The view west was not one which foretold good tidings. The land was tinder dry and a lightning strike at the northern edge of the heaving storm mass must have lent it a spark. A wall of flame stretched out for miles sweeping quickly through the brittle brown trees and spinifex which covered the area. It glowed red, yellow and orange spewing ominous black plumes into the air. It spread at a terrifying rate, resembling a fire serpent wriggling its way along the desert floor.
The glowing sight worried him. There was a large expanse of sand between him and the fire front, but the flames would bring people to fight them. Already, helicopters and planes were in the air overhead. It was time for him to crawl into his stone turtle shell and hide. Gudrik just had to quickly retrieve the last few items from his old camp, his bow and quiver.
“The Land Below,” he continued to mumble madly to himself over and over again as he scampered through the rocks. It circled his mind showing flashes of silhouetted inspiration which faded away the instant he reached for them, only to reappear on the otherside of his thoughts. It was the click of a gun that eventually snatched Gudrik from his deep thought. It seemed he had not been the first to arrive at the campsite.
Caught off guard he quickly glanced about. All the signs were there plain as day. “Grrr....had I not been distracted.......grrr.” There was no time for those thoughts.
“Careful, hands away from that knife,” grunted Boar, eyeing his wrist. Gudrik glared at him with disdain. The mountain of a man was not as big as the Hammer had been, but he was still a giant beside the average man. He emerged from a dark hollow, closely shadowed by Whippet. Both were holding rifles, Boar’s aimed at him, Whippet’s lowered in reserve. Gudrik quickly lunged forward, just a single step. He made it swift and aggressive, intended to startle the pair, to measure their reactions. Boar stood strong and focused, his eyes steady under the shadow of his hat. Whippet on the other hand, startled and fumbled the rifle shakily to his shoulder. Gudrik saw his way free of this fight. Fish’s plan tied his hands. He could hardly set about portraying himself as a saviour after slaughtering two men in the desert.
“Are you brave or stupid?” Gudrik growled staring right into Whippet’s eyes.
“I’m one, he’s the other,” replied Boar.
“Didn’t you hear your news herald, I’m a monster. Fish saved your life only a few days ago and you decide to throw it away by confronting me alone in the desert.”
“What makes you think we’re alone?” Boar bellowed a cooee into the air. It echoed through the valley and was instantly met with a chorus of replies from the walls above. Gudrik’s granite expression never changed, but he felt a measure of respect for the man.
“No matter, I will tear through them all as if they were paper. Starting with YOU!” he roared lunging at Whippet.
Whippet clenched his eyes closed and squeezed the trigger in terror. The sound of gun fire bounced through the valley. Gudrik felt the searing, hot kiss in his lower abdomen. He put his hand to the wound and smiled. “Svanjanus vindiktus.”
Gudrik collapsed through the earth.
The Road
“It is the road which truly decides your destination”
The sun hung low in the clear sky. The blue had begun to fade as the oranges, pinks and yellows of sunset crept in. It had been a long day on the back roads by that stage. “We are going to need to stop soon Kahn, look at the fuel gauge,” said Malaki. Dry blood crusted the corner of his mouth.
“I know. I was just putting it off as long as I could. It seems our faces are more widely known than we thought, anytime we stop we are putting her in danger.” Kahn glanced into the backseat at George curled up, napping. “We had better get some food too.”
“There’s a truck stop up here, maybe ten minutes away, fifteen max. I use it all the time. It’s small and the food tastes like rotten goat, but it rarely has more than two or three other travellers there, if any.”
Kahn nodded, “It makes sense to stop before we get any closer to the city,” he agreed.
For a few moments, silence passed with the trees which lined the road. “I didn’t want to bring up the Betrayal. Last night I mean, I know you don’t like to talk about it,” grunted Malaki, as close to an apology as he ever came. His eyes darted uncomfortably, avoiding contact with Kahn’s. “He needed to know but.”
