Rise of the Forgotten Sun

by Jon Monson

  There was no available information on the country’s economy, but Byanca was sure it must be the weakest in the world. The few Gorteons in Joon’s little band spoke of a life of hardship. There was never enough to eat, and they were worked like slaves.

  The centuries of isolation and bellicose rhetoric had not endeared Gorteo to its neighbors. Five years ago when Joon had led this small group of refugees over the mountains into Genodra, most members of the Senate had wanted to send them back. Byanca had worked hard to convince her father - then an influential Senator - to let them stay.

  While the Senate had allowed them to remain in Genodra under political asylum, the prejudice of the common people was much harder to overcome. No landlords in the city would rent apartments to Gorteons. No merchant or factory master would employ them. So the only employment they had was from their peculiar skill, which they only referred to as the Ability.

  “My lady,” Joon said suddenly behind her and ready for the journey. “I am ready and at your service until I am no longer required.”

  “You have my thanks,” Byanca responded, glad that he had left the “princess” nonsense in their subterranean home.

  She led the man to the palace, the journey much slower as she had to force Askari to maintain a slower pace. Even still, Joon had to jog just to keep up. This didn’t seem to bother him in the slightest.

  After what felt like an eternity - but in reality was only half an hour - they arrived in Aydiin’s apartments. Byanca felt herself grow weak again at the sight. Seeing it again, it was obvious there was a struggle of some sort within the rooms.

  Joon followed her into the room and began pacing on the hardwood floor. He examined every corner of the room, eventually opening the double doors to the balcony. He certainly was thorough.

  “Yes, it’s all very clear, my lady,” he began, still distracted by the room. “Several men have been in here quite recently, all leaving very distinct residues. One is quite lovely - almost delicious. The others are foul, foul enough to make the city’s sewers smell sweet in comparison. Then there is another that I can’t quite decide how it tastes - I think it’s because even he doesn’t know.”

  Byanca didn’t really understand what Joon was saying. How could someone leave a residue? How could he taste where someone had been? Joon would sometimes give her cryptic explanations, but he had little patience - or perhaps little desire - when it came to explaining the Ability.

  “Do you know which one I’m searching for?” she asked hesitantly.

  “I believe so. It is the delicious residue, I assume, since it is all over you,” Joon winked. “This man must be very special, indeed.”

  Byanca blushed, although she was unsure as to why.

  “Do you know where he went?” Byanca asked, overcoming her sudden embarrassment.

  “Of course,” the little man answered. “He used that bedsheet rope to descent to the courtyard. He was accompanied by the not so savory men.”

  “Well, then. Let’s go where he goes!”

  The next few days would be difficult, but she would find Aydiin. If he was in trouble, she would save him. If not, she would likely beat him to a bloody pulp. Either way, she was going to marry him.

  Chapter 16

  Barrick awoke as the grey light of dawn began to peek in through the window. He dressed silently, grabbed his small pack, and opened the door, which made a small squeak, much to his displeasure. He turned to look at the woman with whom he had spent the night.

  Her dark hair framed a porcelain face, and he was pleased to see she was as beautiful in the cold light of morning as she had been the previous evening in the dimly lit common room. The rumors of Genodran women being picky had been true, and he was particularly proud of this conquest. However, he was glad to be off before she awoke.

  Aydiin had always joked that mornings didn’t exist to Barrick. Generally, he did his best to avoid the early hours, but when the incentives were strong enough, he could beat a rooster out of bed. As he descended the stairs of the inn where he had spent the night, his heart began to feel lighter. He really did hate having to make up stories to get away from a woman in the morning.

  As early as it felt to Barrick, the bar maids were already up and cleaning the common room. The inn was one of the nicer establishments in the city, only about a block away from the Palace. The common room was tastefully decorated, with wood paneling and oil paintings. The bed had been soft and the food delectable. Overall, it was much nicer than the seedier places he had frequented back in Maradon.

