The Grey Ones
The Dark Before the Dawn: VIII

JUNIPER

Being told to stay put when war was just about to break loose was vexing, but Juniper did as told and stayed in her tent. She had to trust that it would be safer for her and that the Vasaath wouldnʼt do anything to put her in harm’s way. She listened to the men as they readied themselves for war and as the darkness fell and the storm grew stronger, a terrible feeling settled inside of her.

That was when she heard the turmoil and the tumult in the city—she knew the Kas hadn’t marched yet, because she would have heard it. This, she knew, was coming from the city. Something was happening, and it terrified her. Without caring about the Vasaath’s orders, she ran out into the rain.

Ohkasenon warriors were still stationed inside the fort and one of them saw Juniper dash out into the courtyard and quickly raced to her side. “My lady, you have to go back inside! It’s the Vasaath’s orders!”

“To the Netherworld with his orders!” Juniper spat and pried her arm from the warrior’s grip.

“No, my lady!” the warrior protested and swiftly wrapped his arms around her waist to drag her back to the tent. There was a struggle, but no matter how much she fought the man, his grip was steadfast.

She cursed at him, clawed at him, and did everything she could to escape her prison, but the warrior held fast and tried to calm her down. Suddenly, the two combatants ceased as the ominous knell of the guard bell rung over the city. The Vasaath’s strong voice carried in the wind, and even though Juniper couldnʼt understand his words, she knew the war cry of the Grey Ones.

“I need to know what is happening!” she slurred out and sprinted from her captor before he had the chance to wake from his sudden paralysis.

She hurtled towards the battlements and flew up the stairs to gaze out over the city. She saw torches in the dark, heard the yells of men and women, and saw the army of two hundred Kas warriors march into the streets.

The ohkasenon was suddenly next to her, gazing out over the same scene with gritted teeth. “Come now, my lady,” said he. “You should get to safety.”

“What is happening out there?”

The man was silent for a short moment before muttering, “War.”

Juniper came willingly then. Her heart thudded violently in her chest and her limbs were weak, and she was soaked to the bone.

Well inside the tent, she could see the pain in the ohkasenon’s face. He was not from her culture, with his olive skin, dark hair, and bright hazel eyes—but she could sense kinship in him nonetheless. He did not have the stern face of a Kas, and he was clearly taken by the screams of women and children. But he gathered himself, bowed, and stepped back out into the rain.

Juniper thought about inviting him in again, just to let him dry a bit, and perhaps have a cup of tea, but she refrained.

She changed from her soaked apparel and made herself some tea, but could not drink it. She fiddled nervously with her necklace, paced the tent, and tried to drown out her own thoughts by covering her ears.

The pouring rain against the thick canvas muffled the sounds from the outside well enough, but she could clearly imagine the horror. She was beyond relief when Neema dashed into her tent, just as worried as Juniper. The two women embraced, and Juniper asked if the maasa knew what was happening.

“I don’t know,” said Neema. “The Kas never attack the citizens like this.”

“No,” said Juniper, “they marched after the tumult had begun.”

Neema furrowed her brows before she barked something at the warrior outside the tent, and the olive-skinned man quickly entered. Neema asked him something, and the soldier replied, but Neema did not seem pleased.

“Speak clearly, man,” said she in the common tongue. “What is happening?”

The warrior did not seem willing to respond, but neither could he ignore the commands of a well-respected woman. “We elicited a riot to even the odds, maasa. The Noxborough guards were too many, we did not have time to fight them all.”

Juniper felt the chill in her core. “The Vasaath did this?”

The warrior turned to her. “He did what he had to do.”

Juniper searched for things to say, but found no words.

Neema told the warrior to leave and then she gently steered Juniper to take a seat. She made her some new tea and told her to drink it, claiming it would make her feel better, but it did not.

“All those people…” Juniper began, but she could not will herself to finish the sentence.

“If it’s true, and there is a riot, it is hardly the Vasaath’s fault,” said Neema. “A fire needs a spark to ignite, but it needs the air and the fuel to burn. A riot doesn’t start on a whim. It takes years—generations—to build such rage. Just look at the poor people we’ve taken in. They’re starving and sick. This was an eruption that has been brewing for a long time, Juniper. The Vasaath gave them the spark, but they brought the fire. He only took advantage of the chaos.”

She tightened her jaw. “As he took advantage of our fears.”

Neema sighed. “This is what war looks like—it’s not honourable knights in silver armour riding in on white steeds and slaying the horrible beasts. This is no fairytale. War is ugly, and terrible, and grim. People die.” She glared at the girl. “The Vasaath does what he has to in order to protect his own. If he has to use your faith against you to ward off five thousand men, or if he has to give a little push to start a riot long overdue to take the city, then so be it.” Then she sighed. “You need to choose a side, Juniper.”

