The Emperor's Concubine

by Killarney Sheffield

  “Emperor Forbias brought what he said were all the survivors to a great walled city called Imram. We’ve lived there under his rule for the last twelve years. He led us to believe there were no survivors.” Dr. White gestures to the group. “We escaped a few days ago.”

  The man’s eyes widen. “Emmy, come out here,” he calls.

  A woman about his age emerges from the house, letting the screen door slam behind her. She freezes when she spies the group of strangers in the pasture. “What’s going on?”

  “These people say they were kept in a walled city after the disaster. They claim they’ve come looking for survivors after all these years.”

  I clutch the grey pony’s telltale halter. “Grandma?”

  The old woman’s gaze falls on me. Her face goes ashen and she grips the railing. “It can’t be... Lord, it can’t be.”

  Letting go of the halter I scramble through the rail fence bordering the house. “Grandpa, it’s me, Ocean.”

  The gun in his hand wobbles and he lowers it with a look of stunned disbelief. “Ocean? All these years... we thought you were dead.” Dropping the gun, he and Emmy clamour down the steps and engulfed me in a bone crushing hug, tears streaming down their faces.

  After a few moments they pull back. My grandmother strokes my head. “How did you find your way here after all these years?”

  “I didn’t, but as soon as I saw the name plate on Mischief’s halter, I knew I was home.”

  My grandmother smiles which lights up her tired face. “Mischief is pretty old now and doesn’t take the winters well anymore, but I didn’t have the heart to let your granddad put him down. He was the only thing I had left of you and Lea.”

  Grandpa looks over my head at the group behind. “You all look pretty worse for wear. Come on in and we’ll scrounge up something to feed you all.”

  * * *

  Looking around the kitchen table, I can’t help smiling. As many as can fit eat their fill of flap jacks dripping with honey, while the others occupy every available chair, couch, box and stool in the living room, which as far as I can tell hasn’t changed at all over the years. “I still don’t understand. We were told everyone who didn’t make it to Imram was supposed to have died of the black sickness.”

  Grandpa rests an elbow on the table. “Well now, army men came and evacuated many of the people, you, your mom and dad among them. Word had it there were more trucks coming to get the rest of us. Until then bottles of water were issued to each family with a warning that all other water was contaminated. I figured we had no need for bottled water, I mean the wells on the ranch are hundreds of feet deep. After that, people started dying like flies. We heard the bombs dropping. Every city and town was destroyed. The purge we were told was necessary to keep the sickness from spreading and wiping out everyone left. We didn’t know what happened to those who were taken to the safe zone, or where it even was. It was all a tightly kept military secret you know. Those of us who were left waited and waited for the trucks to return, but they never did.”

  Dr. White leans forward. “Are you saying there are more survivors?”

  “A few hundred, give or take, mostly those who lived out a ways from the populated areas, or were vacationing in the forests.”

  “And you say you didn’t drink the bottled army issued water?” Dr. White asks.

  “No.”

  “I knew it.” Dr. White’s face takes on a grim look. “Emperor Forbias poisoned the city water supplies and had bottles of it delivered to those with private wells to kill off any he deemed unfit to survive.”

  “Forbias? Do you mean the former secretary of defense?” My Grandpa frowns.

  Dr. White nods. “Yes, he calls himself the Emperor of Imram now and rules with absolute control. No one is allowed outside the walled city, except a chosen few. I suspected a mistake was made when he gathered the official’s wives and transported them to the city. Somehow some of the tainted water got in their hands, not enough to kill them, but enough to render the women infertile. When the Emperor finally realized the impact of the contamination he ordered a mass purge of the city and executed hundreds of non-whites in a mass shooting. He selected thirty-three Caucasian girls to be surrogates and bear children for the elite in his society, including himself. He planned to execute the wives as punishment for the loss of the non-white girls, to appease the citizens so they wouldn’t suspect he was the instigator of the mass cleansing, as he called it. We managed to orchestrate the escape of thirty of them.”

  My Grandmother gasps, “And what of the rest of the people?”

