Page 31 of Chieftain
I managed only one step forward before a hand shot out, blocking our departure.
“Not that way.” The mother’s voice was soft, almost frightened. “The Kerzak search for you. By now, they will have the entrances to all levels guarded.”
What is that word Charick likes so much? Oh right.
Fuck!
We were on the fifth level. Abodes for the lower caste of aliens were found here, explaining why the alley was filled with homeless people. The seventh and lowest level promised escape, but if the Kerzak had all the stairways blocked….
"Come," the mother said, rising to her feet. "I will show you another way.”
Should we trust her?Emmy's glance asked as we waited for the mother to sequester her two younglings within a makeshift shelter of weathered wood and canvas. She slung the satchel of food over her shoulder, holding it tight against her breast. It would not be safe to leave it unattended.
We do not have a choice, my gaze said back, holding tighter to her tiny hand.
The mother returned the way we'd come, holding close to the shadows and admonishing us with gestures that we should do the same. She cast a cursory at our previous entrance but kept pressing forward.
She veered at what looked like a dead end, bringing us face to face with a ramshackle refrigeration unit partially obstructed by debris.
“Sometimes the station masters decide to inspect the lower levels," the mother said as she pulled away a batch of rotting wood. "Those of us who have nowhere else to go must make our own way to travel and hide."
I lifted the remains of a crate away as she lifted a panel of the refrigeration unit, exposing a tunnel beyond.
“This will take you to the next level. From there, follow the alley until you see a purple door. That is the entrance to the tunnel that will take you to level seven.” The mother bent at the waist, bowing deeply.
Emmy laid a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Thank you.”
The Romvesian jerked slightly as though kindness and gratitude were foreign to her. Clutching the bag of food to her chest, her blue eyes shimmered. Romvesian, like humans, had the capacity to make tears. "Thank you, human, for helping me feed my younglings.”
The satchel was small, only meant to tide Emmy and me through the time it would take for rescue, hours at best. The mother gripped the faded leather bag as though it had all the food she and her younglings needed.
Emmy’s gaze flickered to me, tears of compassion hovering on the dark lashes. My human was kind as well as brave.
“Do you know the place called Dixa’s on the third level?” I asked.
The Romvesian jerked but nodded. "Yes.”
“Take your younglings and go there. Ask for Dixa or Siemba. Tell them Khaion and Emmy sent you and to please see you and your children safe and fed. Do not be afraid. They will find a better place for you and your younglings.”
Blue eyes went wide, darting from me to Emmy and back. "Why do you do this?” It was a valid question. Romvesian and Vaktaire had been at war on and off for hundreds of years. Though victorious, my people were not unkind, although most aid offers fell on the prideful ears of Romvesian leaders. After the war, a third of the Romvesian population starved because their leaders were too opposed to taking what they considered charity from the Alliance.
Emmy’s hand perched on the female’s shoulder, and I watched her fingers contract in a gentle squeeze. “Khaion is one of the good guys.”
"Good guys," the mother repeated in a faint whisper, not understanding the term. Her gaze flickered to me and widened slightly. Then she bowed again and slipped into the shadows.
“Do you think she’ll go to the tavern?” Emmy whispered, a tremble of worry in her voice.
"I hope so," I said, and I meant it.
Smoke, scents of burning rubber and motor oil so thick it lay on my tongue like syrup, permeated the tunnel. Emmy madesmall gagging sounds even though she held a section of her cloak over her mouth and nose. This tunnel was smaller, an escape route for the disenfranchised. I had to crouch to maneuver even though Emmy stood at full height.
“We are just above the engines," I explained, drawing her close.
“Orzon told me people lived on this level.” Her voice was faint above the hiss and hum of machinery below.
I ground my teeth together before adding. "They do.”
The haze thickened as we pushed into the alley—as did the stench. Despite the acuity of my eyes, only vague shapes manifested in the dark gray gloam. Beside me, Emmy's breath seemed to spasm in her chest, erupting in a coughing-gagging paroxysm that had her jerking from my grasp to stumble away and vomit.
