****
Clara righted her appearance as much as she was able but looked battered. Taking the back streets that the street lights did not illuminate, she made haste to Sarah's domicile.
Clara crossed the threshold of the foyer that lay unlocked, always, the interior door barring intruders. Guardian knew, there was always a faction of the People that busied themselves with theft. She depressed a bell fashioned of a hammered brass scroll, slightly warm from the steam which lit it softly. Clara could see Sarah's form through the warped glass, over one hundred years old, distorting her image.
Sarah opened the door and gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. “Good Guardian, it looks worse this day than one day past.”
Clara nodded, she knew from experience that it would not right itself for another week hence.
“It is bad, but has been worse.” But she had never suffered such about her face.
Sarah stared hard at Clara, then, saying nothing she stepped aside. “Please, come in, do not linger. Charles will arrive momentarily.”
Clara passed into the beautifully appointed interior, gazing upon all the things she had seen her whole life during a friendship that spanned their lifetime.
The foyer was lit by a single steam-chandelier. Its soft, apricot glow reflecting off the mercury glass balls that Sarah collected, stacked haphazardly in a large bowl inside the vestibule. Clara stood a little uncertainly, feeling the weight of an unknown decision pressing down upon her. She felt miserable at the thought of deserting her People, if even for an indefinite period.
Sarah stared at Clara critically. “Do not fret, you cannot help us if you are dead.” She made direct eye contact. “And well you know that will be the terminus with that depraved man.”
Charles entered, hearing the last comment. “I wouldn't call that cad anything close to 'man,'... abomination is more like it.”
He leaned down to Clara, giving her a feathers kiss on her forehead, the only unmarred skin on her face.
Clara leaned gratefully into his affection and Charles fought not to wrap her up into something more intimate. Sarah watched them both with narrowed eyes, Charles meeting hers over Clara's head.
Clara thought she was protecting her People, but it was her friends that were her protectors.
“Follow me,” Sarah said, moving ahead of him. The bustle of her skirt made a soft rustling sound as she entered the parlor, seating herself on a beautifully made rosewood loveseat. Charles and Clara settled themselves in the flanking chairs that matched the settee.
Charles began, “We will get Clara out of this sphere, however, it may be best that she disappear, into the Outside...”
“Are you mad?” Sarah asked.
Charles' eyebrows drew up into an offended scowl.
But it was Clara that answered, “We do not know enough about Outside to know the outcome of such an escape.”
Charles waved the comment away dismissively. “They live Outside. And might I add, seem to be of robust composition!”
Sarah scowled, males, she thought with irritation, never thinking about danger, but embracing it. “You must know that they have physical attributes which make the Outside tolerable,” she said with thinly veiled scorn. “Another sphere is the practical choice.” She leaned back, satisfied with her answer's truth.
Charles' eyes narrowed. “It is where they will not look.”
Clara could see where this was headed, the two of them fought like feral cats. “Stop this.” They looked at her, mouths open in preparation for rebutting each other.“I have decided what must be done.”
The silence stretched out, Clara could hear the steam rising from the small clock on the wall, the ticking loud in the silence.
“I will do as Charles suggests...”
Sarah opened her mouth in protest but Clara held a hand up to silence her. “Look upon my face.”
They looked.
“He will not let me live. He will chase me wheresoever I go and will not think that I would breach the sphere.”
Sarah made a last attempt to stymie what she thought was a dangerous plan, “You will compromise the sphere.” The comment fell as a stone in a shallow pond.
Charles glared at Sarah, who knew very well how closely Clara guarded the safety of her People. Sarah glared right back, she cared not, she wished for Clara's safety above her own.
Clara rolled her lower lip between her teeth, forgetting her injuries and wincing at the contact. Charles laid his hand on top of Clara's, his finger absently stroking circles.
“Dear Guardian, do you think I would endanger her?” he asked, aghast, insulted.
“Not intentionally.”
“I would not endanger her accidentally either.”
“It is unknown and there are the savages to consider.”
“They mean no harm. I do not care what the Record Keeper reports,” Clara said.
“Some mean harm, obviously,” Sarah said, giving Clara the full measure of her stare.
“What say you, Sarah?” Charles looked from one to the other of them, knowing they had a shred of secrecy tethered between them.
Clara looked down at her hands, tightly clasped in her lap, having let go of his hand.
“Clara?” he asked softly, prompting her.
Clara sighed heavily. “A savage appeared at the window...”
“I am aware...”
“No, not the one that you saw today... another,” Clara said quietly.
“You did not speak of this, why?”
“I know that you worry,” she twisted her hands mercilessly, “and it means nothing... as they cannot breach the sphere.”
“But they can,” Sarah said, looking at them significantly.
Charles looked back at her. “They may not know the peril of salt.”
“Why does everyone believe that they are not intelligent beings? Mayhap they understand us as well as we understand them. Possibly more,” Clara said.
