Now I am like them, he thought.
Then, as the sun began to rise, someone cried out, “They come! They come!”
In horror Vrrd watched two highborn airships speed towards them. A small black machine on a table hissed and sputtered, then they heard the garbled voices of dead ghosts hissing in the thing. One of his brothers shrieked in terror, ran, then slipped in a thick pool of blood not yet dried and hit the ground with his legs in the air. The others bounded over the side, shrieking and stumbling in the sand, and Vrrd picked up Four Winters and leaped off the deck. Vrrd looked back as he tore across the sand and saw the two airships hover over the fallen ship for a long time. Then, as one, the ships turned and followed. Vrrd cursed violently, damning the world and everything in it. The old one rattled in his arms.
The terrible guns in the sky rained death down on them. Vrrd saw brothers and sisters stumble, legs shattering and intestines leaping away from bodies, one after another torn open as if by magic. They scattered and fled in all directions. The two airships divided as well, and Vrrd felt guilty relief when they left him alone with Four Winters. He could hear his people dying with the rising sun.
***
Under the blazing sun Vrrd and Four Winters sat on a rock and the old one gesticulated wildly because Vrrd refused to speak to him at all, casting him into a dark, silent hell. As time crawled by other lowborn found them by their smell and gathered meekly at the base of the rock. By late afternoon Vrrd realized that no one else was coming. The whole of his people could be counted on three hands.
When the sun set, Vrrd rose and said, “I lead now.”
A lowborn jumped up immediately. “Four Winters, his plan was bad. It was wrong. He betrayed us... he must die.”
“But he is...” said Vrrd, but before he could finish others began nodding and hissing. The majority was against Four Winters, and since Vrrd was now their leader, he knew that he had to do what they wanted. “Very well,” he said, but he thought to himself, I will never forgive any of you. He strangled Four Winters until he was dead.
***
They traveled north, hoping to return to the land that had already rejected them. The idea of enduring the journey they had already suffered through once before crushed their spirits. They looked and felt like corpses. Vrrd did not even have the strength to enjoy his leadership by using the females. Perhaps seeing his lack of interest, the males began to worship the females, a strange and horrible turn of events in which all values seemed upended. The vision of a new world was dead; now, the females seemed to be the sole hope for any tomorrow.
Vrrd began to hate the females, all of whom were dull-witted and exceptionally weak. They began to order the males around, despite Vrrd’s superior strength. When one bald-headed, flat-nosed female told Vrrd to give her the gun he hung around his neck, he unholstered the thing, looked at it, then struck her with it. Three male defenders attacked him and he wrestled them all to the ground, thrashing and spitting until they were exhausted.
They sat in silence under a bleak, moonless sky, their heat slowly sapped by a freezing wind. Finally Vrrd rose and said, “Think what you want of the females, but rubbing their feet and licking their toes won’t put your babies in their bellies. My sons will fill the land of the highborn. My sons will live in their homes and eat their food. Not yours!”
They stood and walked. Vrrd walked behind them with one hand on his metal stick and the other on his gun. The land was cold and black but he could still see the dark shadows trudging ahead of him, hunched over and unsure if they were alive or dead.
***
They came to foothills and were greeted by rain, and by the time they stumbled back into the Valley they could be counted on two hands. For days they rested in a dry hollow covered in brush, then they hunted and ate once again. But just when the others began to feel content, Vrrd said, “We keep moving.” When a hunter protested, Vrrd’s eyes burned into the back of the other’s skull and he backed down without a fight. Vrrd led them through the woods until nightfall and they reached the outskirts of a town.
They hunkered down in the depths of the woods and Vrrd said, “We have to find the others. The ones sent to kill the enemy Great Father. They have to know that we are all that is left.”
How can we find them? signaled another.
“I will go into the town. I can speak.”
“They will smell you,” said another.
