Fractured Loyalties

by Greg Alldredge

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  He found himself alone in a cold black space. His body hurt, especially his head, which had taken a beating as he bounced down the wall. He reached up and felt an egg-sized lump on the side of his skull. He reached around, looking for his torch but only found the floor. At least the ground continued the smooth feel of worked stone like the rest of the tunnels he traveled. But in the dark, he couldn’t get his bearings to even find a wall or which direction he had been moving. “Shit, I am going to die down here. The greatest discovery of all time, and no one will know.”

  He didn’t lose his pack in the fall, but he hadn’t been smart enough to keep something spare to burn. There had been so much fuel to be found while he walked. In his movement to search around, he found his knee didn’t want to bend. His head hurt so badly he hadn’t realized his knee would not bend properly. With his hands, he traced down over his legs, finding his right knee swollen to twice the size of his left. No wonder it wouldn’t bend. If he made it to his feet, he wasn’t sure he would be able to walk or even stand. Any attempt to bend his leg was answered with sharp, unbearable pain.

  Stuck with flint, steel, and nothing to burn, he searched his pack for anything flammable. His fingers ran over the journal he kept his notes and music in. For a moment, dark thoughts entered his mind, burning everything he’d ever written to merely survive. He flushed those thoughts away quickly. Deciding to remain on the tunnel floor for the time being, he dragged his pack and body until he found the stone wall of the passageway.

  He snapped his fingers, remembering the shreds of cloth he’d wrapped around himself to keep warm. One would need to be sacrificed to save his life. With a few strikes of the flint, he started a feeble light. What he found made his blood run cold.

  The darkness hid the ceiling and the hole he fell down. The walls had a worn natural look about them. There was no way he saw himself scaling the cliff in perfect health. With a knee that couldn’t bend, it was out of the realm of possibilities. That left the tunnel. The floor remained smooth, leveled by hand, but the walls looked much more natural. If this part of the tunnel had been used, it was not dug but only slightly modified to make walking easier. Saunders couldn’t fathom for what purpose such an elaborate tunnel system would be needed, but the skill and time it took to create the structure easily matched the feats of his current city.

  With a quick inventory, his predicament became clear. He had plenty of food left—life in the tunnels lowered his appetite—though his water ran low. He had a rope and a few tools, but there was no way to climb the walls to escape. The fall caused him to lose all direction sense. He found himself lost without a path or hope of rescue. He located his torch and got it lit, but he needed rags to refuel it, and no bodies in sight. At least he had the sense to stop bathing and shaving long ago. The only one to complain about his stench was himself. He’d learned to ignore his complaints.

  If he was going to live, he better save himself. Time to start crawling. He looked at his two choices and headed off in the direction his head pointed.

  Chapter 13, Ollie Shoemaker:

  Ollie became accustomed to death. Growing up in Perdition, he had seen too many people die over his short years of life. Even living in the Principal’s court didn’t shelter him from the tragedies of ordinary living. Death was not something simply suffered by the poor. Before he reached ten, he lost a brother and sister. Crib Death, they called it. Babies would simply stop breathing. The old women of the home blamed it on curses, fey, or even blameless cats that prowled the halls looking for a free meal of rodent. All manner of talismans would be used to protect a baby from creatures that might steal a baby’s breath.

  It was no fey that poisoned the ale that killed Cameron. After Zorra showed him the passage connecting the two rooms and learning of Brett’s pierced heart, he knew it was no magical creature. Joti relayed that he heard Zorra whispering to Sonja, confirming her younger sister, Della, killed Brett for an undisclosed conspiracy. He was not sure if it comforted him or alarmed him more. For several nights, a recurring nightmare ruined his sleep. A twelve-year-old girl standing over you with a dagger ready to slit your throat would jolt anyone out of sleep. Joti had always been there to calm his nerves in the dead of night. His wife hadn’t taken to his bed yet.

  Ollie was unsure what to think about the occasion. In many ways he was excited to be married, in theory only a heartbeat away from ruling two houses. On the other hand, he’d never made love to a woman. He knew the mechanics and was confident she remained a virgin, but he did not want to admit it to anyone else that he was afraid he would not be able to perform his duty when called upon. So many lives depended on the act. It was such a little thing to blow up into the largest problem.

  His father’s death hit him hard. He learned about the incident the day of the explosion in the Villas’ estate that took the life of Noel Brewer. He didn’t feel pain when the news about his father’s death reached him. What he struggled with was his lack of feelings at all. He knew his father was a flawed man, but the way he died made him nervous. That his brother Hayline witnessed the gruesome death concerned him even more. The stories that circulated about the house caused pause, even when it came to Ollie’s love for his older brother. He knew his brother’s mind worked differently than his, but Hayline had always been kind to Ollie, going out of his way to protect him from the other children around the house.

  Meyers might have a different mother than the rest, but he always treated him reasonably as well. Perhaps he never viewed him as a threat, in direct competition for Soto’s throne, where the others felt it was their due to reach.

