Allie's War Season One

by JC Andrijeski

  The star was most of the way in the sky when he found himself choking again, fighting to breathe. His skin hurt, every part of him. He forced her out of his mind, her face...fighting out every stray thought about where she was.

  He spent the next few hours trying to get out of the cuffs.

  He considered biting his wrist, trying to squeeze out of them that way...but the same thought seemed to have occurred to Terian’s guards, because they’d cinched the cuffs all the way down, until they bruised the bone. He couldn’t risk bleeding out in the dirt if it didn’t work.

  He used the chain to saw at the wood instead, working in hard bursts until his arms were so exhausted he had to rest.

  The sun was higher in the sky by then. He was thirsty, hungry, and the sun was starting to feel hot. He felt sick from pain, and increasingly, from the wound in his leg. He wondered if they’d bothered to dig the metal out before they bandaged him up. He decided they must have, or he’d feel even worse.

  He went back to sawing at the wood, until again, after five or six more bursts of muscle and intent, he was forced to stop.

  It seemed like time went on like that forever. Lying in the dirt, half-dead with pain, fighting emotions that tried to rise...then forcing himself to move, sawing at the wood until his muscles could no longer stand the strain...then back to lying in the dirt, trying not to feel.

  The sound crept up on him. He’d taken another break from fighting the wooden support. He guessed he’d made it about a fifth of the way into the segment of wood he would need to shave off before he could crack the base of the step with his arms and foot. He almost didn’t notice the sound at first.

  Then, he wondered if he was dreaming, remembering...

  The sound got louder.

  Horses.

  He opened his eyes. Turning his head, he squinted through the glare, and saw three horses enter the gate at a canter. They seemed to come up on him fast, given how gradually the sound arose in his awareness.

  The first one pulled up near the steps and Revik found himself looking up at a broad, wind-burned face. He didn’t know it specifically. He didn’t know the others, either, despite their similarity to one another. Anyway, he would have expected a helicopter from Balidor...not these three giant brutes on shaggy, long-maned horses.

  Even so, he stiffened. He recognized the broad, Asian-like features, the deep black eyes. Apart from the color of their irises, each of them had identical, almost-albino coloring, with white hair matted and greased to a near yellow in thick braids down their backs.

  Wvercians.

  Revik hadn’t seen any like them since he was a child, in China.

  He watched them take turns looking at him from their horses. Hand gestures passed between what appeared to be their leader and the other two riding with him. Then the youngest-looking of the three jumped off his horse with a graceful slip of his leg, and ran up the stairs.

  Revik felt the seer’s feet shudder the wood he was chained to, just before the door to the house slammed. He looked back at the others.

  “Help me,” he said in Prexci. His voice came out hoarse, almost a thick whisper. He spoke to the leader, seeing the dark eyes focused emotionlessly on him. “Please...they took my wife. Please...help me.”

  The leader swung off his saddle, leaping down as lightly as the first man, despite his considerable girth. As he stood over Revik, it occurred to the latter that the man could probably kill him with one sharp kick to the throat. Wvercians were usually nomads, and warlike. Smugglers. Opportunists. For the most part, they didn’t follow Code, and had been known to smuggle children, and women. From the well-bred horses he could see under the shaggy manes, and the organic rifles he saw slung in their saddles, these three must be doing well.

  “The house is mine,” he said in Prexci. “I give it to you...everything in it. It will be legal.” He pointed towards the river. “Horses down there. Those are mine, too. Full-sized. One draft...at least one thoroughbred. Ten in total.”

  The leader smiled. He looked up at the other man, who leaned over the pommel of an oversized Tibetan-style saddle, peering at Revik’s face. He pointed at the organic bandage, saying something Revik didn’t catch. The leader smiled, saying something back in a language Revik recognized as a bastardized form of Prexci mixed with Mandarin. Their accents were so thick he only picked out words...a few phrases in pieces.

  The one who remained on his horse spoke the most.

  (some kind of insult) “...here to rob him...” (the man laughed, and said something else Revik didn’t catch) “...knows about the...?” (something else) “...Bridge? Same person as...” (something else he didn’t catch).

