by Lee Carlon
Nea laughed and shook her head. “You military guys. Such neat freaks.”
Ethan smiled and watched her. She was in her late twenties, fifteen or so years younger than him. She held herself confidently, and the way she moved spoke of competence and self-assurance that Ethan found attractive.
He didn’t realize he was staring, until she looked sideways, blushing. Ethan swallowed and looked away. He saw the sensor he’d knocked from the wall to prevent it from opening the door.
“How good is the car’s AI?” Nea asked.
“What do you mean?”
“How much supervision does it need?” She was still blushing, but her smile showed white teeth.
The roller door clunked into place and Ethan drove the car into the opening. He stopped, and asked, “Did you leave anything in the car?”
“No,” Nea started to say more, still smiling, but her expression turned angry, and she asked, “Really?”
Ethan shrugged. “It’s like you said. It’s easier to see who people really are now.”
“You’re a prick,” she said.
Ethan shrugged and nudged the car forward all the way through the entrance. He turned it onto the street, watching Nea.
She reached into her pocket, and Ethan tensed, reaching for his laser-cutter. She withdrew an AI and tapped something angrily into it with her right index finger.
Ethan’s car stopped suddenly, the engine dying without warning. He looked at the dashboard, but it was dead. When he looked back at Nea, she was striding away, but she gave him the finger over her shoulder.
Ethan activated the car’s remote, but it couldn’t connect to the car’s AI. He got up and looked around, searching for whatever Nea had left in the car to disable it.
An engine hummed and tires screeched as a red sports car turned a corner in the parking lot and drove through the entrance. The car was a convertible and Nea sat at the driver’s console. As she passed him, she shouted, “Good luck, prick.”
He watched her drive away. Before she was out of sight, the car’s wheels lifted off the road and folded away and the car hovered picking up speed.
6
It took Ethan almost twenty minutes to find the device Nea had planted on his car. He searched the engine three times, expecting to see something tucked away in an unexpected corner, but it wasn’t until the third time that he spotted it, and by then he’d already scoured the car’s interior visually and with an AI set to locate the source of any unexpected wireless signals.
When he finally found the problem he grunted in admiration at its simplicity. She’d attached an extra length of cable to one of the power connectors. It added a couple of inches in length to the cable, but it attached seamlessly, and when activated it cut off the juice to the car’s AI. He could have restarted the car without the AI, but he was so reliant on it, it hadn’t occurred to him. He’d assumed she’d taken the whole system offline.
Ethan tossed the device aside and climbed back into the car. With the AI back online, Ethan checked its logs. Nea hadn’t even tried to conceal what she’d done. She hadn’t needed to, without the AI the logs weren’t accessible. He kept looking, but she hadn’t touched anything else.
He sat at the driver’s console, looking at the street ahead of him and wondering if he’d made a mistake.
Can’t trust anybody, he told himself, and even as he hated what the world had become, he admired Nea for the precautions she’d taken. If she’d gotten away with the car, she’d made certain nobody could take it from her.
He glanced at the device she’d used where he’d left it on the side of the road, and thought, Can’t trust anybody, and neither can anybody else. At least, not the smart ones.
“Go to Peak City,” Ethan told the car.
He stayed at the driver’s console for a moment longer, wondering, How can anybody trust anybody else anymore?
He went into the car’s living space and started sorting through the supplies he’d acquired in the night. Buildings passed by on either side of the car, but he didn’t pay them any attention.
The memory of Nea standing by the roller door, blushing, popped into his head. “Idiot,” he said, and glanced through the window in the loading door at the city street falling behind him.
The building and the ledge he’d climbed the day before stood over the rest of the city. Twice he’d stood on that ledge and twice he hadn’t jumped. He still wasn’t sure he’d made the right choice, but he knew he could revisit it later. That option never went away, but for now, he would see what Lord Obdurin needed his skills for.
Who he wants killed, Ethan thought bitterly.
“Fuck, why am I going back?” he asked himself, but he knew why. Despite everything, he still owed Obdurin.
The memory of James going over the side of the building came back to him, and Ethan swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry.
He’d seen more people in this city than the last three cities he’d visited combined. And I killed half of them, Ethan thought.
He thought of Nea again and conceded, I should have let her ride along.
The car passed somebody walking on the side of the road. Ethan almost didn’t see them, but when he did, he instructed the AI, “Slow down.”
It was the boy he’d freed from the aviary the day before. He trudged slowly forward, arms hanging by his side. “Stop,” Ethan said, and the car pulled over.
The boy stood in the road, shielding his eyes from the suns as he looked at the car.
I guess he didn’t learn anything, walking around in the open like that, Ethan thought. He was about to tell the car to keep going, but he stopped himself and stepped out into the road.
When the boy saw him, he started walking again. As he drew closer, Ethan asked, “Where are you going?”
The boy scowled at him and pushed his hands into his jacket pockets. He started walking faster. “Why do you care?”
Ethan shrugged. “If you’re leaving the city, I thought I’d offer you a ride.”
“Why?” the boy asked, frowning.
Ethan didn’t have an answer.
“You told me not to trust anybody yesterday.” The boy’s face was streaked with dried tears.
