A small cluster of ruins appeared on the horizon, partially buried by the desert and peppered with weeds. It was home to a pack of twenty to thirty rotwolves. Their alpha leapt onto a crumbling wall and challenged them by flashing its saliva-dripping fangs. The coarse hair on its body was raised in warning – typical posture for defending one’s territory. If the riders wanted to keep going, they would have to fight their way through.
Cloudhawk unraveled his map and looked it over. “The map says there’s an outpost nearby. If we deal with the wolves, we’ll be doing them a favor. We can skin ‘em and sell their hides for food while we’re at it.”
The soldiers were here to follow his lead, so they did what he commanded. They obeyed because of their friends and relatives back home. Even if that weren’t the case, they were promised a rich reward for getting the kid to a specific spot. After delivering him and returning, they were even told they’d have a place in the Fort. It was a tempting offer they couldn’t refuse.
Whoosh!
Depp’s meaty arm pulled back his massive bowstring, nocking an arrow the size of a man without much effort, and let fly. The arrow whizzed through the air and buried itself in the alpha wolf’s brain. The beast hit the ground with a thud and twitched for a little while, struggling against the inevitable. The rest of the pack let loose a series of howls before twenty to thirty of them came charging their way.
Whoosh! Whoosh!
Depp fired two more arrows in quick succession. Two more rotwolves died.
The guy was able to hit a target from over three hundred feet away as well as any sniper, all thanks to his wastelands wyrm tendon longbow. The materials it used were similar to the ones used to construct the outpost’s ballista, which gave it incredible stopping power. Between the impressive weapon and Depp’s incredible strength, the rotwolves didn’t even have a chance to dodge before getting pinned to the ground.
Cloudhawk hefted his rifle and aimed down the old-style sights at one of the beasts. As he pulled the trigger, he could feel every component of the gun move until at last, the bullet was spat out in a crack of gas and fire. He hit his target flawlessly from several hundred feet away.
The rest of the pack came running their way.
The outpost warriors fished out their weapons and began to fight back. The wolf pack wasn’t a particularly large one, and they were all experienced wastelanders, so the creatures were killed before they could even reach melee range.
Cloudhawk urged his lizard mount forward and entered the ruins, followed by Depp and a few others. They drew their daggers and set about relieving the corpses of their valuable hides. Humans had no use for the poison glands on the rotwolf corpses, but wastelands lizards found them appetizing, so the eleven mounts they’d brought with them happily ate their fill.
“We got two rotwolf cubs!”
One of the soldiers lifted his arms with a rotwolf in each hand. They curled like kittens as they hung by the scruff of their necks. Their fur was pitch black, and they were still too young to even open their eyes – young enough that there was a chance they could be domesticated. They could fetch a good price at the outpost.
Once the lizards were sated, Cloudhawk led Depp and the others to the nearest outpost. Outpost was hardly the right word for it since it couldn’t even begin to compare to Greenland Outpost. It didn’t even match up to Blackflag, no more than a third of the size of the first encampment Cloudhawk ever lived in. It was obviously weaker as a result.
It was the first settlement Cloudhawk approached since leaving the oasis, and he sought to replenish some of their dwindling water supplies. However, as they approached the entrance of the outpost, the young man was unpleasantly surprised by the scene.
Bleakfire Outpost looked like it’d barely survived some recent disaster. Its walls served their function in little more than name only, and the defenders who peered from their craggy tops were armed with only bows and arrows. A few residents were busy trying to scrub bloodstains off the stones. Though it was clear the battle had ended some time ago, the smell of carnage still hung in the air.
Things only got worse when Cloudhawk and the rest of his group rode into Bleakfire Outpost. There were at least a thousand corpses that had yet to be disposed of piled up in a mountain of broken bones and rotten flesh. The unfortunate souls had become a feast for countless insects that buzzed around. The whole display was sickening.
Most of them were human. A few were mutants.
So many corpses rotting in the wasteland sun would quickly produce an ungodly stench. There was the danger of them spreading disease, and if they weren’t dealt with, the threat could destroy the whole outpost population.
