by R Corona
In the midst of their delight, silent whimpers broke through like a mysterious stranger. The crowd gasped in unison when the prisoner gathered his last drops of energy and uttered: “A body can be enslaved, but the mind, spirit and soul can only be enslaved by its possessor. I have set mine free, for the Carrier of Hope stands in the crowd today. Let me die a worthy death because I die in Honor of the Carrier of Hope. Among all evil, hope is the brightening doubt.”
The guard, left dumbfounded, did not appreciate looking like an unprepared idiot in front of the crowd. He stabbed the prisoner again to extinguish any hopeful doubt, demonstrating the force of power was on his side. Across the platform, the golden cloak flowed in the wind, behind her quick paced steps. With her, the beasts left. While admiring the contrast of the tracks of blood running on the platform against the fleeting flash of gold, the voice of the prisoner returned. His eyes had closed and his body was hunched over, held up only by shackles. I heard his broken cries unite with mine. His repentance was only due to not being able to shield me away from witnessing his death.
The life of this man, as it ended, was complete. Without seeing or hearing me, he knew I had stood before him, strong and determined. I, however, having seen his face and having heard his voice, could not realize my father had been murdered in front of my eyes. Later that night, with the light of the moon, I found my bag in-between the corpses. Inside it, was the dagger given to me by Jacknell: for the one who carries hope. Then, I knew. This time the words became engraved forever in my mind.
Chapter Eleven
A wave of heat rushing through the cell bars awakened me to find myself laid on the floor among the others. My head had been resting on the pile of body bags, thrown by the entrance of a prison chamber. Everyone else stayed motionless, comforted by the warmth of the cell, not knowing our trip had ended in a Fexorrian prison. With the help of the bars I was able to pull myself off the ground and peek through, but the halls between the holding cells were empty; empty and bright. The brightness scared me. Though it felt warm, the warmth appeared unnatural, synthetic and rather cold. As I turned to look at the rest of the people traveling with us, Brox’s body twitched. His eyes opened wide and he examined the cage that surrounded us.
“Where are we and why do I feel so weak?”
“This is it, Brox. We’re in.”
“I hope you don’t mean the Royal House, because we are in jail, and unless Seb Creat welcomes his guests by throwing them in a cage, I don’t see us getting out alive.” There was nothing left to lose but our lives, and trapped in Fexorrous, a life was not much to have. At least we were inside the same walls as the man who, Dez claimed, had captured my grandmother and mother. Being so close to evil felt less and less fearful. The proximity blazed like a waving torch, spreading its fire on all that needed to burn. Scorched first, was every drop of mercy and morality in my being. Next would be that man, his followers, all he stood for. Included was everything he had touched and everyone close to him because no good could surround him. My eyes would not see rest until his empire fell to ashes. I feared that even his ashes were evil and capable of reassembling his spirit. So the ashes were to be burned again, with white fire from a star illuminating the Halls of Existence. The remains would wield a crown to be placed on my head; I should be the next and only queen. To rule in goodness one must know and hold all evil on top of her head. “Do you think we are doing the right thing?” The others still slept and Brox took the time to question everything we had believed in for the past days, which to me felt like an eternity. Nothing or anyone could derange my thoughts, I was focused and determined and no one could make me believe otherwise. I knew what I had to do and it wasn’t because Dez had convinced me. My convictions were not in honor of my father, neither were they to save my mother, cousin, or grandmother. They also had nothing to do with the members or with residents of Fexorrous, whose brains and souls had been bandaged and deprived of the body’s life source. This was the right thing to do for me, yet I couldn’t answer his question.
My shoulders shrugged and he noticed the millions of thoughts firing at the speed of light through my body. We were clueless, having stuck our heads nose first in a predicament where the outcome would likely go in favor of Lord Creat and his army. How could Brox or I ever think about overthrowing the Ruler of Fexorrous? I didn’t even know where to start looking for my mother. Observing Dez’ body sleep, I realized that without him, we were less than an inconvenience to the Royal House.
