by D. J. Manly
The Staircase
Tarot Series - Nine of Wands
By
D.J. Manly
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The Staircase
Tarot Series - 9 of Wands
Copyright © 2006 D. J. Manly
ISBN: 1-55410-790-3
Cover art and design by Martine Jardin
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The Nine of Wands
The war has taken its toll on Tristan. He is weakened by its devastation, disheartened to see what these two people have done to the other, and still he carries on, helping people, and refusing to die until he reaches once again the top of the mountain where deep in his heart he hopes to see Trinity one last time.
Chapter One
He sunk down against the shattered wall, not even feeling the jagged edges of the rocks cutting into his back. His eyes closed, and he drifted. The symphony of crying and coughing in the background seemed to blend altogether, then faded off into the distance. White clouds, his white shirt open and billowing around him as he ran across soft grass in his bare feet. Laughter. He could hear laughter, giggling even. The sky was so blue and it filled his eyes, made him smile. There was no more blue sky now. He felt himself falling. He looked up, the soft grass feeling like heaven caressing his back. There was a voice. It sounded so rich and deep, soothing, loving, and eyes, as blue as the sky looking into his.
He gasped suddenly, his eyelids flying open. Someone was calling, frantically calling him. “Tristan. Come here. Help me.”
He sprang up from the wall, hoisted his weapon onto his hip and ran towards Lana.
“It’s a baby,” she sang out. “It’s a baby, and it’s alive.”
He slowed his steps, pausing for a minute. To think that a baby could have somehow been born was impossible. Sterility had been one of the better known side effects of the poison. But there it was. He hovered around Lana for a moment, craning his neck to watch as she lifted the small infant out from underneath the rubble. A woman lay there in the crater, half her face ravaged by a gun blast.
Tristan reached a hand out to touch the child, his throat parched suddenly. “My God,” he whispered. The baby was screaming now, cold, hungry. It was nothing short of a miracle.
“What are we going to feed it?” Lana asked him.
Tristan glanced around him. They found no survivors here, and nothing was edible. “I have some powdered food left over in my knapsack,” he said, shrugging out of his jacket. “Here, wrap the baby in this.”
“But Tristan, you know how cold it gets at night and…”
Tristan shook his head. “It’s okay. I’ll manage.” He lifted his gaze up to the mountain. They would climb higher tonight. He knew there had to be a camp up there. He prayed that there would be survivors, and that the Celest had not had time to exterminate everyone yet.
Lana cradled the baby who was wrapped securely in Tristan’s coat. He knew that taking a baby up the mountain with them was not practical. A baby would slow them up considerably. He hoped he could find someone along the way who would be willing to care for it, but the more ground they covered, the less survivors they found. Almost everyone in the city of Temple Cities had died, and those on the outskirts of Temple Green were dying from starvation and disease. If there was only one consolation in all this, Tristan knew that now the Celest were suffering as well, and he had heard rumours that the Emperor was very ill. The poison the Celest had dropped on his people had slowly found its way up the mountainside. It was the sweetest revenge really, even if it had taken over four years to permeate that altitude.
Four years. Was it possible that he had been out here in Temple Green four years trying to find what was left of his people? They had set up two camps along the way for the defenseless, who were now in danger from not only the Celest, but from the Epemo. The Epemo, aliens from a neighbouring planet, hadn’t hesitated to move in once the dangers from the gasses had passed. Their population was expanding and they intended to wipe out the rest of the inhabitants, the Herits and Celest alike. They had attacked already once, and now were being held back temporarily by Celest warriors.
The others were coming back now from the scouting mission. They had returned alone. There was no one else left in Temple Green.
“We don’t need to double back, Tristan,” Bobbie, one of the three soldiers left in his platoon told him. “We found only the dead.”
“Any evidence that the Epemo have been back?” Tristan enquired, watching as Bobby’s eyes widened at the baby Lana was holding. Some people had died right away, others had suffered greatly over months and even years before succumbing.
“Ah, the Epemo definitely came through here but when I don’t know,” it was Samuel, the youngest among them. “We saw evidence of their craft landing a few weeks ago, and there were a few who had been vaporized with Epemo weapons. They’re gone now.” He raised his gaze to the mountain
“It’s a baby,” Bobby said, narrowing his eyes.
“That’s what it is,” Lana said, rocking the child in her arms.
“How?” Samuel enquired.
Tristan shook his head. “I don’t know. The mother definitely was killed by the Epemo. They probably didn’t see the baby. Let’s get going?”
“What do we do with that kid?” Bobby asked.
“We carry it with us until we can find someone to take care of it.”
“Why don’t we take it back to the fortress camp?” Samuel looked at Tristan.
Tristan shook his head. “Too far. Look, if there are any of ours left, they are up there in that interment camp on Celestial Ridge. There’s no time to waste.”
