“Even yours?”
“Maybe.” Warren frowned suddenly. He nodded to his brother, who gave him back his hooka. Warren inhaled a mouthful of smoke and coughed. “Who are we to…I mean, your mother, you know? She wanted to give you a second chance, the one that’s given to everybody. Who are we to deny that to you? This is what has always saved you, and that perhaps saved Crowley himself—Araya wanted to give him, too, another chance. He found a way to detoxify Crowley’s body from the soul of Skyrgal and made him an ally. The agent Orange has capitalized the whole story, so the old Warrior King is now out of the divine games and just wants to reign on his Kahars. Those Tankars venerate him and would give him a Mokai-flavored blow job if he asked them.”
Dagger felt once again a tool in the hands of gods, humans and creatures in the middle—all struggling to get a hold of his arms and legs. To quarter me more or less metaphorically…
Erin sensed a change in Dagger’s behavior and put a hand on his leg. Her emerald green eyes watched him, waiting, and yet they seemed shadowed by guilt.
Only then did Dagger understand that it was all planned by those who had attached their wires to every part of his body. Have him reproduce, a stranger had written. And who is more fit to the purpose than a god’s daughter? It’s all been arranged, the warmth of your skin, the truce I find in your arms…
Now he really wanted to throw up.
“You okay?” Erin said.
He shook his head. I’m just a mission for you. The very idea made him feel sick. Two lapis lazuli opened in his mind and a memory made him suddenly feel a little better, You and I are one. What happens to me, happens to you. He closed his eyes and begged his mind to keep quiet. This is why they’ve kept me away from Kugar. This is why Araya sent her away even at the cost to deliver her to the Hammer Guardians. What we felt for each other was an accident, a danger, with unpredictable consequences. He looked into the green eyes before him. Yet what else is love, ever? He caressed her and didn’t find the courage to ask. Am I just a mission to you? What’s going on inside your head, behind those eyes as deep and inscrutable as the sea?
“What’s it going to be then?” Ianka asked, absently scratching his cheek, the green grass reflected in his eyes.
Warren snatched some blades of grass and watched them fall in front of his candid gaze. “I’m under no illusion. Our lives, our personal search for happiness, are not important to them. We’re all bound on the altar, waiting for the sacrifice.”
“You’re completely stoned.”
No, Ian, Dagger thought. He’s not. He’s serious now. He’s talking to me. He’s talking about them all, the good and the bad, the old people feeding on their future.
War looked at the lawn between his crossed legs. “The story is always the same. There’s only the road we can count on. The road is the only salvation. Wear your armor and bring with you anything that you could need. We’ll find that fucking Hermit and try to understand how to stop the Disciples forever. He must know the way. There must be a reason he wanted us to know he’s still alive. Certainly, there’s a reason if Araya is taking all these risks to send you looking for him.”
But only after reproducing myself. “When do we leave?”
“Before it’s too late, little Dagger.” Warren turned toward him. “And before it’s too late always means now!”
*
5. The road to hell is paved with good intentions
They kept away from the Main Road and the slave caravans headed eastward. They penetrated into the sterile expanse of majestic, crumbling structures of the eastern sector of Adramelech. The debris often forced them to sneak into the crevices or cracks in the rock to find a passage, and made their march a stubborn wandering in a maze of stone and sand. The absence of water had made that area hostile to humans, but—as it seemed—not to the desert beasts. The tail of a giant scorpion could pop out of nowhere, immediately severed by Ianka’s sword. Just like Warren, even Dagger pretended not to see when Schizo carried a familiar powder to his nose and sniffed greedily. Quick reflexes needed to be oiled constantly, and the agent Orange had provided everything they asked for.
“Eat something, Ian,” or “Drink something, Ian,” Erin often said. Her concern often echoed beneath the ruined domes where they found shelter for the night, immediately followed by Warren’s outbursts.
Schizo was never thirsty, and showed no hunger. His stare was blank and his behavior even more unstable than usual. But also the white blood had to tolerate his means when Ianka wiped out almost single-handedly the crowded nest of scorpions they had stumbled into under Warren’s guidance.
In the midst of the greenish, gelatinous entrails, claws and amputated tails, Ian turned around and muttered, “I promised! Can’t you understand? I promised!”
“Some guide you are,” Dagger said without even looking at Warren.
“Something has evidently changed since I was here last, what do you think?”
They spent two days walking through the granite bowels of the palace. At the dawn of the third—or the sunset of the second, for all they knew—they emerged in a vast hall covered with countless reliefs and populated by as many scorpions of all sizes.
“Are you sure there’s no way around?” Dagger asked in the middle of the clash, as Solitude sank in the carapace of one of the beasts.
Once the room was cleared, Warren grabbed Dag by the neck and said, “No jokes during a fight!” He dodged in time when Dagger reacted, slicing the air.
“Next time I aim at your neck for real!”
When they were outside, it was mid-afternoon.
“We must find shelter for the night.” Ianka was panting. “Ktisis, where are you leading us?”
War growled, “I asked you to trust me.”
“Maybe, but night’s approaching.”
“Like that’s news.”
