by R. J. Lucas
The beast raises his fist to the sky, looks up and releases another deafening roar. I know we have defeated a baldagaar in the past and I shouldn’t be frightened, but being this close to the battle and hearing the way his howl seems to vibrate through my core is very intimidating. Then I hear something else. It seems to reverberate through the streets, but its origin must have come from outside the walls.
The roar of another baldagaar.
“Are they communicating?” Amari asks. Her eyes are wide and filled with fear.
I shrug and continue watching the battle below. With the baldagaar distracted by the sound coming from outside the outpost, the blue demon uses this to his advantage and leaps at the beast, driving both daggers deep into his abdomen. It howls and blood sprays the hard-packed dirt below.
They stay at each other, back and forth. Daggers tear through baldagaar flesh until the hammer connects with its target once again, flinging the blue demon across the street. It takes him a moment to catch his breath. The beast is on him fast but is distracted when a second baldagaar bursts through the nearby outer wall and runs toward him.
This one isn’t much different than the first. Hulking muscles. Throbbing blood vessels. And a huge prosthetic arm. Only this one’s arm is shaped like a broad sword, much larger than normal. A sword that matches the size of the beast it is attached to.
For the next few seconds, the blue demon uses all his abilities in dodging the two beasts. Even though the first one has slowed quite a bit from blood loss, it is still an unfair fight, not much different than the fights at Arcmire. I feel a rage boil inside of me at the unfairness of it all. Amari feels it too and turns to me with tears forming in the corner of her eye.
“You have to help him,” she pleads.
That is all the affirmation I need to spring into action. Maybe I wanted her permission. Maybe I wanted her blessing. Or maybe, her understanding that I cannot watch another creature suffer unfairly. I strip the canvas wrap from my waist and leap over the railing of the roof.
I land only a few paces from the injured beast and roll into action by swinging my leg wide and landing a hard, low kick to his wounded knee. The joint buckles and the baldagaar falls to the ground. Before I have time to react, the blue demon is on him, driving his dagger deep into the base of the creature’s skull. His huge eyes go still and lifeless.
The second baldagaar charges me and thrusts his sword-hand toward my chest. I roll right and spring to my feet, barely avoiding it. The blue demon slashes his dagger across the baldagaar’s back, giving me the time I need to rush in and kick him hard under his chin. If it had been a normal man, it would have meant a broken neck accompanied by instant death. But the baldagaar only stumbled backwards before regaining his balance.
I have caught him off-guard, which manages to enrage him even more. He slings his flesh-hand at me, connecting with my shoulder with such force, it knocks me to the ground. The air leaves my chest and I struggle to get it back. I sit up, gasping, sucking at what feels like empty air for an eternity before my lungs fill.
I look up and see the blue demon charge him again with lightning-fast speed, but he isn’t quite fast enough. The baldagaar manages to grab him by the throat and lift him from the ground. An instant later, the sword-hand plunges through the blue demon’s abdomen. Blood gurgles from his mouth as the baldagaar pulls his sword-hand free and drops his victim to the ground.
A moment later, I see the shadow of something large pass by me…and the baldagaar’s severed head falls to the ground, followed by his lifeless body. I look up and see Braam standing there, holding a blood-soaked axe. Relief washes over me and I give him a slight smile as I scramble over to the blue demon.
He is gasping and trying to say something.
Why do I care about this creature?
I’ve always been told how horrible they are, but this one doesn’t seem horrible at all…there is a kindness in his eyes. I take his hand and hold it close, offering what little bit of comfort I can.
I feel her presence before I see her. Amari has made her way to us and kneels on the other side of him.
“I can heal him,” she says with urgency in her soft voice.
I look down at the gaping hole in the creature’s stomach and shake my head at her.
“I have to try,” she says, sounding desperate as she places her hand on the wound.
The blue demon reaches down and retrieves a small pouch from his waistband.
