“Someone did this. This sect did this, one way or another,” Louis said.
“We will pursue them to the last breath,” Lissandro said, looking at Louis. “Instead of tears, the enemies’ blood…”
“Instead of flowers, their weapons shattered,” Louis responded and shook his head. “Tsk… What did you read, Lilo?” Louis turned to them. “We need to move from here. We have lingered enough in this contaminated place. Come.” He tugged at Selen’s hand in his.
With a last glimpse at the village, Selen brushed away the sorrowful thoughts from his mind and followed. Heading east, they resumed their journey.
For long, they hiked in the col, hoping to find a shelter for the night. As they progressed between the imposing mounts, they lost sight of the village’s roofs behind. In the west, Trevalden extended to the horizon under a sea of clouds. Selen, who was used to the wilderness, relished the feeling of immensity of such an open space. On their right, the steep mountain slope was blocked by snow-covered boulders, while a forest of grey firs covered the bottom of the narrow valley on their left. Selen heard the gurgle of a stream hidden behind the trees. From the crown of a spruce, a buzzard took to the air. The blue sky had turned white. The first snowflakes didn’t worry Selen, but after a while, they poured and whirled, swept over his face by the strong, hissing wind.
“We need to find a shelter!” Lissandro shouted.
“We should go back to the village before this turns into a storm!” Folc responded.
“No. Too far!” Ahanu shouted. “There!” The Child pointed at something ahead.
Selen concentrated his gaze on that direction and squinted but saw nothing. Dragged along by Louis, he hied towards the place. As they drew nearer, Selen noticed that the yellow and brown spot they were heading to was a sheep shelter half buried under a roof of deep snow. Open on two sides, it wasn’t more than a refuge against the elements. The dog raced around them as if rounding up his flock. Slipping inside the hole, they crouched against the humid stone wall and against each other in a line. Selen sat down at the extremity and heard an unpleasant sucking noise. He put a hand under his bottom. The ground was a mix of mud and dead grass. When he considered that ruining his furs was not the worst that could happen during the journey, the dog crept into the hole, trampled over them clumsily, and lay down on Kilda and Eliot, who cursed under the weight.
“Everyone takes out his blanket and stretches it over himself and his neighbors,” Lissandro said. “In a short while, the temperatures will drop, and we will freeze. We can’t make a fire on such a small surface.”
“Will we have to pass the night here?” Selen asked while opening his bag. “Don’t we have one or two hours left in front of us?”
“There is but little chance to find a better shelter until nightfall,” Lissandro answered.
“Until then, I suggest you go hunting,” Louis said to Lissandro. He took out his blanket and unfolded it over them.
“Hunting?” Lissandro asked, turning to Louis with twisted eyebrows.
“How did you plan to feed your mastiff?” Louis responded.
Lissandro fell silent. “Shit.” Selen heard him mumble.
“I can spare a bit of my food,” Selen said, thinking of the poor beast that had not requested to be carried along on a suicide mission.
“You’re too kind,” Lissandro said. “I’ll give it mine. It will serve me as a lesson. It’s a bit late to turn back now.”
“We’ll complete our mission or die trying,” Louis said from under his hood.
“You know, Louis,” Lissandro objected, “positive reinforcement should be something subtler like, You all do a great job. We survived many battles, and we have the strength to complete that task. At least, it works better on me than to hold a gun against the back of my head.”
“I thought you liked my motivational speeches on the battlefield,” Louis said.
“I don’t deny their efficiency on men of this time or of yours, but I grew to be a child of the twenty-first century. So, please, don’t hurt my little feelings.”
Louis snorted. “You talk like a molly.”
“Coming from someone gay, it’s a quite ironical repartee,” Lissandro retorted.
“I’m what?” Louis asked, confused.
“Never mind,” Lissandro mumbled. “I’ll have a short nap before we eat.”
A nap. Selen twisted and turned his back in all positions to find one comfortable enough to rest. He squeezed between Louis and the humid wall. The blanket barely reached his ankles. He closed his eyes. Water dropped from the roof onto the mud, the dog whined, and at least one of his friends snuffled every ten seconds. How do they want me to…? Before he finished his thought, Selen was sleeping.