Vrrd eyed the strange highborn outfit that one female had tied to her back in mimicry of his own cape. He snatched it from her and studied it, noting that it was designed in a single piece so that all of the limbs could fit inside of it. It was thick and black. He took off most of his gear, then climbed into the suit. The heat was unbearable. He had to stifle a sense of confinement as he forced his limbs through the close-fitting fabric. Once in the suit, he donned his cloak again, pulled the hood over his face, then hung the gun belt around his neck.
“Stay here,” said Vrrd. “I will speak to the highborn. I am smart, I can do it. I will see if the others are still alive. They may already be dead.”
“Maybe they have already killed the Great Father of the highborn?”
Vrrd gave the female a look, then shook his head as if the question were not worth a response. He exchanged his metal stick for a dagger. As he walked away, he looked back and saw that someone had already handed over his metal stick to a female, who eyed the thing as if it granted her great authority. Vrrd spit and continued on.
He wound his way through thick grass up a steep hill, sweating in the suit, laboring for breath as he pushed off of tree trunks. His resentment of the others grated in his chest, and he had half a mind to give up on his idea, rush down the hill, and beat all of them nearly to death. But eventually he looked back and saw their beady, uneven eyes shining through the mist. He knew they were watching him. They were scared and alone and their only hope was with him. He pitied them, then resumed his climb. Soon he heard the noise of the highborn, laughter and the shouting of clear voices, and saw lanterns shining atop the dark hill.
He broke through the woods and came to the alien streets and bright lights more afraid than he’d ever been. Everywhere men with guns strolled about, teeth shining as they smiled and laughed. They walked completely upright and even looked directly at one another. Vrrd saw someone clap another on the back, their gestures both aggressive and amiable, even strangely sensual. He saw women that were like goddesses, their hair radiant, their faces sometimes painted like the colors in a dream. He even saw some women speaking directly with the men, laughing and showing their teeth. Had any of the highborn ever known fear?
A man on a bike swerved around him, then called out in wondrous notes full of life, “Watch out, dumbass!” Vrrd swung about and crouched so fast that a spray of dust was flung out behind him, his hand on his dagger without conscious thought. With all his force of will Vrrd swallowed his rage, held it deep inside, and when the biker extended a graceful hand with middle finger extended, Vrrd knew that the threat had passed. Perhaps it had never existed at all.
Calm, he thought. Strike only at what is important. Let the unimportant pass.
Vrrd walked down the terrifying street and made a conscious effort to walk without stooping. He saw many people drinking at tables set around warm lamps. Seeing one old man sitting alone, Vrrd gathered up his nerve, then approached him. He fumbled about with the chair. How was he supposed to move with someone staring directly at him? Finally he managed to sit down and adjusted his hood so that it completely covered his face.
“Yeah?” said the man.
Vrrd thought about the word for a while, nodded once he decided that everything was fine between them, then he reached into a bag at his side and removed his rolled up, ragged comic books. He laid them on the table. “What,” he said slowly, "are... these?”
The man glanced at the comics. He laughed nervously, eyes darting back and forth from Vrrd to the comics. “You’re joking, right?” When Vrrd could think of nothing to
say - it was impossible with the man looking directly at him - the man said, “Fresh from Pontius, right? What’s your name?”
The man spoke very quickly, almost too quickly for Vrrd to understand. To give his name, which was little more than a rolling of the tongue and an abrupt end, seemed strange to him. Why bother giving his name to someone who didn’t know him? Instead he tapped his gloved hand on the comics, and said, “Tell me.”
“Look, man, I know you probably can’t read an’ all, and your mind’s been blown on account of all the printed paper around here, or whatever, but why should I read your silly comics to you? Pay a tutor, learn to read. Nothin’ to be embarrassed about.”
Rage tore through him. A burning lamp sat directly behind him, and Vrrd considered picking the thing up and smashing it into the man’s face. Instead he said, “You won’t tell me.” He jerked back and forth in his chair, then forced himself to remain still.
“Well, I’ll read them to you if you make it worth my time. I’m a workin’ man, I don’t have time to hang out with retards. You follow?”
“Worth your time?”
“Sure - trade. You give me some money, and I’ll read you your comics.” The man pulled his lips back farther than Vrrd would have thought possible, then laughed like rolling thunder. “Man, were you royalty or somethin’ in Pontius? Used to giving orders, were you?”
