“What about Commander Retical?” Marquos asks. “What is he fighting for?”
“Stability. The Kands want to upset the Border Guard. If they can remove the Guard from Kand then they can mount a force to invade Estalia. Where do you think the war would stop? Only when we are all destroyed. He wishes to end the war by suppressing their fighters. Can you blame him?”
“He tried to have me killed.”
“Perhaps he has lost perspective too,” Qait gives it little interest. “But they are fighting a war, Marquos. Casualties are a necessary part of it, and it’s not black and white like you want it to be. If you want to understand why things are the way they are now, you need to talk to someone else, someone in touch with what makes the world tick. There’s a man in the Metropolis you should meet, when you’re next there. Dr Hodwick. He works at ArcTech, they do research on past technology. Those things I said of Rosenbault, of the maps and the different worlds, I took them to ArcTech, they are continuing, in some way, what Rosenbault started.”
Marquos glowers at him, not interested in the past. He abruptly comments, “You know I can’t take you to Retical.”
The tracker looks back, unsurprised, and answers “I know it. I’m waiting to see what you’re going to do about it.”
“I can take you to the edge of Thesteran and we can part ways.”
“You won’t make it that far. The guards have already sent messages ahead to Retical to let him know we’re coming. He’ll intercept us en route.”
Marquos stares silently ahead, at a loss. He slumps against the boat, leaning heavily on the tiller, and groans. Running a hand over his tired face, he says “I guess I have a fight on my hands, then.”
“If his airship approaches, you can leave the boat and take cover,” Qait suggests. “I’ll tell him you fled. We’ll leave the boat here for you to return to. He won’t go after you.”
“A dozen of his men were killed because of me.”
“I guarantee you that he’s already got his revenge for that.”
Marquos goes to respond, but is cut off by Jenz shouting from the cabin, beckoning him down. The pilot frowns at Qait, who holds a hand out to the tiller and gestures for him to leave.
Copin is stirring, and though his voice is croaky and eyes blearily worn his nature is already brimming through as he chides the pair of guards watching over him. They stand by the bed, somewhat bewildered as he rumbles at them, “Puke merchants, you couldn’t fight your way out of a chicken farm.”
Marquos approaches quickly as Jenz retorts “I wouldn’t talk so tough if I were in your position.”
“I wouldn’t talk at all if I was in yours,” Copin snorts back. Marquos bursts into the room demanding “What’s going on?”
“Finally!” the Kand calls out, and the excitement makes him cough and shift uncomfortably in the bed. The mere movement is enough to insight pain in the wound, and he winces, agonised.
“He woke up a few minutes ago and demanded that he see you,” Molicz says. “You wanna make sure he keeps his mouth shut, he’s pushing the wrong buttons.”
“Take a hike,” Copin snaps, “Tell them, Marq, get them out of here, I want a word with you.”
Marquos looks at the guards imploringly, but they stand fast.
“Anything you’ve got to say, we can hear it,” Jenz says.
“I’ll ram my fist down your throat and pull your guts out, how do you like hearing that? Get out of here!”
“This is my boat,” Marquos glares at the guards, finding himself encouraged by Copin’s strength. “I don’t care who you are, I say what goes here. Leave us for a minute. Go up on deck.”
The guards share an awkward look, before deciding it is not worth the effort. Marquos watches them go as Copin comments “Where did you pick up that pair of layabouts?”
“You’ve regained a lot of energy,” the pilot turns to the Kand, “Can I get you something? Drink? Food?”
“Water’s fine right now,” Copin says, and Marquos quickly attends to the request. As he returns to Copin with a mug of water, the Kand peers around the room and takes in the sparse neatness of the boat. He says “The bandits got on?”
“You don’t remember?” Marquos replies, perching on the bed.
“Nothing since those exploding guns.”
“Kail,” the pilot mutters. Copin had been slipping in and out of consciousness during their trip out to sea and aboard the floating castle. Marquos had hoped he was somehow aware of all that had happened and is pained to have to explain it. He hesitates, and Copin asks “Where’s Hart?”
