Still Falling: Book 1: Solstice 31 Saga (27 page)

CHAPTER THIRTY

Barcus is Thirsty

“The actions of Po during this time made us begin to suspect that there was more to her than a slave. The EM tested her Intelligence Quotient and discovered it was 162.”

--Solstice 31 Incident Investigation Testimony Transcript: Emergency Module Digital Forensics Report. Independent Tech Analysis Team.

<<<>>>

They heard Ash long before they could see him.

His feet were pounding on the road, despite the muffling effect of the snow. Barcus and Po stood at the gatehouse entrance on the small bridge that crossed the shallow moat ditch in front of the door. They could see Ash moving with ease directly toward them from a kilometer off.

Em had already acknowledged their proximity, and Barcus was watching her progress as she approached from the north. A regional HUD map seemed to hang in the air five meters in front of Barcus showing everyone’s position relative to the Abbey.

Ash slowed to a gentle walk as he made his final approach. He towered above them as he began to cross the bridge.

Po surprised Barcus by stepping right up in front of Ash and placing her hand in the center of his smooth, black chest.

“Ashigaru,” she addressed him formally, “I know what you are. Would you harm me for knowing?”

Ash actually knelt, coming closer. It was still taller than Po by a meter, but the gesture was not missed.

“My Lady, even I do not yet know what I am. But I would see myself utterly destroyed before I allowed you to come to harm,” Ash said quietly in his deep voice.

“I know you have no soul,” Po added.

“In this, you may be wrong,” Ash said as he rested a massive hand on Barcus’s shoulder.

She had not expected these answers. She seemed to falter.

“Feed him and put him to bed. He is lying to you. He is pretending to be well. He is about to fall down,” Ash said to her.

Ash stood easily. “I will wait for Pardosa.”

It was true. When she looked closely at Barcus, he was pale and sweating, even though a breeze had brought new flakes of snow. She led him to his chair in front of the fire. She brought hot tea, bread, and cheese while she began to cook.

Lunch was ready by the time Olias came in.

“Par told me that a Telis got in The Abbey and ate a goat,” he said excitedly in common tongue.

Po replied in common, as if it was nothing, “Yes. It's still here.”

Olias blasted water out his nose and sputtered, “W...w...what?”

“It's over in the paddock. You can't miss it. The huge hill covered with snow.”

He looked Barcus in the face for the first time to see if there was amusement there to confirm the joke Po was playing. That's when he saw the scar on his face.

Without a word, he abandoned his still steaming bowl of stew and ran out to the paddock. It was five minutes before he came back, sitting down again before his cooling bowl.

Po said, “Do you think the meat could be tasty? Get Ash to help you hang it up and butcher it. It will be the first meat for the winter locker. Oh, the goat it killed too, please, what's left of it.” She was sopping her stew up with a piece of bread.

His look of fear began to shift following the look on her face. The smile preceded his words in common, “I can't leave you alone for a few days without you getting into trouble, can I?”

***

That evening, Barcus, Po, and Olias talked long into the night about the new salvage that had been brought in on this load. They discussed the need to remove the rubble that allowed the Telis Raptor to get over the wall, even as Ash was moving it. They talked about the repairs in The Abbey, the weather and honey bees and orchards and vineyards.

Po watched Barcus closely. He knew she was watching. She could not believe the amount of water, tea, milk and wine Barcus drank without ever going to the privy.

Olias had gone off to his own rooms and Po had cleaned up.

“Rest,” was all she said, as she helped him to his feet. She was very aware how much bigger he was than her as she made him stand there so she could check his wounds without anything in the way.

He allowed it without protest. She removed his belt, safely handling the handgun it held. Just as he had taught her. She took off his tunics, baring his chest. His drawstring pants hung low on his hips.

The flesh was soft and very white along the wound, like a baby’s skin, freshly made. She gently washed it but did not use the liquid bandage on it again. She was amazed again at the size of the wound.

She made him sit on a chair so she could do the same for his face. She washed it gently. She used her own brush to comb his hair back.

She removed his boots and socks and hung his clothes on pegs or placed them in baskets where they belonged. She drew back the bed clothes.

She helped him to his feet and led him to the edge of the bed. As she looked up into his eyes, she untied the drawstring on the front of his pants. They fell to his ankles, and he stepped back out of them with the help of her barefoot holding them down in the center. He sat back and slid under the quilts to the far side of the bed.

