Blackthorn

by Terry Tyler

  Wolf North sits on a chair on a stage in the middle of the big empty space where the fights used to be held, then he gets up and reels off the crap that Mugler told us. Then it's Lieutenant Lincoln's turn to tell us all about the great qualities of the girls she has chosen to be Wives of the Light―ooh, look, and here comes Star, blathering on about the honour of being chosen as Ryder's second-in-command, then at last Parksy announces the arrival of the Wives.

  Fuck. This is weird. They're all dressed in these light-coloured sheet things, drifting in from this tunnel that the fighters used to come out of. They walk in line, looking dead serene and smug, like Star.

  And, whaddya know, they're all dead pretty. None of them are fat, or skinny, or spotty. They're not just pretty, though. They're quiet types. There aren't any with bits of their heads shaved, or tatts, or lots of piercings. Lieutenant Lincoln has chosen the girly girls.

  They stand in two rows, put their hands to their chests and, in chorus, say, "We honour the Light", and everyone claps and cheers. Old Wolfie looks made up.

  Next, the lieutenants and seconds walk forward to greet them, taking their hands and kissing their cheeks. Disgusting old Lieutenant Foster is practically dribbling, and Slovis and Ogg look like they're about to jizz their pants; I don't envy whoever gets them. They're the sort of arseholes who take what they want, whether the women want it or not.

  They zoom in on two girls I haven't seen before. Poor old them. One of them looks up at Slovis and gives him a cute, flirty smile. I suppose he's good-looking in a macho bully-boy way; I'm thinking that perhaps she doesn't know what he's like.

  I get a funny pang in my chest, looking at those two girls. I feel all choked up and like I want to run over to them and say, don't go with those two tossers. You can come and live in my shack and we'll have a right laugh and you'll be free. They both look happy, though. Pleased to be singled out.

  "Look at those girls with Slovis and Ogg," I whisper to Dad.

  "Lambs to the slaughter," murmurs my dad, nodding. "And her." He points at Fisher and Lynch, also near us; they're arguing in a jokey sort of way over a gorgeous dark-skinned girl with waist-length black hair. She's way too good for either of them.

  "Now, now," says Mum, giving him a tap on the wrist. "Slovis and Ogg, all of them, they've mended their ways, haven't they? They've accepted the Light. I'm sure Wolf wouldn't let them take a wife if they were still misbehaving."

  "Yeah, but it should be Ryder overseeing it," says Dad. "How does the governor even know that this is what the Light wants?"

  "Star wouldn't be a part of owt that Ryder wouldn't like, would she?" Mum leans forward, chin in hand. "I think it's lovely. In a year or so all those girls will be having babies. The Angels of the Light; that's beautiful, isn't it?"

  Yeah. It's just awesome.

  "I've seen enough," I say, and stand up.

  Don't care if I get in trouble for leaving early. I can't get out of there fast enough.

  Chapter 18

  Byron Lewis V

  I could have stopped it.

  If only I'd been here, I could have told Indra to wait, to hang in there, to thank Violet Lincoln for the opportunity and decline gracefully.

  But I've come back to discover that, in my absence, she has been signed up to provide sex for Wolf North's men. It will be an honour, I am told, to give birth to an Angel of the Light.

  Lieutenant Hemsley shows me something in a book about old religions that supported polygamy. But this won't be like those pictures of men and their families in America, all living together in a sprawl of trailers. Wives like Indra won't enjoy any sort of married life with the fathers of their children. They'll remain in the so-called House of Angels, sleeping several to a room, so that their 'sister wives' can look after their baby if the 'husband' turns up for a quick tumble, in one of the rooms formerly used for clients.

  "So it's basically still a brothel," I say.

  Hemsley just stares at me for a while, then looks away. He doesn't agree, but he doesn't disagree, either. His pale face is so impassive that it's hard to tell what he actually thinks about anything.

  I ask, "If a woman decides it's not for them, can they change their minds?"

