Wind Runner: The Complete Collection

by Edmund Hughes

  Rose. And Tapestry. I can’t give up on finding them yet.

  “I’d be of no help to you,” said Malcolm. “I’m powerless, remember?”

  “So am I,” countered Wax.

  Malcolm shrugged. “This isn’t a fight that ordinary people should be throwing themselves into. Honestly, I think you’d be better off putting your faith in the spaceship that’s on its way to rescue Savior than you would in my abilities.”

  He’d meant the comment as a joke, but it was a clear from the champion’s expressions that they didn’t take it as one.

  “The mission failed,” said Wax. “The ship’s crew stopped responding over the communications system.”

  Malcolm frowned.

  “How is that possible?” he asked.

  Wax just shook his head. “One of them might have turned on the others. Or maybe there was a stowaway aboard the ship. A Multi who might not care that it was a one-way trip, once the crew was dead.”

  “I doubt that,” said Malcolm. “It’s not like it’s easy to sneak aboard a spaceship.”

  Wax didn’t say anything, and neither did Malcolm. It didn’t matter much why the mission had failed, just that it had. There was nothing left for any of them to put their faith into. No powerful champion to entrust the fate of humanity to. It was only them, and whoever they could recruit.

  The thought made Malcolm all the more aware of how ragged the three champions looked. He doubted that Greenthumb was carrying the walking stick for show, and Anna seemed a little dazed. The bandage around her head suggested a recent head injury, perhaps one bad enough to affect her cognitively. And Wax… he was still Wax. Powerless, just like Malcolm. Not anyone capable of pulling off miracles.

  What am I supposed to tell them? To give up? Would I, in their shoes?

  “There’s nothing stopping you from helping us!” snapped Anna. “Why won’t you help? We need more people for this… It’s bigger than us.”

  “I know,” said Malcolm. “And I’m sorry. There’s something else that I have to do, first.”

  A few seconds of disappointed silence passed. Then, surprisingly, Chaste Widow stepped forward, moving between Malcolm and the champions.

  “I’m gifted,” she said, without preamble. “If you’d have me, I’d join with you.”

  She shot an apologetic look over her shoulder at Malcolm. He hated to admit it to himself, but it did hurt him a little to see her moving on so quickly. But it also strengthened his resolve in what he knew he had to do.

  “You’re gifted?” asked Wax. “Why haven’t you gotten in touch with the champions before?”

  “Wax…” said Anna. “We can ask her questions later. For now, we should take what we can get.”

  Wax hesitated, but eventually nodded.

  “We need to get going,” he said. “We’ll be in the area tonight, but then we’re heading out. If you change your mind, or discover anything that can help us, we’ll be camped by the wreckage of our old headquarters.”

  “The Dome,” said Malcolm, remembering it fondly.

  “Take care Wind Runner,” said Greenthumb.

  The others nodded to him. Chaste Widow gave him a tight hug, pressing her cheek against his face briefly instead of kissing. And then they left, leaving him alone.

  CHAPTER 7

  Malcolm’s hideout smelled strange the next morning. It took him an embarrassingly long time to recognize it as the scent of a woman, the slightly musky mix of pheromones and traces of perfume.

  He had no food left, so he contented himself by drinking water for the morning. He carried one of the jugs with him as he made his way out of his hideout and toward the forest where he’d left his traps set up.

  One of Malcolm’s sneakers had been developing a hole for the past several weeks. He caught his foot wrong against a rock, and another stitch gave out, finally enlarging the gap enough to make walking awkward. He swore under his breath and hoped he could find some tape or a needle and thread to make the necessary repairs.

  His traps had been destroyed. It only took him a single glance at them to know that it had been a malicious act, rather than random chance, or from an animal trying to escape. The twine had been stolen from all of them, and one of the logs had been stepped on and caved in.

  Malcolm tried to keep his anger in check as he surveyed the damage. It meant that he wouldn’t have a regular source of food unless he could actively hunt. The main benefit to having the traps was that they’d been able to catch food even when Malcolm was tired and exhausted. Without them, he’d be fighting a losing battle.