“I think that won’t make any difference when…” Schizo looked around. “…that fucking bird will FLAY OUR FACE AND EAT OUR FUCKING EYES!” He grabbed a stone and threw it at the crow, which nimbly avoided it.
Cra!
“Fuck you too!”
“Ian arguing with a bird is something I never wanted to see,” Ash said. “Brother, it’s not that I don’t trust you, but—”
“There. Look!”
Dagger raised his face from the yellow nothingness beneath his feet, and shielded his eyes with one hand to see what the white blood was pointing at. Green?
“Green!” Ianka confirmed turning around with a stone in hand.
“WATER!” Erin yelled, and ran.
They all followed her among the high, sharp rocks. Ianka crushed a crab with his foot and dodged Dagger to run faster, then he stopped so suddenly that his friends bumped into him, falling to the ground on top of each other.
They all raised their faces together—slowly, afraid that such a vision could vanish like all the mirages that had accompanied them all the way up there.
A sandy path descended to a crystal clear lake enclosed in a circle of imposing structures all covered with creepers. Tall, green fronds projected threadlike shadows over their heads, crowning them.
“Is this Almagard?” Ianka stumbled forward, falling face down into the water. He stood up. “It’s freezing! Ktisis, it’s ice cold!” He drank and swam under the eyes of his friends. He tried to stay afloat at the deep end of the lake, but his weapons dragged him down. So he reached the shore, undressed, and dived again in his birthday suit.
Erin and Dagger exchanged gazes before imitating him, followed by Ash. Their laughter and splashes made the birds flee. Ian put Dag’s head in a vise, dragging him under water. He was freed by Erin, who jumped on Ash’s back.
Warren watched them, sitting on a boulder on the shore. The four friends stared at him and slowly drew near.
The white blood shot to his feet. “Hey, don’t you even think about it!”
Ianka was faster than everybody and blocked him from behind. His friends didn’t take long to undress W
ar and throw him into the water, where they swam to him.
“Assholes!” Warren said reemerging and spitting water.
“There’s a place like this and you’ve never talked about it?” Ian said. He clasped his hands behind his head and watched the sky fragments among the foliage.
“We’re in the middle of Adramelech,” Erin said. “How do you know this place?”
Warren scrambled his way to the shore. He dropped down—his feet still in the water, his elbows on the sandy ground—and looked at them with a satisfied gleam in his eyes.
“An underground river flows beneath Candehel-mas, according to the Agent Orange. It reemerges here and there, and its water seeps through the stone creating oases like this before disappearing. No one knows what path it follows from Almagard to Almagard. I think this was a well, once.”
“You’re a genius.” Erin reached him, lying next to him.
Dagger saw that Warren was smiling, not grinning like he always did, but really smiling.
The white blood picked up a little sand and dropped it on the girl’s naked back. “We’ve taken the long path, but I wanted you to see this.”
Ash approached. “Why?”
War shook his head. “I’m a Hotankar, what do you think? Someone’s friend, the brother of someone else. I had to save the world but—Ktisis—I’m one of you, guys. Don’t ever forget that.”
No one said anything.
“Apart from everything else?” his brother asked.
“Apart from what?”
“When you sucked the blood from the neck of that virgin, when you joined that group of junkies dancing in the belly of the god of Destruction. When the evil made flesh, also called Varg, made you his pupil, when…”
“Ash?”
“I think you know the rest.”
War shook his head again. “Did someone ever wonder how I felt? Did someone remember that, despite everything, I was one of you?”
Silence followed. Dagger decided to break it, but not with words. He picked up his canteen, filled it with lake water and took a long swallow. “It’s good.” He saw that Warren was returning his gaze. For the first time, Dag read some sort of gratitude in his eyes. The sort of gratitude of a person so full of himself that if he had a longer prick he could fuck himself, he thought. “I believe you,” he said.
“Oh, really?”
“You carried out the orders of someone crazier than you. A lizard who holds the reins of the Fortress, now. Every one of us is doing that somehow, even the girl.”
“Hey!” Erin protested.
“I believe you,” Dag repeated.
War saw something funny in that and laughed. Dagger passed his canteen around and everyone took a sip.
Except for Ash. “You’re up to something,” he said. “I’m your brother. I’ve known you since I walked on all fours. Even then you were like this.”
“Like what?”
“You split sweets in two, and gave me the smallest half.”
“People change.”
“No, they don’t. The world changes. The way they try to hide their nature changes, but people don’t change. I don’t know what you’re doing or if you’re doing it for a good reason, and I surely don’t know who’s the master of puppets moving your strings. But you’re up to something, and we’ll find that out only when it will be too late.”
“You have sand in your vagina, Ash. It can happen after so much wandering in the desert.”
“I don’t have sand in my vagina!”
“I tipped my hand. I’m Araya’s agent and his orders are to seek the Hermit and bring him the boy. Of course I know where to look for him. Of course I keep my secrets on the right side of my lips like every Poison Guardian…but Ktisis be damned! After all the shit I went through, I demand to hear you say that I’m a Hotankar too. I deserve it!”
