Chapter Four - Inquisition

Two weeks later, as great sea-ships arrived at the docks in search of trade, so too the people of Estale gathered to watch the merchant starships make landing in the grasslands outside town. Here, every month, they would bring news from the stars to this small town by the sea, then buy their goods of grain and leaf and fish for the lavish tastes of the high-born—for, so Kesser had heard, those who could spare the coin much preferred organic food over the synthetic produce of void-farms.

It felt wrong not to watch the landings with Sidrah. Where were those gasps of awe and quips of wonder? Now he only had silence. Silence, and the wind.

Did the wind always sound like that?

He did not remember the landing thrusters of the merchant starships being so loud from this distance. Nor, as they distantly emerged from behind the clouds, had they such angular hulls.

In minutes, a lone warship settled onto the field. Though it did not stand as tall as a merchant starship, its seemed to jut far higher into the sky, with a sleek frame like a hound’s tooth. Gold stripes adorned its jet-black hull and broad radiators; in this there was no mistake—the warship was of the Dynasty.

The townspeople remained far back from the landing field, and Kesser far back with them. Still, he saw clearly the loading bay of the warship unfold onto the grass, slowly as if in a flourish.

A man in black and gold uniform stepped out, followed by a procession of soldiers bearing armour as bright and angular as the ship they served.

They stepped out onto the field. Watching from the trees, Kesser caught a clearer glimpse of the uniformed man. His face was featured sharp and fierce beneath a crown of short red hair, dark eyes regarding the townspeople with disdain.

No, that was no mere uniform he wore. Those badges, a dozen or more from shoulder to shoulder, and those markings—

What was a General of the Navy doing on Tal?

The General held out a hand. One of his soldiers gave him a scroll. Standing tall to address the townspeople, he opened the scroll and began to read.

“By judgment of the Sovereign-Lord of the Dynasty of Skaude, under order of the viziers of the High Divan, I, Admiral Rubyn, stand before you as divine arbiter of the law. I have been sent to apprehend a wanted criminal.”

He raised his head, set his jaw coldly as hushed gasps ran through the crowd.

“Within this town is a murderer, responsible for killing Sidrah, daughter of the Duke of Tal, two weeks before this standard day. The Dynasty watches and protects you, always, and under our watchful eye we have found him.”

The man stood taller now, closing his scroll, holding his head high and haughty. In response Kesser shrank back, heart sinking. Sidrah was dead?

“Kesser, son of Grum, will be punished according to our rightful law, as will all within his immediate lineage. Deliver him to me before the mid-day bell tolls. Any later, and Estale shall burn.”

And promptly, gave his procession a firm gesture, and they marched back toward their warship.

Oh, hell, Kesser thought, even as his legs began to move on their own. Oh, hell.

Sidrah couldn’t be dead. Then, how—

Of course. She had told no one but him of her leaving. Motive aside, no one but his family could thus prove Kesser did not kill her, for she had disappeared for all the townspeople knew. Or perhaps she had perished among the stars…

Why accuse him, then? His mind raced. Leaving sight of the gathered townspeople, he began to run. Home, he needed to return home, to think it all through, to think of all the reasons and truths of this hellish nightmare and perhaps try to wake himself. This could not be real! In moments he knew he should open his eyes in a cold sweat and be alone in his bed once again.

Until his pendant whispered. Until again those words came to him, and he knew he roamed the waking world yet.

Footsteps approached from behind. He turned around, ready for confrontation, but only found Emil and Celga making their way to him.

“Do you know—”

“No!” Kesser said. “I did not kill Sidrah, and I do not know why the Dynasty sent this Admiral Rubyn to accuse me of killing her.”

By gods-given fortune Kesser returned home without any of the townspeople taking sight of him, where he explained everything to Kendell and Grum. From there the minutes passed an agonizing crawl, as he paced about the house in panicked thought. So would he turn himself in? But he couldn’t! Rubyn had declared all within Kesser’s immediate lineage be punished—and that meant his parents and siblings. He could perhaps toil in the construction yards or help build the anvil-shield or perhaps even mine the treacherous Palatis Belt, and perhaps Emil and Celga could join him, but surely Kendell and Grum would be worked to death!

