Shrotru: Departure Episode 2 (Journey to Rehnor)

by J. Naomi Ay

  If Reva stretched her neck just so, she could see past the corner of the building, and spy the pond next to the stables. A pair of geese and three pair of ducks paddled about the little pool, only recently having been joined by both goslings and ducklings.

  That was until her father’s dogs came upon them, racing out of the Manor House’s back door, barking as if the birds were unwelcome intruders.

  “Oh hush,” Reva called, although she was too far away for the dogs to hear, not that they would have obeyed her command in any case. The dogs only listened to her father, or his manservant, Mills, who babied them with copious treats and loving scratches behind their floppy ears.

  The geese and ducks all took flight, leaving only the dogs to splash about in the pond. Reva’s pony neighed and tossed her head, as a large bird danced across the sky on glorious dark wings.

  “Reva, hurry up,” Sheela, the Duchess of Shrotru ordered, her footsteps tapping across the marble floors of her daughter’s bedroom. The faint scent of her perfume swelled throughout the air. The Duchess’s skirts swished around her, as she tossed a small satchel in the girl’s direction. “Put as much as you can in here, and meet us in the front hall.”

  “Put what?” Reva asked, as her mother’s skirts swirled in the opposite direction, already following her out the door. A faint cloud of dust gusted in the air behind her, which had this been any other occasion, would surely have prompted the Duchess to make a fuss. Some poor maid would be taken to task, or at the very least, her pay packet reduced. Despite the difficulty of keeping this immense room in this ancient house dust-free, someone must be blamed.

  “Your clothes! Don’t be so dense,” the Duchess snapped, her voice resonating off the ornate walls of the mansion’s hallway.

  Reva imagined all the portraits of her forbearers gazing sternly down upon her mother as the Duchess passed. One or two of them would sneeze as both the dust and perfume reached their proud and aristocratic noses.

  A few more footsteps hurried outside Reva’s door, thankfully continuing in the same direction the Duchess had gone. They were heavier, as if someone was wearing clogs. Probably, it was one of the maids like that peasant girl, Clara, or Ana, the old woman who attended Reva and her little brother.

  Reva sighed, and glanced outside again, searching for the geese or ducks who had flown away, when she noticed an odd light shining between the trees. Pressing her nose to the glass, she tried to focus, to ascertain what it was, for it seemed to be a kaleidoscope of colors, while at the same, none at all.

  It flashed, then, disappeared, although Reva could have sworn she heard a voice.

  “Reva,” it said. “It’s time for you to go.”

  “Hurry up, children!” Sheela’s voice interrupted again. “You are dawdling. We don’t have time for this. If you are late, you shall die.”

  “Maybe, I want to die,” Reva muttered, laying down upon her bed. She covered her face with one of her fluffy pillows, and closed her eyes.

  Despite the pillow and the softness of her bed, Reva couldn’t block out the odd trembling sensation in her chest. It felt as if she had swallowed about a million butterflies, and they were beating upon her lungs to let them out. Occasionally, her heart thumped hard as if it too wanted to be set free.

  Reva tried to ignore these feelings, shifting her attention to all the things that she had loved here in this room, imagining how she might stuff them into her bag. One bag per person. That was the rule. One bag to save all of her worldly goods, even though now they filled many closets and shelves.

  “Can I help you, Miss?” Ana asked, her clogs knocking across Reva’s floor. They paused briefly, most likely for a curtsey. Ana never failed to show respect, despite the youth of the young Lady, and her own advanced age. “Your mum wants you to pack quickly, not lay here and nap, Miss.”

  “I know,” Reva mumbled into her pillow, not moving from her bed.

  “Let’s see what you might like to bring,” Ana continued, heading into Reva’s closet. She examined the long racks of beautiful clothes, while making clucking noises with her tongue

  “’Tis all too old,” she murmured. “And, far too small.”

  Most of the girl’s blouses and skirts were all from last season. Not only were they hopelessly out of style, but Reva had grown quite a bit in the intervening time. The Duchess was waiting until the autumn to commission a wardrobe of new gowns for the future princess, as style was extremely important to Reva’s mother. She had a reputation to uphold.

