Nine of Wands-Tarot- The Staircase Page 4

  Eventually he was able to handle it, and once he almost took Trinity’s head off. Trinity never let him forget that. He chased him through the field, threatening to kill him, but when he caught him, he pressed him down into that field and…God…they’d practically ripped off each others clothes and Trinity was so hard, so passionate that…

  * * * *

  “Tristan?” Samuel said suddenly. “Where to? I’m getting nervous standing here. People are staring at us.”

  There was nothing to identify them as soldiers except for their weapons, but it seemed many people were armed. But they were strangers, and with the depletion of the population, probably stood out more than they would have if things had been normal.

  There was a solemn sense of despair in the air, not unlike what they’d seen in Temple Green a few years back. People were dying, and others were afraid to get sick. They knew the Epemo were coming. It was only a matter of time. The hope that what was left of the Celest warriors could save them was not exactly shining through.

  They skirted off into the field again, this time on the other side of the palace. It was Samuel who noticed the Celest flag flying at half mast. It could only mean only one thing, Reed Monahan, the Emperor was dead. Tristan breathed a sigh. They were dead now, the men who had started all this. It didn’t seem fair they weren’t around to suffer like everyone else, see the end. Tristan knew the worst was coming.

  When Tristan saw the people milling around in the distance, he actually began to run. “Tristan,” Samuel called after him, he didn’t have the strength to keep up, “we don’t know if they are Herits or Celest or…”

  Tristan knew. They were Herits who had been captured and then abandoned, but they were alive.

  There were only seven in all, far less than he’d imagined. Four of them were woman, the other three, children, one of them an adolescent girl . There were no males.

  One woman came forward in the field to greet him. She was tall and gaunt, her hair greying at the sides although she probably wasn’t all that much older than he was. “Who are you?” she asked, meeting Tristan’s gaze.

  In the background were two primitive shelters made from crushed stone and possibly damp earth. Two decrepit shirts hung on a line, which was strung between two sticks protruding from the ground. It seemed it could be knocked over by a whisper.

  Tristan didn’t realise how weak he was until everything in front of him seemed to fade for a second, then come back into focus. His knees shock a bit. “I’m Tristan,” he said, “Tristan Coal of Temple City. I’ve come to…”

  “Coal?” Her voice could have frozen ice. “The son of Stuben Coal?”

  Everything began to fade again, the ground seemed to shift under his feet. Tristan heard someone repeat his name, then blackness. If he would have been able to turn around at that moment, he would have seen that Samuel had fallen to the ground a few feet away.

  * * * *

  When he opened his eyes, that same woman was sitting beside him. He was inside the shelter, lying on what felt like a padded surface in the corner of the room. She lifted his head and cool liquid touched his lips. “It’s a good thing you arrived when you did, Mr. Coal. You’re very sick, and your friend is...” She trailed off.

  Tristan blinked. He tried to rise but found the strength had left him.

  “Just lay quiet,” she said. “No one will hurt you.”

  He swallowed some more of the liquid. “Sam?”

  “Your companion is being cared for by Lillian in the other house. Shush. Rest now.”

  “I need to know,” he began, “about…”

  “Sleep,” she said, and Tristan found himself slipping away again.

  Chapter Four

  "I don’t even know your name,” he said to the woman who had been caring for him far longer than he was aware of.

  “Barbara,” she said. “Barbara Evans.”

  “I knew a family by that name. I…” he began, taking the bread she offered with a thank you.

  “Yes, you knew my father. He was in the Temple City government, Simon Evans.”

  “My father’s minister, responsible for trade.”

  “Yes,” she said, moving around the room. There wasn’t much in the room, the makeshift bed he was laying on, a few heavy rocks which served as chairs. A rustic fireplace and some battered pots.

  Tristan ate the bread and sat up. “I feel a lot better. How long have I been out?”

  “Five days.”

  “My God,” he said. “How can I thank you? I…”

  She held up a hand. “It’s not necessary.”