Kendell finally spoke:

“Our punishment is surely better than letting Estale burn down! It’s us, or it’s everyone!”

“You would give yourself up to indentured servitude?” Kesser replied, seating himself against the wall.

Emil rubbed her temples. “Kesser is right. Either way, we will lose everything. It is death or servitude. Gods, what do we do…”

Distantly, the mid-day bells tolled.

Grum rose from his bed and weakly walked to the centre of the room. All waited for his words; even frail and sickly he commanded the house. He rested his gaze on Kesser.

“It will be the five of us, or all the dozen hundred of Estale. Would you let so many die for us?”

The words would not come out. Kesser opened his mouth; his lips moved; he could not speak. He was choking! Numbly he hunched over, burying his face in his arms. Death for everyone, or death for him?

He thought it the wind at first. Then it grew closer, shriller, and the crashing and rumbles began to shake the ground, and all the others were staring out the window. One look was enough. Already in the distance plumes of black smoke began to rise into the sky.

A great crack shook the air, broke the howling wind. With a sinking horror, Kesser realized he heard the screams of a burning town.

***

“They’re shooting,” Kesser whispered. “They’re…”

Celga could only give him a look of quiet terror.

He felt a hand on his shoulder. Grum shared a nod with Celga, then stared into his eyes, gaze burning brighter even than the inferno outside.

“Go. The sea-ships will no doubt be returning to Fluvyn soon. Take your brother and sister and stow them away there. Now, go!”

Kesser nodded to Emil and Kendell. Together, the three of them ventured into the smoky air outside.

More gunshots rang out. Kesser kept Kendell close, while Emil watched behind for hints of danger.

Then Kesser turned for one last look at his parents, meeting their eyes through the distant doorway. Celga turned her gaze away, but ever Grum glared at him in furious hope, so that all his words lingered in Kesser’s mind even after he closed the door.

You must learn to take risks, boy.

The sea-ships. They will no doubt be returning to Fluvyn.

So that would be the plan, then. Give himself to Rubyn, but deny the General his family. For sure he would never wish Emil and Kendell the same fate that had befallen Ayild.

For perhaps the last time—though he would have never thought it just that morning—he crossed the grain fields, saw the cabin of his tractor peeking over golden yellow stalks, passed the faded wooden barn still home to all his chickens and goats. For those animals, at least, he wished a quick end.

The smoke grew heavier as he led the way toward the docks. A row of houses approached ahead, though he only knew them for remembering where they had been. Now the fumes and flames engulfing them left little resemblance to the proud wooden buildings that once stood. How quick, how ravenous the fire spread…

Movement. In a swift motion he pulled Emil and Kendel behind a wagon, and peeking above cover saw a pair of Navy soldiers patrolling through the thick smoke.

A figure ran through the haze. And into the soldiers, who took her by the arms with their golden gauntlets. The figure lifted her head.

Sidrah?

No, it was her mother.

She looked pleadingly to the soldiers. “Please. Please, let me go—”

“Your tribute,” came the voice of one soldier, distorted by his helmet speakers.

“T-tribute?” Sidrah’s mother searched through her pockets. “But I have nothing! My home is gone in flames!”

The soldier gave her a look through the slit of his helmet, and let go. She fell to the ground, covered in soot, coughing in the smoke, before weakly hurrying away.

“Go. Consider yourself lucky.”

Then the soldier nodded to his companion, and raised his gun.

No—

A deafening gunshot split the air. Several paces away, Sidrah’s mother collapsed motionless onto the ground.

The soldiers turned and continued their patrol.

Kesser crouched back down, blood running cold with horror. How could they? How could they end a life on a mere whim? Even farm animals were not killed with no hesitation.

“What was that?” Kendell asked, startled at the sound.

Emil and Kesser shared a grave look. She had seen it too.

“Nothing,” Kesser lied, his words bringing a mouthful of fine ash. “Come, we don’t have long.”

