by G. R. Lyons
The man nodded and waved a sheet of paper in his hand. “I overheard someone talking about it, so I went to the library and found the predicted Collision schedule.” He paused, and looked down at the notes he'd written. “Four days from now, at just after ninth hour of morning. Look here.” The man turned over his note and handed Jevon a crudely-drawn map, pointing at it as he explained, “Tanas will strike Ceynes here, where this bit of land juts out, and then a few minutes later, this section of coast farther north will slide along the coast of Ceynes here. There's a possibility of a third strike here, if this little bit contacts Ceynes before Tanas moves clear of that Isle.”
All around him, the rebels made signs against the unlucky threes and moved their lips in silent prayer.
“Three hits,” Jevon breathed, and sighed, shaking his head. “Gods be with them, this will be bad.”
Jevon passed the sheet around and looked up at the horizon. Taking a deep breath, he glanced back at the Gate, then around at their incomplete work.
“I'll take volunteers,” he announced, addressing the camp at large. “Anyone who wants to stay, may stay. Those who want to go back and warn the others may come with me. Keep in mind you'll have to notify your employers if you have work.”
“What are we going to do?” one woman asked.
“At the very least, we need to warn our fellows still on Tanas,” Jevon answered, “since I doubt the Elders have found it necessary to make an announcement of it. If we can, we'll try to warn other citizens as well, though the chances of them listening…”
The rebels nodded sadly, knowing that the enslaved citizens weren't likely to heed the warnings of a bunch of traitorous rebels.
“And what about Vorena?” someone asked, breaking the silence.
Jevon looked around, seeing the sad faces turn suddenly expectant.
“Is she still alive, do you think?” another asked for what seemed the hundredth time since she'd been taken.
“By the gods, I hope so,” Jevon answered.
“Jevon,” one man began, his tone gentle, “this may be just the opportunity we need to get her out of there.”
“How so?” another asked.
“Well–” The man shrugged. “In all the chaos and confusion of the aftermath, we just might be able to overpower the prison guard. Hells, we could rescue all the prisoners while we're at it, if there's time.”
Jevon put his hands on his hips and looked around, a thousand plans and preparations begging for his attention.
“The prison is a solid day's march from here,” he began, glancing up at the Gate. “And we'll need to gather as many weapons and supplies as possible.” He paused, wondering if he could get leave from his new employment. “Alright, first thing tomorrow morning, those of you who want to go must attain leave of absence from your jobs. No dishonest dealings with your employers, and no leaving unannounced. Is that clear? Remember, we're on Agoran now and all employment is a voluntary contract between you and your employer, and no one else. You don't show up for a job one day and you won't have one the next.”
Several heads nodded, expressions showing that his words were taken as granted.
“Good. Now, we have very little time, and we'll need things prepared and packed up as quickly as possible if we're to make it there and back.”
He called in the rest of the rebels from their tasks, and together they made a list of things they would need to make or gather and have packed and ready to go in time for the journey, while still leaving behind those who could not miss their jobs and those who needed to watch over the children.
“I'm coming, too!” Asenna insisted, squeezing into their midst and putting her little fists on her hips.
“No, Asenna,” Jevon said. “It's too dangerous.”
“But I want to rescue Vori!” the little girl insisted.
Several of the rebels chuckled, and Jevon crouched down with a sigh. “Very well, little one. We'll see. Now go and finish your dinner.”
Asenna narrowed her eyes at him, but turned on her heel and did as she was told. Jevon rose and shook his head, his mind burdened with all the things he had to do.
“Do you think we'll really get her out safely?” someone whispered.
Jevon glanced over their heads at his daughter, who sat by a campfire and picked at the chicken on her plate.
“I hope so,” he murmured. “For her sake, if nothing else.” He paused, narrowing his eyes, and reached over to take up his bow from where it rested against a tree. “Let's just hope the Hawks don't get in our way.”
* * *
HAWK…
Benash groaned and shifted, wondering why he felt so uncomfortable.
Hawk…
He shifted again, half awake, and couldn't figure out what was making the bed feel so damned hard beneath him.
Hawk!
In a split second, Benash started awake, remembered where he was, and drew his guns in one fluid motion, aiming them just in time as two fellow officers approached the cell with keys ready and guns drawn.
“Go away,” he warned them, keeping his weapons trained on their heads even from his half-reclined position on the floor.
The two young men hesitated, looking like they might try to attack anyway, but finally gave up and left.
Benash waited until they were out of sight before he let out his breath in one big sigh.
That was a close one, Benash heard, and looked across the cavern at one of the lovers, sitting up in his cell while his partner slept.
Thank you for waking me, Benash told him, finally recognizing the voice that had been in his head.
We took shifts, the man told him, pointing at his partner. We had a feeling they might try something, and when you started nodding off…
Benash groaned and sat up, rubbing his eyes. I'll just have to stay awake.
The man shook his head. It's alright, Hawk. We've got this.
Benash studied the prisoner, seeing a look of determination on his face even in the dim light of the cavern. You're sure?
