Blood Bond: The Anti-Matter Chronicles (The Matter Chronicles Book 3)

by P. G. Thomas

  “Yes, Mother would. They need to learn that life is a gift, a gift worthy of fighting for. One day you’ll have children, and when they’re young, you’ll spoil them, giving them what they want. For when they smile, so will you. However, there will come a time when you’ll grow tired of cooking their meals, washing their clothes, and picking up after them. When they can do what needs to be done, you’ll say enough, forcing them to take care of themselves. At that point, you’ve done all that you can, and their fates are no longer in your hands. All mothers have to let go of their children at some point, just like you and Mother will have to.”

  “They are def—”

  “Defenseless? No, they aren’t, but there’s only one way to learn how to fight.”

  “What about Eric and the sword?”

  “In a blink of an eye, Mother could take it back.”

  “So, Earth Mother, what happens now?”

  “That which I hate the most. We wait again. I don’t know what’s worse. When chaos surrounds me, and I don’t know what’ll happen next, or when nothing is happening, except waiting for the chaos to return. I was going to spend the day with Gingaar in the forest. Do you want to join us?” Nur shook her head.

  *******

  It was several weeks later when the various gold elements started to show up back at the house. Many of the mines also sent their best goldsmiths to help with the project, which pleased Fodu, but he would only let them work on joining the gold chains. Several of the mines had found creative ways to fuse gold to a thread made from a tough natural plant, which was quite flexible, even though it had a high gold content. John had insisted that his design be all gold and connected. With the dwarfs making the chains, Fodu hired a dozen tailors to help sew the intricate pattern on the inside of the cloak. Having to work around the clock, his brothers helped to supervise the additional shifts, making sure that none of the gold threads accidentally left the room in somebody’s pocket. Even though it was a complicated pattern, John needed it done in seven days before the next arrival of the sky elves. The kites would be too heavy to launch from the ground, so he wanted them to fly the kites into the sky, and then drop the gold chains down. Fodu had also acquired some very strong woven elfin rope, which had the gold chains attached to it, as he was afraid the stress from the kite could break the chains, resulting in failure.

  The day before the sky elves were to arrive, Fodu took John to the sewing room, showing him the inside of the cloak, which completely mesmerized him. He had imagined it every waking hour over the last couple of weeks, and when he saw it, it went beyond his visions. The nucleus was seven large thin gold disks that Fodu had made to save time. While the orbiting electrons were made from a small diameter gold rope, which the dwarfs used to make jewelry, those two materials had helped to give the design a three-dimensional look. Inside each of the orbits was sewn the ninety symbols for the different elements.

  *******

  Lauren pushed away her empty breakfast plate, pulling the mug of hot bean juice to her.

  Nur ran into the backyard waving a piece of paper, “They took action!”

  “Calm down. What do you mean?”

  “The six that came to the house, they are planning...”

  “What?”

  “They asked me not to tell you,” advised Nur, “and they have posted this announcement all over town signed by the West Army Alliance.”

  “Well, what does it say?”

  “At the end of the week, there is a show taking place in the center of town.”

  “A show? What do you mean?”

  “I am sorry, Earth Mother, but you will have to wait, but we have motivated them.”

  *******

  Lauren and the crowd that surrounded her headed to the center of town to view the show promised by the West Army Alliance flyers. There an assembled stage surrounded by dwarves waited for them. From one side, someone pulled back a large fabric sheet, exposing a fake cage with a dozen people in chains inside of it. After a man clad in black had walked onto the stage from the far side, two dozen black-clad men took to the back of the stage.

  The first man turned to the gathered crowd, “Welcome. Today is not today. Today we look one year into the future.” He signaled to one of the fake guards, who brought forward a tall man from the mock cage. They had applied make-up to give him the appearance of a recent bloody beating, which Lauren considered realistic, having seen similar up close.

  The auctioneer began his speech, “A fine specimen. Would any like to examine him, or can we start at one hundred pieces of gold? As you can see, he takes a beating quite well, and he should be able to work in your fields all day.”

