Seventeen lay crouched until all the guards had left the barrier. His gaze met Anna’s and he motioned her toward him. With a wide grin on her face, she hurried past the barrier to reach him.
There were no guards watching them as they crossed the shallow river. The water was cold and ran faster than he expected. It reached up to his waist at the deepest point, then he reached the bank.
Behind him, Anna slipped on a rock and splashed in the foamy waters. “Help,” she cried out.
He jumped back into the water and grabbed her flailing arms. “Come!” He pulled her up and helped her climb the bank.
She was panting heavily as they hurried through the field and toward the woods.
As soon as they reached the first trees, Anna dropped on all fours. “I can’t,” she gasped.
Seventeen stole a glance behind them. In the distance, fires flared, devouring the guards’ tents. The crowd must have crossed over. His heart thundered with the desire to bathe in the guards’ blood, but he had to press on. He had his marching orders, and could feel the whisper’s urgency. Still, Anna had to rest.
He sat down on a root, waiting for the woman to catch her breath. He studied her beautiful face. It carried no trace of cruelty, just fear for her unborn child, coupled with cautious mirth at their success in crossing over.
She met his gaze and sat upright, using his hand to steady herself. “Thank you.” Her smile was warm like the sun breaking behind stormy clouds. “You could have left me back there, but you didn’t.” She clutched his hand in gratitude.
Why is she still breathing? a serpentine voice asked in his head.
I took her with me in case someone spotted us, he shushed the voice. She’ll be useful then.
He spun around, pulling her behind him. He ducked to avoid a branch, but a twig caught his cowl. It snapped back, pulling it from his head. Before he pulled it back, he noticed her gaping eyes fixed on his face.
“You’re…” Her voice trailed off.
Now she’s seen you, the voice said. Kill her. She’s served her purpose.
He turned slowly, letting her see him clearly. He expected her to run, but she did not. Instead, she stood frozen with fear.
“Don’t,” she whispered.
He pulled his rod from under his coat.
You don’t have to do this, another voice whispered in his head, one he’d never heard before. It startled him so much he almost dropped his weapon. The voice soothed his constant anger, like balm on a festering wound.
I must. She’s seen me.
His thumb slid across the metal in his hands and the crimson blade split the approaching dark. With a flick of his wrist, the fire fed into her throat, almost separating her head from her body. She did not have time to utter a single word. Another second, and the weapon was back in his coat. The wolves would take care of the rest.
You didn’t have to do that, the voice repeated, dripping sorrow, before fading away. The wound in his soul burst open again and he let out an inhuman cry.
March 14, The Marshes
David
David’s eyelids grew heavy. He patted his gloved hands together in an attempt to fight his exhaustion. Droplets flew. The ride west felt longer somehow. It’s probably all this cold. He was now regretting his decision to take a seldom-traveled detour, away from the shores, even if it did minimize the chance of running into any Capital forces. The road had been a steady climb for the past hour, the sky getting darker with each mile. Soon it would be dark and he would need a safe place to spend the night. What a dreich day. A gray mist drowned all sounds except for a faraway crow.
His stomach growled, but he could see no shelter around. Should I get another beef jerky? I’d have to remove my gloves, though. Is it worth risking frostbite? He scrunched up his mouth, wiped sleet from his brow and pulled the hood forward, fighting a shiver. With a gentle spur of his ankles, the horse jumped forward and entered a narrow ridge.
Will you let me in? a voice whispered in his head.
David pulled the reins, freezing in place. Voice?
Parad. I’d like your permission to join with you.
David paused for a while, unsure of the meaning of the strange request. “Okay.”
The familiar warmth filled him, making him realize how much he had missed the Voice.
He misses you, too, Parad said in David’s head.
Then, why isn’t he here? The bitter thought came unbidden, and he regretted it instantly. Never mind that. Why are you here?
My son. He needs me. But I have no way to talk to him. Darkness is coming. It will be here faster than you think. I have to follow you in order to protect Cyrus.
Cyrus is on his way to the Capital. Why do you need me?
There was no answer for a while, then just a question. Do you trust me?
David let out a sigh, misting the cold air before him. Yes.
Then you need to let me hide. You won’t know I’m here. You won’t hear me. But I’ll be there. That’s all you need to know. If I tell you more, they’ll sense it.
Who’s they? What are you talking about?
No reply came, and he searched his head for the presence. He could sense none. “Parad!” he shouted in frustration.
He prickled his ears and thought he heard hooves behind him. Pulling the reins, he spun his horse around to see a rider approach in the distance.
“David!” the man called.
The stranger spurred his horse and within a minute was upon him. He pulled his hood for a moment to show his face.
David’s eyes widened. “Cyrus?”
“Glad I caught up with you,” he said with a grin.
“What are you doing here?”
“I’m going to Anthea. Thought I’d join you.”
“But you were going to the Capital.”
“Change of plans. Hope you don’t mind the company.”
David’s lips parted in a grin. “Hope you don’t mind the weather.”
It was Cyrus’s turn to grin. “Not at all, although we may need to stop at some point. My whole body feels like an icicle.”
