Fracture (Chronicles of Discord, #1)

Fracture - Chapter 3

                                                                            The Una

The room was large, its ceiling high and its three walls lined with the mellow warmth of wood. In place of a fourth wall there were six wooden columns that allowed the light breeze entrance. Steps led up to the structure and following the line of the walls was a low wooden table at which sat the Una Headmen.

There was complete silence and a tension in the air that fully communicated itself to the three men kneeling, their palms one on top of the other, elbows pointed outward and heads bowed. The news that they had just laid before the Headmen was not good and they were fully cognisant of the danger that their people were now in.

“There is no mistake, you’re sure?” asked the man seated at the middle of the table, where it followed the line of the longest wall. He was old, his hair white but still retaining some of the thickness of youth. His skin was pale, finely lined like the pages of a well-used book.

“There can be no mistake Elder Headmen Amajit, if you permit it I will show the news broadcast.”

“The permission is yours, Official Mathu.”

Official Mathu turned slightly to one of the men seated behind him and nodded, the young man stood and walked to the far wall where there was a control panel. A matter of a few pushed buttons later and shutters were closing off the light entering the room between the columns and a 3D image wavered to life in the middle of the room; it showed a gleaming silver ship docked at the side of a canal, as they watched a group of people made their way down the gangway to the podium on which sat the Tula High Council.

The audio accompanying the video stated that this was the diplomatic envoy from the Free Nation. The focus changed, zooming in on the face of a grey haired man in a smart dark grey suit whose features were composed into a pleasant smile. The audio explained that the man was Senator Burton and the Una Headmen watched in silence as Senator Burton extended a hand toward Corbani Va Dic Ladron. Councillor Ladron turned, bemused and spoke to someone standing behind him, hitherto unseen. For a second her face was projected with startling clarity: smooth skin, downcast eyes and hair coiled intricately on the top of her head.

A murmur of unease rippled around the room and the young man at the control panel abruptly shut the recording off. The shutters lifted filling the room with light and showing the particularly rigid countenances of three of the men present.

One was Hyun Jae Sen, Headman of the people of New Paris, a man in his early sixties, his grey hair distinguished and oriental features still retaining the handsomeness of his youth. The second was his son, Apprentice Headman Kai Uel Ne Sen; his mouth had thinned, lips turning bloodless and white as he reached out a hand to rest on the shoulder of the man sitting to the side and in front of him. This young man was hardly more than a boy, but his robe proclaimed him a Headman to the people of New Athens, Headman Rem Uel Ne Singh. At the touch of Kai's hand the shocked look ebbed from his face and some of his colour returned.

The silence became embarrassing.

“If the Tula make an alliance with the Free Nation then their ability to win this war increases exponentially,” stated Elder Headman Amajit. “Therefore such an alliance must never come to pass.”

“What course should we take?” asked Headman Chopra. “An attack? Should we attempt to kill the Senator but place all suspicion on the Tula?”

A murmur of agreement rippled around the room.

“Elder Headman Amajit, if I might be heard?” the quiet voice of Headman Sen made itself heard over the sounds of discontent.

“You may speak.”