The rugged and stoic façade of the wastelanders was easily broken. Their eyes widened and jaws struggled to remain closed while they saw the carnage around them. They were no strangers to death and devastation. Their lives, Gus knew, were full of it. Living in the wastes beyond the safety of society was dangerous business. Gus had lived among the wastes with no one else but Juba for over a year and he’d never seen anything like this. The inside of the Vault and its magical splendor juxtaposed by the pools of blood and eerie stillness had been damped by Gus’s overwhelming pain. The wastelanders didn’t have that pain to buffer their response to what they saw in front of them. They had only their imaginations to draw a conclusion of what had happened here and what this place really was. Perhaps that made it even scarier for them than the truth.
A bearded man with several missing fingers and a long scar along the right side of his face lifted Ben with another man’s help. Ben was unconscious, his left eyelid twitched, and his lips twisted in painful grimaces as he was lifted.
“Let’s bring them back to camp,” the man said to the others. The wastelanders grunted in response and made their way to the exit. Gus didn’t understand where they were going. There were no camps in Ney. These people were accepted into the city along with Ben and his friends. He didn’t understand, but the longer he remained awake the harder it was to focus. The last coherent thought he had before they left the large chamber room was the fact that only three people were being carried out of the Vault. If only three of us barely managed to survive against one of those monsters, how can we hope to live through an invasion? Suddenly, he understood all of Ben’s fears and reservations since the moment they’d met. He’d had a lot of responsibility and weight on his shoulders. He was strong and had an iron will. But at that moment, Gus knew it wasn’t enough.
A faint fire flickered in the twilight wind. The burnt smell of meat wafted through the busy air. Mouths watered around the campsite as they waited to be served. Men and women with scars and bits of metal riddled across their faces lounged by the flame, chatting and cheering with merriment.
They’d found shelter in the Old Days ruins beyond the borders of Ney. They were far enough outside the Orks’ patrols but still close enough to hear the distant hum of the Mouth of Ney roaring in the still nights. Their camp had been set up in what must have been a giant of a building back in the Old Days that over time had collapsed to the ground like a mighty tree after a fearsome storm. Nearly all of its rooms had caved in with debris or were overridden with vines and brush. The wastelanders had found one room suitable enough to hold everyone. The roof here had caved in as well but there was little enough rubble that everyone could find a decent enough space to lie flat.
Perhaps most importantly to the wastelanders was the fact that it was extremely difficult to get in. One had to go through a maze of halls and crumbled walls impeding the path. It was a shock that anyone had found this place to begin with. Even if the Orks did go outside their typical patrol radius, they weren’t likely to stumble upon the group of wastelanders.
It was the longest time Gus had spent outside Ney since his arrival with Juba eleven years ago. No morning routine of operations before afternoon rounding and treatments on patients in the sick house. Instead, he was the invalid, stuck lying uselessly on sacks of hay and feathers for hours at a time while entirely at the mercy of the others to carry him about.
Three weeks had gone by, and he still couldn’t so much as wiggle his toes. He’d seen similar things in previous patients and had always told them that it would be okay, that they would learn to adapt, and he barely gave the matter a second thought. Now it was nearly consumed his mind. Never again would he walk. Gone were the days when he had felt the warm earth beneath his feet and taken those moments for granted. What he wouldn’t give to even feel the pain of stubbing his toe against a table leg just one more time.
His days of healing others were over. Not that it would have been an option had he not been injured anyway. The wastelanders who had rescued him from the Vault hadn’t taken them back into Ney. They’d all abandoned Kokopolis.
Larz—the man with the missing fingers and scar across the right side of his face—sipped something from his clay mug and eyed Gus. He mumbled something to one of the wastelanders by his side. They shared a laugh, and Larz raised his mug again. He placed it on the rock-littered floor and walked across the room.
“Did he speak to you at all yet?” Larz asked. His voice was fair—gentler than many of the other wastelanders, something Gus hadn’t expected of a wastelander leader.
Gus’s eyes traveled the room to the corner. A new addition had been added to the campsite just a few days earlier. Sections of the stone walls and pillars had been torn down and reassembled to set up a new room that was completely shut off to everyone else. The only way in or out of the stone room was through a window at the top. No one had ever tried going in and no one had seen Ben come out. Though Gus did think he’d heard him climbing out at nights on occasion.
“Haven’t even seen him lately,” Gus replied. “Think I saw his bird fly out this morning, though.”
“Must be bringing him food and water,” Larz said. “Strange creature, that thing is.”
Larz and the other wastelanders had seen firsthand just how strange the raven truly was. For whatever reason, the raven went to Larz and his wastelanders for help rather than the Orks. It had spoken to them in Ben’s voice, asking them for help. They had only agreed to do so because the wastelander girl, Liv, had apparently been more important to the wastelanders than she’d ever let on.
“It’s not like I want him to thank us,” Larz said calmly. “If anything, I want to thank him. He saved Joanna’s daughter in the trial and then sent for us to help her after what happened in the Vault.”
