Without Rhythm (The Lament)

by P. S. Power

  Most of the people in the room looked horribly shocked, or scared, including Ben and Roy, but she didn't lose the beat, or stop the flow of words.

  When her song wound down, after just a minute, it was clear that they needed something more to cover the fact that Clark was headed out the door.

  Painfully, feeling so stiff and uncomfortable she nearly couldn't stand, Pran climbed to her feet and started stomping herself with her right foot.

  "The Ballad of Clemance!" She had to shout the words, as a few people, led by Claire, started to stamp along. Ben picked it up too and started to strum the simple cords on his guitar. The song wasn't so much a performance piece as an excuse for people to yell on the chorus. At the very top of their lungs. The people of Danning didn't seem to be in a mood to hold back at all. After that, picking up on the mood, if not the full plan, Bard Benjamin took over again, with another popular sing along.

  By the time that was over the two senior Guardians came back, unhurt, but with only three prisoners between the two of them.

  Everyone stopped singing to look at them as the woman from the merchant's booth and two young men that Pran hadn't noticed before were dropped in the center aisle.

  "The rest ran. To the west. I don't suppose anyone would care to explain all this to us?" Clark sounded dark and a bit out of breath himself, then he'd hurried in carrying two full grown men, so that might well do it.

  It was the Mayor that stood, addressing Claire rather than anyone else.

  "It started about three weeks back. We woke up one day to find near on twenty strangers in town. They had weapons, like Kinetic pistols, but different, things that make loud booms when they go off. They killed our town guard, Old Jim and told us that if we resisted at all they'd do the same to us. We aren't fighters, and they didn't leave us alone much. We all had to work, making things for them. Illegal things, some I didn't recognize at all. When you came, as scheduled, I tried to slip you that message, not knowing if it would be picked up or not. I figured I was dead, but none of them seemed to care about me giving you those flowers. Like they didn't know the code. That or didn't care." He had a raw tone to his voice, one that hadn't been there before, not that Pran noticed.

  Judge Claire stood then and waved at the five people on the floor.

  "We need to secure these prisoners and see about pursuing those that are trying to escape. Did they leave on foot?"

  Clark nodded, but then shook his head. Mara did much the same thing, looking baffled.

  "At first, then we heard roaring from a distance. Like thunder or the engines on The Lament, only louder."

  No one knew exactly what that meant, but it was clearly a sign of something being used that wasn't supposed to be. Some kind of energy using transportation that worked on the ground. All of those were forbidden. Airships were the most energy intensive transportation allowed that way. Pran hadn't known that, but Paul did and told them all that in no uncertain terms. He should know after all, being the First Mate on one like he was.

  Much to everyone's relief the Guardians went to check and make certain no one was left, going house to house with each owner, the whole group moving with them. It meant that the people that lived out of town didn't get home for hours, but everyone felt better because of it. It seemed alright for a while, until a huge crashing sound came from the far edge of town.

  The Mayor, who lived in the center of town but was still with them anyway, started running in that direction as the night lit up around them.

  "I think that's the old granary. It was where they had us assembling those things for them."

  Everyone not in their home was running toward it, including the people from the ship, which turned out to be a mistake. Paul grabbed his right side after the first loud popping sound and fell to the ground. Then the Mayor went as well. Pran didn't get it at first, but noticed that something seemed to tug at her cloak. Then, as she stood and saw more people falling she understood it.

  They were under attack.

  "Run!" It was Mara that called it out, shifting in that odd fashion the Guardians had, the timing so strained and odd that she seemed to vanish and come back several times before Pran lost sight of her. If Clark did that she couldn't see, but she tried it herself, knowing that the glow from the big fire would make her light up incredibly. She paused and started suddenly, kicked herself backwards and then off to the side, not actually doing what Mara had at all, but not being hit by whoever was trying to stop them either. So maybe it was working a little.

