Always Walk Forward

by Billy Wong

  "Then Lady Cordy is off to adventure and see the downfall of the Paladins!"

  Despite Sam's prior distaste for her attitude, she was very grateful towards Cordy now. For the first time since Drea left them, she felt like they stood a chance. "Thank you," she said, clasping the blonde girl's hand. Yet she reminded herself she shouldn't rely so much on other people anymore. With the guidance of her new divine patron, she too could pull her own weight.

  "You earned it," Cordy said. "Overcoming your body's weakness like that showed a lot of spirit. You should be proud."

  "I didn't do it alone." At that, Vincent's face lit up.

  "So when do we leave?"

  "They already left the city, right? We should probably go now, so they don't get too big a lead."

  "Are you sure? You're both quite banged up, even if one of you can still perform well for now."

  "Sam's right," Vincent said. "We may not be in the best shape, but for Eli's sake, we have to press on."

  Cordy bowed her head with an appreciative smile. "Then let me get some things, and we'll be off."

  After Cordy finished packing and Sam and Vincent replenished their supplies, they headed for Patuta's north exit. On the way, Sam heard mocking laughter. She looked to see the fat giant who had beaten her up watching them with a smirk. "So you rascals need Lady Cordy to babysit you now, is that it?"

  Sam tried to ignore him and keep on walking. But seconds later, he stepped into their way. "Picking on kids again, are we?" Cordy raised a fist, and he backed up warily. "I don't think you want any of this."

  "No," Sam said, "let me handle it." She wasn't one for senseless violence, but if it had to happen, she'd rather she do it than hide behind somebody else again.

  Vincent poked her arm. "Um, are you daft? He destroyed both of us effortlessly last time!"

  Yes, but the gift of Lord Drugamor still ignited her spirit. "That was before. This is a new... well, not day... hour." She stepped up to the bully who towered over her.

  "You can't be serious," he said, regaining confidence now that he saw it would not be Cordy who faced him. "I'll concede you have an admirably strong jaw, but you can't even hurt me. You're going to get knocked out again."

  "Yeah? I doubt you can even hit me."

  "I hit you easy before."

  He swung a great fist at her, but it looked like it was coming slow as molasses. She leaned aside and threw a counter punch to his throat. His features twisted comically as he gagged. "Like I said, that was before."

  He tucked his chin to better protect his throat and threw more punches. But they seemed to come so slow, and she weaved between them while punching back. Her strikes still had little visible effect though, the fat around his body like armor her knuckles smacked ineffectually against and his head too high up to hit well. He launched a whooshing uppercut at her belly. She darted around it and gave him a hard kick to the knee. Those legs weren't so well padded, were they? In fact, they probably weren't in the best shape from carrying all that weight. She chopped at them with kicks to the knees and thighs, making him growl and then groan with pain as the damage accumulated. He turned ever more slowly to face her while she circled him, his punches growing wild and labored. Eventually he went to a knee, leaving his head a more accessible target. But Sam doubted her ability to put him down with a punch, and even having held the advantage throughout the fight she was getting tired.

  She recalled a move Drea had done in the plays. Jumping into the air, she whipped a leg high up. She felt a dull pain in her groin, but with the power of Lord Drugamor flowing through her it was insignificant. She brought her foot down like an axe on the back of the giant's head. Driven facefirst into the pavement, he rolled to his back with blood pouring from his nose and raised his hands. "M-mercy, I yield!" he said, cringing away from her.

  Drugamor bless. She stood over him in triumph and did a thumbs down gesture. "Precision beats power. Timing beats speed. Always be humble."

  Vincent blinked dubiously at her. "But are you humble, Sam? And, I'm not sure he was ever faster than you."

  "I don't think I'm the best fighter in the world or anything. We know some people who are better. But I know now I can be strong too, and that big bastard needed to learn he can't pick on anyone he thinks looks weak. And I just taught him."

  "How the hell did you do it, though? He crushed you before."

  Cordy smiled. "Looks like she found herself. By the way, who else were you talking about who's better than you?"