  He filled his jug with water from the river and drank until it was hard for him to tell if the pain in his stomach was from hunger or being overfilled with liquid. Then, he started off toward Vanderbrook, hoping that he’d stumble upon fortune in the trading square.

  Greg was standing at his trading stall, setting out a variety of weapons and equipment for display. Malcolm caught his eye as he walked over, hoping that the man might have some basic work for him. Greg frowned when he saw him.

  “You shouldn’t be here,” he said. “Bennett’s gang has been coming through all morning, and they aren’t fans of yours.”

  Malcolm winced.

  “I’ll have to take my chances. Speaking of which, is anyone looking for an extra hand for today?”

  Greg slowly shook his head, sharing Malcolm’s disappointment.

  “Sorry, man,” said Greg. “I doubt anyone here would want to risk inviting your trouble onto themselves.”

  Malcolm thanked him for the heads up and started back through the crowd. He saw where Greg was coming from, and couldn’t fault him for it.

  How long has trouble followed me for? It’s like my shadow, always there behind me, in some capacity or another.

  A few men were sitting outside a building, passing a liquor bottle around between them. Malcolm overheard some of their conversation as he passed by.

  “…saw her, too. A shadow spryte. Too wild for us to stick around to watch, though. Even though she was naked.”

  Malcolm froze in mid-step. He approached the men tactlessly, dropping to a crouch next to where they were seated.

  “Say that again,” he said. “The part about the shadow spryte.”

  The man glared at him and opened his mouth. Before he could say anything, Malcolm reached out and snatched the bottle out of his hand. He held it off to the side, over the concrete, shaking it slightly in loose fingers.

  “If you gents want to keep enjoying yourself today,” said Malcolm, “I suggest you give me the full story of what you were just talking about.”

  He used his tone of voice to make it clear that he’d follow through with his threat, if he had to. One of the men told him everything he knew, which wasn’t much. He and a buddy had seen a shadow spryte in the outskirts of town, but it had taken off in a sphere of dark energy soon after. The man didn’t know in which direction.

  Rose. Did you finally come back? Have you remembered?

  Malcolm gave the men back their bottle. He resolved to restart his search, regardless of whether he was hungry, and whether he had a weapon to protect himself. He’d made it most of the way back toward his hideout when someone shouted out behind him.

  “Wind Runner!” called Bennett. “Where are you going in such a hurry? We haven’t had our chat yet today.”

  Malcolm slowed to a stop, knowing that it would only waste energy to run. He turned around and saw Bennett walking toward him slowly, carrying the pistol he’d stolen from him earlier in the week. He was flanked by his two thugs, and they all looked inordinately pleased to see him.

  “Bennett,” said Malcolm. “I’m afraid I don’t have time for you today.”

  He felt a cold, confident certainty taking hold in his chest. He’d let himself get distracted for too long. It wasn’t about his survival or his safety. His life had a focus, and hearing the rumor about Rose had revitalized his will. Nothing would stop him from finding her.

  “You’d talk t
o me like that?” sneered Bennett. “I thought we were friends! Wind Runner, don’t tell me you’ve lost your manners along with your powers.”

  He strode closer, an arrogant bully drunk on his own meager influence. Malcolm didn’t flinch back from him. He held Bennett’s gaze steadily.

  “What do you have on you?” asked Bennett. “If you’re in a rush, just give me what you have and we’ll call it square. Sound good?”

  “Sound’s great.” Malcolm reached a hand into his pocket, digging into it with exaggerated motions. “Just… one thing though.”

  He gestured for Bennett to come closer, and had to keep himself from grinning as the gang leader stepped within Malcolm’s range. He no longer had his wind manipulation, but he was still fast, and his first kick swept Bennet’s legs out from under him before he had time to react.

  The two thugs let out shouts of surprise. Malcolm was already moving, throwing himself into the air and onto Bennett before he could get back to up on a knee. He got one of his hands over the gun, angling it away from him, and then head-butted Bennett in the face with all the energy he had.

