Clouds of Tyranny (3 page)

Since Terra’s father passed in her first
year of life she, never really knew him, therefore didn’t think of
him much. But her Mother, what an amazing person, Rina Bordague was
a sculptor, a painter, an alchemist, and a blacksmith. Which of
these things she was depended on what was needed in the town she
was in at that time. Rina traveled all her life since she was of
the working age of twelve. She ran away from her parents and
escaped the hostile continent to the west once called ‘America’ and
hopped a cargo ship to the eastern continent to start a new life
without the mutated demons of ‘America’. She would spend many years
exploring many things; men, towns, and herself. But that changed
when Terra was brought into this world when she was twenty years of
age. Rina knew it was time to slow it down, especially without a
husband and no father for little Terra. From what Rina had told
Terra, she knew that as a baby Rina dragged her daughter through
many areas of the continent working jobs she excelled in and doing
what she had to earn money for her ‘plan’. When Terra was ten years
of age they acquired the deed to a moderately sized chunk of land
and after about a year of hard work, her and her talented mother
built a beautiful cottage next to a pond. She taught Terra
everything she needed to survive as to assure that Terra wouldn’t
have to earn money the ‘dreadful way,’ as she would often put it.
Terra later learned of what her mother called the ‘dreadful way’,
which meant selling her body for money to degenerates. Terra would
spend the next couple years learning to fish, maintaining plant
life, preserving clean water, and setting traps for small animals
such as boars, wild fowl, and rabbits (the ones that weren’t cute).
Terra would often ask Rina, “Mama? Why am I doing this? Is it
because you will be old someday?” When Terra would ask this, her
mother would not answer, she would just get watery-eyed and turn
her head or simply change the subject. When Terra turned fourteen
she finally found out why her mother was teaching her such things;
Rina was dieing very slowly.

Rina felt it was time to spill the beans
when her body finally refused to work any longer. On her death bed
in her final days, Rina explained this to Terra and wished her
luck, “Don’t be sad,” she said, “The one thing that kept my spirits
high all through my existence was something that my mother told me,
‘Always remember the good times and not the evil or the
disparaging’ and those simple words have held me calm all this
time. Even in the times of sickness and pain” Terra sat there in a
chair next to her bed during her final moments, the bed was built
by Terra at her mother’s request, now she knew why her mother poked
and pushed her to make it perfect: the smoothness of the support
beams, the articulate heart shaped posts, and the extra-soft
stuffing of the mattress made of pure cotton from the cotton fields
in the east. Terra now understood that was because it held
significance to both her mother’s last minutes and Terra’s memory
of who her mother was. As for the chair; Rina spent what seemed
like forever working on it: the chopping of the tree, the peeling
of the bark, the carving of the oak, the sanding, the waxing, and
the painting of little angels on the legs, which were practically
invisible unless you were really looking for them. Yet, when she
went to sit in the chair she heard a sound rarely heard in her
house, “No!!! That chair is not for sitting and I damn well mean
it! Do you understand me?!” she yelled as she gripped Terra’s arms
so tight her bones could feel it, but Terra could not respond, just
quivered an affirming nod. This moment at the end of her mother’s
life was the reason for the creation of that chair and Terra
finally understood.

Her mother had always been the strongest
person she knew, but lying there insipid, frail and shivering
fiercely made her appear weak and it broke Terra’s heart. Her
mother was slowly drifting away as she told Terra things she had
been saving for this very moment. Terra learned that her mother had
had a death sentence for over ten years that was only supposed to
last five, but God had graced her with twice that for Terra’s sake
was her belief. Rina spoke to Terra very sternly, “I want you to
just listen,” she said, “don’t interrupt. I knew my time would
expire before I would get to see you become a woman and fall in
love one day, that is the hardest part; I’ll never see you get
married like I had wished I had done. But, I feel I have taught all
I can and I regret only that I can’t teach you more. You are strong
on the inside, like me, yet you appear to be a meek person that no
one would look twice at…you blend in well my daughter. And this
will help you with what may come, you are special my darling in
ways I can never explain. As my fuse begins to diminish, I recall
something that you must know. Your father is not dead, at least not
as far as I know; he made a choice to not accompany us in the
arduous trial of our lives. You might see it as abandonment, but I
never blamed him, I loved him very much and I regret not giving him
a son but I don’t regret you. I know you must have many questions,
but I will not allow you to ask because I have no intention of
dwelling on such things. This is our time together and nothing will
taint our last minutes together; knowing my disease will just
associate it with death for you and knowing your father’s name will
just fill your heart with despair. If you choose to seek him out,
he has a scar on his right arm from a knife fight.” Rina didn’t
speak another word and Terra honored her wishes; Rina laid and
Terra just looked at her for the last two hours of her life as she
held her hand tight. Terra would wait twenty-four hours then bury
her mother behind the cottage topped with a headstone, blank except
the emblem Terra carved for her: an angel in tears bringing a halo
down to her grave. She would visit the site every morning as she
drank her herbal tea and talked while her mom listened.

