4.0 - The Last Command

by Bobby Adair

  "Much more. She paid me to paint her apartment. That's how we met."

  "I see."

  "We fell in love, and I moved in with her. A few months later, our daughter was conceived, and nine months later, she was born. Her name was Andrea."

  "Andrea," Ivory said. Picturing Jingo holding a baby in his arms was as difficult as picturing him without all the warts and bumps.

  "She was beautiful," Jingo said sadly. "I loved my daughter. And I loved my wife. Raising Andrea was difficult because most of our family lived elsewhere. We paid for someone to watch her while we worked. But the cost for her care was almost as much as I earned painting. So Cecilia and I discussed it, and we decided that I should stay home and raise her."

  Ivory shrank back in surprise. "You watched your daughter while your wife earned silver?"

  "That wasn't uncommon, either." Jingo barely noticed his reaction. "Anyway, those years were some of the best of my life. I taught my daughter how to walk, how to speak. She learned so quickly. Watching her grow was the most rewarding experience I've had. Nothing has eclipsed that feeling, before or since."

  A sad smile crept across Jingo's face, and Ivory could tell the joy in his memories accompanied the pain in his heart.

  "But those years bred jealousy between me and Cecilia. My daughter and I grew closer, but Cecilia and I grew apart. When Cecilia got home from work, she was tired, unable to spend much time with us. The hours she didn't spend at work were spent on a personal device that connected her to the tower. She was miserable. Soon Andrea was in school, and I found another job. I told Cecilia she should leave her position, but she refused. And then the tower laid her off."

  "Laid her off?"

  "We don't have an appropriate term for it now. But it meant the people in the tower no longer wanted her to work there. They stopped paying her silver."

  "Nobody tells the farmer to stop farming, or the blacksmith to stop making metals. They do what they have to do to survive."

  "Things were different back then."

  "It sounds like it. If she was miserable there, shouldn't she have been happy at home?"

  "Perhaps. But years of unhappiness led her to twist the blame onto me. What should've been a blessing ended up ruining our marriage. We fought a lot. She blamed me for things, and I blamed her. Who knows, I probably deserved it." Jingo squinted out into the ocean as if he might find the answer in the waves. "Less than a year later, Cecilia divorced me."

  "Divorced?"

  "Almost half of the marriages in the ancient world ended when the man and woman split up, taking their share of the possessions."

  "The only way to take a new spouse in Brighton is when someone is infected with the spore, or when someone dies of illness."

  Jingo gave Ivory a long look. "The people of Brighton have their own methods of getting rid of their spouses."

  "What happened then?"

  "She told me to leave, and she kept most of my things. More crushingly, she kept Andrea."

  Putting the pieces together, Ivory asked, "Is that why you painted the message on the boat?"

  "You learn quickly, Ivory," Jingo said with a laugh. "I wanted to fight to keep Andrea, but I didn't want my daughter to resent me. And I still loved Cecilia. So I left without a fight. Whenever I wasn't working, I visited. I did what I thought was right."

  "What happened to Cecilia?"

  "Cecilia found another tower to work at. She found another husband."

  "And you?"

  "I kept working. I saved. I visited when I could. But something happened to Andrea over those years. She got older, and she didn't want to see me as much. She became comfortable with her new life and Cecilia's new husband. The bond we shared seemed to be fading, and I didn't know how to fix it. She started skipping our weekends together. She spent time with friends instead. She stopped answering when I left messages on her ancient device. I could feel the distance growing, and I felt like I'd lost her."

  "How'd you get her back?" Ivory asked, figuring Jingo must've found a way.

  "I didn't." Jingo opened and closed his eyes, giving a look of pain. Normally, it was an expression he wore when his joints were flaring up. Ivory could tell this pain was worse.

  "What do you mean?"

  "The spore had already started spreading. Nobody knew what it was, at first. If we had, maybe I would've insisted on staying with them, despite our differences."

  "Did they become demons?"

  "They never made it that far. By the time I got to them, they were dead."

