The curtain rustled. Siduri reappeared, a thin disk of polished stone under her arm. “What is it?”
Arran blinked. “Nothing.”
Siduri arched an eyebrow. “And I am a noble lady of Carlisan.”
Arran shook his head. “It’s…it’s just…my weapons. I’d forgotten how heavy they were."
“Ah,” said Siduri.
Arran looked at his reflection in the stone disk Siduri carried. His face had taken new lines, and hollows, and his eyes looked like dead jewels in sunken pits. Greasy hair fell over his face, and an unkempt beard framed his jaw.
He looked pathetic. The wreck of a man. The damned shell of a Knight of the Sacred Blade who had taken up Marugon’s guns.
Arran looked down. “Take it away. I don’t want to see.”
Siduri blinked. “Arran…”
“Just go. Leave me alone.” He lay down on the bed and faced the wall. Siduri watched him for a moment, and then left.
###
Arran paced back and forth. He wore his old clothes, the dark leather and wool, along with a brown Scorpion tunic. He could walk without stumbling now, though his left leg still grew stiff from time to time. Exercise would loosen up the muscles in time.
He looked at the heap of weapons on the floor, and wondered why he should bother.
Leather scraped against stone. Siduri stood at the door, a strange expression in her emerald eyes. “How do you feel?”
Arran shrugged. “Not well. But better. I think I’m able to walk now.”
“That is good.” Siduri folded her arms. “You may need to.”
“Why?”
Siduri took a deep breath. “The Shan has sent me. You have been summoned before him and the other elders.” Her eyes flashed. “I think they will banish you.”
“Then they are wise,” said Arran. “They never should have let you take me in.” Siduri’s lips thinned. “Show me the way.”
Siduri led him through the clan’s Hold. Children stopped and gaped at him. Married women, in cowls similar to Siduri’s, whispered between each other, but flinched away from his gaze.
Siduri took Arran to a hemispherical cavern. A low row of seats had been carved along the base of the wall. The Shan sat in the center, his staff in hand, surrounded by the clan’s elders. Jabir stood near the Shan, and smirked when he saw Siduri.
Arran bowed. “Honored Shan. You sent for me?”
The Shan grunted. “Arran Belphon of Carlisan. Siduri wife of Jabir brought you to us, and by the laws of gods and men, you are our guest.” His unreadable eyes glimmered. “But you are not a guest I would have invited in.”
“You bring danger on us, outlander,” said Jabir.
Siduri glared at her husband. “Life is full of dangers.”
The Shan shifted. “This is true. Yet some dangers are darker than others. The Ugaoun hunt you. We are neither blind nor deaf. We know you have been a thorn in their side, Ghost of Carlisan.” Arran nodded at the name Marugon’s soldiers had given him. “The Ugaoun will come for you, or perhaps the Lord of the Ugaoun himself.”
“Marugon,” said Arran.
The Shan nodded. “The last and greatest of Warlocks. Against his power, and the power of the guns, we have no defense. You know this bitter truth well, I deem. He and his minions will come for you…and we would prefer you to be elsewhere when he does come.”
“So we will throw a guest out to face the mercies of the desert?” said Siduri.
The Shan glanced at her. “We will not throw him out unless he refuses to leave. We shall give him food and water sufficient for a week’s journey. That can take him back to the High Kingdoms, to what is now Marugon’s land, and back to where he belongs.”
Arran met the eyes of the old Shan. “They will come for you and your people, someday. The High Kingdoms are gone. How long will the lesser kingdoms stand? How long until Marugon comes for you?”
“We ask you to leave,” said the Shan. “We will throw you out, if necessary, but do not force us break the laws of gods and men. For we shall, if we must.”
“I care not,” said Arran. “Banish me or imprison me or kill me, it does not matter.”