The Magician had covered all his corners to make sure no action could be taken against him. Dez was incapable of trust. We had absolutely no idea what the plan was once in Fexorrous. What now? He had never filled us in and it was his plan we were following like two sightless rats. Even more worrisome was the more probable theory, where there was no plan after arriving. Dez was infamous for not having plans, he waited for ideas to fall into place as he went along.
“June, there’s something I must do for myself while I’m in here. If it means never leaving this forsaken place, I’ll accept it, for I have committed the worst offense.” He rubbed his hand on his face and grabbed the top of his hair. “I cannot help any more, you and Dez have to continue without me.” Breathing heavy, and unaware of the words he spoke, Brox apologized.
“Brox, are you crazy?” I shook his knees trying to snap him out the state of absurdity he was in. “Brox look at me. You can’t do this, not now. We’re a team.” Though, similarly, I wished to do more in the name of my purpose, there was nothing anyone alone could do while behind the fat, iron bars keeping us under the reins of the man on top.
“You don’t understand. I’m not worthy of fighting a pure cause. I can’t jeopardize Dez’ quest with my wretched existence. I’m a criminal.”
“Brox this is not the time. You can question your existence later when we are free and have nothing else left to question. The guards can come in at any second and we need to be prepared. Let’s wake Dez and the rest to figure out how to get out of here.”
He grabbed my arm and pulled me closer. “No. June. You have to listen to me. I cannot carry this any longer—I see her! I see her all the time, her memories keep torturing me. Please listen to me.” With his eyes staring at the ceiling, Brox’s head fell backwards, resting on the walls. “I feel her presence here. She calls me—I can hear her words.” He spoke like a mad man, interlacing his fingers around the top of his head and squeezing slowly.
“She? She who? The Controller, Controller Hed? Can she communicate?” It would not be unthinkable for the Controller of the Council to be able to, somehow, communicate with guards who had left the Council. Maybe his brain had been wired, a chip implanted, like an intersect device. The heat had activated it, maybe.
“No, not Controller Hed. It’s her. She that holds all my regrets, the one that lost her life to the Fexorrian Patrol. I damned her, made her a slave to Lord Seb Creat in the name of the Council of Existence.” There was a time when Brox had been recruited along with other guards to assist in the capture of the Fexorrian Patrol. “The Patrol was draining humans and the Council of Existence prohibits all Lands from intervening in human life. Our group was tasked with studying a potential target and logging any activity, like the breaking or expansion of barriers. The goal was to infiltrate her life. I pretended to be like any other human. Once the group had located the Patrol, they planned to use the woman as bait, knowing it could not resist her energy value. It was a very dark night, although the moon showed itself full, it didn’t shine upon us. She thought she was there to meet me, but I never showed. Instead I watched behind a set up station while the Patrol descended on her. I wanted to fight off the Patrol, to capture them.” Brox took a deep breath and looked straight at me. “They were so close. I know we could have gotten them.” Brox slammed his fist repeatedly against his head. “But no. No! Controlled Hed and the ones in her ear, ordered us not to compromise our cover and our location. This way the Patrol could be further tracked and studied carefully. So I ha
d to watch how they drained her. I had to watch how that collection of worthless beasts took all of her. The body was dropped on the cold road like the carcass of an animal. My fellow guards had restrained me throughout the process, they wouldn’t let my eyes look away. Then, her body was gone. And I…I—she was important to me.”
“Brox,” it was my duty, I felt, to let him know that it hadn’t been his fault. Blame should not have fallen upon him. “Brox, you didn’t do this. It was them, the Patrol, which receives orders from Seb Creat. Perhaps they might not even have a choice but to serve him. He will be stopped and all that have perished at his hand will be avenged. I’ll see to it myself.”
He laughed coldly at my words. “Open your eyes, June. Even the ones trying to fight evil, the supposed protectors, will rip a life from Existence in the name of good. Hypocrites are all who call themselves good. Evil is a broken piece from the Whole. Its crumbs exist in all and cannot be dissolved in pureness.” Brox laughed again. “Evil thrives in those who deny and neglect its presence in their being.” He swallowed a last chuckle and cleared his throat, “Malice is nothing but expected from Seb Creat and all who fall under his command. He should be trusted to be evil but no one should be trusted as a good man. Those are adamant in highlighting their goodness while letting evil run out of control in their minds. Making no effort to correct it. So I ask you, June, can you trust anyone?” Brox looked at Dez’ body with a hint of disgust. “Can you trust him? How about the Council, or the people who lived with you in your world?” He closed his eyes, as if he were asking himself, “and yourself, can you trust yourself?”
