The aeternum chronicles.., p.17
The Aeternum Chronicles- The Complete Trilogy, page 17
part #1 of The Aeternum Chronicles Series
Khalil yawned. “If you wish, Sa’di, you may go.” He waived a hand dismissively.
Oren cocked his head, looking at him sideways then shook his head. He picked up his sword and stood. The sound of retreating footsteps running into the night spurred him to action. He sprinted in their direction.
The desert air rushed past him, crisp and cool on his skin. A crescent moon provided faint, intermittent light as it passed in and out of the cloud cover. Oren’s training with Khalil, along with the Oath of Sacrifice, gave him a considerable advantage. He moved through the night like an agile cat, launching off of and over obstacles that would have hindered the average person. He relished in the thrill of it; so much so that he nearly forgot his pursuit. It was at this moment that a black shape slammed into him, knocking him sideways. It clung to him and they tumbled along the ground for several yards before sliding to a stop.
His attacker was perched on top of him, pressing a short blade to his throat. The head was wrapped in a shemagh, obscuring everything but the eyes.
“Why are you following me?” the voice was muffled behind the headwrap.
“You’re…a woman?” Oren’s confusion overrode his common sense.
Her blade pressed harder against his throat. Any further and it would break the skin. “Wait, wait! I was only following you because you were spying on us!”
The eyes widened suddenly. “You?” she said, and the pressure on his neck lessened slightly. Then the eyes narrowed in anger and the pressure was back in an instant.
“Do I know you?” Oren strained, conscious of the sharp metal at his throat. “Ouch! Look I wasn’t going to hurt you, I just wanted to make sure you weren’t going to, you know, kill us in our sleep!”
“And what makes you think I won’t?” the venomous voice asked.
“Well, the fact that you haven’t already slit my throat is a pretty good indication.”
“Maybe I will once I learn where you keep your supplies.” Something in her voice told Oren she wasn’t entirely committed to the threat.
“Look, that’s really not a good idea. My friend is probably right behind us, and—”
She glanced around. Oren took advantage of the opening. He grabbed her wrist and twisted. She screamed as he wrenched the blade away from his neck and out of her hand. She twisted off him, jamming a knee into his ribs and writhing free. Oren scrambled to his feet, and they stood facing each other defensively. She rubbed her wrist, and Oren held his bruised ribs. Her eyes looked angrier than ever.
“That hurt, you big dumb oaf!” she shouted.
Oren’s brow furrowed. That voice. I know that voice.
“…Clem?” he peered forward, “Is that you?” He took a step toward her, and she stepped back.
“Stop following me!”
Oren reached out, but she turned and ran.
“Clem! Wait!” He was about to give chase when a hand rested on his shoulder.
“Let her go, Sa’di.”
Oren turned around and was face to face with Khalil. “You don’t understand, I think I know her…knew her.”
“Regardless, she did us no harm, and wished not to be followed.”
Oren gently prodded his tender ribs and muttered to himself, “Yeah, no harm.” He took one last look in the direction she ran, and they turned back to camp. Khalil and Oren walked in silence, side by side. Oren’s mind raced. Why would Clem be in the Miralaja? Was it really her? She must have recognized me…why was she so angry? Will I ever see her again?
The thoughts continued even after he lay in his blankets, looking up at the starry sky. Eventually, his eyelids became heavy, and he drifted off.
12
Acrimony
Oren and Khalil continued on toward New Arcadia. It had been two days since they were spied upon. At the time, Oren could have sworn it was Clementine, but with each day that passed he became less sure. Maybe I just wanted it to be her, he thought. The mind can play tricks, and he had been thinking a lot about his old home.
Ever since that night, Oren was extra paranoid about being watched. He kept a keen eye during the day, and twice thought he spotted a small puff of dust in the distance. Could have been an aga lizard, but maybe not.