  He appears to be pondering this one. "I dare say," he says, eventually. "But their work is, after all, the greatest possible gift to the Light; these children will be brought up as true disciples from birth, and will one day become the new elite of Blackthorn."

  "That's the vision," I say. "What about the reality?"

  He does that staring thing again, then gives me a strained half-smile.

  "It is up to us to make sure the reality lives up to the vision. I have every confidence in all concerned."

  Well, I bloody haven't.

  If only I'd been there, I could have at least tried to talk her out of it. I would have spent time with her, asked her to be patient and wait for something real. Hell, I would have pretended to be her boyfriend, and said she wasn't available.

  Anything, to stop her becoming a 'wife' of Lieutenant Abe Slovis.

  Unfortunately, though, when Wolf North set this project up, I was miles away.

  Guess I was as gullible as Indra, because I thought I was going along to contribute to security.

  I didn't realise my true function was to help promote Ryder's horseshit.

  He said we would travel until we reached a decent sized community, and perhaps stop at the smaller settlements on the way back.

  "The more people we can speak to at once, the better," he said.

  Fine by me. I was happy just to be out of the city. I took my turn up front with Ryder and the horses, but we hardly spoke. I didn't want to; I wanted to take in every sound, sight and smell of this glorious June; the weather remained as fine as it had been since April, the warmest early summer for many years, I was told. One day of warm rain, followed by four or five of warmth and sunshine; the perfect conditions to bring forth abundant crops. If it continues, there will be no food shortages this winter. Blackthorn's problems are over.

  "The Light is smiling on us," said Ryder, when I commented on this.

  I didn't realise, until we reached the first settlement, how artfully we five guards had been chosen. First there was me, the sceptic; my role was to voice controversial opinions, so that Ryder could jump in, declaring that he'd have said exactly the same, had be not seen what he had. After this he would go on to astound the outliers with his experiences.

  Because Ryder is far more handsome and personable than me, he was the one they listened to.

  Astra and Chase, the two cool, former travellers, were there to show that religion is not just for saddos. Then there was Birch, a sixty-year-old guard from East Gate, who told the older folk how the Light had filled the hole left by his wife dying of the 2132 swine flu. You know, the one my mother brought back from Shackers' End. Sorry, Birch.

  Last and most definitely least was Fay, that adorable little scamp from the north wall. As she is just eighteen―going on a particularly truculent six and a half―Ryder thought she'd be helpful in bringing the kids on board.

  I resolved to keep out of her way as much as possible.

  The countryside was a mass of silent green, more lush than I've ever seen it, a jungle in many parts, old roads completely grown over. Each night we made camp in a safely hidden spot, out of view of the main thoroughfare, and Ryder would tell tales of the road, which meant Fay piping up every five minutes about how she would totally love to be a traveller, because she just knew she could survive and face anything.

  I almost prayed to the Light for the tolerance not to pick her up by the pointy ears and throw her into the nearest river.

  Each night, the cheery conversation was brought to a halt by Ryder saying it was time to give thanks, and to remember why we were here. However, those initial few days were pretty idyllic, until we reached the first large community.

  I won't give an account of each one, because basically the same thing happened each time. Ryder would
approach first, asking to speak to the leader, hands held high to show that he came in peace. His Jesus-like appearance and warm smile ensured that he was welcomed in; a private chat with each leader, sometimes lasting as long as two hours while we five waited under the watchful eye of their guards, inevitably resulted in permission to address the people. The word of the Light was received with varying degrees of enthusiasm, but each time I noticed how he worked the crowd. Some innate perception enabled him to judge whether to go down the 'Hey, I'm just a guy who likes a beer' road, or assume his spiritual guide persona.

  Once the stage was set, he would call one or more of us over to join in.

  My line was that I was not convinced by this divine coming, but I was keeping an open mind.

  Birch would have 'em in tears as he talked of his wife's death and the peace gained from knowing he would see her in the Clearing when his time came.

  Astra and Chase talked to the young and the warrior-like about how they now approached strangers with open arms rather than a raised sword, and why they were staying in Blackthorn, that centre of the Light, instead of trailing up and down the country, always seeking, never settling.

