Lightning Tracks

by A. A. Kinsela

  ‘Do you have permission to be here?’ a guard asked.

  Cal gestured to Nick. ‘I have a new recruit for processing.’

  ‘The chamber’s closed for the night. Come back tomorrow.’

  With a shrug, Cal turned to leave. Then someone else said, ‘Just a minute.’

  Cal tensed and, with visible reluctance, stood to attention. ‘Commander Julian,’ he murmured.

  ‘Where did you find this boy?’ Julian asked, his glacial stare fixed on Nick.

  ‘Two days’ west of here, sir.’

  ‘His name?’

  Cal hesitated before replying, ‘Nick.’

  Something like recognition flashed in Julian’s gaze, and the look made Nick uneasy.

  ‘I’ll take it from here, Cal,’ Julian said.

  Cal glanced at the guard by the door then asked, ‘Would you like me to notify Valerius of the new arrival, Commander?’

  ‘That will not be necessary. Dismissed.’

  With a stiff salute, Cal left.

  ‘Um, you know what? I don’t want to disturb you. Why don’t I just come back tomorrow?’ Nick said, sidling towards the door.

  Julian nodded to the guard, who gripped Nick’s arm.

  ‘This won’t take long,’ Julian said, and strode down the corridor. The guard steered Nick after him.

  Nick didn’t struggle. He was still bruised from his last round of Bandála punishment, and he sensed that challenging Commander Julian would be a dangerous mistake.

  The guard pushed Nick into an office. It had shelves stuffed with books, a solid desk, heavy wooden chairs, and a narrow window with glass that warped the view of the plaza. Flaming torches stood in brackets on either side of the door, giving the whole place the atmosphere of a dungeon.

  ‘Bring me his saddlebags,’ Julian ordered.

  The guard gave a curt nod and marched out.

  ‘Take a seat, Nick,’ Julian said, indicating a chair. ‘I have some questions for you.’

  Nick sat, wishing he’d stayed closer to David. ‘Am I under arrest?’ he asked.

  Julian’s eyebrows rose. ‘Have you committed a crime?’

  ‘I...don’t think so.’

  ‘Then you have nothing to worry about.’

  The guard returned and handed Nick’s saddlebags to Julian, who upturned them. Food scraps, clothing and a parchment tumbled out. Then the metal headband clunked onto the desk. Julian stared at it.

  ‘That’s not mine,’ Nick said.

  ‘Is that so? How did it end up in your possession?’

  Nick squirmed. ‘I...uh...borrowed the horse. That was in the saddlebag. I didn’t know it was there. You can check the papers. The horse belongs to some merchant called Felix.’

  Julian unfolded the parchment and glanced over it then held it up so Nick could see the map of Korelios, Yándemar and the Highlands.

  ‘There were permits,’ Nick said, ‘for trade and travel.’

  Julian waved at the saddlebag contents. ‘Where?’

  Nick shut his eyes. ‘Pan must still have them.’

  ‘Pan?’

  ‘The scout leader. She asked to see the papers, but I didn’t get them back off her.’

  Julian picked up the steel headband and ran his finger along the rim. ‘So you stole a horse with saddlebags that just happened to contain an inhibitor and...’ He paused and frowned, as if puzzled. ‘Where are the release keys?’

  ‘The what?’

  Julian tapped the grooves where the magnets should fit.

  ‘I don’t know,’ Nick replied. ‘They were with the, uh, inhibitor when I found it. They must’ve fallen out.’

  For a moment, Julian looked thoughtful. Then he asked in a quiet voice, ‘Who else knows you have this?’

  The question raised Nick’s hackles, and he felt it was important to prevent Cal from getting into trouble with this man.

  ‘No one knows about the inhibitor except me,’ he replied.

  Julian nodded. He looked at the guard, who was still standing by the door, and said, ‘Search him.’

  Nick was yanked from the chair and pushed over the desk. Hands rummaged through his pockets, slapped his legs, and ran across his back.

  When the guard spun Nick around, Julian grabbed the man’s arm and said, ‘Wait. What’s that?’

  Julian inspected Nick’s Bandála necklace. ‘Where did you get this?’

