8 - MESHIRÉ

8

MESHIRÉ

          Her feet rapidly hit soft wet earth as she hysterically fled for her life.  All about her people cried and screamed, and the smell of burning flesh filled her senses.

          They'd attacked without warning, and she didn't even know who they were.  But they brought death with them, and she could only begin to hope that her family was safe.  Her village was small, only a little over a hundred people lived here, but on foot it could take quite some time to get from one place to another.  Despite the low population the buildings were quite far apart, especially if certain homes housed farmers.

          She had been at the river collecting water to be purified when she heard the sounds of explosions, weapons fire, and the screams of the wounded.  She'd dropped everything and cautiously made her way to her town's limits where she discovered what was happening.  She didn't truly know, however, for she was young and not as knowledgeable of the galaxy in which she lived.  Once she saw the horrors these evil men and women were inflicting upon her home she sprinted in the direction of her house, not caring if she was seen or injured along the way.  All that mattered was whether or not her family was still alive.

          Her mother and father loved her very much, and she them, but she was most concerned with her little brother.  He was still young and quite helpless, and she could never live with herself if something happened to him through her absence.

          Her legs and feet ached as she pushed them to carry her further, faster, her muscles starting to ache in complaint and a pain in her side swelled as her lungs struggled to keep up.  Dirt and sweat covered her face, her hair matting to it, but she didn't care at all.  Her goal was all that mattered to her, and nothing short of her own death would stop her.

          Everything about her was a blur, but she couldn't help but see the atrocities committed here.  People she knew, her friends and their families, lie butchered in the street, their homes burning.  She saw none of the attackers along the way, a fact she paid no mind to, her thoughts only on her family.

          After what felt like ages she finally saw her home, burning just like the rest.  Tears welled up in her eyes but she didn't slow her pace until she was at the door.

          "Mama!  Papa!  Egi!"  No sounds came from within.  Her heart was pounding, from fear and from the exertion.  Slowly she opened the door and tried to peer through the smoke as it poured out.  Her eyes stung and her throat itched, but she wouldn't let that stop her from saving them if she could.  She grabbed the collar of her shirt and placed it over her nose and mouth, something she'd seen grown ups do when they put out fires.  

          She could barely see through the smoke and her tears, but there was no way she would turn back now.  She squinted and scoured the main room of her home, where the vast majority of her family's indoor time was spent, moving slowly.  She still heard nothing but the crackle of flames as the wood and acrylic house burned.

          She stepped in a pool of something viscous, and focused her sight downward.  She'd found her mother and father, lifeless and wide eyed, laying in pools of their own blood.  She wanted to scream, but with all the smoke in the air she knew she couldn't.  She looked vigorously for any signs of her brother, but Egersi was nowhere to be found.  At that moment she decided she no longer wanted to be here and moved to the door as fast as she could without tripping over rubble.

          She turned and, through her tears, saw a figure slowly walking around outside, and she froze, praying whoever it was couldn't see her through the smoke.  She dropped to her hands and feet as quickly and quietly as she could, and slowly crawled to the wall separating her from the outside.  She stopped and leaned against it, just under the window, straining her ears to hear footsteps if she could.  There was nothing save the sounds of the flames eating away at her home.  She couldn't stay there forever, otherwise she'd suffer a similar fate as her parents.  She had to decide which was better, burning alive or being killed by the evil man outside.

          Very slowly she rose, just enough to barely peek over the window sill and get a look at the man.  His back was turned to her, but he was turning to survey the area.  Perhaps her cries and her coughs had prompted his investigation of the immediate area.  He continued to turn around, his long, tattered black robes rippling in the breeze.  A similarly tattered black hood covered his head and hung low over his face.  He stopped turning around, yet thankfully he didn't seem to be looking in her direction.  She couldn't get a good look at his face because a scary silver mask covered it, and his eyes glowed with a ghostly bluish green.

* * * * *

          "Meshiré!"

          Her head shot up at the sound of her name, her consciousness returning to reality.  Right away she noticed her neck was sore from sleeping upright, but she ignored it as she turned and looked at the one whom had woken her.  Her eyes met those of her fellow Iron Warden Ehren, the only other female that shared her position, despite being much older.

          "The Grand Marshall's about to take the stage and you're sitting here sleeping?"

          "Apologies, Ehren. It won't happen again."