  I take her thin work roughened hand. “They are still trapped under Forbias’ evil rule. Ma, Pa and my little brother Petie are still there.”

  Link, who had been quiet up to this point, joins in the discussion. “We need to build an army. We will storm Imram and kill Forbias, and all those who support his rule.”

  Grandpa shakes his head. “The men who survived are few, maybe a hundred in total and we are a primitive group for the most part. If what you say about Imram is true, the emperor will have access to sophisticated weapons and hundreds of enforcers at his disposal. There is no way a hundred men armed with little in the way of weapons, no technology, or training can defeat a walled city of that size.”

  Link refuses to give up. “Surely there are still some weapons left behind we could use?”

  “Everything left behind was destroyed. We have no power, no running water, no gasoline, no tanks, weapons, nothing. America, or what is left of it, has lapsed into a Wild West type existence. Horses are our main form of transportation and resource. There are few guns left, and dwindling ammunition.” He gives us a sheepish grin. “My gun isn’t even loaded. I used the last shell a few months ago trying to save my cattle from a pride of lions.”

  Sol sighs. “How do you fight a modern army with primitive resources?”

  Grandpa rests a hand on his shoulder, “You don’t, son.”

  * * *

  Working together we convert the old barn into a bunkhouse of sorts. The twenty-four stalls are made into rooms with two narrow wooden cots and sheets sewn together, stuffed with straw for mattresses. The loft of the barn is filled with things scrounged from the aftermath of the disaster. It holds a wealth of material, pots, pans, clothing and other essentials like soaps and personal products, which my grandma and I ration out among the concubines and the enforcers.

  “I knew this stuff would come in handy one day,” Grandma chuckles. “Your grandpa and I drove to town after no one came back for us. The stores were full of things that hadn’t been completely destroyed so we loaded up as much as the truck and stock trailer could hold, and brought it all back here.”

  I kneel beside a pile of shoes to sort them. “Do you think we’ll ever see my parents again?”

  Grandma tucks a strand of almost white hair behind her ear. “I didn’t think I’d ever see you again and here you are.” Giving me a smile, she straightens with a basket of supplies. “You are here now and that is enough for me. Come on, help me get everyone settled in their new home.”

  Arm in arm we climb down the stairs to the main floor of the barn to hand out supplies. The group of concubines gather around, rosy cheeked and smiling for the first time in a long time. We can start a new life here, a new future. I glance out the door as the sun sets, casting a copper glow on Mischief’s coat. There is no better place to start anew than the home I’ve longed for, for the last twelve years.

  Chapter Thirty

  “That’s it, now hop once and swing your leg over.”

  Clutching the saddle horn in one hand and the back of the saddle in the other, I hop and then try to pull myself up. The horse takes an inopportune time to swat at a black fly. He tilts in my direction lifting a hind foot. I’m thrown off balance with one foot already in the stirrup and instead of going up, I end up in the dirt flat on my back. “Oomph!”

  Grandpa grins down at me. “Just remember, cowgirls don’t cry.”

  “
Pfft!” With a grimace, I accept his extended hand to help me up. “Are you sure I used to do this on a daily basis?”

  “Yup.” He tips his hat with a twinkle in his eye. “Granted the horse was much shorter.” He nods to Mischief who stands by the fence watching with those liquid brown eyes of his.

  “Well, maybe I need a shorter horse,” I grouse, brushing the dirt from the blue jeans Grandma said used to be my mother’s.

  “Come on, try again.”

  I sigh, but then smile. “All right, only because I think Mischief is laughing at me.”

  The pony nickers and then tosses his head up and down.

  “Thanks, you’re supposed to be my friend.” It’s strange I know, but I honestly think the pony remembers me.

  Mischief blows through his nose and yawns.

  “Yeah, yeah.” Determined to master mounting, I replace my hands on the saddle as my grandpa has shown me. This time after putting my foot in the stirrup I hop twice and then claw my way up onto the sturdy grey gelding. After swinging my leg over, I let out a little whoop which makes the grey toss his head. “I did it, Grandpa!”

