Shanakee's Tale Read online

  He knew this place, it all slowly came back to him like a distant dream—these swords, these people, this very moment. He was not intimidated by their show of power, somehow aware that it was only superficial. His opponent screamed like a wild animal, and John just evaded his blow, snatched the weapon out of his hand with one strong pull, and threw it into the crowd. All of it felt natural.

  The auditorium grew deadly quiet for a moment. Another man from the crowd sprinted towards them with two swords in hand. It was all a dance to John, and he even somehow enjoyed it. He didn’t know how and why, but he knew what they would do before they did it. He sidestepped, ducked, and avoided a blow. When the other sword struck his shoulder with a deep cut, John expected it and suppressed the pain that followed. He knew he needed to attack in order to finish this fight, but everything in him refused to. The man ran at him, triumphantly, but John turned around, snatched the first blade out of his hand, and struck the second so that it dropped out of his opponent’s hand. All of it went so fast that the man stared at him with wide eyes, disarmed. Another figure rushed to him, and John turned with his sword, the grip towards the man instead of the blade that would have spiked him. It was just a blow in his guts. The opponent behind him snatched the blade that lay on the ground and attacked. John ducked without even looking back, used his foot to sweep him off his feet. The sound of a body crashing to the ground rung thought the auditorium. John kicked the sword away into the crowd and threw the one he held away as well, looking at the defeated men who were both boiling with rage. He smiled.

  Silence had again settled over the crowd. One could have heard a needle drop. John felt his pulse race, and sweat dripped down his forehead. As he looked around, around fifteen men stepped into the circle. Some held swords, some daggers. But all of them were eyeing him with a thirst for blood.

  Fifteen men.

  John’s pulse quickened. He would not fight. He would never shed a person’s blood, he had sworn it to himself. Never. And still, if he wanted to win, he would have to kill them, one by one. There was no other way to divert their attacks. He raised his hands in defeat and shook his head. Everybody stared. The first of them threw away his dagger and instead raised his fists at him, beating John down to the ground. Several more joined in and kicked him while he lay there, motionless. His body felt numb, pain spread everywhere. Skin and muscles were bruised, a rib cracked. John suppressed the urge to yell, not ready to let them know that they had broken him. He only held the arms above his head, bearing the pain that threatened to explode inside his body. But he would not give them the satisfaction. He would not be their puppet.

  “Fight, you fool!” A loud voice resounded, and the kicking stopped. John opened his eyes with effort, and saw the man the voice came from. “Fight, or she will die.” He was barely older then twenty, his head covered in tattoos, his eyes mad with fury. He pointed to something John was unable to perceive behind the crowd. Slowly, while he got up, feeling every bone and muscle ache, he saw Aideen. A rope was tight around her neck, and she was at least ten meters away from him. The way to her was blocked by a crowd that looked expectantly at John, holding weapons of all kinds. Before he could even think, the platform she stood on was kicked away, and the rope around her neck tightened. Aideen hung there, gasping for air. John’s heart stopped beating. Not Aideen. Before he could even think or react, everything caught up on him, like a wave of time that suddenly froze.

  Time stood still, almost. Not for them, only for him. They all stared at him with fury, a mob of people who were blind and deaf to the realities of this world. Aideen grasped for air in those last seconds of her life, the rope cutting into the skin on her neck, lacing up her throat. John did not know how it happened, just that it was so. He pushed all of them aside, slowly, while they did not even react. He felt like a tiny molecule moving faster then time itself. They stood still, like mannequins, and somehow, he pitied them. He pitied the darkness they lived in.

  John walked up towards Aideen, picking up one of the swords he had thrown into the crowd and severed the rope above her. And while slowly, without any haste, she began to fall down into his arms, time began to speed up again.

  CONALL

  He blinked to make sure that this was real, forgetting to breathe.