  One of the black-clad men at the back of the stage shouted out, “One hundred.”

  “One hundred and twenty-five.”

  “One hundred and fifty.”

  The center figure turned to the back of the stage, “Do I hear one hundred and sixty? No? Sold for one hundred and fifty.”

  They led the first fake slave off the stage.

  After the auctioneer had called for the next, when he was on stage, he rushed the auctioneer who pulled out his sword stabbing him, hitting a blood bladder under his arm, and the slave fell to the ground covered in blood. When the auctioneer looked to the side stage, a young girl dressed in a tattered dress stood walked out with a bucket of water and a rag, proceeding to mop up the fake blood, as they carried the body off the stage.

  The auctioneer continued, “What a shame. Take him to the butcher and feed him to the dogs.” Then he cursed at the girl cleaning the stage, hitting her with the flat of his sword, and when she was done, he kicked her towards the side. They dragged two more slaves onto the stage, auctioned them off, and then a mother and her young daughter advanced to the center.

  From the back, one man shouted out, “Three hundred for the girl.”

  “They are a set, friend.”

  “I only want the young one.”

  “Sold for three hundred.” The auctioneer went over, pulled the girl, but she refused to let go of her mother and started to cry. When the auctioneer struck the fake parent, the winning bidder came forward, dragging the girl off the stage, as she continued to scream.

  When the crowd became angry, the auctioneer walked to the front of the stage, “Silence or you will be next,” and then he auctioned off the crying mother. Fake guards continued to bring forth fake slaves, auctioning them off, and then, a big strong man, chained hand and foot, put up a struggle. The crowd cheered, but two fake guards came from the side, beating on him with sticks until he fell to the ground, causing the crowd to go quiet. The auction continued after they dragged him from the stage.

  Next, a fake guard brought out a baby only a couple of months old. The auctioneer started, “We have a special treat this week. Here is a slave that you can train to know its place. It has never tasted freedom, as even the teat it clung to was branded slave. If you need a wet nurse, visit me at the slave pens where you can purchase or rent the required for the sour milk. Who will offer me five hundred?”

  “Five hundred.”

  “Six.”

  “Seven.”

  “Sold for 700.”

  The fake guards then dragged a young boy onto the stage whose leg was twisted and broken.

  “Do I hear one hundred?” The bidders were quiet.

  “Yes, he is a cripple, but he cannot run like the rest, as he has learned his lessons.”

  Still no bids came forward. The auctioneer took the young lad to the back of the stage, making him kneel over a stump. It happened so fast that the crowd screamed in horror. Pulling out his sword, the auctioneer cut off the youths head. When it hit a large melon with a sickening thud, the boy burst a bladder, making blood flow over the stage, causing several in the audience to vomit.

  The auctioneer called to the guards, “Take him to the butcher. Let him feed the dogs. I see we have no more slaves for this week. Next week, we will see if we can bring in some fresh ones. I hear we invaded
Alron, so the pickings should be good so please arrive early.”

  The air was thick with the smell of vomit, and the crowd was numb. When the actors came back out, the young girl that had scrubbed the floors carried the newborn. The young lad, who had his head cut off, stood with them also.

  The young girl stepped forward, “If you will not fight for your freedom at least fight for ours. We cannot defend ourselves, but you can.” Starting to cry, she ran off the stage.

  The rest just stood there, looking out on the silent crowd. The auctioneer walked out, and after thanking the actors, he told them to clean up.

  Somebody in the crowd shouted, “Why were no dwarfs auctioned off?”

  The auctioneer had never thought that any would ask questions, but he continued to play his role, “They slave in the mines, but many have been lost. They want them to be safe, but it takes too long to build safe mines. Many are free now, trapped in the bottom of them.”

  “Why were no elves auctioned off?”

  “We hunt them for sport. With our fields filled with slave labor, we have much free time on our hands. They are a tricky group, providing us with much entertainment, but it is getting harder to find them with so few forests left. However, do not worry, as we have started a breeding camp to keep the sport alive.”

