Chapter 37: Escape

She stood at the window, the sun a nebulous disk of slightly lighter gray seen behind the ever present dark gray clouds. On the land below, the gray of the near ever-present clouds appeared to drizzle onto the land itself, until, on the horizon, you could barely tell where the land ended and the sky began. Her gaze was a strange mixture of contemplative, fearful and miserable as her eyes moved aimlessly about the bleak landscape around her. Off in the distance, ever looming, was the large, inactive volcano with the strange Gate at its base. Usually, the volcano represented hope to her, a distant mountain she could climb to see what was on the other side. Only she knew what was on the other side – more of what was on this side. The world held no mysteries for her – not today.

Her view was filled with a sickly gray pallor, the ever-present darkness which filled her life laid out for her eyes to suddenly and clearly see. She, like thousands or millions or perhaps even billions before her, would not make a mark on this seemingly lifeless world. The hopes of her childhood were appropriately dashed as the day inexorably continued, moment by disparaging moment. Her heart seemed to take in the lifelessness that was the constant reality of her life and slowly thicken into the same lifeless rock she could see all around her.

The landscape before her was filled with blacks and grays, the occasional off-white thrown in solely for color. It was a lifeless void, and she could feel it coming to claim her. Only her mother’s small garden showed any signs of green life, but mostly the stalks were the sickish yellow she’d come to expect.

She couldn’t even catch the scent of the garden on the breeze. There was not even a hint of a breeze, just the stifling, ever-present heat of the day.

She heard the knock, but she didn’t want to respond. To respond would mean the day had begun and she’d been dreading this day for years now. Today, the horrible plans made so long ago would begin to move forward.

“Come on, Vestra,” her brother called from beyond the door. “You don’t want to waste your entire birthday in bed.”

She blew out a breath and sighed. If it had been one of her parents, she’d have been able to ignore them, and they’d have gone away eventually. Her brother could be much more persistent.

Though she was revulsed at the bleak landscape in front of her, she moved from the window reluctantly. She frowned at the pale gray dress covered with understated and unrealistic red flowers which was carefully folded on her desk, a part of the skirt falling over the side and floating lifelessly a foot or so above the floor. Obviously, a gift from her mother. She didn’t want it. She hated it. It filled her with vile loathing and disgust. She put it on, anyway, shuddering as the light cloth settled into place. It was just another reminder of the day and her change of status.

As a child, she could almost dress as she wanted. While she was restricted to skirts and blouses, the skirts could be short and the blouses brief. She could run and play with her arms and legs bare and no one would think twice.

Today, though, it all changed. For all of her life, she’d barely noticed the subtle change of night into day, the constant heat only marginally less in the greater darkness. She was all too aware of it now. The slight brightening of the near omnipresent gray clouds as the sun inevitably rose over the horizon had heralded with it an unwelcome change.

It could be worse. The day could have started with a brief glimpse at the burning red of their sun, something that occurred with such slight frequency it had become a sort of lucky superstitious talisman to her people. She didn’t need a good omen on this day.

Today, she was an adult.

As a woman instead of a girl, she was prohibited from showing any skin below the chin. Even showing her hands in public was frowned upon, though not punished. Showing her feet, while unseemly, would be less tolerated, but still met with a frown and not actively castigated. Anything else, even the flash of an ankle or wrist, was not tolerated. The first infraction would mean a public flogging of twenty lashes. The punishment would increase for any further infractions. If she violated the mandate enough, she would either be publicly stoned or publicly crushed.

She hated growing old.

What was worse, today would begin the preparations for her marriage. Her parents had betrothed her many years ago to Marcin tuk’Cura, a member of one of the Green clans. It was a good arrangement and would bring her and her family prestige and honor as well as more than a little much-needed coin. She just hated she had no choice in the matter.

Less importantly but certainly at the top of her mind, she also hated Marcin tuk’Cura. It was an irrational hate. She’d never truly been in his presence for more than a moment or two. Just knowing he was to be her husband – that she had no choice in the matter – was enough, though.

“A moment,” she called to her brother. She had to say something, or he’d continue to knock until it brought her parents. She certainly didn’t want to see them until later. Preferably, much later.

She laced and tied the neckpiece angrily. She knew it was likely to be another hot day and she felt she’d suffocate within the robe but her only other option was to hide away in her room. She knew her parents wouldn’t allow it. Her mother wouldn’t even understand it. Her mother was very traditional and felt she was too uppity and needed to learn her place.

