by Zack Archer
We were headed out beyond Fiasco Heights, deep into the dead forest Aurora called the Tanglewood, the area where the first war had been waged.
We were going to bury the trap bottle in a place where nobody else would find it.
I looked over the edge of the sled, watching the mammoth grey trees that were all that was left of the desiccated woods whip past, and then we began to descend through the trees. The area was heavy in shadows, the day nearly over. I’d come to discover that this side of the planet, the one where Fiasco Heights was, never experienced the full darkness of night because of what Aurora said was “tidal locking.” Instead, a kind of twilight lingered during the hours when it should have been dark.
Aurora lowered the sled into a clearing as dusk descended and powered it down. She remained behind the controls for several seconds, pensively staring at the trap bottle.
Then we exited the sled, walking up a tramped path of leaves and gravel.
We climbed under fallen trees that were the size of skyscrapers and scampered over deadfalls, and beside a tiny brook that gurgled up from under a slab of stone.
The day wore on and we hiked through another forest of considerable dimension. We followed a web of trails across a field of tawny grass and down through another stand of monstrous trees that were thick and wild, and similarly gray in color.
I stopped aside a snarl of branches and looked around.
“This is where it happened?” I asked.
Aurora nodded. “There is where our world nearly ended.”
I dropped to my haunches and studied a length of bleached bone from some long-dead creature. The beast was immense, partially covered in heaps of what looked like regolith, appearing to be as large as the creatures we’d defeated back in Fiasco Heights.
I shot a look back at Aurora. “You can’t let this happen again. You can’t let someone try to destroy your world.”
“That’s why we’ve come isn’t it?” she replied. “To make sure the secret is hidden for all times.”
She took a step and I grabbed her arm. “I know how angry you still are.”
“You couldn’t possibly.”
“Will you promise me, that you’ll let it go? That you’ll do as Atlas says and stop the fighting.”
“For the time being.”
“Because there’s an old saying back on Earth, that only the dead get to see the end of war.”
She smirked. “That sounds like something one of your people would say.”
She leaned over and kissed me and I wrapped my arms around her body and held her tightly. I know how ridiculous it probably seems for me to be sucking face with a woman who betrayed me not once but twice within the span of a single day, but what can I say? The fact that she was so unpredictable was strangely intoxicating and besides, we both still had feelings for each other.
When we were done kissing we just held each other for several seconds and then we continued on, the air redolent of the smell of what seemed like pine and freshly turned earth. Aurora pointed and I saw the first speck of green in the ocean of gray.
Life.
A tree.
Then a row of flowering shrubs, and a tapestry of emerald-colored vines, and unknown plants.
The woods there had returned, and were busily conquering the dead forest we’d just marched through.
We shuttled through a stand of trees and then entered a wide plain that was completely barren, denuded of vegetation.
The ground consisted of what looked like charcoal, studded every few feet with thin silver rods that jutted up out of the ground.
I knelt and studied one of the rods which was filigreed with strange markings. Looking, I counted the rods, but realized there were thousands, tens of thousands of them.
“Where are we?” I asked.
“The Barrows,” Aurora answered.
I remembered Kaptain Khaos mentioning the place, that it was the area where the inhabitants of the planet buried their dead, particularly those who’d fallen in combat. This was holy ground and so after watching Aurora bow her head, I did likewise, following her as she moved gingerly across the graveyard.
Soon we were on the other side, and Aurora whistled for me to hurry. We traced a treacherous path along the banks of a wide stream, and then hiked down over a depression filled with pine duff, that wound into a deep canyon.
There were no sounds save the rasping of our breath as we trekked down through the canyon that ended at a gorge.
The area below was heavy with dense shadows. Soon the shadows give way to form and depth and that’s when I spotted it.
The opening to a cave.
Barely visible on the other side of the stream.
Unless you knew what to look for, or were at the exact spot I was standing, you would never have seen it.
We crossed several slippery boulders and it was only by her inborn sense of balance, that Aurora avoided falling into the water.
Soon we were striding into the cavern and I watched Aurora move forward. She was barely visible in the semi-darkness, but I saw her move to a spot and pull aside a large rock, as big as two men.
There was a space burrowed out under the rock, five or six feet deep, and seven or eight feet long. It looked very much like a grave.
A figure was visible down in the hole.
A body.
Its features were obscured by a shroud.
I listened to the patter of the water dripping down from the ceiling of the cave, as Aurora stood there, peering down at the body.
“That’s him isn’t it?” I said.
Aurora slowly nodded. “This is where I buried my father. This is where I placed Greylock.”
