The Xenoworld Saga Box Set

by Kyle West

  I stared at the rock below me, trying to think of what else I could say, but there was nothing. I still didn’t think Shara should give up, but I knew that, in the end, she was right.

  “I just want to enjoy my freedom while it lasts,” Shara said, seeming to sense my acceptance. “After this, we can both go to Eastshore. I want you with me when I sign up.”

  “Shara, I can’t.”

  “I just want you there with me,” she said. “I would never ask you to join.”

  We talked of other things...old times, and by extension, happier times; but still, it was if we could both the feel the clouds gathering over Shara’s future.

  CHAPTER THREE

  I WALKED WITH SHARA TO Eastshore for her enlistment. Even if I thought she should try her luck with the Artists’ Guild one last time, it wasn’t my place to prod her in that direction again. People had to make their own decisions, and in the end, she was probably right; the army would give her a steady wage, and they didn’t turn anyone away as long as they were healthy and willing.

  Though it was a Sunday, that hadn’t stopped the recruiters from setting up their usual table outside the Red Cathedral. They each wore chain mail, covered with a tunic dyed deep red, bearing the katana and crook of Annara. The bright dye was mainly for show; Shara would certainly be wearing a uniform that was drabber. Their armor was shiny in the sunlight, but they sat alone. The stream of new recruits following the Covenant’s victory had dried up by now.

  We walked up, and even the recruiter seemed tired as he wrote Shara’s name on the official register. Her name was the only one for the day.

  Looking anywhere in the city or countryside, one could see the toll of war on the people. One was hard-pressed to find a man between the ages of sixteen and thirty-five walking the streets, and the ones that hadn’t been drafted had been forced into it by the rest. In the beginning of the war, groups of women, called the Warrioresses, sometimes went around the city, handing white scraps of linen to any man who looked to be of service age. The white represented cowardice, and the act was meant to shame the man into enlisting. One time, I remember them handing a piece of linen to a boy of no more than fifteen, and my blood had boiled at the sight. To this day, I regretted not saying anything to that boy, and I hoped nothing bad had happened to him.

  Some though, like my father, had survived from the very beginning. I knew that I was lucky. The Novans were not like ordinary men...they were bigger, stronger, and faster. Some even said that they were not men at all, but something else entirely...something monstrous. It was hard to know how much was rumor and how much was fact.

  All too soon, it was done. Shara was to report to the Fields of Samal the very next day, south of Colonia. There, she would begin her training. It was to last two weeks before she was shipped by barge south to the front at Coloso.

  “You’re doing a good thing,” the grizzled recruiter said, with a forced smile. “I wish more women would sign up. Many are even finding husbands out there.”

  If they don’t die first, I thought.

  “What about you?” the recruiter asked me. “Do you want to help bring our men home?”

  Who didn’t want that? In the end, though, I shook my head. “My mother would kill me.”

  Honestly, there was a small part of me that wanted to go with Shara, but my mother would be horrified, and much more so my father. That alone was enough to dissuade me. As long as my father was alive, we still received a portion of his pay. Combined with our labor in the fields, it was enough to keep ourselves fed. When women joined the army, it was usually out of need. The women who wanted to volunteer had all signed up long ago.

  “What’s happening with the war, anyway?” Shara asked. “Have you heard anything from the Council?”

  The same recruiter shook his head. “We know as little as you. Some say the war is ending, but more are saying that it’ll be a while yet before anyone comes home.”

  Shara nodded. “Thank you.”

  We walked back the way we had come, and as we did so, Shara looked at Silver Bridge, which was mostly empty this afternoon. She touched my arm.

  “What is it?” I asked.

  She stared toward the city gates across the bridge. “Let’s go for a walk through the city. I want to see it one last time.” I nodded, and we changed direction to the bridge. “We need to get back soon, though. My mother is making dinner and I want you there. Something special for my last night.”

  “Don’t say that,” I said.

  “It’s the truth. I want to spend my last night with the people who matter.”

  We walked across Silver Bridge, passing all the empty wooden stalls from which hundreds of merchants would be hawking their wares if this weren’t Sunday. Now, everything was just as empty. The river, which normally would have been filled with boats and barges, had just one, already distant and being carried south by the current. The river itself was wide and brown, and south I could see canals irrigating spreading fields of winter wheat.

  At last, we approached the open Sunrise Gate. Colonia is a city of reds and browns, tall buildings, turrets, and domes. The stone comes from the sandstone quarries dug into the hills and cliffs northeast of the city. The style has been the city’s staple for centuries, though the older buildings were far more grandiose. Many, such as the Great Library of Annara, had been torched during the Liberation, two hundred and fifty years ago, and no longer existed. Walking through Colonia’s streets, you could almost feel its history weighing down on you. The tall buildings, bridges, plazas, and fountains had been built to last the ages. Religious statues, shrines, and temples occupied almost every corner, and it seemed wherever you turned, there was something beautiful to see. The Red Walls surrounded Colonia on every side with the exception of the river, and had been built during the time of Old Colonia, when the demon Elekai had ruled and oppressed the common people.