The three left the burning heat behind, and following Kesser’s lead, took a long route toward the docks. Along the way Kesser passed the old tree, still standing among the chaos. After a moment of consideration, he knelt by its knotted root, ran his fingers along its weathered bark.

We won’t change, Sidrah had assured Kesser, the night they ran from their families and slept under the stars. No one else likes us, but we won’t change for them. We will be us, prayer be damned, Sovereign-Lord be damned.

Yes, Kesser had said. Yes, we will always stay the same. And when we look down on Estale from outer space, we will be laughing at those fools. And from within their tarpaulin shelter he carved something into the towering tree they sheltered beneath. A single word under the tip of his knife, a word that meant little to anyone but the two of them.

But they had changed. At first, when they were about twelve years old, Sidrah had suddenly grown much taller than Kesser, and he had received no end of heckling from her each time they met in the markets or docks. Two year later, Kesser had caught up, and his voice too had deepened. Of this Sidrah had made much fun of too, until one week she began to complain of cramps and fatigue, and after that the changes only hastened. Both knew such things would happen. But none were, in truth, ready. By then their responsibilities mounted, and their work took them away from each other for longer and longer.

That same year, the droughts came, and then the early winter and blizzards, then the Dynasty taxers.

Kesser shook his head and returned to the present. To the smoke and fire. There, before him, the glyphs laid still etched onto its trunk.

Forever.

Sidrah was not dead. He could not let himself believe it.

An ocean blue pierced through the haze ahead. Closer they approached, always wary of those suited soldiers their hometown found itself overrun with. Now, looming far over the fishing boats, several sea-ships straddled the docks, still loading the last of Estale’s goods into their colourful cargo containers even as the town burned down. In this, it seemed they had taken the place of the starship merchants.

The dock-workers here were not of the Dynasty, but for many minutes still Kesser wondered how Emil and Kendell could board a sea-ship. Soon, however, the answer gave itself with a group of surviving townspeople stumbling to the docks, clothes and skin marred with soot. They spoke to the dock-workers in pleading words, and begrudgingly, the sea-ship crews herded them onto their great vessels.

From the tree behind which Kesser and the others hid, he put his hand to Emil’s back. She gave him an uncertain glance.

“Join them,” he said, avoiding her gaze for fear that he would change his mind. “Keep Kendell safe. That’s all I want—don’t worry about me.”

Emil opened her mouth to speak, but bit back her words. Instead she gave Kesser a brief hug, rose to her feet, then took Kendell by the arm.

“I don’t—I don’t want to leave, Kesser.” Kendell pulled away, sat on the ash-strewn soil. “I want to go home.”

Kesser peeked at the refugees ahead. Already most of the group had boarded a sea-ship, and the other ships were beginning to undock.

“Listen to me, Kendell.” He took his brother’s shoulder, mustering a resolve he did not have. “You’re stronger than you think. You are so much stronger than you think, the two of you.” He nodded to Emil. “Your sister will take good care of you.”

Emil took Kendell’s hand again. “I’ll try.”

“Trying is enough,” Kesser reassured. He managed a smile. “Hurry now, you two. Hurry!”

He watched them leave, venturing across the docks, joining the last of the refugees, boarding the sea-ship. Afterwards, Kesser found himself utterly alone among the smoke and embers, the bitter fume of ash hanging like death in the still air. How could it all be… gone? In a matter of hours, everything he had known, gone to the fiery wind. He bit back the tears, forced his swelling throat down. Grief could wait.

The gunshots had not stopped. Neither had the panicked cries, still rising into the air from time to time.

Kesser could still put an end to it. No, he must. He left cover, brushing the soot from his clothes, and began his search for the General who had started it all.

If you want me, here I am.

A low hill led from Estale proper to the docks. Holding his arm up against the ash, coughing through smoke-charred lungs, he began a climb back toward his burning hometown. Toward fate. He had not the fortune Sidrah enjoyed to escape that.

Someone already stood atop the hill.

The raging fire consuming Estale mingled with the silver light of overcast day, bestowing a ghostly red silhouette to that figure. And when he turned to face the docks, his badges glistened one by one like studded jewels.