  Bennett screamed, and then let out a wet cough, spraying blood onto Malcolm’s face and shirt. He managed to strip the gun free from Bennett’s hand. The safety was off, and he whirled to fire at the nearest thug. Nothing happened when he pulled the trigger.

  No bullets. Bennett already used up the ones in it in the time since he got it. I should have guessed.

  One of the thugs kicked Malcolm hard in the chest, knocking him back. The other carried a baseball bat and was pulling it back to swing a killing blow into Malcolm’s skull when he let out a tiny gasp.

  Malcolm glanced down at Bennett, or rather, at the shield bubble that now encased him. His entire body was trapped in a multicolored, lightly shimmering egg of confinement. When Malcolm looked back toward the other thugs, similar bubble shields had already encapsulated them. He still held the gun in his hand, and kept his finger on the trigger as he slowly stood up.

  Shield Maiden, one of the few benign sprytes remaining in the area, stood a dozen paces behind him. She was attractive in an alien way, her skin a mixture of swirling pink, purple, and blue, and her hair the color of bubblegum. She met Malcolm’s gaze and crossed her arms.

  “You still have a habit of getting yourself into trouble, I see,” she said.

  Malcolm smiled, though his mind raced ahead, trying to work out why she was there and what she wanted.

  She must have heard the rumor about Rose. That’s the only reason she’d show herself now.

  “What can I say?” said Malcolm. “Trouble has a way of finding me. Speaking of which… Something tells me that you aren’t just passing through town.”

  Shield Maiden slowly shook her head.

  “I take it you’ve also heard,” she said. “Rose has returned to the area. I would like to take the opportunity to try to bring her back to us.”

  “Us, as in… you and Fantasy?” asked Malcolm. “Or have you recruited more monsters to your little clique since I’ve last seen you?”

  For a moment, it seemed as though she wouldn’t answer the question.

  “No,” she said, finally. “We haven’t. It’s been a little too dangerous for us to operate openly in recent times.”

  “That’s the understatement of the century.” Malcolm wiped a hand across his cheek, frowning at the blood that came off. Bennett’s blood - not his.

  “Come with me,” said Shield Maiden. “You look as though you could use a day to… clean yourself up.”

  “We should start immediately if Rose is close by,” said Malcolm.

  Shield Maiden shook her head.

  “You need to compose yourself, first,” said Shield Maiden. “The role you’ll be playing isn’t one you can rush into.”

  “The role I’ll be playing?”

  Shield Maiden nodded. “It’s up to you to remind Rose of what she has to come back to. She has to make the choice to return to her old life.”

  Her old life. I wonder if she even remembers it…

  CHAPTER 8

  Malcolm followed Shield Maiden on foot for a time. She spoke little, but it wasn’t because of him, as far as he could tell. She had a quiet way about her, and managed to be companionable without saying anything.

  They stopped outside a set of stairs leading down into an old cellar in a part of Vanderbrook that had been abandoned long before the collapse. Shield Maiden smiled at him and gestured with her hand.

  “I’ll have to put you in a bubble, beyond this point,” she said.

  “Still don’t trust me?” asked Malcolm.

  She shook her head. “This is our safe place. Trust has nothing to do with it. I couldn’t allow anyone to see the exact route down to Underworld unless we all agreed upon it.”

  “Fair enough.”

  He took a step away from her, and an instant later, a multicolored translucent shell burst into existence around him. It was an odd sensation, reminiscent of the buoyant upward tug of a hammock, mixed with a kaleidoscope of colors from the sun’s light interacting with the clouded surface.

  Malcolm could still see enough to tell when they’d moved underground, but beyond that, he was in the dark. And he didn’t mind. Shield Maiden was taking a risk by taking him into her confidence. He was a former champion, a former enemy, someone who she’d fought against on more than one occasion.

  Rose must be a true friend, for her to take such a risk.

  Time went by, close to an hour. Malcolm was surprised when he saw a literal light at the end of the tunnel. Shield Maiden brought him through one last door, and then the two of them stopped moving.

  “Are your feet underneath you?” asked Shield Maiden.

