“What Highness?” Marquos asks, noting a look of shock that passes over Lian’s face.
“What a funny thing to say,” Goreth says. “The one true Highness of Kand, of course. Elzia.”
“I take it she’s not the one from the Fretop Clan?”
“The High Breaths?” Goreth looks at Lian, amused. Lian shrinks away to the side. “They are nothing. They do not know the first thing about the heritage of our nation.”
“Whatever,” Marquos rolls his eyes, “I’m not harbouring rebels.”
“I am no rebel, just as I’m sure my friend has told you he is not. We do not fight against authority. We fight for our rightful freedom. Some fight better than others. Give me a moment, give me a moment and I can explain. You obviously need some educating if you don’t even know of our high leader.”
Marquos narrows his eyes, looking over the two Kands. He turns back to Red, crouches before her, and says quietly “Go back to bed, honey, I’ll come get you in a moment.” Red nods obediently and rushes away, and he closes the door behind her. Marquos points the hammer at Goreth and says “He’s already told me some nonsense tonight, about wars I’ve never heard happening. Let’s hear if you’re any different.”
Goreth gestures to a seat, “It’s been a long day, do you mind?” Marquos nods to him and the Kand sits. Lian edges away, up against a wall, slumped and nervous. Goreth begins, “They routed us near Thesteran, where we were preparing for an attack. Someone in our numbers betrayed us. Highness Elzia had managed to inspire a number of clans to unite, and we were about to make a breakthrough, to the heart of the Border Guard’s forces, where they were amassing to attack Byfraze from Thesteran.”
“Your war isn’t my business,” Marquos interrupts, “Don’t expect me to sympathise with you.”
“Unless you work with the Border Guard, I don’t expect you to even know what you’re sympathising with,” Goreth says. “They have been slaughtering our people for seasons. Attacking relentlessly, without mercy, only to drive us further into poverty and chaos. Highness Elzia rose from the greatest of our clans to provide the leadership we needed, and I was happy to serve with her. I have been fighting in Estalia for almost two seasons now, and this was the first time they have managed to route us. I was to be taken to the Towers in the Metropolis, no doubt for torture. I don’t know what happened on the boat, I guess they ran ashore in the Shroud, and we were able to escape. I have been running for days. All I ask from you is passage back towards Thesteran, or as close as you are going. I mean you no harm, my fight is with the Border Guard and not your country’s citizens.”
“You’ve stepped onto my boat uninvited, and as good as threatened me,” Marquos says. “Why should I help you?”
“I won’t lie to you, I ain’t about to leave on account of making you feel uncomfortable. I need transport and you happen to be here, whether you like it or not. I mean you no harm, but if you will not help me you’ll bring trouble on yourself.”
“There’s two of us here, and the Border Guard patrols won’t be far away.”
“That whelp is no more use to you than the child in back,” Goreth looks to Lian, leaning back in his seat, “But you have no need to fight me. I will not cause you trouble, and I guarantee to keep any more like us from your boat. Trouble is what I am here to avoid, after all.”
Marquos eyes him carefully, considering his options, and Lian interjects “You’re no friend of the Guard, Marquos, I know that! Think of those mines, and the horrors of the Metropolis. Would you wish that on everyone?”
Goreth gives him a knowing look, but says no more, waiting for Marquos’ decision. He begins to nod slowly and says “I’m heading to the Meth Fields, then on to the North. To the Deadland. Not through Thesteran.”
“What do you want to be doing there?” Goreth asks with surprise. “You got a death wish, boy?”
“I can’t see it being any more dangerous than harbouring two Kandish rebels,” Marquos replies. “The Border Guard searched this boat just yesterday.”
“They’re on the water, then?” Goreth is not alarmed.
“Yes.”
“Makes sense. Their road transports are useless. The Road Guard have done a terrible job of making anything of the world north of Hasseran. I saw a Border Guard steam-wagon a few kilometres from here, a wheel had fallen clean off and they didn’t have the tools to repair it.”
