The Toils (Book Two)

VI. Somewhere New

"Well, that's the border", Thatcher stopped in front of a ramshackle fence constructed out of rusted corrugated iron and loose bits of wood sticking out at random. 
It looked as if it could collapse at any moment, but nonetheless, it stood strong.
It was twelve feet tall, minimum, and seemed to go on forever in either direction.
"Can we stop now? Maybe take a minute to catch our breath?", Rena asked the group.
"No, we'd best keep moving", Thatcher spoke over her shoulder.
"We've been at it all night", Rena argued back.
"And we're probably going to be at it all day, too, so it's best if we keep going and keep the momentum up", Thatcher rebuffed, taking a glance at the border and trying to find a weak spot.
"I agree, babe", Magnus clutched Renas' hand, "if we stop now, it'll be harder to get moving again".
"All right then", Rena spoke. 
Ruataupare tightened her feathered cloak, the air was chilly - the sun hadn't touched the ground in what seemed like forever.
"The sky's blacker here", she noted aloud. 
"Indeed", Thatcher replied without paying too much attention.
"Whatever's causing it has to be somewhere around here", Magnus released her hand from Renas and took a few steps forward, standing directly next to Thatcher. 
"We're going to have to climb over", Ruataupare piped up.
"Seems that way", Thatcher concurred. 
"How? We've no rope, no nothing", Rena replied coolly, "is it not worth looking for a breach in the wall?".
"This thing, to my knowledge, is at least a hundred kilometers in either direction", Magnus pointed out, "it's not worth it".
"We've got horses", Rena pointed to the pair of brumbies behind them. 
"And given that they're wild, we're lucky they've not bucked us off yet; I don't fancy pushing them too much further", Thatcher spoke lazily. 
"Okay, so then what?", Rena asked with disdain.
Vaguely, Thatcher ripped a sliver of fabric from the bottom of her cloak. From there, she tore it into two equal slits and wrapped each hand with them.
The others watched on curiously. Thatcher approached the wall and placed a foot inside a small rust hole. From there, she heaved herself upward, poking a fist-sized bore into a second patch of rust. 
With absolute care not to cut herself, she pulled upward, finding a third hole on which she could place a second hand. 
Finally, she was up high enough so that she could reach the top. As the others watched with morbid fascination, Thatcher heaved herself over the top and fell with a thump on the other side of the fence. 
Unwrapping her hands, she searched the ground for a small rock. Once she'd found it, she balled it inside the wrappings and tossed them over the fence. 
"Ow!", Magnus yelped, the rock striking her wrist. 
"SORRY!", Thatcher yelled back over the fence. 
Within two minutes, the four of them were standing on the other side of the Waikatoan Southern Border. 
There was nothing but yellow, dying, grass in all directions in front of them. 
"Waikato", Thatcher spoke to herself. 
"I s'pose I won't be mapping anything", Magnus scrunched her face, remembering the loss sustained when she and Thatcher lost their canoe the night prior. 
"No, I guess you won't be", Thatcher focussed on the endless grass spread out in front of them, "come on, ladies, it's gonna be a hell of a walk".
With that, they set off north, towards an unknown country, an unknown future. 

*

"Wolesley!", Grayson shouted, bolting past Aspers' home and towards the rest of the work. 
"What?!", Wolesley spun on his heel with alarm, completely cutting off the Guardsman he was speaking to.
Grayson was out of breath, huffing heavily as he spoke, "boat... Harbor... People...".
Grayson pointed towards the ocean to their right. True, Wolesley noted, there was a schooner in the harbor, one that belonged to neither Gossfordshire nor Motueka. 
"You sure it's not Zedeylia or Rebury?", Wolesley asked, though he already knew the answer.
"Neither... Have... Boats", Grayson puffed out, his face red, splotchy, and sweaty. 
"GUARDS!", Wolesley shouted abruptly, startling the Guardsman behind him. 
With his command, a handful of Guardsman surrounded him - "there's an unknown oceancraft arrived beyond the Citadel, get your horses, line the rooves with archers. I need two men to accompany myself and Grayson in canoes and offer suppression if we need it", Wolesley instructed them. 

