Recreance (The Aeternum Chronicles Book 1)

by H. G. Chambers

  “We have to get out of here! Don’t you see what’s happening? We have to go!” Oren waved his arms frantically. What is wrong with them? The fire had now spread into the dining room where they sat. It climbed the walls, browning the wallpaper and licking at the ceiling.

  They both looked at Oren and frowned. His father spoke, “Oren what has gotten into you? Your mother went through a lot of trouble to prepare this meal for us. If you can’t sit down and enjoy it like an adult, then maybe you had better go.”

  “But the house, there’s a fi—”

  “Enough!” his father shouted, “To your room, young man!”

  Oren watched with dread as the fire spread to the dinner table. The heat intensified, and he had to take a step back. His parents sat at the table, calmly eating as the flames began consuming their clothes. They took slow bites as their skin blackened and curled away from their bodies. Oren fell to his knees “No no no, this can’t be happening. This can’t be real.” He covered his face with his hands, sobbing. A deep hum filled his head, and he felt a sickening rhythmic tug in his stomach.

  Oren slowly removed his hands from his face to see a figure in black robes standing directly before him. A cold, bony hand grabbed him by the throat and lifted him to his feet. He was looking into two large, round, molten white eyes. They rippled and the air seemed to crush in around him. It grinned with blood red teeth, which slowly parted as it exhaled into his face. Oren gagged on the stench of rancid, rotting flesh.

  It slowly pulled a long, needle-thin dagger from within its cloak. Its eyes rippled again and the hum intensified. The entire house was now engulfed in flames.

  It whispered, “You are mine.”

  Without warning, it stabbed the blade into him. Pain erupted in his side and his eyes shot open to darkness.

  Oren lay in his blankets, holding his side and shaking uncontrollably. The brand. He touched the raised flesh on his side. It hadn’t bothered him for months, but it now felt like it was on fire. His dreams seemed to be getting more and more unsettling the closer they got to the city.

  Something scraped against the sand nearby, and Oren froze, holding his breath. His heart was pounding in his ears. Scuff. He leapt up, grabbing his sword and unsheathing it in a fluid motion. A dark figure crouched over his pack several feet away. It spun to face him, and bolted into the night. Oren ran after it, despite wearing nothing but his smallclothes. Goosebumps rose on his arms and legs as the cold air rushed past. He gave chase for several seconds, then leapt up and crouched on a large rock, sword in hand. He had hoped for a vantage point, but the moon was hidden behind cloud cover and did little to push back the darkness.

  He was getting ready to give up and turn back when the moon peeked through a gap in the clouds. He scanned the shadowy landscape…There! A glint of moonlight flashed off something metallic to the east. Oren sprung from his perch and rushed toward it. He ran as quietly as possible, leaping on stones to avoid the sandy ground. He was within throwing distance when he heard a high pitched cry. The figure jumped out from behind a bolder up ahead and bolted.

  Oren sprinted after it, glancing down at the dried rations scattered on the ground as he passed. The clouds again covered the moon, and the desert went dark. He jumped over a rock, pushing off from a tall boulder to his right. He was gaining. The figure ran just sixty feet ahead. Got you now, he thought. To his surprise, it sharply changed direction, running toward a large butte. It leapt onto the near vertical surface and began climbing hurriedly. Oren glanced up. It was easily one hundred feet high. He muttered a curse between breaths and ran toward its base.

  By the time he reached it, the figure’s legs were scrambling up over the top. Oren approached and looked up. A head poked out over the edge, then disappeared. He felt the surface for a good handhold, and began climbing. There was a scraping noise above, and Oren looked up to see a large stone falling toward him. He leapt off the rock, avoiding it by inches. The melon-sized stone smashed into the ground, spraying him with tiny rock fragments.

  “You better not try to climb up here! I’ll knock you clean off!” a voice called from above.

  The same woman! He thought excitedly, I knew she was following us. “Why don’t you come down? I just want to talk!” Another rock smashed down nearby. “Guess that’s a no,” he muttered. There’s gotta be another way up there. Oren jogged to the other side of the butte and found a towering rock spire climbing parallel to it. There was a gap of about five feet between them. Perfect. He looked up and saw her head ducking away. Have to do this quickly.