  Conall watched the scene in disbelief while the whole auditorium stood perfectly still, all eyes glued to John, who held Aideen in his arms. Had it really just happened? Maybe he was dreaming after all? Conall refused to trust his eyes. It seemed like magic, like an incredibly clever trick. One second, he was there, the other, Aideen was in his arms. He blinked again, the realization dawning on him. His heartbeat accelerated, his palms were sweating. It was him, wasn’t it? It was John.

  As he looked around, he knew that he was not the only one who came to this realization. After the shock abated, the crowd erupted in a mighty roar. But instead of celebrating him, instead of bowing before him, they walked towards them and put both Aideen and John in chains. Aideen was half-unconscious and barely breathing. John had turned pale and threatened to collapse.

  Still in shock, Conall gave in to the urge to run towards them, to protect the one he had been looking for his whole life. He pushed the crowd apart. He needed to help them. Conall was caught in a rush, and all he wanted was to touch the man who fulfilled the prophesy, make sure that he was real, and take him to safety. The people he pushed aside noticed him, but he did not care. As he was close to John, he noticed two figures arguing. One of them was the tattooed man, the other was a woman who was veiled from head to toe, only her eyes revealed. Conall stopped. He knew those eyes, like in a deja-vu.

  “You promised me …” was all that Conall heard before the man raised his hand and slapped the woman so hard over her head that she nearly fell. As she turned around, the veil fell from her face and Conall gasped. He had known those beautiful dark eyes because he knew this woman. Or at least used to know her when she was a little girl. She had changed so drastically, that it was too much for him to take. And still, he could have never mistaken those neat features, those eyes that glistered like her mother’s. Memories caught up on him, memories of his holding her little hand, rocking her in the cold of night while they drove all the way up to Skye like criminals. Memories of the empty room she’d left behind over five years ago. No note. She’d just gone.

  Conall had always assumed the worst. He had made his peace with it. How would a young girl survive in a place of anarchy such as the Outer Areas? Wild animals, hunger or criminals were only several ways to die out there.

  And now she was here, of all places — Kyla, his daughter.

  AIDEEN

  They poured some water down her throat and it burned so bad that she had trouble swallowing it. Why would they want to torture her this way? And still the water kept coming. Then, they threw her into a dark cell. Only slowly, the senses returned to her.

  There was some squeaking of metal. A door was closed. A door made out of metal bars. She was in a prison. But why? How had she gotten here in the first place and where on earth …

  Steady breathing resounded at the other end of the cell. Slowly, her memory returned. John.

  She tried to see in this pitch darkness, but there was not one ray of daylight.

  As metal crackled she assumed that they had chained him. John was in chains, in a pitch black hole while their innocent child would soon be a victim of Manasseh’s calculation.

  She slowly felt her neck and pulled her fingers back instinctively. A deep mark had cut into her skin, and it burned like hell. Had she just imagined it in her agony for breath? Or was it real? Had he really rescued her against all sanity?

  “How?” she said, but out came only a desperate whisper, barely audible.

  Silence.

  Kaahla had betrayed her. She should have taken her son and fled. But was there an escape from Manasseh?

  “I don’t know.” John’s voice sounded hollow. Tired.

  It was him, wasn’t it? The one she had bee
n looking for as long as she could remember.

  “It’s as if … past, presence and future overlap. As if they’re the same.”

  John was struggling, as if fighting back tears. Why? Fear filled her. Because of their son? Would something happen to their son? She straightened up, suppressing a heavy breath.

  As she cleared her throat, it hurt so much that she wanted to scream.

  “What is it?” she whispered.

  Even without seeing his face, she heard how his voice grew heavy.

  “It’s just that … I keep seeing those two scenarios. And both of them scare me … both of them are more than I can bear.”

  She jumped up, and ran towards his voice, feeling his shape in the darkness.

  “What scenarios? About whom?”

  “About you, Aideen.”

  Those words hit her like a wave, and this dark hole they were imprisoned in returned to perfect silence. When John continued, the words burned her with every syllable:

  “You have a decision to make.”

