Still Falling: Book 1: Solstice 31 Saga (10 page)

Po walked right up and took the dagger out of his belt. She raised the point under his chin. He went still immediately. She pulled his cloak off his shoulders and tossed it to Olias.

“Allow me.” She was affecting a helpful tone that held a sinister edge.

“Just like all those times you made me.” She unbuckled his belt and it fell, heavy with pouches and purse. Olias dragged it away.

“Nothing to say? Unlike all those times, you raped me. You had plenty to say then. You never stopped telling me how powerful you were. Are you powerful now? Well, you will never touch me again. Or anyone else. Keeper.” She spat those final words.

She drew back and paused so he could see what she was about to do. She hammered the dagger into his heart. She wanted him to see it coming. She twisted it to see the pain in his face. When his hands left his head to go to the knife, she pulled it out and showed its bloody length to him as the light went out of his eyes and his body grew limp.

Without a word, Ash threw his body out into the darkness.

“I'll keep watch. We'll leave in the morning,” Ash said from the darkness as he withdrew. A moment later, another horse was led in. It must have been Malcom's. Then some freshly cut boughs covered the entrance, stopping the wind.

“What did I tell you?” Olias actually smiled.

Po looked at him. A deep crease was between her brows.

“I just killed a Keeper.” Po was stoic as she looked at the bloody knife.

It was warm in their shelter. The branches above with the snow bending the boughs down acted like a chimney, drawing the smoke up. Their clothes dried quickly and their bedrolls on the thick bed of pine needles made for a soft bed. By morning, the snow had stopped. The sky was still heavy, and the snow was about a foot deep. They didn't see the monster anywhere. But they saw his tracks.

His wake was so wide and so deep, it was like he was plowing a path.

After they had ridden for two hours, they came across a great pile of Marcie grass and acorns. It took Olias only an instant to know that they were for the horses. The horses did not immediately run to the food. They were very well trained. Po and Olias led them over and had to take off their bits and bridles and hand feed them the first acorn to signal that it was okay to eat now.

Olias and Po ate some dried meat and cheese while they waited for the horses to finish.

“That monster knows how to care for horses better than me,” Po said in disgust, as she watched them eat. “Where are we going? We should be heading south. There are no villages this direction.”

“Po. We are alive,” Olias said.

She was hugging herself.

“He saved us again,” Po said in a trembling voice.

She looked him in the face. Fear and dread were in her eyes. “Why? Why us? What does he want from me? You thought Malcom was bad! He was cruel and vain and full of greed. But he was not powerful. Not like this. This Keeper Barcus has killed hundreds of the high Keeper’s men on a whim.” She was trembling, as she continued. “That 'thing' we are following may be leading us to damnation. It has no soul. It is not flesh and bone. It's made of stone, black malice, and death. It helped me kill a Keeper. An unforgivable sin. It wanted me to kill him! It could have easily done it himself. I am already lost. You may be lost as well because you let me live.”

“Keeper Barcus saved us,” Olias said slowly.

“What about Greenwarren? Did he save them? Or were they just bait for more death? Why would a Keeper do this?”

Olias was close now. “Answer this first. Why the hell is the High Keeper sending soldiers to wipe out our villages?”

“Who are we to question the Keepers?” Her back was to him now.

“Olias, why would anyone bother to save us? Even once? Much less three times? What is my life worth? Less than nothing,” Po whispered.

Olias said nothing because in his mind he saw her point. He at least was a good blacksmith apprentice, worth something. He didn't say it.

The horses were done eating. Olias replaced the bridles, and they moved on again. Po was riding the Keeper’s horse, and she noticed a special pouch on the saddle sized to hold a modest sized book.

It was empty.

CHAPTER TWELVE

The Gatehouse

“The Emergency Module, in hostile environment mode, had very complex algorithms. It determined the likelihood of Barcus’s survival would increase if he were not alone physically.”

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

<<<>>>

They traveled for several days, and with the snow falling now and then, they could always follow the path left by the mysterious thing that was their dark savior.

They moved farther and farther into the wilds until one day, they found what seemed like an ancient road that was arched above by trees, heavy with snow. It was like a tunnel, hushed and dim under gray skies. The tracks followed this road north farther still.

They found small trees attempting to grow in the road with minimal success. They had the uneasy feeling that they were the only people left in the world. Every day they would find places to rest and more forage for the horses. Only once did they have to sleep in the open. On that night, Po didn't know if she slept at all because she sensed the black, faceless demon was near.

Once it was beginning to snow again, and the tracks led them to an abandoned farmhouse. It had a steep, old style, thatched roof that was more moss than thatch now. Inside there was one large room, and each end had a hearth with firewood that was already cut and laid out.

The floors were flagstone with traces of thresh still visible, but decades old. Olias set about making a fire in one hearth and Po in the other.

They brought the horses in and let them warm up and dry off in one end the room, and they took the other.

