by Marc Watson
So they went on in silence, bad memories in tow.
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In the quiet of the evening, the sun close to the horizon once more after its journey to the west, two things of great importance happened to Johan Otan’co. Things that could help shape the man he would become in the hard years ahead, years that could see him travel far and see much. Things that may give him just enough strength to see each hard and painful task ahead to the end. All of this was only if he lived through the coming storm, of course. It’s a shame people rarely meet these moments head on, never realizing what they are until years afterwards. Esgona had met many situations that defined him face first, from the capture at the hands of the Army of the Old to the torture of watching his one friend Hogope murdered, to the destruction of his home and the privileged life it ensured.
Johan would never look back on these two important things for what they were. Perhaps it was the part of him that was the hero, taking each development in stride as if what was happening, good or bad, was as it was meant to be.
He was walking along the side of the Turtle. They’d pushed through lunch and had met up with the large road that led south to Bankoor and north to who-knew-where. They met many others coming and going in a hurried fashion. There were far more leaving the south than were entering, a fact no one missed.
Most they passed were much like themselves, little changing in appearance or modes of transportation.
Others were very different. Perhaps even frighteningly so, had this group not just walked through the bowels of Hell. Some people passed them in powered carts much faster and nimbler than the ones they had seen in their lives. Others rode on single-person vehicles with small wheels that ripped past them like a streak. Nothing was horribly out of place here, at least not yet, but the slight advances in transportation and the ever-increasing number of people they saw began to put many of the long walkers at unease.
The sun was very close to setting. Johan was simply staring blankly ahead, praying for a view of the city he thought may never show up, when his hand was taken into another and he looked around to see the tired-yet-still-beautiful face of Seraphina Langley, looking ahead longingly, much as he had been a moment before. He turned back forward, enjoying her return, waiting for her to speak but understanding if she chose not to. There was a lot going on in her mind, and he wasn’t about to make things worse by doing something dumb like speaking.
“Why make the deal, Johan?” Her voice was calm, not accusatory. She seemed to simply want an answer. “So many dead. So many injured, my father among them. Yet you chose to spare them when you had an advantage. Why?”
A good question. He’d thought about the deal from a week ago very much. Although it may not seem to have been the most logical answer, he was quite certain that he’d come upon an answer he could live with.
“Because I believe Skerd. I believe him if he says he’s willing to start a war with people over this knife. They clearly had the advantage, but still they stopped when he told them to. Stalkers don’t just stop. It was something so much more to them. And even if I’d killed him, which I doubt I could have, then we all would have died. If I live through what’s to come, it seemed a small price to pay to have to return. It was an easy choice.”
She nodded but continued to look forward at everything and nothing. “And what about the knife? This is twice now it’s saved our lives.” In the days after the Thunder Run, Johan had told Seraphina about what he’d seen when he saved her.
“It’s obviously more than it seems. Skerd mentioned Embracers. I’m still just trying to find out. What do you think?”
She smirked. “I think you need to hold on to it, no matter what that monster says. See them again if you have to, but never give it up. I believe there’s a reason you have that now and we’re only just beginning to find out what it is.”
Seraphina hadn’t shown many signs of being overtly religious or prone to belief in fate, but she was so beautiful and their attraction was so great Johan never cared. Perhaps a bit of faith was what he needed in his life, even if it wasn’t his.
Johan cleared his throat awkwardly, afraid to ask the next question even though the answer was quite clear. “So, you’re not mad at me for doing what I did?”
She stopped him and looked in his eyes. “I owe you my life, Johan. We all do. I may not agree with it all, but I understand. You’re a good man. A hero. Good men make good choices more often than not. They just seem foolish at the time.”
An uplifting sentiment. “Like making a deal with a talking Dragon Stalker I have no reason to trust?”
She shrugged. “Of leaping to certain death to save a girl you don’t know. So far I’d say both choices worked out for the best in the end.”
He agreed.
He motioned to the others ahead of them. “What do they think? Do they forgive me?”
She didn’t answer immediately. She turned and continued to walk towards Bankoor, hand firmly intertwined with Johan’s while they moved on in silence. They walked like that for a time, enjoying the touch of the other and the warmth of the action. Soon, she was pressed to his side with strides in unison. Then, she leaned over as they walked, lightly kissed his cheek, and whispered, “I forgive you,” in his ear.
Forgiveness is an amazing thing. The giving of it can bring peace; the denial of it, war. Very few are the simple things in life that hold that much power. Perhaps only love rivals it in terms of potential, and that is hard to give and harder to take away.
The evening wearing on and the miles falling like rain behind them, Johan realized what she said was all that mattered. That fact accepted, he pulled her close to himself, kissed her forehead through a tangle of hair and offered her a quiet “Thank you” in return. She nodded in acceptance. With that issue being dead, life continued on.
The second thing that changed Johan (and Esgona equally, though he kept that to himself) came shortly afterwards. This moment was almost seen by the young man for what it was: a defining moment, just as the return of Seraphina to his side had been (though he didn’t know that yet).
