Catching Hell Part One: Journey

by Marc Watson

  By the time night began to fall, it was obvious that things had changed. Rocks and debris no longer littered the roadway and travel was brisk. No one had to speak the words. The issues encountered up to this point were clearly intentional, and someone somewhere was in a holding pattern awaiting the next move. The stress in the air around them was thick as autumn fog. How long would they have to wait now? Days? Hours? No one knew, but every set of eyes was scanning the slopes above them, praying to see it before it saw them.

  The day brought a chilled wind up the valley and hit them head on, slowing progress as dirt and dust kicked up, blinding the group at times, but still nothing.

  By the end of the third day since the attack that had started the rush, the foolish, uneasy feeling of being through the thick of it crept into the faces of the civilian aspect of the caravan. More talk and laughter filled the air, and by the crack of dawn the next day, things seemed almost normal.

  The young group of three and any Rider they saw knew the truth. Johan picked it out right away. Lulling them into an unguarded and false sense of (sleep deprived) security was exactly what he would have done if he wanted to hit hard and fast, and by the time breakfast was over, he looked to the high walls of the Paieleh Valley, heard the thunder of the coming carnage, and knew that he was right.

  As the rush of unfathomably large Ruskan Stalkers crested the closest ridge and began pouring down at them, ungodly voices screaming as they dove down the loose rock, the security was lost in the panic of the people below. Johan and Esgona could only sigh and laugh to themselves as another glorious form of the luck they had lately showed its head, followed by a hardening of their nerves as they sprang forward, once more into the breach.

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  To say Skerd was afraid was an understatement. Still, there was no help for it. Even after explaining to all that would listen that this particular group of humans was far more dangerous than the previous ones had been, their time had run out and the rage of his fellow brothers was too much for logic and planning to overcome. Even the failed high-ground attack wasn’t enough to make them think it through entirely. They saw first-hand this group had defensive capabilities similar to the previous entrants into the valley, but time had run out and their blatant incursion into this land must stop here and now. There were no more ahead, no more behind. Just these ones, and now they had to be stopped, weapons and defenses of a higher quality be damned. With the loudest roar he could muster, the aged and battle-hardened Skerd of the Uhluktahn led the charge.

  He’d gathered seven of the most reasonable members of his brotherhood for the attacks. None were close to his age, but many were similar in abilities and intelligence. Some were newcomers; the others had been with him during the raid on the village. All were angry with this group of useless people and were happy to see them suffer.

  They came over the ridge following Skerd’s battle cry. If the humans weren’t afraid before, they certainly would be now.

  The decorated men on horses weren’t as shaken as Skerd had hoped, and they wasted no time forming ranks in front of the carts. They were seemingly ready and waiting for this, but the others behind them were crying and terrified. The fear in the air was a boost of energy to the creatures and they let it fuel them farther down the slope, massive scalding bodies bristling with ridges and rage. Let this end it, thought Skerd, praying his instincts on the matter were wrong.

  Age and wisdom, even for creatures such as these, is rarely wrong. This simple fact was forgotten in the red haze of anger for each of them, and because of that forgetfulness, the first of their monstrous ranks fell.

  It was a younger beast to Skerd’s right as they descended, one who had joined on after the village attack. Being smaller and faster than the others, he’d begun to break ahead of the pack, thirst for blood and vengeance in his eyes. Below, the riders had opened fire with their small and useless weapons. The bullets bounced off the tough hides like bugs and did nothing to stop the charge.

  Until the brave and foolish boy from the waters of the Uhluktahn rushed through the front line and raised something small and silver. Skerd knew at once it was an old weapon. A weapon to fear.

  Skerd was just a whelp at the time of the most recent destruction of the land. He had seen many weapons like this at that time. Weapons used to hunt his kind before they all but disappeared. Weapons that had no issues ripping through the outer shell each Stalker had, even one as tough and hardened as his own. He could call no retreat or reassembling, his pride and rage would never allow it, but he knew the moment the loudest pop was heard and the flash erupted to his right where the young one was surging ahead that his instincts were absolutely correct, and now may well be the time he paid the price for his damnable lack of control.

  The leading Stalker exploded in a shower of white-hot blood and sinew. Where its head had been was now just a smoking hole as its lunging front legs collapsed under its weight and momentum and began careening down the hillside, scattering those around it and striking the first hints of fear into the hearts of his brothers who had not listened to Skerd when he said this group was not to be taken lightly. Moments later its body hit the road and came to a rest between a cart and the large, rounded, mechanical thing not pulled by any animal.

  Seconds later Skerd and the others were on them, striking out at the closest rider or cart they could reach.

  Skerd bit down on the head of the horse nearest him, taking it off in one clean slice, blood pouring forth from both animal and mouth as the body it left behind fell instantly. The body pinned the leg of its rider just long enough to allow Skerd to advance and crush the hapless man under his powerful front legs. The smell of burning flesh hit his nose, adding to the primal bloodlust.

