Catching Hell Part One: Journey

by Marc Watson

Nixon knew that a man who had completely succumbed to those feelings would never even know it, and they would convince his mind that the path he chose to kill and terrorize was the correct one. Indeed, they’d likely find others who agreed with him. The question was if the desire to keep Aryu alive was a passing thing, or if it would grow and fester from this point on. For once it seemed Nixon actually had a say in it how things turned out, and if things went downhill from here he’d be by Aryu’s side, ready to steer him right or cut him down.

  Nixon liked Aryu. He acknowledged that he was young but smart and logical. Traits Nixon knew and respected. Their acquaintance had been brief thus far, but considering everything that had befallen this young man in the last few days, Nixon saw in him a strength that many people hundreds of years older lacked. Strength no doubt built throughout his life from the torment he’d suffered.

  Still, one step down the wrong path, and Nixon would end this. It was his purpose and God’s will that it be so. No one was above that fact, even one so young.

  So, with less reservation than he expected from the act, Nixon extended the blade known as Shi Kaze, the Four Winds, a ninjutsu sword created for revenge tens of thousands of years ago, back to the man who had found it resting in the remains of the mountainside that had held the false god Tokugawa Ryu in his rocky prison until he broke free to end his life and all the lives of the fools who followed him.

  As impossible as it seemed, Aryu took it with a hint of hesitation, unheard of for many bearers of the Shi Kaze. Most wouldn’t have thought twice.

  Aryu had heard many stories that night, each telling him this blade was more curse than salvation. Still, he knew he must have it. It was a powerful weapon. He may not have heard it whisper to him clearly, but the simple act of grasping the handle sent sparks of unspoken energy up into his body, like reattaching an arm he’d not known he’d been missing. It may not ever do for him what it had done for others, but it was still something more than he’d had only days before.

  Nixon tended further to Esgona, slipping him water and little else. The fire burned brightly and kept them warm. Aryu lay there for a long time, thinking of his family and friends now gone, and all, apparently, because of him. He didn’t look forward to Esgona waking up, but when he did, he had a lot to answer for. No matter what Nixon had said, it was Aryu’s right by tradition to demand these things from Esgona, and he fully intended to do it.

  In time, he did fall asleep, with Nixon watching over him quietly.

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  As dawn broke, the day was chilly and only the faintest light could be seen to the east.

  Aryu arose to see the fire dead, the spot it had burned so fiercely the night before not even dark from the heat. He grabbed a quick snack of berries and edible plants Nixon had collected before he had awoken, thankful to get anything into his stomach. His mother always said to eat when you can because you may not know when you'll get to eat again. A pearl of wisdom he wondered if he’d ever hear more of. Darkness consumed him.

  Nixon was ready to continue on his quest for his answers. “Good mornin', sir. May t’day be better for ya than yesterday.”

  Aryu smirked. It was the best possible wish he could have been given.

  Daylight brought a new vision of the man who had saved him. He could see clearly now the armor he wore, black as night and fit to his form perfectly. His great broadsword was on his back, his hair falling back around its hilt and handle like fire. He had known his eyes were dark, but not as black as what he was seeing now, the red flicker inside them reminding Aryu with absolute certainty that this was no ordinary man.

  “I must ask, Aryu, before I get t’ tha point of tha matter. What’s the story with the wings?” Nixon didn’t look all that curious, as if he already knew, but he’d rather hear it from the man himself.

  It occurred to Aryu that in all the previous night’s conversations, the topic of his wings was never mentioned. Nixon had done most of the talking, but it seemed odd that the subject wasn't mentioned even in passing.

  Not a fan of the topic at the best of times, Aryu hoped to keep the talk short and to the point. “I was born with them, a mutation I've been cursed with.” Quick, easy, and a clear statement of his disdain for these things.

  As expected, Nixon persisted. “Cursed? An odd feeling toward such a useful gift.”

  “Ha, useful? Do you have any idea how people here react to them? Fear and name-calling to start with, from children and adults. The only reason my parents came to that village was that the name-calling was the worst of it. Where I was born I was supposed to be put to death as a demon or something. That, and when I finished my quest, I was going to be recognized as a man and treated like one. Guess that won't be happening now, will it.”