  “Why would the Earth Mothers allow this to happen?”

  “They did not, they wanted to help. It was Mother, ashamed of her children. She took the Earth Mothers away to safety.”

  Pulling his black head wrap off, his voice became loud, emotional. “There is a sheet at the town hall to sign. We need volunteers to fight for our freedom, your freedom, and your children’s.”

  Over the next couple of days, they added many sheets, as the army of volunteers grew. Then, with the success in Alron, they made plans to split the show troop into two groups; one to head to the north pass settlement, one to the south port town, and with them, they would take boxes of blank volunteer sheets. As well, elves asked for help to stage their own production.

  *******

  It was a few days later, when a runner knocked on Lauren’s door, asking the Earth Mother to attend a late afternoon meeting hosted by the West Army Alliance. John was sitting at the backyard table when Panry made the announcement, and Lauren nodded, as she had been quite impressed with the performance.

  John smiled when he announced that his project was complete. “However, I do need one favor from you, Earth Mother. When the sky elf arrives today, I need them to fly two kites high up in the air for me, as they are too heavy to launch from the ground. Since they have gold chains on them, they will be safer staked in our backyard then somewhere out in the open.”

  “While that piques my interest, it still reeks of science, but I’ll talk to them.”

  Lauren waited for the sky elves with John in the early afternoon, and when the one flew overhead, she waved it down. John then explained what he needed, and even though the sky elf had a confused look, he did as requested. As Lauren headed to the town hall meeting, John went to the backyard to attach the cloak to the gold chains, and he sat there looking up, hoping the magic would travel down.

  At the town meeting hall, the six Earth Mothers walked into a vacant room except for the West Army Alliance, and when they entered, the Earth Mothers applauded.

  The midlander stood, “The list grows. Over one hundred thousand have signed it already. We will be reviewing those that signed, looking for officers, to train the volunteers. Our dwarf allies have taught us much already, but I suspect they have hardly scratched the surface, but we are without weapons or armor.”

  Lauren looked at one of the dwarves, “Do you know where the weapons are stored?” He nodded. “Then bring them forth into the light, as this day the west proclaims war on the Royal House, but gentlemen, your task has only begun. Many dwarf clans have proclaimed me their Earth Mother, which does bless me, but the first was Ironhouse. I’ll send Ironhouse to you, and they’ll advise me of your progress and needs. That which you have done this week, Mother will be proud of, for your actions have saved the west, and together, we will get through this.”

  *******

  As the month went by, Aaro and Bor reported on the army’s progress. Some groups were forming quick, finding their own places, while others still worked on their differences. Armies cost gold and unemployment was high, especially in the shantytown. When they advised the mayors who would have to finance the army, they balked, wanting to raise taxes. When John showed them the slush fund from the excessive taxes, which was more than sufficient for their immediate needs, the mayor’s reluctantly agreed. They formed platoons, then regiments, then divisions. They transformed grasslands into muddy fields, as farmers transformed into soldiers. Once a week, Aaro and Bor would take the Earth Mothers out to watch the army practice, whose training progressed quicker than any thought.

  *******

  The kites had been flying for nearly a month, and like a ritual, John unplugged the heavy cloak once a week. Trying in on, he wanted to feel the magic, but he was always disappointed. Today would be different, he hoped. After everybody had left the backyard, he uncoupled the gold chains, and putting the cloak on, he anticipated that it would work. Trying for the entire day to make magic happen, his efforts once again failed, which was a result that he was unaccustomed with. After long frustrating hours, he hooked it back up to the gold chains, hoping it just needed more time to charge, but since it had been charging for so long, he now doubted that he could trap magic. It was late in the day when John sought out Bor and Aaro, and they could tell by the look on his face he was disappointed.

  “I tried it on today, but nothing happened.”

  “Brother, what can we do?” asked Bor.

  “What I need is crystals, lots of them; especially in different colors and thickness. I know with those I can find the magic. Once I know what I’m looking for, then I can trap it.”

