The Escape

by C. A. Hartman

  The Escape

  A Korvali Chronicles Prequel Story

  C.A. Hartman

  5280 Press

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Afterword

  Also by C.A. Hartman

  About the Author

  Copyright © 2019 by C.A. Hartman

  All rights reserved.

  * * *

  This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission from the publisher; exceptions are made for brief excerpts used in published reviews.

  * * *

  All characters in this book are fictitious, and any resemblance to persons living or dead is coincidental.

  1

  The Korvali prefer our own kind, and have little interest in what occurs outside our small planet. This has always been true. Yet, on rare occasion, someone defies this axiom. Where we dislike outsiders, he fears them less. Where we are content on our homeworld, she will want to explore the outerworlds, like legend says the ancients did. Perhaps most of all, where we adhere to what we know, he creates change. The Moshal have a name for this rare and strange breed of Korvali: we call them Spirited Ones.

  - Ashan, Moshal Clan

  * * *

  Eshel walked through the lush gardens of Fallal Hall in his blue robe, barely noticing the few other blue-robed individuals he passed.

  He stepped quietly over the small foot bridges that crossed the trickling rivulets, filled with their tiny magenta-colored plants, and took in the massive seshac trees with their broad crowns and weeping branches. Drizzle fell from a gray sky like it did most days on Korvalis, the oceanic planet where his people had lived for millennia. And although the gardens looked like they always did and the drizzle felt like it always felt, all of it seemed especially vivid to him on that particular day.

  Perhaps because today would be the last day he saw any of it.

  He was leaving his homeworld. He was leaving his people, his customs, his work, and all that he knew and loved. Even more, it was possible—perhaps even probable—that he would never return.

  Eshel had prepared. He and his father, Othniel, had made sure of that. But despite the fact that Eshel had never taken one step off his homeworld in his life, he was wise enough to understand that no amount of preparation, even to the great extent he and his father had gone, would fully prepare him for living among outsiders.

  These outsiders, these otherworlders… they were different. They did not live like the Korvali lived, did not conduct themselves like Korvali did, did not value what the Korvali valued. Not even close.

  Of course, Eshel had never met an otherworlder. But his father had. He’d interacted with citizens from all four Alliance planets.

  Did Eshel want to leave? No, he did not.

  And yes, he did.

  Eshel found his divided mind on the subject perplexing. He was typically decisive and knew the best course of action in most situations. But no matter how he tried to reconcile his mixed feelings on the matter, nothing worked.

  Othniel understood Eshel’s decision to leave, had encouraged it. But very few others would understand, if they knew.

  But they didn’t know. And never would, until he was gone.

  Emigration from Korvalis was strictly forbidden. Even permission to leave for brief visits offworld for scientific or diplomatic purposes was granted on rare occasions and only to a privileged few.

  But more importantly, the Korvali had no desire to leave their homeworld. They disliked outsiders, so much so that no otherworlder had ever breached the secure net surrounding Korvalis, much less set foot on their soil or sailed their oceans. Eshel’s people had their reasons for their isolation, and their Doctrine reflected that. And, in Eshel’s opinion, many of those reasons were justified.

  Not that the others hadn’t tried. The Sunai in particular would often hover just outside Korvali space, and on one occasion had even dared to breach the net. The result had been disastrous for them.

  Yet, despite what Doctrine dictated, despite his divided mind, Eshel would leave. He could no longer live in this place he loved, further its scientific pursuits, or swim endless hours in its chilly waters while pretending things had not gone terribly wrong.

  Someone had to serve as the seed of change. And that someone would be him.

  So he would go. He would abandon his scientific work. He would abandon his life in the place he belonged, and the family and friends he cared for. He would even abandon the investigation that had taken much of his time recently, the one that would prove once and for all that Korvalis’s leadership was corrupt and murderous.

  Eshel stopped in his tracks when someone appeared in front of him in the gardens. His father, sitting on one of the stone benches. Othniel wore the blue robe of the Shereb, but had the green eyes of the clan he’d been born to. He stood and faced Eshel.

  “It is time, son.”

  “I know.”

  “I regret that you must take this journey without my guidance.”

  “We have prepared well.”

  Eshel turned when he heard a voice nearby. When he turned back, his father was gone.

  A wave of nausea came over Eshel, and he sat down on the empty bench. When it passed, he stood and continued toward Fallal Hall.

  His father was right. It was time. He would leave tomorrow and he would do what needed doing. For his father… and for Korvalis.

  2

  Inside Fallal Hall, Eshel took a longer look around, much like he had in the gardens. The entrance to the Great Hall was not ornate—the Korvali had no use for ostentation—but the place had its own elegance, with its white marble staircases and tall glass windows that overlooked the gardens.

  But most notable was the giant, ancient koshac tree, its branches white and its leaves silvery, shimmering in the light coming in from the windows. However, the majestic tree’s crown had withered and faded with time. And it had done so due to the shift in who sat in Korvalis’s highest seats of power. It was a shift that had sent Korvalis down the wrong path, a shift that should never have taken place.