“The Epemo are up there. I know it.” Samuel shuddered. “We are walking right into their line of fire. They might have already wiped out the rest of the Celest and destroyed any Herits they found as well. They don’t care who they destroy. They intend to get rid of everyone so that they can colonize…”
Tristan began to move forward. “You can stay behind if you want,” he said, glancing over his shoulder. “Go back to the camp then. Take the baby.”
“Why in hell are you so stubborn, Tristan?” Samuel muttered. “Knowing the Emperor, he’s already killed off the rest of us. You know I won’t leave you.”
“The Emperor is ill,” Tristan told Samuel, who had moved up beside him. “Right now, with the Epemo surrounding them, there is a chance they haven’t had the opportunity to…”
“We don’t know for sure,” Lana began hesitantly, “that they took any prisoners.”
Tristan stopped and turned around. His long brown hair had fallen out of the cord he’d used to tie it back, and his face was streaked with dirt. He hadn’t slept for what seemed like days, and the exhaustion was starting to wear on him. “Listen, you don’t have to come. I’m going on what the people we left back
at the camp said. They said they saw the Celest take prisoners with them. I know we may never come down off that mountain, but I have to try. Even if there is one of us up there, it will be one that those bastards won’t get.” His voice faltered. He turned and started to move forward again.
The mountain was treacherous. There was once a moving staircase which made the access easy from below, but when the Celest declared war on his people, the access path was removed. It had been years since he had been on top of Celestial Ridge. It was at least sixteen miles up to the huge plateau which contained the modern city. It would take them days to reach it, if they weren’t caught by an Epemo or Celest snipers first. Nine years. He had been nineteen years old, when he remembered wanting to throw himself off that mountain. He stopped, taking a breath, closing his tired eyes for a moment. Dare he think his name? Dare he conjure up his face in his mind? He already saw those eyes in his dreams. It seemed the closer he got to Celestial Ridge, the more the memories came flooding back to him. He often wondered if he was still alive? They were enemies now. Their fathers had made it so. Their fathers had ripped them apart nine years ago. He had been his best friend, his lover. Now all he was allowed to feel for him was hatred.
“The baby is wet,” Lana announced.
Tristan turned and glanced down at the three of them. My God. He had led a squadron of eighteen hundred when this thing began. Most had been wiped out by the gasses. Once the Celeste emperor had released the poisonous fumes into the atmosphere, people dropped like flies. He had no idea why he was still standing. Now the gasses had dissipated, the threat replaced now by the coming of the Epemo. He knew his death would be a swifter one but it wouldn’t come before he took every last survivor he could find out of their murderous hands.
“I don’t have anything to change her with,” Lana said desperately.
It was getting colder and they were losing the light. There were flat plateaus along the route where they could take their rest. “Do the best you can,” Tristan said.
“We need to unload that baby,” Bobby protested.
Lana clutched the baby protectively in her arms.
“It’s slowing us down,” Samuel remarked. “When we’re not moving, we’re an easy target for…”
Tristan sighed, tuning Samuel out. He had to admit, he was more than just a little concerned about the possibility of that baby crying at an inopportune time. But they couldn’t just leave it, and he knew that it was unlikely they’d meet anyone along the way that they could leave it with. The baby represented hope, and he hadn’t seen any of that in a very long time. “Stop whining, Samuel. The baby stays with us, until we find a safe place to leave it,” he said, looking at Samuel. “Now, come on. I’d like to at least reach the second summit before night fall so that we can camp.”
They kept climbing. Tristan stayed out ahead, ignoring the exhaustion in his limbs and the hunger that was gnawing at his guts. The sky grew inky dark, and the winds howled around them. Finally, they made it to the second plateau. From where they stood on flat ground, Tristan sought out the places where they had established the two havens for what was left of his people. Although no lights were visible at night, he knew the spots well enough to be able to picture them in his mind. Twenty five people in all, divided into two camps. They were trying to grow food again. Hopefully, since the gasses had dissipated, something would finally take root again.
Samuel and Lana were making camp now, and Bobby stood holding the baby, bouncing it a little in his arms. It was strange to see such tenderness on Bobby’s face. He was a big strapping man in his forties who had lost his entire family right at the beginning of the war, even before the gasses. He had developed a hard, outer shell. They all had. It was the only way. At the moment he looked like an entirely different person as he cooed and made faces. That’s why they couldn’t give up the baby, no matter what it cost them.
