Echo

by H Waters

  “What do ya pretty ladies want?” an obviously very drunk little man slurred out through the silence. “And what’s with the gorilla and fox?”

  “Here to return my jug,” Alaric said, setting the jug on the counter.

  The barkeep looked Alaric up and down, inspecting his white tourniquet with the large red cross on it. The barkeep picked up the jug and examined the bottom of it. “Where did you find this?” he asked Alaric.

  “I picked it up last time I was here,” Alaric responded.

  “This bottle is sixty years old,” the barkeep softly replied.

  “Sounds about right, old man,” a voice from behind us directed towards Alaric.

  Before Alaric could turn around and reply, an angry and really drunk little man jumped on the bar, grabbed an old knife used to slice the foam off of beers, and began running towards the barkeep. “Vermin!” he screamed. “Show some respect!” A loud gunshot rang through the inn. The bullet hit the very upset little man in the chest, throwing him violently to the ground.

  “What did I say about the barkeep?” the man in the corner said from under his hat.

  The little men all looked at him and recited in perfect unison, “If we touch the barkeep, you will put us to sleep.” The man nodded and went back to his drink.

  Noticing that the dead little man was bleeding black blood, I asked the barkeep, “What exactly are these things?”

  “Well they’re, uh, they’re like genetically flawed leprechauns,” he replied. “Real big pain in the arse.”

  “But we is honest folk!” declared a Clurichaun from the center of the room. He looked a little bit different than the others, with a single tuft of hair in the middle of his bald head. “We work for our ale unlike those greedy redbeards!” he yelled.

  All the other Clurichaun let out a cheer and chugged some of their drink.

  “Why are there so many of them in this rundown town?” I curiously asked, out loud to everyone.

  “Douglas brought them here as laborers,” the man in the corner answered from underneath his hat.

  Alaric walked over to the man in the corner. On his way he irritably knocked over several drunken Clurichaun who were stumbling around.

  “Isaac?” Alaric said, sounding astonished. He tore off the man’s hat. The man had medium-length brown hair, slicked back by sweat and grease. His face looked young and confident, and his only facial hair was a small goatee on his chin and a thin moustache on his upper lip. The man let a smile creep across his smug, serious face once Alaric realized who he was.

  “What the hell are you doing here?” Alaric said ecstatically, patting the man on the back and sitting in the empty seat across from him.

  “Well, after the band broke up, I headed for greener pastures, killing for cash and supplies. Until I found Douglas and my current employment,” Isaac said, taking a sip from his cup.

  “I thought Douglas was killed in the attack? What about his eye?” Alaric replied.

  “Yeah, that’s probably why he’s a pirate now, you can wear an eyepatch to work,” Isaac laughed. “And you?”

  “I started a humble inn,” Alaric said proudly.

  “So what brings you to this festering hole in the mountain?”

  “Well, I have come into possession of the key,” he replied quietly, motioning for Scarlet and me to come take a seat. “Well, Echo and her mutt have.”

  “Show him the key,” Alaric said to me as I sat at the table. Reaching into my pocket, I pulled out the little wooden box and slid the top off it.

  “Well, I’ll be damned,” Isaac said, leaning in to take a better look at the key. “How did a stranger like you come across this?”

  “I, uh, got it from a church in Kata,” I replied.

  As Scarlet arrived at the table, Isaac drew one of his guns and put it to her temple. “Why the hell is she here?” he whisper-screamed at Alaric.

  “Grekal is dead,” Scarlet answered for him, sounding annoyed, and she scooted her chair closer to the wooden table.

  “Hand!” Isaac demanded.

  Scarlet rolled her eyes, setting her hand palm-up on the table. Isaac then pulled out a small black blade and cut her palm. As the red blood leaked out, Isaac’s face changed from anger to amazement. “How?” Isaac asked.

  “Dante and her,” Scarlet said, pointing to me.

  “Who even is this guy?” I asked, tucking the key box softly back into my pocket.

