As she races through the streets of Adgovess, Knai can barely see for the floods of tears that run down her bloody face. Her robes wet with blood, the sand sticks to her wet skin as it kicks up around her feet. She drives her elbows back, gasping for breath as she sprints desperately towards a small detached block at the end of the street.
Inside the block, Maikai, a tall, elderly woman, looks over to the window in shock as somebody begins banging loudly on the door. Maikai quickly makes her way to the door as Veruin, a younger woman, races down the stairs towards her. Maikai opens the door to reveal an exhausted little girl, covered in blood, attempting to catch her breath.
“Knai!” says Veruin, kneeling down and carefully moving bloody strands of hair out of Knai’s face. “What-what happened?”
“Quickly, inside,” says Maikai, gently pushing Knai into the hallway, closing the door behind her. Maikai rushes through the hallway and disappears as Veruin sits Knai down on the wooden stairs.
“Are you hurt?” asks Veruin, urgently inspecting every inch of Knai’s bloody robes.
“It-it’s not my blood,” says Knai, her speech staggered through desperate short breaths.
“Calm down,” says Veruin, “Tell me what happened.”
Knai takes a deep breath as Maikai returns with a cup of water and two towels draped over her arm, one of them soaked in hot water.
“Here,” says Maikai, “Drink first.”
Knai sips the water and holds it in her lap. The water ripples as Knai’s hands shake.
“What happened?” asks Veruin.
Maikai wipes blood from Knai’s face.
“They killed Addan,” says Knai, bursting into tears once more.
“Who?” asks Veruin, “Who killed Addan?”
Knai lifts her head and sniffs loudly. “Mardern.”
Maikai stands as Veruin glances over her shoulder at her. Maikai shakes her head at Veruin who turns back to Knai, placing a hand softly on her knee.
“Knai,” says Veruin, “I need you to explain what happened and why, can you do that?”
Knai nods her head, sipping the water before taking a deep breath. “Mardern came. They said Addan had failed his test. They wanted to take him but mother wouldn’t let them.”
Maikai walks over to the window and peers around the curtains at the bright glow of the empty street.
Veruin looks with deep regret into Knai’s eyes. “Where are your parents, Knai?”
“I don’t know,” says Knai. “When mother came back to the block, she was covered in blood. She told me to run, so I ran.”
Veruin looks down to the ground in anguish. She stands and looks over at Maikai who stands at the window, draped in the sun, her hands behind her back. Veruin walks into the rest and stands beside her.
“We have to help her,” says Veruin.
“We both know there’s nothing we can do,” whispers Maikai, still gazing out into the street. “Her blood will lead them here. It is on your doorstep, your stairs, your towels.”
Veruin takes a deep breath before hanging her head. “There must be something we can do,” she whispers.
“We cooperate, or it ends here,” says Maikai. “You’re going to be late. Leave the girl with me, I will take care of her.”
“No, they will wait for me,” says Veruin. “I have to be here, for Lohme.”
“They’re here,” says Maikai.
Veruin lifts her head. Her eyes widen at the sight of such a small group of Mardern, in their black robes, followed by a larger group of Arn Guard, marching up the street towards them. Veruin turns to Maikai who scowls back at her.
“No!” says Maikai, “You cannot,”
“But she can,” says Veruin before she rushes back into the hallway. Veruin kneels before Knai. “My darling,” she says running her fingers through Knai’s hair. “I’m so sorry this world was forced upon you.” Veruin’s eyes fill with tears. “I know you must be so scared right now, but, I need you to trust me. We don’t have much time.”
Knai lifts her head to see Veruin smile.
“I know you understand why we cannot help you,” says Veruin. “But, there is a chance. I want you to forget all you know, all you fear and think only of how much you hate them. Think only of rage, anger. Think only of your mother’s, your father’s, your brother’s blood. Take any fear that remains and force it upon them, weird it like claws. You must burn like the sun, roar like the wind. Destroy them!”
Veruin takes Knai’s hands and closes them into fists. “They fear you, for good reason,” says Veruin before kissing Knai on the forehead. “When it is over, run south, past the woods, over the river. Do not stop until you see our flag.”
As the Mardern continue to march towards the block, Knai steps out onto the doorstep. Veruin stands helpless in the window. Tears roll down her cheeks as Maikai holds her hand, squeezing it tightly.
“I’m sorry,” says Maikai, “I cannot bare to watch this.” Veruin remains unmoved as Maikai lets go of her hand and leaves the rest.
Knai walks down the steps, glancing at Veruin over her shoulder before taking a deep breath and continuing across the street. The Mardern begin to break formation, forming a horizontal line of approach, the Arn Guard a length behind them.
“Knai, daughter of Lusome,” calls out one of the Mardern, as they stop a few lengths before her. “You are hereby ordered to surrender yourself into Mardern custody. Any attempt to resist will be considered an act of treason, and will be suppressed by deadly force.”
Tears begin to gather in Knai’s eyes once more as she attempts to breathe deeply. Veruin steps closer to the window, clenching her fists.