Gus knew little about Liv. He’d met her briefly after she and the others had passed the trial in the Cursed Grove to assess her injuries. Apparently, Larz was her adoptive father—the only family she had left after her mother died. Since she’d been so willing to leave her tribe in favor of Ben and his friends, it seemed to Gus that she wasn’t all too fond of Larz. As far as Gus could tell, Larz cared about the young woman as if she were his daughter by blood.
Since Ben had been mute since their rescue, Gus had filled the wastelanders in on a lot of details. They’d never heard of Vaults or Enochians before. They’d heard tales of ‘magic weapons’ used by the Ænærians and had seen guns from time to time and even had carriages that moved themselves, very similar to what Ben had described to Gus as the Ænærian’s sun-carriages. Apparently, there were a few of these contraptions out in the wastes. Larz’s tribe called them ‘trucks’ and had obtained them from a rival tribe that they’d warred with.
Gus had also told them a little bit about Ben’s powers after the men and women began fearfully muttering among one another about his obviously fast healing and enormous strength.
As for why Ben had sent for the wastelanders instead of the Orks, Gus was at a loss. After they’d left Ney, they were no longer welcome to return. Larz had told Gus that the Sachems themselves had declared that everyone who had left the city with Ben was exiled from all of Ney. They’d said it was for defiling holy ground. Gus knew better. Ben was right. They’ve known about the Vault all along and were hiding it.
“I don’t get why he’s still here,” Larz said, taking Gus’s pondering silence as a cue to continue the conversation. “He doesn’t need us for anything. Doesn’t seem interested in thanking us for saving him. So why stay?”
Gus had often wondered the same thing the last few days. In fact, when he wasn’t dwelling on the loss of his ability to walk, he thought of Ben. He was in a dark place right now. He didn’t need to talk to Ben to know that. The way he had acted in the Vault—screaming with terror after his friends died, fighting to the death against Tatanka, then isolating himself—was all evidence enough. Ben had surely sustained the most damage of anyone else in the Vault. The attacks thrown at him would h
ave killed anyone else—which had killed everyone else in the Vault except for Gus and Liv—and they were both in sore condition. However, Ben’s powers seemed to not only allow him to withstand such attacks but to also heal from them incredibly quickly. It had taken longer for Ben to heal from the fall into the Mouth of Ney. Now after only three weeks he’d been able to knock down walls and reconstruct his own space. Before a few days ago, Ben couldn’t walk on his own. Each day he’d repeated many of the exercises Gus had taught him when they first met. But even in that time, he hadn’t talked to anyone. He simply ignored everyone else’s presence. So why hadn’t he left?
Gus shrugged as best he could without sending another electrifying jolt of pain through his body. “I could ask you lot the same question. Why risk everything you had in Ney after all you went through to get there? You couldn’t have known Liv was dead or alive. Was she really worth all that even after she abandoned you?”
Larz’s good eye glimmered and looked away. His faded right eye didn’t move in concert with the left. The small muscles behind the eye must have been severely damaged when whatever that injury had occurred.
“My people were wanting to leave Ney for some time anyway. It was the final excuse I needed to listen to them.”
Gus cocked his head to the side. “You’ve all spent your lives in the wastes, so why give that up?”
“Not all of my people were allowed in Ney. Friends and family were left out here to fend for themselves. That’s the problem with these walled civilizations: they boast about safety and justice but they’re all just ways to further separate people into little groups that are easier to control. In truth, it was only a matter of time before we left anyway. At least out here we are free.”
Gus had grown up learning differently. His father was a mighty king, and his duty was to his people. Laws had been formed to keep peace, to protect them from their base desires, and from the wild wastelanders. Without walls and laws, how could safety be guaranteed?
Except it hadn’t been guaranteed. His whole family had been slaughtered anyway.
“We will be leaving soon,” Larz said. “By your observations, Liv is well enough to survive a march, yes?”
“Depends where you’re going. North of here are the Devastated Lands. A lot of tribes out there, and it’ll be winter soon. You could try south, though there are more Ney settlements down that way a few leagues. Beyond that, I hear the air is poisoned. East and you’ll meet the ocean. I think west if the best option for all of your people, not just Liv. Easiest land to traverse too.”
“If we go west, we will meet the war we were trying to avoid.”
“Not many other options unless you have a fleet to traverse the Shimmering Sea.”
Larz swallowed, appearing mortified by the mere mention sailing across the sea. “You are from the western civilizations, no? Do you know people who could grant us passage?”
Everyone I know is dead. Of course, Larz didn’t know that. No one save the Sachems and Pyat knew of Gus’s history. He’d neglected making friends in Ney to avoid the hurt of losing them again. He’d been foolish to grow an attachment to Ben and possibly befriend his allies. They just ended up dying too. Best not to return there. No good can come of it.
“I left when I was hardly more than a child. I don’t know anyone.”
Larz’s good eye flashed to the newly formed wall at the corner of the room and then back to Gus just as quickly.
“Ah, that’s why you asked about Ben. You know he’s someone important out there.”
“Perceptive one, you are.”