  Or maybe the bad people just didn't think she was a threat. They were right of course. She didn't even have a weapon on her at all, since it hadn't gone with her costume and disguise. Bards didn't go around armed and it would have been a dead giveaway if she had. Without thinking about it, not knowing where the attack was coming from, she headed directly toward the sound. The irregular popping was hard to track, but the flash of light from the trees was clear enough, she dove to the ground, calling on her tumbling lessons to let her roll, which was an awkward thing that took her suddenly to the side at a diagonal.

  After a while she reached the tree line and really didn't have a lot more that she knew how to do. Her martial arts skills weren't going to help her much. Scrabbling under a bush she found a slender stick that wouldn't even make a good switch for a naughty child. It would have to do, since she couldn't find anything else in the dark. The cloak she wore was catching on the brush, so she took it off and threw it, trying to get it to spread out like a net over the bush next to her. That way she'd be able to find it later. It wasn't hers after all.

  "Think Pran, what to do..." It was hard, the excitement filling her, heart racing and lungs straining from the activity.

  She knew what to do, when she thought about it. It was all the Guardians had really taught her yet. Pay attention as well as she could and act without rhythm.

  She ducked without warning, for no reason, and crawled under another bush, working her way deeper into the woods. After a while she heard someone speaking. Yelling.

  "Retreat! We're losing people in this damn dark. Retreat!" The voice was male, but other than that she couldn't tell anything about it. Well, it wasn't Clark, and from the light crashing sounds there were several people that started running, deeper into the woods. The popping sounds stopped then, so it was probably whoever had attacked them. One of them made a noise, like they'd been hit, but nothing else came at all.

  She just froze and waited, in case it was a trick. It seemed a lot less dangerous than trying to close with the people after all. What she'd been thinking Pran didn't know. Running toward the people attacking? She must be suicidal. It was a consideration, she realized. So much had changed in her life in the last days, and she wasn't comfortable where she was at all...

  But that didn't mean she wanted to die. She just wanted the life she'd worked for back. Plus, her head was cold. After a long time there came a call from the edge of the woods.

  "Back in! Front line back to town!" That was Clark, his giant voice booming powerfully.

  "That must be me." She muttered, not knowing what a front line was at all, but thinking it was a fine excuse to try and collect her cloak, if possible. Ben's cloak. The bright yellow showed in the dark nicely. She couldn't see herself, but it was a good bet that the dress she wore was ruined. Pran would have felt worse about it, but decided to wait on that and see what Claire said first. It might just be that to the Judge's mind she wouldn't be to blame for this one. After all, Pran hadn't attacked anyone.

  Still, it was a good dress, or had been.

  She found the cloak easily enough, but wadded it up under her right arm and tried to move quietly through the brush, which didn't really work too well, since she couldn't see most of it. About ten minutes later she found the edge of the woods and slowly jogged back toward the people illuminated by the fire. The Mayor wasn't moving at all, but Paul was standing, something wrapped around his middle, a dark splotch on one side.

  Claire was tending som
eone else that Pran didn't recognize, a townsperson no doubt and Bard Benjamin was standing back, not moving at all. She went to him, taking his arm firmly.

  "Snap out of it. We need to do something." She had no clue what that would be, but it was important. Just standing wasn't going to help at all.

  "Huh?" The man was clearly in shock.

  That was pretty fair, since she was too. She looked around, not knowing what to do at all.

  "Um, we need to guard Claire and get the wounded someplace safe. Can you drive a wagon?" Pran knew it wasn't part of the training at the art school, but surprisingly Ben nodded.

  "Yes." He didn't elaborate.

  "Good, get to town and get the carriage and the wagon... Anything else you can find too. Then we'll get everyone someplace safe. The ship." Was that a safe place? She didn't know, but it felt safer than being next to a burning building on the edge of the unfamiliar town.

  Ben wandered off, heading in the right direction, carrying his instruments. That was just like a Bard after all. He had the ones lent to her too, with nothing left behind. The things were too important to lose.

