The Four Gifts of the King Page 14

  She took Steward’s hand, looked in all directions, then led him out into the woods through a small opening between two great trees. They followed a path that led them deeper into a wooded area, and soon they were alone. But Elopia didn’t stop. She scurried along a path that wound through heavy underbrush and up a steep trail. By the time they reached the top, Steward was out of breath and begging to stop. They sat down next to a large tree and rested against it to catch their breath.

  “Good heavens, Elopia. Where are you taking me?”

  “Up there.” She pointed to a small ledge that stuck out from the face of the hillside not far from where they sat. “Listen, Steward.”

  He slowed his breathing, and as he did so he noticed that the sound of the grinding machines had gotten louder and closer. Unless he missed his guess, he should be able to see the source of the sound from the ledge where Elopia was leading them. With newfound strength, Steward climbed to his feet and grabbed Elopia’s hand.

  “Come on.”

  They eased their way to the ledge, being careful not to be seen. As they approached the edge, Steward could hear the grinding sound increase in intensity. On hands and knees, he inched his way out onto the outcropping of rock. The sound of the grinders was right beneath them—along with another sound.

  Voices.

  But these voices…

  Steward had never heard anything like them before. Some were stern, some angry… and some crying out.

  What was happening?

  Steward crept out just far enough to look over the edge to the scene below.

  On his right was one of the huge machines, the source of the grinding noise. It was an enormous rock crusher, and above it was a chute where workers dumped in cartful’s of rocks. The machine gobbled up the rocks and crushed them into gravel and sand, spewing out dust and a sound that was deafening. Steward could feel the entire ground shake as boulders the size of horses got crushed in its huge jaws.

  Once crushed, the gravel and sand poured from the machine into a chute and straight into a second machine, smaller and quieter than the first. Here, the sand and gravel were crushed again and mixed with a liquid that flowed from a third machine on Steward’s left. It was the combination of the sand and gravel from the rock crusher and the liquid from this other machine that created the reddish-brown paving mixture for the pathways of the Ascenders.

  Then Steward saw it.

  No.

  His heart pounded and his stomach churned.

  Impossible! This is not happening!

  A line of people, like those he had seen walking the streets of Ascendia, were being brought by guards, one by one, onto a platform that reached up to the edge of the liquefying machine.

  Why don’t they struggle? No, I see it. They don’t know what’s about to happen.

  Once there, the guards took their Quash, and before they could fight back they were hurled into the mouth of the machine! Their screams were drowned out by the relentless sound of crushing rocks and—now Steward realized—the sound of the crushing of human bones.

  He put his hand over his mouth to keep himself from vomiting and scrambled back off the ledge.

  “Oh my God, I can’t believe it. It’s…it’s horrible!”

  He grabbed Elopia and shook her. “I’ve never seen anything so horrible in my life! Why are you killing your own people? Who is doing this? Why doesn’t anyone stop them? Elopia, why is this happening?”

  He struggled to catch his breath and slow his pounding heart.

  Elopia’s countenance didn’t change. Her tone was even and cold. “I think you need to ask Cassandra.”

  “Cassandra? Yes, she has to be told about this. If she knew what she was pouring right there beneath her feet—”

  He stopped and looked down at his sandals, still covered with the dust and mud from the Ascender.

  “Oh…oh…!” He barely made it into the woods before he emptied his stomach.

  The workers on Cassandra’s Ascender continued at their frenzied pace. The sidewalls of her Ascender moved ahead more quickly now—several meters an hour—and the constant flow of paving mixture from the Quashes of beaten-down workers kept the pathway growing at a steady pace.

  It wasn’t enough.

  Cassandra stood near the end of the Ascender and looked out across the sky at the other construction projects racing toward the mountain. Next to her were two Phaedra, each whispering, but just loud enough for her to hear it above the din of the construction work behind her.

  “It appears that Lassiter, Phileus, and Amanda are all ahead of you, Cassandra. If they reach the mountain before you, they will keep the best places for themselves.”

  The second Phaedra moved closer and pointed a spiny white finger at the mountain. “And there are already several who have made it to the top. You must not fall behind or you will not have the place you so deserve high up on the mountain.”

  The first continued. “Cassandra, this is up to you. You do want to get there first and live at the top of the peak, do you not?”

  Cassandra ran her hands back through her hair then grasped it between her fingers and pulled.

  No matter how fast I work or how hard I push my crew, I can’t build fast enough to beat the others.

  Her heart ached for a place at the top of the peak. It was so close she could almost touch it, yet there remained so much work to close the gap between where she stood and the final meter that would connect her with her prize. And even then she would need to trek up the mountain and claim her space before anyone else could get it.

  She dropped her hands and began to pace, each step kicking up dust as she stomped.

  “I won’t let others beat me to the mountain.” She looked at the two Phaedra tormenting her. “I will be first up to the summit and claim what I have worked so hard to attain. Nothing will keep me from this goal. Nothing and no one!”

  Steward came running up the path toward her. His face was red and covered with sweat, and he was gasping to find his breath.

  “Cassandra! Cassandra, do you know what you are standing on? Do you know what this paving mixture is made of? Dear God, Cassandra, do you know what they are doing at the crushing site?”