“This is dishonorable,” said Siduri, her voice whip-sharp. “Shall we abandon him? What is to make us better than the Ugaoun themselves if we do such a thing…”
“Silence!” said Jabir, his face twisting with rage. “You do not speak to me of what is honorable or dishonorable…”
“Be still!” said the Shan. “You are not the Shan yet, Jabir. Hold your tongue.” Jabir scowled, but fell silent. “Arran of Carlisan. We will give you food and water for a week. Take your weapons, go, and never return.”
Arran sketched a mocking bow and turned to go.
He had taken six steps before Siduri seized his arm in a strong grip.
“This is wrong,” she said. “If you go to the desert, you will die.”
“It doesn’t matter,” said Arran. He shook free of her hand. “I came out to the desert to die. You should never have tried to save me.”
He kept going, and did not look back.
###
Arran buckled on his sword belt and slid his Sacred Blade into its scabbard. The Glocks went into their holsters, and he slung his sniper rifle and Luthar’s sword over his shoulder. His pack thumped against his back with every step, and his water bag sloshed.
He strode through the cavern and to the surface. He felt the desert heat against his face before he saw the bright light and the blinding blue sky.
Arran looked around. The wastes of the Desert of Scorpions stretched away in all directions. Wind-swept crags loomed over him, and flurries of sand lashed the pitted stone. He didn’t know which way to go.
But did it really matter?
Arran picked a direction and started walking.
Chapter 9 - Memories
Anno Domini 2012
Ally walked to the counter, her bare feet slapping against the tiles, her skirt flapping around her shins. She grimaced, tugged at it, and then gave up.
“You'll be ready to go by nine, right?” said Simon, brushing the front of his suit with a sigh. He had put on enough weight that the suit no longer fit well, but he refused to admit it.
Ally rolled her eyes. “Dad. It’s only eight forty-five. Fifteen minutes. Plenty of time.”
“Not that much time,” said Simon.
Ally found a piece of toast and started to spread jam over it. “The ceremony doesn’t start until ten-thirty anyway.” She felt a flicker of uneasiness.
What would her life be like by this time next year?
Katrina walked into the kitchen, wearing a short black skirt and a white blouse, her high heels clacking.
“You don’t even have shoes on yet,” said Simon.
Ally waved her toast. “It doesn't take very long to eat a piece of toast and put on a pair of shoes.”
“Oh, calm down, the both of you,” said Katrina. She retrieved a can of V-8 juice from the fridge, opened it, and took a drink.
Simon scowled. “I still think she should have a longer dress on.”
“Mom's wearing a shorter skirt than I am," said Ally.
Simon looked at Katrina and flushed. “She, well, she’s your mother…”
Katrina grinned. “Simon likes my legs, you see.”
“Katrina," said Simon. "You’re not helping me here.”
Ally rolled her eyes. “Gross.”
Katrina's smile only widened. “That’s one of the advantages of having adoptive parents, kiddo. Most of your friends’ parents are already old, slow, and fat. Simon and I are still young and energetic.” She patted Simon on the cheek. “Aren’t we, dear?”
Ally made a face. “I really don’t want to think about it.”
Simon’s flush had deepened. “That’s probably wise.”
“Her dress is fine, Simon,” said Katrina. She smiled. “What was her name…Lisa Smith? Smythe?”
Simon frowned. “Who?”
“Someo
ne I graduated with,” said Katrina. “We used to get drunk together. She went naked under the graduation gown, except for her shoes.”
Ally grinned at Simon. “I could always do that.”
Simon got himself a drink of water. “A very bad idea. Follow Katrina’s example and go fully clothed.”
Katrina's eyes sparkled, the way they usually did right before she embarrassed Simon. “Actually, I went topless under the robe.”
Simon coughed on his water. “You did what?”
“Topless,” said Katrina. Her grin took on a wicked edge. “You should have seen the principal staring at me when I bounced up the stairs to the stage. I almost doubled over laughing right there.”
“You keep dredging up these dark stories from your past," said Simon. "I’m never sure if you’re making them up to rattle me or, God forbid, you’re telling the truth.”
Katrina shrugged. “Which do you think?”
Simon poured himself a fresh glass of water. “I’d really rather not think about it.”
