179) The Salvation of Eden, Chapter 15 -- An old friend, and a new one

A horse whinnied. Laughter bounced around, vague and indistinct. Muffled talking. Kohra’s body rocked and jounced. Something lumpy poked her in different places, although it was kind of soft too.

         Slowly, a bit dizzy, she sat up. The lumpy thing under her sagged. She looked down. Blonde hair stuck out from under a burlap sack by her feet. “Dominic!” she cried, rolling off him. “I’m sorry!”

         But he didn’t move. “Dominic! Wake up! Dominic?” She scrambled over close to his face, intending to shake him, but he was warm; she could feel his breath on her cheek. He was just asleep.

         Relief flooded her. Maybe he needs to wake up on his own. I’ll give him a bit longer.

         She looked around, trying to get a sense of her surroundings. Lenny lay a few feet away, also seemingly asleep. They were in a covered wagon, lying on what looked like sacks of grain.

         There was a rustle as a flap was pulled open at the front and daylight flooded inside. Kohra squinted against the light, unable to see anything for a moment until the entrance-hole darkened again as the large, clean-shaven pate and heavily-bearded face of a Klliik came into focus, peering at her. “Eh?!” He pulled his head back out immediately, bellowing, “Dey’rrrre awake!”

         The head popped back in; it was twice as big as Kohra’s, with foamy liquid liberally soaking the front of the beard, white froth decorating the moustached upper lip. In fact, his entire face was hairy, and quite sodden, right up to the fur-like eyebrows, but everything after that was bald and gleaming. He looked…ridiculous actually. The smell of ale was unmistakable.          

         “Dinna worrrry!” His accent was thick and strange, made worse by his obvious intoxication. “Yerrr all rrright, lass, dis’ll all make sense’n a minute!” He chuckled. “Errrr, it won’t rrreally make sense. But trrrrust d’Light, child. Trrrrust d’light.”

         The head popped back outside and a new voice joined him — a young woman. The accent. It was familiar somehow. The flap opened again. Kohra squinted.

         “Kohra? Is that really you?”

         Her heart caught in her throat. She did know this voice! “Devona??”

         “KOHRA!! The Gods!! Kohra!!” Then they were laughing, hugging, Devona falling directly on top of Lenny and Dominic, finally waking them, and then everybody was laughing and hugging and talking all at once.

         Even Squirrelly ran around, doing backflips and jumping up and down with evident joy. Devona did a double-take when she saw the squirrel, and then another when she saw Arrowhead watchfully curled up in a corner.

         Kohra laughed inwardly. Yep. This is how we roll.

         Eventually, the shrieks and laughter and “Wow!” and “How is this possible?” subsided, and they peppered Devona with questions. How had she escaped? Had she heard any news? Anything about their families? What was happening in Anthor? And where the heck were they anyway?

         In truth, it was Kohra and Dominic who did the peppering. Lenny just looked around for something to eat. Devona reached into a basket and pulled out sandwiches and oranges. Lenny, satisfied, lay back, eating and staring out the back of the wagon at peasants walking down the roadway, and other wagons trailing behind them in some kind of dusty caravan. She was still sore about their meeting with the great and important Jorn Habaldson, who they’d spent so many months searching for, apparently for nothing.

         Stupid Silver Lady. Lenny didn’t even want to think about her anymore. She didn’t care where that woman was, as long as it wasn’t here.

         Kohra and Dom pleaded with Devona for answers.

         “We’re in a merchant caravan. It’s a long story,” she began. There was a loud belch outside. “That’s Gorb. He’s my, I guess our, uh, chaperone.”

         “What? Chaperone?” Kohra asked.

         “He’s a Light Singer.” She laughed, then dropped her voice to a whisper. “He smuggled me out of Anthor. My parents set it up.”

         “Are they okay?” Kohra was genuinely concerned. She knew Dev’s parents pretty well, having spent many days at Dev’s house in the past year. They were intimidatingly sophisticated, as only truly rich people can be, but they seemed nice, and had always been pleasant to Kohra.
         Devona nodded, dark curls tumbling around her shoulders. “They said they’d be fine, but this was the safest for me, apparently.” She stopped, looking awkward for a moment. Then she reached forward and hugged Kohra spontaneously, holding it for several long seconds. She inhaled sharply, her breath quavering.