He walked over to join them, sitting down around the miniscule fire they had made behind one of the rocks. Samuel handed him some dehydrated beans. He swallowed them without allowing himself to taste. Food no longer brought pleasure, neither did sex. They were purely animalistic gestures, designed to ensure survival, relive tension. Samuel would offer him his body when they lay down to sleep tonight, exactly the same way he did every night, and they would engage in a functionary fuck. Who knew when the ritual began? Now it was routine. There were no kisses, no caresses, no longing looks, just automatic movements, and predicted outcomes. But that was good, because they needed that little bit of certainty. Tristan knew that Lana and Bobbie also lay close to each other when they rested. He had been roused more than once by Lana’s soft whimpers, or Bobbie’s grunts. However he suspected their intimacy was a little less automatic than he and Samuel.
Samuel had moved up close to him now. Lana was taking the first watch. The baby had finally gone to sleep after being fed milk powder diluted with water. They would have to find it something better than that to eat.
Samuel’s hand undid the buttons on his pants now. Damn things were worn completely thin, and were now a size too big. He knew he would have change them before they fell off of him, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to strip a dead man. He closed his eyes when he felt Samuel wrap his fist around his cock. He was almost instantly hard. Each time it happened, he was almost amazed. It served to remind him that he was still alive. Samuel pressed his face against his hair, and began to move his hand up and down his shaft. “Fuck me,” he urged. “Tristan.”
He turned around under his blanket. Samuel let go of his cock and pressed his ass against his groin. He grabbed his hips and plunged inside him. He pushed him over onto his stomach and crawled on top, hammering into his ass. He didn’t think. He concentrated on the sensation of his cock caught inside of Samuel, and then blew it all inside of him. For a fraction of a second, the pain, the anguish, the fear was gone, but only for a fraction of a second.
He was dreaming. He was dreaming of the mountain, of Celestial Ridge. No. He didn’t want to. He didn’t want to dream of the past, but the top of the mountain loomed above him and his dreams wouldn’t let him go.
* * * *
“Fourteen, and Tristan thinks he’s a man!” His father was teasing him in front of the Emperor of Celestial Ridge, Reed Monahan. The two of them were like brothers and had been for years. Tristan sat squirming at the edge of the huge table as everyone laughed. He wouldn’t have minded so much if Trinity hadn’t been there, but he was, larger than life, sitting in between their two fathers.
Trinity was a year older than he was, and he had spent a lot of time being trained as a warrior, which was a tradition among the Celest people. Even though they hadn’t been at war for generations, they were proud of their heritage and celebrated every year some war victory which liberated them from some conquering tribe hundreds of years before. Tristan didn’t understand very much of it. All he really wanted to do was stare at Trinity unobserved, for hours, go off and daydream about him, then come back up to Celestial Ridge and watch him again.
In spite of the warm feelings between their two fathers, Trinity had barely said two words to him, which is why he was so shocked when Trinity seemed to suddenly become aware that he existed. They went to different schools of course and whenever he’d visited the Emperor’s home with his parents, Trinity was always surrounded by friends.
To Tristan, Trinity was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. Tall with an athletic well muscled body from all the strenuous training he was forced to undergo, he was charming and articulate, with the face of an angel. The Celest people were mostly blondes with blue eyes and fair skin. He was a stunning contrast to Tristan, who was slightly shorter with brown hair and black eyes.
They were celebrating a couple of things that night at the Emperor’s home, and neither one had to do with his birthday really. The staircase which led up the mountain was finally completed. It made the transport of goods between the two people much easier, given that spacecraft often had to go several miles o
ut of the way just to get to the city on top of the summit. The staircase was the result of a collaborative effort between Reed Monahan, and his father, Stuben Coal. The Herits were basically an intellectual people. They had made many great discoveries in science and nature, whereas the Celest had great skill in manual pursuits. Together the staircase was something to behold. Not only was it beautiful, made entirely of Carter Stone, a shiny, non-perishable material; it was amazingly rapid and efficient. The second cause of celebration was the decision by his father and Trinity’s to pool their resources and share decision making. The governments of the two nations were to merge, creating a quasi democratic, authoritarian political body. There was much protest concerning this merger, both sides fearful that their diverse cultures would be assimilated into the other. But Coal and Monahan truly believed that these two people who had lived peacefully for centuries side by side could truly create something new and beautiful.
Tristan had been too young and naive to take notice. His head was filled with dreams of a boy, and his eyes were filled with Trinity. When the meal was over that night of his fourteenth birthday, their fathers had gone off somewhere arm in arm. Tristan had walked out on the balcony of the Emperor’s home. The view was phenomenal. This was his favourite place in the world. When Trinity had appeared behind, Tristan’s heart beat so hard in his chest, he was afraid he was going to hear it.
“Hey,” he said.
“Hey yourself. How come you’re talking to me?”
“I talk to you.”
“Not very often.” He was sounding like a spoiled brat. “You always run off with your friends.”
He laughed. The laugh sounded like music. “So, what do you want to do on your fourteenth birthday?”
“Do?” Tristan turned around and looked at him.
