All this was a tale told four weeks and six days ago. The two men who were meant to have died never did, and as time passed in sleep and cold drowning the world moved on…
Rune needed to realise that his story had only just begun.
†††
It was close to midnight when Rune finally ran out of things to say. The candle that Laerma had lit earlier in the night had lost an inch or two of its height and little waxy rivulets of melted candle had run down the sides like tears. Rune himself wasn’t teary however; he had retold the memories of those few days with a distinctive brand of quiet, reflective introspection. Not only was he telling the tale to Laerma, he was also telling it to himself. In the pale candlelight the esper looked incredibly sick, sallow and weak, but it was still an improvement from his coma-like state. He kept his bandaged hand under the fur blankets; his fingers hurt less when they were kept warm.
Laerma had barely spoken since Rune had begun the retelling of his story. Well, she had cut in two or three times to request clarification over terms, things or people she had no knowledge of, but other than that the girl had been completely silent. Her older brother would have been stunned into silence himself. When the night grew and the temperature really started to drop the dezorian priestess had draped extra furs about Rune’s shoulders and had added more fuel to the fire. It was going to be one of those nights.
When the last words fell a deep silence enshrouded the hut like fresh snow. Rune glanced at Laerma seated by his side, watching him like she was hoping he might say more. It had been like tossing words into a vacuum, she’d listened to every word he had said. Eventually he ended it all up with a despondent shrug. “… So that’s everything I can remember. Obviously there are holes in the story where things have happened and I haven’t been around to witness them, but that’s all I can say. What do you think?”
The girl seemed surprised that she had been asked a question. Outside the hut the frigid winds continued to rattle the monster-skin windows, but they were fastened tight and none of the storm swept inside. Laerma thought carefully. “Um… I don’t know what I think. I understand parts of it but not the whole picture, like the spaceships and the planet ships and such. I have heard legends about them though, like the huge ship resting underneath
Tyler.”
She hadn’t caught on to the fact that the Landale was that very ship. At least that part didn’t matter. Rune smiled a bit, despite his feeling of utter misery. He had survived but that didn’t mean much if all his friends were dead. The Lutz memories he protected still lived, but it lived upon the bodies of those who had been sacrificed. It left a faint bitter taste in Rune’s mouth. “It’s a miracle that you and your brother were around to save me from the storm. Maybe it was providence from the Great Light.”
“You said that you prayed for the Great Light to save you, and it did.” Laerma said in awe, though Rune knew it had been more of an; ‘oh god please don’t let it end this way’, rather than prostrating himself and worshipping the blizzard air. He wasn’t about to clarify matters, and meanwhile Laerma’s green face broke out into a huge shining smile. “This must mean that Gisarg and I were used as an instrument of the Great Light itself! Oh, I am honoured! Gisarg would never believe this!”
“That’s possible I guess.” Rune replied tiredly. If the Great Light had really wanted to help him then it also should have saved Chaz and the others. Just like he had said upon Zelan; there was nothing that made one friend more dispensable than another. Was he saved simply because he was the Lutz? That didn’t seem fair. He almost resented the light for it.
“Is it alright if I ask some questions and talk and such now that you’re finished with your story? I think Gisarg and I figure into things much more than you realise.” Laerma chimed.
Rune just shrugged again; there was nothing else to do and although he still fel extremely tired any new information was welcome. She had managed to sit still and listen for a few hours so he might as well do the same. “Sure, go ahead. Shoot.”
“Well, firstly, what are you going to do now? Have you thought about that?” The dezorian asked, cradling her elbow with one long-fingered hand and tapping her chin lightly with the other. He wasn’t well enough to travel, not yet, but once he was healed she wanted him to go somewhere safe. Too many bad things had happened to him recently. He needed a break. His coma had been nowhere near that break.
“I have no idea but I’ll think of something. I’d go back into the Myst vale and consult with Myau again, but if this place is near Jut the valley is half a planet away. Walking there in this storm might be tricky. The esper mansion is much closer… but I really don’t want to go back there. I guess I have to. Kyra would be there. She needs to know what happened, too.” Rune sighed and rubbed a pinch of furry blanket between two fingers. It felt very soft. “She has to know the others are gone.”
The priestess did something unexpected. She beamed. “Actually that might not be true. Not all of it.” She remarked mysteriously.
Rune raised his head to look at her. “What do you mean?” He said flatly.
