Bertan`s quest by Michelle Tarynne (ereader android .txt) 📕

acted upon the most incredible occurrence that happened to me then. I'd heard and read about it, but to feel it inside me was as if the lightning struck my chest, to leave me burned to the bones of the identity I thought I knew," she frowned. "I needed some answers myself, and you were the closest person to the source I could put my hands on, so I grabbed you, and I ran. I abandoned my mission, my partners and I ran with you. Not one of my best moments, I know that now, but it is what it is. I would do the same thing again if I could turn back the time," she whispered into his ear.

He was so surprised that he was unable to ask any more questions in his bewilderment.

"Just know, you have changed everything for me, and apparently for all the Swords too. Your mere presence changed it all, so help me once more, and follow me into our Fates," she told him everything that had happened during her meeting with the Old King. All Genes could do was to nod throughout the story. He was rooted to the floor until a familiar soft knock on the doors interrupted them when she almost finished her story.

 

"Do come in." Bertan faced the doors to witness the three hooded slaves carefully enter her room. Two were helping and holding the third slave, aged beyond any reason, judging by the way she slightly trembled and couldn't stay still. Bertan looked at the three of them with a tinge of unease tugging at her core.

"Please, sit down." She motioned to the sofa placed in the middle of the room, following them quickly, once they were comfortable. Suddenly, at the loss of words, she looked down at her hands. Only then, she realized, she was still gripping the mask of the Unnamed like a lifeline.

Bertan tried to gather the courage to speak. The slaves had always intimidated her in a way that left her feeling vile and unworthy to lead her life the way she should, considering her status. So, she had never required a slave of her own, since she refused to punish the one she had, with the only punishment fit for slaves: death by beheading on the spot.

When she saw her shy visitors, she tried so hard not to recall that fateful scene. A vision of her childhood friend's head, rolling on the floor at her feet, would not leave her mind. Slow-motion images of the Unnamed performing one swift cut, with the seemingly invisible string-blade, took her by surprise, yet again. She frowned at the mask gripped in her hands and finally let it fall to the floor.

 

9

 

Suddenly, steady drums of death roared heavily piercing deep into the night. Every living being present in The Royal City of Naam froze into its place.

Quite the opposite behavior compared to the three slaves facing Bertan at that moment. At the first tone of the drums, they stood up as one, lifted their hoods, and sprang into action. E jumped to the doors to lock them up. The other young girl quickly moved the sofa into the bathing room. Bertan glanced around bewildered and looked at the third slave female, noticing she was not nearly as old as she had guessed when the triad had arrived. She was the slave that was first to open her mouth and speak quietly.

"The King has just died as you surely have realized by the first drum tone. The plans have been made in every Line House, to be executed exactly at this moment. Your Line House has made those plans too, obviously. You are not the leader of the Third Line, Bertan, you have never really been. You do not perceive those plans or the powers behind them. The race for your head has begun the moment King's heart stopped the blood in his veins from flowing," the slave spoke quickly, while she watched the rest of her companions. She didn't dare to look at Bertan directly. "We are the beings of the short lifespan, comparing to you, but we do not forget acts of kindness. We do not erase the history the way Swords do," she said meaningfully, looking straight into Bertan, who had been at a loss for words, though quick in the understanding of the problems that arose with the King's death. There were mere moments left to act, she knew and ran into the connecting room to grab two travel packs, she had been preparing earlier, berating herself, she had not completed that task, grabbing everything she could find at the last moment.

"What do we do now then?" Genes asked a question crucial for their survival, just after Bertan handed him his new pack, and secured its frame around his body.

"First, drink this quickly. As much as you can handle." The slave handed them two Tharo Juice glasses. "Whatever is that you wanted from us, Bertan, will not work out. Not now, that death has just taken Him… Follow me." The female ran into the bathroom where the sofa was standing under the opened window. A thin wire was already secured to the stone pillar standing next to the window. "You need to leave Naam immediately. I hope that you do realize this now. The bathroom window is facing the dark side of the mountain. So, it's not as illuminated as the other walls are. You need to go up to reach the roof and to find the main vent well. Then, you need to enter that well and follow it down until you reach its bottom. It's well below the town. Then look for a river influx, and follow it to get out of the city." She handed Bertan a small device attached to the end of the wire.

"And then?" dazed Genes asked nervously.

