Chapter 20

The ancient forests to the west of the Waste were more beautiful that Porter remembered from over half a year ago. The tall trunks with their clinging vines gave him a touch of homesickness when he considered his first journey through these trees. Even the sounds of animals hunting, eating, and enjoying themselves were pleasing to his ears, much more so than the strange calls of the twisted forests to the north.

Reconciling completely with Gilly took more than a few days, which was not an aching concern for Porter. She had apologized to him. Her confession was so profound to him that he had responded in kind, undergoing what he considered a fundamental conversion. He could love himself. For all of his flaws and faults, he liked who he was for the first time.

He neither feared her running away from him in disgust nor her judging him inadequate. She was not going to reject him. The cruelty and spite were no more. After all, she had already done that and not only was he still standing but she asked to stand next to him. In these moments of introspection, a happy sigh would escape his lips.

While Porter found a fundamental peace that he had never had before, his future was frightening. The rest of the day was complete with moments of terror and abject dread of an inhuman test waiting at the other end of the journey. What was the test?

On his trip to Timisoara after he left Zeb, Porter had awakened each morning to practice swordplay. Not this time. He had little doubt that a sword would be of little use to him in the middle of the Waste. Each morning he awoke, pushing away from a smothering wastecat and expanding his Blue like a rolling thin blanket across the land from where he stood. Blue was his weapon for this test.

With his newfound sense of self and his expanding practice of the Blue, Porter discovered that he really did not know his new adopted world despite his wide travels. For instance, he hated snakes; yet this forest seemed to favor the reptiles, which dwelled on the ground, in the undergrowth and even in the treetops. They were everywhere. With winter pressing, all of the reptiles were acting more sluggish and preparing to return to their dens to hide away from the worst chill. Their retreat into their hidey-holes pleased him too, one less anxiety. Nonetheless, he stroked their skins and touched their primitive brains with his Blue.

Birds were still flying south and the creatures remaining were scrapping for the last remnants of the autumn bounty as the cold descended. Using his Blue to survey the surrounding life as his morning stretch, Porter encountered semi-sentient plant life like he had witnessed on the rocky steppes during his flight from Timisoara. Adapted to life in the forest, he felt the voracious appetite of the barely mobile plants as their tendrils sought out insects, lizards, and rodents on the forest floor. They were almost as bad as the snakes. Almost. Even Kanji avoided these plants, taking roundabout routes to avoid them. During his first journey, he had missed them completely.

Something the fractal being had said ate at the corners of his concerns: namely the replacement of technology with the Blue. He had seen Blue used in re-knitting bodies, hunting, shaping and sculpting, fighting, tracking and lighting a dark room. All of these examples were disconnected from each other; there had to be an underlying concept tying all of these functions together. Obviously the Blue Hand was missing something fundamental about the nature and use of the Blue.

He mentioned it to Gilly. He was concerned her first reaction would be defensive but she considered his words with a deference he had never seen in her. He did not necessarily like that change in her for he sometimes preferred her fiery retorts and blistering commentary. She moved her mount back into file and held her thoughts to herself for a few hours in quiet contemplation.

Finally Gilly moved her hamox close to his and asked him to consider whether the portals were the only bit of knowledge that the Elders had suppressed. When Porter asked her why, she argued that if she had been taught not to question or to consider the existence of shrines, would it not make sense that any use of the Blue that stretched beyond the capabilities of the Elders also would be suppressed and the practitioners redirected?

“That is the conundrum,” Porter said with her. “How do you discover hidden knowledge that you don’t know exists?”

“You did it at Sky House,” Gilly said, which was a big admission for her. “I was not even skeptical that there was more to learn. I had plenty of cynicism but not skepticism at Court or in the corridors of the palace, where I should have been more observant. Sky House was never a doubt until you dragged me into the library.”

For the first time Porter knew better than to let her admission go unchallenged for he was learning the real intimacy of loving someone. “That only proves that their education was superior in diverting you. Do you doubt your considerable talents at court, Lady Gilly?”

“Only days ago I carried myself with considerable pride about my abilities in Timisoara,” Gilly said. “Our pilgrimage and its aftermath changed my opinion in the last few days. I’m afraid that I am a lesser ignorant among the ignoramuses. Even more, I can see now that the Court of Timsoara, the Elders of Sky House and probably the masters of the Priests of Purity elevate those who are smart but not too smart, and banish the best, those with new insights and abilities, to the fringes. We are very good at elevating the mediocre.”