Po reached up to the single button at the base of her neck and released it. Her dress fell of its own weight, thick as it was for winter. She climbed into bed with him, her head resting on his bicep, her naked back towards him, as his arms closed around her.

He was so warm, still fevered. She felt so small there. His left hand wrapped around her, and his nose burrowed into the nape of her neck.

She felt the exhaustion take him. Soon, his body twitching made her smile. He was so warm, but now she knew he still had a fever caused by the Nanites as they worked. Their legs entwined and her arm reached back to hold him, her palm on the base of his spine.

She willed her life force into him again. She knew it would work as she drifted off.

She woke in the dark. The only light was from the low coals of the fire. She was stretched out and warm. And alone.

She listened to the darkness but heard nothing. She slid from the warm bed and retrieved her knife from where her belt hung on its peg. A shadow moved beyond the curtain in the main room. Using the tip of the knife, she carefully drew aside the curtain enough for a peek.

The fire blazed in that room. Barcus was silhouetted in the firelight with his back directly to her. Both his hands were raised, holding the large pitcher to his mouth.

“Did no one ever teach you to use a proper cup?” Her voice sounded loud in the quiet room as she stepped in.

It startled him a little, and a quantity of water splashed down on his chest.

“I'm still so thirsty. I'm sorry.” He meant it.

“Don't be.” She entered and went to the rack where towels dried. “The jug, the water, and the thirst are all yours,” she said.

She moved as if she had no idea she was naked.

It was obvious that Barcus was noticing.

“The Hemotropic Stims seem to be working,” she said as she dried his chest. Water had run down to his hip bone, and she slowly dried all the way down to it. As she dried him, she looked into his eyes. They sparked in the firelight.

“Did you know I am free? Free to do what I like?”

“Yes,” he whispered.

“Did you know I am free to say ‘yes’ as well as ‘no’ whenever I like?” She smiled and returned to bed.

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

Cassandra

“The Emergency Module was now outside the parameters of all out known protocols. It was somehow acting irrationally. Decision trees could no longer be followed. Data corruption was increasing. Barcus never noticed. Much of this data is still under forensic analysis by the team because it makes no sense.”

--Solstice 31 Incident Investigation Testimony Transcript: Emergency Module Digital Forensics Report. Independent Tech Analysis Team.

<<<>>>

The snow stopped as they continued to make their way. Grady had not seen Ulric this serious or sober in many years. He was even leading the way.

Now and again he would stop, usually on a rise, and look into the distance. Grady didn't know he was looking for the ghost and finding it often in the distance.

That night the snow was a blizzard. All the tracks they were following were gone.

“Ulric, sorry to bother you with petty, practical considerations, but we will reach a point where we only have enough rations to make it back to Greenwarren.” Grady was used to his silence but not THIS kind of total silence.

“We will be fine,” Ulric said. The forest was deep here. The trees were old growth and limited the amount of light and snow and underbrush. This served to make the going easier as well as the possibility of getting lost. It was all the same in every direction.

“If riding in a circle for days is fine,” Grady grumbled.

“Grady, have you ever been to this forest before? Has anyone? Ever?” They were riding by a tree that was so big, ten men with arms extended would not reach around it.

“Why do these trees never fall?” Ulric asked.

Before Grady could consider an answer, he noticed a change in the nature of the light in the direction they were moving. Not a clearing, but something.

Ulric could see her waiting there in the distance between the trees. One leg was a shining steel piling below the knee. Her arms were fit and impossibly bare in the cold. She walked off to Ulric's left, falling out of view.

“What is it?” Grady's had not missed Ulric's noticing.

“I believe it's a road,” Ulric stated.

Grady saw it was a road. As the horses stepped over the wide curb onto it, he looked in both directions at the unmarked snow.

Ulric went to the north without hesitation.

Grady reached around and drew a well-oiled map from the pack he always wore. Looking up at the arch of the forest canopy, he knew he had no idea where this was. His map had no road in this region, much less a road of such workmanship. Few saplings had caught hold there. Tree fall was scattered randomly, but the road was sound.

It was completely unmapped.

“If I had to bet money, I'd say we were somewhere far north of the Salterferry Bridge. Way farther north of the unfinished tunnel. I will need some night sky to be sure.” He folded his map and placed it once again in his pack.

