Spark City

by Robert J Power

  “Is there any stronghold closer?” asked Lea.

  “Nothing as secure as a town filled with so many aspiring soldiers. Myself included,” said Aireys. It was easy to read the desolation on her face. She was a fine fighter but she was no hardened warrior. “Maybe we could hold out with a proper defence,” she added trying to rise above the mood.

  “We could hammer our fists on the gates of the Spark and demand entry,” Emir said unperturbed that the Primary would not allow them entrance into her little kingdom.

  “You would be hammering quite a time but the Spark is the better of suggestions. Especially if Lea was with you,” Erroh said, ignoring the glare from his beloved. Where he went, she went. Had he forgotten already?

  “Why so?” asked Quig curiously.

  Because she’s an Alpha like you?

  “She knows the city quite well,” Erroh said evenly.

  Aye, an Alpha so.

  “So we should convince our brothers and sisters to flee this town?” asked Quig.

  “There is still the matter of the second town we came upon who tried to flee and were chased down, slaughtered and burned to nothing,” said Lea.

  “Are all you Alphalines so negative all the time?” asked Quig incredulously.

  Silence.

  “You should see what we’re like when we’re left alone in the dark,” muttered Erroh, shrugging.

  “Or thrown into rivers,” added Lea. Their eyes met and they smiled.

  “None of this is fair,” said Emir and picked up his sword. They were damned to hell either way.

  “Then again, the Riders may simply never discover this place,” Erroh said tossing a sword to Aireys and beckoning all three to face him.

  Emir attacked first. Emir always attacked first. It was as if he couldn’t help himself. Quig would charge from behind the smaller man and swing wide powerful blows. Erroh would sidestep both men and withdraw from their attacks, leaving no opening in his guard for the graceful Aireys to take advantage of. Her form surpassed both Quig and Emir together. She struck relentlessly and viciously like any respectable killer and danced away. She was worthy of the title of grand champion but even she couldn’t penetrate Erroh’s defence. As he repeatedly blocked, parried and countered he heard his father’s whispered suggestions in his mind and followed them unquestioningly. Any warrior could be talented at attacking, but in defence against numerous foes was where he excelled. He was an Alpha with two masters though. His second blade served as his shield and it served him as Jeroen gently insisted it would, and despite so many blades spinning and stabbing, he effortlessly stepped through the carnage delivering blow after killing blow to his opponents without breaking his guard. He was built for war but more than that, he was built to survive war.

  Lea saw a crimson patch of blood from broken stitching around his foot yet still he moved as if it were a stroll in a lush meadow. If he was in pain, he showed nothing to his opponents. He was serene within devastation and she craved to stand with him.

  A few hours later, they parted ways drenched in sweat and mud. For Quig it was to tend to his fields. For Emir and Aireys it was to seek victory in another sort of battle while Erroh took Lea by the hand to the outskirts of Keri.

  There was one more wound.

  They rested for a time at the bottom of one of the great valley walls before carefully climbing to the top of the natural fortification. The sun was beginning to set and the land was still. Evergreen trees and withering shrubbery lined the top and they found a smooth log to sit. The wind caught her hair and he stroked her arm tenderly as they gazed over the edge to the rest of the wastes below them. It was a fine view at least fifty or sixty feet high to the sloping ground below and at least four or five times that to the dark forest below.

  “Do you think an arrow could reach the forest with that strong arm of yours?” he asked.

  “I could do it against the wind,” she said quietly and hugged herself subconsciously.

  “Oh I know that, but with your shoulder as it is now,” he said.

  “Emir would be furious,” she said and he laughed.

  “It was a good kill,” he said suddenly. She said nothing but he heard her breath cut itself short. She took one of his hands in hers and failed miserably in trying to find the words.

  “It’s a lovely view,” she finally managed.

  “A good spot alright. It’s a fine thing we’re both here to witness it,” he agreed.

  “Thanks to you beo,” she said. Her lips trembled a little and her face drained itself of any colour. Perhaps he should have waited a day or two more.