  "Any rumours you've heard about Blackthorn―forget them," said Astra, to each group we met. "I feel honoured to live there; that Wolf North has embraced the Light for the good of all tells you a lot about the sort of man he is. He's a truly great leader." Here she would turn to me. "I was a sceptic at first, too―like Byron. Until I realised that I'd been living my life all wrong. Wrong for me. I thought I was happy, before―I used to hit the road at the first sign of boredom, get drunk, have emotionless sex, but it wasn't until I accepted the Light that I realised those things hadn't made me happy at all."

  She and Chase developed a double act; at this point he would dive in and tell his audience about the night Astra finally found her faith: the story of Peter the stranger.

  Meanwhile, my favourite little red-haired bundle of idiocy would entertain the kids, telling them that family members they'd lost due to illness, starvation, accident or invasion were sitting there in the Clearing, waiting for them. All they had to do was believe.

  I felt very alone on this trip. I love being alone, but that's something completely different from feeling isolated when you're surrounded by people. I was still holding out hope that Astra's devotion was just a show, but I found out during the second week how deeply she'd been sucked in.

  The weather was glorious, and we'd just left a settlement of about forty people where we'd stayed for two days. Ryder was cock-a-hoop, having assured them that they would all be welcome to visit Blackthorn's church, and we departed to the sight of around thirty raised palms. Despite this, I was happy; they were good people, and they'd given us supplies for the road.

  It was late in the afternoon, and Astra and I rode behind the others, ambling along those dusty roads with the dappled light falling on us through a canopy of trees. I felt totally at peace. I was so enjoying talking to her about nothing in particular, and she seemed in no hurry to catch up with the others.

  We stopped as the sky was turning pinky-orange, indicating that we would wake up to another glorious day; after we'd eaten the bacon, eggs and bread given to us by Ryder's new converts, Astra and I left the others chatting by the fireside and took a bottle of wine down to the river.

  It was the most perfect, still evening, so I lit a couple of candles and, as day turned into night, we opened up about our lives; me about the pressures of being a Lewis, she about being on the road since she was just fourteen, when her parents were killed by bandits invading her settlement.

  "It's true what I said, though; I've always been looking for something. Until recently, I had no clue what that something was."

  I felt good with her. In the past couple of years, only she and Evie have hit the spot for me. Evie more so, but she was miles away.

  Then I made my mistake. I blame the wine, of which I'd had the lion's share. She looked so pretty sitting there in the candlelight, with her long braids hanging down to her waist, and, almost without thinking, I leant forward to kiss her.

  She lurched back in horror. Like I was my uncle Jet, or something. I mean, hell, I'm no Ryder, but I'm fairly reasonable looking and before all this Light shit I'm damn sure she used to flirt with me. I'm not the type to lunge in or imagine an attraction where there is none; I've never got it wrong before.

  "No!" she said. "Byron―I'm sorry. I can't."

  I felt like I'd been kicked in the nuts. "What's up? I thought―"

  Her hand went up; a real 'keep off' sign. "You thought right―the old me would have gone for it, but―" She shrugged, with an apologetic half-smile. "Guess I'm not the old me any more."

  There was another look in her eyes, though, that made me feel crazy angry. Like she pitied me. Like she'd found all the answers and I hadn't.

  Maybe I imagined that. I don't know. I don't think I did, and I swear it wasn't just the normal stiff-dick-with-nowhere-to-go type of frustration, but I could have punched walls with resentment towards the whole bloody situation.

  "So you're going to deny yourself something you want because Golden Boy told you a story about some guy he met in the woods who may or may not have been the good fairy?"

  She shifted further away. "Don't. Okay, so you don't believe. But don't force that on other people."

  What?

  "Don't force it on other people? That's a good one! I'm having this crap forced down my throat every minute of every day!" I moved away from her, too. "And I still don't see what it has to do with us here, you and me, right now."

