by G Sauvé
“I promise,” says Korri. “There’s nothing we can do to help Jonn.”
As luck has it, that’s precisely the moment Jonn chooses to thrust his head out of the wriggling mass of centipedes.
“Help me!” he bellows, before being overrun once more.
Kara makes a move to help him, but Korri once again blocks her path.
“You can’t help him,” I say, translating the orange-haired humanoid’s words.
“I have to try.”
I can tell things are about to degenerate, so I decide to intervene.
“Why?” I ask. “Why can’t we help him?”
Kara seems to calm down and stops trying to push the korrigan aside.
“The lava worm pheromones,” explains Korri. “That’s what’s attracting the centipedes. They will continue to mob him until every last shred of it has been ingested.”
“Ingested?” I ask.
“Ingested,” confirms Korri.
“How long will that take?” wonders Kara once I bring her up to date.
“It could take a few minutes like it could take an hour,” explains the small korrigan. “The longer it takes, the better.”
“Why?” I ask.
“Because the longer the centipedes are distracted, the easier it will be for us to capture them.”
“Why would we want to do such a thing?” I ask as shiver of disgust ripples through me.
“The journey to Arkania is long,” explains Korri. “We could easily cut our travel time in half by riding centipedes.”
It makes sense. Sort of.
“How are we supposed to capture them?”
“All you need to do is mount them. Once we’re in place, they’ll calm down and stop eating.”
It sounds simple enough. Of course, things are never as simple as they appear. Hopefully, this will be one of the rare exceptions to the rule.
I bring Kara up to speed, and the three of us creep toward the centipedes.
“How many do we need?” I ask.
“Ideally we would need four, one for each of us,” Korri explains, “but seeing how Jonn is currently acting as bait, we’ll have to make do with three.”
We stalk forward with great care. It’s not until we’re less than a metre from the writhing mound of centipedes that Korri gives the signal. We leap forward at the same time. Both Korri and Kara hit their mark, and their mounts immediately calm down. I, on the other hand, miss my intended target by nearly a metre. I feel like a failure, but I refuse to let it stop me. I pick a new target and jump onto its back before it can scurry away.
The centipede bucks for a few seconds then calms down. The hard part is over. I just need to figure out how to steer this thing. Fortunately, Korri is a skilled teacher and, in no time at all, both Kara and I are skilled centipede tamers.
All that now remains for us to do is wait for the remaining centipedes to eat away all traces of the lava worm pheromones from Jonn’s body. I feel sorry for him, but I guess you reap what you sow. Jonn made fun of Korri, and he’s now paying a high price for it. I doubt he will mess with the small korrigan again.
It takes nearly an hour, but the centipedes finally scatter, revealing an angry-looking Jonn. The arthropods scurry into the Plain of Pain and vanish into the countless holes that riddle it. I have no idea how they know which holes are safe, but it’s of little consequence.
“Why the drowned didn’t you help me?” growls Jonn as he staggers to his feet. Kara looks guilty, but Korri wears a broad smile. I stand somewhere in between.
Kara takes a moment to explain the situation to her father; then we decide who will get to ride their own centipede and who will have to share. Forcing Jonn to saddle up behind one of us seems overly mean, so we decide he will ride alone. That leaves two centipedes and three of us. Jonn suggests Korri and I share, but Kara disagrees.
“I’ll ride with Will,” she announces.
Everyone looks surprised, me most of all. I’m pretty sure I also turn a bright shade of red, but I don’t think anyone notices.
“A-are you sure it’s s-safe?” I stammer. My encounter with the hooded man should have put my mind at ease when it comes to involuntary shifting, but the truth is I’m not entirely sure he’s real. The first time I met him I was being strangled by a bunch of trees. The second time was in the middle of the night. For all I know, I was dreaming.
“I trust you,” says Kara, batting her eyelashes at me. I want to insist it’s risky, but my mouth is too dry for me to utter more than a mere grunt, which Kara takes to mean I agree to share my centipede with her. She climbs behind me and wraps her arms around my frame.
