Providence Ch. 04

Part 4

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

She sat on the bed shivering violently, seemingly oblivious to her brother’s attempts at conversation. Her eyes remained fazed, fixated on the blurred images in front of her, but she saw nothing of the room she was in. The only images that were of any clarity were the horrifying memories of the Festival that flared to life behind her glazed eyes. Watching her father die, her mother’s murder, the crowd screaming, Cyrus’s malicious grin in triumph. She felt responsible, helpless, lost. But mostly dead.

What possible reason did she have to live now that nearly everyone she had loved and everything that she knew was taken away from her in a matter of moments?

Koen’s voice was muffled by the indifference she felt. For the first time in her life, Isabel wished she had never been born. For so long, twenty years, she had loved her life and everything that had accompanied it. The responsibility, the wealth, the status, the constant circle of servants, the public speculation. She never once wished for a different life, and now she couldn’t seem to wish for anything but the exact opposite. Why had Fate been so cruel to her? She had always been the good Princess, the dutiful daughter and sister and friend. What had she done to deserve this pain and void that now infested her heart?

For the past ten minutes Koen had busied himself around the small, secure room gathering the supplies they would need. He was sure that Isabel was in a state of shock considering she hadn’t moved or uttered a word since they were alone. Her eyes were empty of any emotion, she shivered slightly every few minutes, and her breathing was even but shallow. He had tried to talk to her, keep her mind occupied, but it was obvious that she was far from needing a distraction.

But so was he. Busying himself around the room had become maddening very quickly.

He went to the closet to retrieve clothes for the both of them and Will. They were poor substitutes from the royal tunics there were currently wearing, but Koen was never one to complain about such things. If it were up to him he would never wear such restraining, pompous clothing in the first place. The only reason he did was because his mother asked him to …

He shook his head to halt that path of thought quickly, violently. He couldn’t think of her now. Perhaps not ever. It was much too painful. He was quite certain that the images from the Festival would haunt his dreams for a very long time, if he were ever able to fall asleep again.

Koen took a common shirt from one hanger and ran his fingers along the fabric. It was nothing of Aevarian silk and yet it offered some kind of release for him. He had the quick realization that his past life was over. The palace, the servants, the balls, they were all a thing of the past for him and Isabel. And while that would have given him a sense of relief and hope just twenty-four hours ago, it offered nothing but a deep-seated despair weighing his already shattered heart. His chest constricted with the strong, newly found emotion.

For so long he thought he was trapped and isolated, and through that he had felt despair. But he quickly found that he had only been naïve and imprudent. He had been a callous twenty-year-old boy who thought that he was entitled to anything and everything. And now literally everything he had had been ripped from his life right before his eyes, and he wanted to weep for the loss. A loss of something that he had never known he had. How foolish he had been.

He summoned the last of his strength and composure, and faced Isabel, saying softly, “Isabel, you need to change. Your tunic is a mess. Here. Here are some clothes and some soap. Go ahead and wash up.” He sat the things in her lap but she made no move to fulfill his request.

He tried again. “Iz, please. You need to get up. We need to get clean and get some rest.” Her eyes remained dulled and unresponsive, mirroring his heart. He kneeled before her, desperately trying to keep his emotions in check in front of his devastated twin sister. But when he spoke his voice cracked with the misery he felt. “Isabel, please.”

“They’re gone.” Her voice was low and flat. Her eyes slowly lowered to meet his, coming out of her daze. “They’re gone, we’ll never see them again.”

He lowered his head in shame, his only response to the utter truth she spoke. Quiet sobs were emitted as he clung to her satin clad knees. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered hoarsely. “I’m so sorry Isabel.”

Moments past between them, Koen sobbing for the first time in years and Isabel stoically showing no emotion at all. He couldn’t remember ever feeling this way, as if his heart would literally burst from the loss he felt. And looking at his sister, he saw that she was fading very quickly. She was always so emotional, wearing her heart on her sleeve. Seeing her emotionally catatonic was heart breaking in and of itself. He would give everything he had to feel anything but annihilating misery, but he was sure it was better than feeling nothing at all.

At least with his emotion, he knew he was still alive. Isabel was beginning to look like she was already dead before she reached her grave.

“Isabel,” he said with as much strength as he could muster. “Get up Isabel. You need to get up.” When she didn’t move, he stood and pulled her up by her limp arms. “You have to get up. We have to keep going. Its what they would have wanted.” He spoke the words softly, but the impact was nonetheless forceful.

She broke down at that. Her tears were a steady stream down her face and Koen had to hold her up as her legs failed her. Her howls of anguish, he was sure, filled the small safehouse, as she let her guarded emotions run free. She sobbed and screamed and prayed and cursed for their dead parents for lengthy moments, held securely by her brother. Her breaths were choked and broken, and Koen could only return her emotion with the same uncensored fury.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

He clicked the communication orb once, then twice, trying to establish contact with the first safehouse. His equipment was old, but over the years he had been forced to make do, repairing broken wiring and replacing missing screws. And even with the few and far between metal shortages through the years, he was able to improve his orbs, giving them options that even the palace orbs didn’t have. Alec may have been secluded in the small village for several years, but he was sure to never leave himself wanting. At least not when his job was considered.

