Payton’s hands had clenched into fists, trembling. She wanted nothing more than to reach for her twin daggers, to draw them and teach this bastard a lesson in what a “pitiable loss” could be. Maybe not take his life but a finger or limb. Or certain male parts… Maybe then she could wipe the smug arrogance off his face and stop picturing the crowd that stood by and did nothing as her mother was murdered.
Finally, Isiah spoke, a muscle in his jaw twitching. “If you are able to dismiss lives so easily, I suppose you won’t miss a few more.”
“Is that a threat?” the Lieutenant growled.
“A resignation.” Isiah went for the latches on his chestplate and in a movement more fluid than Payton ever would have expected, removed it in seconds. He tossed the embossed metal plate down. It clattered on the stone floor and came to a stop at the brunet’s boot.
At first, anger flashed across the Lieutenant’s face and then he huffed. “Fine. Good riddance.”
“Expect the same from my brother, Sam. You remember him, support division. Magical. One of the lives you would have written off as not worth much if he had been caught.”
If anything the man’s scowl grew bigger. The twins did not bother waiting for a response and instead walked out into the evening air. The Marshal nodded at them as they passed but neither stopped long enough to speak to him. There wouldn’t have been anything to say. Their city was lost to them, their home gone, Isiah’s position ended, their mother…
The two of them walked in silence for a few moments before Payton could not contain herself. “I can’t believe you just quit. You loved working with the guard.”
“Half the guard is dead thanks to the Templars. Most of the ones that survived aren’t really guards so much as rich boys who bought a commission. And I’m not working under those incompetent idiots. They couldn’t find their way out of an outhouse nevermind figure out how to run a city guard.” Though he made light of the situation, she could hear the frustration and disappointment in Isiah’s voice.
“Some of your division made it out though.”
“They’re divided up, all directions as they helped refugees flee. Won’t know if they made it for a while. A lot died,” Isiah said tightly. “In the end, it’s best if Sam and I quit if this is where the leadership is headed.”
Payton nodded once and then did it again. “I thought you were going to blame me,” she admitted after a moment.
Isiah chuckled wryly. “Well with the way you were going at it if I hadn’t quit I would have gotten latrine duties or something when we got back just because you pissed my boss off. But it’s not as if I don’t agree with you. I just have the better sense not to say it to his face.”
“How else do you get people to change and do the right thing?”
Irritatingly this only caused him to laugh again.
By the time they found the inn, the sun was setting. To their surprise, Samuel and their father were waiting outside. Their father had found a seat on a bench and was hunched over, his elbows perched on his knees and his hands laced together. Like he had been since Aodhan, he was staring listlessly in front of him, his frown almost lost in his salt and pepper beard. Samuel wasn’t much better. He had leaned his lanky, muscular form against the railing that lined part of the outside of the inn. His arms were crossed in front of him, whether it was defensively or comfortingly, Payton could only guess. The expression on his chiseled face matched their father’s.
“Somehow I don’t think our news is going to brighten the mood.”
As if both men just realized the two of them were there, they simultaneously straightened. It would have been amusing if Payton could ignore the look of pain in her father’s eyes. She let Isiah do the talking, sharing what they had learned and venting his frustration as he did. When they finished it left an uneasy silence.
“So that’s it then,” her father said in a resigned tone. “We have to leave Vaelorn.”
Both Isiah and Samuel jerked, staring at him in shock. “What?”
“What do you mean we have to leave the country?” Samuel demanded.
“I’m not sure how my words were unclear. It’s not safe here. Not anymore. Not for Sam,” Leon said firmly. “The Caliph is clearly turning a blind eye to the suffering of her people for now and if she won’t protect us, I will. So we leave.”
“We just… run?” Samuel shook his head, his floppy black locks bouncing against his face. “Abandon all the innocent people who are going to be slaughtered by the Templars just because I’m a target as well? I can take care of myself!”
“Maybe it’s a good idea,” Isiah said, shocking Samuel enough to make him gape. “Just get you out of the country for a while until we have the Templars on the run. Payton, back me up on this.”
The attention swung to her and her throat constricted. “No. Dad’s right, all of us have to leave.”
“Wha…” the shock was evident in both her brothers’ expressions. They had never expected she would support running. Maybe she never would have… before.
“What’s the other option? Have the three of us take on their army? The four of us? The city guard of Aodhan was over fifty trained men and women and they could not hold their ground against these people because there were defectors. Citizens, guards, people are joining their cause one way or another. Outright becoming one of them or just… silently watching from the sidelines.” Her voice cracked. She struggled to regain control of herself. “We have little to no support here. Not now. What other choice do we have but to leave?”
“I can’t believe you’re condoning this,” Samuel said sullenly. “Damn it, Payton. When did you become a coward?”
Her head snapped up, tears burning in her blue eyes. “I lost one member of my family to these bastards. I won’t stand by and lose another.”