Marquos does not respond directly, saying “It’ll be another day before I can reach the Meth Fields, at least. If you think you can stay on this boat, hidden, for that duration, then I guess I can allow it. If, however, you bring any harm to us, especially to the child, I will raise hell against you.”
“I ask nothing more,” Goreth rises, clasping his hands together, pleased. “You’ve my word as a Kand, your help will make us friends, and we look after our friends.”
Marquos keeps a level stare on the newcomer, still untrusting, before backing away to the rear room. He leans his head in to see Red sat on the bed, eagerly awaiting him, and he calls out “Honey, I want you to go back to sleep. You need your rest. I’m going to keep this door closed, okay?”
“Is there danger ahead?” Red asks.
“Not at all,” Marquos smiles, reaching around for the key to the door. He places it in, pulling the door to, and whispers, “But if I lock this door, it will be warmer for you, and keep nicer dreams circling around your head. Okay?”
Red smiles, and ducks back down under the covers as Marquos locks the door and turns away. He tells the two Kands, “Don’t approach this door. Don’t even speak towards it. We’re moving away now.”
“It’s night out there,” Goreth says, “And the Shroud is upon us.”
“Then you should both be prepared to help me pilot this thing. Come on.”
11
Smoke rolls from the pipes and mingles with the fog that hangs around them as the boat hurtles on across the water. They head into heavily wooded terrain, surrounded by dark, looming trees. Goreth decides to duck down into the boat to rest, claiming exhaustion, and Marquos allows it. Lian remains on the deck, eyes as dartingly nervous as when he had first set foot on the boat. Marquos could see, the whole time that they had been in Goreth’s presence, that Lian was bursting to say something about him, but was too frightened to bring it up.
“He’s serious business, isn’t he?” Marquos prompts, the Kand remaining reluctant to speak. Lian looks down to the door, then back to Marquos, biting his lip with anxiety. He nods hurriedly, and gives a hushed reply “I had heard that one of Elzia’s generals was on board the prison boat. I didn’t know who it was.”
“You didn’t think it would be worth mentioning to me before?”
Lian pauses, frowning, then shakes his head quickly, “Not at all not at all. I told you of the rebellions around Thesteran. He is one of their leaders. I am so glad you did not strike him, please don’t cause any trouble. He could be incredibly dangerous.”
“If you’re so afraid of one man, then it’s no surprise your Fretops aren’t faring too well.”
“He is a Dread,” Lian hisses, “The most savage fighters in the whole of Kand. Possibly in the whole of the known world.”
“I guess he can’t be trusted then.”
Lian shuffles on the spot, screwing his eyes closed, and answers “I don’t know, I don’t know. He’s like me, he will want to stay hidden, he has a cause to get back to, so he shouldn’t court trouble. He shouldn’t. But the Dread Clan earned their name, they are a terrible people. It should weigh on your conscience to help them.”
Marquos glowers at Lian for a moment, then gestures a hand towards the cabin and says “By all means, you’re welcome to tell him to leave, if helping him makes you feel uncomfortable.” Lian stares back, trembling slightly, and Marquos goes on “Or you can find your own way, if you like.”
“There’s no need to be like that,” Lian mutters.
“This high leader of yours, is she a Dread too?”
“Elzia?” L
ian raises an eyebrow, then scoffs. “She is no high leader of mine. She is not a Dread, no. They formed an allegiance with her people, in the riots of Byfraze, and agreed she was the rightful heir to the Byfraze throne. The five main clans involved in the riots agreed, not anyone else. It is they who went on to attack Thesteran. They are the source of much of the rebellion you hear of. They’re the ones of my people who think fighting the Estalian rule is more important than deciding who amongst us could replace you.”
“What were these riots in Byfraze?”
Lian gives Marquos a strange look, acknowledging that the greatest troubles of his people are not known to others. He says “It started with fighting between the Gentars and the Dread Clan, in the streets. The Border Guard were present, demanded order, and killed a number of Kands from both sides of the conflict. The people of Byfraze reacted violently. The riots lasted for almost a moon, and the Border Guard were all but driven from the city before their floating castles arrived. Half of the city was destroyed. In all the fighting, some natural leaders emerged, and Elzia was one of them. She comes from a wealthier, smaller clan, they call themselves the Rulers. Without joking. They are not usually fighters, but I hear Elzia is a very charismatic leader. A lady to be feared, by all accounts. All the clans were driven from the city, and rather than resume fighting there they took the war to Estalia.”