  “Your family? They were killed in the…”

  “Yes. My parents, sisters, my two children, all succumbed to the gasses. Later, I lost my husband in the war.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  She didn’t answer. She just looked at him. “Mr. Coal?”

  “Tristan.”

  “I have a lot of questions.”

  “So do I,” he said. He struggled to his feet.

  “Do you think you should…?”

  “I have to. Where’s Samuel?”

  “In the other hut. He’s in bad shape.”

  He nodded. “What happened after you were brought here? Were you just left to your own devices or…?”

  “It’s a long story,” she interrupted him. “And before I tell you about it, I want to know why. Why your father turned on the Emperor.”

  He sucked in some air. “I don’t know,” he said. “I really don’t know. They were best friends, and then suddenly, they weren’t. My father put restrictions on them, then they did the same, and before we knew it, the trade stopped. They had become so dependent on each other for survival. Everything had been joined together. When the break began, war was…”

  “Don’t try to justify war, Mr. Coal,” she said coldly.

  “I’m not justifying it. I’m just trying to explain it. I don’t understand what triggered it anymore than…”

  “Your father didn’t tell you anything?”

  Tristan shook his head. “I asked. Everywhere, the Celest were being demonized. All I knew was they were a threat and we had to defend ourselves. I would have never believed they would have dropped the gas. They used our own technology against us.”

  “So, you don’t know any more than I then.” She said this as if to herself, her tone sounding defeated.

  “No. All I know is suddenly I was fighting in a war against people who had been my friends and neighbours, and I really didn’t know why. I knew I had no choice, to kill or be killed.”

  Tristan noticed a single tear running down Barbara’s face suddenly. He turned away, gave her time to recover. “Now you,” he said, turning back. “What’s your story?”

  “We were picked up by the Celest warriors in Temple Green two years ago, just before the first attack by the Epemo on Celestial Ridge. The leader of the platoon was a Captain Monahan.”

  “Monahan?”

  “The Emperor’s brother.”

  “Roman. Go on.”

  “It seemed to me that he was enjoying himself a lot. He appeared to hate everyone, including himself.”

  Tristan nodded. It sounded like Roman. He had always been jealous of his brother, the Emperor, and he was hungry for attention and power.

  “They murdered all the men, and any women who tried to fight back. They took seventeen of us hostage. The Captain told us that he planned to execute us at the top of Celestial Ridge in the center of town. Apparently there was some Celest resistance to the war. Some refused to fight, and many were executed as well. Anyway, several died on the way up the mountain. I believe we were twelve when we arrived, and none of us in good shape as you can imagine. We were exhausted, half starved, some of us were sick from the gasses. We were marched into the center of the town and lined up. Monahan gave the order to shoot. I closed my eyes, keeping my daughter Anna close to me. She was only ten at the time. I expected to be dead, Coal.”

  Tristan wanted to reach out and touc
h her. He couldn’t move. “What happened?”

  Suddenly a voice rang out, strong, angry, a voice you had no choice but to hear. I opened my eyes and I saw an angel. To me, he was an angel, because suddenly the guns dropped. The next thing we knew, we were taken way out here in this field and material was brought. The soldiers made us these shelters, and they brought us food. Some people from the town also brought us stuff, sometimes just leaving it in the middle of the night.”

  “You weren’t watched?”

  “In the beginning, all the time, and sometimes the soldiers were hostile and they’d come and throw their weight around. Other times, nothing. Then after we were attacked by the Epemo, we were basically left alone. All the soldiers disappeared. Oh we still got some crazy civilians coming out to harass us, but less and less. A lot of the people were sick, or hungry themselves given the state of the crops.”

  “You said you were twelve people, what happened to…?”

  “They died, of one thing or another. One of them, a young girl of seven-teen named Amy was raped by one of Monahan’s…” she stopped.

  Tristan nodded. She didn’t need to go into details. He’d seen it more times than he cared to recall. “This angel? Who was it?” He held his breath. He already knew.