  More of the weak shots rang out, but if any hit him Skerd didn’t notice. He began wheeling around to another rider, an older one this time, possibly a leader of the ranks. He charged, barely seeing the scene unfold around him as his eyes locked on his target. He could see the mettle in the man he approached and sensed this kill would be that much sweeter for it.

  Then the second pop was heard and another of his kind was lost to a gruesome explosion. The blood that rained down on the humans burned and many screamed in pain as it hit them. In some places, fires started as it hit something incendiary. Animals began to panic more than ever and the drivers of the carts could no longer control them as they began bolting and jostling around.

  Skerd forgot his intended victim with the second blast and searched out anew for the holder of that damned weapon. He gave the elder rider a swipe, sending the horse and rider spiraling into the air and away; the beast was dead before it hit the ground and the rider likely not much better. He crashed into the riverbank and came to a rest, the toes of his boots licking the rushing water below as he lay unmoving.

  Skerd looked around, scanning all he saw for the young fool. The others of his kind were faring well, the damage and disarray already considerable and many of the humans and the animals they possessed were lying lifelessly on the ground. Carts were overturned and fires spread.

  A smile came to him, or what passes for one on the face of a Ruskan Dragon Stalker, as he saw the young one and his precious gun, falling back behind the round rolling machine and its young driver. Skerd charged forward, careful to keep an eye on the weapon he carried, ready for it to rise and fire again. He came around the machine with astonishing speed, eager to end the threat and finish the job he’d set out to do.

  The weapon never raised and fear was written over his boyish, dark face, though he still faced Skerd bravely. The weapon wouldn’t work, Skerd surmised, though for reasons that were completely beyond him.

  Just as he was in striking distance and was about to snap the whelp in two, the large machine shifted, front wheels turning and engine coming to life as the young crippled one fired it up and drove it forward quickly, striking Skerd and tossing him off balance as he reached out for the kill with his huge claws. The hit was just enou
gh to allow the prey to elude the killing blow, as well as put the huge beast and his considerable momentum on a downhill course to the river below, an occurrence that surely meant a painful and long-suffering death to one of his kind.

  A cry of rage from his mouth as he dug his feet in with all the strength he could manage, claws ripping at the uneven and loose surface. He put his body low, scraping his belly on the ground to help slow down, causing himself to spin as he descended. Soon, he was facing away from the river; panic overtook him, as he feared he might not meet his death head-on.

  His fear was assuaged when he stopped short, but not before his large, spiked tail hit the water, sending pain through his body and steam into the air. He pulled it free with a mighty yank and took two labored steps up from the river.

  He looked up the small hill to ready his next move and was pleased to see he hadn’t missed entirely. Although he’d missed a full killing blow to the boy, he had reached him at least a little, and now he was laid out on the ground just beyond the front wheel of the mechanized wagon. He was coming to his feet now, the weapon no longer in his hand.

  Then Skerd saw it, broken and in pieces at his feet. The boy saw it too, then he looked up at Skerd and the beast met his gaze.

  Out of options and about to die, Skerd looked into the boy for fear but saw none. He saw bravery. Even unarmed and wounded, this one would fight to the last. He respected this young one. He was glad he would be the one to take his life and not some other who would not recognize the sacrifice and strength of will it was taking to do as he was now. This death would have meaning.

  Skerd began the movement forward, eager for this honorable and engaging confrontation, when the boy reached to his leg and produced a knife which he held before him, ready to attack with whatever strength he had left.

  Instantly the mind-altering clarity of vision came to Skerd, just as it had at the base of the Uhluktahn. The rage he felt and the bloodlust he craved were washed away like nothing as he laid his eyes on the blade. Suddenly, with a hint of foolishness, he understood everything and stopped his attack on the people, his attention consumed by the clarity in his mind and the realizations it meant.

  “Cease!” he called out in his native tongue to the others of his kind. At first they ignored him or were simply too lost within the rage they felt. “Cease at once, my brothers! Cease and fall back!”

  They continued, until the first of them saw his seriousness and begrudgingly did as he asked. Soon the others followed as the humans looked on wondering what had happened. As the remaining members of his kind retreated up the hillside once more, the people below allowed them to leave, firing no more shots with their weak weapons, and instead turned to their own problems. Watchful eyes always on the beasts on the high ground above them. A moment of uneasy calm overtook them all. Only the sounds of crying children, burning wood, and rushing water could be heard as Skerd looked back to the young one with the weapon before him.

  “You there,” he said, shocking all nearby with his deep but suddenly-understandable voice. “You carry a talisman. How did you come to have it? Are you an Embracer?”

  The young one looked confused at first, and then seemed to realize it was the knife Skerd spoke of. “I…I received it as a gift some time back.” The lad was unsure of what was going on, but held his place, nonetheless. His face was cut and bleeding and he favored his leg, but otherwise he’d come out alright.

  Skerd, lost in the sea of this newfound clarity, attempted to move away from the river but was met with the knife being thrust in his direction as a warning. He wasn’t happy being so close to the water, but it seemed the boy held the advantage now.

  “A gift for what?” he continued. “One does not give talismans like that away for nothing.”

  “For saving a village far from here,” the boy said at last. “Saving it from another of your kind.”

