by Marc Watson
“Well,” said Crystal, “seeing as I’m looking at the handsome holder of the Shi Kaze right there, alive and breathing, I’d say being in new and crazy situations Is your new favorite pastime, Nix. Good thing too, or else where would we be now?”
Aryu blushed at the statement as she flashed him an impish, rosy-eyed wink coupled with a slight sticking out of her perfectly pink tongue. Her manipulation of a person was nothing short of perfection.
“Alright, take a seat, folks. We’ve got a bit o' a wait and many things t’ discuss in the meantime.”
“And the likely surveillance on us right now?” asked Sho.
Nixon shrugged. “Does anyone know any good songs?”
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The messenger slinked off into whatever hole he came from, terrified by the brief glimpse of the Est Vacuus sword, with urine dripping on the floor from pissing himself in fear of the emptiness. The bearers of bad news often tasted its full wrath, so this one got off easy.
Singing? Of course they were. Singing their little hearts out while they concocted a plan. Simple but effective.
They wanted to get caught. They actually thought they could devise a way to stand a chance.
The leader of the mechanical army resumed his surveillance of a series of translucent monitors, each showing live aerial images from different fronts of the pressing army, each the same boring mishmash of marching troops, hovering tanks, and wheel mounted weaponry. Boring, boring, boring.
Ever since he had activated this fantastic army ten years ago and learned of the rumored boy with wings, he had come up against a disheartening lack of obstacles, save for the likely inevitable arrival of the phoenix. Still, even he had his weaknesses, proven by his first encounter with the drone and the High-Yield it had brought with it.
He did wish he could come up against something to challenge him and his (mostly) lifeless minions. If he didn’t, this was going to be a very dull domination of the world and all who inhabit it, which of course was where this opening foray was destined to lead.
His discovery of the science that led to the creation of the neural impulse inhibitor was just the icing on the cake. All of those with the Power whom death was too quick an option for were instantly at his mercy, as weak and mortal as any other. In one quick, fortunate blow, he had at his command all the strength to defeat the most powerful beings alive with nothing more than a pinprick. It was simply too easy. Almost depressingly so.
Almost.
He left the screens, weary of his domination. Who knew you could find so much malaise in so much triumph. He walked out to the staging floor of HOME, a large launching pad used to lift the army away in large mechanical troop transporters. Beyond the pad was the vast ocean. Beyond that, the southern beaches where their first foray onto land had begun. Spread out to the visible distance to the east and west were the landing crafts and high-powered battle ships that had announced their arrival to the weak and frightened people of these lands.
What a lot they were. Some of them, like the messenger he had just gleefully intimidated, surrendered and offered their unwavering loyalty in exchange for safety and ultimately, their lives. Although he had no real need for living minions beyond a few loyal people, the occasional strong arm from their own race was useful, and he would much rather have living people on board HOME to serve as his messengers, workers, and minions as opposed to anything robotic. For one, robots loved to break down, and two, he had much more respect for robots versus the weak human form. Most of them were either too scared or too foolish to even operate even a simple handgun, and the ones that did learn took to using them far too readily. Still, they could always get places other more lifeless inventions could not to do his bidding. That was enough to keep a handful around. For now.
He lamented at how quickly and easily this whole operation had come about. If only he had known it was just this simple: a flick of a few proverbial switches, and he was king of the world. All that time, all those useless millennia wasted on mastering the Power only to lose repeatedly when once it had been enough to make him so dominant.
Even his once-loved brother was nothing but a fragile shell of the man he once was. Oh, he knew bringing him and Crystal here was a mistake, but at last he had nothing to fear from him. The malicious weapons of the Old had rendered them powerless.
He recalled what pride always came before and dismissed the ill-conceived notion. He’d have them at his feet just long enough to revel in the fear in his brother’s eyes and then kill him with the great and powerful blade at his side and the unthinkable void it contained.
“How do you like me now, Dad,” he said to the answerless air. His father, another fool, but his father he still was. A God among Gods. Brought down not just by his son, but also by his pride and faith in his abilities. A mistake this son was not going to repeat. Despite it all, Izuku loved his father, even in the dark times. A feeling he was unwillingly forced to share with Sho. Likely the only thing left that they had in common.
Tokugawa Izuku was now the only person left from the days before mankind had made it their mission to destroy themselves. The only one left who knew peace maintained only by the will of the people and not the brawn of their army.
It was meant to be this way. He was certain. Why else had he, out of all that had walked out of that era of early human existence, been the one to survive? Was it luck that the eldest son of the God of Dragons was the one who stood here, all the power of the world at his command?
Izuku did not, had not, and would not ever, believe in luck.
Chapter 16
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Welcome to Huan
It had been just over a week since two of the last sons of Tan Torna Qu-ay had left the company of their compatriot and began their dangerous mission north and beyond, to the Blood sea. That week had been, for the sake of abbreviation, very poor.