Selen woke up, his face tucked in Louis’s shoulder. The comforting smell of his friend made him believe that they were back in their bed. Unfortunately, he was still under the shelter. The snow had stopped falling, but it wasn’t night yet. Next to him, his companions, exhausted by the walk, had also dropped into slumber. The furs, his hood, and the blanket held him warm. For now. His tongue felt coated and his muscles were sore. Selen was grumpy. I want to stretch, I want to bathe, I want to eat, I want… Something moved in front of him. White on white, it hopped and danced. Selen saw the dark spot of the nose and the two coal-black orbs before seeing the whole lamb. What did a little lamb do all alone in the col?
Selen thought of the village. Had the animal followed them up here? It would freeze to death or be eaten by a wolf if he didn’t rescue it. Slowly, not to wake up Louis, Selen dragged himself out of the blankets and crept towards the lamb.
“Come here,” Selen whispered.
But the animal ignored him and trotted away towards the edge of the forest. Selen progressed into the new layer of snow, enjoining the animal to come back. The lamb challenged him. For every step Selen made in his direction, the animal made two further away. He wants to play, Selen thought. If only he had something to attract it. The lamb uttered a bleat and disappeared into the forest.
“No, no. Come back.”
Selen followed the tracks. The forest was neither dense nor long. In a short time, he arrived in a glade. Behind a fringe of spruces, a lake stretched. Its green and blue frozen waters contrasted against the whiteness of the snow. On both sides of the lake, the mountain’s peaks, sprinkled at their base with a multitude of firs, rose like dragon teeth into the grey sky.
The stray lamb stood on the shore of the lake. Hesitant, it made a few steps on the ice. Its legs trembled, and it stopped moving. Selen saw his chance and made a first step onto the ice. The lake was too small to be deep, and as he gazed down, he saw that the water was entirely frozen. The pebbles shone yellow and grey under him. He looked up again. He was close now.
“Come here, little sheep.”
A line crossed the lamb’s path. Selen’s smile faded. The lamb had halted because the ice stopped. Water lay further ahead. Running water. The obvious hit Selen like a stone. He, who had raised sheep for years. What a fool he had been. There was no lamb in winter. And his sword was under the shelter.
“No,” he whispered, too late.
The lamb plunged into the water and vanished. A long snake tail jumped out of the lake and swept him over. A kind of green dragon with bat wings emerged from the depths. The sharp claws at the end of its two legs dug into the ice like ice picks. A wyvern. Lying on the slippery ice, with nothing to defend himself and in the impossibility of fleeing, Selen curled on himself and shut his eyes. I must do something! His mind fought back, but his body only tensed. He felt the wyvern draw near. At every instant, he expected pointy teeth to bite his limbs.
A hand caressed the side of his head. Hesitant and frightened, Selen peeked over his arm. The snake tail still spread out and disappeared into the water, but the other half of the creature had turned into a beautiful, winged woman. Her long, fair hair hid her bare breasts. She was white and aerial like a ghost.
“You didn’t come for th
e emerald,” she said with an ethereal voice.
“No,” Selen answered. “I came for the lamb.”
“The lamb?” she asked, surprised. “Did you see the lamb?”
“Yes. I wanted to save it.”
Her glowing hand grazed over him. Selen didn’t feel the touch but felt the warmth it radiated. “Poor, wretched thing,” she said. “Would you have protected it? Like the child you want?”
“The child,” Selen whispered. “I can’t have a child.” He had relinquished. Louis might force himself to please him, but all in his friend’s words showed his own existence already loathed him. Why should Selen bring forth his ridiculous dreams again?
“Why would you want one?”
“I’m an orphan,” Selen whispered, gazing at the frozen pebbles. An orphan from birth and a millstone around his friend’s neck. He had been robbed of a childhood, of his parents, of the most basic feelings in life. Now he knew that never would he share them with someone. The gods had decided he didn’t deserve a family, as he hadn’t deserved parents. Did he even deserve Louis? What did he ever do to merit to live? He wasn’t worthy of life, of friends, of such a perfect love. I’ve been raised to kill. I moan, I pester, and I am utterly selfish. “My parents didn’t want me, and they were right.”