Admiral Rubyn stood with his hands behind his back, staring into the horizon. He breathed deeply, baring his uniform for all to see. Then, his eyes flashed aglow, dark iris giving way to swirling crimson-red light.

Kesser froze. In a moment of animal fear, his legs betrayed him and became pillars of stone.

Rubyn raised his arms.

For an instant, Kesser went blind. The burst of light that erupted behind Rubyn seared itself into the back of his eyes, so that the universe became but a painful field of white. Then came the heat, and the sound, but when Kesser returned to his senses he was already tumbling down the hill, knocked off his feet by the shockwave.

At last he struck the wall of a storage shed, coming to a painful stop.

The world spun. Everything ached and throbbed. When Kesser’s vision finally grew clear, he saw Admiral Rubyn leave the hilltop, and a great black cloud rising from where Estale once stood. Rubyn had not simply burned the town down. In the smouldering wake of the fire, he had levelled it with that blast.

Don’t think about it. Don’t think about mother and father.

One sea-ship remained at the docks. Later Kesser would not remember where his strength had come from, but as wordless whispers filled his mind, so too did strength and feeling return to his limbs. Up ahead, the last storage containers lay open on their floating platforms, waiting for the sea-ship’s loading cranes to carry them away.

By now all the sea-ship’s crew had returned to their bridge, commanding the cranes through wire and radio. They did not notice Kesser stumble into the very last container just before it closed. They did not feel his weight as they carried him onto the cargo deck. And as they set sail, they did not hear him sobbing quietly in the pitch darkness, mourning all that had been taken from him, mourning Grum and Celga and Ayild and Sidrah and all those hundreds of souls lost to fire. Grief had waited once, but now it sank its claws into him, consumed him to the bitter core.

***

Kesser could not tell how much time passed. In the inky darkness, all he knew was the rumble of crashing waves and the steady rocking of the sea-ship all around him, back and forth, back and forth again.

The crying only stopped when thirst overtook his anguish. Wiping his face dry, he found his mouth dry as gravel, and his throat painfully parched. Cloth sacks filled much of the container, but feeling inside one he found only dry carrots.

His container had been among the last. Outside, then, he could perhaps walk atop the other containers and find water within. Searching with his hands, he found his container’s hatch.

It was locked. At least, it would not open from the inside.

Kesser cursed and slumped onto the ground, feeling the tears return. He couldn’t even do that right. He couldn’t bring himself to Admiral Rubyn before the mid-day bell, couldn’t show himself to the General to save what remained of Estale, couldn’t even make sure he was not locked hopelessly inside the container he now stowed away in. If anyone deserved to be imprisoned in the halls of hell, it would be him. He could almost see those red fires torturing his soul, licking high into a black sky… illuminating his surroundings?

Something was casting a dim red light into the container. He searched for perhaps a minute, before realizing it followed him. He looked down.

His pendant was glowing. That same shade of crimson-red as Rubyn’s eyes, so that for a moment a vivid memory of blinding light and pain returned, but it shimmered with ethereal light as it never had.

The whispers in his mind, once rough and discordant, settled into a strange harmony. He still could not understand the words, but they no longer jarred against his thoughts, instead flowing alongside each idea and memory as if a calm brook.

And the control. He sensed a new sense within him, open to the currents of something else. Something he could not understand, pulling on the very space around him. That space he began to mould, as a potter would mould clay, and that clay he then fired with a command of the mind, hardened into reality.

A tendril of shimmering red light left his hand and streaked into the air. Before him, a cloth bag rustled, then tumbled onto the ground before his feet. The light of his pendant was just enough for him to sling the bag over his shoulder before it abruptly faded into darkness.

Incredulous, Kesser moulded space again, this time through the door of his container. Again he thus conjured a tendril, which passed through the container wall, and—click.

Not for the first time he waited for the nightmare to end, but moments later and mercilessly, he remained awake. He pushed on the door, and slowly it swung open to reveal the blue glow of late dusk. Outside, battered by the spray of foaming waves, row upon row of shipping containers lined the ground.

A deep breath of salty ocean air told him he had been near suffocating in that container. Several lung-fulls he gasped, before stepping out into the open.

