by Clayton Wood
“My client can be very persuasive.”
It wasn’t long before the carriage slowed, then stopped, just as Vi had predicted. The driver hopped down from his seat, opening Vi and Hunter’s doors. Vi hopped out, and Hunter joined her, stepping onto the King’s Road. He watched as the driver and Vi walked to the rightmost edge of the road. There was a ladder there; the driver retrieved it, lowering it over the edge, hooking the end on some grooves in the side of the King’s Road. Vi swung over, climbing down the ladder.
“Come on kid,” she prompted.
Hunter waited for her to climb down a bit, then stepped up to the edge, peering over. It was a twenty foot drop to the ground below. He was suddenly reminded of his profound respect for heights, and hesitated. He saw Vi glance up at him as she climbed down; she was rolling her eyes at him.
Hope I fall right on you, he grumbled to himself.
He crouched down, turning his back to the forest, then clung onto the side of the road, lowering one foot, then the other onto the rungs of the ladder. Then he grabbed the ladder with his hands, one at a time. Once he was actually on the ladder, it wasn’t so bad. He made his way down, reaching the bottom and standing beside Vi. Moments later, the ladder rose as the driver hauled it back up onto the road again, leaving them stranded in the forest.
Vi nudged him, then began walking perpendicular to the road at her usual brisk pace, venturing into the forest. Hunter sighed, jogging up to her side and struggling to match her pace.
“What now?” he asked.
“My client hired quite a few Seekers to find the main Ironclad base,” she answered. “Seems like after the attacks on Tykus, the kingdom isn’t satisfied with just defending themselves against the Ironclad. Now they want to destroy them.”
“What’s that got to do with us?”
“Maybe nothing, maybe everything,” Vi replied. “We’re supposed to meet up with a couple Seekers that found the base,” she explained. “They’ll provide the intel we need to complete our mission.”
“To bring back that thing’s head.”
“Right,” Vi confirmed. “And by killing the Ironclad leader, I’ll have helped the kingdom to significantly weaken the Ironclad, and the military will do the rest.”
Hunter smirked, shaking his head.
“Do you ever doubt yourself?” he asked. Vi arched one eyebrow.
“Now why would I do that?”
“Ass,” he grumbled.
“I’m serious,” Vi insisted. “Why would I doubt myself?”
“Because you’re human,” Hunter replied. “Everyone doubts themselves sometimes.”
“Not me,” she retorted. “Everything I do, I believe I can do. I know I can do it because I’ve accomplished everything I’ve put my mind to.”
“Well lucky you,” he grumbled.
“Bullshit,” she replied. “Luck has nothing to do with it. Confidence is learned, kiddo. Real confidence, that is. Success breeds success. If you never try, you’ll never get good at getting good.”
Hunter said nothing, following along beside her. He felt the urge to contradict her, but he had nothing to say…not really. After all, he’d accomplished very little in his life. Vi was stronger, faster, smarter, more observant, and better at just about everything compared to him. He didn’t know shit, and she did.
Which, as much as he hated to admit it, meant that she was probably right.
“Work hard, Hunter,” Vi stated, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Nothing worthwhile is given to you. If you don’t earn something, it ain’t worth shit.”
Hunter nodded, and Vi fell silent, walking at her customary quick pace. Hunter focused on matching her stride, his boots crunching on the twigs and fallen leaves on the forest floor. After a few minutes, Vi turned to him.
“From now on, no talking unless I say so.”
He nodded, and they continued for what seemed like hours. He fell into a sort of trance, his mind wandering aimlessly. Eventually he heard a sound in the distance…like running water. He glanced at Vi.
“What’s…” he began, but Vi lifted a finger to her lips, glaring at him. His mouth snapped shut.
Pay attention, he scolded himself. Stop being an idiot.
He followed her silently, weaving through the trees for what seemed like over a mile until he definitely heard water ahead. Vi veered toward the sound, and after a few more minutes he spotted a break in the forest. It was a large stream, he realized, maybe thirty feet wide and rather shallow. As they got closer, he saw that the water was moving to the right, in the opposite direction they’d taken the carriage. The water looked to be about waist-deep, and moving rapidly downstream.