  Revik stiffened at the mention of Allie.

  The leader didn’t seem to notice. He grunted, motioning in affirmation.

  The one on the horse spoke again.

  “...leave alone if the...” (something else that sounded insulting) “...orders?” (something else) “...dead? She couldn’t have...” (something else he missed) “...few thousand in his own...” (Revik was pretty sure the word was “army”).

  He looked between them. He found he had started grinding at the wood of the steps again with the chains, almost unconsciously. If they knew who Allie was, they might not be here to help him.

  Where the fuck was Balidor?

  The third Wvercian exited the house, half-running down the steps. At the leader’s level look, he gestured negative. The leader grunted, then looked down at Revik, his black eyes devoid of feeling.

  “You are Dehgoies Revik?” he said in heavily accented Prexci.

  Revik hesitated. He looked between the three of them, then decided he didn’t have the luxury to be coy.

  “Yes,” he said, gesturing affirmative.

  The leader looked him over, then motioned towards the younger of the three Wvercians. Revik stiffened, trying to push his body backwards when the smallest giant pulled his rifle off his saddle. It had organics in the stock, too. Revik stared at it, watching as the man clicked off the safety and raised it to his shoulder.

  “Wait!” he yelled, holding up a hand. “Wait! The Bridge!”

  The man with the rifle lowered it slowly, his eyes puzzled.

  Revik spoke faster, louder. “You’re looking for her...right? If you kill me, you kill her! She’s my mate! I swear to the gods she is! Take off the collar, and you’ll see. Check the telltale...”

  The man with the rifle looked at the leader, his eyes bewildered.

  The other two laughed. The one on the saddle motioned at the one with the rifle. A thick scar ran across his forehead and down beside one eye.

  (a string of run-together words) “...thinks you’re going to kill him!”

  The leader motioned for the young one to proceed, then turned to Revik.

  “Hold still,” he said, pronouncing the words deliberately.

  Revik did. He watched the youngest of the three seers aim at the chain around the base of the stairs. Realizing what was happening, he closed his eyes, turning his face away from the chains.

  There was a metallic clang, and hot metal burned his arm.

  He winced, but when he moved, the chain came free. His wrists were still cuffed, but no longer to one another...or to the stairs.

  He sat up with an effort, gasping a little when he jarred the shot leg.

  “Thank you,” he said, gesturing respectfully. “Thank you.”

  “Can you walk?” the leader said.

  Revik winced, trying to pull himself closer to the stairs.

  “I don’t know,” he said.

  They looked at one another. “Can you ride?” the leader said.

  Revik nodded, looking between them. “Yeah.”

  He started to pull himself up the first stair towards the house. He heard them talking amongst themselves...then the one with the gun got in his way, motioning him off with his hands, his gestures adamant.

  “No,” he said in Prexci. “Stay!”

  Revik pointed towards the h
ouse. “I need clothes.” He looked at the leader. At the blank look on the giant seer, he gestured in sign language. “Clothes. There are some inside. I need my gun...”

  The one on the horse laughed, saying something in a joking tone.

  But the smallest one vaulted up the stairs again, past Revik and into the house, once more letting the door slam behind him. Revik lay there, on the wood, happy to be out of the sun. He was still slumped with his back against the steps, when the leader pulled a canteen off his horse. Walking over, he offered it to him.

  Revik nodded in thanks, and drank for a full minute. He was still drinking when the youngest Wvercian clomped back down the stairs, holding out clothes. Revik saw he’d gone into the refrigerator too. He handed containers to the man on the horse, then walked back to Revik, handing him a shirt and a pair of loose, cotton pants, both Chinese in style. Revik struggled into them while the three Wvercians talked amongst themselves in low voices.

  The younger one handed him a container of food when Revik tried to get up.

  Revik waved it off, but the young seer thrust it forward again.

  “Eat,” the leader said. “We will go soon.” He used his hands to indicate a person falling off a horse. “Ouch,” he said, smiling.