  Barrick bounded down the stairs and through the common room before anybody could acknowledge his presence. He didn’t want any questions. Those led to discomfort.

  He squinted against the bright morning sunshine as he stepped out onto the city streets, which were already beginning to bustle with activity. Automobiles zoomed around, honking and growling in their pursuit of a timely arrival. This city was much too focused on efficiency.

  After stopping for a quick breakfast pastry – the flaky dough filled with meat and cheese really had made the trip worth it - he began making his way towards the Doge’s Palace. He could use a nice bath and it was about time he saw the rooms that had been so graciously prepared for him. Besides, he couldn’t leave his best friend alone for too long with that woman.

  Aydiin was going to face reality sooner or later. Yes, Byanca was beautiful, but Aydiin was bound to start seeing her flaws soon enough. And when that happened, Barrick needed to be there to get his friend away from this city.

  Licking the pastry juices from his fingers, he strolled up to the Palace gates, where a rather surly looking soldier stood guard holding a rifle as if he knew how to use it.

  “Keep moving, citizen,” the soldier said as Barrick stopped in front of him.

  “But I’m going inside, mate,” Barrick smiled at the man as he licked off the last of juices that had fallen from his pastry.

  “I don’t think so,” the guard replied, stepping in front of the gate.

  “Now I don’t wanna get yeh in trouble er nothing, but I’m ‘ere with that Salatian prince who just arrived,” Barrick drawled, laying his Albonan accent on thickly. He found it helped people get over their suspicions for some reason – maybe because they just liked the way it sounded.

  “Well if you’re here with him, why aren’t you already inside?” the guard jeered. “Please, move along. Don’t make me force you to move along.”

  “Alright, I’ll move along,” Barrick said. “I just hope Aydiin doesn’t feed you to Askari – I’ve seen that kerton swallow a man whole before.”

  Barrick smiled as the man paled slightly, the realization dawning on his face.

  “My apologies, Mr. Fortescue,” the guard stammered. “I didn’t realize that was you. I was told of Aydiin’s Albonan friend, but I didn’t know it was you.”

  He moved out of the way, gesturing for Barrick to enter the palace grounds. He even bowed slightly, something out of the ordinary for a Genodran soldier. Barrick smiled as he strode past the man.

  “Yer doing a good job, mate,” Barrick said. “As a friend to the Doge and his family, I’m sure glad yeh didn’t just let me in the first time.”

  Barrick continued walking without turning to see the man’s reaction. He made his way through the grounds and through a little side entrance close to Aydiin’s apartments. He hoped to catch his friend still in bed, just to show the prince that he did in fact know what a sunrise looked like.

  As he walked through the hallway, he was surprised to see the door wide open. He peeked around the corner to see two maids – one young and the other old enough to be her mother - cleaning up the room. Furtive whispers filled the room as the two cleaned.

  “I think he just ran away,” the older one said, sweeping the hardwood floor with a broom. “Did you know that his father sent him here as a punishment? Imagine the nerve to think that marrying Lady Byanca is a punishment.”

  “But he seemed like such a nice man,” the yo
unger girl spoke as she scrubbed one of the thick wool rugs with a heavy brush. “How do you get mango out of these fibers, mum? It’s so mashed in, I can hardly tell what’s fruit and what’s wool.”

  “Oh, don’t worry too much about that,” the older woman said. “They just don’t want the room to look so bad – a little stain on a rug won’t be too noticeable. Besides, we can just move it to the bedroom.”

  “Oi Aydiin,” Barrick said, strolling into the room, pretending that he hadn’t been standing just outside. “How is my friend on this fine morn –“

  He stopped mid-word in what he hoped was a believable show of surprise. It wasn’t too hard, since their words had left him more than confused. Things just tended to get awkward when someone knew you’d been listening in on a private conversation.

  “Citizen Aydiin isn’t here,” the older woman said. She was definitely past her prime, but still very pretty in her own way with dark brown hair done up in a bun and a plump figure.

