Coursing down the hallway slowly, I made a mental list of what I needed to find out. First was how many knew that Father Corin and Davion had worked with the Belovores; second, how many people in the Commune agreed with their deal, and who could be swayed into a non-support role. The next task would be to find out what Father Corin expected to do. With the Cooper landing, how could he imagine helping the Belovores before everyone got killed? And in the meantime, how could I convince Annalise that she couldn’t have known what Davion had been leading us into.
A young lad, no more than thirteen, opened the door to the outside. He couldn’t have known what Father Corin had been planning, or had done – I refused to entertain that idea. He’d been dressed in clean pressed robes that hugged his body and bore the insignia of the MacKinnon Commune – a thin stencilling of a large ‘M’ with a ‘K’ branching out of the right-most leg. A circle surrounded it, and an upside down triangle adorned the centre, placed behind the lettering. Annalise walked through first, nodding her thanks to him, and Kayt and I followed. I took in the fresh burst of air as it rushed through. The scent of burning leaves and the smell of Blanc de Noirs returned. It hung onto my sinuses, clinging longer than I wished.
Father Corin led us to the banquet hall. Along the way, my mind played a ‘pick and choose’ game. See that woman over there? She knows, she helped. See that man? Oblivious? Those two kids? Well, one knows, but the other one with the sinister eyes is absolutely clueless. Doesn’t even know where he lives, much less what a commune means. We kept silent and looked forward. We said nothing, and didn’t veer from the path. I was surprised Father Corin didn’t suspect anything.
We stopped outside, on the same path which led us to the barracks before. Though the lights along the roadside had changed – grown harder and stiffer through the darkness – they were unmistakable. In threes, more Belovores that I had ever seen clomped onto the grounds through the main gate. They varied in height and colour, but all had the same bloodthirsty glare in their eyes. They observed as they walked, their chelimbs to their torso and large arms locked in position against their sides. Some looked chipped, and their plates were raw around the edges, but all seemed more than capable of continuing. My heart dropped in my chest when I saw one missing a chelimb – I wondered if it would recognize us.
Maybe someone else had damaged that one? Hopefully someone else had. I, at least, had the comfort of knowing that Chest-Plate, Vertebrae and Third were dead. Chest-Plate definitely.
Davion had called the people of the commune Forgiven earlier, and I could see why. A dozen Forgiven watched as the Belovores continued to come, stopping near the edge of the wall and bowing to their knees. Their hands held out, palms first, as if to apologize for their existence. The Belovores gave them no heed. The Forgiven bowed and refused to lift their heads until all the Belovores had entered. I looked closely. I didn’t see Davion.
Annalise continued walking towards the hall with Father Corin, but Kayt staggered. I had to catch her to keep her balanced. She hyperventilated softly. I moved her to my other side, wrapped her arm in mine, and led her on, making sure that every time she turned her head to the entrance, I was there to distract.
Father Corin said. “You’ll have time, later. I want you to meet the best of us. The one who will usher us into a new age.”
“Don’t they all say that?” Kayt mumbled.
I glanced back again and tried to count. More Forgiven rallied at the entrance to bow to the Belovores as they poured into the compound. Some moved from the front of their crowds to the back when the Belovores advanced. Even though the monsters weren’t paying attention, some of the Forgiven acted like they were only going along until they could figure out what was going on.
Father Corin slowed us down just before we got to the Keep. Alongside the door was a sign that read Great Hall in raised cursive script. Annalise pushed her hair back with a trembling hand and anger in her eyes. She took the handle of the door. Father Corin did the same for the other door. Kayt and I went through, taking in the scenery with part admiration, part fear. The hall loomed above us. Crossbeams strung cobwebs down from the rafters like strings of lights. Bulbs similar to the ones along the courtyard jutted out from sconces on each pillar. A dozen tables, all lined together towards the front of the room, were empty. Bowls of fruit – some rotting, some half eaten, and some fresh – had been placed sporadically on each table. For a Keep, it didn’t meet the same expectations literature had always pre-ordained.
