Death Flag

by Richard Haygood

He briefly thought about explaining it to them the way he had to Warren and actually trying to defend his actions, but he doubted that he would get any further with them than he had before. When he had spoken with Warren about it, he had spent as much time trying to talk himself through what he had been thinking and what his reasoning was as he had trying to convince Warren that it had been the right thing to do. And, truthfully, he still didn’t have a real answer to that question.

  After a brief pause to consider his options, he calmly answered, “I guess I just thought she was cute.”

  Sandra and Cruz almost choked on their food again, and he was certain that Warren’s eyes were threatening to bug out of his head. The two men stared up at him as they recovered from their shock, but Sandra nodded appreciatively, her long, dark curls bouncing back and forth.

  “I see. I see. An honest man,” she said, a huge smile forming on her face. “That’s a rare thing indeed. And to be so open about your feelings so quickly!”

  “You’ve got to be kidding me,” Warren groaned. “That was the real reason?” He leaned forward and stuffed his face into the palms of his hands, groaning again.

  “This guy here”—Sandra leaned over into Cruz and lovingly bumped him with her shoulder—”was too afraid to even talk to me at first. It took him months to work up the courage! He was so cute, hanging around and trying to chat up my friends so that he could get closer to me.”

  “Hey, you didn’t exactly make it easy to get close to you! All that talk about not needing anyone to hold you down and how you were going to make it to Sworn all by yourself”

  “Yeah,” she answered honestly, pressing a finger to her lips and staring up contemplatively before answering. “And I wasn’t wrong! But, eventually he worked up the nerve to ask me out, and we’ve been together ever since.”

  “I think there are times that I’ve started to regret saving your life!” Cruz said, instantly leaning away from her. She swatted at the back of his head playfully, and it was apparently a familiar enough gesture that he had learned to anticipate it. “But for real, you’re going to have your hands full with that one, my friend. She’s a real fireball.”

  “Mmhmm,” Sandra agreed from around another mouthful of fruit.

  “Well, I think I’ll just sit back and bide my time. I don’t see any reason to be in a hurry,” Madison stated evenly, continuing to play along with his own little fib. “But don’t tell her I said that or anything. I wouldn’t want for things to start off any more awkward between us than they already will be. I can’t imagine she’s going to be very happy with me when she wakes up.”

  “You don’t even know, man,” Cruz said, pausing as he shoved another forkful of scrambled eggs into his mouth. “She was cursing you as soon as you were out of the room, and she still doesn’t even know your name. I’m surprised you didn’t hear it through the closed door on your way out. We were sitting in the hallway, and it was a blast!”

  “What time is it?” Madison asked, suddenly realizing that they had been there for a while. Between eating and chatting, he knew that a good bit of time had passed, but he couldn’t be sure of exactly how much without a watch.

  “Midmorning,” Warren answered from beside him, finally sitting back in his seat and relaxing a bit. “You’ve still got a little bit of time before you’re supposed to meet Ryder if that’s what you’re worried about,” he added.

  “You haven’t even hit day number one, and you already have a meeting with Ryder?” Cruz asked, pushing an empty plate away from him. “I’m really going to have to learn to stop being surprised around you. Is he pissed off about having to break up that fight, or what?”

  “No clue,” Madison answered. “Just know that I’m supposed to meet him an hour before lunch. And didn’t you explain to me that we only had an hour for meals?”

  “Off day,” Cruz and Warren answered at the same time.

  “Dining hall and food services are open all day long. Its ingrained into most of us what time we wake up every morning, but people still trickle in all day long at different times since they don’t have anything to do or anywhere they have to be. That’s why it’s so relaxed in here right now. Normally, by this point, everyone would be rushing about trying to get to the next set of lessons.”

  “I see,” Madison answered. Lessons. There it was. Training. Whatever they wanted to call it. The reason I acquiesced to playing along. So that I can get stronger. So that I can find a way home. There’s just so much to figure out and learn and so little time to do it in. To make matters worse, if what Warren told me was correct, time passes differently here. He hasn’t come right out and said it, but I think it’s passing more quickly out there than it is here. Every day I spend in this place could be adding up to days or weeks out there. If I take too long, that witch might be dead before I ever catch up with her. Then how will I get home? That thought left a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, so he pushed it down as quickly as he could and let it simmer. There wasn’t anything he could do about it immediately, so it was going to have to remain nothing more than a fear. “I’m supposed to meet Ryder in the training room. Where is that, exactly?”

  “Did he say which one?” Sandra asked.

  Madison barked a laugh. “Of course not! Why would he? Why would he even mention that there was more than one?”

  “If it’s Ryder, I’m guessing he means the practice room in the main building. That’s the one he normally uses,” she added thoughtfully.

  Cruz nodded and said, “Agreed. No doubt about it. If he didn’t specify, that’s where you’ll find him.”

  “Do you need me to show you the way?” Warren asked, starting to stand up.

  “No, I’ve got some time, so I think I’ll try and figure it out on my own,” he said. He put a hand on Warren’s shoulder to stop him as he stood up for himself. “Now that you’ve told me how things work around here, I think I have a fairly decent idea of what to do. Besides, I can’t rely on you to show me the way forever.