  Aryu began to get fired up, reminded of his lost home and family coupled with the respect he would now never receive. Nixon didn't seem ready to let it go.

  “Really? Just a random mutation? I don't deny the shortsighted foolishness of people on average, but I'd hardly call wings a mutational anomaly. Can ya use ’em? Can ya fly?”

  “Yes.” Still trying to be short, but still failing to get Nix off the topic. “Well, glide anyway.”

  “If you hate them, why keep them? Surely you could find a way.” More antagonizing than a question.

  “No one would touch me. No one had ever seen them before, so no one knew the effect it would have on me. I'd rather live with them than die needlessly. I hate them, but not enough to risk that.” Saying that out loud gave instant rise to doubt about his proposed hatred. Both he and Nixon noticed it.

  “Well now, there is some common sense in there. Tell me then, where do ya come from tha’ you'd be burned at the stake for yer appearance?” It still felt like further pushing, to see what Aryu would say.

  “Burned at what?”

  “Sorry, I guess tha's not a common act anymore. Killed. Killed for yer 'random mutation.'“

  “I don’t really know. East. Over the ocean.”

  Nixon’s eyebrow rose. “And you've never been back?”

  “No. I’ve barely left Tan Torna Qu-ay all of my life. I did have intentions of going soon, though. I wanted to see where I was from, see the people who would cast my parents out and see me dead thanks to an act of chance.”

  “Well sir, tha’ is a chance ya may well get, as I hope our time together is brief after I find Crystal. She lives in what has been called many things, but when I left it was called Napponia.” Aryu smirked. It was still called that, the land of the Embracers. “It seems everywhere changes, even my home, given enough time.”

  Nixon seemed unaware of the door he'd opened. Aryu saw the chance and grabbed it. “And where are you from? A place that sees gods give rise to large men of power?”

  “No gods. There is none but one. That's a point I'd like t’ be very clear.” Aryu nodded in relent. “When I was given life, it was in a place then known as Scotland, but o’er time it changed and became many other things. Should word of it e'er 'ave reached this far, I believe you'd call it Lion’s Den.”

  Aryu looked amused. “Lion's Den? Wow, that is quite a journey, isn't it?”

  He knew of the place, more from myth and story than fact. It was supposed to be a great distance away, farther than any man Aryu had ever met had traveled. The name instantly conjured up images of a barren and rugged landscape, devoid of life and bristling with unseen dangers. It was a common location for the bad guy in a child’s story to come from. Although he knew they were just stories, Aryu had never heard of anything good coming from Lion's Den. “I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. A person like you could hardly have come from anywhere else.”

  He explained his history with the name and what he knew. Nixon seemed to glower at every word, but Aryu pressed on, happy to return the favor of uncomfortable conversation topics.

  “Aye, ya speak true. Tha’ is how it is now, perhaps even worse than ya say. It wasn't always like tha’. Once it was lush and green, full of rolli
n’ grass hills and the liveliest people ya'd e'er be likely t’ meet. Good, 'ard workin’ people.”

  Aryu questioned the thought of pressing more, but Nixon carried on for him. “Lost, it was, long ago t’ the hands of a powerful man, one with that damn sword I'd like t’ add, lost t’ his foolishness and greed. Tha's one thing ya learn when you see what I’ve seen. He was just one of so many. He wasn't unique at all. It just so happens tha’ his reign of terror affected my home. There are a thousand instances of such things all over the world. It is sadly a common story in the time when fools had the Power.”

  “Did you kill him?”

  “No. He met his end by another means and I slept in perfect ignorance while my home was destroyed.”

  Aryu saw then the commonality in their lives. He pressed on no more, lest he be pressing against himself as well. Both of them were helpless in the loss of their homes, and he had to agree that Nixon’s reason was far more painful to take, as he clearly could have stopped it before it happened. Aryu couldn't help but question the mercy of a god that would allow that to happen. It seemed every god thus far could be deemed fallible quite easily.