She actually seemed happy, like she was guarding a secret getting ready to simply burst out of her chest. “You’re friends with Su Raja, right? He was with you in the snowfields of
Tyler, in your space castle up in the stars, and came back with you to fight against the metal thing from the planet ship?”
That was proof she had been listening even to the little details, but friend was such a strong word when pasted upon that wisecracking though doddery bishop. Comrade, yes. A healing hand when one was bleeding all over the place, yes. However, Rune wasn’t sure he’d spend time with the old dezorian by choice. “In a manner of speaking.” He said at last, uncertainly.
Placing a hand on her chest Laerma’s smile became sincere. “I mentioned earlier this evening that my uncle named me and that he had a weird sense of humour. Su Raja is my mother’s older brother. I joined the Gumbian priesthood mostly because I admired the path he had taken. If he were dead I feel I would know it deep in my heart and soul. Not simply because of my spiritual powers, but because he is family. Uncle Raja is not dead, though he is very far away.”
She seemed pretty sure about it, but a mere feeling was far from factual evidence. Yet, wasn’t the horrible feeling Rune had had over a month ago also a catalyst to something terrible and true? The thought of Raja having a family was also something that hadn’t quite occurred to Rune. Priests could not marry and so they could not have children, but they could have brothers and sisters, nieces and nephews. The esper mulled this information over in his head. “Even so, I’m not sure…” He murmured.
“Three weeks ago I had a strange dream about him. He was walking through this orange snow that wasn’t cold and he was complaining loudly about the heat. I didn’t really understand the nature of the dream until now. He’s on the other planet, Motavia, isn’t he?” Laerma guessed, though Rune couldn’t confirm that. Her guess was as good as any. If Raja was somehow alive then maybe Chaz was too, and Rika, and Hahn. Rune’s spirit should have experienced a little hiccup of hope, but nothing of the sort ever came. He did not believe in it.
The android who had left him to die in the freezing cold had sounded pretty certain that his friends had been taken care of. If Rune got his hopes up now only to realise they were unfounded he’d have to deal with that horrible sinking feeling all over again, if it were even possible to sink any lower. “It doesn’t help me any if I’m stuck here on Dezoris. I just have to get to the mansion. I’ll figure out what to do next from there.” He announced softly.
“There’s something else you ought to know.” The priestess continued, speaking with slight anxiety as if the wrong ears might be listening. She looked over her shoulder for a moment just in case. “Along with the vicious storms something else on Dezoris appeared that has never been here before. It doesn’t bother us dezorians for some reason nobody has figured out yet, but Gisarg tells me news that the palman hunters and villages are suffering terribly. He says that the palman race is cursed and they’re getting what they deserve.” She said bitterly, unhappily.
Rune took this in stride. It didn’t surprise him. The enemy had not been sleeping while he was in a coma, after all. “What do you mean?” He asked.
“It’s only what Gisarg has told me,” Laerma added, like a disclaimer, “because he’s the one who deals with traders and stuff like that. There’s this palman girl who appears at the gates of palman towns. She doesn’t talk to anybody or do anything; she just stands and watches, waits. When the sun goes down she walks into town by cover of darkness and in the morning every person in the town is dead. Gisarg says the wounds on the bodies look like they were made by snow tigers; ripped into bloody pieces. The snows in the towns look like a carpet of red.”
He knew where this was going to go. A knot formed in the esper’s stomach. “It’s not a palman girl. No palman girl can do that and survive in the middle of a blizzard. This is-”
“It sounds like the one who brought you here. In four weeks she’s already wiped out three towns. Those were Lidra, Majimra and the newly rebuilt Reshel. There were some refugees from Reshel who made it to Meese in time before they froze. Their first-hand accounts reached the hunters’ ears and now they call her the Red Demon, snow devil. Nobody’s been able to corner her, track her down or kill her. The hunters have so desperately tried. They’re very angry.”
“So she’s made her home on this planet, huh. She’s a servant of Siren. I’d really like to get my hands back on her someday. She did all this to me and I’d pay it back tenfold.” Rune muttered darkly, raising his mutilated hand above the blankets for a few moments. Now that was a goal he could sink his teeth into. After the esper mansion, with Siren and his own friends vanished, or possibly dead, Mieus was the only real lead he had right now. She could lead him back to Siren and if he was the only protector left Siren would be the end of his revenge.
“In that sense you and Gisarg would be of the same mind. He thinks that if he can capture the Red Demon it’ll recruit him into the ranks of the legendary hunters. Rune, you’re welcome to stay here for as long as you like. Once you feel ready to travel in the storms we’ll take you to Jut. You can journey to your mansion from there.” Laerma smiled at him as she folded her hands in her lap. “I hope things will turn out okay for you.”