         “I’m sorry. I don’t know about your parents, Kohra. I don’t know about anybody else.” She paused again, clearly struggling.

         It’s like she feels…guilty?

         “You know how it all happened, right?” Devona asked her. “When the Guard came, it was over before it began. I was….”

         She paused, looking…embarrassed? “I was taken out of there be…uh, when it started.” She paused again. It looked like she was going to say something more. “Yeah, that’s all.” She met Kohra’s tear-filled eyes with her own. “I’m sorry.”

         They were silent for a moment. Kohra didn’t know what to do, so she just stared at the floor. Gamely, Devona continued, falling into the Explainer role, which was pretty natural for her.

         “So here’s what I know. Anthor is going to war, and the King has declared martial law across the whole kingdom. I assume you know this. I knew it was going to happen; I studied it more than a year ago, but now, it seems the word is really getting out and—”

         “Yeah yeah, we know,” Lenny interrupted. “The Scarves, right? They’re terrorists apparently and everyone hates them now.”

         Devona nodded. Kohra watched her dark, expressive eyes as she talked. Devona always managed to look just right, unlike Kohra who always had dirty feet and clothes that seemed like they were chosen at random. Which they generally were. But Devona always looked “right,” like she had spent some serious time deciding how to present herself each day, and then totally nailing it. Even now, as a fugitive in a dusty caravan, she looked like she was out for a day of shopping in the big city.

         “What about the whole peaceful monk thing?” Lenny asked. “Where’d that go?”         

         Devona shrugged. “The Scarves have been waging a guerilla war, a campaign of terror along the southern border of Anthor for decades. Most people just didn’t know about it until a few years ago. They are terrible people. They have killed so many, burning entire villages and taking over lands that were the rightful property of the Kingdom.”

         “Yeah, but what about the whole peaceful monk thing?” Lenny repeated.        

         Devona shook her head. Kohra watched her curls bounce against her cheeks. “That’s just a lie. It’s all propaganda. What they really are, they’re religious fanatics. Maniacs. They raid the villages and farms of Anthor — call them the ‘Houses of the Unholy.’ I can’t even believe some of what I’ve heard, it’s so brutal. They, oh Gods, I don’t even want to say this. They stretch out their raids for several days. They set up these…torture spectacles. And they make everybody watch. They go through the entire town like this, until only one person is left alive, and they leave that person to be “rescued,” to pass on the story of their butchery to the rest of the world. That poor soul invariably kills themselves the first chance they get.”        

         Dominic punched one of the grain-sacks, hard. “That’s just…sick. People who do stuff like that should be killed.” He paused. “Maybe the war makes sense after all.”

         “But what if that story is the real propaganda?” Lenny asked. “What if the Scarves really ARE peaceful monks, and Anthor is lying about them in order to justify going to war? They’ve got some sweet farmland down there.”

         Devona snorted, “Oh come on! Lenny, you can’t just make up kooky theories for the fun of it.”

         “Actually, I can.”

         “But you have no evidence!” Devona protested. “We’re talking the entire southern border of Anthor, and a many-years-long war that the Scarves have been waging against us! They are butchers! There’s lots of evidence of that!”

         “Have you seen this evidence?” Lenny asked, nonplussed. “Have you seen them raiding villages and torturing everyone? Have you talked to actual Brothers and Sisters to hear their side of the story? Maybe Anthor is invading THEM! Maybe they’re protecting their own lands. You don’t really know, right? I don’t anyway. I’ve never been there.”

         Devona scowled but Lenny wasn’t looking, her eyes closed, head back against the grain sacks like she was asleep.

         Kohra felt frustration bubbling inside her. “What’s so important to do all this for? Like, why does anyone need to fight over land? Why can’t they just work out something together? Why does everybody resort to killing each other?”

         “Maybe the Scarves are insane, psychotic war-mongers who just love torturing people instead of, you know, meditating and harvesting fruit all the time,” remarked Lenny from her apparent sleep. “Maybe Anthor is just protecting itself from them.”

         “But you just said that the Scarves were peaceful monks!” Devona shrieked.

         Lenny opened her eyes long enough to look at her paternalistically, like Devona was a petulant child. “No Dev, ‘course not. I said you don’t REALLY know.”

         Kohra punched a grain sack, like Dominic. The “thud” felt remarkably satisfying.