  “He deserved it,” she said coldly, pushing herself away from him. She got to her feet and stepped a little closer to the edge.

  “He did,” replied Erroh.

  “He did,” she repeated to herself. Her hair danced wildly in the wind’s invisible hold. Each gust willed her to fall from the great height, but her balance kept her steady. She remembered the blank look in the Rider’s eyes as the arrow sent him into the darkness forever. She was a killer and he deserved it. They all did. She stepped back from the edge and threw up in a defenceless little bush.

  “There’s a lot of death coming, isn’t there?” she said wiping the bile from her mouth.

  He nodded.

  “It’ll never get any easier killing. Sometimes, I struggle to walk with the weight,” he said quietly. She collapsed in his arms and sobbed quietly.

  After a time when her eyes ran dry and the wind cut through even the warmest of embraces she stroked his face. “Next time I won’t hesitate,” she whispered.

  All lanterns were extinguished and after last calls, drunken patrons made their merry way home. Some battered and bruised. Some in the arms of their new-found lovers. Some alone, thanks to some new dental work. As the hour of the witch approached, the whole of Keri found itself still and peaceful like the rest of the natural wastes.

  One flame remained fighting the good fight against the darkness however. An ancient grey candle gave off just enough light to see in a dark room with barely any decorations. Inside Jeremiah read the thin pages of his book. His nervous thumb struggled to turn each page though he knew most passages by heart. A glass of red wine with an empty bottle stood at his desk. He paced back and forth but couldn’t shake the terrible thoughts from his mind. The wine was taking a little edge off but not enough to offer any relief. He had a plan to finish the bottle and move onto the next. It was all in the God’s name. He took to his knees again and whispered words to the heavens above. He did not expect an answer, what type of god could be expected to answer every prayer anyway?

  What type of man would need that?

  He prayed for himself.

  He checked the window again and peered out into the lonely night. It was late. It was well past “late” and his Regulators still hadn’t returned.

  Reid

  Every afternoon they met in the town centre and waited for Aireys. As head of Keri council, she frequently fought the good fight with Jeremiah over town matters but it was a struggle to convince him of the new threat the town now faced. With face flushed and knuckles white, she would leave his office and vent her frustrations with wooden blade and shield. She struggled to compete with Erroh but their daily skirmishes swiftly caught the attention of the town’s inhabitants and such a spectacle brought fine political aspirations. She lost every fight but she never gave in. It was the makings of a fine mayor and of a legend too.

  When the Regulators finally did return, Erroh, Lea and Quig were sitting at a bench below the political office waiting for her. To amuse themselves they argued with Emir over the significant value of salt to the world. Quig had suggested it was one of the more colourful ways to evoke an infuriated overreaction from the diminutive healer and he had not been wrong. The town was enjoying a blue sky without a cloud and there was a suggestion that this season’s warmth would drag on for longer before the wet months took hold. There were worse places to be and there were worse arguments to
be had.

  “You’re not listening. It’s not just for making food taste better,” the healer said.

  “But you will admit that it adds to a stew,” suggested Lea.

  “It does but that’s not my point,” cried Emir shaking his head.

  “See now, I don’t like salt in my stew. I like pepper,” said Quig raising one hand. He thought it a fine gesture to accentuate his point.

  “Though both do make a fine combination,” Erroh pointed out.

  Two dishevelled figures upon horses rode by them in mute silence. Their heads were bowed and their clothes were muddied and worn. Perhaps had there been three riders, the friends may have taken greater notice.

  “Pepper is far more important than salt in a good stew and it also makes you sneeze which is wonderful as well,” said Quig licking his lips and thoroughly enjoying the torment of his friend.

  “It’s true, salt doesn’t make you sneeze at all,” agreed Lea.

  “Oh fuk off the lot of you,” growled Emir, realising the rise they’d achieved. After a moment, he laughed too.

  “I knew a man who liked to put sugar into his stew,” Erroh said after a thoughtful pause.

