Revolution (Division By Zero 4)

By MiFiWriters

rEvolution is the fourth installment of MiFiWriters' anthology series, Division by Zero, and features 10 stories of the fantastic and the bizarre.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Jun 28, 2016
• ISBN: 9781365195587

Book preview

copyright

x/0 : 4

© 2016 MiFiWriters, All Rights Reserved

Published by MiFiWriters

Holland, Michigan

mifiwriters.org

Print ISBN: 978-1-365-17210-6

ePub ISBN: 978-1-365-19558-7

Cover Art by Digital Dreaming

epigraph

Revolution devours her own children.

        — Pierre Vergniaud

Preface

Night Priest • (Kathryn Yelinek)

Liberty • (Kristin VerHulst)

The Book of Change • (Diane Arrelle)

Lalli • (Lyn McConchie)

Songs from the Underground • (Tim Rohr)

What Must Be Done • (Matt Rohr)

My Father's Son • (Sue Ann Culp)

Reintegration • (Aric Sundquist)

The Vain • (Dean Grondo)

Mr. Hasaki's Idea Factory • (Adam Bealby)

The fourth volume in the Division By Zero series, rEvolution, is here, and it should come with a warning.

WARNING: THE STATUS QUO IS AN ILLUSION

Change exists in infinite variety. There is nothing constant about change except its inexorable will to be. Any mirage of stability is merely the pause between heartbeats because, at its core, life itself is change. This stuff is powerful and heady. It does not tolerate restraints. It does not recognize exceptions.

This is the theme of this collection of stories.

And why not? This motif has woven itself throughout our history, and so, it is woven through our storytelling. Time and space are no limits. We are defined by change. Created by it. We do our best to ride the swell and not get ripped away in the undertow. If we don’t respect it, change will be the end of us.

WARNING: CHANGE CAN BE DIFFICULT

When MiFiWriters decided to call for submissions around a theme of change, we knew we had to be a bit more specific. After all, if change is everywhere and everything, that doesn’t offer much guidance to an author. Both revolution and evolution are types of change. A revolution is directed change: a rebellion seeking to upset the established powers that be. Evolution is a slow, often internal change: time and experience transforming all that they touch.

But change is rarely neat and orderly. It combines and recombines in a myriad of ways. The rebellion overthrows the established powers only to grow into the very thing it once fought for freedom. Species grow mighty and are suddenly undone by tiny viruses, leaving room for new species to rise and fall. Traditions and rituals are set aside; societies embrace progress and new ideas.

And sometimes, those ideas make for great stories, like the ones we’ve brought together for you in rEvolution. Read on, if you’re ready for change.

WARNING: READING THESE STORIES WILL CHANGE YOUR MIND

But don’t say we didn’t warn you.

— Matthew Rohr, Editor

MiFiWriters

We have it in our power to begin the world over again.

—Thomas Paine

MATTIE HAD PACKED half her bag by the time the cannons started again. The first, distant boom startled her into clutching her best wool skirt to her chest. Then she stood and listened.

How she loved the wild, echoing booms. Their rumble told her that the rebels to the west still stood against the Usurper. Listening to the thudding in the cool summer night, she could forget the scorched crops, the dirt over Mam and Daddy’s graves, the tired ache at the back of her neck. Listening, she could even forget that she was scurrying north like a grasshopper before a hungry chicken. For just this moment, she wasn’t in her bedroom with her meager belongings scattered across her quilt. Instead, she was a day’s walk west, standing shoulder to shoulder with the rebels, striking a blow against the Usurper and his Lumem lights.

Footsteps in the doorway behind her announced her sister, Sarann. Mattie, stop dreaming. The salt pork needs packing.

Mattie sighed. Trust Sarann to think about salt pork when there were battles to be won. I know. I’m— She turned and gasped.

In the glare from the outside Lumem lights, Sarann’s face was as pale as a boiled potato. She leaned against the door jamb as if the easy pose would disguise the pained squint of her eyes.

In an instant, Mattie was at her side. You have to sit. She pulled her into the kitchen.

I’m fine. Still, Sarann let herself fall into the nearest table chair.

Mattie threw a log into the wood stove and stirred up the fire, chastising herself for her moments of idleness. Sarann hadn’t looked this peaked in weeks. How bad is it?

