by CJ East
Kinch followed the city streets. They were straight and clean and all roads led to a dramatic natural stone mountain near the center of the city which boasted a fortified white marble palace towering above all other buildings. A defense within a defense. He focused on the far walls and saw a main gate in the center and two smaller gates on either side.
He would slip through the small gate. He was well now and would be able to handle bugs and crabs in the Wilds. He had been raised in tactical woodland settings. It is an exercise like rain forest training, he thought.
Kinch wanted out, he was done with these people. And since they wanted to kill him, it was safe to say they had rejected him as well. But getting to those gates would be difficult during the day with his Irish skin.
He scanned along a crumbling wall which seemed to divide the city. On the other side of the wall from the Coccino courthouse, was an ornate building with Roman columns in the style of a temple. A line of white togas and dark ropes with heavy cowls and long sleeves hung in the back courtyard. He smiled and threw his boots into the red grass near the robes.
Kinch moved to the edge of the Coccino roof judging the drop. Swinging out over the ledge, he dropped down to a small terrace and bounced across the wall to the temple roof. He stole to the back of the temple and hopped down into the rear court, hugging close to the wall. The line of robes was drying a few feet away, like laundry day at the monastery. The thick robe closest to him was more ornate than the other plain black robes, it was embossed with gold on the cuffs of the sleeves, neck, and bottom hem. He plucked it from the line and slipped it on.
The golden hem dragged the ground at his bare feet. He wouldn’t need to jump if the disguise worked, so he slid on his boots to gain a little height. The heavy hood had a black mesh screen which covered his face when it was released from the top of the cowl. Additionally, his hands were hidden when he inserted them into his sleeves. A small layered slit on the side of the robe accessed a looping system to hold a sword. He slid the silver sword taken from Tinnius through the opening and secured it into the leather loops. He was all but invisible from detection and still armed.
He scaled the back courtyard wall and slipped into a back alley. It branched to a main street heading in the direction of the great wall. Kinch broke onto the bustling street stretching to appear the height of small Martian. The reaction of the crowd was astonishment and reverence. Golden Auri citizens bowed and knelt, their palms stretched outward and upward.
He stepped down the side of the busy street as the people stopped, both working Coccino and well-dressed golden Auri, genuflecting with head and eyes down, palms up. A childish smile curled his lips at the newfound power while he moved to the middle of the street. A hundred feet down the crowded lane both red and gold citizens moved to the curbs and pushed their carts aside to make way.
The Auri were dressed in togas with ornate jewelry on both men and women alike. The Aug women wore large jeweled rings and golden bracelets. Around their necks were glistening blue green stones of turquoise and jade wrought with gold. Even their children appeared to have the trappings of wealth and aristocracy, yet submissive to his robed presence.
Kinch became pleased with his shrewdness and good fortune. He thought of Venkat and how it would laugh to see this marvelous site. He would never see Venkat again.
His thoughts jumped to Lucius, his new friend here in Middle Mars, of the pained expression on his face in the gallery. He at least owned him a farewell.
Kinch focused on the face of Lucius as he walked unhindered through the center of the population of Arx, struggling to build a bridge to his friend.
“Kinch, are you safe? We were so worried that you had been killed!” a very flustered Lucius began.
“Hey, I’m fine. Actually very safe. How about you and Amica. I’m sorry for my unkind words in the court room, but I was putting you out of harm’s way,” he said.
“Of course, Kinch,” replied Lucius. “I understand. Amica thinks it all can be explained to the Magistrate, he is a friend of The Way. But I fear it is hopeless for you here. The Senator has marked your death. Only the Patrician or the Caesar himself can remove such a mark. What will you do?” His thoughts seemed compassionate to Kinch.
“I am heading past the barrier that separates Arx from the Wilds. There I will spend my last few days in freedom.”