          "Pray it doesn't.  Come on."  Ehren turned and left Meshiré alone in their barracks room, allowing her to be alone with her thoughts for a moment.  

          She ran her fingers through her shoulder length dirty blonde hair, and noticed she had been sweating.  She looked at her hands and there was some bruising on her palms, apparently from clenching her fists too hard.  She got up from the chair and walked over to a mirror hanging upon the wall opposite, her reflection staring back at her with deep blue eyes from sunken sockets.  She hadn't gotten much sleep the past few days, after the bombings several accusations and threats had been made against the Grand Marshall, Derrin Sumari, and she grew worried.  

          She cupped her hands under the faucet and washed the sweat from her face, jolting her awake with the icy feeling of the water.  She had a bad feeling about the ceremony to begin with, but the dream she'd just had made her even more uneasy.  She didn't have it often, but when she did, it was so vivid it was almost as if she was there again.  She could feel the heat on her skin, smell the bodies burning, feel the fear of the little girl she'd once been all over again.

          They'd found her days later, starving, living amongst the rubble of her old village searching for evidence of her brother's fate.  She never found anything, but she was told there was no way he survived.  The barbarians that sacked the village left none alive, yet didn't seem to be after valuables, food, or slaves.  In fact they seemed to leave no trace, and despite the Grave Marshall's best efforts, the raiding party was never identified nor found.  It seemed to be a random act of violence, and it was beyond Meshiré's comprehension that anyone in a modern society could be so animalistic, so blood drunk.  Some time after, supposedly stories of what had happened had reached the recently elected Grand Marshall, and he'd met Meshiré personally to hear her version of the tale.  He let her live in his palace for several weeks after that, and she was seen after by his attendants for all of her wants and needs.  She'd never met a nicer man, and never selfishly took advantage of his hospitality.  During her time with him she'd met members of his personal guard, the Iron Wardens, and decided that when she was old enough she'd join them, so that she could repay Derrin Sumari for his kindness.

          And so here she was, dressed in the deep red and gold ceremonial robes of the Iron Wardens, prepared to lay down her life for her Grand Marshall.  She turned to leave the barracks room and join with her fellow Wardens, grabbing her ceremonial helm from her rack.  She never cared for this particular piece of headgear, as it covered much of her face, but it was tradition, and hopefully she wouldn't be wearing it for much longer.  It was polished red and gold to match her robes, and only left space about the eyes and mouth exposed.

          On her way out the door she grabbed her ceremonial halberd from a weapon rack, its haft red but its blade silver.  She had always found this odd since silver isn't found on any other part of the ceremonial uniform, but she never questioned.  It was a simple blade from a simpler time, a lone remnant of an age before space travel and plasma weapons.   She quickly slid her helm over her head and tucked any loose, wet hairs away from her face as best she could, hurrying towards where the rest of the Wardens, and her Grand Marshall, were waiting.

          Meshiré strode through the passageways of Sumari's palace, which was built in the center of Adara's largest city.  It was simple, lacking the lavish decorations and opulence other people in power were said to have.  The previous Grand Marshall lived in some far away place, removed from the bustle of the city, but when Derrin Sumari took the title, he tore down several buildings that had long ago fell into disuse and decay.  After a few years, the worst part of the city was turned into one of the most beautiful, and crime seemingly disappeared.  He turned the economy upside down, and brought the people of Adara out of poverty and hunger.  He was so well loved by his people that they voted to exempt him from the laws that put a ten year limit on holding the title of Grand Marshall.  He nearly refused, however, and it took his family, and, as Meshiré liked to think, her imploring that he stay to change his mind.  

          It had been twelve years now since she'd first met Derrin, and a little over thirteen since he'd been elected Grand Marshall.  She'd all but forgotten about her life before becoming an Iron Warden, and before that a member of the Defense Corps, having finally come to peace with her tragedy, so it made no sense to have that dream now.  It served no purpose except to add to her unease, and she did her best to put it in the back of her mind and forget about it.

          A few minutes of walking through the palace and she arrived at a common room near Derrin's personal chambers where the rest of the Iron Wardens were waiting.  A dozen red and gold faces turned to look at her as she entered, the flat expressions on the masks betraying the range of looks beneath.

