Fracture (The Chronicles Of Discord Book 1)

by D. D. Chant

  “Then with Dam’sel Aya?”

  Rem sighed and looked away and into the flames.

  “I do not know that either.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  The Tula

  Councillor Ladron placed his fingertips together, and leant back in his chair.

  Astra had evaded him.

  His hands tightened into fists. She had escaped him, and was even now in the safely of her own lands.

  And she had taken Ben Burton with her.

  Corbani tried to decide if this would help or hinder the alliance.

  On the one hand it could be seen as an act of terrorism by the Una nation, and cement the contract with the Free Nation.

  On the other it might make the Free Nation revise its decision to enter into a treaty with a power whose borders could so easily be breached.

  Yet worse was the posiblity that Ben would manage to return to the Free Nation. If that happened all hell would break loose. Councillor Ladron had no illusions; he knew how the Free Nation would see his rule. They would say he was a tyrant, and that he ruled with fear.

  Fear was the only way to control the masses; it was the only thing they understood. The Free Nation would shy away from that truth, hiding behind meaningless words like ‘human rights’ and ‘equality for all’, preaching a utopia that could never exist.

  It was their way of controlling the masses, by promising to reach an impossible goal of equality. To his way of thinking it was not a very efficient way of managing a nation.

  They would never be able to understand the work camps, where captured Una were set to forced labour.

  Because of the work camps, no Tula national had to perform menial labour, or work in dangerous conditions. The work camps were a necessity, but the Free Nation would shy away from that necessity even while enjoying the luxury it afforded. It was best they did not know of the things they were incapable of handling.

  Councillor Ladron frowned. He still didn't like the fact that Ben would now know everything, it went against the grain to have lost control.

  However in a way it might only further his plan. Now the Free Nation would perhaps be willing to sign the treaty. All the while Ben remained in Una Territories the impetus to fight would be strong.

  However, Ben could never come back.

  He knew too much; things that would be damaging to the image Corbani had created of the Tula people.

  No, he would make sure Ben never came back. He would make sure that he disappeared forever.

  Corbani Va Dic Ladron smiled. He would make Ben a martyr: an idea the Free Nation would fight for, put faith in… kill for.

  He stood, moving to look out of the window of his office and across the city.

  It was time to wake Senator Burton from the drug-induced sleep he had been confined to for the last two days. Councillor Ladron was almost certain that the Senator would have suspicions about his 'illness', but there would be nothing he could prove.

  Corbani reached out, pressing the glowing blue button on his desk, and a moment later a young woman entered the room. She stood before him wringing her hands nervously, her pretty features marred with the blank expression of a rabbit caught in the headlights.

  Fear.

  At one and the same time it both pleased and angered him.

  She was Astra’s replacement, and was not proving to be either as efficient or as useful. She lacked Astra’s calm, and skittered about like a frightened mouse the whole time.

  It put him on edge.

  He missed Astra. He didn’t like her, she was after all Una and therefore inferior and of limited intelligence. Yet nevertheless he felt her departure more keenly than he had thought he would. He missed the intoxicating power he had over her. Strange, as power was something he was used to, something he had in great quantities. However, he knew that there was something subtly different about the power he had over Astra. It was somehow more personal. He had drawn such pleasure from taunting her, from knowing that he had managed to insidiously slip behind her outward, almost perfect, façade of indifference, to wreak panic and fear into her very soul.

  The new girl was too easy.

  She cringed from him like a kicked dog, and there was no satisfaction in drawing blood.

  “Deb, you will inform the head doctor of Medical Facility that he is permitted to allow Senator Burton to regain consciousness,” instructed Councillor Ladron.

  Deb inclined her head, placed a hand over her heart, and beat a hasty retreat. Councillor Ladron frowned; it was too easy.

  Life was no fun without Astra.

  ------

  The first thing Philip Burton was aware of was light.

  Not daylight but the cold, glowing light scattered by the leadless Tula orbs. It made his head throb, and he lifted his arm up to cover his eyes. He felt drained and weak, his limbs heavy and flaccid. He tried to remember where he was, but his mind was slow, detached, as though every thought in his head was floating in a misty place without gravity.

  He sighed. He tried to turn over, but couldn’t quite find enough energy to complete the manoeuvre.

  He lay still for a long while, not dozing, but with his mind pleasantly blank. A hazy feeling of unease gradually spread like goose bumps over him. He tried to ignore the sensation, but the deep feeling of discomfort grew. He felt unsettled and restless.

  He tried to find the cause of his anxiety, to link the thoughts in his head together.

  Coffee.

  He licked his lips. He could do with a coffee; his mouth felt like the Sahara. He moved his tongue. It was thick and unwieldy, cleaving to the roof of his mouth. The feeling was strangely familiar, and added to his overall confusion.

  Why was it familiar?

  He cracked open his eyes and, squinting against the light, studied his surroundings. White walls, gleaming white floor and white bed. He looked down at the nightshirt he was wearing.

  White nightshirt.

  Probably made from some wonderful self-cleaning and breathable man made Tula fabric. It felt wrong; restrictive, stiff, and somehow grubby even though it looked spotlessly clean.