“But how can I do that?” she hisses. “This is my city, and those are my people! But I lo—” She stopped herself, just before she said something she would regret.

She loved the Vasaath, but Neema didn’t have to know that. She didn’t have to know what feelings Juniper shared with the general, or what dreams she had of an impossible future with him. Placing a hand on her belly, she wondered what would become of them both if there truly was a child growing in there.

She took a deep breath. “I loathe my father for what he has done to this city, but turning them against each other is not what will save them, and therefore, I can’t approve of it. My place is amongst my people, not against them.”

Neema hardened her gaze and leaned forwards. Lowering her voice, she said, “You’ve already spoken of betrayal once, Juniper. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

Juniper snorted, but only to cover the sob that was on its way. “What would I betray? I’m not one of you. I’m a foreigner. Or rather, I’m a prisoner of war.”

“You’re not a prisoner.”

“Of course I am,” said Juniper. “I live here under the pretence that I am free to leave whenever I wish to, and yet, I am constantly ordered to remain within this compound.”

“The Vasaath is trying to protect you,” Neema muttered. “You’d know that if you weren’t so tied up in your delusional thoughts and dreams about freedom.” The woman’s face was set hard. “People of the Kasenon do not keep prisoners. You’re a guest here, in respect to your city and your culture, and thus stand under the Vasaath’s protection—but the minute the Vasaath conquers this city in the name of the Kasenon, you are either one of us or you’re an enemy. It’s up to you which you’d prefer.”

Juniper’s chest heaved. She was furious and terrified, and as she looked upon Neema’s face, she realised that this woman had seen war before. She had travelled with the Saathenaan for many years, and this was nothing new to her. She had been hardened by blood and death until her heart had turned into stone.

She took a deep breath. “If I am free to leave, there should be nothing stopping me from leaving the city altogether.”

“So you would abandon your own city, then?”

“If I cannot stay and protect my people because it would either make me a traitor or an enemy, I’d save myself by leaving, would I not?”

“You would.” Neema narrowed her eyes. “But why do you want to leave? Have we not treated you well? Has the Vasaath not treated you well?”

Juniper swallowed and glanced down on the hand on her belly. “I have a good reason to leave.”

Neema caught the gesture and released a deep, tired sigh. “Oh, you foolish girl.”

“I’m not a fool,” Juniper muttered. “I forgot to cleanse, yes, but I am not the only one at fault. Without his seed, this would never have happened. Besides, I will love this child with all my heart.”

For the first time that night, Juniper could see hurt and despair in Neema’s face as she said, “They will take it from you. You understand that, don’t you?”

“That is why I cannot stay.”

Neema sighed. “There might not even be a child. How long has it been? A few days? A few weeks?”

“Days.” Juniper swallowed and felt her cheeks redden.

“Are you late?”

“No, not yet.”

A sigh of relief escaped the maasa. Then she shook her head. “You need to understand the seriousness of this situation, Juniper. Not only are you not of the People, but you’re also not Kas. The Vasaath cannot father children as he pleases, neither can you lie with him as you please. Here, now, it’s different, but when this city is part of Kasarath and when the Vasmenaan and the Vasenon come here, what you and the Vasaath are doing needs to stop. It has to.”

“If I am with child,” Juniper said, “they will take the child from me unless I leave.”

“And where would you go?” Neema asked. “To Westbridge? Across the mountains? And even if you’d find a safe haven, what would you do once the child comes? How would you protect it from judging eyes? It will not look like you.”

Juniper had thought very little about what she would do about her possible situation, but the prospect of being ostracised or perhaps even persecuted was about as tempting as giving her child away to a militaristic regime. Sullen, she dropped her gaze to the table.

Neema sighed. “You won’t leave, and you can’t have a child. Not one that is fathered by the Vasaath himself. If your blood is late, you will come to me and we will sort it out. Do you understand?”

Juniper didn’t want to nod, but found herself doing it anyway.

“Good,” said Neema. “The likelihood of the two of you conceiving is little to none, but it does happen from time to time, and we cannot take any chances.”

They spoke no more of the matter, but Juniper felt even more worried—and uncertain. Would she want to remain in the city once it belonged to the Kas? She did not know.

Later into the night, both Neema and Juniper could hear muffled screams just outside the courtyard, and Juniper spared no thoughts as she rushed out from the tent and into the rain.

“What is that?” she demanded from the warrior, but he only ordered her to get back inside. She insisted that she would not.

“There are rioters at the gates,” said the warrior, “but they cannot come in. The gates are locked.”