The road was wide. It was so wide, four wagons could roll side by side without a single nervous driver.

“I have never seen any roads like this so far north,” Grady said.

Ulric wasn't listening. His eyes were focused in the distance. A stone arch could be seen far off, with a small tower to the left side, its windows empty, save one. There she stood, waiting for him. He'd have to go. If he didn't, he knew she would come to him and steal his sleep. She would torment him in the darkness with a past he didn't want to remember and could not drown in drink if she was at his ear, reminding him of things he had forgotten, perhaps never even knew. Like the names he never knew.

So he would do as she asked.

***

“The tower arch is a waypoint, just as they have in the south. It was a traveler’s shelter, somewhere to rest and keep warm in safety.” The wooden door had frozen closed, and it took them both to force open the rusted hinges. The stable there was full of dry leaves but serviceable.

“It's better than sleeping rough,” Ulric said with a suspicious lack of complaints.

There was a stack of firewood stored in the alcove. The wood was covered in cobwebs and drier than any Grady had ever seen.

“Get a fire started, and I will tend to the horses,” Grady said as he exited, roughly pulling the door closed behind him.

Instead of starting the fire, Ulric went directly up the stairs that spiraled up in the back of the room. The door at the top still swung easily, if not loudly, into the room above. Windows on all four sides of this room were broken in several places. The door that led out onto the arch was gone completely.

She stood there looking onto the arch.

“Cassandra warned me, you know.” He waited for a reaction. Her back was to him, naked in the cold except for the massive tattoo there. The livery he had tried to forget.

“Did you meet Cassandra on this planet? What do you think she warned you about, Chris? You don't mind if I call you Chris? I always did when we were alone. Remember?” She turned to him. Her eyes glowed golden, like a cat’s in firelight.

“She was my wife. She sent us here.” Ulric's voice was a trembling, graveling whisper. “She told me my days would end in the north, with madness, and clarity, and anger and war and pain and no peace until the end.” He waited for her to say something. She didn't.

“And I came anyway. Because without her, what difference did it make?” Ulric said.

“Cassandra was your wife? They don’t allow wives on this planet. Especially for Keepers. She wanted you to do something here? Find Something? Someone?” she asked turning back to the open doorway, relieving him of her gaze.

“She said I'd know what to do.” He said it like an oath.

“Yes. I believe you will. We will find out tomorrow.” She walked out the door. When Ulric went to follow, the arch was empty.

He called after her into the hush. “Chen?”

When Grady returned, the fire was lit but burning a bit high for that hearth. The room was warming quickly, even the floor.

“Anything upstairs?” Grady asked.

“How'd you know I went upstairs?” Ulric deflected, giving him a moment to think.

“The cobwebs are gone. Well not gone, exactly.” Grady pointed at his cloak, where it was covered in them.

“Nothing. No one has been here for a long time,” Ulric said, fishing out a camp pot to fill with snow.

“It's been decades. The hinges are rusty and this wood is so dry, it won't last one night. I'll have to cut some more to leave for the next traveler,” Grady said.

“What do you mean? You think someone will come through again in another 50 years?” Ulric was actually curious.

“It may be us, my Lord, at the very least when we return,” Grady said as he was unpacking bed rolls.

Ulric realized he had not considered a return journey. Still shaken by the visitation, he reached for his flask for the first time today.

After a long pull, he said, “I think we will get there tomorrow. Wherever there is.”

Grady stood and looked at him, considering his statement for a long beat, but said nothing.

***

“Barcus, I have detected two men that are moving this direction on the ancient road. ETA at present speed is seven hours and twelve minutes,” Em told Barcus, as he was helping Olias sort a trunk full of nails and wire and various small tools.

“Shall I send Ash to deal with them?” she asked. The implication by her tone was that Ash would simply kill them quickly. A visual of the two men and their pack horse came up in his HUD. One man was tall, thin and weathered, obviously an experienced Tracker. The other one was a bit of a mystery. He had the look of being out of shape and out of his element though it was evident that he had lost weight recently from hardship. His clothes were not as practical as a Tracker’s.

“No. Just keep an eye on them for now. They are not soldiers. They don't have weapons.”

Olias had become used to Barcus talking to Em. When he looked up, Barcus asked in common tongue, “Olias, do you have your Plate with you?”

Olias nodded and drew it out of a deep pocket somewhere.

