by M. K. Adams
“Turiel,” the voice came from within the crowd. “Over here!”
Turiel saw her, waving an arm in the sea of people that separated them. “Evelyn!”
“We have to do something,” Evelyn said, as Turiel pushed his way through the crowd towards her. Evelyn had been a friend for years. She’d always offered a helping hand if he had needed it, and he wasn’t surprised at all to see her out here in this weather offering to help once again. She was as much a part of The Spring as he was.
He shook his head. “We can’t Evelyn,” he said with remorse. “Not until the guards have left.”
He knew it wouldn’t be long now, but as the guards lingered, every second that passed grew more painful. “There’ll be nothing left,” Evelyn noted solemnly as the pair watched from the back of a thinning crowd as a charred ruin of a wall collapsed to the floor.
“I think that’s the point,” Turiel replied. “Come on, let’s get closer.”
“Scum!” A rogue voice from the crowd called out towards the guards. Seconds late,r a rock flew through the air and clattered against the helm of the man who had been on the receiving end of the insult.
“Who was that?!” The guard retaliated, drawing his iron sword from its sheath.
“Shit,” Turiel said.
Another rock flew into the air, this time missing its target but only by a few inches. A third rock was launched, this time from a different place among the crowd and the remaining guards responded by drawing their remaining swords in unison. Seeing temperatures flare, Turiel pulled his hood up over his head and pushed his way through the rest of the crowd and threw himself into the small space left between the onlookers and the guards.
“Turiel, no!” Evelyn shouted after him, but it was too late.
Holding out his arms in both directions Turiel went on the defensive. “We don’t want to do this!” he shouted.
“Why’s that?” The guard who had been hit replied, pressing another step forward.
Turiel knew there had to be a way out of this. “The Crier, he’s already gone, he doesn’t know what’s happened. You want to start a bloodbath without anyone around to back up your word?”
It was flimsy he knew, but there was no other choice. The crowd would calm down if the guards left, he could count on that, but getting them to leave in the first place could be troublesome. The guard looked around at the scene before him, the rain pattering against his armour, the fire reflecting back in the eyes of the crowd. Almost on cue, Sinjin returned from the side streets, a rabble of people at his back, all faces that Turiel recognised.
“Clean up this mess,” the guard said stubbornly, waving his head in the direction of the burning building as he took two steps back and made to sheath his sword. His eyes carefully tracing the newcomers to the crowd. The other guards following suit.
Walk away, Turiel pleaded to himself. Hoping that no one else would do anything to agitate them.
The fire crackled and one of the last remnants of the roof fell to the floor below, causing a wicked crash and throwing dust and ash pouring into the air in front of the crowd. “Come on, let’s go,” one of the guards advised a cloud of ash settled around them.
“Let’s get to work,” Turiel called out to Sinjin and his following as the guards left the crowd to clean up the mess and to stop the fire from spreading.
“You sure know how to throw yourself into the mix, Turiel,” Evelyn said as she drew up alongside him.
Turiel smiled. “Can’t be helped sometimes.”
The heat was unlike anything Turiel had felt before. A towering inferno whose roaring reach was only being held at bay by the downpour of rain falling from the blackened sky.
“Sinjin, find some pails!” Turiel shouted through the storm, but Sinjin was one step ahead. Forcing their way through from the back of the crowd, Sinjin and his followers arrived, pails of water in hand.
“Sent some others to fetch more,” Sinjin said as he arrived by Turiel’s side. “A lot of people saw what happened, but they’re too scared to leave their homes.”
“Let’s get to work,” Evelyn said as she stepped past Turiel and took a spare pail away from a bystander.
A warmth surged through his body that he was sure wasn’t caused by the fire raging ahead of him. He looked across at all the faces of those who had gathered to help and knew that their time would come.
