizens, the banishment of Darc had upset the Goddess - Darc was the reincarnated Singing King after all, and the public longed for his return.

  The Doctors' Guild members, on the other hand, were merely relieved to have him out of the way.

  And among the nobility of the Madrivalo province, opinions of Darc were greatly divided - nowhere more so, than in the Damon household...

  "I know you are all intriguing behind my back," Bor Damon muttered under his breath. "My own flesh and blood, deceived by that troublemaker."

  The other dinner guests did not answer, nor meet his eyes. It was the wine speaking for him, maybe - after he rid himself of Darc and imprisoned his own son, Bor had taken to drinking much more than usual.

  His usually restrained temper had turned more bitter and mercurial, and he saw Pasko spies in every corner. The atmosphere of this particular dinner table, the second evening after Darc's banishment, was oppressive
- Dohan's chair stood empty next to Bor's, as an unstated accusation.

  Strangely enough, the single present member of the Pasko family had yet been spared his wrath. Andon Pasko had made himself invisible from the city battle up to this moment, feigning illness to avoid turning up for dinner.

  Only now he dared to sit with his wife Bwynn at Bor's table - his nervous thin lips silent, his eyes downcast.

  Then Bor's eyes fixed on Andon's hunched, pale, scrawny figure - that was almost dwarfed by his robust, upright, red-haired wife. Dull anger grew in Bor's face as the minutes passed, waiting to explode. Everyone could feel it coming.

  When Andon excused himself to leave the table, in his haste he scraped the chair - loudly - against the tiled floor. He swallowed, stretched his thin hand toward the table and gulped from his cup - and an involuntary reflex caused him to drop the cup.

  It clanged onto the floor, spattering Eveli's blue silk skirt with drops of wine.

  Bor bolted upright, and bellowed: "Are you insulting my daughter, Pasko? What do you think you're up to?" Andon froze before his accuser's stare, unable to move. "Perhaps you are the man behind all this! Answer me, Andon! Have you been talking to your big brother's informers?"

  Red-faced, Bwynn stood up and faced her drunken brother. She had his firm jaw and heavyset figure, and could hardly be called beautiful - but no one questioned her character. When she spoke, one listened.

  "Watch your tongue, my lord," she said in a loud, but controlled voice. "This is my husband you are accusing of high treason."

  Bor threw her a fierce glare - but his rage receded. A full-blown feud, once started, might tear apart his entire clan - Bor feared that above anything else, and Bwynn knew it. She did not have to challenge his power; only a hint would suffice. With a grunt, he sank back into his chair.

  Andon left the hall, trying not to look like he was running.

  Eveli wept in silence, not because of her stained dress. Her tears fell onto her silver plate - so silent was the hall, that they could hear the drops hit the plate.

  She wished that at least the wise Lord Fache had been there, to counter her father's faltering reason - but he had already returned to his own city.

  Dohan, though imprisoned, had not given up. His desire for the dark-skinned island woman Meijji grew stronger as he brooded over his present misfortune.

  And the injustice of his own father throwing his friend to the Lepers, made his skin prickly with anger. Everywhere Dohan turned, his own culture was backstabbing him. It seemed that only Darc could help him - at least without bloodshed.

  The worst part of it was that, step by step, his own father was changing into an enemy. Dohan could see the reason in Bor's actions. Yet, he knew his father was wrong. He had never consciously considered to overthrow anyone, seize power that was not his by right of law - but the seed of rebellion had been planted in Dohan's mind and was growing by the minute. It was not a comfortable feeling.

  He looked out the window, at the lit clock tower in the city below. The time was past nine in the evening, and Dohan's evening meal was supposed to be delivered to his quarters by now.

  He knocked on the hallway door, slid open the tiny shutter at eye level, and faced the guard's suspicious gaze. A human guard, of course - Dohan's trick on Lachtfot had been revealed.

  "Yes, sirrah?"

  "Why is my meal late?"

  "I have no clue, sirrah. I can send a messenger to the kitchen, if you wish."

  "Do so."

  The guard, not being allowed to leave his post before night relief, caught a passing maid and sent her to the kitchen. Dohan stood waiting by the door, juggling half-baked escape plans in his head.

  Where could I go? he thought. Back to Kap Verita? Not without risking the safety of Meijji's family, if the Doctors' Guild gets hold of their position. Damn that Guild! If only Darc was here - he always knows what to do. Goddess, let him be alive.

  Maybe I could find him, if I got my father to reveal where Surabot dropped him off. Maybe the Lepers haven't taken him, he is much too sharp-minded to end that way. What else could I do? Who else can match my father's power?

  As if to answer his unspoken question, the guard knocked.

  "Your dinner, sirrah."

  The guard unlocked the door, and the maid rolled the dinner cart inside. Dohan glanced briefly at the guard's hands that clutched a bayoneted rifle - the guard would never dare to kill the city lord's son; yet escape was pointless, if one had nowhere to run.