  “One of my younger brethren!” Alaric proudly declared.

  “So, another Saint?” I asked.

  “In the flesh,” Isaac smiled.

  “So where is Douglas now?” Alaric asked.

  “He should be here soon. They went to barter with a new settlement on the coast,” Isaac replied. “Trade has slowed quite a bit in the last few years. More and more Ghoul attacks on the road are making Treason a far less welcoming place to travel to.” He set his empty glass on the table. “So now we go to them,” he laughed.

  “So, is this Douglas guy a Saint too?” I curiously asked.

  “Yes,” Isaac answered. “Also, word of warning, don’t stare at his first mate. He is a little self-conscious.”

  “Can do,” I assured him.

  While we sat and waited for Douglas, Alaric and Isaac reminisced about the glory days, while Scarlet got roped into a pretty heated card game with a few of the Clurichaun. I just found a cozy spot in the corner by a window and sipped some sort of fruity cider that the barkeep had brought me. I stroked Lucy’s warm fur as she snoozed in a sunny chair next to me. Thoughts of Jake and Dallas flooded my mind, but for the first time since leaving Kata thoughts of them did not bring me sadness and fear — instead I was overcome with a sense of happiness and warmth. Finally I had time to remember my family and think about how happy Jake would be when I finally got to him.

  We sat there for hours. New little men would come and start drinking every two hours or so, switching with drunk ones who would leave the bar to go back to working in the fields, only to come back in two hours and do it all again. “What a strange existence,” I pondered to Lucy.

  The sun began to set, and as the natural light faded the old barkeep pulled out a ladder. He climbed up to an old chandelier hanging from a chain on the ceiling. He continued to light chandeliers until about half a dozen were fully lit, all sitting at different heights in the room. One of the Clurichaun stumbled over to a large brick fireplace in the wall to the left of the stairs and got the fire blazing. Shadows from the flames began to dance all around. This place, despite being so strange, began to feel homey.

  Lucy began to growl at something on the other side of the window. I could hear footsteps, but it was far too dark to make out where they were coming from, the sun finally had set over the large mountain walls. The front door swung open and in came a large horde of loud men, all dressed kind of like Isaac in slightly rough brown leather and cloth outfits, but without the hat. They looked exactly how you would imagine a pirate to look. They began to grab ales faster than the barkeep could pour them, shoving Clurichaun off of their seats so they could take them.

  The last two people through the door were different. A large dark-skinned man was dressed in much finer clothes then the previous men and wore a large captain’s hat. From under the hat came long strands of thick black hair, braided and woven through beads, bones and other small objects. He was quite the impressive sight. He turned to us, revealing a large scar that ran across his face and under an eyepatch that covered his right eye. Beside him, standing only half his height, was a wolf-like creature that stood on two legs and dressed like a human. Douglas motioned to his furry side kick to go grab drinks from the bar. He grabbed a chair from another table and dragged it over to us, taking a seat next to Isaac. He reeked of rum.

  “I see you have made some friends, Isaac,” Douglas said in a deep but calm voice. “It is nice to see you Alaric, but tell me, why do you travel with this witch and a young girl?” he added, glaring at Scarlet.

  “Grekal
is dead,” Alaric quickly responded, trying to calm the tension.

  “That does not mean her deeds were not done,” Douglas growled in his thick accent.

  “I had no control,” Scarlet quietly muttered. She seemed odd around Douglas, almost like she was intimidated. The same way an abused dog acts around humans.

  “And the kid?” Douglas questioned, grabbing a mug of ale from the dog man.

  “Well, you see, that is the most interesting part,” Alaric smiled. “She has the key.”

  Douglas’s face went gloomy as he set his mug back on the table. He shot Isaac a strange look, and Isaac nodded, got up and walked out of sight. “By key, do you mean —”

  Alaric cut him off with a calm “Yes.”

  “We mustn’t discuss this here. Let’s take this matter somewhere a little more private,” Douglas said in a low shaky voice.