There was no reply from Lucius for a long time. “It is impossible for a safe passage through the wall, it is well-guarded. It may be possible for you with the resourcefulness you displayed in the Court of Coccino. Slip through the gate closest to the left wall of Arx. Follow it until you come to the blue door or Argus and I overtake you,” he said.
“Wait, what? You can’t do that, Lucius. There must be a penalty for aiding a marked man,” Kinch protested.
“There is - death. But is it worse than my life here? I am neither Auri nor Coccino and despised by both. What can they offer me other than their pity?” Lucius’ thoughts trembled with anguish and rage.
Kinch paused for a long time. “I snore. I snore really loud. And your hell dog scares me. So, there’s gonna be some rules, okay?”
“Argus and I are getting the worst of this bargain, so you don’t get to make any rules,” he laughed.
“By the way,” Kinch interrupted, “I saw a guy. He was dressed in a long black robe with gold around the edges and a black cloth screen over his face. What’s his story?”
“Kinch, if you see her run away as fast as possible, for it is surely your death if she sees you. She is Lamia, the Drakainian Priestess. Even the Caesars fear her. She consorts and does the bidding of the Great Dragon of the Small Dome - Drakius.”
“Huh, weird. That won’t be a problem, I’ll steer clear of her. She sounds like a sweetheart,” Kinch deflected.
Fifty feet ahead of Kinch two figures wrapped in similar dark robes stepped out of the crowd into the street and stood at attention facing Kinch. He stiffened and continued down the center of the road towards them, anticipating the worst.
Kinch continued to Lucius. “Look, these telepathic conversations really wreck me, so I’m going to let you go.”
“Are you alright Kinch?” questioned Lucius. “I sense fear.”
“No, no. Bad telepathic connection and all that. See you soon,” he said and broke the link. He was evaluating the two figures whispering ahead. They did not have a covering over their golden male faces. Confusion and distrust betrayed their expressions as they stole upward glances from the street to their approaching Priestess.
Kinch stopped and turned to the two robed acolytes, their eyes and heads turned down to the street. “What would you have us do, your Holiness?”
Kinch was amused by the nomenclature “your Holiness” to a personage Lucius holds so unholy. Kinch released his locked wrists and made a wide sweeping motion with cloaked hand for them to fall in behind him. They nodded and scurried to fall in behind him.
Kinch continued through the Auri district of the city in this manner, unquestioned by any citizen, from the highest to the lowest, neither Auri nor Coccino. Not one person stood except for the followers of Lamia. Those worshipers were soon added to a growing parade of 20 robed men and women behind him.
When the progression had reached the small city gate, he understood the culture of Arx he had observed from the battlefield paintings and reliefs covering the public courtroom of the Coccino. Ahead of him were hundreds of Auri soldiers and officers engaged in the activities of their profession. Squadrons marched up long-inclined ramps followed by large beasts of burden pulling catapults and instruments of war from a medieval age.
Tens of thousands of Auri and a few battalions of Coccino soldiers covered the wall, grouping like army ants as far as the eye could see in both directions. Kinch made an abrupt stop to inspect the largest force of armed men he had even seen. As he stood before the gate, golden soldiers began to break their military composure and bent to one knee where they stood facing Kinch - or Lamia the High Pr
iestess - with heads bowed and palms up. The wave spread before him in both directions down the great military fortification in a slow outbound ripple. Both man and beast stopped before him.
The only movement came from a solitary soldier advancing to intersect him from the right. He was dressed in an ornamental helmet and paused along his path to gather his shield and spear. He had the presence of a man of strength, which meant trouble. The officer did not look down as the other had done, but dared to look into the black mesh of the cowl. The bearing and carriage of the man was so confident, Kinch felt his farce was discovered and the officer was advancing to cut him down. The man halted, bent his knee and with a bowed head spoke a little too loud, “Great Lamia, you honor us with your presence.”
Kinch recognized the tone, for he had been guilty of it himself so many times. Saying the right words to follow the letter of the law, but disdaining the spirit of the law with a rebellious contempt. The commander’s dislike of Lamia was obvious, yet he said nothing which could be pointed to as an offense.