  Everyone within earshot paused, and the Phaedra stepped closer.

  Cassandra came close to him and signaled for him to quiet his voice. “Steward, if you have information for me about the construction work, then please tell me. However, let’s walk back to the house where we can sit in private, and I will hear you out there.”

  He would have none of it. His voice trembled as he shot out the words. “People, they are using people—”

  “Steward! We will discuss this at the house. Do you understand?”

  Five large men closed in around him. Cassandra’s guard now encircled him. He knew he was in danger. And now it was clear.

  She knows!

  Steward nodded and replied in a hushed voice. “Yes, at the house, of course, Cassandra.”

  Elopia was right. Cassandra was well aware of the atrocity. How could she stand there each day and watch workers pour the hideous mixture onto the pathways? She knew. She approved. But it was worse. She drove the project so hard that more and more people would need to be abducted and…

  A wave of nausea welled up in him again.

  The guarded procession neared the end of the Ascender, but instead of turning right toward the House of Bendor, they turned north toward the sounds of the distant crushing machines.

  Steward stopped to turn the other way, but the guards obstructed him. “Where are we going? This isn’t the way to the house!”

  Cassandra took him aside. Her eyes narrowed to a sinister glare. “Yes, of course I know what is in the mixture, but none of the workers know. It is a well-kept secret between the Ascender builders and the operators of the crushers. You see, naïve little Steward, most people in the city are not pulling their weight. They’re freeloaders, spending their time on unproductive tasks and enjoying—actually enjoying—t
heir life in the valley. These valley lovers are, shall we say, expendable. If it makes construction progress more quickly and the mountain more accessible, then what happens to the nameless citizens of Ascendia is really no one’s concern.”

  Before he could protest, the guards seized him by the arms. As they carried him away, Cassandra glowered at him. “Dear young Steward, today you will have the honor of becoming a permanent part of Ascendia.”

  No! This can’t be happening!

  The guards began to force him down the road toward the crushing site. He struggled with all his might but could not break free. The chains from Petitzaros and the weight of his Quash were so heavy that he was exhausted after several attempts to escape.

  Was this how his journey would end? Hurled into the jaws of the machine? Where was Zedekai? As he struggled, he heard a crash of Quashes—

  Guards were falling around him. He was free!

  He turned to see a small figure with a veiled face racing away from the scene where Cassandra’s guards lay dazed on the ground.

  “Come on, run!”

  Steward ran with everything he had, trying to keep up with the fleeing figure in front of him. He heard yelling behind them, and then more yells ahead of him as workers dumped their rocks and came toward them.

  “This way!” The veiled rescuer grabbed Steward’s hand and jerked him past the guards and back up the Ascender.

  “Where are we going?” This was the last place he wanted to go. Once on the Ascender, there was no way of escape.

  “Trust me!”

  What other options did he have?

  They ran up the Ascender, men in pursuit. They ran past the masons working on the walls, then around lines of men with Quashes full of paving mixture, waiting their turn to dump their gory loads onto the pathway. Finally, Steward and his guide reached the end, where the ramp ended.

  Only open air lay ahead.

  With the men closing in from behind, Steward prepared to be captured again and thrown into the crusher for sure.

  “Grab my hand! Now!”

  Steward didn’t hesitate. He grabbed the hand held out to him just as the first guard came running at them.

  “Jump, Steward!”

  And before he knew it, he was being pulled over the edge.

  They fell together through the air, Steward grasping the arms of the rescuer with all his strength. The figure grabbed a hook from beneath its tunic. It was fixed to a rope tied at the waist. With a quick flick of a wrist, the hook wound around a beam in the scaffolding that undergirded the ramp. As the rope snapped taut, they swung together around the scaffolding and came crashing down on a crossbeam just out of sight.

  Steward lay there on the large beam of wood. “We’re…we’re alive. I can’t believe it!”

  Groaning, he struggled to his feet. His shoulder ached, but the pain was lost in his miracle of being rescued. “Who are you?”

  His liberator pulled back the veil. Steward stood frozen, stunned.

  “Astrid!”

  Her eyes gleamed and her face was filled with color and life. Where was the pale, timid girl he met at the House of Bendor? She was…

  Beautiful.

  “Astrid, how did you do that, and why and…who are you?”

  Astrid removed the rope from her waist and smiled at Steward. “I’m the reason Zedekai sent you to the House of Bendor. You needed to see what is happening in Ascendia before you see the king. Elopia saw to that. Now that you’ve seen it, I’ll make sure you leave here safely.”

  Astrid brushed by him and began working her way down the crisscross of beams that made up the huge scaffolding. She led Steward down through the maze, halting and hiding when people underneath passed by. Finally, when the street was empty, they jumped down from the lowest beam and scurried out of sight into a small side street.

  Soon they reached the gates of the city. Astrid waited for the right moment, then she grabbed Steward’s hand and ran through the gates and into the woods far beyond the city walls. She didn’t stop until they reached a small clearing. Finally, Astrid turned and sat under a large tree, resting her back against it.

  “We’re safe here.” She wiped the perspiration from her face.

