Charcoal Streets: Chapter One (revised)

Charcoal Streets

Chapter 1: Hopes

The City of Ash lay in the northern Kingdom of Efral, long the most powerful of the three Kingdoms, but now the weakest. The City of Ash had once been in the centre of the land, but so much territory had been lost that it was now not far from the border.

For the people living in the city however, this was of little importance. What difference did it make who was ruling them? They were all as bad as one another, and the people had enough problems without worrying over official matters. The shortage of food and water was worse than ever, and it rarely rained now, although the clouds were always in the sky, blotting out the sun. The streets, made of ash and charcoal compacted by generations of city people walking to and from their daily duties, were now dusty beyond belief. All the buildings were black from the ashen dust that was blown off the streets by the harsh winds, and the few families that had windows in their houses had long since stopped trying to keep them clean. There was never any sunlight for them to let in anyway.

No one in the City knew why the streets were so filled with charcoal and ash. It was a secret well hidden in the mysteries of the past. Some believed it was a curse, some said the city had once been a wonderful place, clean of the filth they now lived in but the soldiers of Efral had burnt it when they took over. There were ashy ruins around the borders of the city, old buildings, burnt and forgotten. Many thought the city had never burned, it was just the effect the Authorities had on places they controlled for too long.

The Authorities themselves never set foot in the City of Ash, instead flicker lights flared up here and there, the small wisps of flame that let the Authorities see what was happening in the City without getting filthy from walking through the streets. Much as people disliked the flicker lights that could flare up anywhere at any time they were thankful that the Authorities themselves were not there. Little was known of the City Authorities, but one thing everybody knew- they were not human. What exactly they were was another matter, and opinions varied greatly. Everyone knew a handful of the creatures that prowled beyond the City walls; spirits, daemons, imps, and shades. No one however, was stupid enough to think that that was all. They all knew that unheard of creatures lived in the wild, and the guard posts, and they all hoped never to meet any of them. And they all knew that they probably would.

There were, of course, theories about what the Authorities were, private beliefs and suspicions that could not be discussed for fear of a flicker light flaring and revealing their ideas to the Authorities themselves. That had happened to some people, just as they were telling everyone that the Authorities were a particularly strong type of shade, and the actual leader was daemon. The flicker light had reported it all, and during the night everyone who had spoken disappeared without a trace. They were never seen again.

Most people believed the Authorities were a type of creature they didn’t know about, after all, they only knew about the things that occasionally broke into the outer regions of the city. The City walls kept most things out, but every now and then something would creep in, wreaking havoc until it was destroyed. No one ever wanted to live near the City walls, but they were never asked where they wanted to live. You were assigned a house, and that was it. Well, no, not quite, because it wasn’t that easy. If you were lucky you were assigned a house and that was it. Most people stayed on a waiting list for years, and were never given a house. Some people shared, others lived on the filthy streets. The Authorities had decreed that no new houses were to be built, so if one fell empty it was given to another family. If not, no one got a new house. That was the law. As a result the filthy huts became overcrowded, although it was generally known now that the population was falling. Not enough food, water, or space. Too much sickness.

Almost everyone in the City was suffering from ash sickness. It was a sickness peculiar to that one City and put down to the ash, whether it was because of that or not was another matter. Few people in the city escaped it, and it built up over years, just making life that little bit more difficult. Most people merely had the constant feeling of their throat being choked with hot ash, and not the more serious effects, but it was enough. Everyone knew the stages of ash sickness, all ten of them. Most people suffered from the first two or three. The throat was the first stage. The second was a high fever. The third a constant, often severe headache. The fourth, violent shivering. The fifth, a feeling of weakness that left the sufferer struggling with the most ordinary tasks. And so on it went, one more symptom being added at each stage.

Not everyone had been in the City of Ash all their lives, there were other cities, and people were occasionally transferred from one to another. Not through choice of course. Mere whims on the behalf of the authorities more like. A few people had been moved away from the City and moved back, not many, but a few. It was through these people that everyone else found out that when you left the City you started to recover –slowly- from ash sickness. No one ever recovered in the City. However they also learnt a little of other sicknesses in the other Cities. None of them were pleasant. Therefore people did not hope to be moved so that they may recover from ash sickness. They knew they were just as likely to get something else in another City.