The sun was beginning to touch the water and the salt wind was coming in harder now, as if pushed at them by the giant falling star. The smell was almost alien to Johan, but it brought a sickening feeling of remembrance to Esgona. The last time salt air had met his nose was not a pleasant point in his life. It was here that the sun set alight the buildings of Bankoor in the distance, shimmering pillars of glass casting a reflection out in their direction as if guiding them home. At its center was a massive tower, like a spike driven into the heart of the city from beneath the ground, with a sharp point jabbing into the coming night sky, threatening to rip it open.
Below the city center, lights began blinking on like small fires until the whole of Bankoor was alight. The jut of the great tower in the center of the city was glowing softly in a steady reddish-yellow, while the city seemed to burn with light below it like a frozen fire.
The fact that no story ever told about the Blood Sea mentioned the great cities clearly on its shores was not lost on the two from Tan Torna Qu-ay. This was certainly a difficult secret to keep, but here they were, looking at the largest, most advanced collection of living people they’d ever seen.
“Slightly advanced, my ass,” Johan said under his breath as they all stood, staring at the sight before them. Mysteries abounded in this new world.
They began moving again, eager to reach Bankoor before the night wore on too long. The surroundings were strange and the destination unsettling, but no one argued. This group was no longer of the opinion that the Old was something to blatantly and unreasonably fear after the technology it produced had saved them twice in the form of the now-lost Ark 1, but there was still an army of unimaginable power heading for them, and that was enough to make them nervous in the shadow of Bankoor and its unknown evils.
Missing for most of the day, Stroan rode to his traveling companions, giving a perfunctory nod to Seraphin
a, either out of a standard greeting to a lady or perhaps to acknowledge her return to the fold. “I can’t say I expected this, did any of you?”
Johan laughed, “Seriously? How could we? You never knew and you’re from closer to here than we are.”
Stroan looked dejected at the thought. “My home was farther south, and our enemy to the west. Once the Vein Valley opens into the plains where I lived, we never thought of the valley and what was north. We knew there was great fighting going on and to travel to it without reason or without being in the army was suicide. So we ignored it and went our own way. It seems we were wrong to do so.” Johan agreed. “Well, no stop to it now, eh?” Stroan continued, his horse striding along beside the group, bringing Stroan eye to eye with Esgona sitting high on the Turtle. “What do you think?” he asked him, curious of the young man’s reaction after all he’d been through.
A shrug from the driver. “I think we’re going to die here.” Esgona, if shaken by the destination, didn’t show it outwardly, but his abrupt statement was chilling. The question was in the air about his next move, either continuing his uneasy alliance with Johan (and soon Aryu) or go his own way, seeking another direction.
“What do you know about this place, Stroan?” Johan asked, curious if the Rider had heard anything.
“I know it’s the central location for our army and those who’ve joined us. A jumping-off point to the battle with the Army of the Old in the south. It’s where we’ve established our base of operations and stored many of the equipment and troops yet to be deployed. Something about the city protects it from those distant attacks we’re all so familiar with, but I have no idea what it is. I’d love to find out before I put faith in it.” Johan assumed it was radar, a jamming signal, or some other such invisible defense that didn’t allow the Army of the Old to just toss weapons at them like they did back home. “I also know that the tower in the middle is a huge collector of sunlight, turning it into enough energy to power the city around it.”
“Solar power,” Johan said. It wasn’t a question.
“Yes, that’s right,” replied Stroan as if a question was asked anyway. “But also, it holds the headquarters of our armies at its base, a lookout tower at its peak…” He stopped for a moment, looking suddenly worried. “And our ‘last hope’ in its depths.”
The statement was left out there, waiting for the question that would bring it out. Stroan sounded melodramatic, though he didn’t mean to. It was the fear of this ‘last hope’ that held his tongue, afraid to speak of it just as he had feared speaking about the Army of the Old during their first meeting.
After the silence persisted and the city grew closer, Rider August Stroan knew he had to explain, but was also thankful they gave him the time to do so himself. They were truly friends of his now. “Should the city be overrun, a general fall back order is issued into the streets and homes of all those who live there. Then the city, evacuated or not, is eradicated.”
A chill ran down Johan’s spine. “How, Stroan?”
Stroan collected himself and Johan was instantly reminded of their first roadside meeting, as well as the reveal of the Ark 1. Stroan was always the first to know.
“With a High-Yield bomb.”
Johan went as white as a ghost. “What the hell, Stroan! We’re walking into a city with a bomb at its core? This is fucking madness!” He released Seraphina’s hand. “Why? Why would we dream of going there? That’s the evil I want to destroy! I don’t want it to protect my life!”
No one saw Chief Rider Caspar fall back behind them. How long he’d been listening was anyone’s guess, but he rode forward on his huge horse to pipe in at this point. “Easy, Johan, easy,” he said while ushering them along as others looked around at the sudden elevation in anger. “I allowed Rider Stroan to tell you all this for that reason you just mentioned. No one knows what they can do better than you, survivors of Tan Torna Qu-ay.
