The Xenoworld Saga Box Set

by Kyle West

  Even now I could see Colonia across the river, its red sandstone walls still dark in the predawn. Turrets and shadowed domes rose above its walls, and at its highest point stood its two largest buildings – the Dome of Annara and its four turrets, and the Red Bastion, a towering fortress which had never been taken, not since the founding of the Covenant two hundred and fifty years ago. Silver Bridge spanned the Colorado, its arch a shadow above the dark river.

  It was still half a mile yet to Eastshore, the town across the bridge from Colonia, where the Red Cathedral stood.

  As we neared Colonia proper, the buildings became taller and less crude, and the streets paved. Patrols of Peacemakers in their leathers and red capes, armed with staves, passed by, out in greater numbers on account of the Holy Day.

  My mother and I hadn’t always lived in the Subura. Before my father had gone to the war four years ago, he owned a hardware shop in Colonia itself. The war, however, had sent him south to fight against the Novan Empire, like most men of fighting age. My mother ran the store for a year, but business died when better-connected merchants began supplying the army at more competitive rates. We were forced to sell out, something Father hadn’t been pleased about, but there had been no other option. My mother wasn’t able to get a good price, and the proceeds of the sale, along with our family’s stipend from my father’s service, weren’t enough to cover the city’s rising rent. We were evicted, and like many war families put in similar positions, we were forced to live on the outskirts of town, where it was cheapest. The Subura was known as the roughest part of Colonia, but the move had been necessary.

  My mother and I lived alone, but we had formed close bonds with our neighbors. Many of them were also soldiers’ families, and there were plenty of people my age. My best friend’s name was Shara, and she and I were both seventeen. She was my next-door neighbor, along with her mother, Naomi, and her little brother and sister.

  The war was hard on a lot of families. The soldiers’ suffering was by far the worst – something my mother reminded me of often when I complained about not getting the things I used to get. The Covenant tried to help by giving out rations and stipends, but with the war going poorly, the stipends were never enough. To supplement our income, my mother and I either sowed or reaped in the fields, depending on the season. It was hard work, and it wasn’t the life I had imagined for myself. Like most city girls, I thought I’d find a trade of my own, or at least work in my father’s shop. Not that I had any particular talent – not like Shara, who could paint as if Annara herself guided her hand.

  I made the best of it, though. People could get used to just about anything, good or bad.

  At last, the sun peeked above the eastern buildings, spreading its first fiery rays across the city. The golden light caught my mother’s browned face and high cheekbones, lighting her brown eyes. She smiled, at nothing in particular, a smile that said everything was going to be okay, if only we had faith. Annara would protect us all.

  I prayed every night for my father to return alive and well, because I had nightmares that he would die down there, as so many others had. It had been so long that I was beginning to forget what he looked like. I only knew him from his letters, which were always detailed, but he seemed to talk about everything besides the fighting, such as the food he ate, what Coloso looked like, and the daily routines of maintaining his camp. His letters usually came on Saturday, and were something I always looked forward to.

  With a start, I realized that we had arrived in Eastshore, the street opening into Silver Square. On our right rose the entrance to Silver Bridge, which spanned the Colorado, and on our left was the square itself, surrounded on all four sides by red sandstone shops, most of which were at least two floors. The Red Cathedral towered on the square’s eastern end, basking in the light of early dawn.

  The Square was crowded, people in their finest Sunday wear milling toward the massive cathedral. White-robed Ministers were intermixed with the crowd, handing out candles. As my mother and I passed a Minister, he handed us each our white candle wrapped in wax paper. We continued toward the cathedral as the sun climbed above the buildings, bathing the plaza in golden light. I cast a glance back to the see the city across the river, its walls, towers, and domes glowing.

  We ascended the stone steps and passed through the high, arched doors, the comparative dimness of the Cathedral’s interior making me see spots at first. It was quiet save for the movement of countless feet over old sandstone tiles carved with geometric designs. The vaulted ceiling rose high above, on which a mural had been painted long ago, depicting Elekim decked out in battle armor with the smoke, ruin, and fires of Ragnarok all about him. The great dragon Quietus rose above, which he shot with his gun, Berett, held in his right hand. By his side was the Goddess Annara with her sword, Katan, swinging to strike at the dragon’s flank. In the sky above circled more dragons, and further in the background were the other four gods – Samal, Retha, Makai, and Larana...fighting the Elekai’s horde of monsters.

  The scene was of the Battle of Ragnarok, nearly four centuries ago, where the gods had defeated the Elekai and their demon goddess, Askala. Elekim had sacrificed his life to guarantee her destruction, where both would continue to battle until the coming of the Second Darkness. No one knew the hour of its arrival, but it was said that Annara would return that day, leading Colonia and the Army of the Dawn to defeat the Elekai once and for all.

  Until then, it was up to us to pray to Annara and hasten her return. While Remembrance Day served as a holiday to pray to Annara, it was also the anniversary of the Covenant’s independence from the Elekai, who had once ruled over Colonia, and marked the beginning of the New Year. This year was the two hundred and fiftieth year since the Liberation, signified by the date 250 F.C. – from the Founding of the Covenant.

