Read Hammer the Exalter Page 6

  Chapter 6

  ‘I have to tell you Le Bow, there is no doubt this is the most impressive staircase I have ever seen but there is no way I will be able to travel its length in one trip. I’m sorry but I must rest.’

  Le Bow looked at Darion with sympathy and the two moved to one of the many landings poking out from the steps. Some existed as rest points while others led into the mountain and other chambers however none seemed to be as crowded as the mall he recently left. These parts appeared far more orderly and Darion could not see the mixture of colours on wrists of the individuals here compared to the Mall. As if reading his mind Le Bow spoke up.

  ‘These are the Upper Ships of Mesania and are the living quarters of the purple and blue orders. They spend much of their time organising tasks for my order to perform many of which are completely without purpose but such is the lot of the underling.’

  ‘Sounds a bit treasonous Le Bow. Don’t they get angry when they hear such talk?’

  ‘They have no need to get angry Darion. They know the orders are set and commands obeyed without question and as such I am of no threat to them. They call talk such as mine ‘wind from the backside’ and find some amusement in it I think?’

  ‘Don’t you ever feel you could aspire to a better job, or you are not satisfied with your lot and move to alter things.’

  ‘Many do, myself included. It is a difficult thing to achieve. We need self belief. If you are told you are worthless enough times then people start to believe it,’ said Le Bow without humour. ‘This city and the entire Mesanian race exists in its present form precisely because we do not challenge what is and has been. If we did we would pit man against man and this would inevitably lead to conflict and possibly death. That would be a breakdown in everything we have worked towards for over a millennium. It is a huge decision to make. We cannot fight each other, and we cannot have anarchy, so we maintain the peace and this is specifically what the prelates of the Black Orders perpetuate.’ Darion sensed Le Bow was not being entirely open about his feelings as if he were afraid to speak more openly.

  ‘Personally I believe we can all be equal, as it once was. Today we have no immediate enemies but there are still strange things in this world and we must be prepared to one day fight against and it is then the Orders will come together again, when there is no distinction between white and blue. Only the black remain superior and because they are the Deacons and the guardians of our lore. The black rule over all others and answer only to the authority of the Seeress Mara who inherited her position when there was no regal head left from our treks. She is the titular head of our people and much more than a mere ceremonial role. She has utter power and along with her black army, holds sway over all others. We cannot ever progress to become a black. We are locked in our stations. We can never become blacks just as they can never become yellow.’

  Le Bow pondered what he had just said as if he did not really believe it himself.

  ‘You must have a very different form of government past the Ice Mountain,’ he said quickly. ‘I would like to hear about it while we rest.’

  Darion knew there would be a time when he would need to prove himself and he had been preparing what he thought to be a credible story of his imaginary homeland. He was confident he could leave the listener satisfied without giving too much detail. His was not however prepared for questions of governance. He decided he would speak about what he always thought his dream world to be and hoped he could find some parallels with Le Bows own desires.

  ‘Our people and our lands are simple,’ started Darion. ‘We crave nothing more than to live well, rear our children in a safe environment while remembering the lessons of our past so we do not repeat mistakes in the future. It is a simple philosophy but one we are always striving to maintain. I would not say we have been completely successful thus far, but our community is small and we are relatively happy.”

  ‘Relatively happy? How so?’ said an intrigued Le Bow.

  ‘There are always doubters Le Bow. Those who place themselves first and try to exploit others to achieve a position of power within the community. It is these people we must be most wary of for they will pretend to have your welfare at stake. What they really want is to feather their own nests.’

  ‘Feather their own nests,’ chuckled Le Bow. ‘You have a wonderful way with words. Do all your people have this skill?’

  Darion realised all the adages ever uttered in his own world were new here. He suddenly had a wealth of knowledge making him sound eloquent and wise even though he knew himself to be neither.

  The need for humility pecked at his conscience but the temptation to appear superior became too great an opportunity to refuse.

  ‘We all learn to tell tales. We have little written history. We farm the land and this leaves little time for schooling and so we pass our lore to our sons orally.’

  Darion could see himself showing off and could not help himself. He knew he should sit in the background and observe the society he had landed in and maybe assimilate quietly not become a braggart. His ego took over as he saw his audience salivating at the prospect of news from far away lands and as no-one could challenge what he said, he expanded his lies freely.

  ‘There are tales of how we came to this world but no where does it speak of travelling across endless seas, chased by a great evil, so I do not think we are sourced from the same stock. Ours is much more banal than all that, although we too travelled a great distance to settle but from the south and the east and not the west.’

  The steady flow of people abated and the two friends were alone for the present and Darion felt at ease in this new environment especially with an expert guide. His defences also relaxed and he spoke as if he really did come from the places he invented.

  ‘We do not have royalty but an elected counsel we ensure represent all people in our community. There are the aged, and women as well as our warriors and our farmers so collectively all views are heard. The elected gain no extra favour from the rest of us and they hold the positions voluntarily and for free. We do not discuss the machinations of the wider world but talk largely of simple things such as village security from the dangers around us and when the best time to harvest and how much is left to trade with our neighbours. We therefore have government by the people and we can find no better system.’

  ‘Who then do you worship?’ asked Le Bow who looked at Darion with wide childlike eyes in their innocence.

  Darion thought about this carefully before he answered. He knew many religions. The beautifully constructed Mahayana and Theravadan Buddhism, Hindu with its tens of thousands of gods, the eclectic Shinto and Zen Buddhism and the erudite Confucianism. The one he always found the most peaceful was Buddhism and he quoted the Eight Fold Path to Le Bow as if he had created it himself.

  ‘We believe in sharing the world in which we live Le Bow, and through a correct course of actions throughout our lives we believe we will find an everlasting peace. We believe in understanding, purpose, behaviour and right living as some of our tenets. There is more but it all sustains us and ensures we only do unto others as you would wish done to you.’

  Le Bow felt breathless and overwhelmed at the feeling of exhilaration spreading through him. Never had he felt so alive. The ideas from this stranger exhilarated him and he had never heard such ideas uttered in his lifetime. These went much farther than his petty grumblings. These ideas possessed substance and could be grasped with two hands and wielded like a sword to change the world.

  ‘These are great words,’ he said at last. ‘You must repeat them for me and some others as soon as possible, tonight in my quarters, I must arrange it now.’

  Darion grabbed at Le Bow’s yellow wrist to stop him from running off.

  ‘Wait Le Bow, aren’t we nearly at the top. Now we are here can’t we at least have a peak at the summit of this infernal staircase,’ said Darion in a minor panic. He could have kicked himself for a fool because on top
of everything else it looks as if he has set the ground swell of a revolution in progress and he didn’t want to be seen as some sort of sage to these people. All he really wanted to do was go home. Luckily for him Le Bow had a sensible side once all the adrenaline subsided.

  ‘Of course Darion, I ask you some simple questions and then explode off into the distance I don’t know what you must think, but I am not a type to ravel himself in wild fancies. Perhaps I am, as you say, looking for change but not ready to admit it. Lets walk.’

  To Darion the walk became a substantial climb and each step an effort in itself. Eventually they reached the last step and they now stood in a very large and well lit tunnel made entirely of what looked to Darion like glass but opaque and solid like plastic. The two men walked easily now as the tunnel curved around a slow corner and white sun light poured into an opening ahead, blinding both of the men for a few seconds as their eyes adjusted.

  They reached the end of the tunnel and stepped into the open on top of the mesa, its flatness stretching for miles ahead of him, a brisk cool breeze brushing his face. Darion looked in awe around him. If he thought the view from the ledge was impressive he had no way to prepare himself for what he saw. This portion of the mesa was higher than the rest and he could clearly see the sharp edges of the mountain around him dropping to the world of Salnikov. It looked as if the mesa was the core of the entire planet. Hundreds of miles of land could be seen stretching interminably into the distance.

  They kept walking along some carved roads for around ten minutes until they reached the nearest edge of the mesa and they sat on an edge as defined as the edge of a table, thousands of years of weathering appearing to have little effect on the mountain. Darion expected a severe vertigo however the steepness of the Mesa seemed less than he thought. He felt he could slide down it without danger to the plain below and out to the forests stretching to the mountains and the sea. Birds flew many hundreds of feet below him and he heard such a silence he could not believe existed growing up in a city. It was the most powerful peace he had ever felt and he instantly saw why Le Bow loved this land. He looked over his shoulder and saw the remainder of the city spreading upwards like the stalks of some exotic flower. The towers looked like an ice berg with nine tenths of the city under ground but the one tenth above the mesa was spectacular. The stalagmites of the glass towers reflecting the sun uncannily upwards so each spire shot a plume of sunlight straight up. He could not even guess how long such a thing would take to create.

  ‘I know you say you did not build this but you must stand in awe of those that did?’ said Darion.

  ‘We are told by the Blacks we should stand in awe of ourselves for defeating such creatures,’ said Le Bow. ‘I believe however, as you do, it is easier to conquer than to build. They were a mighty race for sure. Come and see the looking glasses.’

  The two friends walked towards a promontory fenced with rock jutting out further than the rest of the mesa. Two clear crystals sat in a fork of rock pointing towards the north east.

  ‘Place your eyes against the glass,’ said Le Bow.