So, she’d have to go through her day, thanking everyone for their birthday wishes while dying in a pool of her own sweat. Then, in the evening, at her coming of age celebration, her parents would formally announce her betrothal to Marcin. It would start the final death throes of her freedom and in a year, she’d be bound to him forever in the wedding ceremony.

She nixed the morbid thoughts and crossed to her door. As she moved, she caught sight of herself in the mirror. She stopped and stared, looking at the strangely clothed stranger looking back at her.

Her white-blonde hair was free, its bounce slowly stopping as she stood still. She admitted to herself she looked pretty. Her nose was thin and proud, her cheeks high and full. Her lips were naturally ruddy, and her golden eyes were open and honest. Only the high-necked dress looked out of place, making her look strange and unnatural.

She hated that she was pretty. If she were ugly, she’d not have to suffer through this betrothal. If she were ugly, Marcin tuk’Cura would want nothing to do with her. She turned, and looked away, closing her eyes against the coming tears.

With a distraught sigh, she opened the bedroom door, but even her brother’s open smile could not lift her spirits.

“Why so glum?” Daorba asked, his brow wrinkling. “You become an adult today!”

“Exactly,” she replied with a sigh.

Daorba decided to take a different tact. “I like the new dress,” he commented cheerfully. “The red flowers contrast the basic white nicely.”

“It’s gray, not white,” she responded drily. “But thanks.”

Daorba’s face drew serious, his smile slowly fading. “What’s wrong?”

“You know what’s wrong!” she cried. Her arms waved up and down her torso. “This! This is what’s wrong.”

“Your dress?” he asked in confusion. “It’s very pretty.”

“Yes, it’s pretty,” she growled sarcastically. “It’s also binding and hot!”

“A necessary evil,” he responded gently. “You must hide your flesh so you don’t incite men’s lusts. To do otherwise would make you nothing more than a harlot. It would leave you unclean and needing to be purified.”

“Why is it my job to curb men’s lusts?” she asked in tears. “Besides, what changed from yesterday to today? A day?”

“You’re two hundred years old today,” he said placatingly. “You’ve come of age and moved into womanhood. You know this.”

He shook his head and continued. “I always felt mother was too lenient with you. She should have started easing you into this years ago.”

“Too lenient?” she asked, astounded. “Too lenient?!? How can you say that? How can you say any of that? It just isn’t fair.”

Daorba sighed. “No, itra, it isn’t fair,” he agreed. “But it is the world, and you must find your place within it.”

“Why?” she questioned, her voice pleading. “Why must I wear this ... this ... tent? Why must I perspire all day while you can go bare-chested? Why must I bow my head to men? Why must I serve them?”

“Because you’re a woman,” he said simply. He shook his head. “You know women are weaker than men. Physically, of course, but emotionally as well. You women are governed by your emotions while men are able to put emotion aside to do what is needed. It is our duty to care for you and defend you, so it is only right you support us and serve us. It’s been this way forever. It is prescribed in the writings of our god. ‘For the final betrayer is woman, so she must be subservient to men’.”

“That’s the same argument the Color classes make,” she bit out. “The exact same reason they use to subjugate us Metals. They are caring for us because they are strong while we are weak. ‘For the weak are to be pitied, and it is the duty of the strong to steady and maintain them’. See? I can quote scripture, too!”

“I don’t like it any more than you do,” he admitted. “But it’s true – for men and women as well as Colors and Metals. Men are stronger than women just as Colors are stronger than Metals. I don’t necessarily agree with it, but I can’t argue its truth.”

He looked at his sister’s glowering face shrewdly. “But you knew this. You knew what this day entailed. You’ve always known, yet you walked your path peacefully. What’s changed now, little itra? Why are you so upset now?”

“He’s so old!” Vestra cried. “He’s over a thousand! And he’s fat and wrinkly! Why did Mother and Father do this? Why did they pledge me to – to – to him?”

Daorba nodded his head knowingly. “It is not, perhaps, the union I would have made, but it is a good union. You’ll gain honor and, if you’re lucky, present him a son that might someday raise your status even higher. Besides, the tuk’Cura clan is wealthy. You’ll want for nothing.”

“But – but – I’ll be forced to lay with – with – with that?” Vestra gnashed. “It is not fair.”