Kinch did not move for a moment, estimating the number and strength of the defenses and allowing the soldiers that lined the great wall. His attention turned to the confident warrior and he circled him with slow steps, moving behind his back. Without word or sound Kinch moved his hand forward and slowly unsheathed the warrior’s golden sword from its scabbard with a steady, grating sound which echoed down the wall. The disciplined officer lowered his head further and stretched his neck, awaiting the downward plunge of the sword. Kinch’s eyes widened at the fearless act. This Lamia must be a real peach.
He slid the golden sword through the opening in the side of his robe and set it in the loop alongside the silver sword he had removed from Tinnius. Kinch leaned forward and removed the officer’s golden spear and shield, then rounded to stand very close to him. After a very uneasy moment the officer mustered the resolve to raise his head, looking for the meaning of these acts. Kinch threw his arms apart and lifted his head, demanding the gates be opened. The officer, relieved and surprised at the instruction, sprang to his feet and barked orders to his men for the thirty foot wooden gates be opened.
As the gates began to open Kinch returned to the robed devotees knelt before him. He looked over them with care, selecting a young Auri woman about his size and stood very near her. As she looked up, he nodded with his head for her to arise.
He walked to the front of the group and faced them, the confused woman following close behind. He grabbed her by the waist and turned her facing the group, then turned back to the wide open gates. The woman stole a slow look over her shoulder as Lamia retreated toward the Wilds and seemingly left her as the heir of power.
The soldiers witnessing the actions broke a column for the impostor to travel to the gates. Kinch hastened past, smiling at the officer whose articles of war he now possessed. The last soldier in the line had a low-hanging water bladder slung over his shoulder. Kinch could not resist the abuse of this total power and lifted the water bladder from the soldier and continued on without a word. He walked through the arch, across the long strip of red grass between the Arx walls and was swallowed by the Wilds.
Wilds
When Kinch arrived back at the blue door he found his environment suit and his metal bar. He set to inspecting the circuitry of the suit. Every connection was melted, every trace of technology in the suit was fused, destroyed by passing through the blue field separating Middle Mars from the dead planet’s surface.
The suit was useless, so he hid it away beneath the rocks. Kinch unloaded his inventory upon the red grass of the familiar glen in front of the door. Two long swords, an eight-foot spear, and a large, round, golden forearm shield. There was nothing in the pockets of Lamia’s robe, and the water bottle he had taken from the last soldier was drained on the journey.
He did not expect a pursuit party. He had found no roads through the Wilds, only animal paths of beasts with hooves and paws. He didn’t see any indication of human tracks. Even along the forest rim in front of the city wall, he followed the hunting trails skirting the clearing with no sign of man.
The glen where Kinch stood was covered in the same red grass bordering the Arx wall. He bent down to touch it, long serrated blades of thin grass. This was the physiology of the flora and fauna - long and thin bodies free to reach upward due to the low gravity of Mars. Most of the leaves in the forest were a dark red, almost black, making the Wilds a very dark place.
The canopy of the Wilds were comprised of trees like tall pines, but with long delicate leaves which contracted to touch like the mimosa on Earth. Thick clumps of bamboo-like plants were difficult to navigate without swinging a sword. He had avoided those clumps so as not to break the stems and leave a trail. He had made his way through the dark areas of the Wilds where little light pierced the canopy down to the forest floor.
He looked up to the cavern ceiling, thousands of feet up. There was a consistent glow coming from the rock which sometimes pulsed in ripples of movement like the wind streaking over some luminescent lake.
This glade had plenty of light and was wide enough for Kinch to position himself near the wall and avoid an ambush. He removed the dragon priestess robe and sat down holding the golden sword in his hands, admiring the markings and artesian workmanship. It was a higher quality sword.
Stripping a warrior of his weapons had many implications. A pang of guilt and remorse contorted his face as he thrust the tip of the long sword into the ground with both hands.
