The Lost Enclave Page 6

  “Nor I,” Maxwell said.

  “Well, I am in favor,” Patrick said. “Look at this sorry existence we have. There is nobody of our generation but us! The Great One wombs are bare, and certainly do not seem destined to provide us with wives. If I am doomed to wander the world alone, I am going to make the most of this week, and I am going to kick it off with the biggest celebration our people see fit to throw for us.”

  “You have given this far too much thought,” Nathaniel said.

  “And you give it far too little,” Patrick replied. “Both of you. You dismiss my concerns because I am so often light of heart, and overwhelmingly handsome, but I am right to ask what future awaits us. What is the plan for our race?”

  “You waited until we were made normal to consider the plight of the Great Ones?” Maxwell asked.

  “Never had much reason to consider it before,” Patrick said.

  “The grace of the Prophet will see us through,” Maxwell said. “There have always been Great Ones and there always will be. Neither the deaths nor the lack of births portends the end of our line.”

  “Bullshit,” Patrick said. “That is exactly what those things portend. Am I not correct, Nathaniel?”

  “I know not,” Nathaniel said. “But perhaps it is not a terrible thing to celebrate a little.”

  “You see?” Patrick slapped Nathaniel on the back. “This will be wonderful for us and a good boost to community morale.”

  “And where will you go when we are exiled tomorrow?” Nathaniel asked. “Where will you spend the week?”

  “I will spend it in the brothel along Crystal Pointe Boulevard,” Patrick said proudly.

  “Seriously?” Maxwell asked.

  “Quite seriously,” Patrick said.

  “Crystal Pointe is the most disreputable part of the central enclave,” Nathaniel said.

  “Exactly,” Patrick replied. “I want to experience life in a way that isn’t available to us in this palace.”

  “Disgusting,” Maxwell said. “I’m going to explore the woods. Spend time in nature.”

  “And when you get hungry?” Patrick asked.

  “I will deal with that when I deal with it,” Maxwell said. The look on his face told Nathaniel that he had not considered where he would get food. Being an immortal living in a palace provided shelter from the realities of the world. That was, of course, the very point of the weeklong exercise. They were to see how life was for the normals so they could understand the people who made up the bulk of the world.

  “What about you, Nathaniel?” Patrick asked. “What do you have in mind for our vacation?”

  “I thought I might go to one of the lesser enclaves. Volunteer myself for whatever work is available.”

  Patrick looked disgusted. “You wish to work during our vacation? Nathaniel, my friend, you are very confused.”

  “I wish to contribute in some way while learning how the normals work within the enclaves. Is that so ignoble?”

  “I think it is a nice idea,” Maxwell said.

  “Of course you would,” Patrick said. “You who plans to wander in the wilderness like the Klaus. You are both insane.”

  Nathaniel walked into the hall where the banquet had been prepared. For well over a week, the Authority’s selected normals had worked within the palace, decorating the giant room with splendor befitting the occasion. It had been a lifetime since the previous generation of young Great Ones had gone through the rite of passage, and with uncertainty surrounding the future of the race, everyone was eager to focus on celebration.

  He saw his parents at the long table that served as the focal point of the room. Maxwell’s and Patrick’s parents were there as well, honors bestowed on the only families that had been able to produce a continuation of the line.

  Nathaniel waved, and his parents waved back. Their smiles were broad and true, and that alone set his mind at ease. He was doing something that brought joy to the others of his kind, and he would use that time to serve the normals. It all made sense and was quite satisfactory to him, even if he had no interest in being one of the guests of honor.

  He watched the attendees fill the hall. There was a time, or so he had been told, when the pre-exile celebration was overwhelmed by guests and spilled beyond the palace and down the main street of the central enclave. The Great Ones would mingle with the normals and share word of what was rumored to be said within the hall.