  As word reached Ollie about Soto’s death and Hayline’s reported abdication, he stood one step away from the throne. The eldest true blood male heir. His ascent to the throne was made pricklier since his wedding to what, a few weeks ago, was Perdition’s sworn enemy. Not sure if the outcome was in his father’s original plans, but it made for many sleepless nights.

  With the Visor sent away, he had no one to discuss his choices. Joti would be no help. Ollie loved him to death, but his mind was not sharpened to the ways of the court. He was suited more to the battlefield.

  This was how he found himself outside his wife’s door late that night. She might be a child, but she had also just lost her father, and with the death of her two brothers, she climbed the ladder of leadership in her city as well. Zorra was his wife, but more importantly, she was his only peer he felt he could talk to. He knew he needed to talk to her more than ever.

  With great trepidation, he rapped on her door. He could have used the connecting secret passage, but that still held a clandestine feel about it. With the murders running rampant, he wanted to keep his movements visible to all concerned.

  Their apartments shared a pair of armed guards that stood between the doors. He nodded to both while he waited. Sure his knock went unnoticed, he turned to leave when Sonja opened the door a crack. “What do you want? You’re not wanted here.” Her voice was never welcoming, but she seemed gruffer.

  “Who is it?” Zorra called from inside the room.

  “It’s—” Sonja started.

  Ollie jumped in, “—Ollie. I wanted to speak with you alone, if you are all right… I left Joti in my room.”

  Ollie stood waiting for an answer, Sonja blocking any view inside the room with her body.

  Finally, Zorra called, “Let him in, Sonja. Please wait outside.”

  “But, miss, do you think it is wise?” the bodyguard looked back into the room.

  “Sonja, he is my husband. Will you please stop second-guessing my every decision? You overstep, and I grow tired of it. Now go away. You can wait outside or in the guard barracks.” Ollie could hear the stress in Zorra’s voice. For a moment he felt sorry for the bodyguard.

  “Yes, madam,” was Sonja’s whispered reply.

  Ollie whispered to Sonja as she passed, “Joti is in my room steaming because I just told him the same thing. You can go in and cuss us with h
im if you like.” Ollie cracked a weak smile in a vain attempt to win her over.

  Sonja only nodded her reply.

  The door shut behind him, and the dimly lit room stretched out before him.

  “Lock the door, please,” a weak voice called from behind the cloth draped over Zorra’s bed. The key turned smoothly in the lock. Ollie wiped the sweat from his palms as he trod the few steps over the richly carpeted floor. He stopped outside Zorra’s protective cloth barrier.

  “Are… Are you well?” Ollie tried to show the confidence he wished he had and failed.

  “I know I need to be strong, but I am finding it hard.” Zorra pulled back the cloth, giving Ollie a place to sit next to her. He found her eyes puffy and her nose red from crying.

  “I know your feelings. I needed to talk to someone that understands our… places now in life. I find Joti doesn’t have the context to understand.”

  “Nor does Sonja. Bless her heart, but she has been driving me crazy. She sees a conspiracy behind every action.” Zorra blew her nose.

  Ollie reached out for Zorra’s hand. “I only knew your father briefly, but he seemed a kind man. I am sorry for your loss.”

  He was slightly surprised when she took his hand and squeezed it. “He was a good man, if a bit simple. Don’t get me wrong, he was an outstanding brewer, but that was where his talents ended.”

  “What do you make of his death?”

  “I think it was an accident. I might not be a brewer by trade, but I know the dangers of distilling spirits stronger. It is common for the copper vessels to rupture. If Father did not test the safeties before lighting a fire, they might have failed, causing the explosion.”

  “Or someone could have tampered with them, and the attack was made to look like an accident.”

  “Could be, but right now there is no evidence. Mother is just using Father’s death as an excuse to settle old scores with some of the older families. What of your father’s death?”

  “I’m unsure. Hayline swears the death was caused by the witch he killed.”

  “Who was she?”

  “She was supposed to be Hayline’s priestess. My sister Hope was not overly clear about everything.”

  “So you know even less than I do.”

  “Correct, and I have another problem. You are next in line behind your brother Jo?”

  “Yes, if something happens to him, I will become mayor, and you the mayor’s first husband.”

  “Technically, I am the Principal of Perdition with Hayline’s abdication.”

  “I thought your sister Hope was older.”

  “She is, but we pass through the male of the line.”

  “That seems rude.”

  “Let’s not try to change the way our line of succession works just now… I also have an older half-brother that might attempt to take the throne.”

  “And you want permission to return to secure your place as the rightful leader of Perdition… I understand. I will—”

  Ollie was quick to cut her off. “That’s not why I came in to talk to you. I wanted to discuss options.”

  “Like what options?”

  “Do you think there is a possibility another city might be trying to take out both of our cities’ leadership?”

  Zorra grew wide-eyed at the accusation. “Who would be so bold?”

  “The only city I can think of would be Abaraka.”

  “What would they gain?”

  “A couple of hundred thousand forced followers?”

  Zorra shook her head. “I don’t think the people would change religions simply because they were threatened with being murdered.”

  “Even if invaded? What will our people do when faced with death?”