All right. Sarann massaged her temples, which meant they probably ached badly enough to fell an ox. I have to finish the bread.

You aren’t moving until you have some ginger tea.

There isn’t time. She struggled up, only to stop when Mattie clamped a hand on her shoulder.

You won’t be any good if you collapse in the road tomorrow, Mattie said. What would I tell Laurence?

Sarann blushed at his name, and Mattie knew she’d won. Quickly she dug in their bags for some ginger, glad for the excuse to turn her back. She didn’t want Sarann to see her hands shaking.

A square of light fell across their bags. Mattie scowled at it. Curse the Usurper and his devotion to the daylight god, Lumem. Sarann had been a vibrant young woman before his armies came, erecting lights along every road and path, upsetting the natural rhythm of night and day, sleeping and waking.

Once you drink your tea, Mattie said as they waited for the water to boil, see if you can get some sleep. I’ll have the food packed by the time you’re up.

It’s no use. I can’t sleep with these hateful lights on all the time.

If only we could put up curtains, Mattie muttered, but that would get them both hung. And she’d promised Mam and Daddy that she would take care of Sarann.

A knock came at the front door.

Mattie spun away from the stove, and Sarann hissed. The list of people who traveled by night now was short and unsavory.

Where’s Bear? Sarann whispered.

Mattie caught her eye. The mutt’s silence didn’t bode well. She took three short steps to the door and pulled down the rifle from over the lintel. Who’s there? she called.

Out the window, Lumem lights showed the front porch, its well-worn wood supporting their butter churn, a homemade cotton gin, and three ladder-back chairs. Beyond stretched the path to the vegetable garden. Bear stood there, alive and whole, but strangely quiet. He wagged his tail at someone on the other side of the door.

A reedy voice answered her. Praise Tenebray, balm of my soul.

Mattie stiffened with anger, even as Sarann struggled up, beaming.

Stars rejoice! Sarann smoothed her skirts. A night priest.

Mattie gritted her teeth. How dare a priest of the dark god Tenebray come here, after what her family had suffered in His service under the Usurper? She rapped on the window. Show yourself.

The man who stepped into view looked about as ragged as she felt. He likely hadn’t bathed for weeks, and his clothes, cut close in the northern fashion, weren’t fit to patch a quilt with. They, plus his words, indicated he was a volunteer, come down to stand against the Usurper, and Mattie ground her teeth as she eyed him. It wasn’t fair that he could fight when she could not.

Still, he was no ordinary volunteer. The gloves on his hands were spotless. Black, they coated his hands like paint and rode halfway up his forearms. They, more than anything, told her he was indeed a night priest.

Don’t just stand there, Sarann said. Let him in.

Why? Mattie glared at the priest, who cocked an eyebrow at her question. Tenebray didn’t stop the Usurper. He didn’t save Mam or Daddy or the farm. He hasn’t made you better.

Mattie!

Mattie winced. She hated upsetting Sarann, but she wouldn’t take back her words.

Perhaps, the priest called, both hands raised, you could put the gun down before we discuss human suffering.

Sarann glowered at her. Let him in. What if more soldiers come?

Then they would all die, and he could die just as easily outside as in. This, though, she would not say to Sarann. Reluctantly, she opened the door.

He stepped inside gingerly, trailing the stink of sweat and mud, but Sarann took his arm as if she didn’t notice, fussing the way she did best. Mattie knew her job, too. She returned the rifle over the lintel, drew the bolt, and went into the bedroom to pull the rocking chair away from the door to their hidey hole. Just in case.

When she returned, the priest sat at the kitchen table, in the chair their father had used. He was about Daddy’s height, though not quite so solid. His gaze flickered about the room as if confirming no soldiers lurked behind the cupboard. He eyed two of their packed bags beside the door, but his gaze lingered longest on the altar beneath the window, where the oil lamp consecrated to Lumem burned day and night. They hadn’t moved it, so the half of the altar that had once held Tenebray’s moon shell was noticeably bare. It felt unbalanced, even blasphemous, but the sight seemed to cheer him.

Ginger tea? Sarann asked. The kettle whistled, and the prospect of playing hostess seemed to revive her. Then I’ll see about some griddle cakes for you.

He held up one hand. Just tea, miss, thank you. No need to trouble yourself.