  “Sugar is fine for a stew but finer for a cup of tea. No need for salt in tea, that’s just madness,” said Lea.

  “Fine, I won’t keep going on about the incredible medicinal and indeed practical uses of salt any more but let it be known, that I hate you all,” muttered Emir laughing.

  The two figures dropped from their mounts. Both wore grim expressions and made no eye contact with any passers-by. A cloud of despondency hung above them. They tied their horses to a post across from the mayor’s office, walked up the wooden steps, and entered the doorway without invitation. After a time Aireys appeared but it wasn’t to engage in friendly combat. It was to request the presence of Erroh to discuss worrying events.

  “Please Fabien, tell the tale again for the Alpha,” asked Aireys softly.

  Erroh noticed the haggard man’s hands. They shook dreadfully as he gripped the glass of wine. His companion leant against the far wall. He too shared the same shocked and exhausted expression. His glass was already empty and Jeremiah was preparing a refill. Fabien took a deep breath and began to recite the tale that would likely lead to all their deaths.

  “We followed the river for a day and picked up a few tracks,” he whispered. “It was Reid’s idea to stay out longer,” he added and his voice rose and broke at the mention of the third Regulator. Jeremiah refilled his drink. It was all he could do.

  “On the third day following the tracks we discovered at least a thousand brutes readying themselves for war,” he said.

  “And plenty of cavalry,” said the second man from behind them. His eyes were vacant. A few drops of wine rolled down his chin but he didn’t care to notice. Most knew him as Hale.

  “They were camped along the river,” Fabien continued. “Reid wanted to know if they would favour any peace,” he whispered and took a breath. Jeremiah’s skin had taken an ashen look. He watched both Regulators for sign of any top ups. It seemed incredibly important that they have full glasses. If nothing else, he would manage that. “He had his arms raised and carried no sword as he approached and they just grabbed him and slit his fuken throat.”

  Silence.

  “Flung him into the river as if nothing had happened,” Hale said and Jeremiah opened another bottle.

  “We could only watch,” muttered Fabien sadly. His composure broke and he wept tears for his fallen friend.

  “May the lord have mercy on his beautiful soul,” muttered Jeremiah sadly and wiped a tear of his own. He would cry aloud when nobody was there to watch.

  “We watched them in secret for two days,” said Hale.

  “They move slowly and only follow the river,” Fabien said. He held his hand over his eyes and sniffed pitifully.

  “That river?” asked Erroh, looking out the window at the great raging beast that flowed right through the town.

  Both Regulators nodded and cold shivers ran up Erroh’s spine.

  “This town will fall,” growled Erroh. Anger flowed through him. He gripped one of his wooden sparring blades as though it was steel, and silently cursed the unknown army and then himself. He’d begun to fall for this town’s charm and naivety. He’d almost believed the walls would conceal them all.

  “That’s why I called you in here Alpha,” said Aireys. He thought it was strange not calling him by his name twice.

  “You’re trained to think like a conqueror,” she said and dared not meet his eyes. If she was insulting him, apparently she didn’t want to see.

  “I’m just a man,” Erroh said, watching the river flow through the edge of the valley.

  “You are more than that,” she challenged.

  Like the Alpha that he was, he shrugged weakly. If they wanted him to meet this army and defeat them, they were grossly overestimating an Alphaline’s ability. Was Aireys aware he couldn’t actually breathe fire?

  In truth though, he had thought like a conqueror. He had never stopped formulating plans since he had arrived. Intricate plans. Simple plans. All of the plans. It would all depend on the people of the town. It would also depend on himself and Lea. Deep down fearful thoughts reminded him that this was not his land; this was not his fight.

  He wondered what his father would think.

  “How long do we have before they land on us?” Aireys asked.

  “Three or four days at most,” said Fabien gravely. His head began to shake. This debriefing needed to end soon. They looked to the Alpha in the room for an answer.

  “You know my feelings Aireys. The people need to be told. Only then can you make decisions,” Erroh said before bowing and leaving the office. After a few moments, Aireys followed behind him leaving the holy man to tend to his flock. He had no comforting words to offer but he knew he had a third bottle somewhere.

