“A team is waiting for you at the tower to the West,” Flox reported as he quickly stepped toward Crinnan, “We are here to bring you home.”
“Flox!” Crinnan whispered with a surprised tone. He hurried up to the sniper and Flox nodded his head at him.
“It is true then,” While his tone generally lacked inflection, he nearly sounded surprised, “You are alive.” He gave Crinnan a quick once over and hummed inquisitively.
“I am,” Crinnan felt relieved to know that Century had sent a team for him. He recalled what Sage had said to him earlier about my squad having left the area. Another lie he thought to himself.
“Hey what day is it?” Crinnan asked as the four of them began to run after Sage, who had run ahead, “What day is today?”
“22nd of Ramlia,” Flox answered quickly, not bothering to care why he was being asked.
“22nd?” Crinnan repeated, nearly slowing to a stop, “of Ramlia?”
“Yes,” Flox replied. Crinnan shook his head and looked down at the wet ground he was running on.
“22nd of Ramlia,” Crinnan repeated, “That means…” It meant that Sage had told him the truth. It meant that he had not been with his squad at the caverns the day before. It meant that he had been gone for ninety days, a whole month…
“You guys waited here for a month?” Crinnan was surprised, thinking that Century had never left the caverns, “You waited for me?”
“No,” Flox replied, “We had your funeral yesterday morning. This makes two days I had to wake up early because of you.”
“My funeral?” Crinnan asked as they vaulted over a fallen log. He had always wondered how people would respond to his death. He could recall times where he would daydream about seeing the faces of the people at his funeral. Times when perhaps a less-sober version of himself would consider putting a bullet in his head just to spite others, to make them wish they had cared for him harder.
“Focus on getting to the tower,” Flox instructed, “We will answer your questions there.” They continued running. Crinnan felt invigorated; he was not sure whether it was because he was in the company of a fellow Centurion or if it had to do with his NaNe. Either way, he suddenly felt like he could run for days.
The four of them crashed through a thick wall of brush and emerged into a clearing. Crinnan’s eyes grew wide, and they all stopped dead in their tracks when they saw what was waiting for them there. Crinnan reached down and gently moved Freyja behind him.
Before them stood three Reapers and a handful of Govian infantry and kneeling on the ground in front of the Govians was Garb. Crinnan looked over at Flox and then to Cade. They all wore looks of varying levels of surprise.
“Weapons on the ground!” one of them shouted as he pointed his hook launcher at them, “The Demon is coming with us!” Cade was first to kneel; he slowly placed his rifle on the ground in front of him and raised his hands. Flox followed suit shortly after and Crinnan tossed his sword toward them and stepped forward.
“You want me?” Crinnan asked with an antagonizing tone, “I am your Demon, the one you have been pursuing all day and I am sick of running, so if you want me then come and take me.”
The Govian troops held their position and glared at the Demon with stone-cold expressions. Crinnan took another step, and they raised their rifles. One of the Reapers spoke.
“On your knees, Demon!” He ordered as he stepped forward, pushing Garb onto the ground with his foot, “On your knees, or he dies.”
“I know how this works,” Crinnan rolled his eyes and refused to fall to his knees, “They will all die anyway. I may even die. Why prolong any of it?” The Reaper stood silently for a moment and then stomped his foot into Garb’s back. Garb let out a loud wail and blood spurted from his mouth.
“You have the power to make their deaths quick, Demon!” the Reaper knelt down and grabbed hold of Garb’s thin white hair. He pulled his head back and held a knife to his throat. “Remember the dead will be waiting for you when you return to the Hells. You do not want to make them any angrier.”
Return. The word bounced around in Crinnan’s mind and echoed off the walls of his skull. He recalled Sage saying that he had brought him back from the Hells, that he had been dead when the Elf found him. Crinnan closed his eyes and looked down. Sage had not lied… but why could Crinnan not remember any of it? Why was he living his life as if he had been with his squad the day before? Where had the ninety days he had missed gone, what had happened to him?
