by Jay Swanson
“Look,” Ardin said as if to give Alisia a renewed sense of energy. “Brenton! They won't dare chase us in there.”
Alisia forced a smile, but she wasn't so sure. To Ardin it seemed all downhill from here. His arm was still stiff but he felt significantly better, and now they were within sight of safety.
He glanced back the way they had come to where the path wound into the boulders below. For a moment he swore he saw something move among them, but convinced himself it was simply the shadows playing tricks. The last thing he wanted to believe was that there was another Hunter that close by.
Soon they were descending towards the city, the cliffs becoming more craggy and dangerous as they neared the coast. A few times Ardin's concern flared up in the face of a dangerously narrow stretch of the path, but they managed well enough. For a while their route worked back in on itself so much it almost felt like a winding, serpentine stairway.
And that's when he saw him, the Hunter with the sweeping wings on his helmet. He was moving quickly down the path towards them, his black and dark green armor blending him into the dusk. Ardin wasn't sure if they had been spotted or not, but he knew they had to move.
“They're almost on us, Alisia,” he tried to encourage her to pick up the pace. “We have to go!”
She mumbled a response, but didn't move much faster.
“We have to go!” he yelled in her ear.
She perked up immediately, shaking the proverbial cobwebs from her vision and looking at him with fresh eyes.
“They're coming?”
“They're coming, we have to go faster, now!”
“Ok,” she said tentatively. “I think I can.”
“You don't have much choice,” he said as he put her in front of him. “Run.”
She did, he was startled by how quickly she moved as compared to the moments before. They both seemed to be full of surprises today. He started working to catch up, winding in and out of the steep drop-offs that lined the cliffs as the river began to widen and engage the sea.
He was equally startled when he caught up to her around a particularly wide and safe looking corner in the pathway. She was standing there, waiting for him.
“Keep going,” she said, head lowered and right hand slowly stretching out.
“What?”
“Move behind me!”
He obeyed, and turned to see what she would do. In a swift movement she managed to cause the path to crack twice. Each crack went from the wall straight to the path's edge about five feet apart from each other. He was astonished by how silently the stone reacted. She pressed her hand down firmly, causing the stone to crack a third time along the cliff face and slowly rotating it out and away. Soon the wedge of stone was teetering and dropped away into what seemed like an endless free fall to the water below.
She turned to him, smiling. “He won't see that coming.”
He wouldn't either, the gap in the path was immediately following the curve around the jutting cliff face. It would come up on him as a total surprise. Even if he was walking there was a good chance he would fall. It made Ardin's stomach broil to think of someone dropping the hundreds of feet to the ground below. It looked like miles to him from up here.
“C'mon Ardin!” she yelled after him. “We need to go!”
He jogged down to her as she slowly navigated the next winding section of the path. Ardin couldn't get the image of a man falling to his death out of his mind as they continued down. His throat twisted at the idea and he couldn't push it from his thoughts. The now familiar burrowing sensation returned, creeping into his brain, encouraging him to move on and forget about it.
They hadn't gone more than a dozen more paces before he heard a yell cut short by a loud thud. He couldn't take it and turned, running as quickly up the path as he could manage. Alisia yelled after him but he ignored her. He couldn't let this happen.
He turned the corner to the straight stretch leading to the gap Alisia had made. The Hunter was reaching frantically with one arm for anything to hold onto, the other gripped an active MARD stick. He was sliding slowly into the gap. His legs kicked the air frantically, trying to find purchase on the steep incline that dropped away from him.
The only things keeping him alive were the tears in the arms of his armor that weakly gripped the smooth pathway. Ardin sprinted, throwing caution over the side of the cliff with the rocks that spat out from under his boots. The man was about to die.
Ardin wasn't sure what he was going to do, he had no idea how to keep from dying with the Hunter, but he no longer cared. His conscience weighed heavily on him already and he wanted nothing less than to feed it a fresh victim.
He jumped and slid feet first as he neared the edge, reaching out to grab the Hunter's outstretched arm. He felt sick as he closed the distance. The soldier finally lost his grip, sliding away almost as quickly as Ardin was coming to him. He gave another yell, desperation and despair mingling to wrench at the boy's heart.
But Ardin was quicker than gravity that day, his hand clasping the man's forearm and yanking him to a halt, feet dangling in empty space and kicking the stark face of the cliff to his right.
Let go, came the writhing sensation in his brain. Let the man die, let him look into your eyes and know that you were the one that ended him.
He fought back, lights blinding him for a moment as whatever the voice was screamed in his head. He almost did let go, not so much from desire but from sheer blindness and pain. Nausea roiled in his stomach.
GET OUT OF MY HEAD! He screamed, uncertain if it had been out loud or not.
They were both breathing heavily, although Ardin could barely hear the Hunter through his thick facemask. Ardin ignored the voice and propped himself up with his elbows. Keeping his back rigid in an attempt to stop from toppling over, he grunted heavily as he strained in an effort to heave the man up. He was too heavy.
Oh God, he thought as he breathed between efforts to lift the soldier. Don't let me die here, not when I'm trying to do the right thing.
