B008P7JX7Q EBOK

by Ijaz, Usman

  The gray walls of the cell and the cold steel bars only accented the feeling of being stuck inside a dark hole. It was morning outside, but all he had to tell him so was the sight through the window of the cell across from him and a natural brightness to the corridor. He wished to see the sun again, not simply to see it through a barred window, but to stand underneath its warm light and know that he was free. He supposed he knew now how caged birds must feel; to know that all that separated them from the world was a thin wall of captivity. In time the birds would accept their fate and their imprisonment and would accept the fact that they were free to look at that once-familiar world, but unable to touch it. Their world would become the cage that held them. Just as his world now seemed to comprise of this dreary cell. Would he in time come to accept it as well? Stupid fool. They’re going to hang you at the end of the day, what time do you have to accept anything? The voice in his head was right.

  He rolled over and looked at Adrian, who lay facing the wall. Connor thought his cousin was awake, but he couldn’t be certain. He remembered the many nights that he had woken to the sound of miserable sobs coming from the bed across from him. Last night, however, it had been him that had wept and he was certain that Adrian had heard him. What had set him off was simple. Lying on the uncomfortable cot, he had been wondering what his father and his sisters were doing back in Port Hope - did they miss him? Did they look up every once in a while from their chores and wonder what their brother was up to? Had his father hired others to care for the stables? - and along this track his mind had led him to the realization that he would never see any one of them again. And that cold fact had broken whatever vestige of hope had held him together.

  Now that he thought on it, hadn’t he thought as he was drifting off to sleep that he had heard voices coming from Alexis’s cell? Maybe. Then again I wouldn’t be surprised if he was talking to himself.

  Connor sat up then and looked at the trays of food that had been pushed in. His stomach was empty, but he only looked at the tray. He knew he needed the food, he was just not sure he wanted it. He knew that while it might fill him up for the moment he would hardly taste any of it. Eventually he stood and went to get the tray of food, two heels of bread and a watery porridge, and brought it back to his cot. He ate it mechanically. Adrian rolled over and looked at him, and Connor wondered how the mere sight of gray eyes could push people to murder. He supposed then that it was not the sight of gray eyes but what the eyes represented in the minds of the people.

  “How did you sleep?” Adrian asked as he stood to retrieve his own tray.

  “Not well,” Connor said munched on his bread miserably.

  The two ate in silence then, a quietness that seemed to hang between them and only emphasize what they didn’t wish to speak on.

  Alexis came to the front of his cell and beckoned them. The two boys went to the bars stretching from ceiling to floor and stood watching the Legionnaire. Connor couldn’t help but think that Alexis looked sick again. His face was pale and his flesh seemed taut, dark circles under his eyes.

  “How are you two doing?”

  The boys shrugged disconsolately.

  “Adrian, did you try to see if you could do anything?”

  Adrian nodded. “There’s nothing I can do.” It seemed to hurt him to admit that.

  Alexis lowered his head wearily, and then shook it to clear it and looked back at them. “Don’t worry. We’ll think of something.”

  He turned to go then, but Connor leaned forward and said, “I thought I heard you speaking to someone last night. Were you talking to yourself?”

  Alexis stopped and turned to regard them with his hollow gaze. But Connor thought he caught a glimpse of something else as well in those eyes; he didn’t know what exactly, but the first thought that came to his mind was of suppressed hope. Then Alexis blinked and his eyes were empty. “I think I might have been speaking in my sleep. That must have been what you heard.”

  “Oh,” Connor said. Alexis turned and walked deeper into his cell, and he and Adrian went back to their beds.

  “I wish things were different,” Adrian whispered, his voice barely audible.

  “So do I,” Connor said quietly. “I wish a great many things were different.”

  Adrian looked at him closely for a long time. “Do you remember anything of your mother?”

  Connor was startled by the question. When he regained his thoughts he answered quietly. “All I remember of her is from the portrait my father has in his room. I know she had red hair and a pretty smile. Nothing more.” Tears brimmed in his eyes as he said this last. He wiped at his eyes. “Do you remember anything of yours?”

