by J. D. Sonne
Rane, feeling the stab of rebuke, said nothing and knew that Saruah was right. The little virul was sticking his neck out, probably more than the rest of them. Rane and Saruah, if caught, would probably not suffer the indignity of torture. Their deaths would be quick and painless. The females may fare a little better than the viruls, but Scout would certainly endure the ritual and a terrifying death at the hands of Titled Larad. Shaking her head, Rane quailed a little, wondering if she were up to the terror that this outing could precipitate. This was not a game, although it felt like one as they started out. All the planning and strategizing had been a great exercise in critical thinking and excitement, all of the problems that cropped up solved as if they fit a grand puzzle. Now, lying in the dirt beneath the hedge, spreading the branches of the hedge to form a thorny window so she could watch squirrel as he approached the guards, Rane felt fright constrict her heart and empty her head of blood. Well, control was gone, and there was nothing to do but watch and wait and see if the Watergods were with them.
“I’ll be slogged!” Rane breathed as she watched a guard leave her companion and squirrel at the entrance and emerge a pour later with four other Lead guards. She felt warmth replace the fright, and a new glow of triumph crept into her heart, along with a raging desire to be reunited with Landman. As she watched the Leads stalk off with squirrel, for the first time she wondered if Shukad would be among the guards that night. She narrowed her eyes, assessing the gaits of all the Leads; she did not see Shukad’s slouching march among them. In a way, she hoped for a confrontation with Shukad. The idea excited her, but she didn’t know if she was ready for an all-out settling of scores. Well, it seemed that Shukad was not part of this guard watch; she may be inside, acting as one of the cell guards.
Glancing again through the hedge window, Rane held up her hand to alert the others that soon they would be on the move and tried to catch the eye of each member of the rescue to ascertain their readiness. The determined gazes satisfied her that all were up to the challenge or at least seemed to be, and she waited until she could no longer see squirrel and the departing guards, then swept her hand to the side where the hedge opened to the prison cube’s courtyard.
Rane ran at a crouch, trying to keep to the shadows thrown on the ground by the monolithic trees and beckoned the others forward with a guiding arm. That is, she attempted to run, but found that her legs were shaking so badly with excitement or fear, that she redacted the run to a swift and jerky trot. Fearing that the others would overtake her, she anxiously looked behind her and found her posse either were responding to her leadership or the same debilitating fear, for they stayed behind her. As she approached the entrance, a dreadful thought entered her mind: if security followed protocol, the prison detail should have replaced the outer guards with those inside the cube. At any moment, she expected two more Leads to replace those that squirrel had drawn away. Cursing, she realized her stupidity and lack of foresight might be the death of them all.
Closer and closer they came and still no replacements appeared, and again, Rane blessed the securities’ laziness—if they had done what training demanded, the back-ups would have been there by now—and it looked like they had an unobstructed access to the building.
Rane pressed herself against the building to the side of the door and motioned the others to do the same. She demonstrated a count to three on her fingers and eased the door open. One by one they folded themselves into the building, quickly slipping into a side room Rane had described to them. This room was rarely used for anything other than storage and the small rescue cadre found itself in a meager space barely able to hold it.
Rane whispered, “I will go ahead of you to see who is there, and what numbers we are dealing with. If I don’t return in thirty pours, we will assume that the rescue is doable and Saruah will lead you out to storm whatever Leads are left. Listen to me, and I will try to instruct you as to where to go, and so on. As we discussed earlier, Shad, Winsla, Baru and Mara will break whatever bonds the prisoners are in and lead them out. Saruah, Scout and I will overpower whatever Leads are there so that you can escape with the prisoners. If we run into trouble, you must save yourselves and the captives. It would not be wise for you to help us battled trained Leads—you will just get yourselves killed or captured, and believe me, you do not want to end up in these securities’ hands! Just get out of the building and back into the wilds.” She put her hand on the latch. “If I do return before the thirty pours are up, it will mean that I miscalculated and that there is no way we can break our friends out. We’ll leave and try something else.