  Now there would be no need for such an overflow arrangement, and no worry about Great Ones in the street mixing with normals. There were sixty-three Great Ones left. Enough for a party, yet nothing like the hundreds who had once existed. In a world where the population often sat around twenty thousand, nearly five percent of that number was supposed to be comprised of Great Ones. It was the reason the central enclave had existed in the first place, other than to serve as administrative headquarters for the Authority. There wasn’t enough room in the palace to house everyone, and so only the most noble bloodlines lived within its structure, while the rest occupied select spaces within the enclave walls.

  Nathaniel’s family had always been in the palace, and they had accepted the arrival of other Great Ones as the numbers diminished. His parents did not speak to him about what was happening to their people. As far as Nathaniel could tell, nobody spoke much about it at all.

  He arrived at the table and bowed to his father. Drystan, reigning patriarch of the house of Mansfield, greeted his son happily. “Proud day for our family, Nathaniel,” he said.

  “Aye, that it is, sir.”

  “Say hello to your mother, boy.” To his wife, Drystan said, “Be careful hugging the boy, Lana. He is only normal, after all.”

  His mother took him in a firm embrace, but Nathaniel could tell she was heeding her husband’s warning. She likely would have anyway. Lana was a worrier when it came to her son, and this was the first time there had truly been any danger in his path.

  “You will be safe this week, won’t you?” she asked Nathaniel.

  “Aye, mother. Of course.”

  “I want you returned to me in one piece,” she said.

  He smiled and nodded.

  His family sat and chatted with the other head families, while Nathaniel and his friends did their job and remained silent, smiling at the audience as dinner was served and consumed.

  Finally, it was time for the leader of the Authority to speak. The Authority’s leadership had come and gone over the years. There had been three different leaders just in Nathaniel’s lifetime, though he only remembered the most recent two. The first had been an old man who died while Nathaniel was a toddler. The second had vanished just six years into his term. There had been many rumors of foul play, pervasive enough that even the younger generations had heard them. But time has a way of diminishing concerns, and so it was with the investigation into the death of Franco, son of Lyndon. A man named Siegfried had assumed control of the Authority proper, though the individual enclaves retained their representatives. Siegfried had ruled the world for most of Nathaniel’s life. The young man was determined to leave his mark. He had consoled Nathaniel after the death of his teacher, and had remained in touch with the young members of the Great Ones throughout his tenure.

  Siegfried approached a podium next to the long table. He raised his hand and the chatter in the room fell to hushed whispers almost immediately. Nathaniel watched with curiosity and no small amount of admiration for the normal who could command the attention of a room full of invulnerable beings.

  “Ladies and gentlemen,” Siegfried began. “This is a very special day for you, and I dare say it is a very special day for me as well. It is the first time in my life that a generation of young Great Ones has experienced the journey that awaits these three young men, and so it is also the first such event to take place under my leadership of the Authority and the world. It is an honor to be here among all of you, and an even greater honor to be given the chance to say a few words as we send our hopes for the future of the Grea
t Ones out into the world with Nathaniel, Patrick, and Maxwell.”

  Siegfried turned to the three young men. “It is strange to see them sitting here, the future of the Great Ones, and yet they are mortal just like me. But I suppose that is how it works, is it not? At any rate, these young ones will wander the world for a week and then return to have their abilities restored. Of course, we do our very best to make sure they are treated with the utmost respect and care as they go about their business, whatever that may be. Let all who hear or repeat my words understand: no normal should attempt to do harm to these Great Ones!”

  Heads nodded all around the room. The close-knit and shrinking community of Great Ones muttered appreciation for the Authority’s web of protection that would ensure safe passage.

  At the conclusion of the festivities, Drystan took Nathaniel by the shoulders and looked him in the eyes. “Son. Get your rest tonight. Tomorrow begins the rest of your existence. And you will bring honor on this family.”

  “Aye, father. I will.”

