Chapter 021 - We're All Pawns

  What choice did he really have? The question echoed in the quiet space Mark had carved out for himself amidst the chaos of his own thoughts. He could refuse. He could return to his grand, empty house on the Silver-Vein Terrace, drink haggled for tea and cook his slightly crushed vegetables, and wait. Wait for what? For the next guild to send another, less patient observer? For the next political player to make a move? For Sam to come back and torture him with his next set of agonizing exercises?

  Following Dawn was a terrible idea on almost every level. He would be willingly placing his trust in the hands of someone who had, only hours ago, been his professional stalker and then his impromptu therapist, whose animal companion had been the star of ongoing, terrifying nightmares. It was illogical, high-risk and he had no idea where she wanted to take him.

  And yet, it was a plan. It was an action. It was a potential step forward, and for a man who had spent his career turning chaos into forward momentum, the inertia of waiting was a far more terrifying prospect than the risk of moving. “We don’t wait for things to happen, we make things happen,” he mentally said, a phrase he had used a thousand times to the staff he worked with. He let out a long, weary sigh, the sound of a project manager accepting a flawed assessment and recognising the requirement to change direction.

  He met her gaze and gave a single, curt nod. "Alright," he said, his voice flat with exhaustion. "But where?"

  A flicker of surprise crossed Dawn’s face, as if she had been expecting more of a fight. She recovered quickly, her expression shifting back to one of pragmatic purpose. Without another word, she turned and pushed open the door of The Sweet-Tooth, stepping back out into the noise and chill of the late afternoon.

  “I’ll promise you it’s not somewhere that won’t cause you harm.” She said, and noticing a hesitation towards her non-answer quickly added. “I was asked to report on you, we are going to find your records. Not the ones the library setup for you.”

  There was logic in what she said, the fact she still didn’t give a clear answer was causing some slight alarm, but again, the choice was to follow and find out, or to sit at home and watch everything fail as he mourned a lost world. A dead world was a step too far to accept.

  Mark gathered his tattered basket and made the choice to follow, the transition from the warm, sweet-smelling bakery to the bustling street a jarring sensory shift. The sounds of the market, the chatter of the crowd, the distant clang of a smith's hammer, all seemed louder now, sharper. The feeling of being watched hadn't vanished, it had simply been given a name and a face.

  They walked in silence for a few paces, Dawn setting a brisk but manageable pace, navigating the flow of people with an instinctual ease that he lacked. She seemed to know exactly where she was going. As they turned onto a less crowded side street that wound its way toward the imposing stone buildings of the town’s core, she spoke without turning to look at him.

  "Just so you know," she said, her voice a low, matter-of-fact statement, "Taz is with us. You won't see him."

  Mark stopped dead in the middle of the street. A jolt went through him, colder and sharper than the mountain air. The persistent, prickling sensation on the back of his neck, the one he had dismissed as paranoia, flared with a sudden, horrible intensity. It wasn't just her. It had never been just her, he had only ever noticed her…

  He couldn't help himself, he scanned the rooftops, the shadowed alleyways, the faces in the small crowd that passed them by. He saw nothing. Stone and wood, the sea of strangers, but Taz was nowhere in sight. But he could feel it now, of the thought of it at least. An unseen presence. A predator's gaze. The monster from the forest was still here, a silent, invisible ghost pacing them from the shadows.

  He started walking again, his stride stiff, forcing himself to catch up to her. And then, a second, stranger thought surfaced, bubbling up through the fear. It was a bizarre and perverse piece of logic, the kind of risk-assessment calculation his mind made when analyzing a project plan that was going off the deep end.

  The leopard protected Dawn. He was now, for some inexplicable reason, with Dawn. Therefore, by a strange and deeply unsettling form of transitive property, the monster was now his bodyguard. It was a terrifying thought, but beneath it, mixed in with the cold dread, was the faintest, most unwelcome flicker of security. He was walking through a town of strangers, all of whom were vastly stronger than him, with an invisible, nightmare-inducing leopard for protection. It was the most terrifying, and perhaps the safest, he had felt since he’d arrived.

  He fell into step beside her, the uneasy quiet stretching between them. Dawn led him through the heart of the town, past the bustling market square and the formidable stone Guildhalls. He recognized the street leading to the Silver-Vein Terrace, and he stopped, there was an opportunity here.

  Dawn turned to stop with him, looking a little annoyed at the pause, but he was looking back towards the Market, to the groups of people crowded together. “Do you want to know how?” She looked less annoyed with the question and more perplexed. “How to see what I saw. The hidden ones?”