Absolutely, Hawk. We can just keep taking turns sleeping. You get some rest now, and watch over her during the day.
I'm not sure I deserve your help, Benash told him.
The man shrugged. Maybe, maybe not. But she certainly does.
Benash looked over at Vorena, sleeping fitfully on the cot. He resisted the urge to reach out and brush aside a lock of hair that had slipped across her cheek.
Yes, he agreed. Yes, she does.
Chapter 35
WHEN BENASH woke, it was to the sound of Vorena coughing up more blood.
He struggled to right himself, awkwardly slumped over on the floor as he was, and cringed against the cramp in his neck as he rushed to her side, helping her turn over so she wouldn't choke herself.
She gave one final cough and spat out more blood, then offered him a weak smile.
Thought you said you were gonna get me to a doctor, she joked.
Gods, I wish I could, he said as she eased back onto the cot. If there was any way at all to–
Vorena chuckled. Hawk, I was only kidding. I know I'm not going anywhere.
It could happen, he said, trying to convince himself as much as her. You never know. Something could happen that would get us out of here. We could get you to Agoran, get you to a doctor–
Benash.
He blinked at her, stunned by her use of his name.
I am dying. I'll never make it to Agoran. Not even if I was out of here, and we both know that'll never happen.
Don't give up yet, he begged her, squeezing her hands.
I have to. There's no point. I've given up.
Benash looked at her intently until she glanced over and met his eyes.
I haven't.
* * *
WHILE VORENA wavered in and out of sleep, Benash sat against the wall, watching over her and trying to think of any way possible to get her out of the prison.
It was a ridiculous proposition and he knew it. It would h
ave been difficult enough when he had the ability to come and go from the place, but now that he was locked in himself, it was damned near impossible.
But he was determined to find a way, or die trying.
To his relief, when Vorena next woke, she was strong enough to sit up on her own, and even managed to share a story once she'd gotten some food into her.
“I'm surprised they're still feeding us all,” she joked, looking out at the cavern as the younger officers distributed bowls of a cheap stew. “If we're all meant to die in that Collision, you'd think it'd be easier to just let us starve in the meantime.”
Benash snorted a laugh. “Habit, duty, routine. It's hard to let go of a pattern you've held for years.”
Vorena glanced up at him over her bowl, raising an eyebrow and pointedly looking around at the tiny cell they shared.
Benash shrugged. “It is very strange, being in here, but for the first time in my life I feel…”
He trailed off, trying to think of the right word, and after a few seconds Vorena offered, “Content.” She paused, and when he looked up at her, she gave him a tiny smile as she said, “You look it.”
Benash nodded to himself and took another bite of stew, hardly noticing or caring that it was even worse than what he'd had at home.
“Ashyn…” he murmured.
“Sorry?”
He looked up from his stew and shook his head. “Just thinking of home. My newest wife, Ashyn—just a child, really. I think you'd like her. I saw that same spark of life in her eyes that I saw in yours. It seems such a rare and precious thing to me now, I couldn't let her lose it. I…” He paused, embarrassed, and mumbled, “I told her your stories. At least, I tried to. They're much better coming from you, but I think she quite enjoyed them. And it made my evenings worthwhile.”
He felt Vorena watching him as he used his spoon to push around the last few chunks of barely recognizable food in his bowl.
“Do you love her?”
“Gods, no,” Benash laughed, shaking his head. “Unless what I feel for her is the kind of love a free man would have for his daughter, like in your stories,” he said, thinking of what Vorena had told of couples who had chosen one another and started families by want rather than by duty. “No, I admire her, and respect her bravery. Mostly I regret what will happen to her if I die down here.”
He fell silent for a long while, staring into his bowl.
“Gods, it'll destroy her,” he whispered. “That life, that enslavement…” He paused, cringing. “They'll give her to some other man, if they haven't already. She'll lose that…that life…that spark. She's the only person I've ever met who has the capacity to gain what you've got. She's still innocent enough that her mind hasn't been completely broken, but now…”
“Benash…”
“What have I done?”
“Benash.” He looked up at Vorena, seeing the calm look of certainty in her eyes. “You must–” She broke off, and glanced around furtively, then switched their conversation to mental. When you find a way out of here, you must go to her and get her out of there. Find my people. They may still be in the woods. Find them and go seek freedom. I'll show you who to look for.
Benash stared at her for a moment, processing her words.
There's no way out of here, he told her, though a part of him still hoped. There was the smallest chance he could convince a younger officer to turn over his keys merely by the habit of his authority, but the opportunity would be slim at best: the combination of an officer, equipped with keys, alone in the cavern, and convinced to obey, and all in the few days they had before the Collision was bound to strike, was almost impossible.
You must find a way, Vorena insisted, for your sake and for hers.
Before he could stop himself, Benash replied, But it wouldn't mean anything without you.
Vorena blinked at him, but otherwise showed no reaction, and Benash felt his cheeks flush. He looked away and they fell into an awkward silence for the rest of the afternoon.
