The Lost Enclave Page 9

  “Good evening, Nate,” she said.

  “Amara! What…I don’t…”

  “Might I come in? I had to sneak past while Barney was away from his post, and I assume I need not inform you how much trouble I would be in were I caught.”

  “Aye. Of course. Of course.” Nathaniel stepped aside and gestured in to the room with a hand that was trembling slightly.

  Amara nodded and walked past him. She sat down on the bed and Nathaniel felt his insides do the strange aerobics that had become the common reaction to spending time with her.

  “I haven’t seen you lately,” she said.

  “I know.”

  She frowned. “My family thinks they know what’s best for me,” she said. “And my mother…”

  “’Twas not your mother who convinced me to stay away,” Nathaniel said. “Your father spoke in realistic terms.”

  “Aye. I assumed as much. So you have been, what, working and avoiding running into me?”

  He did not respond.

  “Nate, have you ever given thought to what this all means?”

  “What what all means?”

  “This. Life. The world. All of it.”

  “Who says it has meaning? The nuns around the palace teach of the Prophet and the Klaus and the Christ baby. And that is all.”

  “And do you agree with that?” she asked.

  “Does it matter if I do? I have yet to see convincing evidence of anything else.”

  “Our time together hasn’t given you cause to think about what could be?”

  He sat down next to her and sighed. “You know that it has. Despite staying away, you have remained in my thoughts. You consume my thoughts.”

  She looked at him and smiled again. Tears glistened in her eyes but did not fall. “Nate, I want a different life than the one that I have fallen into. I want to choose a destiny that works for me, not just one that fits a mold, even if that path would assure prosperity for my future.”

  “Amara, I cannot provide you assurance of anything. I cannot bring you back to the palace.”

  “Aye. I know this. I just wish…”

  He sat up straight as an idea hit him. “What if I don’t return?”

  “To the palace?”

  “Aye. What if I don’t accept my powers back? What if I choose to continue my exile?”

  “Can you do that? Is that allowed?”

  He shook his head. “I do not care anymore about doing what is allowed. I do not want to follow the path I have been placed on.”

  She put her hand on his. “I cannot make you any assurances either,” she said. “Just that I would try my very best to make you happy.”

  “Of that I have no doubt,” he said. He leaned in and kissed her.

  They fell back together on the mattress. He pulled off her long coat, then the nightgown beneath it.

  He paused for a moment and looked at her. “Are you certain?”

  She pulled him to her and kissed him again.

  They made love twice that night, with barely a pause between. Every detail was sharp and emblazoned in his mind—the smell of Amara’s perfume, the salty hint of sweat on her skin as he kissed every inch of her. In those moments, it was as if the doors of his heart had been unlocked and flung open. Even if he was dooming himself to a finite existence in a perpetually deteriorating mortal body, he was more alive than he had ever been before.

  Afterward, they fell asleep, with Amara curled in his arms. In the morning, he awoke with the first light of the day. He watched her sleep and wondered what his parents would think when he told them he was not going to return. He supposed he could leave it up to his friends to relay the message, but his family deserved to hear it from him. He was not making this choice as a coward running from destiny and responsibility. He was making it as a mortal man who was brave enough to embrace a destiny that mattered, no matter what complications it would bring.

  Amara yawned and stretched her arms above her head. Her eyelids fluttered open and she looked at him and smiled. “Morning, Nate.”

  “Morning to you.”

  “Today is the day.”

  “Aye. I am supposed to check in at the Central Enclave at high noon.”

  “And will you?”

  “Aye. Telling them the truth is the right thing to do.”

  “Will your people understand? Your family?”

  He shook his head. “Doubtful. Yet it remains the right course of action. All of it. And you?”

  “What?”

  “What will you do? I assume you must inform your betrothed.”

  She groaned. “Ugh. Eli. Aye. I cannot imagine that will go well.”

  “Do you need me to stand with you? His temper is unpleasant.”

  “Nay. But thank you, Nate. I will be fine.”

  “And your parents?”

  She shrugged. “It will be as the Prophet wills.” She paused, then burst into laughter. She put a hand over her mouth. “Sorry! Just struck me funny to speak of the Prophet and his plans.”

  “I understand,” he said. “We need to find a way to get you out of here without Barney or your father seeing. This is not the way to properly present your intentions.”

  “Agreed,” she said. “Just make sure the path is clear for me in the lobby.”

  They dressed. Amara wrapped the large coat around herself and pulled it tight, hiding evidence of her night garments. Nathaniel gave her a kiss. “Lurk nearby around the corner,” he said. “Don’t come out until you hear me imply that the coast is clear.”

  “Aye. Thank you, Nate. Where will we meet?”

  “Find me outside the Central Enclave after the closing ceremonies. I will most assuredly need your comfort.”

  Nathaniel left his room and walked down the hall. He did not look back, but the soft patter behind him told him Amara was following at a safe distance. He rounded the corner to the lobby and saw Barney at the desk. Better that than dealing with Tyrus, he thought.

  “Good morning, Barney,” Nathaniel called with forced cheerfulness.