Tiredness began to grip Rune’s limbs and his mind. In his weakened state merely thinking of rest was enough to make his body want to pack it up and head to sleep. He had been talking for too long. Rune yawned, leaning back in bed. “Okay. Thanks for that.”
Laerma adjusted his furs again. “Do you really think it was the Great Light who orchestrated this?” She pressed gently.
“Who knows? Whether it’s a deity or random chance, as long as it happened that’s good enough for me.” He replied just as a pair of heavy boots clomped through the threshold into the hut, bringing with them a cold and slightly drunk older dezorian. He brushed the clinging snow away and hung up his coat, while Laerma stood up from her seat beside Rune’s bed.
“Gisarg! Where have you been? You missed out on Rune’s amazing story!” She exclaimed.
“What on Dezoris can a dirty esper say that’ll bring me the slightest amount of interest?” Gisarg asked his sister gruffly, but the animosity had been washed out of his system by the drink. The hunter just seemed tired by the activities of the very long day. He walked over to the central hearth and warmed his hands on the flames, then turned to the other two occupants of the hut. “Anyway, have you figured out what we’re going to do with him?”
The manipulative air flowed back around the dezorian priestess. For a moment her smile became cheeky, but then she smoothed it out. “I heard all about Rune’s hunting of the Red Demon. He knows who she is and where she came from. Rune was even captured by the Red Demon at one point. It was a really interesting story.” She said.
Gisarg glared at Rune. The thin slitted eyes hit him like a concentrated laser. Nothing else really changed in his demeanour but the Lutz was deeply aware of the hunter trying to gauge the truth. He smirked grimly. “Bah. The she-devil didn’t turn up until well after this esper here was frozen in the snow. I think he’s been spinning you a tale, Laerma. You’re far too trusting sometimes.”
“Being trusting is my calling, Gisarg.” Laerma stated peacefully.
“… It makes more sense when you realise she came to this planet exactly when I did. I kind of hitched a ride with her, so to speak. She left me for dead in the snow.” Rune admitted, pulling the blankets up to his shoulders and turning to lie on the side that wasn’t bound in bandages. “Now leave me alone. I’m tired. Bother me in the morning.”
“It is getting pretty late.” The dezorian girl observed along with him. “I’ve explained to Rune that we’ll keep him here until he’s well, then we’ll let him go to Jut. It’ll only be for a few more days, so is that okay?”
“I never agreed to anything like that!” The dezorian snapped, but the priestess didn’t even flinch at his tone of voice. While laying on his side Rune half-watched the conversation take place with interest. It was a rehash of the same argument the siblings enacted almost every night since Rune had come to their little hut, but this was the first time he was able to witness it way up front.
Laerma placed her hands on her hips. “You may be my big brother and the one who funds this family but I am the one who cooks the meals, washes and repairs the clothing, keeps this little outpost tidy and daily prays for your safe return. You don’t have to do a single thing for Rune, that’s entirely my duty. All you have to do is forget that he’s even here, or else I’ll…” She began threateningly, but then sort of went silent.
“Or else you’ll do what?” Gisarg prodded.
“I’ll go on strike. Complete with picket signs and everything. And chants. Oh, and I’ll pray to the Great Light and tell it to drop an avalanche on your head.” The priestess explained.
It may very well be an empty threat, but despite his looks Gisarg was a very religious person. It came from a harsh upbringing and the Gumbian church was just about the only authoritarian figure he respected. As a priestess of that faith Laerma held a foot over him on that one. Besides, she was the kind of little sister who probably would go through with her childish threats. It wasn’t worth the trouble over one stupid esper. He didn’t even have to do anything, but he expected Laerma to appreciate his looking the other way, possibly with a special dinner or something.
Gisarg performed a rather impressive growl, but it was a growl of defeat. “Alright, alright! Whatever! Let’s just get some sleep. I have to be up by four to get to work. Esper boy better not bother me before then, or he’ll sleep in the snow!”
That was the closest Laerma knew they were going to get to consent. Gratefully she hugged her older brother. “Thank you, Gisarg! I’ll make you jishgara roast tomorrow evening to celebrate!” Gisarg smirked a little wickedly at that. The priestess turned to her patient. “Rune, did you hear that? You’re allowed to stay!”
However, the esper exhausted from his storytelling was already asleep.
