Spark City

by Robert J Power

  Ah well, next question.

  “I think we’re done for the day,” announced Lea dejectedly. Beside her, the females nodded in agreement. They had heard enough from the legend’s son.

  Perhaps he should have lied.

  “Thank you for your honesty Erroh. Has any girl made her choice?” she asked formally and the world went quieter than ever. He suddenly felt dizzy. They glanced quickly at each other soundlessly, all waiting for either of them to make a terrible mistake or a beautiful choice. Seconds slowed to nothing but the count of breaths in the light and Erroh felt the crushing weight of disappointment. None had chosen.

  And then something happened; she stepped forward having waited for every other girl to reject him. She was an angel and he was terrified. Each girl looked at him, then to her and back to him again. Countless emotions surged through him. Mostly fear and excitement. Perhaps it was love. Lea leaned over the balcony, her hands laying on the dark mahogany surface. They locked eyes and he listened to the concerto that was her voice as it resonated through the dark chamber. “None have chosen you Erroh, come back tomorrow.”

  Each girl quietly left the battlefield without looking back. They were eager to escape this miserable battle of wits. He heard a heavy door close far away in the distance and then all the lights dimmed to nothing leaving him standing alone in the dark, where he belonged.

  Next Question

  Tomorrow would be better but for now though; he felt like shit. Seth had obviously seen a few bad first days in his time and refrained from any comment. Leaving the claustrophobic office, he made his way through the morning crowds and found himself at the marketplace where he spent a few pieces on fresh cofe and some heavily floured bread.

  When he tired of the endless bustle and cry of sellers and buyers, he ventured deep into Samara’s heart. This was the great city of light after all, and he was keen to know her a little better, if nothing else so he could dislike her that little more. This city stood the test of time; he wondered what stories it could tell. He wondered what battles it had seen and he wondered what battles it would see, for this was peacetime but all things changed.

  Sturdy inner walls with wooden archways at various sections separated each district of the city. The poorer areas were simple wooden shacks at the edges of the walls while deeper in some of the richer homes had a second floor. He imagined the more successful merchants owned these. He wondered was there some skilled merchant shrewd enough to have earned himself a third floor tall enough to rival the chambers of the Alphalines or the tower of the Wolves? It was unlikely.

  At various parts of the walls there were a few flights of steps leading skywards and Erroh felt lightheaded watching a lone Black Guard make the trek high into the searing blue to patrol along the top. What would become of him if a strong wind just grabbed him? What thoughts and fears had driven the ancient beings to create something so monstrous? If their intention had been to lock themselves behind their stone and survive the great fires, they had succeeded. However, it hadn’t been the fires alone which ravaged the world. Like time they too had passed, but their legacy lived on. This city could never fall. It would never burn. It was eternal. The first Primary had desired a place for her Alphas to learn and live. She had chosen well. Three hundred years and counting.

  The librarian was thrilled with the new treasures. She had all seven capsules open in front of her like little soldiers waiting for millennium old orders. She inspected each perfect piece from the past closely, stopping every few seconds to remind him how amazing they were, how thankful she was and it felt good each time she did. He gently insisted that it was a small matter. It was wonderful to bring such childish glee, to one so old. Her name was “Massey,” and he liked her immediately. She was the perfect example to the uninformed; there was little or no difference between bloodlines. They were all of the same race. Though her tanned skin was aged and her body tired, she carried herself as regally as any female he had met, and she spoke as though she had walked the road longer than most. He imagined her spending her youth eagerly searching in tombs, caves or forgotten wells for any sign of those precious metal tins from the past. A fine life he imagined but this world was vast and a thousand such lifetimes would still never be enough to assist this world’s advancement. Rarely the scrolls dated from the same era. Many spanned across hundreds of years. Usually around the time of some cataclysmic event, for there were many. Some of them were words of hope and joy scribed onto little crisp pieces of paper for those that would come much later, but in most cases, it was their last few terrified words gifted to the future. If only they had thought beyond their fate. If only they’d thought of those who would follow. Instead, they’d dug them deep into the ground, desperate to keep a record of their useless life; never thinking the next world would need a little help in its advancement. The bulb of electricity above their heads flickered but stayed lit. Thank the absent gods that at least some had scribed words of importance. That some dug holes deep enough for some printed books to stay shielded from the great fires. Sometimes it hurt to think of what had been lost, but seeing any attempt at creating libraries was a fine reminder that life survived.

  This library in particular was as small as the building suggested. Nestled between two of the richer houses, he’d almost walked past before spotting the little plaque over the doorway. The capsules belonged in a better place than his pack. She would not accept his donation so they had agreed upon a small exchange. The few pieces he now carried in his little pouch were barely the value of one scroll but it is what his parents would have wanted. So therefore, it was what he wanted. A man with all the knowledge of what was lost was a man that could rule the world. Or woman.