“Kill me then!” Garb yelled up at the Reaper, “Send me to the Hells, let me be with my wife…” Crinnan looked down at the bloody and bruised deformed being laying on the ground before him and pitied him. A thousand cruel years he had lived, only to be reduced to an undignified, bloody and begging mess.
Crinnan knew the Reapers had the upper hand. He felt one of his knees hit the wet ground and the other. His arms fell to their sides, and he looked at the sword lying in a puddle in front of him. He remembered the electricity flowing through it earlier, recalled how he had electrocuted the Govian soldier with it. He had no idea how to use his powers or what he was even capable of. He wanted to blast them all away, to burn their bodies with it… if only he knew how.
Suddenly, something fell from the trees above. It was a person, and each of his hands was burning bright with fire. He landed just behind a group of the Govian soldiers and put his fist through one of their chests while slicing at another with an elongated beam of flame.
“Fight!” Sage shouted as he dove out of the way of rifle fire. He pounced on another soldier and put his hand through his chest, howling as he did so. An unexpected bullet caught Sage in the shoulder, and he crashed into the ground in front of the Govian.
Crinnan dove forward and scooped up his sword. A hook flew past him and nearly grazed his arm as he charged toward the Reapers. Behind him, Flox and Cade had opened fire on their own targets. Crinnan approached one of the Reapers and swung his blade at him. The Reaper parried the attack with his own weapon. the strength behind the deflection knocked Crinnan backward but did not stop him. He snarled and charged forward.
“Die!” Crinnan shouted as he stepped to the side of the Reaper and thrust his blade between his shoulder plates and his mask. Blood gushed out of his wound, and the Reaper stepped backward just in time for the other two to converge on Crinnan.
Flox fired on one of them, and the bullet hit him in his mask. The Reaper threw his mask aside and blindly fired his hook at the sniper. Flox got out of the way in time, and Cade was able to take the Reaper down with a shot to his bare face.
As Crinnan turned from his recent kill, he looked at the final Reaper to see that his hook was pointed directly at him. Crinnan gritted his teeth together and stared straight into the Reaper’s reflective mask. That was it; he had nowhere to run. He huffed and braced himself, preparing for the hook to rip through his body. As his lips quivered and his arms trembled, Sage suddenly belted a desperate sounding roar and charged in front of him. The hook fired and caught the Elf square in the chest. His blood splashed from his back and onto Crinnan’s face, and Sage fell backward onto the ground.
“No!” Crinnan screamed, charging at the Reaper. He stepped out of the way of Crinnan’s attack and batted at him with his heavy metal gauntlet. Crinnan took a blow to the head and skidded across the mud, landing next to Garb who was cowering face-first on the ground. The Reaper sent a NaNe blast into Cade and Flox, knocking them to their backs and Crinnan looked over just in time to see him standing over Sage with his sword drawn.
For a moment the two did nothing but stare at each other, but then the Reaper retracted his cable just enough to get Sage onto his knees. Sage held a weakened hand out toward the Reaper, but nothing happened, the wire had purged him of his NaNe, and he was left with no way of defending himself. His powers had all been drained, and he was left with nothing more than an old Elf.
Sage shrugged his shoulders and let his arms fall to his side. He looked over at Crinnan wit
h a thin, bloody smile and raised his hand to wave. Crinnan watched, knowing that there was nothing he could do to save him. He shook his head and bit his lip. Sage gave Crinnan a slight nod and closed his eyes just as the Reaper before him swung his sword.
His head rolled away from his body and Crinnan scurried backward on the ground away from him, eventually pushing himself onto his feet. The last remaining Reaper, Sage’s killer, had turned toward Crinnan by then and was lumbering toward him. The ground seemed to shake as he slammed his massive boots down and Crinnan snorted and trembled with fury.
Flox and Cade both managed to get to their feet and took aim at the armored hulk but he threw his hand toward them, and another NaNe blast once again knocked them onto their backs. Crinnan gripped the leather wrapped handle of his father’s old sword and waited.