Nothing happens. Well, nothing but a slight elevation in body temperature and a rather embarrassing reddening of the cheeks.
That proves it. My mysterious mentor is real.
“Let’s go,” announces Jonn once we’re all packed and ready to go. He takes the lead, but Korri follows him closely. Kara and I lag behind, though it’s not intentional. I keep getting distracted by her body pressed against mine and forget I have to push the centipede’s antennae forward to advance. Luckily, Kara doesn’t seem to notice.
The journey to Arkania will be long and now would be the perfect time to continue the conversation Kara and I started last night, but I don’t want to ruin the moment, so I merely focus on the feel of our bodies brushing together as our mount journeys across the vast expanse of grass. For the first time in a while, I’m grateful for the long trip that lies ahead. Unfortunately, I know that feeling won’t last. It never does.
Memory 48
W hat are they?” I whisper. Arkania stands but a short distance away, yet I can’t seem to take my eyes off the strange humanoids who tower above us.
They are tall—nearly two and a half metres—and very thin. Their limbs are long and sinuous. Their muscles are nearly non-existent. Their fingers and toes are webbed, though the flaky texture of their skin makes it clear they haven’t seen water in quite a while. They remind me of a Québec winter landscape—white, and devoid of ridges. The bald creatures possess very few of the facial features I’m accustomed to seeing. Their almond-shaped eyes are massive and reminiscent of aquatic beings. Their noses are inexistent. From what I can tell, they breathe through the two small slits that stand where their noses should be. Their lips are thin and dry. They have gills instead of ears. They are the oddest humanoids I have ever seen.
“They’re arkanes,” announces Korri from his nearby centipede.
“Arkanes?” I ask. The small korrigan told me arkanes are an industrious, prosperous people. The humanoids before us wear mere rags and appear as though they have barely survived an endless march through the desert. The effect is only amplified by the fact their mouths hang open, their dry tongues dangling from their lips. But the oddest part of all is their lack of pigment.
“I thought arkanes could change colour,” says Kara. I guess I’m not the only one confused by the humanoids’ odd appearance.
“They can,” claims Korri moments after I have repeated the comment, “usually.”
That doesn’t sound good.
“What does that mean?” asks Jonn once I’ve translated the korrigan’s words.
“Something is wrong,” admits Korri. “I’ve never seen arkanes look this ragged.”
There’s a moment of silence during which we stare at the weak, famished humanoids. They look like a family. The tall ones must be the parents, which makes the other two their children. The boy—his facial features and more defined musculature identify him as a male—appears to be a teenager. The girl—at least, I think it’s a girl—wears a cloak. The garment is torn nearly beyond recognition, yet it somehow conceals every centimetre of the small humanoid wearing it. All four arkanes—or at least the three I can see clearly—appear to be on the verge of death. I don’t know what happened to them, but it can’t be good.
“Water,” begs the father. His voice is feeble and crackly, yet I have no trouble understanding what he says.
He tries reaching out, but his tired body barely even responds.
“What did he say?” asks Jonn.
“He wants water,” says Kara. I’m surprised she understood him until I remember both she and Jonn have subdermal microchips that allow them to comprehend nearly all languages. For some reason, the highly-advanced pieces of technology can’t translate the korrigan dialect, but apparently, it allows them to decipher the arkane’s rather unique vernacular.
“I knew that,” mutters Jonn, no doubt embarrassed by the fact that he failed to grasp the meaning of the tall humanoid’s request. I suspect he’s so used to not understanding the korrigans he failed to even try to decipher what the arkane said.
“Do we have any juice left?” asks Kara.
Jonn rummages through our only remaining satchel.
“This is all that’s left,” he says, revealing three lilis and a nearly-empty gourd of juice.
“Give it to them,” urges Kara, nodding to the dehydrated arkane family that stands before us.
