“And I came anyway. Because without her, what difference did it make?” Ulric said.
“Cassandra was your wife? They don’t allow wives on this planet. Especially for Keepers. She wanted you to do something here? Find Something? Someone?” she asked turning back to the open doorway, relieving him of her gaze.
“She said I'd know what to do.” He said it like an oath.
“Yes. I believe you will. We will find out tomorrow.” She walked out the door. When Ulric went to follow, the arch was empty.
He called after her into the hush. “Chen?”
When Grady returned, the fire was lit but burning a bit high for that hearth. The room was warming quickly, even the floor.
“Anything upstairs?” Grady asked.
“How'd you know I went upstairs?” Ulric deflected, giving him a moment to think.
“The cobwebs are gone. Well not gone, exactly.” Grady pointed at his cloak, where it was covered in them.
“Nothing. No one has been here for a long time,” Ulric said, fishing out a camp pot to fill with snow.
“It's been decades. The hinges are rusty and this wood is so dry, it won't last one night. I'll have to cut some more to leave for the next traveler,” Grady said.
“What do you mean? You think someone will come through again in another 50 years?” Ulric was actually curious.
“It may be us, my Lord, at the very least when we return,” Grady said as he was unpacking bed rolls.
Ulric realized he had not considered a return journey. Still shaken by the visitation, he reached for his flask for the first time today.
After a long pull, he said, “I think we will get there tomorrow. Wherever there is.”
Grady stood and looked at him, considering his statement for a long beat, but said nothing.
***
“Barcus, I have detected two men that are moving this direction on the ancient road. ETA at present speed is seven hours and twelve minutes,” Em told Barcus, as he was helping Olias sort a trunk full of nails and wire and various small tools.
“Shall I send Ash to deal with them?” she asked. The implication by her tone was that Ash would simply kill them quickly. A visual of the two men and their pack horse came up in his HUD. One man was tall, thin and weathered, obviously an experienced Tracker. The other one was a bit of a mystery. He had the look of being out of shape and out of his element, though it was evident that he had lost weight recently from hardship. His clothes were not as practical as a Tracker’s.
“No. Just keep an eye on them for now. They are not soldiers. They don't have weapons.”
Olias had become used to Barcus talking to Em. When he looked up, Barcus asked in common tongue, “Olias, do you have your Plate with you?”
Olias nodded and drew it out of a deep pocket somewhere.
Barcus took it for a moment and said, “What can you tell me about these men?” Handing back the Plate, there was an image of two men on horseback.
He spoke in common tongue. “This one is a Tracker. I have actually seen him before, but have never spoken to him and not seen him for years. I have never seen that one. He looks like a Lesser Keeper. That neckline on his tunic is only worn by them. They usually have shaved heads. Like that.” He pointed.
Olias zoomed out with adept control to show the entire horses as well. “These are typical farm horses.” His accent slipped. “A bit old and sway-backed compared to ours.”
He was referring to the High Keeper’s horses in the stalls next door. “They sport northern tack, and they even have deep snow spats. We should add those to the lists.” A window popped up in Barcus’s HUD with the items added to the “stable” list.
“Why would they be coming here?” Barcus asked him.
Olias scratched his head. “Refugees?” He struggled with the word in common. Barcus had not even considered that.
“Well, we will find out. They will be here by dinnertime,” Barcus said, handing back the Plate.
“I will tell Po there will be two more for dinner.” He looked like he was about to run off when he hesitated. “Barcus. She... If he is a Keeper, she'll...” he fell back into rapid common tongue.
“The Keeper will require things for hospitality sake, things that she won't like anymore. They will be obliged, even required, to take her to the anvil for so many things. She won't. I mean...” He was stammering now.
“I'll tell her, Olias. Get some rooms ready and prepare the stables.” The boy ran off.
Barcus found her on the wall, far above the kitchen with a chimney sweep’s tool for extracting nests. Fearlessly, she stood atop the uncapped chimney, even though it was a 50 foot drop to the rocky ditch on the other side of the wall.