“I don’t know,” Marquos sighs. “We headed out to sea, there were too many of the bandits. We were picked up by a floating castle.”
“What?” Copin cries out, suddenly trying to push himself up in the bed. The movement causes a searing pain in his shoulder and he lets out a base rumble of a scream before dropping back onto the bed. He cringes there for a moment, then mumbles “I am some kind of fool.”
“We’re not there now,” Marquos tells him. “They trusted me to transport you back to Thesteran, to Commander Retical. That’s why those two guards are on board.”
As Copin expresses his disbelief, Marquos has to explain his journey into the floating castle and the nature of the people he encountered. Describing his bare ship and the singular violence of Commander Nomes, Marquos paints the picture of a community of pirates with no goal but to stir trouble in the North Sea. He finally notes that their rapid release and skeleton crew stems from Nomes’ expectation of a reward from Retical, and a case of passing the buck on a responsibility that didn’t excite the commander.
“I should like to have been within my senses,” Copin grumbles disappointedly, “I’d have given the fool a fight.”
“It doesn’t matter now. We’re on course to Thesteran, what are we supposed to do?”
“That’s simple. I’ll create a fuss and get one of the guards down here, when he gets close I’ll snap his neck. At the same time, you knock the other one down from behind.”
“And Qait?”
“He’ll be on his own, he’ll run away. If not, you can knock him down too.”
“Last time you had a plan like this you almost died,” Marquos warns, warily.
“Nonsense. There were hundreds of those bandits, there’s only two of these green pansies. Besides, Hart is still out there to help us.”
“I doubt that. She couldn’t have followed us out to sea.”
“She’ll help. Now get back over there and get yourself a wrench or something. Get ready now. Come on.”
“I can’t just-”
Copin suddenly lets out an animalistic roar, shaking on the bed, and Marquos is driven back into the cabin, silenced. As the Kand thrashes, Marquos stares in disbelief. He is not sure if Copin is genuinely aggrieved or putting the plan into action, and hesitantly backs to the bottom of the stairs. Copin’s roaring grows in volume, and the two guards come running down the stairs demanding answers. They curse as they see the wild display, and shout at Marquos. He shrugs and says he doesn’t know what’s going on. Copin starts thrashing, and Jenz yells out that they have to restrain him. The pair run into the bedroom. Marquos edges after them, giving a glance back up the stairs to see Qait looking down at him with concern. Marquos holds his stare as he slips a hand towards a wrench at the side. Qait slowly shakes his head, warning the pilot not to, but Marquos keeps moving.
Copin’s roaring and the guards’ shouting all come to a halt suddenly, and the pilot looks up to see the Kand’s good arm wrapped around Jenz’s chest as he bites into the guard’s shoulder. Molicz scrambles to wrestle his baton from his belt. Spurred into action, Marquos charges forwards with the wrench and swings it into the back of Molicz’s head. The guard drops to the floor with a grunt, but keeps moving, crawling across the room. Marquos goes to strike him again, but Molicz kicks back up, knocking the pilot back into a wall. Jenz flails his arms every way he can, landing numerous heavy blows on Copin, but the Kand�
�s grip is solid, and his biting grows more and more savage. Marquos is too distracted to notice the flesh being torn out on his new bed; Molicz takes a swing at the pilot with the baton, narrowly misses. As Molicz jumps forwards, Marquos raises his wrench defensively and instinctively screws his eyes shut. The guard slams straight into him and crashes heavily to the floor, suddenly motionless. Marquos slowly opens his eyes and sees Molicz’s head flopped backwards, struck on the wrench and rendered instantly unconscious. On the bed, Jenz has become weak, his shouts turned to gargling, and Marquos looks up in time to see Copin with strands of veins hanging between his teeth. The pilot retches on the floor. He coughs and splutters for a few moments, vaguely aware of Jenz going quiet behind him, and slowly looks down the cabin. Qait is stood at the bottom of the stairs with his rifle pointed at the pilot.