  Jingo dabbed at a spot next to his eye. The boat rocked on the waves, splashing water over the side and onto Ivory. Jingo pulled his hood over his wart-covered face. Ivory couldn't tell if he was cold or crying. He fell silent, knowing better than to ask. After a few moments, Jingo composed himself.

  "Do you know the building you see when you look out the east window of my tower? With the cracked columns?"

  "Yes." Ivory nodded, visualizing the collapsed building with the barricaded entrance. Jingo had pointed it out many times. He'd often wondered what treasures lurked within.

  "That's where Cecilia, Andrea, and I lived. That's why I chose to live in the tower that we spend time in now. So I can be close to them, even though they're dead."

  Chapter 22: Melora

  The next time Melora opened her eyes, the sun was high in the sky, and Ella and Bray were awake. The muffled conversation she'd heard the night before came flooding back. She pushed aside her blanket, watching her mother and the Warden. Neither acted differently. Ella's smile seemed sincere; Bray grunted his usual hello. If anything had happened, Ella showed no signs of it. Melora looked for William.

  He was still asleep.

  Her memory from the night before seemed like a dream. She walked over to check on her brother. His mouth hung open, and he was snoring. Noticing Melora hovering over him, Ella walked over to join her. They stared at William together.

  "He's tired," Ella whispered.

  "We all are," Melora agreed.

  "It took me a while to drift off." Ella's expression was grave. "I heard demons screaming from far away."

  "I heard them, too," Melora said. "Never close, but always there."

  "I don't sleep the way I used to," Ella admitted. "Not without the circle wall around us."

  Melora had the brief thought of telling Ella about William, but a rustle from the other room reminded her that Bray was there. For some reason, she didn't want to speak in front of him. She'd wait and speak with William when he woke up. Then she'd figure out what he was up to.

  She got her chance after breakfast. After cleaning, Ella and Bray excused themselves to go to the bathroom outside. Melora agreed to stay and watch William, who was still sleeping.

  She hovered next to his blanket, rousing him with a shake. William's face was groggy. He looked at her with a blank expression, slowly taking in his surroundings as he came to consciousness.

  "Where's Mom?" he asked.

  "Outside," Melora said, looking in all directions to ensure that was true. "Listen, we need to talk. I know you went somewhere last night."

  William's face went from confused to nervous. "What did you see?"

  "I saw you coming back. Where did you go?"

  William bit his lip and looked away. Melora had seen the look enough times to know he was conjuring a lie. "Tell the truth. I'll be able to tell if you're lying."

  William studied her for a moment before answering. "I stepped outside for a minute. I wanted to see the buildings at night."

  "Why would you do that?" Melora held his gaze.

  "I only went a few steps."

  Melora watched him intently, trying to determine if he was lying. His guilty stare could just as easily be nerves. "You can't do that here, William. You can't go roaming around on your own."

  "I'm sorry. I won't do it again. Are you going to tell Mom?"

  Melora softened her tone as she watched William. He was sick. He was turning. Did it even matter anymore?
She recalled hunting rabbits with William the day before, watching his excited expression. "Not if you promise me you won't go out again. Can you do that? Can you promise me?"

  "I swear it," William said. "I won't go out again."

  Melora nodded. Casting aside the blankets, William blinked the remaining sleep from his eyes while Melora went to fetch him some breakfast. She came back and handed him a piece of dried pork. He took it gratefully, munching and watching her. Melora smiled as he wiped the remnants of the jerky from his face.

  "There's something else I wanted to ask you about," Melora said.

  "What is it?"

  "Did you hear Bray and Mom last night?"

  "No." William furrowed his brow. "What were they doing?"

  Melora stared out into the hallway before answering. "Talking, I think. I'm not sure, but it sounded like Bray was bothering Mom."

  "Bothering her?" William's body bristled, and he stopped chewing.

  "Not in a violent way," Melora clarified. "In a…different way."

  "Like he wanted to lie under her blankets?" William asked.

  Melora cracked a smile at his observation. "Yes, exactly that. Have they done that before?"

  "No." William's face was stoic. "Mom hasn't been with a man since Dad died."