Yet, any time he caught her in his peripheral vision, he couldn't help but notice the hint of a smile on her face that she was trying very hard to restrain.
* * *
BENASH WATCHED, helpless, as Vorena slept fitfully again. He winced at every hitch and shudder of breath as her chest slowly rose and fell in an irregular rhythm.
Gods be damned, what have I done? he thought, shaking his head. I should have tried harder to get her out of here. I should have–
He cut off the thought with a weary sigh. It was useless thinking about what he should have done, considering there was no going back and changing it. All he could do now was try to find some way out—even if it was exceedingly more difficult than before.
Benash sighed again and unbuttoned his coat, feeling stifled as his body heated with restrained energy. He was itching to get up and do something, but what exactly that something might be was still beyond him.
As his coat came off, he felt the bulge of something tucked into the inner pocket. He pulled out the oilcloth wrapping, laughing to himself over the fact that he'd forgotten it was even there.
A gasp drew his attention across the cell.
Vorena was awake, her eyes fixed on the item in his hands.
“I can't believe you still have that,” she whispered. “I thought you would have destroyed it long ago.”
Benash gave her a half smile and shrugged. “It was too much of a puzzle. I should have turned it in, but I was dying to know what it meant first.” He shifted closer to the cot, stretched out his legs, and tossed his coat aside, unwrapping the oilcloth as he asked, “So, if you can't read, why did you carry this?”
Vorena reached out but didn't touch the page once it was exposed. “It was treasure. Something to look forward to. He tried to teach me to read, but there just wasn't time.”
“He?”
Vorena shrugged. “A man who traveled with our camp, once. He had a book with him, and he'd read to us every night. But then the Hawks found us,” she continued with a grimace. “We scattered, but some of us didn't get away in time. We found him later, with a gunshot wound right through his forehead. His book was in pieces, most of it destroyed by the campfire.” She paused, nodding toward the fragile page. “That was all that was left.”
She fell silent, her eyes never straying from the page. Benash watched her, seeing the spark of life in her eyes shining through her weakness.
“It's from a history text,” he explained without prompting, and felt a hint of a flush warm his cheeks as her attention turned to him, her gaze intense and her expression eager. “Long ago, the magi of Jadu'n put together a team of their scholars, working with researchers of Agoran, and they compiled a series of volumes chronicling the history of the world. The youngest mage on the team, Faneck, made it his life's work to ensure the series was complete and accurate, and traveled all over the world, gathering details and keeping it organized. He lived a very long life, and died just before they deemed the project complete, but since he spent his entire life and contributed the most to the research, the series became known as Faneck's Histories.” He paused, and when Vorena gave him a questioning look, he shrugged. “It tells all about him in the introduction of the first volume. I never could fathom a man spending his entire life trying to record everything about the past.”
“So there were more than one of these books?”
Benash nodded. “Of course.” He weighed the oilcloth in his hand. “This is just one page of one volume amongst dozens. Makes very dry required reading, if you ask me.”
“Required?” she asked, looking skeptical.
“The Elders require all officers to read the text, in full. It's not very favorable to Tanas, I will say that. Of course, the Elders always claimed that Faneck lied about our history, and that some people still passed on those lies, perpetuating rebellion. They said these texts didn't properly portray our proud way of life, shunning individuality and embracing sacrifice.” He paused, shaking his head. “A
nd I believed them. I believed all the things they told us.” He looked down at the page. “Here we have a man who dedicated his life to seeking out truth, while I just blindly accepted what I was told.”
Vorena looked at him with a soft smile. “How much better the world would be if every man used his mind and thought for himself.”
Benash handed her the worn page, and watched her gently turn it over, holding it as though it were a priceless treasure. “Is that what it's like on Agoran?” he asked her.
“As far as I've heard,” she said with a shrug.
Benash smiled. “Then we'll get there.”
Vorena looked up at him with a raised eyebrow, her expression showing she thought him mad.
“How?” she laughed.
Benash opened his mouth to answer, but felt at a loss for words. He glanced over at the cell door that kept them locked in a confined space, took a deep breath, and let it out on a sigh. Somehow…
Chapter 36
AT VORENA'S prompting, Benash spent the afternoon reading the page to her over and over, showing her the letters and the sounds they represented. It was an odd task, but he found himself enjoying every moment of it, especially seeing how eager she was to learn.
The lesson cut off abruptly, though, when a minor coughing fit seized her, draining her energy so much that she collapsed into sleep before the evening meal. Benash ate mechanically, watching her as she slept, and hurried to ease her over onto her side any time she showed signs of coughing up more blood.
In the middle of the night, he started awake, thinking the cavern too quiet after the violence of his nightmares. His dreams kept showing him Vorena dancing freely in the clearing on the mountainside, only to have the image ripped apart with chaos and blood.
Groaning, he sat up, rubbing the kinks in his neck and stretching out his numb legs.
Across the cell, he heard Vorena chuckle.
“Come on, Hawk,” she murmured, patting the cot as she turned over onto her side.
Benash hesitated so long that she turned back to look at him with a questioning expression.