  “You need to look and act like a princess,” Sheela was always snapping. “Brush your hair. Sit up straight. Don’t slurp your soup. We don’t want the Royal Family to call off this match.”

  Reva wondered if everything ought to be put on hold now. How could anyone plan a wedding ten years hence, when they all might be dead by next week?

  “How about this one?” Ana produced what had been Reva’s favorite dress, a blue taffeta with clouds of tulle above the skirt, and embroidered with gold silk thread.

  Reva had worn it to the New Year’s ball at the Palace, her first ball, and now, probably, her last. This didn’t bother the girl as she had only danced twice, in any case. Once, she had been on her father’s arm, and the second time was with her elder brother, Viscount Torim. The rest of the evening, she had stood by the buffet table pretending not to stare at it, nor crave all the lovely desserts, and fancy sweets.

  The Duke of Kirkut’s daughter, Lady Elise was standing alone as well, studying the desserts, but also not daring to touch them. Briefly, the two girls had exchanged shy and embarrassed glances, before turning away, not deigning to speak to one another, even though someday, they’d be sisters-in-law.

  Some of the other girls knew each other, and clustered in a group, giggling behind their hands each time one of the princes happened to pass by. Kirat, the Crown Prince, was tall and darkly handsome like his father, the King. Simply strolling about the room sent all the giggling girls into fits of sighs, and moans of longing. Behrat, the younger, was shorter and a bit goofy looking, with a cow lick that made his curly black hair stand up at the back of his head. He didn't make anyone sigh, especially Reva, his future bride. If anything, Behrat made Reva’s stomach churn, and the butterflies pound against her chest.

  “Shall we pack it?” Ana asked, taking the blue ball gown off the hanger, and stuffing it into Reva’s satchel. It filled up the bag nearly completely no matter how hard she pushed the crinoline underskirt down. “How about your sandals?”

  Reva shrugged as the maid shoved in the matching blue silk shoes.

  “And, here’s your lovely handkerchief,” Ana called, adding the delicate cloth embroidered with the Shrotro household crest. Reva had kept that in her pocket whenever she wore a gown, so she wouldn’t accidentally wipe her nose on a silken sleeve.

  “What else will you need there, d’ya think?”

  Ana looked about the room. What would a thirteen year old girl flying off to a distant planet need upon arriving? A pearl necklace from her grandmother, the Dowager Duchess of Shrotru, a ruby ring that was a gift from her parents last year, or a gold bracelet that Prince Behrat had given her when she turned six?

  “I don’t know,” Reva mumbled, her head still beneath her pillow, while Ana tossed all of the jewelry into the bag. The old woman kept a small silver charm for herself, an effigy of a she-angel on a chain, which Reva had worn around her neck when she was still quite young.

  The girl would never notice it missing, and Ana was certain it would hold no value wherever they landed. For the maid, it was this, along with the gold coins from the child’s purse that might purchase a meal to stave off the encroaching famine.

  Who knew what sort of chaos was about to enfold those who were forced to remain? Surely, the departure of the Shrotrus meant the King, and all the other dukes were leaving, as well.

  “Hurry up!” the Duchess’s screeching cry echoed from somewhere down the hall.

  “Come, Miss,” Ana insisted, pulli
ng Reva’s arm.

  Reluctantly, the young Lady rose. She took a heavy breath, and placed a hand upon her chest as if to steady her fluttering heart, and cement her will.

  “You’ll be fine,” the maid insisted, not daring to meet Reva’s doubtful gaze.

  “I want my chess set,” the girl replied. “And, my music player.”

  Reva retrieved the heavy marble set, which was awkward and didn’t quite fit into the already over-stuffed satchel. She added a few more items: books, her music player, and her colored pens.

  Lastly, Reva stuffed in the handmade pillow from her childhood nanny, which she still slept with every night, clutching it to her chest. Nanny wasn’t going with them. She was far too old despite having raised the Duke and his three children. There wasn’t enough room aboard the ship, the Duke had said. Only family may attend. Nanny wasn’t one of them. She would die alone in her room in the Manor House’s attic.