  Melora nodded. "I'm sure that's true. But we'll keep an eye on Bray, just the same."

  "Okay," William said.

  Chapter 23: Blackthorn

  General Blackthorn dismounted in front of his tent. Holding the reins, he ran his gloved hand over the horse's snout. It was a sturdy horse with a strong heart, but after an entire night carrying Blackthorn, it needed rest. It didn't understand the necessities of duty. It only did as it was commanded.

  Blackthorn looked at the camp spread over most of the meadow. It was a vast, disorganized throng. Tents were everywhere. Many were down. Some had been trampled in the night. Fires burned. People gathered around them. In other places, they sat in groups. Platoons of militiamen guarded the perimeter between the camp and the forest. From the look of them, they were tired. Tired and undisciplined. Their ranks were ragged. They shuffled rather than marched. Some dragged their weapons and hung their heads.

  They disgusted Blackthorn. Real men shouldered their burdens and rose to the challenge, no matter what the hardship. These weak militiamen were letting the rigors of battle defeat them after just one night.

  Blackthorn hated their weakness.

  His aversion to them made easier what had to be done, relieving some of the guilt of his deceit.

  Captain Swan stepped up. "What are your orders, sir?"

  "See to the horses. Give them until mid-morning, and then we'll march." Blackthorn gestured at the rabble under his command. "Let them know. That will give them time to eat as well."

  "Shall I send out scouts for a place to camp?"

  "We'll camp on the hill by the river, in the pass."

  Captain Swan nodded. Both he and Blackthorn knew the place, as did most of the cavalry. The pass was a narrow trough of a valley seven miles long, between walls of stone a thousand feet high. A river ran down the center, placid in places where it flowed through meadows and the valley floor widened to a half mile. In other places the water ran swift through forests of tall pines. Just over half way through the pass, the canyon bent in a hairpin turn and at the inner elbow of the turn a hill rose up twice the height of the pines but still much shorter than the granite walls. With views both up and down the canyon, it was a favored campsite for the cavalry when they were ranging in the area on patrol away from Brighton. It was defensible, and on those nights when the demons came, they only approached from one end of the valley at a time. The demons didn't have the ability to coordinate an assault from both sides of the mountain range.

  Swan asked, "Shall I send a squadron to ensure the valley is clear?"

  Blackthorn shook his head. "We'll keep scouts out, as usual. In front, behind, and to our sides when possible. As for the valley, if it is full of beasts, it matters not. The mission of this army is to slaughter them. If we find them there, we'll put this militia to the test."

  "Yes, sir." Captain Swan stepped away and then stopped. "What of the distance? If we stop in the meadows along the river, it is only a half day's march from here."

  "These soldiers," Blackthorn's reluctance to use the word was obvious from his tone, "will be lucky to march that far today."

  "Yes, sir." Captain Swan looked to his left toward a handful of cavalrymen standing close to a tattered Minister Beck. "What of him?"

  Blackthorn passed his horse's reins to his attendant. "Find eight dependable men. It seems Minister Beck was too slippery for the previous four to handle. Is Father Winthrop still in camp?"

  "Yes, General." Captain Swan scanned across the meadow and pointed. "Down there. You see that large gathering? He's at the center of it."

  General Blackthorn squinted. The last he'd seen of Winthrop, he'd been stumbling around aimlessly and mumbling. "Why are they around him?"

  "Some kind of ceremony. I don't understand. I've never seen anything like it."

  "Is he preaching?"

  "Sort of." Captain Swan turned back to the general. "He's singing. Touching the corpses. Wearing demon blood."

  Blackthorn grimaced.

  "The men down there seem to believe he's made them invincible."

  "Superstition only protects from monsters of the imagination. We'll see how invincible these men are when the demons come to eat their flesh. Send some of your men down there to keep on eye on Winthrop." Blackthorn looked back at Beck. "I'd as soon watch a young mother's toddlers than keep these ministers on a leash." Blackthorn saluted his captain. "That'll be all." He waved Minister Beck to come over.