  “It was nice meeting you,” he added to Sandra and Cruz before stepping away from the table. “Why don’t you carry her some flowers for me or something? Make her room look nice for when she wakes up.”

  Shandra beamed him a huge smile, and Cruz rolled his eyes back into his head, muttering something to himself, but Madison had already walked away before anyone could say anything else.

  He strode out of the dining hall without as much scrutiny as he had received when entering. He didn’t hurry to avoid anyone’s gaze, but he didn’t linger either. If these people were as attention starved as he thought they were, then it was only a matter of time before someone spotted him and decided to make him the topic of gossip again. He didn’t actually mind, but considering that it was his first day, and he wasn’t even halfway through it, he wanted to avoid as much idle speculation for as long as he could. Going on what Cruz had said, he had been the talk of the town even before this morning’s little escapade with Shayna and Randall, and anything else he might do now would only be adding to the growing legend.

  Just as he stepped through the double doors leading to the outside world, a group of men pushed their way inside. They were in various states of dress, and many looked as if they had only woken up recently despite the fact that it was well into midmorning, and he had to quickly step to the side to avoid colliding with the one in front, a large and slightly-pudgy boy with curly, red hair.

  He only caught a snippet of their conversation as he brushed past, but he heard one ask snidely, “Where is this kid? There’s no way I’m going to let someone like that walk around with his nose in the air on his first day.”

  “There’s no way we’re going to let some snot-nosed Novice goof us like that,” the other spouted, his beady gaze sweeping around the dining hall. “Just wait till I find this prick and teach him who runs this place.”

  Madison refused to turn around and simply kept walking. Within seconds, he had skipped down the grey stone stairs and was already on the pathway
that would lead him back to the main building. There was no sound of shouting or pursuit from behind him, so they obviously weren’t following—not that it would have been hard to catch up with him given how casually he was moving.

  I guess Warren had a point. I can’t be certain that gang was after me, but I haven’t heard about any other new guys either. I wonder who they were? Madison made a mental note of the pudgy ginger’s traits and to ask about it later. He did say that people would be gunning for me now for one reason or another. Is that sort of thing going to become a common occurrence? Of course, they weren’t too bright to let me slip right past them like that, so maybe I don’t have anything to worry about.

  Without having to stop and talk to Warren every few moments or make detours to the infirmary, it was much quicker reaching the main building again this time than it had been leaving it. He reached one of the side entrances first, a different spot from where he had exited with Warren, and tentatively stepped inside, allowing the door to swing shut behind him before moving more than a few steps. It looked like he was in a foyer of some sort, furnished with a small, comfortable-looking chair and a reading lamp, connected to a hallway stretching out in front of him.

  Ok, what was it Warren said to do? Just think about where you want to go, and you’ll get there? How do I think about going somewhere that I’ve never been and have no clue what it even looks like?

  Undeterred by a little thing like having no idea where he was going or what he was doing, Madison confidently stepped into the hallway. He kept trying to picture what a training room was in his head. Images of various martial arts studios flashed through his mind that were filled with training mats, racks of weapons and masks and armor. He thought of boxing rings and gymnasiums filled with all sorts of weight-lifting equipment. He doubted that there was going to be a line of purple-colored treadmills or ellipticals, but he could imagine these people having some sort of free-weights or an obstacle course.

  He took several turns, quite randomly, and ended up in a dead-end hall with a pair of large doors at the end. Not seeing any other way to go aside from ahead or back, he calmly walked up to the doors and pushed them open. Inside, he found a dimly-lit space that was so massive he couldn’t make out anything beyond the doorway. The ceiling and all of the walls were hidden in darkness somewhere far away, and there was a slightly-cool breeze and a hint of dampness in the air.

  “Alright,” he said aloud to himself. “Hoping this isn’t it.” He turned around and started walking down the hallways randomly again. On a hunch, he concentrated on finding his way back to the men’s dormitories. He focused on the long, irregular rooms filled with beds only a few feet away from one another. He thought about the interesting little storage room that Warren had taken him to and the supply closet that was contained there. A few more random turns later, and he stepped through a door into a long and somewhat-familiar hallway. Sure enough, after opening the closest door as a test, he was greeted by the sight of rows upon rows of beds.

  Okay, so, that was easier when I was able to imagine exactly where I wanted to go and what it looked like. He turned and went back out once again. But how do I find some place when I don’t know what it looks like?

  He wandered around for a while, almost casually, hoping to find some type of pattern to where he would end up. True to Warren’s word, however, he never really seemed to end up anywhere in particular. He stumbled upon the private patio that he had discovered that morning, and he exited out of the building into what appeared to be a forest, and he returned to the small foyer he had first come in after leaving the dining hall, but he never ended up anywhere important. It was almost like there was some unseen force at work guiding him in the wrong direction. Even when he counted his steps precisely and made all the correct turns, he couldn’t make his way back to where he had only just been.