Copin shoves Jenz off him, spitting blood from his mouth, and drops back down onto the bed with a loud warble of pain. He kicks his feet out, writhing in agony and yells “If you’re going to shoot me do it, Qait!” Marquos stands still, looking from the carnage around Copin back to the tracker, and sees that Qait is rooted to the spot by sheer horror. His face is pale and his eyes wide, appalled as he stares into the bedroom. Marquos wipes the vomit from his mouth and edges towards the tracker, but Qait suddenly jerks the rifle towards him and shakes his head. Copin’s agonised roaring quietens, his energy spent, and the Kand slips into calmer, sobbing sounds.
“Easy Qait, put it down,” Marquos lifts a hand, “No one’s steering the boat…let me pass.”
Qait takes another step back, his head still shaking.
“Drop the gun. We’ll run ashore if you don’t let me pass.”
Qait backs into the stairs and falls down onto his rear, tensely rattling the rifle in his hands. He holds it up, tight, pointed at Marquos, but the pilot keeps edging towards him.
“You’re going to damage my boat again,” Marquos growls, “Let me pass.”
“Stop,” Qait speaks in a broken voice. “Stop there.”
“We’re going to run into-” Marquos starts to shout, but the boat says it for him as they strike land and the whole cabin veers to one side, the chairs and new tools clattering to the floor. Qait is thrown from the steps towards Marquos as Marquos trips, and the pair crash into one another. The pilot does not hesitate to bring the wrench up into Qait’s jaw, knocking the tracker back, and sprints past him up the steps. He comes out onto the deck and looks ahead to see the Hypnagogia has veered into the side of the canal and mounted it slightly, planks broken outward ahead of them. Unable to tell if they are planks from the canal or his boat, Marquos hurls the wrench to the floor and screams “Fuck! Fuck fuck fuck!” He spins and punches a fist into the wall of the cabin, cursing on “Fucking fuck fuck! Fuck!”
Finally, the pilot collapses to the deck, cradles his head in his hands and bursts into tears, spluttering swearing diatribes between sobs. He looks up to the sky, to the dark clouds of night as the last light fades away, tenses his entire body and lets out a primal scream, a strangled sound of despair that strains his vocal chords, echoing across the countryside for kilometres around, until he runs out of breath. He inhales deeply and screams again.
6
Marquos sits sobbing in his wretched state as night creeps over the Hypnagogia, the sounds of Copin’s warbling agony slowly fading into nothing. The pilot hunches his knees up to his face and presses himself up against the wall of the cabin, unable to move or even think. His mind is a blank, despairing mess. He does not respond when he finally hears movements from the cabin. He does not move when he hears a gas lamp being lit and its yellow glow glances across the deck. He does not move when he hears footsteps coming up the steps and the lantern lights him up.
Qait leans against the wall and looks down at Marquos. His rifle hangs limply from one hand, the lantern held high in the other, and he hesitates. He opens his mouth to speak, but decides against it and turns away. He climbs over the edge of the boat and walks down to the bow, inspecting it under the light of the lantern. He walks back to the stern and holds the light up again, looking over Marquos.
“I’ve…” Qait begins, but pauses to think. Marquos meets him in the eye, seeing that Qait’s face looks every bit as harrowed as the pilot feels inside. Qait finally says, “I’ve seen some terrible things. I don’t want…to see any more.”
The tracker turns away and walks out across the bank, as the pilot watches. Qait becomes a slowly shuffling silhouette, one man in a ball of yellow light that floats through the darkness. The light gradually fades into the distance, until it is finally obscured and Marquos is plunged back into darkness. He buries his face in his knees and screws his eyes shut. He listens for the sound of the water splashing lightly against the side of the boat and tries to block the images out of his mind.
The cries of pain start up again, Copin in agony. Marquos tries to squeeze his knees together over his ears, but he cannot block out the sound. He knows he can’t go down there, into the cabin. There is nothing he can do. He has nothing to kill the pain, and he cannot face that scene. He tries not to listen to the terrible sounds the Kand makes. They are nonsensical noises of horror, and tell him that Copin is far from his senses. The Kand cannot be trusted, Marquos tells himself. Do not go near him when he’s like this. Do not go near him at all, the Kand is mad. The cries turn to steadier moans, strangled pieces of pain that go on and on. I could give him water. I could give him food. Maybe that would ease the pain. Maybe that would give him strength. Maybe he will attack me like he did that guard.