“I understand Malaki. It had to come out one day, I avoided it for too long,” replied Kahn. “You do need to remember though, that we have no proof that Ami did anything wrong. You know how things change in the heat of battle. Yes she made a mistake, she left Sakura’s side, but we don’t know that she was working with Trayue.”
“For fuck’s sake Kahn, your guilt clouds you to the obvious,” Malaki stopped himself. It was a physical effort, the discomfort showed on his face. “But you know my thoughts on the matter and I will not question your decisions anymore. My mouth gets the better of me sometimes, one of many flaws.”
“It’s the flaw which makes me trust your advice more than any other,” replied Kahn.
“I suppose a man with this much cock has to have something wrong with him…..you know, just to level the playing field,” Malaki said with a wicked smile.
They shared a laugh and that was it, as touching a moment as one would ever see between these two men of harder times. “I didn’t think he would choose to go with her.”
“It’s my doing as much as his,” replied Kahn. “Once, in the early stages of my life I probably would have been furious and disowned him, but while the years may have hardened me in many ways, they have softened me in others. I have seen how short life can be, even with endless years, and I will not waste a second hating my only son. Fate will bring us back together I am sure and he will be all the better for it, having been his own man.”
“I hope you’re right,” grumbled Malaki, his face back to its usual scowl.
The gums shot past. They lined the road on each side, thick, right up to the tarmac’s edge as if subtly trying to reclaim the land which had been taken from them long ago. But soon they broke and a clearing appeared. Kahn pulled the car over beside one of the fuel bowsers. He and Malaki scanned the area. They seemed to be in luck. There was two staff in the shop, a man and a young woman. No other vehicles could be seen other than a small bubble car in the park labeled “Staff Only” and a large tow truck up the side of the building. Kahn cut the engine.
George stirred as her body noticed that the car had stopped. “Where are we?” she mumbled groggily, yawning wide.
“Truck stop. They have fuel, food and facilities. We will take care of the fuel and food, use the facilities if you wish, but keep your head down and be quick,” instructed Kahn.
George wandered down the side of the building, yawning as she followed the restroom sign. Kahn fuelled the car while Malaki glowered, constantly scanning for any sign that things weren’t right. “They’re staring at us,” he mumbled to Kahn.
“Probably worried we will disappear without paying,” Khan replied.
“Yeah maybe.” Malaki was doubtful.
The bowser gave an excited click to announce it was done. The men jumped and looked sheepishly at each other. “I’ll wait until George is here before I go pay. Be ready, just in case,” suggested Malaki. Kahn nodded.
The two men waited....and waited....and waited. Just when they thought something may have happened to her, George emerged from the restroom, picking at the gash on her palm. “Alright, I’m going,” he said checking the location of the two staff again. George climbed into the car as it started. They watched through the windows as Malaki moved around snatching off shelves and out of fridges, before walking up to the counter.
“These and the fuel,” he grunted at the attendant. Alex, as his name tag identified him, grabbed the items and rung them up. Malaki looked at his eyes, shifting and uncomfortable. Sweat trickled down his forehead, despite the crisp air conditioning. His hands shook as he opened the plastic bag. Something felt wrong. “Am I being paranoid?” Mala
ki’s eyes began to shift as well. “Where has the young woman disappeared to?”
The faint sound of car doors chattered from the back of the building. Not one, not two, but a whole chorus of them. Distress washed across his grizzled face and he ran to the doors, deserting his purchases. With one mighty kick he knocked them open, clattering them against the walls and roared, “TRAP!”
As he yelled the back door of the shop exploded open and greys burst into the room. “Hurry!” Kahn yelled back. More swarmed around the sides of the building towards the car. Malaki gave one last look at his friend and roared his blue words. The armour on his bare arms glowed as he charged the group. The grey’s firearms lit, barking a furious symphony. Malaki raged into the group, stepping, twisting and deftly avoiding many shots, but he wrenched and shuddered as the force of more struck his body. With every wound he roared all the louder and fought harder crushing the bones of each man as his gnarled fists struck them. He slammed several through shelves, fridges and glass. By the time his rage subsided he simply collapsed lifeless and bloody onto his stomach in front of the remaining group. He lay still. He lay dead.
