“Hathima, I need you to do something for me. When I leave this carriage, I want you to lock the door behind me. There are bad men on this train ahead, and I need to make sure you are all safe, so I am going to release this carriage from the train. I need you to make sure you lock all the doors and windows and don't let anyone in here unless they say that Pious sent them. I will send someone for you, I promise. Make sure to look after the rest of the children,” said Pious, as he placed his hand on her shoulder.
“I will,” she replied, with a sense of pride. Pious went back to the door, knelt and picked up the Attaran's spike–dagger. He walked towards Hathima, stopped in front of her and crouched, holding out the dagger. “Don’t be afraid to use this, okay?” he said, as he gestured for her to take it.
“Okay…,” she said, as she took it from him and tucked it into the sash on her dress.
Pious stood upright and exited the carriage, closing the door behind him. As he closed the door, he heard the satisfying sound of the door locking from the inside.
“Good girl,” he said to himself as he crossed the platform. He knelt and reached over the edge to a lever below. He pulled hard on the lever, which let out a hiss as the pressurised air began to flow freely. As the lever was released, the carriage detached and disappeared slowly into the distance.
Pious turned and entered the door, this time drawing his sword before entering the next carriage. This carriage was completely empty. He continued through the aisle of the carriage, admiring the elaborate and comfortable looking tables, chairs and furnishings. The insides of the carriage were covered in what appeared to be countless Cycles of dust, layer upon layer of sand and silt. A trail of footprints heading to and from either side of the carriage had been stamped into the canvas of dust.
When he came to the end of the carriage, he reached out and opened the door slightly, inspecting the outside of the door. He opened the door further and peeked further outside.
There was no one there. He felt uncomfortable and strange. Something didn’t seem right. He stepped across the platform onto the rear of the Contrivance Carriage, where the metal door leading to the Contrivance Room confronted him, with a key in its locking mechanism.
Pious drew open the door, as a fog-like smoke escaped from the door. The interior of the carriage was dark, lit only by a dim arboreal green glow from the small contrivance stone housed within an elegant armature. Its light illuminated the fine mist in the carriage and was responsible for creating a corona that surrounded the silhouette of a figure at the carriage’s end.
“The Druids were right, after all,” stated the figure. The stranger's voice was familiar to Pious. Very familiar. Nevertheless, memory failed him, and he could not recall the voice’s owner.
“What do you intend to do with – him? Why are you here?” the stranger questioned, shaking the hooded boy held at his side. Pious recognised Jacq’s belt pouch fitted closely to Jacq’s side.
“They knew you would need to come for the boy,” the stranger stated in a tone of disdain. “I didn’t believe them, I didn’t want to, but I still came… and here you are. That is why they sent me here,” the stranger claimed as he moved his head to the left, revealing a facial profile that struck uneasy feelings of familiarity in Pious.
“To finish the task and to see an end to your interference,” concluded the stranger, staring at the ground.
“Jarus….” Pious said with disbelief. He clenched his grip on the hilt of the blade, now held at the ready, his heart pounding in his chest.
He pointed at Jarus with an expression of concern. “Where have you been, Jarus?” Pious said sincerely. He was genuinely concerned for Jarus and couldn’t understand why this long missing friend was once again standing before him – and threatening him.
“We’ve been trying to find you, Jarus,” Pious said solemnly, as he took a step closer.
“Don’t call me that,” said Jarus, shaking his head. “Enough, Pious. Answer the question – why are you here?”
“How long have you been aiding these Heretics, Jarus?” Pious asked, with welling rage.
“Heretics? Heresy? Your vision is very short-sighted, Pious – just like your memory. It always has been,” said Jarus. “Either way, it is irrelevant. We are putting an end to this nonsense – the Decree, Sanctuary, Attamerus… All of it will end… and true goodness shall take its rightful place once again.”
“Their anarchistic heresies are deeply rooted in your heart, Jarus. You can stop listening to their venomous words. I’m sure if we can find a way to get you more of the Treatment –” said Pious, before Jarus interrupted him.