“I’m the leader of Bleakfire Outpost.” An old man with a leathery face and a staff looked at Cloudhawk warily. “You are…”
Cloudhawk answered, “I come from Greenland Outpost. We came hoping to spend the night, but… strange, were you attacked by sweepers?”
“Greenland Outpost?” Something that might have been recognition flashed through the old man’s eyes. The soldiers around them also reacted and fixed the newcomers with wide-eyed stares. Bleakfire Outpost’s leader passed his staff from one hand to the other and resumed speaking to them with a low, strange voice. “We hear the Caliph of the Sands was killed in Greenland Outpost.”
Caliph of the Sands? Ah, he’d almost forgotten – that had been the demon’s name.
After being attacked by sweepers, the denizens of this outpost had to hate them with every fiber of their beings. The demon was the sweeper’s greatest leader, so word of his death likely came as great news to them!
Cloudhawk replied without giving it much thought, “That’s right. The demon was dealt with just outside Greenland Outpost.”
“Fuckin’ bastards!” One of Bleakfire Outpost’s soldiers shouted at them, his eyes red with anger. “Why the hell did they kill the Caliph? Did they have any idea how important he was to the wastelands? Now that he’s dead, everything’s gone to shit!”
“That’s right!”
“I hope Greenland Outpost fuckin’ burns!”
“Nah, they all deserve to be hacked to pieces!”
The destitute people of the outpost began to gather around. Cloudhawk and his companions watched the crowd gather with concern on their faces. The hostility of these strangers definitely took them by surprise – it was completely the opposite of what they expected!
The Bleakfire Outpost leader heaved a defeated sigh. “If the Caliph was murdered, it could only have been at the hands of a demon hunter. Everyone put your weapons away!”
Cloudhawk didn’t let their unwelcoming attitude trouble him. “The demon was brutal and wicked. He was the leader of tens of thousands of sweepers – how is his death a bad thing?”
“Young man, you see things too simply.” The old man gave another lengthy sigh. “Whether or not the Caliph is alive or dead, the sweepers remain. If he were still alive, the sweepers would get what they needed from places like Greenland. They would have no need to turn on smaller outposts like ours. With the Caliph dead, these fiends have no leader, and the tributes once offered to appease the sweepers go unpaid. They are an army without a territory, and there are tens of thousands of them that are out of control. In the end, the ones who suffer are smaller tribes like ours!”
His words made Cloudhawk think. Could it be that the demon’s existence was beneficial to the wastelands instead of harmful? Did that creature somehow keep things stable?
Sweepers were a reality of the wastelands, one that could never be completely erased. Under the demon’s influence, they were organized, restrained. They used the threat of their ferocity to coerce places like Greenland into paying tribute, ultimately removing the need to attack softer targets like Bleakfire.
With the sudden removal of their leader, the sweepers were dealt a serious blow, and the once mighty army splintered and spread out into the wastelands again. Over the last few days, many outposts had suffered just like this one.
“My son died at the hands of the sweepers! If the Caliph were alive, he’d have kept these damn monsters in check, and my son would still be alive!” The larger man with puffy red eyes shouted at them, full of enmity. “If I ever see that goddamn demon hunter, I’ll fuckin’ kill him, even if he tears my body into pieces!”
“No doubt!”
“They killed my brother too!”
“And my friend!”
“Fuckin’ demon hunters. They’re all goddamn lowlifes!”
Cloudhawk looked over the angry, twisted faces, and a shudder went through him. It all seemed so absurd!
Demons were a curse, the root of all conflict in this world. But there was also order in chaos! The demon had been an important element in the wastelands that kept the outposts safe. Without him, the might of the sweepers was unchecked, and for places like Bleakfire, that new reality was a catastrophe. Thousands, even tens of thousands of wastelanders would suffer!