  “You’ll have to return later, Mr. Fortescue,” the daughter said. She looked like an exact copy of her mother, only younger. Even the expression on her face was the same – rather severe and daring him to stay.

  “If it’s all the same to you, I’d rather just wait for him,” Barrick said, looking around the room. “He sure knows how to make a mess.”

  The room was still too messy. A broken chair sat in a neat little heap, ready to be taken to the trash bin. Curtains still sat piled in a corner, the fabric torn and slashed. Something was obviously wrong.

  He sat down on the small sofa despite a rather intense glare from the older maid. The younger girl gave a quick smile that Barrick caught, but she looked away quickly. She really was rather pretty, but Barrick forced himself to survey the room.

  Beyond the tattered curtains, smashed chair and crushed fruit, there wasn’t much out of the ordinary. Aydiin’s duffel bag was missing from the spot where his friend had set it down upon arrival. That didn’t mean much, though.

  A cloud moved in the sky, allowing a new ray of sun to stream in through the window. A glint of something on the floor underneath the desk caught Barrick’s eye – it looked like a small piece of gold. Stretching and yawning, he arose to his feet.

  “I think I’ll just leave the old boy a quick note,” he said, more to himself than to the maids. It was, however, for their benefit.

  He strolled over to the desk as casually as was possible before grabbing a pen and paper. Writing a quick note, wondering if Aydiin would ever see it, he then let the pen slip from his hands and onto the floor. Dropping to his hands and knees, he grabbed the pen and the gold. He rose to his feet, depositing the coin into his pocket while dropping the pen back onto the desk.

  “As you were, ladies. You two do great work,” he said, giving a quick wink to the older of the two – a wink at the daughter could potentially lead to the mother coming at him with that broom. Just to be safe, he exited quickly all the same.

  As he strode through the hallway, he itched to pull out the small piece of gold and examine it further. He had to keep reminding himself he was in a public place where any set of prying eyes could see. No, it was best to take it to a more private location.

  His feet took him to the quarters that had been prepared for him, although he’d barely set foot in there. He’d only taken the time to stash his few belonging in a corner of the room before taking off to explore the sprawling metropolis. Yet for now, it would more than serve his purposes.

  Closing the door, he pulled the gold out from his pocket. It was a small coin – a medallion, actually – made from pure gold. Yet it wasn’t precious metal that had caught his eye, but the insignia he suspected to be imprinted upon it.

  Three ravens encircling the sun. The image sent a chill down his spine, and he knew what had to be done. He didn’t like it one bit.

  Mind racing, he sped out of the rooms, through the hallways, and out into the palace grounds. Nodding to the same guard who had made it so difficult to enter, Barrick left the palace grounds completely.

  Palmas was far too large and noisy for his tastes, but it did hold a wealth of information – if you knew where to look for it. He hailed a taxi cab and a clunky black automobile pulled up along the sidewalk.

  “Can yeh take me to the financial district, mate?” Barrick asked the driver, who was dressed in a black suit that had seen better days and held a half-smoked cigar in between his teeth.

  “I can take you anywhere you need to go,” the taxi driver smiled, keeping the cigar firmly in place.

  “Can you take me to those who wait and obey?” Barrick asked. The man’s face narrowed, his eyebrow raised.

  “If you have the proper payment,” the man replied finally. Barrick tossed the coin he’d found in Aydiin’s rooms and the man caught it in mid-air before examining it closely. After a moment, he looked up and motioned for Barrick to climb in.

  He did so, closing the door to the backseat behind him. He had taken a risk, and he was about to take even more of them. It was a dark road he was about to descend.

  His mind thought about the gravity of this decision as the taxi sped through the city streets. He couldn’t even enjoy the skyscrapers as they drove right underneath them. There was nothing beyond the worry.

  The taxi pulled into a back alley, a service road for a row of large mansions. The front entrance to the estates were on the stately main avenues, but the alleys were used for trash removal and the goings and comings of servants. The location made sense in Barrick’s mind.