Chapter 10
Lyvanne intended to keep her promise. Sinjin and Turiel returned later that night. They had done what they could to put out the fire, but there was little but rubble left by the time they had finished, and no sign of Udnak or his wife. From that day on, Lyvanne worked twice as hard with Turiel to learn and understand magic, and she worked twice as hard to learn how to keep the king’s warlocks from entering her mind. The latter was both taxing and difficult to understand. Turiel taught her how a warlock would try to invade her mind, to see things that she saw, and to use their power to determine where she was. He promised her that it could be stopped if the victim was strong willed enough. It couldn’t keep them out completely, but if she could train her mind’s defences to be strong enough, it would cost the warlock too much pain and time, turning their attempts into a race against time before their body burned out.
As time went on, Lyvanne’s hosts began to talk more openly about their business, although they were still careful not say too much in her presence. Lyvanne picked up on tales of small groups of The Spring living out in the countryside, others in Avagarde and a large Hemeti colony living deep in the Great Oak Forest. She found it fascinating, much like the stories Abella used to tell, only these were real and happening right now. She dared not pry too far into what was happening, knowing that it wasn’t her place and that they were already being generous enough by being more open around her. What was most amazing to Lyvanne however was how quickly she had grown accustomed to living with two Hemeti. She now found no trust in the stories that people told about them. In fact, she had decided that Sinjin and Jocelyn especially were nicer than any people she had come across wandering the streets of the Upper level. All but her friends from Abella’s that was.
On the very rare occasions that she was allowed to leave the house, she often made note of people who cast her Hemeti friends unaccepting looks. Even the lowborn commoners who walked through various markets appeared to shun them as though they were wild animals. It wasn’t as cruel or venomous as what she had heard in the Upper level, but that distrust was still there. The City Watch and soldiers from the king’s army were the worst. She hadn’t been there to see it, but Lyvanne had overheard Jocelyn telling Turiel about a particularly nasty brute who had threatened to beat her and leave her for dead in the sewers if she didn’t apologise for walking into him. Lyvanne couldn’t understand it and with each passing day she found herself growing a natural dislike for anyone who wore the king’s colours.
The trips out into the streets had been a courtesy that Turiel had been reluctant to allow. The king’s soldiers were still searching for the treasonous child who they feared would be the downfall of the monarch, but he knew that he couldn’t keep her locked up forever. So once or twice a week, he would allow her to venture outside so long as she had at least one of the three with her.
Despite all her training with Turiel, despite her adventures out onto the city streets to visit markets and busy courtyards filled with people plying their trade and selling their wares, it was the time she spent with Sinjin and Jocelyn learning about their people that she enjoyed the most. Sat alone in the wooden rooms of their house, the Hemeti told Lyvanne about the Great War between their peoples many centuries ago. Some of the history she already knew, Abella had often told Lyvanne about how “our people” had conquered the great unwashed masses of the Hemeti. Having met Hemeti herself, it did somewhat tarnish her memory of Abella, the lady had been prejudice, just like the rest of them. Hearing the history from the point of view of the side who lost however she found genuinely intriguing. Whereas Abella had taught Lyvan
ne about the way that humans had sailed across the sea from their ancestral home to the South in Hydia, eager to help the Hemeti people, to make their civilisation better, to raise them up from the tribal wars that plagued the land of The Rive. Jocelyn and Sinjin laughed at the story and recounted it differently. According to them, humans had wiped clean Hydia of all its resources, and like locust,s they had to move on to their next dish. Viewing The Rive as a continent of great wealth and beauty the humans landed with warships, sending their troops to Hemeti tribes, offering them servitude or blood. The Hemeti had been a proud people, so when diplomacy failed they rallied together as one army, something that had never been done before, and they fought back. Although the tales differed, the outcome was always the same. The Hemeti lost the war and The Rive fell under the control of the Hydia Royal Family, the Greystones.
• • •
It was during one of these history lessons that the knock came. Three knocks rapped against the door, followed by the voice of a king’s crier.
“Citizens of Astreya, open your door to the king’s justice.”
Turiel and Sinjin weren’t home, it was just Jocelyn and Lyvanne. They were sat in the living quarters and exchanged terrified glances. Deep down, all four of them had known that one day it would be their turn to have the house searched so the king’s men to ensure they weren’t harbouring the child fugitive, but they had all hoped it would come long after she had left the city.
