by Scott Moore
“Our father would be very excited if you allowed us to show you a good time.” Miles turned to see two young women standing behind him. Both were younger than Miles and wore smiles. Neither stunned in beauty, but they were passable for village folk. Miles looked around at his prospects. If beer didn’t drown his sorrows, he could try drowning himself in these two women. He patted the seat next to him on either side. The girls didn’t wait for a second invitation and hopped up beside him. Miles signaled to the barkeep who filled two smaller cups and set them in front of the ladies.
“Those don’t smell like ale,” Miles said. The ladies laughed and took small sips of their cups. He forgot about the drinks as the ladies both put their hands on his inner thigh. It was then that Miles would have normally started thinking with his other head.
“You were amazing today,” said one woman.
“The best fighter I have ever seen,” said the other.
Both laughed and squeezed on Miles’ leg. Miles could have sat there all day listening to compliments from these two pretty women. But with his mind still foggy, he couldn’t enjoy them. He called for a third cup of ale.
“What would you like us to do first for you,” the girls asked.
Miles tried to imagine bedding both at the same time. He imagined it vividly in his mind and then felt his body scream in pain.
“Rub this soreness from my muscles,” he said.
Maybe he could still make it happen. He took another drink from the cup. He just needed to get drunk enough to forget he hurt.
The girls rubbed and Miles tried to relax. The thoughts of the massive beast charging at him clouded his mind. Something even more interesting was the way he had felt. He had felt every muscle in his body vibrating with power. He felt stronger, faster, and more agile than he ever had. Something made it so he could outrun the beast with ease. He had ducked under quick swipes. Had rolled from lashing teeth. Miles had moved like he had never moved before.
Something else entered Miles’ mind, the image of Sammy smiling at him from the center of the dirt road. Had he really summoned the creature? Sammy hadn’t seemed any more interested in the monster winning than he had for anything else in this world. He hadn’t helped the creature. He didn’t look disappointed when the thing died at the hands of Miles. In fact, Miles could remember Sammy stepping into the path of the beast. The beast had gone through him, but was it Sammy’s fault that the creature came?
He hadn’t realized the girls stood and moved behind him. Their fingers worked the tender muscles of his back. Miles moved to take another drink as one girl dug too hard into his shoulder blade. Miles let out an involuntary yell and dropped his cup of ale onto the floor. The noise and chatter came to a complete halt and everyone looked toward the bar.
Miles ignored it. He ignored that the eyes of all the patrons bore into him. He ignored that the women had stopped rubbing his back. While the whole thing lasted less than a few seconds, his mind turned thoughts over of Sammy much quicker. Had he been too hard on the poor guy? Sammy had something wrong with him. He was a missing village idiot from somewhere and without guidance, he would die.
The main question, however, was if Sammy had even brought those creatures. He was so slow about the world. How could it have been his fault the damn things kept appearing?
“I will get you another cup,” said the barkeep.
Miles waved him off. His head already swam from the fight with the creature and the three cups of ale. His body became as still as the stool he sat upon. Yet, he would do another stupid thing. Miles pushed away from the bar, almost knocking the girls over behind him.
“Where are you going?” they asked.
Miles didn’t bother to answer. The fucker would get himself killed without Miles. Miles didn’t kill the child. Miles wouldn’t be the reason Sammy died either.
***
Sammy didn’t have anywhere to go. He knew nothing about the world. If not for Miles navigating, Sammy would have been lost days ago. Sammy hadn’t thought about anything important since he could remember. He had woken up in the thick purple smoke inside the graveyard. After that, he had just let Miles take over. It was easier that way because he didn’t understand any of it anyhow.
He couldn’t even remember his real name. He just remembered Sammy as a vague memory. Nothing made sense to him. It made little sense that Miles attributed those creatures to him. He hadn’t called them. He wouldn’t even know how to call them had he wanted to. Miles’ face showed anger, but Sammy couldn’t come to grips with why.
