Terry Simpson - Etchings of Power

The words stung and added to the empty space in Ancel’s head and chest.

“But you became more than that.” Kachien’s face wrinkled in confusion. She heaved a sigh. “I have never had a man touch me the way you have. Make me feel the way you do. This is something new for me. All the others are just sex and me keeping up my disguise.” She closed her eyes as if it had taken everything for her to make such an admittance.

“Fuck. You,” Ancel growled. “No one is that hardened. Now, I’m supposed to believe someone may be after me from this side of the Vallum also? Why should I believe anything you’ve said. You’ve already proven how well you can lie. You all have.” He scowled at them.

“Not me,” Danvir protested.

Ancel spared him a glare that could have shattered glass.

“If I wanted you dead, you would be.” Tears flowed down Kachien’s cheeks as her impassive tone wilted. “If I wanted to take you, I could have done so outside the city, and no one would have known. Where I am from, you must be hard to survive or the land breaks you. If I did not feel as I feel, I could act if you were nothing. But I cannot.” She wiped at her face.

A part of Ancel wanted to doubt Kachien, but the look on her face touched him. He remembered all the time they spent together, the dinners, the music, their laughter, and lovemaking. That couldn’t all be a lie? Could it?

Outside, the storm raged, and the winds howled. Rain drummed harder and lightning rippled angrily.

“I believe her,” Mirza said, the sudden flashes illuminating his grim face. “I’ve kept it to myself all this time. But when Mother died my father would have nightmares for weeks after. He often talked in his sleep. He’d always say he was sorry to my mother over and over again. He blamed himself. One night, he mentioned how if he knew Pathfinders would’ve come for mother he would’ve ran away. When-”

“Pathfinders?” Danvir blurted. “Why would Pathfinders take your mother? She never used Mater to break the law.” He paused, a questioning expression on his face. “Or did she?”

“No,” Mirza said firmly, but his voice echoed his pain. “Mother never did any such thing. When I asked my father about it, he made me swear not to say a word. He said if I ever did, to anyone, they’d take me next. I still remember that night. How he cried.”

“What’d he say?” Ancel asked.

“That Mother lost control. He said at her age, it sometimes happens, so the Pathfinders came to take her where she wouldn’t be a danger to anyone. It’s the reason I’ve always pleaded with you to continue your training. I’d hate for the Pathfinders to come for you too.”

“Mirz, I…I…This can’t be real. Only criminals need fear the Pathfinders. Why would they-” Ancel remembered the conversation with Kachien then. How she asked about those who lacked emotional control, or those who failed the trials, or touched Mater on their own without training. His doubts withered and died.

“Besides she saved my life,” Ancel heard Mirza say as he regained his focus. “Ancel, I believe what we saw in the Greenleaf Forest were wraithwolves?”

Kachien’s attention snapped to Mirza. “Where? Here in Granadia?”

“Yes. Near our home.”

She shook her head. “No. I doubt they were. Shadelings cannot cross the Vallum of Light.”

Mirza gave a snort. “If you asked me several years ago, I would’ve said Pathfinders are good people, not some all powerful Ashishins who come and snatch your loved ones in the night. Until today, I believed Amuni’s Children wanting Ancel and the shade appearing again was impossible too. Not anymore.”

“Let’s not jump to conclusions,” Ancel implored. “If my father said they weren’t wraithwolves then we should believe him.”

“Like he told you the truth about yourself? About why they sent you here?”

Glowering, Ancel balled his hands into fists. The mere suggestion his father was somehow involved in this mess made his blood boil. Again, he subdued his emotions.

“You know, you’re my friend, Ancel. My best friend. But you can be naive at times,” Mirza added.

“He’s right,” Danvir said.

“Listen, if Shin Galiana knew about her and asked her to come protect you, then it’s obvious your father knew.” Mirza turned his hands palm upward. “It makes me wonder what else they’re hiding.”

“Regardless,” Ancel said, his voice tight as he resisted the temptation to touch his mother’s pendant, “We need to head home. That’s the only place we’ll find answers. And the only place I’ll be safe. What do you suggest, Kachien?”

“There is a way out.” She pointed outside into the pouring rain. “We need to cross this canal to the tunnels on the other side. They lead to the river. I shall warn you now. You will need to swim and dive near the end.”

Ancel almost gagged at the prospect of swimming and being submerged in the canal’s filthy water.

“So what’re we waiting for?” Danvir took a step toward the tunnel’s entrance.

“If you leave, the soldiers waiting above on those banks will cut you down.”

“They know we’re here?” Danvir eased back from the opening.

“Maybe not, but they are covering this way,” Kachien said. “I have seen their helmets bob up and down too many times now.”

“So what do we do? You brought us here. I assume you have a plan?” Ancel raised a questioning eyebrow.

“Yes. I do.” Kachien closed her eyes. “Any moment now.”

Yells sounded toward the opposite end of the tunnel where the drains twisted and turned. Bells began ringing once more. Outside, orders rattled out above them. Sure enough, what seemed like several hundred helmets bobbed from along the canal’s walls and ran in the direction of the shouts and away from where they hid.

“Give them a few minutes,” Kachien said. “Then we run.”

“What did you do?”

Kachien smiled. “They think they see what they do not see. Once they realize they are chasing stone, it will be too late.”

Ancel’s face twisted in confusion, but he got no chance to ask.

“Go. Now,” Kachien ordered.

They ran for the entrance, Charra bounding ahead of them, cold rain and winds buffeting them as they left the tunnel’s shelter.

Ancel’s heart raced, each splashing footstep sounding as if the entire world could hear them. Dear gods, please don’t let them hear us. Rain soaked him within moments, but he didn’t care. He pushed his tired legs harder and harder through the filth around them. The muck sucked at his feet, conspiring to slow his progress, but he fought against it. Several times, he stumbled, but somehow managed to regain his balance. His breaths came in burning, ragged gasps. He thought he heard a shout, and he drove his legs even harder.

The safety of the drainage tunnel on the other side seemed miles away. In his mind, they were not getting any closer. He closed his eyes and prayed some more while pumping his legs. Then, in one sudden step, the rain no longer wet him.

Ancel opened his eyes. They had all crossed. He grinned, and so did the others. But Kachien was frowning with her head tilted to one side.

“What’s wrong?” As he asked the question, the noises reached Ancel. The squeals of thousands of rats and a distant roar.

“What’s that?” Concern filled Kachien’s voice.

“Th-They opened the dam,” Ancel sputtered. “These tunnels will flood in minutes. We’ll die here if we don’t make the river in time. Run. Run for your lives.”

They ran.

Darkness engulfed them as they plunged deeper into the sewers. Cold seeped through Ancel’s soaked boots, and already, the water in the central channel had risen to overflowing, causing filthy liquid to lap at the sides of the tunnel. Although only ankle deep at the moment, the sewage was still rising. With only the entrance behind providing dim light Ancel followed his friends’ silhouettes and footsteps splashing ahead, the stench of weeks old waste near impossible to breathe in. Making the mistake of sucking in too much air brought on coughing fits. Behind them, the crush of rodents fleeing for safety wailed a squealing chorus like an out of tune takuatin. The oncoming flood played the accompaniment in a muffled roar.