Martyr (The Martyr Trilogy) Read online

  Maaike didn’t slow her pace. As we ran, she began to speak in short, calculated phrases between gulped breaths: “Beyond the gate…the hill rises…beyond the hill…a party awaits…whatever happens…meet the party….don’t stop…don’t slow. You must live!” By that point we were a mere ten paces from the gate, and the guard. He held a wide stance, hilt of his blade planted at his hip, tip pointing at us. Before I knew what was happening, Maaike threw herself onto his blade. I saw it emerge from her back, just under her ribs. She wrapped her arms around the guard and pulled him close, receiving the blade fully, and clung to him, unrelenting in her death embrace. She never made a sound. I tried to scream, but no sound emerged from my constricted throat. I stumbled but didn’t fall. I remembered her words; I would not let her die in vain. Grasping my companion’s sleeve, I mounted the base of the hill. I never looked back. My eyes tried to well, but I fought it, ran harder. Seconds seemed to drag into minutes, until finally, we crested the hill. There, I could see something.

  A small group of people stood around a vehicle, an SUV. Dilapidated and many times patched, I was a little surprised when it started. There were three men and a woman. I saw the woman’s eyes scanning the hilltop, possibly for pursuers. They ushered us quickly into the back of the vehicle, the men staring at me as if in disbelief. “Maaike …,” I started, but one of them, a young, bearded man with dark, curly hair, silenced me with a gesture. “She would have come if she could,” he said. “I know what she must have done.” At this the woman began to sob bitterly. Then I remembered where I had seen her face before. Add a pair of glasses, a different hairstyle, and she would have looked just like the girl who had challenged Maitland in class. That unhuman voice had spoken of parallel worlds and alter egos; maybe Maaike had been a doppelganger of that girl. I guess she was destined to be brave in any world. My accomplice spoke after a time, extending a hand, “I’m Jeyt.”

  4

  We rode through a dead wood, following a rut that might once have been a road. I had so many questions, but my mind was swimming with the whirlwind of events that had led me to this point, and I couldn’t manage to formulate a coherent thought. I suppose I had also lost a fair amount of blood during my imprisonment. Consciousness came and went as it pleased. I saw glimpses of trees, outcroppings of stone, flashes of yellow sunlight. At one point I felt we had stopped, and I tried to look around. We were at an abandoned gas station. Two of the men from our party were bending back some saplings that had erupted through the concrete platform and claimed the pumps. After some investigation it became apparent that the pumps were dry. A pack of crows laughed at us from the roof of the former cash booth. The few vehicles scattered around the lot were in far worse shape than our own, seeming to be made of paper-thin sheets of rust that were perforated in numerous spots, rubber tires almost completely disintegrated. Across the road the remains of two massive oil tanks resembled a pair of beached whales, forever trapped on this sealess strand.

  We resumed our progress, and I fought to remain aware. The land descended as we went, our road passing between steep gravel slopes. To the left of the road I spotted a trickle. I didn’t notice when it had started, but it grew as we descended to a respectable stream, always following the road. Its water appeared to be clear, perhaps drinkable. I craved it. I asked our female passenger if we could stop, and she reached behind her seat, handing me a liter bottle of dirty-looking water.

  “But…”, I gestured toward the crystal stream at the roadside.

  “This is better. You’ll see soon.”

  We started to slow down, and I looked at the road ahead. The stream, small though it was, had decided to cross the road at last, had been doing so for some time. In the process it had eroded away a big chunk of our road. The neat slice passed completely through the road from left to right and rendered continued passage impossible. Thankfully there was a broad, sloping shoulder off to the right that merged seamlessly with the streambed. We pulled off and began to follow the stream as it had followed us previously. The trees grew more dense as we rode, and after traveling thus for a couple of miles, the stream arced to the left. As we rounded the bend, the trees separated and the sand of the streambed was replaced by gravel as we emerged into a clearing where the water pooled into a shallow pond. On the far shore, roughly fifty yards away, were a series of lumpy, white forms. The vehicle stopped, and the bearded man handed me a pair of binoculars. I focused on the white shapes, and gasped. Four great white deer – just like the one in my dream – lay decomposing by the pool. The woman spoke.

  “Magus poisoned all the running water in this area, knowing our camps would draw from it. We lost a number of good people before we realized it. Our secondary water sources are not as clear, but are not tainted, at least not yet.”

  An older man with uncontrolled salt-and-pepper sideburns and a green vest spoke up. “You met him – Magus – didn’t you? Did he say anything…uh…useful?”

  “Now is not the time, Denkel,” said the bearded man. “When we are safely within the camp…”

  The woman spoke up. “Safe! The only safety is on the move. Do you think he is not tracking us already? We won’t be able to keep camp here beyond this night.”

  “I think not,” replied the bearded man. “This was already a stretch for Magus; I’ve never seen him stray so far from the city. No doubt you were the reason for his excursion.” He was pointing at me.