“It’s madness,” Marquos shakes his head in disbelief, “What is anyone even fighting for? Place names? Honour? Nothing will change when one person is deposed by another, the same suppliers supply and the same consumers consume.”
“Yes, well, we all know that Estalia lost all sense of community long ago. I don’t know how you do it. If I didn’t have something to believe in, this darkness would consume me.”
“Lian,” Marquos says, “Even if you restored your family name to some kind of power, it wouldn’t make the sun shine brighter. Nothing we can do is going to change it.”
“I don’t want to change the darkness,” Lian looks away, wistfully, “I just want to live in a just world.”
“Forget about it,” Marquos tells him.
The pair are silent as the Hypnagogia chugs along through the water. For a time, all that fills the air is the sound of the boat’s turning engine and the waves that lap against its hull as they press through the trees into the mist. The twisted shapes around them seem unreal in this light. Lian starts to shiver and rubs his own arms.
“You don’t have to stay up here,” Marquos tells him.
“I’d rather,” Lian murmurs back. He pauses for a moment, then asks “Marquos?”
“What?”
“What’s an elephant?”
Marquos looks at the Kand and sees childish innocence in the man’s eyes. Lian truly doesn’t know, and the pilot answers sympathetically, “You’ve never heard of them?”
“No.”
“It’s an animal. They talk about them in the Eastern Tracts, but I’ve never met anyone who’s seen one, dead or alive. Supposed to be enormous beasts. I think they lived in warm climates, though, so no doubt they’re all gone now.”
Lian takes the information with careful interest, as though willing himself to remember it. He whispers to himself, “Elephant.”
The pilot continues looking at him. The Kand rarely looks back, and when he does his nervous eyes fly away to the shadows with panic. Marquos is thinking over how strange a character this man is, when he spies a light in the distance. The pilot leaps to his feet and narrows his eyes to see the orange glow through the mist. Lian flinches away from him, reacting as though about to be hit, then follows Marquos’ stare out towards the trees. The shadows are thick and high around them, but the glow beyond is unmistakable, and the dense cloud above it is clearly smoke, mingling with the mist. Without a word, Marquos leaps down the stairs to disengage the engine. It takes him only a few moments, before he is back on the deck and steering towards the side of the canal.
“What are you doing?” Lian asks anxiously, “Why stop?”
Marquos does not answer, the hull of the Hypnagogia bumping into the shore and coming to a halt. He jumps over the side of the boat and hurries to tie it off, as Goreth comes yawning out from the cabin.
“What is this?” he demands, “We’ve barely got going.”
“Over there,” Lian replies meekly, pointing towards the glow. Goreth frowns at it, then moves to the edge of the boat to see Marquos securing the mooring.
“What kind of craziness are you up to, boy?” Goreth growls. Marquos points up at him, stopping on the shore, and answers, “You two are coming with me, we’re going to see what it is.”
“It’s a fire, any fool could tell you that,” Goreth replies. “We’ve got no purpose going towards a fire.”
“There could be people in trouble.”
“And what? Better that we’re not amongst them.”
“I- I have to agree,” Lian adds.
Marquos stands still, looking up at them both, and finally considers his situation. He says “In these mists, every event warrants investigation. Where there’s fire, there’s people, and it pays to know who surrounds you. Besides which, something must have caused that fire, and there may be something left behind.”
Goreth eyes him back, “You’re a scavenger, aren’t you? Of course. This is hardly the time for it, though.”
“I’m not arguing. You two are coming with me, I’m not leaving you here.”
“And if someone were to find this boat whilst we’re away?”
“Do you think I never leave it? It’s got locks, and there’s few men wandering these woods that would know how to start her up anyway. And I’d sooner chance those people than leave you with it.”
Goreth shakes his head, disappointed, and vaults over the edge of the boat onto the shore. He looks Marquos up and down and growls, “So be it. Come on, Fretop.”