  Oren carefully set his sword down. He backed up, got a running start, and leapt onto the side of the butte, then sprung off of it, turning to grip the rocky spire’s surface behind him. He bounced back and forth between them, gaining height each time. A rock fell toward him, and he jumped across the gap to avoid it. A curse came from above.

  He was nearing the top of the spire, and would have to climb only the butte from there. Hopefully she’s running out of stones, he thought. Oren reached the end of the spire and launched off it, back toward the butte, glancing down as he flew across the gap. A fall from here would not end well for him. He hit the butte, gripping its layered stone surface, and climbed as fast as he could.

  The moon came out from behind the clouds, and Oren felt some pebbles bounce off his head and shoulders. He looked up and let go with his right hand, swinging out away from the butte. A huge stone sped by where he had been. As he dangled from the stony face, Oren began to question whether this was such a good idea after all. He swung back and regained his hold.

  “Will you please stop that? I told you, I just want to talk!” Oren’s voice was a little shaky from the close call. “I’m unarmed!” he thought to add. There was silence from above, and he continued climbing. Finally, Oren gripped the lip of the butte’s flat surface. He pulled himself up onto it and lay there, panting. The butte’s top was broad and relatively flat. It was peppered with stones and the occasional small rock formation. The woman he’d been chasing was nowhere to be seen.

  Oren slowly pushed himself up to a sitting position and stood. He shivered. The wind up here was a cold reminder that he was nearly naked. The sweat on his body cooled. He looked again, scanning carefully. The butte was sizable, at least two hundred feet across. Where could she have gone? Some large stones caught his eye. Big enough for someone to hide behind, he thought.

  He spoke calmly as he approached them, “Hello? Are you there? I meant it when I said I mean you no harm. I noticed you took some rations…if you’re hungry, we have more back at the camp. You can have your fill.” He took a step forward. “I’m Oren, and my companion is Khalil. We come from Masada. It’s a settlement to the west.” He heard a sharp intake of breath. She was behind the stone. He took another step, and she leapt out, brandishing a long boot knife. The black headscarf still covered her head, nose and mouth.

  “Get back!” she warned.

  “Please, I just want to help.” Oren suddenly felt very exposed.

  “I don’t want your help,” she said.

  “Maybe not, but I think you might need it.” He took a step forward, holding his hands up.

  “You’re wrong,” she muttered.

  Oren peered forward, trying to get a good look at her eyes. He took another step forward.

  “Get back!” she shouted, cutting the air with her knife.

  He took another step and swiftly kicked her hand. His foot connected painfully and the knife went flying.

  “Hey!” she shouted, rubbing her hand. She looked at him with panic and sprinted toward the far side of the butte. Oren ran after her. She had a good lead, and he realized with horror that she wasn’t slowing down as she neared the edge.

  “Wait!” He shouted, “It’s too far of a drop! You won’t survive the fall!”

  She didn’t slow, just kept running full speed. Oren ran as hard as he could, but there was no way he could get to her in time. Panic took him, and he burst forward with everything he had
. She was seconds from the edge, and certain death. Oren screamed and closed his eyes, surging with energy. When he opened them, he was within inches of her. He immediately leapt forward, crashing into her. They tumbled together toward the hundred-foot drop…and over it. Oren grasped desperately for purchase. His hand found a rocky protrusion, which it gripped with four desperate fingers. The woman in black hung from his outstretched arm, dangling high above the rocky desert floor below.

  Her headscarf hung loosely around her neck. It was suddenly taken by the same wind that threatened to blow them from the stony face. Oren strained. Sweat beaded on his brow.

  “I’m going to try to pull you up. Hold on!” He pulled with all his strength, fueled by adrenaline and need. Oren grunted loudly and lifted her with one arm up to the lip at the top of the butte. She clawed at the stony surface, pulling herself halfway up, then scrambled the rest of the way. Oren’s grip was slipping. He searched with his right hand and found a rocky protrusion, but it crumbled and he swung back out over the drop.

