James sat for a lonely and quiet few hours in the holding cell, as it became apparent that this is what the room was. He looked around, counted the number of times the light on the camera blinked, tried to get himself untied, even tried singing to himself a bit, but nothing happened. No one came in, there was no sound from outside, nothing. Luna didn’t even show up. Finally, James simply fell asleep. There was no point in staying awake to be bored, for who-knows-how-long. He woke up to the door of the cell opening. Captain Markov walked in with a paper bag. She dropped this to the floor, and untied the ropes binding James’ hands.
“That’s your dinner. Enjoy. You’ll be getting one of those every day until we get to Kerioth, our planet. It’ll take ten days to get there, if we don’t encounter any problems on the way, so you might as well sit tight.”
With that, she walked out again, and the door closed and locked once more. James opened the bag to find a squished piece of some unrecognizable casserole, or something. He hesitantly ate a bit, and found, to his surprise, that it was rather tasty, despite its… mushed appearance. After this, he merely sat against the wall until he fell asleep again. This continued for the next two days. The Captain would throw in a bag of some food, which was different every day, and then she would leave without saying a word. On the third day since his capture, he spoke to her.
“What’s Kerioth like?”
Markov spun around, staring at him for a long moment. James thought she wasn’t going to answer, but then she spoke.
“It’s a lot like your earth, I suppose. It has beautiful cities, and powerful countries, vast forests, great wildernesses, and our ocean, Ceppiria.”
“Only one ocean?”
“Yes. We only have one continent on our planet, unlike earth, which has more. Our ancestors tell of the day the earth split on your planet, when the Great One sent floods across the whole land, and the continents drifted apart and became many. But there was the one man who saved the race by building an enormous ship to carry the people and animals of the Great One’s choosing through the floods. On our planet, we celebrate that the Great One never sent floods on our planet. You could say that your planet is just one big cautionary tale for those of Kerioth.”
“So you believe in God?”
“Yes, I would say I do. The Great One created our world as well as yours, and if I did not believe, that would make him no less real. If he were not real, I would not be here, either. Nor would you. Although, there are those who do not believe on our planet. The General is one of those.”
“Who’s the general?”
“He is the man who spoke to you when we captured you.”
“Oh, the Spock guy.”
Markov gave him a strange look.
“Sorry, earth reference. So, why did you capture me, anyway? I still don’t understand that.”
Markov stood.
“I think I’ve said enough for today. Eat your meal. It’s only another week until we arrive back in Taronia.”
And then she left.
The days began to fade together, the passing of time only marked by Captain Markov bringing James his food. When she came, she would tell him stories of Kerioth and the kingdom Taronia, as well as tales from her hometown, a small village called Falton, near the border of the kingdom, and at the edge of the great forest; the Elderwoods. These stories entertained James through the long hours that stretched out over the week, and taught him much about the culture of her home. The best story was of how she became a captain in the army. This story she told on the ninth day, as they were coming in sight of Kerioth.
“Yes, it is quite the tale, that is. You’ve heard about my home in Falton, so it should be clear I wasn’t raised to be a soldier. It took place when I was about fourteen years old. That was the year the Imperials took control of the kingdom, after the last king passed away. The new ruler wished to conquer surrounding countries, and so he began seeking out young, able-bodied men to fight his wars. The select guard he sent out finally came to Falton in the autumn of that year…
Torra Markov, aged fourteen, worked in her father’s shop, selling produce and tea. She enjoyed the busy life of the town, the friendly faces and kind words, the buzz of the townsfolk. This buzz was disrupted, however, one day, when the Imperial Guard came into town. Their commander stood in the middle of the town square and called out loudly,
“By order of his Mightiness, Lord Voraeigh, young men wishing to join the glorious Imperial Army shall immediately come to us and sign up this noon after the sun rises in its crest! We shall have a table open to those brave souls in the Barrel Ankle tavern for those who will sign our registration!”
