Amorlia: Age of Wonder

by Chris Wichtendahl

  Penance

  Kel dropped Quin Revo's lifeless body to the floor and stared down at the dead Gunfighter. He stared for a long time, thoughts floating through his mind, connecting with other thoughts and finally forming an idea. He had just killed Quin Revo. The last Gunfighter of Drego was dead, by his hand. He felt his hands begin to shake as the full enormity of what he'd done and where he was came crashing down on him. Through the fog of chemicals and sex, Kel remembered who he was supposed to be and realized how far from that he'd fallen. Behind him, one of the girls giggled. "You know," she said, "that's going to smell if you don't get rid of it soon." Kel turned, hatred burning in his eyes. The women backed away and Kel knelt to pick up Quin. He made sure to retrieve the Gunfighter's pistol and replace it in the holster before walking out. He was naked, and made no effort to seek his clothes, simply walking out the door and down the hall. In the distance, he could hear Fanna calling out instructions to the fire crew. The blaze Quin started in the laboratory was nearly out. The lab and all its contents were a complete loss, but most of the rest of the structure was intact. Fanna was still livid. All the traits harvested for grafting had been destroyed, as had her two most brilliant scientists. A part of Kel wanted desperately to kill everyone in the building, but another part of Kel reminded him that he'd already done his share of killing, and that it would be best just to get out and far away. He knew Bors and Kit were dead, their bodies immolated, but he could at least bring Quin's body back to the cat people. Yes. He'd go there. He owed Sa'raa and her people an apology and more for what he'd done and hadn't done. He would return to them and place himself under their judgment. He was so involved in planning his destination, and still a little foggy from the drugs, that he failed to notice Fanna Otaku approaching until she was nearly in front of him. She opened her mouth to speak, and he sped by her in a blur. He was no speedster, but he was fast enough. He ran for miles, through wood and meadow and marsh and field, racing toward the hidden city of the cat people. He finally reached it, after running for nearly a day. He knelt down outside the wall, Quin's body in his arms, and cried out for entry. The wall opened, and two cat soldiers rushed out to take his burden from him. Another helped him to his feet and through the opening. The whole ride to the city, Kel simply muttered, "My fault. No good. No Champion, no hero. Failure." while staring blankly into space. The soldiers asked after Kit and Bors, but Kel just kept repeating his mantra. Kel delivered Quin's body himself and related the story of what had happened to Sa'raa as he knelt at the foot of her throne. "I place myself under your judgment," he said at last, "and accept whatever punishment befalls me." Sa'raa crouched next to Quin's wrapped body, lightly touching the cloth around his face. "You should have said something, you young fool," she whispered, "I would have said yes." She smiled sadly, stood and turned her attention to Kel. "Rise, Kel Vega," she said. "I have no punishment to lay upon you. You have committed no crime against me or my realm. You were not in your right mind when you killed Quin, and at worst it can be said that you failed to protect Kit and Bors." "And that is why I deserve punishment," Kel insisted, still kneeling, his head down. "I failed. I failed to protect them, failed to protect myself. I failed... Quin." Sa'raa shook her head, lifting Kel's chin and making him stand. She looked up into his eyes. "Failure is not a crime here, Kel Vega," she said. "Now come. My people and I have much to do and you must away." Kel looked around, confused. "What? Where... I don't..." Sa'raa led him by the arm down a long corridor. "I will show you the way home, Kel," she told him, "then I must lead my people to war." "War?" Sa'raa nodded. "We will raze their fortress to the ground, hunt down every last member of this Order and kill them. Fanna Otaku," she growled, "will fall to me personally." Kel met her gaze then nodded. "Ah," Sa'raa and Kel stepped out onto a balcony. "Here we are." She pointed down a sheer rocky cliff toward inhospitable desert. "Across that desert," she said, "is one of the Mad Wizard's old portals. It will take you where you need to be." "How long does the desert crossing take?" Kel asked, looking out over the harsh landscape. "As long as you need it to," Sa'raa whispered. "What?" "A week at most," she said, louder. "Um," she gestured at his body, "you are somewhat naked," she said, "do you want me to find you some-" "No," Kel shook his head. "I'm fine like this." Sa'raa sighed, then nodded. She put her hand on his shoulder. "Safe journey, Kel." "And to you," Kel replied. And then there was no more to be said, and Kel began the long climb down the cliff to the desert. Sa'raa watched his progress a few moments, then left the balcony to find her chief armorer.