Katrina smiled. “That’s probably wise.”
“So should I go topless under the robe?” said Ally.
“Absolutely not,” said Katrina, her voice calm. “You see, I did that, and then I got drunk at the parties, and was absolutely miserable for the next week. You’re going to remain clean and healthy. Else you can stay here, in the house, in your room, until you leave for college.”
Ally finished her toast. “Yes, Mom.”
“The dress is fine,” said Simon.
Katrina and Ally laughed in unison.
“I’m serious,” said Simon. “You look very nice.”
Ally did a little curtsy. “Thank you, Father.”
Simon grumbled. “Sarcasm.” He looked at Katrina. “I can’t imagine where she gets it from.”
Katrina smiled. “Certainly not from you.”
Lithon burst into the kitchen, wearing the new suit Katrina had bought him for the occasion. “Good morning." He bounded to the refrigerator. “What were you talking about?”
“Nothing,” said Ally and Katrina and Simon in unison.
Lithon gave them a weird look, but began rummaging through the vegetable crisper. “Really? It sounded pretty loud for nothing. When are we leaving? Do we have any milk left?”
Katrina laughed and rubbed his hair. “You’re pretty cheerful this morning.” He was only thirteen, but he already stood head and shoulders taller that her.
Lithon gave up on the refrigerator, seized an apple from the table, and began devouring it. “Why shouldn’t I be?” he said, between bites. “Ally’s graduating, which is cool. I get out of school for that. And then she’s having a party, which is cool, because there’ll be free food. I like free food. And I have a baseball game tomorrow, which is even cooler, because I like baseball and I also get out of school for that.” He finished the apple, dropped the core into the trash, and started on another one. "When are we leaving?"
“As soon as Ally puts her shoes on,” said Simon. “Actually, you two are going with your mother to school. I’m going to pick up Grandma from her hotel.”
“Why was Grandma at the hotel?” said Lithon, starting a third apple. “She could have stayed here.”
Simon looked at Katrina. “Um…”
“Because,” said Katrina, smiling. “Grandma likes to look over Mom's shoulder as she writes and point out all the swear words.”
Simon coughed. “Well, I always thought you could cut back on the profanity just a bit…”
Katrina turned a blazing glare on Simon.
Simon headed for the door. “I think I’ll go pick up Grandma.”
“Good idea,” said Katrina, and Simon kissed her and left.
“You know,” said Ally, “sometimes I can’t understand how someone like you and someone like Dad wound up married.”
“It does defy all logical explanation, doesn’t it?” said Katrina, a fond smile on her face. Yet for an instant, just an instant, Ally caught a hint of pain there, as if the question had conjured up an old, unpleasant memory. “Let's just say...we've been through quite a lot together. Time to go. I’ll wait for you in my car while you get your shoes. Come on, Lithon.”
Katrina headed out the door. Lithon followed her, pausing long enough to grab another apple.
###
A circle of rough-looking men in black uniforms stood in a ring around Ally. They held heavy machine guns, the barrels gleaming with black grease in the faint light. The gray, bleak plain stretched away in all directions like a barren graveyard.
Over them all loomed the massive black shape of an unimaginably vast tower.
“I don’t trust this,” said one of the gunmen. “She just appeared out of nowhere…”
Ally watched the men, only half-hearing their words. White, thick haze filled her mind. She couldn’t remember how she had found her way to this place. She couldn’t remember her home. She couldn’t remember her parents.
Other memories threatened to break through the haze. She remembered a burning castle, and a man in a black robe with bottomless eyes of darkness.
One of the gunmen struck her. Ally went sprawling in the dirt with a cry…
###
Ally blinked awake, her left temple leaning against the window of Katrina’s fancy new car. Katrina sat behind the wheel, weaving in and out of traffic with an audacity that would have terrified a drunken sixteen-year-old.