“But the wilding and execution are tomorrow,” Shad pointed out. “There is no more time! We have to get them out tonight—no matter the odds!”
Rane’s heart was touched at Shad’s bravery, but the female had no idea what they could be up against. The security Leads were ferocious fighters and trained killers. Rane and Saruah could acquit themselves in a hand-to-hand contest. Scout might have a chance because of his size, but she doubted it. She was not interested in losing all of her camp friends in a misbegotten rescue attempt, no matter how necessary the rescue. She didn’t like to think about abandoning Landman and the others to their fates, but they may not have a choice.
Putting her hand on Shad’s arm, Rane whispered, “I feel very good about our chances! Every commander has to consider the worst case! You must remember that, Shad, when you are called on to lead! You must have the heart of a lion, as well as the cunning mind of a serpent. Let us hope for the best. Well, here I go!”
Pushing open the door, Rane stepped out into the corridor that led to the small arena overlook. She walked nonchalantly. If she met any of the security Leads now, it would not be that unusual for her to be here even after being absent for a few days. But she only had thirty pours to get back to the group, so she quickened her pace.
As she crept down the darkened corridor, she wondered who she would encounter first. She and Saruah had conferred about whether it was better to kill the opponents outright or just disable them. After much back and forth, they decided that if killing could be avoided, that was the best course to take. For all that she despised the security Leads, especially after consorting with them and observing firsthand their brutality, the idea of murdering them was too repugnant under the societal mores that had reared her. She was just getting used to the idea that viruls were equal to Leads, at least as far as servaquan rights, so killing a Lead in order to free a virul didn’t seem sensible to her. Her new values would not allow it.
Her heightened senses made the corridor seen a little brighter and her head felt light as she made her way down the passage, expecting the first confrontation at any moment. But, it never came.
She finally arrived at the door that led to the overlook, unlatched it and pushed. Again, it would not have been odd for her to appear here, but her hypervigilance made her moves slow and deliberate.
She blessed squirrel when she saw that only two Leads were left at the overlook. This was even better than she had hoped for, until, that is, she ascertained their identities: two of the most formidable Leads on Maraquan. Any other two, she could take by herself. Now, she would have to wait for Saruah to help her. For these two, Scout would be moot—she should have just had him help with the prisoners.
“So, where have you been for so long?” Her sister asked, nonchalant as she lounged with Sondrae. Both were sipping a hot mead, Sondrae getting up to pour another quaff from the iron cruet nesting in the flames of the brazier that sat on bricks in the corner. Neither offered any to Rane.
“Where is everyone?” Rane asked, to lend a little more subterfuge to the situation. “I expected to find more here.”
“They were called away,” Sondrae said. “Titled Larad needed some help transporting some hay to the next estate.”
“This late?” Rane asked. “That seems strange.” She again blessed squirrel. Not only did he lure the other Leads to the Titled Larad’s lodge, but to the next estate over,
the Yellowgrass Estate, likely. His ruse was even better than her supposed execution planning meeting--no one would think to question the errand, except for the lateness, of course. That was why Rane asked.
“Squirrel said that Titled Nooro needed the hay tonight for her horses (find another word for horse throughout the novel: riding beasts, etc.). Her hay allotment doesn’t arrive until the morning, and she didn’t have enough for the feed tonight. And since her beasts were to be used in the ceremony, they had to be fed.
“Nooro’s counters are always off,” Rane said, moving to the railing to see where the prisoners were situated. She needed to know where to direct the others when they stormed in, but the exercise yard was empty. “Where are the prisoners? Did you move them?”
“They are asleep in their cubicles. Why are you here so late?” Shukad asked, slurping loudly on her mead, then pouring the dregs into the brazier where they hissed, throwing a plume of steam up into the rafters. “And, where have you been the past few days? We needed you to help us put the finishing touches on the ceremony tomorrow. We still have work to do.”
“Saruah and I went on a little adventure.” Rane said, deciding the truth was benign at this point. “But, we got into a little trouble with mother as a result.”
