Wind Runner: The Complete Collection

by Edmund Hughes

  He felt a little awkward as he looked over at Fantasy, who was watching him with her arms crossed, with a tiny, mischievous smile on her face.

  “Relax,” she said. “I’m not going to do anything weird. Have a seat at the table. I’ll get you some food. Are leftovers okay? I don’t really feel like cooking.”

  “Anything is okay,” said Malcolm. He felt himself relaxing a bit, or perhaps just warming to the idea of having food to eat that he didn’t have to forage.

  Fantasy brought him a plate with cooked venison, green peas, and instant mashed potatoes. Malcolm let out an audible sigh when he saw it, and started chuckling uncontrollably when the smell met with his nostrils.

  “How…” He shook his head in disbelief. “This… is a better meal than I’ve eaten in half a year.”

  “The peas are canned, and the potatoes come from a bag,” said Fantasy. “The venison is all Shield Maiden. She’s really good at hunting with her power. I’ve tried it with my illusions, but it’s harder to trick an animal than a human, if you can believe it.”

  “I can,” said Malcolm.

  CHAPTER 9

  Malcolm had to relearn proper table manners as he ate. He devoured everything, and Fantasy willingly brought him seconds. His stomach was full almost to the point of bursting when he finished clearing his plate a second time. She brought him a glass of wine, which seemed equally decadent to his now simplified palette.

  Once the meal was over, Fantasy cleared his plate and disappeared into another room. When she returned, she carried fresh clothes and a towel. She gestured for him to stand and follow.

  “Come on,” she said. “You need a bath. I don’t think you realize just how smelly you are.”

  “Fair enough,” said Malcolm.

  She led him down a hallway, and into Underworld’s extravagant bath room. A massive hot tub, already steaming with water, was sunken into the center of the cement floor. Malcolm wondered how it had come about, but was more interested in climbing in than having his questions answered.

  He’d already taken his shirt off when he realized that Fantasy was still in the room, watching him carefully. He raised an eyebrow at her.

  “Are you going to watch me bathe?” he asked.

  “Yes,” she said, simply. “Don’t think that just because you’re down here, you have our complete trust. You could do a lot of damage with your powers, Wind Runner.”

  So she doesn’t know that I’m powerless. Maybe it’s better not to tell her?

  He wondered if he was violating the tenuous trust that existed between him and the sprytes by not telling her. He decided that the story would have to be told eventually, but it could probably wait until after he’d gotten cleaned up and when Shield Maiden had returned.

  “Well?” asked Fantasy. “Don’t tell me you’re too shy to strip in front of a pretty lady?”

  Malcolm chuckled.

  “Shy isn’t exactly the word I’d use,” he said. Truth be told, he found that as he pulled his pants and boxers off, a jolt of excitement went through him. He could feel Fantasy’s eyes on him. Despite the dirt and grime, his body had grown lean and muscular over the past few months.

  He slowly lowered himself into the water, breathing a sigh of pleasure as the heat bled into him. Fantasy brought over soap and a wash cloth, and then surprisingly, sat down next to him, her bare feet and lower legs dipping into the bath.

  “How complicated things have become,” said Fantasy, her voice wistful.

  Malcolm met her gaze, wondering what she meant by that. He was about to ask when she continued.

  “It’s been hard for us down here,” she said. “Not in the same way as you’ve struggled on the surface, I’m sure. But difficult. It’s hard to know what’s happening in the world.”

  “It’s as you said,” replied Malcolm. “It’s even harder to be a part of it. The struggle is real. People die every day in Vanderbrook for reasons that are so petty and pointless that you just become numb to it, after a while.”

  Fantasy picked up a bar of soap. She ran it across Malcolm’s shoulders, not scrubbing, but washing him with an absentminded casualness.

  “You aren’t numb to it, though, are you?” she asked.

  Malcolm exhaled slowly.

  “I am, and I’m not,” he said. “It depends on the situation. Emotionally… I’m less than I was, back when the world made sense.”