“Nobody will ever be able to find their way here.”
“They can’t,” she said.
She set the trap bottle down into the grave and muttered what sounded like a prayer. I moved to her and she took my hand, and we birthed a field of energy that surrounded the trap bottle, protecting it. Aurora lowered the rock back into place, and we retraced our steps until we were standing on the banks of the stream.
“It’s over,” Aurora said. “The past is done. Gods have mercy on anyone who tries to find or defile this place.”
She hopped back over the rocks and I looked back at the cave, realizing that not only was this the end of one thing, but it was the beginning of another.
I knew that what had happened to me, everything from the first time I laid my eyes on Aurora until we’d hidden the trap bottle, was, in a sense, the beginning of me, my origin story. A myth, because, let’s face it, who the hell would ever believe my experiences in Fiasco Heights, about how a mortal ventured to a distant land to help a group of heroes save the universe from the clutches of a maniac, and ended up discovering himself in the process.
I’ll admit it’s a story that’s probably been told hundreds, maybe thousands of times down through the ages, but that story, at least as it applies to me, happens to be true.
Aurora turned and we shared an uneasy smile. For the sake of the souls of the living and the dead, for everything in the universe, I hoped that what she said earlier was true. I hoped that the trap bottle remained hidden forever and that Aurora would never be tempted to return here to settle old scores.
I turned and looked a final time at the cave. A chill snaked up my back, and I pivoted and bounded across the stream, uncertain of what the future might hold. I mean, I didn’t know where I would end up, or whether I’d find my place in Fiasco Heights, but I remembered something an uncle had told me when I was a child: you take chances when you’re young, so that you can tell stories when you’re old. I smiled at the thought of that, and hustled up after Aurora.
The End
The End Of Book Two
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Author’s Notes
“You’ve got to explore all of the different
levels of the planet, from top to bottom.” That’s what an author friend kept telling me as I was outlining Book 2. “You’ve got a cool world established, so why not explore some of it?” Excellent idea and so that’s what I focused on when writing Book 2. My goal was to maintain the frenetic pace of Book 1 (which some readers loved and called “cinematic harem,” and others detested), and ultimately have Quincy come full circle, to have him literally begin the book at the lowest of low points, cast down into the planet’s basement with a group of aliens who’ve been pressed into servitude, essentially forced to mine minerals that help power the rest of Fiasco Heights. Starting at the bottom set the stage for a literal and figurative arc for Quincy and the others as they’re forced to confront some of the dark secrets of Fiasco Heights while teaming up with Kree and the others and fighting their way up to the top of the city, only for Quincy to become the prisoner of the city’s worst supervillain and imprisoned at the very top of his fortress.
As for the Harbinger, the villain, I tried to make him as three-dimensional as possible. In his twisted mind, he’s doing wrong for all the right reasons. That is, he thinks he knows what’s best for the planet and will act accordingly, no matter how much collateral damage there is. Once Quincy confronts and escapes from the Harbinger, I wanted the final battle to resemble a Japanese monster movie on steroids, with the villain and his monstrous minions laying waste to the city, only to be confronted by Quincy and the good guys, including one of the book’s villains, Big Dread, who eventually throws in her lot with Quincy and the Shadow Catchers. I ended the book on a bit of an uncertain end as we’re not quite sure whether Fiasco Height’s superheroes and supervillains will ultimately reconcile. Quincy hopes like hell that they will and he’s willing to stay to assist in the city’s rebuilding efforts.
Along the way, I also tried to explore the idea/theme of keeping secrets. Fiasco Heights certainly has its dark secrets, namely that it partially runs on power from slave labor as demonstrated by the forced servitude of Kree and her people. In addition, the good guys, the Shadow Catchers, are also keepers of another secret, namely that Greylock, the murdered ruler of Fiasco Heights, may not have been so benevolent after all. These are things that Aurora, Atlas, and the rest of the heroes don’t want to necessarily confront, along with the fact that the supervillains in the story have legitimate reasons for why they became bad in the first place. As another writer once said, secrets are often like scars. The cut may eventually vanish, but the white line’s still there, and unless you recognize that, it’s like you’re hiding a part of yourself that the whole world can see. Secrets are often meant to be confronted, and that’s ultimately what Quincy and the rest of the heroes have to do to defeat the Harbinger and carry the day. I hope everyone enjoyed the ride. Keep checking back as I’ve got a pretty cool idea for how to explore Halja. I definitely think there’s another book or two that could explore the terrifying planet that’s essentially a battle royale, a hellhole in the middle of deep space where the galaxy’s worst villains are pitted against each other.