George gasped and shielded her eyes. The look on Kahn’s face was that of a man who had lost family, lost a brother. His natural instincts were to go after him, slaughter his killers and reclaim the body or die in the process, but he looked into the rear vision mirror and saw George. The greys inside had turned their attentions to the car and the ones from the side of the building had started to pepper them with shots. George curled up on the seat. “Fair well brother,” Kahn whispered as they tore out at a furious pace.
The car revved and screamed as he streaked along the roads. It weaved and swerved around slower traffic. George peered anxiously out of the rear window watching, waiting for carloads of greys to appear. Thankfully and at the same time troublingly, there was no sign of them. Half an hour later, they decided it was safe and slowed to legal speed. “Why didn’t they follow?” asked George.
“Not sure, but count ourselves lucky,” said Kahn, though he was clearly not convinced.
Kahn fumbled about in the centre console and passed his phone back to George. “Please call the others and inform them,” he mumbled breathlessly.
“Kahn, I’m so sorry. Maybe we should pull over, have a moment. They clearly aren’t following.” Her voice still trembled as the sight of Malaki’s body flopping lifelessly to the ground played over and over in her head.
He cut her off, “No. We keep moving; otherwise his sacrifice would have been for nothing.” George opened her mouth to speak again, but stopped herself, took the hint and didn’t push the topic anymore.
She began flicking through Kahn’s phone when a sudden thought struck. “How did they know we would stop there?” she asked. The question was obvious with a clear mind, but in the fog of panic it had avoided notice.
“I guess it is time for me to accept we do have a traitor,” said Kahn.
“Malaki said he stopped there a lot, maybe they knew that too?”
“It’s possible, but how did they know we were even on the road? Even if the visitors at the beach house were an elaborate plan to get us to split up, how did they know we would go south?” He fidgeted in his seat. “As much as I hate to admit it, a traitor seems more likely.” Kahn’s expression screamed disdain at his own words.
“Who?” mumbled George, as the faces who had become family rolled about in her head.
“Ami would obviously be the front runner. She came to us from him in an act which could well have been choreographed with this very day in mind.”
“Yeah, but hundreds of years ago. That’s a long time to play an angle for,” commented George.
“True, but years are no more than hours when a battle is eternal,” replied Kahn. “Teefa, Neasa and Brood weren’t around when we were betrayed, but I am not sure if that proves them innocent or gives them opportunity.”
“I don’t mean this insensitively,” said George, leaning in between the front seats, “But I think the only person we can rule out is Malaki.” They both paused a moment in silent reflection of what he had done for them. “Well and your son I guess,” she continued.
“Malaki didn’t have to die for me to know he was loyal, he was my brother.” Kahn paused and took a deep breath. “I’m afraid that I may not be able to rule Dorian out though.”
George was gob smacked by his comment, “Are you serious?”
“I don’t like to suggest it, but he has been awaiting his chance to lead for some time now. He has grown more and more discontented as the years flew by, and I fear I have made him wait too long. To say I believe he is responsible would be a lie, but I would be ignorant to deny the potential, the way I ignored Malaki’s suspicions of Ami for so long.”
George went back to flicking through Kahn’s mobile. She began to ring the first of the Inscribed when, “Wait!” said Kahn urgently, looking back at her in the rear vision mirror, his eyes wide. She cancelled the call. “Tell them of Malaki’s passing and then say this word.” He paused to ensure she was listening. “Fortoorhum.” The bass of it resonated in his chest and rolled out of his mouth. “Repeat it after me. Fortoorhum.”
“Fortoorhum,” whispered George back, feeling foolish.
“No, bring it from deep in your chest, roll the sounds. For-too-rhum.”
She concentrated. “For-too-rhum.”