“Treatment?” said Jarus, laughing hysterically. “Sure… Treatment. That is one word for it,” he continued, before pausing in his thoughts. “If you call that a treatment – then I call this the cure,” said Jarus with a cunning smile and a nod of the head.
“Stand aside, Jarus. Let the boy go,” said Pious, in a commanding and authoritative tone.
“I can't-do that,” Jarus replied, pushing the boy behind him.
As soon as Pious turned his head to investigate a sound approaching behind him, a figure fully–clad in black leapt from the shadows. The figure stabbed Pious in the neck with a syringe, injecting a thick, blood–red liquid into his neck. Then it withdrew the needle and threw it to the ground.
Pious slashed at the shadowy figure with a sidewards slash of his sword. The attacker dodged his attack with the highest of agility, flexing backwards at the hips and knees, maintaining full balance and composure. Pious continued to strike at his opponent, who dodged his attacks flawlessly and with extreme dexterity. Pious’s strikes became progressively slower, weakening with each strike, as colour flushed from his face and a sweat broke on his brow. The sword in Pious’s hand fell to the floor.
“That’s enough, Eryn,” said Jarus, gesturing for the wraithlike figure to step back. It took a few steps backwards, and leant against the rear of the carriage – once again being obscured by the shadows.
Pious stared at Jarus and fell to the floor with a groan – his knees collapsing underneath him, his joints screaming in agony.
The heavy thud of Jarus’s footsteps filled the carriage as he slowly made his way towards Pious. “You have been made weak, and will always stay that way… the poison of the Treatment, and of Sanctuary makes you so.”
“Why would you do this, Jarus? Why would you help them?” asked Pious through clenched teeth.
“Help them…?” Jarus said, followed by an amused chuckle. “I am them.”
Jarus knelt on one knee and raised Pious's head up by a handful of hair, looking him in the eye. “As are you,” said Jarus, as he let go of Pious’s head, which slumped low. Jarus stood upright again.
“Do you remember why I left?” asked Jarus, staring at Pious. “I will remind you. I left to find out what memories I had before Serica. I kept dreaming of Shayde, as did you… so I went there. I needed to see it with my own eyes, eyes unmarred by the distortion of the Way and the Treatment” said Jarus, as he crouched over Pious.
Pious tried to speak – he moved his lips and his tongue, but no sounds came forth. His lungs felt like they weren’t moving; he couldn’t breathe in – or out.
“All those visions, all those nightmares – always sold to us a symptom, of an injury that we could never remember,” said Jarus, as he looked at Eryn at the back of the room, then back to Pious. “They weren’t visions, brother – they are memories.”
“They are memories – from a time before they did the unspeakable to us, the most malignant and foul of acts. They are memories from a time – before we died. Before we were betrayed by Orminsul, for his selfish greed,”
“What?” said Pious, as he choked back the urge to vomit.
“They brought us back from death – they manipulated us, corrupted us, polluted us – all to achieve their own ends.
“They took what they wanted from us – we brought it to them, smuggled it to them. But instead of givin
g us back the boy – we were betrayed. They took the Ardenian and killed us as well. Well, our minds anyway.”
“All of this… The attack – all to steal Jacq away?” said Pious, sickness eating at his stomach.
“Oh no… we just used the attack - the opportunity. When knew it was going to happen, we planned accordingly – to take him back,” said Jarus. “Don’t worry, Pious – the Blood of the Snake will fix you, and you will remember all in time. It will fix all of us.”
“You – you were responsible for this, for the invasion… for the inside plan.”
Jarus laughed and shook his head. “Not exactly… that was the other stupid puppet, Quistin,” said Jarus. He turned and looked at the boy, who was standing still.
Jarus turned his head to Pious and began laughing quietly. “Quistin is on his way to Karnak with Serana Parabellum… your sweetheart, I believe,” said Jarus, with a sadistic smile. “What would your wife have said about this?”
“Get out of my mind!” groaned Pious. He tried to push himself from the floor but only succeeded in intensifying his pain further.
“Ever wondered how you knew how to detach the carriage? Do you even remember being on this train, many, many cycles ago?” asked Jarus, staring at Pious, awaiting a response – awaiting a glimmer of revelation to show itself on Pious’s face.