  Up the marble steps he went, and he paid particular attention to that staircase. His father had mentioned that Earth had white marble structures in some regions. Othniel never saw them in person—had never been to Earth—but had hoped that Eshel would someday.

  Eshel had not responded to such comments, brushing them off as little more than idealism. Othniel, more than Eshel, enjoyed contemplating what was possible, rather than what was probable. Leaving Korvalis was risky enough, but gaining permission to visit Earth? Impossible, even for someone as determined as himself.

  After reaching the fourth floor, Eshel continued down the hall, passing the two youngest sons of the malkaris, Korvalis’s monarch. He offered only the faintest of acknowledgement to the two young men, who stared at him with pale eyes, their robes as blue as his and their air that of royalty. Usurped royalty, but royalty nonetheless.

  Soon, Eshel reached the door to Elan’s apartments and knocked. The door unlatched and Eshel entered, finding himself face to face with someone unexpected. Revulsion coursed through him and he felt a sneer reach his lips, one he could not hide even if he’d wanted to.

  Ivar. The malkaris’s second-born. It was well known among their clan that Ivar hoped to take the throne when his mother passed, and he had the arrogance and self-delusion to believe he could rule.

  He would never do so. Not when Doctrine dictated that the seat belonged to Elan, the malkaris’s eldest son. And certainly
not when Ivar lacked Elan’s intelligence, discipline, and decency. It seemed all the necessary traits for effective leadership had concentrated themselves in Elan while overlooking his mother and three younger brothers. How such a thing was possible, even Eshel could not know.

  “Eshel,” Ivar said coldly, staring at him with the same pale eyes of his brothers. “Have you come to serve your future leader?”

  Eshel stared back. “If you are finished doing so.”

  There was silence for several long moments, each staring at the other. Eshel recalled his father’s warning:

  When living among outsiders, you must be cautious of your gaze. You cannot maintain extended eye contact with the others like you do with your people.

  Eshel didn’t know how seriously to take such advice. His father had experience with otherworlders, but surely this must be exaggeration, and those with comparable brains and compound eyes could handle the meeting of eyes. On Korvalis, it was a key mode of communication. Words were often superfluous, but eyes did not lie.

  Like Ivar, in that very moment. His eyes showed both callousness and a desperate need to prove his worth. Eshel knew it, and Ivar knew he knew it.

  “Again, I express my regrets about Othniel,” Ivar said, almost disdainful, a jibe resulting from Eshel’s refusal to kowtow to Ivar’s imagined power. “You must see him often.”

  Eshel felt the goad, and deeply. Particularly when he’d just seen his father only minutes ago. “I do see him. He often remarks upon Elan’s unusual intelligence and understanding of genetics.”

  Again, Ivar’s eyes spoke volumes. His pupils shrank and Eshel saw the malice in them. It was no secret that Elan was a superior scientist, one of the best Korvalis had, while Ivar was little more than a political figure and dilettante, despite immense privilege and opportunity, and an embarrassment to a people who valued scientific achievement.

  “Leave, brother,” came a familiar voice. Elan appeared from another room. “Eshel and I have plans for the morning.”

  “Mother expects you in three hours,” Ivar muttered before he left without another word.

  “Must you always provoke my brother?” Elan said, eyeing Eshel like he was slightly disappointed but not the least bit surprised.

  “Perhaps not,” Eshel said. “However, it is you who should be circumspect, Elan. You are the only thing standing between your brother and the seat of power, once your mother passes. And with enough time, even Ivar is capable of forming a plan to address this barrier, if he hasn’t already.”

  Elan raised his eyebrows at this, understanding Eshel’s meaning.

  “You are too clever to have not considered this,” Eshel went on. “And it is not merely my dislike for your brother that fuels this speculation. Others share it too.”

  “I know they do. My surprise only stems from your lack of faith in me, that I would ever allow my brother, with his inferior mind and habits, to gain any advantage over me.”

  Eshel said nothing. Although they had never spoken of it before, Eshel should have known Elan would take measures to ensure he was always one step ahead of Ivar’s plotting.

  “I must attend to one thing,” Elan said. “Then we will go.”

  Elan disappeared, and Eshel took a good look around the apartments belonging to his closest friend. Comfortable but firm cushions were placed here and there, either facing a small tree in the center of the room, or the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the vast gray sea to the west and the tiny islands in the distance. How many hours had they sat upon those cushions after a swim or a long day in their respective laboratories, discussing science? More than Eshel could possibly count.

  With a heavy heart, Eshel took in the room, memorizing everything, knowing that such memories would prove useful on his long journey, to be recalled when things got grim. That was all it took—one focused gaze—and the vista and all its details were his forever.