Which were exactly the words that would set Sarann to cooking up a feast. Mattie sighed as Sarann bustled to the flour bin. There would be no getting rid of the priest now.

No need to ‘miss’ me. Sarann pulled down another teacup. My name’s Sarann. That there is Mattie. Who are you?

He hesitated. Sarann set a steaming cup in front of him, which he collected with one gloved hand. His movement fascinated Mattie, despite herself. It had been so long since she’d seen a night priest’s gloves. Like all the others, his gloves had fused with his skin, so she could see the black indentations where his nails met his fingers, the little ebony ridges of veins on the backs of his hands. More fascinating still was the small trail of darkness he left with every movement.

She noticed his face then, his dark eyes watching her watching him. There was a calmness there, a peace, that she found infuriating. He tilted his head towards Sarann and steepled his dark fingers in a movement both elegant and full of empathy.

Mattie snorted. She didn’t need reminding that Sarann was doing poorly. His god was to blame. She spun on her heel and marched into the bedroom, where she threw her wool skirt in her bag.

Thom, he said, his voice pitched so she could hear it above the boom of the cannons. My name is Thom. Are your parents not at home?

She paused, a pair of socks clenched in her hands. The sizzle and smell of griddle cakes on the wood stove wafted in. Was Sarann not going to answer?

It’s been a long time since we’ve seen each other, Thom said. I need to speak with them.

Mattie stepped into the doorway. Instantly he swiveled to look at her. As he did, his face turned wary, as if he read the truth in the set of her jaw.

They’re dead. She plunked her bag by the door.

He went still. It was the utter stillness that only a night priest, steeped in the quietude of the dark, could achieve. Perhaps even the blood in his veins paused. I’m sorry.

They were caught trying to hide a night priest. Their graves are over by what’s left of the apple orchard.

He rubbed his face, the darkness around his gloves pulsing. She hoped it meant he seethed now, too.

Do you know the priest’s name? he asked.

No. She was older, with a long, gray braid.

Louisa. He looked so stricken, his hands over his mouth, that for a moment, Mattie felt sorry for him.

She pushed the feeling aside. A man going to fight and exact retribution for his loved ones didn’t need her pity.

I’m doubly grateful for you taking me in then, he said, calm once more. I wouldn’t have come if I’d known.

We’ll not refuse a night priest. Sarann gave Mattie a long look, her eyebrows raised. She set a plate of griddle cakes before him. You eat up. You’ve had a long journey.

He jerked, as if surprised she’d guessed. Then the heaping plate caught his attention. He tucked in like any hungry traveler.

How elegantly, how gracefully, his gloves wove a dance of darkness as he ate. At the sideboard, Mattie packed salt pork into a homespun bag, not bothering to hide her staring. It didn’t seem to bother him. He ate calmly, with no indication that he’d just received news of a death or that he was scrutinized. She wondered if his gloves had taught him such calmness, and if it would keep him alive when he entered the fighting. It seemed a good trick to have, and she thought it unfair that she should admire him for it.

You’re going north? he asked once he’d finished.

Mattie half turned from the sideboard. The question seemed a little too casual.

Sarann answered readily enough. Yes, to the Tenebray stronghold at Mahlesburgh. My fiancé Laurance is there already. She dried her mixing bowl. What are the roads like up there?

He pushed his plate away and leaned forward, his gloved hands clenched on the table. At once, Mattie braced for bad news.

I didn’t ask because I’ve come from there, he said. I asked because I would like to accompany you.

Sarann frowned. But aren’t you coming down to join the rebellion?

Mattie guessed the answer. A bad taste filled her mouth. No. He’s deserting.

She flung the word out, daring him to deny it, but he met her gaze calmly.

I’ve served my time. I’ve done my duty. Now I’m called to serve elsewhere.

Conveniently away from the fighting!

Mattie— Sarann started, but Mattie cut her off.

He has a chance to do something, to beat back the Usurper, and he’s throwing it away. She slammed her knife into the cutting board. He’s a coward. I don’t want him in our house.

If he—

He’s a traitor. She strode to the door and yanked it open. Get off our land.

How calm he stayed. He looked from her to Sarann, who shook her head, desperately.

And Mattie realized what she’d forgotten in her anger.