  The Hostage

  Kai swung her shock baton, smashing the skull of another Shadow. The Spark from her baton hurt them, though they still tried to block her from it. Her recuperative powers worked diligently to hold the connection. Shadows fell all around her, but still more kept coming. "This is growing tedious," Fourth complained. "You should be long dead by now. You lot!" she shouted at the Shadows, "step back now. You've had your chance. Five!" She called for her companion. "I thought I was going to be the new Two," he said as he walked into the room. Unlike Fourth, who was becoming more substantial and colorful by the hour, Fifth was still grey and barely there. "And I thought you were shutting up and doing as you're told," Fourth snapped at him. "You don't really need another reminder of who's in charge, do you?" "I said 'Two', not 'One'," he muttered. "And no," he said louder, "I don't need another reminder. I'm reminded every time I look at you." "As it should be," Fourth said with a smile. "Now," she waved her hand toward Kai, "kill that." Fifth sighed, nodded and walked toward Kai, who held her shock baton at the ready. Fifth grabbed it, pulled it from her grasp and punched her through the wall. He turned back and asked, petulantly, "Was that it?" He dropped the shock baton to the floor and began to walk away when, from the hole Kai had made, a marble table came sailing through the air and slammed into the back of Fifth's head. It drove him face-first into the floor as Kai stepped through the hole. Her uniform was torn in several places and she had no sleeves left at all. She stood, dust and dirt streaking her face and ragged clothes, waiting. The marble table flipped over and Fifth stood up, turning to face his opponent. "Oh, by all means," he smiled and licked his lips, "do make it sporting." "Gladly," Kai smirked. She ran swiftly toward Fifth, who shifted to a defensive stance a moment too late as Kai barreled into him and dove them through the window. Glass shattered and they fell many stories to the pavement below. Fourth looked from the hole in the wall to the one in the window and stroked her chin. "There's something different about her," she mused. Fifth hit the ground first, becoming embedded in the stone. Kai landed on top of him, feet-first, driving him further into the ground. She looked around, but no one was near. She looked down at Fifth and saw that he was unconscious. "Good," she said, dragging him up by the front of his shirt, "they can be hurt." She dragged him away from the palace, making for the lower levels and the main part of the city. She had places there, set up for just such an eventuality. She'd trained her people well, so if any survived, they'd be waiting for her. "And now we'll have you," she told her beaten companion, "and you're going to tell us exactly what you and your little gang are, and how we can kill you." She chuckled, "One way or another." Then she slipped into an alley, dragging him behind her.