  Grandpa chuckles. “I never doubted you for a second, cowgirl.”

  Well, I doubted myself enough for the both of us then. When Mischief nickers I can’t help laughing. “All right, now what? Should I run?”

  Grandpa shakes his head and snickers. “How about you learn to walk before you run?”

  “You’re the boss.” I wiggle in the saddle. “Okay, walk.” The horse just stands there. “Why isn’t he moving?”

  Link saunters over to the corral. “He doesn’t understand English.”

  “Oh.”

  Link laughs. “Hold your reins like this.” He places his hand over mine and shows me how. “Now, tap him with your heels.”

  Once I’m set, I kick and the horse lurches forward. At first it’s awkward, but after a couple rounds around the corral it feels right. I spy Sol approaching. “This is amazing. You have to try this, Sol.”

  He cracks a small smile. “Maybe some other time.”

  “Ah, come on, Grandpa says we used to ride together when we were kids.”

  His expression grows sombre. “That was a long time ago, Ocean. Mr. Winson, sir, we could use a hand peeling the logs for the cookhouse.”

  Grandpa looks to Link. “Can you take over here?” When Link nods he winks. “Don’t let her go galloping off into the sunset just yet.”

  Link chuckles. “Yes, sir.”

  After Grandpa and Sol stroll off, I groan. “Okay, I’ve got the whole walk thing, can I go faster now?”

  “You heard the man.”

  Rolling my eyes I plead, “Oh, come on! It’s not like I’ve never rode a horse before. I’m just a little rusty, is all.”

  “Just a little faster.”

  Without waiting, I lean forward and kick the grey’s sides with enthusiasm. The horse goes from a walk into canter. I’m jarred backward. With a shriek, I grab for the saddle horn, but it’s too late. I’m already sliding sideways. Before I can help myself, I tumble off the side. The ground rises up to meet me. With a thump, I land on my back. The wind knocked out of me I gasp for air.

  “Ocean?” Link leans over me in the dirt. “Are you all right?”

  “I... think... so.” Blinking I stare up into the sky. “Ow.”

  Concern mars his brow. “Where do you hurt?”

  “Relax, the only thing... hurt... is my pride,” I moan.

  Link helps me sit up. “Are you sure?”

  I scowl at the dirt on my jeans. “Yes, I’m sure.”

  He brushes my hair from my face. “You have to be more careful. I don’t know what I’d do—I mean what we’d all do if anything happened to you.”

  Ignoring him, I get to my feet and hobble over to the waiting horse. “Don’t worry, I’ll stick to a walk... for now.

  * * *

  “Hey Ocean.”

  I look up from plucking beans from the neat rows of plants in my grandmother’s garden and return Link’s greeting. “Hey. I’m getting the hang of this growing stuff, must be in my genes.”

  With a grin, he kneels beside me and sets down an empty basket. “It’s been a nice couple of weeks. Everyone is healed up and content here. So... have you thought about what to do next?”

  “No... I mean not really. I guess I’ve just been enjoying a real life.”

  “It’s not exactly what I hoped it would be.”

  I glance at Link as I add a handful of beans to the basket. “It’s nothing like I expected it to be either. It’s much more amazing, especially riding a horse.”

  “I remember that from the other day.” He chuckles. “You’re a natural.”

  “Granddad says it’s like riding a bike, you never really forget.” I can’t help laughing. “I wish I knew what a bike was.”

  “I think I saw one in the corner of the loft.”

  “Really? Huh.” I turn my attention back to picking beans, careful not to break any of the plants.

  “We can’t just exist here forever, Ocean.”

  Shading my eyes I frown at him. “Why not?”

  “There’s not enough food for starters.” Link sighs. “You can’t run forever you know.”

  “I’m not running, I’m living.”

  “Are you?”

  Rocking back on my heels I scowl at him. Why does he insist on bringing up things I want to forget? My parents and Petie are gone. It’s all my fault I’ll never see them again. “What do you want from me, Link?”