  I’m falling! He fought the panic boiling to the surface. His fingers barely clung to the handhold. With a last burst of effort, he swung up and reached desperately for something, anything to hold onto. Something grasped his hand, and pulled. He used the help to pull himself up onto the safety of the plateau.

  He and the woman in black lay there, exhausted, staring up at the cloudy sky. Small puffs of white breath rose from Oren’s mouth as he panted. “Thank…you…I don’t think…I—” She pounced on him, knocking the breath from his lungs. Oren instinctively raised his arms to protect his face as blows rained down on him.

  “I can’t believe you did that!” she cried, “You utterly brain-dead sheep headed—”

  He managed to get a grip on her arms and roll over, pinning her to the hard stone. “Are you insane?” Oren asked in disbelief. “First you want to jump to your death, now you attack me for saving you?”

  “Jump to my death? My plan was to knock you off!” She wriggled under his grasp. The moon found its way from behind the clouds and lit her face clearly for the first time.

  “Clem…” he whispered. Her hair was shorter now. It fell in dark flowing waves. Her cheeks were flushed from the exertion, and she pursed her lips, fighting unsuccessfully to hold back tears. Her eyes were dark pools of pain and resentment. Oren couldn’t remember ever seeing such an expression, or such beauty on her face. She’s so grown up. So striking. So much had changed.

  “Will you get off!” She tried to shove him. Oren released her arms, and slowly backed away to sit down across from her. She sat up and turned her head away from him, using one hand to wipe the tears from her cheeks, and the other to rub her ankle.

  “Clementine…what…what happened to you?” His stomach was knotted with worry.

  “What happened to me? What happened to me?” she asked incredulously. “What happened to YOU?” She pointed a finger at him. “One minute you’re inviting me in for family dinner, the next you’re just…just gone! No, you don’t get to ask what happened to me. I’m not the one who up and disappeared without so much as a goodbye. I’m not the one who abandoned his best friend. If anyone is asking ‘what happened’ it should be me! But you know what? That ship has sailed. I don’t care what happened. I stopped caring a long time ago. So you just…peddle your phony concern somewhere else, ‘cause I’m not buying!” She crossed her arms and glared at him.

  Oren was wracked with a hurricane of emotion. His joy at finding her was crushed by worry, which was swept aside by guilt for leaving her behind. The guilt smoldered into anger as he remembered how hard he’s had it, and why he was forced to leave.

  “It wasn’t my choice!” Oren struggled to keep his voice calm. “You think I wanted to go? That this has been easy for me? I lost everything!”

  Clem snorted. “Oh and I suppose life just got ‘too complicated’ for you to tell me you were leaving? To come back some time in the past two years and explain?”

  “Yes! I mean, no. You don’t understand.”

  “I understand perfectly,” she said. “I’ve heard that line too many times for it to mean anything. There is nothing you can say to change my mind. You are a liar and a coward, and I don’t need people like you in my life!” she yelled, then whispered, “I don’t need anyone.”

  Oren failed to mask the pain her words inflicted. “You know what? Fine! I came here to help you—”

  “Fine job you did of that,” she said rubbing her ankle.

  “—but you’re obviously so wrapped up in your own self-pity that you can’t see reason. If you don’t want me around, then I’m leaving!”

  “Good!”

  “But when you’re out there, starving of thirst and trying not to get eaten by an arbex, or something worse, I hope you remember this moment.”

  “Oh I will! How could I forget finally getting to tell you how much of a jerk you are? This is the best I’ve felt in years!”

  “Fine!” he yelled.

  “Fine!” she yelled back.

  Oren stood up and shivered. He was suddenly aware of the scrapes and bruises he’d earned from their encounter. He turned his back to her and began walking toward the far end of the butte. After several steps, he stopped. She was the last remaining piece of his old life. He hadn’t realized how tightly he’d been holding on to the memory of her; to the hope of finding her again. To have finally found her only to lose her again filled him with unbearable regret.

