Chapter 2

HavenGuarde

- And they settled down, in vast towering citadels, in grim uncertainty -

Twelve years later…

The boy ran.

Knowing the streets like the back of his hand, he raced ahead of his pursuers.

I am like the wind, he thought. And today, even the wind cannot catch me.

Born on the eve of the Great Flare, Thonavar Ironhand was said to be cursed. This was also due to the strange pigmentation in Thonavar's hair; for Thonavar's hair, though predominantly black, had streaks of pearly white. He had little to no friends and the children in the neighbourhood mainly avoided him.

His parents had come by ship to HavenGuarde, along with the multitudes of refugees that poured in from all over the earth. Hasty settlements had to be built for the teeming masses, and for the many more that were still streaming in, eager to escape the terror that had engulfed the world. Thonavar's family was given a crude dwelling in which to live in, having nothing in possession that was of worth to purchase a better home. They had escaped the arctic and its frozen wastes with nothing but their very lives. For far and few of the great host of very many ships that had set out had returned, and many were lost as they crossed the icy seas, plummeting into dark waters from the skies above.

Upon arrival, bereft of possession and having nothing of their own to offer, Thonavar and his family had been cast down to the last tier, in a place called city below, far below the multi-levels of cityscape and the towering skyscrapers that could be seen reaching into the heavens. As such, his parents were considered poor and this, together with the perception in the neighbourhood that he was cursed due to the white streaks in his hair, made him vulnerable to being picked on by some of the bigger boys at school.

"There he is!" someone yelled, excitedly.

They had found him!

Thonavar ran on. His pursuers were gaining on him. His nimble feet found the dry spots, avoiding potholes and muddy puddles as he ran along the back streets and sewers of city below. Here, the light was dim, and the air was stale and tasted like metal. For it was in city below where most of the works of industry were carried out, far from the decadent and frivolous lifestyles of the wealthy from city above, hidden from their soft and wandering eyes. The air was heavily polluted with rust, metals, dust, smoke from the burning of coal, fuel and other materials, and all kinds of impurities.

Every week, daily broadcasts would declare the death of someone, the most common causes being radiation overexposure, factory and depot accidents and stepping into a toxic or acidic fog, for the sewers were filthy, carrying the wastes and by product of the many tiers of cityscape above.

Down in city below, life was hard and full of struggle. But to Thonavar, city below was his playground and each new morning, he readily took up the challenge of survival, taking calculated risks as he stared death in the eye. Dodging a spray of acid from a leaking rusty pipe from the side of a grimy wall, Thonavar leapt over a small pile of scrap metal and abandoned woodwork, before crossing a narrow bridge over a pond of bubbling mineral wastes, focusing on the path ahead, running through the map that was already in his mind.

Turning a sharp corner, he sped forward as fast as he could, eager to put as much distance between him and his pursuers. They had become wiser with time and could now keep up with him, when before they would easily give up, not wishing to risk the dangerous terrain of the route that Thonavar liked to take.

There!

He spotted the small ledge protruding from a wall, and with one fluid motion, pulled himself up the ledge and up atop a roofbeam. Upon the roofbeam, he crouched low and waited. A few seconds passed and as he predicted, he saw his pursuers, a gang of panting boys, turn the sharp corner, running harmlessly underneath him, and he breathed a sigh of relief. He grinned to himself. He had outsmarted them again.

No more than ten minutes ago, he had been at college, drawing a picture during aesthetics session using jars containing various coloured liquids to do so when one of the boys, Alexis, had toppled such a jar of liquid over his work, in an effort to provoke him. Alexis knew that Thonavar had been working on the painting for a month. However, when Thonavar, used to these bullying tactics, swallowed his anger and did not respond, Alexis had taken the same jar and continued to pour its contents upon his head. This had greatly angered Thonavar, for the liquid had spilled onto his shirt collar and he did not wish to see his mother spend another late night washing his only set of college garments once more. With a yell of anger, he had spun around, delivering a punch straight into Alexis' face. This angered Alexis. But he had been waiting to pick a fight with Thonavar and was inwardly glad for the opportunity. Alexis had whistled to his gang of waiting boys and the chase began. But Thonavar led them deep into harsher terrains of city below like he always did, hoping to lose them in the narrow, dimly-lit back streets, junkyards and steaming sewers.

Thonavar jumped down from the roofbeam, landing on his feet lightly, only to find himself staring face to face with Alexis who suddenly emerged from a nearby pile of metalwork. Thonavar's heart sank. It had been a trap. They had seen him go up!

"Thought you had escaped eh?" sneered Alexis, swaggering out from his hiding place. He whistled sharply and a number of bigger boys appeared from the corners of the street, forming up behind Alexis whose nose was still visibly red, fresh from Thonavar's punch. Thonavar noted, with satisfaction, the trail of dried and crusted blood beneath Alexis' nose. But the boys fanned out, drastically minimising Thonavar's options for escape.

Alexis turned to another boy, almost as big as him.

"Beringgan! Hit him in the ribs! The rest, surround him. Do not let him escape!" he commanded.

As the circle of boys closed in, Thonavar reacted quickly, going directly for Alexis. As predicted, Alexis stepped back in fear, and Thonavar saw a small opening, darting toward it quickly. Dodging a swinging arm or two, Thonavar emerged from the circle of enclosing boys, hitting Alexis squarely on the jaw on the way out. Ignoring the shouts of rage and taunts, he turned another sharp corner and raced away again eager to leave his pursuers far behind. Meanwhile, Alexis' screams of fury echoed down the streets and Thonavar smiled grimly.