          "My apologies for my delay, brothers and sister." Meshiré had been long used to the formal speech the Wardens employed, yet always felt so awkward when she used it herself, being from a small farm village after all.  Nobody ever teased her about it or anything, but the feeling was still present.

          "There is still some time to spare, young Meshiré," Hambardt lent a faint smile through his mask as he spoke, "the Grand Marshall is still readying himself in his chambers."

          "Ah, very well."  Meshiré was relieved that she hadn't delayed Derrin, and had some time to catch her breath.  She noticed the sound of the crowd after a moment, her focus on reaching the common room seemed to have drowned it out at first.  Someone else was speaking, she wasn't sure whom, and the crowd was cheering from time to time.  She began to fidget, adjusting her uniform to make it a little more comfortable to stand in, especially in the warmth of the day.  Inside was well cooled, but the common room they were in had doors that were opened to the outside where the speech was to take place.  Meshiré started to sweat inside her helmet, and went to remove it until she noticed that none of the other Wardens had removed theirs.

          One of her brothers moved in front of her and regarded her with a look of slight distaste.  "Something wrong, cub?"  It was Logan, one of her fellows she had never really gotten along with.  Many of the other Iron Wardens had been in the military all their lives, and felt that to "bear the red" as they called it was one of the most prestigious acts in all of the Coalition.  When Derrin decreed that Meshiré were to become one after only being in the Defense Corps for three years, many of them spoke openly against it.  She knew Logan was one of them, as well as Ehren and Rossi, but Hambardt and Blackette had never given her any problems.

          "Nothing is wrong, Logan, it's just a little hot in here."

          "A small sacrifice in service of our Grand Marshall.  A few drops of sweat is a fair penance for your tardiness." Logan moved away after his rebuke, allowing Meshiré to reflect upon her actions.

          "Indeed."  Her eyes moved to the floor during her light scolding.  She had been reprimanded countless times before, mostly in the Defense Corps, but this was the first time in the Iron Wardens where she was truly at fault.

          "It is pretty warm in here." Hambardt proceeded to reach up and remove his own helmet, revealing sweat dripping from his own forehead and hose.  He was older than Meshiré, as they all were, with short brown hair with some graying at the roots.  His face was square, but hardly wrinkled, and he sported a graying chinstrap beard.

          "Indeed so."  Blackette followed suit, removing his helmet as well, his shoulder length auburn hair clinging to his face and neck.  Both glanced Meshiré a friendly smile at this, while the others, through their body language, seemed to object.

          "We're no good to the Grand Marshall if we succumb to heat exhaustion."  Hambardt looked to his fellow Wardens, especially Meshiré, the faintest playful wink momentarily gracing his face.  "Everyone remove your helms, and relax your robes if that's not enough."  Hambardt was the oldest of the Wardens, effectively making him their leader in Derrin's absence.  He was also the kindest, and, apart from Derrin, the man Meshiré looked up to the most.  He had personally come to congratulate her and welcome her to the Wardens when she was appointed.

          One by one, her crimson brothers and sister removed their helms, each revealing sweaty, flushed faces.  Meshiré followed suit, silently relieved and thankful for Hambardt's kindness.  Logan and Ehren even followed his suggestion by unbuttoning the first two or three top buttons of their robes.  Meshiré considered the same, but her helm was really the only thing contributing to her discomfort.

          An awkward silence ensued for a moment after this, the sounds of the rally outside continuing to echo through the room.  Meshiré thought about Derrin's speech and grew worried.  She believed a public speech like this with only his personal guard was a recipe for disaster, but he'd told her that he would not openly show cowardice.  His people needed their leader to stand firm during such times, he said, otherwise what kind of leader was he?  She still didn't like the idea, especially since he was one of the few people she looked up to, trusted, or respected.  But what the Grand Marshall says, he does, and there was nothing Meshiré could say or do, despite their friendship, that would sway him.

          After several minutes, a man from Derrin's administration that Meshiré vaguely recognized appeared from outside, signaling the Wardens that it was nearly time for the Grand Marshall to appear.  Hambardt nodded to the man, then turned and headed towards the door to Sumari's chambers, lightly knocking before entering.  The rest of the Wardens then proceeded to fix the relaxations they'd applied to their uniforms, obviously wishing they'd had more time before having to do so.   A moment later Hambardt returned to the common room, followed by the Grand Marshal himself, whom had retained his youthful, positive appearance in the face of dark accusations.

