"The Beacon" by Rebecca LuElla Miller

Rebecca LuElla Miller

Zan's despair was more acute than the pain ripping through his shoulder. Being captured—being tortured even, because that cruelty was sure to come—was part of the risk. But even when he imagined all that could go wrong with a foray into enemy-held territory, he still expected to accomplish his mission.

Not that he believed he would necessarily play the key role. His part might be nothing more than distracting the sentries, freeing another volunteer to reach the artifact.

The guard holding Zan's arm behind his back yanked it higher. "Who else is with you?"

"I'm alone; I'm alone." His voice rose with his desire to keep the Darian from wrenching his shoulder out of its socket. Besides, he was alone now, more so than ever before.

A second guard toed the lifeless body of Zan's section leader. "This one's dead. Do we kill that one, too?"

Another Darian sauntered in front of him. "Didn't the commandant say he wanted any assailants on the citadel taken alive?"

The guard holding Zan's arm snorted. "The commandant. What he wants is to look good for His Most Honorable."

"You think His Most Honorable wants prisoners instead of bodies?"

The guard pushed his knee in Zan's lower back. "He wants control of Glesia. The commandant is desperate to learn whatever he can about the resistance."

The guard in front of Zan crossed his arms. "That one will talk, right Drigo? You have a way with prisoners."

The guard beside the bodies smirked. "He looks too frail to hold up under examination."

"He squeals like a felling bird. Listen." The guard pinning Zan's arm twisted it higher.

"Aaaahh! I don't know anything." Another truth, more or less. What he knew was not the kind of information the Darian soldiers wanted. Their questions would most likely be about hidden bunkers or resistance cells and the location of the loyalist commanders.

Bunkers? If they existed at all, criminals used them, not loyalists. And the only resistance cell he knew about consisted of him and the four dead men lying on the citadel walkway. None of them had even breached the treasury door, let alone achieved their objective.

"What's this commotion here?" A new voice, authoritative, stern.

The guard released Zan's arm. "We were just...having a little fun, Commandant."

Zan reached a hand to his shoulder and kneaded his strained muscles.

"A little fun like you had with those four?" A uniformed man with emblems decorating his coat on both shoulders glowered at the guards.

"They resisted."

"I should hang all three of you."

The guard in front of Zan saluted with a smart tap to his chest. "He's telling the truth, Excellency."

"Doubtful. Most probably, you sloths didn't want to bother with more prisoners." He turned to motion toward someone behind him. "We have a paltry few to present to His Most Honorable."

"Present to him, Excellency?" For a fleeting moment, the saluter shifted his gaze from the commandant to the other two guards. "Are you saying the Most Honorable Niju Tice himself is coming here?"

The commandant waved a hand in the direction of the four corpses. "Are all three of you responsible for those?"

None of the guards answered.

"I'm finished with leniency." At his beckon, a smaller man in civilian clothing joined his side. "Riques, bring me the divination ring."

The civilian Darian bowed. "At once, Excellency."

The saluter held up a hand. "I can tell you what happened, Excellency. I saw it all from my place in the watch."

The civilian hesitated.

"Bring the ring, Riques. We'll examine this one first."

"I yield to your wisdom, Commandant, but whether voluntarily or under examination, my tale will be the same."

"Unquestionably you'll yield to my decision, dolt. So talk."

The guard who captured Zan muttered something and lowered his hand to the stiletto tucked in his belt.

"Karn here had first vigilance and was patrolling the walkway. He must have just rounded the corner on his way to the far side of the citadel when Drigo called him back. That's what caught my attention." The watch guard hesitated.

The commandant glanced at Riques and shook his head, then focused again on the watch guard. "Go on."

"As Karn retraced his steps someone bolted from the shadows, then dived back against the rampart. Karn and Drigo both saw him and cornered him."

"And killed him?" The commandant's voice shook, and his face reddened.

"He tried to run," Zan's captor said.

The commandant lifted a fist as if to backhand the guard. "When I want to hear from you, I'll tell you to speak."

The Darian raised an arm to ward off the blow, but the commandant held back.

"What about the others?"