  Sam thought about mentioning Tonius, who had held his own against a certain invincible girl, but that might tread too close to Drea. "I was referring to you, that's all."

  "Seems a bit odd you were able to make it this far by yourselves though, if you were never this good before fighting me."

  Vincent fidgeted nervously with his hands. "I guess we were lucky."

  They left the bully whimpering in the street behind them, Sam in high spirits. She wasn't just an actor in over her head anymore. She was a warrior.

  Chapter 6

  They left Patuta to the north. Here the vegetation began to look sparser, the earth drier. Flat land with little to distinguish one section from another stretched out with no end in sight. "Makes me feel a little thirsty just looking at it," Vincent said.

  Cordy gave a sugary laugh. "It's not quite the great southern desert, but can be a bit harsh on the skin. Don't worry though pretty boy, I'll track those Paladins right down and get your friend back for you easy."

  Even the other insanely strong female warrior who helped them hadn't said it would be easy. But Sam couldn't bring that up. "I appreciate you helping us, of course, but I'm curious as to what grudge you and your father have with the Paladins? I don't believe it's been mentioned."

  "Back when Daddy was a young man, before I was born, he fell for a singer who he still calls his one true love. In spite of his family's wishes, due to her common birth, he planned to marry her, have children and grow old with her. But one day, the Paladins came to the tavern where she was working and snatched her away. Even as a noble, Daddy's demands for an investigation went unheard, and he was advised strongly by his elders to leave well enough alone. Yet he never forgave those who took his wife to be. So now that he has some influence, me to help and you to give us a lead, it's time for all out war! We'll kill their men, rape their women, and enslave their children." Sam and Vincent gaped.

  "Just kidding. But we will cast them down from their untouchable perch, and make them know there is still such a thing in the world as justice!" That she had just spoken of rape, even in jest, and justice within three sentences seemed a tad offputting.

  Vincent asked, "So your father doesn't consider your mother his true love? I wonder how you feel about that."

  "I don't think he loves her at all. It was a marriage of resignation at the time, him basically giving in to his family after his loss. I'm fine with it. He loves me, and that's good enough."

  "By the way," Sam suddenly wondered, "why didn't we bring horses? You're rich enough, and they might help us catch up faster."

  "No, that wouldn't be a good idea. Horses are hard to keep fed on this kind of land, and carrying enough food for them would be impractical when we don't know how long we'll have to go. Judging from their tracks, even the Paladins just rented those mounts for the trip between Berilim and Patuta, and have dropped them off to go on foot now."

  They traveled on. By the time they made camp, the effects of the nut Sam had eaten started to wear off. Her shoulder hurt again, and her face, and there was a new painful sensation between her legs. She went to sleep hoping it would be better in the morning. She woke up in agony. Her shoulder screamed to be dunked in something cold, her face hurt just to blink let alone talk or gods forbid eat, and she couldn't walk straight due to the burning in her groin. She must have pulled it doing that axe kick to the bully's head, something she had never in her life practiced. Having her newfound pride as a warrior, she didn't let the others know, and tried to car
ry on like nothing was amiss. But shit, did it hurt.

  She couldn't hide it even from Vincent for long. Not half an hour after they set out, he said, "You sure are slow today, Sam. What's wrong, are you sick?"

  "Sick? Did you already forget I got the stuffing beat out of me yesterday?"

  "I got beaten too and I'm not nearly as sluggish as you."

  "I was beaten worse and I'm a small girl." Granted, it wasn't mainly the facial injuries slowing her down, but the groin thing was entirely too embarrassing to admit.

  The hours of torture passed slowly, feeling like days as nearly every movement punished her and sometimes in multiple ways. Walking was the worst. Allowing her arm to swing naturally made her shoulder flare up, so she had to hug it close to her body which also hurt her shoulder, albeit less acutely but more consistently. Clenching her jaw against sudden pangs caused her jaw and loosened teeth to hurt, and her groin throbbed constantly if moreso when she took a step. On top of that, she felt perpetually weak and dizzy, the light painful to her eyes. Where was Lord Drugamor when a girl needed him... the nuts in her pouch beckoned to her, but she resisted. Drea had said only to use them in an emergency. She supposed she didn't need two working arms when not in a fight, and as for the rest, she could manage.