  Okay. I’m supposed to meet Ryder in the training room. I’m not certain where that is, and even Warren and Cruz couldn’t tell me for certain. They only assumed that he meant one in this building. So, what happens if I just concentrate on finding my way to Ryder instead? I know I’ve been to his office before, so if all else fails, I just have to concentrate on finding my way there, right? Rather than trying to imagine some place he had never been, he instead thought about finding Ryder. As much as he hated doing it, he pulled up a mental image of him as he had seen him that morning inside his head: long, black hair, neatly-trimmed beard, black shirt. Wait, wasn’t he wearing a black jacket when he broke up that fight? Madison added that to the mix, and within moments, he stepped through a door into a short hallway. There was a single door about halfway down, and Ryder was standing outside of it, just about to step inside.

  Madison stopped dead in his tracks blinked once, unable to believe his eyes. Oh shit. It actually worked!

  Ryder didn’t let any sort of emotion make it to his face if he was at all surprised over Madison’s sudden appearance, but his movements drug for a moment, his step slowing down just a breath and his hand faltering slightly as he reached for the doorknob. Madison regained his composure as quickly as he could, dispelling the shock of actually finding his way there successfully, and followed Ryder inside, stepping into a room that actually would have fit many of the mental images he had been conjuring, though it was closer to his original idea of a dojo rather a gymnasium. The room was laid out in a simple design: it was large and open with practice mats on one side and equipment racks on the other. He noticed several sparring dummies in a corner along with a few other items he couldn’t identify, and a line of doors along the back wall. There weren’t any windows, and the only source of illumination was from those same strange, magical, glowing orbs he had become accustomed to seeing everywhere.

  Ryder was already standing on one of the mats, and Madison could see where he had taken his shoes off. Although he had no experience with such things himself, he had heard of such customs before, so he figured he might as well follow suit and do the same. He took his time removing the light pair of boots he was wearing and studied Ryder for the second time that day. Now that he was standing, Madison could tell that the Guardian was almost as tall as he was, probably just over six foot, and he moved with a conservative grace that was rarely seen outside of a dance studio. He didn’t so much tread across the mat as he just seemed to somehow glide where he wanted to go. The difference was hard to describe but plain to see. Ryder took off the overcoat he had been wearing, a long, black duster that looked like it belonged in a Western, and began rolling up his sleeves. Aside from the stand-out jacket and his movements, there wasn’t anything truly remarkable about him: long hair that was perfectly tied, a neatly-trimmed beard, an unreadable, expressionless face. The guy radiated a sense of confidence and formality that was almost obnoxious but not quite.

  Ryder turned back to him and, as he walked out to the center of the mat, he said in a cool voice, “I trust you had no problem finding the training room.”

  “Actually, I didn’t,” Madison replied calmly as he stepped onto the mat.

  Ryder raised an eyebrow slightly as he studied him, encouraging Madison to explain.

  “I tried finding the room,” Madison explained, “but I couldn’t. So, I found you instead.”

  Ryder received that bit of information in stride, and if the idea of someone tracking him down bothered him, he didn’t show it. He tilted his head back and cocked it to the side just slightly as if he was considering what Madison had said. “I see. So, Warren explained to you—”

  “No,” Madison interrupted quickly, shaking his head. “He only told me to concentrate on where I wanted to go and that the magic would sort it out after that. Since I didn’t know what this place looked like—or if it was even real—I thought about finding you instead. It was much easier to picture something I’ve already seen rather than something I haven’t.”

  “You’re early,” Ryder said, his face once more turning expressionless as he switched the subject.

  “So are you,” Madison
countered, stepping onto the mat.

  “We’re expecting someone else,” Ryder said, crossing his hands behind his back and adjusting his stance. “It would be rude to start before they arrive.”

  How polite. Madison adjusted his stance to match Ryders, spreading his feet until they were shoulder-width, and he was balanced on the middle of his feet. The only difference was that he folded his hands in front of him rather than behind. He had never had any type of formal martial arts training, and he was halfway mimicking what he saw Ryder do, but it was an extremely-easy posture that came naturally. He had spent enough time in the gym doing squats and deadlifts, and this wasn’t any different. His stance wasn’t a spot-on match for what Ryder did, but it felt right for him. If you want to wait, we’ll wait.

  Various thoughts flitted through his mind as he waited. He had been through so much since arriving in this world in such a short amount of time. He was actually afraid to bring up those memories, even though they were all extremely fresh. He had been beaten and abused and pushed to the brink of death. He was in a fantasy world with unbelievable people and magic and, though he hadn’t voiced it, he felt like he was caught up in someone else’s current—like he had been pulled into a centuries-old mission that wasn’t even his own and that no one would fully explain to him. He knew that, just by being here at K’yer Utane, he was somehow committed to some higher purpose he knew nothing about.

  Breathing in slowly, he pushed all that away. It wasn’t anything he wanted to deal with. He compartmentalized it and tucked it away for another time. What he had to focus on was the here and now. Dwelling on the past or how unfortunate his situation seemed wasn’t going to get him anywhere. It wasn’t going to get him a step closer to home or an inch closer to the revenge he wanted or an answer to the dozens of questions he had. He concentrated on Ryder. He watched him, immobile on the mat in front him. He studied the other man’s posture, his gaze, his details, hoping to find some clue as to what type of person he was.