“Will you surrender?” asks The Mardern.
Knai remains silent, staring at the Mardern, biting her jaw tightly shut and widening her stance.
“I will not ask you a third time,” says the Mardern, “Will-you-surrender?”
Knai breathes deeper, her mouth open, her jaw still clamped shut. She turns her fists, facing her palms forward, lifting them towards her shoulders before thrusting them towards the ground. As she does, a small cloud of dust swells and swirls around her.
The Mardern removes his hood, immediately followed by his counterparts. The Arn Guard quickly surround Knai, while the Mardern raise their fists into the air, keeping them close to their bodies before, with outstretched arms, they lower them slowly to shoulder height. Knai bends her knees slightly.
“May the gods protect you child,” says Veruin.
The Arn Guard tap their staffs on the ground. The echo of resonant metal rings up and down the street. Gripping their staffs in both hands, the Arn Guard firmly press them against their stomachs before pointing them towards Knai. Bracing herself, Knai draws her fists back behind her waist, twisting her foot, digging in deeper into the shallow sand on the road.
In a flash, the Mardern burst towards her. The firsts sweeps at her legs, while the second kicks out at chest height. But Knai is too fast. She twists through the air, avoiding both kicks while kicking both of her feet into the side of the first Mardern’s head, and punching the second Mardern on the inside of his leg with both fists.
Veruin’s mouth peels open as she watches Knai erupt into a flurry of furious strikes, sending the Mardern tumbling and skidding across the ground. Knai lands heavily on her feet, glancing down at her fists as she quickly catches her breath. The Arn Guard shuffle back half a step while all but one of the Mardern leap to their feet, preparing their fists once more. Veruin watches the little girl as she once again parries and counters each of the Mardern’s attacks. Once again the Mardern crash against the hard, stone road. Knai turns around, glancing up at the window.
“Run,” whispers Veruin.
Knai races towards one of the Arn Guard who crouches down, tightening her grip on her staff. But before the guard can move, Knai leaps so high into the air, the guard loses sight of her. As soon as Knai’s feet touch the ground, she runs as fast as she can. The Arn Guard immediately give chase, quickly overtaken by the Mardern.
Veruin watches the last of the Arn Guard disappear down the street. Not realising she had been holding her breath, Veruin inhales deeply holding her hands over her face.
Blood drips from the quivering fingers of a tall, muscular man as he grips tightly to a cold, metal frame. Tied to a trolley, the man is held upright by metal poles that penetrate deep into his flesh. Unable to move, his piercing gaze darts urgently around the empty, cavernous, cylindrical stone chamber. Across the chamber, behind a wall of glass, more than a metre thick, four Mardern stand in watch. They peer through the wide, deep window, their eyes fixed upon the man on the trolley.
Holloun, one of the Mardern, steps forward towards a wide control desk. He presses and holds down one of the many buttons on a small communications console on the desk.
“Begin,” says Holloun, lifting his finger from the button.
Urdvin, the Mardern to Holloun’s left, straightens his robes, anxiously stretching his neck as he adjusts his collar. The Mardern watch as part of the chamber wall snaps open and a small metal pole, supported by wheels, begins to extend and rattle its way towards the man on the trolley. Breathing heavily, the man attempts to turn his head towards the extending pole. As he does, blood seeps from the wound in his head, in which, the metal pole that holds his head down on to the trolley begins to bend slightly. The man bites down on the metal tube that holds his mouth open, growling through his bloody nose as the squeaking wheels come to a stop.
The pole pops and hisses as a small cylinder ejects from its centre, slamming against the man’s huge bicep. Slowly, the man’s veins in his arm begin to darken. He growls louder and louder, pulling harder at his restraints.
Hollourn glances over his shoulder at Vicius, the tallest and most senior of the Mardern to his right. “It will hold,” says Holloun, reassuringly.
“We can only hope so,” says Vicious before he and the other Mardern take two steps back.
Holloun glances down at an illuminated timer as the numbers begin to rise. As the cylinder retracts, a long, metal needle slides out of the man’s bicep before the pole begins to wheel its way back into the wall. The man’s growls drown out the rattle of the wheels. The metal frame that holds him down creeks and bends. Suddenly, one of the poles snaps, releasing his right arm. The mardern take another step back. Holloun glances at the timer once more as it passes seven seconds. The darkness slithers through the man’s veins up his neck and into his face. As it reaches his eyes, the man turns his rabid gaze to the window. Holloun peers back, clamping his teeth together in defiance. He knows only too well that were the man to break free, he would attempt to kill them all with absolute certainty. A brief moment of quiet enters the chamber like a vacuum before the trolley succumbs to the man’s incredible strength, bursting into pieces and scattering across the chamber. With metal poles still protruding from his skin, the man charges towards the window, slamming his fist against the glass.
Tenjin, the fourth Mardern, leaps forward and reaches for a button on the console.
“No!” yells Holloun, grimacing as the control room shudders. “Wait. It will hold.”
