Harken

Chapter 4

The mossy cobblestone path was illuminated in soft, dewy light from a brightly shining crescent moon. The sky was a dusty lavender, grey clouds stalking across and chasing the retreating sunshine. Light rain had began to fall, soaking Harken's shoulder and chilling his face. He pulled the thin cotton overcoat around him to protect from the cold, charging wind. The silver gate of the water garden portrayed a starry sky, and was easily pushed open, swinging aimlessly on its hinges. Harken had never been here, but he knew he liked it. The fountain showed a woman with a clay jar, pouring out the algae-ridden water into the pool below with a subtle smile and a twinkling in her eye. The hooded figure stood underneath her, stroking the grey bricks of the statue and quietly humming. "Why call me here?" Harken questioned, "Why send me that note, what do you know about?". "I know about all. They call me Promise because I always keep my word", she turned and dropped the hood. Her black dreadlocks and dark skin shone in the night, making her seem ethereal in a strange sense Harken couldn't quite explain. But that didn't mean she was trustworthy, or real. "I am a member of the resistance and my leader has sent me here to tell you what we know, or at least part of it. Outside these walls, everyone but us wears the goggles. They may have revealable lenses for the richer, but most rely on the small disks that allow them to see with their minds." "That can't be true. No one can be blinded and passively accept it. It's not human nature to lay down and allow control", Harken said, staring. His voice gave away little emotion. She was unfazed; "we live where we can, we hide from that man in the palace and we work hard to see his empire destroyed. We don't act like you at all, like we know something others don't. We act together..." Promise was getting angry now, veins starting to prominently pulse on her wide face. Harken replied calmly, "Are you this passionate about this? Because I sense something wrong about you". She barked back, "You don't know me! You came from nothing and if you want to be all philosophical, then you should follow me! Maybe then you can act together like us, otherwise you will always be alone."
Harken was quiet, then spoke up, "You aren't really resistance, are you?". Promise glared back at him: "No. I'm meant to collect you. But the drugs we planted didn't work, huh? Well I blame your creator for this. If I can't take you calmly..." then she lunged, like a wild animal at him. Harken batted away her desperate clawing hands and hit her on the jaw. She hit him back many times. He stumbled towards the fountain, her hands around his throat, and he pushed her in. He hadn't meant to, but the heat of the moment had infected Harken and caused him to act so violently. The glorious fountain was apparently deceptively deep, and her large cloak made her sink like an eroded stone, all the way to the bottom. The water thrashed and churned as she scrambled to escape but the waves were faster and stronger. Calm. Then she floated back up, her mouth agape and eyes unnaturally open. Harken looked at Promise's body and knew: her death was necessary.
******
Harken wondered what they wanted; the birds flitted through the morning sky and many landed on his windowsill to greet him. They met his tired eyes and flew away, knowing the angel had been up all night thinking. The cult must have wanted to sacrifice him or use him as a ransom to get their way. Maybe everything around him was a lie and no one was on his side, not even the man-boy from his dream. But he still needed to find him, just to clear his mind, just to confirm the feelings starting to brew inside of him. He'd discarded the roses stems and had stolen forgotten lab equipment to test them (another thing he wasn't aware he knew how to do) and had discovered they were coated in a mixture of crushed sleeping pills and hallucinative drugs he wasn't able to identify. But he knew what they did and what they were meant to do to him. He also wondered if Nekrah had lied to him, in the garden. If when he left the palace, which he planned to do, he would enter a world that was very different from what they told him. And if it was, he would be angry. Harken felt he might just burn it all to the ground, watch the corrupt leader and the cult and the rebellion bleed out and burn to ashes. Sadly, he wasn't sent here to do that. He was sent here for the truth and he would find it. He would push away the crumbing earth burying it and pull out the rusting relic, open its lid and show to all. Because he was so truthful, not a liar.
******
Alexiares put his head in his hands and glanced at the corrugated metal ceiling. The metal was rusty in several patches, reflecting the male's crimson red complexion. He could sense him. Again. That boy had been playing on his mind for days, a repeated record that sung like a nasty wound. It made him feel the sense of impending doom that had bend stalking him ever since... then. But Alex couldn't tell a soul: the resistance was his army, although he worried about their loyalty constantly to him. They would ignore him, call him the mad leader. They may already think that. He was too deep in his thoughts and he'd ignored his grip on the beaded sword. Blood ran. He grabbed a couple rags and bandaged it up. Enough was enough. To end his misery, to melt the shackles bound upon his shoulders, he would seek the angel out either to kill him or to save him.