“I didn't know there were any settlements this far north,” Olias said, trying to start yet another conversation with Po. She had fallen silent for nearly two days.

“This house...” Olias looked around at the stone walls and the heavy beams in the rafters, “was built to last. The hinges are made of stone.”

Po spoke, “This was a Keeper’s house long ago.” She sat on the floor in the center of the room and slowly placed the palms of her hands on the floor. “The Keeper’s magic lingers. The floor is already warm.”

Olias sat next to her and felt the flagstones. They were warm even though the fires had been lit less than an hour ago.

“It was always like this in a Keeper’s house. Rooms that had no hearths would even be like this. Keepers can make things hold magic and keep it,” Po said.

Olias knew she had spent time as a Keeper’s companion.

“I saw a Keeper’s talisman that could bring things closer without moving them. You could look at a sawdust beetle like it was the size of a mouse. It could even bring the sun closer... and burn. The Keepers made it, infused it with their magic, and it still worked for whoever held it.”

Olias dug into the saddle bags and brought out the last of the dried meat and nuts.

“What will we do after today? Are you a good hunter?” Po asked very seriously.

Olias laughed. “Don't worry.” He felt the floor again. “I think we are almost there.”

“Where?” Po asked.

Olias just shrugged and tossed a nut into the air and caught it in his mouth, smiling as he chewed.

Barcus watched the exchange in his personal HUD. The translation appearing as subtitles. He paced back and forth in what he had started calling the “throne room.” It did have a raised dais at one end with a massive carved stone chair at the top. Em would tease him by sitting in it sometimes, knowing he had never even climbed the stairs to look at it. He told Em it would be hubris.

The room was really good for fixed configuration status screens in his HUD. Em was juggling them all with ease. Barcus sensed she still felt guilty for not detecting Malcom sooner.

The tactical map improved every day on the region surrounding The Abbey. The route Ash had taken to lead them to The Abbey revealed many surprises, most notably the forest road that meandered south. This was a main road that could not be seen from above. It was actually paved but had not been maintained in probably a hundred years. Trees had fallen across it, but few saplings had found enough purchase to grow in the road.

“Don't worry Barcus, they are safe. They will be here by midday tomorrow,” Em said from the throne.

He was watching them via the swarm of BUGs Em now used to monitor them and the surrounding area. He had fixed windows of Ash's panoramic real-time view too. Ash was currently stationed at the edge of the woods, watching the farmhouse. Thirty-two other windows arranged themselves showing the BUG views as they patrolled. There was the large tactical map that could be engaged to take the entire side area to the front of the hall.

“You could see these much better from up here you know.” Em was trying once again to get him to climb up. “Did you know the seat gets warm when the hearth is lit, as well as the floor?” Barcus had discovered that the floors were heated by a series of pipes that were below the flagstones. These pipes led to the fireplaces and made up the grates that held the wood as it burned. Once the fires got going, the coals heated a fluid in the pipes and natural convection circulated the liquid. The gatehouse hearths even heated the midden floor. That was his favorite.

Ahhhh, the little things.

He had discovered how this worked in the section of The Abbey that had been destroyed. The lattice of pipes in the dorms on the far side was exposed where the floors had collapsed on that corner.

Barcus reviewed his critical inventories and adjusted them for supporting three people. Food was the biggest issue. He had left three months of his survival rations from the Emergency Module at The Northern Cache, finally named Foxden.

“We will be fine. Ash and I will hunt. You'll have plenty of meat,” Em said.

Barcus was looking at the detected transmission log. His maps did not extend much farther than the wide river to the south. It cut a deep path to the open sea to the east. He could imagine that in the spring there was no crossing that river by boat. There were some BUGs slowly mapping that river. It looked like a boat could go all the way to the sea from there, several hundred kilometers away.

The empty warehouse they had found near Foxden was very empty. Some logging tools were there, mostly rusted beyond usability. He had found a single ax that was worth bringing.

The next windows were images of the two shuttles. One was an ancient personal transport, and the other was an M79 Material Transport. The M79 was only used for eleven years and only on Exodus class colony ships.

Whenever Barcus began to stare at this image, Em would voice the hypothesis again. “Once the Expansion War had broken out and the real shooting had begun, every colony ship that was still in dock moved out before the Greens could destroy it. Many were hunted down and lost. Some were presumed to survive and reach their designated planet. Many of these settlements were eventually destroyed anyway.”

“What if one of the Exodus Class Colony Ships didn't go to its designated planet? I read once that some of these ships were privately owned consortium ships with 25,000 people all paying their way with massive fares.”

“What if one or two of these ships came here?” Em asked.

“What about the animals? The plants? The species and ecology here are so similar to Earth. Deer? Rabbits? Apples and grapes. Even bees. You know how complicated the ecosystem is for pollination?” Barcus said.