“Good, say it exactly like that,” praised Kahn.
“What does it mean?” inquired George.
“It is hard to explain, but they will understand. Just know that it will bring these days of suspicion to an abrupt end in one way or another. If it works, it will explain itself much better than my words could ever hope to.”
George nodded, accepting his loose explanation and followed the instructions. All but Ami and Dorian answered their phones. Kahn suggested that she ask Brood to pass a message on, Dorian was more likely to answer a call from him. Every time she relayed the message George cried. Malaki had not been a warm person; in fact it was a rare privilege to receive a smile or pleasant word from the grumpy, old bastard. But much of it had been a facade, an act. He enjoyed playing the prick and was damn good at it, but Malaki would have given anything for his friends and in the end, it seems he did. In each conversation there was sorrow at Malaki’s loss and lots of tribute for his glorious death, but in every case the mention of Kahn’s word sliced the conversation to silent shreds. It was obviously a very serious matter. None asked questions and none said anything other than, “I will come at once.”
Decisions
“Choices are neither right nor wrong until a decision is made.”
The Warlock tumbled violently through the void, his limbs flailing, the heat bristling at his skin and singeing his hair. All the while Gudrik prayed and hoped that his exit glyphs were still whole. Thankfully, it was no more than a few seconds before he felt the welcome snap and found himself lying on familiar floorboards, the Inscribed safe house, home. Steam rose off him. Gudrik picked himself up and looked around. He had expected the beach house to be deserted and unkempt, but it was completely the opposite. The windows and doors were open, light and wind flowed freely into the living space. It was clean and tidy and there was even signs of inhabitants scattered across the table.
Gudrik wandered through the house and down the back steps. In the shed he found a long trestle table, set up for some kind of celebration, a celebration which had apparently never happened. Clean plates and cutlery still sat unused around the table. There was a new fire pit full of blackened coals with a wooden spit above, stained by heat and grease. It was cool to the touch, but the fire under the boiler still crackled. A fire that small could burn for no more than a few hours without being tended. People were certainly still nearby. The sound of footsteps crunched from behind the shed. Gudrik stomped down the side of the drunken structure towards the chicken coops beyond, towards the sound. His footsteps were deliberately heavy, so as not to startle which ever familiar was back th
ere. “Or maybe it’s George?” The thought excited him more than he had expected. She would certainly still hate him, but to lay eyes on her again.....that would be a treat still. His pace quickened, but as he rounded the corner he saw only a gun barrel in his face.
“Who are you?” asked a strange face. Behind it stood a group of four more armed strangers and a large pigging dog, a heavy chain ran from its thick leather collar to one of the strangers. They were standing by a bush trail which wove through the scrub and over the hill. Gun barrels had become an all too familiar sight.
“That’s him! That’s the one with the golden blood,” said a weasley little voice from behind the stranger. “See, told ya I had seen him in the car with that queer bunch that camps out here.”
“Look,” Gudrik grunted. He had already been far too charitable with treasure hunting mortals, but his decision from the valley stood, he couldn’t play himself off as a saviour after a slaughter. No matter how stupid or annoying the victims may be. “I will gladly give you a bottle of blood if you leave. You can make your fortune and keep your lives,” said Gudrik.
“No deal sorry,” said the leader, “For the big reward we need you whole.”
“Greed will be the death of you,” warned Gudrik, not realising quite how correct he was.
The weasley man giggled a nasally snuffle at the prospective riches he saw. It was a sound which crept up Gudrik’s spine and disgusted him deep inside. Mercifully, it was a sound which was suddenly and very violently replaced by screams as the dog at his heel leapt up, gnashing viciously at his throat. He fell to the ground under the beast and wailed, wildly fighting the unprovoked attack; albeit unsuccessfully. The other men spun in shock. Two white, hot daggers spun through the air and an arrow whistled closely behind dropping all but the leader. He looked about and glanced shakily at Gudrik, his eyes now child like with fear.
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