Marquos does not know if Molicz is alive. There has been no sound of movement, just Copin’s cries, but surely the blow didn’t kill the guard. Why hasn’t he stirred? Maybe Copin got him too. Somehow. Need to think. Need to come up with a plan. Stop the noises.
Another hour, maybe two, and the moaning has stopped. Marquos is not sure if he’s been sleeping, but he stirs drowsily, aware of a different sound. It’s subtle at first, but clearly unnatural, the coughing rhythm of an engine. It’s growing closer, rapidly, and from the occasional splutter of the engine Marquos can tell that it is a land machine, being jolted by the rough terrain. He looks up and listens carefully as it races down the canal towards him. The pilot pushes himself to his feet, stumbling from hours of inactivity, and steadies himself on the wall to look up the canal. There is a light, quickly growing closer, right beside the water’s edge. He recognises the sound of the engine now.
Wheeler Tan brakes dramatically alongside the Hypnagogia, travelling with such speed that the rear wheel of his bike lifts into the air and crashes back down as he comes to a halt. The bike is a modern marvel, its miniature furnace puffing out smoke around Tan’s legs and providing a small glow around the rider. The gas lantern headlamp, framed in a network of carefully angled mirrors, shoots a powerful beam of light straight ahead. Tan pulls up alongside Marquos and pretends to jump backwards in fright, letting out a loud laugh.
“Kail’s ghost, you frightened me there! What you doing lurking here?” Tan says excitedly. “What happened Marquos, you’ve run ashore!”
“Tan,” Marquos growls back at him, remembering Qait’s informant.
“You need a hand with something?” Tan asks brightly.
“You filthy bastard,” Marquos speaks with quiet anger, “You told them who I was. Where I was.”
“What are you talking about?” Tan asks with an awkward smile. “Are you well within yourself, Marq? You know you don’t look too good-”
“I’ll kill you!” the pilot suddenly launches off the side of the boat, down onto the bank, and Tan leaps back off the bike, sending the machine clattering to the floor. Tan backs off quickly, raising both his hands, as Marquos jumps over the bike and surges towards him.
“Calm it Marq, it’s me! It’s Tan, your friend! Calm down would you!”
“Come back here, I’ll kill you!” Marquos roars, breaking into a run. Tan sprints away from him, into the darkness, and Marquos catches a foot on a roc
k and trips, flying through the air. He rolls across grass and stone, smacking himself a couple of times before coming to a halt. He groans, immobilised, hidden by shadow. Looking up and around him, he cannot see Tan but can hear the messenger’s worried breathing.
“What the hell’s got into you?” Tan asks, with more concern than fear.
“Did Qait send you back here? Ask you to get more info on me?” Marquos demands, pushing himself up on hands and knees. “You’re a damned fraud.”
“Hey, hey!” Tan cries out defensively, “Qait? Qait Seyron? I never told him a thing about you! I don’t rat about clients. He was lying, man, straight lying. You believe all you’re told?”
“Then how’d he know?”
“I don’t know! Stole the letters or something! Fuck, you’re out of your mind! What happened to you, Marq? Come on, you’re one of the most straight-headed guys I know out here.” Marquos sits back on his haunches and screws his eyes shut. Tan shuffles closer, going on, “Man I jumped at the chance to come out here, you’re always game for a laugh, I thought. You’ve lost it.”
“I’ve…I’ve seen some terrible things,” Marquos mutters quietly.
“Have we all? Think so,” Tan shoots back. “Look now what’s up with the boat? You need a hand getting her back in the water? You supposed to have some guards with you aren’t you?”
“Yes,” Marquos answers quickly. “No, it’s okay, the guards are on board. Wait,” the pilot stands up carefully, holding an arm out to keep his balance. “How do you know that?”
“What you think I’m doing out here? Expected to see you near the Meth Fields, guess you got side-tracked so I kept on coming, thought you had to be along this canal somewhere. Message from Commander Retical.”
Wixon's Day Page 26
