Catching Hell Part One: Journey

by Marc Watson

  The forces at work on their lower extremities were breathtaking as the water churned to pull them back down. At the same moment, Johan was extremely thankful the girl apparently knew how to swim (as did he, and very well after the incident with Esgona years before), and terribly regretful he’d jumped in with all his clothes, boots included. They were all doing him no favors in trying to stay afloat.

  It was then, as he struggled harder to stay up, his free arm brushed against the hard, forgotten handle of the dagger he carried. Out of options and time as the girl was beginning to go under once more, he reached into his shirt as quickly as he could manage without sinking again, pulled the knife from its leather sheath, and turned to the rock face before him that marked the edge of the Thunder Head.

  What he saw was not encouraging. The face was smooth as glass from the years of pounding torture from the water and the sound that bounced off it. It was dark gray, polished, and imposing. Nowhere did he see a spot good enough to wedge the knife for a place to hold.

  The girl went under, torn backwards by a sudden surge, pulling Johan with her. He held his grip, but her body was lost to the lake. A fraction of a second before he was taken with her, his eyes locked on what he believed was a miniscule crack in the rock face. He swung his arm wildly, bringing down the blade into the hard surface as his head was lost below the water.

  The blade hit the rock and sunk in like it was made of warm butter. He had hit it! A million to one stab, and he had hit it! Luck truly did favor the bold.

  The knife held, acting as a solid and unmoving grip in the rock. His reservoirs near empty, he used whatever power he could muster from his exhausted body to heave up the girl once more and himself to the surface, another act of inhuman strength by this point in the battle. Whatever submerged whirlpool had a grip on her let go and allowed her to be pulled back to the surface.

  Once there, Johan pulled them both to where the knife stood firm while the next rescue line came from above and pulled the girl to safety, followed by Johan.

  Just as he was beginning to rise, his eyes met the knife as he pulled it out. There he saw something frightening and amazing before he was pulled to the shore of the mighty Thunder Head.

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  It was many hours later when the caravan finally came to a stop for the night. They had made it far away from the Thunder Run and the lake below it. Still, even here, hours up the Paieleh River Valley, the echo could still be heard through the towering walls around them. It was much more tolerable now, and people could speak in normal tones and had no need of headwear.

  Except for Johan.

  His ears rang, his head pounded; his eyes still blurred from the power, the noise, and the effort he’d put in to saving the girl. Once pulled from the water, he was immediately taken to a cart with some unseen figure wrapping his head from the sound once more. Not that it did any good. Even wrapped, his ears hurt. At times they felt like they were bleeding. He hoped it was just water.

  The girl, after eventually releasing the vise-like grip she had on his now heavily bruised wrist, was taken off for her own tending-to and could no longer be seen.

  Stroan sat with him, as did others. Some talked to each other, some to him, though he couldn’t hear much. He did hear small pieces, and that was enough to give him hope that he would hear again sometime soon. It seemed the damage might not be irreversible. As his cantankerous old grandfather would say, “Thank Heaven for small miracles boy, because that’s all you’ll ever get.”

  Eventually, after eating what he could of some soup and bread, he had a moment to talk to Stroan outside of the ongoing conversations that surrounded them.

  “How is she?” he asked. At least, he assumed he did. He could barely make out the sound of his own voice.

  Stroan understood at once and gave him a thumbs-up. Johan sighed heavily. He’d done it.

  “We lost a cart as well as the folme,” Stroan informed him. His face was close so his lips could be easily read for whatever Johan didn’t hear. “It went over the other side of the road and broke both axles. There was no way to fix it without spare parts, which we don’t have.” Johan understood, and he had the utmost faith in the Inja Army Riders that they salvaged all they could to make the situation less dire. Not a bad outcome. It could have been much worse.

  “Nice toss, by the way,” commented Stroan when Johan’s moment of reflection was over. “You’re lucky I grabbed it. Sorry it didn’t hold.”

  Johan was now so consumed by the memory of the knife (once again sheathed and resting next to his chest) that he’d forgotten the rope. He looked at his wrist where the burns from the tension were obvious, like red tattoos in his skin.

  A smirk. “Nice catch. It saved our lives.” Stroan shook him off. He was a military man. He did what he had to. “No, honestly, thank you. It bought us the time to get a breath and fight longer. I owe you my life.” Stroan still didn’t buy it, but before he could argue, his attention was drawn to movement coming toward them.

  The girl. Johan saw her coming to them, the mustached man leading the way with a vigor that made Johan’s body hurt just to watch it. The man’s arms spread wide as he came, a smile on his weathered face from ear to ear.

  “I heard you were awake!” he said, just loud enough to be heard. He came to Johan and wrapped his arms around him in a tight, suffocating hug. Johan hurt but allowed it, knowing no amount of complaining in the world would pry this man off. “I owe you so much, sir. My daughter would be lost without you. You are a hero! I thank the Lord Ryu that he brought your path to meet ours.”

  Johan said nothing audible, just a sound that might have been “no problem” or something along those lines. It wouldn’t have mattered. The man was now crying so heavily that words were useless. The girl met his eyes as her father continued his fevered hug. She had an intense gaze that held Johan twice as firmly as any grip her father could muster.