At the front of the room was a pulpit with a table beneath a long white cloth. Behind that stood an empty throne taller than any of us. Our table had been set just shy of the pulpit. Five placemats and large cups of water waited for us. Melanie sat in one of the spots. She looked into her lap, restraining herself from staring in our direction. She seemed clean. Her hair had been combed back, and she had washed her face. She’d even been given new clothes – robes, no doubt, from the quartermaster of the Commune.
Kayt pressed her hand into mine when she saw Melanie, her anger seething through the way she gripped me without catching her own strength. Annalise followed behind us.
Our footsteps echoed down the hallway. It was like someone clapping slowly as we made our shame-faced walk to be fed. None of the dishes had been served, so it felt like we’d arrived early to our own party. Kayt sat next to Melanie one the other side of the table at Father Corin’s urging, and faced Annalise and I. We left the spot next to me open. We all thought the same thing, looking at the empty spot. Either Davion was meant to join us, or would do so soon enough.
“Right,” Father Corin clapped. “I can see that you are settling down, so I will be right back. I must tell the kitchen that you are ready to feast.”
He turned quickly, headed towards the pulpit at the front of the Hall, and turned right. He disappeared down a corridor, and a door swished shut out of sight. Our eyes trained on Melanie. Kayt scooted a few inches away, and I locked eyes on her until she looked up.
“Be passive,” Melanie said.
“Is that you speaking, or Davion?”
“I have my reasons,” Melanie said.
“We all have reasons. It doesn’t mean we side with the people who destroyed an entire city,” I said.
“Or killed our friends,” Kayt added.
“I’m not responsible for any of that,” Melanie said. “You were there in the Abbey, Leon. You listened when I told you I would do anything it takes to find out what happened to my father. I’m doing that.”
“And how is that going for you?” I asked.
She didn’t acknowledge the disdain in my voice. “Had I not gone with Davion, and had he not trusted me, I wouldn’t have gotten here. I wouldn’t have found out what happened to my Dad and I certainly wouldn’t be able to cope right now,” she said. “I was breaking down. None of you really cared. Davion was the only one who talked to me and tried to help me through it. You had your groups.”
I flashed back to the moment outside, when we’d all stopped to cook dinner: Melanie’s panic attack, and how we’d all allowed Davion to help without sayinging a word – simply because we thought it was something Davion could handle.
“We cared,” I said.
False Daniel popped into my mind: ‘You only cared when she could help your cause. How delightfully fair-weathered of you.’
“Outside of the cellar, how many of you asked about me?” Melanie asked. She leaned forward. “I don’t care about ‘oh, Mels, how are you?’ or any of that. You all assumed that I was doing fine. My entire life was in that city. Annalise was outside, and Kayt was with someone. Even then, she and Lancaster lived outside the limits. Leon, you’re on vacation. How many of you stopped to think that I’d just lost every bit of my life?”
“That doesn’t give you reason to side with them,” Kayt muttered.
“No, it doesn’t. But it gives me the right to do things on my own,” she bit back.
“So you pretended to be brainwashed,” I said.
/> “You guys acted like I was just another girl in the group, and never bothered to get to know me,” Melanie said. “You kept making assumptions about me and what I’d want to do, but you never actually talked to me or asked questions. When it was clear you all had your own circle, I made an assumption of my own and moved forward with my own agenda.”
I’ve done my best to recall exactly how I thought about Melanie up to this point, and looking back on the pages I’ve written: she’s right. I passed her on to Davion and Annalise assumed she could take care of the car simply because Davion said she could. Even in the woods, Melanie had been nothing but straightforward with us when we spoke to her, and yet we still glossed over her when it came to the same questions we’d asked of each other.
While it was true that we were busy, it was also true that we’d made time for each other.