“—One should never trust the self, it is too close to the root of our life,” Kilkes interrupted, coming out of his nap, and rising to meet us. “It gives way to our perception no matter how blurred it might be.” Dez’ brother patted both our shoulders, “The spirit, however, cannot disappoint; it is pure. The difficult part is distinguishing between the voice of the spirit and that of the self, because the self is a mutator and learns to mimic without restrictions.” As he finished, much of the group came to their senses. Dez awakened a few minutes later, ready to create chaos. He began banging against the bars, yelling for the guards. At some point he became angry at Brox and I. Dez insisted we should have woken him up sooner. While Dez had his tantrum, Kilkes motioned us to wake the remaining part of the group, but they wouldn’t move. The three of them peacefully slept, uninterrupted by our tugs, shakes and screams. Among them was the mother of the boy whose corpse we had come across in the truck. The resting would replenish her body and as long as the sleep cycle lasted, she didn’t have to deal with the death of her son. A cruel reality awaited her, but a part of me envied her. The remaining part recognized the macabre expressions among the tranquility of their sleep.
The loud slamming of a metal door chilled my skin instantly. My throat dried with fear and although I didn’t turn to look at the faces of the group, their silence was enough. Two Fexorrian guards approached our cell, proudly displaying their black gowns in front of us. Gold jewelry adorned their shoulders and ankles. One of them pressed his hand on the cell handle and the door gave way. He studied each of us; his blank stare terrified me. Brox grabbed my hand and I pressed it tightly, not wanting to let go. The guard outside, spoke in New World Tongue as he pointed to all that were awake. Once having removed us from the cell, they sealed it again, leaving those sleeping inside. We formed a line in front of them.
The man closest to us, removed a small bag from underneath his gown and presented it to Dez’ Brother. “Kilkes Esilia Rehnor of Fexorrous, our Leader thanks you for serving the Cause. Accept this reward in the name of your sacrifice. Hereby, your freedom is granted. Turn to receive your Freedom Seal.” A metal ring was stuck against the back of Kilkes neck. The guard waited as the ring ate away his skin. When the artifact was removed, a circular mark remained along the blistering skin surrounding it. “You are a free man.”
“You can always be trusted never to disappoint.” Dez directed his words to his brother, who made an effort not to look at him. “In the name of a few coins you have betrayed me. Let them last as long as you regret the wicked actions that taint your soul, brother.”
One of the guards yelled to keep him quiet. Kilkes took a look at his brother, wishing to apologize, but did not. “You are wrong, like always, Dez. I haven’t betrayed you, not me, because you have never trusted me. Loyalty was never expected from me, but it was from others. It is one of them who’s betrayed you. Watch you back, brother.” His head lowered and Kilkes walked away through a short tunnel and exited through an orifice to the right of the chamber. Two more guards marched in, formally interrupting the proceedings.
“What are they saying? Will we be killed?” One of the women, named Olam, whispered in terror. I, also, shared her concerns because the reason for their disagreement baffled me.
Brox cleared his throat, “Miscommunication. The new guards came to relief the others of their post but they won’t leave, stressing it was their duty to look after us.” The rest of the group, besides Dez and I, stared at him in disbelief. “I am a Guard of the Council of Existence, as such I have been trained to decipher any form of communication.” He explained to the others.
Olam and the rest bowed in respect, to which action Brox smiled. The original guards approached us in a rush, grabbed Dez and walked him in front of the other guards. Brox translated while the Fexorrian guard spoke, “We’ve chosen this one for experimentation. The rest of them are suitable for Lord Creat.” The other guards nodded and allowed Dez to be removed from the chamber.