  ‘It was my dad’s,’ Nick replied, his voice shaking.

  ‘What was his name?’

  ‘Um...’ Nick wondered if he was supposed to keep that information secret. He really should’ve stayed closer to David.

  ‘He’s hiding something,’ the guard said.

  ‘I’m not! It’s just that I...uh...’

  Julian stepped closer. ‘It’s just that there’s something you don’t want anyone to see.’

  And with that, he dragged Nick’s collar down. At the sight of the Arai tattoo, Julian’s eyes flared.

  ‘Well, that makes another head for the spikes,’ the guard said.

  ‘I’m not an Arai!’ Nick cried. ‘I swear. Just ask David. He’ll tell you exac—’

  The guard slugged him in the stomach. Nick doubled over, spluttering.

  ‘He’s Rayámina to you, mileskúlos,’ the guard spat. Then he added, ‘Hang on. How come he doesn’t have the mileskúlos line on his tattoo?’

  ‘That’s not important,’ Julian replied.

  Fingers knotted in Nick’s dreadlocks and reefed his head up till he was staring straight at Julian.

  ‘Please. Let me talk to Dav...Rayámina,’ Nick gasped. ‘He can explain.’

  ‘I’m sure he can. But I want to hear it from you.’

  Nick gulped.

  ‘Perhaps some time in the vaults will help untangle your tongue.’

  ‘The...what?’

  ‘Take him below.’

  Nick was hauled across the chamber, down a flight of stone stairs, and along a corridor where the air reeked of stagnant water and sour rot, like a freshly-drained dam. A heavy door swung open and he was pushed into a cell. Then, with a sickening clunk, the door bolted shut.

  ‘Hey! Let me out!’ When no answer came, he put his mouth to the eyehole slits and bellowed, ‘I want to talk to Rayámina!’

  A panel closed across the slits, throwing the cell into darkness. Nick slumped onto the floor and clutched his stomach, which ached from where he’d been punched. Even without light, he could see every furry bit of moss and drooling smear of slime. The vault had an arched roof and uneven brick floor, and thin vents in the ceiling breathed warm air from the surface.

  As he leaned his back against the grimy wall, he wished he’d never entered the gates of Auremos.

  Chapter 16: Room with a view

  Nick reckoned he’d been locked in the vault for about three hours before he heard muffled voices. He scurried to the door and pressed his ear against the wood but only caught snatches of words. The bolt clanged and torchlight blazed through the doorway. A man stepped into view. Blinking against the sudden glare, Nick made a hasty retreat to the back wall of his cell.

  ‘Step outside, boy.’

  It wasn’t Julian. This was the crackly voice of an old man.

  ‘Who are you?’ Nick asked.

  ‘My name’s Valerius.’

  He moved aside and light slanted onto his features. He had scraggy grey hair, hard eyes the colour of ebony, and a wide slash of a mouth that was not, Nick imagined, too often moulded into a smile.

  Valerius clicked his tongue. ‘Hurry up, boy. It’s late. I’m tired. I want to get this mess sorted so I can go back to bed.’

  Nick peered into the corridor and saw Julian and the Bandála guard who’d punched him. Neither of them looked happy to see Nick free. Behind Valerius stood Artemis. Nick’s hope surged. Perhaps he’d get to speak to David after all.

  ‘What’s your name, boy?’ Valerius asked.

  ‘Nick.’

  ‘Your full name.’

  He remembered David
’s warning and didn’t reply.

  ‘Tell me, or I’ll put you back in that cell. And this time it will be for longer than a few hours.’

  Artemis prompted Nick to respond with a subtle nod.

  ‘Alright. My name is Nicholas Kári Williams.’

  He watched for their reactions. Artemis looked at him the same way the painted warriors had: like she was seeing a ghost. Julian raised his chin as if he’d smelled something disgusting. The Bandála guard gawped.

  ‘So...you’ve heard of me?’ Nick asked.

  ‘Nicholas Kári? Are you kidding?’ the guard blurted. ‘Of course! But that’s impossible. You’re supposed to be—’ He swallowed whatever words he was about to say when Valerius and Julian cast him warning glares.