  There was nothing else in the room.

  Philip lifted a hand to his face. It was freshly shaved. For some reason the thought made him uncomfortable. Someone had held a blade to his throat, and he had slept through their ministrations. He shifted, trying to sit up, and a buzzer went off, the sound loud and irritating in the quiet room.

  Almost immediately the port slid open to admit a woman in a severe white uniform. She smiled at him brightly, and punched a code into the touchpad mounted on the wall by the entrance.

  “Hello, Senator Burton.” She moved forwards, her smile reassuring, and placed a small device on his forehead. “How do you feel?”

  Philip blinked dazedly.

  “What are you doing?”

  The woman touched the surface of the small circular device that seemed to be set into the skin of her arm.

  It immediately displayed a hologram.

  “The monitor is telling me your heart rate, pulse, temperature, and brain activity.”

  “Is it telling you how thirsty I am?” queried Philip groggily.

  The nurse tapped her wrist again, and removed the monitor from his forehead.

  “What would you like to drink?”

  “Coffee.”

  The nurse looked surprised by his request, but immediately went to get him some. Philip lay back down. He wasn’t sure why he’d asked for coffee, for some reason it was all he could think about.

  The nurse returned a few moments later with a mug.

  A white mug.

  He didn’t know why the Tula’s unnatural fondness for black and white was irritating him so much today. It was getting on his nerves like a melody too often heard.

  The nurse pressed the touch pad above his head and the bed rose until Philip was sitting upright.

  The coffee tasted good; hot and slightly bitter. It revived him.

  “Thank you. You sure
do know how to make a cup of coffee.”

  The nurse smiled.

  “It’s Arabica.”

  Philip choked, sending a spray of liquid over the bed clothes, and the nurse’s uniform. She patted his back gently, murmuring some platitude that he paid no attention to. The coughing fit passed, and Philip watched in a kind of horrified fascination as the sprinkling of brown coffee drops began to disappear from sheets covering him, and from the nurse’s uniform.

  The coffee that Councillor Ladron had given him had been drugged, he remembered now. The nurse offered him the mug again and he shuddered, pushing it away.

  “Water, I’d like some water please.”

  The nurse looked a little non-plussed but nodded and left the room again. Philip closed his eyes.

  Why had he been drugged?

  How long had he been unconscious?

  Where was Ben?

  The port opened, but instead of the comforting presence of the nurse it was Councillor Ladron who stood on the threshold.

  “Senator Burton, I cannot tell you how relieved I am to find you awake.”

  Councillor Ladron’s gaunt face and black suit seemed out of place in the white room, as though he were some strange harbinger of evil. Philip decided that he probably was.

  “Councillor Ladron,” he greeted him neutrally.

  “We were so very concerned for your well being after your collapse in my office.”

  Philip could not quite believe the sangfroid with which Councillor Ladron spoke the lie.

  “I’m sorry to have caused such trouble. How long have I been unconscious?”

  Councillor Ladron made a small gesture of reassurance.

  “Only a matter of two days, Senator,” he returned. “After the surgery it was necessary to keep you sedated for a while so that your body could recover.”

  Senator Burton’s fingers tightened in the fabric of the sheet that covered him.

  “Surgery?”

  Councillor Ladron observed his unease with a sly smile.

  “Nothing too terrible: a hardening of the arteries which put strain on your heart.”

  “I don’t feel any pain.”

  Councillor Ladron laughed softly.

  “What a barbaric place the Free Nation must be! Of course you feel no pain; your body is already fully healed. There isn't even a scar.”

  Philip Burton clutched at his chest, watching Corbani Va Dic Ladron’s amusement with sharp fear. He could not be certain that no surgery had been preformed. The Tula doctors could have done anything to him while he was under sedation. They could have taken, or added, anything.

  “I’d like to see Ben.”

  Abruptly Councillor Ladron’s amusement faded and he pressed his lips into a thin, disapproving line.

  “I’m afraid that will not be possible, Senator.”

  Philip saw a calculating gleam enter Corbani Va Dic Ladron’s eyes. He was not afraid, or exactly concerned, but it was as though he were choosing his words with poetic care, so as to gain as much as he could from the information he was about to impart.

  “I am afraid that your son has been taken by the Una.”

  For a few horrible seconds Philip couldn’t seem to form any kind of thought.

  “When?”

  “His disappearance coincided with your disintegration of health.”

  Senator Burton closed his eyes. Now he knew why he had been drugged.

  “What will they do to him?”

  Councillor Ladron shrugged his shoulders.

  “He is the son of the man negotiating an alliance between the Free Nation and the Tula,” he replied. “They will not treat him kindly.”

  Although Councillor Ladron’s posture was sympathetic for some reason Philip couldn’t get rid of the thought that he was secretly pleased.

  Why?

  With sudden understanding he saw how it must appear to Councillor Ladron. He saw this event as an excellent opportunity to force the alliance ahead. Ladron thought that because the Una had taken his son, he would see that the treaty was signed immediately.