The watch guard pointed to the other soldier. "I'm guessing Drigo realized he'd left his post unguarded because he sprinted toward the back side of the building. Before he reached the corner, another Glesian skulked from the shadows. Drigo was on him before the thief realized he'd been discovered."

"Thief?"

"What else? None of the Glesians was armed, and they were headed for the treasury."

The commandant rounded on Drigo. "You couldn't detain an unarmed man?"

"I only intended to stop him, not kill him. He was prying open the service entrance door."

"Explain the other two," the commandant said to the watch guard.

"I don't know just what happened to them. When I looked back at Karn he was swinging his cudgel at another Glesian and connected with his skull. I could hear the thunk from up in the watch, and the man dropped where he stood."

The commandant crossed his arms and glared at Karn with a glint of fear or perhaps envy. At last he pointed to Zan. "Was that one trying to break into the armory?"

The watch guard shrugged. "I couldn't tell."

"Karn?"

"The treasure room next to it, Excellency."

The commandant's shoulders relaxed. "We've already removed all the valuables."

"Except the giant...scepter." Karn thumbed his stubbled chin.

"That wooden replica has no value."

Muttering more to himself than to the others, Karn said, "And yet the Glesians displayed it in that elaborate glass globe."

The commandant brushed a spot of dirt from his uniform. "We still have one prisoner. I'll learn what the artifact does and present the information to His Most Honorable Niju Tice. Take the Glesian to the dungeon to await examination. And don't you dolts lay a finger on him. You'd probably kill him; then what would I have to show His Most Honorable?"

Karn yanked Zan to his feel, again twisting his arms behind his back. He groaned.

The commandant's voice followed them down the walkway. "And get rid of these dead bodies." The sound of leather smacking flesh punctuated the drum of their footsteps.

When they reached the stairwell, Karn shoved Zan toward the first step. He fought to maintain his balance but caught the toe of his brogan in a crack. Karn yanked his arms back, preventing him from pitching headfirst down the stairs. A blistering pain raged through his shoulders, but he forced his mind to concentrate on something else.

The foolishness of the Darians was a good diversion. To think they believed the artifact was the replica of a scepter. Were they blind? He and his comrades may have failed in their mission, but at least his captors had no idea what they possessed.

Their leader, the self-styled supreme judge Niju Tice, just might know better. He must have heard the rumors at least. Was that why he was on the way to Jem?

At the bottom of the stairs, Drigo herded him to the right. Again he stumbled, careening into the wall. He stifled a cry, though he longed to release it—not because of the new scrapes on his arm but because of the loss of his friends, the failure of their mission.

Karn yanked him to a stop, and Drigo fumbled at the lock on a heavy door, at last sliding back the warped wooden bar from the iron clamp.

"Inside." Karn shoved him into the dark hall, putrid with the odor of something rotten. That and excrement.

He hesitated. Drigo boxed the back of his head. "Keep going."

At the blow, he reeled against the brick wall, slick with some stale fluid. Not urine, but perhaps someone's poor attempt at washing away blood. He recoiled.

"The Glesian doesn't seem happy with his accommodations." Satisfaction soaked Karn's voice.

"Too bad we can't have the privilege of examining him. That would be enjoyable."

Another flight of stairs. Before they descended, Drigo dug a piece of flint from his pocket and lit a torch by producing a spark with his stiletto. As he plucked the light from its sconce, the unsteady flame pushed back the darkness.

At the bottom of the stairs, Karn shoved him to the right again. The hall narrowed. A cell door on the left stood ajar, but they passed it, the scent of rancid vomit pursuing them.

On the right another door stood open. "This one." Karn yanked him inside, released one hand from the chains, and tethered the end to a ring dangling from the ceiling.

Zan's arm swung up. He groaned. "I... I can't..."

"You can't what, Glesian scum? Lounge in a bed with sweet acana petals?"

Drigo laughed.

"I'm not having a pathetic prisoner tell me what he can or can't do." Karn reached up and pulled the chain higher.

Zan screamed at the knife-sharp pain.

"Bad enough I have to take orders from that pompous buffoon pretending to be a commandant."

Drigo stuck his head out in the hall, then pulled it back in and swung the door partially shut. "So maybe we should find a way to circumvent our beloved leader."

Karn snorted.