“That does not sound like rioters!” Juniper spat. “That is people screaming for help!”

For the second time that night, she outran the warrior and climbed up onto the battlements. As she looked out over the docks, she saw how a mass of people, mostly women and children, had breached the barricades and stood by the gates, begging to be let inside. Juniper gasped as she gazed out over the city—it was burning, despite the rain. The sound of battle could still be heard over the downpour and she realised with a heavy heart that the city had fallen.

The warrior was at her heels, and the moment he’d reached her, he told her to go back to the tent. “It’s safer there, and you’ll be sheltered from the rain!”

“Open the gates,” she commanded and looked the warrior dead in the eye.

He only frowned. “I can’t do that.”

“Those aren’t rioters,” Juniper said and pointed at the people. “Those are women and children seeking shelter from the battle! Open the gates.”

“The Vasaath’s orders are—”

“Open the bloody gates or I’ll fling myself over this wall!” she bellowed, surprised at her own ferocity. “I’ll deal with the Vasaath. Now, let those people in!”

The man glared at her, hesitated, but then he turned to the ohkasenon manning the gates and shouted orders at them. They seemed confused at first, but then the gates slowly swung open.

Juniper rushed down to meet the grateful people, and most of them were scared and desperate. There were cries and pleas, but most of them were just thankful they had escaped the fighting. Juniper tried to find out what was truly happening, but all they would tell her was that the people were killing each other.

“They’re tearing limbs off each other!”

“They’re feasting on each other’s flesh!”

“They have all gone mad!”

“The Builder has forsaken us!”

Juniper tried to make sense of it all, but it was too chaotic. People were hurt and bleeding, and no one seemed to understand what was truly happening. Neema had joined them, and she seemed just as shocked. Such events seemed unprecedented.

Juniper turned to her. “Some of them are injured, we need to help them!”

Neema was speechless, but as Juniper barked at her to help, even she sprung to action.

Some of the ohkasenon warriors around them helped as well, and Juniper had called for the Kamani to help. The injured were led into Juniper’s tent while the others sought shelter from the rain elsewhere.

Only a few were severely injured and Neema tended to them while Juniper tended to the others as well as she could. Most were only slightly injured with nasty bruises and some smaller cuts, and they just needed to calm down and perhaps clean some wounds.

The children were terrified, devastated. When some of the women had calmed down, Juniper tried again to ask them what was happening in the city, and one woman told her that hundreds of people had found weapons and were attacking each other wildly.

“It all happened so fast,” said another woman. “Before we could realise what was happening, people were not only attacking the guards but each other, too!”

“Yes, it’s complete chaos!”

“They killed my husband! He’s never done anything to anyone! He’s a cobbler, for Builder’s sake!”

“Oh, the Builder has forsaken us!”

Several of them started to yell out the atrocities they had suffered and Juniper tried to calm them down—but they were all too upset.

“Please! Please!” Juniper then exclaimed, and the people finally silenced. “It is crucial you stay calm! If not for you, then for the children!” She sighed. “I understand this is terrifying, but you need to stay strong. What is happening seems to be a two-way coup.”

She swallowed. She could see in all their faces that they didn’t know why any of this was happening.

“My father has done many terrible things,” sighed she. “What has happened tonight was bound to happen sooner or later. The Grey Ones have launched their attack against my father, as well, and if they win this battle, this city will be lost by dawn.”

The people gasped, shocked and horrified, but Juniper gestured at them to calm down.

“No, no, do not fret! They wouldn’t attack innocent people—” She took a deep breath, feeling her heart grow heavy, before finishing her sentence. “—if you submit to their reign.”

This did not calm the people, but rather the contrary, and she wasn’t surprised. Indeed, they knew very little about the Kasenon and all the good things the philosophy brought—but as she looked at the children in their mothers’ arms, she knew that while the Kasenon might give them what they lacked, it would also take away what mattered the most.

She swallowed, placed her hand on her belly, and even though she knew there might not be a child growing inside of her at all, she still whispered, “Forgive me.” Taking a deep breath, she raised her voice and declared, “I know this will be a difficult time for you, but you will not face it alone. I shall weather this storm with you all. I shall be your voice. I will do all in my power to protect you.”

At last, this seemed to soothe them. Their Lady would be with them to guide and protect them. Perhaps, in such dire times, they did find some solace in the Arlington name.

As the people gradually calmed, Neema said lowly to Juniper, “You have a kind heart, and I know that your sacrifice is great, but this is where you belong.”

Gently, the maasa grabbed Juniper’s arm and squeezed. It was an endearing sentiment, a friendly touch, and a ghost of a smile appeared on the woman’s lips. For the first time, Juniper felt as though the two women truly understood each other.

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