  Fantasy’s hands kept roaming. Malcolm was tempted to stop her, but the water felt amazing, and he found himself enjoying her company more than he wanted to.

  “We were really close,” she said. “Closer than you might know, Wind Runner. Before Rain Dancer died, and before Zeus began his reign of terror… We were on a path toward a better world.”

  “Better?” asked Malcolm. “With Rain Dancer’s methods? You might have been on a path, but I’m not sure it would have led you where you wanted.”

  “Maybe not,” said Fantasy. “I don’t blame you for killing him, just so you know. That was a blunder of his own doing. But… How do I explain… Here, maybe it’s easier for me to just show you.”

  She closed her eyes. Malcolm saw, more than felt, a shift taking place in the room. He could still feel the water of the tub, but in front of him now was a model of the town of Vanderbrook, not as it was now, but as it once had been.

  Except, it wasn’t the Vanderbrook he remembered. Fantasy expanded the illusion, zooming in her focus until Malcolm could see the faces of people walking through the streets. He saw normal humans, but also sprytes and demons.

  A human in a hooded sweatshirt passed by a blue skinned demon in a business suit without batting an eyelash. A spryte with bands of gold running up her arms like tattoos played with a group of children, tossing a ball into the air and holding it aloft with her power as the children jumped and reached for it.

  The scene progressed further into a park on the north side of town. He remembered playing in it when he was a kid. He saw Fantasy in the illusion, younger than she was, but still a spryte. She was standing across from a teenage boy around the same age as her illusionary self, the two of them staring lovingly into each other’s eyes.

  “I don’t remember his name,” said Fantasy. “I just remember that I loved him. Before I became a spryte, and after. I don’t know what happened to him…”

  “I’m sorry,” said Malcolm.

  “Don’t apologize,” said Fantasy. “Help me. Wouldn’t it be wonderful if we could still bring this world about?”

  “It would,” Malcolm admitted. “But it’s not something that could happen overnight.”

  Or possibly ever. I could see humans and sprytes living in harmony… but demons?

  He thought of his brother Danny, and the struggle that had consumed him as a demon. Danny had tried to rise above what he’d been, to live peacefully, without hurting people. Malcolm felt old wounds ripping open as he considered what could have been if Danny hadn’t died in the fight against Rain Dancer.

  “Maybe not overnight,” admitted Fantasy. “But it isn’t impossible. The world has already been knocked out of its old habits. What becomes of it while it’s built back up… is all a matter of choice.”

  The illusion faded. Malcolm looked over at Fantasy and blinked in surprise. She’d stripped off her dress and was slowly sliding into the bath across from him. His eyes were drawn to the large nipples of her breasts, which were still mostly hidden by her long blonde hair.

  “What are you –”

  “Shh…” said Fantasy. “Don’t say anything.”

  Malcolm glanced down, catching sight of his own reflection in the water. Or rather, catching sight of the face of the boy Fantasy had loved, overlain onto his own features through her illusion.

  “Fantasy,” he said. “Not cool. I’m not interested in playing your games.”

  Her cheeks reddened, and for a moment, Malcolm thought she was going to relent. Instead, she slid in closer to him within the tub, pushing her finger flat against his lips and closing her
eyes. She looked like she was ashamed of herself, but clearly had no intention of stopping.

  She could do worse things with her illusions, I guess.

  He felt his lower half rousing to her proximity. Malcolm didn’t stop Fantasy as she lowered herself onto him and slowly began to move. It meant something else to her, something beyond simple pleasure. Something beyond Malcolm. He was just a stand-in for feelings destined for someone else.

  But somehow, he found that he didn’t care. He was clean and fed for the first time in months. He was safe, and among the closest thing he had anymore to friends. And most importantly, he had a clue that could lead him to Rose.