  Drystan’s face turned serious, and he pulled Nathaniel closer. “Listen to me,” he said quietly. “Be careful who you choose to interact with out there. The world is a confusing place for normals. You are one of them now but you are also not of them. You will have a target painted on you.”

  “Siegfried decreed we should be respected and treated well,” Nathaniel said.

  “Aye, so he did. But just the same, you watch out for yourself. And I understand you are not to interact with your friends if possible, but if you have the chance to cross their paths, watch out for them as well. Our line is not what it was, and the Authority knows this.”

  “What does that mean, father?”

  Drystan’s smile returned. “Never mind all that. Say goodnight to your mother and return to your quarters.”

  Nathaniel bounded out of bed the next morning. His mortal body did not have the same endless energy that he had always known, but he was still young and strong and that counted for something. Eagerness and excitement drove him as he dressed and ate breakfast. He walked to the palace gate with Patrick and Maxwell. Max looked nervous, but Patrick was almost feverish with delight.

  “It is time!” Patrick declared. “Boys, this is the week we truly become men.”

  “Great,” Maxwell said. “Just try not to become a man with too many women, okay?”

  “I am a Great One,” Patrick said with a small curtsy. “I simply must achieve great things. Enjoy the trees, Maxwell. And you, Nathaniel, enjoy wasting your holiday with brute labor.”

  With that, Patrick trotted off past the gates and down the path through the central enclave. Nathaniel turned to Maxwell. “Be good,” Maxwell said. “Be true to your character, Nathaniel.”

  “I shall. And you do the same.”

  They shook hands and went separate directions. Nathaniel carried the knapsack of goods he was allowed to bring with him as he began exile. The food inside amounted to a typical lunch, though he imagined he could stretch that across two or maybe even three meals if it became necessary.

  Relying on the kindness and generosity of the normals was not strictly forbidden, but it was certainly discouraged. Nathaniel promised himself he would only ask for handouts if he needed them to survive, and he would seek as soon as possible to begin work that would return some kind of benefit to the people.

  He walked out of the palace courtyard and looked at the throngs of normals along the sides of the street. A sorry parade we make, he thought. There was already no sign of his friends, and he could see the normals getting ready to pack up their things and go home now that the last Great One was passing by.

  Nathaniel walked slowly, conserving the strength that he understood was not going to last him if he attempted to maintain a quick pace across the enclave. It took him nearly an hour to exit the central enclave, after which he stopped to rest, sitting cross-legged in the grass. He was tired. Already. The thought both fascinated and frustrated him. It was astonishing to think that normals lived like that all the time, even young, healthy ones. And he was disappointed as he began to understand that the exile would not be life as a Great One without all the pressure that came along with the designation.

  As he stood, the crowd of normals leaving the central enclave spread around him. He reached for his knapsack, and accidentally bumped into someone walking past. “Forgive me, sir,” he said as he backed away. His foot snagged on the root of a nearby tree, and he fell down. His mind called out to his body but the reflexes were no longer in place. He bumped his shoulder as he fell and cried out in pain.

  Suddenly, a face appeared over him. It was a young woman, her blonde hair flowing across her beautiful face with the wind. She smiled at him and put out a hand to help him up.

  “Thank you,” he said as she helped him to a sitting position. She crouched down next to him.

  “Welcome. Got yourself all turned around leaving the parade, I see. Did you catch a glimpse of the Great Ones?”

  “I am…well…” He found himself befuddled by her smile. Later on he would wonder why he lied, and he would think of that smile and know that rational thought had left him. “Nay,” he said. “I missed the whole thing.”

  “I missed it as well,” she said with a sigh. “What did we really expect, with such a crowd gathering? Never seen you around my enclave. What’s your name?”

  “Nate,” he said. “And yours?”

  “I’m called Amara.”

  8

  Amara continued to smile as she walked away, looking over her shoulder two times as she disappeared into the distance. Nathaniel watched her go. It was unlikely their paths would cross again, and it shouldn’t matter. But there was something about her that stuck with him as he continued on his way across the open lands.