  Alaric motioned for Scarlet and me to stand up and we followed suit, beginning to walk in the direction Isaac had gone. Lucy began to sleepily trot behind us.

  “Go right, under the stairs,” Douglas ordered from behind us.

  We veered right and passed through a large wooden door, decorated with bones, that was previously hidden by the stairs. The room we entered was small and square with a low ceiling. At the back of the room stood a large desk, and except for that the room was bare. Every wall was covered ceiling to floor in old maps and strange drawings, lit by the occasional mounted lamp. Douglas slammed the large door, marching to the desk, where Isaac stood. “May I see the key?” Douglas kindly asked.

  I shrugged and threw the little wooden box to him. He gently opened it, slowly pulling the key out. Isaac looked like he had seen a ghost.

  “Why is it so important?” I asked Douglas. “Alaric told me a bit about it and some soul-sucking machine. Could you fill in the holes?”

  Douglas looked to Alaric, who just shrugged. “It is the final piece to a weapon, girl,” Douglas barked.

  “The legend goes that some human long ago wanted to be on the same level as the creatures he go existed with,” Isaac interrupted.

  “You mean like the Seekers and Boden?” I quickly asked.

  “Seeker, Saint, it does not matter,” Douglas said before Isaac could reply. “This man made a device, using materials still unknown to us, that drains the very essence of a creature’s life and combines it with that of the machine’s operator. Essentially it could make a human as powerful as one of us, or over time even more so.”

  “Some old guy killing a few people doesn’t seem like it’s really worth all of this,” I argued, confused.

  “Well then, he made this,” Douglas said, holding up the key. “It allowed his creation to collect souls by the thousands, killing entire populations. Humans wrote it off as plagues or the wrath of their chosen gods.”

  “And you can’t destroy it?”

  “Whatever material it was constructed from seems to be unbreakable. So we thought it best to keep the key and machine separate,” Isaac replied.

  “You couldn’t even break it with your fancy weapons?” I asked.

  “Not even with our fancy weapons,” Douglas replied, rolling his eye. “So now you know the true burden you bear.” He set the key in the box and threw it back to me.

  “This machine could quite possibly have something to do with why we have been created,” Alaric added, and Isaac and Douglas nodded in agreement.

  “So you have no plan?” I angrily yelled at Douglas. “You just want to play Keep-Away with these demons while they destroy the world? For some little key!”

  “You think this is some game, girl!” Douglas screamed back.

  “She does have a point,” Alaric and Isaac agreed.

  “Let’s end this shit for good,” Scarlet angrily chimed in.

  “And how could you and your band of merry heroes even begin to accomplish this?” Douglas laughed at Alaric.

  “Scarlet, Echo, the mutt and I will head for the university,” Alaric declared. “Maybe we can figure out why the vultures are flocking there and Gorelock was recalled.”

  “I will take a ship and head for the last known locations of other deserting Saints and try my best to recruit them to our cause,” Isaac said.

  “Excuse me if I am speaking out of place,” the strange little dog man from the corner said, “but if we cannot break this machine, what exactly is the goal here?”

  “Kill them all,” Douglas sternly replied. “Everyone get rest. Kallen will show you to your rooms,” he added, turning to read some papers on his desk.

  Everyone slowly began to trickle out of the room. Just as I was about to follow Lucy out, I turned around to face Douglas’s back. “You haven’t heard anything about a train from Kata destined for Redwood, have you?” I asked him, trying to remain calm while holding back tears.

  “Who is on this train?” Douglas asked.

  “My son.”

  “I will keep my eye out for information.”

  “Thank you,” I said, leaving the room.

  Kallen was waiting just outside the door. “This way, kid,” he said with a smile. He led me up the wooden stairs, stopping at the third door on the right. Kallen led the way into the room. It was small with two beds, wooden walls, and a small window that overlooked the run-down town. Scarlet was already tucked into one of the beds, snoring away with Lucy curled up at her feet. “A bath?” Kallen proposed.