“Exactly. You keep proving my point for me – the Treatment is still suppressing the past,” said Jarus. Jarus went to the boy and grabbed him by the arm, dragging him closer to Pious. “Welcome back to the family – young Rayt,” said Jarus, as he removed the hood from the boy’s head.
Jarus stared at the boy’s face with shock and infuriation. “What the fuck?” he shouted at the boy under the hood. Pious recognised the boy instantly. It was the red-headed and hot-tempered Brasson Broadroad, Jacq’s best friend. Brasson smiled at Jarus through a gag tied around his mouth.
“Where the fuck is he?” screamed Jarus at Brasson. Brasson had a cheeky smile across his face below the gag.
Jarus furiously pulled the gag out of Brasson’s mouth. “Where is he?” he shouted into Brasson’s face, spit landing on the boy's face. Brasson turned his head in discomfort, trying to avoid the spit, and then looked back at Jarus.
“He’s up ya bum–bum,” said Brasson, before laughing as he wiped the spit from his face with his shoulder.
Jarus screamed in fury and pushed Brasson to the floor. Brasson slid past Pious and hit the wall at the back of the carriage – as the black-clad Eryn stared at Brasson.
“No! This is not how it was meant to happen!” screamed Jarus at the ceiling of the carriage, pacing frantically
“Brasson! Go! Release the lever between the carriages when you get out!” shouted Pious. Brasson jumped to his feet and ran towards the exit of the carriage, adroitly slipping past the black figure who tried to grab him. He managed to shut the door – as he audibly turned the key still sitting in the keyhole.
The black-clad figure tested the handle, then lifted its mask to reveal the face of a woman. She looked very similar to Tana – Sky–Eyes, blonde hair. The only factor that set the two apart was an absence of freckles across Eryn's nose and cheeks. “The little runt locked us in,” said Eryn.
“They are going to kill him – you idiot! And it will be entirely your fault!” shouted Jarus at Pious. He withdrew his sword from its scabbard. “You have always been so damned reckless. We failed the first time, and now we will fail a second time!”
Pious used all his strength to grab the flute from around his neck, and blew through it, generating a loud wail. Jarus stopped in his tracks and looked to Pious, as Pious looked at the ceiling of the Contrivance Carriage. The sound of thunder rumbled overhead.
Jarus quickly turned his eyes to Pious’s hand – and the flute clutched in Pious's fist. “Where did you get that?” asked Jarus – his face expressing curiosity and his eyes revealing deep anxiety. He then diverted his full and serious attention to Pious.
“Rayt’s death will be your fault, brother – not mine, not Sylfaen’s, not Eryn’s…,” Jarus continued, pointing to the figure at the back of the carriage.
“– not the others' either… but yours, Ursarion,”
Pious stared at the floor as a rage smacked him in the throat. He couldn’t stand that name. Every time it was mentioned, it felt like a long nail was being hammered into the centre of his skull. A newfound energy began to well within him. An energy, generated by rage – a rage fuelled by the Surge, which began to pump hard and fast.
Pious reached for the grip of his sword and looked to the black-clad figure at the back of the carriage – then back at Jarus.
“His name – is Jacq,” said Pious, as he slowly made his way to his feet, lifting the sword to his side.
“And my name… is Pious, Pious Argentum – and I will not be dragged into your deluded fantasy, Jarus,” said Pious, as his deep breathing reinvigorated his exhausted muscles.
“Your tenacity makes me smile, brother, even when staring down your woeful but inevitable death,” replied Jarus, slowly walking towards him. “I’m sorry, brother – but you must pay for this. I will not be held responsible for the failure again,”
A moment after he uttered the words, the carriage rocked suddenly, and a large thudding sound came from outside. Like an explosion, Pious swung his sword with a backwards slash at Eryn – who deflected it with the metal vambraces woven into the sleeves of her black outfit. He lunged forward at Jarus, thrusting his sword at Jarus's chest. Jarus parried the blow as Eryn drew her sword and moved in for an attack.