  She brought her knees up, close to her chest, and hugged them. "It just that―well, it's because you don't believe. I can't imagine myself taking up with anyone who doesn't, now." She bent her knees up and rested her elbows on them, fiddling with those long braids. "I want to save myself for someone who feels as committed to the enlightenment as I do. So it means something. Someone I can build a future with, who has the same values."

  Well, I couldn't argue with that. I wanted to say that I hadn't actually been thinking about 'taking up' with her, anyway; I was just going to kiss her and see where it led. Obviously, I kept that to myself. I just said, "Fair enough," got up, and walked off, leaving her there.

  And it was fair enough, however frustrated I felt.

  I walked along the river for a while, until the effects of the wine wore off, and I thought about Evie. I wished she was with me. If she were, I'd have suggested we just pack up our stuff and carry on walking.

  Later, on watch when everyone else was asleep, I played over what Astra had said. She'd called this religious conversion 'the enlightenment'; it was only the next day, when I heard Ryder say the same phrase, several times, that I realised he'd introduced it at some point during this road trip.

  Did his Light tell him it in a dream, or did he conjure it up all on his lonesome?

  The latter, I suspected. Having watched the expertise with which he played a crowd, I was even more convinced that this is nothing but a massive con, to get him the attention he thinks he deserves.

  He's a douchebag. Can't believe I didn't see it from the word go.

  Ryder managed to convert the odd traveller, too, though I reckoned they were just pleased to sit with us for a day, to have some people to talk to, and a share of our food. At the beginning of the third week, Birch mentioned how odd it was that, throughout the whole trip, we'd had no trouble from bandits.

  "The Light is protecting us," Ryder said. "As he protected me while I was out there alone, last autumn."

  Yeah. Or the erstwhile bandits were partaking of the fine farming and fishing during this glorious summer, and no longer needed to accost strangers on the road for food. Particularly not a party of six strong, healthy-looking people with swords and bows slung across their backs.

  Three weeks after we set off, we turned back for home.

  On the way, I made a decision. I would stay in Blackthorn for the rest of the summer, but come
September I'd hit the road.

  Which would give me about six weeks to get to know Evie better, because she keeps creeping into my thoughts, and I'm thinking it might be kind of nice if she came with me.

  The first I hear about the Wives and Angels of the Light and the reopening of Moor House is from Pansy―and she also tells me that Indra ended her fling with the married Jasper as soon as she was chosen as a 'wife', and is now 'married' to Abe Slovis.

  "This is bad," I say. "Out of the frying pan into the middle of a raging firestorm."

  "She's got a nose for trouble, that one, hasn't she? Mind you, I'm surprised she was chosen, given what she's been up to lately."

  Something to do with her pretty face, long fair hair and cute figure, perhaps.

  I go to get the official version from Hemsley, and I don't see Indra until the next day, when she pays me a visit to announce that she's 'finally doing something good with her life'.

  "Every Angel of the Light will have a blessing ceremony, in the actual clearing in the woods where Ryder first saw the Light! Isn't that just amazing?" She stands up and gives me a twirl; the loose fabric of her dress floats around her slim, brown legs. I've never seen her more radiant.

  "I'm pleased for you," I say, because I don't want to tell her about the shiver that ran down my spine when she told me who had picked her. "And Slovis? Is he good to you?"

  "Oh yes! Mary's my sister wife, but he says I'm his favourite." She puts her hand over her mouth and giggles. "Mary was a nurse, so she sorts him out with massages when he's tired, but he says he prefers me for the―well, you know, the wife stuff." That giggle again. "And I've got some real friends; there's Silver―she used to live down the corridor from Pansy and Lily but now she's one of Lieutenant Ogg's wives―and Bella, who's got Lieutenant Foster, though she doesn't like him much, but she says he gives her money―oh, I just can't wait to get pregnant!"

  So this Bella is having sex with repulsive old Foster for money. Call me slow to catch on, but isn't that―oh, what the hell. Life's hard, and you do what you need to, to make it better; depends how far you want to go, I guess. At least Indra's happy.