  After composing himself enough to speak again, he motioned to the girl, her dark brown eyes still gripping Johan effortlessly. “Sir, I am honored to present my daughter, Seraphina. May the King of Dragons forever shine the sun upon you for returning her to me.”

  Seraphina. Beautiful.

  He bowed as much as he could muster with his still-depleted strength. The bustle of the situation did not excuse proper manners, after all. She closed the gap between them in hurried steps. When she was right next to him, she kissed him softly but passionately and held him tightly, followed by mouthing the words “Thank you”.

  The crowd went mad at the action while the purity and emotion poured into him like a warm drink, and when at last she pulled away, his heart almost broke at the loss of the feeling of her. The emotion of the moment was as much positive as the moment he witnessed the fire consume his home was negative: absolute and pure.

  She joined her beaming father once more and returned to their cart. Johan stood flabbergasted at the feelings he was bombarded with. He likely would have gone mad if not for at the last moment before he lost sight of her, she looked back past the crowd, met his eyes once more and smiled. The image was so complete and heartwarming that the mental image of his knife driven into solid rock effortlessly, inches from the crack where he had been aiming, melted away like smoke.

  For now…

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  Still these fools persisted. This was why it hated them so much. They were too stupid to know when to quit. Some may call it guile or tenacity, but not this one. All it saw was foolishness.

  The rallying of others had gone well. Even the younger ones it had encountered were quick to follow, with no issues or impulsiveness. They too were sick of the intrusions and were willing to follow the elder members of the breed to get this job done.

  They had gathered and when the time was right, just after a large group had left (this way the destruction would be seen and the word of it spread to others of their kind), they came down from the high country, and under the direction of the elder named
Skerd, they pounced on the town, sparing no one with their fury. Every man, woman, child and animal was destroyed. Ravaged until none remained.

  Skerd was not terribly happy it had come to this. It was only by carefully laying out his arguments and each pro and con that he was able to convince them this quick and brutal show of force was the course of action most likely to drive off any further intrusion.

  Skerd now waited at the top of the Uhluktahn. He was right to do so, it would seem. Shortly after the rampage, another large group had arrived in the village. It stayed for longer than Skerd would have liked, clearly raiding what was left for themselves (scavenging dogs) and when they did leave, although most left into the high country, a small number still continued down the path and into his territory. Unbelievable! It was not an elegant plan by any means, but it was meant to be far more effective than it was proving to be.

  He came down his mountain and watched them progress around the black water. He stalked and tracked them effortlessly, the noise clearly too much for them, and they had to cover their ears just to pass by it.

  He was near them and was about to pounce when he caught sight of the beast or burden beginning to succumb to the power of the Uhluktahn. He watched in glee as it caused havoc among the people. Then the animal and the young girl fell into the water, an action that meant certain death.

  Skerd was ready to strike in the confusion, but he saw the young one willingly jump in, likely to try to save the girl (or perhaps the beast? Skerd believed it to have more value in the long run.).

  It had never seen an act of such amazing stupidity.

  Or bravery.

  Bravery or not he still planned on his attack, hovering over them now as most tried to help the fools in the water. He tensed his body, preparing for the kill, eyes red with rage and the need to destroy these interlopers, when it happened.

  From where he sat perched, he couldn’t see the things that had gone on, but he certainly felt them.

  It was power! Amazing, pure, and unfathomable in its depth. He felt it in the earth below him, coursing like electricity below his feet. It instantly brought his logical mind to the forefront, pushing back the rage like a plaything. His refreshed and clear eyes saw with astonishment the people below pull up the girl who had fallen in, followed by the fool who had jumped in after her. The feeling stopped, but the memory remained. He still felt the tingle from its presence.

  Skerd stopped his attack before it even started and ran back up to the higher ground, trying to understand what he was feeling. Was it that? Could it possibly be?

  His heart and now-logical mind said it was, and the realization created something new and unnerving.

  It was fear.

  Something down there was powerful enough to make the ground all around him pulse with a life he’d forgotten existed.

  These ones needed much more special attention. They would still pay for their intrusion, but an unplanned attack against something like that was foolhardy. He did not get to be so long lived by doing rash things.

  Humans. Always more trouble than they were worth.

  Chapter 18

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  Just Walk Away

  To say that Boroha Sharp was upset at the way things had turned out was a gross understatement. He had watched with great interest as the targets had stopped and began singing, each one taking a turn while the others spoke quietly, clearly a ploy to hide their plan. Simple, brilliant, everything he’d expect from the people he was tasked with apprehending. People he never in a million years would have agreed to hunt, no matter what threats the leader of this facade might lay down.

  Boroha Sharp was an aged and wizened Embracer of the Power, one who had escaped the wrath of Ryu by being in a communal Haven. At the time he was a man of peace, not driven by the personal gain he was currently entrenched in. A drive to find that balance in the world had led him to the doorstep of the man named Izuku and the weapons he commanded.