So instead of thinking about it, he wandered down the street. He kicked up dirt with his feet and watched the clouds of dust disappear into the air. It disappeared like the creatures, into nothing at all.
Were the creatures just dirt that faded in the wind? If that were the case, why could Sammy feel them? Miles had been wrong about Sammy bringing the creatures, at least Sammy supposed. However, Sammy could feel them coming. The weird sensation they brought when they were nearby. Like a warm fuzzy memory. Something that didn’t make him feel uneasy, but more comfortable. A feeling that almost let him see into his past and understand where he had come from. But it made little sense, because Sammy couldn’t control or even touch the monsters. They hadn’t cared about his presence. They walked through him as if he wasn’t even there.
Sammy couldn’t fight the things. He couldn’t impede the creatures. He couldn’t converse with them. His longing didn’t stop them from hurting people. Even when he tried to save Miles, it had done no good. So, what was the point of the feeling? It didn’t provide him any key. It had just gotten him scorned and yelled at. Now he was alone. He did not understand where he went or what he would do. Without Miles, he had lost all purposeful direction.
He didn’t want to hurt Miles though. So, if the creatures came because of him then he couldn’t go back. He couldn’t put him in danger just because he didn’t know what to do with himself. Sammy would have to just keep walking forward and find somewhere else to go. Maybe he could return to that graveyard and figure out where he had come from. Miles had called him the village idiot several times, maybe Sammy could find which village that was.
Sammy turned down another corner. All the corners looked the same. Especially when you didn’t have anywhere to go. Buildings lined this corner too. Here it seemed to be homes instead of shops. No one was home. Everyone occupied themselves with Miles. Miles killed the beast, and the people gathered like flies around him to celebrate his victory.
Sammy looked in on the houses as he passed. He wondered if maybe one of them could have been his home. Or if one of them was similar to where he had lived before forgetting everything.
Sammy halted. It wasn’t the houses that drew him in. It was the feeling. It wasn’t quite the same as before. Somehow it almost seemed to buzz in his ears. He could feel the vibrations in his hands. Unlike the feelings he got when he expected the creatures he could tell where the feeling was coming from. Sammy turned and looked back toward the village.
Miles was still there. He would be sore and tired. Sammy knew the villagers would not fight beside Miles. They would leave him alone to fend for himself. Sammy couldn’t help him fight, but maybe he could at least warn Miles and get him away. Sammy turned his feet back toward the village and took off at a run.
44
Nov couldn’t be sure how long he had been in the cage. Had it even been a single day? Nothing processed anymore. He didn’t feel hungry or tired, but his legs cramped from restricted movement.
The only noises he had heard while in the small cage, called a cell, were the rummaging animals in the distance and out of view. Not out of smell range, however. That was why it surprised Nov when he heard the distinct sound of human frustration.
Nov didn’t look up, he knew who his visitors would be, it was time to die. He heard the male voice curse at the mud sucking his boots. The voice sounded familiar, but Nov’s brain had ceased to work or care.
“This damn place could be
a little better situated,” said the voice.
Nov knew that voice, he could dispel the speculation by raising his head, but he didn’t bother. The sucking of the mud filled his ears. Whoever it was, they were getting closer to his hell. Soon they would be upon him, and soon after that he would cease to exist.
“I probably should have thought this through a bit[CF11] better, but how was I to know what this place entailed? Figured they would have at least laid out a walkway for the soldiers. I can’t even recall the last time we used this cell.”
The man talked, but Nov didn’t hear anyone else. Was the man talking to him? If so, it was a very one sided conversation, because Nov had decided that he had already spoken his last words.
“I understand you’re in a lousy place, but you could at least acknowledge my struggle. I am busting my ass to make it to the cage for you,” the voice grew strained.