†††
All in all Rune spent three more days with Raii Laerma and Gisarg recovering from the lingering effects of his month-long coma. He needed time to get used to the amputation of some of his fingers (like the fact that he could barely hold a spoon or fork in his left hand anymore, but that was okay because he was right-handed), and there was some slight muscular atrophy in his legs. That sort of thing just needed to be walked off, though he could only walk around the hut. The esper was grateful for something even as simple as that.
Laerma found a pair of Gisarg’s old hunting clothes and spent most of the morning after Rune’s awakening tailoring and altering it to match the Lutz’s shorter and broader frame. The clothing was made of warm pelts and leather with a set of moccasins and worn boots that miraculously fit Rune’s feet, if he stuffed it with withered snow grass beforehand. The entire outfit smelt like waterproofing oil with faint traces of snow mole urine. Rune couldn’t complain. It was better than nothing and his old clothes were too ruined to be worn anymore. At least the new outfit would protect him from the storm, and felt wonderfully cosy and snug to wear.
On the second day the bandages from Siren’s gunshot wound were finally ready to be removed. Rune ended up looking at himself bare-chested in the mirror when the bindings were gone. He’d lost a bit more weight than he had anticipated; when he stood on his side he could easily see the bony shapes of his ribs beneath the skin. The healed wound looked like a burn that tanned the flesh of his shoulder a permanent sunburned reddish-brown. There was stitching in places where the snow moles had dug too deeply into the wound. The rest of the injury was one great big shallow crater.
Rune stared. He was still himself, but at the same time he had become somebody else. A maimed, wounded esper. He could not look into the mirror for very long. Unfortunately that was what he would have to do now, every day for the rest of his life. That burn would never fade away.
On the third day Rune contemplated testing out his magic again, but in the end he refrained. It was unlikely that his magic would have atrophied along with his body and even if he did cast magic in such a small area he could deal some pretty bad property damage to the hut. Rune told himself this until he began to believe it. He didn’t want to believe that he feared the atrophy may be true. There was no rational reason behind the fear; it just existed as it was. Maybe Mieus and Siren had taught him some humility after all.
When it was long past dark and everybody had fallen asleep in their beds Rune finally forced himself up and settled down beside the low hearth fire, catching a lick of flame in his hands as it spiralled up to play. His black gloves protected his hands from the heat somewhat, gloves that Laerma had thoughtfully snipped fingers off and resewn with dainty little stitches to fit his mutilated hand better. They didn’t hurt so much anymore, but Rune kind of dreaded the day when the bandages would have to be removed.
Waves of shimmering heat emanated from the fire in Rune’s hands as he pensively rolled the flame around and between his fingers, like the slight-of-hand toying with a copper coin. His magic kept the little scrap of heat alive and if Rune focussed hard enough he could enlarge or suffocate it at will. He really was alright; his magic was still there. The esper squeezed the flame to death and let out a deep sigh of profound relief. That was the last worry on his mind, now he was ready to go. Tomorrow morning he would leave this place.
So on the morning of the fourth day Rune said his goodbyes to the Raii household. The storm was at its weakest just after dawn and in tiny strips and meagre flashes they could just about see the rising sun in the thick, heavy clouds. He stood in the blowing snow in his hunting furs and looked at Laerma waiting in the doorframe of the dezorian hut, while Gisarg gladly got his snow mole sled ready for departure. The giant rat-like creatures squealed and snarled as the hunter firmly lashed them into the harnesses.
There was only enough room for two people on the sled so Laerma was forced to stay behind. Rune wasn’t really used to reading dezorian faces for emotion but he could easily tell the priestess seemed sad. He folded his arms. “So this is it. If I don’t leave now I’ll probably never leave, it seems.”
Laerma stepped out of the threshold and into the field. She walked over to Rune just as Gisarg cursed over something or other with the sled. The temperature didn’t really bother her as much as it bothered Rune. This was her climate, after all. “You need to take special care of yourself. You’re still slightly malnourished and your muscles are weak. Don’t overexert yourself in the storm. Oh, and the bandages on your fingers and toes should come off in about three days time.”
“Right. I’ll remember that.”
“Do you have everything planned out?”
“More or less. I’m gonna head to the mansion and heal up there, then I’ll try and think of a way to contact my friends if they’re still alive. If I can’t get anything I’m going to go after Mieus myself. She’s sure to attack another village sooner or later. I’ll make sure I’m there for it.” Saying it like that made it seem like a long hard road ahead, iced with permafrost. He wasn’t even sure that he’d survive the journey from Jut to the esper mansion on foot, but he still had to try. Laerma was probably aware of this too. That may be why she seemed so sad.