  Aaro replied, “We will ask the clans.”

  Chapter 20

  It was several days later when John was approached by a smiling Aaro, “Crystals, news we have. Jemfire, old western clan, crystals they trade, but the clan, is absent in Alron, years not seen here.”

  Bor nodded, “Western clan they be but outgoing not. One dwarf thinks in Alron one may work. Long since seen last, still here, sure he is not.”

  “This night, go to find we will. Jemfire clan or news, both we will search for,” advise Aaro.

  Eric saw Aaro, Bor, and John head out after the last meal, asking if he could join them. It took a few inquiries to find out where the inn in question was located, but the answers failed to sit well with Eric, as it was in one of the rougher parts of the town, and the guilds enforced the laws. The farther they walked, the stranger the directions became, seeming like the information offered was meant to guide them away from their destination. With a bit of perseverance, a few lies of the ‘shop beside the inn, not the inn’, and with a little bit of luck, they finally arrived at their objective. From the outside, it looked rough. Windows broken too often had been replaced with boards, and thick blue smoke from cheap oil lamps drifted out into the night, as drunks who had either had too much to drink or not enough money to pay littered the porch. The four cautiously approached the door with Eric in the middle. Aaro and Bor where at his sides, and John confidently hid behind him.

  The bartender looked up, “We do not serve their kind.”

  Eric, failing to understand the comment, scanned the occupants of the inn. So did Aaro and Bor, seeing it was absent of dwarves, but they showed no reaction, having heard of places like this, which only serve midlanders. However, this was the first time they had ever entered one, being sorry they had left their axes back at the house, and they began to scan the room, assessing threats, opportunities, and advantages. Eric walked up to the bar, ordered a drink, and as the bartender served him, the three others stood in the doorway. The bartender knew who Eric was, everybody knew Eric, as there was only one in all of Alron whose height
equaled the length of the sword on his back. Beyond that, it was common knowledge of his command over lightning.

  Paying for the drink, Eric downed it, “So you do serve dwarf.”

  The bartender shook his head, “No, dwarves are not welcome here.”

  “Well, I’m dwarf, and you served me. Those are my thirsty dwarf brothers. YOU WILL SERVE THEM!”

  Before the bartender could answer, Eric saw the small young dwarf come out from the back, carrying a tray of glasses and plates, having a chain around his ankle. While he may have worked at the inn, it was not by choice. Walking towards the end of the bar, he rolled the scabbard strap off of his shoulder, and Tranquil Fury fell into his hand. As he pulled the bright steel out of the dark scabbard, he brought the sword up high and down quick, breaking the chain that held captive the young dwarf, “Friend, you’ re coming with us.”

  “You cannot do that. He is my property,” proclaimed the bartender.

  Eric’s voice was hollow but thick with emotion, “Explain!”

  “The lad’s father was in town about two years ago. He joined a card game and was losing. When he thought he had a winning hand, he used his son as a wager. He lost, so the boy belongs to me.”

  Eric nodded, “So the boy is your possession? Possession I understand. Good people would not hold free people against their will. A good person would never have accepted the wager. A good person would have sent the father on his way. I like good people. Are you a good person?”

  Sweat began to form on the bartender’s forehead, “Yes?”

  “Evil people imprison free people. Chains that restrict freedom are a sign of evil, and I’m very good at spotting evil. Are you evil?”

  The crowds began backing up, and the bartender was stammering, “No.”

  Eric looked down at the dwarf, “Then the lad is free to go, and the debt is satisfied. The lad has worked it off?”

  The bartender took a step back, “Yes.”

  “Good. Now let us talk about your serving policy. Your discrimination breeds hatred, which results in graves, and I am very good at filling them. My sword, it does not discriminate against the different shades of evil. Evil is not good, and I like good. It would do you good to change your serving policy. Should you continue to breed hatred through discrimination, I will return. My sword, it will not discriminate. It will gladly debate any who share the same thoughts, opening their minds to new thoughts or their skulls. Do you have any questions friend?”