Not precisely for Johan and the reluctant Esgona, but certainly for their travel associates. In the time since they had left the mountain town, five travelers on this journey north had been lost to illness, accident, and repeated attacks by marauders preying on the disorganized and scared masses that had come their way, including a frail old man who’d gone missing in the night. The bottom of the barrel was always quick to float to the top in times when the water was disturbed.
As they traveled to Huan, Johan had been disheartened to learn that many of the people that had joined them were planning on going deeper northeast, into the Komoky Valley and beyond. From there, only handfuls were going their way, and even they weren’t completely certain on their decision to do so. It could very well end up being just them when the time came to go. Not a hopeful proposition.
There was no avoiding it. That was the way agreed upon with Aryu. With luck Aryu, already finished his fulfillment of that ridiculous promise to the one called Nixon and was starting his journey back. Traveling as straight as possible, he was bound to meet up with them before the time came to make that choice at the divide below the great waterfall. They still intended to stay in Huan as long as possible. Perhaps then the plan could change. If not, they were faced with the long and difficult trek west to the mysteries of the Paieleh River and the Blood Sea beyond. Still, a deal was a deal, and should Aryu not return by then, Johan had no doubts they would follow the course they’d planned.
Well, at least he would.
Esgona, on the other hand, could do whatever the hell he wanted with little to no objection from Johan as long as he kept his childish mouth shut.
Johan couldn’t deny that Esgona had done nothing since they had left to incur his wrath in any way. More to the point, he was helpful to others, kept out of the way whenever possible, and had more than once been seen saving another of their troop when they were in trouble. Johan himself had seen him stand against a much larger bandit from a group that had attacked two days prior. If someone else hadn’t called a general retreat for the devious gang, Johan had to believe that Esg
ona would have tried his hardest to stand his ground against the man.
Aryu had been right in his general assessment of the boy, just as he was also correct that a week does not eliminate the years of ego-driven torture or the shameful way he had encountered this army that gave chase. It was still something redeeming. Esgona had seen far too much (as had they all, in their own way) to be so easily cast off. Johan was a man now. Men, even so recently forged, must know mercy on some level. On the other hand, this was Esgona, and Johan made certain that he did not forget his place in the small hierarchy of two. He was, and would continue to be until such time as he left their company, a very distant second place, moving quickly to a distant third once Aryu returned.
Esgona had kept to himself, even in times of rest. The caravan was pushing through all day and night, taking on other drivers of the carts and horse or folme teams, making their trip that much, but also that much harder. Sleep came when time and responsibilities allowed it. Esgona could hold his own but still found extended amounts of time on his feet painful. He had begun looping around to different drivers, seeing who sought rest or needed a hand mending lashings and tethers. Johan only saw him in passing a few times a day, if he saw him at all.
How nice it was for Aryu to leave him behind as a parting gift, Johan thought during a moment of rest, riding on the edge of a folme-drawn cart with a handful of others. For Johan there was never really rest anymore. If he wasn’t working, he was thinking. Could they even make it the Blood Sea? If they did, what would they find? Would the Army of the Old have made it that far and be waiting for them before they even get a chance to put up a fight?
Tactical thinking was Johan’s specialty, and it didn’t take him long to know the best course of action. To have any hope, he had to know what it was he was up against. Their numbers. Their technology. Their general presence. There was only one person around with answers.
Esgona enjoyed the work, the location and most of the people. He’d trade it all ten-fold to return everything that had brought him to this point. He was so cocky and sure his deviousness would net him big rewards for little effort, and for a while it had gone so smoothly.
Then the ships appeared on the horizon. Now it was easily the worst plan he’d ever had. A plan his good friend had died for, just because he wanted to tag along. Hogope had followed him, telling him all the while how excellent his plan was, and that he was certain countless others had done the same thing. Esgona was inclined to agree. It really wasn’t hard to imagine that most others on the Quest would have done the same thing. When the ships arrived, Hogope had died very quickly and gruesomely at the hands of the attackers, all because he panicked and didn’t spit out the right answers in a timely enough fashion.
The fruits of this deception were now paying off in record amounts, and every one of them was rotten. Permanently hobbled, stuck on a cart in the depths of the northern mountains (which had a delicious twist of irony when he considered this was where he was supposed to be right now anyway), and the only person around who he did know was Johan: lower class trash that should be serving his whims, not leading his way.
But no matter what anyone said, he was certain it was someone like Aryu he’d seen leading the Army of the Old. The details might not match, but his memory worked just fine, and he was bound and determined to prove it was so. And when he did prove it, when he had the ability to get his revenge, he swore he wouldn’t hesitate to take it.
As if on cue, Johan was now striding over to him. This would likely be the first overt attempt at conversation from either since they’d left together. That didn’t mean he welcomed it, but he was at least willing to hear what Johan had to say. The truth was, Johan had completed his quest, and as was agreed for all from Tan Torna Qu-ay for centuries, he had earned his manhood and respect. However, in no text or tome was it written that Esgona had to like it.
“I didn’t think you actually took rests, Esgona,” he said. Esgona couldn’t tell if he was being smarmy or boyishly sincere. He didn’t care either way.