“You’ve read my mind. I was just looking for some protected place where I could spend the night.”
“Lead the way.”
They said nothing for a while, riding against the sleet. David threw a curious glance at his companion. Should I tell him about his father? About his strange warning? Although, what’s really to tell? Parad didn’t exactly tell me much.
He was still debating this when Cyrus broke the silence. “I had a dream about you last night.”
David’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “A dream?”
Cyrus chuckled. “I know. I never dream. But last night I did.” Cyrus stroked his beard. “You were walking knee-deep in a river. On your right, the bank spewed inky black clouds every now and then. When they touched someone, that person froze in place until the darkness consumed him, turning him into a black fog.”
Goose pimples shivered down David’s spine. “Spooky.”
“Very. You were busy dodging the clouds, when one of the jets hit a clone walking behind you.”
“A clone?” David’s brows knitted in thought. “I thought we got rid of them all.”
“It was just a dream,” Cyrus reminded him with a half-shrug. “Anyway, it started consuming him, then you turned around and struck him with your spear.”
“So, I killed him.”
“No.” Cyrus shook his head for emphasis. “The spearhead barely scratched his skin. But he staggered backward, freeing himself from the cloud. You didn’t kill him. You saved him.”
Before he could continue, a tall man, draped in a dark cape, materialized before them out of the mist. He pulled a woolen hood from his face to show a thick beard, in the fashion of the First. He raised his spear. “Halt!”
Their horses whirled in a circle. Behind the guard, the road sloped downward. I didn’t know there was a village here. For a moment, David considered bolting, then he caught out of the corn
er of his eye movement behind them. An ambush?
He lowered his hands and showed the guard his empty palms. “We mean you no harm. Just passing through.”
The man scanned him with unflinching eyes. “You two are either pretty brave to ride here all alone, or pretty stupid. Unless…” The man took a step toward David, the tip of his spear almost touching the horse’s chest. The horse stumbled backward. “Unless there’s more of you.”
He whistled, and men rose from behind rocks. One of them drew a horizontal circle with his index finger and made a jabbing motion with his palm, shaking his head.
“Where are we?” Cyrus asked.
“Hmm,” the guard harrumphed. “Stupid it is.” He made a jabbing motion with his spear. “There’s nothing for you here. Shoo.”
For a moment, David wondered if the man had mistaken them for strays. His stomach growled again. “Actually, we could use some supplies.” He fished a purse out of his pants and jingled it. The coins inside clinked. “We can pay.”
The guard threw him a hard look. “Even more stupid than I thought. What’s to stop us from cutting that purse loose?”
David shrugged. “The fact that we’ve ridden here all alone?”
The man’s face hardened, then he burst into laughter and lowered his spear. “You’re crazy.” He stepped next to the horse and took the reins in his hands. “But I like you. You can buy what you need in the morn, then be on your way. Is that clear?”
A smile cracked David’s lips. “Clear.”
The man tugged at the reins and walked their horses down the road. Behind them, another man jumped from behind a rock to take his place as a lookout.
They trudged against the sleet into a narrow, winding footpath, hidden from the main path. As soon as they crested a small ridge, they entered a lush valley. The mountains around it stabbed the air, cutting it off from prying eyes and thinning the fog. The peaks broke the wind, turning the rain into a light drizzle.
The three men passed a number of small farms, each with a vegetable garden filled with large cabbages and cauliflowers. Tall windmills lined the landscape, while solar panels were on a few wooden, sleet-covered roofs. Pale whiffs of smoke rose in the gray sky. Streetlamps were flickering on as they passed. He wished he could look around, but the man hurried them down the path. Looking down at the valley, David’s gaze caught on a cross adorning the front of a strange building in the middle of what looked like a plaza. He blinked, and images of fire filled his head. He cringed, his temples suddenly exploding in pain. The fire devoured the city. Crosses lined the streets, each of them a torch lighting the night.
“I’ve never heard of this place,” Cyrus said.
The words broke the vision. Thin fog replaced the fire. He rubbed his still throbbing temples. What was that?
“Not many have.” The man pulled on the reins to hasten their descent. “Just a few refugees, lately.”
“It looks old.”
“About as old as everything else on this planet.”
After a steady climb downward, they came upon a back street, lined with houses made of clay bricks. It became wider farther down, until they arrived at the plaza David had spotted earlier. Two-storied wooden buildings lined the streets around it. The guard pointed at a house with a red door. “You can find whatever you need here. We have no inn, but you can sleep at Father Jeb’s if you need to spend the night here.”
The strange words made David’s brow crease. “Father Jeb? Is he your leader?”
The man shrugged. “You could say that. Although we’re free men. Not like you Capitolians.”
“We’re not—” Cyrus started to say.
No sense in arguing. “I thought we were still in the Capital?” David said, cutting him off.
“Not us, mate. We’ve stayed clear of the Justice’s madness for hundreds of years.”
That sounded incredulous. “Don’t they know you’re here?” David asked.
“They’ve forgotten all about us. We have nothing they need, just some herds. And we like it that way. So, grab what you need and scoot.”