          The Wardens then instinctively lined up as their Grand Marshall prepared to make his entrance to the stage.  He took his time to look over each of them, brushing off dust from one's shoulders, and moving on to the next to adjust their helm.  He also struck up a bit of small talk between them, asking how their families were, or how they were doing with their hobbies.  He'd always been quite vocal with his respect for those who'd vowed to lay down their lives for him if need be, which only served to strengthen the bond between him and his personal guard.

          He then stood before Meshiré, whom had found herself looking towards the ground for reasons unbeknownst even to her.  Perhaps she didn't want him to see her so flustered, or maybe she was embarrassed for being so late, or possibly she still didn't truly believe that she belonged here, being surrounded by veterans with reputations far more impressive.  It was conceivable that it was a mixture of all three, but Meshiré would never want to fully express her feelings, especially to the man who'd given her so much, for fear of being viewed as ungrateful.

          "What troubles you?"  A gentle hand touched her chin and lifted her face to make eye contact with Derrin.  He smiled warmly at her, like her father had done when she scraped her knee as a child.

          "Nothing sire, just a bad dream."

          "Well, a dream is a dream.  You alone possess the strength to regard them as such or let them cloud your mind and control you.  Now gather your courage, and show the galaxy this dream doesn't control you."

          "Yes sire!"  With his words her mood took a sharp upturn, and all her doubts washed away.  Derrin moved along the line of his personal guard, then stood at the exit, waiting for his time to approach the stand.  The morning sunlight eclipsed him, and for a moment he appeared to her as almost prophetic, and she silently reaffirmed her vows to do all she could to protect him if the time came.

          Seconds later and they were all lined up behind him as he stood before the enormous crowd.  They all cheered as he made his entrance, and Meshiré had to do her best not to smile as the man she revered received the recognition he well deserved.  She was positioned a few feet behind him and to his right, but she could still see everything that was going on, and, from time to time, stole glances across the crowd and to Derrin himself as he began to speak.

          He stood, passionate and confident, before a simple podium outfitted with basic microphones connected to an equally basic amplification system.  He believed in simplicity and humility, never one to garnish himself with expensive clothing, and his home reflected such an ideal.  The crowd was literally gathered in front of his home, a home guarded mostly by the twelve Wardens.  It was only large enough to house himself, his family, his guard, and a few staff members comfortably.  But, since its construction, had been made the unofficial center of the city, and, in turn, the city had become the unofficial capital of Adara, and, by extension, of the Coalition. 

          "Good morning, my friends!"  Derrin spoke to his constituents not as a leader, but as an equal.  He could only say a few words before the crowd cheered so loudly yet again as to drown him out, forcing him to wait before continuing.  "There are some who would say I am not the man I claim to be.  There are some who say that my actions do no reflect my words.  The same people, I feel I can rightly assume, are those who wish to try and soil my name and implicate me as having been involved with the bombings on Masara.  A tragedy, I think we can all agree.  My response to my faceless accusers is this:  what do I gain from such a distant massacre?  On a world hundreds of thousands of lightyears away?"

          The crowd cheered loudly as he paused, to the point Meshiré thought her ears would burst, and couldn't help but wince at the slight pain.           

          "So, if you're listening, you spineless cowards,"  he turned to look at Meshiré for a moment, and before turning back to the crowd slipped her a quick wink.  

          He opened his mouth to speak but all Meshiré heard was a loud thump followed by distant thunder.  Just after warm blood splattered her face, and it took a moment to realize what happened as she witnessed her idol collapse to the ground.

          Screams erupted throughout the plaza and hell broke loose.  Meshiré paid none of it any mind, all she could do was stand there, frozen, and watch as Derrin bled out on the ground.  It felt as if her entire life were crashing down around her, and she was helpless to stop it.  Her legs moved on their own and a moment later she was on her knees, cradling him as the life slowly drained from hidangled limply  Her ceremonial pike clattered to the ground, forgotten in the heart of the moment.  Warm tears ran down her face, mixing with the spatters of his blood as they made their descent.  Blood poured from his lips as he gasped for breath, but she knew it was only a matter of time.  His heart had been shredded, the projectile having fully penetrated his chest.

          "Don't leave me," she pleaded, her tears falling onto his face as the life left his eyes.