Jonn seems reticent to part with what little remains of our supplies, but hands them over. The arkane father takes the offerings and hands a lili to his wife and son. Keeping the third fruit for himself, he uncorks the gourd and gives it to his hooded child. A small, frail-looking arm emerges from the folds of the robe and snatches it away. It vanishes for a moment before reappearing, empty. By then, all three lilis have been consumed.
“Thank you,” mutters the father, handing the gourd back to Jonn. Now that the father’s thirst has been partially quenched, his voice is less abrasive. “We are grateful for your assistance… but why are you here?” I understand most of what he says, but a few of his words still sound like gibberish. Nonetheless, it’s obvious the more languages I learn, the easier it is for me to understand new dialects.
“We’re going to Arkania,” says Kara.
“Turn back,” urges the arkane. “Turn back before it’s too late.” I now understand every word he speaks, which proves my theory about my ability to understand foreign languages.
“Why?” asks Kara. “What happened here?”
The tall humanoid suddenly grows sad. He’s about to answer when his hooded child unexpectedly collapses. In an attempt to interrupt the fall, the father unwittingly tears the cloak from the youth’s frame, revealing the child beneath.
It’s a girl. I can’t tell her exact age, but she’s young. Too young to battle the horrible disease she carries. Her delicate frame convulses, causing her frail limbs to flail. An intricate labyrinth of bright-red blood vessels mars her otherwise colourless skin. It’s strangely beautiful, which makes the fact that she’s going to die that much worse. Crimson bile spills from her mouth and runs down her chin in a frothy torrent. Her eyes, injected with blood, roll back in their sockets as blood-curdling cries escape her. It’s a horrifying, yet familiar sight.
“NO!” wails the father as he hugs his child’s body. The mother drops to her knees and cradles her daughter’s head, but there’s nothing she can do. The child will die, and we all know it.
As horrifying a sight as it is, seeing that poor girl so close to death is not what terrifies me. My disbelief stems from the revelation that we’re too late. The fire plague has spread beyond the korrigan village, which proves Avalon is indeed responsible for the countless innocents that have died because of it. It also means the death count is much higher than we initially believed. For the first time since leaving the orphanage, I understand why Jonn hates Avalon so much. She’s a monster.
Memory 49
T he girl is dead. I stare at her lifeless, bloodshot eyes and feel nothing but a dull emptiness. How can such a frail, innocent being be alive one second and dead the next? It makes no sense, yet at the same time, it makes perfect sense. For the first time in what feels like forever, things make sense. I now know what I must do.
Avalon will pay. I don’t know how, or when, but she will pay for everything she has done. If taking her down means I get to go home, great. If not, so be it.
“Let’s go,” I say. I angle the centipede’s antennae forward and, within seconds, we’re underway. Jonn and Korri follow a short distance behind.
“We can’t just leave them,” says Kara.
She’s angry, but I don’t care.
We travel in silence for a while before I regret the rashness of my actions.
“There was nothing more we could have done for them,” I say.
Kara doesn’t respond. I’m wondering whether or not to apologize when Jonn pulls up next to us. Our eyes lock. No words are spoken, but I can tell we’re on the same wavelength. Avalon must be stopped, no matter the cost.
“We’re almost there,” he says, pointing to the nearby city.
Arkania is massive. It may not be as imposing as Montréal, but it’s a marvel of modern engineering when compared to the korrigan village. A massive stone wall encircles the metropolis, keeping all but the highest of buildings hidden. At the centre of the wall stands a colossal gate. For some reason, the imposing wooden doors stand ajar, giving us a glimpse of the city that lies beyond. I can make out a few stone buildings, but not much else.
We keep riding until we reach the gate. There are no sentries. In fact, there are no signs of life whatsoever.
“We should proceed on foot,” says Kara as she slides off our mount.
“We may need the centipedes,” argues Jonn.
“We’re about to enter a populated area. The last thing we want is to draw attention to ourselves.”