  Darion looked through the crystals magnifying like binoculars. A rush of images leapt before him. He could see clearly the forests below and the small animals scurrying for food. He tipped the crystals up and the mountains jumped towards him with their snow peaks and craggy base. As he looked further east he could see the Ice Mountain, its vastness dwarfing even the tallest of the other mountains. Through a gap at the mountain’s base he could see the line of ocean meeting the horizon. As he twisted the crystal left and right he had a panoramic view of his new world. To the south he saw a mighty canyon and past it a bright river disappearing into the distance. The city blocked much of the view north but east he could see the same river swinging past the mesa and driving north. Further west he could see a mist of swamp land, its gasses sitting low to the ground and another blue line Le Bow said was an ancient inland sea none now travel. Rumors and tales of monsters and death to the east filled their history books and none wished to try and explore these lands. Darion raised his head from the crystals. He now possessed some more vital information to sustain the lies he is about to tell.

  ‘It is startling is it not?’ said Le Bow. ‘Although I am trapped to my order one day I will travel to some of these regions I can only visit through the glasses and I will not return but keep going until I have found a new horizon to chase and I will never stop until I have crossed all the oceans and seen the land of my fathers and am known throughout the world.’

  Le Bow smiled but Darion knew inwardly the young man doubted his dreams would ever be fulfilled. It seemed their life was mapped from birth and escape from their Order was not permitted or generally desired.

  ‘That dark spot to the south amongst the forest, what is that? It looks like a settlement?’ asked Darion.

  ‘That is our Southern Sentinel and further south still you come to the Silver City a beautiful and functional trade station. I have never been there either. That is the reserve of the merchant class, the Purples. I hear tell the city is the heart beat of the southern realm.’

  Although he should feel more comfortable after Le Bow shared some of the city's secrets, Darion felt an unease creep over him. He now believed it critical to have as little contact with the Black Order as possible as their knowledge would be superior to Le Bow’s and they could easily unmask him as a fraud. Secondly he could not see in all this vastness how he would ever find Isaac. He knew Isaac may well be in the same position, so his best option was to find the old man. Le Bow could help him and maybe the two of them could search the city but if there was no sign of him then he would have to look in other parts which he could not do without help. One step at a time thought Darion. First consolidate my relationships with Le Bow and his people and then enlist their help.

  Le Bow and Darion left the viewing area and made their way back to the staircase, Darion particularly happy the descent should be much easier. On their way down two Blacks effortlessly glided up the stairs. With no way to avoid them Le Bow moved to the far side of the stairs taking Darion with him. As the two groups passed the Black stopped and faced Darion who immediately felt his heart race.

  ‘You are visiting for the Ceremony no doubt,’ said the first whose face was hidden by a cowl pulled up over from the back of his head. Darion did not know whether this was a question or whether the Black was stating a fact. Either way he chose to remain silent.

  ‘And you are one of the guides,’ said the second again in an ambiguous manner. The two friends said nothing and tried to avoid eye contact with the Blacks when one threw back his cowl and studied Darion knowingly.

  ‘Your arrival is foreseen. You are to come with me.’

  Three guards emerged from a side platform and surrounded Darion and without a word pushed him forward and down a few more stairs and into a side canal leading off the stairs. The two Blacks followed and Le Bow stood watching their departure, powerless to intervene or even question the motives of his superiors.

  ‘Where are you taking me?’ asked Darion after a few minutes. The Blacks walked in silence and he intuitively knew these men would only speak when they chose. Although nervous he decided to met each challenge as it presented itself rather than try to second guess what was happening which he really had no ability to do successfully anyway.

  His guards led him into a large and ornate chamber whose tall timber doors on large iron hinges opened automatically as they approached and closed securely after they passed. In front of him a golden throne with a back stretching to the height of chamber’s ceiling filled that end of the room. Darion could see the size of the throne a legacy of the previous occupants rather than something recently built.

  More worryingly for him were tens of Black Order who formed a semi circle in front of the throne, leaving only the front portion accessible. Monk like, none of the creatures spoke and Darion felt he needed to break the silence himself when the loud peeling of a bel
l saved him the trouble. The procession of Blacks all lowered their heads as a woman or what Darion assumed to be a woman, draped in a neck to toe robe of deep blue entered the chambers and glided towards the throne. She stood over a foot taller than the men and she moved gracefully across the floor as two steps appeared before the throne in front of her. She sat quietly looking straight at Darion who returned the look with as confident a manner as he could muster.

  The Black who first spoke moved next to him. ‘Behold the Seeress Mara let all praise her with great praise.’

  He placed a strong hand behind Darion pushing him towards the woman and forced him to his knees. Now much closer Darion could see the features of the seeress and shuddered. Her eyes seemed hollow and empty and she did not appear to have any eyelids. Her black sockets stared vacantly back at a revolted Darion.

  ‘This is the one,’ she stated in a baritone voice emanating not from her mouth but more so out of the air around them. ‘I can feel his Verve. It is as powerful as we have believed it would be.’ Her head remained still but her vacant eyes pierced Darion like an ice pick making him wince in pain.

  ‘What does he know Li Chi?’ asked the seeress.

  ‘We do not know wise one,’ said the Black robe who arrested Darion. ‘We found him speaking with one of the Yellow guides. His Verve drew us to him. He did not resist as we expected and did not try to overpower us although we knew he could.’

  ‘There is much to learn of him then.’ The seeress spoke directly to Darion for the first time.

  ‘Do you come to rescue us Rok or do you come to condemn us?’

  Darion knew he needed to answer without hesitation. He had to be confident.

  ‘I come for neither as I am a mere traveller who is here for the Ceremony.’ Darion felt his statement to be utterly transparent but it was the only story he had and should they speak to Le Bow, which he felt certain they would, he needed to keep some consistency.

  ‘You convict yourself with your lies,’ said the seeress steadily. ‘With whom do you think you speak? I see through to the very soul of your being and I know in an instant when an untruth is uttered. The Jarnell claims you are the Rok and your Verve confirms it to us. All that is left to establish is whether you are the Rok of Salvation or that of Condemnation. Which is it?’

  Darion felt the threat in her voice like a slap in the face the malice dripping off her tongue. With no alternatives and no capacity to debate on something he had no idea about, he thought he should go on the attack as the best form of defence.

  ‘I restate my case. I am a traveller invited here to your ceremonies to celebrate the great victory and without my leave you drag me into these chambers and accuse me of some crime of which I have no knowledge. The world renowned hospitality of the Mesanian city seems to have diminished. I demand you explain yourself this instant.’ He threw the last bit in hoping to show his utter indignation.

  He looked sternly at the seeress who appeared to be confused.

  ‘The Jarnell is not wrong,’ she stammered. ‘We have been waiting for the arrival of the incarnation of the Rok of Fate who will either destroy us or strengthen us and here you are. Surely you do not challenge the authority of the righteous book?’

  The seeress stated the last with authority almost forcing Darion to make some sort of blasphemous statement. He had heard of the Jarnell three times now and realised it must be as holy to these people as the Bible or Qur’an is to people from his own world. He also knew how people treated heretics in some places and he did not want to appear contemptuous of their beliefs.

  ‘I say also the Jarnell is not wrong,’ said Darion warily. ‘It is a book of truths however those who interpret it are sometimes fallible and may incorrectly read it.’ He knew this directly challenged the seeress but it was a gamble he had to take. He needed to place doubt in the minds of his prosecutors to at least gain him some time so he could discover exactly what he is supposed to represent. ‘Or are these mighty people in front of me more perfect than the book.?’ He said in a more forceful tone.

  Darion could feel the tension building in the room. Mara the Seeress did not seem accustomed to being challenged and certainly not in front of her prelates.

  ‘You speak cleverly Rok, but you forget I hear all spoken words and most words only thought and I know you are already sewing seeds of discontent within the Yellow order. Do not deny this for it has been heard.’ Mara did not wait for Darion to answer. She could see the effect the conversation had on the Black around her, their doubts etched on each face. She looked again at the man in front of her and examined her own doubts. His mind felt different than any others she had felt. It carried thoughts familiar to her but also millions of others she could not understand and as a result his mind energy was confusing and difficult to fathom. He also had a confidence she was wary of and finally his Verve or spirit was so dense it was almost physical rather than abstract. She decided he posed a threat and must be killed but in a way demonstrating her judgement to be wise and just. He must therefore convict himself.

  ‘I will pass my Judgement but first you will answer me one question.’ Her hollow eyes glowed and a slight smile revealed yellowing teeth. ‘Ygglinsk camar heim?’

  While Darion listened to the seeress he also scouted the room around him searching for some avenue of escape if running became his only option. The Blacks had not closed the semi circle they initially formed and Darion sensed rather than knew no one stood directly behind him and only the one called Li Chi immediately next to him. The doors he came through had closed and there did not seem to be any others and to make matters worse he knew the seeress did not believe he was who he said and now asked him a question in what appeared to be some dialect he would be expected to know. He did not like the way she kept calling him Rok. He was outnumbered twenty to one and even if he wasn’t he knew he was not the type to be able to fight off more than one person at a time and even then he would likely lose.

  With as much confidence as he could muster he took a few bold steps towards Mara and smiled broadly into her hollow face. The black robes stood calmly and did not try to inhibit him very likely knowing Mara possessed her own defenses. In a few steps Darion was within arms reach of the seeress. He felt a dull pain in his head the closer he approached but pushing it to one side and concentrated on the seeress.

  Mara saw him approach and reached into his mind to read his intentions but the confusion she first detected masked most of Darion’s thoughts. Too late she sensed danger. Without warning Darion leapt onto the throne dais and grabbed the seeress’s arm and wrenched it behind her back, pushing the right one up her back until she let out a howl of pain. He felt a pang of remorse from hurting her but also knew if he let go he would be in a much worse position. Dragging her of the throne he screamed at the Black to halt as they moved instantly to the seeress’s aid.