The rain started falling a little harder, and Crinnan noticed the lightning dancing across the sky above. In the distance, he heard a clap of thunder. Water dripped down his face, and small sparks of electricity popped off all around him. Crinnan noticed his sword was once again sparking and his free hand was vaguely pulsing with a blue and white electric light. He curled his fingers into a fist and glared at his foe.
“My orders are to bring you in alive,” The Reaper growled as he stopped before Crinnan, “Do you understand what alive means?” He pointed his broadsword at Crinnan and waited silently. Crinnan held his own weapon in front of him and waited for the Reaper to make a move. He could have overpowered Crinnan at any moment, Crinnan just needed to stay light on his feet and prepared to strike.
“Alive means many things, boy,” He finally answered, sidestepping around him. Crinnan synced his footing with the Reaper’s and kept his sword at the ready, “You do not need legs to be alive. You do not need arms. You understand, only the living bleed? As long as I return you and you’re still able to bleed, my mission will be accomplished.” Flox and Cade tried to get up, and the Reaper blasted them again, temporarily stunning them and knocking them back down again.
“You can make it easy on yourself,” The Reaper informed him, “You do not have to bleed. You do not have to lose your limbs. Surrender now.”
Crinnan said nothing. He kept his eyes locked onto his foe and watched his every move. He was so focused on his enemy that he did not notice the Lycaani boy sneaking up behind him until the last moment.
“Die!” Freyja screamed as he scampered up the back of the Reaper’s armor and latched himself around his neck. He had the short sword Crinnan had given him earlier held firmly in his hand, and before the Reaper could do anything to defend himself, Freyja began wildly and rapidly stabbing the blade in and out of the Govian’s neck. The Reaper tried to raise his arms up to grab the boy, but his thick armor prevented him from lifting them above chest level.
The Reaper screamed in pain and stumbled about… that is he screamed until Freyja severed his vocal cords and then he just hissed. Blood splashed up on the boy but Freyja did not lose his grip or his focus, and he did not stop. It seemed as if Freyja was channeling all his pain and anger into his strikes, allowing the darkness within him to fuel his rage. Finally, the Reaper dropped his sword and fell to his knees. Freyja, however, did not stop.
“Freyja!” Garb shouted as he worked to get to his feet. Freyja could not hear him. He screamed as he continued to stick the blade in and out of the Reaper’s neck. The Reaper did nothing, and even when his dead body toppled over on its side Freyja remained latched around his neck and kept hacking…
“Freyja!” Garb continued as he tried to run over to the boy. Crinnan held his arm out and caught the Ancient, preventing him from getting any closer.
“Let him finish,” Crinnan sighed, “He… I hate to say it, but I think he needs this.” Garb glared at Crinnan and ran his rubber-skinned fingers through his white hair.
“He is just a boy!” Garb argued as tears welled up in his eyes, “This should not be his life!”
“But it is,” Crinnan shook his head, “Unfortunately he was born into this. But look; he is a survivor, a fighter. Few could do what he is doing…”
Crinnan continued watching the boy as he threw the mask off the Reaper and grabbed him by the hair. He made one more slice and pulled the dead Govian’s head off of its shoulders. He held the head up into the air and looked at it for a moment and then opened his mouth and screamed at it. He slammed the head onto the ground and began punching it over and over, and finally, he stood and kicked it into the woods. He looked over at Crinnan, smiling and covered in blood, and tossed his sword on the ground.
“I…” Freyja panted looking down at his bloodied hands. He had never taken a life before; he shook his head wildly as his mind came out of the blacked-out state it was in. For all of his life, he had been the weak one; he had been the one who got hurt. He had endured every manner of pain and disgrace; he had been the recipient of so many people’s anger, lust, and curiosity. Finally, for the first time ever, Freyja was the strong one. He was the one who held the sword, the one who did the hurting. For the first time in his life, Freyja felt strong. The boy looked like he was thinking about crying but instead, he dropped to his knees, threw his head back and started laughing hysterically.
“What is going on?” Garb asked, grabbing Crinnan’s shoulder.