The silence was heavy, enough to make me think the wind pushing up against the Keep was an aftereffect of the anger Melanie was trying to convey. She was right. I’d asked about her in the cellar, but that was it. I’d spent all my time with Annalise, listening to her story and talking with her. I’d even given Kayt more consolation than Melanie. I suddenly found it very hard to blame her for thinking she couldn’t come to us with her thoughts.
“What about your father?” I asked. “Did you learn anything?”
Melanie told us the whole story, and I hope I’ve done it justice. My hand is tense, and I stutter to even write. My many mistakes fly past my eyes.
Davion was nervous, that much was clear. Melanie followed him as they parted ways with Father Corin, just after locking Leon, Annalise, and Kayt in the chamber room. When Father Corin was far enough away, Davion turned to Melanie.
“I thought I was protecting you,” he started.
“From what?”
“But now, I don’t know what to believe. I’d hoped you’d moved past this, but it’s become clear you need an answer. Father Corin sentenced your father to death. I sent him here shortly after he came to me at the Abbey.”
“So, you knew the entire time?”
“And I am paying for it,” Davion answered. “I thought he was looking for guidance, so I sent him to Father Corin. A couple weeks later, I heard that he got so drunk one night that he burst into a young woman’s room in the barracks, started arguing with her over why his beliefs were the best. When asked to leave, he assumed it was a fight and killed the young woman by cracking her over the head with a hammer. Father Corin took charge of the situation, and your father was killed in the scuffle.”
“If you didn’t want to tell me then, why are you telling me now?”
“Father Corin told me the Belovore return would be an effortless fight and that the Belovores would take back what they wanted without any resistance. I presumed it meant a peaceful surrender. I have reason to believe your father was a victim. Father Corin did not tell me the full truth about the Belovores, so I believe he was not up front about your father.” Davion grabbed her hands. He’d been close to weeping, but held back the tears.
Melanie laughed and let her hands fall to her side. Davion’s attempt at pacification turned to curiosity. “Davion, you have to know that Percival Nesbit wasn’t exactly a good man. My Dad was this huge misogynist who looked up to guys who treated women like objects, and beat my mother occasionally. I wasn’t looking to ‘reunite with my daddy.’” Melanie took a breath, “The truth is: I just wanted to know if he was dead.”
Davion closed his eyes and set his face towards the sky. He sighed and sucked in a deep breath. His frown was one of approval. He then took Melanie’s hand again and held it. “Come then, allow me to show you around the compound.”
What Melanie learned and explained in her tourist-like stroll around the commune, I have already described. She was taken to the Keep, to the barracks, and shown the living spaces of more than half the area. They strolled in the gardens, and watched as the commune set the crates of weapons along the barracks wall, readying them for service.
After she was done, I stated: “Davion’s not doing too well with this.”
“I felt we might be able to use Davion’s doubts if we need to get out of here. I didn’t have the heart to tell him that Father Corin was probably right to punish my dad, and that what happened was probably very true.”
“What have they been saying about the Belovores?” Kayt asked.
“Everyone here knows about their return – but Father Corin told them, just like Davion, it would be non-violent. He says the Belovores have returned and will need help from the commune, as they will be looked upon as monsters by the colony. There are weapons all over the commune, and the people here think they’re supposed to protect the Belovores when it comes down to it. Only, nobody within these walls has a clue that Sondranos is actually gone. They know the Belovores landed, but they’re certain the skirmishes were small and contained to only the more violent of us.”
Annalise and Kayt nodded, Melanie wiped her eyes and sat back. I said: “Either way, we have to get out of here. The Belovores are already massing behind the walls.”
“Why?” Melanie asked.
“Don’t know – but it might have to do with this idea of protection you mentioned. There are weapons all over,” I said. “Knowing that Davion might be doubting himself is definitely something we can use.”
“I sensed fear when he told me about my father,” Melanie’s tone softened.
Kayt fumbled with the fork and spoon cup left in the centre of the table. She pulled one of the forks away and pocketed it. I was about to do the same when Annalise set her hand on my wrist. “They may not notice one, but they would notice more than one missing,” she said. “Kayt, hand it to me.”