  “By the Prophet,” Barney said. “The hours you keep! And yet a frighteningly good record of service these last few days. Tyrus said yesterday was your last day. I will be sorry to see you go.”

  “Aye. This job was useful, and would be even more so in the days to come. But I’m afraid it is time to move on.”

  “You are a mystery, Nate. Where exactly will you go?”

  He thought to tell Barney the truth about his identity, since he assumed the man suspected anyway. Still, if Tyrus had not come right out with it, it was not for him to say. That brought a sinking feeling as he remembered the large man’s pleas. He felt guilty for what his new relationship with Amara would put her family through. Eli was capable of making life very difficult for all of them. But, he reminded himself, he had not made the decision for Amara. She was making her own choice, which was the true point of all of it.

  “I have not decided yet, to be honest with you,” he said. “I thought perhaps I would find work in one of the fishing facilities by the lake.”

  “A jack of many trades,” Barney said. “Well, it has been a pleasure, Nate.”

  “Would you do me a favor?” Nathaniel asked. “I think I may have left a small satchel in the back room.”

  “Aye, give me a minute.”

  Barney walked back into the storeroom and office behind the front desk, and Nathaniel called out. “Let me know if you see it back there! I’ll wait out here in case anyone comes by!”

  Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Amara appear. She flashed him another heart-warming smile and darted out the door. A minute later, Barney came back. “Sorry, Nate. Did not see a thing. You sure you left it back there?”

  “Ah, no worries,” he said. “I could be confused. Not important. Thank you for the help and for the kindness these past days.”

  “‘Course. Good day, Nate.”

  “Good day.”

  He went outside. Amara was already gone, headed home to fac
e the reality of her decision. It was time for him to do the same.

  11

  Nathaniel walked slowly toward the Central Enclave. His thoughts were still on Amara, and specifically what she would have to deal with at home. But there was nothing he could do to protect her, nor did she truly need his feeble protection. He had to look out for himself at that moment, and free his path so that it could merge with hers.

  He saw the walls and gates of the Central Enclave rise up in the distance. Already, villagers were flowing in to see the closing ceremonies. For many of them, it was one final chance to see the Great Ones before they were locked away in the palace. A young Great One would spend so long in the palace that by the time they emerged, many of the normals would have reached old age or would have passed away altogether.

  He was one of those normals now, he realized. His fate was tied up with theirs, and his course as short as theirs as well. By choosing to walk away from his gifts, he was giving up on thousands of years of life. Though, of course, the nature of the Great Ones’ decline was unknown and it was possible he would not have millennia to live under any circumstances.

  He reached the gate and smiled at the guard. “Young master Mansfield,” the guard said. “How was the exile?”

  Nathaniel simply smiled and nodded as he rushed past. He knew that was rude and dismissive, even if he did not care much for the guards and their role as Authority attack dogs. He just could not concentrate on conversation with strangers when there remained such important conversations to be had.

  He moved as quickly and quietly as possible toward the stage at the front of the palace courtyard. A hundred yards away, he was nearly bowled over by Patrick, who tackled him in an embrace.

  “Nate! By the Prophet, you remain alive! I was convinced you would have gotten yourself disemboweled with the foolhardy choices I hear you were making.”

  “Maxwell spoke to you.”

  “Aye! And such a tale he did tell. I thought I had seen and heard it all after my experiences of the past week. And yet I hear you were entertaining a relationship with a normal! A Great One and a normal. It makes the head spin to think you thought such a thing was possible.”

  “It will be possible,” Nathaniel said. “For I will not be returning to my status as Great One.”

  Patrick’s eyes grew wide. “You…are staying among the normals? You would refuse to return from exile?”

  “Aye. I am here simply to inform my parents and to register with the Authority as a normal citizen of the world.”

  “Nate…damn it all to hellfire, this is no joke! Do you not comprehend what you are suggesting?”

  “Of course I comprehend it.”

  “And this is over a girl? A normal girl?”

  “It is not just about her, Patrick. It is about being free to be who I want to be.”

  “Why does that matter? What is so bad about being who we were born into being?”

  “Our line is dying,” Nathaniel said. “We are the final struggling breath of something that was once eternal but is no longer.”

  “Very poetic,” Patrick said. “At the end of the day it comes down to a girl. Because you are choosing to see things the way you want to see them. If you had spent one day where I was this week—”

  “You think rolling with whores gives you an understanding of what a normal woman is all about?” Nathaniel asked. He had never in his life truly been cross with one of his friends, but Patrick’s brash, blind insinuations were infuriating.

  “Forgive me for not trying to convince myself that the whores mattered enough to be worthy of my sacrificing anything.”

  “Amara is not one of your brothel prostitutes,” Nathaniel said.

  “Clearly not. The prostitutes knew better than to try to lead me astray.”

  Without thinking, Nathaniel threw a wild punch. Unlike Eli, Patrick was not comfortable in a normal body and did not have the grace to avoid the blow. Nathaniel’s fist connected with the edge of his temple. He ducked down and dove toward Nathaniel with an angry roar. Nathaniel pounded his fists on his friend’s back as he was knocked down to the ground.

  The crowd gasped all around him and he heard whispers and shouts. “Look! The Great Ones! The young Great Ones are fighting!”