  She was tempted to follow, not knowing what to do, but then she remembered herself. She was a Guardian now. After a fashion at least. That meant she should... Guard something.

  Someone.

  The Judge.

  Nearly tripping on a rock she bent and dug it out quickly, finding it big enough to make a good, if awkward, weapon and then ran to where Claire was busily talking to a downed man. He groaned a bit, but her tone was calm and soothing.

  "Shhh. We're safe. See here's one of the Guardians now, here to keep us safe. I know your leg hurts, but you'll live. We have a very good Doctor on our ship. Doctor Millis. We just need to get you there. I'm sure that..." There was silence then as both Clark and Mara suddenly showed up, making the man on the ground boggle a bit, in pain or not. It did make for an interesting effect after all, people just appearing like that.

  Mara spoke quickly, not explaining anything overly.

  "They lost three people in the woods. We need to move to a secure location, but we followed them for about two kilometers. They didn't seem to be stopping, but we thought that the first time too."

  Clark grunted.

  "We need to move quickly."

  "Ben, Bard Benjamin, is coming with the wagon and trying to get other transport around. Should we move the Judge now?" It felt really exposed, but oddly enough Clark shook his head.

  "We need to move as a group. Otherwise it will just point out who the important people are... There's the wagon now."

  The thing wasn't visible yet, but the sound was unmistakable in the dark.

  Ben didn't just have the one wagon and the carriage, he had four other things as well, being driven by townsfolk. True one of them was a goat cart, but that would carry two people. That counted right now. They loaded the wounded carefully, but tried to be fast about it. They had three people that needed care from a Doctor and two dead. At first they didn't know what to do with those, but Claire ordered them to be taken back to the meeting hall by one of the men in his personal wagon. The Mayor and the man that had died shortly after he had were both put on the thing by Clark, which meant she needed to help. She'd never touched a dead person before, so it was creepy, but she tried to block that part of it out and not notice how terrifying the whole thing was. She didn't have time for that. It was her job to...

  Pran didn't have a clue.

  What exactly was a fake Guardian expected to do in a situation like this? Follow orders most likely, but so far no one had really told her to do much at all, probably because she wasn't really expected to do anything. She tried to focus and think about what she'd do if she were just playing the part of a Guardian. What would she do if this was on stage or something like that?

  The only idea that came was to do something stupid and heroic that would get a real person killed. At first. After a bit she decided that there might be a bit more she could do, if it were all make believe.

  "Get on the wagons. If you're going to The Lament, get on a wagon. We're leaving now. Move... No hesitation..." She kept muttering this and slapping people on the arms until they were all on board, then, rock still in her hand, started trying to do a walking guard. It wasn't working too well and she jogged more than she should have, just trying to keep up. After a few minutes Mara joined her, but didn't tell her to rest.

  No, what she said, in a low voice as she passed was a lot more practical than that.

  "Right side. I'll take the other three directions." Then she vanished into the brush.

  It made it easier, but still hurt a lot as she gasped and tried to move like she was supposed to. After a bit she just dove into the brush, letting it slap her in the face, eyes closed. Inside the bush she was invisible, right? Or would have been if she wasn't wearing bright white clothing. The thing pulled at it making something tear as she pulled out, her shoes, which were short boots with hard soles, not making a lot of noise on the ground at least. The rest of the trip was a battle of a different sort. Her mind didn't want to focus at all and her body wanted to just lie down and rest for a while, even as she pushed herself to keep going, not stopping for more than a second, even if she wanted to.

  She really did though. Everything screamed for it, begged for her to do it. To quit and let go. She wasn't a real Guardian and asking her to pretend to be one was just stupid. She was a moron for having tried at all, even if only to avoid selling herself on the street. Every single step she took in the dark now showed her that. She ended the trip just running slowly, zigzagging a little, not able to make herself do more, even as Mara did the lion's share of the work.