“I knew your home. I knew its people. I’d been there many times in my younger years. I mourn your loss more than many you’ll meet. It was a beautiful place. I’ve stood in Longhold Park and I’ve been to the pools below Tortria Den. I’ve been from one end of the Valley of Smoke to the other, but I wanted you to know what it was you were joining and the things it had to offer, whether you liked it or not. You have a right to know. The world beyond your borders is one you will fear. One you distrust. One you have been raised to call your enemy.
“I know how you feel and the hatred for the things you now must trust, but it is the way the world beyond your borders operates. We were in the dark, kept there by choice and foolishness. Now we must emerge, stronger and smarter, into the world as it is. Modern. Growing. Flying towards the things we’ve feared for so long. You may not know me, but you know my place in your world. You know of the Riders. You know of who we are and where we’re from. You know you have no reason not to believe me.
“This is the way of things, like it or not. The shroud is dropped. The truth exposed. You, the two of you, three when your friend returns…” They didn’t know how he knew of Aryu. Stroan telling him seemed most likely. A man with wings isn’t easily forgotten. “You may be the last of your people, last of your home. I’ve heard of your quest. I know you are men of the world.” A glance at Esgona. “All of you. These others with us still try to live behind the veil of the past, present company excluded of course.” Seraphina nodded but said nothing. “They can’t know what we know. They can’t see the world as we all do now. Look at me. Here I ride, side by side with a man I swore to be my enemy for all my natural life until only a short time ago. We must change. The world demands it of us.”
The words struck each of them as he spoke, but to Johan they were the strongest. To hear the thoughts and fears he’d given voice was overwhelming, and he found himself looking blindly in the dark for Seraphina’s hand.
Once he found it, strength returned and he looked back to the elder and wiser Chief Rider. “What is it you want from us? You wouldn’t tell us any of this unless you wanted something.”
He could feel the wry smile beneath the beard on the old man’s face. “You are right, of course. We have a use for you and the knife you carry.”
Gods be damned, the knife again? True it was powerful, perhaps even otherworldly, but why did it all come back to this knife? This token gift from a small, poor mountain town? Was Johan a man with a knife, or was he just a knife with a man? Seraphina gently squeezed his hand as a reminder of what it was she had said.
“Why join you?” Johan asked. “You know we won’t join the Army or the Riders. Why should we do anything you ask?”
“Because lad, our paths are the same, and my way offers a chance of victory. Yours likely only offers a useless death.”
“Don’t call me lad,” Johan said with unmistakable bile in his words. He felt it now, clear as day. Caspar was simply a messenger. He didn’t know all the answers either. He was being used. They all were, or at least, they were in the process of trying to be. “Since you know where we’re from and what I am, you won’t call me ‘lad’.” Johan hated being used.
“You’re right of course. My apologies. Men, join me. Come with me to the tower in the center of the city, after a good rest and all those other things I promised. Hear what we have to say. All of you. Make your decision then.”
Johan and Esgona each doubted every word for their own reasons, but let it be. They held no power here. They only wanted what everyone else seemed to want: the destruction of the force that had destroyed their home. They still had no idea how that would be done. Caspar, and apparently others, had an option.
“Alright, sir. We’ll go tomorrow, after all the great things you promised have passed. I think we need a little celebration at this point, sleepy or not. Then, off to your tower.”
“Good choice, fellas. My dear, as you seem intimately tied to this band, you are welcome to join as well.” No response from Seraphina. “Well then, onward to Bankoor, sirs. Then, onward to victory!”
He sped up, rejoining his two riding companions, already headlong into a new conversation with them. “Caspar!” Johan called after him, the volume in his voice enough to draw the attention of everyone in earshot. The Chief Rider turned, somewhat perturbed by the interruption of this new conversation, eyes awaiting the reason.
“If you try to fuck us, you won’t like the results!” There was no bravado. It was the truth as Johan saw it.
No response. No nod. No smirk. No visual cue at all. Just the quiet recognition of a man who could make his life very easy, or very hard.
In silence now, the tired and lucky survivors of the Paieleh River Valley continued to the haven of Bankoor and the uncertainty that lived there.
Johan didn’t enjoy threatening a senior Rider, but he knew he had to be taken seriously. What had been a simple plan of finding his friend and seeking his revenge was starting to take shape, and no force on earth would stop that.
Seraphina whispered to him as they walked. “Do you trust him?”
Johan shook his head. “No,” he said matter-of-factly. “I trust Skerd more than him. If the knife is important to Skerd, it must be important to a lot of people.”
“Is it important to you?”
“Revenge is important to me. That and finding Aryu.”
She believed him. “Do you think he’ll find you here, in such a large place?”
Johan smiled. “For a man who can fly, anything is possible.” He held her hand and squeezed, silently indicating that despite his strong answer, he was still concerned.
She returned the gesture and the two carried on. The valley was now far behind them, though never out of memory, and their tired footsteps headed for Bankoor.
Chapter 22
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Going HOME
After the rough flight (and rougher landing thanks to the extra weight of Crystal) onto the smoldering deck of HOME, Aryu folded his wings back against himself as the wind on the deck threatened to carry him off once more into the blue abyss.