He focused, clenching his teeth, and was greeted by the warm sensation in his chest he had come to recognize. He looked over the edge and saw the MARD stick tumbling away into oblivion below as he gave the soldier one last heave. His renewed effort was greeted by a surprising surge of strength and he heaved the Hunter over the edge with relative ease.
Standing, he used the leverage to drag the man completely up onto the path, where he stripped the mask and visor from his face. The soldier gasped for air like he had been drowning. Ardin slumped down nearby and just sat there staring at him.
He looked younger than he would have imagined. His short dark hair was matted. He was covered in sweat and dust and blood, but he was a handsome man. Ardin turned away and looked out at the river. His joy at saving a life mingled slowly with the dread of his living enemy.
Alisia rounded the corner, yelling for Ardin.
“What the hell are you doing?”
He tried to wave her off, but found he was too exhausted to raise his hand to a sufficient waving height. He just grunted and nodded his head instead. Alisia raised her hands as she saw the armored soldier lying between Ardin and the gap, her brow furrowing as she tensed.
“Wait!” Ardin was brought back to life by the threat. “Don't!”
“He's trying to kill us Ardin!”
“I don't care!” He rose unsteadily to his feet and placed himself squarely between the two. “We can't keep killing them like this!”
“Of course we can!” Her fury returned at the idea. “That's all we can do!”
The voice in his head echoed her bitterness. He closed his eyes firmly against it before opening them again to Alisia.
“I won't let you do it,” he said, standing his ground. “I won't have any part in it, Alisia. Either one of you can kill me for it, but I won't just stand by and watch you murder him.”
“It's not murder, you idiot!” she yelled at him. “He's the one trying to kill us! I'm only defending your sor
ry corpse!”
“Then make it a corpse if that's how you feel, but I'm not just going to let you do it.”
Alisia didn't look like she knew what to do with that. Whether she wavered in her conviction or the exhaustion was winning out, Ardin couldn't tell. Finally she dropped her hands, sighing in tired frustration, and gave in.
“Fine then,” she said. “I don't get it and I don't like it, but I won't force it on this one.”
He relaxed visibly, turning to look one last time at their enemy.
Captain Anders Keaton, for his part, was stunned to silence by the entire exchange. The fact that the boy had come to save him only served as half of the conundrum. The Magess giving up so easily was beyond confusing to him.
He tried to speak but barely made a mumble. His chest felt like it had been crushed when he hit the edge of the gap with the full force of his weight.
“What'd he say?” Alisia looked wary, taut like a bowstring and ready to snap into action if he so much as sneezed.
“I dunno–”
“I said...” Keaton coughed through raspy breaths. “Thank you... for saving me.”
Ardin simply nodded, uncertain of how to respond before he turned and started walking towards Alisia. She hesitated before joining him, afraid of what would happen if she turned her back on the Hunter.
“Don't worry about it,” Keaton heard Ardin say as he started to lose consciousness. “I saw him lose his MARD stick before I pulled him up. He can't hurt you anymore.”
And with that Captain Anders Keaton drifted off into an injury-induced but much needed sleep.
BRENTON WAS PROBABLY the second richest City State in the known Continent. It was always a toss-up between it and Silverdale. The water still proved one of the most lucrative ways to transport goods to the south, and the Delta provided the most accessible port on the coast. Traders could continue on up the large Elandris to Elandir and vice versa, making it a valuable port of entry in its own right. It was filled with brilliant merchants and was the only port for hundreds of miles until the end of the cliffs.
The Peninsula no longer served as any kind of competition since it had been laid waste by Charsi. The only other port the Magi had left untouched to the south between the delta Brenton sat on and Silverdale was intentionally remote. It was home to a paltry group of fishermen and the various services that could thrive off passing merchant's ships. Otherwise it continued on in obscurity.
A much darker source of income came to Brenton through smuggling. There wasn't much in the way of contraband between the City States; each had its own regulations and those that traveled the ocean ignored most individual Cities' laws. The true black profits to be made were in smuggling goods out past the patrols and to the forbidden continent.
People chose to forget its existence, or were essentially forced to, which led most to refer to their own continent as if it were the only one that existed. In reality there were three known continents, their own, the much smaller Trauncia to the southwest, and the grand forbidden continent whose size was only matched by their own.
Why it was forbidden was a mystery to most. The initial imposition had been lain down by the Magi as they returned from the war they had waged there. After the Purge, when the Magi no longer held sway with governments, there had been some ships that sailed to the other side of the ocean. The few that returned did so limping and carrying stories of unnamed horrors that had greeted them. From that point on, the forbidden part in “forbidden continent” had been enforced by Brenton's sizable coast guard.
However there were a number of smugglers that continued to make the trip. It was rumored that if one made it successfully to the coast, there were people that would trade in straight gold for goods. The rumors were only fed by the fattening of a number of low-level merchants whose business failed to grow as well as their obese purses.
But so long as they spent their gold in Brenton, the coast guard and city officials tended to look the other way. It was only their own necks that they were risking after all. Let them take the risk; in the end Brenton reaped the reward.