         Devona tried to maintain her composure, but her voice was caustic. “Look I don’t know FOR SURE, okay, whatever. But my tutors taught me that it started with the Scarves, that Anthor was a peaceful kingdom, but they just wouldn’t accept the border. They claimed the farmland as their own, but it was Anthor’s, and this led to the initial violence that caused the military build-up in the region. And this, eventually led to the King declaring war. It’s for safety!”

         “And who pays your tutors?” Lenny asked, innocently.

         “My parents of course!” Devona snapped indignantly.

         “And who pays your parents?” Lenny asked, also innocently, although all of them already knew the answer; Devona’s parents were very high up in the King’s Council; their wealth came directly from serving Anthor’s government.

         Devona practically turned purple with rage as she sputtered for a response. Lenny ignored her reaction, continuing with questions.

         “And what’s the big idea with arresting all the Connectors?” she asked. “If we’re at war with the evil Scarves, and the King is such a great guy protecting us all, he wouldn’t need to kidnap everyone. Hells, he could’ve ASKED us! A lot of people would join the army voluntarily, and he’d save himself all the trouble of declaring martial law and arresting all those families. Wouldn’t that be a lot easier?”

         Devona answered immediately, her voice cold and “intellectual”. This was one of Devona’s key defenses; when feeling threatened, she would fall back on her education and presumed intellectual superiority. “There are many speculations amongst the scholars who study these things. Some say he’s using the war as an opportunity to create an unbeatable army, a permanent defense against the Hordes, in case they ever come back. Some say it’s about merging ‘the worlds’, bringing them together into one big giant Empire of Worlds.”

         Devona sounded so confident, like she actually knew what it meant to “merge the worlds.” Kohra didn’t ask.

         “One particularly interesting theory is that the King is trying to become a Titan,” Devona continued.

         “A titan!” Dominic exclaimed. “You can do that?”

         “Apparently,” Devona nodded. “I don’t know the exact process, but part of it is to complete certain challenges in order to prove your divine worth. So, according to the theory anyway, merging the worlds is one of the challenges.”

         “A titan?” Lenny asked, from where she was still pretending to be asleep. “You can do that?”

         Devona nodded, rolling her eyes.

         “Hey! I’m sleeping over here, so you can’t nod and expect me to know! And really Dev, rolling your eyes is just rude. Could you use your words for Lenny?”

         Kohra realized this didn’t make any sense. How did Lenny know what Devona was doing, if Lenny’s eyes were closed?

         Maybe she didn’t know at all, and she was just guessing based on Devona’s most likely responses. That was the kind of thing Lenny would do.

         “Yes, a titan.” Devona tried to maintain her composure; Lenny always enjoyed getting under her skin, and even though she knew she was being messed with, it still rankled her, especially when she was trying to tell people things she had learned. “Or some kind of god-king or something. I don’t know. My father says the King, because of the constant threat from the Scarves, has now become totally paranoid. So for you information, Lenny, my parents no longer serve Anthor. Which is why they, and I, are in hiding.” She shot Lenny a pointed look. To her mounting frustration, Lenny didn’t seem to notice, as her eyes were closed again.

         Devona sighed. “When we parted, Daddy assured me that it was all ok and not to worry, that there were extremely powerful people standing against the forces of Evil in the world, and they’d sort it all out.”

         “So why are you here then?” Lenny asked.

         “I am here,” she spoke slowly through tight lips, “because it is safer for me. Here, I’m anonymous; I can hide unnoticed among the peasants.”

         Lenny looked up then, glaring back, but chose not to respond. Devona’s last statement hung on the air like cheap perfume.

         Kohra was getting impatient. Enough of this chitchat. She wanted answers. “So where are we going anyway? And how did we get here? And where ARE we? And where did the silver lady go? And what was that —THING?”

         She looked at Devona’s pained, confused expression. “You really don’t know what’s going on, do you?”

         Devona shook her head. “Gorb told me this morning that guests would be showing up at some point, and to be prepared to hide you in the wagon when you got here. Although I didn’t expect this! I really didn’t know, Kohra! And what ‘thing’ are you talking about? And…Silver Lady?”

         Kohra’s heart sank. That figures.

         Lenny snorted, then closed her eyes again and leaned back into the sacks. Dominic just stared, fists clenched like he was going to unleash a good beating on those grain sacks once and for all.