“Don’t put your dirty hands on me!” Dez mumbled as he was dragged. “—we’ve been betrayed.” He repeated the phrase over and over. Dez’ fuming screams echoed through the tunnel, dying slowly as they traveled closer to us. In silence, Brox and I exchanged the same look of desperation. Our worst fear had come to pass and our hopes of survival quickly plummeted. The only thing that comforted me was holding on to Brox’s hand but even that was taken away when the guards separated us by gender. My throat tightened again, with every breath my eyes burned with tears. One of the new guards laughed when a tear spilled as Brox let go of my hand and stepped to join the other remaining man, Al. I stayed still while another woman stepped behind me; her name was Nea. Olam followed behind her. A guard walked closer to the men and sniffed them. He turned to his partner and spoke, then tossed Brox against the wall.
The guard addressed him in New World Tongue, Brox responded so that we could understand, “I am a Guard of the Council of Existence.”
“—No!” Anyone against Seb Creat’s rule faced a number of punishments, from servitude to energy drainage. One of the worst offenses was to support the Council of Existence. Here, before their eyes, they had found a Council Guard! A rarity, the exemplary enemy. He would be destined for execution, fed to the Ragoudi, or perhaps, a far worse form of torture. “No Brox, why are you telling them? No he is lying,” I clung to one of the guards’ cape. In turn the man struck my face with the back of his hand. The blow threw me to the ground.
“They already knew, they can smell our origins.” The guard’s partner had restrained Brox, so Al came to my aid and tried to lift me up from the ground. A shock of electricity was sent through his body and he convulsed on the floor next to me.
“Look at what you’ve done to your friend!” The guard knelt to the ground, grabbed my hair in a fist and twisted my head. When Al stopped moving, the guard let my head drop, then grabbed a baton from his belt. The man jumped on top of me and struck me again. Brox yelled so he would stop, but the man continued to beat me. Before my vision became blurry, I was able to focus on his face. In it, I recognized the same joyful expression that had reined upon the man sent to execute my father, the one who had stabbed him and allowed the beasts to feed on his wounded flesh. A warm gush of blood ran down my nose and dripped from the left side of my mouth.
“Please stop,” Olam and Nea cried at the same time.
Br
ox spoke loudly in New World Tongue, everyone remained quiet. This time the man stopped and jumped at his neck, but Brox’s voice remained firm. “Be strong, June.” How could I muster the strength to continue without him, without Dez? Still on the ground, unable to stand, I watched as the Fexorrian guard removed him from the chamber. His eyes turned downwards towards me, holding a pitiful look. “I’m sorry.” We had been captured and from this point on, I was on my own.
“Brox!” I called his name repeatedly, but he couldn’t hear me any longer. Three new guards were sent in, to clear us out of the chamber. Before closing the metal door, a liquid was spread from the end to the entrance. The men lit a spark and tossed the flame in. Soon the warmth of the fire was felt, even as we walked away.
***
“It’s just hair, Nea. There’s no use in crying, it will grow back.” Olam explained, parting the white curtains that kept out the starlight. The explanation did no good in consoling Nea. Since the early hours of the morning she had been rolled up in a ball on her bed, sobbing, unable to bear the idea of having a shaved head. “To tell the truth, you look better than me.” Olam grabbed the mirror that had been placed on Nea’s nightstand and took a peek at her own bald head, making an effort to admire it. She noticed I had awakened and turned to me, leaving Nea to come to her own acceptance. “How are you feeling, June?”
The locks of my hair were still intact and for a second I felt relieved. The feeling, however, would not last long. The day before, we had been notified that my cleansing ceremony would take part today. The ritual included shaving a person’s head by a Chief Guard in charge of the preparation of Energy Carriers for the consumption of Seb Creat and the members of the Court. After the hair had been removed we would be left in a soaking bath meant to rid the skin of its toxicity. The Chief Guard would then concoct a tea, which relaxed our defenses in a way that made us compliant to the suggestion of feeding our energies to the Royal House. The ceremony was not always effective and most times, suitable prisoners, like the three of us, would then be turned into slaves through a process of breaking and tormenting. Though I felt I could not be broken any further, a part of me knew there was always something left to break. I feared Seb Creat and what he could transform me into; what I would allow to become me.
