by Zy J. Rykoa
Chapter Eleven
The journey is long only until seen from the end.
January 17, 997 R.E.
Jaden’s heart sank as he watched the last of the blue-flamed jets disappear over the mountains, his hopes of the force being sent by his father vanishing with it. It had flown east, the opposite direction to the way his father would have gone. They must have been of the Resistance, too far from Callibra to send any troops by land.
The jets had brought him some peace with their attack, at least. The Alliance had been punished for their crimes. But now he realised no punishment would ever seem enough in his eyes. They had taken everything from him. All that he had left now was the desire to fight, to wage war against the Alliance until his own death.
He took a final look back over his shoulder at what was once his home, and then made his way down the hill and up toward the mountain. He took the path slowly, in no hurry to get where he was going. The other survivors had been captured. There was nothing left for him here anymore. He could only have managed a little damage without help, not nearly enough for the revenge for which he had yearned. It seemed there was only one option remaining; make his way to Corsec and join the fight against the Alliance. With their military might, he could have a chance at the victory he could not achieve alone. The journey would be long, but he had no other choice.
Like him, his father had failed in his mission, too.
After two hours, he reached the cave high on the mountain, but he would not stay. He had come this way only so that he could say goodbye to the last remaining piece of his childhood. Lowering his eyes from staring into the darkness, he turned and walked around the mountainside and then made it to the top. Here he sat in contemplation, looking toward the horizon that the jets would have disappeared over. There lay his destiny, far beyond where his eyes could see. To his right, he could see the coastline. To his left, he could see vast mountain ranges. Each seemed as devoid of human life as the other. It did not matter which route he took, they would both lead him to where he needed to be most—away from this place, away from the memories—but only through the mountains could he find the Resistance.
In the faint light of the rings peering through the clouds, he began to plot his path. There was dense wilderness, entire forests standing in his path. If he did not take care, he would get lost easily. The first destination point was a clearing in which a large rock protruded just over the trees. He decided he could perhaps climb it when he got there and use it to better see the way he needed to go. After that, there was nothing more than the thicket of green he would have to push his way through to get to the mountains ahead, to the two highest peaks he could see straight ahead of the clearing.
The two highest peaks…
If he followed the path directly toward the two highest peaks and tracked the stream north, he would reach a mountain. That was where his grandfather had wanted him to go. Vennoss had said he would be safe there.
Jaden thought hard for a moment. He was not sure if safety was what he wanted anymore. He had felt a burn inside him ever since the attack, an energy that needed to be released somehow, by fighting—seeking revenge against the Alliance. But he didn’t like to disobey his grandfather's advice, and now that all were gone, it was the last bit of direction he had left. He would not stay where his grandfather had told him to go, nor would he explore too far for the cure to his illness. He would go only so that he had not disobeyed his grandfather, and then he would leave.
Hours passed. Jaden remained seated on the mountainside until first light before laying the rifle down next to him and then taking off the backpack. He needed to shed any excess weight before he went any further. Anything that he couldn’t use on the way he would discard. Opening the top, he found that the grenades he had taken were no longer there. He had thought he had felt them roll out when the soldier had hit him, but at the time he hadn’t been sure. Underneath were the rolls and clips of ammunition and various tools he didn’t recognise. He tossed most of these aside, keeping only some ammunition for the rifle. He would need a means of defence for his travels.
In the side compartment was what he was hoping for. Folded neatly inside was a soldier’s uniform—clean, dry clothing to replace his torn, wet and blackened Callibrian garments. He quickly changed into it, leaving the jacket aside, keeping only the black undershirt and the dark green trousers, which he had to roll up around his ankles. The uniform appeared to be for one of the smaller soldiers of the Alliance, but it still seemed big on Jaden.
He checked through the last compartments, finding a flask of water and some rations of dried meat. He drank as much as he could, then put the flask down and sat back as he chewed on the dried meat. The spices burnt his tongue and throat, but the flavour was not unpleasant. It was the first time he had eaten anything since the attack.
He took another drink of water to cool the burning and then looked toward the shoreline. He could hear a hum in the distance. Something was behind the trees. He began to edge forward to take cover behind a rock, unsure what could be out here. Whatever it was, it could not have been friendly. Seconds passed, but still there was no sign of anything. Jaden held his breath, as if to wait for it to make the first move.
Suddenly he saw it, a black helicopter rising into the air but keeping low. Patrols, he thought, searching for him, to take him prisoner or even kill him. He had to run, to find a better place of cover. He had gotten up but stopped as he turned to see the helicopter was travelling eastward. It stayed low the entire way, until it disappeared from sight on the horizon, leaving Jaden confused.
Where was it going?
He didn’t want to stay to find out when it returned. Putting what he needed into the backpack, the rations, water flask, ammunition and his old clothes, he readied to leave. A light breeze traced over his cheeks, whispering what almost sounded like words to him. He remained still for a moment, listening to the strange voice, as if somehow able to understand it. Realising he could not, he began his way down the steep, rocky slope, trying to think as little as possible about the attack and the patrolling helicopter along the way.
He felt drained of energy, sick from the emotion that had tormented him over the past days. He had never felt so much hate, so much anger or so much grief before, and now it seemed he had no more tears to cry.
He travelled most of the day at a leisurely pace, changing the position of the rifle several times along the way so that it did not seem so heavy. The cloud cover kept him cool as he went, but he stopped at any stream or waterhole that he came across, splashing water onto his weary eyes and refilling the flask. He reached his first destination point several hours after nightfall. He had not wished to risk losing direction by resting for the night, and using what little moon and ring light there was, he had managed to navigate through the remaining forest. The clearing was great in size, being almost one hundred yards in length, with the large rock at the opposite end slanting to the left, as if it had been pushed over by some divine force but defiantly fell no further.
To Jaden’s right, there was a stream gently trickling down from the rock, seeming like glistening sapphires rolling over the earth as it made its way into the forest. He walked to it over the many small stones and knelt down on the pebbled beds to refill his flask, then scooped up some water to drink and splash over himself with his hand. His thirst satisfied, he stood and walked along the stream to the rock. It was too dark to see the way to the two highest peaks this night, and his body ached from the distance he had travelled already. He would climb it in the morning, he thought, but for now, he would rest, if he could find a place of comfort.
Circling the rock, he found his way to where it slanted above ground, creating an open cave-like area. He threw the backpack and rifle against one of the smooth white and grey ledges and then hopped up onto it, lying back and using the backpack as a headrest. From here, he was able to stare back to where he had entered the clearing, thinking of how far he had come. He had never been so far
from his home before. He had never seen what was outside of the valley. Under different circumstances, he may have been able to take solace in the beauty, but in this moment, it meant nothing to him. He was content simply to be able to lie down and close his eyes, forgetting that anything else existed, and drift into a deep sleep.
