Artemis wobbled unsteadily as they walked the streets, favoring her bandaged leg and shoulder. She couldn’t help clean up the rioters in her condition. Instead, they made their way to the dungeons and stopped in front of one of the cages therein.
When Cloudhawk saw who it was, he was both perplexed and curious. His confusion and curiosity eventually turned to astonishment. “This is Leonine? What the hell happened?”
The last time he saw him, the slaver was a bearded, stalwart veteran, deadly as a lion. The man before him now was completely different. His eyes were sunken and dull. His hair had all gone white. He sat there like a husk with no spirit to speak of. He seemed to have aged forty years overnight. The man in the cage looked like a walking corpse waiting to rot away.
That tenacious, stout warrior had completely disappeared. The person he was now was all but a lifeless corpse.
Artemis approached him and unlocked his shackles. “Sorry. I guess I forgot you were in here. I’m sure you already heard that the demon hunter killed Hydra, so you’re free – off you go!”
Leonine’s legs were mostly useless. Hydra had severed his tendons, turning him into a cripple. But even if he were completely healthy, all his reasons for living had been taken away, which made him no different from a complete cripple anyway. He lifted his withered face and stared at the two of them as though through a haze. A hoarse voice croaked through his mouth, “My wife? My children?”
Thirty minutes later, three grave mounds had appeared in front of the outpost. They’d been made with dirt and stone, humble resting places no one would recognize. But they were the product of Leonine’s own hands, and the effort turned his already mangled appendages into bloody messes. He didn’t seem to feel pain – or feel anything at all. His expression never changed the entire time he was building those graves.
Three unrecognizable bodies were interred within.
Cloudhawk remembered a passage about funerals from the ancient books. He found three candles and placed one before each body. Their tiny flames flickered valiantly in defiance of death. Their tiny rebellion was touching.
Leonine knelt before the graves, staring dumbly at the lights.
The candlelight fought off the encroaching darkness, like a border separating life and death. In their dim light, Leonine thought he could see familiar figures, hear familiar voices.
“Daddy, you said that I’m a man. I have to protect my mom and my sister!”
“Brother and mommy are always being bullied by bad men. You have to stay, daddy.”
“I don’t feel bad. Honest, I don’t…”
“It doesn’t matter what happens… I believe in you!”
Leonine’s face twisted into strange expressions, somewhere between wanting to cry and wanting to laugh. He muttered to himself, face covered in tears, unable to separate the real from the imagined. He’d lost his mind.
“Look at that poor bastard. He’s gone nuts.” Artemis could hardly look at him, and though she made no effort to keep her voice low, Leonine didn’t seem to hear. “He helped make me leader. We should help him.”
Cloudhawk knew what she meant. He thrust out with the sharp end of his exorcist rod and pushed it through the back of Leonine’s neck. The drill point poked out from the base of his throat on the other side, and his steaming blood spilled out over the graves. The spray extinguished the three tiny candles.
A few minutes later, a fourth grave was dug.
It was situated in front of the other three like a staunch protector against the wind and rain. Leonine would protect them in death as he tried to in life. Cloudhawk and Artemis left, leaving the graves alone with no markings or tombstones. No one would remember them or the torture they’d suffered.
Leonine had been the definition of a wastelander. Countless graves marking countless stories like his were strewn across the blasted lands. The world was like a callous and indifferent bystander, watching humans play out their sad stories in the tragedy called life.
Artemis hobbled back towards the fort and asked, “Do you think people need faith?”
“Of course!” Cloudhawk answered her with a serious expression. He looked at her. “Everyone has faith. I do. The Queen does. Even the sweepers have faith. It was the same for Leonine and Hydra. It’s how we know we’re alive. You can’t survive without it.”
“So what do you believe in?” She asked, “Can you tell me?”
Cloudhawk had nothing to hide. “I have faith that I’ll leave the wastelands. I want to see the rest of the world, find a place where there isn’t any killing or pain. I want to find a paradise, a place without schemes.”