          "Don't give up," his words stabbed through pained breaths and coughs of blood, "hope."  His body went limp and his head rolled back, his eyes shutting.  He was gone.

          Fear, anger, sadness, and despair mixed with countless other emotions within her, welling up like magma through a fissure.  Her heart hardened and her mind went numb.  Her lips widened as far as they could as a scream erupted from her mouth, then widened further.  Her vocal chords raked against each other, pushed to their limit, and she tasted blood in the back of her throat as another breath fuelled her anguish, and another, and another.

          Time seemed to stop, and Meshiré was oblivious to all around her.  She sobbed, her throat sore, as she looked down to the paling face of the man she loved.  At that moment she was a helpless little girl once again, desperately searching for signs of her little brother amongst ruined homes and scorched bones.  She wished it had been her, not this man, her only beacon of hope, because the pain he felt in his last moments was nothing compared to the pain she felt now.

          A hand grasped her shoulder, and she looked into the sad eyes of her fellow warden Blackette.  "We have to go now, child."  Meshiré pondered him for a moment as her mind returned to reality.

          "I'm not leaving him here."  She looked back to the still face of her Grand Marshall.

          "We'll take him to his chambers."

          Slowly and deliberately she put her feet under herself and rose, struggling to lift the dead weight of the man.  His neck rolled as her knee went from under it, and she staggered somewhat before fully catching her balance.  His arm dangled limply as she made her way back through the wide courtyard doors and into the common area.  She was careful not to hit his head or loose limbs on the door frame as she passed through, and turned towards his chambers right away.

          A figure in Warden crimson lay in the center of the common room, two people in paramedic uniforms huddled over.  Meshiré couldn't tell who it was right away, his or her face was hidden from view.

          "Will he be alright?" Blackette inquired towards one of the medics.  She looked up with blood on her face to answer.

          "We're not sure."  As she spoke, Meshiré saw that the injured man on the floor was Hambardt.  He had been standing directly behind Derrin, and had likely been hit with the same projectile.

          She didn't know her heart could sink any lower than it already had, but seeing her senior Warden lying on the floor in a pool of blood proved her wrong.  Tears returned to her eyes and she almost collapsed.  The only two people in her life that mattered had just been shot, and she was helpless to do anything.

          "He'll be alright, child."  Blackette tried his best to sound reassuring despite his own despair.  "He's been through much worse."

          It was the best hope Meshiré could hope for at that point.  She'd already lost one close to her, she didn't want to hang on the edge of despair waiting for another to do the same.  The two made it to Derrin's chamber doors, and Blackette opened it for her.  His wife wasn't inside, and Meshiré was grateful for the fact.  The last thing she wanted was to bear witness to more grief.

          She lay him on a simple bed within, and positioned his body in a more peaceful manner in an effort to preserve his dignity.  It was the least she could do for the man whom had given her so much.  But she would never forget the way he fell, shattered and broken like a poorly made doll.  Her tears returned yet again as she stared at Derrin's face.  She tore a still clean portion off of her robes and wiped the blood from his face. 

          "Come, child."  Blackette's soft, sympathetic voice stung at her.  How dare he suggest she leave his side?  He had no idea what she was going through.  She glared at him for a moment, prompting him to hold up his hand in supplication, despite holding a ceremonial pike in one and two in the other.  "I know it hurts, but standing there, wallowing in your own grief, is not what he would have wanted."

          "I told him not to."  She spoke through pained sobs.  "I told him it was too soon."

          "You wouldn't have been able to convince him otherwise, any more than Hambardt or myself."  He was right.  Derrin Sumari was nothing if not stubborn.  But it didn't make her feel any better.  She wanted to simply remain here and be by his side, and not talk to anyone else for the rest of her life.

          There was a commotion outside.  Blackette turned to see and hear what was going on.  

          "They've found where the shot came from, it seems."  He turned and looked back to Meshiré.  "Will you stay here?"

          She thought to herself for a moment, torn between the desire to remain and to possibly find out who had done this vile deed.  Derrin wouldn't have wanted for her to go out and seek vengeance, but now it seemed with him gone that revenge was all that was left for her.  Someone had pulled the trigger and taken him from her.  Someone else likely orchestrated the whole thing.  

          She would find out who, and drown them all in a sea of their own blood.