And the one who created all of this suffering was none other than Cloudhawk. He didn’t know it would happen, of course, and he hadn’t hoped for it. As he gazed over that mountain of corpses, their faces twisted in pain and despair, he imagined them looking at him in hatred. A cold sweat trickled down his back.
They couldn’t stay here. Cloudhawk had to leave as quickly as possible!
97 Heedless Ruin
Cloudhawk couldn’t believe it. He couldn’t believe that he’d somehow become an enemy of the wastelands – a sinner in the eyes of the innocent. His actions had brought untold unrest and suffering to a people who were already awash in trauma.
This mountain of corpses… created by my hand?
Cloudhawk stared at the carnage at the center of Bleakfire Outpost with wide eyes. The scene dug its accusing fangs deep into his soul.
He had never pretended to be a good man – there was no such thing as a good man in the wastelands. However, he also had never hoped to see the scene that unfolded before him now. These rivers of blood, these twisted faces, these broken and entangled bodies, these stinking corpses would all become a nightmare of pestilence seared into the depths of his heart. Cloudhawk knew these images would haunt him in the darkness of the night when things were quietest.
But even if he had to do it again, it would be difficult to change the result.
Cloudhawk didn’t know if his actions were right or wrong, good or bad. He was just a normal kid. He couldn’t see the big picture. Nor was he one to give up his life for this poisoned world. All he pursued was his own dream.
Maybe it was just like what the old man said. We could rail against the fact, but in the end, everyone under the stars was nothing more than a speck of dust. It didn’t matter how hard you tried. The only thing you had control over was yourself.
“What’s wrong with you?” Bleakfire Outpost’s leader saw the discomfort in Cloudhawk’s face. “Night’s falling. Now that you’re here, you might as well stay the night. I’m afraid we’re in poor shape as you can see. We have nothing in the way of entertainment.”
“No need!” Cloudhawk didn’t want to stay here a moment longer. “Depp, let’s go.”
Depp figured Cloudhawk might be a demon hunter, but he was also familiar with the kid’s abilities. He wasn’t strong enough to defeat the Caliph of the Sands. He figured it was the Bloodsoaked Queen who’d defeated the demon.
“It’ll be dark soon. If we leave now, we’re spending the night in the wastelands.”
“So let’s not waste time talkin’ shit. Move it!”
Cloudhawk paid Depp’s helpful suggestion no mind. He would rather spend the night out there than sleep under the accusing eyes of these corpses. Every second he spent here felt like torture, a sensation no one else would understand.
Just then, a piercing sound rang out through the dusk! It was the outpost’s alarm!
“The sweepers are back!”
Bleakfire’s leader was preparing to press Cloudhawk about his strange behavior when the alarms rose. Shocked by its suddenness and what it meant, he and his soldiers blanched. They ran towards the alarm with Cloudhawk in tow, and when they got to the site, they saw a host of several hundred figures dotting the horizon.
Sweepers. They were back, and their numbers seemed endless.
The Bleakfire Outpost’s soldiers, numbering near a thousand, nervously fingered their weapons. They couldn’t understand why the sweepers would be back so soon after their last raid.
How could they benefit from hitting them again?
Bleakfire’s infrastructure was in tatters, and any supplies they had were pillaged two days ago. Attacking the outpost again didn’t seem to be worth the cost. Were they just here to murder the hapless people?
All of a sudden, the atmosphere within the outpost turned grave. In its fragile state, the outpost would be totally wiped out if they were attacked again. Thousands would be displaced. Most would lose their lives.
From the looks of them, the sweepers number around four hundred, not a lot, but they were all vicious fighters. There were various kinds among them, but all were at least six feet tall, covered in muscle, and thirsty for blood. There were also a dozen or so monsters ten feet tall – maneaters. They were among the strongest of the sweeper forces, more than a match for any outpost guard.
This mixture of crack sweeper soldiers had to be a remnant of the Caliph’s army!
The demon and his lieutenants were dead, leaving the sweepers with no one strong enough to unite them. The mutant killers fractured into smaller groups, unable to threaten the bigger outposts like Greenland but more than menacing enough to raid the smaller settlements.
