by Rey Balor
“One more circle, guards. In the name of the one true star!”
They proceeded to move again as a group.
Illias furrowed his brows, trying to understand why Pan’s words perturbed him. He spoke out of the corner of his mouth, “You serve people you haven’t met?”
“Oh, Roam. It’s not so simple! I’ve known you three days and had to say it more to you than anyone, I swear. I serve the Queens because, without them, my village would have starved to death years ago. I serve them because they’ve protected us and given us purpose. We serve them for our future, remember? We’re serving them now.” She slowed her pace, allowing them to fall back from the group. “Listen… Don’t make a run for them. Whatever you need to tell them, if you separate from the group, you’ll be labeled a threat, and you won’t make it. You’re a troublemaker, Roam, but at least be a smart troublemaker.”
“What?”
“I’ll help you if you trust me.”
Trust was not something so easily given, and Illias watched warily as the distance between them and the group grew larger. There was no time to think of an answer, no time to consider the benefits and dangers of trusting in Pan. Did he continue the divide between wild and civilized, or did he break it down by accepting another’s help once more? He did what had gotten him this far: he believed in another. Nodding his head, the corners of Pan’s eyes crinkled in relief.
“But in payment, you have to actually let me finish a story,” she continued, and with another nod from him, they quickened their pace to catch up with the rest.
Above, the gray of the sky lightened slightly. He felt exposed, for even with one side of him to the great walls, the courtyards were open. In the center, the tower of prisoners looked down on him, watching, watching, watching. Deep breath. Judgement was constant, and the sudden shine from the sky only served to cast the Citadel in stark colors. It was a bleached out desert from a time before the world was reborn. Deep breath.
He could do this.
Every sound outside of the group’s steps caused him to grip his weapon tighter and look toward the prison tower. There was a pit in his stomach that squeezed every time the guards slowed, sure that it would be then Pan meant to help him, but nothing happened. The tune Olena would sing before battle rattled in his head, although he could not hum it aloud. It inspires fear, Il, she would say, but it was not fear he needed now. Their steps continued, the tower stood proud, and Pan went right back to telling him a story of her village’s warmest summer.
One of the members of the Aegis, a short man with a strange mace-like weapon Illias had never seen before, nodded to Lye as he crossed, and in a practiced fashion, Lye stopped and made the sign of a star across his chest. The Aegis nodded in recognition, but instead of continuing as normal, Pan stepped from their careful line and walked forward until she was beside Lye.61 Even from his place near the back, Illias could see Lye’s eyes bulging at the movement, and although the Aegis narrowed his eyes and bent his knees slightly in preparation, he did not otherwise move to attack.
“Pan of the village Highlands, Aegis.” She bowed her head and folded her hands before her, not meeting the man’s face. A few of the guards took staggering steps backward, but Lye did not abandon her alone in front of their superior. “Among us is one with news for your Queens — important news that they ensure me may save the lives of many. They have proved patient and loyal to the star, and I ask only that you should show them such patience and loyalty in kind. I vouch for them. Several others would vouch for them as well, if asked.”
The man looked over the small band of guards, and Illias tilted his chin up as their gazes met. The other spoke, voice quiet and commanding, “Which is it?”
“We won’t speak who it is, Aegis, until we are given your word that they will remain safe and—”
Illias stepped out of the group of guards, moving forward to stand beside Pan. Yes, he trusted her, but it was not her fight. She had done enough. To allow another to do his work for him was a coward’s move, and he pressed his lips together as he stood face to face with the Aegis, refusing to look at the others. Pan muttered a curse under her breath, and he could hear the shuffle of feet behind him as the others decided where they stood.
“I need to speak to the five. I was sent from—”
Lye cleared his throat and stepped between the Aegis and Illias. “He’s from my village, Aegis, and he’s new. Ay, you’ll have to forgive him. Doesn’t know left from right yet, but he’ll learn, ay, I promise. I’d vouch for him too, for the record.”
“No, no, I need to—”
Pan nodded her head vigorously, cutting Illias off. “He’s a Queen-fearing folk from Lye’s place, but he does have something to say, if you’re willing to hear him out. It’s brave of him to step out, but we all know the saying about what happens to messengers. Just want to make sure that won’t be him, hm?”
“I can—”
A guard, who Illias did not remember the name of, stepped to his other side, not allowing him to finish. Letting out a sigh of frustration, he rubbed his temple with his free hand and waited to hear what this one had to say. “We watch those under our guard, Aegis, same as you. I’ve heard Roam tell stories of his home in the village, and I’ll testify to his faith if you need it, but if they claim he needs to meet the Queens, I’d believe him.” Out of the corner of his mouth, the man continued so only Illias could hear, “If you meet the Queens before me, I swear…”
Another woman stepped forward, although she remained behind the line around Illias. “He’s shared his food more than once — a true guard, through and through.” A few other exclamations of agreement traveled through the group, and two more stepped close behind him.
The Aegis held up his hands in surrender, keeping his weapon clutched in a palm. “Come with me then. You say he is from the village? You say he fears the Queens? We shall see, for to see them is to see the very ones that bind us together. I will do my best, but promises are not something an Aegis can make. Come, Roam — is it Roam? Come.”