  Adrian remained quiet for several moments. At last he spoke, so quietly that Connor had to strain to hear him. “I remember a hint of how she smelled. And nothing else, save what the dreams have shown me.”

  “Do they still bother you?”

  Adrian thought it over. “Not as much as they used to. Now it is not always the same. Why did you want to come with me, Connor? You could have escaped all of this by staying behind.”

  Connor felt ashamed that the same thought had crossed his mind. “Yes, but then what would my mother have died for? I would never have known.”

  “You may never know either way,” Adrian said. “I don’t know how you can.”

  “Neither do I,” Connor admitted. “But if we ever reach this Source, then perhaps I will know what cause she died aiding.”

  Silence reigned once more. Then Adrian said, “I hope you do.”

  3

  The day passed slowly.

  Adrian and Connor spent much of it sitting in misery, knowing full well that every hour that passed brought them another hour closer to their deaths. Alexis didn't talk to them much, which Adrian found odd. He would have expected the Legionnaire to try and comfort them, but Alexis only paced his cell nervously, as though waiting for something to happen.

  He and Connor sat and sometimes they talked of the life they had shared in Port Hope. The talks usually started with “Do you remember when...”, or “I wonder...”, but they always ended with them both feeling heavy of heart. After a while they stopped talking of Port Hope, realizing that it brought them both too much pain. What good did it do to wonder what Jaime was getting up to, anyway? None.

  Adrian lay his head back against the stone wall and closed his eyes. With his eyes closed he could hear the sounds from the world outside a little better, and the voices of the Guards from up the hall. He couldn’t make out what they were saying, but the sound of their voices traveled down the corridor. They seemed to be playing a game or something of the sort and laughing often.

  In the darkness behind his lids he pleaded to some force that he knew would not respond. Help us! Please! We can’t do this on our own. He didn’t expect a reply, and thus was surprised when a new thought came to him, faintly as though through another room. You must accept it. He immediately began to wonder if he had even heard the voice, or had it even been his thought? He thought he knew what the voice referred to. He was about to focus on that bright point of light that he had seen before when a great commotion echoed down the corridor. It sounded like a struggle in progress, with men shouting to one another in tones of command and anger.

  A Guard shouted in a loud strained voice. “Get out! Get out, you imbeciles!”

  There came the sound of a table scraping against the floor as it was shoved back, and then a shrill cry of pain erupted. “My arm!”

  “Let us through!” shouted another voice.

  “Use your swords if you have to!”

  “We want to see the boy!”

  “Get out! You will all see him soon enough!”

  Adrian looked to Connor, and then his eyes went to Alexis’s cell. The Legionnaire stood at the bars, trying to see what was happening in the Guards’ room.

  More cries of pain and fury came from the room, along with the sounds and grunts of men striking out and being hit, and below it all was t
he howling sound of furniture scraping across the bare floor.

  And then one voice shouted over the din. “You will hang boy! You will die sure enough like the rest of your kind! The crows will feast on your damned eyes!” Then the commotion faded away and was cut off by the sound of a door being slammed shut and barred.

  Footsteps came down the hall, and a moment later the Captain of the Guards stood before their cell. He flicked his matted golden hair out of his eyes while his other hand still held his sword. The sword was streaked with blood. He looked at them closely for a few moments, and then gave Alexis a cursory up-and-down glance. He turned to leave.

  “Wait,” Alexis called after him. “What happened?”

  The captain stopped and studied the Legionnaire. “Some fools tried to force their way in.” He turned and looked directly at Adrian. “I will be glad when this mess is over,” he said, and walked away looking disgusted.