The mud was more of a struggle than it ought to have been. Nov remembered a little strain in his legs, but he didn’t recall having to struggle so much. Had the guards dragged him through that section of the mud? He doubted it, he doubted they would have strained to keep him from it. More than likely they would have pushed him face first and had their pleasure at watching him try to stand back up.
Nov almost looked up. Something nagged him, something deep within the recesses of his mind pulled at him, but he just couldn’t find the motivation to listen. The struggling man continued, as evidenced by the labored breathing, and curses.
Nov wondered how this single man would carry him back toward the execution location. The man could barely make the passage on his own; if Nov gave even the slightest resistance, he would be free. The man would lose the prisoner and he would hang with Nov.
Nov felt the vibrations on the bars as the man slammed against the cage. “You are lucky I feel the love I do for you boy, because I would not do this for anyone else in this damned city.”
Nov took a second to process the words. Did the man just say he loved Nov? On what basis would a soldier taking him to the gallows love him?
“Could you at least show the courtesy to look at me?” the voice didn’t sound angry, it sounded pleading. Nov tried to process the thoughts crashing together in his mind, but they were bouncing off the numb barrier he had put up.
Still, he tilted his head. The boots, that the man wore, were soldier dresses, and the pants were regulation slacks. Nov wondered at who would dress this way to escort him through the city, knowing about the mud and whatever else the commoners threw at Nov on the way.
Nov continued his slow glance up and saw the ornaments of the head of the soldiers amongst the decorations on the man’s shirt. The same shirt that Earl would have worn if he were still were alive. Who was the captain now? Nov looked up to the man’s face, and his barrier of nothing crashed to the ground.
With it, thousands of emotions came to him all at once. Overwhelmed, he tilted to the side and heaved, but nothing came. When was the last time he had eaten? He couldn’t remember, but he knew that nothing was coming up from his empty stomach. He dry heaved again, feeling the pain inside his ribs and chest.
“I am not that ugly.”
Nov pushed his hand in the slushy mud and pushed himself to his feet.
“I thought you were dead?” It was all he could say. There was so much to say and that was all he could say.
Earl had presented himself in his dress attire. Nov could see why Earl had struggled to make it to the cage, as the crutches lay under his arms. Earl’s leg bulged with wrappings, but the wrappings were inside the pants, which meant that Nov had not noticed them at first.
“I recovered. People recover sometimes. This is the first day I have tried to walk, and doctors recommended against it, but I wasn’t about to let you die without seeing you first.”
Earl didn’t look mad, but Nov knew deep down he seethed. He was here, against orders, to tell Nov what he thought of his actions. Nov was ready for the berating. The only man in the entire damned city that Nov wanted praise from still lived, but wouldn’t be praising him.
“I am sorry Earl, I should have come to see you,” Nov said.
Earl bit his lip and said nothing for a moment. “Yeah, I would have enjoyed some company, but what’s done is done. I heard you had other problems of your own. I went to the council, Nov. I talked to Gant, but he wouldn’t hear reason. The damned stubborn fool doesn’t listen to anyone aside from Duchess Mankamp.” Earl let out an exasperated sigh.
“They already decided to execute me, Earl.”
He supposed that is what Earl would have wanted. Earl would want to be front and center to watch him swing from the rope attached to his neck. “Not much more they can do, but I tell you I feel horrible enough for it to be enough.”
Earl let the frustration fall from his face. “I think you have me confused, Nov,” he started, “I don’t want you dead. I need you alive.”
Nov felt so many things. A fear settled over him about his impending death, a fear he had tried to block. He felt sorrow for the deaths he had caused. He felt excitement at seeing Earl still alive. Most of all though after what Earl said, he felt confused. Needed him alive? Earl had said, but why? To kill him with his own hands? Nov didn’t reply to Earl. His mind was too clouded to gather his thoughts into coherent words.