Artemis clicked her tongue. “Is there such a place? Quit fuckin’ dreaming! I’ve never had my head in the clouds. Is that living? People like you are just senseless. You need to get over yourself.”
Cloudhawk was in a sour mood. He didn’t bother with her anymore.
Three days of recovery passed. By now, Cloudhawk’s wounds were mostly healed, and he could get around without any pain or impediment. The young scavenger thought about his near-death experience and the power he’d found within the stone that was funneled into him.
Unless he was mistaken, he should be stronger than ever now.
He began by practicing the demon hunter postures that the Queen had taught him. He managed to get to number twelve before having to stop. His lack of progress confirmed his guess that the stone hadn’t improved him physically, only mentally. The next question was how much had his psychic energy developed?
Cloudhawk covered himself in his invisibility cloak and channeled his psychic energy through it. Almost immediately, he resonated with it, summoning its powers. A vibration thrummed and spread out through the area, causing light to warp. Then, he disappeared.
It was different! Completely different!
Using the cloak now didn’t feel draining to him at all, even after maintaining it for more than ten seconds. He also sensed immediately that he was faster and more buoyant.
Extrapolating from his experiences, Cloudhawk figured he’d been using twenty percent of the cloak’s capabilities before. Now, maybe it was closer to forty percent. Whereas before the longest he could stay hidden was twelve seconds, now he could maintain the relic for several minutes.
Judging from how the Queen used relics – especially the phoenix gourd – one could understand how a relic worked. Specifically, they relied on the power of the bearer. The more psychic energy the Queen poured into the gourd, the more powerful the phoenix she was able to summon. When she was weakened, the phoenix would be correspondingly weaker.
That was the relationship between demon hunters and their relics.
In the hands of the legendary demon hunters, even the simplest relics could summon earth-shaking power. Give a rookie demon hunter the mightiest relic in the world and he wouldn’t be able to use it. He’d be better off with an exorcist rod.
Cloudhawk could see that his psychic powers had improved considerably.
80 Salamander
Greenland Outpost always had unstable elements within its walls. Hydra had wanted to stand on his own, but there were certainly those who had different ideas.
Independence meant conflict, and conflict meant combat. Combat lead to death. Unless one had a vested interest, one wouldn’t be eager to fight and possibly lose one’s life. And so, even if Hydra were still alive, it was unlikely that the outpost would have maintained the same level of stability it had before. Unrest flourished without the former leader’s iron-fisted hold and the threat of a cruel end.
Artemis was powerful, at least more powerful than most. But since she was a woman, it was hard for others to recognize her authority. The demon would strike back soon. He had to after what happened to his lieutenants. Stabilizing the situation and preparing for his arrival was a priority.
In the last several days, the Bloodsoaked Queen had only come to visit Cloudhawk once. The rest of her time was spent purging the outpost of dissidents. She ruthlessly eliminated
opposition to Artemis’s reign while generously showering followers with food and water. She tempered brutality with mercy to pacify the masses and bring the situation under control step by step.
The Queen was young, so she still found herself prone to rash and reckless decisions. She showed it when she ran into the wastelands to hunt a demon on her own as well as when she killed Hydra. However, one could not deny her effectiveness. Blackflag Outpost had been in turmoil when she arrived, but through her bloody methods, it was reorganized. She brought rules, built a foundation, and in less than a year, the chaos had largely subsided.
Greenland Outpost was ten times more complicated than Blackflag Outpost had been. Nonetheless, the Queen’s oppressive strength was an important deterrent. As they shared Hydra’s stores of personal wealth, the morale of the general populace improved. Gradually, most of the outpost’s denizens came to accept the new status quo.
Her specific methods were unclear to Cloudhawk. As he recovered, he spent most of his time with the outpost’s new leader. Although Artemis was subject to moods swings, she was a denizen of the wastelands and knew their plight. Speaking with her felt more relatable and less stuffy than when the young man tried to talk to the Queen.