  ‘Get away or I will break her neck,’ he cried. The Blacks began retreating and Darion inched Mara towards the side of the throne where she originally entered rationalising if she came this way there must be a door or room somewhere. The tall woman’s feet dragged on the floor, slowing his escape but he could not let her go. Although quite a large and an impressive figure the woman weighted very little, not much more than a small child and he hoisted her onto his shoulder, shuffling across the floor screaming threats to waylay the pursuit of her servants.

  Behind the throne Darion found an empty room not unlike a presbytery in a church. He threw the woman down and closed the door pushing a long timber sleeper into a cradle on its back. As his initial panic and adrenaline subsided, he found himself getting angrier and angrier, the last few days finally building up inside him and the frustration of not being able to get home becoming too much. He grabbed the woman by her shirt and thrust his face right in front of her hollow eyes.

  ‘Now listen here, I don’t give a damn about you or your miserable Black order. All I care about is getting home from where I came from and you are stop
ping me from doing that. Now I am going to ask You a question and if you don’t answer me I will wring your scrawny little neck do you understand?’ Without waiting for an answer Darion continued. ‘Where is the exit from this room and how do I get back to the staircase?’ Darion thought if he could reach the stairs he could just about find his way back to the Lower Ships with the intention of returning for a little while to the antechamber he originally came out of. If Le Bow’s people had not found the trophy room in a thousand years then he felt confident he would be safe there for a while before he could work on a plan to escape. He needed to move quickly before the Blacks could cut off all escape routes.

  The Seeress was almost catatonic with fear and anger. No one had ever touched her in such a manner and certainly never spoken to her like she was the slave. She did not need to read this man’s thoughts, she knew if she did not do exactly as he said he would do harm to her but worse she now knew she had found the Rok of Condemnation. The Blacks were thumping fists on the doors and shortly these were replaced by a heavy timber battering making the door creak at the hinges. She considered stalling but the grip around her neck slowly tightened.

  ‘Last chance,’ said Darion as the squeezed tightened.

  She pointed towards the furtherest wall and Darion could see a small closed door. He could not afford to take her with him so he had to trust the Blacks were not quick enough to have already blocked the other side. He pushed the seeress up against the wall and lunged across the room pulling the door open and sprinting down a deserted corridor running parallel to Mara’s chambers. He quickly reached the staircase and ran down the stairwell as fast as he dared, the walls to either side a blur. He only once looked back over his shoulder and he saw a sea of Black amuleted men following. His biggest worry came from the things he did not know. He did not know the numbers he faced, what a Rok was and what sort of communications existed in such a vast place. Logic would demand with thousands of years of residence they must have developed some form of communications otherwise the top levels and the bottom would rarely know what the other did. He pondered the problem as he ran when he saw maybe a hundred feet below him another group of Blacks approaching this time with fifty or so Blue and Purple orders with them blocking his descent. Out of some side tunnels below several Blue and Purples rushed towards him. He just about gave up hope when an arm came out of a side alley and pulled him inside.

  ‘We better hurry,’ said Le Bow who started laughing like a lune. ‘We haven’t seen so much stir in a hundred years, make that five hundred years. You have just become the most wanted man in all of Mesania, what in the name of all the gods have you done?’

  ‘I would love to stop and tell you but as you see we are in a bit of a rush at present do you have any ideas?’

  ‘Don’t worry, I know this city better than any others, these Black and the rest run like sloths, we will be out of their reach in a few moments, but we will not be able to return to my rooms as I am sure they will be watched.’

  Le Bow impelled Darion forward giggling the entire time and the two sprinted down some much narrower alley ways emerging in a darkened tunnel lit by some feeble torches. Le Bow pulled on one of the torches and another dimly lit channel opened before them and they stole down it trying to make as little noise as possible.

  Just as he promised, Le Bow seemed to know every crease in the walls of the mesa and soon Darion became completely disorientated and as such dependent wholly on Le Bow. The pair entered a brighter tunnel leading almost straight down in a spiral necessitating both of them to hold onto the walls as they descended. Here the tunnel narrowed more than any place he had yet seen but still wide enough for them both to travel speedily. A few minutes later the tunnel flattened out and they made even better speed and not once did they encounter another person. Darion tried to speak to Le Bow but he seemed to be concentrating hard on their route but he would occasionally stop and listen carefully to the walls around him sometimes pressing his ear against some holes in the rock and counting softly on his hands, his chest heaving from the sprint. Just as suddenly he would leap into a run and open some other secreted alley way.

  They travelled like this for close to an hour before they ended at a small opening in the rock that could not even be called a door. Le Bow crouched down and tapped lightly against one corner until a sliver of light appeared from above and a face looked warily out at the two bent and heaving figures below.

  Seconds later a hatch opened and Darion and Le Bow disappeared into it. Immediately a group of men surrounded them each holding a sword at their throats. They seemed to recognise Le Bow instantly but kept their weapons drawn until a taller man came up behind them.

  ‘Le Bow, you risk much coming here unannounced?’ said the man Darion could tell was their leader.

  ‘I know the laws, but we have cheated Mara of another sacrifice and this one I know you will be happy with as here with me is the one called Darion whom I found wandering in the markets’

  The taller man eyed Darion knowingly and extended a gloved hand which Darion took in the traditional grip of goodwill and to show hands empty of weapons.

  ‘Well met Darion. My name is Le Tare, I have heard of your arrival from beyond the Ice Mountain and I am eager to speak with you, but first we must secure the entrance so if you please.’

  Le Tare motioned for Le Bow and Darion to move away from the entrance and within seconds men took up position above and around the door and peered through tiny peep holes at the area outside the door and up the corridor beyond. Darion looked around. He had arrived in some type of armory or at least military quarters. Bunk beds lined the walls and as they moved further into the rooms they saw dining tables and other larger communal facilities where many men talked softly to each other and studied parchments. The room had a heavy air he guessed as much from the density of human flesh as from the tension the men displayed from their body language. Hushed voices spoken behind open palms. They looked like an army eager and ready to enter a battle, the lack of action frustrating them.

  Each person they passed gave them suspicious and long looks and Darion felt he was being scrutinised from every angle. He in turn returned the stares with a straight face and serious aspect. These men with chiseled faces looked like professional and hardened soldiers each determining if he posed a threat and deciding how best to kill him if matters required it. The scanning made him feel very vulnerable. For the second time today he was at the mercy of others and this group seemed far more formidable than Mara and her prelates.

  Finally after a lengthy walk they emerged into a largish room, with lounge chairs, an open fire and a pleasant feel. Couches and tables gave the room a softer ambiance than the rest of the tunnels and the warm aroma of baked treats wafted around them. The light coming from the open fire was inviting and soothing. Darion felt silly, with all the mystery around him, all he could think of was how long the flume taking the smoke away from the mountains heart would be.

  After he spoke to some of his men, Le Tare followed Le Bow and Darion into the room and sat in a large central chair. The men accepted a plate of assorted breads and a mug of a steamy broth tasting like thick beer and Le Tare finally relaxed enough to listen to the two friends.

  ‘You two have certainly caused a commotion,’ said Le Tare. ‘Seems every Black in Mesania is searching for you. Tell me Darion did you really assault the Seeress for if you did it was a manly task and well done. The woman has a power over others difficult to battle, however you seem no worse for the encounter?’

  ‘Well all I really did was ask her for directions and she was very helpful once I convinced her that it was in her best interests to co operate.’

  Le Tare laughed hard and the metal on his jerkin sung as it bounced on his broad chest.

  ‘I wish I had seen it. Now though, I am afraid the both of you are wanted men. There is no way you would be able to go back to your home now Le Bow. It will be watched closely.’

  ‘I have h
ad enough of Lesser and Greater Ships Le Tare, it is time we made our stand. I never thought I could leave my birth place but after speaking to Darion the juices of revolution are flowing through my veins. You need to hear his words for they inspire men.’

  Darion cringed inside. Le Bow built him up to be something he could not sustain. He did not want to be a revolutionary particularly as it usually meant at some stage there would be bloodshed and he had no intention of shedding someone else's or more importantly his own. He needed to dampen down the fires that grew in these people.

  ‘I have said all this before but I will say it again, I come from farming stock and am no way a leader of men. My tenets are simply that of my father’s and not my own. I want only peace and the right to leave free.’

  Le Tare said nothing absorbing Darion’s words. After another bite of his bread he spoke in a very disarming fashion and to Darion in a way that seemed to suggest he knew more of Darion’s real past than he should.

  ‘The Jarnell is a book the Seeress quotes as if she wrote it, however in one matter we are in accord. We both believe Fate is about to visit us in a human form. The Rok of Salvation and the Rok of Condemnation is nigh and I think I have finally discovered what these riddles mean for us. You are no doubt the Rok, for it is ordained you will arrive from simple stock and deny your own destiny. You come from places far but near and know our customs although you do not live amongst us. No, you are the Rok but for us you are the Rok of Salvation and for Mara you are the Rok of Condemnation, that is the answer to the riddle, you are all things to all men regardless of their beliefs. Do not try to deny it or do so if that is your will, but either way, each word from your mouth further confirms my hypothesis.’

  Le Bow entered the debate in a rush of enthusiasm. ‘He speaks of a classless world where all men are equal and represented in great counsels. We could achieve this vision and never again be relegated to a life of servitude. I know he is the Rok and I for one will follow him.’