  “What decision?” she slowly responded, unsure if she wanted to hear the answer.

  “Whether you will bring it to an end. Do what you came to do.”

  What did he mean?

  Her heart slammed against her chest. She did not respond, her throat felt dry and her breath accelerated.

  “Whether you will kill me.”

  Those words penetrated her like a wildfire. She had trouble suppressing the tears. The way he said those words made her instantly understand that he had seen it already. He had actually experienced what it felt like to be killed by her. And the pain that resonated in those words seemed like an endless abyss.

  This was all too much for her to take in.

  No wonder he had been distressed, even angry with her at times.

  How could he even do this? Live with her? Rescue her, knowing what she had in store for him in return for his kindness?

  She closed her eyes, even if it made no difference in the darkness. It felt as if the darkness of her own soul was strangling her. And this one question ate her away like acid, a question she was unable to answer: Why? Why had he still kissed her this night in the forest? Why had he protected her? The realization that he had chosen her, despite the fact that he still didn’t know if she would kill him—it was crazy. It was against all reason. Tears ran slowly down her face. She was suddenly confronted with this decision: Would she kill him?

  And both of them scare me …

  She lifted her head.

  “What’s the other scenario?”

  He didn’t answer.

  “John?” She came closer, feeling his warmth next to her body, “What’s the other scenario?”

  She heard his head turn away from her. He refused to answer, so she took his hand.

  “Please John, I want to know …”

  He turned around, and his voice was hard. “I suppose you deserve to …”—another last pause—“If you don’t … you will die.”

  Aideen suppressed an ironic laugh. If there was such a thing a fate, fate was a bitch. “It would have been better if we had never met.” Aideen said the words with bitterness, remembering yet again what Conall had taught them about the nature of time.

  If we go wrong in space, we can just go the other direction. But time is irreversible.

  “I saw you in my future memories many years ago already,” John replied. “And when I finally met you, it was like a threshold I had to cross. I made this decision, and I don’t want to regret it.”

  Aideen’s fingers tenderly touched his cheek. It was wet from the tears he had silently shed. For the first time, she really understood him. Slowly, she lowered her head into his lap, warm tears running down her own skin.

  CONALL

  Conall knelt in the cool sand, as did everybody around him. They lowered their upper bodies all the way to the ground, face buried in the rough grains, and he followed suit so that he would not attract attention. A high, gentle note pierced the air, and was caught by a multitude into a foreign song in an ancient language. It resounded between the stone of the cave, and it made Conall shiver.

  He’d been wrong all along. About everything. Maybe he was just a foolish little man who vainly attempted to master time while it ran its course and mocked him for thinking that he could change any of that. What would those fanatics do to John now that they had him? They wanted to use them for their plans, of course. But who were those people? And most importantly: Why was his daughter with them?

  The song continued for several minutes while the people around him rose and fell, bowing their upper bodies to the ground. It was a movement that brought them into an ecstatic state, a sense of oneness and peace, some form of worship. When it was finally over, the crowd, having had their share of violence and spectacle, began to subdue. Conall searched for Kyla. The veil was covering her face again, but he instantly recognized the eyes. Kyla. She was alive. Her sight evoked so many feelings—relief, joy, pain, and anger. He felt somehow alienated to find her here. A yearning filled his heart, a pain that he thought had been long gone by now.

  She left with the crowd, and he followed on her heels. She turned towards a narrow dark corridor and then another turn, even darker. Suddenly, a shadow jumped at him pushing him against the wall and pressing a blade to his throat. He instantly felt it. Her full round belly against his body. Kyla was pregnant.

  “It’s me, Kyla, it’s me,” he whispered. Cloth still covered his mouth, but at the sound of this name, she widened her eyes and stepped back. Conall tore the veil from his face. Both of them stared at each other. He felt suffocated.