"I'm serious. Think about it. His Most Honorable is coming here. If we, not the commandant, can offer him valuable information, wouldn't he be disposed to show his gratitude?"

"It would have to be something big."

"Like learning the secret of the scepter?"

Karn crossed his arms and splayed his legs. "You don't believe the rumors about that thing."

"I didn't, not until these despicable Glesians tried to break into the citadel."

"You think the commandant knows the legends?"

"Pshh, how could he? He's never around any of us, let alone the Glesians."

"So what are you thinking, Drigo?

"Nothing exactly, but there might be a way to let His Honorable Niju Tice know we can serve him better than the commandant."

Karn's voice rose. "If we discover the secret of the artifact."

"Shh! Keep your voice down."

Karn raised both hands. "No one else is down here. Tell me what you're thinking."

"Not here. Meet me after duty and we'll take supper at the Lamplighter. No one will think anything of a couple comrades sharing a bite together."

The two guards vacated the cell, and Karn banged the door behind them, closing out the flickering torchlight. The bolt clanged in place, and the sauntering footsteps of the retreating guards faded.

Zan's rigid body went limp. Silent tears spilled onto his flushed face. True, his section collaborators wouldn't face this perdition he was in, but he missed them. Section leader Martz left a wife and four young sons. His training partner left a would-be bride, the other two—twin brothers—left childless parents.

But this grief at their deaths was only the beginning. How much more would he grieve the horror awaiting his people because of their failure to complete the mission? Would Glesians now have to endure decades of slavery, torture, and murder? Would the Darians eventually annihilate their entire race? Once Niju Tice gained control of the lamp stand, all hope for Glesia would crumble.

From overhead a distinct scraping disrupted the stillness. Zan wiped his moist eyes on the shoulder of his shirt, and strained in the direction of the noise to see through the blackness. A rat, most likely. The place was sure to be intolerably infested. Bound to the ceiling as he was, he would be an inviting morsel, if not now, then whenever he drifted to sleep.

The scraping amplified, and a shower of fine dirt drizzled over him. He spluttered the tiny particles away from his mouth and dusted his nose and chin on his shirt.

A creaky voice floated down with the last specks. "You a Glesian?"

"I am, and proudly so."

Distant muttering alternated with a sequence of taps.

"What's your name?"

"Zan Tor of the House of Peranz. Who are you?"

"You a loyalist?"

"I suspect anyone locked away in these dungeons is a loyalist, if not when he enters, then when he leaves."

"Ha! As if anyone ever leaves." The muffled conversation again and more tapping, followed by louder scraping and another shower of dust.

Zan closed his eyes and turned his head. Something clinked near the ring in the ceiling, and his chain pulled free. He dodged the falling links, and they clunked onto the hard-packed dirt near his feet.

"Sorry, Zan Tor, I should have given you fair warning what I had planned." A light appeared from above, blocked in part by the head of a man protruding through a hole.

"Who are you?"

"No one you would know, but call me Eps."

"Eps." He said the name as if trying it on for size. Blood surged into his arm and he massaged the sore joints. "Thank you for releasing the chain, but what happens when Karn or Drigo or some other guard comes back?"

Eps pulled his head back, grasped the lip of the hole with both hands, and stepped through the opening. He swung free, landing with a thud. "Never fear. We'll give you plenty of warning when a guard is on the way. Down here it's no trouble to get the chain back in place before they arrive."

"We? You said 'we.'"

"So I did. All of us Glesians are working to escape."

"Escape?"

Eps cackled. "Young man, you aren't deft are you? No, I suppose this is just a bit of a surprise. We've located the outer wall and have a network of passages from one cell to another—like the hatch I came through." He pointed to the square of light above.

"Can you get me out?"

"That's the plan, isn't it? For all of us to get out."

Zan's knees trembled. "I mean today, right now if possible."

"Not a chance, lad."

"Tomorrow, then. I... I have something I need to do."

"As do we all. I won't ask you about your secret plans, though I've no doubt they have something to do with why you're here."

"Can you get me out?" Zan glanced toward the field of light above.

"Someday, perhaps, but not tomorrow. We will not be able to work on the outer wall except during watch changes, and we are still at least four cells away. Even if we worked from dusk to dusk without rest, we couldn't reach the outer wall by tomorrow."