  ‘As will I Le Bow. First we need to ensure there are people to follow and not corpses. You have awakened the city against us and all will now be taking sides either with Mara or for us. The times are about to change,’ he said with resignation rather than enthusiasm in his voice. Le Tare knew soon people would die defending their beliefs and it distressed him how he may contribute to anyone’s death.

  ‘I think you will have to spend the rest of the campaign with us Le Bow. We can provide you with all your needs.’

  Le Bow relaxed drifting into a romantic world of change when he suddenly sat bolt upright in his seat. ‘Le Carra, my sister, I must go to her. The Blacks will surely arrest her as my sister, I cannot let that happen.’ He sprang up and out of the room before anyone could stop him and headed for the door knocking confused men out of his way as he went.

  Darion watched his friend disappear down the tunnel and stood to follow.

  ‘Does he always do that?’ he asked Le Tare.

  Le Tare did not move but merely took another sip of his broth as he looked at Darion. ‘He is impetuous our friend, and has always been so. That is the reserve of youth. Do not worry, he cannot go far, all the entrances are locked.’

  In spite of Le Tare’s words Darion also felt like he needed to rush back to Le Bow’s home. He had not forgotten the moment in the bedroom and try as he might the image of the beautiful Le Carra filled his mind every time he closed his eyes. He tried to admonish himself and look at the facts. Firstly he did not believe a woman so beautiful would ever be attracted to him and more importantly his goals were to leave as soon as possible and even if she did seem interested he could not morally have a relationship with her when he knew he would be leaving. On the other side he knew he was instantly in love with the girl and he kicked himself for his foolishness. His mind became a jumble. Too many things were happening to him. He became a mix of personalities. A messiah and revolutionary leader, a vagabond, a vandal of the wonderful trophy room and an outlaw to name a few. At this moment he added 'frivolous' to the list as he followed Le Bow, knowing he also needed to protect Le Carra.

  ‘Le Bow may be impetuous but he is my friend and his sister is a rare woman indeed and I will help him protect her, so by your leave I would go with him.’

  ‘By all the gods you two are born of the same parents if my judgement is true. Do not rush into the unknown. We also know Le Carra and want to keep her safe but perhaps we work our a strategy together rather than walk straight into the dungeons. The Blacks are very powerful but perhaps not as you think. Their physical form is no different than our own however they possess a high degree of prescience and are diviners of future events. It is said some are so powerful they can strip a man of his thoughts and replace them with their own or attack a mind with a Psy blast rendering the individual an senseless. We must be extremely wary when encountering them and even more so if we are to challenge them. Our advantage lies in their arrogance and belief in their own infallibility. They would never entertain an uprising against them being at all successful and they may well be correct if we do not prepare carefully. Sit Darion, our friend will be returned to us shortly. He considers himself quite elusive however my men are the better. They will capture him in moments.’

  Darion sat down wondering what new problems lay before him, when Le Bow’s head appeared horizontally around the corner closely followed by the rest of him. Four laughing guards dropped him unceremoniously in front of Le Tare’s feet and left slapping each other on the back.

  An indignant Le Bow straightened his cloths and looked angrily at Le Tare.

  ;That was not necessary Le Tare, they threw me around like a sack of potatoes.’

  ‘You better sit down, have a drink and think, because if you left here in that state of mind the Blacks would have made you potato mash and your sister still would not have been any better off.’

  ‘Maybe,’ said Le Bow who had problems with the arms of his cloak. ‘At least I would have gone down fighting and not hold away like skulking rats afraid to show their faces lest they have to prove there are actions behind their brave words.’

  Le Tare leapt to his feet in anger and Le Bow moved towards him threateningly and the two would have come to blows when Darion jumped between them.

  ‘Stop this nonsense,’ he commanded in a voice of authority freezing the two in their tracks. ‘You are doing the Blacks work for them by fighting amongst yourselves. Why not save your energy for them.’

  Both Le Bow and Le Tare stared at Darion with respect. ‘It is as the Jarnell states,’ said Le Tare. ‘For he who comes to lead us will command with a word and lead with an action.’

  The two men relaxed and grasped each other by the wrists placing their other arm around the others neck.

  ‘We are brothers,’ said Le Tare. ‘I am sorry.’

  ‘As am I,’ said Le Bow. ‘My anxiousness for my sister made me mad for a moment but now I am sober and will listen to you both, but if I could urge haste as my sister is my life.’

  ‘So be it then,’ said Le Tare. ‘Let us rescue Le Carra and if nothing else we will be an even greater annoyance to Mara and her priests until the time soon when we will pester them to repentance.’

  Without another word the room filled with men, all talking among themselves but with a kind of chaotic order. They each appeared to Darion to have a pre programmed function and they moved rapidly and with purpose until they all stood in ordered clusters waiting for Le Tare to speak.

  ‘This is the nucleus of the rebellion,’ said Le Tare to Darion. These men have left their homes and their families because they have a greater belief the way of the world must be changed so all of us have parity, regardless of their heritage. I have dreamt all my life of breaking out of the shackles imposed on me and one day turn the Blacks out of Mesania. Until now we were direction less. I see clearly today what we must do.’

  He turned to face the throng of people now numbering somewhere near a hundred all heavily armed and with gri
m faces. Some wore their traditional yellow and white amulets while the others wore what Darion thought to be akin to army fatigues, deep brown and grey camouflaging them well against the Mesanian rocks.

  ‘The Jarnell speaks of one who will lead us with Affirmation, who comes unexpectedly and drives our passions with brief words. It is he whom stands among you today.’

  A collective gasp escaped from the lips of the men as they stared at Darion with wonder.

  ‘I have often pondered what form the rebellion would take as we toiled away in our caverns. Now it is obvious to me and how beautiful is our destiny. We go to rescue a woman. The most beautiful in all the Ships. The wondrous Le Carra whom we all know and love. She is in imminent danger from the Blacks who as we speak seek to lure Le Bow with threats against his kindred sister as they know he assoaciates with the Rok. We will not let this happen and we will shed our blood in resistance. I know our victory, the First victory, will be assured for we are linked with the destiny of Darion, now known as the Rok of Salvation and his destiny is written in the Jarnell. Meet him and speak with him. He is no god but a man of vision and his words I swear are true and proper.’

  Darion felt himself punctured by the eyes in the room. What was he to do? He could not simply deny their claims. The passion in their eyes and voices meant he knew he was among a group who possessed true virtue and honour and a part of him wished to share that honour and save Le Carra. To dismiss their claims on him could do everlasting damage to their cause, however he did not want to be the martyr head of a rebellion but in this wonder world he had entered he needed to take a side.

  He swallowed hard and met the eyes of the resistance. ‘You believe me to be some sort of sage or warrior and I am neither. What I am is a man who believes in natural justice and the right to live free and without persecution. These rights are inalienable and the most worthy of ideals to defend. So I say to you that YES we must rescue the innocent and defend those with no capacity to defend themselves and YES we must sometimes sacrifice security and comfort to do so and the rewards will be tenfold the sacrifice if successful and success will be marked by the shedding of the chains binding you and the trampling of the black oppressors.’

  Darion felt alive, every corpuscle in his body tingling with excitement. The words rolled out of his mouth as if they came from someone else and they had a profound power over Le Tare’s people. The room simmered with nationalistic fervour Darion thought could get half of the men in the room killed from impetuousness. He needed to temper the mood as the grunts of approval became chants and intonations of impending battle.

  ‘Stop,’ he bellowed, silencing the voices. ‘We must be careful, for where I come from many a revolution has failed from a lack of planning and emotion dictating actions. The rush of adrenaline can carry one to places of gravest danger. So listen to Le Tare for I suspect he is a man of superior strategy and if we are to win we may have to do so in small victories over time than one crushing one. So let us rescue Le Carra and record the first victory on the pathway to freedom.’

  The people burst into cheering which took a good five minutes to quell, as the men beat their shields with their swords and thumped metal clad chests with iron covered fists. Darion felt quite pleased with himself. He had not committed himself completely and stalled any unthinking actions that could get people killed, while leaving Le Tare in charge which should allow him to eventually fade into the background once Le Carra was safe. All in all he thought this a pretty good result.

  Le Bow stood on a table and his voice again charged the crowd. ‘Behold Darion the Rok of Condemnation for the Blacks and the Rok of Salvation for the people of Mesania who will lead us to victory.’

  The crowd erupted with renewed vigour a chorus of ROK,ROK,ROK echoing throughout he chambers.

  So much for that plan thought Darion.

  Le Tare raised a hand to calm the soldiers until he had the attention of the group and began discussing strategies. As he spoke, Darion realised how much of an advantage the rebels could have. Apparently the caves of Mesania were even more honeycombed than Darion imagined and Le Tare’s men had discovered just about all their secrets, which meant they could effectively travel throughout the mesa without detection, emerging out of secret doors remained hidden from the Blacks for centuries. Evidently however they had not found the lost trophy room Darion escaped from, for which he was grateful.

  Their numbers were not as great as the enemy, however the value of the surprise attacks and departures they could effect meant they could very easily conduct a guerilla campaign to frustrate and eventually weaken the current political structure.

  Le Tare decided the first foray of the rebellion would be conducted by a small and well trained core of soldiers including Darion and Le Bow and they would sweep through the hidden tunnels and come out at Le Bow’s quarters in the Lesser Ships dispatching the expected guards and taking Le Carra with them. Their only problem would be guessing how large the contingent of guards would be and how well armed. If the guards had no forewarning of the attacks then success would be assured.