Terra opened her eyes after her memories
stopped running her thoughts to see a ripple rapidly fleeting from
where she was sitting and her fish line unraveling. She leaned
forward onto her knees and gripped the reel lever stopping the
dissipation of line, but it yanked her violently into the chilly
water causing the insects and frogs to scatter.

The cold, wet water
awakened her. She looked around; Locke’s place, almost dawn as she
could see the sun’s flare slowly crept up from behind the mountain.
She let out a deep exhale and looked about the room and saw Locke
leaning back against the steel door they entered through last
night. He was asleep with his arms crossed atop his sword and his
head laid sideways on his intertwined biceps atop his arched knees.
She then realized a change; a thick cotton blanket covered her. She
looked at the blanket atop her and looked back at Locke and
smiled,
not as cold as he seems,
she thought.

Terra sat there staring at
Locke from her couch-bed with a spring stabbing her in the leg for
what seemed like hours,
He’s kind of
cute…in a damaged sort of way
. She hated
to wake people up; it seemed rude to her. Finally, she shifted her
weight on a loose piece of wood within the couch causing a squeak
within its soul; it echoing throughout the aluminum encased
housing. Before his eyes shuddered open, he inadvertently did a
front shoulder roll, unsheathing his sword while doing so, and the
blade was positioned for a death blow not more than seven feet from
Terra. Terra didn’t so much as flinch at this for she knew that
Locke was not the hasty type and although he was a tough and scary
type, she felt safe and protected. He kneeled there looking at her
with his blade revealed: Terra scanned it analytically; a
double-edged Damascus sword spackled with black and white grain
along the flat surface of the three-foot blade. She strained her
eyes…there is a foreign writing along the bottom portion of the
blade, she couldn’t make it out.
Time will
tell all,
she thought as she smiled at
Locke as he kneeled there with sword in hand.

“Are you okay? Seem a bit jumpy over there,”
said Terra as she sat on the couch comfortably. “Fine, just fine,”
said Locke as he sheathed his damascus blade and continued to
kneel, looking at her. Terra had a curved smiled as she thanked him
for his hospitality,” Locke, I really appreciate the bread,
medicine, and… you know… saving my life,” she giggled. Locke, after
hearing this got more comfortable and slid from a kneel to being on
both knees just looking at her. “Slept well?” he asked as she
snickered at him: she noticed him glancing at her womanly body.
“Yes. Thanks to you,” Terra retorted as she flung the blanket over
him covering his body and at the same time insulting him with a
call of weakness. He was annoyed now; he whipped it away from his
body and rose to his feet, which prompted her to swing from a
lay/lean state to an upright sit. During this transition her skirt
rode up her leg at which Locke was able to see her upper left
thigh: silken, soft, and unabridged with flaws despite her chubby
torso. For a slight second his mind generated thoughts he hadn’t
created in years. He locked his eyelids and got back to the real
world.

“What are you?” asked Locke
as he looked down at her sitting on the couch, handing her a glass
of tepid water from the table in the center of the room. “I…” she
muttered, not knowing what he was referring to. “You charred a
deathly killer plant with your mind. And…I wanna know how!!!” Terra
stared unsurely at him, “What the hell are you talking about?
You’re obviously confused. I was attacked; luckily the ivy
combusted internally. Must have been watered by the Fringock River
or something.” Locke looked down at Terra; he finally realized what
no one ever bothered to think about.
My
god! She doesn’t know! I
have
to protect this girl!,
he thought as he stood there and no longer feared her gift.
He backed off slightly and looked out the window, “Dawn, we should
probably-“ CRASH!!! The window shattered as a large arm reached in,
breaking the glass and barely fitting through the barred grating,
and had a tight hold on Locke’s throat as it pulled him towards the
broken glass; Locke felt the glass scrape against his
back.

Within seconds a second man
burst through the side door and focused his gun on Terra. The
inadvertent adrenaline of Terra’s aura lifted her from the couch,
but after that she was a wax statue,
How
can I help,
she thought as she glazed down
the barrel of the imperial’s silver .45 caliber semi-automatic
handgun. All she could do was watch as Locke struggles with the
large arm, trying to keep it from his throat. Through the ceiling
fell a third man, no weapon in hand, that grabbed Locke by the
throat with both hands and flung him to the floor. He looked over
at Terra and gave her an evil smile of satisfaction just before
lifting his knee up in an attempt to stomp Locke’s skull into mush;
luckily, Locke saw this and did a log roll to his left to avoid the
critical blow to his skull. Locke proceeded to twist his hips and
scissor kicked his way through the back of his attackers knees,
dropping him to the floor to where they were now equals. Locke
leaped atop him, straddling his thighs and preceded to punch either
side of the imperials head; he could feel his temples battling with
the bones in Locke’s knuckles. The man was in neverland. However,
the front sliding door was jimmying open as Locke looked at it
realizing he didn’t bolt it when he returned that morning, then it
slid wide open as the Empire employee stood there in the doorway
looking at Locke, basically salivating at the thought of ended the
life of the Returner. The imperial was obviously very overzealous
as he kicked Locke’s sheathed blade toward him in an expression of
a blade-to-blade challenge. Locke sat there on the floor with legs
flat and a bloody nose and lips as he gripped the blade as he
kneeled on a knee and quietly rose to his feet. Unsheathing his
sword, a black and white spackled double-edged blade that belonged
to his father…the Damascus! He slammed his sheath down to the floor
and got ready for a fight.