         “Gorb told me the less I know right now, the better. Something to do with protecting me from magical scrying?” She switched back into her Explainer mode. “My understanding of magical theory is that, basically, if you are more important, more centrally entwined with the orchestrations of Fate, then you create a stronger ‘beacon’ or pulse, or…something like that, in the Flux. Thus, the more powerful you are, the more visible you are to those who can read the Flux — like the Gods. They keep a close eye on what each other is doing, which is why—”

         “We get used,” Lenny interjected.

         Dev nodded. “Yes, basically. The most powerful Beings are, oftentimes, quite constrained in what they can do, because once one powerful Being gets involved in something, other powerful Beings get involved too. So, they carry out most of their plans by using commonfolk — us — as their instruments. We’re like pieces on a game-board.”

         “I knew it!” Dominic shouted. “It’s a big chess game!”

         “Anyway….” Devona’s smile was tight, turned down at the corners. Kohra felt an immediate urge to try and comfort her, but didn’t know what to do. So she just nodded sympathetically. “It’s been like this for months, ever since my parents put me with…him.” (She motioned outside.) “Don’t ask questions, do what you’re told, your life depends on it, etc. etc.. I guess I’m getting used to not asking questions.”

         Another belch outside, following by what Kohra assumed was singing, although the slurred guttural drawl was a far cry from anything she would have called “music.”

         “It’s a Klliik song,” Devona explained, rolling her eyes. She shook her head, as though she still couldn’t believe her fate was to end up here.

         “I still can’t believe my fate was to end up here. I mean, my parents, with all their money and connections, decided the smartest thing to do was to send me into the Borderlands with some half-drunken Klliik?”

         “Fully drunken,” Lenny corrected her.

         The wagon shook with the thumping of Gorb’s boots, keeping beat as his song increased in volume. Strangely though, it was kind of comforting.

* * * * *

         Kohra was dreaming of flying when she became aware of commotion around her. Her eyes flashed open. The caravan. Right.

         Sounds filtered through the canvas covering of the wagon. Creaks and mutters, bits of muted laughter, coughing, a baby crying in the distance.

         “Brrrreakfast-time!” Gorb bellowed from outside. “Come ‘n get it!”

         The caravan buzzed like a hive of bees, people scurrying about, chattering and clattering. A few islands of calm stood out in the chaos — the guarded carriages with insignia of Noble Houses on their ornate doors. They were surrounded by small cavalry squads who snapped to alertness whenever their far-too-well-dressed charges stepped outside to stretch their legs or look around. Typically, the Nobles didn’t spend very long outside, preferring the seclusion of their carriages to the dust of the rabble.

         As they were finishing their oatmeal, which Gorb had cooked for them, even topping it with brown sugar and goat milk he had procured from somewhere, a horn blast cut the air, followed by three more.

         “Saddle up!” he cried. “We ‘ead out in a few minutes! Ferrr me, dat means goin’ pee!” And with that, he swaggered over to the side of the road, and a few seconds later was splashing freely in the dirt. Just like that. Turning around, he wiped his hand on the back of his pants and swaggered back.

         Kohra looked away. Ugh. Men. Just because you can, do you have to do it right in front of everybody?

         Gorb, oblivious, whistled a merry little tune and climbed up into the driver’s seat. But, he was right; now was the time to pee; she walked into the field, much further than Gorb, to take care of her business with at least a modicum of privacy.

         A few minutes later, the caravan started to move. Kohra finally got some sense of its size as she saw it stretch out. There were hundreds of people, mostly peasants, but also merchants with wagons pulled by horses, some donkeys, even the occasional ox. The finer carriages of the Nobles were nowhere in sight at this point. They had probably moved to the front, she figured, to get the best view.

         The ragged mob streamed down the well-worn roadway, wagon wheels clattering, and dust swirling. There wasn’t much to see, but the greeny-brown fuzz of the landscape around them, and the bright, empty sky overhead.

         Hours later, Kohra was dozing when she sneezed, and opened her eyes. Devona, sneezing beside her with a silky handkerchief over her mouth, grinned. “Welcome to the Anvil!”
         “The what?”