“What makes you think that?” Porter asked, encouraging her.

“Alin, for one, was pushed to the fringe. Two, the loss of technology did not have to mean a backsliding of civilization into this medieval Old Earth level of kings, courts, swords and bows. Look at the palace of the king or the grand hallways of Sky House: these are examples of forward uses of the Blue in the generations that first held the Blue. Yet everything else around us has drifted backwards from that point onward. If the experiment failed, it failed because we of Anshar refused to embrace the Blue, to learn and embrace it. We did not use it to take us forward; instead, we used it as an excuse to cease to even try.”

“Oh,” Porter was afraid to respond.

Gilly concluded her thought. “You did not kill us, Porter; we did that ourselves. The only thing you did was expedite the process and that isn’t a crime.”

“I still feel responsible and the burden now rests upon me,” Porter said with a grimace.

Gilly was not finished though. “Our ancestors fled the Empire because they believed it was crumbling. Their descendants have done just what they feared, crumble. Have you thought about what happens if you pass the test?”

“No one dies because the Blue remains,” Porter answered.

Gilly gave him a sad look. “Have you heard even a word of what I’ve been saying? We are already dying. Saving us from withdrawal of the Blue only lengthens our downward spiral. The priests continue to hunt and kill us, our elders retreat further into their fortress of silence, and my people dissolve into smaller fiefdoms of grubbing ignorance. Unless we change, passing the test in the Waste is meaningless.”

Porter had a terrible foreboding that he had just thrown away his life for nothing. Had he finally given in to the hero delusion, believing that he could rise from his humble grey desk of yore to become a champion? Even if he passed the test, was his gesture spitting into the wind?

“Sometimes I hate it when you’re so smart,” Porter said loud enough for Gilly to hear.

That night Porter had trouble falling asleep. Finally coming to a resolution in his mind he poked at Gilly lying next to him, waking her up if she had managed to sleep during his tossing and turning. In the moonlight through the trees, she gave him one eye.

“You may be absolutely correct in everything you said today,” Porter said. “But as long as we are alive and fighting, there is still a chance to turn this place around.”

Gilly patted him on the shoulder and went back to sleep. Porter followed suit.

The next day Porter asked Gilly a question that had been resting heavy on his shoulders, “Do you want to return to King Ciprian’s Court now that he has recovered from his fugue, at least somewhat?”

They had learned that little piece of gossip from their traveling companions. After the night of assassinations, the priesthood had been forced to leave the palace and take up residence in their monasteries. Soon thereafter, the king recovered his senses.

Gilly looked upward to the sky for guidance. “Up until a week ago, I had no doubts that I would return to Teodor and Mirela. Even though the Elders of Sky House oppose and threaten me, the two of them would welcome me back. I’ve seen too much though; I know too much now to be comfortable just sitting at court.”

She sat up straight in her saddle and gazed far ahead. “Then there is Alin and what he means to me and to you too. Alin and I were lovers exactly one night and it did not go well at all. I’m not his type and was too naïve to understand, and he was too much in denial to admit it. He was brilliant, Porter, and under different circumstances he would have been rising through the ranks to sit on the Elder’s Council. I owe it to him, if you survive the test, to change the circumstances so that another Alin doesn’t have to die.”

Porter wanted to follow up with the question of “If I don’t succeed, then what?” but he held his tongue. They would cross over that bridge if the time came. He did not quite understand what she wanted to do next. That question, too, he held back.

They arrived at the enclave of River Run in the midst of the forest. The hilly terrain underneath the forest gave way to a river that passed through a gash in the bedrock. The hardy folk of River Run harvested wood, minerals, and ore from the surrounding land, sending the bounty by barges down the river through the mountains to the central plain of Timisoara. The small town was a welcome relief from the monotonous rigors of the forest trails.

In the middle of the town was the body of a priest, nailed upside down to the wall in the middle of the square. Insects crawled in and out of the corpse’s empty eye sockets and other orifices. Gilly sniffed with indifference at the sight while Porter had to force the queasiness in his stomach back down. The Border Patrol guided their mounts past the sight as if the scene was an everyday occurrence of no merit or consequence.