  Her gaze swept over the group, she was a huntress, but these were not wild deer or whatever they stalked outside the walls, these were people. “I will admit you have a talent, but I doubt it's what you implied.” She answered, and it wasn't a no.

  “I’m going to assume towns like this have… undesirables?” Mark asked, aiming to keep his tone to not be accusationary. “Muggers, pickpockets, people targeting vulnerable women or collectors for a mob, those types of people.”

  Dawn nodded, obviously thinking on the issue, “Mob collectors sound a bit fictional, but the rest exist everywhere,” after a short silence she continued the line of thinking, “Why would targeting women be more of a thing? Do they not hit back where you are supposedly from?”

  Without giving him time to answer, she continued after deciding that the implication did not sit well with her, “Can you imagine how many broken bones there would be if someone targeted me? And that's ignoring Taz!”

  From nowhere, Dawn grabbed hold of Mark, and in an effortless and silent movement had jumped them both to the roof of a nearby building. “Some warning next time!”, to which she just shrugged at the complaint. Mark felt a little greener than he wanted, sudden movements were not the norm. The vantage point she picked however provided a great view of the market stalls and the crowds around them.

  “Okay, I’ll play your game, from here I can see Taz and a young boy that's stealing cakes from a stall.” Her casual observation about Taz did not help him what-so-ever, as he was still something he couldn't see, and that was the point. The cake thief was easy enough, a young boy, probably 12 or 13 with very plain looking clothing and a huge grin on his face as he scampered off without the stall owner noticing, or maybe he did as he had his own smile.

  This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  “I can’t see Taz, but there is someone about to walk off with some person's shopping, he’s very good.” Mark whispered, feeling it was the correct thing to do, “I can give a rough description for the guards or whoever to get them, distance is a little much for me to see a lot about them.”

  Dawn didn’t answer, her face tight with concentration, her fist actually balled up as she scanned every face in the crowds where he casually spotted him. She wasn’t having any luck, “There is no one there but the boy, you’ve just made that up to prove a point.”

  With a shake Mark pointed, “The man in the yellow tunic, he's a little shorter than the others in the crowd, and I think he's either good or pulling off a similar trick to you.”

  Her concentration turned to a scowl, she hadn't seen him, his yellow made him easy to pick out, yet still. “You sure, he doesn't seem…” and she tailed off, as he reached into another's bag and removed some items, sliding them expertly into his own, a trick he had seen countless times though his local shopping centers.

  “Take a look around him, everybody is always seen by somebody, it's human nature. No one is even glancing his way, he's a hole, back home some people are experts at being so unnoticeable they have the same effect.” He explained, taking a little bit of pride in his assessment, “I’m guessing it's magic related because he's in bright yellow.”

  They continued to watch him as he removed a few other items from bags, then Mark caught a smile on Dawn's face that sent chills down his spine. The man, the thief, obviously with his bag full was slipping around a blind corner, out of their sight.

  The thief in yellow hit the wall on the second floor of the shop facing the dark corner he had run down. Unceremoniously falling flat on his face in what could have been a comedy sketch, initially a few came running to help, and as the contents of his bag spilled, that help became an angry mob calling for the militia.

  From the dark alleyway, beyond the dark corner, Mark finally saw him, the icy blue of Taz’s eyes gleaming from the darkness.

  “Generally, my prey doesn’t play these kinds of games.” She stated, her gaze still fixed on the crowds, her face a picture of annoyance at missing the thief. She was badly hiding her attempts to not look back at Mark, “I’ll accept there is an opportunity here to refine my skill.”

  And that was the end of it, Mark choosing to use a ladder at the side of the building they were on as Dawn jumped down effortlessly, ladders and broken baskets did not work well together and unfortunately a few more vegetables were lost.

  The walk from their vantage point was quiet, Dawn occasionally flexing her arm and glancing around herself, the tattoo on her left hand glowing from a clear bright to a deep, almost angry red. Mark made the assumption she was already working on her glamor, choosing to leave her with her practice and thoughts as they approached his temporary home.

  “Nice to be favored by an Oracle,” Dawn stopped to look at the over-designed monstrosity he had been granted living arrangements in, “Best drop those inside so you don't lose any more.” She was right, even if the losses were her fault, with a sigh he ducked inside and put what survived into the cooler and was out just as fast.

  The option of locking the door and hiding inside had crossed his mind, she was probably still making mental notes for her report, but the prospect of answers was still very appealing, and still very much wanted.