The outer glass begins to crack as the man continually pounds his fists against it, roaring and yelling, spraying his own blood all over the window.
“It will not hold for long!” cries Tenjin, scowling at Holloun, his hand poised over the button.
Holloun glances at the time once more as it reaches eleven seconds. “Wait,” says Holloun, stepping towards the glass.
Suddenly the man falls silent. Holloun quickly taps a button on the console, stopping the timer at thirteen seconds.
“Thank you,” says Holloun, turning his back on the window. The other Mardern watch as the man’s inanimate body falls back and slams against the ground.
The large, metal door at the back of the control room slides open. Vicious, the senior Mardern, steps out, immediately followed by Holloun and his subordinates. They stride through a larger control room, through another door, into a long, dimly lit corridor.
“I can only apologise for our unexpected breach,” says Holloun. “Once the chamber is clean, I will send you my report.”
“You have done well, Holloun,” says Vicious, “Your research has come a long way since Crass.”
“Your words flatter me,” says Holloun, “But, I feel I am yet deserved of your praise.”
“Why so?” asks Vicious.
“Because I am yet to achieve my goal,” says Holloun.
“You are close,” says Vicious.
“That depends on where you stand,” says Holloun. “When face to face with one so strong, thirteen seconds will be far from close.”
“The outcome would be inevitable,” says Vicious.
“The outcome, yes,” says Holloun, “But what of the cost?”
Vicious smiles, chuckling silently. “That is why you are a technician. Your attention to detail will save countless lives.”
As they reach a large, round hallway, the Mardern stop. Holloun turns to Urdvin, stopping him mid step.
“Prepare the chamber for a second test,” says Holloun.
“So soon?” says Vicious.
“We do not have time to dwell on our failings,” says Holloun.
“Of course,” says Vicious, “I look forward to your report.”
“Master Holloun,” says Urdvin, turning towards him as Vicious strides out of the hallway. “I’m afraid we are unable to perform another test just yet.”
“Why is that?” asks Holloun.
“The boy and his father were our last level five test subjects,” says Urdvin. “All that remain are the twins, and they are level three.”
Holloun turns and steps toward the window. He looks down at the rocks beneath the slim stream of water as it crashes over them. The cold blue hue of the artificial sunlight sparkles in the cloud of mist, reflected in his eyes. Holloun loses himself for a moment, enamoured by the beauty of the ornamental waterfall. The colourful flowers and deep green moss bare a stark contrast to the cold, harsh, grey stone of the temple interior. Holloun is reminded of the life that lies beyond their world, his work. Still, in the presence of his subordinates, Holloun must remain ruthless, decisive. There is no room in his work for empathy, sympathy, or any sentiment for that matter.
“We must find a level six,” says Holloun.
“Six!” coughs Tenjin, “We have no data to prove that we are capable of so much as subduing a level six.”
“Then we will produce the data!” snarls Holloun, turning to face them both. “If we can bring down a level six, we will have cut our schedule in half.”
“I must agree with Tenjin,” says Urdvin, “ A level six will be almost impossible to contain. The necessary methods of containment may weaken the subject, effecting the accuracy of our results.”
“Then, perhaps,” says Holloun, “we should consider a new objective.”
“What do you mean?” asks Urdvin.
“We are trying to kill,” says Holloun, “Therefore, our data contains global parameters. If we could incapacitate, neutralise their power at or near the source…”
“We could isolate the data,” says Urdvin.
“Yes,” says Holloun, “We could keep the subject alive.”
“How would that help?” asks Tenjin, “How would we contain a living level six and safely administer the required examinations?”
Holloun steps towards the centre of the hallway, deep in his consideration. “Inseccu.”
“What?” asks Tenjin.
“Inseccu,” says Holloun once more.
“What in all haddah does that even mean?” asks Tenjin.
“It is an old term,” says Urdvin, “Translated from the language of the gods, it means; to kill from the inside out.”
“We must find our way inside the confines of our enemy,” says Holloun.
“And how do we gather the data?” asks Tenjin.
“The only data we will need is proof of effect,” says Holloun. “We will combine both applications into one effective weapon.”
“Brilliant,” says Urdvin. “We disable those who are strong, kill those who are weak. With this, death will be inevitable. They will pose no threat.”
As she carries folded robes through the rest, Maikai stops, interrupted by a loud banging on the block door. She carefully places the clothes down on the side table and walks into the hallway. Sunlight paints a bright stripe down Maikai’s face as she opens the door only slightly.
“Can I help?”asks Maikai, lifting her gaze as she is slowly cast in shadow.
“I will address all who inhabit this block, immediately,” says Wuhl, a huge Mardern, towering over Maikai.
“Of course,” says Maikai, opening the door, “Although I do not live here alone, I am the only one here.”
“Then I only have questions for you,” says Wuhl.
“Of course,” says Maikai, stepping back away from the door and pointing her hand towards the rest. “Please, come in.”