  ‘Show me your tattoo, Nick,’ Valerius said, his grim stare unchanged.

  Nick shrank away. ‘How did you know about—?’

  ‘Just show me!’

  With trembling fingers, he tugged down his collar and said, ‘I’m not an Arai.’

  ‘I know,’ Valerius replied. He turned to the others and said, ‘You are all sworn to secrecy. If this information becomes public, I’ll know one of you three is to blame.’

  The silence that followed was so charged with tension that Nick could almost feel the air spark.

  Finally, Julian said, ‘Sir, he will need to prove his claim before the Council.’

  ‘Yes,’ Valerius replied, eyeing Nick with suspicion. ‘And until then, he must be kept in isolation.’

  ‘No!’ Nick skittered away from his cell door. ‘I’m not staying here. Let me speak to David. I mean, Rayámina. He can sort this out. He can tell you who I am.’

  ‘You will not see Rayámina until after the hearing,’ Valerius said.

  ‘The hearing? But I haven’t done anyth—’

  Valerius held up a hand to silence him. ‘Artemis, do you know the consul suites next to the bathhouse?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘Take the boy to the top floor and guard him until I send someone to relieve you.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  Nick hurried after Artemis up the stairs, through an iron gate, and into the night air. He breathed a sigh of relief. He was out of the vaults, and with only Artemis to guard him. She carried a sword, but he could probably outrun her. He’d have to choose his moment carefully though.

  Voices came from an open window, and Nick peered through to see several people crowding around broad tables. Candles perched on mantle shelves above a bar where a large red-faced woman was pouring pale gold liquid into bucket-sized mugs. One man began singing something incoherently, and soon everybody else joined the drunken chorus.

  ‘Anyone would think you’d never seen a pub before,’ Artemis said.

  ‘I haven’t. Not like that, anyway.’

  They turned down an alley. Stars winked in the gaps between houses, and a new moon sailed above the roofs like a blood blister. In the distance, Nick heard drums beating, sticks clacking and the rhythmic jangle of bells.

  ‘What’s the music for?’ he asked.

  ‘It’s a fire night. The Bandála always celebrate when Rayámina returns after a long absence.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because he’s leader of the Bandála.’

  Nick staggered to a halt, blood rushing in his ears. ‘Leader?’

  She stopped, turned, watched him. Said nothing.

  All of a sudden, anger took hold. Why had David kept so much hidden? Why? Fuming, he strode away. He’d find David, and he’d demand to know everything. Every single detail.

  He heard Artemis running up behind him and he broke into a sprint. He turned into an alley, ducked under an arch, and found himself in a walled courtyard. He rattled the handles of two doors but they were both locked, and when he spun around, he found Artemis blocking his escape.

  ‘There are Bandála soldiers within shouting distance,’ she warned, a hand resting on her sword hilt. ‘You either come with me and I make sure you get a hot meal and a bed, or you resist, I call for backup, and you spend the night in the vaults. Your choice.’

  Nick pounded the wall in frustration. ‘I haven’t done anything!’

  ‘It’s not what you’ve done, Nick. It’s who you are.’

  ‘What does that even mean?’

  She stared at him, stunned. ‘You don’t know?’

  ‘What don’t I know?’

  Her coldness seemed to melt away. She straightened and took her hand off her weapon.

  ‘Home’s this way,’ she said, pointing.

  ‘What don’t I know?’

  She bit her lip. She wasn’t going to answer.

  ‘This is not my home,’ he said, and brushed past her.

  They walked in silence through a tangle of alleys, between sandstone houses that glowed with candlelight and abandoned ruins whose crumbling walls blacked out the stars. The city seemed to stretch on forever, and Nick guessed it was half an hour before a large cobbled square opened before them. Artemis crossed the space to a house that was much taller and nicer than the surrounding ones. She rapped on the door until a haggard old woman in a frayed dress appeared.

  ‘Is the top floor accommodation ready?’ Artemis asked.

  The old woman nodded and stepped aside. Nick followed Artemis up the spiral stone steps and past two landings with closed doors. She stopped at the third storey. The stairs continued upwards to a trap door that Nick guessed led to the roof. Artemis opened the apartment door but didn’t enter.