  The guard let out the maid and locked the door. Dohan sighed, and lifted the lid covering the hot dinner plate.

  There was a note stuck under the lid! Dohan snatched it, stepped closer to a ceiling lamp, and read the note. It read, in extremely neat, small handwriting:

  Do not show this message to others. A friend from another noble family is prepared to help you out of Damon City and to freedom. There are those who think the ruler's son should ascend to power now, after he proved his worth in battle. Wait for further messages. Burn this note. - A friend

  Dohan's hope soared and sank in the same moment. He thought: A friend! A helper! Then: A traitor! A trap! Impulsive he was - dumb he was not. Another noble family - could it be Azuch Fache? Time would tell.

  He burned the message. A short while later, the electric lights were shut down by the city lord. Dohan ate, retreated to his bed, and eventually fell into an uneasy sleep.

  Eveli used to spend some days in the vast castle library, when she was not occupied with her teachers and following her mother's work. A noblewoman in training had to prepare for the responsibility of a vast household staff and social circle; Eveli was no exception.

  The library, and its treasure of books from past centuries, thus became a refuge from her earthly duties. The following morning, after church service, she went to the castle library and sought out Librian. The old librarian was paler than in the past, and his sad eyes perhaps sadder.

  But he greeted her with a welcoming smile, as always: "Good morning, my young lady! What can I do for you?"

  She looked down at her feet - a gesture very unlike her character and upbringing.

  "It is... could we talk somewhere private?"

  They went into Librian's narrow private office, and Eveli told him: "You know what is happening here, Librian. War breaks out! The family is coming apart at the seams! My brother imprisoned! My father is turning into a drunkard! Aunt Bwynn was this close to having a fight with him! And Darc..."

  She burst into tears. Librian taught both Eveli and her brother language, the sciences and geography; manners were not his trade, and she had confided in him before.

  Librian patted the black-clad girl's shoulder, and talked in a soothing voice: "There, there, my lady. Have you said your prayers today?"

  His words, though well intentioned, fell on deaf ears - Eveli was tired of praying, and wanted to act for once.

  She choked her tears and stuttered: "Where is he, Librian? Where could he be? Might he be alive?"

  His brow wrinkled, and he shook his head slowly. "I am so sorry, Eveli. Only your father knows."

  "Please try to find out where he might be! Somewhere in the Wastelands, maybe..."

  Eveli spoke of territories she knew very little of; Librian smiled at her naivety.

  "I will do everything I can, but I can promise nothing. If you..." Librian hesitated; he was on the verge of suggesting treason. "You are the only one who Lord Damon might confide in now, my lady. He still thinks of you as an innocent child, like all fathers do."

  He dared say no more, and turned away. But Eveli understood. She promptly left the library to seek out her father.

  Chapter 28

  Excerpt from Darc's notebook, Julla (July), 940 A.M.:

  DAY 2

  Pulled through my second day among the Lepers - OK health, just tense and upset stomach. Shara shows no sign of illness either.

  Started out with basic field observations. Once the natives grow less suspicious, I'll try taking b
lood samples and such.

  ITEM: All Lepers live in family-like groups. But how can they know who is related to whom, when all children have different deformities? Seems like the children have the same eye-color as their parents - this could be a clue to the nature of the Plague. Make a map of eye-color matches.

  ITEM: How can these people survive? Must determine their infant mortality rate. Add lacking medicine and primitive housing to their defects, and the figure should get high.

  Their willpower is admirable. Saw a man with no eyes, and no jaw (named "NO-JAW" in their own tongue) - he had learned to talk by cupping one hand under his tongue, as a replacement jaw. Another Leper, with a wide-open throat so he cannot speak, leads him around. Fantastic!

  Dohan received another concealed note with his morning meal:

  An escape from Damon City is being prepared for you. Wait for a signal. You will be taken to the castle hangar, and flown to another city where you are accepted as a refugee of high standing.

  - A friend

  Dohan pondered the message for a time; he certainly did not trust it. His father held the key to the main hangar port. How would they open the castle hangar without alerting the entire castle? It was practically always guarded.

  And the laser artillery could strafe any craft during its takeoff - unless it was raining, which usually blocked out the beams. The monsoon was at least a month ahead, and the sky was cloudless.

  But the most suspect suggestion was the phrase "another city" . Dohan started to feel the prickling of anger in his skin. This had to be Tharlos Pasko's doing, trying to lure Dohan into another prison - or, more likely, death. Dohan was not going to accept the plan, yet he had to do something to reveal the traitor inside the family household.

  He thought about Andon Pasko. No, he was too obvious - confound it, everyone suspected Andon. It had to be someone else, someone who escaped Bor Damon's attention. Librian? His assistant, Awonso? Bwynn? Azuch Fache? An officer? The court physician? Who was always close to Bor, at all times? Dohan's own mother?