“No,” she widened her eyes and sat back. The lack of seat backings made her seem about to lose balance and fall off the wooden bench. “Get your own if you want one.”
“You aren’t equipped to handle any kind of weapon,” Annalise reasoned. “None of us is equipped for this.”
“I’m the best one to handle this thing.”
“We’ve lost, kid,” Annalise said.
Melanie said, dry: “Kayt, you’re running on anger right now. You want everyone to pay for Lancaster, and that’s dangerous. If we want to be alive by morning, we can’t let our emotions control us. I wouldn’t have lasted if I hadn’t learned to bottle my own anger away.”
Somehow, I felt like that was my own fault.
“I understand,” Kayt said. “But I’m still holding on to the fork.”
Annalise sighed and let the subject of the fork drop. The unbroken Annalise would have stood up, taken the fork, and sat down without another word. The dust was settled thickly enough along the hall to tickle the back of my throat. I could feel an itch starting where my sinuses began to swell. Annalise looked at the absence of stained glass windows, which had been covered or replaced with boards and safety beams. Melanie and Kayt looked at the same lack of windows behind Annalise and I.
A trio of Forgiven entered with the smell of bread and cabbage,. One was in her robes while the other two had the appearance of being rushed. A large, portly man who carried plates and took up the rear had beads of sweat along his neckline. One brought a crock pot, which was the source of the cabbage scent. Behind it wafted the smell of bacon – something I didn’t realize they had. He pulled a sliver of cheese out and set it down. Apparently, this was their idea of a spread.
Looking on it now, we should have told Melanie that we understood, and I should have apologized for having treated her as a secondary person. Annalise was distant, and wouldn’t have cared much enough to apologize. I can’t say I blame her. We all sat looking at our plates and the food set in front of us, but nobody touched it. Appetite fled, and the food was nothing more than an aromatic table decoration.
Half an hour later, a Belovore walked into the room and settled on the pulpit.
The three servers bowed as they left without a word.
“Welcome,” the Belovore said.
“I am Velric.”
“Ambassador Velric?” Annalise chimed in. We all held our breath.
“Yes, of course,” he said. A glimmer in Kayt’s hand flashed briefly. Melanie must have seen it too, as she elbowed the girl. Kayt looked down at the table..
“How old are you?” Kayt asked.
“Old enough,” he said. He moved past the table and shuffled to the seat behind it. He motioned with his two large arms to some people out of sight, barking some incomprehensible order. The two who’d served us rushed in, grabbed the table by both ends, and moved it out of the way. They fled, and we heard the door close behind them.
Velric sat before us on what could have been his pedestal. He was a short Belovore. The creases in the pitch black plates of his chest were a different shade altogether. They’d greyed, and looked like someone had sealed the plates to his chest with pavement putty. I felt like, if someone were to run a finger down one of the creases, then dust would cascade to the ground. His face was flat, and smooth. He must have lost those in age. The chelimbs around his waist blended into his plates perfectly. I could have easily believed they hadn’t worked for centuries.
“I do not trust any of you,” he said. “And I refuse to feign the image that you are joining us. Your passivity does not convince me.”
“Let us earn that trust,” I said.
“I couldn’t care less about what you earn,” Velric said. “My people outnumber yours now, and we are preparing to fortify this position from your oncoming offense. Soon, I won’t have to worry about the blight caused by your colonization.”
“But you’re arming everyone,” Kayt said. We all sensed that this wasn’t a normal meeting, but Kayt seemed to be taking it offensively. “There’s no way you can survive this.”
“My people are past recovery,” Velric said. “When my people fled, I stayed behind to ensure the preservation of my people’s history and beliefs on the surface, expecting them to return gloriously. When it became clear that your colony intended to eradicate every trace of us, I discovered how easy it was to use your own fiction against you.”
Sondranos: The Narrative of Leon Bishop Page 22