  Adrian let out a breath that he hadn’t been aware he was holding in. His heart beat like a drum, and he felt a cold fear spread through him. For a moment there his mind had screamed rescue, no matter his attempts to fight this wild hope down, but it had only been death in the form of an angry mob. His feelings crossed swiftly from fear to a dazed bewilderment. What had he ever done to make these people hate him so much? And as he rested his head back and closed his eyes again to stop the tears that he thought must be coming, anger seeped in freely. I’ve done nothing! They hate me, but I don’t think they could even give me a reasonable answer as to why. And these are the people I am risking my life to save. These are the people I am risking Connor and Alexis’s lives to save? Why? The question consumed him, demanding an answer. He searched his mind for one, and one floated from the darkness, along with the distant pinprick of white light. Because you are not them. Because it has fallen to you to make certain that the Light does not fade away from this world like so much else.

  Damn the world and damn them all to hell, Adrian thought bitterly. He pushed away at the distant light, not wanting to be filled with that sense of calmness and peace that he certainly did not feel at the moment, but the light remained where it was. Adrian opened his eyes to escape that light, and saw Connor looking at him from across the cell with a sense of worry and sympathy. That was somehow worse. Adrian closed his eyes to it and the rest of the waking world.

  In an anger that he had never felt so strongly before, he reached for that light, to grab it and tear it to get it to leave him alone. It no longer mattered to him that reaching the source of that light might be a way out of this for them all; he simply wanted to be left alone.

  The light drew towards him, becoming larger and larger and brighter. Adrian reached for it, but it escaped him. He reached for it again, pounced on it in fact, and the light flared to twice its size and brightness. The white brilliance hurt, and Adrian winced, but this was a brightness in his mind and he couldn’t escape it.

  Then the light burst and he was left with his dark thoughts.

  He didn’t know how long he sat there with his eyes closed, hours perhaps, letting his mind wander from thought to thought, until Connor jerked him back to the waking world.

  “Adrian ... he’s here.”

  Chapter 23

  The Saddest Dusk (I)

  1

  Adrian opened his eyes and looked from Connor to the two men that stood outside their cell. One was the captain of the Guard, but the other was a man who was shaped like a bell. He was short, only coming to the Captain’s nose, and he scowled as though he had tasted something sour. Dark brown eyes stared out of a round, pudgy face. His gray, thinning hair was close cropped. A small beard hugged his double chin and framed a petulant mouth. The clothes he wore were of silk and hung loose on him, perhaps at an attempt to disguise his enormous girth. Over his shoulders he wore a satin cloak that looked too thin to offer any warmth. At his waist rested a pearl-handled revolver on one hip and a golden-filigreed sword on the other.

  Lord Wendyl had arrived.

  Adrian met those curious, malevolent eyes and could feel the other man cataloging everything about him in his mind. He stared back defiantly, full of a useless anger that boiled beneath the surface and longed to be let loose. The man turned from him and looked to the captain.

  “Why do you have him in a simple cell?”

  “Where else to put him?” asked the captain.

  “You should--”

  Alexis, who had been watching closely, spoke up suddenly. “Lord Wendyl, You must listen to me--”

  It was as far as he got. Wendyl’s left arm flew from his side and ended with his gun pointed in the Legionnaire’s face. Adrian found himself stunned at the speed the obese man had employed. He would never have thought a man so big could move so quickly.

  Alexis stared at the gun almost indifferently, but Adrian had seen the brief hint of surprise in his eyes. Connor watched on with his mouth agape.

  “Shut up, boy,” Wendyl growled. “You interrupt me a second time and I will not hesitate to blow that traitorous head of yours away.” He lowered his pearl-handled revolver and holstered it as he turned to face the Captain again. “You should have thrown him in the dungeons.” His voice had returned to that calm rasp once more.

  “Yes, my--”

  “Are the gallows complete, Marx? Is that contraption I saw outside actually capable of carrying this out?”

  “It should be. My lord.”

  “Then go and let it be known that the hanging is to take place soon,” Wendyl told the captain. “I want a crowd to witness this.”

  The captain turned stiffly and walked away.