“You use that argument a lot,” her brother said softly. “It is a child’s lament. You’ll be well cared for and want for nothing. Certainly, that is worth a little... unpleasantness.”

“Easy for you to say,” she growled back. “You don’t have to lay with him.”

“No,” he chuckled. “No, I don’t. As you said, though, he is old. Surely, he will not last much longer – no more than a few hundred years, at the most. On his passing, you will retire and still be cared for. He also has more than forty other wives so you will not have to lay with him often.”

“Scant comfort,” she mumbled.

“True,” he agreed. “But it is a comfort. Just close your eyes and bear it and think of his death. It will get you through.”

“Maybe,” she ground out between clenched teeth. “Not if I put my thoughts to deeds, though. If I do that, they’ll take my life after I take his. I’m not sure it isn’t worth it.”

“Don’t say that, sister,” he chided. “Life is precious. Is that not why god brought us here? To save our lives. To keep us alive so that we might bring his terrible vengeance to the insignificant vermin who once hunted us?”

She looked at her older brother. “Have you...? Do they...? Do the Priests take you ... to Vylun ... often?”

His face grew serious. “Often enough,” he said quietly. “You’ve not told anyone, have you?”

“No!” she said earnestly.

“Good,” he replied, his relief evident. “I should not have told you ... but ... you’d have seen it anyway, eventually.”

“What do you do ... over there?”

“Train, mostly,” he replied, his voice not much more than a whisper. “Controlling our True Forms is ... difficult. There is a ... freedom ... to it which can be distracting. Concentration is paramount.”

His face broke into a wide smile. “I’ve learned to fly!”

A smile broke on her face in spite of her misery. “I would so very much like to do that! To learn to fly!”

“Maybe you will,” he replied happily. “The Priests say the time draws very near. They say we might be among those who return triumphantly to Vylun!”

Vestra’s face grew wistful. “To fly. It would be so much.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Have you ... is there any sign of ... Those We Left Behind?”

“What?” Daorba drew up quizzically, his smile fading. “Of ... oh.”

He shook his head. “No sign. Of course, we aren’t allowed to travel far – never out of sight of the Gate. The Priests don’t want the usurpers to know we are coming. ‘An unsuspecting enemy is an easily destroyed enemy.’ At least, that’s what Ondara Siccu says.” His eyes narrowed and he gazed purposefully into his sister’s golden eyes. “Why are you interested?”

“No reason,” she replied quickly.

He was content to let her question go ... then thought better of it. His sister was devious but, like all women, had difficulty hiding her emotion. She was eager. Perhaps too eager. Besides, the question troubled him though he wasn’t certain why.

“Vestra,” he warned. “Out with it. You never ask a question without reason.”

She squirmed under his raised brow look. “I’ve ... I’ve been spending time in the Great Library.”

She looked around carefully and lowered her voice to the barest of whispers. “The forbidden section.”

He looked startled. He knew his sister could read. He’d helped teach her himself. Women were prohibited from attending school but home schooling, while frowned upon, was permitted. His Mother was very proud she could read and write and even do numbers and she’d taken delight in passing the skill onto her only daughter. His father found no harm in it and so he’d helped his sister learn. He’d even gone so far as taking books out of the library for her because of course she couldn’t do it herself. Women were prohibited from being in any library, much less the Great Library.

The Great Library was vast. Most of it was quite open – only a small section was forbidden. The books within were considered heresy and only with a special dispensation from the Priesthood – who maintained all the libraries – was anyone allowed within.

“Why would you go there?” he asked. He knew how she’d done it. The same way she managed to sneak up on him when he was on guard duty. The same way she managed to sneak through all of the wards the Priests had placed on the Gate Path. He knew he should have told the Dizzar (priest) he reported to – or maybe the Ondara (High Priest) his Dizzar reported to – but he’d allowed her to sway him from his duty.

Now, though, he’d have to own his sin during his confession. The Gate was one thing ... the forbidden section was quite something else. He worried for his sister’s place in the afterlife. He didn’t want her to suffer eternally.

She had the good sense to drop her head, at least. “When you told me Vylun was real, I grew so curious. There’s nothing much about it in the library – nothing more than how wonderful it is. I remembered a few years ago, Dizzar Cuunum bragged how he’d been given dispensation to study briefly in the forbidden section and he described Vylun so closely. I wanted to learn of it, too. I thought...”