“Yes, Elder Sage.” Veleda pushed her way to the front. “I bring us hope.”
All eyes fell on Alec. Years of discipline took over, and he carefully hid his surprise.
“The Creator.” The elder’s voice sounded impressed, but deflated as he spoke. “Lad, summon something, build us a Ghost.”
“I'm sorry, I haven't been able to yet,” Alec admitted.
“I see. Come, child,” the elder extended a frail hand towards Veleda. “Walk with me.”
She took his hand, and her guardians fell into step behind her. The elder seemed about to complain, but before he could, Veleda said confidently, “What concerns me concerns them.”
Nodding, the elder took the Seer’s other hand in his own. He spoke softly now, “I respect you, and I know that you are trying to help, but you bring us merely a shadow of a Crafter, someone who is so trapped in eternal Banality that he can offer no possible hope. I do not disagree that he is the origin of our foe, but he is weak where we need him to be as strong as a god. Already, The Scourge pounds on our gates, and our resources are dwindling. If you had brought us the miracle we needed, I could offer praise, but we cannot waste resources training a broken man, and broken he is. You can see that in him. Look into his eyes and tell me truthfully he is whole.”
“I…” Veleda stumbled, lost for words. “I want to…” She looked towards Alec, who stood stoically absorbing the words of the elder.
“I wish to believe as well, my child. But until he releases himself from Banality and accepts the reality of our world, even in part, he is just another soldier.”
Pausing, the elder released Veleda’s hands from his own, “For now, I will let you stay here. My hope is that he finds his abilities, but until he does, he is not the miracle we seek.”
Without another word, the Sage left. Sighing, Veleda pinched the bridge of her nose as if to push away the stress. Steeling herself, she roused the others. “Let’s take him up on his offer and stock up on our supplies. Perhaps some rest will do us well.” The last words were punctuated with pointed looks at the two Crafters in her midst. Cursing in an unknown tongue, she walked through the crowd and back to the room they had been offered.
* * *
“Hey, Fred?” Alec whispered into the darkened room. “Are you okay?”
“I’m well enough. What is it?” he asked.
“Can you teach me how to summon?”
Sighing, Frederick sat up from the couch he had been resting on. “I can try, but I won’t make any promises. Close your eyes and try and make something. Convince your mind that you need it rather than just want it.”
Alec tried to think of something, but his mind drew a blank. He focused on his breathing and tried to convince himself he needed something, but nothing became even remotely clear to him.
Fred’s demeanor evolved from mildly annoyed to frustrated as Alec progressed from quiet thought to loud grunting, trying to force himself to conjure something. When his patience had finally waned, the commander stood and put one hand on his friend’s shoulder.
“Face it, Alec.” Frederick sighed. “You’re still too attached to Banality.”
Gasping as if he had run a marathon, Alec pleaded with his friend. “How do I become detached? How do I break free?”
“You have to believe that this reality is the truth.” Frederick said. “I have an idea. Why don’t you take a walk and try to notice the fantastic about you? Let’s see if that helps your brain at all.”
Nodding, Alec turned to leave, but a whistle from Fred stopped him. “Do yourself a favor and wear a disguise. You come off a little too obviously a Creator.”
Ripping a blanket from the couch, Alec covered his face as he stepped into the main hall. Ignoring the sights, he jogged up stairs, across hallways, and down ramps. He kept moving faster and faster. Wanting to wear out his body and exorcise himself of his failures, he picked up his pace to a sprint; but no matter how fast or how far he ran; he still felt them chasing him.
He felt Kiso dying under his hands. He remembered Sylvain saying he was fine before his eyes glassed over and his voice fell flat. He smelled Frederick’s charred flesh, a scent that lingered even after the treatments. He saw Frederick in the hospital, just after he had been sent home to live in a permanent stupor.
Only once he could barely stand did he bother to survey his surroundings.
It was fantastic, mystical, and would have caused anyone else to stare in wonder. He wished his brain would simply accept that a Tasmanian devil dressed in old-timey preachers’ garb, a top hat, and a pair of six shooters was standing next to him in the hallway. An oil painting of two lovers staring hand-in-hand into an eternal sunset and aging from young women to old ladies before becoming youths again was simply there. A chimera of wolf and child groaning happily while a skeleton scratched its belly was perfectly normal.
It was a fact, simple as that.
It was a fact that he was in a strange land.
It was a fact that the shadows of the other world danced about before him, heading towards the exit and symbolizing closing time.
It was a fact that the pill rattled in his pocket, reminding him of its ever-constant presence.
It was a fact that he was in another realm, fighting for no reason of his own, other than he had been bored with his life.
It was a fact that he had left his blade behind upon the request of the elder.
It was a fact that people were screaming as armored soldiers began pouring into the hall, their uniforms and gear emblazoned with an image of a bloodied whip with multiple tails covered with razor blades.
It was The Scourge.
They had broken through.
CHAPTER 6
Alec ducked into a service hallway and slammed the door behind him as he cursed. He was without his blade, isolated, and his was a face worth selling out for.
“Great,” he whispered to himself. “I have to get back to Veleda so I can protect her again.”