  Adrian watched as Wendyl moved closer to their cell, edging his face in between the bars to get a better look. He seemed to be studying some odd specimen that he had captured. At last he pulled back, his round face twisted.

  “God. I thought we had killed you all off by now. Where have you been hiding, boy?”

  Adrian made no reply. A smile creased Wendyl’s thin lips. “No matter, you will soon join the rest of your kin.” He turned his gaze on Connor, shook his head slightly, and turned to regard Alexis. For a long time the lord simply stood studying the Legionnaire.

  At last he said, “Well. Now we know what side Grandal rests on. And Teihr?” He shook his head. “It doesn’t matter.”

  Alexis moved closer to the bars, his hands wrapped around them. “You have to let us go. We’re on a mission from King Aeiron, and can’t afford to be held like this!”

  “Look around you, boy. You are not in Grandal anymore! Here the only law is that of the High Council, and since they are not here there is only my law. Do you understand that?” Wendyl demanded. Then, calm once more, he said, “And what would this pressing duty be, I wonder?”

  Alexis looked at the other man, and shook his head. “If I thought it would do any good, I would tell you.”

  Wendyl shrugged. “Who knows, perhaps it will sway my mind.”

  Alexis sighed. “We are traveling to the Ruins, to search for the Source of Light, in hopes of saving this land and fools like you all over.”

  Wendyl’s hand darted to his side and struck out like lightening. There was a dull sound as the barrel of his revolver crashed against the steel bar where Alexis’s right hand had been a second ago. “Do not make light of me, boy,” he growled through clenched teeth as he holstered his gun. “You believe that because you are in Grandal’s Legion it protects you? I could kill you right now where you stand. I could shoot you, and it would be no different than shooting a cur. You would die a dog’s death, for all the markings on your hand and all the foolish notions in your head. Do you believe me?”

  Adrian stared at the man in horror. He didn’t need to look at Wendyl’s face to know that he meant every word. Across from him, Alexis held himself back from the bars and stared murder at the lord.

  “Now,” said Wendyl, in a conversational tone once again. “What is really your reason for traveling with the likes of him?” He pointed a finger at Adrian without eve
r turning to look at him. “Is it perhaps to smuggle him to someplace safer?”

  Alexis answered through clenched teeth. “I’ve told you already. You chose not to believe me.”

  Wendyl snorted. “A lie. You told me a lie, boy, and I chose not to believe it.”

  “Then you have killed us all.”

  There was silence for a long time. Wendyl took a step closer to the Legionnaire’s cell, and asked quietly, “And what is this Source of Light then, boy?”

  Alexis shook his head. Adrian saw him watching Wendyl, and wondering whether it was worth the bother, wondering if his words would fall on deaf ears. At last he seemed to come to the conclusion that he had to at least try. “It is difficult to explain. I only know that soon this world will begin to wither and die, as the Source itself has been dying for decades now, and once the Source is dead, there will be nothing to be done for us. Life will slowly fade from these lands, until every nation is as dead as the Ruins.”

  Wendyl laughed abruptly. “A rich tale, indeed. But I still do not believe a word of it.”

  From outside came the noises of the gathering crowd.

  “Listen to them, boy,” Wendyl said as he turned to face Adrian. “They yearn for your blood. They will not have long to wait, not long at all now.” He turned back to Alexis with a frown. “A pity that I cannot kill you as well. Your ties save you for now; it is not within my powers to kill the blood of royalty, but that is not to say it is out of the High Council’s reach.” He smiled thinly. “For now, however, you may content yourself with watching your friends die.”

  With that lord Wendyl turned and marched away. Alexis called after him, but his cries fell on deaf ears.

  2

  The feeling that Connor felt then was a familiar fear stirring back to life, like a frantic beast rising from a state of light slumber. But underneath the fear was a queer acceptance: he had known this would happen. He looked from Adrian, who appeared to be feeling much as he did, to the hall outside their cell. Slowly, on legs that didn’t quite feel his own, he stood up and went to the long bars.