  “You have found the Seekers,” the driver muttered. Barrick slipped a few bank notes into the man’s hand, who returned the golden coin in the same motion. Nothing more needed to be said.

  He exited the taxi to see a cellar door with a thick lock on it. The driver nodded his head toward the door and drove off. Barrick waited for the taxi to disappear around a corner before turning to the locked door.

  He shouldn’t have been surprised by the difficulty to enter. A taxi driver, even one with this kind of knowledge, wouldn’t be trusted to bring him to an open entrance. The lock wasn’t a problem, but it did make his stomach turn.

  Barrick took a deep breath and once again looked around to make sure nobody was watching. Then, he Lurched, and his stomach roiled in protest. Yet it calmed after only a moment.

  He found himself inside the dark stairwell going down underneath the building. His eyes blinked furiously, trying to adjust to the sudden change in lighting. He was nearly blind.

  Barrick had never told anyone else - not even Aydiin - that he was a Lurcher. It was possible that his father knew, but he had never said as much. Then again, his father said very little.

  Lurching was the ability that came from Hermnes – the God of Travelers. It was the rarest of the eight stones, and Barrick had never met another with his ability. Learning had been difficult, to say the least.

  Lurchers were blessed with the gift of movement - he could move a few feet in any direction he chose instantly and without regard to anything blocking his path. He enjoyed the power when he was out in the open air, although its main use came from going through walls. He liked that part less, as it always made his stomach do flips. Sometimes it even left him vomiting uncontrollably.

  He breathed a sigh of relief as he made sure that he still all had his body parts. Lurching into an unfamiliar room could be disastrous. He could have appeared in the middle of a chair or even another person. Needless to say that the sudden melding of two humans was not something he wanted to see, let alone experience.

  As his eyes grew used to the dim lighting, he was able to survey his surroundings. He was on a rickety wood staircase that descended several spans before leveling out in a hallway. Lantern light was visible near the end of the hallway, and he decided that’s where he should be. Worried that his footsteps would be heard, he Lurched silently down the stairs.

  Upon reaching the end of the hallway, he carefully peeked into the room holding the source of the lantern ligh
t. He was surprised to see a bare electric light bulb hanging from the ceiling, and he reminded himself he was in a much more civilized country. Even cellars here had electric lights.

  The room was rather small, and it certainly looked like a converted cellar. Three large brutes huddled around a rough wooden table playing cards. A haze of tobacco smoke hung over the room.

  “I still don't see why they couldn't just kill the little worm,” one of the thugs grunted. “It would have been so much easier than trying to capture him.”

  “What, so you could take his pretty little Stone?” Another man sneered. “You'd like that, wouldn't you? You'd leave us to face the wrath of the Master, or worse.”

  “Of course not,” the first thug shot back. “What do you take me for? An idiot with a death wish?”

  Barrick was relieved to hear that Aydiin was not dead, at least, if they were in fact discussing his friend. It was more than possible that they were discussing a different person, but it didn’t seem likely.

  A revolver clicked, and Barrick felt cold steel press into his back.

  “Now don’t try anything funny,” a voice behind him whispered, accompanied by hot, moist breath. Rough hands grabbed his arm and shoved him into the room.

  Of course they would have a guard. You can’t get sloppy, old boy, Barrick thought as he stumbled into the dimly lit room.

  As he entered the room, the three thugs quickly rose to their feet, brandishing their own revolvers. A look of surprise adorned each of their faces. It was accompanied by anger as those revolvers were immediately pointed at him.

  If there was one thing that Barrick loved more than a beautiful woman, it was a beautiful gun. If these guns were women, he would have refused a dance – albeit politely – in order to avoid being crushed by such a large and powerful creature. The revolvers were Potens, an Albonan weapon smith known for making bulky weapons powerful enough to crush bones and loud enough to wake up a village.