Chapter Twelve - A REQUEST I did not mean to frighten her. As she turns at the sound of her softly spoken name with a shocked face and wide-open eyes I fear she may cry out but she does not. She holds her hand to her chest and starts to walk back, her face changing from one of shock to one of calculation. I see her hand reach behind her and wonder if she has a weapon hidden in her dress. With slow steps and my one hand held up I approach. As I move she backs away further but does not run. I lift my other arm, my stump, to show I am not hiding anything and this act causes her to gaze at me in shock. "It's you," she says hurriedly,
her eyes turning from my stump and looking me up and down as I step into what
is left of the day. She must see me in dim light but still able to make out
the dark patches on my armour where the blood of the men I have slain
splashed onto me. I must look strange to her, dressed as I am, but the
symbolic nature of my uniform seems to calm her ever so slightly. "I'm not going to hurt you," I say with as much honesty as I can muster. I could not say whether she believed me or not, or what I would do; I could not say that, either, depending on her actions. She does not run or shout but stands as still as a milestone. Her hand, the one that had been behind her back, comes into the light but it is empty. I see this as a good sign - if she meant me harm or betrayal then it would have happened by now. "The Prime Warriors of the capital city say you are a murderer, and a slave who has escaped," she says almost accusingly. The sharpness of her words cuts me deeply although what she has been told is the truth. "I killed fighters in the arena," I say as if this explanation excused my actions. "And a trainer. Monima the trainer," she adds quietly. "He is - was - a good friend." Her gaze quickly shifts to the house and then back to me. "He had my friend killed in the arena," I whisper. "The simpleton? In the arena?" she frowns and I think she disapproves of the use of the man as a fighter. That is, until she says, "Hardly sport for trained fighters." The words anger me and she senses it. Her face is washed with confusion and she takes a step back. I cannot fault her for her words for she did not know Son Of Mine as I did. She was the Lady of the house below me and her view of the bond of common men such as I and my friend was no doubt limited. I calm myself and nod. "I have paid both him and my former master for their decision." "Oh, yes, you mutilated Maru. Tell me, slave, what stops me from calling for the guard?" I see she is very bold which excites me somewhat. She is not within striking distance so she would be able to let out a scream if I attacked. Her jaw is set and her head is held high on her slender, breakable neck. Her long mass of dark hair tumbles around her face and she watches me intently. There is little I can do. I will not take this vision from the land of the living and I do not wish to be found out by the house guards. I bow in deference. "I will take my leave, my Lady," I say and start to turn. "I did not give you leave to depart," she says quickly, almost desperately. I stop and turn to her side on with a narrow stare. "I am not a slave, my Lady. You cannot command me otherwise." "Where will you go?" she enquires. I consider telling her but caution gets the better of me. "Away from here. Far away," I answer and start to walk away again. "Take me with you." The shock of her request causes me to miss my footing almost comically and I turn back to her. I expect to see her face bright with a mocking expression or the curiosity of a bored Lady, but all I can see in the moonlight is the face of a desperate woman. I shake my head with confusion. "Why?" "I know people from here to the northern territories. I’m living with a wine merchant and he has people travelling the spaceways. I know where there is a starship hidden for his emergency transits. I know how to fly it. We could blast off and be out of the Ki-Ki Sector in hours." "That is not what I meant," I interrupt. Slowly I start to approach her and she does not move. "Why would you wish to accompany a murderer and an escaped slave?" She swallows and looks at me directly in the eyes. "I cannot stay here. I must leave." "Tell your grandfather you wish to leave." "He will not let me," she says with breaking voice. I can see, even in the lack of light, that her eyes are sparkling with tears. There was obviously more to this than she was telling me but I had no time for other people's tales of woe. I was weighed down by my own troubles without the extra burden of others. I shake my head. "My road is not for you," I say as I turn to walk away again. "But I cannot stay here," she almost cries out. I glance down to the house but I do not see any activity that would indicate an alarm had been raised. "He is not my grandfather. He is my master. He gets lonely at night sometimes," she says as she places one hand to her breasts and one to her belly. "He has been lonely since his wife died. So he bought me. I am a slave, like you. But I cannot stay there. It is a prison to me, before. It will be my death." By the sound of her voice she was close to weeping openly. She sucked in her breath and regained her composure, once again lifting her head defiantly. "I will come with you, or I will call the guard." I had guessed that if she were serious enough, or desperate enough, to