I expect Jonn to argue, but he doesn’t. He dismounts his giant arthropod and chases it away with a kick to the flank. It scurries off with surprising velocity, vanishing in seconds. Korri and I also dismount, and soon all three of the centipedes are gone. I may have been a little freaked out by them at first, but I will miss them.
“Ready?” asks Kara.
Jonn doesn’t bother answering. He strides past her and enters the city. Kara rolls her eyes but follows. Korri and I exchange a look and a shrug, then hurry after them.
The city is deserted. The cobblestone streets are completely bare but for the occasional piece of trash. The stone buildings appear to have been abandoned for quite some time. Plants are starting to grow where they shouldn’t. A small animal scurries by, nearly running into me as it does. I only catch a fleeting glimpse of it, but it has the general appearance of a rat.
“What happened here?” asks Kara.
“Where is everyone?” adds Jonn.
I translate for Korri, but he claims he has no idea where the arkanes are. Unfortunately, I’m afraid I do.
“Let’s go,” says Jonn, taking the lead.
We travel deeper into the city, but the farther we venture from the front gate, the worse things get. Buildings are burned and ransacked. Bodies in various states of decay litter the ground. Some are fresh—no older than a few days. Others are mere piles of bones. The recently deceased bear the characteristic red veins and liquefied insides of the fire plague. There’s little doubt in my mind Avalon is responsible for all these deaths. The more we discover, the more I despise her. And the more I despise her, the guiltier I feel. If I hadn’t come to her rescue back at the subway station, all of these people would still be alive.
“It’s not your fault,” says Kara.
I want to argue, to claim that I’m responsible, but I don’t have the strength. I want to believe it’s because deep down I know the true culprit is Avalon, but the truth is it’s easier to blame myself. I can affect my future. The same can’t be said for Avalon’s destiny. Fortunately, not all members of our group are so pessimistic.
“She’ll pay for this,” mutters Jonn.
I sense Kara growing nervous, but I’m too preoccupied to care. Now more than ever I’m determined to help Jonn defeat Avalon. I don’t know why he despises her, and I don’t care. She must be stopped, and that’s all that matters.
We wander through the city for nearly an hour before reaching a river. A narrow stone bridge leads acros
s it. Two identical ones stand downriver. Beyond them towers the city wall. A widening of the river lies upstream, forming the semblance of a lake. At the centre of it stands a massive castle.
The structure emerges from the depths of the river, dwarfing the body of water with its magnitude. Its apparent materials—stone and mortar—are ancient, yet the design is modern. It’s both beautiful and hideous.
“That’s our destination,” says Jonn.
“Shouldn’t we search the city first?” asks Kara. “There may be survivors.”
“We’ve wasted enough time.”
I can tell Kara is itching to rip into her father for being so heartless, but she doesn’t let him suck her into their usual argument. She turns her attention to me and requests that I translate for her.
“We need to search for survivors,” she explains, her gaze focused on Korri. “Can you use your speed to scour the city?”
I repeat Kara’s request and watch as the korrigan’s lips curl into a smile.
“I’ll do it,” he says before vanishing in a blur of black and orange.
“Where’s he going?” asks Jonn.
“He’s going to look for survivors,” says Kara.
Jonn is about to protest, but Kara shuts him up with a well-timed glare. Jonn may be a badass, but even he knows when to argue and when to hold his tongue. And now is no time for arguments.
“We could use a little rest,” he says as he unshoulders the satchel and places it on the ground. He’s about to take a seat when he spots the river and a smile curls his lips. “Actually,” he says, “I could go for a drink.”
“That’s a good idea,” agrees Kara.
We make our way down to the river bank, but we’re intercepted before we can quench our thirst.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” says a deep, grating voice, just as Jonn kneels by the river’s edge.
Quick as lightning, the soldier leaps to his feet and unsheathes his trusty hunting knife. Kara and I whip around, just in time to discover an arkane sitting less than a dozen metres from us. We passed by him on our way down, but he was so well camouflaged we didn’t notice him. Only, now that his presence has been brought to our attention, it’s impossible to ignore him.