  “Reva?” Lot, the youngest of the Shrotru children, stuck his head around the door, his own satchel dragging on the floor behind him. “Are you ready yet?”

  “Ach, look at you,” Ana gasped, reaching for the child’s bag, which was bulging at odd angles from his toy train collection. “Let me go fetch a few more items. I suppose you didn’t pack any of your clothes?” She hurried from the room, while Reva took her brother’s hand.

  “Are you scared?” For her brother’s benefit, Reva forced her voice to be strong, filling it with false bravado.

  Lot’s lip quivered, but he didn’t speak.

  “I’m not. I know we’ll be fine. It’ll be lovely. You’ll see. That’s what Papa said. I’m very excited.”

  The child nodded, trying to force a smile to his lips.

  “And, you’re bringing your trains. We’ll be able to play with them when we are travelling. We’ll have so much fun.”

  “Don’t tell, Mummy,” Lot whispered, his pale eyes filling with tears. “She’ll toss them all. She told me not to bring my trains to outerspace.”

  “Don’t worry.” Reva squeezed the boy’s hand tighter, and smiled reassuringly, as Ana returned, the bag newly stuffed with clothes. “We’ll be fine. Of course, we will. We’re Shrotrus. We’re blessed, so says Papa and even, the King. Furthermore, I am your future princess, and I like trains.”

  As the children descended the staircase to the front entrance of the Manor House, Torim, the eldest was pacing the length of the hall. The Duchess stood nervously twisting the many bracelets upon her wrist, while the Duke shouted at someone, although no one appeared to be listening.

  The servants of the household clustered around the perimeter, anxiously watching for the arrival of the ship. Only a few handpicked individuals would be traveling. Everyone else was sentenced to whatever fate the war bestowed upon them. Reva didn’t want to think about what that meant.

  “Let’s go,” Torim cried, yelling at his father, as if it was only the Duke’s order which awaited their evacuation. “Let’s go now before it’s too late, else we’ll die before they arrive.”

  “Will we?” Lot gasped, squeezing Reva’s hand.

  “No, don’t worry,” she insisted, although not convincing enough for the child to loosen his tight grip.

  It was then, the spaceship arrived, its huge saucer-like shadow casting a pale on the courtyard below, as it hovered into place over the front drive. Slowly, it lowered, its engines tipped upward, and making a tremendous roar, at the same time as the landing legs extended spider-like to the ground.

  It frightened the ducks and geese away, who had only just returned to their pond. It set the dogs barking, and the pony neighing as she scurried across the pasture.

  When the footings thumped, and locked in place, the engines finally ceased their clamor. A door opened, and a ladder descended, followed by a man. It was then that the first terrible explosion erupted on the horizon, followed by four others in quick succession.

  “Oh my God,” the Duke cried, although no one could hear his voice.

  Instead, there was only the rumble of the detonations miles away. This was followed by a tremendous rush of air. Like an enormous vacuum, it sucked the very breath from their lungs, as a giant cloud burgeoned outward in the distance. Plumes of purple, yellow and orange spirals mushroomed heavenward from what had been the capital city.

  The Duchess screamed, and a kitchen maid fainted. Reva and her brothers stood awestruck, their eyes refusing to comprehend what they saw before them. Someone called, pushing Reva forward, and although she never once loosened her grip on Lot’s hand, he tripped pulling her to the ground beneath rampaging feet.

  The children were trampled as the servants scrambled toward the ship they were not allowed to board. People screamed, followed by gun shots splitting the air. Reva was lifted into someone’s arms, whereupon she lost her brother’s hand. The butterflies in her chest returned, millions of them all at once.

  “Hold on, Lady,” the Duke’s manservant, Mills whispered, hugging her tightly to his chest, and carrying her aboard the ship, as if she was an infant.

  When next Reva opened her eyes, Torim was climbing aboard with Lot clutched similarly in his arms. The door was shut and sealed, silencing the cries of those condemned to die outside.