Zan lowered his head into his hand, the flicker of hope that he might complete his mission, ignited by the thought of escape, snuffed out. Losing hope this second time seemed final, ultimate, irredeemable. So what if they managed to dig out of the dungeon in a week or two? What would they find? Their people slaughtered in the street—those who weren't dragged off to Daria and sold into slavery, anyway. What was the point of escape if that's what awaited? He would rather die in this cell than see the consequences of his failure.

Eps put a hand on his shoulder. "I thought you'd be happy at the prospect of escape, my boy."

"It'll be too late."

"Come on now, while there's life in a Glesian it's never too late. Why don't you tell old Eps what the problem is?"

Karn released Zan's chain from the ring above and shackled his wrists together. Pulling out a cudgel, he poked Zan in the ribs and nodded toward the door. "Let's go."

With a determined effort, Zan refrained from glancing toward the ceiling, if only as a way of sending Eps his silent thanks. The Glesian would know. Besides, he needed to focus on what lay ahead. And, if Eps was right, they'd meet again after he completed the mission.

They reached the first juncture and Zan angled left.

The Darian guard cracked his arm with the cudgel. "Not that way."

Zan tightened his fists and held his breath until the pain ebbed. At the end of the passage an open door led to a dusky chamber with a table in the center.

Drigo stood off to one side coiling a whip with chunks of metal and glass attached to the thongs at the end. "Strip off his shirt and strap him down."

Yanking Zan to a stop, Karn drew his stiletto and pointed it at Drigo. "Don't you start giving me orders. I've been at enough examinations to know what to do."

"So do your job."

"You think I'm trading the commandant's orders for yours? I'm risking my life, same as you, and I'm not about to let you act like you're my better and claim all the credit with His Most Honorable."

"What the... Are you demented?"

Karn took a step closer, the tip of his blade raised. "If you think you're in charge—"

"Calm down, will you?" Drigo raised his empty hand. "I won't claim sole credit. And I'll stop ordering you around. Too much is at stake for us to quarrel. If we don't get this scum to talk, we're both dead."

"But if we do, we're part of His Most Honorable's elite guard." Karn used his cudgel to prod Zan toward a low stump.

"First thing I'm going to do when I'm in His Most Honorable's service is to bring the commandant down here and strap him to the post."

Both men sniggered. Karn secured the cudgel at his belt. With his blade he split open Zan's shirt in the back. "Bend over."

Zan held his ground. This was the hard part—taking their abuse just long enough so they wouldn't be suspicious.

Yanking him around until they stood eye to eye, Karn rammed a knee into his stomach. Zan doubled over moaning. The Darian hauled him to the post and fastened his chain to a ring in the ground.

A piece of his shredded shirt flapped against his head, and he clamped his teeth onto it.

As he did, Drigo kneed him from behind. "So Glesian, you want this to hurt a little or to hurt a lot?"

Holding his breath, Zan closed his eyes and strained against his chains until the pain lessened, then panted for air.

"I'll take that to mean, a lot." Drigo flicked the leather thongs of the whip onto his back. The weighted ends grazed his skin as the guard pulled back.

Karn bent over him. "So here's the thing. Our commandant is too stupid to realize that wooden scepter you tried to steal is special, but we've figured it out. What were you going to do with it?"

Zan clenched his teeth. So far, Eps's predictions couldn't be more accurate, but that didn't make enduring this torture easy. "The artifact is of no value... no value to you at all."

Drigo snapped the whip back and swung down. The ends curled around his ribcage, and the glass and metal tore through his shirt, biting into his skin. The guard yanked the whip back, raking his chest.

The startling pain chased away the stinging on his back, and a cry escaped before he could maintain his control. He gulped for air, then forced out his plea. "That's the truth. As I live and breath, it has no value to you."

Karn slapped him hard across the face. "Do you take us for fools? Something of 'no value' would not be kept in a special case in the treasury."

Again Drigo flailed him with the whip. This time he made no effort to stifle his cry. "Stop, I beg you. I'm not lying. It has no value to you. I said, no value to you."

Grabbing a fistful of his hair, Karn yanked his head back. "What are you saying, Glesian?"