“Give you... I give you...” Vrrd’s mind raced. The man spoke so quickly. He pulled the gun belt from his neck and slammed the gun onto the table. “Now, read.”
The man paused for a long time. “You’ll give me a gun just to read you some comic books?”
“If you want it. You don’t?”
The man looked from side to side. His open manner quickly changed into something furtive and sneaky. He nodded quickly and snatched up the gun. “Okay,” he whispered, “lemme see them shits.” He flipped the first comic over, said, “Vendicci... Revenger! This is the fourth issue... wait, this other one comes before. I’ll read the earliest.”
“Wait, what?”
The man slowly pointed to the title. “You have to read them in order. See this? It says, ‘Vendicci,’ that’s the guy’s name. See the letters, man? That’s his name. Vendicci. He’s like a superhero or somethin’. Kills people, I dunno. You start at the beginning and it, you know, it tells a story...”
Something powerful revealed itself in Vrrd’s mind. He shook with wonder as the man slowly read the panels, the comic placed upside down so that Vrrd could watch. The man’s straight, clean finger moved from picture to picture and Vrrd held his shaking hands together under the table, hiding his awe as the deeper levels of wisdom were revealed to him. When the man finished the first comic, Vrrd clutched it to his chest delicately, a holy thing from another world. For over an hour the man read the comics. Vrrd sat in silence the entire time. Perhaps the most amazing thing of all was that the story was about someone whose name was not dissimilar to his own, making him feel a part of a larger world, a secret world revealed to him by the wise highborn. He did not notice that people near him were leaving their seats, loudly complaining about an awful stench that made drinking and eating impossible.
“So that’s the end of the fifth issue,” the man finally said. “Looks like Vendicci ended up blowing away the bad guy. Who would have thought? Anyway, listen man, I’m gettin’ tired.”
“I have to do a thing,” said Vrrd, desperate to keep the highborn in his seat. “Your Great Father. Your leader. Your chief. Where is he?”
“King Wodan, you mean. Bad timing, man. Hope you didn’t come all the way from Pontius just to see him. He’s flown south, gone to Srila. Shh-ree-la. A bunch of other people went, too. Airmen are making a killing, believe me.”
“Flown? Left? He is gone?”
“Yeah, man. Don’t know when he’ll be back. But it’s not like you can’t go, too. If you got money, buy a ticket, go and see him. Do whatever, man. You can do whatever you want.”
“I want to see him!”
“Then buy a ticket, bro. I’m goin’ home.”
As the man rose, Vrrd grabbed his wrist. The man glared at him, then slowly pointed down the street. Vrrd looked and saw the tops of several airships clustered near the ground, far away. “Buy a ticket?” said Vrrd.
“Money. Coins.” The man looked about impatiently. “This ain’t Pontius. You can’t just join a gang and have shit brought to you for free. Don’t you get it?”
“Give me the gun, I will give it to them. I will trade it to them for-”
“You can’t trade shit that don’t belong to you. The gun’s mine, not yours.”
Vrrd understood that it was not the highborn way to strike someone when annoyed, but he knew that he was annoying the man all the same. He knew he would have to do something, and quick. “Please, wait,” he said. “I… have something else to give you.”
The outside world disappeared as Vrrd turned the matter over in his heart. He knew there was a special destiny that was his, and his alone. He had been right in thinking that he should have been sent to kill the enemy who made his life, and the lives of his people, a living hell. Four Winters had been wrong not to send him. Instead he had sent others, and now the enemy was gone. Where were the chosen killers now? Crouching in the bushes somewhere? Sitting at the edge of the highborn world, their dull minds unable to overcome the awe of these majestic places crafted in the secret way of the highborn? Even if they hadn’t gotten themselves killed yet, did their lives matter at all? They would be old and weak by the time the enemy returned. A fool had selected fools for a fool’s errand. Destiny had not touched them… but destiny had touched Vrrd. Destiny had chosen him to risk entering the town, to understand the mysteries of the printed page, the secret knowledge of the suppression of rage to achieve a higher goal. While his people prayed for the death of the enemy Great Father, were any of them capable of navigating through the beautiful, nightmarish realms of the highborn in order to get the task done?