  Philip had the sudden disquieting thought that Ben’s ‘abduction’ had been manufactured by Corbani Va Dic Ladron as a political ploy. If that was the case then he would be sorely disappointed when he found out the truth. Ben’s disappearance would only postpone proceedings, not shorten them.

  As soon as he reported his son’s abduction to the Free Nation’s Board of Senators they would revoke his position as leader of the diplomatic mission. They would send a replacement, but the fact that their diplomats were not as safe as they had been led to believe would seriously damage the Tula’s image in the Free Nation’s eyes.

  In any case, the Free Nation would not be cheated politically over the disappearance of a young man who was, in the end, unimportant to them. They would sympathise solemnly, but they would not allow their fine scruples to impair their judgement.

  What would happen to Ben then?

  “I must contact the Free Nation immediately.”

  Councillor Ladron waved the suggestion aside.

  “It has been done already.”

  Philip fell back into the cushioned bed, his eyes narrowing.

  “Who will they send as my replacement?”

  Councillor Ladron remained curiously still for some time.

  “I'm afraid I don’t understand the question, Senator Burton.”

  Philip saw the sudden frown that entered Ladron’s eyes and knew a moment of pleasure. He’d been correct in his reading of Corbani Va Dic Ladron's plans.

  “With my son in danger I will no longer be considered impartial.” He took a certain grim satisfaction in finishing his sentence. “Therefore I will be relieved of my position.”

  Councillor Ladron accepted this information with icy calm.

  “Then I will make preparation for your replacement’s arrival.” He inclined his head slightly. “Now I will leave you to rest.”

  Philip was still for a long time after Councillor Ladron had left.

  Was Ben still alive?

  Would he ever get him back safely?

  Was this the work of the Una or was it really Councillor Ladron’s scheming?

  Philip looked down at the pristine white sheet that covered him and shivered. Had Ben been dispatched, efficiently removed by the Tula government, as if he had been nothing more than a coffee stain blotting their spotless façade?

  For some reason he felt that he would rather have Ben at the mercy of the Una than Councillor Ladron. He was almost certain that Councillor Ladron had no mercy in his soul.

  Chapter Twenty

  The Una

  Astra woke up to the sound of birds singing. She shuffled lazily, trying to recapture the oblivion of sleep that hovered tantalisingly within reach. The chirping was too loud, too insistent… and wrong.

  She scrambled upright quickly. There was no dawn chorus in the Tula Strongholds. Memories flooded back, some welcome, others less so, as she studied the bedroom she found herself in.

  It was large; polished wood gleamed on the floor in light and dark colours laid out in intricate patterns. The ceiling was low, the roof curving up into an apex, and the beams polished to a warm rich red. The walls had several wooden supports, heavily ornamented with lotus blooms and maple trees. Between the supports was a lighter wood. The large expanses of pale wood were carved with different images. One depicted a garden, another a stream, and another a waterfall.

  She reached out to touch the cover on the bed. It was velvet, with patches of gorgeous jewel hues sewn together in a beautiful abstract pattern. Heavily embroidered curtains framed full-length windows, and the low platform before the fire held an array of brightly coloured silk cushions.

  Astra’s eyes feasted on the vibrant colours. Their warmth was both familiar and yet strange to her, like a distant half forgotten memory that she only realised now, she had been yearning for. Her surroundings were comforting, giving her a feeling of home that she had never experienced within the confines
of the Tula Strongholds.

  She closed her eyes, remembering a different, less friendly room. She remembered the boy who owned this house, the boy who was her brother. Astra’s throat tightened as she thought of the baby her brother had been. Warm, soft and vulnerable; that was her brother, not the young man that had brought her here yesterday. He was a stranger.

  A knock sounded on the door, and Astra pulled the bedclothes more firmly around herself, before granting whoever stood outside entrance to the room.

  A maid stepped into the room, bowing respectfully, and Astra felt the tension that had flooded her ebb away.

  “I have brought your clothes, Dam’sel.” The maid carefully draped the dress over the back of a chair.

  “Headman Singh has requested your presence at the breaking of the fast.”

  As she spoke she pushed open the door of the en-suite.

  Astra found herself obediently slipping out from under the covers before she realised that her foster-family had not been mentioned.

  “And my family?”

  The girl struggled to mask her distaste.

  “They will take their food here in the west wing.”

  Astra nodded thoughtfully.

  “Very well.”

  She closed the door of the en-suite softly. Her first instinct had been to refuse to fall in with her brother’s request. Yet years of trying to keep the boat steady with Councillor Ladron had taught her that rash actions made untidy ends.

  She had her family safe. No good would come of her antagonising Rem more than she already had. She must seek to be reasonable, to build a bridge of understanding between herself and her brother.

  She dressed slowly, taking the time to settle her nerves and gather her composure, shrouding herself in calm.

  When she entered her bedroom once more she noticed a hastily suppressed expression of disapproval cross the girl’s face. Astra gave no sign of having noticed, but gestured that the girl should show her the way to the breakfast room.

  The servant girl led her to the east wing, not a room on the ground level as she had expected, but one on the first floor.

  The girl knocked firmly once, and then opened the door, and stepped back to allow Astra to enter.