by Kate Sander
“Ujarak promised that he would protect them until you got back,” Black Eyes said softly, almost kindly.
“That was before he knew Ismat was on fire,” Tory snapped. They quieted, Tory lost in thought. She focused on picking up her feet and making her way through the snow. She knew she was so mean to Black Eyes because of the guilt that was slowly eating her away. It was the only constant in her life. Well, the guilt, along with the cold and a pissed off dead woman. Tory couldn’t win.
“You ever get the feeling,” Tory said after the gust of wind had died down, “that the Shaman sent us here to find nothing?”
“All the time,” Black Eyes responded. All was forgiven. For now, anyway.
“You don’t even feel the cold,” Tory said. She steeled herself and started making her way through the knee high snow again. North. It was always north.
“But I do feel boredom,” Black Eyes said. “All I see, every single day, is you struggling to make your way north. Now there aren’t even any mountains or trees. Just snow. Flat, boring, cold snow.”
Tory couldn’t argue.
She had wanted off the mountain ranges for years. But now that she had ventured north of them, she missed them. At least there was a change between the incline and the decline. When you were climbing you missed descending. On the descend you missed the climb.
And now she missed both.
She slept in a shelter made of snow. She made water out of snow. Her bed was snow. Snow, snow, snow. If the cold didn’t kill her the monotony would. She could use a rock, or a tree, or a shrub. It would be a break from the flat, white, snow.
She was starting to puff and sweat and the sun was setting over the tundra.
“I think it’s time to make a shelter,” Tory said through breaths.
“Up to you,” Black Eyes said. “I can’t die again, remember?”
“You know, someday you’re going to have to get over it,” Tory said. She heaved her backpack to the ground. It had gotten significantly heavier over the past three years. The people in the villages where she had stayed would gift her with one thing or another to help her achieve her quest. Senka’s bow, the one gifted to her by the queen, was unstrung and attached to the outside of the pack. The quiver was covered and strapped to the other side. Tory had taken both the bow and the quiver from Senka on the battlefield after she had confirmed that Senka was dead.
Tory kept her shovel tied to the outside of the pack. She quickly loosened it, now well practiced with her seal skin gloves. She dug down into the snow, making a hole. She burrowed for a little longer and crawled inside, digging all the way. The snow was deep enough that she ended up with a hole about three feet high, tall enough to sit comfortably. She made it big enough to move around in. Taking a stick she poked a bunch of holes through the roof. She had enough room to start a fire. She would keep it small, she didn’t want to have it take all her oxygen, but she had learned the importance of having a hot meal every night.
She ate her warmed seal meat greedily.
“Looks good,” Black Eyes said quietly.
“Surprisingly not bad,” Tory answered, licking fat from her fingers.
Tory warmed some snow from the side of her shelter over the fire in a small metal bowl provided to her by the last village.
“You’re going to run out of wood soon,” Black Eyes said. “Not only that but food as well.”
“Yah, everything but snow,” Tory said. She rummaged through her bag and her heart fell even more. It was almost empty. This was the last of the wood. There were two more sinewy strands of dried seal. That was it.
“I told you a week ago that you were past the point of no return,” Black Eyes said. “Why didn’t you listen to me?”
“Because I’m stubborn,” Tory answered. “Ujarak always said that…” Tory drifted off. Thinking of Ujarak hurt. Thinking of anyone from back home hurt. She tried to avoid it, but she had nothing else to think about on these long nights. She couldn’t even see the stars, not in a snow shelter.
“You’re going to die out here,” Black Eyes said.
“No shit.”
“But I don’t want you to die. If you die, what happens to me?”
“Maybe you actually get to go where you are supposed to go,” Tory offered sullenly.
She heard Black Eyes sigh, “Maybe I want to stay around.”
“It’s the only way…” Tory began but she stopped herself. She didn’t believe any of her old excuses either. Why should she? The Shaman had sent her to find her father. A man who had abandoned her when she was five. A man who didn’t care enough about her to stick around. Tory wasn’t even sure if she wanted to find him. She’d probably punch him in the face. Who abandons a five year-old girl just weeks after her mother died?
“An asshole,” Black Eyes offered. Her voice pulled Tory out of her reverie.
“Don’t do that,” Tory said.
“Do what?”
“Go into my head. I don’t like that.”
“I’m always in your head,” Black Eyes said. “Your thoughts are loud. They shout at me. I couldn’t ignore them if I tried.”
“Topic shift,” Tory said. She was too exhausted to be angry. “Ira from the last village said he saw my father come this way over six months ago. He disappeared into the snow and was never heard from again.”
“Right. And that was the village farthest north. They don’t even know what’s out here. They go south to hunt seal.”
“Right,” Tory said.
“No one comes back from out here,” Black Eyes continued. “That’s why this is where people are exiled. Everyone dies. What makes you think your father is alive?”
“He was transient for twenty years,” Tory said, “hopping from place to place. He came from the north the first time five years ago. At least that’s what they said in the last village.”
“No, they said he appeared one day out of nowhere. He had such bad frostbite on his face his nose was black, so they assumed that he had come from the north.”