  The guards were on them, pulling them apart, but Patrick landed one final shot that split Nathaniel’s lip open. The blood trickled down his chin.

  “Fuck you, Nate,” Patrick called as the guards separated them. “Fuck you and your stupid pursuits. And fuck you for turning on me when all I did was care for my friend!”

  Nathaniel sighed. He looked for some sign of Maxwell, but if Max had been anywhere close, he would certainly have ducked away at the sight of the chaos. The crowd still gaped at him and Patrick.

  “There is nothing to see here,” he yelled at the onlookers. His pulse was thundering in his ears, and his anger was getting away from him. “Leave us be! Go back to your spots to see your show. Isn’t that why you are all here to begin with?”

  The crowd parted as one of the guards escorted Nathaniel toward the stage. He saw his parents appear in the distance. They looked concerned, as they tried to get a handle on what was occurring. To his knowledge, nothing so unsettling had ever occurred before a closing ceremony. That was to be his mark on the history of the Great Ones, then. Let it be a parting mark, he thought.

  Lana rushed to Nathaniel as he approached the stage.

  “Nathaniel! What happened? Why is your face bleeding? What in the name of the Prophet have you been doing that caused all this uproar?”

  “Ma’am,” the guard holding Nathaniel by the arms said, “your son attacked another of the exiles.”

  “Attacked?” Drystan’s voice boomed. “Nathaniel, what did you do?”

  “Patrick insulted me, father,” Nathaniel said. His voice sounded weak and shaky. He was already regretting his bravado and foolish confidence. Somehow he had convinced himself he could march to the stage and declare to the world that he was leaving his life as a Great One behind. Now, face to face with his parents, he could barely speak.

  “Insulted you?” Lana asked. “You are best friends. Like brothers!”

  “Things are changing, mother,” Nathaniel managed. “I am changing.”

  “What does that mean?” Drystan asked.

  The crowd continued to murmur and point as a battered Patrick took the stage and was greeted by a stunned Maxwell. Nathaniel noticed that Max had found the opportunity to clean himself, and therefore looked far better than Nathaniel or Patrick.

  “Father, mother,” Nathaniel began quietly, “I need to tell you—”

  “Tell them all!” Patrick yelled. He pointed a finger at Nathaniel. “Tell everyone here how you want to throw away your entire life for a normal woman!”

  There was a gasp from the crowd, as if they spoke as one.

  “What is he talking about?” Drystan demanded. “What is this game?”

  “It is not a game, father,” Nathaniel said. “I am in love with a woman from a small enclave not far from here.”

  “WHAT?” Drystan roared. “You cannot do this! You will not ruin our legacy! You humiliate your mother and me just by standing here spouting such nonsense. We are Great Ones, boy! Love has never been a priority.”

  “Drystan,” Lana said, putting her hand on her husband’s shoulder, “surely Nathaniel’s mind has been overcome by the experiences of the week. He is only normal right now and you should not expect him to make decisions the way we would.”

  Drystan considered her words. “You are correct,” he said at last. “Nathaniel, this is not your fault. Once the ceremony is complete, you will see things the way they actually are.”

  “I will not be completing the ceremony,” Nathaniel said.

  “Of course you will,” said Drystan.

  Nathaniel turned and jumped off the stage. He fell into a pack of onlookers who dropped him to the ground. He got up as fast as he could, ignoring the painful bruises blossoming seemingly
everywhere on his body, and ran, pushing through the audience.

  People grabbed at him, perhaps to stop him, perhaps just to touch a Great One. He did not know nor care. He ran blindly, pushing forward with his arms in front of him, until finally he reached the back of the rows of people.

  He heard all the noise and commotion from behind him, and he ran away from it. His heart and lungs were on fire, overworked by stress and exertion. His legs pounded away at the ground, muscles and joints straining in a way that his blessings should never have allowed.

  He burst through the entrance to the Central Enclave. There, in the distance, he saw the love of his life. Amara was waiting with open arms. Nathaniel crossed half the distance to her. Suddenly, he felt a tingle throughout his body. A small shock of energy that made his muscles seize. He fell forward and smashed his head into the ground. He heard the briefest hint of Amara crying out for him, then there was nothing.

  Nathaniel awoke on a cot. Its rough springs dug into his back, but the discomfort was distant. He sat up, expecting to feel lightheaded, but he felt fine. He looked around. He was in a small, single-room cabin. A fishing lodge.

  Nathaniel stood up. He was dressed the same as he had been before his blackout, and the blood from his split lip still stained his shirt. He touched the lip. There was no pain. No puffiness. He looked at his arms. There were no bruises.

  Nathaniel felt despair settle in as he began to understand. He closed his eyes and tried to feel the sensation of cellular decay that had so frightened him at the start of his exile. There was nothing. He felt incredible, and that realization was horrible.

  The door opened, startling him from his thoughts. Amara stood in the doorway, smiling her perfect smile. “You’re awake!” she said.

  “Aye. I know not what happened to me.”

  “Well, I do. You fell. I dragged you to a wagon I stole from the enclave. And the horses were good enough to bring us here.”