  Izuku was much older than any other person of Power and he had command of an army Sharp had not seen since the Fourth Fall of Man, an event that completed the feelings of bitterness Sharp now felt towards people and the things they do. He’d seen the Third and Fourth Falls. Both times it was unstoppable, and both times his faith had left him. He had believed in the Power, and when that backfired, he believed in the intelligence of the common man. Surely the Second Fall wouldn’t be allowed to happen again!

  Then it did…

  When he had met Izuku and his army, he saw a man with both extremes in his grasp. A very aged and powerful Embracer that commanded an advanced mechanical army.

  He was not a fool by this point in his life. He never thought for a moment that Izuku’s dream was a sound one, or that his dreams were in line with his own. All he saw was a man with the ability to inflict some serious damage on whatever he surveyed. That was all Sharp wanted. A return to balance. Anarchy with a purpose seemed a foolish but acceptable way to describe it. Many Embracers in his position felt the same.

  The time had come to admit the execution of the plan was growing too long-winded, and his ‘faith’ in Izuku was waning. By the time Izuku asked him to carry out this mission, he’d had his army for five years. What was he waiting for? Only fear of Izuku’s weapon kept him from asking. But now he had these ones to fear as well. It was time to turn his fears against one another.

  That young man with wings was the worst of all. A powerless mortal youth that possessed the Shi Kaze. He had never seen the blade before today, but once his eyes took it in, the voice to his brain was undeniable. He had every intention of keeping that boy at arm’s length. The other three he could anticipate, but one so useless possessing that weapon was frightening.

  Sho, once an acquaintance who had been to the communal Haven (which was populated with more than one winged human like this young one), came to him with their proposal. It was a fool’s deal. They clearly had a plan. They were sitting peacefully and waiting for Sharp to arrive after their melodic conference. The execution of this request never said a thing about how he did it. They made a deal and were willing to go back to HOME. Then they were Izuku’s problem. Besides, none had command of the Power, just powerful weapons. So did Izuku. And Izuku’s was possibly the most frightening of all. Only because of the Shi Kaze and his recent brief encounter with it did Sharp believe these four might stand a chance against Izuku’s terrible sword.

  He was not loyal to Izuku. He didn’t care. All he wanted was to inflict all the pain he could on the land while he was alive and hopefully live to enjoy the peaceful aftermath.

  He had to admit a very bitter part of him wanted to see the little ruckus back at HOME they were sure to make. He’d already decided not to tell anyone there that he hadn’t disarmed them as part of Sho’s request; leave them be and send them to HOME, and Sho promised they wouldn’t touch Sharp. Let it be a surprise. Loyalty was overrated anyway.

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  Sitting in their temporary accommodations, Nixon was the one that was the most flustered and out of sorts. The first part of the plan went smooth as silk. The second, much riskier part had gone the same. It required very little pomp and bravado to convince the leader of this group, one Mr. Sharp, to allow them their weapons in exchange for a peaceful and uneventful return to wherever it was they were to go. After informing Sharp that they were willing to fight to the death to stop him if they didn’t get their way, he agreed. Embracers like Sharp rarely want to risk dying. Sho and Crystal had seen the disinterest in his task instantly and used it.

  “Will you sit and relax, you fiery old fool,” Crystal told him once she could no longer stand his pacing and fidgeting. “We’re here, and all we can do now is sit and wait. What do you have to fear, anyway?”

  Nixon stopped and stared at her. She never went so far as to say he still had command of his considerable power (any fool knew they were being monitored in every way imaginable), but her allusion to it and the current state of thing
s was still upsetting to him.

  “Let me tell ya somethin’, yer majesty,” he returned in a harsh tone. “This is a very fine line we tread on right now. We are in tha hands of tha enemy, headin’ t’ who knows where, surrounded on all sides by weapons so powerful tha’ they can wipe out whole cities in just a wink of an eye. If our plan is gonna work, so many things 'ave t’ fall into place tha’ it makes my 'ead hurt.”

  Crystal looked mildly shocked. “Why Nixon, I know nothing of a plan! Whatever are you talking about?”

  The phoenix wheeled on her and glowered. “Bah, each of us knows the whole truth, don’t get cute with me. These people are not idiots.”

  Crystal stopped her prodding and turned her attention to Aryu, a young man she had wrapped around her finger by this point. “What about you? Holding up alright?”

  Aryu smiled in return. “Fine. This isn’t the trip I was planning, I can tell you that.”

  “Tha’ goes for us both,” Nixon chimed in before resuming his relentless pace and fidgets. He had all the time in the world for answers now, but he felt the need to deal with the situation at hand first.

  “I agree with Nixon, though. Mr. Sharp wasn’t what I was expecting to come across as the leader of this group.”

  Crystal smiled, putting him at ease. “Did you see the expression on his face when he saw the Shi Kaze? He wasn’t expecting that at all. It seems its recent discovery isn’t general knowledge yet. That’s something.”

  “Maybe not then, but it is now.”

  “True, but there isn’t an Embracer in the world that doesn’t fear and respect that sword. Whoever leads this army, be it Izuku or not, will not cross it without a good reason. Just its presence is enough to put people on edge.”