“You, get into trouble?” Shukad snorted with derision, to which Sondrae added a loud hoot of snarky laughter. “I don’t believe it.”
Rane had been worried that it would be difficult to go through with the rescue, given that the securities, including her sister, had been treating her better; however, her sister’s surly tone along with Sondrae’s sour look indicated that her absence must have angered them, removing her from their graces. Well, that hardly mattered now, and it would make this operation a little less emotionally fraught for Rane.
“So, stupid-little-sister-who-disappears-when-there-is-security-work-to-do, what trouble did you encounter with mother?” Shukad reached into a bowl of mungo nuts and cracked one with her teeth. “Is she sending you to bed without your supper tonight?”
“No, I actually got out of it,” Rane said, shrugging. “And mother won’t be able to punish me, anyway.”
“And, why’s that?” Shukad said, studying a new nut before popping it into her mouth.
“Because I am leaving with them.” Rane gestured out to the yard, broadly indicating all of the prisoners.”
Shukad and Sondrae looked at each other, at first with amusement, then after looking at Rane’s face, the stiffened somewhat, their amusement replaced by slight concern.
Hearing a little explosion of noise outside the door, Rane leaned over the railing and yelled, “LANDMAN! BRUSE! CHUAN! GET UP! AWAKE!”
By this time, Shukad and Sondrae were on their feet, their hands at their sword hilts, their utter confusion keeping them frozen for a moment. Then Rane charged Shukad.
“What are you—?” But Rane head-butted her sister in the belly, cutting off her wind. Knowing that steady Saruah would pound through the door at any moment, she left Sondrae to her. She put her two hands together forming a huge knot of fist and clubbed her sister on the side of the head, sending her to the rough wood planks of the overlook. She turned to make sure that Saruah had come through the door and indeed, saw her friend in an ugly death grapple with Sondrae, their hands entwined like a grotesque creeping ivy around each other’s necks. Turning back to Shukad, who was rising and spitting angry foam from the corners of her mouth, she kneed her sister in the chest, sending her to the floor again. It was important that she keep Shukad down, because she was the best fighter on Maraquan. Although, if she did get to her feet, Rane was probably the only Lead on Maraquan who could best Shukad one on one, but that didn’t mean that she wanted to expend the effort. Amazingly, her sister was rising again, so Rane had to resort to kicking her again in the head to keep her down. Although her sister was motionless, Rane put her foot against Shukad’s neck just in case and waited a couple of moments until she was sure her sister was truly unconscious, and not just playing a warrior’s trick. Satisfied, Rane turned to Saruah.
Her friend and Sondrae were still in a fighters’ clutch, but Rane had to make sure the rest of the party had gotten to the prisoners. She leaned over the rail and saw the rescuers on the floor of the arena, being reunited with Landman, Bruse and Chuan who had finally emerged from their cubicles. She didn’t have time to make eye contact with any of them because she had to see to Saruah, who was having a tough time with Sondrae.
Having twisted her hands away from her own throat, Sondrae had grabbed Saruah’s head in both hands and was slamming it again and again against the planks of the overlook. Deciding not to observe the protocols of a fair fight, Rane grabbed a hank of Sondrae’s hair and dragged her off the bloodied Saruah, but took a nasty fist in the right cheekbone from Sondrae’s flailing punches. Both Leads faced each other, swaying from their exertion. Rane put a probing finger to her face and felt the damage on her cheek, her hand coming away bloody. Ratcheting back her fist, she returned the punch, missing Sondrae’s chin, but landing a dead smack against her forehead. Sondrae staggered back, but the stun was of little consequence as she lurched forward, grabbed Rane by both forearms and swept her heel under Rane’s boot, felling her. Rane squirmed on the planks, but before she could rise, Sondrae twisted her foot down, vicing Rane’s upper arm, crippling her with the pain of a crushed bicep. Rane gasped, trying not to scream as she felt the muscles tear and her sinews grind.