The nest was soon extracted and the chimney brushed out. She handed him the long pole extensions as they came out and were detached. Then she lightly dropped down to the walkway, holding Barcus’s hand.
“Thanks.” She smiled through soot on her face.
Barcus noticed the total absence of “my Lord.”
“Em tells me that there are two men riding this way from the south. They should be here around dusk.”
“Two men?” Instantly serious, she wiped her face roughly with her apron.
“Olias thinks one of them is a Lesser Keeper.” Her eyes involuntarily drifted to where she knew his handgun was concealed in the folds of his clothes.
“I will show you on your Plate.”
She took the book from her ever present pouch and handed it to him. The same view was there when he opened it.
“Can you tell me anything about them?” Barcus asked. It took only a single glance to return the deep crease between her brows. She stared for a moment and looked away, out over the wall to the south.
“It's over,” was all she said.
“What's over?” Barcus asked.
She stabbed at the plate with her finger as she pointed. “He is a Tracker and he is a Keeper. It's over. This unlikely peace that I have found, it won't stand.” The crease grew deeper. She was getting angry.
Barcus said nothing, waiting.
“I can't do it anymore. I won't.” She was looking at his eyes. Defiant. “I will not wash another filthy Keeper’s cock even if he's been in the saddle for a month.” She started pacing. “I will never let another one of those child FUCKERS ever touch me again!” She leaped up onto the battlement out of his reach, with her back to the edge. “I would rather jump than even avert my eyes.” She drew her knife in a flash as tears spilled, pointing it at his throat. “You have done this to me. You and your sorcery! How did you do it?” She was screaming at him. “How did you make me desire death more than the touch of any, save you? How can I be so completely undone?”
Barcus slowly advanced, and the knife point withdrew as if there was a force field around him. By the time he had his arms around her, the knife had clattered to the stones. Her arms surrounded his neck, and her face buried under his chin.
“I swear on my life that no one will ever touch you again uninvited, even me.” He lifted her from the rampart and turned to sit on its edge, holding her as she trembled.
She drew back and pounded his chest once hard with both hands. “I never cried before, either.” She palmed her eyes further, smearing the tracks in the soot before looking deep into his eyes. “Is the magic of yours somehow connected to my tears?” She wasn't screaming anymore. He thought she was teasing him now.
“What should we do?” Barcus asked her.
“First of all, you cannot talk to me when they are here. I don't think you could talk to me in any way but this, so best not at all.” She had moved that quickly to planning.
“I'm not sure that will work,” Barcus said.
“The first time that Keeper so much as touches me, I will slit his throat. I will leave the Tracker to you, or better yet, Ash. He won't hesitate to pound him down like a tent peg.”
Barcus remained silent, letting her finish.
“I'm sorry.” She rested her fore
head on his. “I meant it though.”
“It isn't over. It will just be different,” he said.
“How do you know?” she asked serious.
“There are no happy endings, Po. Because nothing ends.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Close to the Edge
“Chen’s ghost in Ulric’s HUD was a mystery until we realized it was Em using yet another method to manipulate these people. But these prophecies remained a mystery. How can this be coded? It can’t.”
--Solstice 31 Incident Investigation Testimony Transcript: Emergency Module Digital Forensics Report. Independent Tech Analysis Team.
<<<>>>
It took the efforts of both Po and Olias to convince Barcus that it would be easier and safer if Po did not dine with them. She would become very scarce, in fact. Olias would see to their needs when they arrived. Barcus agreed that it may be the best way to avoid bloodshed. The table was drawn away from the wall and set for four. Barcus would send them away. Quickly.
For the first time, the braziers at the four corners of the southern entrance bridge were lit. Barcus was amazed at how fast the ice on the bridge melted as well as the short way to the gate door that was now open. The braziers must have had heating coils as well.