  They left Fallal Hall and ambled down the steps of the steep cliff until they arrived at the ocean, smooth and gray on that day. They stripped off their robes and stowed them away, and entered the cool waters.

  Smooth or rough, calm or stormy, they would swim. All Korvali did, often for hours at a time. It was in their DNA, part of their history and heritage. Eshel immersed himself in the water and swam like he had nearly every day of his life, coming up for air only after almost forty strokes. He briefly wondered if he would ever swim again… and what would become of him.

  Eshel pushed such thoughts aside and swam, having no problem keeping up with Elan. Far out into the ocean, the water enveloped Eshel’s tall form as they swam for nearly an hour and a half without a word. The rain began to fall upon his head and arms, and when he submerged himself, he passed fish and other sea creatures. He took it all in, recording yet another mental image to be recalled later.

  When they returned to shore, the water dried quickly from their skin before they stepped into their robes and made their way back up the cliff once more. Once they reached the laboratories, just adjacent to Fallal Hall, they stopped. They would part ways here, Elan to meet his mother and Eshel to his lab.

  “Same time tomorrow?” Elan said. “Or perhaps earlier, so we may swim longer?”

  “Yes,” Eshel said quietly.

  “One hour earlier?”

  “That is fine.”

  Eshel said the words with difficulty. It was a lie. He would not be there the next morning, nor any morning thereafter.

  Elan turned and walked away. Eshel stood there for a moment before he did the same.

  Goodbye, my friend.

  3

  When Eshel arrived at his lab, it still looked strange to him. It seemed too quiet, as if no one had been there in a long time.

  He, of course, had been there plenty. But he knew why it looked empty. It was because his father no longer joined him at the workbench. For the worst of reasons.

  He locked the door behind him, then opened a drawer and pulled out another robe. Gray this time, not blue. He tucked it into a bag and left to catch the train.

  Once Eshel arrived on the outskirts of Shereb territory, he hid underneath the weeping leaves of a seshac tree and changed into the gray robe. He pulled the hood down low so no one could see his face, then continued on his way.

  After walking past homes buried in groves of giant trees, he arrived at a train stop and got on the next train. Some time later, he arrived at his destination, a thick stone building in a dull gray.

  Inside, he found the room. He opened the door and walked in.

  A woman stood at the head of the room, and eight others sat at a semicircular table, facing her. Six had pale hair and wore the light-gray robes of the Osecal clan, the clan that ruled Korvalis before the Shereb clan—Eshel’s clan and that of the current malkaris and her family—took power. The two others had darker hair, darker than Eshel’s, their eyes a clear blue. Both had the circular crest of the Moshal clan on their left hands, as did the speaker. However, she wore a black robe, the robe of the Korvali Guard, Korvalis’s military.

  All stared at Eshel, puzzlement and obvious disapproval in their expressions.

  “This is a restricted meeting,” the woman said coldly. “Leave.”

  Eshel remained, closing the door behind him and removing his hood. Several sets of brows raised upon seeing his face. Some of the Osecal recognized him.

  “I know why you gather here,” Eshel said. “I know of your plan to escape Korvalis.”

  “There is no such plan,” the leader insisted. “Leave, Shereb.”

  “There is,” Eshel argued. “You’ve been preparing for some time and will leave tomorrow. I came here because I want to join you.”

  They stared, silent.

  “You, Shereb scientist, would leave Korvalis,” one of the Osecal finally said. Eshel heard the sneer in his tone, the disbelief.

  “Yes.”

  “And why is that, when you have everything you could want?”

  “My reasons are mine,” Eshel said. “Howe
ver, like you, I recognize what has happened to our people. It needs to change.”

  Another Osecal spoke, a male scientist Eshel recognized, close to Othniel’s age. “This, from a member of the very clan responsible for what has gone wrong, for stealing power that was never yours and dismantling our government. For violating Doctrine.” There was anger in his voice.

  “I belong to this clan you speak of, but I do not support what they have done,” Eshel said.

  “But you work in their laboratories,” said another Osecal, a similarly-aged female scientist Eshel also recognized. “You eat with the malkaris and her family. You swim with her eldest son, Elan.”

  “Do you believe my not doing these things would be better, given my desire to leave? Would that not raise suspicion?”

  “You will have to do better than that, Shereb,” the leader said.

  Eshel hesitated, not wanting to say what needed saying. He glanced at the older scientists. “Perhaps you know of what became of my father.”

  “Yes,” the male scientist said quietly. “I knew Othniel. He was an excellent scientist. I’m told he died under suspicious circumstances. As have others before him.”

  “He was murdered,” Eshel said. “By one of our own.”

  A silence fell over the room. Murder was rare on Korvalis, until recently.

  “How do you know this?” asked the female scientist.

  “I have conducted an extensive investigation and narrowed the suspects to a few Shereb individuals. However, when I received word of your plans two days ago, I was forced to abandon the investigation.” He glanced at the leader, hoping she wouldn’t demand more details. He would not provide them.