  Darion’s opinion of Le Tare increased dramatically when he advised the rebels not to needlessly kill any of the guards who merely did the job of a soldier and if they could surprise them sufficiently then they may be able to make them throw down their weapons. If however any doubt existed about safety, then they needed to kill swiftly and deftly and ensure the victims suffered as little as possible. He suggested decapitation as the most effective way of killing them. Darion thought him a real humanitarian.

  In a few hours the group gathered at the entrance. Although small, Darion thought it a formidable bunch and knew if hostilities broke out, these men would be able to handle any and all oppositions without him getting in the way. Apart from himself there was Le Tare, who led the team, Le Bow and four others who Le Tare said were the best swordsmen in the rebellion. Le Tibor, who won every internal training challenge and was even credited with the slaughtering of a stray Ratite, which Darion learnt was a giant bird, that once landed on the roof of Mesania when Le Tibor was only a lad of seventeen. Next stood Le Vulk, a huge man standing a head taller than the rest and whom Darion assumed was completely mute as he did not speak even when introduced and had such a physical presence Le Bow told him the mere sight of him would win most battles. He squeezed Darion’s hand in a vice-like grip bringing a tears to his eyes. Le Vulk walked away oblivious to the pain he left behind. On the floor near the entrance, polishing a long blade sat Le Fidler, who appeared as opposite of Le Vulk physically as Darion thought possible being more slightly built than the women he had seen. Darion looked at him sceptically and as if reading his mind Le Fidler grabbed him by the wrist and turned it an unnatural 90 degrees until Darion yelped in pain. Immediately a very sharp looking razor blade appeared under Darion’s chin, followed by a playful chuckle as Le Fidler relaxed his grip. The men in the room laughed loudly as Le Fidler twirled the blade between his thumb and fore finger and sheathed the weapon in a hidden scabbard under his cloak. He slapped Darion hard on the back.

  ‘Not everything is as it seems Rok Darion. We all have our special skills and mine is disarming foes with my apparent harmlessness. Don’t worry, you are not the first to misjudge me and for me to be effective it is important that you do.’

  Darion felt a little intimidated, as he rubbed the crushed hand with the broken one and looked suspiciously at the fourth man who moved towards him. He stood approximately the same height and weight as himself, with shining eyes making Darion start to back.

  ‘This is Le Baildon,’ said Le Tare. ‘He will be our guide. No one knows the secret compartments of Mesania like he and he will find the speediest and safest way if we follow his counsel. More importantly, he will find our best methods of escape. If we are to be successful, Le Baildon is the critical element of our foray.’ Le Tare saw the relieved look on Darion’s face and smiled evilly. ‘He also holds the record for the most Black guards killed in
one night.’

  Darion shuddered noticeably. It appeared all the men in the rebellion possessed expertise as killers and only he had never killed anything. He hoped this would not change by the end of the night.

  The wall slid silently, opening into a dark tunnel stretching deep into the mountain, turning suddenly down and out of sight. The walls were a slimy green and the regular drip of water made the footings greasy and unsteady.

  Le Tare stood at the opening with Le Baildon by his side, both men searching the corridor carefully before calling the others to join them. The tunnel was well lit and more importantly empty of people. The group had travelled through many circuitous routes for more than two hours so as to finally come to a spot as close as Le Baildon could judge to be near Le Bow’s chambers in the Lesser Ships. Le Bow pushed his way to the front and spoke appreciatively to Le Baildon.

  ‘You are as good as ever,’ he told Le Baildon. ‘The second torch on the far wall opens a small cavity to the rear of my rooms. Let us go.’

  Le Tare grabbed Le Bow by the wrist to stop him careering into the corridor and sat him down roughly.

  ‘When will you learn to be circumspect. We do not know what awaits us. We will tread carefully.’

  Le Tare led the five into the corridor, sidling along the opposite wall stopping every few feet to listen to any sounds around them but they heard nothing. Le Bow was twitching impatiently at a particularly long stoppage Le Tare insisted on.

  ‘What are we waiting for Le Tare, there is no-one here let me open the door.’

  ‘Do you hear that?’ asked Le Tare in an annoyed voice.

  ‘All I hear is my own heartbeat,’ said Le Bow.

  ‘Precisely,’ retorted Le Tare. ‘There should be some noise, we are not far from the fairs and this is normally a regularly used thoroughfare. This silence is uncommon.’

  No sooner had the words left his lips when three doors around them simultaneously opened and a squad of guards poured out surrounding the five rebels, who drew their swords in response. A taller figure dressed in black pushed through the throng and stood grinning at the men.

  ‘Li Chi,’ whispered Le Tare under his breath as he looked around for some way to escape the trap. Even with their skill they could not defeat numbers ten times their own with only five swords.

  ‘Ah Le Tare,’ said Li Chi. ‘Well met. Let me see, the last time I saw you I do believe

  we were putting your wife and son to the sword in the temple. Does that sound correct? Yes I am sure it is. I remember now, you howled like a woman and cried like an infant for what felt like an eternity. Quite undignified really, I hope you have learned some decorum since.’

  Darion looked at Le Tare’s face which became hard and cruel. He gave no sign of intimidation or fear just an overwhelming hatred of the man in front of him. As long as he lived he knew he would always remember the look in that face. Crazed anger only held together by a gossamer thread of control.

  Le Tare glared at Li Chi and returned the caustic smile.

  ‘It may be that today I will satiate my grief and although I may die in the attempt you will not leave here alive. You need more than fifty swords to stop me from tearing your heart out with my bare hands.’

  Le Tare began moving towards Li Chi ignoring the guards levelling their swords at his chest.

  ‘Far be it for me to give you some advice Le Tare, but perhaps you should reconsider because in fact I do have more than fifty swords to deal with your rabble.’

  Li Chi stepped to one side and behind him the men could see a guard holding the limp form of Le Carra, a blade under her throat, causing a dimple as it pushed against the white skin on her neck. Le Bow let out a cry of anguish and started to rush to her but stopped when he saw the guard push the knife further against her neck.

  Li Chi chuckled. ‘Really Le Tare, you didn’t think I would come here personally if I thought there was any danger to myself.’

  From somewhere deep inside him Darion felt a heroic thrust. He never considered himself particularly brave and believed heroes were usually normal people placed in abnormal situations who reacted without thinking. He could see himself doing the same thing. He moved towards Li Chi laughing as he came.

  ‘Hi Li, remember me, last time I saw you old Mara was whipping you like a dog for letting me go. Surely you do not think for one moment we would come here ourselves if we did not know we would be leaving and with Le Carra. You really are an imbecile.’

  Li Chi stopped grinning and began looking suspiciously around him. He knew this Darion posed an extremely dangerous threat. He thought there must be more rebels lurking somewhere else around them.

  ‘You don’t look as confident as you did a moment ago what’s wrong?’ Darion kept walking and now stood within a few feet of Li Chi with Le Carra and the guard now only a few feet to his right. He continued to move past them and for some reason the other guards focused more on what he said than where he headed.

  ‘How thinly the fabric of your courage is woven Li Chi.. You outnumber us ten to one and still you do not have big enough balls to attack. What do you carry around in between your legs because I am sure that if you are a man then it could only be a dried up grape.’

  Darion’s strategy was simple, as simple almost always works. He planned to feign ignoring Le Carra until the last second and as Li Chi and the others focused on him he would aim an elbow straight at the temple of the guard holding her. He felt confident, even though he had never hit anyone before, that a true blow would at the very least stun the guard and at best knock him down completely. He kept up the insulting babble aimed at Li Chi and curiously most of the guards seemed to think it quite amusing with some even lowering their weapons.

  ‘Where I come from we call men like you ‘purse carriers’ because you act more like a woman than a man. You may even prefer men for all I know, at least that is the rumour.’

  Li Chi looked at him with wide eyes. No-one had ever showed him such disrespect. One guard laughed out loud and then Darion struck. He relied on the skill of his companions, especially Le Tare, even though he had never seen them fight, because if his plan worked he would have Le Carra in his hands and would be defenceless. He hit the guard nearest him with an elbow to the temple and the guard dropped to the floor. He caught a shaking and tearful Le Carra in one hand and the guard’s knife in the other as he rushed back to his friends who immediately leapt into action. Ten of the guards fell in the first few seconds as swords flashed through skin and limbs. Le Vulk slew three himself in a vast stroke of his enormous sword driving straight through the waists of the nearest guards with the barest of deceleration. Le Fidler bounded towards one guard and sidestepped instantly to take another unawares and swung back to kill the first with a stab of his hidden knife. Blood splashed in waves along the walls of the corridor and screams filled the caves. A head bounced past Darion who noticed Le Tare took his own advice on killing methods. The guards faltered when they saw the ferocity of the attack especially when their fifty very quickly had been reduced to forty and less and less by the second. Li Chi screamed in anger and in two steps was disappearing down a corridor. The guards began backing away as Le Baildon waved the rebels back down the corridor to a smallish opening at the base of a wall. They ducked their heads through the gap as Le Tare continued to swing his blade violently at the remaining guards as he moved towards where Li Chi disappeared. This time it was Le Bow’s turn to grab Le Tare by the wrist.

  ‘Come friend, there will be other times when we can exact retribution on the fiend but now we must escape before the guards gain reinforcements and courage.’

  Le Tare shook the grip free and begrudgingly bent into the hole disappearing into the darkness, followed by Le Bow, the door to the portal slamming behind him.

  Darion entered the hole first and Le Carra, he happily noted, clung to him hard, the sobbing having stopped and a type of shock setting in. Not on her but on him. Darion found himself shaking uncon
trollably and he felt like his whole head would explode from the throbbing of a searing heat. Le Carra helped him to the ground and Le Baildon brought over a light.

