by Dan Decker
In short order, they had laid aside their swords and removed their visible daggers. Jorad suspected that Tere and Karn, like Adar and he, had a dagger or two hidden away as well.
In the process, they learned that the old man was named Kiral Opehim. Kiral was silent as he watched them with hawk eyes while they disarmed. When they were done, he regarded them with suspicion.
“That’s all your weapons?” Kiral looked at their blasters uncertain about whether he should ask them to leave those as well.
“To the last one.” Adar looked at his Radim sword, where it was propped against the wall. He'd been using it again since they were no longer in hiding and he appeared reluctant to part with it.
“Karn,” Adar asked, “Would you mind staying with the weapons?”
Karn nodded.
Kiral still looked wary but didn’t say anything further as he led them out of the lobby into the gathering hall. It was a cavernous room that reached to the fourth story height of the town hall. There were several levels of balconies, a podium and stage stood on the far side, and benches were organized in semi-circle rows in front.
The ceiling formed a dome and had been painted with depictions of people that had been done before the Severing. The one that stood out the most was a large battle that included Hunwei that were dressed in armor similar to those Jorad had seen in person. He recognized several Hunwei ships like those he'd seen in Neberan. There were others ships that looked different and he guessed those had belonged to the humans.
As they crossed the floor and went through one of the many doors lining the opposite wall, he remembered that the last time he'd been here, he'd thought it a work of fiction. Now it had become all too real.
Several minutes later, on the second floor, Kiral ushered them into a large room, shutting the door behind him. Bookshelves had been built into the walls and were filled with books. The left side of the room had additional shelves on the floor. One of which held scrolls. Another held artifacts. Jorad would have loved to spend several hours going through the artifacts without the watchful eye of Kiral. He wanted to know if there was anything they could use.
On the wall opposite the door, there was a row of windows that let in the morning light. The far right side of the room held five safes. In between the safes and the bookshelves were several tables and chairs.
“What can I help you find?” Kiral asked.
“Deren’s tablet,” Adar said.
“You should have mentioned that earlier and I could have saved us all time.” Kiral walked to the far side of the room and patted the third safe. The safes were almost as tall as him. Jorad figured that it would take more than a handful of men to move just one. “It’s in here, and before you ask, I don’t have the key. The governor keeps it in his palace. He has never in my lifetime agreed to let somebody see it. But I can tell you this; the only thing on it is a single character for the ancient number nine.”
“What a waste of time,” Tere mumbled.
Adar didn’t look at all disheartened. Both Jorad and Adar had known all this beforehand. Adar shifted his blaster on his shoulder while studying the safe.
“No,” Jorad whispered. “You might destroy the tablet.”
“Hmm,” Adar said, staring at the two hinges on the front of the safe. “What now?”
“You’re thinking of blasting your way into that safe.”
“It may be our only option.”
The door opened, and Karn rushed in. His face was bloody, and he had their swords slung onto his back. Taking a deep breath, he pointed a finger at Tere. “What have you done?” He took another breath and looked at Adar. “Trouble. Armed men.”
“How many?” Adar asked, casting a glare at Tere who didn't appear worried about Karn's sudden appearance or his accusation.
“Not sure, I didn't get a good look. Probably more than ten.”
Adar pushed Tere toward the door. “Trouble with thieves, huh? You just cost me the tablet.”
Jorad cursed Tere as they ran out the door, leaving a bewildered looking Kiral behind them in the archives. Had Tere done something on purpose to keep Adar from getting to the tablet? A whole list of possibilities started going through Jorad's mind while they ran, Adar should have drawn his sword and had it out with the man before they’d entered the city.
Chapter 23
“How much longer until Zecarani?” Barc asked. The death of Hira weighed on him like a large stone, his every footstep dragged. Hira might still be alive if he'd done things differently. The last moments before the bomb that had destroyed his home played through his mind repeatedly, and it was only in the state of utter exhaustion that he had been able to find sleep. Even then, it was always tortured. Most days he wished that Neare and the others hadn't pulled him from the rubble of his home.
He hadn’t felt this way since the passing of his parents, but those wounds had healed and these never would. Hira had been with him for more than thirty years. The only thing now that kept him going was his need to find Soret and protect her.
“Not far now,” Erro said as he passed with Thon and Gorew, riding ahead to meet up with Neare. “Maybe an hour.”
Barc nodded.
The pain was such that Barc couldn’t see a time when it would ever leave, and he wasn’t sure he wanted it to lessen. Why Hira? He’d never been given much to wine, but now every night at the end of a long march, he found himself wishing for a drink. Of course, that wasn’t going to happen. Barc hadn’t thought to bring alcohol and doubted anybody else had either. It was just as well, he supposed the last thing that he needed was to drown his grief in the bottom of a cup. It was far better to learn to live with the grief, then to try to forget it. He had to keep his wits sharp if he was to have a chance of one day rescuing Soret from the Hunwei.
“We’ll find her,” Erro called back.
“I hope so.”
It had been years since Barc had last traveled to Zecarani and he didn’t remember the road being this hard to travel, but he’d been a far younger man and weighed much less. Not that he wasn’t losing the weight now; he had tightened his belt more than once since leaving Neberan. He glanced down at his stomach; he still had a long way to go.