  "Is somebody getting second thoughts?" Cordy commented as sunset turned the sky orange. "A certain member of our party has been setting the opposite of a pace."

  "Why would I get second thoughts after battling daimons just to get this far? It's just that I'm in pain—a whole, whole lot of pain."

  Cordy stuck a wineskin in front of her face. "Maybe some of this will help."

  Tempting, but, "I don't need it." More importantly she needed to keep eating the nuts an option open to her, and didn't know what the consequences of taking them while having recently drunk might be.

  "Suit yourself. But you had better move your feet like you want to save your friend tomorrow."

  Sam's misery didn't end with their travel for the day. After they made camp, she found it an excruciating struggle to find a decent position to lie in. She couldn't sleep on her right side because it hurt her shoulder too much, and turning onto her left caused the same difficulty for the more broken side of her face. When she tried sleeping on her back, she found that not aggravating her worst pains made her notice the lesser yet still overwhelming ones more. She had a massive headache. She couldn't resist the urge to lick the holes in her gums where she'd lost teeth, though doing so made her shiver with pain and disgust. One of her eyes twitched repeatedly from the damage from punches, and she hoped it wasn't permanent. The sensation in her groin really disturbed her. It felt like something was torn in there—if so, would continuing to walk tear it further? But she didn't have a real choice in the matter; she must walk on, and faster than she had been.

  After what seemed a sleepless eternity, her consciousness finally drifted away from the physical world. She found herself sinking through a dark abyss without end. Beside her floated something inconceivably vast, its surface—or hide?—yellow, slimy and pitted. It was so large she couldn't make out any distinct body parts, the section that stretched as far as she could see in all directions perhaps only the equivalent of a pinprick-sized patch of skin. Specks of light bigger than houses flitted from here to there on it, its parasites maybe even if they didn't resemble any form of earthly life.

  Was this what Drea drew her strength from? She didn't regularly eat those nuts, but might have a more longstanding pact with it. Sam called out to this grandest of existences. "Lord Drugamor, is that you?"

  "Yes, it is I." Its voice seemed not just to come from its body, but all around. "I am he who swims the tides of blood and flies on the wind of departed souls. Countless worlds have died at my passing, and countless more will. I am destruction, and what I am is yours if you so desire it."

  Sam recoiled. "That doesn't sound like something that appeals to me."

  "No... perhaps it does not. But you yearn to save your friend from evil. Such evil that cannot be reasoned with can only be destroyed if you wish to prevail. Do you have the strength to sacrifice your flimsy qualms for the greater cause?"

  "It's not strength to lose yourself in pursuit of your goal! I don't need your power, I reject you!"

  A rumbling that echoed a thousand times over came from Drugamor, which might have been laughter. "As you please. Yet know you will require strength to save that which you hold dear, and when the time comes... will you reject me again?"

  Drugamor faded into the black, his whole unfathomable mass gone from her vision in an instant. Left alone, she felt too aware of the burning between her legs, and feared the time would come sooner than she wanted.

  #

  Since it had taken several hours before slumber actually took her, Sam only got half the proper rest she should have. Mustering the energy to get up proved a real challenge. She'd held out a desperate hope that even limited sleep would make her crotch feel better, yet it had only grown worse. She tried to willpower through it and walk at a normal pace, but it took all her will just to move at an even more glacial one than yesterday. She kept falling far behind even as the others deliberately slowed down for her sake, and they had to stop completely for her to catch up.

  "I sense a slowness in our force," Cordy remarked, no doubt losing patience.

  The knight's criticism didn't sting too much, considering it was justified, but the thought they might not be able to save Eli because of her sure did. Her resolve wasn't enough to overcome the limits of her body, but perhaps a divine one could. She would have to compromise after all. While neither of her companions was looking, she snuck a nut out of her pouch and chewed it down quietly as she could. The pain all but vanished, and boundless energy coursed through her once more. You return to me, Lord Drugamor said in her head.