ask me to take her with me then it would come to this kind of threat. There is a part of the mind of all men that takes the form of a small voice. That voice is reason. The voice speaks with logic and understanding, taking every direction and situation and forming the best course of action for a man to take. This voice can be loud or quiet depending on the ruling emotion at the time. In times of fear, joy or desperation the voice can be very quiet. In times of long thought and important life-changing decisions it can be incredibly loud. I cannot hear my inner voice as it is smothered by pity for her, a fellow slave, and I say, "We will need supplies." "I can get them." "Food for the road. Water. Medpacs my wounds." "I have them." "You are not dressed for the road." "I can change." "This will not be a trip to the market, my Lady. There is no repulsorwagon to convey you or riddabeast for you to be carried by." She is already starting for the house, her light footsteps bouncing her down the hill. Her face is not one of glee or happiness now that she had a chance to escape her master’s obviously amorous attentions. Her face is that of determination and as she approaches the door in the wall she slows her approach and starts to creep. Why did I allow her to accompany me? I do not rightfully know but I feel that a companion on the road would be welcome. It was her, after all, who had asked me to take her; it was not I who wished her with me. And what better companion than the very woman who had touched my soul? Yes, it is easy for me to say that, now. There was a reason why I was so willing to allow her with me, why I did not resist her pull with more vigour when she had dragged me up the hill to see the lights of the capital city. Her energy and exuberance is a new experience to me and I look forward to finding out more about her. Surely I should have flatly forbid her to come? Surely I should leave now, whilst she gathers her things in the house, whilst she spends time collecting the items I required. But I would not. She was desperate enough to ask me, a murderer and slave under sentence of death, for an avenue of escape. Her plight must be foul indeed for her to have asked me such a thing. I wait patiently at the base of the tree. She is gone a long time before I see the door open again and her figure slowly emerging. She has a large sack and clothes of lesser value on her, now, and she slowly starts to close the door. As she does so I see a guard appear on top of the wall above her, leaning over the edge as he scans the sparse trees. She has not seen him, so intent is she on getting away from the house, and I cannot warn her for that would mean exposing myself. As she treads carefully into the trees the guard appears to be yawning and stretching, obviously having had a short rest before taking his post for night duty. He is looking into the courtyard as Luyen runs up the hill. All she has to do is break one twig, rustle one branch. The guard is smiling at something in the courtyard and I pray that his attention will be distracted long enough for her to reach me. She has almost made it to me as the guard starts to turn and I leap out, grabbing her by the waist and pulling her behind the tree. She gives a muffled cry as my hand closes over her mouth, my stump half-encircled about her waist and the weight of my body pressing her to the ground. We are face to face, her eyes wide with astonishment at my rough handling of her, and slowly I look around the trunk to see if the guard has noticed anything. But he is gone. To raise the alarm? To call up a friend to confirm his suspicions? I look down at her wide eyes and feel her hands on my back. She grimaces and I realise she must be in pain as my armour presses against her but I dare not move. I shift my legs so that some of the weight is lifted and she lets out a long breath through her nose which I feel against the back of my hand. "Guard," I whisper. She nods and I move my hand away, allowing her to wriggle out from under me. She looks around the trunk and a dark scowl spreads across her face. "I see no guard," she says sharply and pushes me away, getting quickly to her feet. She must think me a liar and, with a hidden smile, I see the humour of it. Perhaps she thought I had bought her to the ground with the presence of a guard as an excuse. This was obviously the case as she smoothes out her dress and glares at me. The trunk of the tree is wide enough to cover us both and I look back at the house to be sure that there are no watchers of our route down the hill and back to the road. Satisfied that we have a safe route, I shoulder the sack she has bought and take the first step. As my boot connects with the ground it is as if my footfall has started the klaxons of the house blaring. Voices and shouts echo from the walls as the alarm is sounded and I see guards appearing at the walls where the guard I had been wary of had been, searchlights flicking on and sweeping the surrounding grounds. He had seen something and, instead of calling from his position, had either told a superior who had raised the alarm or hidden himself, pretending to be away from his post and watching for his suspicions to present themselves. Luyen gasps and I turn to her. I reach out instinctively with my stump to grab her hand but only succeed in brushing against her arm. "Run!" I shout, leaping down the side of the hill