  “People said it was Trinity Monahan, the Emperor’s son, but I can’t be sure of that.”

  “And the Emperor, did he…?”

  “Never saw him. By the time we were brought here, many Celest were sick with the gasses, and the Emperor too. His brother was in charge mostly. I believe his son was off fighting the Epemo.”

  “Is the Emperor dead?”

  “Two days ago, I hear,” she replied, just about to add something when a young woman poked her head in the entrance. “Mother,” she said, “I need some…” she paused, looking at Tristan.

  “This is Tristan Coal,” her mother told her. “Tristan,” she glanced at him, “my daughter, Anna. Okay, Anna, go and get some water. He will need to wash up, and see if there are some clothes that will fit him from that pile we’ve collected.”

  “Yes, Mother,” she said, then, added, “I need some clean cloths for bandages. Do we have anymore?”

  “There are some on the line. They should be dried by now.”

  “How is Samuel?” Tristan quickly threw at her before she disappeared.

  “He has infection in some cuts. He’s very weak. I’m trying to get him to eat.”

  “Take care of him,” Tristan urged.

  “I will,” she replied, and was gone.

  * * * *

  Later on, Barbara introduced him to the others. Lillian was a woman in her forties, and Cecile was going on seventy. They were strong women who didn’t smile much. The other three children, besides Anna, were between five and seven, orphans who had been pretty much adopted by the three elders. They were sober and quiet, but looked healthy.

  As Tristan was to discover, this group had developed some very interesting survival techniques. They knew where to find water, and where to steal food when they needed it. Lillian would camouflage herself in men’s clothing and scavenge in the town for whatever she could find. They all did their part, even the children.

  By nightfall, Tristan had washed, shaved and put on a change of clothes. He sat by Samuel for most of the night, listening for any sounds around them which could be construed as hostile. If the ladies felt any sense of relief having trained soldiers in the camp, they didn’t show it. These were tough individuals, survivors, who had learned to rely entirely on themselves. He had to respect that.

  During the night, Tristan couldn’t help thinking of Trinity. Angel. He smiled at that. He would have never thought to call Trinity an angel. He was far from that. All he knew was that Trinity had saved these people from his power hungry uncle. Trinity.

  Tristan rested his head against the wall and closed his eyes, concentrating on Samuel’s deep, even breathing. He could see him now in his mind’s eye, walking towards him, a smile on his way too handsome face.

  “Tristan. Take off your clothes.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. We’re in the middle of town.”

  Trinity grabbed him by the arm and dragged him behind a building. “Take off your clothes or I’ll rip them off.” He gave him that daring smile of his.

  “You’re insatiable. Animal,” but he was smiling, and his cock was so hard all of a sudden.

  “Yes,” he replied, reaching between his legs and cupping his balls in the palm of his hand through his pants. “I am, when it comes to you.” Trinity’s lips came down on his, and within seconds, he had him moaning.

  Trinity ripped at his shirt, spreading it open, pinning his arms out against the wall as he captured one of his nipples between his teeth. “I- want- to- fuck- you,” he breathed, in between licks and bites.

  Tristan’s head went back against the wall. “Yes, God, yes,” he cried out. Trinity opened the snaps on his pants, and ripped them down over his hips.

  “No underwear,” Trinity groaned, moving his mouth downwards now. “Oh Tristan…you devil.”

  Tristan laughed. He placed his hands in Trinity’s hair and pushed him down to his knees. “Suck it. Oh, God, yes, do that magic you do with your mouth and…oh God…yes, yes…Fuck yes…”

  When Trinity paused and looked up at him, a faint smile on his lips, Tristan felt like he was dying. His cock was close to bursting. Without warning, Trinity stood, yanked him around and pushed him over a container. His legs spread, his ass in the air, he heard Trinity undo his pants.