Pious continued to make strike after strike, lashing back and forward – flanked by two effective assailants.
A smashing and tearing sound filled the carriage as a large set of claws tore through the roof, ripping a large section of the ceiling apart. The face of Takshakhan appeared through the gaping hole in the carriage, his gentle blue glow filling the space below.
Jarus’s concentration on Pious dropped suddenly as Jarus turned to face the Naga, who was forcing his head further into the carriage. Takshakhan snapped furiously at both Jarus and Eryn, forcing them away from Pious.
Eryn backed away, pushing herself against the wall of the carriage. “Takshakhan?” she exclaimed, completely startled with fright. “What the fuck, Blaide? It’s Takshakhan!”
Pious couldn’t help but give a fleeting thought to how she could possibly know the creature's name – a name that the Naga himself had used in one of Pious’s deliria.
Pious set his eyes on the Contrivance Jewel powering the train, safely behind its transparent protective glass cover. He had read that one must never manually handle a contrivance jewel, without adequate protection – and one should never be exposed to its harmful energies. Pious spotted the dull metallic Transport Tube on the back wall.
While Jarus was distracted by Takshakhan, Pious slipped past him and made a break for the Contrivance Jewel. He threw the protective cover from the jewel, picked up the Contrivance Jewel in one hand and the Transport Tube with the other.
When Pious pulled the jewel from its socket, the stone began to burn his hand, and the train let out a loud groan and started to slow down. He could feel the rays of the stone burning his flesh – even through his layers of clothing and armour. Pious dropped the stone into the Transport Tube and sealed it shut.
Jarus took a few steps towards Pious and swung his sword at him in a sidewards motion, aiming for Pious's neck. Pious ducked and dodged, placing the tube in a pocket as he started climbing Takshakhan’s outstretched arm.
“No!” yelled Jarus, as he attempted to make his way towards Pious – only to be met by a striking bite from the great Naga, which Jarus barely avoided by a well-timed back step. Jarus pointed at Eryn with frustration. “Stop him!” shouted Jarus, but Eryn remained hesitant with fear, pushing herself hard against the wall.
Takshakhan withdrew his head from the carriage as Pious smiled and peered at Jarus below with a smile of victory and success. The smo
ke-mist of the carriage rose and out of the damaged carriage roof. Takshakhan paced backwards along the top of the carriage, and Pious smiled even more broadly when he saw that Brasson had managed to detach the carriage, which slowly disappeared behind them.
Jarus ran towards the hole in the carriage and jumped, grabbing hold of the edge and starting to climb up onto the roof, grabbing Pious by the leg and pulling him from Takshakhan to the surface of the carriage.
The Prairie
“Just like the hand,
Pats the fur of a cat,
The breeze strokes the green,
Lush grassy mat,
I ride alone,
With the wind at my back,
And I return to my home,
Amidst the Prairie free.”
“Prairie Dweller’s Ditty”,
Unknown composer.
Unknown date of record.
Pious turned his head and looked behind him, distracted by a frightfully familiar scream that carried through the sky as Takshakhan leapt from the train and began to circle above the carriage.
A large Seagle fell past Pious and smashed into the ground in a blast of feathers, its wings flailing wildly. Nochuros slammed onto the end of the carriage, landing behind Jarus and rocking the carriage.
“Jarus!” shouted Pious, as loud as he could, pointing to Nochuros – trying to warn Jarus of the approaching monster.
As Jarus turned, Nochuros grabbed Jarus by the back of the head. Pious watched helplessly as Nochuros stabbed Jarus through the back with a jagged stone dagger before dumping him over the edge of the train like a useless carcass.
“Just 1 left!” screamed Nochuros to Pious with the most guttural and powerful of shouts, as Takshakhan rapidly descended from the sky. Pious jumped towards Takshakhan, who shifted its location in a spark of lighting, placing itself strategically under Pious.
Nochuros drew the dagger across the palm of his hand, throwing a handful of blackened blood over the side of the carriage. “Angra!” he screamed at the top of his voice.
Exhumation: An Epic of Existentia (Acts of the Sojourner Book 1) Page 36