“Xulgun,” he whispers as he fumbles with the pouch, trying to open it.
“Yes,” Amari whispers, “You are Xulgun.”
Xulgun sounds so much more appropriate than blue demon. I think to myself.
He tries to speak again. “I found…”
He has our full attention, our eyes following his as they move back and forth between us.
His lips tremble as he finally utters his last words, “I found you.”
And then the life leaves his eyes. His hands drop limp to his side. The pouch falls free and a small, clear crystal, the size of a power cell, rolls out and rests against my leg.
“What do you think he meant by that?” Amari asks. “Found who?”
“I’m not sure,” I say, examining the gem. I pick up the pouch and discover a note inside with strange symbols:
I show it to Amari. “What do you make of this?”
Amari looks over the strange markings and shrugs.
People begin to gather around the savage scene, trying to get a look at the carnage left behind. I feel a hand tap my shoulder and hear Braam’s voice. It’s not as gruff as usual, as if he is saddened or maybe just trying to talk quietly.
“Neeka, we have to go.”
I place the crystal and note back inside the pouch and tuck it in my pocket. I take my time getting up. I don’t feel like rushing right now. There is a sadness in the air I don’t quite understand, and Amari can feel it too. I can see it in her eyes.
“Neeka,” Braam calls me again. “We have to go. People are going to recognize your proths.”
I finally realize Braam’s urgency and back away from the growing crowd.
Isaiah appears and reaffirms the need to leave. “Come. We will stay with Mortimer tonight.”
He pulls off his long overcoat and hands it to me. “Put this on and try to keep your legs hidden.”
32 - Our Tribe
I stand alone at the deck railing. The airship creaks and groans as we lift off from the dock. Apparently, Isaiah’s supply list consisted of much more than just the few items Papa requested. The deck is overflowing with boxes, bags and scraps I am unfamiliar with and I find myself feeling grateful we didn’t have to do the loading. I don’t feel sorry for the fat man either. That plugtail can load ships all day long for the rest of his life for all I care.
Spending the night at Mortimer’s last night was surprisingly comfortable. He didn’t seem like the type of person to have pleasant accommodations. I expected to sleep on a grungy, dirty floor, but instead found myself on a comfortable bed beside Amari, in our own private room. There were two small beds, but we found ourselves scrunched together on one. I wanted to be intimate with her, but my shoulder was hurting so bad, I could barely move.
Climbing into my bed, she leaned over and kissed my lips with a firmness that spoke of her love for me without a single word being uttered. She tucked her naked body next to mine, fitting herself there so perfectly, before placing her hand on my throbbing shoulder and telling me to sleep. The touch of her hand to my shoulder brought instant relief, as if it were healing salve with built-in pain relief…only better.
Although, every fiber of my being was aware of her body pressed up against the length of my own, her touch brought me much needed sleep. The serenity and security of being in her healing embrace triumphed over my excitement and desire to make love with her all night.
If the others knew about our feelings for one another, I doubt the sleeping arrangements would have been the same. We may have found ourselves ha
nging from a lamp post in the street. I’ve seen it happen before, back in Coghaven.
I hear the voice of an angel speak.
“How’s the shoulder?” Amari asks walking up to stand beside me at the rail.
I reach up and rub it with my other hand, while I roll and rotate the joint. Reaching high over my head and stretching it out in front of me, I realize it is pain free.
“It doesn’t hurt at all anymore,” I say.
“I guess I just have that magic touch,” she whispers with a mischievous grin.
I lean in closer to her as if I have a secret to tell. “You do have that magic touch.”
My stomach tingles as I feel her hand brush against it.
I move so close I can feel her breath on my face, and I start to kiss her, but Braam steps out of the cabin and onto the main deck. I tear myself from Amari’s intoxicating spell before he notices and look out over the Dread Wastes. Steelwatch is behind us now, nothing but a dot on the horizon.
“You’re not fooling me girl,” Braam says as he joins us, but keeps his distance from the rail.