The guards had crowded close to him during the exchange, and it was only at the Aegis’s words that they began to relax. How much faith they had in their elite! Illias had not wanted to go through others to reach his goal, but he did what had gotten him thus far: he believed in another once more.
Turning his back on the Aegis, he looked at the small band of guards, only some of whom he had spoken to in his brief time among them. In a strange, quiet way, he would miss them. If it came to revolution, he could only hope he would not come against them again. Friends was too strong of a word in too short of a time, but what else did he call those who changed his course? Acquaintances was too small a phrase.
“The stars in your veins are the stars in mine,” he said instead. Truth, as he always told it. Deep breath.
It was only when he and the Aegis walked out of view of the guards, walked beneath the shadow of that tall prison tower, and walked into the very center of the Citadel that the Aegis spoke again. His shoulders were slumped and the disappointment in his dark eyes shone. “Roam… You are a wolfling then? If I had not known it… A deadly saying, that is,62 and I cannot ignore it.” With a shift quicker than Illias could move, the Aegis knocked Illias’s spear aside and jabbed the staff of his weapon into Illias’s stomach, knocking the wind from the man’s lungs. “Aegis, to me! We have a wolfling in our walls, and to the dungeons he must go.”
SPICA:
They had fallen into a strange sort of routine, the bartender and the warrior. While Hops had never spent long in the wilds before, he had spent the majority of his life doing as he was told.63 Olena’s entire world was comprised of wilderness, but with a companion that was not her spica, she found herself out of sync with him. She would give him an order, and he would follow it — but she had never wanted total control, no matter what she told him. Arguments were the foundation of progress, and he was giving her no progression.
It was a silent struggle, but in the end, it w
as an unimportant one. They remained several hours behind Ranger’s path, and whenever the trail grew invisible, Olena would scout ahead to locate her once more. Her wound healed as quickly as their surroundings changed, but she never made a mention of it and Hops knew better than to ask. He had a skill of finding edible fruits, something that Olena had little patience for, and by the time she would make her way back, he would have a small dinner ready for them of berries and whatever dried meats were packed away in their bags. Neither of them complained; they simply spent their days following a woman that wanted to kill them.
Silence became a friend, cool as a spring in the hottest months of the year, and acceptance came in the form of sharing their food side by side as nights overtook days. Olena had rarely traveled so far from her home territory, but Hops had begun to recognize some of the terrain. Every step brought them closer to the Citadel — a place both could agree they had never wanted to go. At the end of each day, Olena carved a crescent shape into one of the trees to mark the trail, and her worry grew more pronounced.
“I told them we wouldn’t be long,” she hissed, hands fidgeting with one of her arrows.64 “The others are expecting words soon, and if they don’t get them, they’ll march toward the precious Citadel with little restraint. Da will lead them, not me, and if he has to burn down the whole fucking place, he’ll see it done — see Il and I returned, in death or life. I’ve got to see out the ending too.”
“We’ll solve this, Khalsa.” As ever, Hops appeared calm and far too soft for the explosion of Olena’s speech. She scowled at him, and the man shrugged with little alarm. In the same way she had gotten used to the strange, subtle accent of his tongue, he had gotten used to her hostility. He nudged a plate of food toward her. “Have you heard the tale of the Fisher brothers?”
“I never heard any of your folks’ stories before. Who are your heroes when you’re kneeling to a mortal?”
“We all value strength, albeit different kinds. Do you want to hear it or not?”
Slowly, she nodded, popping a blackberry into her mouth.
“There was a kingdom, a great kingdom, where people were at peace. They didn’t ask for much because what could anyone possibly offer them? They had shelter, food, purpose, and five Queens who took care of the rest.” At her flash of annoyance, he met her with a look of patience, and she allowed him to continue without distraction. “Some may call it ignorance, but I’m not so certain that’s a bad thing. Let those in charge play their games because all the people wanted was a chance to raise a family, to feel secure, and to eventually die — two lies and a truth, you could say because the only thing they were truly offered was a chance to raise a family and even that was… It didn’t always end well.”
He rolled a blackberry between his fingers, trying to formulate the rest of the story. “In this kingdom, there were two brothers. The Fisher brothers, they were called. To this day, I still don’t know if that was their family name or their job. They were young, which was surprising given the world, but they were good and kind and hardworking. Everything they earned, they used for their family, and all who knew them spoke praise of them—”
“Easy to say empty words,” she interrupted with a full mouth.
“—They were good men, and their care for one another was well known. When the rival kingdom stormed the gates of their home, each swore a vow to protect the other. Kindness did not equate mercy anymore, and they fought valiantly. Alas, one of the brothers fell in the attack, and the other was soon to follow.”
“Why the fuck would you tell me this?”
“In the aftermaths of the battle, the invading, conquering side saw what heartbreak the citizens felt over the two men’s deaths, and they built a large funeral pyre to try to send them off with as much grace as they could muster. Everyone gathered around, and the flames started to eat the men when all of a sudden…” He made a motion with his hands, and she cocked her head to the side. “Their images could be seen in the smoke. They stood side by side with pride and told the crowds, ‘the stars in your veins are the stars in mine.’ They were Death in Death’s purest form, and they disappeared as quickly as they’d come.