Samuel recoiled, horror flickering across his face. His mouth opened and closed several times before finally snapping shut. He turned away, shame filling his blue eyes. Payton pressed her lips together and mirrored the action, unwilling to look at any of her family. It hurt too much to see the pain reflected there.
“Where will we go?” Isiah finally asked. “Malvathar? To live with your relatives? Because I will tell you right now I will not live with slavers without causing a war myself.”
“Where did I get such obstinate children?” their father groaned. “Estaria. I have an old friend who lives in the port city of Imeryn who can put us up until we can afford a place of our own.”
Chapter Five
It took them a week to finally make it to Estaria. Between parting ways with the other refugees who had no idea what they planned on doing yet, traveling south to the port city of Oren and then discovering they were only one of dozens trying to find a ship to take them away, it had been a stressful seven days.
Once they boarded a ship willing to take them – originally a merchant vessel that sailed the coastal route – they discovered the captain had unscrupulously oversold the space and they were jammed in the hold with fifteen other families. There was barely room to sit, nevermind lay down. Not that Payton wanted to spend much time below decks. It stank of sweat and vomit and spices, the last likely being the ship’s normal cargo.
To make matters worse her father had taken to drinking to deal with her mother’s death. How he managed to convince his newest friend in a crewman to share his grog, she didn’t know but he would disappear for hours and then come back stumbling and reeking of ale. He would answer questions from Isiah and Samuel, brief grunts or short clipped sentences but when she tried he would not look at her. The one time he did the grief and pain in his forest green eyes was like a dagger to her heart.
This behavior only fueled Payton’s nightmares. She would often wake in cold sweats just short of screaming with the memory of her mother’s death fresh from her dreams. That mutton-chop Templar’s face so cruelly mocking her as she jerked into awareness. The haunting nightmares came so often, she had taken to avoiding sleep for fear the next time they cam
e she would not be able to stop the tears that wanted to fall.
That was why, when it was permitted, Payton escaped the dark hell that was the hold and found a nook on the deck, hidden in one of the lifeboats. And that was where she was when they first caught sight of Imeryn.
She wasn’t sure what to expect, she knew little about their intended destination. Estaria, Malvathar, and Vaelorn were the last three countries to survive the Great War and the cataclysm. So they were all technically trading partners with each other – though no one liked to admit to trading with Malvathar. Even so, they tended to stay fairly insular after the cataclysm’s initial migration.
The sight of the city, even at a distance, was impressive. Tall stone buildings reaching far into the landscape were nestled in the safety of a thick brick wall that circled the city. She could see the towers of what had to be the city’s leader’s – whose title was Arbiter as Estaria was ruled by judges – home in the distance along with the shining triple spire of the Temple of the Triad. However, the most surprising sight was a barricade of ships blocking entrance into what had to be the main city’s harbor. She felt the ship shift in direction. Leaning over the side she spotted a set of docks amid another mass of buildings, this set outside the city walls.
“Is something wrong?” she asked as a sailor moved past her to secure a rope.
“They’ve blocked the main harbor.” Was the less than useful response she got.
Frowning she peered out toward the city again but gave up on seeing anything else. Now they were closer, the ships were blocking most of the view. Sighing, she turned around and headed back below deck to find her family. Isiah, who had never quite recovered from being seasick, gave her a pleading look.
“We’re almost there,” she assured.
It was quite a bit longer than she expected, given how close they had been before they felt the ship make any significant indication that they had stopped. Finally, they docked and Payton busied herself with hauling Isiah to his feet. Not an easy task.
“You look about as impressive as a drunk mouse,” she commented.
“I’ll vomit on you.”
She snorted at his threat. “Excellent tactic. Projectile vomit. Blind and disgust the enemy while I kill them. We’ll be the Spewing Stabbing Siblings.”
“Don’t make me laugh,” he half moaned, half chuckled.
At the top of the hatch opening, one of the sailors appeared. “Alright you lot, time to get up and off. Hurry it up now. Captain wants you gone quick as you can.”
Payton started up the stairs, squinting in the light from above. The harbormaster was standing on the ship by a ramp that had been attached to lead them off. He glanced up from whatever he was writing when Payton and Isiah appeared.
“Ah, the first of them. With weapons I see.” His tone was strange. Not distasteful, more… observant. “I would welcome you to Imeryn but you are not quite there yet. If you could head straight down the ramp and into the courtyard ahead. We have erected a sort of living quarters for you all for the time being.”
“So we’re in Estaria?” Samuel asked. The man appeared befuddled and nodded. “But you’re not letting us in? Why not?”
“Please proceed down the ramp. Everything will be explained presently. We would prefer to do it as a group rather than multiple times.”
Payton exchanged a look with her twin before motioning him forward. It took nearly an hour before everyone made it off the ship, maneuvering all their belongings – trunks and packs and one person even brought an ornately carved chair which they had claimed was over three hundred years old – taking up most of the time.