and towards the tall grass that grew by the side of the road. The gates were opening, now, and guards were running out with blasters and energy shields held ready. They were not heading in our direction but they fan out, within sight of each other and on the defensive. We run as fast as we can, the thought of subterfuge forgotten as we simply try to get away. If the guards know whom she is with I do not know but it may make our task harder - they would no doubt attempt to return her to the house instead of simply defending the walls of the house. They do not appear to be readying themselves to pursue but that could change with one order from Livu. If he has checked on the room of his slave or the guard recognised her somehow... I allow the thoughts to the fore of my mind and suddenly find myself running harder. Luyen has dropped behind and I slow my pace so that she can catch up. She is already out of breath, physical fitness obviously not a prerequisite of the Lady of the house, and holds out a slender arm to catch my shoulder. We have barely run far enough to get us out of sight of the walls and I fear that her fatigue will be the cause of our capture. I hand her the sack and place my good arm about her to hurry her along, even help her somewhat. My desperation increases as I see the guards begin jogging in our direction, their energy shields held up and their armour rattling with every footfall. We have been spotted, that much is obvious, and they seem to be spreading out to make a net about our position. Even at their pace they appear to be moving faster than we are and I point this out to Luyen. She looks back over her shoulder and I think for a moment she is going to weep but instead she suddenly stops. She forces the sack into my hand and says, "Go! I will have us both caught if I continue!" Without a thought I drop the sack and kneel down, my arm circling behind her knees and my shoulder in her belly. With a heave I lift her over my back and begin to run again. She begins to protest loudly but her breath leaves her as I run and she can do nought but gasp raggedly. We enter the tall grass by the side of the road and I head for the deeper part of the field, trying to keep myself as low as the weight on my shoulder will allow me. The guards reach the edge of the tall grass field and stop. I try my best to see behind me but I only catch glimpses; the officer in charge leaning down, picking up the discarded sack. Scanning the field. And then, to my utter amazement, signalling the troop to return to the house. Did they think that Luyen was a simple thief, leaving her sack of stolen items so that she could flee the scene? Now that they had retrieved the contents they could head back. They were not soldiers of Fedarn, they were simply paid guards, given energy shield and blaster to give the impression of strength and then placed within the walls of the house. A real soldier would have tracked a thief to the ends of the world. They were obviously not getting paid to take risks. Or perhaps they had been instructed by the Prime Warriors not to leave the house in case I arrived. Or Livu felt naked without his protection. It could have been a multitude of things but until we were far away from this place I would continue to be wary and paranoid over the officer's decision to return to the house. We are on the other side of the hill before I drop Luyen to the ground. She lands with a groan and appears pained and I realise that my shoulder guards could not have been comfortable for her. After a moment of grimacing she looks at me suspiciously, with a hint of anger. "Why did you not leave me?" she demands. I already knew the answer. "I have no intention of leaving anyone I care for behind again, no matter what the cost." "But the supplies have gone." "And you are safe. That is enough for me." I cannot read her expression in the lack of light as she says, "That almost sounded noble. Almost noble." Her eyes flicker to my stump. "Almost a soldier." I do not know if her comment was meant as a reprisal or otherwise, and as we head to where her starship is hidden, after the near capture and the events of the day, I allow myself to laugh. A
Soldier of Fedarn 2002 story by Jonathan Hicks Thirty-eight years after Episode IV – A New Hope
Histories - The tragic yet compelling story of an
un-named soldier of the military empire of the Ki-Ki Sector. This novella by Jonathan Hicks chronicles the path taken by an
average foot soldier after the final battle on Zelon after the fall of Chancai, back to his own sector, his home, and the
capital of Fedarn. Dealing with the lower aspects of his
life and the sector he is devoted to, the soldier is witness to attitudes and
happenings within the borders of the sector that invaded and took Setnin Sector. The story shows that the invaders are not
a simple faceless enemy intent on domination and destruction, but an
intricate people with morals and perceptions that do not fall in line with
the vision of the rest of this slice of the galaxy. As a result, actions and
decisions are based about personal directions that take into account the
needs and wants of others and not the selfish ambitions usually
attributed to Setnin Sector inhabitants. This story also shows the emotion
that drives Ki-Ki citizens and probably why other areas of the Mid-Rim find them so alien. Cast of Characters Anto Maru Monima Son Of Mine Livu Dia Luyen |