  I, however, would be using my candle to pray for my father’s return, rather than Annara’s. I figured plenty of people would be praying for her, anyway.

  My mother and I stood in the back, because there was no room for sitting. It wouldn’t be long before the cathedral was full. It was hard for me to see the front because of the crowd – I was a bit shorter than average – but I did get a peek at the altar between the shoulders of two people in front of me.

  Along the altar stood a line of six priests, their candles held aloft but not yet lit. Everyone quieted – not even feet were shuffling. In the heavy silence, a single set of footsteps could be heard walking on the aged sandstone from the direction of the altar. I shifted until I had a better view. Unlike that of everyone else in the cathedral, this Minister’s candle was already lit. He walked first to the leftmost priest, and after bowing his head, began to chant in English. The strange words resounded off the cathedral’s interior, and instantly upon their being spoken, everyone lowered their heads.

  When the words stopped, I raised my head along with everyone else. The refrain was repeated by each Minister, who lit the candle of the one next to him. This happened until all seven of the Ministers’ candles were lit. The people bowed their heads each time the chants resounded, until at last there was a long silence.

  Slowly, the priests left the altar and began lighting the candles of the people in the front of the cathedral. Those people turned to light those behind them.

  At last, after another five minutes, an old man in front of me lit my mother’s candle, and then she lit mine.

  Soon, everyone in the cathedral had their candles lit. The leading Minister chanted again, and in perfect unison, everyone raised their candles. Once the invocation had ceased, the sound of moving feet filled the lofty space. I couldn’t see the front anymore, but I knew that people were approaching the altar and setting their candles down as they made their petitions. It would be at least half an hour before my mother and I got the chance to go up front.

  The candles were long enough to last at least an hour. There was no time limit for making a prayer, but most got it over within a minute, while others took longer. The
most devout could take hours. For the poor, Remembrance Day was the only chance they had to speak to Annara, because they couldn’t afford candles otherwise. A lot of requests could pile up over the course of a year, and a lot of requests could pile up for the coming year.

  Finally, the people ahead of us began to move. My legs had grown numb from standing still so long. Thankfully, by the time my mother and I got in the line, it moved quickly. The front pews were now empty, because people were free to leave by the side door as soon as they had made their prayer.

  When I made it to the wide altar, there were hundreds of candles spread out on the sandstone. I knelt, placing my candle gently down in front of me, closing my eyes and putting my hands on either side of it.

  For some reason, I was a bit nervous. I didn’t want to mess anything up. If I did this wrong, I had to wait another year to pray to Annara.

  Annara, I prayed. Please get my father home, as soon as you can. Let him be safe, happy, and well. My mother and I...we need him. We can’t keep living like this, not knowing whether the war will end. Hasn’t there been enough fighting? Annara, hear my prayer. Please bring my father back. If there’s only one thing I want, it’s that. And if you do it...well, there’s not much I can do for you, but maybe my one candle this year will be enough.

  I opened my eyes and stood. My mother was done shortly after me.

  For some reason, I felt as if she’d prayed for the same thing.

  CHAPTER TWO

  ANOTHER WEEK PASSED – A WEEK of working in the fields and going home so exhausted that there was little my mother and I could do but eat and go to sleep. During this time came more rumors, the common theme being that there was a battle and Colonia had won. At last, the Covenant made it official: there had been a battle at Coloso, and the Covenant’s victory had been decisive.

  What wasn’t made clear, however, was whether this was the end of the war, or if Pontifex Valian and the Council would want to continue fighting. Everyone hoped for the former, but many Colonians, especially the old, fondly remembered the Covenant’s glory days when its borders held three times the territory they did now. Since the Grand Council was composed of old men, many believed they would want to continue fighting. Most everyone else, however, hoped and prayed for a merciful end to the war.

  In the end, we were all in the dark. Even the Subura seemed restless, and the young men the drafters had missed the first time went to register their names for the legions.

  As the week went on, excitement slowly transformed into anxiety. News would be coming soon – it had to be coming soon – and crowds outside the Dome of Annara and the walls of the Red Bastion demanded a final answer.

  But the Pontifex and Grand Council remained silent.

  THE NEXT SUNDAY, MY mother and I went to the Red Cathedral again, more in the hope of getting news than out of piety. However, there was nothing but the Ministers’ endless English refrains.

  By the time we returned home, the day had warmed significantly. Shara came by, and we ended up walking a mile upriver, past the last tenements of the Subura, carrying with us a basket of food. We stopped where a long, flat rock jutted across the eastern bank of the river, and we made our way over to sit on it.

  We ate and talked for a while before Shara grew serious, and her blue eyes distant. The wind played with her shoulder-length blonde hair. She was pretty and tall, and there was a strength in her that told of long days working in the fields.

  “Something on your mind?” I asked.

  It took her a moment to answer. “I guess now is as good a time to tell you as any.” She paused, as if steeling herself for what she was about to say. “Today, I’m going to Eastshore to sign up for the legions.”

  Now, that I hadn’t expected. “What? Why? The war is almost over! You can’t leave!” I would have thought she was joking, but her face was serious.