Artemis, on the other hand, found Cloudhawk to be unique.
At first, she thought he was a demon hunter or perhaps an apprentice. She’d wanted to bed him and add another special notch to her proverbial belt. But over time, she found that he was just a special sort of wastelander. There were things about him that were completely unlike any other wastelander she’d ever met. He was pure and naïve.
Those were not words one usually used to describe the wretches of the wilds.
Cloudhawk was a miraculous existence in a place where evil reigned. For him to live so long in the face of cruelty and indifference and still hold the views he held was something that surpassed whatever thrills of the flesh she’d imagined.
Today, Artemis picked up her fifty-pound hammer and called a dozen soldiers together, “Y’all are coming with me. I’m gonna lead you into the fight.”
Her proclamation took Cloudhawk by surprise. It was quite sudden. “The fight? Who are we fighting?”
“I just got some news,” Artemis said, a cloud of anger crossing her face. “There’s someone in the outpost called Salamander – the asshole always hated me, and now, he’s gathered a few people he’s planning to lead out of here. We’ve gotta deal with ‘em. Otherwise, others will think it’s ok to just up and leave.”
“A handful of people aren’t going to make a difference. Plus, you aren’t healed yet, and the Queen said you shouldn’t leave the fort.” Cloudhawk eyed the men she’d gathered suspiciously. Clearly, this gathering hadn’t been the Queen’s idea. It was just Artemis playing out a personal grudge. “Anyway, do you think we have enough soldiers? How strong is Salamander?”
Anyone in the wastelands with a title had earned it somehow.
“Salamander didn’t follow the rules even when Hydra was alive, so Hydra didn’t pay him much mind. He isn’t weak but is also not strong enough to be any sort of threat. He’s only got a handful of people who listen to him.” Artemis rested her hammer on the floor. It struck hard enough to crack stone. “I’m no cripple. I’m more than healed enough to deal with this irritating shit.”
This woman was as rash as she was unreliable.
He couldn’t help but continue to challenge her, “We should at least tell the Queen. Or if not, have Mantis come with us.”
“They’re busy. When will they have time? I’ve always had enemies, and this guy’s pissed me off before. I won’t sit by and watch him swagger out with my people.” Anger had crept into her voice, “So are you fuckin’ comin’ or not?!”
The decision was already made, so Cloudhawk could only agree. Anyway, he wanted to try out his new powers and see what he could do.
“I knew I wasn’t wrong about you. Wait till we finish dealing with this asshole and big sister will treat you right!” She beamed at him. “Come on, let’s get our stuff.”
Salamander had taken his people out into the oasis and was camped in the ruins. Although he was considered an elite member of the outpost, Artemis never saw him as anything but an asshole. Now, she was the leader and had access to the best equipment in camp. What did she have to fear?
Cloudhawk picked out a revolver from the armory, one with a nasty punch just in case. A few minutes later, he was following Artemis and her group into the oasis. He was wary, for although Salamander wasn’t as capable as Artemis, he’d gotten the better of her before. They couldn’t be careless.
Artemis didn’t rush in recklessly. She sent scouts ahead to see what they were walking in to.
The oasis ruins weren’t far from the outpost. All along the path, it was bestrewn with grotesque statues in various states of disrepair and the twisted remains of structures. The style of these ruins was different from those in other sectors. They seemed like they were deposited from somewhere else. They looked much older, presumably having been plucked several thousand years ago by some mysterious power and then dropped into the middle of a jungle.
These sorts of bizarre scenes weren’t rare sights in the wastelands. Although no one knew where they’d come from, they weren’t anything special to those who lived in these blasted lands.
“Boss, I found ‘em!” One of the outpost scouts came trotting over to her. “They’re getting ready in the center of the statue garden. I counted ten to twelve, with three or four outfitted for long-range combat.”