  Rough hands parted his legs even more. A tongue delved in between his ass checks and slowly laved his aching orifice in a tortuous rhythm. His entire body began to spasm. Trinity held him down, pinned against that container, his tongue dipping deeper inside of him. “Please,” Tristan begged. “Oh Please.” A hand began to play with his balls, tease his aching cock. The tongue was replaced by a finger, then two, in and out in a slow sensuous dance. He screamed, licked his lips, said his name. “Trinity, I love you.”

  “Are your tits aching, baby?”

  “Everything is aching…oh God, please…I’m going to…”

  Trinity put his arms around his chest, pinched his nipples brutally, pulling and tugging, then slicing him in two with his thick delicious cock. He always knew when Tristan had reached the edge. He always took him there, then, gave him glorious, sweet relief. He pounded him with his cock that night, his entire body shook with orgasm as he lay spent over that container.

  * * * *

  Tristan opened his eyes. He heard voices, shouting, then, someone screamed. He jumped up, discovering that his weapon was gone. It had been standing up against the wall in Barbara’s hut. Jesus Christ.

  Suddenly beams of light were shining in his face. Three Celest warriors in their traditional royal blue uniforms stood there in front of him. One of them pushed the others aside and stepped forward, a man in his forties with sandy blond hair. Roman Monahan. “Well, well, well, if it isn’t Tristan Coal, little Tristan Coal,” he sneered. “Someone informed me you were here, but I didn’t believe it.”

  Tristan cast a glance at Samuel. “He’s not well. He’s probably going to die anyway, so just take me.”

  “Well,” Roman Monahan announced, “if he’s going to die anyway, why not put him out of his misery?” He smiled, then raised his weapon and took aim at Samuel’s head. Tristan let out a shout and went to grab Monahan’s weapon and that’s when the other Celest warrior moved in and struck him hard in the head with the butt of his gun.

  * * * *

  Tristan moaned in pain as his eyes slowly opened. He raised a hand to his head. It came away sticky and wet. It was dark wherever he was, and he couldn’t see a damn thing. He was on the cold, hard ground, his legs curled under him. He went to move, discovering that his ankles were shackled, as well as his wrists. He managed to straighten his cramped legs out and hoist himself up against the wall. He sighed. Is this how he would die, in a cold dark place, alone? Maybe not. Maybe so
meone would take mercy on him and put him before a firing squad. He was, after all, the president’s son. When the aliens took over, they’d probably find his remains, and wonder who he was. He’d be buried in a hold somewhere. History would say that it was never discovered, what had happened to the only son of President Coal; the president who helped to bring about one of the major humanity disasters of all time…and for reasons unknown. How many times had he searched his memory for clues, any clue which would tell him what had happened between his father and Trinity’s. But perhaps, that’s not what preoccupied his mind the most. What hurt him was that Trinity walked out on him that night, and never looked back. It was true that Tristan’s father told Trinity he was no longer welcome there, but hell, neither of them had ever listened to their fathers. They loved each other. At least, Tristan loved Trinity, more than he loved his own soul, and Trinity just walked away. They never met again, not even in battle, which had been Tristan’s biggest fear, and greatest hope at the same time. He couldn’t have killed him. He couldn’t have touched a hair on his head. He fantasized about it in the early years, saw himself turn around and look into those eyes. A reunion, there amidst the terror, which would somehow bring about a miracle, stop the carnage. It was a fantasy of course but it was all he had. The thought that their love was so powerful, it could do anything. But Trinity never loved him, not the way Tristan once had believed. And now, he would never see him again. He’d never be able to ask him that one question he had longed to, the one question he had come up here to Celestial Ridge one last time to ask…that stupid, god damned question which now had gotten Samuel killed and put him here, in this dark, desolate place to die. Did you ever love me, Trinity? Tears now, bitter tears that he hadn’t cried since that night Trinity had stormed out of his room. They stung his face, dried there, a permanent reminder of how much he’d lost. He didn’t fear death. He welcomed it. He only hoped it would come swiftly. Be merciful, more merciful than love.