Wuhl raises his hand. Immediately after, the large group of Mardern who stand like dominoes in the street below, each stamp one foot against the ground. Dahval, the Mardern in front, follows Wuhl inside, glancing down at the blood on the doorstep before stepping into the hall. Maikai and Wuhl stand in the rest while Dahval examines more blood on the staircase. Wuhl glares down at Maikai as Dahval approaches.
“You have made no attempt to clean this blood,” says Dahval, walking over to the window.
“No, I assumed it would be evidence,” says Maikai.
“Tell us what you have witnessed here today,” says Wuhl.
“Well,” says Maikai before she proceeds to tell the Mardern everything she saw.
“You did not witness the conflict?” asks Wuhl.
“No,” says Maikai, “I was not aware there were any conflict.”
“Why did she come here, to you?” asks Dahval.
“Knai’s family are acquainted with the one I serve,” says Maikai. “She did not come here looking for me.”
“And she left of her own accord?” asks Wuhl.
“Yes,” says Maikai.
“Are you aware of any other acquaintances the girl or her family may have?” asks Wuhl.
“No,” says Maikai, “No-I know nothing about them.”
“Did she give any indication of where she might go?” asks Wuhl as Dahval crouches down, examining the staircase once more.
“No, I’ve told you everything she said,” says Maikai.
“Thank you for your time,” says Wuhl.
Maikai, closes the door behind them as the Mardern leave. She returns to the rest, picks up the folded robes and makes her way up the stairs.
“She seems to have been telling us the truth,” says Dahval as they walk down the steps.
“Perhaps,” says Wuhl, looking up at the block, “But none keep secrets quite as well as a keeper.”
Dark speckles cut through the light of the sun as a flock of mirriad drift over the Mardern temple. Making their way south, the mirriad, in their symmetrical formation, cast a decorative shadow over the sands of Adgovess. As the small graceful birds fly overhead, Lohme, a young student of the Mardern, looks up to the sky as he makes his way down the school steps. Footsteps echo across the street as other students hurry through the school gates. Still gazing up at the sky, Lohme takes a deep breath, slowly exhaling as the mirriad begin to disappear out of sight.
“Obsession leads only to madness,” says Runai, standing behind Lohme at the top of the steps.
Lohme watches the last of the mirriad disappear before turning to address his friend. Runai flicks his long grey hair out of his face as he walks down the steps. His tall, slender frame, hidden beneath his school gown, Runai stands before Lohme, towering above him.
“Before that,” says Lohme, “It must pass through greatness.”
“You intend to become a master of mirriad?” asks Runai.
“No,” says Lohme, turning away from Runai and stepping into the street. “I intend to become a master of observation.”
Runai chuckles, “Why not observe others while they eat,” he calls out.
“See you in class,” says Lohme, raising his hand as he continues down the hill towards the town.
Lohme arrives at a small block at the edge of Adgovess town centre. The block is attached to a high wall that surrounds the grounds, much like the blocks on the edge of town. Lohme opens the small gate and steps down the stone path. He passes the colourful pattern of flowers that have been carefully planted and cared for. Each section is neatly pruned so to not overlap with he next. Lohme opens the door and steps into the hallway to see a shadow disappear around the corner. He walks down the hallway, past the many paintings on the walls, lit by the narrow glare of sunlight that shines through the narrow windows either side of the heavy wooden door. Lohme follows the shadow and steps into the large rest. The long living space is on two levels, the lower of which opens out into the large gardens at the rear of the block. Sitting on a cushion on the floor, at a small table, Oavi, an elder man, wearing bright, colourful robes, sips a hot drink from a small cup. As Lohme approaches him, the old man carefully rests the cup on a wooden cup rest before folding his arms in his lap.
Lohme removes his gown and places it down on the matt behind a cushion. He sits down on the cushion across the table from Oavi, straightening his robes.
“Master,” says Lohme.
Oavi bows his head ever so slightly before he points his closed hand at the water pot on the table. Lohme pours himself a hot cup of chai, being careful not to spill any leaves or any hot water on Oavi’s polished wooden table. Lohme twists his brow as he sips his chai, looking around the table in unexpected absence of anything to eat.
“Choless wishes to eat with you,” says Oavi, turning to look out into the garden. “This day will be her last in Adgovess. Spend these moments well.”
Lohme bows his head before looking out over the sunkist grass. Sitting on a wooden bench, at a wooden table; is a young girl wearing bright white robes. Her hair is tied up yet falls beside her face. The colourful gemstones tied around her neck, glitter in the sun, reflecting against her skin. Lohme’s feet sink into the soft grass as he steps off the stone pad and walks through the garden towards her. Choless looks up and smiles as Lohme sits down opposite her. She points her hand at the selection of food portions on the tray in the middle of the table.
“You leave today?” asks Lohme.
“Tonight,” says Choless.
“You’ve come to say goodbye?”
“No,” says Choless, “I just came to see you.” She smiles.
“You saw me yesterday,” says Lohme, picking up a piece of grilled kirro.