  He turned his head and saw her struggling to get to her feet. She stood for a brief moment then collapsed. Oren paused and took a deep breath. He turned around, and began walking back. She was attempting to stand when she noticed.

  “I’m fine,” she said.

  “You’re favoring your left leg.”

  “I just need a minute.”

  “Can I take a look?” He knew better than to approach without permission.

  Clem looked at him, considering. “Fine…but don’t you go thinking this makes us anything close to even.”

  “I wouldn’t dream of it.” Oren walked over to her and crouched down, gently examining her right ankle.

  “Ouch! That hurts!”

  “Hmm. Well, the good news is, it’s not broken…but you’re not going to be walking on it for a week, at least.”

  “A week?” She was crestfallen, but the expression vanished and was replaced with resolute determination. “You should go,” she said, “I’ll make my own way. Besides, you really should put some clothes on. Nobody wants to see that.”

  Oren shivered from the cold and ignored the dig. “Make your own way? You couldn’t even make your way to the edge of this butte, much less down it.”

  She glared at him.

  “Look, if I leave you like this, there’s a good chance you’ll die out here. I’m not willing to have that hanging over my head, so stop being so damn stubborn and let me help you.”

  She scoffed and looked away, crossing her arms.

  Oren rolled his eyes. “Our camp is half a league from here. We have a secure spot where you can spend a few days recovering. As soon as you are able to, you can leave. I promise neither of us will try to stop you.”

  “Yeah? Like you didn’t try stopping me tonight?”

  “I give you my word.”

  She peered into his eyes, searching for a lie. “Fine, but I don’t see how you plan on getting us both down from here.”

  Oren stood and stepped back. “I’ll head back to camp. Khalil and I have enough rope between us to get you most of the way down.”

  “Most of the way?”

  “Wait here, I’ll be back soon.”

  “Not like I have a choice,” she muttered, and sat down awkwardly.

  He turned and ran toward the edge, backing down over the lip.

  13

  Ahn Ket Suun

  Oren stretched, pressing his palms into his back. The ever present sun was high above, baking the cracked desert floor and everything on it. He adjusted his shemagh, stifled a yawn,
and bent down to continue digging up tubers. By the time they made it back to camp last night, the sun had nearly risen, and Oren was exhausted.

  He collected the extra food needed for their guest. Not that she’ll appreciate it, he thought, shaking his head. So far he had only been able to get one word answers from her, and even that was like pulling teeth. Khalil insisted that she simply needed time to become acquainted, or in Oren’s case, reacquainted.

  He jabbed a spade into the hardpan, breaking up sand and rocks. The truth was, he was terrified of what would happen once her leg healed. He admitted to himself that many of his reasons were selfish. He couldn’t stop thinking of their friendship as the last bridge to his past, to his old self. He feared that losing her would somehow change him. There was more, but he wasn’t quite sure what it meant yet.

  Once he had a sack full of roots, he made his way back to the encampment. Given the longer duration of their stay, Khalil had insisted they move their supplies to a more fortified position. When Oren returned, Khalil was rolling big rocks, setting up choke points for any hungry creatures that might decide to try their luck. Three flat stones, instead of two, were arranged around the fire pit, and a third lean-to stood several feet away from the others.

  Clementine sat on a blanket with her legs outstretched. She leaned back against the outcropping, shaded by a thin cloth propped above her with spindly sticks. She chewed idly on dried aga rations, tinkering with something in her pack, and didn’t look up when Oren walked by. He continued over to Khalil.

  “Have you gotten any more out of her?” he asked quietly.

  “Nothing of consequence,” Khalil answered. “She appears to have been through quite the ordeal.” He looked over in her direction. “Few enter the Miralaja voluntarily, and none do so without great need.”

  “We’re going through the trouble of keeping her alive; you’d think she could at least tell us what she’s doing out here.”

  “You must have patience, Sa’di. I have never met a woman who responds favorably to forced questioning. Come to think of it, I have never met a man who does either,” he mused, scratching his chin.