"Then it's all up to us." Bertan looked thankfully into the slave's eyes "Thank you…"

"No, Bertan… Thank you," she said, "Now. Quick."

"Genes, I need you close," Bertan said, already standing on the windowsill. The boy climbed up awkwardly with the help of the two slave girls. Bertan tied both of their packs together.

"Lighten up," she whispered, and she walked out of the window. She held the device the slave gave to her. Its handles started to spin the moment their combined weight strained the wire. Bertan managed to hold the horizontal position and walked swiftly up the wall to reach the roof, where the wire was attached. Once they reached the roof, she located the vent shaft almost immediately. A round and tall structure was gleaming from afar. Bertan untied the packs that were holding them together.

"Have you drunk any of that Juice she handed you?" she asked, placing a black mask on her face and fastened it at the back of her head.

"Um… No, not really, maybe one sip or two? I drank so much when I woke up. I think it's going to keep my stomach full for much, much longer and I just couldn’t drink more," he quickly explained.

"Relax. Remember, trust is the rare commodity in those walls." She said slowly while placing another kind of mask on his face. "How long can you keep from breathing?"

"Ah, I don't know? Why? Where are we going? To the river?" The quick stutter of his voice hid the immense fear that crept into his mind. His worst nightmares were coming into life.

"Never trust the plans you haven't made yourself, Genes," Bertan scoffed at him rigidly.

"Where are we going then?" He didn't like the way she changed, the way no fear and no doubt were present in her eyes.

"There." She pointed at the black tower, twice as thick as theirs, and twice as tall and totally darkened out. Deep below their feet was the Royal City of Naam that sparkled with the millions of lights, though none of them seemed to be moving.

"How are we going to get there?" Genes decided that maybe this wasn't the best moment to mention his fear of heights. It started to cripple his abilities to move freely already, especially when he tried to walk towards the roof's edge. He couldn’t even think straight amid the panic welling up inside him.

"The same way we were supposed to leave," she explained patiently, “All of the vent shafts from the city meet at the base of the rock Naam was built on.”

Bertan shattered one of the smaller stones next to smallest vent shaft. Once the stone gave up, she dislodged some of the bigger ones, until a small cube box could be extracted. Bertan did not touch it at first as if reluctant of consequences.

"What's inside?" He sighed with relief that there was something else to focus on. Something other than the impending journey down to the ground level, he feared more and more with each passing moment.

"A weapon… Of sorts." Bertan bit her lips. "It's armor, of sorts. I'm still not sure, to be honest."

"Haven't you tried it out yet?"

"There was no suitable occasion to do so," she admitted reluctantly.

"So, how did you get it?"

"Do you remember, how people call me here?" she asked in return to cut the uncomfortable questions out. There was a shameful secret in her past connected to the way she had acquired that artifact.

"Ah… Bertan?"

"Ha. No, not anymore” she paused, “Not ever, actually. I've been known here as the Eternal Runaway. I would have never thought, my preparations would aid me in actual breaking in, rather than breaking out."

Her hand hovered over the box before she finally opened it.

The Artifacts of the past times, when the Madness guided all that had been built and made, were very unpredictable finds. Beautiful and heavily decorated with steel, thick, black suit revealed itself in her hands. She handed it to Genes, knowing he was the weakest link in all of her plans. Keeping him alive and unharmed was somehow of the utmost importance. She still didn't understand why that feeling was nagging deep at her core, ever since that moment she spotted him, back at The Inner Block. She told him to fit the Artifact under his robes.

The moment it touched his body, Genes felt it started to breathe with him. It seemed to link with his mind and his nerves, and some sort of electric currents tickled his skin. Each move he made was effortless, almost to the point of making him feel weightless.

"Why are we not leaving the city?" he asked, afraid to move. His own body felt so foreign and different all of the sudden.

"Because, when everyone wants me to, I can't help myself to stop and check why." She smiled right into his face. "Fools."

"Unnamed wanted you to stay." Genes argued the one point she chose to forget.

"Follow me now." She decided to ignore his words, and turned to climb the steel rods embedded into the stone that served as a tech ladder for the cleaning servers. At the top of Third Line Tower, rows of steel hooks and rods adorned the turret, which was made of a see-through steel net dome. The empty spaces in between of state of the art steel net were small enough for the slaves only.

Genes, for his size, had no troubles to