Vi turned left as she approached the shore, walking perpendicular to it. Hunter followed close behind, concentrating on keeping up with her. His endurance was improving, he realized. Whether from daily practice, or from absorbing a little of her stamina, he wasn’t sure.
“We’re close,” she murmured. “Shut up,” she added when he was about to reply. He grimaced, shaking his head and smiling ruefully. She’d said not to talk unless she said so, not if she decided to talk to him. He did need to pay attention better.
After a quarter mile or so, Hunter noticed that the grass underfoot had changed, now jet-black. It crunched underfoot, as if he were stepping on broken glass. He glanced at Vi questioningly.
“Must be from the Ironclad,” she guessed. “The grass absorbed their will.”
They continued forward, and it wasn’t long before Hunter spotted two men in the distance, standing by the stream. As Vi led him closer, he saw that they were dressed in simple gray leather armor, warhammers strapped to their backs, swords at their hips. One was very tall, and bald, with a slight dent on the right of his skull. He was quite muscular, with a light brown goatee and strong eyebrows. He walked forward to meet them, nodding at Vi.
“Morning,” he greeted. His voice was gruff and coarse, and hardly cheerful. Vi stopped before him, crossing her arms over her chest. She looked him over, hardly appearing impressed. “Vi, I presume.” He glanced at Hunter. “Who’s this?”
“My apprentice,” she answered. She nodded at Hunter. “Go on, don’t be rude. That’s my job.”
“I’m Hunter,” he greeted, extending a hand. The man shook it, his grip like iron. He let go, and Hunter was thankful for it.
“Traven,” the man replied. He gestured at the guy next to him, a shorter, stocky man with short brown hair and a smooth-shaven face. “This is Edgar.”
“Hi,” Hunter greeted, shaking Edgar’s hand.
“Let’s get to the forest,” Traven said, turning away from the stream and walking toward the trees. “Don’t want to stay out in the open too long.” Everyone followed the man into the woods, and they walked a few hundred feet before stopping.
“So you’re the best the guild could come up with,” Vi observed, smirking at the two. “Times must be tough.” Traven glared at her.
“We’re the ones who found the main Ironclad base,” he retorted. “Plenty of ‘better’ Seekers died trying. We didn’t.”
“Lucky you,” Vi replied.
“Careful us,” Traven corrected. “This place is crawling with Ironclad,” he added.
“Don’t see any,” Vi observed.
“They live underground,” Edgar piped in. “Like the fucking bugs they are, burrowing tunnels.” He gestured behind him. “Main entrance is south of here, at the mouth of a cave on the southwest of a large hill near this stream. That’s where they come in and out of.”
“Lots of ‘em,” Traven added darkly. “We’re talking hundreds of the damn things, if not more.”
“And the new Ironclad?” Vi asked. “The one with the glowing mane?”
“The big one?” Traven inquired. “We saw it go in through the main entrance a few days ago. It hasn’t come out since.”
“We assume it’s still in there,” Edgar added.
“Saw it kill a few Seekers,” Traven stated darkly. “The ones dumb
enough to hang out too close to the entrance.”
“A Seeker can usually go toe-to-toe with an Ironclad,” Edgar added. Vi smirked.
“Oooo,” she replied, feigning amazement. Edgar grimaced.
“This one wiped the floor with several at once,” he stated. “He’s huge, and he’s smart. A lot smarter than the others.”
“So what’s our way in?” Vi inquired.
“The main entrance is a no-go,” Traven answered. “There’s a side entrance further north, but it’s heavily guarded. The only way in is through a back entrance to the southeast, near the stream.”
“Go on.”
“The water table is pretty high here,” Edgar piped in. “The back entrance is an underground stream that flows into the main stream,” he added, gesturing at the stream they’d walked away from. “We assume they use it as a water source, because we haven’t seen them drinking from the main stream.
“The back entrance is guarded,” Traven added. “By three Ironclad. They take rotating eight hour shifts.”