  “It was a sad fate, but it happened long ago and time 'as been said t’ heal all wounds. Even now it's not as 'orrible as it once was. Per'aps I'll see it green once again. The reappearance of tha’ sword does little t’ let me believe tha’ I'll be sleepin’ fore'er any time soon. But, things ’re different now. Maybe my bein’ here with ya is tha beginnin’ of an end. Why else would I be huntin’ a man tha’ as near as I can tell shouldna’ be hunted?”

  Aryu smiled passively. “Thank you. Still, I'd rest easier once we both go our own way and I'll never have to see you again. Not that I don't enjoy your company, but you should know you're not the most peaceful and reassuring person I've ever met.”

  “Ha, perhaps my next form would be a little less intimidatin’.”

  Aryu doubted that. Something told him the essence of power this man carried with him would not go away, despite what he looked like.

  “Do you believe it's time for you to go soon? For real?”

  “No. Not really. Sadly, I believe it t’ be no more than wishful thinkin’. My job is eternal by nature. No matter if tha God I serve is gone, His vision and word live on through me, even if I'm the only one who knows wha' they mean. Now, about those wings. Are ya fast?”

  “I think so.” He didn’t think himself a slouch, but against Nixon, he bet he’d be the slower man.

  “Well, I'm ready t’ see if ye are. Shall we be off?”

  Aryu agreed, and Nixon lifted the still-comatose Esgona to his shoulder effortlessly.

  “Nixon, before we go, I ask just one thing.” Nixon looked over, sure of the question, but not the answer he should give. “What would you say I am? I hold the sword, granted just briefly. If you’re here I could be Adragon, but as you said, I'm not someone worth hunting, so does that make me Ryuujin? Does the mission or the master make me what I am, if your god is so infallible?”

  “Ye are a young man who found an old sword. God 'as a place in 'is 'eart fer luck too, and so do I. My purpose 'ere has not been proven t’ have t’ do with you. Per'aps it's the sword, or per'aps something else entirely. If I e'er get my answer, you'll be the first t’ know.”

  Even in this place, so out of sorts and somewhat purposeless, Nixon refused to believe the God had made a mistake. Without help, Nixon would simply have a harder time finding out what his mission was this time around. Luck had never played into the finding and use of the Shi Kaze, so he continued to be buried in new situations. No matter what, he would watch Aryu closely until he was satisfied with the answer.

  He reached deep down to summon the fire, letting it burst forth, startling Aryu again. The great flaming wings took shape, his unconscious charge was secure and Aryu had his small collection of belongings and his wings extended, ready to go.

  With a mighty flap, Nixon took to the sky, dazzling Aryu with the feat. Aryu braced himself and found a spot to launch overlooking where the mountains ended and the fields of nothing led off to the ocean far beyond. Soon he’d taken to the sky, heading back west to find Johan before heading off to the east and with any luck (which by now was a word Nixon was not fond of at all) Crystal Kokuou, who was hopefully still alive and had more answers than he had now.

  Chapter 9

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  The Enemy of My Enemy

  Within moments of leaving the craggy plateau, Nixon knew that for all the acid spit from Aryu’s mouth regarding his wings, he was a bold-faced liar.

  His face was what betrayed him. Despite all that had happened and the obvious physical pain he was feeling at that moment, he was still smiling softly as he gained altitude and looked down on the world in a perfectly controlled glide. Nixon now began to see that although not as fast as Nixon would have liked, Aryu wasn’t slow either, and once they leveled out he built up his speed to a fair clip with a minimum of effort. Finally, with his deft movements and skill in maintaining balance and rhythm, Nixon concluded that Aryu loved his wings, enjoyed using them, and only hated them for the fear they incited.

  With the wind rushing past as it was, talking was out of the question. Instead, Nixon fell back and motioned to Aryu with his free hand to begin a sloping dive to increase speed. Aryu, after taking a moment to understand the gestures while also concentrating on his own flight, nodded his understanding and arched his wings back slowly, becoming more aerodynamic.