  Even though she gave her body to the dark god out of necessity, she swore not to let him overtake her will. Only for now. If I must be your avatar for so long as the time until I rescue my friend, so be it.

  Once you have accustomed yourself to the infinity that is my power, you may find it difficult to forsake.

  We'll see. But either way, let us be good partners until then.

  "No protest, no excuse for why you shouldn't be blamed?" Cordy said. "I must admit that's a surprisingly mature reaction from you, but not denying it won't help if you continue dragging us down."

  In a voice that made Vincent and Cordy look back wide-eyed at its vigor, she replied, "I don't mind your complaints about me, because they're warranted. Instead I promise to do better, and that it won't be a problem anymore."

  "Good response. I hope you'll be able to live up to it, though."

  "Of course." She sped up, cutting in front of Vincent while he stared. Her groin nagged at her momentarily, but then Drugamor's influence washed it from her mind. I am the avatar.

  #

  Timing the effects of a nut, Sam found that Drugamor's presence lasted about eight hours. Thus, she needed two to get through a day's worth of travel. She took them when the others weren't paying attention. On the occasions Vincent or Cordy noticed her chewing, she claimed to be snacking on jerky or bread. The question of whether her supply would last long enough worried her. She refrained from eating nuts to relieve her suffering at bedtime, instead making do with what sleep she could get.

  A couple days later at around noon, they spotted what looked like a pile of feathers upon the parched ground. Then Sam recognized the shape of a man under it, and that the pile was a pair of wings. "It's a fallen anjeli!"

  "Is he dead?" Vincent asked.

  They moved closer, saw the muscular back rise and fall slightly with breath. Sam knelt and turned the anjeli over. He had tan skin, long curly hair, broad shoulders and a thick waist—and was naked except for what resembled a loincloth over his man parts. Golden light escaped through a cut in the side of his neck, which might be responsible for his unconsciousness. "He's handsome," Cordy said. Are you serious? "Kind of impracti
cal to go around with no weapons or armor, though."

  Vincent replied, "I'm under the impression they use their creation magic to make arms for themselves should they find themselves in battle."

  "I knew that. Just thinking that armor can be helpful if you manage to get caught off guard."

  "The ease of flying without added weight might have something to do with it. Know how we can get that bleeding under control, oh mighty experienced one?" Cordy chuckled at his description of her. "Anjeli aren't typically hostile to humans, and he may be able to help us if we save him."

  Sam frowned. "The light seems to be seeping out of the cut similar to how blood would. So maybe just stitching it would help."

  "I was going to say that," Cordy said. "And I can confirm, since I've seen anjeli have their wounds treated before. Not so different from treating a human at all."

  Sam attempted to stitch the wound, the lack of liquid blood vaguely unsettling, but found that looking at the light coming from it hurt her eyes and forced her to avert her gaze often. "Think it'd be easier if I hold the wound closed and you sew?" Vincent asked.

  "Good suggestion. Let's try it." Together, they sealed the cut. The anjeli remained passed out. "What should we do? The longer we wait for him to wake up, the more time the Paladins have Eli to themselves, but we can't just leave him for daimons to find defenseless."

  "Maybe we could hide him somewhere. We have no idea how long he'll be out for, so waiting seems impractical."

  "Will we find a good hiding spot out here, though? And we don't know if he'll need more aid when he does wake up."

  "I'll carry him," Cordy said. "He looks a little heavier than me, but I can handle it."

  "But won't that be risky in case he takes you for an enemy upon awakening and attacks you?"

  "We could tie up his hands, that should help. Besides, I'm pretty alert, so I'll probably feel it when he begins to stir."

  They trekked on for some hours with the unconscious anjeli riding Cordy. Eventually, he groaned and opened his eyes. "What is happening, where am I?" he asked in an inhumanly deep, resonant voice. "Why are my hands bound?"