Catching Hell Part One: Journey

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Catching Hell Part One: Journey Page 16

by Marc Watson


  The Blood Sea. Somewhere on its shores were said to be great cities and well-traveled highways, but the trek there from here was so long and dangerous. It wasn’t a trip many made on a whim. It was also beyond the Inja borders, a place where the world had moved on without them. But first was the river valley. Once the torrent of water crashed over the great Hymleah headwall in a waterfall called the Thunder Run, it wove through the deep valley before emerging at the Blood Sea, another three weeks of steady travel at least. The valley was prone to flash floods. You could go for days on the road mere feet from the river with no way out if a sudden rise occurred upstream. Long caravans of traders and travelers had been lost to the river’s emotional outbursts. The valley even in the best of times was prone to rockslides and on more than one occasion the greatest of the most fearful beasts imaginable, the Ruskan Stalker, had frequented the valley for a quick, trapped meal of helpless travelers.

  Johan looked determined. A man with a plan. “We’ll travel to the village of Huan, the last stop before we enter the Thunder Run. After that, there’s not much other than rock and river for the next few weeks. We can assume that since it’s the most useable route out of the mountains to the northwest that it will be well-traveled right now, and unless something goes wrong, we’ll be alright for supplies. We can align with a larger group and pull our weight to go with them.”

  “You know you’ll be trapped in the valley should anything happen,” Aryu said, thinking of a million horrible scenarios but voicing none.

  “We’re trapped here. The only difference is that there, the enemies we face are ones we’ve faced before. Time and nature.”

  “And Ruskan Stalkers? I don’t recall ever facing one of those on our travels, only one Hooded Stalker scared away with a puddle of water.”

  “Moat,” replied Johan defensively.

  “Whatever, it doesn’t count anyway. Ruskans can be two or three times bigger than those, with a nasty streak to match.”

  Johan was not fazed. “No matter how big, Stalkers’ weaknesses are well known, and bringing the big ones down isn’t an unheard-of feat. At the very least we can jump in the river as a last resort.”

  “The deadly river? So dangerous no boat can travel it?”

  Johan’s lip curled in a half-grimace, half-smile. “That’s the one.”

  Quiet nothingness passed in their little room for some time, each of the three weighing more possibilities than they'd ever thought they were capable of. Unsurprisingly, Johan spoke first, a natural leader. “There are a couple of things that need to be addressed before you go, Aryu.”

  Aryu had a feeling this was coming. There were a lot of unanswered questions Johan likely had about many different things. Aryu said nothing as he waited for the first salvo.

  “First off, do you know what those men who attacked us had in their hands when you… intervened?”

  Aryu shuddered at the memory of the two disintegrated bodies. The stare of the one with the remaining head returned to his mind’s eye, wide and accusing. “A gun. They had a gun.”

  “They did not have a gun, Aryu. Guns don't explode like that. It was an Ark 1.”

  A hint of recognition sparked in his mind. “Isn't an Ark 1 a weapon of the Old?”

  Johan nodded, causing Aryu to run cold. “It is. A very prolific one from the last age of mechanical weapons. Gone for an endless number of years. But I promise you, it was what I say it was.”

  “So what does that mean? Could one of those still be around after all this time?”

  Johan shook his head. “They used what was called a battery. A thing that holds power for use later. Batteries can't last this long, even the good ones from the old days. Besides, would anyone around here even touch anything from that era?”

  It was a good point. They had been slightly leery of the little lights at the bar in this town when they'd come through the first time. An old mechanical weapon likely would have caused a riot in the streets before this Army of the Old had arrived.

  “And that power is why it exploded?”

  “That and a really bad sense of timing on your part. You couldn't have hit it at a worse time than when he was about to fire.”

  “You're welcome.”

  Johan held his hands up and shrugged. “Hey, not that I'm not thankful, but that was the moment the power had built up the highest. This brings me to point number two: your sword.”

  Aryu glanced at the sheathed blade sitting beneath the window. He'd not even remembered putting it there but assumed it had been set down as he looked out the window at the goings-on below. Odd how it had wanted to be held so badly at times and could fade entirely from your memory at others.