  Once Amara’s face had faded a little in his mind, his thoughts turned again to the journey ahead and what it would mean to spend a week as a mortal man. He was clumsy and awkward without his abilities, and the pain of his fall remained with him even an hour later since his body did not have its usual healing capability.

  He did not understand what the ritual had done to him and his friends, or how it was possible for the Great One abilities to be removed, but he already had a new appreciation for the skills and gifts he had always taken for granted. There had been an ever-present hum in his thoughts; a low murmur of something outside him. Now that voice was gone, and his own thoughts had to rush in to fill the void. It was both confusing and frustrating.

  He was deeply winded by the time he arrived at the entrance to the nearest of the smaller enclaves. He had wanted to venture far from the core of the Great Ones and the Authority, but he could not make it any farther with his damned mortal body sputtering and struggling to keep walking.

  Nathaniel smiled meekly at the guards posted at the gate. He did not suspect they would recognize him, though he imagined they would be aware that the young Great Ones were out in the world.

  He walked into the enclave and took a deep breath. His legs burned from hours spent walking, and everything in him was craving sleep. What an odd sensation at such an early hour, when the sun remained high in the sky.

  He wandered down the main road in the center of the enclave. Enclaves came in a wide variety of sizes. None was as large as the Central Enclave, with many thousands of inhabitants, but there were a few that almost rivaled its size. This place he had wandered into was not one of those. It was comparatively tiny. He could see the back wall of the enclave in the distance. There were people around, though so few compared to the rush of humanity in the Central Enclave even on a normal day.

  He identified an inn and made his way to the front door. He approached the counter and saw an older man of enormous proportions. Nathaniel looked up at least a foot to meet the man’s eyes.

  “Good day, sir,” Nathaniel said.

  “Aye, a good day it is,” the man bellowed. “Need a room, son?”

  “Aye. I have no money and would like to offer my services aroun
d this establishment.”

  The man considered him with suspicion. “No money? You a runaway? Or…you wouldn’t be one of the Great Ones on exile?”

  Nathaniel thought about being honest. He supposed not everyone would react favorably to him if they knew who he was, but chances were good he would receive at least some kindness. That went against the purpose of the exile. He wanted to handle the honor of the exile in a respectful and appropriate way, and that meant finding ways to survive without an unearned helping hand from others.

  “I am neither, sir,” he said. “I am simply attempting to learn a new craft.”

  The man’s thick eyebrows scrunched together. “Then you are a runaway, rejecting your chosen guild. You’ll find no haven here.”

  “Sir, I can prove myself,” Nathaniel said.

  “Nay. Be gone, boy. Do not make this unnecessarily complicated.”

  “Very well,” Nathaniel grunted. He turned and left the inn without another word.

  He looked up and down the street. Where could he go? The inn had seemed the most likely opportunity since beds were not in short supply. It was unlikely the enclave held another such place. Without that obvious destination he was stumped. He hunched down and ate the last of his food in ravenous gulping swallows. Finishing his meal, he wandered down the street, keeping a slow pace so as not to further exhaust his body. The sun dropped lower in the sky, and the enclave took on the glow of early twilight.

  He talked to several more people on his walk, inquiring about work opportunities. Nobody seemed to know anything that could help him, or perhaps they just didn’t care. Everyone he spoke with looked rushed and a little afraid of his directness. Nathaniel saw a cluster of wine casks along the side of a restaurant and slumped behind it out of sight of the main street. His left leg kept cramping, despite his continued massages and rest breaks. He had jumped into such extensive travel with no experience as a normal, and he was paying the price. He cursed himself for such ignorant behavior, and for heading off into the unknown without an organized plan of action. He had assumed the innkeeper would take pity on him without knowing his true station, or perhaps the man would just be eager for help. None of that had happened and now he was confused and lost.