“Barcus, I have been watching these men all day and have come to an interesting assessment,” Em said as she walked into the light and warmth of the braziers. She even held out her hands to warm them.
“These men have no idea where they are or where they are going. The Keeper, his name is Ulric, has been drinking steadily for the last hour and seems very nervous. The Tracker’s name is Grady and is about as formal with this Keeper as we are with each other.”
“Why are they here? Do you have any idea?” Barcus asked.
“The Tracker has referred to a prophecy on several occasions, usually while cursing.” A window opened, showing the men talking. Several parts were cut together in the view.
“Damn you and your bloody prophecy.” Cut.
“You and your filthy prophecy will get us killed.” Cut.
“Damn prophecies and the fools that follow them.” Cut.
Then a different scene showed, “I can smell the chimneys, Ulric. Chimneys, not open fires. What will you tell them? You have to tell them something. Should I scout ahead?” Grady said.
“I have no idea. We will be fine,” Ulric said. “Do you smell that?” His eyes widened a bit. “Fresh bread!”
“You think she sent us all this way for fresh bread? Bloody hell...” Grady fell into mumbling.
***
Barcus was sitting on a stone bench sipping a mug of hot tea as the men approached.
They could see The Abbey from over a kilometer away with the braziers lit. Barcus watched them slowly approach, but didn't get up from the bench. He sipped his tea. He knew Par was out there in the darkness, weapons targeted on these men.
“Good evening, my Lords.” The words felt awkward for Barcus. But they had convinced him to use them. “Out for a bit of a ride tonight I see?” There was humor and goodwill in his voice.
“Greetings, my Lord...” Ulric began, but before he could continue, Barcus interrupted.
“Please call me Barcus, just Barcus, and come in. You must be cold and hungry. Olias! Come help with their horses.” Olias came out and took hold of the reins of both horses as the men looked at each other. The men dismounted.
Grady spoke in common tongue. “Hello, lad. My name is Grady. What say we leave the grownups to talk?” He glared at Ulric and followed Olias in, walking his horse.
Ulric said, “Somehow, you knew we were coming.”
After a pause Barcus said, “Somehow, you knew we were here.”
“I'm Ulric. Do I smell bread?” With a smile and a slight bow to each other, they went in.
***
The horses were settled in quickly, and Olias showed the men to rooms above the stables that had been prepared for them. They were modest in size, but private. They washed up and left their things.
Olias waited for them out on the balcony until they were ready. The moon was high, and the snow made the scene brighter and more haunting at the same time. The hulking ruin of the northern tower loomed above.
“Follow me,” was all he said as he skipped down the stairs and back into the willow courtyard, where he waited for them to catch up. Once they did, he knocked gently on the gatehouse door and entered.
Barcus was sitting in one of the armchairs, reading about bee keeping. He rose to greet them, leaving his book on the chair.
Grady took Ulric's cloak to hang on a peg as he looked all around the small room.
“What is this place?” Ulric asked as they began to sit. Olias exited, and Grady sat opposite Ulric.
“We call it Whitehall Abbey. I have no idea what it’s really called. It was a ruin when I found it this autumn, still is, I suppose, except for this bit here.”
“How many are you?” Grady asked.
“There are only three of us.” He answered with reluctance in his voice.
“How did you come to be in this place?” Grady continued. Ulric had spotted the whiskey on the shelf by the door.
The question was never answered. Just then, the door opened and Olias entered. He had a large tray that he set down on the table and began transferring crocks and baskets to the table.
It was to be a simple dinner. Stew with bread, butter, cheese and stewed apples over biscuits for dessert.
“May the High Keeper bless you, my Lord. I could smell that bread baking a mile away,” Ulric said as he ripped off a chunk from the loaf.
Grady didn't even seem to notice Olias.
They dug in.
Ulric spent the entire meal describing how horrible a cook Grady was. And how he had been nearly driven to voluntary starvation by sawdust flavored hard tack. The conversation was cheerful until Grady asked about the apples in the dessert as he took his last bite.