Lian hesitates, but does not complain, following the pair.
“Do you at least have some weapons?”
“I’ve never needed any,” Marquos replies, heading into the tree line. The pair of Kands follow him as he begins to navigate through the darkness. Even amongst the thicket of woodland, the glow is visible ahead of them, starting to light up the sky as they progress. Ducking under a branch, Goreth mutters “I was down looking at your boat before. It’s a piece of work, like nothing I’ve seen. I’d club you over the head right now and take it but there’s no chance I’d be able to operate it.”
Goreth lets out a loud laugh, and Marquos spins back towards him raising a stern finger “Keep quiet. I’d expect a fighter to know better.”
Goreth stares him down but does fall silent. They proceed through the trees without further comment, and soon the sound of crackling fire can be heard. Marquos slows down as they draw nearer to the scene, an orange glow sifting out from behind the tree trunks ahead. He holds up a hand for the others to slow too, as they come to a wide clearing. Marquos and Goreth press up against two trees, leaning around them to take in the scene, as Lian slips back, hiding.
The trees drop away to a flat plain, where a building is encircled by the woodland. It stands painted in uproarious flames that dance high into the air before being swallowed up by the black smoke that pours out above. The shape of the simple home is barely recognisable in the inferno, and the heat is intense enough to be felt from the very edge of the clearing. Aside from the building, on a patch of grass lit yellow by the fire, three men are howling and parading back and forth. One of them holds a bottle high to the air, laughing and joking. Another is struggling on the floor, limbs sticking out from under him as he makes drunken attempts at brash romance. Their accents are distinctly Kandish.
“These are your men,” Marquos whispers aside, squinting against the blaze. His eyes water as the smoke stings them. Across from the house he sees a shed, door swung open and tools strewn in front of it. The third man in the clearing is staggering about them, lifting and swinging a hammer with great amusement.
“There were
men on that boat who deserved to be there,” Goreth whispers back. “These are not people I would associate with.”
“The hell they aren’t,” Marquos scoffs back, “What Kand would be in this area if not for your rebel cause?”
“They have rebel causes of their own.”
“I’m going for that shed.”
Goreth looks at him as though he is crazy, as Marquos goes to slip past, and questions, “Why?”
“I survive by capitalising on opportunities like this. Hell, everyone does these days.”
“And if they spot you?”
“To hell with them.”
Goreth puts a hand on Marquos’ arm and gives him a stern glower, “I would rather we left. I told you I’d prefer to be discrete right now.”
Marquos shakes him off and snaps back, “I wouldn’t do it if I couldn’t do it discretely.”
He turns and rushes on through the trees as the Kands watch. He slips from tree to tree, noiselessly, until he is up alongside the shed. Crouching, he looks out to the tools on the floor and sees a selection of axes and saws. Amongst them is what appears to be a liquid-powered drill, a motor with a large pipe sprouting from the front. Marquos sets his eyes on it and waits for an opportunity to pounce. He looks over to the three Kands in the clearing and pauses. The one on the floor is wrestling. A scream finally comes out from under him and Marquos sees the lady. Her head rolled back against the floor, her face wet with blood and tears, her eyes lull towards him. She cries out in fear and pain. The Kand has her hands pinned to the floor and is brutishly licking the side of her face. Marquos looks from the tools to her. The Kand is shifting across her waist, clawing at her. His square head, topped with a patch of overgrown hair, is cut in deep ugly shadows by the light of the fire. One of his cohorts is stood alongside, his back to Marquos, watching with cackling laughter. The final one is dancing towards the flames, madly oblivious. Marquos rushes out from the trees to the tools and lifts the drilling device with a heave. It is heavier than expected, but he manages to lift it and runs back to cover without stalling. Leaning against the tree, he scans the item up and down. The pipe isn’t a drill at all, but a borer, a spike deep in the tube ready to pump out at the pull of a lever. The girl screams again. Marquos looks back over his shoulder towards the scene and sees the Kand rearing up over her with a wicked leer.
Wixon's Day Page 7