  In all the sword play Darion had been struck hard to the back of the head and a steady stream of blood pulsed from a deep wound. At the time he noticed it but the effects of the adrenaline meant he thought the wound was only superficial. He began to feel himself losing consciousness and convinced himself after all the things he had been through, he now would die in some dark tunnel a million miles from home. The last thing he saw was Le Carra as she bent down to caress his face and for that he felt grateful.

  Either a few days or a few hours later Darion woke and wish he hadn’t. The pain he felt before he collapsed was nothing compared to the headache he now had. His whole head was covered in a foul smelling poultice making him gag. He looked around and saw he had returned to the rebel’s enclave and now lay in a large room, the hard bed under him confirming the exiled lifestyle he now lived in had no room for comforts, even for the war wounded.

  His eyes wandered until they met Le Carra’s who sat patiently next to his bed, a concerned look in her blue eyes.

  ‘It seems every time I see you, you are coming out of a sleep. Your people have a very indolent lifestyle.’ Although teasing him, her tone revealed her deep worry as she searched Darion’s face for signs of pain.

  The aching Darion felt from his wound suddenly paled compared to the misery he felt in not being able to speak his mind to this beautiful woman. He never was very skilled at social conversation and now he could see himself stumbling and bumbling in front of a woman who took his breath away each time he looked at her. A revelation struck him and he knew there lay a wealth of conversation written by others she would not be familiar with and may make him look more sophisticated than he could ever dream.

  ‘It is your beauty that haunts me in my sleep Le Carra,’ said Darion, Henry VI if he remembered his Shakespeare correctly.

  Le Carra’s eyes shone and a red blush coloured her already crimson cheeks but she quickly regained her composure.

  ‘Pretty words indeed, your people must write poetry in their idleness.’

  ‘Beautiful words are inspired by beauty,’ he said quite proud this line was his own creation.

  Again Le Carra blushed a bright red and now she was not so quick to tease him in return. She looked at him with a serious face and bent over, kissing him gently on the lips.

  ‘Thank You.’ She took another moment to look with confusion at Darion then turning left the room leaving him for the second time breathless but curiously the pain in his head disappeared.

  Le Tare sipped a steaming brew of water and Verbena leaves and sat back in the only chair in the enclave possessing a cushion, grinning at Le Bow who sat opposite him on a timber stool with no back or arms. He watched Le Bow try to get comfortable and eventually give up and sit on the hard floor.

  ‘Darion seems to be recovering well,’ said Le Bow in between shifting his backside from cheek to cheek.

  ‘I would recover speedily also if Le Carra nursed me,’ said Le Tare who sent his hatred of Li Chi to the back of his mind temporarily. He knew how consuming hate could be and if he were to lead this crew of revolutionaries then he must do so emotionlessly to save lives.

  Le Bow chuckled without humour. ‘I think we may have a problem there. Now don’t get me wrong, if my sister were to fall in love with anyone then I would bless a union between the Rok and her. It is the cultural divide that may be difficult to bridge. Their differences may be too great to overcome.’

  Le Tare began roaring with laughter, slapping his beefy hand on Le Bow’s back. ‘Are you sure it is not your sister but you who is in love. By all the gods Le Bow if your sister and Darion fall in love then their differences will be what bonds them together, that is the way of the world. Anyway our opinions are meaningless as what will be will be regardless of you and I. But they do make a handsome couple. You may have a brother before too long.’

  ‘I already have him as a brother and you misjudge me. I crave their union for I am not blind to the effect my sister has on men. Suitors court her almost daily and many will not take no for an answer. I have even seen the higher orders crave an audience with her. She is a gem, a beauty seen only once in a lifeline and so she should have a man equal to her and in Darion there is such a man, and one who would treat her as a queen among women.’ Le Bow pondered his next words.

  ‘My comments are selfish only, as I can see her leave me and go where Darion would go. It pains me not to be able to visit her at my leisure.’

  ‘Then you are a wise man Le Bow, because you have the ability to look deep into yourself and realise your own failings before others point them out to you. That is a measure of enlightenment. Do not fear, as I know your sister loves you as much as you love her and she will be with you in spirit no matter where she ultimately travels.’

  Le Bow felt comfort in Le Tare’s words. He spoke as a leader and Le Bow would follow him to the end, as would all the others in the enclave, and thousands of others who have yet to join the rebellion.

  Le Tare took another long draught of the brew and smiled. ‘Our first victory will cause our second battle Le Bow. Li Chi will not take the defeat well. He would already be mobilising his guards to chase us out of these caves. We must go on the attack and not wait to be caught like rats. As I see it, the only decision to be made is what will be our next target?’

  Le Tare, while feigning he had little in the way of plans for the future, had in fact prepared a thorough battle schedule including multiple forays into the Upper Ships with the goal of creating several fronts forcing the Blacks to split their forces. Divided they will fall one by one, until there are none left and then they will present themselves before the entire population of Mesania and asked them what sort of life they preferred. One of equality and justice or one of continued bias and elitism that would eat away at the soul of the empire.

  He looked up and saw Darion standing at the door leaning heavily on a cane. Le Bow jumped up and grabbed him by the elbow.

  ‘Why are you out of bed?’ he cried as he helped him to a chair with arms.

  ‘I knew you would be drawing up a battle plan and I thought it would be interesting to have a look even though in this respect, if not all respects, you are the experts.’

  ‘You are our Captain,’ said Le Tare not at all jokingly. ‘All moves would be ratified by you in any event. You are an example to us. We must not sit idle even if injured.’

  ‘Strike while the iron is hot as we say at home,’ said Darion. ‘They will still be hurting from the hiding you gave them and may not be ready for another so quickly.’

  Le Tare walked to a smallish sideboard covered by a sheet and uncovered a scale model of Mesania with a cross section view through the middle. He quickly gave Darion and Le Bow a brief of his ideas of multiple attack points throughout the mesa and splitting the Black forces. Darion looked at the model and the many arrows Le Tare had drawn to indicate where those attacks would be.

  Although having no military knowledge, Darion could see some large problems of communication and supply to an army strewn across many miles of caves and tunnels. They also could not afford to have any messages they did send intercepted, as any breach in security could mean many deaths. Keeping account of everyone would be difficult and the entire campaign could degenerate into a guerilla war taking years to resolve. He told Le Tare and they both stared at the model pondering what to do instead.

  ‘I have a thought” said Darion, ‘and it opposes the multiple small victories we have spoken about.’ He sat back down feeling suddenly weak and continued. ‘It is dangerous in the extreme and may not work at all, but we do not want a protracted, lengthy campaign. I have seen these types of wars in my own lands and all they really succeed in doing is dispossessing the poor and creating misery for everyone except the sword manufacturers. We need a decisive and quick strike to end th
e war with as little loss of life as possible. Have you ever tried to kill a snake?’ He asked.

  The two men shook there heads, ‘You run from a snake Darion not kill it they are quite deadly you know,’ said Le Bow.

  ‘Indeed they are,’ continued Darion. ‘The best way to kill a snake however is to cut off its head and then the rest has no ability to survive. I think we need to cut off the Blacks head. Rid yourselves of Mara and the rest will be like a rudderless ship drifting out of control.’

  The two Mesanians looked at each other in wonder. ‘You are right Le Bow, his words inspire. ‘A rudderless ship’ these must be written down lest we forget them.’ Le Tare paced the room. ‘Darion speaks true. Mara controls all of the Black’s thoughts. If she were dead the rest would be impotent.’

  ‘I hope we don’t have to kill her but you are right,’ said Darion. ‘Instead of hundreds dead we have only one. We could still use all the smaller attacks as decoys to the real thing.’ Darion smiled, ‘and always remember in war appear weak when you are strong and strong when you are weak. In this instance will will enure we appear as weak as possible to mask our real numbers. Send all your people out in short forays, just long enough to draw away some of her power and then we move in. We could capture her and then you can do as you will although I would recommend expulsion over summary execution.’

  ‘You are fairer than many will wish to be I think, although it is also a measure of a man to be just and merciful. If she agrees and does not resist then we grant her some quarter.’ ‘Good. The next problem is one of communication. It seems the enemy has no problem in this regard if you believe them to have some mental links with Mara but what of us?’

  ‘We are no novices in this Darion. These walls are peppered with vents and airways we often use. A voice in the right vent will travel many miles inside the cavities.’

  ‘And what if the wrong ears hear these words?’ asked Darion sceptically.

  ‘We hope this will not happen. The vents are a natural phenomena but are also no secret. They have been used for centuries. We could always construct some type of code known only to the leaders,; finished Le Tare.

  ‘My thoughts exactly, and it just so happens I have the perfect one.’

  Darion gave the men details of the code he and Isaac broke years earlier and his audience marvelled at his genius. He knew it would not hurt his reputation any if he showed some tactical abilities and he virtually gave up the theory he would try and remain in the background. Le Tare slapped him on the back and proclaimed out loud.

  ‘Again the Rok comes to our aid. Surely victory is ours.’

  Darion’s face brightened and he admitted to himself quite enjoyed his new found notoriety. He just hoped no one would discover him to be a fraud, especially Le Carra.

  A hundred yards away Le Carra busied herself with a group of other women in the rebel’s bakeries kneading some dough and whistling to herself. The other women smiled while they watched her.

  A middle aged woman with a large belly and bigger apron attached looked slyly at Le Carra while speaking to the rest.

  ‘So Le Elrig, do you think little Le Carra is in love with the fabulous Rok Darion. It seems he gives her certain favours. I wonder if she has returned them?’ All the women giggled and Le Carra faced them hand on hip with an annoyed look.