“It’s good advice,” Ethan said.
“Then why should I trust you?”
Ethan shrugged and said, “I dunno. I can’t think of any reason, but I’ve got food and supplies, and I can give you a ride to the next place, if you like.”
The boy studied him for a moment, then said, “Thank you, for what you did yesterday.”
Ethan nodded and pointed a thumb at his car. “Do you want a ride?”
“Where are you going?” the boy asked.
“East,” Ethan said, after a second he expanded on that, “To Peak City.”
Trust has to start somewhere, he supposed.
The boy’s eyes went wide, and he asked, “Is Frake’s Peak real?”
Ethan nodded. “There are a lot more people there too.”
The boy seemed to think about this for a moment then he said, “I’m Taro.”
“I’m Ethan.”
Taro stepped forward formally and held out his hand.
Ethan shook it and was surprised by the firmness of the boy’s grip.
They got back into the car together, and Ethan instructed the AI to take them to Peak City. They sat in silence as they drove through the city and passed through the ancient stone arch in the city wall that separated the city from the desert beyond.
Everything took on the blue tint of the shimmering road-shield as they drove away from the city.
Taro got up and went to the rear window and looked back. He said, “I’ve lived in Eliz my whole life. I’ve never seen it from outside the walls before.”
7
The drive to Peak City took two hours. They passed a handful of towns and two cities that all looked empty and lifeless from the road. The desert flowed by on either side, and Taro sat staring through a window, hypnotized by the open space. There was
no other traffic on the road, but there were plenty of abandoned cars. Ethan kept watch for a red sports car, but he didn’t see it, and he wondered if Nea had stopped at one of the cities they’d passed.
To take his mind off her, Ethan asked Taro, “Do you know how to shoot?”
The boy looked at him then down at the floor.
“I can teach you with that laser-cutter,” Ethan said, thinking of the weapon he’d taken from the man he’d killed the night before.
“I put it in my bag, but…” Taro shrugged and winced, then looked back at the desert.
“We’ll get you another one,” Ethan said, wondering how it was possible to lose a weapon.
Kids, he guessed.
He wanted to say more, but he hadn’t spent a lot of time around kids, and he had no idea what to talk about, so he left the boy watching the desert.
As they approached Peak City, Frake’s Stronghold came into view first. For the span of a few minutes it just looked like a cluster of buildings sitting on the horizon, but as they got closer, riding the rises and falls of the road, the stronghold floated above the horizon, until Frake’s Peak came into view.
Taro made a small surprised sound and sat forward in the passenger seat when he first saw it.
Half a millennia earlier, the stronghold had been constructed on top of Frake’s Peak, an impossibly tall stone column, that the God Rhysin had drawn from the flat desert as a gift for his first Chosen, Frake.
As they got closer, climbing a slow incline, Frake’s Peak appeared to carry the stronghold higher. To Ethan’s mind, the stronghold looked like the head of a hammer and Frake’s Peak the shaft. He wondered if Rhysin would ever bring the hammer down on the people who still lived in Peak City.
At the top of the incline, the rest of the city came into view. Taro gasped as the skyscrapers gathered at the base of Frake’s Peak provided perspective, revealing just how massive the stone pillar and stronghold were.
Growing up in the shadow of Frake’s Peak, Ethan had taken its existence for granted, yet many of the buildings in Peak City, which were twice as tall as the highest buildings in the cities they’d passed on the road, were only a third as high as Frake’s Peak.
Ethan’s eyes kept returning to the stronghold. The tallest building above it all was Lord Obdurin’s tower, and Ethan imagined he would find himself there quite soon.
It hadn’t changed in the ten months since Ethan had last been there. He hadn’t expected it too, but it felt strange to be back. He’d lived most of his life in that city, but now that he was returning, he realized he hadn’t missed it, and he wouldn’t stay.
Aircraft buzzed around the stronghold. More shuttles than usual, Ethan thought and wondered what kind of a mess he was walking into.
“Is it true then? Are the Gods real?” Taro asked.
“Yeah. They’re real,” Ethan said.
“How can they be?” Taro asked as Peak City drew closer.
“What do you mean?”
“If the Gods are real, and we’re their people, how could they have let the Cleansing happen?” Taro looked at Ethan expectantly.
Ethan opened his mouth to respond, but he stopped himself. He looked at the boy and tried to remember being that young, but he couldn’t. He tried to decide if he should tell the boy the truth or let him live a little longer with his innocent view of the world.
Will the truth help? Ethan wondered.
“How?” Taro asked again.
“I don’t know,” Ethan grumbled.
“Will we meet a God?” Taro asked and sat up in the seat to gain a few extra inches as though that would put him closer to the city.
“No.” Ethan heard the hardness in his tone and regretted it instantly.
Taro sat back down in his seat, the excitement gone from his expression.
“Do you know the story?” Ethan asked.
“Yeah, I know it,” Taro said, some of the enthusiasm coming back into his voice.
“Why don’t you tell it to me? I’ll tell you which bits are true.” As soon as he said it, Ethan realized he’d have to lie and say it was all true. Either that or continue the boy’s unasked for lessons in the harsh realities of life.