Zan clamped his tender mouth shut and closed his eyes. He couldn't capitulate too easily, but how much pain could he withstand?

Drigo unleashed another blow with the whip, then another and another. The glass and metal bits drummed against his ribcage, breaking bone, tearing flesh. He screamed his agony and fought the desire to blurt his information unbidden. If he slipped now, all would be lost.

Again Karn lifted his head by his hair. "So what value does it have?"

"None to you," he said through clenched teeth, but he lowered his gaze.

"But special value to the Glesians."

Zan breathed out, relaxing all his muscles until his limp body sagged.

Karn shook his slack arm, then slapped his cheeks. "No you don't. Drigo."

The other guard shuffled to them and rammed a leafy plant under his nose. As Drigo crushed the herb, a sharp scent spiked his brain. He opened his eyes wide.

"What value does the scepter have to the Glesians?" Karn repeated.

"It's not a scepter."

"Drigo."

"No, please. I'm telling you the truth. It's a simple lamp stand, not a scepter."

"Nothing kept inside that globe is 'simple.'"

Drigo raised the whip.

"All right, all right. It's special...but only to Glesians."

Karn held up a hand to Drigo.

The other guard stepped close. With the whip he traced the welts along Zan's back. "And what makes this lamp stand special to the Glesians?"

"Legend says it will be used to bring our crown prince to his throne."

"You keep that thing under a special globe because of some legend?" Distrust tarnished Karn's voice.

"Legend or not, the people believe our prince will come. It's our last and greatest hope."

Drigo threw the whip onto the table. "It's worthless. We've risked everything for a fable."

Pacing to the door and back, Karn shook his head. "Maybe not." He stopped in front of Zan. "You say it gives your people hope."

Zan closed his eyes. Not too fast. He had to feed them information bits at a time or their misgivings would draw them back.

A fist crunched against his side, and he snapped open his eyes. Drigo had the whip again. He swung down. The thongs torn into his skin, and he screamed, not as some part of an act, but from the raw agony.

"What hope does this lamp stand give your people?"

"They believe the legend. They believe it. They believe." His voice trailed off.

Karn turned to Drigo. "They're trying to summon their ruler."

"What do we care what they're trying to do? The artifact is worthless to us. We should kill this scum."

"And tell the commandant what? That we deliberately disobeyed his orders to get in the good graces of His Most Honorable, but we failed? I'm not willing to give up like that."

Drigo coiled the whip around his fist. "So maybe we should let the Glesians have the artifact. When their prince doesn't come, they'll lose hope."

"And what if he comes?"

"You imbecile. You don't seriously think it's true."

Karn paced again. "I didn't say that, but what if...?"

"We should just get rid of it."

Zan tensed his body. Eps was right again. "No!"

"You have no say in this, Glesian." Karn slapped the back of his head.

"Please. You can't destroy it. It's our last hope. It may not be worth anything to you, but it means everything to my people."

Karn smirked. "You think we care what matters to Glesian scum?"

Drigo released the ends of the whip and trailed them from Zan's shoulders to his waist and back again. "Ah, yes, just what we want to be known as—munificent benefactors."

With a mock gasp, Karn leaped back. "Stop, you're scaring me."

The men chortled.

"Laugh all you want, but I beg you. Preserve the lamp stand."

Karn entwined his fingers in Zan's hair. "Begging. Is the Glesian really begging?"

"Yes, yes, I'm begging. Please don't destroy it."

Drigo leaned against the edge of the table. "This is getting interesting. What are you willing to give us if we make arrangements to preserve the artifact?"

"My life," Zan said without hesitation."

"Humph. We already have that."

"I'll... I'll guarantee your safety then."

"Our safety?"

"When the crown prince sweeps away the Darian forces."

"Is he joking?" Karn pushed Zan's head, forcing his chin to his chest.

Drigo jumped from the table. "Let him up. We'll have to tell His Most Honorable what we learned. Without the Glesian, he'll never believe us."

"It's not enough. His Most Honorable will never promote us for telling him there is no danger."

"So think."

Karn released Zan and resumed his pacing. "We have to destroy it. If we burn it, we'll turn the Glesian hopes to ash. That should be worth a promotion."