Within twenty minutes, they were in canoes paddling towards the schooner in the harbor. 
"You're in your element, doing this", Grayson called over the waves.
"As opposed to?", Wolesley asked as they drew closer. 
"The political shit", Grayson replied. 
"Yeah, well", Wolesley waved him down, "at the ready, gentlemen!".
The men in the rears of the canoes took aim with their bows, pointing them at the deck of the schooner. 
"COME OUT, OR WE'LL FIRE!", Wolesley shouted upwards.
Nothing seemed to happen for a few moments, giving them the impression the boat was abandoned. 
Atua poked his head over the side of the craft, "no need for that, we're seeking Ruataupare".
"What for?", Wolesley gritted his teeth and asked. 
"Motueka has fallen".
"What?", Wolesleys tension had been replaced with confusion. 
"We are survivors of an attack on Pa. There are five hundred of us aboard. Men, women, children", Atua replied. 
Wolesley looked at Grayson, then back to Atua. 
Looking back to Grayson, he knew this was no joke, "tell the archers to stand down, I'm gonna dock 'em".
Grayson turned, paddling back to the Citadel shoreline. The Guardsman behind Wolesley turned his bow away, pulling the arrow out from the drawstring and tucking it back into its holster on his back. 
"I'm coming up to board, I'm going to dock the ship over at the wharves", Wolesley spoke gently. 
Atua tossed down a slimy rope.


"Harreina", Sirene shook Harreinas shoulder, attempting to wake her. 
"Sirene?", Harreina opened her eyes, "Sirene".
"Harreina I've got some news", Sirene spoke grimly, sitting on the bed. 
"I can see you", Harreina spoke with a wry smile. 
"Harreina, Motueka has fallen", Sirene ignored her and spoke with urgency. 
"Fucking what?", Harreina shot upright. 
"The mailboy, Rosley, he witnessed it", Sirene relayed.
"Fallen?".
"Fences burning, bodies, screaming".
"You don't think it's some kind of... Internal thing?", Harreina asked fearfully. 
"No... He said there were two different styles of clothing - you know what the Motuekans wear; feathery frills and basic things like that... Rosley said there were two styles, Motuekan style, and Cold Country style".
"No... Thatcher and Eldore have dealt with them", Harreina spoke insistently. 
"They haven't, Harreina, they've dragged them North and have brought it onto our doorstep", Sirene replied coldly. 
"No, I'm sorry but you're wrong, whatever this is has nothing to do with Thatcher or Eldore".
"Harreina, you need to pull your head out of Thatchers' arsehole and look at the reality", Sirene chucked back.
"Watch your tongue".
"Absolutely not. Rosley has told dozens of people already, making out that he barely escaped. The people are riled, scared!", Sirene returned forcefully.
"Then it's your job to ease them!", Harreina pushed back.
"Not anymore! I'm contesting with the others. I'm no longer sitting back and allowing you to do things I don't agree with!", Sirene informed her.
"You're contesting?", Harriend placed a hand over her heart.
"Correct, as the one with the most time in the main office, I think I'm best placed to do it", Sirene allowed a drop of her anger to subside.
"Is that right?", Harreinas nostrils flared, her eyes widened.
"Yes, Harreina. I've only ever known a world with you at the helm. I know Rebury, I know you", Sirene allowed herself to soften entirely, "and I've learned how to run this place".
Harreina nodded, her lip trembled dangerously.
"I wish you all the best, now get the fuck out of my bedroom", Harreina thrust a finger towards the door. 
"Harreina...", Sirene pleaded.
"GO! SIRENE. NOW!", Harreina yelled shakily.
Sirene stood, sauntered over to the door, and opened it. With a sad glance back, she closed the door, leaving Harreina sobbing on the bed.


"There's a farm up ahead", Magnus pointed out.
Between the four of them, none had moisture in their mouths.
Even with the relative chill, they were still sweaty and thirsty.
"Let's check it out", Thatcher choked. 
"They mightn't be friendly", Rena side-eyed her. Magnus' influence on Renas' speaking patterns was glaringly obvious to Thatcher, who couldn't help but smile.
"They might have water, come on", Thatcher half-ran toward the ramshackle cabin.
The others followed, struggling to keep up.

