The Dreaming: Dark Star (Book 5)

4.1. Trouble (Liran)

ABOVE GROUND —

***The year is 2261, and the location is Aklavik, a mountain town on the North Coast, on the edge of the Great Bear Desert, an area that was formerly known as Canada. ***

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Liran was running for his life — or at least that's how it felt. The police were on his trail and if they caught him he'd get a lifetime ban. And if that happened, he might as well be dead.

He felt the package at his waist, in a bag hanging from his shoulder — it was a small package, but heavy. He had a good idea of what it was, but had no time to stop and check.

There were three things on Liran's mind as he passed men closing up the houses and women hanging the laundry, as he darted down deserted alleyways, hopping over chickens, children and streams of open sewage: the first was that he had an advantage because he was young and fit, and the policemen were old and out of shape. The second was that he was at a disadvantage because this was a strange town to him — the great town of Aklavik, on the North Coast, where Liran had only arrived three days before to do a run for Ithabar. The last and most important thing on his mind was that he had gotten in way over his head and he wanted — no, he needed to get out. And now.

God, please save me — Liran prayed. I swear I will be a good man from now on! I'll quit smoking, and drinking, and this troublesome business — I'll never run for Ithabar again. Never again. I swear to You, most Powerful One, that I'll get married like Yusef wants, he begged.

He stopped to catch his breath and listen — were they still behind him? He heard nothing except the pulsing of blood through his head.

Despite that, he started jogging gently again, trying to seem normal and catch his breath. It was early morning but the sun had already heated the day significantly. People were home from working during the cool time of the night, and were settling down to sleep for the day.

He came to the top of a long, narrow, zig-zagging stone staircase that seemed to go down forever. It was a risk — could be a trap, a dead-end, or it could be the fastest way to the bottom.

He gulped. I swear, he began repeating his mantra again — I swear I will find some way to end this mess with Ithabar, if You spare me Most Magnificent One! 

He finished his desperate prayer, and kissed a trinket hanging from his neck — a representation of his mother and sister. Then he began taking the stairs down, two at a time. He passed a few abbas, old men, sitting on a bench at one of the landings of the staircase. "Salam-alaikum," he greeted, smiling furiously.

"Alaikum-al-salam," the men nodded absently, staring at the youth who was bounding down the stairs — nothing new there, but he was still a stranger, and one of their own.

Liran winced inwardly with guilt; he knew it couldn't be easy for those men to live here with the Dogrib — it wasn't duka, it wasn't a holy place.

I swear oh Great One, he said, as he hopped down two stairs, I will change. Two more stairs. I will become a better man, two more stairs. Please — two more — spare — two more — me. 

Moments later, when he reached the bottom, Liran breathed a huge sigh of relief when he recognised the way. Alhamdulallah — thank you, God, he murmured in response. It was one of the main streets heading downhill to the water, where it turned into a seafood market at the docks.

Liran could see that the Merchants were packing up for the night — going home, like everyone else, to get out of the sun and sleep. The place smelled of dead fish. Seagulls crowded the area, screeching overhead.