  “And we were lucky for that, Jager. We wouldn’t have stood a chance of recovering him if Magus had held him in his stronghold. Chances are, he hadn’t held him for long when we received word. He was probably still trying to decide how best to kill him.”

  “I think you’re right about that,” I chimed in. “I overheard him talking to someone about the very matter.”

  “Apologies,” said the woman. “We’ve been talking over you as though you were not here. I’m Kaire.” She extended a hand. “This is Jager, Denkel, and that’s Tryst at the wheel.” He waved over his shoulder with a wink in the rearview mirror. “And I believe you’ve met Jeyt.” The thin ex-con nodded in my direction. “Jeyt,” said Kaire, “I was glad to see you. We were coming for you next.”

  “Of course you were. I was actually a little annoyed that my stay was cut short….was really starting to acquire a taste for the rat.”

  “Haven’t lost that sense of humor, I see.”

  We rode on beyond the clearing. We reentered some woods, but only for a short time before it opened again, this time revealing a golden field. Here we made our own road, veering to the left and heading for what appeared to be an impenetrable tangle of undergrowth. I looked behind us, and saw that the yellow grass was not matted by our passing, but sprang back to its original height with remarkable resilience. We pulled up before the undergrowth, and stopped. Kaire and Jager jumped out, grabbed handfuls of shrubbery and began pulling. It swung open like a gate, and Tryst wasted no time driving through. Closing the way behind us, Kaire and Jager rejoined us. Our drive proceeded now through a much thicker wood, mostly of towering pines and smaller evergreens. They were the first plant life I had seen thus far that was not yellow. We rode in a deep trench that rarely deviated from a straight course for several miles. Then I felt us start to slow. I looked to the road ahead, and saw two armed guards, one on each side of the road, before an arch made of twisted vines. I stiffened, but Kaire laid a hand on my shoulder.

  “Peace, these belong to us.”

  The guards waved us past, smiling broadly, straining to catch a glimpse of something as we passed. As we continued to drive slowly beyond the gate, several young boys and girls emerged from the trees at either side and ran alongside our vehicle, shouting, “Martyr! Martyr!” Then among the trees tents started to appear, and campfires. The intoxicating scent of roasting meat reached my nostrils. Small groups of people stood here and there in groups of two or three or four, staring at us, then turning inward upon themselves and muttering excitedly. So obvious and so unanimous was this response, that a wave of excitement could be observed passing from one cluster to the next, on both sides, following us as we rode by.

  “They’re really glad you made it back,” I said.

  “What you’re seeing isn’t for us,” Kaire answered. “It’s for you.”

  “Yeah…I’ve been meaning to ask about that. What’s all this “martyr” business? Who do these people think I am?”

  “I think it best we leave that discussion to the Commander.”

  “You understand I’m not who they think I am, don’t you?”

  “I understand you don’t think you are. I don’t know what to think just yet. But I must ask you, for the sake of all of us…”

  “Ask me what?”

  “To let them think what they will think…at least for now. You don’t have to lie. Just don’t deny anything. Can you do that? Will you?”

  “Look, I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t be having this conversation if you guys hadn’t rescued me. I’ll do whatever you think is best.”

  “Thank you. Really. It will mean so much to them. And who knows, maybe they’re not wrong.” I raised an eyebrow at that, but said nothing more.

  “In case it comes up, there’s a name you may hear, the name of the one they think you are.”

  “Tal-Makai,” I said.

  “Yes. How did you…”

  I simply smiled. It occurred to me that in spite of being indebted to these people, I really didn’t know any of them. And it might just work in my favor to play along, at least until I had a better idea who I could trust.

  At last we pulled up before a circle of larger tents, and Denkel motioned for me to get out. He and Tryst led me to a folding chair before one of the tents, while Jager and Kaire remained at the vehicle, conversing. Shortly two young girls arrived
and furnished me with a tray containing cuts of roasted flesh and a pitcher of beer. They giggled and twittered, then backed away without removing their gaze from me, turned and skipped off whispering to each other. I didn’t dwell on that, but immediately tore into the meat, washing it down with greedy gulps of beer. I nearly spilled the pitcher when another girl, without warning, began to clean my head-wound by dabbing at it with a moist cloth, then applied a salve and wrapped my head with bandages. I had to push it off my eyes so I could see to continue my feast. Another appeared and asked if I had any other wounds; still another whether my pitcher needed refreshing. Just then Kaire emerged from the trees at my back and sent the girls away.

  “I’m sorry for leaving you alone like that. They mean well.”

  “It wasn’t a problem, really. It’s not every day I’m treated like a returning hero.”

  “The Commander will be anxious to speak with you, but has not yet returned from the field. I would suggest you get some rest; you may use the tent behind you if you like. A pair of guards will be stationed at your door, just notify them if you have need of anything.”

  “I will, thank you.”