Another scorching hot day relented as evening brought with it a cool breeze. Oren and Khalil continued their routine of sparring for chores – which Oren consistently lost – and bedding down for the night. Lying in his blankets, Oren fell into an uneasy sleep…
Pans rattled in the kitchen as his mother prepared dinner, and sweet cherry flavored smoke slowly rose from his father’s pipe. Oren caught a flicker in his peripheral and glanced toward the window. The houses across the street erupted into flames. Oren stood in shock. His parents seemed oblivious. A woman ran down the street screaming frantically, and a shiver ran down Oren’s spine. A Breaker glided after her with its hood pushed back, revealing a deathly white skull wrapped in a paper thin skin. It slowed for a moment, and looked toward him. He was caught by its rippling white eyes like a fly in a web, and a blood red grin split its face.
Oren screamed and fell backward over a footstool. “Dad! Mom! Outside!”
His father glanced at him over the top of his newspaper. “Calm down Son. What did I say about yelling in the house?” The utter calm with which he spoke sent another chill down Oren’s spine.
“Can’t you see what’s happening out there?” Oren pleaded. A house across the street collapsed, sending a plume of smoke and sparks into the air. Muffled screams could be heard from outside.
“Now Oren, I’m not going to say it again. Either you calm down, or you’ll spend the rest of the night in your room.”
Oren stared in disbelief. His mother came in from the kitchen carrying a large dish with two oven mitts.
“Dinner time!” She smiled and placed it on the table.
The smell of smoke filled Oren’s nostrils. He looked over toward the entryway and saw that the curtains were on fire. He grabbed a blanket from the couch and tried desperately to smother the flames. The blanket caught fire and he dropped it, backing away.
“Mmmm, that smells delicious!” His father tapped out his pipe and put down the paper. He walked over to the dinner table and seated himself.
“Come on sweetie, time to eat,” his mother smiled at him and pulled out his chair before seating herself.
“We have to get out of here! Don’t you see what’s happening? We have to go!” Oren waved his arms frantically. What is wrong with them? The fire had now spread into the dining room where they sat. It climbed the walls, browning the wallpaper and licking at the ceiling.
They both looked at Oren and frowned. His father spoke, “Oren what has gotten into you? Your mother went through a lot of trouble to prepare this meal for us. If you can’t sit down and enjoy it like an adult, then maybe you had better go.”
“But the house, there’s a fi—”
“Enough!” his father shouted, “To your room, young man!”
Oren watched with dread as the fire spread to the dinner table. The heat intensified, and he had to take a step back. His parents sat at the table, calmly eating as the flames began consuming their clothes. They took slow bites as their skin blackened and curled away from their bodies. Oren fell to his knees “No no no, this can’t be happening. This can’t be real.” He covered his face with his hands, sobbing. A deep hum filled his head, and he felt a sickening rhythmic tug in his stomach.
Oren slowly removed his hands from his face to see a figure in black robes standing directly before him. A cold, bony hand grabbed him by the throat and lifted him to his feet. He was looking into two large, round, molten white eyes. They rippled and the air seemed to crush in around him. It grinned with blood red teeth, which slowly parted as it exhaled into his face. Oren gagged on the stench of rancid, rotting flesh.
It slowly pulled a long, needle-thin dagger from within its cloak. Its eyes rippled again and the hum intensified. The entire house was now engulfed in flames.
It whispered, “You are mine.”
Without warning, it stabbed the blade into him. Pain erupted in his side and his eyes shot open to darkness.
Oren lay in his blankets, holding his side and shaking uncontrollably. The brand. He touched the raised flesh on his side. It hadn’t bothered him for months, but it now felt like it was on fire. His dreams seemed to be getting more and more unsettling the closer they got to the city.
Something scraped against the sand nearby, and Oren froze, holding his breath. His heart was pounding in his ears. Scuff. He leapt up, grabbing his sword and unsheathing it in a fluid motion. A dark figure crouched over his pack several feet away. It spun to face him, and bolted into the night. Oren ran after it, despite wearing nothing but his smallclothes. Goosebumps rose on his arms and legs as the cold air rushed past. He gave chase for several seconds, then leapt up and crouched on a large rock, sword in hand. He had hoped for a vantage point, but the moon was hidden behind cloud cover and did little to push back the darkness.