  Of course. All things come around in full circle to Skerd. A reward for saving others from a Stalker was a weapon that could save many Stalkers’ lives. It was as it was meant to be.

  The wariness on the boy’s face was still evident and Skerd realized at once that he wasn’t sure what was going on, although Skerd’s talking to him as he was should have explained everything.

  “The weapon you carry there,” Skerd continued, “is a very powerful one to me and my kind. You do not see it for what it is. Is that true?”

  Confusion began to mix with a mild sense of relief, likely caused by the ceasing of the attack and beginning of an open dialogue. “It would appear so,” the boy answered, obviously uncomfortable. “What is it to you?”

  “To answer that,” replied Skerd, “would take a very long time. I can tell you this: what you hold there gives me and my kind a clarity of thought lost in the ages to a muddle of anger and rage, our natural state. Just being near it now is the reason we no longer attack, although you should know some of my brothers above might not be so easily swayed by it. Their age and impetuousness are defying them.”

  A young rider joined with anger in his face, “Why tell us this, beast? Why tell us anything other than why we shouldn’t kill you all right here and now?”

  “Hold your wagging tongue, fool! It is by my will and that alone that we don’t finish the very easy task of killing you all right now, so listen and listen well. We will not apologize for our actions at your intrusion into our lands. They are justified and done with pride for our race and kind. What we will do, and I will make it so for the rest of your trip, is allow you to continue to the vast waters beyond which is home to many more of your people. You may travel unhindered.”

  He locked his eyes on Johan to ensure no mistake was made with what he was about to say. “If, and only if, you stay and let us speak more of that item and what we can do with it together.”

  “Why would I do that?” the boy asked. “You’ve killed or wounded so many of my people. What reason do I have to help you?”

  “Simple,” Skerd replied, impatient with the child’s lack of vision, “if you do not agree, we kill you all now and any others that come our way without remorse. We’d take it from you if we could, but I’m afraid it is useless to us without a human to hold it. You seem to be a very intelligent boy. Do you believe that each side of a conflict has their own justifiable rights for fighting, as you and I do now, regardless of how one feels about the other?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good, then you shouldn’t be surprised by our actions. We are older, wiser and much stronger than you will ever be. We will allow all others of your kind to pass our way with impunity. Knowing what I know of what you have, which is more than you it seems, it won’t be difficult to convince my brothers to do the same. I will gladly kill a defiant member of my own kind to ensure the safety of you and that item. It means that much to me. Do you believe that?”

  “I do, though I don’t know why.”

  “Nor can I tell you, as the Power escapes my understanding.”

  A pause for a moment, and then the child’s dark eyes met Skerd’s. “My answer is no,” the boy said, startling some members of his group. Skerd looked him over, expecting more to come from his mouth in explanation. “I can’t stay. I won’t stay. I have a mission I must fulfill, with my knife. You mention justifiable right to fight a battle, well I have that. I have that far down this road, against an enemy I fear more than you. An enemy you and your kind would be wise to fear as well.”

  Skerd doubted that, but he didn’t doubt this boy believed it to be true. Then the boy indicated the smashed silver weapon, and Skerd believed he understood.

  “I see,” he growled, noticing those high above him getting impatient. “You go to battle the machines.” The boy didn’t answer but nodded to indicate he did. Skerd was unaware of any machines returning to the land, but the nobility of the boy gave him no reason to doubt him. The knife was a handy weapon regardless of the enemy. “You will fight me, here and now, if I don’t let you go?”

  “Yes.” His muscles tensed, preparing
for an attack. It was all Skerd needed to see.

  “Very well. Go. Take your people and fight your battle. When it is over, you will return to me with that knife. Do you know how to use it? How to harness its power?”

  “No, I don’t. Not in a way one like you could possibly need.”

  “I can tell you this: you’d best attempt to figure it out soon, boy, because you’re useless to me if you return and you haven’t. Now, will you make my deal?”

  Hesitation at first, coupled with a look to the young rider. “No harm to me and my people. We may pass freely and without incident.”

  “Without incident caused by my brothers or me, yes. Rare is the journey without incident of any kind.”

  “And others that may follow?”

  “Correct.”

  “Alright, beast. I agree. I should warn you, though; the journey I’m on is likely to end in my death.”

  “I’d recommend that it doesn’t. Your death, likely as you say it may be, matters not to me. If you do not return as agreed in what I would call a reasonable amount of time, we will not show any more restraint in matters of your people’s incursions. We will leave our mountains, enter your homes, and finish off everyone we find to find that weapon or one like it.”

  A look of doubt. “It’s really that important to you I return with this knife? Worth the countless lives you’d end needlessly?”

  “Those and a thousand times more, yes.”

  “Wow. Well then I suppose I had better return.” A half-smirk on his face.

  “I suppose you should,” Skerd agreed, upset by the lad’s hints of mockery at this conversation. “When you do what you must and your affairs are in order, return to the remnants of the village that once was near the base of the Uhluktahn. That is my land and I will see you. I will wait for you. I will not wait long.”