“Okay.” Taro kneeled in place. “Five hundred years ago, Frake fought the last of the Dragon Lords.” The boy paused. “Is that true?”
“Yep.” Ethan nodded.
“He fought them, but he couldn’t beat them until Rhysin and the other Gods decided to help him?” Taro looked sideways at Ethan.
“True.”
“With the Gods’ help they killed all the Dragon Lords, and the Gods made the heroes of the war their Chosen to rule over Newterra as a reward. Rhysin gave Frake this,” Taro gestured at Frake’s Peak, “to show him how much he liked him.”
Ethan imagined it hadn’t happened the way the boy said, but he nodded and said, “True.”
They passed through a wide arch into the city. They left the confines of the road-shield that protected the approach to Peak City, and as always it took Ethan a moment to adjust to the colors of the city now that he was no longer looking at them through a faint blue filter.
“I saw a dragon once,” Taro announced into the silence. “Frake must have been brave to fight them.”
They drove through the city, Taro talking rapidly about dragons with Ethan only half listening. He stopped the car in a residential area and looked at a row of townhouses. Maria had picked the house on the end of the row, and they’d made it their home. She was buried behind that house.
He considered getting out, but eventually, he told the car to continue. When they arrived at the center of the city and the base of Frake’s Peak, Ethan grumbled to himself.
“What is it?” Taro asked.
“We’re expected.” Ethan indicated three tall, lean figures standing by one of the entrances into Frake’s Peak. They were dressed in black fatigues and armed with laser-cutters and machetes. They had matching facial tattoos of thick black curves and sharp points.
“Bondsan?” Taro asked excitedly when he saw them. He looked around and asked, “Where’s the rest of the cadre?”
“I don’t know. Wait here,” Ethan said.
He’d expected to drive his car into one of the massive shafts that had been carved into Frake’s Peak and ride the elevator to the top. It made him nervous to see part of Mattatan’s cadre waiting for him.
Ethan went into the car’s living space and strapped on his swords. He collected a box of chocolates and a bottle of whiskey from his supplies and then stepped down from the car’s cab.
One of the bondsan came forward to meet him. The other two, a man and a woman, stayed where they were.
“I wasn’t expecting the VIP treatment,” Ethan said.
Mattatan grinned. “Good, because you’re not getting it.”
Like all cadres, Mattatan’s numbered eleven. They’d been bound at birth to each other, and the first among them, Mattatan, had been bound to Lord Obdurin. They served Obdurin and, through him, Rhysin unquestioningly.
“Have you been posted here to watch for trouble?” Ethan asked.
“You’re not trouble,” Mattatan said.
“Good, because you couldn’t beat me in a fight if I were.”
Mattatan’s grin widened. “I wouldn’t need to beat you. I’d just leave you at the bottom of an ocean somewhere.”
“You’d do that?” Ethan asked.
“That’s what you taught me, isn’t it? Do whatever you can to win.” Mattatan held out his hand, and Ethan clasped it.
“Can you tell me what’s going on?”
“More of the same,” Mattatan said.
Ethan studied the bondsan. He was bound to Obdurin and completely loyal, but there was a cynicism in his tone that was at odds with his position. Ethan wondered if Mattatan was letting him see more than he showed other people because of their history together.
He asked, “Anything in particular?”
“It’s always something in particular,
” Mattatan said, his voice a deep rumble.
Ethan knew he wouldn’t get anything more useful out of the bondsan. He held out the chocolate and the whiskey. “For you and the cadre.”
Mattatan accepted the gifts and said, “Thanks.”
“I have company.” Ethan nodded toward the car.
Mattatan looked and saw the boy watching them through the windscreen.
“He can’t come up,” Mattatan said.
“He stays with me,” Ethan said.
“Rattan can watch him if you’re worried.” Mattatan indicated the male bondsan behind him.
Ethan clapped Mattatan on the shoulder and said, “Well, it was good to see you, Mattatan. Take care of yourself and your cadre and say hello to the old bastard for me.” Ethan was already walking back to his car.
“Wait,” Mattatan said.
They studied each other for a moment. Mattatan looked back at the female bondsan. A second later she tapped her earpiece and spoke to somebody.
Ethan waited patiently, knowing that Mattatan had communicated telepathically with his bondsan and now she was speaking with somebody about Ethan and Taro.
The bondsan finished talking and looked back at Mattatan. Ethan noted the eye contact between them and wondered what, if anything, passed between them.
“You’re responsible for him,” Mattatan’s voice was harder than it had been.
“Of course,” Ethan agreed. “I can leave. I didn’t request an audience. Obdurin called me.”
A small smile tugged at the corners of Mattatan’s mouth at the word audience, but he didn’t comment. He didn’t need to; Ethan knew he was being petulant.
He went to the car and told Taro, “Come on.”
“Are we going up there?” Taro asked, pointing up at Frake’s Stronghold high above.
When Ethan nodded, Taro scrambled across the driver’s seat. On the street, he straightened his ratty t-shirt and asked, “Are we going to meet Rhysin?”
“The Gods only visit on Gods-day, and we missed it by a couple of days.”