  The bathroom was a very tight space consisting of a sink, toilet and small bathtub. The bath water was already drawn; Kallen must have done it while I was talking to Douglas. I undressed and stepped in, and as I slid down into the tub the refreshing feeling of warm water washed over my body. I leaned my head back and closed my eyes.

  XII

  “Why was this meeting called?” a loud, heavily accented voice demanded.

  Quickly I looked around. I was no longer in the bathtub, but instead standing, draped in a strange robe, surrounded by fog. I could not see or feel anything but the gray mist. The stranger’s voice yelled the same question again. This time I followed the voice, trying to focus on where it was coming from I began to traverse the heavy fog. As time passed I could make out the faint silhouette of a man. He was wearing a similar tunic to Alaric, but he was slightly shorter and his skin was darker, almost a light brown.

  As time continued to pass, more and more things became visible. We were standing in a large hall, at the top of a large set of stone stairs looking over wooden banquet tables which covered the massive cobblestone floor. Large white banners bearing the red cross of the Saints lined the tall stone walls. In between them, staggered torches lit the hall quite nicely.

  “I am in the dark as much as you are, brother,” bellowed another voice with a completely different accent from across the hall. I turned to see a large Caucasian man sitting at one of the far banquet tables. The more I focused, the more I saw men in white tunics begin to fill the empty seats that lined the tables.

  At a table in the center of the room sat Alaric, sipping a large mug of ale and laughing along with a couple of the men sitting around him. He was likely going off about some war he’d won or beast he had slain.

  “Hey Alaric, where the hell are we?” I screamed to no avail. I sighed, annoyed with Alaric, and turned to the stranger beside me, the one who had spoken first. “Where am I?” I nervously asked, touching his back in order to get his attention. My hand passed right through his body, as if he was made of mist. “Not this again,” I said aloud, stepping back in fear.

  “I called this meeting,” a familiar voice called out from behind me. I spun around to see the Prophet who, much to my surprise, was wearing the same white tunic as the rest of the Saints who were scattered throughout the hall.

  By now there had to be at least fifty Saints sitting around the tables. The Prophet turned and shut the large wooden doors he had come through. He then picked up a very large metal chain, looping it through the door handles, effectively sealing the door shut. A man got up from one of the other tables an
d began to walk towards the Prophet. “Why have you gathered us here today? You of all people should know how busy we are!”

  The Prophet said nothing. He turned towards the babbling man, his eyes glowing a fiery red. “His eyes! Something is not right!” I screamed, but no one could hear me. The Prophet calmly walked to the man, and faster than I could blink, he pulled the man’s sword from his belt, sliding it up his torso, ending with a quick slash to the man’s throat. The man tripped and fell backwards, falling down the steps he had climbed in order to confront the Prophet. With the final thud of his body hitting the ground, the whole hall went eerily silent. He lay dead at the bottom of the steps in a puddle of his own blood. After a moment the hall exploded with noise. The first few rows of men rushed the Prophet, while the middle and back fled through the tall wooden doors at the rear of the hall. The Saints that rushed the Prophet never stood a chance. The only thing they succeeded in doing was buying time for the others to flee. Maybe that was their intended plan.

  The Prophet flew through them, hacking and slashing, never missing a hit. Every blow he made was fatal, his eyes still burning red. I collapsed to my knees sobbing, knowing I could do nothing but watch the slaughter ensue. Once the Prophet had slain them all, the gray mist barreled back into the hall, removing everything from my sight. I was alone.

  After what seemed like hours of sobbing, surrounded by nothing but gray mist, the white stag appeared to me. He paced slowly, clearly looking for something. “Can … can I help you with something?” I softly asked through my tears.

  His darting eyes met mine. “Wake up!” he replied.

  “What?” I asked him.

  The stag looked at me and screamed “Wake up!” again. His open mouth revealed hundreds of rows of yellow human and animal teeth. I shuffled away from him backwards on my knees as fast as I could, until I fell, descending into absolute darkness.