“He came from the north,” Tory said, determined.
“Sure, whatever you say then,” Black Eyes offered. Tory could tell by her tone that she was getting frustrated with her. The two of them had this conversation every night. And every night it was the same.
“Except every night you weren’t on the verge of dying,” Black Eyes said angrily.
“That’s a tomorrow problem,” Tory said.
“You should have turned back.”
“Can’t now!” Tory said. If she was honest she was tired. Bone tired. The last thing she had seen from her old home was the fire. She had turned away from everyone she loved to find her father. Three years she had been out here, alone, with a dead woman who hated her. She wanted it to end, one way or another. So she would travel north as far as she could. And that was the end of it.
“End of it for who?” Black Eyes asked.
“Both of us, hopefully,” Tory snapped.
She left the small fire burning. It was the last of her wood and there would be no need for a fire tomorrow. And if she was honest with herself, the crackling of the small fire and the smell of burning wood kept her company. Reminded her of sitting around the fire with Ujarak and Eli on their hunts. Before Senka and Jules had shown up and her life had been changed forever. The snow insulated the room from the elements and it was actually quite warm. She stripped out of her seal hide coat and mitts. She needed them to dry out as much as possible. She put a small hide down on the ground to lie on. That would insulate her from the ice underneath her.
She didn’t sleep. But mercifully Black Eyes kept silent and let her rest. The night lasted an eternity.
“It’s morning,” Black Eyes said quietly.
Tory rose silently and repacked. The snow had blown over the doorway of her little shelter. She dug her way out and used the tip of the shovel to chip away at the ice covering the doorway.
The day was the opposite of the day before. It was calm. Not even a breeze. The
sun was out and, though still cold outside, it was manageable. She could even leave her balaclava in her pack. The morning sun reflected off the snow. A few years ago she would have marvelled at the beauty of the light dancing off the snow. Now she sighed and grumbled. A few years was a long time to feel alone.
She heaved on her backpack and started forward. The sun was out but it wasn’t warm enough to melt any of the snow. She waited until her stomach was growling audibly to eat one of her remaining two strips of seal meat.
Black Eyes hadn’t been lying.
Today would be her last day.
“You knew it all along, didn’t you?” Black Eyes said after her long and sullen silence.
“You know everything I know,” Tory said.
“I don’t know why. You’ve kept that secret, even from yourself.”
Tory waited a long time to answer. She focused her little remaining energy on just picking one foot up and then the other. One step at a time. The tundra was just snow in every direction. There were no trees or rocks. The people of the nearest village had told her that the snow would eventually break into ice drifts that covered water. Vast amounts of water, just like what was south, east and west of Langundo. There was no sign of anything that lived. She hadn’t seen an animal in a week.
“I miss him,” Tory said finally. Her exhaustion had led to the realization. She couldn’t hide from the truth anymore. And really, why bother?
“He’s my father. I don’t remember much about him. But he used to pick me up and throw me in the air,” she smiled, “I was always asking him to go higher and higher. He always would. He loved us, before mom died.”
“He abandoned you, remember?”
“People do shitty things,” Tory said. She sat in the snow and opened her pack. She munched on the last of her seal meat. “Apparently it runs in the family. I abandoned my family too. When they needed me the most.”
Black Eyes didn’t have an answer.
“So I’m out here,” Tory said, rising. Time for one final push. “Trying to find him. So that we can be cowards together.”
She started walking north again.
Towards nothing.
She could see for miles and miles. She could see there was nothing there. She was walking towards nothing. But she wouldn’t give up. Something flashed in her eyes from the north. It looked like sun reflecting off of water.
“You never would have abandoned Ismat if that Shaman hadn’t told you to,” Black Eyes said.
“Ah, but maybe I would have,” Tory said. She was starting to have trouble bringing her knees to her chest.
“No. That Shaman sent you on a wild chase,” Black Eyes said.
“I was always the general. The first into battle,” Tory said, “But maybe it was just because I knew I’d run away if I was at the back.”
“I don’t believe that,” Black Eyes said.
Tory noticed her voice was fading. It sounded like it was coming from miles away.
“I’m going to rest here,” Tory said, “just for a minute.” She sat down heavily in the snow. She liked how it made a bit of a seat for her to rest her back.
“Don’t stop moving!”
“I’m just…. I’m just…” Her tongue was lead. “I’m just going to rest. Just for a little bit.”
She was surprised that she wasn’t cold anymore. She had gotten used to being constantly cold. But now she was warm. From the tips of her fingers to the soles of her feet.
The world started to blur around her. Tory leaned her head back. With slow, rhythmic breaths, she gradually descended into a much needed sleep.
13
Head Of Justice
October 24, 210, 15:35
Location: Solias, Langundo.
The council meeting was going as it always went. Terribly. Justice was sitting straight upright, trying desperately to maintain some sort of professional integrity in the meeting. Unfortunately, only he and a few others shared this sentiment. The Head of Housing, a woman of sixty who had now served four different Kings, sat beside him. She was sitting up straight as well, trying to focus on the babble that was coming out of the current King. The only other member of the council that had survived the last four years was the Head of Goods. A man of soft character but apparently with enough wits to not be killed.
