Solstice 31: The Solstice 31 Saga, Books 1,2,3

by Martin Wilsey

  Barcus had overdone it the day before.

  He was very slow getting out of bed. He continued to marvel how deeply Po slept these days. He dressed quietly and went to the kitchen for a mug of tea. At this early hour all the “good mornings” were still being whispered, as usual.

  When he reached the top of the tower, Em was there standing at the ramparts, like she used to when he was alone on the edge of sanity.

  It was before the sun managed to reach the horizon. An extremely high altitude vapor trail was the only cloud illuminated in that late spring sky.

  As the sun moved down the tower, he looked below at the roof that almost killed him. It was completed. That whole wing had been rebuilt while he was still in bed recovering. The crater below was filled in with the rubble and covered with topsoil. The gardens and fields were planted, the vineyards were pruned and goats trimmed the grass beneath the orchards while the dogs protected them. The cathedral walls had been demolished and new ones were forming. The opening to the Redoubt would be inside the new structure eventually once it had a roof.

  Em knew not to bother him this early. But sometimes it could not be helped.

  “Ash is already working in the Redoubt below. Catching up on his power washing. Par is out by the quarry. The STU is parked just beyond the north gate bridge, awaiting supplies and passengers. This group will bring the total to 81 at the Mining Redoubt.

  “Olias is still at the Mining Redoubt and reports that the lights, ventilation and water are now all functional. Cleaning has been continuing at a very rapid pace, on the upper levels, mostly the residences, kitchens and the infirmary. Even the large refrigerators and freezers are back. We may want to consider relocating there. Olias has already expressed an interest in doing so.”

  “Wasn't he a starving boy two seconds ago?” Barcus laughed.

  “You’re the one that taught him. Some of them are even calling him ‘milord.’ He will be Keeper Olias in no time,” Em said, smiling.

  “I think we should move the hospital there. Train more people. The facility was designed to the correct scale. If it becomes fully powered, maybe we can even get the computers back up. It's so out of the way, they will be safe. No one will bother them there. I was originally going to strip it of everything useful to get this one up and running. But now I am thinking another sanctuary is a good idea. We'll find more.”

  “I came here to discuss Ulric. I think he is going mad.” She was quite serious.

  “How so?”

  “The girls he sleeps with or doesn't sleep with. You know what I mean. They are there for more than just sex.” Em paused and looked over the edge. “They keep him from hurting himself when he has nightmares. It's why he drinks so much.”

  “Tell me.”

  “His HUD is now active. I cannot help but wonder if it's malfunctioning. And why wasn't it active before? I presume that, because there was nothing to interface with, it had shut down completely.

  “I also spoke to Grady. Well, Ash talks to Grady. He hates being in The Abbey, by the way. But he loves the oatmeal. He misses his family. But he can't leave Ulric for some unknown reason. He has a wife in Exeter.”

  “Grady? Really? Married?”

  “Yes. Well, they don’t really marry here. He carves flutes. You should hear him play.”

  Barcus sighed.

  “What is on the agenda today?” Barcus asked, and a list displayed in his HUD. The top three all still involved cleaning. Cleaning Ulric's ship, cleaning the Mining Redoubt, cleaning the hermitage below.

  “This morning you might want to inspect the front skid on the Sedna, but you have to be back here by lunch. We are expecting a visitor,” she told him.

  “Who?” Barcus asked.

  “I have no idea. Outer perimeter BUGs picked him up on the road last night by his campfire. He looks like a well-equipped Tracker. Alone. He's not hiding. Doesn't have the look of a refugee. No forbidden weapons. He should be here midday.”

  ***

  The morning went well. The inspection uncovered a broken joint in the retraction gear. Based on the schematics they had, Barcus requested that Stu fabricate a new one. With the gear lowered and locked, it was easy to replace with the new tools. Barcus was back well before midday. He was done, physically, by then anyway.

  Rose had just brought his lunch tray, as he sat on the bench when he first saw him, in the distance, on the road. He walked up without any rush, crossed the small bridge and spoke in formal high speech.

  “Greetings. Would this happen to be Whitehall Abbey?”

