It was with relief that Ashken saw Jessica standing by the wall further up in the direction he was walking. He stared at her for a while, drinking her in, trying to memorize all the different parts of her. He had not realized how much he had been looking forward to seeing her before he saw her. It was difficult for Ashken to rectify the differences between the father and the daughter. Jessica was a tall woman, thin with long arms and short legs. She wore her hair short and up around her ears. Her boots were similar to the militiamen’s boots, long, black and shiny. Her hands were small and delicate. Her face was slightly flat with two birth marks like knife slashes running along the edge of the left side of her chin.

It took Ashken a while to realize that there was something wrong with Jessica. She leaned against the wall with her knees bent and stared blankly toward the militiamen. Ashken could not see her face from his distance away from her. She stood in the shadows against the wall. The torch light from the group of militiamen that encircled her position highlighted her face. The light reflected off what looked like streams of tears striped across her cheeks.

Ashken moved along the wall, remaining in the shadows. He was surprised he had made it so far, expecting to have been discovered earlier as he progressed. He glanced behind him to check to see if Jeremiah had caught up, if he had arrived at the bottom of the stairs to take command of the militiamen. He had not, but Ashken was moving slowly enough where he knew it would not be much longer before Jeremiah would appear. He knew Jeremiah’s first order would be to locate Ashken. He was not sure what Jeremiah would do with Ashken once the militiamen caught him, but he did not want to find out. He did not want to be caught before he found out what had happened to Moses.

Ashken stared at Jessica for a while, trying to catch her looking in his direction. She did not seem to be looking at anything in particular, having a dazed look that Ashken thought at first was because of confusion. The look reminded him of his own feelings over the past day. When it seemed clear he would not catch Jessica’s eyes, he started moving again along the wall, drawing closer to her. He studied the area around Jessica but did not see anyone else standing there. There was no sign of Moses or Samantha, or even Joseph.

Ashken continued moving along the side of the wall, moving faster than he thought safe. When he was a few feet away, Jessica turned to look at him. Her face was covered in anguish and pain. Her cheeks were striped with tears and her eyes were bloodshot and red, as if she had been rubbing them nonstop for the past hour.

At first it did not look like she saw Ashken. She seemed to look right through him. The blank look in her eyes cleared for a moment and she almost smiled before she caught herself and looked down, enraged by her brief moment of pleasure. Ashken ran up to her, forgetting about the militiamen who milled about the area, watching Jessica.

“You’re all right, Jessica.” Ashken said. He held her and kept whispering his reassurance, “You’re all right now, Jessica. You’re all right”

Jessica shook as Ashken held her. Her arms were at her side and she did not respond to him for many minutes. Finally, she started crying, her body’s shaking became more pronounced and strong. Ashken shook with her and held her closer. She cried loudly, sniffling and coughing in her grief.

Ashken had no thoughts for what or who surrounded him. It took a while for him to even register that there was someone else speaking to him. He looked up surprised, having lost himself in Jessica’s grief.

“Nice coat,” a man said loudly and slowly. Clearly he had been saying the same thing for the past minute or so, repeating it slower and louder each time. Ashken looked up and saw a militiaman standing in front of him. He held a long baton and seemed older. Ashken recognized him immediately as the man in the crowd who had been surrounded by the sword wielding militiamen. He looked behind him and saw a group of ten militiamen with their hands resting and rubbing the hilts of large swords, which they had belted to their belts. The bright silver hilt of one of the militiaman’s swords caught Ashken’s eyes. It was Moses’s sword. He had a sinking feeling as he saw the militiaman rubbing the top of the hilt greedily. Ashken swallowed hard and held Jessica closer to him.

“Who are you?” Ashken asked, taken aback by the tone of the man’s voice. He was not used to being spoken down to Ashken as if a child. Especially coming from a militiaman, Ashken was used to being spoken to with respect. He knew it was mostly because of his father and people’s respect for the great families and everything they had done for the enclave.