A house was set aside for the squad as was the custom in all of the towns and villages where the Border Patrol rode. Porter was a bit concerned that they would have to find a room at the tavern, which he considered far too open and insecure. He had forgotten Gilly’s chipper announcement earlier that they were in Blue Hand friendly territory. An empty torch was standing forlorn in one corner of the town square. Gilly dismounted and tossed a Blue flame onto the top of the torch and let it burn.

Porter was not sure whether it was the Blue flickering lamp or the panting wastecat relaxing in the shade of the porch, but ten minutes later they were invited for home hospitality. Even with the gracious offer, their hosts cast dubious glances at Kanji who ignored them with regal indifference.

The next morning they left with memories of real baths, ale, and beds. The corpse still hung on the wall and Porter felt little sympathy, which disturbed him in several ways. He detested the public display and abuse of a corpse. If the man had to die, then so be it; yet, displaying a broken body only diminishes the community. Porter did not want to identify with Iosif or his priesthood, but he found himself understanding their fanatic determination more than he wished.

From River Run they traveled through more populated forested country with better trails and actual travelers on the road. Within a week, they arrived in Edgewood, but it was not a market day. The village was quiet. Gilly lit a torch that Porter had missed the first time he had come to this town with Zeb in the company of Captain Tyver’s squad. The next morning they awoke to the call of Captain Tyver and his squad entering the village for market day.

Porter was surprised that both squads were fast friends and comrades in arms The amount of blustering, back patting, and sheer boasting amazed him. The two captains held a private conference in the tavern while the two squads exchanged news, gossip and the ‘give and take’ of soldierly life. When Porter and Gilly finally emerged from their shadowed corner, a cry went out from Harlan who rushed over to throw a bear hug around Porter. Porter heard his back crack from the effort.

Porter remembered his manners and reintroduced the members of Tyver’s squad to the Lady Gilly. There were smiles all around except of Leeza. When she thought Porter was not looking, she was scrutinizing Gilly and obviously making judgments. Porter caught her in the act several times. In a quiet moment, he drifted next to Leeza and asked her if Gilly met her approval. “Possibly,” was her answer and then she turned away to other business.

“What a fine pair of Snakeskin jackets the two of you are wearing,” Harlan complimented them, fingering Porter’s sleeve. “Of course, it would have looked much better on me!” The soldier had not lost his gift for banter.

In the afternoon the squad sought shelter in the tavern over pitchers of ale. The locals also crowded in to listen to the conversation. Porter and Gilly avoided discussing their journeys. Still, they were eager to hear of what happened to Tyver’s squad after they split up.

Their ruse had worked. The priesthood had sent a posse to track down the fleeing Blue Hand and the murdering Border Patrol that had been blamed for many of the deaths in Timisoara on that dark night. Harlan explained the squad was flattered by the accusation of slaying so many priests and their minions, even though they were innocent of the charge. He was also confident that their next leave was not going to include a trip to the city.

By mid-afternoon of the same day they split up, the squad caught sight of hunting party of priests tracking them. Captain Tyver was a master of misdirection and led the priests on a merry chase through the twisted forest for two more days before the hunting party began to suspect they were being duped. By then it was too late for them to backtrack because the trail would have gone cold. The squad hid in two small outcroppings of rock and let lose several volleys of arrows at the frustrated priests who were forced to retreat. Harlan was pleased to pull another ironwood arrow out of a dead priest’s body.

The squad took long way around Timisoara through the forests and foothills out of necessity. However, by the time they returned to their regular posting, their reputation had preceded them with great accolades from the locals. To some they were heroes and to others they were renegades; the official ruling was still up in the air. On one hand, King Ciprian had not issued a warrant for them but on the other hand, he had not sent them commendations either.

“The entire trip was a wash,” Harlan said in conclusion as he gulped down half a tankard of ale.

The next morning they bid farewell to Captain Liviu and his squad who returned northward while Captain Tyver saddled up to journey towards the east and the Waste. They were off again for the three day trek to “the Land of Zeb” as Porter had begun to fondly label it.

Kanji knew where they were before Porter did, and she let loose a yowl of challenge as she plunged into the underbrush of her youthful hunting ground. A flock of birds launched themselves in a panic, drawing a chuckle from the squad of soldiers. The trail ended at the edge of the forest before Zeb’s stead and Porter heart filled with emotion. He felt as if he had returned home.