  ‘Go and make yourself comfortable,’ she said, waving him towards the hallway. ‘I’ll be right here if you need me.’

  Nick followed the tantalising smell coming from a far room and found an inviting kitchen, with a fire crackling in the wide stone fireplace and a polished ironbark table and chairs. In the pantry he found fresh fruit, ceramic spice jars, fine green crockery, and copper spoons and forks. Knives hung from hooks under the mantlepiece, and on a hot shelf in the fireplace was a baking dish full of juicy vegetables and roast duck.

  Nick piled food onto a plate and added slices of fresh bread, which smelled faintly of honey. As he was about to tuck in, he wondered if Artemis had eaten dinner yet. He was inclined to ignore her, but he thought of how shocked Mía would be if he left a girl, even if she was a tough soldier, on the doorstep while he ate a delicious meal.

  With a scowl, he stuck his head into the hallway and called, ‘Food’s ready.’

  Artemis didn’t budge from her step.

  ‘Aren’t you allowed to eat while you’re on duty?’

  She hesitated, then came to join him, stashing her sword in the hallway. She watched with something like awe as he piled food onto a second plate and shoved it towards her.

  ‘You know,’ he mumbled through a mouthful of something he guessed was sweet potato, ‘it tastes better if you actually eat it.’

  Her plate was clean in five minutes flat.

  After he’d finished, Nick leaned back in his chair and said, ‘That is the best meal I’ve had in days. Way better than char-grilled bugs and burnt roots.’

  Artemis seemed about to say something but thought better of it and closed her mouth.

  ‘What’s this place called again?’ he asked, glancing around the kitchen.

  ‘It’s one of the consul suites.’

  ‘What’s a consul?’

  She licked the grease off her fingers. ‘They’re the chief magistrates of Korelios. They used to stay in these apartments when Auremos was the Korelian capital.’

  ‘How come it’s not the Korelian capital anymore?’

  She gave him a direct, piercing stare. ‘Because the Bandála seized control eighteen years ago and the Arai have never been able to win it back.’

  Ignoring her sharp tone, Nick gestured to her uniform. ‘Why do the Bandála wear grey?’

  ‘It’s good for blending in. No matter who you are or where you’re from, once you’re in a Bandála uniform, you’re a greyskin.’

  He thought he heard
a twinge of pride in her voice.

  ‘Things work better that way. People respect the greyskin, even if the soldier wearing it is a deserter from Korelios.’

  Nick sat up straight. ‘Deserter? You mean there are ex-Arai here in Auremos?’

  ‘Some, but they tend to keep quiet about their pasts.’

  ‘You mean because their heads will be put on spikes if they’re found out?’

  ‘Not the ones who’ve proven their loyalty to the Bandála.’

  She shifted in her seat, and Nick heard a clink of metal like loose coins knocking together.

  Leaning forward, he said, ‘You took them, didn’t you? The release keys.’

  She studied him for a moment then set the two steel discs on the table.

  ‘Did you seriously think I’d use that inhibitor thing on someone?’

  She lifted a shoulder. ‘I wasn’t sure. I had to take precautions.’

  Nick turned one of the discs over. ‘What does an inhibitor do?’

  ‘Cuts off your maléya.’

  David had explained a bit about maléya, but Nick still wasn’t exactly sure he understood, so he asked, ‘What’s maléya?’

  Artemis blinked. ‘You don’t even know what maléya is?’

  ‘Well, I’ve got a vague idea. I only found out about it a few days ago.’

  For a second, she seemed lost for words. Then she said, ‘But you’re supposed to know this. You’re Yándi. That’s why the inhibitor was invented. To neutralise your maléya so that you can’t defend yourself.’ She shook her head in disbelief. ‘You’re way more ignorant than I expected.’

  The comment stung and Nick fell silent. He began stacking the dishes.

  ‘I’ll do that,’ Artemis said, reaching for the plates.

  He pulled them away from her. ‘I was taught to wash up, you know. I’m not a complete idiot.’ He spotted a wooden bucket half-full of water by the fireplace, but no detergent or sponges. ‘Er...’

  Artemis patted the end of the table. ‘Leave them here. Amaránta will get them later.’