  “Yeah.”

  She popped the bubble, and Malcolm collapsed into an uncoordinated heap, despite being ready for it. Shield Maiden smiled at him.

  He slowly stood up and followed her down one of the long, cement hallways that spider-webbed out from Underworld’s core. Malcolm was shocked to see that there was still electricity, evidenced by the LED lights lining the ceiling and air circulation.

  “How do you still have the power turned on down here?” he asked.

  He regretted the question as soon as it had left his mouth. Underworld had never been drawing electricity from the grid. Back when Rain Dancer had been alive, he’d used his electrical powers to charge batteries and keep the system running smoothly.

  Malcolm had killed Rain Dancer. Rain Dancer had been Shield Maiden’s lover. A pit of guilt formed in his stomach as the silence dragged on for several seconds. She stopped walking and turned around, but her face was neutral, rather than angry.

  “We got our hands on some solar cells,” said Shield Maiden. “Quite a few. It was no trouble to refit our electrical system to run off them. We still have to be careful about how much we use, but for the most part, we make do.”

  No mention of Rain Dancer. Probably better if I don’t bring him up unless she does.

  They continued walking and spilled out into Underworld’s main chamber. Malcolm was surprised to find it almost empty. The large dining table that had been the centerpiece of the room looked to be doing little more than collecting dust. He wanted to be polite, so he tried to keep the question to himself. Shield Maiden read the expression on his face anyway.

  “There weren’t many Awakened Children here when the collapse happened,” said Shield Maiden. “Those that were here left slowly, often in search of their families, or other members who’d gone missing.”

  “And… Leah?” Malcolm had to know. Leah had been Rose’s sister.

  “We… haven’t heard from her,” said Shield Maiden. She didn’t elaborate beyond that. Malcolm’s heart sank at the idea that he might have even more bad news to deliver to Rose once they found her.

  Footsteps came from another hallway across the chamber. Malcolm glanced over to see another spryte that he recognized. Fantasy, dressed in a loose pink gown, her blonde hair flowing alm
ost down to her waist, looked very surprised to see him.

  “Wind Runner!” she shouted. “Shield, you didn’t tell me we were going to be having guests!”

  Fantasy’s gown showed off her assets quite spectacularly, the curves of her generous breasts, along with her trim waist and firm butt. Despite that, Malcolm glared at her. The last time he’d seen her, she’d used her power to disguise herself as Rose. It had been a ploy for her to discover the true identity of the Gifted Vigilante. It seemed so pointless now, but Malcolm still felt anger and frustration burning inside of him over it.

  “Is that really you, Fantasy?” he asked, spitefully. “Or just another mask?”

  “Oh please,” said Fantasy. “That doesn’t even make sense. Why would I disguise myself as myself?”

  Malcolm shrugged. He was angry and didn’t need things like “sense” and “logic”. Shield Maiden shot him a disapproving frown.

  “Malcolm, if you’re upset over what Fantasy did when Rose disappeared, you should know that it was my idea,” said Shield Maiden. “We knew the two of you were close, and we knew that you had something to do with her disappearance. And we didn’t know if you’d be willing to tell us if we just showed up and asked.”

  Malcolm sighed.

  “I still wish you’d approached it differently,” he said. “It hurts to have a trick like that played on you with the face of someone you love.”

  Someone I love. I do love her. And I never got a chance to tell her.

  “What’s done is done,” said Shield Maiden. “We will set out to find Rose tomorrow. That’s as much as I can do to make amends. Until then… you should make yourself comfortable.”

  “Are you going somewhere?” asked Malcolm.

  Shield Maiden nodded.

  “I need to check in with my contacts on the surface to get a better idea of where to start looking for Rose,” she said. “Take the day to rest, eat, and clean yourself up. Fantasy will help you.”

  Malcolm was about to raise an objection, but Shield Maiden had already turned to head down another tunnel. The sound of her footsteps echoed back into the large, central room. It underscored just how empty their base had become. Malcolm wondered how the two women kept from feeling lonely living there, and began to better understand their reason behind wanting Rose back so badly.