  “Yes it is. Can I offer you some water and rest? I'm Barcus, the gatesman. Would you care to share my lunch? Rose always brings me too much.”

  “Call me Ronan,” the visitor said.

  He leaned his unstrung bow and quivers against the wall and took off his pack to stretch.

  In Barcus’s HUD, a window opened saying, “WARNING: August Ronan is a senior Keeper in service directly to the Lord High Keeper. He is also a High Keeper in his own right. He is a member of the High Council of Keepers. Ash is moving to the wall directly above you.”

  “What brings you this far north? These are dangerous days on the road north of the gorge,” Barcus said.

  “I am looking for an unsettled Keeper named Ulric. Do you know him?” Ronan was very polite.

  “Ulric is the Keeper of Whitehall, and quite well settled, actually. But he is not currently in residence. He is expected in a day or two.”

  Ulric was now listening to the conversation via his HUD. as well as Po and Smith on their Plates.

  “Would you like to wait? We get so few visitors. We have extra beds,” Barcus said.

  “If I may, I will wait.” Ronan bowed his head slightly to Barcus.

  “Excellent. Keeper Ulric has rooms set aside above the stables. Visitors are not allowed to enter Whitehall proper without leave from the Keeper. I'm sorry, but it's all I have to offer. There are two stable boys that are also near there. If you need anything, they will be able to get it for you,” Barcus said.

  Ronan sat as if he was weary and reluctant to get up any time soon.

  “What news do you have to share?” Barcus asked.

  Ronan did graciously share the lunch. He told Barcus of the destroyed villages and that the Salterferry Bridge had been burned. He also told Barcus that there were demons behind the destruction and death, great black or hairy brown giants that eat the heads and burn the rest - men, women and children, even the High Keeper’s men, that were sent to hunt them down.

  “I know it sounds ridiculous. But it's what some of the survivors are saying. They head south, some do anyway, below the gorge, or north to Whitehall, and Keeper Ulric's protection,” Ronan said.

  “I have heard many variations. We have had refugees come,” Barcus added. “People that return from somewhere to find their village gone. They arrive here with just the clothes on their backs. I think it's why Rose always brings me a whole pitcher of water and two cups. We even see rider-less horses. So many horses, smelling of smoke and fear.”

  “Is it not forbidden to live within a fortress?” Ronan carefully asked.

  “We have been commanded by our Keeper. He is very troubled by these difficult days and rumors of demons. We have also been plagued by Telis Raptors,” Barcus said. “It seemed a wise precaution.”

  Just then Ansel came running out, “Barcus!” He came up short, clearly surprised by Ronan.

  “Ronan, this is my young friend, Ansel. He seems very excited about something. What is it Ansel?” Barcus asked.

  “Pam had the baby. It's a boy!” Ansel exclaimed.

  “That's wonderful, Ansel. Have you told Smith?” Ansel was shaking his head before he finished asking. “Run and tell him, but then come straight back.”

  “You have a smith?” Ronan asked.

  “Yes. But he mostly makes nails all day. If not him, then the boys are doing it,” Barcus said. They could hear the Ding... ding ding rhythm of the hammer faintly over the wall.<
br />
  Ronan spoke of events in Exeter for a while. Stories were long and detailed, but the names meant nothing to Barcus.

  “What about you?” Ronan asked. “How did you become the gatekeeper?”

  “To be honest, I fell off the roof last winter while we were making repairs. It almost killed me. Keeper Ulric helped put me back together. I am still recovering. But I can sit on a bench by the gate,” Barcus said.

  “What did you do before that? Carpenter?” Ronan asked conversationally.

  “Bee keeper, actually,” Barcus said. “Whitehall has a flourishing bee population that has gone unattended for decades. There is much to do,” Barcus said.

  “I have only been here above the gorge once before. I am enjoying the cool weather,” Ronan said.

  Ansel ran back out and skidded to a stop and said in common, “Found ‘em!”

  “Ansel, please show Ronan to his room when he is ready. The largest one, on this end, please. And fetch some fresh water for him so he can wash up if he'd like,” Barcus said.