Ianka held the canteen inches from Ash’s eyes. “Come on, whitebait. It’s nice here. Have a drink. Be in communion with the Hotankars. It’s nice here.”
Ash looked doubtfully at the canteen. Then he grabbed it, took a sip and threw it to the ground, kicking it. “You’re just the greatest asshole in the universe, like all big brothers.” He walked away.
Warren shook his head. “Coming here was not a good idea, and trying to talk was even a worse one.”
“War…” Erin tried to say, but Warren went on his way.
She watched him disappear through the foliage. “Ian, please, say something funny.”
Schizo thought about it. “Um, let’s see.” On command, he farted so loudly that the few birds still hidden in the vegetation had to flee.
Erin tried to kick him. Ianka dodged, lifted her, and brought her with him down into the water.
Dagger followed them. He stayed afloat watching the branches above him. There was no other reason to bring us here, he thought. Warren is telling the truth, even if for the first and only time in his life. He slowly swam backward, floating in his own thoughts. Fragile and insecure…
He put his feet on the sandy bottom and saw that Ianka was putting his clothes back on. Schizo winked at him before walking away humming the usual tune, “Listen up children and follow me, or you will pay the price of Hanoi.”
Dagger turned around and Erin shot at him the water in her mouth, before bursting into laughter.
His lips uttered the question before he could stop them, “Am I just a mission for you?” For a moment he felt ridiculous, his face dripping with water.
The girl closed her eyes, as if those words had caused her a physical pain. She gained the shore and lay down on her stomach.
When he reached her, she explained. “It’s Araya who wanted us together, at the beginning. He said, Girl, you’ve got to love him. Take him by the hand, make him understand. That’s all.”
Dagger lay down beside her and caressed her back. “Are you sure he meant that literally? How can you accept that? How can you allow them to decide on your…”
She laughed. “On my?”
He found nothing to laugh about and kept looking at her.
“Sugar. You’re not that bad, you know? Some tasks are better than others.” She ran her fingers through his wet hair. “You were a mission for all of us—maybe even for yourself—yet go to Ianka, or Ash, ask if they consider you a task to be accomplished. Angra’s dead, the Fortress is half collapsed, the knots around our neck are getting loose and now we follow what we want.”
“And what do you want?”
“You,” Erin replied immediately. “It almost sounds like a musical note, doesn’t it? You.”
From her eyes, Dagger realized she didn’t consider being with him a mission anymore.
“I’ve been locked up, more or less literally, for…a long time,” Erin continued. “Only when you came into the world did the Messhuggah find a purpose for me. Somehow, you’re the one who gave me a new life.”
“It’s sad.”
“It was, until the day we met. It’s with you that I’ve known freedom. Listening to you I got that music for the first time, and now you’re the only thing I believe in.”
Prove it, his eyes asked.
The girl’s lips parted inches from his, moving lightly to say, “Come here.”
*
The night found Dagger exhausted with an ear resting on Erin’s belly. He watched her sweet mons. No one will ever hold saving the world against you. He felt her thin fingers caressing him with a therapeutic touch able to soothe every shadow, especially the ones hunting him from within. It’s so right and wrong at the same time.
“Hey,” she said.
“Hmm?”
A breeze brushed the palm leaves, while Erin pushed him away and sat cross-legged. “Don’t hurt me. Don’t take it away, because you don’t know what it means to me.”
“What?”
She rested her forehead against his. “This. All of this. Don’t think I don’t understand your loneliness, here in the heart of the night. Now I’m out of my prison and I want to live, I want
to love, but it’s a long, hard road out of hell. Only I can understand you.”
Silence.
“You were about to say, she, instead.”
Erin didn’t answer.
He closed his eyes and forced his mind to silence, cursing himself for never filtering his words before they ended up on the wrong side of his mouth. The warm glow of a fire arose, and he turned to it. “Let’s get back to the others. It’s freezing out here.”
Only one building hadn’t been gutted by the slow stride of the vegetation. Erin and Dagger joined their friends on its lowest floor and found it quite comfortable except for the beetles, the sand, and the cobwebs. As they entered, they saw Ianka crush a spider as big as a mouse, while Warren and his brother fumbled with the flames trying to keep them alive.
“How did you light it?” Dag asked.
Ash rolled a hvis sliver he carried around his neck between his fingers. “Gorgors’ preferred metal, remember? A gift from the Agent Orange.”
They sat by the fire with weapons at hand, and ate part of their supplies, salted lamb and chickpeas.
Despite the frugality of their meal, Dagger looked around and realized that it had been a long time since they last sat together to eat, just like the day they had met. Friends are the family you choose, he thought. Then, Six rings…one is missing. Is that you, Warren? Is that me?
“Our diet is becoming a little repetitive. I haven’t shat in a week.” Ianka gnawed a lamb chop. Since they were back in the open air, he hadn’t put his hands in his well supplied pockets anymore. “How long can a human live without shitting?”
“It depends on how much crap he says.”
Ianka rewarded Warren with one of his legendary, friendly punches.
Lying on his side, Dag crunched his beans one by one to make them last longer. “So, what’s the plan?”
Dagger 3 - God of Emptiness Page 11