The problem was, he had not paid attention to the route that had brought him here in his frantic flight.
He needed to find an escape, and now.
The first door that opened revealed a glass window laced and secured with razor wire. It wasn’t going to break with simple persuasion alone.
A clanking noise caught his attention, and Alec looked into the hall to see the elder’s guards moving towards him. Stepping back, he made room for them to pass, only for the soldiers to stop and level their spears at him.
“Crafter,” the leader of the gang said, “come with us, for your protection.”
Shrugging, Alec let himself be led about the winding corridors full of twists and turns until he found himself in the office of the yellow-robed elder.
“I take it you know that your building is under attack?” Alec asked casually.
The sage shot the warrior an annoyed look.
“We have begun evacuations,” he hissed. “It would have been foolish for us to expect the unbound king to leave us alone. Fortunately, with you here, we have some room to bargain for better odds.”
Alec didn't have to look back to know that the guards’ weapons were still leveled against him. Narrowing his eyes, the guardian glared at the elder with unadulterated hatred as he was forced further into the room and surrounded by a ring of blades and armor. Tightening his core, he flexed his knees and relaxed his arms as he prepared himself for battle.
“This is a sick joke, Elder.” Alec made the last word sound of a curse. “You are playing games, but you know my touch is far more permanent than others’. Arm me and let me help with the evacuations, I'm useless standing here.”
The sage returned Alec’s mockery. “Quite the contrary, Crafter. Your presence here will guarantee that the leadership of our army will continue to exist.”
“I wasn't aware my ass was so valuable,” Alec smiled.
“You have no idea of your own worth,” the elder chuckled, straightening his yellow robes as he stood from behind his
desk. “You think I can negotiate with you as my bargaining chip just because you are a creator? That just proves how ignorant your companions keep you.”
“I've had hints that there is more to me than meets the eye,” Alec replied dryly, examining the weapons surrounding him. His index finger forced aside a threatening spear that was too close to his face for comfort. “It matters little to me. I am here as a guardian for Veleda, noth—”
“That is precisely why you should be concerned,” snapped the sage. “Don't think you are here by chance; she sought you out.”
“Then I'm flattered.”
“You should be scared.” The last word was hissed. “I wonder; if you knew why you are so important, would you have stayed in Banality instead of coming here?”
Alec shrugged in reply. “Doesn't matter. I’m here now.”
“Have you no sense of self-preservation, either?” the elder said incredulously.
“In Banality, I have been nothing but a shell wandering aimlessly in a haze. Banality was just that, banal. I was eking out a living, moving automatically through a monotonous routine. At least here I serve a purpose.” Alec’s eyes searched the room for an exit as he spoke.
“Even if that purpose is to sell you off?”
“Pot calling the kettle black, I see,” Alec smirked.
“Without my leadership, the rebellion will fall.”
“It's precisely because of sell-outs like you that the Resistance should fail,” Alec snapped. “You don't have plans to benefit the innocent, only yourself. I've seen your kind too often to ignore the signs.”
Growling, the elder stepped through the ring of spears so that he was almost close enough to touch.
“You have no understanding of the situa—”
Alec roared his interruption. “You’re a coward who profits from the hordes you command! You’ve never once stained your hands with a day of work, yet they are covered in blood and bullshit!”
The two stared icily at one another. The sage stepped forward, refusing to be intimidated by Alec’s cold glare, and the guardian sprang his trap. There had been no way to escape the circle of spears that surrounded him until the elder had forced open the ring by coming closer.
Leaping forward, Alec drove his knee into the sage’s chest, bowling the wizened one over as he charged out of the ring of spear tips. As soon as he had cleared the ring, his escape seemed futile; the doorway was blocked; and there was no exit beyond the twisted window and its barbed wire infused glass.
A trio of guards lunged at Alec, stabbing at him with their spears. He avoided the first two, but the third one cut deep into his side, tearing both cloth and flesh before grating against bone. The spear pinned his jacket against the wall, trapping him. Alec felt the blow, but the pain was numbed by the adrenaline coursing through his body.
Sliding his right arm free of his jacket, Alec clubbed an attacker in the head with a closed fist, knocking the metallic helmet from his foe as the soldier charged forward. The soldier slammed into Alec and pinned his left arm against the wall, preventing him from pulling that one free of the jacket. The window behind him absorbed much of the impact, and cracked loudly behind him.
“Don’t think you can hip-check a Habs fan and expect to survive,” Alec snarled as he grabbed the guard’s ornamental cape to pull him over, then delivered a quick blow from his knee to knock the man out cold.
“He’s worth more alive!” shouted the elder. Two more guards dropped their weapons and threw themselves towards Alec, their impacts once more slamming him against the glass. The spreading of the cracks along the window was audible.
Alec threw an elbow into one of the attackers, but another two took his place.
“Is that all you’ve got?” he roared as he was once more smashed into the window, the razor wire tearing into his flesh over and over. The windowpane had finally had enough, and gave way in a shower of shattered glass that rained over the struggling warriors. As the throng pulled him to the ground, Alec freed his other arm from his coat.