David studied the elegant buildings. The streets were lined with pale lights—not the oil-burning ones of the Capital, but a kind he had never seen before. From behind glass windows, curious gazes by bearded men and a few women, their heads covered by white, laced scarfs, followed them.
“How can the Capital have forgotten you?” Cyrus asked.
With a small sigh, the man placed one hand on his hip and studied them. “When Pearseus exploded, three pods ended up here.” He pointed at a building in the middle of the plaza, half-sunk into the frozen ground. A cross adorned its entrance. “There’s one of them over there.”
David recognized the building that had triggered his vision. That’s why it looked strangely familiar. It’s a pod, built into a… church?
Ivy covered its walls. Someone had built a slanted roof over the original pod. The whole building looked ancient, yet fresh pansies decorated the door. “Our ancestors did what they could to survive,” the guard continued. “They thought they were alone. Had no idea anyone else had made it.” He wiped drizzle from his face. “The First helped them survive that first winter, then gave them seeds and taught them how to plant. Their e-libs taught them the rest.” He shrugged. “You’ll have to ask Father Jeb for the rest of the history lesson.” Despite his gruff face, his voice carried a hint of pride.
As they neared the pod, a strange sight caught David’s eye through the thinning fog. Before the pod, someone lay on the ground. “There’s a body there!” He pulled the reins and jumped off the horse to see if the man lying on the ground needed any help.
The guard grabbed his arm. “Leave it.”
“He may need help.”
The man shook his head. “He’s dead.”
“What?” David whipped his head around to face him. “And you’re just letting him rot in the middle of the village? That’s—”
“None of your business. All you—” Before the guard had a chance to continue, a young man stumbled toward the body, wailing. Faces appeared behind closed windows—men, women and children. Doors opened and stone-faced men stepped outside to stand before their houses, watching the man make his lonely way to the corpse.
“I am sorry,” the man in the square cried out. “Please, forgive me.”
A chill traveled down David’s spine. “Who’s that?”
“The son,” the guard said through gritted teeth. “He and his father live outside the village. They thought they were better than everyone. They never showed up at our weddings. Our funerals. Our births. They didn’t share his food with us.” He shook his head. “But pride wasn’t their only sin. The son would badmouth his father to anyone he met. He treated the old man with contempt. Yet, when his father died, he demanded we bury him among our dead.” He shook his head, sadness marring his features. “He’s finally come to his senses.”
The man was now tearing off his clothes with manic gestures, leaving his body exposed to the cold. “Please, forgive me,” he sobbed and tumbled onto his father’s frozen body.
“This is inhuman,” Cyrus blurted out.
The guard’s face hardened. “Honor thy father and thy mother. ‘Tis the law. But we’re not without compassion, unlike the justices.”
“Whose law?” Cyrus snapped at him. “No judge could be this cruel.”
The man crossed his arms. “We don’t need no judge. The village is the judge. Law’s older than any man. Before the culture of guilt, there was the culture of shame.”
David shook his head. “You’re making no sense.” He headed to the man on the ground, then saw others do the same. He hesitated, and the guard pulled him back. “This is our land. You’re a guest. Act like it.”
David shook his arm loose. “Then explain.”
“Anyone harming the community and showing no remorse has to leave. Not because we make them, but because of the shame they’ve brought themselves and their family. Capital’s law is based on
guilt. If a person acknowledges their crime, they can spend some time in jail or pay some money, and that’s it.”
“So, there’s no space for repentance?” Cyrus asked. “For amends?”
“Watch before you judge.”
The villagers approached the man. Someone placed a thick woolen coat around his slumped shoulders. Two men took the body and carried it into the building with the cross. A middle-aged woman placed her arms around the son and followed them, along with the rest of the strange progression.
“Where are they taking him?” Cyrus asked.
“To bury the old man. The boy has learned his lesson.”
“Did…” David hesitated. “Did you kill his father?”
The guard’s eyes darkened. “We believe in compassion. We’re not animals. The old man fell down a cliff, gathering wood. He broke his neck. We found him and carried him to the town square’s all we did.”
Cyrus scratched his beard. “Who makes the laws? Who enforces them?”
The guard shrugged. “Told you. The village. If there’s a dispute, we consult Father Jeb or the elders.”
Finally, something that makes sense. “You have an Elder Council?”
“We’re not First. Our elders are those old enough to remember and wise enough to tell between right and wrong. We heed their words, but they don’t rule over us.”
“But what about written laws?” Cyrus insisted. “Don’t you need those?”
The guard scoffed. “Those only serve to confuse men. A man’s heart can tell right from wrong. If it doesn’t, the village knows. Mankind didn’t need any written laws for countless centuries.” Their confusion must have shown on their faces, for the man cracked a smile. “We haven’t invented something new. We simply remember something very, very old.”
“But that’s the problem, isn’t it?” David asked. “How do you accommodate change?”
“The village knows what’s best.” He placed put one arm around each of their shoulders and turned them around, so that they faced the plain red door. “You two can spend the night here. Remember our deal. Get what you need and leave by morn. Tell no one about us.”
Pearseus Bundle: The Complete Pearseus Sci-fi/Fantasy Series Page 93