  Word of the urgent town meeting spread like wildfire. Rumours abounded of a large force marching on Keri. When Lea and Erroh entered the square, the densely gathered people quickly parted for them right up to the stage. In times of war, those who were fearful turned to the strongest warriors. Apparently, it was good to be the king. Standing on the wooden platform was Jeremiah, Aireys, and one other Regulator, a tall warrior in a long brown coat and a receding hairline that belied his age. His eyes scanned anxiously at all around him but his demeanour remained calm and relaxed. A man used to keeping things to himself.

  Jeremiah addressed the crowd first. He retold the incidents of the past few days with more truth than Erroh expected. He added little honey to his words and allowed the fear to show in his face. When someone interrupted him with roars of how Keri was “a fighting town,” a few brave warriors cheered their enthusiasm for a resistance. They were passionately unyielding. They were courageously hopeful. And they were gloriously foolish. The town had never fallen. It never would. Could it? More voices joined in and jokes were thrown around gleefully. How quickly their fallen comrade was forgotten. Jeremiah reeled them back in desperately. He did something Erroh didn’t expect, or want.

  He confirmed rumours of other towns and the slaughter of defenders who stood their ground and the slaughter of the ones who tried to run. When the crowd fell to an eerie silence, he pointed to Erroh and Lea and confirmed their pedigree. Lea dipped her head in embarrassment while Erroh stared straight ahead as though he was playing cards. Only his left hand making a fist offered any suggestion that he was angry. Aye, many suspected seeing his ability in the sparring ring but still, fuk the mayor for confirming it. Fleeing under the cover of darkness just became that little bit harder.

  “We are caught between two actions,” roared Aireys, eying the mayor irately. It would appear she thought revealing their lineage was an underhanded tactic as well. “Do we wait for their attack and hope we can hold them? Or do we leave for a sanctuary?” she asked and many voices replied for they had never tasted the horror of real battle. They cried out that Ke
ri was a town of fighters and forbade talk of cowardice. Keri was their home and it would not fall. All they needed was alcohol and blades. Walls and grit. Fire and arrows. Perhaps a gate? Roars became camaraderie and crude jests elicited laughter and shallow bravery at the expense of the unknown foes. It was here that Aireys and Jeremiah finally found common ground. They met each other’s eyes and acceptance reached them both. They were both vying for control of a town brimming with idiots. For a breath, Aireys could almost see the world through the eyes of Emir. It was like the fuken festival all over again.

  And then Erroh climbed up on stage and started to talk.

  They hung on his every word as he stripped them of their delusions. He was a lion and they were nothing more than little lost lambs. None of them realised just how lost they were.

  “With a dozen Alphas fighting by your side, this town will fall and any attempting to hold will fall with it,” he said loudly and his words echoed around the square. “If we attempt to flee, we will be tracked down and slaughtered by their cavalry long before we reach sanctuary. Our one chance is for a few warriors to hold this town for as long as possible. To halt their pursuit. If only for a day.” He took a breath and looked around. He needed to be careful with his next few words.

  “For those who choose to stay there will be no salvation. But some must stay behind.”

  His feet creaked on the wooden boards underneath and he wondered would it shatter under his weight. It would be a fine sight for those in need of inspiring sights. An Alpha with flailing arms collapsing in a grand heap of soon to be firewood.

  Firewood.

  They took it in and digested it slowly among themselves. He wondered how Magnus would have fared speaking to such a crowd. Far better no doubt. He was not his father and there were horrific decisions to be made. He wasn’t sure he was up to the task.

  He glanced across at the two most powerful people in the town and realised his opinion was valued far higher than any others. He felt dizzy looking out over the hopeful faces staring up at him. Save us Alphaline, save us from the bad men with the swords. For a sheltered town of fighters who spent their entire year dreaming of innocuous glory in the arena they knew a real warrior when they saw one. Erroh could see their fear under the roars and bravado.