         “The Anvil. This is the first mesa outside of Eden, remember? Didn’t you pay attention in school?”
         Kohra said nothing. Of course she hadn’t paid attention in school. But yeah, she vaguely remembered seeing a picture of “the worlds” as their teacher, Mrs. Ireland, had showed them a crude map. The land beyond Eden was separated into enormous slabs of land — mesas, Kohra remembered they’d been called — which in turn seemed separated by oceans of air, as though they floated independently in…something? In the center was Eden, and there were supposed to be other mesas too, but she didn’t remember their names anymore. Somewhere far to the East, was the Green Wall. The remainder of the Elven civilization was said to still exist on the other side, hidden from the other worlds forever. And to the South, much farther than the Vaalderman flats, was the Gehenna volcano. That’s all she remembered.

         She decided to leave the confines of the wagon and head up front to see better. Lenny was asleep, laying stretched out on the grain sacks, and Dominic was crouching in a ‘bunker’ of sacks he had fashioned, trying to stay out of the dust. She invited Dev to go with her, but she declined. Something about her hair.

         Kohra smirked, then crawled over the grain sacks, and Lenny, and out the front flap into the slightly-lighter, but even dustier air.

         Gorb sat resolute, holding the reins as their huge, tan mare, Beacon, plodded along through the brown cloud. Gorb’s beard was caked with mud, although his eyes shone as he turned to give her a hand up. She squeezed in beside him and cupped her eyes, squinting in all directions. They were traveling through scrubland, spindly trees dotting the otherwise brown and featureless landscape. She realized they were near the back of the caravan, and was surprised to see that, not far behind them rode a squadron of horsemen under the banner of Anthor, pennants lazily flapping in the slight breeze.

         Kohra leaned in closer to Gorb. “Why all the soldiers?”

         “Prrrotection! Tis a trrrade rrrroute. Most o’d’imports ‘an exports t’rrru Anthor frrrom d’East come by dis rrrroad. D’Wild ‘as lots o’ prrrredators, lass, who’d like nuttin’ morrre dan t’munch on some peasants an’ ‘orses! Orrrr, maybe bandits arrre waitin’.” He looked over at her worried expression and winked. “But dun’worry; a squad o’ prrrofessional soldiers can ‘andle prrretty much anyt’ing.”

         Kohra looked skeptical.

         “What??” he asked. “Ye’everrr seen soldiers in combat, lass?”

         She remembered that night at the house, that man stumbling toward her in the dark, that awful feeling, knowing she was powerless.

         “How about a dragon?” she continued gamely. “How could a bunch of mere soldiers fight off a giant, fire-breathing, armoured lizard? Like, seriously. And aren’t we actually attracting something like that? Like hey! Big road full of people! Tasty snacks here! Yum yum! Come and get some!”

         Gorb took a swig from his frothy mug and patted her on the head. “’Tis ok; yer young an’ jus’ settin’ out in’da world. But no. Drrragons’d neverrr eat off’a trrrade rrrroad. It’s beneath them t’eat a bunch o’ peasants mindin’ derrr own business.”

         “What? Of course they eat peasants! They attack entire cities!”

         “Aye! Cities! Totally diff’rrrent frrrom peasants on a rrroad! Accchhh, I kinna explain d’whole ‘ist’ry o’drrragons t’ye. Ye’ll ‘ave t’ learn it. Go rrrreead.” He gestured with his thumb into the wagon.

         She laughed.

         He looked over. “What? I’m not jokin’!”

         “Go read what? What are you pointing at with your thumb?”

         “Drrragon books.”

         “Dragon books? Seriously?”

         “Aye! See fer yerrrself!” He belched, and passed his large pewter mug to her. “An’ will ye fill dis up fer me? Second cask on de left!”

         Sure enough, he had dragon books. She read them for hours while they jostled down the road. It was fascinating, the history of Dragons. She’d have to write about it sometime.

         And, she quickly discovered, he was right. Any self-respecting Dragon would never stoop so low as to eat peasants off a trade road. It was considered pathetic, a sign of your abject failure as a Dragon, like a Prince eating out of a garbage can.

         She wondered if there were Dragons who didn’t have any self-respect, who were happy for easy snacks. The books didn’t say anything about that.

         One entry she found particularly interesting, reading it aloud to Dominic. “The Shadow Dragon — Almost nothing is known about this creature, which is said to be the guardian of the UnderWorld Skies. None who have been attacked by this creature have survived to tell about it, but in a few cases, they have been observed by others. People say their companions just vanished, swallowed by blackness. This phenomenon has been called the Shadow Dragon.”

         “Okay, no flying in the UnderWorld,” Dominic laughed. “We’ll have to remember that.”