“Why should I care about some unknown soldier, fool enough to hand me his sword? He would have lopped off my head if he would have known I was an impostor,” Kinch said aloud. “These are not my people. I owe them nothing.” He sat brooding over his treatment. He stared at the vibrating sword feeling how very alone he was and how alone he would always be.
He felt an ache of brokenness on the inside, more broken than he had been on Earth. The death of his parents left an injury like a broken leg which refused to knit. The wound would heal, but then would be torn open with some crushing conviction he was responsible for their death. Catholic guilt, no doubt.
He despised the wound because it left him adrift, unable to trust the next direction he would be pushed. For this reason he relied on making short term plans - to control the world around him. He could endure the pain - if he could control it, if he saw it happening - allow it to happen.
In a strange way, the pain was a companion. It was better than the emptiness and the all-encompassing silence of being forgotten and overlooked.
Kinch wiped his eyes. “What is wrong with me?” he yelled. He had not cried since the funeral, when all those Special Forces men stood so stoic and bore their pain so well. Kinch had cried hard and inconsolable, embarrassed at his weakness in the presence of their duty and strength.
Now everything had crashed down around him. Everyone and everything he had cared for was a memory. A memory of how he had failed. Earth was lost to him, of course, but he could have made a difference at the colony. He let them all down and now they would finish their days under Viktor.
He thought of his own death. As far as anyone at the colony knew, he was long dead. The “people” here didn’t matter. Nothing mattered anymore. He was either going to care about nothing, or care only for himself. And why not? His life was nothing but duty - obligations to the military, his Grandfather, his country, his God. Other people lived for themselves, like Viktor, and they prospered.
Kinch’s back stiffened as resolve replace hopelessness. Perhaps he was living life all wrong. Perhaps it wasn’t about selflessness, maybe it was selfishness? His Grandfather had always said the world is driven by self-interest. Those words were meant in a negative way, but what if he was wrong? What if life was savage and God was impartial to the plight of man? What if this is all there is? What if there was nothing other than survival of the fittest where compassion was weakness?
Kinch felt his fist pull together in a tight ball. He felt strong. Very strong. He
didn’t need to feel sorry for himself. He was better and stronger than the race of people in this strange terrarium. He could have anything he wanted.
But what did he want now that all was lost? “Nothing,” he spoke. “Nothing at all.”
Kinch had a sudden sense he was being watched from his right. He pulled it from the ground, twisting it side to side as if to reexamine it. His eyes scanned far past the sword and into the forest line along the rock wall. He saw a slight movement of an outline sinking down into the shadows.
Kinch stood with a slow stretch to scoop the spear and iron bar, leaning them against the rock wall. Without turning his back to the direction of the danger, he took the sword into his hand and slid his forearm into the shield. He sauntered to the center of the glade, his eyes affixed on the position of movement.
He stopped, head raised and feet wide apart. He peered into the Wilds and waited. “Are you coming out or am I coming in?” he asked. “Either way, I’m in a foul mood so this isn’t going to end well for you.”
No answer came. Kinch’s flesh tightened in anticipation, his mind raced to think of what creatures, what numbers, what force of hatred would break from the vegetation and pounce upon him. He spun the sword in his hand. It felt good. This was his purpose now, the way of the warrior - to stay alive by his shield or to be carried off upon it.
Kinch watched the dark red vegetation line of the glen. He could sense something there, something big. He could almost feel it focusing on him, watching him. It grew in strength and intensity as he learned its pattern. He was being hunted.
His heart hammered. He was tempted to yell out again, to draw it into the open. His shoulders ached for movement, but he held calm, not wanting to repeat the same rash mistakes of the Colony.
Whatever was out there had to be telepathic, something was engaging him. He reached out to it, clearing him mind and stated a firm command, “Come forth.”
From the low edge of thick leaves a huge dark form stood from a low crouch in the shadows. A huge, hairless wolf’s head with piercing red eyes pushed from the twilight of its concealment.