“Can I help you with something, Johan?” he asked, just to get the ball rolling faster. Sooner done, sooner gone.
“Easy there, young lad, no need to be snippy!” Esgona was tired of this conversation already and laughed at himself for thinking that this was going to be any different than he’d first thought. No matter what crude, stinging verbal barb Johan would dish out at him, nothing could be as potent as what he was doing to himself every waking hour of the day. He made no response and just waited, praying there was a point.
“Well now, that’s better.” Johan pulled his legs up and crossed them beneath himself. What a jerk. Fine, his point was made. His legs worked. Thanks for the reminder. “I’d like you to tell me something.” Esgona raised his good eyebrow, thankful there was a point.. “What can you tell me about where this army came from?”
Esgona didn’t know how to respond at first. Did he want the story of what went on while he was there or something else?
Johan beat him to the punch.
“No, no, we can all see what happened to you during your stay. I want to know about the things you saw. The way they operate, their numbers, anything helpful.”
“Planning an attack?” Esgona sneered.
“Maybe, now do you have anything I can use or not?”
Esgona could still see the smarminess, but he also believed that deep in Johan’s foolish mind, planning an attack might not be so farfetched.
“I never saw their numbers, but judging by the ships at sea, it’s more than you could possibly imagine. There were thousands that came ashore, with tens of thousands more to follow. I doubt that was even a sample of their full numbers. Unless speaking to a prisoner, they never talk, they just mill around doing whatever it is they do. Some of the prisoners were taken away, only to show up again later with large cuts across parts of their bodies. If they were simply tortured or cut for some other purpose, I can’t tell you.”
Johan listened, the gears turning in his head. Esgona didn’t think he’d said anything useful at all, but it appeared he did.
“Anything else?”
“Yes. Whatever you’re planning won’t work, Johan. They are numerous, powerful, remorseless, and efficient. Everything people aren’t. Run far and run fast. That’s my best advice for you. And if by some miracle you do get the chance to stop just one of them, you had better take it. I know I would.”
“I don’t want your advice, Esgona, and you sure as hell haven’t earned the right to volunteer it to me.”
He had a burning desire to retaliate. Only tradition held him back. For now.
“If you do think of anything else, no matter how small, I’d like you to tell me.”
No answer given would have suited the mood Esgona was in, so he stayed silent, barely acknowledging he understood.
Johan sprung back down, knees bending deeply as he hit the ground. Further proof he was never likely going to let this go. Before he left, though, Esgona thought he might try to get somewhere first.
“Johan, wait.”
Johan turned, walking back over to where Esgona sat and followed the moving cart along, waiting. “I have a request.” Johan smiled. This was just what he wanted to hear. He likely didn’t even care what it was. The fact was, Esgona was in some way admitting he needed him for something. He would be simply insufferable now, but it couldn’t be helped. “Whatever useless plan you’re putting together in that brain of yours, I’d like to hear it first, before you go do something stupid.”
“Now why would I do that? What could I possibly owe you?”
“You don’t owe me anything. I’m just saying that if you come up with something and think it might work, telling me may trigger something useful, something about what I’ve seen that doesn’t seem needed now.”
“Aw, isn’t that sweet. Why so caring?”
“Because, like it or not, we’re all that’s left of our home…”
“Us and Aryu.”
A quick-telli
ng glance told Johan that as far as Esgona was concerned, the jury was still out on Aryu O’Lung’Singh.
“We are all that’s left, Johan. It’s no secret my feelings on this whole thing, but I’ve seen what they do to people. It’s not right. I don’t want that to happen to anyone if I can stop it. Somewhere out there is someone smarter than you who is planning something better, but until I meet them, you’re all I’ve got.”
Johan considered the truth in the words, then nodded. “Fine. Have it your way. If I come up with anything, I’ll let you know.”
That was enough of this conversation, and Esgona turned away to get some rest. He’d swear this was the early stage of an alliance. The thought made him sick.
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After two days of hard travel, the caravan reached the village of Huan.
It was burned to the ground.
There was still smoldering and the crackle of random fires in the buildings they saw. Something or someone had hit hard and fast. It wasn’t long before their arrival.
Small groups were sent out to see if anyone had survived and hopefully see what had happened. Johan set off with one and searched the village perimeter. Esgona stayed back with the caravan.
It wasn’t a large village. Maybe half the size of Tan Torna Qu-ay, if that. Huan was clearly a merchants’ town, as most of the buildings were meant for trade and sales. The homes here were small and not meant for large families or extended stays. Although set in a beautiful valley junction, the soft roar of the Thunder Run barely audible in the distance, no one ever wanted to stay here long. It was too far removed from most things to be livable, and the winters could be legendary in their nastiness.
As they followed the perimeter, Johan made mental notes of the landscape. One side of the village gave way to a sharp drop off that led to a small stream which was likely a raging torrent in the melting season. On the other side of Huan was a sloped, open field that gave rise to two massive mountain valleys higher up. An individual road was visible between each one. The one slightly to the north was the intended route of travel for the majority of the caravan.