She thought of the reaction of the savage and how it quickened her blood that he responded to her battery so passionately. She was resolute. She would not be reacquired in a neighboring kingdom. Charles was right, she needed to get away somewhere that she could not be easily found. Escaping her mistreatment loomed large for Clara. She was a coward to think of herself foremost. But her face hurt and her spirit wilted at the prospect of more savagery at the hands of Prince Frederic, who did not even have wine as an excuse.
****
It was decided after much discussion, their eyes growing grainy from tiredness, that after the monarchs' departure one day hence at midday, Clara and Charles would go on a trade to the Kingdom of West Virginia, the Queen's home sphere. Where Clara would breach the sphere tunnel walls, and slip through. The details mired down with the inclusion of the guard. Clara paced as she and Charles thought of what they could do so the guard would not prevent her escape but neither would they be blamed for allowing it. “We must use the sleeping potion that The Doctor uses for the twilight sleep,” Clara said.
“That is measured, what if we murder them by accident?” Charles asked in a flat voice.
“You are still contrary because of their indecision?”
“I am afraid it will remain thus, as it was they who saw fit to not aid you while they had me bound as well.”
Sarah broke in, “Charles, would you be at the mercy of the Queen if you could prevent it?”
Charles' scowled. “I would not choose it but I would have suffered much to help Clara out of that most dire circumstance.”
They were silent for a few moments then Sarah said, “How will you manage to accompany her then? I do not envision the Queen will allow you that reward.”
Sarah had hit at the bottom of it. Charles was not Ada's favorite because he was Clara's. She could do nothing about that. But she would endeavor to think up a scheme. Which she told the two of them, adding that Charles should procure the twilight drug that would make the guard fall into false sleep.
“Clarence is the
guard at the start of the trade tunnel, he will let us through?” Clara clarified.
“The one you spar with, Charles?” Sarah asked.
“Yes, it is he,” Charles replied.
“Will he suffer at the Queen's hand?” Clara asked.
“I think not, he can blame the twilight sleep and she will have to be content with that,” he said.
Clara stood, every bone in her body weary, her conscience assailing her at every turn. She knew she was abandoning her People to save her wretched, royal skin. She had never felt less royal in her life.
Sarah knew she needed to say what she had before, “He will kill you.”
Charles nodded.
“I know,” Clara whispered.
She walked out into a night lit by lamps that illuminated cobblestones, their hissing the symphony by which she made her way home.
CHAPTER 16
Bracus' lungs were on fire, his throats slits hot slashes at his neck, overworked and begging for cessation. He ignored his body's demands to stop, as he saw the clan's fence come into view, the points on the top mimicking spears. He slowed to a jog and made the birdlike sound that alerted the guard that it was a warrior of the Band who approached.
Two guards were needed to open the gate. It was laborious and Bracus waited, taking great inhalations of sweet air, his hands planted on his hips. He hopped from one foot to the other, not wanting to be stiff. He needed to make a small team ready for the journey back to the sphere.
The Princess was in imminent danger.
Finally, the gate was set wide enough for him to slide through, the two guards bowing as he did. Bracus went straight to the well which held the great cistern of water the community drank from, a young girl at hand. She would soak the cup in lye, a wretched but effective product, she wore gloves made of duck skin so it would not burn her skin.
Bracus ruffled her hair and she smiled. A wee thing, only ten and two years. Bracus liked her, she was spirited but without friends. There were many males her age but only one other female to share her time with. That set Bracus' teeth on edge. They needed the females of the sphere, the sphere-dwellers must agree.
They must.
He drank deep and then still more, his thirst a beast of its own. Finally, he handed the cup back to Evelyn, who smiled at him.
Immediately Bracus looked around him, taking in the state of the clan, everything was as it should be, light trading of wares and most of the children (boys, he corrected himself) learning to figure and read. Not that there was great need for that. So few books remained from the time the Earth was Covered in Ash. No matter, it was good for the mind.
He needed to fill his belly then find the rest of the Band and speak with President Bowen. He would need convincing, to be sure.
****
Bracus was tired to his core and more so now that he had eaten an entire chicken with every ground vegetation he could consume. He stepped out of the community dining center, but instead of seeking much-needed respite, he sought the Band.
They were easy to spot and he was surprised that none had seen him first. Philip stood slightly taller than the rest, maybe close to six foot and eight inches, an absolute slab of meat of a man. His shoulder muscles looked like they had been attached separately from his body, growing into his neck. He caught sight of Bracus and raised a hand, half in greeting and half in question. Where have you been?
He strode to Bracus and embraced him in his mighty arms. “How fare you, brother?”
Bracus began with an utter lack of finesse, “The Princess has been beaten,” shock poured over Philip's face, “and we will need to acquire her much sooner than we had first thought. Three weeks is too long, and judging by the fist that fell on her face, if we wait, she will not be alive to acquire.”
“Who?” Philip asked simply.
Bracus thought on this but ultimately decided to mention it, “A young male entered her chamber and she fought him.” He clenched his teeth, Philip's expression darkened, “And he saw you there...outside the sphere.”
Bracus nodded, it did not make perfect sense to him either.
Philip palmed his chin. “What happened when she fought him?”