The wyvern smiled. “You’re wrong, Moonchild.” Selen stared at her, puzzled. The wyvern opened her hands over the ice between them. A vision appeared.
Selen saw snow, forests of firs, huts made of skins, and a sleigh pulled by deer. Near the sleigh, a giant, blond man built for pankration and sporting an abundant beard embraced a short, plump, copper-skinned woman with cheekbones as large as Selen’s. The couple was dressed in fluffy animal furs and wore warm, red and blue hats. Their bright, amorous faces gloomed when a group of men raced down a hill, spears over their heads. Blood jetted from the deer’s necks when arrows struck them. The vision became blurred.
Selen grasped for it through thin air. It reappeared.
Captured and stripped to linen, the couple walked in a line of prisoners at a sunny harbor hosting elaborated ships. The woman, now meager and sick, fell. Despite the man’s attempts to wake her, she never rose. Guards approached on both sides. Trying to protect her, the husband was hit and killed. An olive-skinned man dressed in colorful clothes Selen recognized from his previous life stepped forth from between the guards. He bent over the woman and delicately picked up a bundle from her arms. A baby with green eyes.
“You,” the wyvern said in a kind tone, pointing at the ice. “Moonchild.”
“Me.” Selen touched the ice. He trailed his fingers to the two dead bodies. “And my parents.”
He had never been abandoned, and he had lived a lie. All this time when he had been so proud to be part of the warrior elite; he wasn’t even from his land. They had captured him, but they had left him his name. Moonchild. Selen. Though he had pitied them, his life had not been worth more than the ones of the slaves. Selen swallowed the knot in his throat. A slave and a barbarian. The truth was worse than he had thought. Shame flooded in him. Louis must never know, or he would despise him and chase him away. He looked at his parents again. Despite their differences, he felt the dolor in his heart and the tears coming to his eyes. I miss you. I look like you. From now on, he would see them in his features. He had a family. He had roots. The vision vanished. When he raised his head, the wyvern had left.
Selen got to his feet and retraced his way to the shelter, his mind full of doubts and questions, his heart burning with anger and despair. When he arrived at their bivouac, his friends were awaking and stretching. They had barely noticed his disappearance.
“Where have you been?” Louis mumbled.
“I needed to,” Selen answered evasively. “It will soon be dark. I suppose we have no lantern.”
“No lantern and no fire,” Kilda said. “We should eat now if we don’t want to gnaw on our fingers. Lilo?” She turned to their friend and poked his shoulder.
“Ah! Don’t let them rape my nostrils!” Lissandro exclaimed.
Kilda sighed. “Lilo, wake up. You have the food.”
They shared the pâté, the cheese, and the brown bread. Lissandro gave a sausage to the dog. Selen’s fingers squeezed the bread in his hand until it crumbled. He forced himself to nip on something. His stomach was hungry, but his tormented mind wanted to scream. He wanted all of this to be over. The cold. Their journey. Himself.
33
Hidden under his coats and a large hood, Josselin hurried towards one of the schools in Poldon District. He had to make haste. Whatever the area, the streets had turned into cutthroat places. He didn’t count the houses where apertures had been walled up as if a few stones could incarcerate death. Killed equally by the plague or human hands, abandoned bodies lay scattered on the pavement. As neither the hospital nor the city watch had the time to pick them up, the corpses evolved into stinking pools. Only the rigor of winter spared those shapeless, blackened figures from the infestation of maggots.
Stepping over a shriveled hand, remnant of a scavenger’s dinner, Josselin took the stairs on his right towards the heavy, sculpted bronze doors. The town house looked deserted. The high windows’ shutters on the first floor were shut down. He hammered the door.
“Go away!” a voice shouted from the inside.
“I am Minister Josselin. Open the door!” Josselin insisted.
A small, metallic piece of the door slid open. Part of a face appeared in the peephole. “The schools are closed to everyone. It’s an official order, and we will follow it.”