  “Can I carry up your things, my Lord?” Ansel asked, pointing to his bow and pack.

  “Thank you, Ansel. If you like,” Ronan said.

  Ronan remained sitting.

  “It is just as well that Keeper Ulric isn't here now. I'm so tired.” The words had weight of their own.

  “I spend too much time in the cities of late. Not enough under the sky. This is the first time in years that I have gotten away on my own, like the old days,” Ronan said.

  “I always envied the life of a Tracker. So many of us do,” Barcus said.

  ***

  They sat in the sun and casually chatted the rest of the afternoon. Ronan was sincerely interested in bee keeping. Barcus seemed very well versed in the craft, having a window open and all the bee keeping lore available at hand, being fed to him in his HUD. Ronan spoke of casual knowledge of many things not usually associated with Trackers, from brewing, to barrel making, salt mining, bread baking, blacksmithing, to carving flutes, naming just a few.

  Carving flutes caught his attention, but Barcus did not pursue it.

  As the sun dipped below the trees, Ansel came out to tell Barcus dinner would be ready in few minutes. It was to be stew tonight.

  “Would you like to join me for dinner? Or would you like to take it in your room?” Barcus asked, knowing Po, Ulric and Smith were still listening.

  “That would be nice. I have enjoyed our talk of simple things.” Ronan seemed a bit sad as he said this. A long silence held after that as the shadows grew long.

  Inside his HUD, Barcus was notified that dinner was ready and the gatehouse prepared. The books were collected and placed in a trunk in the loft. Everyone in The Abbey knew of this visitor now, and was to lie low if asked what the story was.

  Finally, Barcus stood and gestured Ronan to enter. He closed the small gate doors behind him and set the bar on the doors.

  They entered the gatehouse to find the lamps already lit and a kettle on the fire hook.

  Po entered a minute later, without a word, with a first tray with water, cups, bread, butter and honey. Ronan didn't even seem to see her.

  Ronan seemed taller indoors. When he took off his long leather cloak and hung it on a peg, he was thinner than Barcus first thought. His clothes were clean and well maintained for a man so long on the road.

  They took the two seats at the table and food was brought - steaming bowls of venison stew, with potatoes, onions and carrots. There was fresh bread and flavorful cheese. Cold water, wine and hot tea.

  Ronan ate it all but made no compliments or complaints. As Po came in to clear the dishes away, Ronan finally seemed to notice her and spoke to her for the first time. “What is your name, child?”

  She froze and stood still, eyes down to her feet. “My name is Po, my Lord.”

  “Where were you before Whitehall?” Ronan asked.

  “Greenwarren, my Lord.” Eyes downcast.

  “What happened?” He was sincerely interested.

  “I don't really know, my lord. There were men on horses, fire and screaming. Fern, the cook, said to hide and be quiet. After the killing began, I hid in the privy, and when I saw what was happening, the midden. When I heard violence coming closer, I went into the sewer.”

  “Did you see anything?” he asked.

  “I stayed down there all night and most of the next day. When I finally came up, it was over. I ran. Eventually I found my way here, like so many others.” Po trailed off.

  “The story is the same again and again,” Barcus added as Po, now silently dismissed, backed her way out.

  Barcus was surprised that Ronan didn't ask additional questions. He didn't really seem interested in the topic.

  As they moved to the armchairs, Barcus ventured, “If I may ask, why do you want to speak to Keeper Ulric? I may be able to provide you with information that could answer your question or smooth the audience. Keeper Ulric is...often easily distracted.”

  “It is a personal matter. I hope he knows where I can find a man named Grady Tolwood.”

  CHAPTER FIFTY

  Invasion

  “Even Em was surprised how this played out.”

  --Solstice 31 Incident Investigation Testimony Transcript: Emergency Module Digital Forensics Report. Independent Tech Analysis Team.

  <<<>>>

  Ronan’s question still hung in the air when Barcus’s HUD flooded with content.

  “WARNING: The M79 Troop Transport Shuttle inbound at high speed. On a direct vector for the Lislehill Estate. ETA is 4 minutes. Barcus, its Transponder is off. It's running RF dark. It was detected by BUGs.”