  “It would be a bold move, but I would expect the Brotherhood to kill us from the front not the back.”

  Ollie nodded. “I agree, it’s not their style. Perhaps another city?”

  “Who would be bold enough to take on both of our cities?”

  “I can’t think of a one.”

  “Nor I…” Zorra paused. Her eyes looked away deep in thought.

  “What do you know of your shard, away from the city?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “What do you know of the interior? In Perdition, we focus our attention to the cracks and the coast. We spend little time in the mountainous interior. I was curious if your shard was the same.”

  “We have little reason to look inward. The best land for farming is above the cliffs. The cracks provide most everything we need.”

  “Our cities are the same. If not for lumber and a few crops we grow in the hills, we have little need for the interior. What do you know of those that live in the mountains?”

  “Little, only stories I heard as a child. Things my mother told me to keep me in line.”

  “My sister Hope told me fanciful stories, stories now I’m reconsidering.”

  “Why? Why think there is any truth in those old wives’ tales?”

  “Did you hear the circumstances behind my father’s death?” Ollie asked.

  “I must admit, I’ve been preoccupied with my own father’s death.”

  “It was horrible, as if his eyes exploded from his head. My brother swears the witch murdered him, and he killed the witch. Blood evidence seems to support my brother, and the fact he quickly abdicated supports his claim. He is searching the keep for more signs of the demons that killed my father.”

  “And you think demons are real?”

  “My sister Hope believes so. She’s studied them her whole life. Demons and witches… magic as a whole. She used to scare me with their stories.”

  “Do you trust your sister?”

  Ollie thought for a moment. “Did you trust Brett?”

  Zorra let the implication hang in the air between them before answering. “If one of our families is practicing witchcraft, I am not sure we will be safe.”

  “Nor I, but I think we should leave all options open. It seems our lives are intertwined in this.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “I thought it seemed obvious. We are now husband and wife. Our cities joined for good or bad, our fates are linked.”

  Zorra’s face turned crimson before she ducked it behind the covers.

  Ollie felt her pain. The thought of their duty to both cites and the sex the pair needed to accomplish was almost too much for him at the moment.

  “What are our choices?” Zorra asked.

  “I can go home and risk my life to assert my position and take the throne. If the family plots against me, they will kill me.”

  “I do not like that decision. Our city will find it hard not to see it as a slight to me and my family. That might reignite the war.”

  “I agree, it is not the best move. I should stay here and abdicate my position, help you to bring stability to Zar.”

  “I like that idea. It tends to keep our city front in your mind and will help our populations come to accept you. I feel you are going to propose a third option.”

  Ollie nodded. “I am, and it might be the most hazardous. I will send Joti back with a personal message to my sister Hope, asking her to take over as regent and rule in my place, giving her the power she has always wanted. I can stay here with you to keep the peace.”

  “I don’t see the downside with that move.”

  “If she calls my bluff and takes power, I will have no way to stop her, short of a civil war. She knows I will not put the city into such a situation.”

  “Do you think she will agree?”

  “As regent, she will have unlimited power. It would be wise for her to take the deal. However, she knows my stance on the war and needless death. She might call my bluff and try to seize the throne for herself. But if she did, it could lead to Meyers stepping in and trying to take power, or even Hayline trying to stop her. As I see it, Hope’s safest move would be to accept my offer, but power makes people do strange things.”

  “You would rather stay here than be
home with all that going on?” Zorra lowered her eyes, her voice barely a whisper.

  “You might not realize it, but your mother asked me if I would give my life to end the war, and I said I would. I meant it. I don’t know if this was my father’s intention or not, but I plan to see our marriage through, one way or another… If you still want me, that is.”

  Zorra scooched over, giving Ollie more room, then patted the open area in the bed on top of the covers. “Come lie by me and tell me what you know of the inner shards. We will compare stories to see if we might learn common ground.”

  Ollie kicked his shoes off and lay out on the bed next to his wife. His heart raced, unsure what was about to happen. “My sister always told me, the perimeter walls were built long ago to keep the mountain people out. Back before we kept records, they would pour out of the hills and steal what they wanted. They followed the old ways, with knowledge learned from long before the cities and our great buildings were even built. They ruled the night and bent magic powers with their mind. She claimed the gods Harper and Anshika, Goddess of the Moons were the original true gods, the others only newcomers that tried to take over.”

  Her breath grew slow and deep. He assumed she relaxed while her head sank into the pillows. “Keep talking, I find your voice soothing.” Zorra’s voice sounded drowsy, but Ollie lay wide awake.

  “I will send a message with Joti tomorrow. I pray to the gods, Hope will listen to reason and back my plan.”

  Zorra rolled to face Ollie and draped her arm over his chest. “I like that idea best. I don’t want you to leave.”

  “We have no leads concerning the people attacking your family, our family, and our city. I agree with you, I think your mother is using this as an excuse to clean house. While she is distracted and chasing the slavers, it will leave the city with a majority of the fleet away. Zar has formidable defenses, but we would be safer with the fleet patrolling the local waters of the cracks, not out chasing ghosts.”