The old Alchemist Omega had died of natural causes. If falling from twenty feet off of a building and hitting the ground was natural. He ended up going mad and taking his own life soon after King Sebastian had returned from the failed war campaign declaring himself the King. As there was no more Quicksilver, the King had declared the position of Alchemist irrelevant and had not filled the position.
The new Head of Treasury and the new Head of Intelligence were both stupid goonies that did exactly as King Sebastian told them. The King himself had taken over the army, so the Head of Peace was not replaced.
Justice’s heart fell when he looked at the new Head of Intelligence, a short, stupid and fat man named Bamber. Justice refused to think of him as Intelligence. That name was saved for his one love whom he had hung at the gallows three long years ago. He missed her every single day. The way she had run her hands through her short blonde hair. Her strength that had made men quiver in their boots.
Justice was snapped back into focus by the King. He was draped lazily in his chair with his feet hanging over the arm rest. The flickering lights of the fires now used to light chambers highlighted his gaunt face. He wore all black and the crown was crooked on his head. He was drinking ale from a chalice, one that had usually been saved for special dignitaries. This King had no class or sense of tradition and he wasn’t scared to show it.
“Pardon?” Justice asked. He had been so lost in reverie he hadn’t heard what the King had asked him.
“I said,” the King smiled, “when is our next public hanging?”
“Sire, I have suggested before that we stop with the public executions. Stop with executions entirely. We are losing population too fast.”
The King sat up straight, swinging his feet around to face Justice, “Are you telling me that we have no more prisoners to hang?”
Bamber, the idiot, piped up, “I can assure you sire that there are plenty of prisoners in my dungeons.” He sneered in Justice’s direction. Justice tried to ignore him. When Bamber talked his fat face bounced up and down. Disgusting.
The way Bamber put emphasis on my made Justice want to put his fist through his face. But he was strictly non-violent, other than putting a noose around a neck, he thought. “Those people have been arrested for petty crimes,” Justice said angrily. Housing nodded beside him. “Most of them for theft because the people are starving!”
“Theft is still a crime, whether you’re starving or not,” Bamber said, smug look all over his stupid face.
The King stood up suddenly and drained his ale. He slammed the empty mug down on the counter, “I want you to publicly execute five of those in jail for theft.”
Justice’s blood boiled. “I will not!” he said and he slammed his fist on the table so hard the King’s cup bounced. Instantly, six Sun Gods surrounded the table and drew their swords. Their once gold and shiny armor was now dull and tarnished. Even the Sun Gods were suffering under the rule of the mad King.
Historically, there were no weapons or bodyguards allowed in the council room. This made sure that words were used to make decisions instead of violence. But Sol XVIII, rest his soul, had allowed Sebastian into the chamber to accompany the old Head of Peace, Armend. Now King Sebastian was using it to bring his small troop of “bodyguards” to every council meeting. It ensured that no one questioned the King.
King Sebastian stood and walked slowly around the table to Justice. He waved his hand and the Sun Gods sheathed their weapons. He leaned over to Justice, so close that he could feel his hot breath on his face.
“I want,” the King said. From this close, Justice could see that the King’s eyes were red and bloodshot. His breath was foul. Justice did his best no
t to recoil. The King smiled crookedly, “A public execution. I want it to be understood what happens when you break my laws. Do I make myself clear?”
Justice nodded once.
“Good,” the King said, “in a week’s time, I will have all the help I need to manage this place. You would do well to remember that your position can be easily terminated.” He turned to walk away but didn’t see the servant girl scurrying behind him to refill his glass of ale. He ran into her, spilling the tankard of ale all over himself.
“I’m…. I’m… I’m…” She stammered, taking a quick step back. Justice saw terror in her eyes. He honestly couldn’t blame her.
The King cocked his head and stared at her, ale dripping down the front of his shirt. He struck her across the face backhand so hard she went sprawling to the ground.
Justice didn’t think. He sprang to his feet and pushed past the King, kneeling beside the girl. She was dazed, sprawled on her back. He brushed the hair away from her face. She recoiled slightly at his touch then stopped when she saw who it was.
“Are you ok?” he asked quietly. She nodded slowly and looked past him, fear all over her face.
The King was staring at them, white-faced and shaking, “You will come down to the dinner hall tonight,” he said to Justice. Justice stared at him and nodded once again, but he didn’t leave the girl’s side. The King tried to hold his gaze and, failing, returned quickly to his chair.
Justice knew that he’d been stupid but he was so angry he wasn’t afraid at all. He gently helped the girl to her feet and brushed her off.
“My glass is still empty,” the King yelled.
The servant girl nodded and scurried away. Justice held his head high and headed back to his chair. Housing softly brushed his hand while he was sitting, but he ignored her and stared at the King. It was subtle, but the small show of support steeled his resolve.
“That is all,” the King said suddenly.
The council rose silently and bowed. Justice, Housing and Goods all took their leave quickly. They didn’t need to see Bamber and Treasury suck up to the King. They didn’t speak and they split up at a hallway. Each taking their own separate route, one that changed after every council meeting.