He was getting ready to give up and turn back when the moon peeked through a gap in the clouds. He scanned the shadowy landscape…There! A glint of moonlight flashed off something metallic to the east. Oren sprung from his perch and rushed toward it. He ran as quietly as possible, leaping on stones to avoid the sandy ground. He was within throwing distance when he heard a high pitched cry. The figure jumped out from behind a bolder up ahead and bolted.
Oren sprinted after it, glancing down at the dried rations scattered on the ground as he passed. The clouds again covered the moon, and the desert went dark. He jumped over a rock, pushing off from a tall boulder to his right. He was gaining. The figure ran just sixty feet ahead. Got you now, he thought. To his surprise, it sharply changed direction, running toward a large butte. It leapt onto the near vertical surface and began climbing hurriedly. Oren glanced up. It was easily one hundred feet high. He muttered a curse between breaths and ran toward its base.
By the time he reached it, the figure’s legs were scrambling up over the top. Oren approached and looked up. A head poked out over the edge, then disappeared. He felt the surface for a good handhold, and began climbing. There was a scraping noise above, and Oren looked up to see a large stone falling toward him. He leapt off the rock, avoiding it by inches. The melon-sized stone smashed into the ground, spraying him with tiny rock fragments.
“You better not try to climb up here! I’ll knock you clean off!” a voice called from above.
The same woman! He thought excitedly, I knew she was following us. “Why don’t you come down? I just want to talk!” Another rock smashed down nearby. “Guess that’s a no,” he muttered. There’s gotta be another way up there. Oren jogged to the other side of the butte and found a towering rock spire climbing parallel to it. There was a gap of about five feet between them. Perfect. He looked up and saw her head ducking away. Have to do this quickly.
Oren carefully set his sword down. He backed up, got a running start, and leapt onto the side of the butte, then sprung off of it, turning to grip the rocky spire’s surface behind him. He bounced back and forth between them, gaining height each time. A rock fell toward him, and he jumped across the gap to avoid it. A curse came from above.
He was nearing the top of the spire, and would have to climb only the butte from there. Hopefully she’s running out of stones, he thought. Oren reached the end of the spire and launched off it, back toward the butte, glancing down as he flew across the gap. A fall from here would not end well for him. He hit the butte, gripping its layered stone surface, and climbed as fast as he could.
The moon came out from behind the clouds, and Oren felt some pebbles bounce off his head and shoulders. He looked up and let go with his right hand, swinging out away from the butte. A huge stone sped by where he had been. As he dangled from the stony face, Oren began to question whether this was such a good idea after all. He swung back and regained his hold.
“Will you please stop that? I told you, I just want to talk!” Oren’s voice was a little shaky from the close call. “I’m unarmed!” he thought to add. There was silence from above, and he continued climbing. Finally, Oren gripped the lip of the butte’s flat surface. He pulled himself up onto it and lay there, panting. The butte’s top was broad and relatively flat. It was peppered with stones and the occasional small rock formation. The woman he’d been chasing was nowhere to be seen.
Oren slowly pushed himself up to a sitting position and stood. He shivered. The wind up here was a cold reminder that he was nearly naked. The sweat on his body cooled. He looked again, scanning carefully. The butte was sizable, at least two hundred feet across. Where could she have gone? Some large stones caught his eye. Big enough for someone to hide behind, he thought.
He spoke calmly as he approached them, “Hello? Are you there? I meant it when I said I mean you no harm. I noticed you took some rations…if you’re hungry, we have more back at the camp. You can have your fill.” He took a step forward. “I’m Oren, and my companion is Khalil. We come from Masada. It’s a settlement to the west.” He heard a sharp intake of breath. She was behind the stone. He took another step, and she leapt out, brandishing a long boot knife. The black headscarf still covered her head, nose and mouth.
“Get back!” she warned.
“Please, I just want to help.” Oren suddenly felt very exposed.
“I don’t want your help,” she said.
“Maybe not, but I think you might need it.” He took a step forward, holding his hands up.