  Kaire walked back in the direction from which she had come. I polished off the rest of my meat and ale, and set the tray on the ground. A heretofore unseen girl scurried up and removed it with a smile. I rose, and was surprised to not feel the now familiar throb in my head. Maybe that was a pretty good salve they had, or maybe it was the beer. What I did feel was exhaustion. I dragged myself through the doorway of the tent behind me and collapsed on the blankets laid there for me.

  I slept an uneasy sleep, aware of an increasing bustle outside my tent, whispers growing to an excited hum of voices. I tried to sink back into unconsciousness, was successful for a time, but ultimately found myself focusing on the sounds, attempting to separate individual voices. Aware of a presence, I cracked open my eyes and scanned to the tent flap, where a face stood silhouetted against the brightness outside. Seeing me stir, the figure spoke.

  “Sir, the Commander has returned.” It was one of the serving girls.

  Someone had laid a pile of clothes near the doorway. Of course, I was still wearing the bathrobe Maaike had given me. Maaike …such a young girl, gave her life without a thought. I doubted I could ever do what she had done, to give so selflessly. Was there even any cause I believed in so strongly? I pulled on a pair of faded jeans and a coarse cotton shirt with a Nehru style collar. There was also a waist-length brown leather jacket and brown shoes. Everything fit perfectly.

  I peeked out of the flap, and the guards stepped aside to allow me to emerge. Kaire approached me. “The clothes suit you well.”

  “Thanks. I was told the Commander was here?”

  “Not here, yet. The party was spotted from one of our surveillance towers, and we were notified by a signal fire. They’ll be arriving in the camp shortly. Come this way.”

  I followed her out of the small circle of tents and into the woods along a wide path, but not the one we had ridden in on. It seemed to be the general direction in which people were moving. About fifty paces ahead, three great forms rose slowly over a rise in the path. Three of those great white deer, each bearing a rider. The riders, and the beasts, were armored, but not in the finely crafted and detailed suits of legend. Their plates were makeshift creations, scraps of metal and plastic secured with pieces of cord. The riders themselves wore what looked like a collection of sporting pads, welders’ gloves, and motorcycle helmets. The two riders at the sides carried long spears, and the central one had a great bow on his back. As they drew near, the other two held back while the archer approached us. I now understood the purpose of the stepped wooden structure at the roadside – a necessity for dismounting beasts of this size.

  The rider walked right up to me, and I could see now that he was not as large or imposing as he had appeared on his mount. Unsure of the proper protocol, I extended a hand in a gesture of intended goodwill. The rider did not take my hand, but stood staring at me through mirrored glass for several seconds. Then he raised both hands to his head and slowly removed his helmet. Her helmet. It was Mana.

  5

  It was definitely Mana…those almond eyes were unmistakable. But something was different. Aside from the fact that she was filthy, her dark hair matted from her riding helmet, dried mud caked on her clothing. Aside from her well-tanned skin. She was older somehow, early-30’s maybe. And perhaps it was my imagination, but she seemed…healthier, I guess. Stronger, more solid, and more filled-out. The Mana I knew was a wispier thing. This world suited her. I suppose I had known that Mana was of mixed ethnicity, but I was now a little ashamed to realize that I had no idea where her family was from. This Mana was truly exotic, her skin a palette of rich earth tones.

  She stared at me for a long moment, as if searching for something. I thought I detected a hint of pain in her eyes before she blinked several times and turned away abruptly. At last she spoke, and as she started to stroll away, it was clear that I was meant to follow her.

  “The clothes fit you well.”

  “Yes, thank you. And is it you I have to thank for the rescue as well?”

  “No thanks are necessary. We could not have left you there. You cannot understand how important you are to the resistance.” She stopped suddenly, turned to face me. This time her hand was extended. “I’m sorry. You just look so much like him. I’m Reya.”

  I took her hand. “I’m Justin. Unless there is another name I should answer to…”

  “I have mixed feelings about that. I know the people want you to be Tal. But I think it best to be completely honest with them. With myself. You are not Tal-Makai.”

  I wanted to ask so many questions, and here at last was someone who might be able to tell me everything I needed to know. But this was clearly a touchy subject. I decided to steer toward somewhat safer waters. “Do you know why I am here?”

  “Why? No. But I know there is a reason. In the morning, I will take you to a place that may hold some answers. I know it must be difficult, but I would ask you to keep your questions until then. There is much we do not know, either. Walk with me, please.”

  I followed her to where her mount remained standing. It lowered its head as Reya approached, massive yet somehow incredibly graceful, its many-pointed rack easily spanning 12 feet from side to side. It blinked its pupilless liquid gold eyes twice. Reya scratched under its white goatee and it emitted a soft humming sound. She then released latches on its saddle and bridle and let them fall to the ground. A young boy and girl scurried up and collected the items. “Thank you Bole, Breya.” The children giggled and hurried off with the items. The humming continued, and after a moment I realized that Reya was matching the sound. Her voice trailed off, and the creature slowly raised its head again toward the treetops, appeared to steal one last glance at her, then turned and wandered off into the trees in a different direction from which it had come. The others followed suit as they were similarly relieved of their gear.