  There was a fine selection of scrolls hanging from frames on all four walls but the true wealth to this building was the humble collection of books at hand. Despite most of the ancient relics too scorched or water damaged to read from first page to last, Massey’s enthusiasm wasn’t diminished in any way. Regardless of their condition, she’d stacked most of them on shelves around the room in alphabetical order. Moreover, those in their most legible state, she kept locked in a large glass cabinet beneath a curtain out of the sun’s light. It wasn’t just expensive treasures of old, which lined the lesser shelves of this fine room though. There were newer books, little more than crudely penned stories, poems, or even political rhetoric, scribed by those with a better education than the common lowerlines. They were still just as beautiful despite the grammar spelling and artistry. Her words warmed him with the thought that books would rise again, and perhaps when this world found its feet and put down their swords forever, they would.

  At the far end of Samara were heavy sturdy gates almost as big as the wall itself. They protected the harbour. When opened over the deep settled water, vessels from the river could sail through and dock. If there was a weakness to the city, perhaps a naval assault was the smart attack. The small dock itself was awash with traders and seafarers, loading and unloading cargo, under the watchful eye of the Black Guard. On a few occasions Erroh was almost trampled by horse driven carts streaming from the barges, laden with fresh supplies to those who’d bid the highest. The last leg of his tour of the city brought him beneath the massive frame of the city arena. He hated it from first sight. Maybe it was the darker shadow it cast across the streets that set him at unease, or the thoughts of so many bloodthirsty people screaming for entertainment as combatants battered each other to a glorious pulp. The grandeur of sport was alive and well in Samara. One side of the arena was built into the great wall, and like most of the buildings, it was sturdy and destined to last forever. He imagined the number of people that it would seat on a glorious day of a tournament but in truth, hearing the roar of the crowd would be something else. He dropped his head in disgust. That was just the Alphaline in him, he supposed.

  As he ended his tour, the city lights sparked to life. The little glowing embers slowly began to blaze into life all around. It was unnatural but beautiful.
He wondered would he ever get bored of the sight. He watched the city light up the night for a little while before gently turning the handle of the dented old door and stepping back into the Pig in the Hole.

  He had a plan. It was a simple plan and it worked. He had some food brought to the shithole, cleverly disguised as his chambers. It was a mash of potatoes, sweetcorn with butter. All a higherline needed to build up the stamina to impress the waiting deities come the morning. He washed it down with a glass of warm milk and for the first time all day, no longer felt the delicate suggestion of nausea. He then prepared stage two of his plan. There were really only a few stages, at most two. They involved eating and preparing for the second day properly.

  He washed the stains from his clothes in the cold water and rubbed sweet smelling liquid into the fabrics. He laid them out for the night and reassured himself they would be dry by dawn. As long as there were no wet patches in embarrassing places, he would be fine. He spent a fair part of the evening meticulously shaving his wild bristle into something he hoped was respectable. After staring at himself for a little too long in the mirror, he shaved himself clean completely. Finally lowering himself into a bath of tepid water, he scrubbed all sign of the road from his body. Laying down for the night after flicking the lights on and off a couple times, he left the door unlocked and closed his eyes, pledging that he would face his unstable adversaries with renewed vigour. He would face their questions and charm them. He would be clever and careful and in the end, he would win. Whether or not he was ready to win was another matter and what he would do with his prize was something else entirely.

  “Are you serious?” exclaimed Lillium loudly “Nothing built?”

  “No, nothing built yet,” he replied, trying and failing to win her over with his most hopeful smile.

  All four girls had returned for round two. It should have been a good thing, but the very first question had exploded in his face, though not in a literal sense. That would have been a lot less painful, figuratively speaking. No, this was a portent of the day to come. It was a fine question. He should have answered with a little more of an explanation or with a little bit of that Erroh charm he thought he had. Instead, he had answered like a wanderer of the road disinclined to give much away.

  “So, you have no home for your mate,” confirmed Lillium. He opened his mouth to answer but Lea spoke first. She didn’t wear as much red on her lips today but looked even finer than the day before.

  “Why don’t you have a home built?” she asked and tightened her still very kissable lips. He thought about Jeroen and Mea building their farm together and he could think of worse things.

  “I thought she and I could build it together,” he said smoothly. He dipped his head humbly.

  Perfect.

  “Together?” one of the girls muttered. Roja it was. Was that her name? He was sure it was. Roja with the red hair. Lillium of the blue and Silvia of the blonde. And Lea with black hair who justifiably hated him.

  “Aye,” he replied.

  “Not very prepared for this were you?” muttered Lillium. Perhaps she was no fan of manual labour, which was a pity because she had fine arms. Long, slender and perfect for sawing logs into building materials. She tapped her finger loudly against the balcony rail and wore her prowess a little more obviously than the other girls. She was a hunter. Perhaps all of them were and he was little more than a field mouse, scurrying through their talons, desperately trying to avoid the inevitable snatch.

  Was he prepared for any of this?

  “I suppose not,” he said shrugging. All three glared at him. Perhaps this wasn’t the most charming answer.

  “Do you at least have land to your name?” asked Roja.

  He nodded his head, which was something.