“You’re wrong,” she muttered.
Oren peered forward, trying to get a good look at her eyes. He took another step forward.
“Get back!” she shouted, cutting the air with her knife.
He took another step and swiftly kicked her hand. His foot connected painfully and the knife went flying.
“Hey!” she shouted, rubbing her hand. She looked at him with panic and sprinted toward the far side of the butte. Oren ran after her. She had a good lead, and he realized with horror that she wasn’t slowing down as she neared the edge.
“Wait!” He shouted, “It’s too far of a drop! You won’t survive the fall!”
She didn’t slow, just kept running full speed. Oren ran as hard as he could, but there was no way he could get to her in time. Panic took him, and he burst forward with everything he had. She was seconds from the edge, and certain death. Oren screamed and closed his eyes, surging with energy. When he opened them, he was within inches of her. He immediately leapt forward, crashing into her. They tumbled together toward the hundred-foot drop…and over it. Oren grasped desperately for purchase. His hand found a rocky protrusion, which it gripped with four desperate fingers. The woman in black hung from his outstretched arm, dangling high above the rocky desert floor below.
Her headscarf hung loosely around her neck. It was suddenly taken by the same wind that threatened to blow them from the stony face. Oren strained. Sweat beaded on his brow.
“I’m going to try to pull you up. Hold on!” He pulled with all his strength, fueled by adrenaline and need. Oren grunted loudly and lifted her with one arm up to the lip at the top of the butte. She clawed at the stony surface, pulling herself halfway up, then scrambled the rest of the way. Oren’s grip was slipping. He searched with his right hand and found a rocky protrusion, but it crumbled and he swung back out over the drop.
I’m falling! He fought the panic boiling to the surface. His fingers barely clung to the handhold. With a last burst of effort, he swung up and reached desperately for something, anything to hold onto. Something grasped his hand, and pulled. He used the help to pull himself up onto the safety of the plateau.
He and the woman in black lay there, exhausted, staring up at the cloudy sky. Small puffs of white breath rose from Oren’s mouth as he panted. “Thank…you…I don’t think…I—” She pounced on him, knocking the breath from his lungs. Oren instinctively raised his arms to protect his face as blows rained down on him.
“I can’t believe you did that!” she cried, “You utterly brain-dead sheep headed—”
He managed to get a grip on her arms and roll over, pinning her to the hard stone. “Are you insane?” Oren asked in disbelief. “First you want to jump to your death, now you attack me for saving you?”
“Jump to my death? My plan was to knock you off!” She wriggled under his grasp. The moon found its way from behind the clouds and lit her face clearly for the first time.
“Clem…” he whispered. Her hair was shorter now. It fell in dark flowing waves. Her cheeks were flushed from the exertion, and she pursed her lips, fighting unsuccessfully to hold back tears. Her eyes were dark pools of pain and resentment. Oren couldn’t remember ever seeing such an expression, or such beauty on her face. She’s so grown up. So striking. So much had changed.
“Will you get off!” She tried to shove him. Oren released her arms, and slowly backed away to sit down across from her. She sat up and turned her head away from him, using one hand to wipe the tears from her cheeks, and the other to rub her ankle.
“Clementine…what…what happened to you?” His stomach was knotted with worry.
“What happened to me? What happened to me?” she asked incredulously. “What happened to YOU?” She pointed a finger at him. “One minute you’re inviting me in for family dinner, the next you’re just…just gone! No, you don’t get to ask what happened to me. I’m not the one who up and disappeared without so much as a goodbye. I’m not the one who abandoned his best friend. If anyone is asking ‘what happened’ it should be me! But you know what? That ship has sailed. I don’t care what happened. I stopped caring a long time ago. So you just…peddle your phony concern somewhere else, ‘cause I’m not buying!” She crossed her arms and glared at him.
Oren was wracked with a hurricane of emotion. His joy at finding her was crushed by worry, which was swept aside by guilt for leaving her behind. The guilt smoldered into anger as he remembered how hard he’s had it, and why he was forced to leave.