They had gone over the plan numerous times, but this was the first time they would have to put it into action. Lyvanne raced upstairs, not wasting any time, quickly followed by Jocelyn who did her best to keep quiet as her feet pressed against the wooden floorboards.
Another three raps on the door. Another summons from the crier.
Jocelyn loosened some floorboards on the landing, and Lyvanne crawled into the hole beneath. Once inside Jocelyn gently kissed her on the forehead before replacing the floorboards, taking extra care to make sure there were no signs that they had been moved. One of the king’s soldiers was in the process of knocking for a third time when Jocelyn made it downstairs and started to unbolt the door. She opened it to find three large soldiers, fully armoured and each with a long sword hung around their belts. The fourth man in the group was one of the king’s criers, adorning garbs that only the richest in the Upper level would be able to afford.
“Can I help you?” Jocelyn said as she opened the door. She could tell immediately that they were disgruntled to be stood facing a Hemeti.
“We’re here on orders of the king, all houses in the city are to be searched,” the crier said with venom behind his teeth.
“What for exactly? Maybe I can be of assistance?” Jocelyn retorted.
• • •
From her hiding place under the floorboards, Lyvanne could hear the sarcasm in Jocelyn’s voice, but it appeared as though the soldiers were none the wiser.
“A citizen who seeks to bring harm to the king,” the crier twirled his thumbs between one another, growing impatient. “I would ask if you had any children, but for once, this terrorist isn’t of your kind.”
The words made Lyvanne angry and she didn’t dare think how they had made Jocelyn feel. She shifted uncomfortably in the dark, being careful not to make any noise.
• • •
“Please, come in,” Jocelyn said defeated as she moved clear of the doorway.
The soldiers immediately walked into the house, splitting up and searching every nook and cranny. The crier hung back at the entrance by Jocelyn’s side. He was staring at her in a manner that made her feel incredibly vulnerable.
“Do you live alone, Hemeti?” he asked.
Jocelyn shook her head, trying her best to appear confident and in control of the situation. “No, I live with two friends.”
“Are they Hemeti like you?”
“One of them is.”
The crier scowled. “So one of my own has chosen to live with your kind?” His expression changed and he moved a skinny and frail looking hand through Jocelyn’s hair. “Still, I too have to admit that I have often wondered what it would be like to bed with one of you lot”
Jocelyn had to fight to hold back her body from shivering, and to prevent the fist she had formed with her left hand from striking him in the face. Upstairs one of the king’s soldiers paced the landing, his feet falling heavy with every footstep.
Jocelyn turned her attention towards him. With every step, he took she watched as his feet sent specks of dust careening into the air. Don’t cough, she pleaded as she struggled to peel her eyes away from the floorboard beneath which Lyvanne was hidden.
With there being so little to search upstairs, the soldier didn’t spend long wasting his own time. He opened the door to the rooftop, had a quick search and then retreated back down the stairs. A few moments later and the other two soldiers reported in that the house was clear.
“Thank you for letting us into your house,” the crier said, “We are pleased that you don’t obstruct the king’s justice…”
He noticed the multitude of locks and bolts on the back of the front door as they made to leave.
“Well, isn’t that an awful lot of security?” He pried.
Jocelyn didn’t have an answer ready, so she improvised. “My kind aren’t liked much, even by the other commoners.” She knew the word would please someone of such high stature “Have to look out for ourselves.”
The crier seemed to contemplate her answer, deciding whether or not he found it satisfactory or not. “Yes… I guess you do.”
The soldiers were the first out of the door.
“I hope to see you again, Lady Hemeti,” the crier finished, offering her a sickening smile as he departed and made his way to the next house.
Her temperature rising, Jocelyn took a deep breath, allowed her fists to relax and slowly closed the door behind them, making sure to lock every single bolt. Turning, she immediately ran back up the stairs and helped to lift Lyvanne back out of her hole.