Not wanting the boys to find out where he lived, Thonavar ran in circles till he was sure he had lost them, cutting into narrow alleys and hurtling over fences that marked dead ends. Finally, he darted into familiar streets that marked his territory and his home. He raced into the backyard and into the main living area, eager to greet his parents. All was quiet but the aroma of food was already wafting throughout the little house and Thonavar was famished.

"Mother, I am home!" declared Thonavar, announcing his presence. He walked through the main living space and headed for the kitchen.

The house was a crude one amongst thousands of similar looking units in this sector of street level. But with two rooms, a small living area and a small kitchen in which meals were cooked, this was home to Thonavar. For it was here that he lived with his parents and was at peace. The main living area comprised of a few old chairs and a table. There were also items of sentimental value, such as old picture frames and ornaments, memoirs of his parents' when they had lived in the north before coming to HavenGuarde. There was also a hastily erected fireplace to help fight the cold, for the temperature plummeted drastically and it became freezing cold in HavenGuarde once the sun had set.

His father had found a job as a labourer - a useful occupation, for since the laying of the foundations of the great fortress city of HavenGuarde, much manpower was need for the construction of the rest of the city. Work was endless and once bound by contract, a labourer had to be present for every building project. Though machines were used to great effect and efficiency, such was the size and magnitude of the buildings to be built, that operational manpower was still necessary. Jesse woke up at four in the morning and returned close to midnight. Thonavar rarely saw his father and the two hardly spoke.

Thonavar found his mother in the kitchen. She was busy preparing their evening meal.

"Ah, there you are Varu. Dinner is almost ready. Your father will be late tonight", she said simply.

"He is always late", said Thonavar, walking into the kitchen.

All manner of crockery, metal and earthen, decked the wooden shelves erected above, and eating utensils hung from small hooks crudely nailed into the wood. Thonavar sat himself down on a chair before an old wooden table.

"Yes, he is", sighed Mirya, heavily, looking worn out. “But he is a labourer. His work is hard and his day is long. He rises at four and only returns close to midnight each day. You know this.”

Thonavar pictured his father, his once powerful frame now thin and worn out by the continuous backbreaking toil he had endured over the years.

“We hardly speak”, said Thonavar. “I wish he were at home more often.”

He knew that his mother also shared the same wish.

“So do I, Varu”, said Mirya with a heavy sigh. “So do I.”

Thonavar did not reply and there was a pause in the conversation before Mirya spoke again, her tone chiding.

“Your father works to provide for our family. You must be grateful. And he does wonderful things in city above. He builds the tallest buildings. Buildings that touch the sky.”

“Yes, but there is little point if he cannot be around”, said Thonavar. He saw his mother's eyes drift to his neck area and tried to hide his collar with his hands but Mirya’s eyes were sharp.

"Oh Varu! What happened to your shirt? Was it those boys again? Tell me what happened and I will speak to the college headmaster."

"I spilled coloured liquid onto myself. It was my fault", said Thonavar quickly, looking away, not meeting his mother's eye.

Thonavar saw the fierce protective anger well up in his mother as she fought to remain calm. But he did not say a word.

“Those cursed boys”, muttered Mirya, her face dark with anger. “Where did you go today Varu? Did you go to the college?”

"Aye", said Thonavar, still looking away, not meeting his mother's eye.

"How are your studies?" asked Mirya quietly.

"They are fine", replied Thonavar quickly.

"Varu, I have said this to you before", said Mirya, her expression one of worry and concern. "You must do well at college. I know how you despise the life we have. One day, you may even rise to city above if you strive hard enough". But as she said this, a grim look crossed her face. "But you know this. I am sure you are doing well at college." She smiled weakly at Thonavar, before turning away to take out earthen bowls from the shelves and unhooking utensils of cheap metal.

"I do not despise this life", said Thonavar softly. "I simply wish for better. For you and for father." At this, Mirya, with her back facing Thonavar, paused for a moment, before continuing to lay out the dishes. She spooned a thin gruel-like soup into two earthen bowls and laid them out on the table before Thonavar.

"Now here, eat your dinner", she said, watching Thonavar eat hungrily. "Slowly now. We must be thankful for what little we have been given. For the world is a cruel place. It will not reward you according to your works. It will only tear you down."

Another grim look crossed Mirya's face but Thonavar continued to devour his food hungrily, oblivious to his mother's sense of resignation, unaware of her troubles, understanding not her hopes and fears, for him.

As he spooned his gruel, his mind became lost once more in the fantasy he played in his head - a fantasy of the dizzing heights of the smells, the sights and the sounds of life in city above.

“One day”, announced Thonavar, as he wolfed down his food. “We shall all live in up there. We shall ascend. Father will never have to work again and you, mother, shall be at peace. We shall live on highest floors of the tallest of buildings, close to the curtain where one is able to see solar and ion storms strike its surface!”

Upon hearing this, Mirya laughed, shaking her head, as she began washing used crockery and utensils. “Now that is a nice thought.”

Thonavar ignored his mother dismissiveness, and as he heaved heavy bags of washed laundry out to the back to dry, his mind turned once more to city above.

One day, he thought. We will leave this place behind. We shall ascend and take our place in the world above.

With a grunt of effort, he opened the first bag of wet clothes, each item hand-washed by Mirya the night before. Carefully, he unrolled items of twisted clothing and proceeded to hang them to dry, beginning with father’s labourer outfits followed by mother’s household attire. Finally, he selected his usual well-worn pair of short trousers and chose a plain shirt to wear tomorrow, throwing these items upon the thin wire upon which the other pieces of clothing were beginning to dry. Blood trickled from a small cut upon the tip of his index finger as he pricked the strong but sharp wire.

I will make all this right.