  ‘I am not sure?’ said Le Elrig. ‘She certainly has a rosy glow in those cheeks. Of course it is quite warm in here.’

  ‘We hardly know each other,’ said Le Carra through pout lips. ‘He was gallant enough to lend me some assistance recently and I duly thanked him.’

  ‘I am sure you did,’ laughed the big woman Le Vable. ‘What we want to know is where, when and how he performed.’

  The women thought this enormously funny and the kitchen filled with their raucous laughter while Le Carra’s annoyance increased.

  ‘Well at least I know he cared enough to help, I wager he would not lift a finger for all the old wives in this room.’

  ‘Touchy, touchy Le Carra, we only tease you. He is very handsome and quite brave from the reports we have heard. You could do worse and from memory you have in the past.’

  Le Carra leapt into full fighting mode.

  ‘No worse than the slovenly fool you wed Le Vable. I am sure he would kiss you more often except his mouth is either full of food or a foot.’

  The women could take no more and every one of them downed tools and sat on chairs or rolled on the ground, flour and salt flying in the air as their legs flailed across the floor laughing themselves to exhaustion.

  Le Carra and Le Vable stood staring in friendly malice until Le Vable broke tension.

  ‘Come Le Carra, I am serious now, we want to know all about this man because you are right we are all terribly jealous.’ Her smile disarmed Le Carra and all animosity passed as the women began a lengthy and serious debate of the merits of men in general and Darion in particular with Le Carra leaving no one in any doubt as to her motives.

  ‘We will be wed within the two months,’ she stated confidently. ‘It is just he does not know it yet.’ Again they all laughed and hugged Le Carra with genuine pleasure as if the ceremony had already passed and they all set to the task of preparing the banquet reception following the service.

  It took another two weeks until the men of the rebellion finished their preparations. They all learned the code Darion had given them and he spent several days fleshing out the code to include more letters than the ones he and Isaac had unravelled. He held school room type lectures until all two thousand of the rebels became fluent on the code. The words the code produced could not be easily pronounced so Darion made one man spell the code and another decipher using crayon and paper. Eventually with practice, the men dispensed with the paper altogether. What disturbed Darion the most was the small size of the army. He thought the Mesa must be teeming with many tens of thousands of people and their group was so small. Le Tare assured him while his men constituted the formal fighting unit, many other sympathisers existed throughout the mesa right to the very heart of their civilisation.

  The more Darion heard Le Tare speak the greater he understood the man. Le Tare spoke of the brave few who left their families to join him and fight for those who could not make the sacrifice. The ones who chose to protect their families and not join the rebellion, Le Tare spoke warmly, never disparagingly, rather believing it was these good men and women whom he represented and would one day release from servitude. He knew once the rebellion commenced it would gather momentum until even these homebodies would raise their brooms, axes or hammers and strike. He knew also if they did not take action, they would eventually be ground into the stones by the power of the blacks and Mara.

  Le Tare in turn respected Darion’s desire to offer Mara a choice on exile or death. For himself however he knew death would be the only solution. If left alive she would merely perpetuate her beliefs on some other lands and he could not allow that. He would kill her himself and in front of as many of her servants as he could manage and so end the Black reign.

  Darion, became a quasi general of the army, responsible for communications and strategy. He would accompany Le Tare with the same troop who rescued Le Carraand they would lead the foray into Mara’s chambers after they received reports of the small attacks or ‘brush fires,’ as he chose to call them, commencing.

  The organisational abilities of the Mesanian people impressed him. What appeared on the surface to be a rabble of rebels masked a succinct and ordered army. They collected themselves in small groups and these worked together in all their training and each member of the troop was responsible for the whereabouts and actions of the others. By doing so there was not one second of any day each member of the rebel army could not be accounted for.

  They chose a night a week later when both moons were new, and the great tunnels and shafts gave as little light as possible leaving only torch light. On Darion’s instructions, each group planned to ext
inguish as many torches as possible around their places of egress, thereby camouflaging their escape routes in case they fell under heavy assault and needed to retreat. The men had specific orders not to engage the enemy in any type of protracted campaign whatsoever and if the numbers they meet are too great they are to retreat immediately and move to their list of secondary targets. They needed to create maximum confusion and draw as much power away from the Upper Ships as possible leaving Mara almost defenceless.

  The men sat restlessly, polishing their swords and tightening their belts waiting for the orders to be given. Darion looked at the grim faces and saw all the ghosts of soldiers past in all worlds, waiting for what may be their imminent death but still prepared to surge into the unknown. They were the bravest faces he could ever imagine seeing. He wondered what his own looked like. Certainly not so committed and definitely scared.

  A whistle piped from deep inside their cave and all the men leapt to attention and began dispersing without a word spoken. To a man they shed their silver mail ring jerkins replacing them with leather shirts and grey leggings. They blended well into the Mesanian scenery and even in reasonable light and they would be almost invisible in the corridors of the mesa. The guerilla war they intended to engage in did not require defence of a position for very long. They should create mayhem. Kill the enemy if left without options but preferably create as great a disturbance as they could in their allotted time and make a stealthy escape to recreate the scene in other locations. Doubtless some would die. Darion and Le Tare spoke quietly desperate to ensure they would lose as small a number of men as possible. Within minutes reports began flowing back through the catacombs of early success in the initial forays. The main portion of the army could now be deployed.

  With a deep breath Darion took up his position in the middle of the troop, the enormously broad back of Le Vulk in front of him giving him great comfort and the sprite figure of Le Fidler in arrears a better wing man he could not imagine. At least he would be among the cream of the fighting force and hopefully this would be enough to keep him alive.

  They rounded a final bend before they reached the outer doors when the wraith like figure of Le Carra glided towards them. She stopped briefly in front of her brother and gave him a gentle kiss on the cheek and whispered some soft words in his ear. He kissed her in return and hugged her slender shoulders and moved off. As Darion reached her he could see her glistening eyes piercing his heart once again. She slipped her hand in his and placed a leaf into his palm and brushed her lips against his, the fragrant waft of incense and womanhood weakening his knees.

  ‘Come back to me safely,’ she said. ‘The leaf of the Verbana will remind you of a warm home if you are alone and afraid.’ She smiled sadly, the concern for the two men in her life etched on her perfect face, a tear drifting down her cheek.

  ‘I’ll be all right,’ said Darion clumsily. ‘And I will make sure your brother doesn’t do anything stupid.’ He knew right now he belonged in one of those poignant moments in his life where the wrong action could ruin everything but rather than think too much he relied on his heart and reached for Le Carra’s hand and gently kissed her palm.

  ‘And this is to remind you that there is no power on this planet that could keep me from returning to you. How could I resist your beauty.’

  Le Carra’s eyes sparkled and she dropped her eyes and turned disappearing into the antechamber towards her rooms. Darion impressed himself. For the first time in his life he thought he did not made a complete fool of himself in front of a beautiful woman it was a shame he would probably be killed in a few minutes.

  The doors opened and Darion and his platoon exited one hole and headed straight towards the far wall which at first seemed solid but as they approached Le Baildon moved them into an invisible entrance. This path narrowed and the roof reached only a few feet above their heads. Darion could see this alley was a natural formation as no giant could fit in such a small space. Le Baildon held a lamp at the ready and would light it once the outer door closed. For a few moments the six stood in completed darkness. Darion felt an overwhelming sense of claustrophobia. The knowledge above him rested millions of tons of rock that could pulverise him into extinction made him literally quake in his boots. Le Baildon’s lamp leapt to life and the shadows disappeared along with Darion’s fears and the men moved, careful not to smash their heads on the many rocks jutting from the walls and roof.

  As unfamiliar as he knew himself to be inside the mesa, he thought Mara’s chambers could only be a few miles away but they seemed to be travelling for hours, his back aching from the need to crouch through many of the smaller alcoves they moved through. Just when he was about to ask Le Baildon if he knew where he was going they came to a dead end. Le Baildon waited for everyone to catch up and motioned them all not to say a word.

  ‘We are here,’ he said in a hushed voice to Le Tare. ‘Through this wall is the hall of Mara.’ He pointed to two small holes in the opposite wall, the first issuing a cold breeze and the second sucking air like a vacuum cleaner. ‘These are the communication vents leading to the Western Upper Ships where the raids have begun.’

  Le Tare moved to the vent and placed his ear against it, and felt a slight wind blowing across the hole. No voices could be heard. He placed his mouth to the opening and spoke the coded phrase for the attack on Mara, ‘Fuujfu bjfo bmjs dtz fwj xywtsl.’ The sound travelling swiftly along the vent. A few minutes later a strange high pitched voice could be heard in reply coming from the other vent ‘Fsi xywtsl bmjs dtz fwj bjfo’ the prearranged reply code meaning all was going to plan. If there was no reply or ‘xyfd’ meaning ‘Stay’ they were to wait for further intelligence as a the Blacks were yet to be sufficiently engaged elsewhere.’ If the reply was ‘ST’ they would abort all actions and return as quickly as possible to the rebel camp and regroup. Right now, all across the mesa, Le Tare’s men attacked the black robes.

  Now their plan was in motion, it was up to them to ensure victory by swiftly arresting Mara. Darion knew as well as any speed would win the day. If Mara did possess acute psychic powers, then she will have some advance notice of them coming. How early she would detect them seemed impossible to determine. Their hope lay in her extending her mind’s force elsewhere while she rallied her Black prelates ignoring the vicinity around her throne.