Torra stood in front of her father’s shop, filling a display with apples, and heard the commander's cry. She snorted quietly, disdain in her eyes as she looked on the guard. They were all pompous, rich puppets, sons of merchants and nobility, no doubt, dressed up in shiny armor to impress the local folks. What would happen to those overblown rich boys when they saw actual battle? She doubted they had really ever fought for their lives before.
To be fair, she thought to herself, neither have I.
She took her empty basket back inside the shop, laying it aside as attended to some customers. She soon forgot about the soldiers, and carried on wit her day, which was otherwise uninterrupted, until that night at the dinner table. Torra’s father turned to his wife, Mira, and said,
“I have signed up for the army.”
The chatter around the table ceased, all eyes staring at the father.
“What?”
Jorgin Markov looked around at his family.
“Yes. Our king has died, it is true, but this new leader, Lord Volaeigh, seems an ambitious and hard-working man. I believe he will lead our kingdom to greatness.”
Mira laughed nervously.
“But there are many ways to support his work, without joining the army. Why must you go and do that?”
“My support would mean nothing but talk from here. From the battlefield, my support would be worthy of pride. You and Torra can run the shop without my help, I have faith. And the Great One will watch over me. You need not fear.”
Mira looked sorrowful, but she nodded.
“Very well then. We shall pray every day for your safety, my love. When are you leaving?”
“The soldiers will return to the capital in two days time, and I shall go with them.”
The rest of the meal was much-subdued and quiet. Torra seethed inwardly. How dare those primped-up jesters take her father away! How dare they use his brave loyalty to steal him from her! After dinner was done, Torra went outside for a walk. As she walked through town, she found herself at the edge of the great forest. She loved the forest. In spring, the sunlight would shine down through the newly-sprouted leaves and paint everything with green watercolors, in summer, it was cool and quiet, away from the heat and activity of the town square, in winter, it was still and peaceful, covered with a blanket of pure snow, undisturbed by human feet. And in Autumn, it was ablaze with the vibrant red and golden glory of the dying leaves. She entered the forest, and walked among the mighty tree trunks, breathing in the fresh air of the calm forest. Then she smelled something that did not belong. It was the smell of burning wood. She followed her nose to the source, a campfire deep in the forest. Around it, she saw some of the officers from the guard which had come in earlier. Why were they camped so far out of town? Why not stay at an inn? They were talking, discussing something that seemed of great importance. She stayed quiet and listened.
“That was the General’s order, was it not?”
“You don’t understand. If we did that, it would not only put our mission in jeopardy, it would destroy all chance of gaining the trust of these people. We can’t risk either at this point.”
“Then how are we to go about it? The General told us that no young man was to be left out, and unless we begin a draft, we cannot recruit all of them.”
“We are here for two more days. That’s plenty of time. Our mission is to kill the mayor, and if we stage an attack from a false enemy with too many of their young men, they will suspect something. We must be clever about this.”
Torra nearly gasped, but a hand clamped around her mouth. She turned to see her father standing there. She almost yelped in surprise, but it was hard with his hand over her mouth. he held a finger to his lips, and looked intently at the men around the campfire. They were still talking about their mission. Torra turned again to look, but slipped, knocking her knee against the tree trunk. The soldiers turned.
“Who’s there?”
Jorgin shoved Torra to the side, quickly leaping behind a different tree himself.
“There he goes!”
“Catch the spy!”
Torra silently stood up, retreating the tiniest bit to underneath a bush. The soldiers caught her father and dragged him into the light of the campfire. The commander stood up.
“I know you. You signed up at the tavern today, did you not?”
Jorgin did not answer.
“You did. I recall your face. Tell me, why were you spying on us?”
Still no response.
“You understand what you have heard and seen then? Well, if that is the case, then I’m afraid you know too much. Verus, my sword.”
Torra covered her mouth, watching in horror. The commander raised his sword high, and it flashed down, as if aflame as it reflected the campfire light.
The Captain’s story stopped abruptly as the door flew open. a crew member stood there, and called out urgently,
“Captain! We’re being fired upon!”
Captain Markov shot to her feet and raced out of the room after the crewman. The door slammed and locked behind them, and James could only sit and stare at the door in shock.
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