If I came, he said gently, cupping his hands so a swath of darkness pooled between his palms, I could ensure that your sister sleeps.

Please, Mattie, Sarann said.

Mattie crossed her arms over her chest. The cool night air pressed against her back. Why should we let you? You abandoned the rebels. You’re as like to leave us, too.

I’m a night priest, but I serve more than just Tenebray. What the Usurper has taken from us is balance, between night and day, dark and light, serenity and activity, death and life. I’ve waged war. Now I must wage peace. I’m going north to those who still follow the dual ways. If you let me accompany you, I start my ministry this much sooner. I won’t abandon you.

Sarann nodded, clearly convinced.

Mattie curled her lip. Fancy words from a turncoat. We have to fight. It’s the only thing the Usurper understands.

"I am fighting, he said, so calmly. Only in a different way. To restore balance to the world, I must restore balance within myself."

That’s rubbish, and you know it. Up north, they don’t need you. But down here, the rebels—

Outside, Bear began to bark.

Mattie swung towards the open doorway, but Sarann saw first through the window. Soldiers!

Mattie slammed the door shut. Already Thom was on his feet. Root cellar?

They’ll find you there. Sarann shoved Thom’s plate and silverware into the washbasin. Mattie can show you where.

They both turned to look at her. In the yard, Bear barked to waken the countryside. Hearing that din, Mattie realized she’d made her choice. Her first priority must be to care for Sarann, and no help would come from the soldiers.

She grabbed Thom’s elbow. Hidey hole. He followed without question.

Outside, a shot fired. Bear stopped barking.

Mattie froze, fear like a vise churning her belly. Only the pressure of Thom’s hand on her back propelled her into the bedroom.

There she threw open the hidey hole door. It led to a hole between the walls about the size of a sack of grain. Stale air wafted out.

Thom turned white beneath his grime at the sight of it. But he only squeezed her hand and wedged himself inside. Feeling as though she were sealing a tomb, she shut the door. It disappeared into the wood grain of the wall.

No, she whispered and pressed her palm against the wall. I won’t let anyone else die in this house. Then she dragged the rocking chair in front.

Sarann spoke from outside on the porch. Lumem bless you, officers. Her voice seemed distant, or maybe the blood pounding in Mattie’s ears diminished the sound. What can I—ow!

A soldier must have shoved her aside. Mattie raced into the kitchen, putting as much distance as she could between herself and the hidey hole. When the front door crashed open, she halted by the kitchen table.

A soldier marched in. Instantly, Mattie tensed with loathing. This soldier was the cretin who’d shot her parents and the lady night priest, right there in the kitchen before they’d had time to reach the hidey hole. He must have been elevated for that, because the number of sun bursts on his shoulder had grown, and an extra curl twisted the ends of his mustache. He looked around with an impassive eye, and she realized that for all the damage he’d done, he didn’t remember this place. Search the house, he said with a wave of his hand.

Half a dozen soldiers trooped in, the last one escorting Sarann. Immediately they opened the cupboard and potato bin and started rapping on the wall. Potatoes and dishes crashed to the floor.

Sarann came to stand beside Mattie. The blankness in her eyes made Mattie’s heart rise into her throat. She whispered in Sarann’s ear. Bear?

Sarann shook her head.

Rage poured over Mattie. What are you doing? she demanded in her shrillest voice. Must you shoot everything that moves on our land?

She could see the cretin’s confusion at her outburst. Good, let his simple mind think about something other than night priests. He glanced from one of his men, who had started ransacking the bedroom, to her and Sarann. A light went on behind his eyes.

Lumem greet you, Miss Browne and Miss Browne. He tipped his cap, polite as could be. I’m afraid the dog was necessary, seeing how you’ve taken in yet another night priest.

Her stomach clenched. Sarann trembled, but Mattie opened her eyes, all innocent. What night priest?

Captain, one man called. He held up the bag of salt pork. Easily enough for three.

What? Mattie sputtered. There’s barely enough for two! She’d been so worried it wouldn’t last the journey for both her and Sarann.

The captain ignored her protest. He toed their bags by the door. Going somewhere? Heading north perhaps and taking a night priest with you?