“So much talent, yet such a narrow path,” says Choless.
“Maybe I’m not as stupid as I look,” says Lohme, still chewing with his mouth full. “Anyway, you should judge a student by his master.”
“You know he can hear you,” says Choless.
“No way,” says Lohme, glancing over at Oavi.
Choless throws her head back in laughter. “I am going to miss you little Loh-me.”
“You can’t call me that,” says Lohme, reaching for another piece of kirro. “I grew taller than you years ago.”
“It’s true,” says Choless. “Now you’re twice my size and half as fast.”
Lohme smiles, “I will miss you. Perhaps not as much as you will miss me. But, I will miss you all the same.”
“I trust you will look after our master while I’m gone,” says Choless.
“Why would I need to…”
Lohme’s words are cut short as he looks into Choless’ eyes. A silence drifts upon a moment of deep sorrow as both of them accept that they may never see each other again.
“Of course,” says Lohme.
Lohme steps into the rest, leaving Choless behind in the garden. He picks up his gown and turns towards Oavi.
“Master,” says Lohme, bowing before Oavi.
“I will see you tomorrow,” says Oavi, “After school.”
Lohme pauses for a moment, thrown by his master’s words. “Of course,” he says, bowing once more.
Before he leaves, Lohme looks out into the garden. Choless gazes at the sky. Lohme is sure that she knows he is looking but refuses a final goodbye. Lohme leaves Oavi’s block. As he steps out into the sunlight once more, Lohme sighs before making his way up the street and back up the hill towards the school.
Almost half way up the hill, loud voices ring out from the other side of the street. As Lohme continues walking, the side street emerges behind a boundary wall. Four Mardern students surround a young boy. It’s Bellien, a fellow student from Lohme’s school. His three closest friends, Plenn, Weeth, and Dornall, stand around him. Plenn holds onto the boy by his arm.
They turn to see a gate open behind them before an old man rushes out into the side street and begins yelling at them. Lohme doesn’t stop, he turns his attention to the road ahead, hoping to play no part in whatever is going on. Unfortunately, he can already hear footsteps behind him.
“Stupid old fart,” says Bellien. “I’ll come back and put a mark on his door!”
“Hey, hey you,” says Plenn. The footsteps speed up as they draw nearer. “Look it’s lone boy,” says Plenn. “Where’ve you been lone-boy?”
“Lone-boy’s been getting spoon fed at his babysitters,” says Bellien.
Hearing their laughter, Lohme attempts to speed up but the students remain right behind him.
“What’s the matter lone-boy, did you forget you manners?” asks Bellien, the largest and nearest of the students. Suddenly, a hand lands on Lohme’s shoulder and spins him around. Almost losing his balance, Lohme stumbles back.
“You should look at me when I’m speaking to you Lone-boy,” says Bellien, “Wouldn’t want my words to hit you in the back of the head.”
Lohme looks up at Bellien, his mind still with Choless, he cares not for any conversation or conflict. But, Lohme’s calm, inanimate demeanour, comes across as an obvious, yet passive threat, challenging Bellien before his friends. Bellien steps forward, almost leaning over Lohme, his clenched fists at his side.
“Did you hear what I said?” asks Bellien.
“I hear, but I’m not listening,” says Lohme, to the visual dismay of Bellien’s friends. “I’m not a little boy you can bully, Bellien. Do not make me late for school.”
As Lohme turns his back on an astounded Bellien, the other students stand in silence, their mouths hung open in disbelief. Bellien smiles before he steps forward and kicks Lohme in the middle of his back, sending him falling forward before landing on his hands. Quickly Lohme pushes himself to his feet. The students glance at each other in admiration of Lohme’s recovery. Bellien rushes towards Lohme, grabbing hold of his Gown. Lohme spins around and punches Bellien in the side of his face with the back of his hand. Before Bellien has time to think, Lohme ducks down and elbows Bellien in the gut before sweeping his leg, grabbing hold of his robes and slamming him against the ground. Lohme kneels on Bellins leg, causing him to cry out. As he stands up, Lohme glances over his shoulder. The other three students step back as Lohme straightens his gown, his eyes fixed upon them.
“Sorry about that,” says Lohme, “It’s muscle memory.” He turns and continues walking up the hill as Bellien rolls onto his side, clutching his face.
“Something I learned from my babysitter,” shouts Lohme as his disappears around the corner.
“Filthy Huido,” says Bellien, spitting out blood before wiping his mouth on his sleeve.
Lohme stops, he takes his hands out of his pockets. “What did you call me?” he asks.
Bellien picks himself up and turns to face Lohme, a wry smile beneath his scolding brow.
“That’s right,” says Bellien, “You think about it for a second. I tell my master what you’ve done, and we watch your stinking-huido-flesh burn.”
Lohme remains still while a rising tide of resentment and revulsion washes over him like a deep black shadow. Bellien is surrounded by his friends as Lohme reveals a small blade in his right hand before turning to face them. Bellien glares into Lohme’s eyes as he approaches. The students stand their ground as Lohme tosses the dagger into the air, spinning it around and catching the blade in his hand.