Grabbing the flailing arm of an attacker, he jerked it out of the shoulder joint, wrenched the wrist, and pulled himself back to his feet, throwing his screaming victim to the ground. His victory was short-lived; the remaining guards tackled him, once more pushing him against the barbed wire that remained entangled in the shattered window frame. Unable to take the strain, the wires snapped one by one; barbs flailing about like angry scorpion tails, and Alec spilled out of the elevated window, along with most of the guards. They landed on a pillar of sand that had collected against the side of the building. It collapsed under the sudden weight, sending the mass of bodies upon it sliding down to the street below. Crushed stone, sandy grit, and shards of glass drove themselves into his flesh as he came to a stop. Stars swam before his eyes, and his ears filled with the roar of the sandstorm. He clutched the wound in his side, blood seeping between his fingers where the guard’s spear had run him through.
There was no movement from the bodies that had come to a stop around him, and high above were the struggling shapes of the guards who were still ensnared in the wire. One of them gagged as a strand of it tightened around his neck. Blood oozed around his collar where the barbs dug in, and his fingers were flayed from struggling to loosen the makeshift noose. Within moments, his protestations came to a halt, and he hung swaying serenely in the breeze.
Over the wind, Alec could hear cries of pain, roars of hate, and screams of fear, mixed with the clash of weapons.
The clattering of hooves on the street undercut the cacophony of suffering. From within the swirling sandstorm, a knight charged forth on a red steed. Though the sand had scoured it, the emblem of a whip stood out on his shield. The head of the ship’s spar in his hand was obscured by sand, as if the grains were adhering to a coating of blood. Then he was gone, lost again in the swirling clouds.
Swirling grit stung Alec’s flesh, clogged his nose, and blurred his vision. He tore away an ornamental cape from one of the nearby corpses of the guards who had fallen with him, wrapping it around his face before he collected his bearings. He made his way towards Central Park, dashing off into the storm.
As he moved on, it grew worse. The winds accelerated until the friction of the blowing sand against his body felt as if it would burn him, even through his protective garments. The static charge in the air released itself through arcs of lightning that struck many armored warriors, and fighting spilled from the building into the streets. The bodies of warriors and civilians alike were strewn across the paths, some already disappearing under the blowing sands. The chaos made it impossible for Alec to maintain his sense of direction. He ran until his lungs ached and his knees trembled, but the park failed to appear. One hand still held his side; the flow of blood staunched more by the accumulating sand than his feeble attempt to slow it himself.
And he had lost his way.
He could barely see as he stumbled through the storm, and his lack of vision caused him to tumble halfway down a set of concrete stairs that took him out of the rushing winds. He landed on a pile of sand that would have been much higher if it hadn't been shoveled away recently.
Violent vibrations approached from one direction, and then suddenly faded away in the other. Alec knew something big and fast had just thundered by, and on closer inspection realized he had found the subway system, which hopefully meant he was in ally territory.
Collecting himself, Alec removed the cape from his head and balled it up before shoving it into the wound on his side. He knew he was risking an infection, but hoped the dream dust wasn't septic. At least it helped to stem the bleeding.
Holding the cape tightly to his side with his elbow, he limped the rest of the way down the stairs, coming to an iron gate where he would have expected a turnstile. Leaning against it, Alec wondered how he was going to make his way inside. The answer came as the gate fell open, causing him to land onto chilled concrete. He lay there, letting the coolness soothe his face and relieved to finally be out of
the rushing wind and away from the raging battle. Just as a sigh of contentment was about to pass his lips, a boot stomped down on his wounded flank.
“If you resist, you die,” someone snarled.
“I'm too damn tired to fight back, so I guess I’ll live.” Alec groaned, rolling over to hide his injury from the next impact only to hear a sudden intake of breath.
“Let me guess, I look like ‘him’, whoever ‘he’ is,” Alec moaned dryly.
“Yes.” The creature who had kicked him was an amalgamation of a man and a rhinoceros, and covered in a host of brass plates, gears, and steam-based piston technology. It snorted, then rumbled, “Lady Veleda said to keep an eye out for you.”
The hope and excitement in Alec’s voice at the mention of her was impossible to hide. “She’s safe?”
“Yes. She came to us; she and her family have always supported the less fortunate of the rebellion,” the beast explained, holding out a hand.
Taking the offered hand, Alec grunted as he was pulled to his feet. “Good to know.”
“C’mon,” the beast said, supporting the wounded creator. “They’re waiting for you at the park.”
CHAPTER 7
It was the weirdest train he had ever ridden, because there was really no train at all. Encouraging his companion, the rhino walked to the edge of the platform and steadied Alec by bracing his neck.
“Just a precaution,” it grumbled. “The first jolt is always the worst.”
Stepping over the rail, the mechanized beast floated upward, hoisting Alec against its metal chest. As soon as it lifted its other foot free of the platform, the pair went thundering through the tunnels, levitated by some unseen force. They passed other platforms along the way, but saw few other travelers.
“Where is everybody?” Alec enquired.
“Evacuating,” the rhino answered. “The upper class thought the island could be guarded, but few—if any—of the common folk thought the same.”
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