They’d left the same day as the Hunwei attack. After Neare had pulled him from the rubble, Barc had a few hours to try to pull his life together, such as it was. Miraculously, one of his horses had survived; the others were dead or missing.
The men in front halted. Lern, who walked beside him, looked how Barc must feel. There wasn’t a man in the group that hadn’t lost nearly everyone. Lern’s sons had been too old for the Hunwei to take captive and had been found among the executed. Barc wasn’t sure which was worse, knowing what had happened or wondering where your kids had been taken.
Barc didn’t kid himself, even though this journey had begun as a hunt to track down those who had been taken, it was a fool’s errand, but he dared not speak the thought aloud. The others already had so little to hope for that a vain hope was better than no hope.
It was several moments before Barc heard it and by that time Neare was yelling for everyone to move off the road and hide. Barc led his laden horse into the woods. He peeked back as the sound of galloping horses came closer, and armored riders came into view. He recognized the banner of Zecarani and wondered where they were going.
Among the huge mass of horsemen, he could make out streams of fire ripping into the horses and men alike, the blasts ripping everything they hit apart. Pieces of men and horses flew everywhere. The cacophony dampened the screams of the dying and he barely noticed as his horse pulled free and disappeared into the forest.
Barc wanted to move to see where the attack was coming from, but he was shaking so he stayed still, praying that he would be safe, and gripped a nearby tree branch to steady himself. Ships. The men that had witnessed the attack had related watching the women and children taken into the sky on ships. That’s where Soret had gone.
He continued to watch in amazement as
the riders continued past. How many were there? The fire from above lessened in frequency but every now and then a rider still went down. Barc found he was praying for the horsemen to escape. Too many had died already.
As the last of the riders galloped by, some of the wounded still moved and he would have gone to help, but he was having a hard time getting his legs to work. Lern, and several of the others, approached the wounded once the streams of fire had passed.
Explosions filled the air, and Barc almost screamed as he watched Lern’s head explode not twenty feet in front of him. A mist of blood and bone hung in the air before landing on the ground, painting it red and white.
What Barc saw next he wasn’t able to comprehend. The Hunwei rode up on a machine that moved without horses and floated above the ground. It stopped, and a handful of Hunwei jumped off and went to the men that were still squirming. Barc didn’t wait to see what they were doing and took off at a run, wishing he’d held onto his horse. The sound of smaller explosions came from behind him, and more screaming followed. Barc hoped that everybody else had the sense to run as soon as the horsemen had shown; he was now cursing his foolishness for not running earlier.
He ran until he doubled over in pain trying to breathe. The forest was quiet, a strong contrast to the mayhem he’d just witnessed. He straightened, tried to run again, and almost fell over. Grabbing a nearby rock for support, he took a breath and chanced a look back. He couldn’t see anybody or anything moving, but regardless, he turned and pushed on until he could move no further.
He collapsed onto the ground and crawled beneath a pine tree with low hanging branches. The needles above and those that had been shed prickled his skin, but he didn’t think of moving.
By the time the sounds of movement reached his ears, he’d lost all concept of time. From underneath the tree, he couldn’t tell if it was getting dark yet or was still afternoon. He waited for several long moments until he saw the feet of a man and sighed in relief. As Barc scrambled out from under the tree, he heard a swishing sound and cried out as an arrow lodged itself in the branches just above his head.
“Barc! Sorry, I thought you were a Hunwei.”
Barc took a long look at the arrow. What a shame it would have been to escape the Hunwei twice to only die at the hands of —
He turned and was relieved to see Polaer. The man hadn’t missed a beat and had another arrow notched. If Barc had been a Hunwei, the second arrow would have been headed his way, but judging by Polaer’s aim, he might not have been in much danger.
Barc straightened. “I can’t decide if I am glad or mad to see you. Where is everybody?”
“I don’t know. You’re the first I’ve seen all morning.”
Barc noticed that the sun was just reaching its peak; he could have sworn he’d been hiding for far longer. “Do you think that it is safe to go back?”
Polaer shook his head. “I’m waiting for dark.”
Barc couldn’t think of a better plan, so they found a grove of trees, aspen this time so there weren’t prickly needles, and disappeared into them. He was lost in memories about Hira and was beginning to feel quite miserable again when Polaer started talking about his wife and daughters. Barc didn’t join in much and just listened to the man ramble. At last, when the sun began to set, they went back to the road. Barc had been expecting it to be much further away, but they reached it quickly. It had felt like he had run for miles earlier that morning. If he’d known how far he hadn’t gone, he’d have kept going if he had to crawl.
From the vantage point of a small hill, they couldn’t see anybody moving but still they waited until full dark before descending to the road. As they passed a dead soldier, Polaer removed the soldier’s sword.
“Don’t do that!” Barc hissed. “It’s bad luck to steal from the dead.”
“You still believe in luck?”
Barc hesitated; he had nothing else to lose. “Guess not.” He found another soldier and pulled out his sword. It didn’t look damaged, so Barc removed the sheath as well. He felt a little guilty as he buckled the sword on to his belt but at least he was armed now, for all the good it would do him, he’d never used a sword before.