Locke wasn’t exactly a
bodybuilder, or a military type, or even in decent shape for that
matter, but he was an incredible swordsman who didn’t fear death or
the afterlife. The imperial made the first move; skipping forward
with sword in hand not three inches in front of his own face. Locke
stood stoic with sword drawn at his side waiting for his
opportunity for a counter attack while trying not to get shot in
the back in the process. The man yelled as he swiped the sword at
Locke’s head at which ricocheted it away when Locke raised his
sword and the imperial continued violently swinging at random parts
of Locke’s body as if her were chopping wood. Locke parried and
blocked each attack with ease until the swordsman made the dire
mistake of attempting an obviously unskilled thrust towards Locke’s
chest: Locke merrily sidestepped it and spun around with his
Damascus barreling through the back of the man’s neck as his head
fell to the floor while the imperial’s body still stood for a few
seconds before following. Locke looked down at the man as his
headless body dropped to its knees and began flailing on the floor,
still being powered by the final reactions of his nerves. The
gunman turned his aim upon Locke after a brief moment of shock his
forefinger began to pull. “No!” screamed Terra as she pushed the
man in his chest with both palms against his rib cage, causing the
man to be pushed through the window and through the steel bars: the
bars spreading like a welcoming gate made of straw. The man flew
through the opening and down the thirty-foot drop as well as thirty
feet out like ten men had hit him with sledgehammers. He hit the
concrete ground and star-shaped splatter of blood erupted from the
back of his skull, as he lay there lifeless and unthreatening. She
gazed down at him through the window in awe of his weakness (or her
strength),
How did that happen?
She thought,
an
adrenaline soaked increase in strength?
Locke looked at her in amazement and gave her a look of
thanks as he turned to pick up his sheath when the ceiling-dropping
imperial had awakened and sprung up on him. He managed to liberate
the sword from Locke’s grasp and fling it across the room and was
now fight him on all fours. Terra looked around: the gun on the
floor, she picked it up and aimed it shakily at the two men
wrestling on the floor. Locke was on bottom with the man’s hands on
his throat gingerly trying to fight him off, “Don’t shoot,”
choppily whispered Locke. She slowly lowered the weapon to her side
as she realized that there’s a good probability she might kill them
both and that would prevent her from ever escaping this town. Locke
was running short of air and knew that he had to do something, so
he hooked his right foot behind the man’s knee and rolled him over,
suddenly Locke was on top and pounding away on the man’s face with
his elbows and forearms before the imperial got a knee up and
kicked Locke in the chest with his left foot, pushing Locke several
feet away. The man proceeded to reach to his right boot, pulling
out a very compact snub-nosed revolver and pulled the hammer back
as he aimed at Terra with an bloody face of anger directed at her;
she was frozen in fear. Locke laid there on his back watching the
potential murder attempt on Terra; hidden in his belt buckle was a
very small throwing dagger; the blade shaped like a spade. He
pulled the dagger and flung it at the man, piercing the blade into
the man’s jugular causing a lapse of aim. The bullet missed Terra
and flew through the curtain leading towards the kitchen and they
heard glass shatter from within the next room. The man dropped the
pistol next to him and tried to hold the blood inside his throat
when Locke rose to his feet and slowly walked to his victim. Locke
looked down at him, then he kneeled and looked the man in his dying
eyes as he quickly pulled the dagger from his throat; Locke could
feel the resistance attached to the blade, veins and bones
probably, the dagger didn’t want to leave its new home. The man’s
head slammed against the raggedy rug flooring as the blade was
ripped free and turned to the side as Locke could see the man’s
soul vanish from his eyes. He turned to Terra after wiping the
blade clean with the blanket that had kept her warm less than ten
minutes ago, “We should really go,” said Locke. Terra looked at him
as he re-holstered the belt dagger, “Yeah, probably.” She looked at
the gun she was holding that formerly was of empire property,
“Here,” she said as she handed to him. “Hold on to it,” said Locke
as he pushed it back towards her, “I trust you…for now.” Locke
walked towards the front door queuing her to follow; which she did
after retrieving two magazines filled with bullets.