The girl lost eye contact with Rune. “Well, thanks for telling me your story the other night. It would’ve bugged me not knowing the mystery behind the body in the snow.” Her voice dropped quite a bit in volume. “… I will remember to pray for your safety.”
He couldn’t help but break out into a smile. She was thanking him for a mere story? It’d be more appropriate for Rune to thank her for not letting him lay there in the blizzard to die. Mieus would have killed him but she hadn’t been counting on somebody like Laerma turning up on the fly. He opened his arms in a gesture that any person, of any race or language could understand. “All right. Come here. I need to thank you too.” He said as if it were a chore, but they knew he didn’t mean it.
She caught on pretty quickly. Laerma grinned widely and practically glided over to Rune, throwing her arms around him for a tight squeezing hug. She was spindly and seemed frail, but she hugged like the jaws of a vice. Rune made an ‘oof’ sound as the air was squeezed from his lungs, but then the priestess thankfully relaxed her arms a little. “If you contact uncle Raja please tell him Gisarg and I are thinking of him.” She requested softly.
“Okay…” Rune wheezed above her.
“Also, once you get to Jut check out your right coat pocket. I left something in there for you. Don’t forget, it’s very important!” She piped as she straightened up and let go of Rune, stepping back towards her current home. The constant streams of snow were already piling up on her heavy clothes, just as they must be doing to him.
He brushed a small mound of snow off one shoulder as Gisarg approached him and his sister. He held the coiled leather of his whip in one hand. Laerma had told Rune once that the hunter could part flesh from bone easily with a single crack of that taming whip. By the look of the thing he wasn’t going to dismiss it as simple boasting. “Let’s get going,” Gisarg growled, “I’m taking a detour from my normal route just to get rid of you, so hurry up and get on the sled!”
Rune didn’t need to be told twice. He strolled over to the sled and the tamed snow moles glared at him with their beady little albino eyes, as if they also bore some hatred of espers shared by their master. One tried to snap at him but its harness kept it at bay. The two dezorians followed him to the sled and Rune brushed aside the blankets so he could sit at the head of the sleigh. The driver would stand behind him at the back and the whip would sail over his head to strike at the moles before him.
That would certainly wind up unnerving him. Laerma leant down beside him and smiled. “Goodbye Rune, it was nice meeting you. I hope we’ll see each other again someday.”
He smirked back at her. “Yeah, thanks for everything. Bye.”
Gisarg climbed onto the wooden step and unravelled his taming whip. He flicked it high into the air over the heads of all those attached to the sled and the sound it made was reminiscent of an old-fashioned gunshot. All the hunting moles flinched. They knew what that sound meant, what came after, and what they had to do. The hunter screamed a word in his native tongue which probably meant ‘mush!’ in english and the moles began to strain against their harnesses, pulling with all their might. The sled creaked and groaned and then slowly started to move.
Laerma watched them go and waved a bit in the off-chance somebody turned around to look back at her. It didn’t take long for Rune and Gisarg to vanish in the blizzard. Eventually it got too cold to just stand around so she briskly rubbed warmth back into her arms and went inside, back to home and hearth. For now her role was done.
The sled ride into Jut was more pleasant than Rune would have expected. It must have been a punishment to the hunter standing up straight and driving in the storm, shouting out orders and flogging any stragglers, but up front and under the blankets Rune felt quite warm. His only complaint was that his face had gone totally numb. He ducked down and threw a fur blanket over his head, then lit a slight flame between two of his fingers, being very careful not to let it spread.
The journey wasn’t very long but it definitely felt long. At some point he fished around in his coat pockets for the thing Laerma had mentioned earlier. He was impatient and curious as to what it was. Inside the deep pocket he found a small bag of meseta and a letter. It was difficult unfolding a letter with one damaged hand in a confined space while trying not to set said space on fire. Once he figured it out it read;
‘Here is some money for you to buy food and supplies for your trip. Don’t feel bad if you think you are stealing from me; consider it charity from Gisarg’s secret saving stash. (Ha ha!)
A caravan from Jut’s market district to Meese will be heading out this afternoon. Try and buy your way onto the caravan and jump off when you get close enough to your mansion. Don’t try and make the entire trip on your own.
Have a safe journey!
Raii Laerma.’
“Well,” Rune muttered with a chuckle, feeling like he was in control again for the first time in a long while, “a safe journey? I think I will.”