There was a low whistle from up ahead, and Barc turned and saw a figure motioning to them. When they were close enough, Barc recognized Neare. For a strange moment, he could have sworn that Neare looked disappointed, but then it was gone. He moved a finger to his lips and motioned for them to follow.
He led them to a much smaller group of men than they had started with from Neberan. As Barc joined the men, he could hear occasional sounds of thunder so he pulled the hood of his cloak up, and hoped that it wouldn’t rain. After several hours, they moved back to the road, but kept to the edge, ready to dive under cover at a moment’s notice.
The day was just dawning when Zecarani came into view, and Barc was glad to see that it appeared to be unharmed. The peaceful morning was a stark contrast to the attack and terror of the previous day.
Interlude 2
THE YEAR OF THE SEVERING
When the doors to the Rarbon council chambers opened, Rend Rahid was greeted by the roar of the crowd and was taken aback by the sound. There was a slight breeze of warm air coming out of the large room, something that only happened when the place was packed. Another surprise in a day that already had too many. Surely a gathering this large couldn’t have been called without his knowing about it?
After a few seconds of thought, he remembered that it had been at least three days since he’d last left his office in the Rarbon palace. How could he have ignored his enemies for so long? It was foolish for him to have allowed himself to become distracted.
Three days was more than enough time for Buiz Jerard to cause Rend trouble. Jerard was a good man that saw the world differently. The two of them had been at odds for many years, but when Rend had won the election to become Ghar, Jerard had been pushed over the edge. Rend knew Jerard was angry, but would he risk the mainframe? If Jerard was willing to do that, Rend had underestimated him.
Rend gritted his teeth, Jerard’s lofty ideals or not, their people and the mainframe had to be protected. Whatever the cost. If Jerard had caught onto the plan to attack the Hunwei, he would use that as justification to make a deal with Araz. Rend took a deep breath, hoping it would calm his nerves. It didn’t. From his vantage point, every seat of the lower level appeared to be full. He imagined that the balcony would be the same. The air had a level of energy to it that under other circumstances, he might have found electrifying. Instead, it filled him with dread. Things were worse than he’d originally thought.
He couldn’t allow Jerard to convince the people that Araz was their friend. If Araz’s army were allowed into Rarbon under a truce, it would only be a matter of time before Araz was in control. If Rend wouldn’t have been so focused on the fleet, he could have taken care of Araz and kept this from happening.
One of the guards poked Rend in the back with a rifle. He didn’t turn to see who because he couldn’t allow their betrayal to fire up his emotions. If he were going to survive this, he’d need to be able to think without the muddying waters of anger.
Initially, he had been puzzled about the charges against him and had assumed he was under arrest and not being kidnapped. At first, he had tried to get the guards to talk, but they’d refused. As a Ghar, the only way he could be put under arrest was after the Council had convicted him. He couldn’t be convicted unless he had an opportunity to answer the charges. None had been brought. It was convenient of the always-by-the-book Jerard to forget the rules that didn’t favor his plan.
Rend hoped that Joner had started the attack by now. The confounded fool should have been done with the task already.
When he was poked in the back again, he stepped into the auditorium. Some in the audience called out to Rend as he was walked into the spacious chamber, yelling words of encouragement. Other were hissing and booing. He'd always had his detractors, and the heckling didn't affect him because aft
er fighting Hunwei, empty threats and name calling were the last thing he’d let bother him.
He walked with his back straight and tried to not twist his bound hands, hoping that his anxiety didn’t show. He wouldn’t let his people see him squirm.
When Rend noticed Buiz Jerard standing at the podium in the front of the hall, he steeled himself for the fight to come. There was a flash of triumph on Jerard’s face when their eyes met. Rend couldn’t refrain from glowering, and Jerard’s face split into a grin.
The other council members were seated behind Jerard. Rend stared at Kear Ponel, who sat in the front row fondling a blaster that hung from his hip. When Kear noticed Rend's attention, he frowned and looked away. If Rend had been hoping for any help from Kear, he'd have been disappointed. As it was, he'd recognized long ago that Kear was spineless and would go whatever direction those around him went. Rend continued to stare until Kear shifted uncomfortably and turned to have a conversation with somebody behind him.
There were other members of the council that were refusing to meet Rend’s gaze. Had Rend led his people so badly that even his friends would jump at the opportunity to see him removed or had Jerard been able to cobble together a lie with enough truth to keep them from defending Rend?
Rend turned back to the people in the audience and tried to gauge how many were booing and how many were trying to show their support. He gave up pretty quick. It was impossible to tell.
Were Tira and Arile here or had Jerard done something to them? If anything happened to Rend’s family, he wouldn’t rest until Jerard, and anybody helping him, was in the ground. For that, there would be no forgiveness.
Jerard nodded at Krile, the guard nearest Rend, who took off Rend’s binders.
Rend kept his head straight forward, and clasped his hands, resisting the urge to rub his wrists. When Jerard motioned for Rend to sit, he remained standing. Jerard hesitated, looking like he was going to instruct the guards to force Rend to the seat, but he let it pass.