“You really think I’m huido,” says Lohme, stopping an arms length in front of Bellien and pointing the handle of the dagger at his chest. “Prove it. Kill me, here and now. If you are correct, if I am huido, you will be showered in tributes, your name will be honoured by the elders.”
Bellien’s crumpled nose quivers as he presses his lips together, still peering into Lohme’s eyes with restrained vehemence.
“But, if I am not,” says Lohme, “If I am merely a boy who has outgrown your pathetic public displays of social dominance… You will have murdered me in cold blood, and your fate will be sealed by yours.”
Bellien begins to laugh, refusing to look down at the dagger. “How was I to know you’ve lost your mind.”
“Why do you assume I have?” asks Lohme.
“You carry a weapon yet you go to a Mardern school,” says Bellien. “There’s something seriously wrong with that, or haven’t you noticed.”
“I don’t carry this for my own protection,” says Lohme, lowering the dagger and placing it back inside his robes. “I carry it because I’m told to.”
Bellien is left speechless, hung on Lohme’s last words while he watches him walk up the hill and disappear around the corner.
On his return to school it isn’t long until Lohme is pulled out of his class. His classmates watch as he is marched down the corridor by four of the Mardern school guard. Lohme arrives at the door of the senior school master. One of the guard opens the door, and Lohme steps inside. Stood behind his desk with his back to Lohme stands Ruhgai, the senior school master.
“Sit down,” says Ruhgai, glancing over his shoulder. Lohme sits in the chair in front of the desk.
“Do you know why you are here?” asks Ruhgai.
“Yes,” says Lohme.
“Then you confess to the charge of assaulting another student of this school?” asks Ruhgai.
“Yes, I confess,” says Lohme, immediately aware that the fact that he carries a dagger has gone unreported.
Ruhgai hangs his head as he sighs. “You have been given many chances to learn from your mistakes. Yet, while your performance continues to improve, your behaviour remains the same.”
Lohme turns to look at a picture on the wall. Two rows behind Ruhgai, Lohme’s father stands among the many Mardern graduates.
“You are to return on the first full day of the fifth cycle,” says Ruhgai. “Go home, Lohme. Try to use this time wisely.”
“Master,” says Lohme, bowing his head before he stands.
Lohme digs his fingertips into the back of his hands as he hears his father’s footsteps echo across the street. The metal rims of Mardern boots click and ring through the open window and up the stairs beyond his bedroom door. Lohme inhales deeply, gripping reassuringly to the edge of his bed before he stands and approaches the open doorway. He flinches as the heavy, wooden, block door slams shut. Lohme holds his breath as his father’s shadow washes over the foot of the staircase into the reception, only to re-emerge once more. He turns his gaze to the wooden mat on the floor of the hallway, avoiding his father’s eyes that peer through the shadows with vigorous displeasure.
“I have little time for this,” says Holloun, curling his lip as he scowls with vengeance at the guilt that hangs from Lohme’s brow. “I will speak to you below.”
Holloun’s heavy Mardern gown flaps loudly as he strides out of sight. Lohme takes a deep breath before walking slowly down the stairs and following his father through the reception, down into the sub chamber.
“Close the door,” says Holloun as Lohme steps inside. Holloun unravels a large piece of cloth on the table at the centre of the room as the door clicks shut behind him. He organises the contents of the cloth, placing five small cylinders next to each other.
“Do you know what I do every day?” asks Holloun.
As his father glances up at him, Lohme shakes his head.
“I protect people,” says Holloun, “I work to find ways to keep my fellow Mardern safe, so that we can all protect our people.”
Lohme hangs his head once more as his father lifts the lid of a machine at the back of the chamber.
“I do my work in the hope that one day soon I will be made Elder Mardern. Our family will become highly regarded. We will enjoy a meaningful and abundant life.”
Holloun picks up one of the cylinders and loads it into the machine.
“I work tirelessly. Not a moment passes when I do not consider the implications of my work. And yet, regardless of all my efforts,” says Holloun, picking up another cylinder. “My own son attacks the very people he has sworn to protect. He is excluded from the school that taught me everything I know. But, he does not have the courage to look into the eyes of his father!” cries Holloun, pounding his fist on the table, scowling at his son’s penitent lack of riposte.
“Father, I’m so…”
“Quiet,” says Holloun, picking up another cylinder. “I do not wish to hear you grovel for my forgiveness. If anything, it is I who should apologise to you. I have wasted your time, filling your head with ambition and expectation. The truth is; nobody can save you. The enemy you are fighting is within. Perhaps it is time you learned to live along side him.”
Lohme turns his gaze to the ground. His fathers words land heavily on his broad shoulders. He knows he has let his father down, but given the fact that his father seems prepared for such disappointment, clearly he had little expectation of his son to begin with. Holloun turns sharply as Lohme falls to his knees.