“I can see the struggle in those eyes, Nov. What you did was a brave thing. It isn’t something that should be punished by those damned bastards. They have hidden behind those walls for over a hundred years. People like them have tried to sweep the problem away. It was people like you and me fighting this battle.” Earl took a deep breath. “But we can’t do this forever, Nov. There just aren’t enough men left to take our place. The culture of this city is changing. People don’t join the ranks of soldiers anymore. It isn’t noble or lucrative enough for the common boy, and nobles refuse to dirty their hands. If me and you don’t start something, then we will all die. Sera won’t survive unless people do things like what you did,” Earl paused a moment.
He waited for a reply. An acknowledgement of any kind, but Nov couldn’t give him one.
“The drones in the hospital told me I shouldn’t be up walking. They told me to stay in bed and I may recover, never fully, but recover enough to walk without aid. They were probably right, but I couldn’t lie there in bed, not knowing that a good man was being put to the sword for trying to save Sera and its people. What you did was commendable. If anyone should suffer for their actions, it’s the Duchess Mankamp. Her actions alone condemned this city to a hell beyond imagination. She could have rallied the men and women behind their swords. She could have saved Sera with a simple rally cry, and yet, she stomped the hope of survival out with the heel of her shoe.”
Nov calmed his breathing. “You’re not mad?”
Earl’s eyes grew softer, the anger at Mankamp fading a little, but still smoldering in the background. “You sacrificed yourself for the greater good of Sera. You had made a promise the day I met you to do just that. Damn Nov, you are the only bastard in this entire city willing to even give a damn. There is something innately wrong with a city that doesn’t want to fight to survive. Sera’s broken, but there may still be a chance to fix it. Even if that chance is growing smaller with each passing breath.”
Earl reached into his pocket. “Alti told me she already tried this once.” He pulled out a set of keys on a large ring. “I told her I would give it a go again.” He fumbled for a moment with the keys and then slid one into the lock on Nov’s door. “I plan to stay here and focus on my bum leg. I will also get with Hamms and work on the council. I don’t envy what you are about to do. I do wish you all the luck in the world for it though.”
Earl opened the cell door. Nov didn’t move. Not because he didn’t want to, but because he was frozen from a rapid avalanche of thoughts and worries.
“What do you want me to do?”
Earl slid the keys back into his pocket. “If I fail that means Sera is unlikely to survive.” He pull
ed his hand free and placed it on Nov’s shoulder. “If you fail. Well, let’s just hope you don’t.”
Earl waved someone else forward. The woman stepped forward from the shadows. She wore the hooded cape Nov had first met her in. She stepped forward over the mud as if it didn’t exist.
“Is he going to do it?” she asked.
Earl turned back to Nov. “Well?”
Nov hadn’t a clue what they wanted him to do. He knew the last time he followed her plans he had almost killed the city. Earl was with her this time though. He wouldn’t put Nov into that pathway if it didn’t mean something.
“I will do whatever it takes.”
The woman reached out. “Then hold on tight.”
Nov didn’t get a chance to say goodbye to Earl. The air around him lost all pressure, and it felt like he flew. He closed his eyes to keep from barfing again.
And so, what comes will be sent from him to destroy the world.
45
Sammy couldn’t remember what turns he had taken to get to where he was. He couldn’t remember what the building looked like that they had ushered Miles into. All Sammy knew was that his entire body vibrated with power. He could sense the direction and he ran toward it.
He stopped along the way to look through windows. If Miles occupied the buildings, he needed to find him. He needed to warn him of what came. Although he wasn’t sure what it was. Something stronger than even the largest creature Miles had fought. Something that made every fiber in Sammy’s body shake until it felt like it would explode.
Sammy raced on down the path. He remembered one thing that the street was larger where he had left Miles. So large that the creature, even as large as it had been, moved freely enough to slaughter entire hordes of people. Sammy glanced at the buildings along the smaller streets still. He could be wrong and that wouldn’t be good. Not for Miles, who Sammy was sure was in danger.