He had been a hidden protector for five years, living in his disheveled home since his entitlement, keeping a low appearance. It was necessary given his mission. No one could ever know his status, nor of his affiliations with the King. His whole life and the façade he kept were for the royal family protection. If there were ever an invasion or attack, they would be able to come to his safehouse and be protected. No enemy would expect or conceive of a Prince or Princess taking refuge in a shack on the outskirts of the ominous Chogan Forest.

So far this plan had worked well. No soldiers of Cyrus had come calling at his door. And even if they did, Alec had a Plan B already in mind.

A scoring, abrasive noise emitted from the orb, and a gruff voice asked, “Alpha 5-6-17. This is Alpha 5-6-17. Identify yourself.”

“Omega Beta 9-2-54.”

“What can I do for ya Omega Beta?”

“The doves have landed. I repeat … the doves have landed.”

There was silence on the other end, save for the coarse sounds of static. Alec waited for a response. He was sure no safehouse expected those words to be spoken.

“I’m sorry Omega Beta, repeat.”

“The doves have landed.”

“Status?” His voice has grown from gruff and indifferent to nearly elated and expectant.

“Hungry and cold, but no broken … wings.” After five years of nonuse, his training was beginning to come back. The dove pretense they used as code was an old one, designated only for the royal family, birds for royal associates, and so on. Each social standing in Aevarian society had an animal code for them.

He was sure that the Alpha safehouse was a bustle with activity by now.

“That’s great news Omega Beta. Report?”

“I’m transmitting now. Check you orb’s imprinter.” Alec turned to his fax-like machine and pressed the coordinates for the safehouse of Alpha 5-6-17. The information detailed their plans of escape.

“Copy that. Stand by.”

Short moments passed as the details were transmitted from one safehouse to another. Alec was sure that when Alpha received the plans, the protector would be less than pleased. But little on Alec’s side could be done. He was given an order by the Second In Command of the new King. To over ride that order would be treasonous.

“Received.”

Alec waited as his fellow protector read the plans.

It was not customary to leave the home planet during an attack. It would be expected that Koen address the survivors, regroup, and attack quickly, swiftly. None on Aevar would want Cyrus to rule long, not ever. But little else could be done at this desperate point. His fingers tapped lightly and impatiently on the desk in front of him. The static faded in his mind as he lingered for a response. The anticipation was maddening.

“Copy that Omega Beta. Our birds will leave home and meet with you up north.”

His brows furrowed. He copied? No argument or questions?

“I’m sorry Alpha. You said you copy?”

“Agreed. Our birds won’t make the winter at home. They needs time to rest.”

He asked expectantly, “Broken wings?”

“Copy that.”

“How many?”

“We’ve lost three. Seven birds here. But that could always change”

Seven. Only seven survivors at the Alpha safehouse. That dwindled the royal survivors down to twenty even. My God, had Cyrus killed everyone? he thought.

“Copy that. Give the report to Epsilon Theta 4-10-8 and Zeta 2-8-212. Repeat, that is Epsilon Theta 4-10-8 and Zeta 2-8-212. Send a report when you have confirmation.”

“Understood. Good work Omega Beta.”

“You too, Alpha. Omega Beta out.”

“Roger that.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“What did they say?”

Alec met Will’s eyes as they stood in the living area. He had just reentered the room after hearing back from the other safehouses, getting the full report of the survivors, their status and confirmation on their plans. He had been prepared for disappointment. But what Alec hadn’t been prepared for was the sheer dissolution of any hope he had had. The number kept ringing in his mind, over and over like a mantra of failure and disappointment and defeat. How could so much change so quickly?

Will waited for an answer, and could read very easily that the protector was reluctant to release any information. His fingers tingled; his nerves were standing on end from exhaustion and anticipation.

While he had been left alone to wait for a report, Will had explored the small safehouse and had found it surprisingly flawless in structure and integrity. The weapons were concealed in camouflage; swords hidden in plants, lasers secured behind the bricks on the wall, small grenades looking like decorations. To the bare, naked eye the home was the epitome of family and domesticity. To the trained, soldier’s eye it was the embodiment of uncensored security and combat. It was high-tech, and yet completely fundamental and accessible. Will was sure that if they needed to, the four refugees hidden away in the safehouse could defend themselves quite nicely. This Alec had been preparing for quite some time.

“Well, um …” Alec fumbled with his words under the scrutiny of his superior, and the large lump in his throat. He hated being the bearer of bad news. His eyes diverted from Will’s and landed on his hands. “I was able to contact the three safehouses that I mentioned before, and all reported back with an update of their status.”

“And?”

“There are ten survivors total, including you three.”