Gisarg dropped him off in Jut later that morning without much of a word and definitely nothing along the lines of a goodbye. It was like he was dumping garbage, but Rune didn’t care. He was glad to see the back of that guy and briefly considering providing him with a tandle as a farewell gift.
It was time to get out of there, but first a trip to the bar seemed grossly overdue. He’d been dry for far too long and he had some hours to kill.
Scarred but still alive, against all odds, Rune wandered away.
†††
// “Captain?” //
// “Receiving. What’s the matter?” //
// “Did the base get that transmission like my team just did? Seems like he’s still alive. Could you go and look into it for me? I’d go myself but peace negotiations are kind of dragging longer than I expected.” //
// “No problem. I’ll take a team and go check out the transmission source. I seem to be closer to it than your team anyway.” //
// “Thanks, Cass. Be careful.” //
// “Over.” //
Commander Warren of the Marauder First Armed Division switched off his communicator and put it away, then snapped open the emergency flare he had been holding in his other hand. Deep red sparks and smoke crackled loudly from the contraption. He tossed it into the air casually and caught it again, then held it close to the haystack piled against Molcum town hall. The entire population of Molcum watched him do this with Gryz furiously standing at the forefront of the crowd. They all would have rushed the android threatening their village immediately if there hadn’t been a dozen gunmen and robots standing right behind him with their weapons drawn.
A few stalks of hay curled and turned black as sparks sailed down into the tinder. The android raised the flare out of the danger zone and sighed. “So are you going to stop attacking my soldiers now or do I have to do something I’ll regret later? You’re not even layans, so we don’t have any interest in you. Go ahead and live here in peace, just please leave us alone.” He requested politely.
Gryz frowned as much as a motavian was able. “No. Get the hell out of our lands.”
And so, scarcely half an hour later, Molcum burnt to the ground.
†††
It wasn’t that Wren had passed out while waiting for his friends to arrive at the spaceport from their base at Nurvus; it was that his severely damaged and waterlogged body had been unable to maintain functionality and consciousness for any longer. He became an empty, almost dead shell, barely clinging to his pseudo-life by a few thin strands. Sending that distress signal had exhausted the last of the energy reserves he had left.
Wren lay in dark dead lifelessness for an incalculable amount of time. It could have been an hour or a thousand years, but with no consciousness or ability to measure time it made no difference in the long run. After nearly five weeks existing as ocean junk and surviving the trip to the spaceport it just seemed horribly unfair to break down irreversibly and find that that was the end of that.
However, something changed in that lack of consciousness and Wren slowly opened his eyes. He was far from being in the best of condition so every function felt like a tremendous effort. The darkness of the spaceport was lit by kerosene lamps and beyond them three formless shapes loomed about in the dim orange glow. The android lifted his head a little to get a better look at them and as his eyes adjusted to the low light one of the dark shapes dove forward and grabbed him by the shoulders. Wren did not react; it was as if most of his body had been completely paralysed.
The shadow lightened into the pink hair and lithe body of Rika, and the grab was more of a relieved hug to be honest. She had spent the past two hours with nothing but a mere repair kit trying to stabilize Wren’s weakened positronics and AI, bringing it away from the verge of death. Repairing the rest of his body had to take a back seat to that. When Wren had opened his eyes and looked at her Rika knew her hard work hadn’t been in vain. Wren was still alive. Against all odds he hadn’t given up and died.
She wrapped her arms around him and squeezed the android tightly. For a few moments just about all he could see was a lot of pink hair. “Wren! You really are alive! Where have you been all this time? We thought you’d been killed!” She squeezed him again a second time, even though he was cold. As she pulled away Wren could also see Hahn and Chaz standing behind her, holding the two lanterns which cast light throughout the room.
The sight of Hahn no longer surprised him, but the scholar did seem a little healthier in person when compared to how he had looked on the screen. He was tired, stubbly, thin and possibly even slightly sick. Chaz was two or three steps up from him, seeming only tired and just a little bit stubbly, but his sword arm was cradled against his stomach in a loose sling. There were no bandages wrapped around the limb; the arm seemed healed, but it was still kept there bound for no discernable reason. Chaz and Hahn didn’t say anything as Rika leant back in a crouch before Wren, but both of them were smiling tired smiles.
Rika was still a sight of good health. Whatever trials the three had been going through the numan girl seemed to have dealt with it with more resilience than the other two men. She met Wren’s blank, yet somehow questioning gaze. “I’ve fixed your sound card’s stutter so you should be able to talk to us. Please say something; we need to know if you’re okay.”