This was why the poor souls of Bleakfire Outpost hated the demon hunters so much!
Greenland Outpost was rich in supplies and could single-handedly supply the sweepers with most of their needs. Now that they could no longer rely on Greenland as a source of sustenance, the thousands of sweepers were forced to split up and spread across the wastelands to take what they needed.
“Must you force us to perish with you?!” Bleakfire’s leader stood before his people, shouting bitterly at the host of sweepers. “Very well! If we’re to die, then we’ll take as many of you fiends as we can with us!”
Most sweepers had lost all ability to reason. They were little more than beasts who relied on instinct. However, in each group, there was a handful that had some measure of intelligence left and served as leaders. This group was no different.
Several individuals stepped out from the crowd, men who could almost pass for normal humans. The one in the center stood out furthest, likely their chieftain. His face was covered, hiding any detail, but his skin was covered in mutated tissue that made him look like a man in the throes of late-stage skin disease. “We’re not here for you today. We want the demon hunter.”
The faces of the outpost’s people sank. Demon hunter? How could a demon hunter be in their ruined home?
“There’s no use pretending. We already know.” The sweeper leader glared at them, his growling voice angry and threatening. “The demon hunter who killed our master left Greenland Outpost two days ago with ten men. He’s there among you. If you continue to hide him, we’ll be forced to slaughter every last one of you!”
Greenland Outpost? Demon hunter? Ten outpost soldiers…!
The outpost leader’s face first betrayed confusion, then surprise, and at last, anger. His face darkened as suddenly, he turned to his people. “Grab the travelers from Greenland Outpost!”
Cloudhawk had mounted his lizard the moment he felt things were going south and was leading his men from the outpost. But he was a few seconds too late as the outpost soldiers were already closing in.
“That’s them!”
“These are the fucking Greenland bastards!”
“There’s a demon hunter with them. Don’t let them go!”
All of Bleakfire’s people glared at them with eyes that burned with hatred!
As much as they despised the sweepers, these unfortunate
s hated the demon hunters even more! Those bastards looked down on the wastelands from their holy palaces, viewing the people as little more than weeds. They’d destroyed the balance in the name of their precious honor. They deserved to be forever cursed by the wastelands and its people!
If looks could kill, Cloudhawk would have been murdered a thousand times over.
Incensed with rage, a handful of Bleakfire soldiers charged at them with wild abandon. The sound of twanging bowstrings thrummed all around them, following the soldiers who were flailing their weapons.
“Ah!”
One of Greenland’s soldiers hit the ground with an arrow embedded in him, screaming. He was swarmed by the soldiers in an instant and disappeared beneath their blows. The unfortunate soldier was literally torn apart.
The Bleakfire leader snatched a gun from one of his subordinates and leveled it at Cloudhawk. He pulled the trigger and a powerful flat-headed slug tore through the air. Even Cloudhawk couldn’t dodge it, and he felt the bullet strike him.
A bullet this size would blow a fist-sized hole in a normal man, but it had to first penetrate Cloudhawk’s cloak and then the bear-hide armor beneath. It left a dent but little more, for the dire bear armor was incredibly sturdy. It was sturdy enough to stop bullets, but even so, this shot was a mean one.
Cloudhawk felt like someone had struck him with a sledgehammer. The force was almost enough to knock him off his mount.
Meanwhile, another Greenland soldier fell. He was quickly surrounded by the mob and viciously murdered! By now, more of Bleakfire’s soldiers had blocked their escape and there was nowhere for Cloudhawk and his people to go. With anger fueling him, the young warrior channeled his psychic energy through the Gospel of Sand tucked away in his coat. Immediately, the sandy ground rose up to create a wall.
Out here in the desert, the demon’s Gospel had many uses.
Cloudhawk thrust out his palm, and the towering wall reacted by rushing forward. Although he wasn’t strong enough to kill his foes with the relic, he could at least block off his attackers and prevent them from shooting his people.
The Wastelander Page 68