Will’s shoulders sagged in metaphoric defeat. Those few words had literally crumbled any hope he had at attacking Cyrus quickly. His mind was plagued with insecurities as it was. Being a newly allotted second was wreaking havoc on his abilities. He found himself rethinking and second guessing many aspects of the plan he had constructed, searching for any weaknesses hidden away. The last thing he wanted was to have his first order as second to fail with all their deaths.

But the plans he had been formulating crumbled with the news of ten survivors. That meant fewer trainers, fewer soldiers, fewer … everything. How was he supposed to orchestrate a counter attack when he couldn’t even get past his insecurities? A second was supposed to be strong and confident and disciplined in his training. And he was all a bundle of nerves and questions.

“They said that Cyrus used some type of chemical weapon on the military bases. The soldiers that actually did make it to a safehouse were so badly burned they didn’t make it but an hour or two. The other survivors were maimed, lost limbs … you get the idea.”

“What’s the demographic? Men to women?”

“There are five men, two women, and you three. There are three soldiers, one nurse, a few craftsmen, and actually one child.”

“A child?” Will asked surprised.

Alec nodded. “Yes. A young girl, maybe nine or ten. She was found in some rubble by one of the soldiers and taken to a safehouse. She didn’t have a scratch on her.”

He nodded to Alec and turned his gaze to the window behind him. The trees hung low with the weight of their branches in the wind. The sky was a gray-black haze, surely from fires set by Cyrus’s men within Aevar’s cities and ports. He was devastating all that Aevar stood for in a matter of hours, and in Will’s disgust, he found himself sitting back and watching.

Fury burned in his chest. He wanted revenge. He wanted victory. He wanted Cyrus’s head. And Fate be damned if it stood in his way of succeeding.

“Will they be able to make it to Moana at the designated time?”

“I informed them to meet at the rendezvous point one hour prior to what you had said. I figured that way, if they are late … they’re still on time. You know?”

“Good thinking.” He nodded letting the new information to sink in. “So, everything is in motion. We need to get off this planet. Fast.” He spoke more to himself than anyone, but was loud enough for Alec to hear.

Coming to a quick decision, Alec spoke.

“Sir?”

Will turned from the window, “Yes?”

“May I make a request?”

Will eyed him speculatively, but nodded, wondering what the protector could possible be asking for. Surely he knew that none of the three refugees had anything of value anymore.

“May I accompany you off the planet?”

His eyebrows rose in surprise. “You wish to leave Aevar … with us?” When Alec only nodded, Will continued. “Why? You do realize that is a very forbidden request? To leave the planet at a time of crisis.”

“Yes I know.”

“And do you remember the pledge you took when appointed protector, stating that you would ‘never depart or abandon the sacred and righteous planet known as Aevar until my death parts us’? Do you remember saying those words Alec?”

“Yes sir, I do.”

“Then why are you asking?”

He waited to respond, trying desperately to find the words to accurately portray his wishes. “Yes, I did pledged to serve my planet until my death. But not just Aevar, the ‘sacred and righteous planet’ of Aevar. The way I see it, Aevar was those things because of the leader it had. King Eamon was a righteous man, and I had no qualms serving him. But he died last night, leaving Cyrus in control. I owe him no allegiance. I will never see him as my King, sir. I feel a duty to stay with my leader, Koen. He is the rightful King, and I owe him my loyalty.”

Will remained silent, taking in Alec’s speech. It was obvious that he had a strong conviction about his responsibilities as protector, and was resolute in his mission. He would be a great asset to the small group of survivors. But Will didn’t show any of these thoughts as he maintained his blank expression, his arms crossed over his chest.

When Alec didn’t see a change in the Second’s expression, he continued. “I will take any position you see fit, and I will faithfully serve Koen until my death. I just honestly cannot see myself staying on a planet that is in political chaos, under a tyrant. Aevar is better than that, and I believe that if I can help in any way, I can do so by leaving with you.” He finished his speech, taking a deep breath. “Sir,” he added hastily.

Will a few moments, leaving Alec with baited breath, before responding. “Very well. We will all leave in the morning. Keep watch while we sleep. Wake us in five hours.” He turned to leave the living area, and Alec enthusiastically nodded and saluted, even though it was not required.

After Will’s departure, Alec stood in his home, which sat eerily quiet. He was leaving Aevar for the first time in nearly sixteen years. And the sooner the better.

He went about double-checking the locks on the doors and windows, and walked softly to his small bedroom to pack what few things he would take with him on his journey off the planet. A few changes of clothes and several devises he had invented that he was sure could aid them in their escape. If nothing else, they would help ease his trepidation of Cyrus. He knew the stories and tales of his tyranny and malice. Alec could only ask Fate for one wish – for all the royal survivors to make it off of Aevar safely. Once they reached their destination, he was sure that Koen and William would formulate a plan and set it into action, saving Aevar.

But he couldn’t, for the life of him, understand why William had chosen Cantu for their refuge.