  As the tiny craft soared upward into the sky, Reva stared out the window at the spreading clouds as they began to fill the landscape below. The last sight she had of Karupatani, were those odd formations, strangely beautiful in a rainbow of colors, annihilating everyone and everything that had been her home.

  Chapter 4

  Mills and his father before him had served the Shrotru family since they immigrated from Hahr years ago. Mills had been small then, barely out of babyhood, perhaps even still in nappies. He had no memory of that transit, or the time before.

  However, it was quite clear why his father, Mills the Elder had left the country of his birth immediately following the death of his beloved wife and child’s mother.

  “It was the prince who killed her,” Mills the Elder said on nearly every occasion. “She wouldn’t submit to him because she was a woman of honor, and in love with me.”

  Mills the Younger had no doubt that his mother was virtuous and honorable when it came to his father, but that a prince should desire her seemed quite unlikely. He had seen pictures of her image, and while pretty, there was nothing particularly exceptional about her looks. As she had dropped out of school at the age of twelve, he figured her brain couldn’t have been so attractive either.

  Especially to a prince who later became a king, Mills reasoned, for his mother’s paramour was none other than Markiis Kalila, the man who the people of Hahr called the Saint.

  King Markiis was extraordinarily handsome, and with a personality that was so magnetic, the common folk were entranced by his every utterance. Half the time, these utterances made no sense.

  Mills the Elder figured this was because Kalila had everyone fooled, which he announced to anyone who cared to listen.

  “The prince is the consummate politician, and the most dangerous man on Rozari,” he decried. “Wake up Hahr! See what lies before you!”

  Mills the Younger’s mother’s death was followed by more ranting from the Elder, although he was compensated forty coins for his wife’s demise. How she fell from the Prince’s bedroom window into a courtyard of bricks three stories below was never fully explained to either Mills the Elder or the Younger. However, the death of a palace maid was not worth an inquest to find out, and the welfare of her only child was valued even less so.

  “We shall leave!” the elder Mills declared, first tossing his coins into the street, before retrieving them in order to pay for the bus and boat fare of their passage.

  Arriving as refugees in Karupatani, the only other civilized country on the planet of Rozari, the two Mills rented a cheap flat in the inner city of Shrotru. Mills the Elder went searching for a job working with horses, his only true love besides the late and lost wife killed by the prince.

  In the meantime,
Mills the Younger was placed in a nursery school where he spent every day drawing with crayons and taking naps. His fondest memory of that time was the apple juice shared at noon and the sweet crackers which accompanied it as his lunch.

  One day, while Mills the Elder was at the race track, purely for the purpose of searching for employment, he happened upon the then Duke of Shrotru. Mills the Elder was examining the daily race sheets and handicaps, on the verge of placing an exacta on two ponies. He was quite appreciative of the Karuts for they bred the most excellent horses, must better than any racing upon the tracks of Hahr.

  “Lightning Bolt over Death Ray for the win?” Mills the Elder was mumbling to himself. “Or shall Death Ray pull out in the very last moment?”

  These murmurings were accidentally overhead by the gentleman to his right, who was at the very next window also placing a bet.

  “Death Ray,” the other replied, winking a knowing eye at the Elder Mills. “He shall leave Lightning Bolt in his dust, I guarantee it.” Then, the gentleman tipped his cap, and strolled away, his tail coat flapping in the way that only tail coats do.

  “Death Ray?” Mills the Elder frowned, perusing the statistics.

  Death Ray was indeed a fine horse, owned and bred by the noble Duke of Shrotru. Incidentally, and coincidentally, the noble duke looked similar to the tail-coated gentleman who was now taking a seat in a prime box.

  Not one to forgo good advice, Mills the Elder promptly placed his bet, and indeed, Death Ray came in for the win, leaving Lightning Bolt to finish a distance fourth.

  Mills the Elder celebrated his victory and subsequent winnings at the track bar, sparing only enough coins to feed his child a box of macaroni. However, the child would have to wait until Mills the Elder finished his four drinks, and managed to find his way back to city on a bus. Fortunately, the boy had eaten his fill of apple juice and graham crackers.