  “What about it?”

  “You said this Nixon guy said it was old and powerful, something more than it seemed?”

  That and it made Nixon need to kill him, but that was unnecessary information at this point. “He did. Called it the Shi Kaze and claimed it held great power. It's certainly sharp, but as for the power…” Aryu knew it was there, could feel it swell up in the blade even from where he was standing, but again said nothing. His secret. His burden.

  “Kind of like my knife?”

  “I think so,” answered Aryu, unsure. He didn’t have the attachment to the knife that Johan did, so it was difficult to say.

  “And Nixon is some kind of holy warrior?”

  “Yes, something like that.”

  Johan thought for a moment, then looked at Aryu to be sure his words were heard. “We’re going against something we’ve never seen before, but if it cut as easily as you say it did, just like my knife, then you had better learn how to use it. Get this Nixon guy to teach you if you have to.”

  Aryu was glad to see that he and Johan had the same train of thought. “Anything else on your mind?”

  “One last little thing. What are we supposed to do with him?” Johan motioned to Esgona, his head in his arms. He could have been sleeping or dead. It was hard to tell.

  “Esgona?”

  No response.

  “Esgona, are you awake?”

  “What do you want?” His voice was quiet, like a cold wind. It threw off Aryu for a moment. He wasn't expecting an answer, let alone one so obviously pained and malicious. That same part of Aryu that had felt shame at Johan’s obvious treatment of Esgona now triggered a distant feeling of fear. Something about this boy wasn't right. This was the response of a man, not a boy, who was one shove from being pushed too far.

  “Watch your mouth, you fucking coward,” Johan chastised from across the room, legs still swinging playfully over the desk. He loved every moment of this.

  Esgona didn't look at him. He just looked up at Aryu and waited for whatever it was Aryu wanted to be said.

  “Look, I did what I said I'd do for you. I promised Nixon that I'd take you, find Johan, and return. I've done that. My part of the deal is fulfilled as far as you go. You can stay with him or be on your way. I don't really care either way, and believe me, neither does he.”

  “Damn right.” Johan glowered playfully at them both.

  “You can go wherever you want now, and if you left I wouldn't blame you in the slightest. You can take your shame to someone else for all we care, but remember this; we, the three of us, are still alive, still breathing, still here to honor our loved ones. I'll be right back into the fight when I return. No one else you meet will have the same drive and determination to see that army beaten and destroyed as we do.

  “You are a coward, Esgona. That much is public record. You can live with your childish cowardice or you can stand and hope to die like a man. Johan will help you to that end, and when I return, so will I. A coward from Tan Torna Qu-ay is still a person from Tan Torna Qu-ay. Am I right, Johan?”

  “He can tag along all he wants. I'll be civil.”

  Esgona doubted this. “All I want is to get as far from here as I can, and I can't go anywhere but where he’s going for the time being. But listen: as long as I am with either of you, I w
ill make sure no machine walks away. And I will not forget the thing I saw leading them, Aryu. The thing just like you.”

  It was so forceful and to the point that Aryu had no response. Johan didn't seem to suffer from the same affliction. He sprang from his desk perch and across the room to where Esgona had been sitting. Esgona knew what was coming and rolled away with an astonishing amount of dexterity for someone so depressed and with a crippling leg injury. Esgona made his way to the other side of the room by the door, looked at them both in turn, and exited into the hall.

  “That little fucker! He has the balls to talk like that to us after the shit he pulled down south? I should just forget about him and leave without him.” For a dishonored, lying bully of a boy to be so direct to someone accepted to be his superior, it seemed to prove beyond all reason that this was not the same world it had been only a few days ago. The rules they’d grown with no longer applied.

  Aryu agreed to leave at sunup, still some hours away. Rest was needed and far more than a few hours could afford, but one last night with his friend was enough for now.

  Johan passed out instantly, but Aryu dwelled on everything for a while. The echo of Nixon’s words about the things Esgona had seen and the experiences changing him so much bounced in his head.