  The hidden door swung silently open and the six men leapt through the gap, swords held high in attack. In a well ordered fashion they swept the room in pairs, Le Fidler having the onerous task of watching Darion’s back. The room remained unchanged from his last visit. The majestic throne stretched into the roof and the hall was lined with statues and finery shining from the lamp light. Immediately they saw the empty throne, and they assumed Mara to be in war counsel with her senior staff, particularly Li Chi.

  Darion looked at Le Tare and Le Baildon who circled to the left, fully navigating the entire room and returning to the entrance. The drive in Le Tare’s eyes was obvious. He wanted Li Chi to be somewhere in the room. Darion worried Le Tare’s personal vendetta may distract him from the real business of finding Mara however it seemed very likely where one found Mara, Li Chi would be nearby.

  The men made their way to Mara’s chambers and stood to the side of the door to the presbytery which stood slightly ajar. They could hear voices chattering from within, the owners difficult to discern, when abruptly Mara’s screaming pitch rose above the rest.

  ‘We are attacked,’ she screamed as the door flew open and Le Tare pushed through the opening. Mara stood over a rectangular table surrounded by a dozen of her black robes, the tall figure of Li Chi obvious at the far end.

  The Black robes drew long curved swords from under their capes and began sweeping vicious slashes against their assailants. The rebels parried and thrust with ease, their battle hardened training too much for the more cerebral Black robes whose physical fighting skills were rarely needed and as such in decline. As their end seemed inevitable a high pitch
ed painful siren began sounding in each of the rebels heads, their swords dropping to the floor as their hands hold their ears in agony.

  Mara reached to her full height, towering over the men, a malevolent grin of victory lining her pencil thin lips, her blank eyes even darker in their hollows. She expended almost no energy sending her psy wave into the rebels heads and relished their pain. She held up one hand stopping her prelates from running the rebels through with their swords as she watched in an evil rush of pleasure Le Tare drop to his knees. He pulled at his hair and pounded the sides of his head trying to beat the pain out of his temples.

  ‘Do you fools really think I would be duped by your feeble attempts at duplicity. You are nothing to me and your plans well known before you came. And now none of you will leave alive.’

  Li Chi placed his sword under Le Tare’s chin lifting the stubble of a beard off his chest, a line of blood forming on the edge of his keen blade.

  ‘You will never win,’ he said to Le Tare. ‘I will enjoy this even more than I did when I killed your wife. Such a waste but I suppose she did give me some pleasure in my bed before she died.’

  Le Tare looked at Li Chi with forlorn hatred as he saw his failure, the pain in his head robbing his arms and legs of any power.

  Darion sat in the background unnoticed, while all the fighting took place. He saw his friends drop to the ground and heard Mara’s claims but he could not feel any of her psy power. He dropped to the ground and began writhing like the others slowly rolling himself closer to Mara. She saw him coming but in her pride ignored the feelings she received from his strange thought patterns. She recognised him immediately and accepted her power did not seem to travel as deeply into his lobes but she could see him contorting in pain and she was happy.

  Darion rolled closer to Mara and with a final effort he jumped to his feet and placed his own sword at Mara’s throat, the scream of surprise breaking the hold on the rebels. Le Tare recovered quicker than the others and as Li Chi prepared to drag his sword across Le Tare’s throat, he felt for his sword on the ground next to him.

  In a smooth motion Le tare gripped his sword and swiped Li Chi’s away with a deft flick, burying a fist into Li Chi’s mouth sending the Prelate sprawling across the floor. The rest of the rebels dispatched those black robes around them and within a few seconds only Mara and Li Chi were left alive, their backs pushed against the wall. Darion kept his sword pressed firmly against Mara’s throat and Le Fidler held Li Chi around the neck. The other blacks lay in a dead pool around them.

  Le Tare stared at Li Chi whose sweat began beading across his forehead as he looked to his mistress for help.

  ‘Do not look at the witch for help Li Chi for there is none here. It would be inappropriate for me to kill you without a fair trial and I will not be accused of denying natural justice to all so let us begin. I charge you with the murder and suffering of hundreds of my people. How do you plead. Guilty. Good that saves us time. I sentence you to immediate death.’

  Le Tare dragged his blade across Li Chi’s neck and stood back to watch as the white wound slowly opened and a waterfall of blood drained down his neck and onto his chest as he sank to the floor. Li Chi hopelessly tried to clamp the wound shut but the blood was no gushing out in quick spurts as his heart raced for the final few times. Le Tare stared impassionately as Li Chi’s life force seeped onto the stone floor, running away into the many cracks and crevices leaving only an empty body.

  Mara looked in horror at the lifeless form of her general and pleaded with her dead eyes to Darion not to repeat Li Chi’s fate with her.

  ‘What must I do?’ she asked in a shaking voice.

  ‘You must die,’ said Le Tare as he moved closer to her, placing his sword under her neck.

  ‘Don’t you think we should arrest her and take her to trial?’ asked Darion who knew his words sounded small to these men who for years suffered under Mara’s rule. What right did he have to interfere in their justice when she was the architect of so much pain.

  ‘Darion your heart is good,’ said Le Tare. ‘You have to understand she would merely manipulate any court we convened. She would use her psychic skills to coerce and influence and undoubtedly she would be found not guilty and would retain some of her power. No, she will have the same justice she dispensed with such alacrity and grace to the other orders and it will be done now. I think perhaps you should scout the area and make sure there are no more Blacks in hiding. Now her will has been removed from them they may not have such a great desire to fight.’

  Darion took Le Tare’s hint and began to leave the area when Mara, in a last desperate effort for freedom, sent a psy blast straight towards Le Tare brushing harmlessly off him, a blue glow covering Mara as the energy dissipated.

  ‘It is as I have guessed Mara, your power comes from fear and I have none left. You may have some power over others still but never again over me.’ He spoke to Darion without looking at him. ‘Good bye Darion.’ Le Tare was to sparing him from seeing the ritual slaying about to administered. He found it curious they would not want the Rok of Fate to overseer. Then again, his role in these affairs may well have finished as far as the Mesanian people were concerned. He left as requested and headed for the staircase.

  He found it extraordinary how quickly the entire inner workings of the Mesanian political structure collapsed once word spread of Mara’s death. Black amulets by the hundreds were arrested and brought to the throne room. Yellow and white orders left their Ships and made their way to the summit of the Mesa some of whom had never felt the full sunlight on their faces. They stood in awe at the vista and many cried at the beauty denied to them for so long.

  The Blacks showed little resistance and now Mara’s psy power was gone, many seemed to be shaken out of a dream world with no memory of any events in their lives. It was as if their life commenced once Mara died and all before that moment there was nothing.

  Everywhere Le Tare went, the Mesanians hailed him as a hero and immediately they ordained him as the interim leader of the entire race. Darion went searching for him and found him sitting alone on the top of a marble bench his legs crossed and what looked like some musical pipes in his sausage fingers.

  ‘I didn’t know you liked music,’ said Darion.

  ‘I have not played for many years Darion, it did not seem appropriate to be so frivolous when my people lived in servitude. But now I feel like everyone should erupt into song all day and night.’

  He placed the pipes to his lips and Darion saw them clearer. They were the finest pipes ever saw. The six cylinders had different diameters and lengths, the smallest as fine as a syringe needle and the largest no bigger than a man’s finger. They looked fragile but the sound coming from them was robust and sweet. Le Tare played for a few moments and all around stopped to listen. He looked at Darion as he saw the people streaming onto the top of the Mesa and a tear rolled down his cheek.

  ‘They praise me Rok Darion. It is false praise as those of us in the rebellion know better. In all things it was you who inspired us and it will not be forgotten. We will create a mural honouring you and the moment of our freedom.’

  Darion shifted uncomfortably. ‘Le Tare please don’t take this the wrong way but I am only a visitor here and will not be here long. I did nothing other than give you some ideas. It was your battle and your victory. I don’t want you to praise me in any way. The power and glory are all yours. I don’t want any.’

  Le Tare chuckled kindly ‘And you further prove your value as a man with each breath.’ He hugged Darion who felt as if his ribs were popping one by one. ‘I am sorry Darion but the legend of the Rok spread almost as quickly as that of Mara’s passing. You may claim to be an accidental hero but these people do not see you as such, indeed some believe you to be the Saviour incarnate.’ Le Tare looked slyly at Darion ‘and as far as being only a visitor, I am afraid there is one here who will insist you remain.’ He pointed to the top of the granite stairwell, Le C
arra emerging, a bevy of suitors trailing her and begging to be of assistance as she headed straight for Darion.

  She reached him in seconds bowing her head slightly.

  ‘Your servant Rok Darion,’ she said.

  ‘Stop that Le Carra,’ he said self consciously.

  ‘As you command my lord,’ She teased.

  ‘I am not your lord and don’t call me that.’ She fluttered her eyes and smiled brilliantly at him. ‘Then what shall I call you?’

  ‘How about just Darion,’ he said.

  ‘Or how about husband.’

  Darion swallowed hard and next thing he knew he was kissing Le Carra deeply, losing himself in a dream world of emotion as thousands of people cheered around them. Le Tare and Le Vulk put their arms around each other and smiled broadly.

  ‘Our friend has just resigned from the bachelor club,’ said Le Vulk who seemed to have found a voice and a sense of humour since Mara’s decline.

  ‘He doesn’t seem to be complaining,’ said Le Tare. ‘Should we separate them, I think they may faint from a lack of air.’

  The two men laughed gaily as well wishes swamped them all lifting them high on their shoulders and singing in their freedom.

  Death is a robe that fits all equally

  Jharnell 13/27-29