“How do we know the back entrance connects with the main tunnels?” Vi asked.
“We’ve seen some Ironclad with distinct scars go in,” Edgar answered. “Then come out the main entrance.”
“And you’re assuming this is the main Ironclad base?” she pressed. Edgar nodded.
“There’s a few more caves nearby,” he replied. “But not as much foot traffic in and out. Plus, that big Ironclad – the glowing one – it must be their leader. All the other Ironclad defer to it. We’ve even heard it speaking, giving orders.”
“So it does talk,” Vi stated, clearly surprised. Traven nodded.
“Sometimes,” he confirmed. “Mostly they communicate using some sort of sign language.”
“Tell me about the back entrance.”
“There’s a short waterfall there,” Traven explained. “Flows out into the stream. From what we can tell from a distance, there’s a tunnel that angles upward into the hill. We can’t tell much more than that.”
“So we’ll be going in blind,” Vi grumbled. “Wonderful.”
“We figure if we kill the three guards posted there at the beginning of their shift, we’ll have eight hours to get in, do what we need to do, and get out.”
“Should be plenty of time,” Vi agreed.
“We’ll guard the entrance,” Edgar stated. “Kill any Ironclad that might wander by and see that the sentries aren’t there.”
“You sure you’re up to that?” Vi inquired, arching an eyebrow. Edgar crossed his arms over his barrel chest.
“I’ve killed a few,” he replied. “We both have.”
“When you get what you came for,” Traven continued, “…you’ll come out the rear entrance and go back to the King’s Road. The carriage will be there, and will drop the ladder. You climb up, hop in the carriage, and that’s that.”
“Simple enough,” Vi replied. “When does the next Ironclad shift start?”
“In a half hour,” Edgar answered.
“Well then,” Vi replied, turning to Hunter. “We’d best get to work.”
Chapter 30
Sukri allowed Gammon to push her wheelchair through the streets of Lowtown toward the docks of the Outskirts in the distance, her eyes on her lap. Neither of them had said anything since they’d left the Guild of Seekers a few minutes ago. Since the Trial.
She stared down at her lap, at her hands resting there. She’d been allowed to bathe after the Trial, scrubbing Udeln’s blood from her hands. She clenched and unclenched them; though she could feel them, could move them, they felt as if they weren’t attached to her. As if they were someone else’s.
Sukri heard Gammon clear his throat behind her, and looked up from her hands, realizing they’d made it to the ramp leading up to the docks of the Outskirts. The smell of the man-made river flowing below the miniature city reached her nostrils, immediately familiar and comforting. It was the smell of home. Gammon brought them up the ramp, and Sukri couldn’t help but picture the big man standing over Yala, his dagger to her throat. The look on his face when he’d murdered her in cold blood. Gammon, her gentle giant, a man who wouldn’t hurt a fly.
She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath in, then letting it out slowly. She felt her chest rise, felt the weight of the Seeker medallion resting there. She opened her eyes to stare at it, wondering why they’d been ordered to wear it…and what it was doing to them.
What it was doing to her.
They made their way through the Outskirts, eventually arriving at their apartment. Luckily it was on the first floor; Gammon stopped her wheelchair before the front door, opening it, then wheeling her inside. She saw the familiar living room with its U-shaped couch, and half-expected to see Kris sitting on it. But of course he wasn’t. The room was empty.
“Do you want to sit on the couch?” Gammon asked, breaking the silence. Sukri hesitated, then shook her head.
“I just want to go to sleep,” she muttered.
Gammon complied, wheeling her into her bedroom, stopping the wheelchair before her small bed. He put a hand on her upper arm then.
“Let me help you,” he said. Sukri shied away from his hand, shaking her head. Gammon pulled his hand back. “What’s wrong?” he asked. Sukri glared at him.
“What’s wrong?” she retorted incredulously. “Are you really asking me that?”
Gammon just stared at her, a wounded expression on his face. But she didn’t care.
“You murdered Yala,” she accused. “I murdered Udeln. In cold blood. And you’re asking me what’s wrong?”