  The east and the south were the finest parts of the city, concentrated around the Plaza of Sands and Red Cliff, on top of which brooded the Dome of Annara and the Red Bastion. The poor lived mostly in the north, and some in the west. The docks, called Riverside, were also a poorer part of town, and could be found in the northeast of the city. Riverside stretched beyond even the walls before transitioning into the Subura, the poorest area by far which lay on both sides of the river.

  Colonia was the capital of the empire of the same name, and for two hundred and fifty years, it had been the seat of power for the Annaran Covenant. Before, it had belonged to the Elekai, who oppressed any who did not have their demon powers. After the Liberation, the Elekai were purged by the Hunters with either exile or execution – mostly the latter.

  After the Liberation, there was a Great Purge that lasted about ten years and left thousands dead...many of whom were innocent. There had been other purges since, but none in recent years. The last had occurred during my grandparents’ generation. Still, the Hunters took their job seriously, and were represented even now on the Grand Council, which worked in concert with the Grand Pontifex to administer the Covenant.

  As for the Elekai, what ones weren’t killed in the Great Purge were driven east, across the desert and into the Red Wild. That had been over two hundred and fifty years ago, and since that day, the Covenant had ruled in Colonia.

  At its height, the Covenant administered an empire that had stretched as far west as California, and as far east as the Red Wild; as far north as the Barren, and as far south as Coloso. Colonia was small these days by comparison, mainly confined in and around the Colorado River, which was its lifeblood. Now, other people lived in California, called the Shen, though no one knew much about them. The rumor was that they lived in giant domes, but until I saw those, I would never believe such a thing. There had been a war with them about fifty years ago, where they had taken over the city of Brevia, which used to be a Colonian city.

  And of course, there were always the Elekai to the east, somewhere in the Red Wild. It had been a long time since there was a major
war with them, but that didn’t mean there wouldn’t be another. It was said that Annara foretold a Second Darkness to come. Elekim had ended the First Darkness with his sacrifice, which defeated the dark Elekai goddess, Askala. During the Second Darkness, Annara would be reborn and lead humanity to final victory against the Elekai with her Army of the Dawn. However, no one knew the time or the place of her return.

  If you counted the Desert Tribes to the north, whose loyalty was always questionable, and the Novans to the south, Colonia was pinned in on all sides. Colonia had never fallen while the Covenant remained in power. With the Novan War, however, there were many who whispered that the Second Darkness was coming, but the Covenant did all it could to stamp out such talk.

  For the next hour, Shara and I walked Colonia’s streets. We had no money to spend, but there was nothing to buy on a Sunday, anyway; and yet there were other people walking around just like us. Their clothes were richer than what Shara and I wore, mostly long, well-made robes, tan in color for the most part, but with splashes of green, orange, yellow, and others sewn in. Since it was warm today, most wore sandals rather than boots. The men all wore thick beards, which had only come into fashion in the last few years as a sign of solemnity. The women, like Shara and me, wore conservative clothing that kept them well-covered, hiding most skin except for the neck, face, and hands and feet.

  Though there was nothing inherently wrong with Shara’s and my clothing, it was old and dusty. We earned our share of stares as we made our way to the city center. We moved through the clustered streets and into red-shadowed alleys covered by overhanging buildings. One final turn and a few more doors saw us pulling to a stop.

  We stood in front of an apartment with a thick wooden door, three stone steps leading up to it, and long rectangular windows of clear glass set behind a small garden, the plot of which was empty. Shutters obscured the apartment’s interior, and there were three floors. The apartment was just one of many clustering each side of the street, with no space in between the long rows. The narrow street was empty, and for a rare moment, it was quiet in the streets; no one shouted, no cartwheels squealed, and no doors slammed.

  “This is it,” Shara said. “This might be the last time I see my old place.”

  “Do you miss it?”

  Shara stood still for a moment, as if assessing that question. “I don’t know. A part of me does. Then again, I’m kind of used to where I am now, even if it’s not as good.”

  I thought of the way I now lived, compared to how I lived four years ago. The transition hadn’t been a sudden one, apart from the week we had sold most of our possessions and the day of the move itself. Weeks, then months, had passed. Here and there, another trinket would be sold to make ends meet. The meals slowly got leaner, and our clothes older and more ragged. Another year, and we’d probably be homeless. Perhaps becoming poor hadn’t happened suddenly, but it had happened relentlessly.

  I could only wonder how different our lives would be if the war had never happened. For one, Shara and I would have never met. I used to live in an apartment similar to this one, but it was far enough away that Shara and I would have been using different fountains and different stores. We would have even gone to different cathedrals. The war had brought us together, even as it had completely changed both of our lives.

  Then again, if there had been no war, Shara would have been free to pursue her art. And of course, her father would still be alive. I knew that was probably what she was thinking about.

  I had no control of what happened, or what would happen. No one did. All we could do was keep going. That was our lot. We kept going until it was over, for better or worse.

  “Let’s get back,” Shara said. “I’ve seen enough.”

  We turned from the apartment and walked back to the city gate.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  WE RETURNED HOME JUST IN time to join Shara’s mother, Naomi, in helping to prepare dinner. There were just six of us, including me, my mother, Shara, Naomi, and Shara’s little brother and sister, Nath and Juli, ages six and eight.