“Please father,” cries Lohme. “Teach me to kill my enemies. Teach me to destroy all that obstructs my path to glory.”
Holloun walks over to Lohme, placing the cylinder back down on the table. “Get up,” he says quietly. As Lohme stands, Holloun turns his back on him once more, picking up the cylinder and placing it into the machine.
“I am your father, not your master,” says Holloun. “I send you to school to learn to overcome such difficulty.”
Lohme holds on to his words, wishing not to rile his father further. “I understand,” he says softly. “Thank you, father.”
Holloun turns and nods at Lohme, he turns back to his machine while Lohme pulls the door open and makes his way up the stairs.
Lohme heads to the kitchen, seeking food to dull his wounds. As he pushes open the door, he is met by Maikai, the family hand or keeper.
“Master Lohme,” says Maikai, placing a large tray down on the counter an the centre of the kitchen. “Can I get you something?” she asks.
“Do we have any sopa?” ask Lohme.
Maikai raises her finger with a smile and shuffles over to the pantry. Lohme sits down at the counter as Maikai returns with a small paper parcel. She places the parcel on the counter in front of Lohme, and sits on a stool on the other side of the counter.
“You returned early today,” says Maikai, “Is everything alright?”
“I was suspended for four cycles,” says Lohme, biting into a small piece of glazed sopa.
“How worthy was your cause?” asks Maikai.
“It doesn’t matter,” says Lohme, sucking pieces of sopa from between his teeth.
“Will you not fall behind?” asks Maikai.
Lohme chuckles, stuffing another piece os sopa into his mouth. He looks at Maikai who wears an expression of genuine concern. Lohme stops chewing for a moment.
“Can I talk to you?” he asks.
“Of course you can,” says Maikai.
“Oh, I mean, can I tell you something?” asks Lohme.
Maikai smiles. “If you are asking me never to repeat your words, of course you can. It is not my job to put children in danger, it is my job to protect you.”
Lohme twists his brow, confused by Maikai’s proclamation, as he assumes her job is merely to keep them clean and fed.
“I’m tired, Maikai,” says Lohme. “Tired of living this life, a life that is nothing more than an endless string of lies. I don’t work hard in school-I don’t need to. Answers are never hard to find. I fail my tests on purpose. When I look around, I see children, not my peers, but young, ignorant children. I can’t concentrate anymore, I have no need. I feel as if I’m drifting away somewhere while my body is left behind.”
“You are a gifted child,” says Maikai, “And wise beyond your years. You should not be worried. Have you spoken to your master, master Oavi?”
Peering down at the remains of his sopa, Lohme shakes his head.
“And your parents, do you have reason not to talk to them?” asks Maikai.
Lohme lifts his head and looks Maikai in the eyes. “And if I am huido, what then? My father would see his son hang in his own temple. Mother would lose another son, in the knowledge that I only wished to become, that which she despises most.” Lohme inhales deeply.
“Just because you rise above others,” says Maikai, “Does not make you huido, master Lohme.”
“If you have any other explanation,” says Lohme, “I would very much like to hear it.”
“You have reached a stage in your life that requires no explanation,” says Maikai. “Each of us are destined to tackle our own unique issues in our own way. The time has come for you to find yours.”
Lohme hangs his head. Remembering his master’s teachings, he breathes deeply while letting go of any and all thoughts that enter his mind.
Suddenly, Lohme opens his eyes with a gasp. Shaken in his seat, he leaps down and rushes over to the window. Bright flashes of light ripple across the night sky as again the ground rumbles. The light glows beneath a plume of red smoke that reaches into the clouds like a long staff. Lohme and Maikai look on in amazement as the swirls of blue light wash over their still faces. The door bursts open as Holloun strides into the kitchen. Lohme watches his father lock the door to the garden then slide the deadbolts shut.
“Stay here,” says Holloun, striding back towards the kitchen door. Lohme follows his father into the hallway and over to the front door to the block.
“Lock and bolt the door behind me,” says Holloun, reaching for his gown.
As Holloun reaches up, Lohme glances down at the golden hilt on his fathers dagger, hanging from his waist behind his back.
“It is huido isn’t it,” says Lohme.
“Lock the door!” says Holloun, before he pulls it open and rushes out into the street, slamming the door shut behind him.
Lohme gazes wide eyed at the ground. His heart pounds beneath his throat.
Lohme bursts through the kitchen door, rushing across the kitchen in his gown. He immediately slides open the bolts and unlocks the back door.
“Master Lohme,” says Maikai, slamming her hand against the door, holding it shut, “You should not disobey your father.”
Lohme clutches the handle and looks Maikai dead in the eyes. “Get out of my way,” he says calmly.
“I can’t,” says Maikai, shaking her head, her shoulders drooping.
“I’m not going to ask you again,” says Lohme, holding his nerve as tears begin to emerge in Maikai’s eyes. Lohme waits, until, reluctantly, Maikai slides her hand off the door and steps back. Lohme pulls the door open. “Lock the door behind me,” he says.