He obeyed the request. “I am capable of some minor function. Internal damages at 12.8 percent. External damages at 34.4 percent. Auto-repair function is currently disabled.” Wren’s voice sounded back to normal, the stutter was completely gone. Rika had done a good job of fixing him. Once his auto-repair was enabled he’d be capable of fixing most of his body by himself. If
Warren hadn’t switched it off when all his peripheral parts were removed Wren might have reactivated much sooner. Despite that he was grateful to Rika for her help and thankful to see that at least three of his friends were still alive.
Wren had been terribly damp and dangerous when he’d first stepped into the spaceport. He was almost dry now, and lying against the wall in the paralysed position he was in a great deal of sand and grit had fallen from between the chinks in his limbs and body. It was one of those things that would take forever to get rid of. Small smatterings of sand had piled up all around him. Rika placed her hands upon her knees. “Your insides were full of sand and seaweed and,” she bit her lip as if trying not to laugh, “A really small fish. What happened to you? It looks like you drowned, but you were on Zelan with us last time we saw you.”
“Thank you for repairing me.” Wren said evenly, evading the subject for now. There would be time to get into that later. With great effort he managed to push himself up a bit against the wall. “Please enable my auto-repair and I should be able to move after some time.”
Hahn came forward a bit and looked over Rika’s shoulder, shutting the lantern halfway so he wouldn’t end up blinding any of his friends. His long, now lank hair hung down against his face. “It’s lucky you were wearing that ring of yours or else I would’ve never believed you. I thought you were part of that army at first, even if you looked like you. We accepted that you were dead a long time ago.”
Chaz spoke up now. He somehow sounded much older than he had a month ago, softer, fatigued, less like Chaz than Chaz usually was. The fingers in his sling curled slightly as he spoke. “Yeah, you and Rune and Demi. We even thought about having a memorial for you guys. What happened to the other two? Are they okay?”
He did not sugar-coat the facts as he knew them. That was something somebody with emotions might try to do. “They were executed by Siren.” Wren thought a little further and amended his statement. “Executed just as I was.”
That was food for thought. Wren was still alive due to nothing else but a miracle. Maybe the others had escaped their deadly sentences too. The news didn’t bring comfort to Rika however; tears filled her big blue eyes. “I’m sorry. I knew I should have stayed on Zelan with you and Rune. Things might have turned out better than they have. I’m such a coward…” She sniffed, holding a hand against her mouth.
In the past Chaz would have rushed to console her. As her fiancé that was his duty, but after five weeks of the trials they had been through and Chaz’s own personal problems the young hunter just kind of studied the wall to his right quietly. Hahn was the one who came to her aid instead, placing a hand on the girl’s shoulder and patting gently. “Don’t say that. You made the most level-headed decision possible and got us out of there. You saved four lives, but you can’t feel terrible for not saving everybody.”
Even Wren offered some consolation in his own particular way. “We were mindful of the danger when we faced the enemy. It was not of your concern.”
Hahn looked over at the other palman in the room. “Chaz?”
“Huh?”
The scholar cleared his throat.
Chaz eventually comprehended. He blinked and the ‘oh of course I see’ look came over his face. He smiled at Rika. “If you stayed I would have died, so it’s okay. Don’t feel bad, honey.”
Rika sighed and calmed down. After she composed herself she was ready to get things done, picking up a tool from the repair kit by her side. “Yes, alright. I’ll fix your auto-repair system now, Wren. While I’m doing that why don’t you tell us about what happened up on Zelan with you and Rune and Demi? We can tell you all about what’s been happening on Motavia ever since you vanished. Siren’s… um, taken control of the weather systems and he’s building an army. An android army.”
“That’s why I didn’t trust you at first. I thought you were one of them.” Hahn admitted bashfully.
The android thought about all that had been said. Everybody required answers. He nodded slightly in agreement. “Very well. Please brief me on the situation. There is much I need to know.”
Nodding, Rika applied her knowledge of robotics to his system and began to work.
†††
In the five weeks since the attack on Zelan much had changed. Rika had taken Hahn, Raja and her wounded fiancé onto the Landale and had flown it herself straight back to the surface of Motavia, where Chaz could get the proper medical attention he so desperately required. The best doctor in Kadary had been woken in the very early hours of the morning to furious knocking at his back door, and he had started the new day by treating the most severely shattered arm he had seen in his entire life.