  And what Naomi was preparing was nothing short of a feast. There was pork loin cooked with peppers, onion, and garlic, along with flatbread with honey and sugar, and a leafy salad filled with greens, nuts, and fruit. Added to this was a bottle of red wine, a luxury that must have cost near as much as the meal itself. It was hard to believe they had found the money for it, when Shara’s reason for leaving had been one of money in the first place.

  Shara seemed uncomfortable with how much there was, but I could understand why Naomi would go through the trouble. It would be her last time seeing Shara for a while. In war, there were always uncertainties.

  At last, the meal was ready, and we sat down to eat. Everyone was quiet, at first, even the children, as we all dug into our meals, but in time we were talking and laughing. The children seemed happy, but from time to time they would look at their older sister, as if they couldn’t believe she was truly going away.

  The mood grew more serious as my mother began questioning Shara.

  “So, where are you being stationed?”

  “I don’t know,” Shara said. “I’m to report to the Fields of Samal tomorrow. I’m sure they’ll let me visit one last time before being assigned anywhere.”

  “Don’t be sure of it,” Naomi said. She was a pretty woman, with blue eyes, dark hair, and light brown skin, while Shara’s complexion was lighter.

  Shara sighed. “It’s nice to hope.”

  “They’re probably going to send her to Coloso,” I said. “That’s where they send everyone.”

  “Sometimes, they send recruits east,” my mother said. “I would almost prefer Coloso to that, though.”

  “The Wild is quiet these days,” Naomi said. “It would be a lot less worry on my part.”

  There was a heavy silence as we continued eating. I had to break it, because it was quickly growing uncomfortable.

  “We’ll miss you,” I said. “If I were half as brave, I’d be going, too.”

  Shara smiled, but she knew the real reason I wasn’t going. As long as my father was still in the legions, there would be enough money to keep me and my mother fed.

  Before the war, only propertied citizens had the right to fight. But the war had dragged on so long and Colonia had been so outmatched that the Council had to drop that law and allow anyone to sign up. That brought in a huge swell of recruits, but it wasn’t long before even that began to run thin as Colonia suffered defeat after defeat.

  Soon, the dinner began to wind down. The wine bottle had emptied, and even Nath and Juli were quiet.

  That was when there was a knock at the door.

  Everyone looked at each other uncertainly. Naomi moved to get up, but Shara was first, opening the door to the night.

  I turned to see a figure obscured by shadow. For some reason, something looked familiar about him.

  “A party, and you didn’t invite me?”

  Nothing could describe the tumultuous joy I felt upon hearing that voice for the first time in four years.

  “Father!”

  “Nick?” my mother asked, leaping out of her chair. “Nick, is that you?”

  I didn’t even wait for him to answer. When I ran from the table and threw myself at him, he took a step back to brace himself. Suddenly, I was in his arms and I felt his hand on my back.

  “Shanti,” he said. “Gods, you’ve grown so much!”

  I felt the bottom of his thick beard on my face, but I didn’t even care. He sniffled as he started to cry, and his hand ran through my hair. He was thinner than I remembered, but he had a wiry strength – testament to four years of hardship. When I pulled back to look at him for the first time, I was shocked by what I saw.

  The face was familiar, but tired and gaunt. Added to the beard, there were new lines, new scars, and brown eyes filled with pain, even if they seemed happy now. The change shocked me, but that was when I felt my mother press in from beside me, weeping and hugging my father.


  “You’ve grown so much,” he said again to me. “You’ve grown as beautiful as your mother.”

  After a moment, my mother pulled back and looked at his face.

  “Nick...are you all right?”

  “Yes, Yasmin. I had a tough time, finding this place. All I had were your letters, and...”

  “Who cares about that?” my mother asked. “You’re home. Does that mean the war is over?”

  My father smiled. “Yes. The war is over. It has been for over a week. It just took this long for us to get back.”

  There was cheering from inside behind us, mostly from the children. In a single moment, in a single sentence, everything had changed.

  “We’ve heard nothing firm,” my mother said. “Only rumors.” She hugged him again, as if she were never going to let him go.

  “No one truly knew until the barges were coming upriver. Mine was the very first.”

  Then, he looked at me, and his brown eyes still had his old twinkle. He grabbed me with his free hand, pulling me close. It was here that I broke down in tears, and my father just held both my mother and me like that for a long time.

  Suddenly, he laughed. “It doesn’t feel like it’s over. I just hope it truly is.”

  My mother pulled back, looking at him worriedly. I stepped back as well, but my mother was the first to speak. “What do you mean?”

  “Just a fear,” he said. “Let’s hope nothing comes of it.”

  “Gods, I hope not,” my mother said. “I prayed for your safe return and Annara delivered you.”

  “I imagine many wives prayed for their husbands to come home,” my father said. He then looked at me, and winked. “But what about daughters?”

  I smiled. “Of course I prayed. I lit my candle for you.”

  His eyes went over my mother’s head, seeming to see the food for the first time. Then, he looked at both Naomi and Shara, who stared quietly. The children stared at him wide-eyed, not quite sure to what to make of all this.