  He knew this wasn't his world, there was too much wrong, and even though the Oracles had confirmed this was somewhat of a safe haven that humans came to a thousand years ago, he also felt an unwanted flicker of hope for an answer. Were there records to say how he got here, and potentially back?

  “It’s nice to not be dead in the middle of nowhere.” Was Mark’s slightly sarcastic reply as he left the house, “I do believe I have you to thank for that. The rest makes me feel like a pawn in someone else's game, Oracles or otherwise.” the latter being far more genuine.

  Dawn pointed towards another path, upwards and past the Silver-Vein Terrace, heading away from the town and into the silence of the mountain itself. “We’re all pawns Mark,” she let out with a sigh, “Everyone has something that someone wants, and they will exploit it from them. With respect, who's to say the Oracles are any different?”

  That was a depressing thought, very reminiscent of home that kept them both in silence for a while as they made their way upwards.

  The path was well marked out and maintained, wide enough that there was no risk of falling off the side, but high enough to imply there was little chance to survive if you did. Only a week ago this much walking would have been a miserable experience for Mark, now it was uncomfortable due to the training exercises, but a lot more manageable.

  “California.” Mark opened with as they walked, “I’ve had that mentioned that apparently I was thought of as a Spy, I assume it's nothing to do with America?”

  “I’m sure that's not been ruled out.” Was the reply, her pace not altering as they continued, “Assuming for a moment you are not, and you really don’t know anything. California is the Sentinel State about 3 weeks south-east of here, where we are industry and innovation, they are military and exploration.”

  Taking a moment to think, Mark replied. “And the name?”

  “No idea, maybe Mr California founded it or something. We trade with them and keep our distance. They are strange, still trying to solve the issue of flight, and the rest of us watch them fail.” She shrugged and the conversation was over. Mark was starting to see that Dawn was not much for idle conversation, but it was interesting the additional link to Earth that apparently had been lost, more broken links to the puzzle. And flight, even after a thousand years it seems odd no methods are workable if that is what she was inferring.

  By this time the scenery had completely changed, where the slightly smokey air was, now a clean mountain chill, where once were the sounds of people, sawmills and hammers was the whistling of the winds and calling of birds. Once again Mark was competing against memories, while different, the views, smells and sounds reminded him so much of home.

  “I’m sure last week I would have looked like the walking dead by now, how much further to go?” it was true, Mark did feel like the walk would have killed him previously, and yet he still had energy, this was new and very welcome.

  Dawn just pointed ahead, to where the path ended before a vast, gaping cave entrance, a dark maw in the sheer grey rock face.

  It wasn't a natural formation. The entrance was framed by a colossal archway, constructed from massive, perfectly fitted blocks of a darker stone that seemed to absorb the light. Intricate, weathered carvings covered its surface, not the names of people, but abstract patterns depicting wind, stone, and what could be time. It was a place of immense age and profound solemnity. A silence emanated from the darkness within, a quiet so deep it seemed to swallow the ambient sounds of the nearby forest. Haunting was an understatement.

  Dawn stopped at the base of the archway, her gaze fixed on the darkness beyond. "I'm guessing you don't know this place either," she stated, her voice low and respectful, the words echoing slightly in the stillness. "This is the Tomb of Enceladus. The Great Tomb within the mountain."

  Mark stared past her into the gaping blackness, a cold that had nothing to do with the mountain air seeping into his bones. A tomb. Of all the places he could have imagined her taking him, this was not one of them. "Why are we here?" he asked, his own voice hushed.

  She turned to him then, her sharp eyes holding a glimmer of her earlier, problem-solving intensity. "You wanted to know if you belonged to anyone. If you have a connection here." She gestured toward the cave entrance with a nod of her head.

  "They keep records here," she explained simply. "On everyone. Every family line that has ever lived or died in the Collective. If your name is known in this world, if there is even the ghost of a forgotten ancestor… their name will be here."

  The weight of her words settled on him, another piece of impossible logic in a world built from it, the final resting place, names and records would be here in some shape of form. He took a hesitant step toward the great stone archway, peering into the oppressive blackness. The silence from within felt absolute, a living thing that promised to swallow him whole.

  "You're sure about this?" he asked, his voice barely a whisper. He felt a profound reluctance to cross the threshold, a primal instinct screaming that this was a place the living were not meant to casually enter.

  Before Dawn could answer, a new voice, as quiet and calm as the tomb itself, spoke from the darkness.

  "All are welcome, please enter with respect."