Barcus took it for a moment and said, “What can you tell me about these men?” Handing back the Plate, there was an image of two men on horseback.

He spoke in common tongue. “This one is a Tracker. I have actually seen him before but have never spoken to him and not seen him for years. I have never seen that one. He looks like a Lesser Keeper. That neckline on his tunic is only worn by them. They usually have shaved heads. Like that.” He pointed.

Olias zoomed out with adept control to show the entire horses as well. “These are typical farm horses.” His accent slipped. “A bit old and sway-backed compared to ours.”

He was referring to the High Keeper’s horses in the stalls next door. “They sport northern tack, and they even have deep snow spats. We should add those to the lists.” A window popped up in Barcus’s HUD with the items added to the “stable” list.

“Why would they be coming here?” Barcus asked him.

Olias scratched his head. “Refugees?” He struggled with the word in common. Barcus had not even considered that.

“Well, we will find out. They will be here by dinner time,” Barcus said, handing back the Plate.

“I will tell Po there will be two more for dinner.” He looked like he was about to run off when he hesitated. “Barcus. She... If he is a Keeper, she'll...” he fell back into rapid common tongue.

“The Keeper will require things for hospitality sake, things that she won't like anymore. They will be obliged, even required, to take her to the anvil for so many things. She won't. I mean...” He was stammering now.

“I'll tell her, Olias. Get some rooms ready and prepare the stables.” The boy ran off.

Barcus found her on the wall, far above the kitchen with a chimney sweep’s tool for extracting nests. Fearlessly, she stood atop the uncapped chimney, even though it was a 50-foot drop to the rocky ditch on the other side of the wall.

The nest was soon extracted and the chimney brushed out. She handed him the long pole extensions as they came out and were detached. Then she lightly dropped down to the walkway, holding Barcus’s hand.

“Thanks.” She smiled through the soot on her face.

Barcus noticed the total absence of “my Lord.”

“Em tells me that there are two men riding this way from the south. They should be here around dusk.”

“Two men?” Instantly serious, she wiped her face roughly with her apron.

“Olias thinks one of them is a Lesser Keeper.” Her eyes involuntarily drifted to where she knew his handgun was concealed in the folds of his clothes.

“I will show you on your Plate.”

She took the book from her ever present pouch and handed it to him. The same view was there when he opened it.

“Can you tell me anything about them?” Barcus asked. It took only a single glance to return the deep crease between her brows. She stared for a moment and looked away, out over the wall to the south.

“It's over,” was all she said.

“What's over?” Barcus asked.

She stabbed at the plate with her finger as she pointed. “He is a Tracker and he is a Keeper. It's over. This unlikely peace that I have found, it won't stand.” The crease grew deeper. She was getting angry.

Barcus said nothing, waiting.

“I can't do it anymore. I won't.” She was looking at his eyes. Defiant. “I will not wash another filthy Keeper’s cock even if he's been in the saddle for a month.” She started pacing. “I will never let another one of those child FUCKERS ever touch me again!” She leaped up onto the battlement out of his reach, with her back to the edge. “I would rather jump than even avert my eyes.” She drew her knife in a flash as tears spilled, pointing it at his throat. “You have done this to me. You and your sorcery! How did you do it?” She was screaming at him. “How did you make me desire death more than the touch of any, save you? How can I be so completely undone?”

Barcus slowly advanced, and the knife point withdrew as if there was a force field around him. By the time he had his arms around her, the knife had clattered to the stones. Her arms surrounded his neck, and her face buried under his chin.

“I swear on my life that no one will ever touch you again uninvited, even me.” He lifted her from the rampart and turned to sit on its edge, holding her as she trembled.

She drew back and pounded his chest once hard with both hands. “I never cried before, either.” She palmed her eyes further, smearing the tracks in the soot before looking deep into his eyes. “Is the magic of yours somehow connected to my tears?” She wasn't screaming anymore. He thought she was teasing him now.

“What should we do?” Barcus asked her.

“First of all, you cannot talk to me when they are here. I don't think you could talk to me in any way but this, so best not at all.” She had moved that quickly to planning.

“I'm not sure that will work,” Barcus said.

“The first time that Keeper so much as touches me, I will slit his throat. I will leave the Tracker to you, or better yet, Ash. He won't hesitate to pound him down like a tent peg.”