  Kyla. Here. Pregnant. Fury was rising up inside of him, fury from all those years that he thought he had buried deep down, in a place where it would never emerge. But he was wrong.

  There were no words he could find. Anything he made up in his head seemed empty, void, useless.

  For a second, he thought he might cry. He had forgotten how much he loved her. How much she meant to him. How much hurt her disappearance had cost him.

  Kyla just stared, those dark round eyes even blacker in the half-darkness. She did not answer. Conall made a step closer, but she made two steps back.

  Why, Kyla?

  She finally shook her head.

  “I have to go. You better leave this place, or you’ll end up like Aideen.”

  “You know Aideen?”

  Conall looked into her eyes, narrowing his to understand the unfamiliar person in front of him.

  “It was you who brought her here …” Conall whispered his assumption out loud. Her expression confirmed the lucky guess.

  “I only wanted to protect her.”

  “From whom?”

  “Manasseh.”

  Conall shuddered at the sound of this name. It all dawned on him, slowly. Why Manasseh had not attacked yet. Why Aideen was such a skilled fighter. She was his spy.

  “Just leave.” The cold in her voice made him even more furious. Had she really come to hate him so much?

  Conall lowered his head. Why had she abandoned him? Run away, just like that? Did she have any idea the pain she had caused him? It all resurfaced now. He had been only a student when he had involuntarily impregnated her mother, a young and restless woman not interested in raising a child. But he had accepted the responsibility willingly. He had raised her on his own. He had even fled the cities for, her he had given up everything for, because he had refused to loose her because of the social reform Manasseh had imposed behind his back. How dare she treat him like this?

  “I won’t leave without you. Nor without Aideen and John.”

  “Then you’re a fool. They’ll kill you.”

  “Not if you help me.”

  She stepped away, shaking her head. “Why would I?”

  “Because I’m your father!” He had intended to keep calm, but the anger took the better of him.

  Kyla crossed her arms, eyeing him from head to toe with those big dark eyes. His eyes. It was such an
irony that he had left the cities only to lose her still.

  “That was long ago,” she whispered.

  Despite the hurt, he wanted to reach out to her. To take her into his arms and stroke her head like he used to when she was little.

  “Why did you leave?” There was no reproach in this question, only a desire to understand.

  “Because I was fed up with hiding on that island. I wanted to go out into the world, to finally start looking for this prophesy of yours. Do something.”

  Conall narrowed his eyes. Where did those words come from? They reminded him of something he’d heard so many times already. In this very moment, Kyla sounded exactly like Jed.

  “Wait a minute. Did Jed helped you leave?”

  Kyla shrugged. “Even if so. It was my decision.”

  Conall clenched his fists. That bastard. Had he really always known where his daughter was without saying a word? Had he manipulated her into leaving? Conall suddenly realized that it was the only plausible explanation. Jed thought that if Kyla left, he would leave too, looking for her. But why? And had Jed really been capable of doing such a thing?

  Conall shook those thoughts off. There was still time to find out, but they needed to make it out of here alive first.

  “I saw this man beat you. I will never leave you here, I will never let anyone treat you like that.”

  He yearned to kill this man. Over his dead body would he surrender what was most dear to him, now that he had only regained it. When he raised his head, he saw teardrops flicker in Kyla’s eyes, tears she instantly hid from his sight.

  Her voice returned to the cold tone. “If you walk around the corner and several steps down, there is a small cave you will be safe in,” she continued. “Wait there for me until sundown.”

  Without another word, Kyla turned on her heels and left.

  * * *

  The cave was dark, so Conall could not tell when night had finally fallen on them. As he was powerless to act, he decided to spend the waiting time with plotting a plan. There was only one place they could be safe from Manasseh for now. Safety was only an illusion now that he had found John, he knew it. He would plunge the world into chaos, he would destroy and question every reform they had undertaken when the Global Union had been established fifteen years ago. Manasseh was wrong about the prophecy. At least this was what Conall had hoped.