Read Online The Heretic (Beyond the Wall Book 1) by Lucas Bale - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Lucas Bale
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ground and ran again, replacing his jacket and sack as he did. He took a different direction this time, zigzagging through the forest to try to the throw the dog off.
He was warm from the running. He wouldn’t freeze so long as he kept going, and if he did lose the dog, he’d be able to get back to camp easily enough.
He hoped.
As he ran, he tried to take in the forest so he didn’t get lost. He recognised much of it, but if he ran blindly, he’d soon lose his way. But it was difficult, running full tilt and concentrating on navigation at the same time.
He knew it wouldn’t be long before he made a mistake.
Then he remembered the river.
It struck him as madness. As if he’d gone beyond the Wall and come back with a mind ravaged by whatever lay out there. Crossing a river in winter. If it wasn’t frozen, it would be raging, and would drag him down with it. Even if he made it across, he’d be drenched and would freeze in minutes.
Unless he kept his clothes dry somehow.
The closest river was an hour’s walk from the camp. And he was tiring. But it was not far from where he was right then. He stopped and listened for a moment. He could hear the dog in the distance. He couldn’t estimate how far it was, but he knew that if he could hear it, it was close enough.
He ran for the river.
C HAPTER S EVEN
A Different Path
SHEPHERD FOLLOWED the boy as he traipsed up the ramp and into Soteria. The ramp led directly into the loading bay and the hold beyond. As a whole, the area occupied fully a third of Soteria’s interior. She was long, forty-four metres in all, with short, angled wings from which two of her smaller drives hung. Each had its own aeronautics and avionics circuitry. Above the loading bay and stretching to the back was engineering and the seat of the two huge, combined sublight and ion drives. All the nav circuitry was in the nose. To find the problem, the boy might conceivably need to climb through all of it—a fact that made Shepherd uneasy as hell.
In one corner of the hold stood dozens of oil drums, ratcheted down to prevent them from shifting or, worse, rolling mid-flight. Underneath them were two concealed compartments, each sizeable enough to accommodate several people seated. There was no way the boy would be able to see the compartments unless he knew to look for them. They’d been installed by a metalsmith Shepherd had found in the Bazaar through a contact he trusted—as much as he trusted anyone skulking in the shadows of the dark spider’s web which sprawled across every system outside the Core.
The Magistratus allowed the Bazaar to exist, Shepherd guessed, because it fulfilled a need the Magistratus itself was unwilling to meet. Commoners could be left to stumble through the iniquitous shadows, while the Magistratus controlled those who were willing to concede their freedom in return for the ‘protection’ the Core imposed on them.
Shepherd grudgingly admired the system. The further from the Core humanity settled, the more elastic the Concessions became. In the early days, the Black Bazaar, as the marketplace had been nicknamed by some drunken smuggler—or so the story went—had been a precarious place. Deals frequently ended in bloodshed. But in time, the Bazaar’s free market developed, ensuring customers could get almost anything for the right price—and a little risk. It meant the Magistratus could conserve its resources, keep the extent of its technology a closely guarded secret, and command the loyalty of those it protected. What was the alternative to the Core? The border systems and whatever interpretation of the Concessions the regional Praetors wished to adhere to. Or going beyond the Wall and risk the madness that might bring? Shepherd considered that no option at all.
Shepherd punched the button to close the loading ramp and shut out the weather. As it closed, he scrutinised the boy warily. He was no threat of course. Fifteen or sixteen years old, unarmed unless
He was warm from the running. He wouldn’t freeze so long as he kept going, and if he did lose the dog, he’d be able to get back to camp easily enough.
He hoped.
As he ran, he tried to take in the forest so he didn’t get lost. He recognised much of it, but if he ran blindly, he’d soon lose his way. But it was difficult, running full tilt and concentrating on navigation at the same time.
He knew it wouldn’t be long before he made a mistake.
Then he remembered the river.
It struck him as madness. As if he’d gone beyond the Wall and come back with a mind ravaged by whatever lay out there. Crossing a river in winter. If it wasn’t frozen, it would be raging, and would drag him down with it. Even if he made it across, he’d be drenched and would freeze in minutes.
Unless he kept his clothes dry somehow.
The closest river was an hour’s walk from the camp. And he was tiring. But it was not far from where he was right then. He stopped and listened for a moment. He could hear the dog in the distance. He couldn’t estimate how far it was, but he knew that if he could hear it, it was close enough.
He ran for the river.
C HAPTER S EVEN
A Different Path
SHEPHERD FOLLOWED the boy as he traipsed up the ramp and into Soteria. The ramp led directly into the loading bay and the hold beyond. As a whole, the area occupied fully a third of Soteria’s interior. She was long, forty-four metres in all, with short, angled wings from which two of her smaller drives hung. Each had its own aeronautics and avionics circuitry. Above the loading bay and stretching to the back was engineering and the seat of the two huge, combined sublight and ion drives. All the nav circuitry was in the nose. To find the problem, the boy might conceivably need to climb through all of it—a fact that made Shepherd uneasy as hell.
In one corner of the hold stood dozens of oil drums, ratcheted down to prevent them from shifting or, worse, rolling mid-flight. Underneath them were two concealed compartments, each sizeable enough to accommodate several people seated. There was no way the boy would be able to see the compartments unless he knew to look for them. They’d been installed by a metalsmith Shepherd had found in the Bazaar through a contact he trusted—as much as he trusted anyone skulking in the shadows of the dark spider’s web which sprawled across every system outside the Core.
The Magistratus allowed the Bazaar to exist, Shepherd guessed, because it fulfilled a need the Magistratus itself was unwilling to meet. Commoners could be left to stumble through the iniquitous shadows, while the Magistratus controlled those who were willing to concede their freedom in return for the ‘protection’ the Core imposed on them.
Shepherd grudgingly admired the system. The further from the Core humanity settled, the more elastic the Concessions became. In the early days, the Black Bazaar, as the marketplace had been nicknamed by some drunken smuggler—or so the story went—had been a precarious place. Deals frequently ended in bloodshed. But in time, the Bazaar’s free market developed, ensuring customers could get almost anything for the right price—and a little risk. It meant the Magistratus could conserve its resources, keep the extent of its technology a closely guarded secret, and command the loyalty of those it protected. What was the alternative to the Core? The border systems and whatever interpretation of the Concessions the regional Praetors wished to adhere to. Or going beyond the Wall and risk the madness that might bring? Shepherd considered that no option at all.
Shepherd punched the button to close the loading ramp and shut out the weather. As it closed, he scrutinised the boy warily. He was no threat of course. Fifteen or sixteen years old, unarmed unless
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