  Beck walked up, haggard, bruised, and bloodied, but with no wound that had done more than break the skin. He stopped in front of Blackthorn.

  "You're lucky to be alive," said Blackthorn. "The forest is no place for a man who has spent his life with his nose buried in ancient books."

  Beck pointed to the tent he shared with Father Winthrop. "The demons came and—"

  Blackthorn stopped Beck with a raised hand. "I'm too tired for lies. I've doubled your guard to protect you from the demons. If my captains or I find you outside of their company again, I'll assume you are a deserter." Blackthorn leaned closer to Beck. "In my army deserters are burned."

  "I—"

  Blackthorn turned and walked toward his tent. "Good day, Minister Beck."

  Chapter 24: Bray

  Bray stood at the entrance of the ancient building they'd spent the night in, surveying the magnificent towers up and down the street. A thin mist encircled the tops, making its way from the ocean. Birds circled in slow, lazy patterns. He looked over at Ella.

  "Beautiful, isn't it?"

  "Yes. It is."

  Her eyes sparkled with a wonder he hadn't seen since she'd found Melora. The Ancient City was magnificent to behold. He recalled the first time he'd seen it when he'd had the same look in his eyes. He'd been fourteen. Fuller had taken him through the woods and into the outskirts of the Ancient City, showing him the marvelous buildings and crumbled ruins, just like he was doing with Ella, William, and Melora.

  "How'd you sleep?" Bray asked.

  "Good, thank you."

  "It would've been warmer if we shared a blanket." Bray smiled.

  "We wouldn't want to give William and Melora any ideas." Ella dusted off her pants and looked away. He thought he detected a smile. After a few moments of silence, she cleared her throat.

  "You said the ocean is close?" she asked.

  "Yes. Off that way," Bray said. "We can see it today if you'd like."

  "I'd love that. I've heard so many stories. I can smell the salt in the air, just like people said."

  "Not many are lucky enough to smell it and come back to tell the story. I should scout the area first. Make sure there are no demons. Maybe collect a few skins." Bray pulled his sword, wiping at a stubborn stain. "I'll check
out the area and come get you when it's safe."

  "How long will that be?" Ella asked.

  "Long enough to make you miss me." Bray smiled at his evasive answer.

  "I'm going to check on Melora and William," she said, turning toward the doorway. "No need to hurry."

  He watched her go for longer than was necessary before venturing away from the building. She might have rejected his advances, but he'd win her over eventually. In any case, he was glad to be back with her.

  Bray smiled as he walked down the cracked street.

  **

  Bray crept through a thick pocket of dying foliage, making his way down a steep slope and into a paved gulley at the bottom. He was careful not to bend any branches or forge a trail, even though the ground was hard.

  He didn't want anyone following him.

  Not when his wealth was concerned.

  Across from him, a steep slope similar to the one he was traveling curved down to the gulley in the center. Normally the middle was puddled with rainwater, but now it was encased in a thin layer of ice. As Bray broke through the underbrush and onto the ice, he looked left, studying a protruding wall of stone that housed a single, circular tunnel at the end of the gulley. A gray squirrel scurried ahead of him, chattering as it fled. He studied the entrance carefully.

  Nothing seemed disturbed. The opening was partially covered by a piece of ancient stone that he'd put there years ago.

  In all that time, it'd held up.

  Approaching the entrance, he looked around. No one seemed to be watching through the thick foliage on either side of the gulley or up the slopes. Setting down his sword, he moved the stone and climbed into the narrow entrance, letting his eyes adjust to the thin light. He retrieved his sword and crawled inside, his knees scraping against the stone as he ventured farther into the cave. At one time, the tunnel might've contained water, but it had dried up. Bray had no idea what the Ancients had used it for.

  He didn't care.

  He crawled deep enough so that the light didn't penetrate, far enough to reach a small room with just enough light from the cracks above to see. He held his breath and listened. Occasionally he encountered a possum or a raccoon in the tunnel, but never anything bigger. The other entrances leading to the room were barricaded. He made sure of that.