“This happens sometimes,” Crinnan sighed, “Everyone reacts differently, handles it differently… but nobody takes their first kill lightly. It fucks everyone up in some way, but those who were fucked up to start? Well, it either helps immensely or worsens everything. I… have no idea if this is a good thing for Freyja.”
Crinnan turned from Garb and walked over to Sage’s headless body. He looked down at the bare-chested Elf and could not help but feel like it was all his fault. He knelt down and grabbed his hand.
“You loud fucking idiot,” Crinnan groaned. He shook his head and put his other hand on Sage’s shoulder. Crinnan thought about all the Elf had said and done for him. He said he had brought him back from the Hells, that he had taken care of him. He had escorted Crinnan as far as he could and ultimately gave his life to protect him. All for what? Crinnan looked down at the headless corpse and wished he had a cigarette.
He sighed and looked over to Flox and Cade as he stood. Cade nodded at him, and Flox stared expectantly. He was apparently ready to get to Racon tower and rendezvous with their squad.
“Garb, do you know the way?” Crinnan asked. Garb, who was doing his best to provide comfort to Freyja looked over at him and nodded.
“Yes, I know the way,” Garb rested his chin on top of the boy’s head, “We are very close now.”
“Do you know why it was so important to Sage and Nora that we got there?” Crinnan asked, stepping up to him. Garb shook his head and returned his chin to Freyja’s head.
“I am sorry,” he said, “But I do not.”
“Do you?” Crinnan asked, looking over at Cade. Cade shrugged his broad shoulders and looked away.
“These are Ancients we are talking about,” He replied, “They are very good at keeping secrets. I have no idea what they had in store.” Crinnan looked at his brother, the Agra President and then turned away.
“Let’s just get to Racon Tower. Garb, lead the way?” Garb nodded his head and picked Freyja up off the ground as he stood.
“Hush, child,” He said tenderly as he carried the seemingly intoxicated boy, “All will be well.”
As they turned toward Racon Tower, Crinnan took one last look at Sage. He wished things had ended up differently, but nothing ever worked out in his world. He nodded, and as he began to walk, he heard the voice of Eon.
“Do not run, my friend,” Eon purred, “Let us together bring salvation to this world as we did the Hells. Fear not my power; embrace it. It is yours.”
Crinnan looked around in the darkness, searching for the owner of the voice. He did not remember Eon, nor any of his time in the Hells for that matter. He pulled out a cigarette and held it to his lips, forgetting that he did not have a lighter.
Suddenly, however, it lit, and he heard Eon chuckle.
“Prithee, dear Crinnan,” Eon continued, “Join me.”
Crinnan took a drag and shook his head. He turned and hurried to catch up with the others.
Chapter Six
Sarasin XI
23rd of Ramlia - 346AG
15:30 - Canrom City, Dauid’s Tower
“Just a little bit more, we are nearly there!” Eryc shouted back at his three companions. He was panting heavily as he had just scaled nearly twenty stories worth of stairs. He was, however, resolved in completing his mission and nowhere near giving up.
Gerard limped past the rest. The four of them had already fought past the guards of the main level of Dauid’s tower, and Gerard had taken yet another bullet, this time in his arm. Eryc shook his head as everyone walked past him. As captain of Sarasin’s guard, he had come to feel like he was a failure. Eight of his ten soldiers had fallen in battle or abandoned him in only a few hours. He clenched his teeth, burying the pain and hurried behind Quint.
“Behind us!” Sarasin shouted, stopping to let Quint and Eryc pass. Footsteps were clamoring up the metal stairs a few floors below them. Eryc turned and grabbed her arm, but she quickly shrugged his hand off and held her own hands out in front of her.
“I will buy us some time,” she declared as she focused on the stairs that they had just climbed. She eased her mind and released a blast of NaNe energy that collapsed the stairs behind them, preventing anyone else from following, or at least slowing them down. She let out an exhausted breath and turned to join her comrades.
The energy it had taken to collapse the stairs mixed with the mental and physical fatigue she was already experiencing knocked her down to one knee. Her long red hair fell in her face, and Eryc hurried to her side and grabbed her by her upper arm, helping her back to her feet.
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