  Aryu wished he didn’t have so much to think about.

  When the time the time for sleep came, it was simply because his mind was exhausted from running through everything. So many problems kept popping up that his brain waved the white flag and simply shut down as a precautionary measure, lest the body it controlled and the spirit within suffer from a complete breakdown.

  -----------------------

  Dawn brought about more issues. The first of which was the lack of Esgona. “He'll be back or he won't. I'm not going looking for him while I can help it.” Johan had needed to be awoken by Aryu, whose internal clock had done a perfect job of rousing him as the sun came up in the east.

  The second more immediate issue was how Aryu could get out of the town without being seen. He had no idea if the place was full of people searching for him or if they had forgotten all about him, but it seemed the first was the slightly more likely of the two, and he attempted to hatch a plan to escape. Thankfully, the thing that made him a target also made for some decent getaway strategies. After an exploratory look around the floor they found a doorway to the staircase leading to the roof. If he left now before most people were up, the fuss would be at a minimum.

  The last and most draining of the issues was the mental state of the two. Johan, physically, was a beaten piece of meat. The booze and encounter from the previous night were taking their toll on him heavily as the day grew older. He'd already been off to retrieve food and water, the latter of which he drank almost by himself before doling out some to his sober friend.

  Aryu had gotten his few hours of rest, thinking about his questionable mission east. As he understood it, he had to accompany Nixon to find someone named Crystal Kokuou, an immortal Embracer that had been the bearer of the sword he now possessed. She was obviously a good person, or at least was for a long time. She was never hunted by Nixon during her time in possession of Shi Kaze, so it stood to reason. The time since then had seen her change greatly, Nixon had told him. She was more cautious about people and the world she was stuck living in. Apparently the false god, her ex-lover of untold millennia, had done a number on her ability to trust anyone fully.

  Short on detail (as always), Nixon had told Aryu of the many meetings the two had over the years. He couldn't even say for certain that she was a completely changed person. He’d not seen her since he had awakened to clean up the mess left by the false god, but her dead ex-lover had clearly shaken her to the bone. Nixon was the first to admit that she may have long ago turned to dust. With so much time having passed, he couldn't be sure anymore.

  All thoughts, stories, and fears he did not burden Johan with. Johan had his hands full as it was. Johan was tasked with leading a crippled, bitter enemy of his youth through the mountains to the Thunder Run, a perilous journey in the best of conditions, then up the valley along the Paieleh River to the Blood Sea, a place so far and distant from these men and where they'd come from it may as well be the moon for all the hope he had of getting there safely.

  They never talked about these thoughts. They were brothers. There was no need. They ate and drank in silence, until the moment Aryu announced it was time for him to go.

  Esgona still had not returned to their room yet, but Aryu had seen him hobbling to the water pump behind the building as he prepared to leave. Since he was still around, it was a safe bet he'd return to Johan and accompany him on the trip.

  The two made it to the door to the stairs and went to the roof. The door was bolted shut, but a quick poke and flick of Johan’s knife and the locks flew off with ease.

  Aryu marveled. Johan smiled. “I haven't found the thing it can't cut through yet. Not a bad little tool to have.” They both thought of the ease with which it had severed a limb.

  Then, the weight of the moment hit in earnest. “Don't take long, Aryu. I can’t stand to be around that hobbling weakling alone.” Johan was clearly choking back his emotions, Aryu trying to do the same.

  “You are my brother, Johan. Nothing can keep me from finding you when I'm done. Just keep to the plan: north, Huan, Thunder Run, Paieleh River, Blood Sea, closest town or city. Stick to that and I'll find you.”

  Johan and Aryu gave each other a long, sad look, both saying with their eyes that this could be the last time they saw each other, but neither willing to say it. “We are the last of Tan Torna Qu-ay, Johan. Let's be sure we do them all proud, despite how each of us had been treated by them. They were still our loved ones, and they deserved better.”

  The statement steeled Johan, emotions forced back in an instant. “You're right.” He nodded. “We do what we do for them, and one day we'll get our vengeance.”