  Turnabout

  Mar Dagnae knelt in her prayer cell, meditating on the purity of the holy Spark. She was dressed in a simple blue robe that was unadorned. When she completed her communion, the white lightning bolt would be sewn to the front, and she would be a true follower of Professor Jat. Out in the hall, two men watched her through the small window of the cell before turning away. "Can you believe it?" Zem said to Baran, "that's Mar Dagnae in there. Owner and Chief Executive of Dagnae Industries, candidate for High Queen, and she's all ours." Baran was known among the faithful as The Charismatic One, due to his talent for persuasion. He sat at the right hand of Jat Loren himself, and was left in charge of Baern when the great leader took the fight to Vega City. "I believe you mean mine, Zem," he said softly, his smile thin and forced. "
She doesn't belong to you at all, she belongs to me." As an afterthought, he added, "And the Illuminated Professor Jat, of course." "Of course," Zem nodded. "I apologize for my presumption, Master Baran." He bowed his head. "Not at all," Baran said graciously, "I can understand your desire, my friend. She is a comely woman, fit for any man's bed." An idea struck him. "Come," he said, walking back toward the cell door, "let us have some sport, while the Professor is away." Zem smiled, though it was more a leer, and followed Baran to the door. His mind was so preoccupied with thoughts of what he would do to the woman in the cell, he did not notice Baran's horrified expression as he looked through the window. "She's gone," Baran whispered. Zem looked through the small window. Sure enough, the cell was empty. Then each man felt cold steel at their throats, and heard Mar Dagnae's voice in their ears. "Aye," she said, "though I haven't gone far." "But, how?" Baran was confused. No one could resist him. "Oh, I am sorry, Baran," Mar taunted, pressing the blade of her knife to his skin. "I know how you pride yourself on your abilities, but it takes a stronger mind than yours to break mine." She smiled wickedly. "Take some solace in the fact that you are not the first to discover this to your detriment." Blood sprayed the window of the cell as she slit their throats. As she walked away from the cell, she tucked the knives up under her robe. She'd been told to remove all clothing when given her robe, but had simply removed her shoes and rolled up the legs of her pants. She still had her knives and one pistol hidden on her person, though she knew where they'd taken the other pistol and her rifle. She made her way there now, smiling beatifically at any other members she passed. She'd hidden the bodies in her prayer cell, but she knew it would only be a matter of time before they were discovered. Once they were, and everyone came after her, she was going to need what firepower she could find. She had to take out the leaders first. They were the most dangerous. The rank and file were likely all under the sway of "The Charismatic One" and might respond to talk, now that Baran's control was broken. She hoped so. She had no wish to kill innocents. They came upon her as she exited the storeroom where they'd taken her weapons. She had a pistol in each hand and a rifle slung over her shoulder. She'd removed the robe and had managed to find a pair of boots that fit reasonably well, so she wouldn't have to do this barefoot. She swore under her breath. Most of the group were leaders, all of them carrying guns. Only a handful of followers bearing clubs rounded out the group. She could see why. With Baran dead, the followers seemed confused, on the verge of regaining their senses. She could use that, if she got the chance. The leaders were determined not to give her that chance. They opened fire, forcing her to take cover in the storeroom. She fired back, wounding two and killing one. The followers were ordered in, but they just stood there, uncertain. In the confusion, Mar leaped out of hiding and strafed the group with gunfire. Two more leaders went down and she tagged a follower in the shoulder. Only three leaders were left and they returned fire. She made it around a bend in the corridor and fired from that position of cover. Two more leaders went down, but the third managed to graze her arm. It stung, and would bleed freely, but it wouldn't slow her down. Pain was just pain. She'd endured worse. She looked around the bend and noticed the followers were gone. The remaining leader fired a barrage of bullets and she took cover again. Then, with a loud roar, she jumped out into the corridor and fired both her guns at once. The hammers fell on empty chambers. Mar looked down at the pistols as the remaining leader raised his gun, grinning madly. "Oh, bloody Hells," she sighed. The man fired his gun, but before the bullets had even cleared the barrel, the ceiling caved in and Mandhe stood between them, the bullets bouncing harmlessly off her metal skin. She looked over at Mar, somewhat surprised. "Not quite what I was expecting," she said. "I thought I was going to have to save you from their sinister clutches." "Cheer up," Mar replied, smiling. "You still managed a last-minute rescue. That should count for something. Oh, and could you step to the right for a second?" She slung the rifle up to her shoulder. "Of course," Mandhe obliged. With Mandhe out of the way, Mar put a bullet through the dazed cultist's head. She lowered the rifle as he fell and smiled at her rescuer. "Well," she said, "that's that." "It would seem so," the other woman agreed. "I fixed the ship. We should probably make our exit n-" "Wait!" Both women looked down the hall as the followers rushed toward them. None carried clubs, and many had thrown off their robes. They fell to their knees in front of Mandhe, reverence in their eyes. "We have been freed from our bondage to Jat Loren," one woman said, "but our minds are not clear. We have no understanding of who we are or where we belong. Please," she beseeched Mandhe, "you are obviously a superior being and not of this world. Will you show us the way, so we might know our true destinies?" Mar opened her mouth to speak, but Mandhe stepped forward, raising her hands as in blessing. “Of course, my lost ones,” she intoned, the metallic echo heavy in her voice, “I am here to guide you home.” Mar looked abruptly at Mandhe, eyebrow raised, but the young woman was oblivious. Mar grunted and turned away. This was unexpected.