  “I have to,” Shara said. “I don’t want to, but it’s about money. Mother and I don’t have enough of it, and the legions are the easiest way to get it. And if what they say is true about the war ending...maybe this is the best time to join.”

  “You’re really serious about this.”

  “I’m sorry, Shanti. I wouldn’t be if there was any other choice, but you know how it’s been with us.”

  Shara was referring to her father’s death last year. There were stipends for war widows and their families, but in these difficult times, they were never enough to cover living expenses, even in the Subura.

  I sighed. “I know.”

  “They need people, and a recruit’s pay is three times that of a field hand’s, even for a woman. They need nurses, cooks, menders...”

  “That doesn’t mean you won’t ever fight, Shara. Women are trained alongside the men, and if things get bad...”

  “The war will be over, soon.”

  “We don’t know that,” I said. “This could be just the beginning.”

  As Shara went silent, a lump formed in my throat, making it difficult to speak. Shara was one of my few friends. My best friend. I didn’t know what I’d do if she left.

  “What about your art?” I asked. “You’re so good. Can you really give that up? The Covenant needs talented painters, and if you could find the right master...”

  Shara gave a sad smile. “What does that matter, anyway? It’s not like I can ever go to school. Not without money. The Artists’ Guild helps promising young talent, but not if that talent is a girl.” Before I could respond, she continued. “The legions are stable, as long as I can keep myself alive. We aren’t earning enough with Mother and me working the fields. She won’t let Nath and Juli work. Nor should they; they need to go to school, which also costs money. It’s lucky with you. You’re an only child, but my mother is taking care of three.” Shara sighed. “I’d really rather not join, but I don’t want my little brother and sister to live the same life as me. They deserve something better. When the war is over...they might be something. Even if I’m not.”

  “You won’t be nothing,” I said. “You’re very talented. I’ve seen your work.”

  “I haven’t been able to dedicate enough time to it,” Shara said. “Already, I’m falling behind everyone else my age. If the war had never happened, I’d probably already be getting commissions.” She shook her head sadly. “My art lessons were the first thing to go when we moved out here.”

  “You have more talent than anyone I’ve seen. Even the stuff you do on walls with charcoal is really good.”

  Shara smiled in memory. “Remember that one time the Peacemakers almost caught us?”

  I laughed. “How could I forget?”

  “I told him I didn’t do it, and he believed me, even if he caught me red-handed. He said no girl could have ever drawn that well.” Shara scowled. “I almost wanted to correct him there on the spot.”

  “I’m glad you didn’t,” I said. “His ignorance kept you from getting in trouble.”

  “It was gone the next day,” Shara said. “I didn’t realize I was drawing Annara. I thought it was just you.”

  The conversation lapsed into silence, and with the lull, my thoughts turned back to what Shara had just told me. I knew she was right, as much as I hated the fact. Our own wants and needs took last place when the welfare of the family was at stake. As someone without a talent of my own, I’d always been a bit envious of Shara’s abilities. She could draw people, nature, angels, gods, dragons, and strange creatures, all as naturally as breathing. I asked her how she knew how to do it, and she said that it was a bit like remembering. Her hand just naturally knew where to go.

  “Maybe that Peacemaker was right, in a way,” Shara said. “None of the masters want a girl apprentice, even when I show them what I’ve done. And the paintings I’m showing them are years old. If I could just get my hands on some canvas and paint, I could show them how much I’ve improved.”

  “They’re fools,” I said. “What should matter is your talent.” I looked her in the eye. “You can’t give up, Shara. How would
the gods react if you squandered your talent?”

  “What do the gods care?” Shara asked. “They probably care more about Juli and Nath going hungry. I’m old enough to know I need to take care of my family. That comes first. The army will give me sestes; my art won’t.”

  Again, I knew Shara was right. I couldn’t argue against the steady wage the legions provided. Even I had thought about joining up, like every young person, but my mother, and especially my father, would be beside themselves. My mother and I still had enough to get by, so I had no reason to join.

  “What will your mother think?” I asked.

  Shara was quiet as she watched the flowing river, and her eyes seemed to be seeing something that wasn’t there.

  “I’ve already told her,” she said. “We can’t go on living like this, and she sees that. My brother and sister need to grow up strong, not stunted like the other peasant children. They need meat, fruit, and vegetables...the things we can’t afford right now. As soon as I join, things will get better for them...I believe that.”

  “Are you sure you don’t want to wait a few weeks for things to pan out?”

  Shara shook her head. “We need the money now. If the war is over soon, then that’s even better. For all I know, they could station me right here in Colonia.”

  “You should try the Artists’ Guild one last time. Make them listen. Take your paintings. Or better yet, buy supplies for just one more to show how much you’ve improved. I can help you out with money. Once they see...”

  Shara’s eyes became defensive, stopping me short. “I’ve tried that already. Three times I’ve gone, and every time I’ve been humiliated.” She sighed. “Maybe I’m not as good as you think I am.”

  “Shara...you know that’s not true.”

  “Whatever the reason, there’s no point. I’ve done everything I could.”