  “I want you to lead your people.”

  A hollow laugh escapes me. “My people? I am nobody’s leader. You’re a leader, Link, not me.”

  He tips his head toward a picnic table where the concubines sit shucking peas for dinner. “They look to you.”

  My snort of disbelief echoes. “They think I am some kind of messiah because of some demented old priest. I am no leader, I have no skills. You have the skills to lead them, so be my guest.”

  He slaps the dust from his jeans. “It doesn’t work that way.”

  “Doesn’t it?” Crossing my arms, I sigh. He’s not going to leave it be.

  “Leaders are chosen, Ocean. You and I were chosen to lead the people, to save the citizens of Imram.”

  “You and me?” It is a weird revelation that stirs my unease. “Well, in that case you have my blessing, so go right ahead and storm the city with your gun and be the saviour everyone is waiting for.”

  Link groans. “Even if I did manage to return to Imram to free the people, do you think they would follow me without you? They know me as one of the Emperor’s former torturers and fishermen, not one of them.”

  “What about Sol?”

  “What about him? He doesn’t want to return to Imram and free the people, he’s not a leader.”

  “He knows the futility of the mission, Link.”

  “No, he’s too weak to see the way. I am the one the prophecy speaks of, you and me, not him.”

  Standing, I fix him with an irritated stare. “I’m so tired of this damned prophecy! It’s nothing but heresay, just a tale to instill hope to hopeless people.”

  Link grasps my arm. “Do you really believe that, Ocean?” He steps closer. “I feel our connection. I felt it the first time I spoke to you. Don’t you feel it?”

  His green orbs mesmerize me. As he dips his head I know I should discourage him. Before I can find my tongue, his lips touch mine. The kiss is strong and forceful, just like him, a sharp contrast to Sol’s gentle caress. When he releases me I step back and raise a hand to my damp lips. I can’t deny I’m drawn to Link. He is the polar opposite of Sol in so many ways. Strong, determined, outspoken and fierce... but I love Sol... don’t I? Confused and unsettled by the kiss, I grasp the basket and brush past Link. “It’s a losing battle, Link.”

  He follows. “You can’t believe that.” Snagging my arm, he spins me around to look at him. “Ocean, they will come for us. Forbias isn’t going to just let you go, he can�
�t. At some point you are going to have to fight. You can wait for him to come to us and destroy everyone here, or you can confront him with a ready army. The choice is yours.”

  I stare at his back as he stalks off toward the barn. What if he is right? What if the Emperor won’t let us go so easily? How far will we have to run before he stops his pursuit? My gaze returns to the girls shelling peas. Their giggles and chatter rise over the din of an axe biting through wood, and the zing of a plane peeling bark from a log. They are happy and content for the first time since being torn from the arms of their families. Whether I like it or not, they do look to me. I can’t protect them, yet I can’t ask them to keep running.

  After taking my basket of beans to the picnic table, I go in search of my granddad. I find him saddling a couple horses at the main corral.

  “I was just heading out to check on a sick calf in the pasture, you wanna’ come?”

  I stroke the big grey gelding’s neck. “I’d be lying if I said no.”

  He grins, tightens the cinch on his bay and unties it. “Mount up then, cowgirl.”

  Laughing, I mount and together we ride out to the first big pasture where a number of red cattle graze.

  “You look good on a horse, like you never left the ranch.”

  Swatting the blackflies away from the ears of the grey gelding, I smile. “It feels like I haven’t been away, like I’ve done this everyday my whole life.” To prove my point, I maneuver the horse around a clump of thistles and turn a young calf back in the direction of its mother.

  “I can die in peace now, you are where you belong. The ranch will continue under your care after I am gone.”

  “Don’t talk like that, Grandpa.”

  His sigh lingers with that of the breeze through the grass. “I’m an old man, Ocean, I won’t be around forever.”

  “You have plenty more time.”

  “This return to the old ways has been hard. There were many who weren’t tough enough to handle it. It wears down a body.”