“I’m sure you’ve heard those words said before. Anyone who has been to the outlying villages has heard them, and it means that in any life and in any way, you’ll be reunited with those who mean the most to you. You aren’t leaving your people; they still flow with you.”
“Thanks for the encouragement,” she bit back, but there was no depth to the venom. She continued their meal in quietness, thinking of a similar story her own people told.
Hops fell asleep first, uncomfortable against the ground but uncomplaining. Olena was used to remaining awake for long stretches, but eventually, even her head began to nod. Every break of a twig, whether by rain or animal, caused her to snap awake in ready alarm, for she knew that the ones most at danger were the ones who allowed themselves to think they belonged there — even herself.
When footsteps reached her — genuine, purposefully loud footsteps — she kicked Hops awake as she prepared herself for whatever threat would greet them. If it was Ranger and if their plan was ruined, she did not doubt their ability to take her once more. If it was someone else, they would learn why she had earned a status of command among the Erie-folk. She did not grab hold of her bow, but instead, she pulled out the dagger that was still laced with tiny flecks of red. Let it gleam in the moonlight and strike fear for her. Fear was often more deadly a disease than the actual blade.
“My, my, what do we have here? Which one of you missed me so much that you decided to chase after me?” Ranger stepped forward, hands held up in the air. Even in the darkness, Olena could see claw marks down the length of her old captive’s arms.65 “Was it Hops? Those rippling muscles are a complete waste if you don’t have someone to really show you how to use them. Damn, man — I was eyeing that ass from through the trees, I’ll tell you that much.”
Olena’s cheeks flushed a deep russet, and Hops blinked sheepishly, still half-asleep and half-uncertain if he was trapped in the oddest nightmare. Olena stepped forward to meet Ranger halfway and patted at the scout’s sides to look for any hidden weapons. There was only a lopsided rock, which Olena quickly confiscated. Gray eyes clashed with brown, and to her added fury, Ranger was smirking at the touch.
“Or perhaps it was Khalsa, my dear conqueror? I thought of killing you while you drifted off, but I don’t need another wolf pelt anytime soon. I came up with a few poems to accurately express how much I loathe you, but I’m afraid my poetry is too beautiful to actually kill you, so what’s the point?”
“You thought of killing me, yet you came back unarmed? What’s your game, woman?”
Ranger shrugged, as if it truly was a game to her, and her blasé attitude only served to stir up Olena’s annoyance once more. “I was bored. I ran, and I ran, and I realized what fun is running if one of us doesn’t end up dead? I don’t fail my missions.”
“I thought your mission was to spy?” Hops spoke up, as wary of the woman as Olena was.
“And what happens when a spy is caught? Old Queenie told me I would die, but you didn’t kill me. If I don’t die, someone ought to, and the way I see it, you’re a fantastic substitute — almost as pretty, half as mad. I do think we belong together, sweet wolf.” Olena held the dagger closer to her, and Ranger burst into laughter, shaking her head. “How’s this instead? I’ll lead you to the Queen who sent me, and I’ll tell you everything I know along the journey. I won’t harm Hops because he’s far too pretty for that, but I’ll plot your death. Oh, it’ll be sweet, and you won’t see it coming, princess. It’s a bet, get it? If I kill you, I get away and live my life. I’ll move onto my next target and dear old Queenie won’t harm me. If we make it to the Citadel, you get all the information you want, and you can even kill me at the end. Fun, right?”
“You can’t be serious —” Hops cut in.
Olena did not remove her gaze from Ranger. There was something de
sperate there, something Olena did not understand. Perhaps she had always known following her captive would end in a draw like this. It had been a dangerous idea to begin with, but at least now, she could recognize that danger. I don’t want to be a walking dead girl, the truth flickered in Ranger’s eyes. I’ll make you feel alive again before I kill you, Olena promised as she extended her hand in agreement. Hops made a sound of complete surprise, but both of the women ignored him.
Olena had only one warning. “If you lie, I swear…”
“Now, I am absolutely disgusted you would suggest such a thing! I only lie when I want to sweeten the truth — and when the truth is boring. Luckily for you, the things I know are far too exciting to embellish.” Ranger slipped her hand into the shake, and the deal was set. “I just don’t like traveling alone, so you’ll get your stories. It won’t matter how much I tell you. You’ll die, I’ll live, and Hops will go home with scars so deep in him, it’ll be as if he never left.”
Hops gripped his hand around Olena’s arm, leaning down so that only she could hear. Beneath the exasperation and beneath the anxiety, he was clearly worried about her, and she didn’t like that implication one bit. She couldn’t be friends with a chained-folk, but he clearly did not understand that as he continued, “If you die, I cannot begin to say how angry I’ll be. Please, don’t be stupid.”
“Victory is built on risks.” It was her turn to grin, and the gesture carried the confidence of experience. There was a reason she was alive — after raids, after battles, after fight after fight. “You heard her: it’ll be fun.”
Chapter 24: Beneath the Space Station
“If.”
Death’s Lament, 35.0