A flood of panic washes over me and I feel my muscles tense. The springs and cogs in my legs tighten, prepared for action.
Does he know about us? Is he going to turn us in?
“That shoulder was killing you last night and now you are walking around like it isn’t hurting at all.”
I feel the tension leave my body. He doesn’t know.
“It’s actually not bothering me, thanks to Amari.”
“Yeah, I’m starting to wonder who’s more valuable for this tribe of ours, you or Amari. I hope I never have to make the choice of who lives or dies with you two.”
Amari and I just stare at him, unamused at his banter.
“Ah, I’m just spewing bobblegash,” he says, slapping me on the back and almost causing me to go over the rail. “You know I’d never choose between you two.” He smiles and wiggles his eyebrows, unaware his humor is not that funny.
“Well, you won’t have to choose at all if I’m lying dead in the Dread Wastes from being knocked over this railing.” My voice is sarcastic, but I offer a grin, nonetheless.
“Just land on your feet,” he says. “You’ll be fine.”
Silence follows as Amari and I lean on the rail, watching the nothingness of the wasteland before us. Braam sits on one of the crates nearby. I consider what he said about us being a tribe and realize for the first time in my life, I have friends that depend on me and I on them. It feels like my family has grown. It’s no longer just Papa and me. I think about Amari’s and Braam’s past and realize they must feel the same way. And then I consider Isaiah and realize he has always been a family man, welcoming anybody into his family that shows a little trustworthiness. He is good to Lydia and his kids and to us. That is rare these days.
My mind wanders to the Xulgun from last night and I am curious what his family is like. I don’t feel right calling them Blue Demons anymore. They are quite different from us, but I’m sure they have family too. I’m sure they have love for one another. And according to Papa, they loved humans at one time.
I turn to Braam. “So, last night…why do you think the baldagaars were trying so desperately to kill the Xulgun?
“That’s what they were created for,” Braam says as if this is common knowledge.
“What?”
“Yeah, Solomon created the baldagaars specifically for the purpose of hunting down and killing them. That’s why you rarely see Xulguns.”
“That’s horrible,” says Amari. “Why would he do such a thing?”
“Does it matter?” asks Braam. “What Solomon wants; he gets. If he wants you dead, you are dead. Solomon has been in control ever since I can remember.” He pauses for a moment before looking into my eyes. “Although, for the first time in my life, I have hope it may soon change.”
I smile at him. “Now if only we had drinks, I would most assuredly toast to that comment.”
“Well now,” Braam says with the corner of his lips almost touching his ears. “That situation could be easily remedied if I could figure out where Isaiah is hiding the good stuff.” He laughs and starts rummaging through the crate he was just sitting on.
“Wait.” Amari interrupts Braam’s searching. “What’s that?” She points off the bow of the ship.
I look in the same direction and see it rising out of the wasteland like it’s the only thing that exists there. “I believe that is Graven Pointe. We are getting close.”
“No,” Amari says. “To the left a bit. In the sky. It looks like another airship leaving Graven Pointe.”
I look closer and confirm what she sees. “Didn’t Isaiah say it would be another week or so before Graven Pointe should expect another ship?
Braam nods his head before yelling to Isaiah to come up on deck. Isaiah appears and we point out the ship to him.
“Something must be wrong,” he says. “Royal Ships never deviate from the schedule unless there is a problem.”
“You think they found out Neeka is living in Graven Pointe now?” Amari asks.
Isaiah shrugs. “Not sure, but we’ll find out soon enough. We need to be careful entering the city. Try to avoid the protectors until we know what’s going on. When we land, we’ll deflate and disassemble what we can and cover the ship and supplies with the tarp. We can come back with a couple of tow carts later for the supplies.” He turns to me. “Neeka, be sure to wear your waist wrap.”