“Sukri…”
“And you didn’t even hesitate!” Sukri continued, jabbing a finger at him. “You just slit her fucking throat!”
“I had to,” Gammon protested.
“Did you?”
“I did,” he insisted. “If I didn’t do it, you wouldn’t have. We both would have died.”
“Oh yeah?” she retorted. “How do you know that? Yala and Udeln might have let us live, you know. Or didn’t it occur to you that they might not be goddamn murderers?” she added.
“You heard what Master Thorius said,” Gammon countered gently. Sukri glared at him, suddenly pissed that he was still so calm. That even after everything that had happened, he was still as unflappable as ever. That was the old Gammon, the Gammon she knew. “Even if they spared us, we would all have been disqualified,” he explained. “You know what happens to initiates that are disqualified.
Sukri said nothing, knowing he was right.
“I couldn’t do nothing,” Gammon continued. He lowered his gaze. “If I didn’t kill Yala, you would have died.”
“So would’ve you,” Sukri countered. Gammon glanced up at her, then shrugged.
“I could have lived with that,” he replied. “But not with you dying.” He sighed. “I did it to save you, Sukri.”
Sukri swallowed past a lump in her throat, staring back at him. She remembered him touching her before handing her his dagger, remembered the feelings he’d shown her then.
“You’re in love with me,” she stated flatly. Gammon stared at her silently for a long moment, then nodded.
“I am.”
“How long?” she asked. Gammon sighed.
“Since the moment I laid eyes on you.”
Sukri lowered her gaze to her lap, processing this. Then she looked back up at him.
“You hid it from me all this time,” she realized. “I’m like a sponge for emotions, and yet you managed to hide it.”
“I only touched you when I had it under control,” he explained.
“Gammon, we’ve known each other for years,” she protested. Gammon shrugged again, saying nothing. “Why didn’t you tell me?” she pressed.
“I knew you didn’t feel the same.”
Sukri said nothing. It was true, after all. She loved him as a friend, there was no doubt about that. But as a lover? She’d never even considered it.
“I had to protect you,” Gammon
explained.
“Is that why you became a Seeker?” she asked. Gammon frowned at her.
“What?”
“Kris said you never wanted to be a Seeker,” Sukri explained. “He was right, wasn’t he?”
Gammon hesitated, then nodded.
“He was.”
“So you joined the Seekers because of me,” she said. Gammon nodded again. Sukri shook her head slowly. “Great Gammon,” she muttered. “Just great.”
“If I hadn’t,” Gammon replied, “…that Ironclad would’ve killed you.”
“Yeah, well maybe that would’ve been for the best,” Sukri muttered.
“No,” Gammon insisted. “Sukri, you always wanted this. To become a Seeker.”
“Yeah, well that was before they made me murder people,” she retorted. She gestured at him. “And now I’ve turned you into a murderer,” she added. “How am I supposed to live with that, Gammon?”
“You didn’t make me do anything,” he countered. “I made my own decisions.”
“You did it for me.”
Gammon said nothing.
“You were the only one of us who liked working in the sewers,” Sukri stated. “You could’ve worked there the rest of your life and been happy.”
“That’s true,” he admitted.
“Why?” Sukri pressed. “That was the shittiest job in the city,” she added. “Literally.” He shrugged.
“I didn’t mind it,” he replied. “I got to spend time with you guys. I didn’t need anything more than that.”
Sukri swallowed, knowing the unspoken truth. He hadn’t needed anything more, but she had. Or at least she’d thought so at the time. What she wouldn’t do to have her old life back, to have Kris and her gentle giant with her, laughing and going out for drinks. Hanging out and enjoying each other’s company. Carefree again.
But she’d never been happy with what she’d had. She’d never appreciated it. No, she’d always dreamed of something better. Of being someone other than who she was. Of being a part of something greater.
Of being a Seeker.
And now she wanted nothing more than to just be herself again. But it was too late for that. There was no going back now. And now, because of her, Gammon had given up his happy life. He’d done something he never would’ve done if it hadn’t been for her. She hadn’t just ruined her own life, she’d ruined Gammon’s.