Infinite Present - Part 2

Palacio Altair found him wandering through the fog, dressed in only his night shirt. It was early in the morning and it was unclear how long he had been outside. The Emperor was staring out over the valley that had been his home for nearly twelve years and, upon noticing his friend, he explained that he was only awake to see one last sunrise.

There were several reasons that Palacio did not believe this claim. Not only was it typical for the Emperor to be up at that time but when he found him, he had been gazing in the wrong direction to see the first sun’s rays penetrating the darkness of the forest that morning. The bigger issue though, was that he was unconvinced that the Emperor was ready to leave the last remaining outpost of the Empire his family had won and lost in the space of only four generations.

The Emperor’s health had been getting worse for a long time, meaning that most people seeing him assumed he was much older than his thirty seven years. Few, other than Palacio, had considered that it might not be the years that had worn him down; it was the burden of his family’s name and his exile from the heart of the lost Empire that had taken the largest toll upon his body and soul.

In spite of this, Palacio Altair never doubted that the will to survive remained strong within his friend’s heart. He had often silently wondered how that was possible when life had taken so much from him. But he could still see it. The light that had burned within the Emperor’s eyes on so many of those dark days and nights in the past had not been fully extinguished.

Palacio’s unspoken belief was that the main thing keeping the Emperor alive was his child, Ciscao. He would have taken more than a little pride in knowing that the Emperor had already realized that this was the truth.

The knowledge of this had only ever brought brief comfort to the Emperor. Love beyond limit still failed to offer a clearly defined vision of his future life. Instead, he was left with little more than looping thoughts and the same unachieved goals and choices that led him to the same point again and again.

This was not through any lack of effort on his part either. On most mornings in the previous nine months the Emperor had decided he would leave Pachakuti. And each and every time he did, something had conspired to stop him.

It wasn’t even deliberate sabotage. In most cases, the delays were unavoidable. On 150 three separate occasions his various illnesses had become bad enough to make any kind of travel too dangerous to attempt. At other times, friends and messengers had arrived from the Old Empire and his desire for news of old allies as well as old enemies had overcome his immediate desire to leave.

Palacio knew that the delays had become so frequent that most people assumed the Emperor did not really want to leave. Not having anywhere obvious to go only added to this feeling. Perhaps if they had seen Palacio packing his things to leave at the end of every morning they might have understood. But they didn’t and even as he was doing it, Palacio had always mentally prepared himself for the likelihood of needing to unpack again later in the day.

Looking at the Emperor through the grey air that morning, he saw steam rising from his skin and knew his friend’s fever had become worse. He still did not push him into returning to the house. There was little point. He knew the Emperor was safe enough. He was not the only one watching him. As usual, he also had Jeronima Saenz’s eyes on him that morning.

Palacio also knew that the Emperor would only go inside when he wanted to. All he could do was wait while his friend turned towards the point on the horizon where the distant sun began to rise; cutting through the misty gloom and the trees that filled the valley below them to reveal what the untrained eye would not have recognized: The red stone buildings of a small town called Biru, which had become both a home and a sanctuary to anyone who remained loyal or who sought refuge from the new regime.

When they first arrived in the valley, the Emperor had said it was the perfect spot to set up a new imperial city that could act as a centre of power from which to begin again. That idea had dwindled in the years that followed but his instincts had not been wrong and it could not be denied that the valley was ideally suited for hiding his people from their enemies.

The town and the Emperor’s house were both well disguised by the height of the trees with their thick covering of leaves and branches, along with the mist that was typical of the area. In fact, when viewed from above, all signs of life were obscured and it was only by traveling at ground level that the network of houses, waterways, walls and people were revealed.

The ways in and out of the valley were also limited to barely visible pathways used every day by the people living there. Traveling through the undergrowth away from these paths would risk, not only, becoming lost but also possible attack by any number of wild animals.

The Emperor sighed and turned from the dim light. He trudged back to the house, barefoot, first over grass then over stone, showing no discomfort from either. Palacio Altair followed him and once they were safely back in the Emperor’s bedroom he ran him a bath; filling the hot water with flower petals and an infusion of sweet smelling tree sap, cosa leaves and konjako; which had been given to the Emperor as a gift by a man named Santiago Kent.

Palacio was aware of the Emperor’s admiration for Kent and he found it easy to understand. Kent had possessed the kind of rock solid determination his friend had always respected. And he could think of few better examples of sheer willpower than that displayed the day this gift had been placed into the Emperor’s hands.

That was years earlier and came after Kent had been exiled for a crime that was never fully explained to Palacio. Not that those details had mattered much at the time. By then, so many were being exiled or worse for any number of supposed crimes that guilt and innocence had become irrelevant. It was the new order of things and it was what the Emperor still stood against and the reason Santiago Kent had come looking for him.

Complete blind luck and ferocious resolve had been enough to take him to the secret valley of Pachakuti after days and nights of wandering through the forest on foot. Palacio knew that at some point he had been set upon by a bear but despite his injuries had kept going; leaving a trail of blood behind him that had only encouraged further attacks by other bears and big cats living beneath the cover of the trees.

Somehow he had survived long enough to stumble out of the trees and into a river. He waded across and the fresh water had cleaned his wounds and as he avoided the undertow and the current that would have dragged him further downstream. On the other side of the water there was a path through the forest but he did not walk along it. Exhaustion had struck him down then and Palacio did not doubt that the soft ground at the water’s edge had still hit him hard.

Being discovered by three men from the town who had gone to the river to do some fishing was fortunate and at first they had thought he was dead. It was only when he whispered the Emperor’s name that they had picked him up and carried him to the town. A message was sent ahead to the Emperor, telling him that a man had been found, close to death beside the river and that he seemed to be looking for him.

When Kent had woken in a bed in the Emperor’s home, his brown eyes were met unblinkingly by the Emperor’s pale green gaze. Smiling, he looked for the green bag he had been carrying on his journey. The Emperor had reached down by the bed and handed it to him. Kent pulled out a bottle filled with a dark purple liquid, he placed it into the Emperor’s hand and told him his name with his last breaths.

Though no-one in the town had known him, Santiago Kent’s funeral was well attended and the Emperor gave a brief eulogy that ended with the words, ‘If a man can survive long enough to die with friends then he has lived long enough to rest in peace’. Palacio still believed that words had rarely been so appropriate.

Once out of the bath and properly dried, the visible signs of the Emperor’s fever were greatly diminished. He gave Palacio little time to feel relieved. After dressing himself he announced:

“Palacio, we will be leaving today.”

“Of course,” he replied. “When and where will we be going?”

“We will be leaving this afternoon and we will be going to the river.”

His answer took Palacio by surprise. He had asked the question only out of habit, expecting the Emperor to offer his usual response of an enigmatic smile and the words “Oh, not far.” He did not let the unexpected words affect him. Instead, he nodded in agreement and asked, “And who will be coming with us?”

It was a question he did not need to ask. He already knew the answer and this time the Emperor offered no surprises.

“Only friends,” he said.