“She fainted...”
“Good Lord.”
“And then he held her.”
“Against her will?”
“No, she was unconscious; he held her most tenderly.”
“None of this makes sense. If he were in league as a protector of this Princess, then why was he not in attendance? And the better question, protecting her? And where is her guard? If she is truly a Princess...” Philip looked at Bracus for confirmation and he nodded. “Then she ought to have a guard. That she does not, speaks of some internal problem within.”
Bracus nodded solemnly, he had pondered the same.
Joseph appeared along with the other Band members but Jack was absent.
“Where is Jack?” Bracus asked.
There was shuffling of feet and downward looks.
Bracus growled out, “Where-is-Jack?”
It was Stephen that spoke up, “He is with Lillian, she ails.”
Philips eyebrows drew together and Bracus scowled. They did not need a sick female.
“It is not mortal... she is with child,” Matthew said.
Wonderful news, why the anxiety? Bracus wondered.
“We lose a Band member, while he lounges and moons over his woman,” James said, arms crossed stiffly over his chest.
Jacob broke out in a grin, clapping James on the back. “You are not mated or you would not speak such.”
“I cannot speak for the rest of you, but if my female was with child, I would not be out fighting, leaving her here, defenseless,” Stephen said. And several of the other Band members nodded, agreeing. It was well known mated Band members were fierce over their women. At least, when they could be mated. Further complicating things, it was postulated that The Evil Ones made some sort of genetic predisposition that certain females were more “appealing” than others. The rumored select. They would someday get that opportunity to see who would be their mate. Lord help them if there was a female that had that enigmatic gene of the select that appealed to more than one male in the Band.
“When is the celebration?” Philip asked.
“I do not know, but Jack seemed to think that after she stopped heaving up the contents of her stomach, she would be well enough for the Celebration of Conception,” Joseph relayed dryly.
There was a good-natured chuckle all around. Many females were terribly sick in the beginning.
Bracus nodded. This was good news and now he would have to deliver the bad.
After he finished with his report to the Band, they were all serious and quiet, deep in their own ruminations.
The guard contained his expression with an effort, he would see this female returned to her sphere, they did not need the sphere-dwellers. Her supposed abuse made his stomach turn, too close to memories which haunted him.
Bracus announced that a clandestine meeting would be needed with the president. Horses would be used, he needed to be fresh for tomorrow's journey.
“Matthew, you accompany me,” Bracus said.
“Of course,” he said in his steady way.
Bracus turned away.
“My brother?”
“Yes?”
“Let me join you in this journey,” Philip said.
Bracus shook his head. “You know that I will need you.”
“We will use horseback again?” Philip asked.
“We must. I wish not to be attacked with a female. Think of another clan getting hold of the Princess, or the fragment.”
The Band thought of this with a soft horror. The fragment used females as breeders. The women were beaten and mistreated. Many tried to escape. The fragment would do anything to propagate. Of course, they had no Band. They were fractured clan, refugees from clans who banded together, kidnapping females wherever they could. That is why the females had males accompany the
m when they ventured outside the wall of their clan. Food needed to be gathered so the females went, but not alone.
Bracus turned to fetch the messenger and Jacob put a hand on his forearm. “He has been summoned and dispatched. He hails the president now.”
“Very good,” Bracus said, looking at Matthew, who nodded back. Bracus and Matthew gathered their weapons, saddling the horses. Bracus raced to his dwelling to change from his sweat-laden clothes.
He changed into a fresh set of tight-fitting breeches, perfect for riding. His rough cotton tunic, snug against his lower chest, left his upper chest and arms bare to the wind. Perfect for movement in fighting, riding and of course, running.
CHAPTER 17
Clara received not one moment's rest and shadows lay as dark smudges beneath her eyes. She felt in the marrow of her bones that they would be discovered. The Queen could not let more than one day pass without inflicting some kind of absurd discipline on Clara.
Under the pretense of trading with the neighboring kingdom, Clara could take a small knapsack and the appearance of normalcy would stay intact. Olive entered her chamber at the same time that dawn illuminated, the tangerine glow laying its light against Olive's face. Clara must keep this secret from Olive too. The Queen was not above torture if she could excuse it and if Olive knew nothing, she could say nothing.
“Princess... what are you packing?” Olive's brows rose.
“Trading day,” Clara responded neutrally.
Olive gave a puzzled look at the knapsack. “Do you wish for me to ask Billy for tangerines?”
A blessed distraction for Olive, who gazed on Clara with thinly veiled suspicion.
“Yes, that would be most helpful.”
Olive nodded and turned to go, but remembered something at the last moment. “May I mention that if you travel for trading, the Queen will expect a certain wardrobe... and your crown.”
Drat. Clara was hoping to avoid that. However, it may play to her advantage if she cooperated with looking like a Princess. The Queen would be more lenient.
“I agree,” Clara said, which caused Olive to stare. Clara sighed, it was not typical for her to agree to anything that had to do with pleasing Ada.
Destiny's Dark Fantasy Boxed Set (Eight Book Bundle) Page 76