  She didn't stop when the wagon did for all that, running in to get the Doctor. A bell rang when she was about half way to his room door, the older man coming out tentatively, without his medical gear.

  "We have wounded. Combat wounds... Um like from a rifle? I didn't recognize the weapons. It seemed like that." She didn't try to explain more, the man vanishing inside his room, running out, a shuffling jog of his own, thrusting a large leather bag into her hands as he did it.

  "How many?"

  "Four." She didn't add the part about the dead, that wasn't his concern after all. Not that day at least.

  It turned out to be three, since one of the men, the one with Claire earlier, had died during the trip. Captain Mina looked at the scene and growled something, but it wasn't until she started yelling that Pran understood the order.

  "Prepare to take off. If you're not going with us, best to leave now. Prepare for aloft!"

  That got Paul to try and stagger forward, the Doctor grabbing him to stop the man from running off.

  The First Mate made a soft moaning sound.

  "Sorry Doc, I have to... I'm needed to run the line crew. We can't skip that. First Mate's job." The voice from the darkness startled Pran, but only a little. It was the Shipman with the spider veins on his nose, who sounded nicely sober at least.

  "I have that. Go with the Doctor. Roy, see to the engines. Carver, Lynne, get the others for immediate take off. Go!"

  It was Doctor Millis that ordered her to help Paul get inside while Ben and the regular carriage driver did something to secure the wagon and horses. For all the haste, the ship wasn't ready to move for half an hour, which seemed slow to her, but didn't get anyone else to seem that worried. After helping to get Paul inside she ran to the weapons locker and signed out a rifle, not certain she was on the right line for it on the paper in the dim light. It reminded her of the day before, when Dovish had wanted something to eat. She had to sign for the bullets and an air canister too of course.

  She also didn't know where Dovish was.

  She hurried, her body protesting the movement, her lungs actually aching already when she got to the front of the ship then angled herself to face the main road and knelt down, trying to make herself a smaller target and rest at the same time. Clark ran to her, shone a beam light in her face and nodded a
t the rifle.

  "Good..."

  She didn't preface her words in response.

  "Dovish. Seen him?" There was a gasping quality to her voice that she couldn't control at all. Clark didn't respond, just vanishing, moving toward the back of the craft. A few minutes later there were six bells in a row and Clark was there again.

  "Load up. Dovish is either inside or in town. If he's inside, we don't have a problem. In town... We can't wait for him. He wasn't one of the dead or injured." There was a shrug with it, but Pran nodded. It wasn't like he would be in danger. No one would harm the man after all. Not once they realized how innocent and sweet he was. She hoped that was the case at least. If not it wasn't something she had control over, so she followed Clark on board and, tired or not, remembered to set the safety and point her weapon at the floor. Shooting anyone else wouldn't go over well, she didn't think. Well, it never would, but at the moment it would be even worse, since the Doctor was so busy.

  They took off, but they weren't headed to another location, Mara assured her, looking at the rifle in her hand.

  "We'll just circle high enough that no one will be able to hit us. We need to call in reinforcements now. It looks like we uncovered a techno-cult. I'll explain that later, but it isn't a good thing. It probably explains some other strange events in the area, depending on how wide spread their activities have been." Then, frustratingly she wandered off, leaving Pran in the hallway.

  In a ruined dress. She shook her head a little and then jogged to her own room, slipping into her black outfit just in case anything else came up. Then, hoping she wouldn't be needed, she spent fifteen minutes scrubbing her head and face in the washroom. It probably didn't get all the orange make-up off, but it would lend an air of credibility to anything else she did. Looking like a freak worked on stage, but everywhere else it was just different. People respected things they recognized in normal day to day life. So black clothing and a rifle. That should work better.

  She hadn't even been missed at all and had to search to find anyone she knew, that being Claire, who was in with the Doctor, his sick room being directly next to his quarters, two doors down from Ben's. The Bard sat with the door open, looking scared and like he didn't know what to do.