The “quarters” were nothing more than a shanty town. Thin walls nailed together to create some semblance of rooms; cots lined it, stacked five deep and two high. And there were over a dozen of these buildings. And half were already filled with people! Some were milling about in a courtyard, a clear loading area for the docks in its original time but now was filled with children playing, people cooking, talking, guardsmen walking around in pairs…
“What is this place?” Samuel whispered beside her.
Payton followed the group she came with to the far end where a new person had taken a spot beside the harbormaster. The new person was a tall woman, muscular in build wearing a black leather vest which had twin rows of buttons going down the front of it and a studded neck guard. On her left shoulder was a shield-like pauldron emblazoned with what Payton could only assume was the city’s sigil: a vibrant blue phoenix flying over a silver moon.
Everything about her was commanding; the way she stood, the way her dark brown eyes shifted over the crowd and scanned the newcomers, the way her dark braided hair was pulled away from her oval face. Everything somehow added to her air of command and confidence.
“May I have your attention, please.”
There was no room for argument in her tone but she hadn’t shouted, she did not sound intimidating, merely called out and then waited for the group to quiet. Bizarre power to be able to wield.
“I am Guard-Captain Takara Knight. I know you are all tired and frightened and came here in seek of asylum from the horrors that are unfolding back home. Imeryn and other cities along Estaria’s border, has seen an influx of refugees since these… Templars,” the woman said the name derisively, disliking the use of such an honorable class, “began to make their appearance. In the past month, this number has tripled and it has exceeded our expectations and caused crime and poverty to grow due to lack of jobs, homes, and other such necessities for the people who have arrived. Because of that we now require every refugee to register with the city before being allowed entry.”
“What?” “Why?” “We had no choice, they took our home!” “This is prejudice!” The shouts raised from about the crowd.
“People… people…” The woman waited, the din rising and rising only to begin to fall when they realized that they would not get an answer or a response until they stopped. “We are not punishing you. We are not segregating you. We wish only that you are able to integrate yourselves within our cities and not become lost to any unscrupulous people that may already exist within our walls or worse become victim to people who specifically travel to take advantage of you in this time. The best way to control this is to know everyone who enters the city.”
Distrust and disdain rumbled throughout the crowd but there was no fear for a riot. They hadn’t the energy or strength. They weren’t being denied access, being shuffled off to slums or anything else. All in all, the request wasn’t exactly unreasonable. They were, after all, asking the city – the country even – to protect them.
“It will take a while to process everyone and thus we have set up accommodations for you in the meantime. Merchants to sell you food, clothing, even trinkets if you wish them are allowed access to these docks. They are required by law to sell you these items at the same price they would within the city so do not fear that you are being scammed. We truly wish to welcome you to your new home and make you productive members of our city. Thank you.”
Payton watched the woman as she stepped aside, moving off the platform she had been on and going to talk to a few of the guards stationed beside it. Whatever instructions she had given, there were salutes. The dark-skinned woman nodded before she walked past them toward the city wall.
“Well this is fantastic,” Isiah muttered.
“It could be worse,” Payton said finally looking away. Isiah was staring at the mob of people trying to push and shove their way to the shacks. Perhaps in an effort to get the best beds or maybe just to get beds near each other.
“How?”
She thought for a moment and then flashed him a smile. “Could be raining?”
Chapter Six
There was little to shield them from the brisk breeze that blew in from the harbor throughout the nights. It carried the smell of water and fish and the frigid cold of the waning winter. There were four campfires spread throughout the shanty town with people huddled around
them, seeking comfort, warmth, and even companionship.
And there was a flow, slowly but surely, of refugees being marched into the far building near the city gates. They would be in it for anywhere for ten to thirty minutes before emerging clutching a piece of paper. They would sometimes be stone-faced, sometimes tearful or gleeful. Then they would gather their things under a guard’s watch before being let through the gate.
It was a symbol of hope and anxiety for all who watched, uncertain what the process was and would bring them and yet they still yearned for their turn. They still desperately wanted to be free of this place, free of the fear that they might not be allowed in and be forced to find some other city more willing to take pity.
Payton watched this from her spot by the campfire closest to her family’s “quarters” – if the shack could even be called that. She watched families, lone travelers, old and young, there were all types and none were denied. It just took time. And it was not as if any of them had anywhere else to go.
Glancing toward the fire, Payton hid a smile, half-way glad that despite everything, at least a few people were attempting to make the best of a horrible situation. Children were playing. A dog had wandered its way in the center of this place and was soaking up the attention a couple of people decided to lavish upon it. A mother was near the heat, braiding a young girl’s hair down the back as the child listened to a rather animated story one of the men was telling. It was a picture of peace and yet it brought tears to her eyes.
She blinked rapidly, averting her gaze, trying not to think on the days when she would sit in front of her own mother, restless as the comb slowly worked its way through the knots and curls of her wavy mane of black locks. Her mother would sing to her to try and calm her but it rarely worked. Payton never wanted to sit still. Funny how things change. She would give anything for her mother to be here to do that now.
Shattered Page 4