The Delta was massive, covering a wide swath of territory that started at a more narrow point within the Rent and ending broadly out beyond the beaches that had formed along the cliffs of the Magi. Much of the city was built on the wide strips of land that managed to hold ground against the broad and powerful waters. Ships and fishing boats of all types and sizes lined up along the coastline to the south and docked as space permitted.
As rich as sea fare made the city, there were limitations imposed by their geography. Some natural, some not. Trade was certainly down, as was the supply of fish since the massacre on the Peninsula some hundred miles to the north. The economy on the Delta was still reeling from the impact of the Magess' wrath and no one was certain how things would work out in the end.
Ardin and Alisia limped into the North Shore as the sun finished setting. It was possibly the dirtiest section of town, loaded with fishermen's warehouses and ringed to the west by the small docks for fishing vessels.
It was run down in places, not so much for a lack of wealth as for neglect. The men that inhabited the North Shore didn't care much for aesthetics, nor did they really have the time. They'd rather get the job done for the day and have a drink before heading to one of the seedy brothels that lined Beggar's Alley.
It wasn't much of a place for two kids like Ardin and Alisa to blend in. It didn't help that their clothes were filthy, and as crusted with blood as they were with dirt. Ardin was worried that they would be spotted by someone privy to their plight and turned in for some form of reward money. Even if that didn't happen, he was hoping that they find a safe place where no one asked too many questions which, he felt, was probably asking a lot at this point.
They entered the city over a small bridge spanning the gap between the path they had been on and the street running along the perimeter. The drop between the two was surprisingly substantial.
Ardin realized that he didn't have any money as they walked past a few low houses into the first row of inns. He must have patted his pockets subconsciously because Alisia produced a crumpled wad of bills from her jacket and smiled at him. They walked inside the first small inn on the right, nearest the outskirts of the Shore. A rusty bell clanged overhead as they were greeted by the dim glow of lanterns and the thick suggestion of cigar smoke.
To Ardin's relief the place seemed to be empty, save a large man at the bar smoking and the innkeeper who looked to be a kindly old woman. She looked surprised to have guests, and as they came closer, hustled from behind the bar filled with concern for her new patrons.
“Good heavens lass!” she exclaimed as she came around her counter and busied herself inspecting the young woman that stood in front of her. “What happened to you dear? You look like you've been run over by a cart!”
“We had an accident,” Ardin started, unsure of where this was going.
“Hiking!” Alisia filled in, “We were out hiking and I fell into a cleft in the rocks. Ardin here came and saved me; we both got pretty beat up.”
“I would certainly say so!” She was inspecting the girl's clothing now, concern mixing with suspicion as she recognized the blood crusting in her clothes. “This here is a lot of blood dear! We need to get you out of these clothes right away. Roger!”
She yelled at the man at the bar, “Get your sorry arse over to the doctor’s and tell him we has us a couple o’ hurt children, we does!”
The man mumbled something but seemed to be complying when he put his large cigar in the ash tray.
“You don't need to get the doctor, ma'am,” Alisia protested. “We should be fine with a good night's sleep.”
“Nonsense!” The innkeeper almost looked offended at the thought. “I don't know how you does things in Elandir, but you'll catch a nasty illness if I leave you like this! I take care of my custom–Roger! Get to the good doctor!”
The man called Roger moved sluggishly to the door.
&
nbsp; “And tell him to bring fresh clothes for a boy and a girl! Before the night is over, Roger dearest. Worthless man that, once he's had a drink and a lit cigar, he's absolutely useless to me, he is.”
“A regular in your bar?” Ardin asked.
“My husband! Lovely after daybreak, just don't try to get him to lift a finger come evenfall. Now, let’s get you both upstairs and cleaned up for the doctor, shall we?”
“How did you know we were from Elandir?”
“Your accent, dear. Uncouth and harsh. Now up the stairs with you!”
Ardin thought to remind her that in fact she was the one with the accent, but didn't get the chance. She hustled them upstairs where she led them to two tiny rooms and started the hot water in their respective bath tubs. She tossed a towel at Ardin as she left the room.
“I'm sure you can handle yourself, young master. Yous done quite enough damage for one night, you has.”
She shut the door leaving Ardin bewildered as to what exactly she was referring to. He could hear her fussing over Alisia in the next room. It made him smile to know that she was having to put up with the old woman's hospitality. It would be driving her crazy about now.
He stripped down, practically peeling the clothes off at times when they refused to loose their bond with his skin. He caught a glimpse of his shoulder in the mirror as he took off his shirt, it was bruised deeply and looked like raw meat. The hole in his back was almost entirely closed up, it looked more like a massive scar than a bullet hole now.
Just looking at the wound reminded him of how tired he was as his muscles relaxed. He felt weak suddenly and shivered at the memory of the impact that had twisted him off his feet. The burning sensation came back to him, the searing pain of it had yet to fully leave.
He lowered himself slowly into the hot bath, both repelled and drawn in by its scalding touch. He grimaced as each scrape and cut introduced itself to the water. His shoulder felt like it was being lit on fire when he finally slid the rest of the way in.