The ground beneath his feet was slick with water. With the sea-ship rocking side to side, he prayed his footing would not betray him—this far out at sea, no one would rescue him if he fell overboard.

One step, then another. Always the next step, cold mist whipping across his face, carrots over his shoulder, and never looking back. He could not look back.

As he searched through the other containers atop this layer of cargo, a plan began to form in his mind. Perhaps he could find safety in Fluvyn, or even reunite with Emil and Kendell and the surviving townspeople, but Rubyn would still be searching for him. Better he not be near them, not after what had happened last time, and beside that, how could he ever look his brother and sister in the eye again? How could he tell them what he had done? Better they believe him dead.

Each container he searched was filled with crops or lumber—nothing that could give him water or air for long. Though a scarce few were packed with fresh vegetables, he knew they would not quench his thirst enough.

For he needed food, air and water all, enough for perhaps a week or more. He had no place in Estale or Fluvyn anymore, or anywhere on Tal for the matter. The only place left to him stretched far above, peeking through the twilight grey.

The stars.

And he would stow away among the cargo to somewhere distant, where Emil and Kendell would fall under no more harm. Where Rubyn could take no more from him, and where—if fate saw it fit—he might find Sidrah once more. For now, she was all he had left.

The sea-ship began to turn underneath him, throwing his footing aslant. From atop the cargo deck, then, he watched a wondrous view reveal itself behind a veil of heavy fog. Before him, bright lights of pinprick yellow stretched as far as the horizon, glittering madly through a curtain of dusk-time cold, reaching high into the air where great towers scraped the sky. Wreathed in all its livened glow, the city of Fluvyn sprawled on the approaching shore. There it was, as the stories had told, as the merchants had spoke. Tal’s gateway to outer space.

Kesser did not have long, now, certainly not long enough to stay and admire the scenery. This far he could not afford to fail. There must have been more among the cargo than simple amenities of food and construction. There must have—there! This time, as he opened the doors to a container, synthetic sunlight met him from within. Squinting, he stepped inside.

Several tanks lined the walls of the container beneath sunlight lamps, tall boxes of metal baring aluminum-glass at their very tips. Stepping through the thin walkway between them all, he found the glass coated on the inside with a thin film of light green. A spray of mist churned deeper within the glass, and in other places the tanks revealed water reservoirs and chemical batteries. Kesser had found an algae culture, kept alive and destined for the nutrient baths of some distant void-farm. He had found air and water. Together with the food he had taken from the other containers, he could last two weeks with little trouble. To this he breathed a sigh of cold relief.

Outside, something caught his eye. Several towers bobbed slowly atop the waves, illuminated by powerful lamps. Each stood easily as high as the sea-ship under his feet was long. Freight starships. Each would take the cargo of passing sea-ships into their payloads, before roaring out of the water and into the night. Once more, it proved a sight to behold for Kesser, more so when in the distance a freight starship already began its liftoff. A deafening rumble shook the ground, then the air, the very world trembling under the might of its atomic boosters. He followed those blinding violet plumes into the wispy clouds, where the ship discarded them for its main fusion engine. Then, a bright flash of brilliant blue, a haze of radiant red, and soon it became just another star among millions.

Kesser’s sea-ship approached the floating launchpad of a nearing starship, where several loading cranes stood ready by its open cargo hold. He would soon be soaring into the sky, too. Despite it all, he felt a spark of wonder return to him, an ember kept burning even after Ayild had been taken from him. For a time he, like Sidrah, had dreamed of sailing the stars, and now he briefly let himself conjure those crumbling dreams back from the darkness. A shame, then, that he could not see it properly.

When the loading cranes descended upon the cargo deck, Kesser took one final look at the planet he had known all his life, and sealed himself inside his container.

You must learn to take risks, boy.

Kesser laid himself down on the rough metal floor.

I have, father. I certainly have, now.

He felt a warmth to his chest. The whispers of his pendant had come more times than he could count, but now they sung a song of sorrow and passage with him. For him.

Now came the time to leave everything behind.

Now came the time to travel new worlds.