Lies, Mattie thought, nothing but lies. She clamped her lips closed. She kept them closed as around her dishes crashed to the floor, bits of bread rained onto chairs, and slices of salt pork scattered over the sideboard. She kept them closed as in the bedroom, the straw mattresses were overturned and pictures torn from the walls. She kept them closed even as the captain finally planted himself before her and Sarann, his feet crunching on broken crockery.

Where is the priest? he demanded.

Behind him, his soldiers milled about, wiping flour and cornmeal from their hands. Mattie kept her eyes on the captain, her arms crossed in front of her.

He looked from her to Sarann, then back at her. Perhaps since she was younger, he thought her weaker. Or maybe he enjoyed the challenge. We tracked him here. We know he’s in this house. This is your last chance. Give him up, and I’ll let you and your sister go free.

Sarann shivered. Mattie wrapped her arms around her and glared at him. Did he truly believe they’d trust him? After what he’d done to their parents?

His face darkened. He swung away from them and bellowed into the bedroom. Priest! You get one chance. Give yourself up, and I’ll see that the girls are treated well. They could be out of jail in a year. But if I have to drag you from this house, I’ll kill you in front of them, and the girls will rot behind bars.

Mattie felt Sarann shaking, and she swallowed against rising panic. Had she made a mistake? How could she care for Sarann in a Usurper prison? Surely a man of balance would wish to spare them.

The captain tilted his head. He might have been a hawk who’d spied its dinner.

Something cracked in the bedroom.

Mattie jumped, her heart lurching, but it was only a picture falling belatedly from its nail. Glass shattered over the floor.

Enough of this. The captain snapped his fingers at two of his men. Take them out, he said, glaring at Mattie and Sarann. The rest of you, light this place up. That should bring him out.

One of the men grabbed her elbow. She twisted, locking her arms around Sarann.

What did he mean? Sarann gripped her hands.

I don’t know. Fear made her voice shrill.

Then the man tore her away. She craned her neck, enough to see Sarann’s pale face, and behind her, one soldier pouring out the bottle of oil for the altar lamp. Another soldier opened a tin of matches.

No!

Her soldier clamped a hand over her mouth. She kicked his legs, but he dragged her across the porch and down the vegetable garden path. There, in the middle of the path, lay Bear. The Lumem lights reflected in the dark pool beneath him.

She pulled against her soldier. She wanted a moment to see Bear, wanted the soldier to have to see him, too. Had he been the one who shot him?

Behind them, shouting erupted from the house.

The soldier spun, whipping her around with him.

From the corner of her eye, she saw a figure bolt out the front door. She froze, shouting at him in her mind, urging him on. Beside her, Sarann gasped.

But it was a soldier, coughing. Three more soldiers dashed out behind him, handkerchiefs over their noses and mouths. As they staggered down the porch steps, the captain strolled out. He bit off a bite of salt pork in his hand then waved them on. They spread out around the house. Smoke seeped from beneath the closed door.

The smell of it reached her, thick and choking. Light danced in the windows. The soldiers might have spread out to keep watch over the whole house, but Mattie kept her eyes on the single bedroom window. Surely he’d come out there. She tensed, ready to spring when he did. If she distracted her soldier, perhaps Thom and Sarann would have a chance.

With a crack, the kitchen window shattered. Glass sprayed the porch as flames erupted onto the porch roof.

A soldier shouted. Mattie found herself yanked backwards, stumbling into the side of her soldier. He gripped her shoulders, steadying her. It was a kindness for which she wouldn’t thank him. She shivered, though heat baked her front.

What was Thom waiting for? The walls of the house stood dark against the bright onslaught of flames. She could see nothing else in the house, though she squinted and raised an arm over her eyes. How long could he possibly resist?

Someone gripped her wrist. She flinched, but it was Sarann. Tears streamed down her face, flushed now by heat.

We didn’t get to say goodbye, Sarann whispered against the roar and snapping of the fire. Again.

But— Mattie stopped. The flames swirled into the sky, topped by clouds of black and white smoke. The fire seemed to shift, red to orange to yellow, a living curtain that cut off everything behind it. It roared and howled like a wild animal that overpowered the distant booming of the cannons. For the first time, she accepted that Thom wasn’t coming out.

Sweet Tenebray, she whispered, a prayer. I can’t believe he’d do that for us.

Sarann only gathered her close, rocking her