“The ecology is not exactly the same. There are no apex predators as far as I have seen. That may explain the plentiful deer. There are birds of prey of several sizes, even a kind of eagle,” Em said.

“Any luck with the Plate yet?” Barcus asked.

“I told you if I had any updates I would let you know,” Em said, sounding annoyed.

“Just be careful. I do not want that thing to give our position away,” Barcus warned.

It was almost full dark when the wall loomed up in front of them. They had smelled wood smoke for the last thirty minutes. The tracks in the snow led all the way up to the wall and eventually a gatehouse with a door, now open, that was big enough for them to ride into. They looked at each other and rode in.

They passed through the gate into a courtyard that was clear of snow. There was water in the pool around a willow. It was not frozen and the horses drank as they dismounted. To the right, an arch revealed stables that were lit with lamps and had grain in feeders waiting for the horses. They unsaddled the horses and left them to their supper. They had learned that they were so well trained they would stay where they were left.

The guardhouse was on the other side of the courtyard, opposite the stables. There were lights in the windows. They stood in the courtyard trying to decide what to do when the door opened and Barcus said after a moment, “You've come all this way, and you must come in. I have just put the kettle on, would you like some tea?”

Olias said formally and a bit stilted, “Yes, please.” Po had been teaching him the Keepers’ High tongue.

Po averted her eyes and said nothing.

They entered the gatehouse and Barcus closed the door behind them.

He was so tall compared to them.

He made the tea just the way she liked it. Po didn't know he had been watching her so long. He felt a momentary twinge of guilt for knowing so much.

He poured them each a cup as they hung their cloaks on pegs. Handing them each a mug he said, “Welcome to Whitehall Abbey.”

In his personal HUD, Em was there like a ghost they could not see or hear as she spoke. “
Whitehall?”
They had been arguing over the name for the Abbey for weeks. Em knew she had lost.

He gestured to the comfy chairs by the fire. A third chair had been pulled over from the table as well. “Please, sit. I know you must be tired from your ordeal.”

Po sat on the edge of the chair from the table. She was staring into her steaming tea, holding the cup to warm her hands. The liquid betrayed her trembling.

“Keeper, thank you for our lives. Again.” Olias's words were stilted, formal. He spoke them with care and intent.

“Please call me Barcus.” He tried to use what Em told him was the casual phrase in common tongue. Olias smiled nervously.

Just then they all heard the large door in the gatehouse close. It startled Po a bit, causing her to spill some of her tea. Barcus brought her a tea towel and knelt before her saying, “You're safe here, Po. Those men will not find you here. Olias and I will protect you.” He smiled at the boy, who beamed back, but when he turned back to Po, he realized that she wasn't afraid of the men, she was afraid of him.

He moved away, giving her space, and went to the pot simmering on the fire. He had made a decent stew. Thanks to Par.

Par had salvaged many things from Greenwarren that Barcus had not considered, like feed for their horses, potatoes, onions, spices, flour, salt, and other foods. Par was making another trip even now. Par, Ash, and Em never slept.

As he stirred the stew, he asked, “Are you hungry?” He didn't want them to know that he had been watching them. Something had broken the spell. Po seemed to come alive then. She turned her head, looked at the small table, set for three already. Then she looked around the gatehouse as if seeing it for the first time.

She set her tea cup on the raised hearth and went to the table and gathered the three bowls there. She came over to the pot where Barcus was and said, “Please, my Lord. Allow me.”

Barcus suddenly felt nervous and looked over at Olias, who stage-whispered something in the common tongue. Em translated for him in subtitles in his HUD, “Just let her. She will anyway.”

He remembered it was always she that served Olias on the road, even when they were camping rough. Barcus wanted her to feel comfortable, so he moved out of the way and carried the chair back to the table. Olias sat on one end of the table, next to the wall, with his back to the door. Barcus sat opposite, and although he did not have a wall at his back, he also did not have the door at it. Barcus never put his back to a door. Old habit.

Po filled Barcus’s bowl first and then Olias’s. She filled the third bowl and backed away from the table. Barcus was pouring water into some lovely cut glasses when he looked up at her and said, “Please, sit.”

Olias’s spoon stopped halfway to his mouth, and his eyebrows went up. Barcus knew that women were treated like slaves on this planet, but he was not going to tolerate that here. He could see the conflict across her face. He laid down his spoon making it clear he would wait until she did sit.

“Please, where I come from, our ways are different than yours.”

“As you wish, Keeper.” She sat with her hand folded in her lap with her eyes averted. Olias had set his spoon back down into his bowl, waiting.

It was a full minute before she reached up for her spoon and took a mouthful. Barcus took up his as well and smiled at them.

“Call me Barcus. Just Barcus.”

They ate slowly and in silence for a few minutes, but hunger overtook them and they eventually dug in. Po brought them each another bowl and sat in front of her empty bowl looking down at her hands again. Barcus tried a different angle.