“You must be the Liebowitz’s brat,” the man said, not answering Ashken’s question. “We’ve been looking for your father for a while now. There are a bunch of people waiting for him in the council’s chambers. Your father has been a bad man. He’s been a very bad man.”

“What are you talking about?” Ashken asked. Jessica began shaking harder. She looked over to the man who had spoken and pushed Ashken away from her. She lunged blindly at the man. She did not reach him as one of the militiamen stepped forward in front of the man and caught Jessica by her wrist. He pulled her arm up and behind her back.

“The time of the great family’s brats slapping militiamen and farmers is over, little girl,” the militiaman said with a vicious twist that lifted Jessica’s arm higher and above her head.

“Have a care,” the man said to the militiaman. “This is not a great family’s brat. She’s a bastard child, haven’t you heard? The great families couldn’t keep their noble hands off the common people. She’s one of us, so let her be. Now, this,” and the man pointed to Ashken. “This is a great family’s brat.” Ashken heard a tone he had never heard when he had heard people speak of the great families. It was disgust mixed with disappointment.

“Jessica, where’s Moses?” Ashken asked quietly, trying to will her to ignore the pain and give him the information. If Moses was still alive, he would be able to help them. Surely he could help them get out even of this situation.

Jessica did not respond. She did not struggle with the militiaman, but stood with her head and torso lowered toward the ground and her arm still above her body. The militiaman still held her arm up and gave it a short shake. He laughed and pulled up Jessica’s arm a bit higher before releasing it.

Jessica crumpled to the floor and Ashken fell to the ground to see if she was okay. She was sobbing with her arms over her head.

Red hot anger filled Ashken’s vision and he rose and threw himself at the man. The militiamen were not fast enough to catch him and Ashken fell to the ground with the man underneath. He raised his arms and started swinging his fists at the man’s head. He landed a good blow to the left side of the man’s nose and a heard a crack. This was the second such punch he had landed in as many hours. After the swing, he felt rough hands pull him off and saw the red sash of a militiaman’s uniform. Ashken watched as if in slow motion as another militiaman swung his baton at Ashken’s stomach. He felt the air explode out of his lungs and fell to the ground, holding his stomach and unable to breathe.

“That’s enough,” the man said, wiping his nose of the blood that started to trickle down. He wiped himself off and stood up. “Take him to the others. Leave her, though. She’s caused enough trouble. She’ll slink away to somewhere. It doesn’t matter much where she ends up to me. Now him, he’s a different story.”

Two militiamen grabbed Ashken by his arms and dragged him away from Jessica. Ashken tried to look up at her, to give her a nod or a look, afraid that this might be the last time he saw her. But he still had not been able to catch his breath, and it took all of his effort to wheeze in enough air to continue breathing.

He felt different arms around him, and when he looked up, he saw Moses’s beautiful face standing over him. His face looked worried but calm. Ashken did not understand. He looked at Moses and Moses did not look like he had been in fight. After a fight, Moses had a different look on his face, a vague satisfaction with fulfilling what it was he had been brought to do. He did not have that look now, however. Ashken glanced down to Moses’s belt and saw his empty scabbard. Ashken could not remember ever having seen Moses without his sword.

“It’s great to see you,” Ashken said to Moses.

“Likewise, Ashken. I’m glad you’re safe. Let’s get you against the wall and check to see if the militiamen did any serious harm.” Ashken followed Moses to the wall where he found Joseph waiting. He did not have his pole arm either, and sat quietly, picking under his fingernails with a short metal stick.

When Ashken could breathe again, he looked passed Moses and into the crowd. There were at least twenty militiamen standing around the three of them. Every other militiaman carried a shooter. These were not like the militiamen Ashken had seen earlier. They were very much alert. The militiamen carrying the shooters held them up and pointed in their directions. They must have known about Moses’s prowess in battle. He probably even trained some of these men. The world had changed quite a bit in the last day. Ashken still could not wrap his head around it.