  “Is it in the territory of your father’s land?” Lea asked a little more nastily than needed. She wore a darker dress today. He imagined she would take to the hammer and nails. That was fine. He had never been skilled at such things, and she could vent some anger.

  “Aye, there is suitable land around his territory,” he admitted. In his defence, Magnus’s hold was in the east. There were worse parts of the world to rear a family. He held his tongue though, next question please.

  “Good thing your father did all the work,” hissed Lillium. He wondered what he would look like with blue hair. He would probably look stupid. She carried the look well though. It matched her eyes. Still though, fuk off woman.

  Silvia tried to help and he loved her a little bit for it.

  “Is the land good and fertile?” she asked as safely as possible.

  “Aye, it’s rich land.”

  “Do you intend to farm?” she asked in that same wonderful tone.

  “Aye.”

  “Have you ever farmed?”

  “No.”

  “How will you support yourself and your mate?” she asked. Smaller and more fragile than the rest, he wondered what she could bring to their joint venture. Of all the females, she appeared less prepared for a life of toil. Still though, that smile could warm any male’s weary heart. He would work twice as hard to earn her praise and more. Aye, when it came down to it, he was not above the primal urges of a pubescent cub.

  “His father will help him. Next question,” Roja jested.

  “I believe that’s Lea’s decision to make,” Silvia said, staring ahead to avoid the glaring look from her closest friend.

  “My apologies. I don’t know what I was thinking,” Roja said bowing with as little respect as she could. She would demand a castle, thought Erroh. A castle, an army, and probably a throne. A highest-lined female like her was used to such things. Like Silvia, she would probably not build it with him either, though she was more than capable. Her skills were likely found elsewhere. Perhaps she would be suited to bartering for the finest materials. Fine materials were needed in the creation of castles and thrones. She would be a stunning queen.

  What wonderful thoughts to have while staring up at their shared disappointed expression. When they had walked into the arena the day before there had been the unmistakable flash of excitement in their eyes but now that spark had turned to a dull ember. An unsettling thought occurred to him, what if they all rejected him? Surely, that couldn’t happen, could it?

  It could.

  Lillium decided to drag up an old question, which had been bothering her. Thanks Lillium. It wasn’t even your question, you blue-haired bitch.

  “Why would you drag your new mate all the way across the wastes?” she asked.

  He tried to be witty.

  “It’s a nice walk,” he said lightly and met a terrible silence. So much for wit. On to the next plan.

  “Could be a lonely one,” Lea muttered to herself.

  A few of the girls laughed.

  All of the girls laughed.

  Though the road had done little to improve his communication skills, he lost none of his talents in reading people’s behaviour. Much of this skill he learned through healthy bouts of gambling, but in this uncomfortable game with these deities, no matter what cards he held, the odds were slipping further and further away. He wondered if he could ask for a fresh deal.

  “What of our children Erroh?” asked Roja. “If we are so far away, what of our children?”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Of course you don’t,” sighed Lillium. She leaned across the balcony, supporting her head in both her hands perfectly portraying her disinterest.

  “If one of us gave birth to a girl, Samara is a far walk just to visit her,” explained Silvia in her own tone of mild irritation. The air felt thinner and Erroh found his chest tighten slightly.

  “My mother found a way,” he said.

  “Oh yes, Elise the queen of the four kings,” Silvia mocked and Roja gasped.

  “How dare you?” the redhead hissed, taking the words right out of his mouth. Even Lillium shook her head in dismay, and Lea? Well Lea hid her head. He thought he saw a smile on her lips before she did. A
fine trait to laugh at suggested innuendo.

  “I am sorry for saying such a thing Erroh,” Silvia said quickly, though she did not direct the apology towards him. Her eyes locked with Roja’s venomous glare. Twice Silvia had mocked his mother and twice now, Roja had been angered.

  “Elise is a legend, I meant no disrespect,” she said, finally looking away to Erroh below. She smiled sadly, as if it was he who had uttered the slur. He accepted her ignorance; she was from a defeated faction, was she not? Nevertheless, wars were not forgotten, nor were their reasons for declaration.

  “No need to apologise, my dear,” he said, hiding his own dissipating anger. He even bowed, it was a nice touch, and she rewarded him with her most devastatingly grateful smile. It was almost a nice moment in the day, before Lea attacked one last time.

  “Now that we have spoken with you Erroh, do you still think you are ready for a mate?” she asked. It was a great question, though it should never have been asked.

  Each girl knew it.

  Each girl held her breath.

  “I am not at all ready for a mate. I never was,” he said and hesitated. He had more to say. Oh yes, he had a great deal more to say but the rock had been cast. Why bother adding to his trouble? If he lied and declared himself ready for such responsibility, there would be uproar. They were waiting for him to fuk up; he could see it in their eyes. If he tried to scurry away with a tissue of lies, any one of their talons would tear him apart.

  “This is just wonderful,” growled Lea.

  “This is a disaster,” agreed Lillium.

  “This is a nightmare,” spat Roja.

  “This is a fine waste of time,” said Silvia shaking her head.

  “Do you even want to mate with us?” Roja said after a few uncomfortable breaths.