“It seems the way in is closed but not the way out. How do you explain the presence of children in the streets?” Josselin asked. He might have to stay on the threshold, but he would have his answers.
“They were sick. We had to send them home so that they wouldn’t contaminate their comrades,” the man answered.
“Many children do not bear the symptoms of the plague. Furthermore, their families may have been decimated already. Some were not even welcomed home. You condemned them to death. It is your task to ensure that the children are taken care of.”
“Once they are outside the school, it is up to the city watch to ensure the security of the streets and the return of these children to their homes,” the man said, embarrassed.
“These children gather near the gatehouses for care. It’s not up to the city watch to do your chores. Commander Urian has his own worries and his own men to feed. How many children have you left in here?”
“Most of them.”
“Then you will seal this building. Protect them, feed them, and quarantine them within your walls should the disease strike some of them. Should you disobey, you will have to answer for it to the king and the government. Is it clear?”
“Yes, my lord.”
“Then spread the word,” Josselin said. He squinted his eyes and gazed at the column of smoke rising in the distance. “And may the gods watch over this place.”
Pulling his hood over his head, Josselin walked away. Now that the essential had been done, it was time he joined Brother Benedict in the hospital. From the school, the shortest way to the hospital was through Spreefield. The commoners’ residential area had been struck hard and was turning into a slum. He could also take the main streets. It was a longer way but still under control of the municipality. Josselin traversed Poldon District with long strides and turned onto Linen Street. All the shops were closed and the shutters were barred. A clamor came his way.
Josselin found refuge in the shadow of a doorway. Armed men from the watch rushed out an alley, throwing glances at their back. Josselin deduced that they were fleeing and sprang up from his hideout. One of the men pointed his halberd at him before he recognized him.
“Run, my lord!” the guard exclaimed.
“What’s going on?” Josselin asked, running in the man’s steps.
“A trap. We were alerted by the screams of women being raped, but the rascals were expecting us,” the guard excl
aimed, panting. “We have lost ten men already. We must get back to the gatehouse.”
More shouts came from their side; a gang armed with blades and handcrafted weapons emerged and rushed on them. While the soldiers engaged in the melee, Josselin forked into an alley. He was unarmed and unprepared to face such nasty men. The alley was a dead end, but he spotted a sewer manhole behind a cart. Without thinking twice, Josselin shifted it to the side and slipped through the hole, closing the lid above him.
Though the sewers were only a few months old, they already reeked. Fortunately, Louis had planned them large enough for a man to stand up. Thanks to the drains, a faint light helped Josselin to guide himself. He wondered how it would turn out for the men of the city watch. In the lawless chaos, several gangs had taken over the districts one after the other. They would not dare yet to lead an assault on the gatehouses. Probably, they knew that a step outside would lead to their death by the first authority they would meet. Therefore, they stayed in the city, looting houses, attacking people in the streets, and raping whomever they fancied. Only large groups of commoners could confront them and were thus left unworried.
Josselin progressed through the galleries. His boots squelched in the muddy waters. Drops dribbled along the walls and ceiling. On the sides, smaller canalizations discharged their batch of putrid waters. Insects and slimy creatures fed on the openings. He shivered. The air was cold and moist. He needed to get out before he got sick. To avoid touching anything, he kept his hand along his body. Not only the plague could be deadly. At least, the sewers seemed empty of rats.
A gurgle and a strong smell of fecal sludge signaled him that he passed in front of a cesspit. The private holding tanks had been connected to the sewers. Only rich houses possessed one. He must be near the luxury shops near the main square. Just a little while now. Albeit he didn’t know where he was, he judged it safer to draw away from the tussle. He heard someone sneeze.
After a bend, the tunnel opened, and Josselin entered a larger room. Light came from a pit in the ceiling. A detention basin stood under it. On the stones on the sides, people gathered in small groups. Some raised their gazes towards him with apprehension. When they saw he was alone, they returned to their occupations, which were staring into the void. Josselin came near one of the groups. The state of their clothes showed that they had been there for several days at least. None carried open marks of the plague, yet, coughs, snuffles, and throat clearings echoed against the greenish walls.
Light from Aphelion 2 - Tears of Winter Page 35