“What are you doing?” Sondrae said, panting as she pressed harder with her foot. “You think you can get away with all of this?” She gestured out at the prisoners and the rescue band. “They will never get out of here. The latches are secured from the inside. You will all die. But, why? Why did you do this? These viruls kidnapped you. They are your enemies, not us! We accepted you as a security—why did you betray us.”
“You are a monster!” Rane said. “You ritualed Landman! He loved you and you ritualed him!” Rane watched Sondrae’s face grimace in puzzlement, clearly bewildered by Rane’s passion.
“He was my virul,” Sondrae said, shrugging. “And why should you care? He is only a virul, just like the rest of them.” She shook her head, a puzzled look coming over her face. “I was very upset when he ran away, but was grateful to you for leading us to him and the rest of the fleers. You are a hero, Rane, so I don’t get it—“
Sondrae’s eyes bugged suddenly, and the crushing weight of her boot disappeared from Rane’s arm. Clutching at the torn muscle, Rane rolled away and saw another set of boots engaged in a frenzied dance with Sondrae’s. Four legs and feet stumped about, struggling back and forth, the dance becoming more violent until finally one pair of boots dangled above the other.
“It is because she loves me,” Rane heard a voice say. “And that is something you will never understand. Now do you get it?”
Rane was curled on her side away from the exchange, so heard rather than saw the crash of what she assumed was Sondrae’s weight against the wall. Her arm felt like it was on fire, the pain so debilitating that she found she did not want to move. With a heaving effort, she forced herself to turn back toward where Sondrae had slumped against the wall, shock draining her cheeks of color at the fury on the virul’s face.
“Come on, Bear!” She pleaded. “You were glad to be with me! You said you loved me—”
“And you returned that love with torture,” Landman said, his chest heaving with a frenzy that Rane had never seen. Calm Landman, measured Landman—that person was not present. Instead, the man with the seething font of emotions she saw before her was unlike any virul she had seen on her planet. But then, that was why she and the other rescuers were here. Everyone who lived here deserved to speak their truths, Titleds, Leads, Viruls—Men (she corrected herself), and even unschooled females. It was not the most dignified airing of thoughts she had ever seen, but she suspected that true emotions didn’t allow for much dignity. Hence, the stoic demeanor cultivated by many of her sex here on Maraquan. Titled Larad�
�s words entered her mind at that very moment: “Leads, your emotions must be bridled. Nobody wants to see your vulgar lack of control.”
Rane sensed that the scene before her was extremely vulgar, but the verbal back and forth between the two former lovers, master and slave, or friends—Rane couldn’t decide how to term their relationship, and doubted the last appellation of ‘friend,’ jealousy perhaps tingeing her judgment—was riveting in the extreme. Now with Sondrae lying against the wall, pleading with her former pet, Landman had assumed control of himself, rebuffing her strident queries with a commanding and immovable stone face.
Tugging at his sleeve, Landman thrust his forearm at Sondrae, the ugly serrations of scars catching the ghostly light of the arena, shadowing them into black lines that ran in interrupted concourses up his arm. “This is a sick planet that would have its people doing this to each other. I can’t even blame you, Sondrae! Maybe you did think that the ritual was a token of love! After all, our servitude made any abuse acceptable, even legal, in the eyes of the law!”
Landman kept his wary eye on Sondrae as he edged away backward from her and crouched near Rane and addressed her, his eyes full of concern, “Can you get up?”
“Yes, I think—AAAAGHH! Oh the gods, that hurt,” Rane said, attempting to use her arms to get up, unwilling tears coursing into her eyes. She lifted her uninjured arm and extended her hand to Landman. “Here,” she grunted.
Landman, not having looked away from Sondrae, felt Rane’s hand and as he lifted her, he said, “Is it your arm, then? Can you travel?”
“Do I have any choice?” Rane asked rhetorically and ruefully. “We have to get out of here! And fast!”
“And where do you idiots think you are going?” Sondrae said as Landman crouched by her and tied her hands and feet to the railing, using a rope he had found in a pile over by the door. All supposed yearning for her virul gone, she scoffed, “we will find you, just like the last time! And then, we will have our wilding and execution, the likes of which Maraquan has not seen before.”