Zan gulped. Eps had counseled him well, but now was the critical moment. He lifted his head. "You wouldn't... you can't!" He put his remaining strength into the final word.

"We 'can't'?" Drigo glowered at him.

Karn buffeted his face with his fist. "We can do whatever we want to do. Not you, not the commandant, no one is going to tell us what to do."

"Here's a plan." Drigo's voice rose, and his words tumbled faster and faster. "First we get rid of the artifact. A little fire in that globe should take care of it. Then we hide this Glesian away until His Most Honorable arrives. When the commandant tries to take credit for demoralizing the Glesians and bringing an end to their resistance, we haul the prisoner out so His Most Honorable hears from his mouth that we're the ones who engineered this scheme."

"It should work. If we deliver a defeated people, he might even promote us to something higher than his personal guard."

Zan closed his eyes. Almost there. "You can't do this!"

"Again with the 'can't.'"

"You just watch us, scum." Drigo released the chain holding Zan in place and hauled him to his feet.

Stumbling as blood rushed from his head, Zan allowed the guards to herd him through the dungeon passageways and up the steps to the citadel.

Karn glanced over his shoulder as they approached the guarded door to the treasury. He signaled the soldier standing at alert. "You need to come with us."

"What's happening?"

"We're about to incur His Most Honorable's deep gratitude—and undoubtedly a significant promotion. You interested?"

The soldier leered. "Who wouldn't be?"

Karn flipped his head toward the door. The soldier unfastened the lock. Karn dragged Zan over the threshold.

In the middle of the barren room was a man-sized glass dome with the wooden lamp stand inside.

"Please don't do this. You'll destroy everything we've known," Zan mumbled through bruised lips.

Drigo slammed the whip handle across his mouth. "I wish we could kill this scum."

"Your plan is better. He'll live to see the destruction of his entire nation."

Turning his back on Zan, Drigo shrugged. "So how do we do this—break the glass?"

"We could. Seems like a lot of trouble, though. Can't we toss some tinder through that opening in the top?"

Drigo waved the guard to him. "Bring some kindling."

The soldier hesitated. "Does the commandant know about this?"

"Never mind." Karn pulled his stiletto from his belt and sliced off the remnants of Zan's tattered shirt. "This should work."

"Wad it tight so it'll burn hotter."

Zan lifted his arm and covered his eyes. Now that the moment was at hand, he couldn't let them see the hope that was sure to shine from his eyes.

"Make him watch."

Drigo yanked his arm to his side.

Karn produced his flint and ignited the wadded shirt. As the flame took hold, he reached up and dropped the burning material onto the wooden artifact. The fire fanned out, then died down, but a blue flame crawled along the crown.

Suddenly fire burst over the lamp stand, engulfing it. Yellow tongues shot toward the roof.

Zan collapsed to his knees and smiled.

From outside, the watch guard sounded an alarm. Footsteps pounded along the walkway. A soldier shouted something. Another shouted back.

Staring at the inferno, Drigo called over his shoulder. "What is it?"

More shouting and hurried footsteps.

The lamp stand burned hotter, but Zan stayed on his knees nearby. Flames billowed from the dome and tickled the walls.

Karn cracked the door. "They're shouting something about flames."

"It should burn out soon."

"Not these flames. All over the city."

Drigo turned toward him. "The Glesians are burning their own capital?"

A guard yanked open the door. "There's fire in here, too."

"It'll die down."

But the flames rose higher, licking at the rafters, spilling over the dome, and spreading across the floor.

Karn jumped back. "We need to get out of here!"

"What about the prisoner?"

Fire swirled around Zan. Slowly he rose to his feet and extended his arms. The flames ate away his chains, then engulfed him, but as it did, he absorbed its light, heat, energy. He pivoted toward the Darians, a man on fire.

Drigo staggered back. "You-you s-s-said..."

"That you'd destroy everything we knew—fear, captivity, torment. Too bad you didn't take me up on my offer to protect you. But feel free to stick around until the Crown Prince arrives. I'm sure he'll have something special in mind for you."

Rebecca LuElla Miller is a former school teacher who now works as a full-time writer and freelance editor.

The Beacon

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