“As expected.” A grin spread across Artemis’ face. Her soldiers were skilled and well equipped, and with the advantage of a sneak attack, their chances were better than good. She waved to the left and to the right. “With me!”
Statues and pillars blanketed in moss and crawling vines were spread across the area. There had to be hundreds of them, set up in some sort of strange formation. It was a good spot to avoid the oasis monsters and fight back if any did attack, making it an ideal place for those trying to leave.
Only Cloudhawk felt something was off. It was already the afternoon. Anyone who wanted to defect would have to take time into consideration. Why would they have stopped here? But Artemis was thirsty for revenge, and there was no dragging her back. Instead, he stayed back towards the rear of their group, so that if things went sour, he could run.
“Kill ‘em!” Impatience got the better of Artemis, and she screamed the order, “Salamander, you’re a dead man!”
The sound of twanging bow strings and igniting gunpowder echoed through the area. Several of the men in the center of the statues fell. Artemis led the charge, swinging her mighty hammer. She caught one of Salamander’s men and sent him flying. The momentum swung her around and flung her into the air. She completed a full circle before heaving her hammer down towards one man in the center of the crowd.
“Artemis, you actually came!”
Salamander was a towering white man wearing a helmet, goggles, and a breathing mask. He was covered in armor, wore gloves, and had leather boots rising to calf height. There wasn’t an inch of him exposed to the sun, a characteristic that lent him a mysterious air. When he saw Artemis, he was not surprised, and in fact, greeted her with a taunting sneer. Like an eel, he slithered out of harm’s way and Artemis’s hammer buried itself bloodlessly into the ground.
She didn’t lift her hammer back up and instead used it to support herself as she flung her right leg at him. It streaked down from overhead like a battleax, but Salamander capably dodged again. But no sooner did her two legs hit the ground than she sprang up and kicked again. One of the statues in her way exploded into fragments.
The flurry of attacks was making it difficult for Salamander to stay out of reach.
Although the two of them were considered peers, Salamander’s abilities were primarily regenerative in nature. He was comparatively weaker in power and speed. No matter how good a healer he was, it wouldn’t help him against her. He couldn’t recover if he
was turned into a fleshy puddle.
As he watched the scene, Cloudhawk recognized the large difference in skill between the two. He didn’t have to get involved. Artemis had the fight well in hand.
Artemis flipped her head back, flinging her hair aside to reveal a wild and feral expression. She looked like a vengeful panther. “You’ve almost killed me a couple of times. You think I’m just gonna let your worthless ass go?”
“As always, you’re all muscle and no brains. That’s why I’ve been able to teach you lesson after lesson.” On the surface, it looked like Salamander was in a difficult spot, but he was perfectly calm. He seemed unaware, or perhaps unconcerned, with his hopeless situation. “If I wanted to leave without you knowing, you’d have never heard a thing. You only knew because I wanted you to know.”
Artemis’s thin brows scrunched together. What was this guy saying?
Cloudhawk had already been fighting the nagging feeling that something was wrong when suddenly, an acute sense of danger washed over him. From behind, he heard the sound of heavy footsteps followed by a gust of air and pressure. Cloudhawk reflexively threw himself to the side just fast enough to avoid the spiked iron cudgel that whipped by and smashed into the ground. The stone floor he’d been standing on was turned to powder.
Shards of rock-like bullets exploded in every direction. Cloudhawk’s cheek burned. Some of the shrapnel must have hit him. He turned to see the attacker.
The man was a giant standing nearly ten feet tall and covered in plate armor. All of it had to weigh a hundred pounds, not including the vicious fifty-pound cudgel he wielded like a meat grinder.
“Sweepers!”
One, two, three… monstrous maneaters appeared from behind the statues where they’d been hiding. The demon’s slain henchmen hadn’t brought this many with them to the outpost, and these sweepers were better outfitted than any Cloudhawk had seen before.
The Wastelander Page 58