The thought of living free was impossible and few people ever even considered it. You died in the wild. Everyone knew that. Few people even doubted the absolute certainty of this fact. But a few did.

One of those few was a seventeen year old girl called Mari. She was in the second stage of the sickness, but lately she had been getting headaches- stage three.

Stretched out on a filthy rug in her hut with a particularly bad headache, she dreamt of living free, away from the sickness. Pulling the threadbare blanket over herself a little more she strained her eyes looking through the gloom to check her younger brother was alright.

He was shivering weakly, only twelve years old but already in stage seven. Mari heard him cough harshly and sighed. Coughing, a clear sign that stage eight was on its way. It was for Tarn’s benefit that she was so determined to be free. The sickness was developing so quickly in him, he would never live even to twenty in the City. Their parents were dead, both from the sickness. Mari had been looking after Tarn since she was seven, and she wasn’t going to let the sickness take him as it had taken their parents. That was why she was part of a select group planning to break out. It was highly risky, planning. At any point in a discussion a flicker light could flare up and betray their plans. But alone she had even less of a chance, so she took the risks along with the rest of the group.

Near the doorway one of her cousins shifted in their sleep, and Mari glanced at them guiltily. Her cousins would not be coming with her when she broke out, they didn’t even know she was going to. But they were not the risk taking type, she knew they would refuse to come. Once she had mentioned breaking out to them and they had hushed her sharply.

“Don’t talk about things like that!” they had hissed, “You’ll get us all killed! You can do what you like, but we’re not stupid enough to even think about it. We don’t want you dragging us into trouble okay?”

So she had never spoken about it to them again. It was good of them even to let her and Tarn live in their hut; without them they would have been living on the streets.

The ringing of the town rising bell interrupted her thoughts; it was time to go to work.

Wearily she and her cousins dragged themselves to their feet. Mari went over to her brother and gently helped him stand up. Even he had to work in one of the huge factories that filled the City.

Supporting him with one arm she wrenched the door open and stepped into the murky darkness outside. It was always dark in the City. The thick, smothering clouds above blocked out all light.

Shutting the door forcefully Mari murmured a private goodbye to safety for the next few hours. In the chaotic darkness she stumbled along the street, still supporting her brother. Helplessly they ignored the bodies of the sick and dying on the roads, stepping over them carefully, avoiding the ones driven insane by their constant suffering.

Around the first corner was the entrance to Tarn’s factory. They were forced to work away from one another, on opposite sides of the City. Mari crept inside the doorway with Tarn, quickly finding Fell, another of the group planning to break out. Fell was twenty, and unusually healthy, being only in the first stage of the sickness.

“Look after him, Fell,” Mari urged him, “He was coughing in the night.”

Fell nodded sadly, and Mari slipped back out on to the street. A few paces away from the door someone grabbed her ankle. He was insane, muttering feverishly about the sickness and dark creatures that spread it over the city day and night.

Mari pulled herself away from him and ran on. The morning trip to work was always so terrifying now. Once she had had company on the journey, until her friend became too sick to work.

Through the confusing mixture of hurrying people Mari wound her way towards the factory she worked in. The workplaces were the only place to get food and water, if you turned up late you missed breakfast.

Letting herself in through the back door Mari sensed that she was just in time. There was a general buzz of downhearted chatter in the air, a sure sign that work had not yet started. Once it did there would be a depressed silence as people carried out their monotonous tasks without enthusiasm. The factory made weapons for Efral’s armies, strange weapons they knew how to make but not how to use. That was deliberate of course- the Authorities didn’t want them taught how to make weapons they could use. The general opinion in the workplace was that the weapons were not designed for human armies at all. Who knew what the armies consisted of? People were never taken from the City to fight, as they would be if it were a human army being used.

Mari collected the bowl of thin gruel that was her breakfast, and ate it alone. It was disgusting, and she ate it only because she was so hungry and because she would be missing lunch. The group of future escapees would be meeting in their lunch break to finalise plans. They would be leaving any day now; they just had to decide when.

Slowly Mari sipped her regulation one glass of water, and contemplated that meeting before she took her place in the assembly line and started the days work.

She hoped they would be leaving soon.