Olias immediately said in common tongue, without thinking, “I got them from the larder at the inn in Greenwarren.”
The looks on their faces revealed that they had been there.
“It's dark days above the gorge,” Grady said. “I've seen things, dark things.” He held his cup out, and Olias refilled it. “This was once the most beautiful countryside in the entire world. I would spend my summers here in peace.” His eyes focused on Barcus. “Have you seen the High Keeper’s mercenaries?”
“I've seen what's left of them,” Barcus replied. “They are not the only thing out there. It's why we've holed up here, to hide, to be left alone.”
Just then, they heard the gate door close.
Olias chimed in with common, “There was a Telis Raptor! It ate one of our goats!” Olias was stopped there by the look Barcus gave him.
“Bloody hell,” Grady cursed. “No wonder you are inside walls. I was wondering.”
“So where are you from, Ulric?” Barcus asked, as the dessert dishes were cleared away by Olias. Po never appeared.
“A city very far away. You'd never believe how far.”
“Try me. What city?” Barcus asked.
“It's called Buffalo,” he said almost absently.
Barcus froze. Grady noticed, but Ulric continued. “The winters were just like this there. So much snow.” He emptied his cup. “It was the lakes near there, just as it is here.”
“He is drawing a knife,” Em said in his head as she opened a window that showed the knife in Grady’s hand just below the edge of the table.
“How long have you been a Keeper, Barcus?” Grady asked, measuring him.
“I am no Keeper,” Barcus answered.
“You do understand it is forbidden to live within a fortification,” Grady said as he looked at the book Barcus had been reading.
Barcus said nothing.
“Where is she?” Grady asked. “The woman you are hiding? Why are you hiding her?”
Barcus did not expect that question or his own reaction. Instantly Barcu
s was on his feet, his handgun drawn, pointing at the center of Grady's chest. Ulric's eyes had gone wide. Grady simply sat up a bit taller and looked directly into the muzzle of the gun.
“Say the word.” It came, though, as a whisper through clenched teeth as Po advanced slowly through the center of the curtain between the rooms. First the muzzle of the AR, then the rifle as she followed in a perfect advancing stance, just as Barcus had taught her. The LASER dot was on the center of Ulric's body.
“Say the word,” she repeated.
“I feel I should apologize in advance here. But you need to understand that since coming here, everyone I have met has tried to kill me except Po and Olias.” Barcus moved back a bit as he spoke.
The initial shock faded from Ulric's face. Grady remained still except for an eyebrow raising glance at Ulric that clearly said “this is all your fault again.”
Risking getting shot, Ulric pushed back from the table and grabbed his empty cup and moved to the sideboard saying, “Well if I am going to be murdered, I refuse to die thirsty.” He lifted a bottle of bourbon and started pouring.
A shot rang out and the bottle exploded in Ulric's hand, the bullet impacting the stone wall just behind. He flinched, his hand going to his neck and coming away bloody.
“You shot me!” he whined.
“Sit down, Ulric. They're serious.” Grady still had not moved a muscle.
“All right. I give up. I don't care anymore,” Ulric said.
“Did you ever care?” Grady snapped.
“Why did you even follow me here?” Ulric was talking to Grady.
“Follow you? You couldn't lead yourself to the bottom of the ocean if you were drowning,” Grady quipped.
“I got us here didn't I?” Their volume was increasing.
“Only because Cassandra pointed your teetering ass in this direction,” Grady said a bit louder.
“Don't you even say her name, you ungrateful bastard. I never knew why she liked you.” Ulric drank deeply.
“She liked me because I was the only one left willing to put up with your horse shit. She LOVED me for it, knowing that I actually cared enough to even try to keep your drunken ass alive. And now you've gone and gotten us killed.”
Solstice 31: The Solstice 31 Saga, Books 1,2,3 Page 25