  Steward sat down against a rock where he could face her. He had so many questions. “Astrid, why? I mean, if you know what’s happening, why do you stay in Ascendia? And if you’re this strong, why don’t you rise up against your sister and stop this madness?”

  Astrid ignored the questions for the moment. She took a drink from a flask that she’d worked loose from a leather waist belt. She offered the flask to Steward, but he wanted answers, not a drink.

  Astrid obliged. “First of all, you’re welcome.” She let the words sit for a moment then smiled.

  Steward hung his head. “I apologize, Astrid. Yes, thank you for saving my life. I can never repay you for what you’ve done.”

  “No need. It is what I was appointed to do.”

  “Appointed by whom?”

  “By the king, of course.”

  Steward came to her. He turned her face toward his.

  “You know the king? You have seen him?”

  “Yes, I’ve seen the king. And so shall you.” She took off her waistcoat and rubbed her shoulders. “You ask why I stay and why I don’t mount a rebellion against my sister. Well, the problem is far beyond my sister. She is just one small pawn in a much larger game. It is the entire system that must be changed. It’s attitudes, minds, and hearts that must be changed. Violence can’t do that…although it is tempting to try. It will take a change of heart by the ramp builders to finally pull down the crushers. And so I work quietly, among the people of the valley.”

  She sat back down beside him and looked up at the sky as she spoke. “Many do not want to climb the mountain. They want to live at peace in the valley. I help them find refuge from the guards and encourage them to carry on.”

  She looked back at Steward. “That’s why I stay. I warn some about the crushing machines. I help others who don’t want to spend their lives toiling on the ramps. And though there are fewer and fewer people who aren’t lured by the promises of living on the mountain, I wait for the day when change will come in the hearts of my fellow citizens— and my two sisters.”

  She was amazing. How brave and noble and…beautiful.

  Steward put his hand on hers. “You are a good and brave person, Astrid.” The touch sent his pulse racing. He didn’t want to leave her side. “Too good for this place.”

  That was it!

  Steward drew his hand back and jumped to his feet, his voice shrill with excitement. “Why don’t you come with me to see the king? You can help show me the way. I would so much love to have the company. Do say yes. Come with me, Astrid.”

  She smiled, and something in her eyes…

  Could the attraction be mutual?

  She stood and turned away. “I can’t come with you. This is your journey, and you must make it alone.” She returned to his side and put her hand in his. “But know that my thoughts and prayers will be with you, and”—she gave him a playful look—“we shall see each other again.”

  “We will?”

  Astrid nodded. “Yes, but you must go now and continue your journey.” She walked over to a mound of branches and leaves. She pulled away the brush and there, to Steward’s amazement, were a fresh set of clothes, a cloak, a sleeping roll, and his old satchel. He opened the flap and found it filled with food, wine, and water.

  “Astrid, you are full of surprises.”

  “Not I.” She smiled. “Zedekai is always looking after you.”

  Zedekai, the Phaedra, the king. An unwelcome sense of doubt caught him off-guard.

  “Astrid, when did you see the king?” It startled even him to hear the words come from his mouth.

  She frowned. “When? I don’t remember. Not so long ago. Why do you ask?”

  “I was asked by a Phaedra how I knew the king really existed. I was hoping you could assure me.” He
looked around, relieved they were still alone. “Do you listen to the Phaedra?”

  “These are questions you must answer for yourself. All of us must decide for ourselves if the king is real and who we will listen to. I cannot answer that for you, Steward. It is part of the reason for your journey.”

  Steward wasn’t satisfied with that answer, but he sensed it was all he was going to get. He started to take off his sling, and the Quash fell into his hands. “And what do I do with this?”

  “Take it with you. It will remind you of Ascendia and of what you have seen and learned here. And perhaps it will also remind you of me.” She gave him a smile. “Now you must go. It will be dark soon, and you must reach the edge of Pitcairn Moor before nightfall. You will be safe on the edge of the moor, but Steward…” She grasped his arm. “Don’t stay either on the moor or in the woods. You must stay on the edge of both. Do you understand?”

  He was surprised by the passion of her words. “Yes, yes I think so. But I do wish you could tell me more and even come with me. This journey is long, and I have so many questions, more than when I started. You could help me find the answers.”

  Astrid put her hand to Steward’s cheek, gave him a tender kiss on the forehead, and stood back. “You must find them for yourself, Steward. But only at the right time. Be patient, keep your heart pure, expect to hear and learn and know, and you will. The king has promised it.”

  Then she took up her Quash, tied her tunic tight, and after one look back disappeared into the woods.

  Steward stood for several minutes, staring after her. He rubbed his hand across his skin where she had kissed him. For the first time in his life, he had the sense of falling in love. “I will see you again.” It was a promise to her—and himself.

  With the day closing in toward evening, he turned his attention to the journey—and Astrid’s words about Pitcairn Moor. Steward shed his shirt and put on the new tunic. The chains from Petitzaros rubbed his arms bare in places, so he unwrapped them and applied some balm that he kept inside his satchel. He then dressed, and with his satchel over one shoulder and his Quash over the other, he set off down the path for Pitcairn Moor.