  “Yeah,” Revik said. “Ouch.” Reluctantly, he took the container off the young seer, fighting impatience as he dug his fingers into the thick pile of greens and pasta in the wooden box. He was still putting fingers-full of the casserole in his mouth, swallowing without a lot of chewing, when the leader approached him with what looked like a pair of bolt cutters, only made of some kind of organic.

  “Hold still,” he told Revik again.

  Revik froze as the giant fitted the cutting tool under the collar he wore. He felt the round loop of the collar drop into the notch inside the shears. Then the massive seer squeezed the handles together, his trunk-like arms flexing. Revik flinched as the cutters grazed his skin, nicking the side of his throat. He gasped a little as he felt the organic in the collar die, just before it broke apart on his neck. The two prongs at the top of his spine unwound...

  Then the mechanism clunked open entirely.

  Wincing, Revik pulled it out of the holes in his neck, letting it drop to the dirt. For a moment, he only rubbed his neck, nodding again in thanks to the other seers, unable to speak. The world gained dimension around him as he flexed his light. He could see the seers now, and relaxed a little.

  He still couldn’t feel her.

  He forced it out of his mind, even as the pain worsened briefly, making it hard to see at all. He looked up at the broad-faced seer. His outline appeared less flat, but if anything, the three of them looked even more intimidating.

  “Thank you,” he said, nodding again. Gratitude briefly closed his throat. “Will you take me as far as Seertown? I will pay you well...”

  At their puzzled looks, he looked around at each face.

  “I will pay you very well,” he repeated in Mandarin. “I will pay each one of you, for even the loan of a horse, if you cannot take me...simply tell me how best to make arrangements with you.”

  The leader glanced at the others.

  The man in the saddle shrugged, gesturing vaguely, nodding towards Revik.

  The leader sighed, facing him.

  Seertown is gone, little one, he sent, speaking directly into Revik’s mind. They bombed it into the ground...this past night.

  Revik halted in mid-motion, about to take another clump of greens into his mouth. He could only stare at the hulking seer. His mind tried to reject the information, then to make sense of it. He couldn’t get his mind off Allie, even for this; he couldn’t help but think about this in terms of her.

  It explained why Balidor hadn’t come at least.

  “Who?” he said finally. “American?” He made the correct motion in sign language. “The planes? Were they American?”

  The giant seer smiled, but his eyes grew flat.

  Who cares which worm flag they fly? They came in their dead machines and they bombed the town until every seer in it was run away or murdered... Taking his canteen from Revik’s hand, he took a long drink, gesturing up towards the house.

  We are here for you, brother. We come seeking the Bridge and her mate.

  Revik fought the pain in his chest. He clutched at the cotton shirt, forcing more food in his mouth, if only to distract himself.

  Did Balidor send you? he said finally.

  The giant seer smiled, but Revik once again saw him exchange looks with the others. They still weren’t telling him something.

  He kept his nerves out of his light.

  “Does any of you have a smoke?” he said, to dispel the tension. “Hiri?”

  The one on the horse threw him a stick. Revik put it to his lips. He inhaled on the end while the one who’d shot at his chains leaned close, cupping his rough hand around a flame housed in a silver lighter.

  We were sent by friends, the leader sent. ...We will take you there. Smiling, he gestured towards the wooden bowl. “Eat!” he said. We ride soon.

  Where are we going? Revik sent. He kept his thoughts neutral.

  The larger seer made a vague gesture.

  To base camp first. We will get supplies, fix your leg... He smiled, his dark eyes flat, doll-like. ...Then we go looking for her, yes?

  Revik smiled, bowing politely in gratitude, but he felt his mind growing sharper as he scanned around the giant’s light.

  The youngest of the Wvercians motioned for him to hold out his arms. Using the same cutting tool that broke the collar, he cracked the bracelets of the handcuffs, one by one. Revik continued to focus his light on the other two, rubbing his wrists.

  The thing about Seertown appeared to be true. He got glimpses of burning buildings, the town’s evacuation sirens going off while planes screamed overhead. He’d felt something, anyway...when Terian’s guards were kicking the crap out of him on the steps. Whatever it had been, it made the Wvercians’ story ring true, even apart from what he felt in their minds.