  “Are you expecting company, Keeper Ronan?” Barcus asked coldly.

  He didn't seem to notice that his question had been ignored.

  “Not at all. In fact, after speaking to Ann and Pyke, I specifically had my pilot drop me off several days away, so I would not alarm or alert anyone where I was going,” Ronan stated simply.

  Barcus noted that he mentioned Ann before Pyke.

  “When they were here, they spoke very highly of the Tracker they met. In discussions, I realized it was in fact Grady Tolwood. His wife is worried about him. I will soon be heading back to the Citadel, and I can get word to her as well as his brother.”

  “You walked for days to speak to Grady?” Barcus knew his tone carried more than he intended. “You? A High Keeper of the Council?”

  “So you really do know who I am?” Ronan seemed amused. “How refreshing.”

  “Why is there a troop transport headed this way?” Barcus asked straight out.

  “They have touched down, Barcus. One hundred and six men on horses are already headed this way.”

  “Troop transport?” Ronan seemed genuinely confused.

  “Yes. There are apparently over a hundred men headed this way on horseback. Are you saying that you know nothing of this?” Barcus was not hiding his anger now.

  Ronan surprised him by saying, “This is all my fault. The Lord High Keeper must have discovered I was here and alone. Forgive me. I don't know how. My Plate is off AND shielded.”

  “It's true Barcus. There is no RF from his Plate. I didn't even know he had one. The M79 has departed and is heading south. There are no Plates in possession of these troops. They look like mercs with one High Tracker. They are coming this way fast,” Em said.

  “Ansel! Tell Smith I want to see him right away.” The door barely opened and Ansel poked his head out long enough to say, “Right away.” And he was gone.

  “Keeper Ronan, why are you here, really? Why did you send those Trackers here?”

  He said nothing.

  “Do you know why I didn't kill you on sight? It was something Smith said about you. After Ann and Pyke were gone. He said he met you once in the past, in Langforest Keep. He said you refused to eat any of Volk's food, when he saw how Volk treated his people. That you stormed out.” Ronan met his gaze, unafraid.

  “Will you tell me why the High Keepe
r’s men are killing these people?” Barcus was standing now. Both hands were holding the edge of the table.

  Ronan was not intimidated or defiant. He sighed and seemed to confess, “The people that live above the gorge cannot be ruled as he wishes. It’s about control.” He looked Barcus in the eyes. “There was an automated census three years ago. It records the size of the planet’s population and their locations. Once again they passed the 'optimum' population size for the environment, his experiments, his domain.” Ronan sighed. “North of the gorge has always been too far out of his control sphere for his experiments. It fixes his problems. Two hammers, one anvil. His breeding program. A control group was once a good idea. But now he has lost focus.”

  He sighed and paused.

  “He doesn't even care that the mercenaries are dying. He is using the same mercenaries of his potential enemies. The weaker the population, the better it is in his eyes. They are disarmed, easier to control, to dominate. At least he isn't using plague this time.”

  “Plague?” Barcus asked.

  “At one time long ago, he released a plague above the gorge. It was difficult to control, it did its job too well. But it left the villages intact. He wants them leveled now it seems.” Ronan said. “How soon before they arrive?”

  “Soon,” Barcus answered. Smith came in at that point. He heard the last exchange.

  “Smith. There will be over a hundred men here in an hour. Gather the people up. Take them below. Tell Ulric and Olias to keep them calm. Bar the gate and the door to the catacombs. You will know when it's time to come out.”

  “Barcus. You don't need to do this alone, son,” Smith said, placing his scarred hand on his shoulder.

  “I have seen the terrible things these men do. No more,” Barcus growled.

  Smith looked at Ronan, in the eyes, without fear. Ronan nodded. Smith moved back into The Abbey. They could hear the call go out.

  ***

  They walked out of the gatehouse. Po was there. Her skirts were gathered again and tucked into her belt in the front. The AR was on a single point sling on her chest. She held it with both hands. Her right hand was on the pistol grip, index finger extended. She had her satchel of spare magazines.