With a gentle knock on the door, Thatcher stood back on the rotted veranda. 
The corrugated iron awning flecked rust on their heads in the breeze.
A beat passed before a smiling old man opened the door. 
With bowl cut black hair and green ink covering his leathered skin in intricate tattoos, not dissimilar to the ones on Ruataupares chin, he looked them over.
"I saw you approaching", he spoke in a language that sounded fairly close to Maori.
Thatcher and Magnus cast expecting glances at Rena and Ruataupare.
"Did you get that?", Ruataupare asked Rena. 
"No, did you?", Rena returned. 
"No".
"What's going on?", Thatcher asked Rena. 
"It's not... It's not the same", Rena shrugged.
"What'd'ya mean?", Thatcher furrowed her brow. 
The old man watched them, amused as Ruataupare chirped up - "I understood 'I saw you', but the rest isn't a word I get".
"I've heard you speak it fluently hundreds of times", Magnus chucked in. 
"You're not getting it - what he speaks and what we speak isn't the same", Ruataupare used her hands for emphasis.
"Right - what'da we do, then?", Thatcher asked, just now noticing that the old man was watching them. She couldn't help but smile. 
Whether it was the chat with Magnus, regarding Asper,  or the fact that she was somewhere new again (seemingly the best place for her to be in her element, she noted internally), she felt happy - genuinely happy. She was on an adventure with her friends. The grimmer edges were simply brushed to the side, as Thatcher just took a second to look at the old man smile.
"May we come inside?", Ruataupare spoke slowly, enunciating clearly.
"Yes", the man waved them into his home.
Stepping through the door and into the home, Thatcher took stock.
It was small, no more than two rooms, and had been built using a mixture of concrete bricks, corrugated iron, and handmade wood pellets.
It had a slight odor of rotting fruit, owing to the stack of moldy oranges on the wooden benchtop to the direct left of the front door.
They sat around a small table in the living room, the old man taking his place on a small seat carved out of a tree trunk. 
"Are you from the city?", he asked.
"No, Gossfordshire", Ruataupare established.
"South?", he asked back.
"Yes".
"Why are you here?", he enquired.
"We need to speak to the person in charge", Ruataupare answered.
"King Tama?", he asked back.
"Yes", she tried to keep her words short and sweet.
"It will take hours to walk, would you like some lunch?", he asked, surveying his guests.
"Yes, that would be nice. Could you help us find our way?", Ruataupare asked.
"I do not understand".
"Where does the king live?".
The old man shuffled as he tried to think of the best way to phrase it so as not to get lost in translation. 
"North, till dawn, there lays another wall, inside is a city. Find Keru, he is the healer. He will take you to King Tama", the man explained. Rena listened intently, taking in as much as she could. 
"Now, we eat", he finished, standing and trodding into the small kitchenette. 
He fiddled about, pulling bread and small wooden plates from an ad-hoc cupboard crafted from the same iron used on his walls. 
"It is not much, but it is all I can spare", he called out to Ruataupare, turning the corner and entering the lounge.
"It is more than enough, we are grateful", Ruataupare replied as he placed the plates in the center of their small circle. 
Turning on his heel, the man re-entered the kitchen and grabbed a ceramic jug of water.
Holding it tightly, he walked back into the lounge, placed the jug down, and sat back in his place.
One by one, the women drank from the jug, each taking a hefty swig before passing it to their right. 
"You said till dawn - is that only by foot? How long by horse?", Ruataupare asked.
"By foot, it will take till dawn two days from now", he replied.
"He says it will take two days to walk, dawn tomorrow by horse", Ruataupare spoke to Thatcher and Magnus.
"Where can we find a horse?", Rena asked.
The old man smiled, a mischievous smile, the kind of smile that showed the cogs of his brain spinning.
"I have two", he remarked wryly, "but not to gift".
"Not to gift", Ruataupare allowed herself to be amused.
"No", he laughed, "I see something nice".
"Do tell", Ruataupare beckoned.
"I like that cloak", He pointed to the lengthy red, white, and black-feathered cloak draped around Ruataupares' torso.
Ruataupare shuffled uncomfortable, wearing a nervous grin.
"What?", Magnus noted Rautaupares' discomfort and asked. 
"He wants her cloak", Rena said without dropping her focus on the pair speaking in front of them.
Thatcher swallowed a lump of bread, she knew how the conversation was going to go.
"I can't do that", Ruataupare shook her head likely. 
"I thought you'd say that", he smiled gently, "no bother. You may finish eating, and rest your feet before you go".