“They’re looking for your father,” Moses said. “They’ve checked the house and the council building but they haven’t found him. I’m not sure how long his hiding place will last.”

Ashken felt a moment of utter joy as he heard Moses’s words. He had fantasized of meeting with his father and discussing the craziness of the last day; he had fantasized of his father still being alive and explaining what was happening and how he would quell the problems with the council and the militiamen. Ashken could not understand how Moses had wait this long to tell him the truth. It did not make any sense to him. Why had Moses held out on him, and why did he choose this time to tell him what had really happened? The memory of his father dying flashed through Ashken’s head; he had been with his father when Moses pulled the sword from Tenos’s shoulder. Had it all been an illusion? Or perhaps Moses had revived him after he had taken Ashken away. Moses did seem to have amazing skills at time, more amazing than other men. Ashken lived in the fantasy for a long time before looking at Moses’s face. Moses was shaking his head slightly, and using his eyes to look back toward the militiamen. The fantasy dissolved in front of Ashken’s eyes as he realized Moses had been putting on an act for the benefit of the militiamen who stood not too far away, and close enough to overhear their conversations.

Ashken could only nod at Moses. He could not find his voice to add anything to the lies Moses was spinning. Of course Moses was trying to protect Ashken. Once it was known that Ashken’s father was dead, he would be an official council member, and if what the man had said was true, once that was known, Ashken would no longer be safe as a patriarch of a great family. Ashken did not think he was terribly safe now, but he trusted Moses and his ruse. He wondered why and how Moses and Joseph were still alive. Surely they would have fought their way through the militiamen. He had never seen Moses voluntarily give up his weapon. He did not understand why he would do so now.

“I had to wait to ensure you were safe,” Moses said as if reading Ashken’s mind. “I couldn’t fight unless I had a purpose, a way of getting to you. Only Jeremiah went up the stairs with you. I figured you would be safe until I could figure out what was going on. They took my sword. Obviously they still think I’m a danger.” Moses laughed quietly. There was no humor in his face.

“What are we going to do?” Ashken asked. He found himself in the familiar place of looking to Moses to tell him what to do. His earlier moments of trying to take control of the situation were gone. He was not as ready as he had thought. He did not know what the next steps were. He wanted to get back to Jessica, to protect her from the militiamen and from her father. She did not know that her father was a murderer.

“Where’s Samantha?” Ashken asked when he looked around and did not see Jessica’s mother.

“She tried to run,” Moses said. “They shot her in the back. I don’t think they planned to take her alive. I thought the militiamen were under Jeremiah’s control. It was the only thing that made any sense from the Friar’s house. But it seems I was wrong. Not even Jeremiah could have ordered his own wife shot by the militiamen. There are strange things going on around here.”

Moses’s statement reflected Ashken’s very thoughts. There was much he needed to fill in Moses on. But now was not the right time. They had to get away from the militiamen and regroup somewhere safe. But first they had to rescue Jessica.

Word count: 2,398

Words remaining: 10,961 (words so far: 39,029)

Thoughts: I need to keep moving and stop trying to write filler, at least on my first run through the words. Filler is time consuming to create. I will write short and sweet sections, and then go back and fill in the gaps later to pad the words. Yes, I’m writing instructions for Marathon writing after my terrible efforts yesterday. I’m hoping typing worlds will get me moving again. It feels like I don’t know where this is going and because of that I can’t go anywhere. Not that there’s anywhere I can take this story that would be interesting or worthwhile. I’m thinking of it backwards: I have to write it first and then once I’ve written it I’ll find out where it goes. That’s much easier said than done.

I’m leaving for Taiwan tonight. I will continue writing every day but I might not be able to post every day. Until that number above passes 50,000, expect me to keep plodding away. (Another five days should do it. It won’t be pretty but it will be finished.) Things may get a bit challenging with the loss of a day on the flight. I’ll try to figure out whether I have to write on the plane, or if I can write tomorrow—I mean Sunday night. Time zones are very confusing.