“I can tell why you think it’s a good idea. You’re familiar with the land out that way, and other tribes have probably heard of you. Maybe even fear you. On top of that, you could find passage somewhere safe for all of your people if you have someone of note speaking on your behalf. But let me tell you why it’s a terrible plan.
“Let’s just assume you somehow convince Ben to not only talk to you but agree to your plan, too. What then? Do you think his people will just give you land of their own? Civilizations don’t exactly trust wastelanders. To add another wrinkle to your plan, there’s that war you mentioned. Is it going there really any safer than staying where you are or heading north?”
Larz grimaced. The campfire roared after someone threw on more dried-out branches and poured someone else’s mug onto it. The two wastelanders shouted at one another, and a second later they were trading fists. Everyone around them cheered and laughed at the little brawl.
The wastelander leader got up from his seat and left Gus to watch the fight…and eventually put a stop to it before anyone got seriously hurt. He was a strange one as far as wastelanders went. He spoke well, and he didn’t have the same jaded tone as every other wastelander Gus had met. Virtually all the ones he’d met on the road with Juba had tried to kill them. Those who had made it into Ney and eventually settled there still kept up their gruff demeanor and had little patience for ‘civs’ despite themselves becoming that very thing.
If the tribe was planning to leave soon, then what would Gus do? He certainly didn’t want to abandon Ben, who he didn’t imagine would follow the wastelanders. Yet he couldn’t survive on his own. His lower half was paralyzed. He balled his hands into fists and pounded them against the haystack he lay against. To have all independence taken from him was maddening. He couldn’t even blame anyone else for it. He’d known the risks when he agreed to fight with Ben.
That night he went to sleep in a fitful fury. Nights were commonly difficult for him, though they’d been easier in recent years since he’d come into his own as a proficient healer. He’d never been one to rely on wine to sleep. Though on nights like these he wasn’t sure he’d object. Terrible nightmares and intrusive thoughts. All the death that had surrounded him. Somehow, he’d always survived. Why didn’t he at least have the decency to die like his parents and siblings? Like Juba in the Cursed Grove or the scouts and Ænærians in the Vault. What use was he now? Ben didn’t need him, and would the wastelanders bother carrying an invalid through the wastes with them? The weak didn’t survive in their tribes.
The fire had long since gone out and everyone else had been deeply sleeping, snoring along with the mild night winds. Gus wasn’t sure if he’d fallen asleep at all or woken up yet again. It didn’t matter since he couldn’t wander around the camp to clear his mind. He just looked up through the open ceiling at the bright night sky. Something dark flashed from the edge of the broken roof. At first, he took it to be Ben’s raven, scouting around at night as it often did. It didn’t move the same way. In fact, it wasn’t nearly as small—only looked that way because of its distance. Gus realized this as it came closer and closer.
Footsteps ambled light and soft against the hard and debris ridden floor. He was almost unrecognizable. His hair had been cut short and his face was devoid of scars, old and new alike. He stood tall with his shoulders broad and back straighter than before. The biggest change were the features around his right eye which had once been mangled with thick scar tissue covered with a dark leather patch. All of that was gone, as if he had never lost an eye in the first place.
“Ben, what happened to you?” Gus whispered when he finally found the words in his throat. Seeing Ben approach him after so long in isolation was a shock, but not nearly as much as the fact that he’d healed so miraculously that his eye had actually grown back.
“I’ve been in the Vault.” Something in his voice had changed too. The uncertainty and anxiety that had been in it when they first met were gone. There was a cold calmness to it now.
“How? I thought you were in that little room you made.”
“That was the point. I didn’t want you all to know I’d left.”
“Why hide that from us?”
“Because I don’t want Larz and his people to leave,” Ben said. “We’ll need them.”
“For what?” Gus asked.
“To finish the war back home.”
Gus shook his head. �
�What makes you think they’d do that? What difference would a few dozen people make anyway?”
“It’ll make all the difference for what I have planned. I’ll need you with me too.”
Gus scoffed at this. “I’m useless. Without my legs, I can’t fight or stand in surgery or help with treatments and therapy. I’m a liability on the road.”
“That’s why I fixed things up at the Vault.” Ben lowered his hand toward Gus. “Come with me. Let’s get you healed up.”
Gus surprised himself when he hesitated. Every day for the past three weeks all he could think about was walking again. The tone coating Ben’s words gave him a bad feeling.
“What are you going to do now that you couldn’t do before to end the war?” Gus asked.
Ben paused a moment. His eyes turned to the side, and for a second Gus noticed that his right eye didn’t exactly match his left. It was difficult to tell in the dark, but the color appeared a shade lighter. He turned back to Gus. “I’m going to kill Randolph. Now, do you want your legs healed or not?”
Ben’s hand was still extended for Gus to grab hold. Maybe it wasn’t time for him to give up just yet. Maybe he’d been kept alive through so many hardships for a reason. Perhaps he was meant to return home after all. He took Ben’s hand and was lifted onto his back.
“Hold tight,” Ben said just before leaping into the air and through the broken ceiling. Ben vaulted forward at incredible speed toward the very place where Gus had lost the use of his legs. Apparently, that was where he would get them back.
Acknowledgments
The Heir of Ænæria Page 43