“No, I won’t,” says Maikai, her lip quivering.
Lohme sighs before he sprints out into the garden, races over the stones and leaps over the boundary wall.
Lohme races down the hill, through the small orchard behind the residential blocks, and into the woods on the southern threshold. He stops suddenly, listening carefully, turning his head from side to side. Lohme knows the lights came from somewhere nearby. He closes his eyes, inhaling deeply through his nose. Lohme hears nothing, he smells nothing, his surroundings are dimly lit by the broken light of the moon that cuts through the trees. Lohme ventures further into the woods, treading carefully and listening intensely for any sign of movement.
“Here!” cries out a man’s voice, before leaves begin to rustle and branches begin to break. Lohme rushes towards the sound and stops suddenly as two figures emerge in the distance, moving quickly across his line of sight. One of the figures falls, while the other seems to remain oblivious and continues through the forest. Held fast by his indecision, Lohme quickly weighs his options before bursting into a sprint, in pursuit of the escaping figure.
Running as fast as he possibly can, hurdling rocks and bushes, Lohme quickly loses sight of the figure. His senses drowned by the sound of his own movements, he begins to slow down. Fighting to catch his breath as quietly as he can, Lohme continues clambering through the woods. The further he goes, the softer the ground beneath his feet becomes. Lohme turns his ear towards a hissing, splashing sound. It’s the Ever River, a narrow stream that runs across the southern lands. The Ever River is so named as it originates in the geysers to the west, and ends in the Golden Caverns in the east.
Lohme approaches the river cautiously as the sound of the water makes it difficult to hear beyond it. He stops, holding his breath as voices murmur in the near distance. Scanning the banks of the river, Lohme catches sight of what appears to be a group of figures huddled in a circle beside the bank. Sinking his hands into the wet mud, Lohme crawls on all fours towards the river, in an attempt to better hear the voices.
The figures appear to be dressed head to toe in black robes and don’t appear to be carrying any weapons. Only their eyes and hands reflect the moonlight.
“We have no choice,” says one of the voices, “We cannot do this without them.”
“Agreed,” says another, “We cannot afford to risk more lives without, at least, making it inside.”
“Then it’s decided…”
Distracted by a cracking sound, Lohme looks to his left. Just able to make out the sound of footsteps quickly approaching, Lohme pushes his body out of the dirt and bolts like a kadback. He sprints into the trees as fast as his legs will carry him, narrowly avoiding branches as he hurdles over the large, moss covered rocks. Entirely focused on the path ahead, Lohme cannot afford to look back. Yet, as fast as Lohme can run, the footsteps continue to draw nearer. Hearing their breaths and the grunts as the figure pursues him, Lohme can no longer resist the temptation. He looks over his shoulder, immediately tripping over a small rock and tumbling to the ground before crashing into a tree. The figure leaps on top of Lohme as he reaches for his dagger.
As Lohme opens his eyes, the silhouette of the figure stands over him before quickly darting out of sight. Lohme picks himself up, turning around in search of the figure. His dagger still in his hand, Lohme looks down at the bloody blade. Filthy and tired, his face and body aching, Lohme stumbles home, holding his right arm. Unable to remember falling, Lohme can only assume he managed to stab the figure before they got away. As he reaches the rear gates to his garden, Lohme stops. Where would this lead him? The blood alone is only evidence that he hurt someone. Lohme has no idea who or what he encountered. Perhaps, the less said the better.
Lohme rests his hand on the handle of the back door. It clicks as it opens before Lohme steps into the kitchen.
“Lohme, thank the gods,” says a familiar voice, “Where have you been? You have worried Maikai half to death.”
“You’re home,” says Lohme, unfastening his gown.
“Yes,” says Veruin, “It seems I just missed you. I assumed you had gone with your father, but Maikai tells me you went off on your own.”
Veruin srteps towards Lohme as he gingerly lifts his arm as he slides his gown off his shoulders.
“Are you alright?” she asks, looking down at Lohme’s muddy robes, “What happened to you?”
Lohme hangs up his gown and turns to face her. “I fell pretty hard,” he says, “Running into the woods.”
“Oh my, your face looks swollen,” says Veruin.
Lohme nods, “Something had to break my fall.”
“Come,” says Veruin, “Let’s cool it down before you bruise, and you can explain to me how you got yourself suspended.”
Lohme hangs his head and walks past his mother as she gently squeezes his shoulder. As Lohme sits down in the rest, Veruin strides across the kitchen and hands Maikai a small sack.
“Would you get rid of this while I tend to Lohme,” says Veruin.
“Of course,” says Maikai, “There’s a cold press at the back of the pantry.”
Veruin walks to the back of the pantry and leans over to reach for the press. Grimacing, she clutches her side. Veruin lifts up her robes and gently rubs her abdomen. She picks up the press and closes the door behind her before making her way over to the basin. Rubbing her fingers and thumb together beneath the water, Veruin quickly washes the blood from her hands.