  The Crossing

  Kel put one foot in front of the other, walking slowly, the heat of the blazing sun beating down on him. He had not seen a cloud since beginning this journey, so very many days ago. He wasn't sure how long it had actually been, but he was certain he'd been walking longer than the promised week. He shook his head and wondered how people without his gifts could possibly weather the crossing. All around him, for every mile he'd walked, was nothing but white burning sand. No other creature lived, not a shred of plant life grew and he'd not seen water since he'd last worn clothes. He wanted a glass of water. He wasn't thirsty. He didn't get thirsty or hungry, really, though right then he wanted a glass of water more than anything. More for the fact that there wasn't any, he thought, than any physical need. The sun began to set, and he knew night would not be long in coming. Naked as he was, he would not feel the bitter cold any more than the scorching heat. His skin remained pale, no sweat drenched his taut frame, though the approach of night made him wish he had clothes. He missed the feel of a shirt against his chest and pants around his legs. He wanted hard treaded leather beneath his feet, regardless of his soles going unburnt by the sun-baked desert. He missed the things he did not have, though he was glad he did not have them. He stole a glance at the horizon, now stained orange and red, the sky above tinged purple. He smiled and bid the diminishing half-circle of the setting sun farewell. He muttered an old Solarian prayer his father had taught him as a boy, though the god it honored was long dead. "Fare thee well, Lord Solar, speed thee toward thy rest. Shine down upon tomorrow and show me what is best." There was more, but Kel had stopped speaking. He walked on in silence, considering the last part of the prayer. "...show me what is best..." He wished it were that easy, that some god could descend from the heavens, tell him what to do and make it all better. Take away his guilt and shame and the hatred he felt in his gut. It was a sick hate that festered and ached and was directed inward. The old myths preached that one could find forgiveness and salvation in the mercy of Lord Solar. That through confession and acceptance, true peace would be earned. That also would be nice, he thought. I'd need a god to forgive me, because I'm sure not doing it. Kel trudged on, replaying (as he had endlessly) Quin Revo's final moments. He relived the old Gunfighter's death again and again, the hate in his gut twisting and souring, the relentless voice in the back of his mind shouting at him, telling him he was damned. Kel's knees hit the ground and he tumbled forward, face-first into the cold blue sand. He did not want to move. He would walk no further. Let the desert take him. He would stay buried forever. The icy white fullness of the moon shone on him and he rolled over onto his back to look at it. He smiled. "Hello, Grandmother," he said. "I don't suppose you might be able to come back from wherever you've been to help me, would you?" The moon, of course, said nothing. The great goddess Luna had become one with the Spark before Kel was even born. The moon was naught but a lifeless rock in orbit around a vibrant planet. Beautiful, but no more capable of miracles than the avera
ge block of granite. Eventually, growing bored of inaction, Kel stood. He brushed the sand from his hair and took a step forward, tripping over a large block of granite. It was covered in intricate symbols that began to glow blue the minute Kel's foot touched them. A tall column appeared atop the granite block, blue and translucent. It glowed brightly. Another identical granite block directly across from the first repeated the behavior and soon there were two columns of light atop glowing granite bases. Kel jumped to his feet, eyes wide as he gazed upon a relic of the ancient world. His breath catching in his throat, Kel Vega approached one of the Mad Wizard's fabled miracle devices. Between the columns was a space no wider than the average door. Kel stepped through it, and found himself somewhere else entirely. He stared around open-mouthed at the beautiful alien landscape surrounding him. Luminous beings of varied aspect walked by him, some nodding in greeting and others ignoring him completely. Realization dawned. "I'm in Faery," he breathed. A voice from behind him turned his breath to a cough. "Kel?" He turned, and his eyes widened. "Mother?"