CHAPTER 21: The Weight of Sacrifice - Part 4

  “Roa!” Raraku's voice rose. “Why buy such delicacies? You should have saved any extra money!”

  “Don't worry, Nanna. A trader bought our handicrafts at a high price. Auntie, Auntie, he praised your necklaces! Gramps, Gramps, he said your rings are very artistic!” she said while distributing honey candies.

  Raraku shook her head.

  “Let it be, Nanna. There's no harm in rewarding ourselves once in a while.” Roa offered Raraku a white sugar-dusted raisin cookie. The old woman hesitated.

  “The sugar is so fine it feels cold.” Her light brown eyes teased Raraku. The old lady accepted it after a smile.

  Roa turned to him, as if only now realizing he was there.

  “Meet me tonight at the eastern ruins. I have something special for you.”

  The villagers, young and old, teased them with cheers. Eiran had never seen the village so alive.

  As the sunset painted the last slice of western sky orange, he headed to the old guard post ruins in the east. The post lay far beyond the protective range of the Artifica. He did not understand why Roa had called him to this place. Perhaps she was really teasing him.

  Roa sat on a stone frame that no longer had a door, swinging her legs. The stone lines of the foundation outlined the plan of the once-standing building.

  She jumped in front of him. “Wear these.” She handed him a pair of Prana and Mana restraining bracelets.

  Shrugging as if to say 'if that's what you want', he put them on. “Done. What for–”

  WHAM!

  A hard blow sent him face-first into the sand. Two soldiers arrived and tied him up with thick ropes.

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  “Roa, run!”

  Three more soldiers emerged from behind the ruined walls. They all bore the symbol of seven-edged stars, along with seven crescents and a solitary sun – the emblem of Terzion Empire. Their leader unrolled a paper and his gaze shifted back and forth between the paper and him to confirm his face.

  “That's him, right? I've kept my promise.” Roa crossed her arms. “Keep yours, leave us all alone.”

  “Ro...a... what...?”

  Roa squatted, her necklaces dangling, and whispered in the native language. “Blame me if it helps. In the city, they threw away all my goods, took me to their post, and raped me. It was then that I saw a wanted poster for you.”

  His ears rang, but he understood every word she said.

  “They threatened to come to Aroi. So, it's priorities and sacrifices. Your life or the entire village. I chose Aroi. They gave me money, and I gave them you. Be angry, that's your right.” She stood up again.

  A pair of soldiers supported Eiran towards a horse-drawn cart. “Take him! Remember, His Excellency Neuvane wants him unharmed!” the leader shouted.

  Inside, he felt an urge to scream as loud as possible, to tell the soldiers about the active Artifica in Aroi. This would oblige them to destroy it, and with it, all of Aroi would be annihilated. It would be a fitting revenge.

  Eiran could not believe he was even contemplating such an idea. He fought against the thought like a wild horse against reins. In the end, the words that came out of his mouth were much simpler.

  “You... saved me. Thank... you....”

  Roa glanced over her shoulder for a few moments before leaving. “I'll tell the others you went back to your tribe.”

  ***

  The sun had crossed Eiran's head four times as they traveled across the sea of sand. The tight bindings made his hands tingle, turn blue, and then go numb. At least he did not have to walk; he lay in a canopied cart pulled by camels.

  Their destination was a black stone hill in the distance, like a piece of obsidian dropped in the middle of the sand sea. The gleam on its surface was blinding even from this distance. They had been moving towards it for half a day, but the hill seemed to keep distancing itself.

  Upon arrival, the multi-angled stone wall with guard towers greeted them. The fortress wall clung to the base of the hill and had only one gate.

  The first and second portcullises alternately lifted. A large amount of sand fell through. Behind them were buildings found in any fortress – barracks, stables, armories, kitchens, and many wells.

  He got off the cart and was taken into a cave at the base of the hill. The horizontally oval mouth of the cave and its smooth surface indicated it was man-made. The end of the cave was shrouded in impenetrable darkness.

  He was handed over to the guards inside the cave. A bag was pulled over his head, and he was led deeper into the cave. His sandals made almost no sound on the stone, while the steps of the soldiers produced the distinctive clink of metal shoes. He was like livestock in a slaughterhouse.

  Then they stopped, waiting. Soon, the sound of mechanical workings clanged, and the floor beneath him began to move downwards, continuing to descend.

  A guard whispered to him, “Welcome to Grest.”