  A handshake and hug later, Aryu turned to go. “Tell Esgona, too. Honor or no, we're in this together now.”

  Johan clearly didn't agree. “I'd rather it was just us, to be honest, but it is what it is.”

  “I know how you feel, but trust me when I say he's been through a lot.”

  His wings extended, careful not to be seen from street level three stories below. A quick test flap showed they were as ready as ever for the journey ahead. He turned and waved to his friend. “Be careful, Johan. This is a dangerous and scary new world.”

  The telltale Johan grin appeared one last time. “Yes it is, and I am a dangerous and scary man.”

  “Yes, sir, you are. Goodbye, Johan Otan'co.”

  “Goodbye, Aryu O'Lung'Singh. I'll see you when fate brings us together again. For Tan Torna Qu-ay!”

  “For Tan Torna Qu-ay.” A nod and a running dive off the roof later, Aryu was off, never looking back.

  Johan stayed on the roof until Aryu was completely out of sight. No one below seemed to make a fuss. Their world was far too consuming to notice Aryu’s departure.

  He took a deep breath and tasted the air. The morning was sunny and crisp, but Johan was an excellent cloud reader. It seemed the afternoon would bring rain, unless it blew south. “Here's hoping,” he said to himself. “Let those fuckers and their metal bodies deal with it.” He knew it wouldn't stop them in any way, but the bravado encouraged him.

  Esgona was waiting back at the room, silent and sullen as he looked out the window. Smart-ass remarks came close to spewing forth from Johan regarding the night before, then he thought better of it. Aryu was right about Esgona, a fact he was loath to admit. He bit his tongue for now and silently returned to a world with no Aryu, one Esgona, and a nightmare of a hangover.

  -----------------------

  Nixon had only a microscopic amount of doubt in Aryu’s ability to return. It still seemed foolhardy to let him go, but Nixon was far past keeping things to the status quo. This was a brand-new world, and he was just coasting along in the chaos at this point.
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br />   Aryu did return at the agreed-upon time in the place Nixon had chosen, an abandoned house on the side of the highway into town.

  “Miss me?” His sense of humor had not diminished, it seemed.

  Nixon did not respond to the question, wanting to be on his way. He got up from the stoop by the front door and prepared to leave, hopefully towards the answers he needed. “Everything go well?” he asked at last.

  The immediate expression on Aryu’s face was one of great sadness and confusion, which was more of an answer than any words would have been. Instead of leaving immediately, Aryu began telling Nix the story of finding Johan, the attackers, and their frightening and terrible weapon, and finished with the results of his intervention. Aryu left nothing out, right down to the way he felt with the action, despite its heroism, ending with the horrible glare of the burned, skinless face.

  Nixon listened with great interest. When he finished, Nixon brought him back to the deaths of the assailants.

  “Ye’re not proud or acceptin' of tha things ya done?”

  Aryu looked at him disgusted. “Of course not! Why would I be either of those things? Bad or not, they deserved punishment for what they were doing, but not death. It was never my intention to kill them. I had no idea the weapon they carried was so dangerous or would react as it did. I’m glad the machine was destroyed, but it was an accident, pure and simple.”

  Nixon knew with certainty nothing in life was either pure or simple, and was never, ever a combination of the two.

  “Well then, let me ask ya this: would ya take the action back, knowin' yer options are either takin’ the action ya did or leavin' yer friend to his likely-poor fate?”

  Aryu needn't have answered; the redness growing in his face was clear enough. “Well then, I guess ya did tha only thing ya could. Despite yer feelings or disgust at tha actions, inaction would ‘ave caused the death of yer friend. Yours was tha correct choice and one I would ’ave made myself. I'd not judge ya too harshly on this matter, and neither should you. The road ahead is long and dangerous. Best t’ learn like this and ’ave the advantage of knowin' yer friend is alive because of ya, and someone tha’ would ’ave killed 'em for nothin' more than personal gain was lost. In the world I live in, Aryu, tha's called a fair trade.”

 

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