“The Jones-Wycliffe campaign continues to make headlines,” said a calm female voice. The radio was on. “A recent poll among likely voters shows Jones-Wycliffe with thirty percent of the vote, Democrats with thirty-seven, and Republicans with thirty-three. However, the Gracchan Party’s approval rating is up eleven percent since January, when Senator Wycliffe made his groundbreaking speech at the United Center. Experts say that if this trend continues, the Jones-Wycliffe ticket will become a serious contender for the…”
Katrina snarled and flicked off the radio. “Jesus Christ. Goddamn it all to hell.”
“Mom!” said Lithon from the car’s cramped back seat.
“Sorry,” said Katrina. “I’ll put money in the swear jar when I get home.”
Ally stirred. “We haven’t had one of those for years.”
Katrina pumped the gas to run a yellow light. “I usually try to control my language around you kids.” She shook her head, eyes flashing like green fire. “But Senator Wycliffe…that bastard…I mean, that politician makes my blood boil.”
Ally leaned forward. “How come?” She knew both her parents loathed Wycliffe, though she had never been able to discover why. Wycliffe seemed no sleazier than any other Illinois politician.
Granted, that was a lot of sleaze.
“Your Dad and I used to work for one of Wycliffe’s companies, back after he’d been first elected,” said Katrina. “It was how we met.”
“Does it have something to do with…you know, the adoption?” said Ally. Katrina and Simon had never discussed the circumstances of the adoption, and Ally had never been able to recall the details.
In fact, she could remember very little before her tenth birthday.
Katrina frowned. “It’s not something I should tell you about without Simon here. We thought you remembered it all – you were nine or ten years old at the time. But later on we figured out you couldn’t remember any of it.” She shrugged and gunned the motor to pass a garbage truck. “You blocked the memory it, I guess.”
Ally frowned. “Was it…bad? Traumatic or something?”
Katrina’s hand rose from the wheel to rub her right arm. “Yeah. Traumatic. Yeah, you could say that.” A cloud passed over her face. “We’ll tell you someday. We thought about telling you when you graduated, or when Lithon graduated…” She shook her head. “Let’s worry about it later.” She smiled. “After all, you’re graduating, right? Celebrate now and worry later.”
Ally snorted. “Within limits, of course.”
Katrina smirked. “Of course.” She swerved around a semi a
nd roared through an intersection.
“Mother,” said Ally, “you drive like a lunatic.”
Katrina’s smirk widened. “Absolutely. Now Simon, he’s the one who drives like a girl. Bet you ten bucks we’ll get to school before him.”
Ally looked over her shoulder at the receding road. “No bet.”
###
“I usually wind up having to park three blocks that way,” said Ally. She realized she would never need to find a parking space outside school again. She would never again have to deal with bullying teachers like Paulsen or jerks like Nathan.
Yet it still saddened her.
Katrina craned her neck. “Six blocks, looks like.”
Lithon squirmed. “Dad’s behind us.”
Katrina grinned, tapped the gas, spun the wheel, and parallel parked the car with six inches to spare.
“God!” said Ally. “Nothing like having a car accident the morning before graduation.”
Katrina rolled her eyes. “But I didn’t actually hit anything.” Simon parked a block farther up. “Well, let’s wait for Simon and your grandmother.” Ally climbed out of the car, cursing at her skirt. The stupid thing kept tangling up her legs.
Simon and Maura walked up.
Katrina grinned. “Beat you.”
Simon rolled his eyes. “It wasn’t a race.”
Maura Wester laughed, moving at a brisk pace behind Simon. She carried a cane now, though more for effect than for actual utility. “That’s my boy. If he’d gotten here first, he’d have claimed he won the race.” Her rusty voice danced with amusement.
Simon sighed. “Thank you, Mother.”
Ally grinned. “Hi, Grandma.”
Maura laughed. “Here’s my little granddaughter, all grown up.” She hugged Ally. “Eighteen, and beautiful, and smart as a whip. Who would have thought?”
“Thanks, Grandma,” said Ally. She smiled. “I tried.”
“And salute…boy, what’s that word? Second in her class?” said Maura.
A Knight of the Sacred Blade Page 10