A little later, we stroll through the main gate as if we haven’t a care in the world, trying to act as normal as possible. We avoid protectors easily as there doesn’t seem to be very many patrolling. Maybe there is nothing wrong after all. None of the other citizens seem to be alarmed…until we get to Isaiah’s house.
Several people wander about outside, conversing as if they are having a gossip competition.
Isaiah takes off running without a word. I follow but keep a pace behind him. This is his home, and he should be the first to arrive to whatever problem there is. I follow him inside to the sounds of Cornelius and Maggie wailing.
They sit on the floor next to Lydia, covered in her blood. She is lying in Chelsea’s arms. Blood flows from a wound in her chest to the floor where it pools around Chelsea’s knees.
“Lydia!” Isaiah screams as he rushes to her. “Lydia! No!” He pulls her from Chelsea and embraces her. Her head flops to his shoulder and I see her eyes. They are glazed over and lifeless. The kids frantically grab hold and hang on to Isaiah’s neck and shoulder, tears streaming down their faces. They all fall apart into a grief I haven’t seen since I experienced it with Eli, years ago. I walk over and kneel beside them, unsure of what to do other than just be here with them.
Cornelius looks over at me. “They shot her,” he manages to get the words out between sniffles. “The protectors shot her.”
I reach out my arms and he falls into them. I hold him tight while we cry together. Amari kneels and picks up Maggie, holding her tight against her chest. Tears drip down Maggie’s cheek and soak Amari’s shoulder, but she doesn’t seem to notice. We stay there for a moment, lost in the sadness of it all. Lydia was the kindest person I had ever met. This just isn’t fair. Why do the most loving people seem to experience the most tragedy?
I look at Isaiah who has fallen back into a seated position. Holding his love, he gently rocks her back and forth and hums a beautiful, yet sad tune with his eyes closed. I look up to Amari and with only eye contact and an understanding of each other I can’t explain, we move as one to remove the children from the room.
As we stand, Braam walks in. We pass by one another on the way out with the children. Before exiting, I turn back and watch as Braam drops to his knees next to Isaiah.
“I’m so sorry, brother,” he says, wrapping his arms around Isaiah and Lydia both. His embrace takes some of her dead weight off Isaiah who still holds her tight but is growing weak from grief.
Isaiah collapses into him and sobs in a way I have never witne
ssed before.
My last glimpse inside the home, as I buried Cornelius’ face in the crook of my neck will forever be seared into my soul…Lydia’s lifeless body, Isaiah’s anguished wails as he clung desperately to his love, and Braam holding them both with a strength not from muscle but born from his heart.
33 - Taken
Chelsea has preceded us outside. She is standing with Oreen who reaches for Maggie as soon as we are near. It has been determined that Oreen will take Maggie and Cornelius back to her home and keep them safely distracted while the rest of us discuss what has happened. Maggie has her arms wrapped tightly around Oreen’s thick neck. I would have never imagined Oreen as the motherly type, but both children appear completely assured by her presence.
Walking away, toward Oreen’s home, Cornelius looks back at me over his shoulder. I wave to him and he waves back with his free hand while the other holds tight to Oreen.
“I will see you soon, Cornelius,” I say to reassure him. He nods his head, his unruly curls bouncing this way and that, and a single tear slides down his cheek.
As soon as they are out of earshot, I turn to Chelsea, looking for answers. She wipes her eyes as she tries to explain the events of the morning. Her hands tremble and her eyes scan the area as if someone is going to attack her at any moment. She describes how a dozen protectors showed up by Royal Airship a couple of hours ago, looking for a girl with double leg proths.
“They were hitting people,” she said. “They threatened to kill anyone who didn’t cooperate. Someone must have told them you were staying here.”
She stops talking and places her face in her hands to control her crying. I want to comfort her, but I also want her to continue. I understand her sadness, but mine is quickly turning to anger and I need to know what happened. After a moment, she collects herself.
“When I heard the shot, I came running as fast as I could,” she mumbles through the tears. “Your Papa and I got here at the same time…”