No, only Vrrd could do that. Only Vrrd.
Do not strike the horn of the bull. Strike the belly. Spill the guts. Do what is necessary. Ignore the fear. What you must do only seems wrong to those without understanding. They are too weak to understand. They will be avenged.
“Do you hunt the lowborn?” said Vrrd.
“Do the who?” said the man.
Vrrd curled his lips around the hateful word. “Do you kill... ghouls.”
“No. But I know some guys who do. Who used to, at least. It’s dangerous work, they say, and gettin’ harder all the time.”
“They do this for coin? To buy things like tickets on ships?”
“I guess, sure. Why?”
“I... I know... I know where you can find ghouls.”
The man looked about once more, then said quietly, “That so? Looking for a finder’s fee?”
“I will give you ghouls if you give me coins.”
“How the hell would you know where some ghouls are? You saw ’em? Saw ’em with your own eyes?”
Vrrd remained silent as he felt something die inside himself. Something small and stubborn and weak.
“What do you want? Ten percent finder’s fee?”
“Whatever.”
The man nodded, then left. Vrrd watched him speak to a large highborn male across the street. The two came to Vrrd, stood over him and questioned him, and with great effort Vrrd raised his hand, pointed a finger, described a location, and gave a number. The men left. A few minutes later Vrrd watched several men with guns leave the town and enter the woods.
The warm lamps grew dark and Vrrd rubbed his eyes for he could see only as if standing at the end of a long, dark tunnel. The sound of conversation, doors shutting, wheels moving – all receded into the distance. Vrrd wondered if he was sick. Was he dying? He sat and waited, hands gripping the table to keep from lying down, which was what he really wanted to do. He heard gunfire far way, the sound of darkness claiming everything he once knew, the world ending as he sat in an open-air
café.
He started to feel better. He breathed deep and smelled delicious meat being cooked. The gunmen returned, laughing and whooping and hollering. They fired their guns in the air and Enforcers gathered around them. Vrrd whipped his head away so that he would not have to see anything.
Finally a man strolled up to Vrrd and shouted something as he tossed a bag of coins onto the table. “Rates these days is point-seven-five of a gold kilo per head, we racked eight, so at yer ten-percent that’s-”
“The next time I see you,” said Vrrd, rising and taking the bag, “I kill you.”
“The hell?” The ghoul slayer seemed hurt. “Seriously, man?”
Vrrd approached the airships. Away from the busy streets, the clearing was filled with heavy zeppelins, warm lamps, people gathering, hugging, smiling. Vrrd passed through the heavenly world created by his enemies; he could see and smell and hear beauty without end, all of it hateful and oppressive and untouchable.
He came to a handsome, small man behind a counter. “You wanna book ship, man?” he said. “Wanna see the world?”
“Sur - eeh - la,” said Vrrd.
“Srila! Off to see the holy land. Lucky man, lucky man.” The highborn fiddled with some papers as he counted the coins off, then he wrinkled his nose. “God damn, I smell somethin’ awful. You smell that? Hoo wee… God damn!”
“I smell nothing.”
“Well, don’t you worry, sir, all of our ships are top-of-the-line, totally clean, very nice. I’ll find out what’s going on and get someone to clean it up immediately.” The man gagged, then covered his nose as he completed the sale. “What’s your name, sir?” he said, holding the ticket toward him.
Vrrd felt his old self die, perhaps shot down like an animal in a hollow just outside of town. Everything that was weak in him was gone. All that was left was pure and powerful, a razor’s edge crafted by the hate of highborn gods. “Vendicci,” he said, glaring from the shadows of his hood. He imagined the handsome face of the ticket seller melting in a fire, his jaw jerking up and down in agony, and in his mind he said his secret name to himself.
Demonworld Book 6: The Love of Tyrants Page 11