  He thought of Rose, and let himself imagine that it was her slowly riding him in the hot, wet tub. Fantasy caught his eye, and seemed to read his thoughts. She raised an eyebrow, asking him if he wanted her to use her illusions to complete the deception. It took all the willpower Malcolm had to keep from nodding.

  Fantasy continued, using him for her pleasure and caring little for Malcolm’s own release. She let out tiny, sad moans, as though the sensation still reminded her of her forgotten, lost love. Malcolm let his hands run over her breasts, approaching the encounter with his desire balanced by passive acceptance.

  Her movements were sensual and deliberate. Malcolm came before she did, letting out a somewhat embarrassed grunt as he released. Fantasy didn’t care. She didn’t even notice. She kept riding him, her movements prolonging his hardness, until she let out her own cry of ecstasy and shuddered atop his lap.

  CHAPTER 10

  Neither of them said anything more to each other, though Fantasy spent another few minutes helping Malcolm wash up. She handed him a towel when he climbed out of the bath, and then once he’d dried off, fresh clothing.

  Malcolm pulled on a t-shirt and jeans, only noticing that Fantasy had also brought him a pair of boots once he’d finished donning his socks. He thanked her for them and followed her back into Underworld’s main chamber.

  “You should get some rest,” said Fantasy. “It might be a while before Shield Maiden gets back.”

  He slept in the same room that had once been appropriated for him and Rose, during his first, less than willing visit. It was surprisingly easy for him to get some sleep, and he wasn’t sure how long it had been, or whether it was day and night when a knock came at the door.

  “Are you ready?” asked Shield Maiden.

  “Sure,” said Malcolm.

  I’ve been ready since I first heard the rumor in the trading square.

  Shield Maiden led him through the main room and down a smaller hallway that Malcolm hadn’t noticed before. At the end of it was a large door with heavy metal cross for a handle, which she struggled to pull open. Malcolm assisted her, and found himself staring into the dank, dark sewer tunnels, which crisscrossed like catacombs.

  Parked directly outside the door was a motorcycle and two helmets. Shield Maiden walked over to it and climbed on without saying anything, acting as though she didn’t even notice the overpowering smell of human refuse and mildew. Malcolm wondered just how it was that the odor didn’t leak through into Underworld.

  “Well,” said Shield Maiden. “Get on.”

  Malcolm frowned. He was not an overly masculine man, but there was something about getting on the back of a motorcycle behind a woman that gave him an instant of pause. He shook it off, seeing no reason why it should matter which of them was in front.

  The first thing he did after putting on his helmet and swinging his leg over the side of the bike was grab Shield Maiden’s breasts. By accident, of course. He was taller than she was, and it was too dark for him to see where he was placing his hands. She stiffened slightly, but was merciful, and didn’t say anything as he found the correct place for them around her waist.

  She started the bike and took off down the dark tunnel at a speed that, in Malcolm’s opinion, bordered on suicidal. Each time she turned around a corner, braking and leaning to counterbalance, he saw a vision of himself falling off and bouncing off a wall or into the waste.

  Malcolm couldn’t decide whether it was a step up from being shield bubbled in and out of the spryte’s base. It was more exciting, sure, and there was still no way that he’d be able to remember all the twists and turns to make it back on his own.

  I think it really comes down to a strong innate desire to not die.

  The ride lasted twenty minutes, but felt as though it lasted twenty hours. A light appeared, quite literally, at the end of the tunnel as they neared their destination. Shield Maiden slowed down as they approached, carefully steering the motorcycle through a hole that had been cut in the metal grate which blocked off one of the sewer’s exits.

  The sun was bright enough to make Malcolm’s eyes hurt and wash out colors. He blinked several times in quick succession as Shield Maiden steered the bike up a ramp, through what looked like a small sewage treatment facility outside of town, and then onto the road.

  “Where are we going?” Malcolm shouted, or tried to. The bike was too loud, and their helmets too bulky for the question to reach audibility.