Letting out the coughs she’d been holding in ever since dust fell into her mouth, the young girl sounded as though she might choke. Jocelyn did all she could to pat her on the back and ensure her that they were safe now.
“No, we’re not.” Lyvanne replied. A sentiment that she echoed when Sinjin and Turiel arrived back at the house later that day.
After Jocelyn had recounted the story of what had happened in their absence, Lyvanne was adamant that she couldn’t stay in the city, and for the first time everyone else appeared to agree with her.
It was time to leave Astreya.
Chapter 11
It was early dawn when Turiel woke her from her sleep. It was time to leave. Her things had already been packed for the past two days, all she had to do was slip on her travelling clothes, passed on to her by Jocelyn and grab the sack she had brought with her from Abella’s. Evidently the others had already said their goodbyes to Sinjin, which left just her.
It had taken a week before Turiel could make the necessary preparations for them to get out of the city. It was to be Turiel, Lyvanne and Jocelyn who made the journey, leaving Sinjin behind to look after the safe house that they had called home. Lyvanne didn’t know where they were going; Turiel had decided that it was on a need to know basis. Knowing how Lyvanne felt about the insurgency group known as The Spring, Turiel had offered to simply get her out of the city’s walls and set her on her own path.
“No,” she’d replied to Turiel’s surprise. “My training isn’t done yet.” In truth, she’d grown closer to Turiel and Jocelyn than she thought would be possible in such a space of time, and she wasn’t quite ready to say her goodbyes.
“Okay,” Turiel said with a smile. “When your training is complete, we can talk again,” Seeing it as more than a small victory Turiel was happy to accommodate.
“Thank you for letting me stay” Lyvanne said to Sinjin innocently as the pair said goodbye. Despite the danger, she really had enjoyed her time in the house and was sad t
o leave it behind.
“My pleasure Lyvanne, thank you for listening to the stories of my people… and for being a tidy house guest.”
The two shared a quick hug and then it was over, her time in this small home in Astreya had ended. The three turned and waved as Sinjin closed the door behind them, and they set off down the alley towards the busy streets of the lower level. Turiel made sure to bring Lyvanne’s hood up over her head and always walked on the opposite side of her to Jocelyn, making sure she was protected from both sides at all times.
The three of them made swift progress through the streets of Astreya, never once stopping, never making any movement that might draw too much attention to them. It was early in the morning but there were already bakers, butchers, and smiths hard at work, ready for a long day of selling and working. The smells coming from one bakery in particular nearly made Lyvanne pause, only for Turiel’s firm hand to appear on her back and keep her moving along the street. It saddened her to know that despite how long she had now spent in the lower level, she hadn’t really seen much of it at all. It was all still a foreign world to her. Which caused a great deal of anxiety when it finally dawned on her that she was about to leave the entire city for what would be the first time in memory.
After a while, it started to become clear to Lyvanne which way Turiel was taking the trio. They weren’t headed for the main gate as she had at first presumed, but judging by the sea birds who had suddenly appeared in the sky above them and the growing smell of salt, they instead were making their way towards a small harbour on the banks of the Anya. Upon arrival, Lyvanne marvelled at the sight of the river. It was so close to the space where she used to hide away from the world, and yet already the river appeared to be a completely different animal here. It must have been twice as wide as it was in the Upper level of Astreya, and with far more traffic than she was accustomed to seeing on the river. The harbour was filled with all manner of people. Fisherman were both venturing out for the first trip of the day, and others were returning from a long night of fishing. Merchants were peddling their wares to passers-by, and others were boarding boats ready to leave the city for pastures elsewhere. It amazed Lyvanne how much people in the city relied on one river. Without it, she couldn’t comprehend how a city this large could keep going. Turiel ushered them both towards a boat on the furthest quay of the harbour. It wasn’t small by any means, but neither was it the largest she could see. On the deck of the boat was a large man, well-dressed but quite obviously sea-worn with a large shaggy beard. He was as wide as Lyvanne was tall, and he spoke unlike anyone she’d heard before.