  None of the three seemed to be trained as infiltrators, but he was extremely careful as he scanned their light. He couldn’t afford to anger them.

  For now, it was better to pretend he believed everything they told him.

  In any case, he was reasonably sure they weren’t taking him to Balidor.

  THE RIDE ACROSS the field and down through a narrow, rock-filled canyon via a winding goat trail wasn’t comfortable. Even when they reached the green meadow at the other side of the canyon, every step of the horse jostled his leg, sending harsh stabs up to his hip. He’d broken at least one major bone.

  On his instructions, they’d brought him the roan with the red face, and saddled him with a few of the sheepskin blankets, thinking a regular saddle would be too rigid. They were likely right, but having to grip with his legs to stay on was its own kind of torture. He felt sick within an hour from pain.

  He was having a harder time not thinking about Allie.

  Away from the house, it seemed to worsen...and the worse the physical pain got, the more it confused him, blending in with wanting her. A part of his light scanned for her compulsively, even as he fought out the images that wanted to play out in the forefront of his mind with her and Terian...or, conversely, her and the boy. He tried to get the three seers to talk...anything to feel he was using the time, not just wasting it while she got further away.

  They didn’t avoid his questions entirely...but they circumvented them in odd tangents, giving vague answers whenever he tried to pin them on details.

  After multiple queries, he finally learned that the Americans had, indeed, been involved in the bombing.

  Revik had always assumed most seers knew of the infighting in the seer community between the Rooks and the Seven, and that the Rooks had heavily infiltrated the United States government. But the Wvercian seers seemed to find such details unimportant.

  To them, the source of the problem was clean, straightforward, and could be encompa
ssed in a single, all-inclusive word: Humans.

  Revik wondered if there’d ever been a time when the world seemed so simple to him.

  He was unable to find out from them if the Council of Seven escaped intact, or even if Vash had lived. They were able to tell him that the compound suffered multiple and direct hits, and that the old House on the Hill had been hit as well. The stone structure predated first contact with the humans, and was one of the oldest known seer-built structures standing in nearly its original form. The archives and the catacombs underneath the stone mansion housed irreplaceable artifacts, even bodies of the first race prior to their extinction.

  Revik had never been invited down there, but the place was considered sacred.

  He tried to think if he, himself, had any contacts living nearby. His mind drifted to Tarsi. She wasn’t exactly a soldier these days, but he didn’t have a lot of options.

  The reality was, Revik didn’t have many friends in India. He hadn’t spent much time in Asia at all since his “rehabilitation”...and he’d spent that period in caves, in a kind of hell of his mind and light, with only monthly visits from Vash to monitor his progress.

  He certainly hadn’t made any friends. Those years consisted of meditation and light restructuring, mostly under the guarded eye of a sect of monks who didn’t speak.

  When that period of his penance ended, Vash relocated him immediately, first to Russia for more time alone and then Revik had been found a paid position in Europe, working for humans. At the time, Vash made that sound like it was part of his penance, too, so Revik hadn’t felt like he could exactly refuse. Either way, he had been out of the Pamir’s caves for less than a week before he was handed a new passport and a bus ticket to Delhi, followed by a flight to Berlin and then on to Moscow where housing for him had already been arranged. He hadn’t been back to Asia since, not until now.

  Galaith never had him working in Asia much, either, at least from what he could remember. Well, apart from Vietnam, but even that was a short tour, and he’d spent most of it underground, conducting interrogations.

  After the restructuring under the monks of the Pamir, he’d been in a kind of daze those first few years...and even after he got sent to London. Not long after he’d left those caves, he’d been formally tasked with protecting Allie. He’d been connected on and off to seers in the Pamir to be briefed, but he wasn’t invited back. In fact, Vash actively discouraged him from coming to Asia at all...for any reason. He didn’t want him in Seertown, China or Southeast Asia. Eventually he didn’t want him in Russia, either, or even Eastern Europe, not even for visits. When necessary, they met in the Barrier, in one of Vash’s many constructs.