  Soon Aryu was drifting down to the ground. The same move he’d used a hundred times emerging from Tortria Den over the valley below. A move he'd perfected. Further proof of his lies. Nixon, careful not to lose Esgona, followed, his wings of fire folding back and streamlining themselves like a bullet. Soon he was following Aryu perfectly, and moments later he was gaining.

  Aryu didn't look back and couldn't see the approaching rocket behind him. He simply assumed Nixon would follow him, his youthful arrogance letting himself fly faster and harder than he'd done so in the past while his worry and purpose justified the act despite his body protesting. He was nearly bowled over by shock as Nixon blasted past him, close enough to touch, at a speed he was certain he would never be able to match. He could only watch as Nixon became a blur ahead of him, followed by the slipstream. When the slipstream hit it was like being kicked from behind by a horse. It carried over Aryu like a funnel cloud and forced him forward like he was being pulled. In a few seconds, he was starting to match Nixon’s speed, being carried behind while trapped in a bubble of circling wind.

  It was nearly impossible to control at first. He was just a ragdoll along for the ride. After the initial shock passed and he had a better grasp of what was happening, he was able to balance himself in the turbulence and ride along with it. It was no wonder he had made it so far so fast, and this was likely not even his top speed. Aryu’s spirits rose as he thought about how this kind of speed was possible and how it could get them back to Johan that much faster.

  Aryu felt himself press against a heavy wind below him as the slipstream moved with Nixon back upwards. Although not as fast as the dive, Nixon could still keep an incredible speed as he moved, making Aryu labor to keep up.

  Eventually Nixon slowed, landing to allow Aryu a moment of rest. Aryu caught him, heavily out of breath and looking very tired.

  “Ha, a good show, sir. I'd not expected one who loathes wings as ya do t’ know how t' keep up with me. Well done.”

  A trick. A god damned trick to rub the lies into Aryu’s face. Aryu didn't see them as lies. He did not say what he said about them to hide his true feelings. He did hate them and wanted them gone, and he would still trade them away in an instant if he could. But Nixon had done a very good job of showing him that he was just as likely to be lying to himself as well as others, and that realization made Aryu’s tired face that much deeper a shade of red.

  “Can ya keep up tha pace?” Aryu wasn’t sure but nodded anyway. “Very well. We continue l
ike tha’ until I say t’ stop. Esgona twitches, so we may be short on time and I’d like t’ find yer friend quickly.”

  It was like he was reading Aryu’s mind. He took a silent laugh at the thought of Esgona coming to during a dive, finding himself plummeting to earth at a shocking speed while in the arms of a fire-born demon-man. That would be truly fantastic.

  They carried on like this, with Nixon falling, climbing, and repeating with Aryu at his heels riding the wave of wind. The whole time Aryu thought of reaching the village and its bar with the pleasant, fat bartender. (What was his name? Pauly? Sully? It was so long ago in his life that Aryu couldn't remember much before the last few days.) He daydreamed of walking in and seeing his friend sitting there. Soon, he’d know for sure if that were true.

  Not yet though, as Nixon began the fall and did not pull out, allowing each of them to fall farther and farther until they were barely off the ground. Soon, from their left, leading out of the south, a dirt road came into view, and Nixon began slowing himself with clear intent to land on or near it. Aryu broke away, following him down to a grove of low grass and eye-high scrub bushes just off to the side of the road.

  “Break time already? I was just getting warmed up!” A playful lie, as Aryu was so out of breath and sick with exhaustion he couldn't even stand, and he found a spot across the grove to sit down almost immediately.

  Nixon smiled, which returned that peaceful feeling to Aryu. “Oh, of course, sir, my apologies for not bein’ as up t’ snuff as ya, but we're 'bout t’ have a nice-sized problem present itself.” Nixon looked back to Esgona, passing on his meaning to Aryu with a thoughtful, silent look down. Esgona was waking, and they had not made it to Johan. Aryu looked on like a Great Stalker following his prey. He had no wish to face Esgona like this, but if this meeting went anything like their last, he was damn sure he'd be coming out swinging. Aryu unsheathed the sword and held it before him, the power of the blade starting its surge through his exhausted body. Soon, it fueled his strength enough to stand again.