  He contended himself by hanging on to her waist and watching the road, trying to get his own bearings. They were headed east, into one of the more upscale Vanderbrook neighborhoods. Beyond that lay a tourist destination that was, or had been a popular area for hiking and camping.

  Remarkably, the roads had stayed in good shape after the collapse. Less people driving meant less wear and tear, which meant less potholes for Shield Maiden to hit and scare the hell out of him with. She drove fast, and though there were no speed traps waiting for them, Malcolm couldn’t help but consider the wisdom of it.

  How quickly could she slap a shield bubble over each of us in the event of a crash?

  They traveled for about an hour without seeing another human being. It was highway riding, straight across flat ground, and Malcolm would have found it boring if not for the wind and constant vibrations.

  Slowly, something came into view in the distance. At first it just looked like a car crash that had been left abandoned, stretching across both lengths of the road. As Malcolm and Shield Maiden drew closer, it became clear that the cars and trucks blocking their path had been moved into place deliberately.

  Shield Maiden slowed the bike. Malcolm squeezed his tired arms around her waist, desperately wishing that there was more he could do to warn her that it was a trap. From behind the truck stepped three men, two of them wielding clubs, one of them with a rifle.

  The one with the rifle gestured for them to get off the bike. Shield Maiden seemed to comply, turning off the engine and pulling loose her helmet to let her strange, multicolored spryte hair spill into view.

  Malcolm had forgotten the way most people reacted to encountering sprytes and demons. The men’s faces went white. The one holding the rifle began trembling visibly, the barrel of his rifle jumping back and forth between Shield Maiden and Malcolm.

  “We just want any supplies you have!” shouted the gunman. “We don’t want any trouble. You can leave once we… once we take your stuff.”

  “Are you fucking crazy, Earl?” hissed one of his friends. “Just let them go by. It’s too risky.”

  “No,” said the gunman, forcing resolve into his voice. “This is our road. They have to pay up, like everyone –”

  Whatever the man had been about to say was cut short by the appearance of Shield Maiden’s bubble around him. Her face was detached and expressionless as she waved it into the air. The bubble rose up, flying several hundred feet in the air before disappearing as swiftly as it had come into existence.

  The gunman screamed as he fell. His friends watched on in for several stunned, disbelieving seconds. He died instantly on impact, and his body bounced a few feet back into the air before settling into a bloody, undignified pile. The stock broke off his rifle when it hit, which disappointed Malcolm a little, who’d been considering looting it for himself.

  “The two of you seem more sensible,” Shie
ld Maiden said, addressing the remaining bandits. “Will you allow us to go on our way?”

  CHAPTER 11

  They rode for several more hours, right up until the sun began to set. When Shield Maiden slowed the bike to a stop for the day, she seemed to be considering the area they were in carefully, as though they were close to their destination.

  “Are you going to tell me when we get there?” asked Malcolm.

  She shrugged. “I don’t know exactly where ‘there’ is. Rose was last seen in this general area, but it was days ago. She could be waiting just down the road, or a hundred miles in another direction.”

  Malcolm frowned. He glanced across the relatively flat plains. There were a couple of farms in the distance, all of them abandoned and overgrown with weeds. The sun was an orange torch on the horizon, but there wasn’t anything else nearby that grabbed his attention.

  “So… what?” he asked. “We look until we start to run out of gas, and then turn back?”

  Shield Maiden smiled sadly and gave a slow nod.

  “You can give up if you want,” she said. “You do have that choice.”

  “Never.” Malcolm swallowed his doubts, knowing that she was right.

  The motorcycle’s saddlebags were loaded with supplies for the night. Malcolm set about collecting loose boards from an abandoned farm to start a fire, while Shield Maiden set up a pop-tent.

  They only had travel rations for dinner, but it was still better than what Malcolm had grown used to over months of scraping by in his Vanderbrook hovel. He managed to get his tinder bundle to catch spark, and slowly fed the fire as the last rays of sunlight disappeared over the horizon.

  “You love her,” said Shield Maiden. “Don’t you?”