The broken bones had actually been the least of Chaz’s worries. Once they were set in proper plaster they would heal normally, naturally, but the real problem was the hole in Chaz’s shoulder from where he had been impaled upon his own sword. The wound was already sewn up nicely and the slashed veins reconnected so he wouldn’t bleed internally, but Chaz’s first doctor had failed to address the issue of nerve and ligament damage. Rika suspected that it may have been purposeful, that or there simply had not been enough time.
Anyway, the nerve damage to Chaz’s sword arm had been quite severe. Using the world ‘crippled’ was far too harsh, but trying out the world ‘paralysed’ didn’t seem right as well. When Chaz had learned of the true damages to his right arm he might have wanted people to think he was calm and composed about it, possibly even a little indignant, but in truth Rika knew that he had dragged himself into his inn room, locked the door, and then wept.
He was a hunter; the sword was his life. He was going to be a carpenter; two hands were a must. He could move his arm and his fingers slightly, but there was no longer any definitive strength in the hand. Chaz could still shake somebody’s hand in greeting, but if he tried to hold a cup or a weapon it would slip easily from his lax fingers.
He found himself trapped with an arm that was too dead to be of any great use, but also too alive to warrant amputation. When that android had shoved that sword into him he had done more than threaten Chaz’s life; he had taken all of Chaz’s dreams away. Now all he could do was carry it about in a sling and try to forget, but that was so very difficult considering the pain issues it caused him. For now he still had that supply of quintamate received on Zelan to deal with the chronic pain, but once that supply ran out Rika had no idea what he would do. It pained her so much as well to see her love living like that, yet there was nothing more she could do to support him.
The doctor also had a look at Hahn’s busted jaw and Raja’s bruised noggin. The dezorian only had a mild concussion and he was perfectly fine within a day or two, but Hahn had only just removed the wires holding his lower jaw in place barely a week ago. His diet had become extremely restricted ever since he lost the ability to eat most foods properly, so the young man had lost a huge amount of weight. He couldn’t go home to Krup either, so the scholar had experienced a great deal of depression whilst waiting for his jaw to heal.
Raja left shortly after Chaz and Hahn were treated for their wounds. It was hard to convince the bishop to stay in one place for long, and he had always wanted to go on a tour of Motavia all by himself. In a sense Raja was pretty safe compared to the other three; safe enough to travel the land without much repercussion. About two weeks since he had left a letter turned up at the Kadary post office, addressed to Rika. After that a letter would arrive weekly detailing Raja’s travels of late. Over time the letters had become increasingly bleak. Krup, Monsen, the plate system and the machine centre were now no-go zones. Well, you could go there if you wanted to, but watch out if you were a palman. Martial law had been declared in the desert areas of Motavia.
As had been mentioned before an army had been growing in the desert. As if they had already known the lay of the land they immediately went south and took over the machine centre, then headed north and dug their claws into the quiet town of Krup, finally utilizing a land rover from the centre to cross the quicksand into Monsen and all surrounding areas. The army was small, but very effective and alarming. Nobody had really been harmed yet in great numbers, but who knew what the future may hold?
But everybody was quite certain that all in the army were servants of Siren. They were still trying to figure out what its true purpose was, but Motavia was no longer a free planet anymore. If the army continued to grow, and if their reach got any longer, well, the very thought made Hahn very nervous and worried about his wife, and Chaz would become moody, irritable and frustrated that he wasn’t able to help.
They were fugitives, sticking close to Kadary to wait for Raja’s letters and hiding out at Chaz’s home in Aiedo; a large city that was quite safe from the distant army – for now. The hunter’s guild was their strongest defence right now, so even if the army knew where they were they couldn’t be touched.
Wren listened to all of this quietly. Times had indeed changed. When Rika was done talking he filled them in on exactly what went down on the space station Zelan, from when he lost contact with his friends and to when he made that emergency distress signal to all available facilities on Motavia. It seemed extremely unlikely that Wren’s subjective opinion was going to taint the recount, so the three hunted individuals were sure they were getting nothing but the facts.
Some things he said were met with shock and surprise. “You were going to sacrifice Demi’s life just so you could get another shot at killing Siren?” Rika exclaimed, pausing in her work. “Why would you do something like that?”
“But I have already clarified that is not what happened. I did not sacrifice Demi. I relented. Her execution had nothing to do with me.” Wren stated simply. Everybody seemed to get stuck on the matter of what he was going to do to Demi, but Wren could not understand why. She was his servant; she would willingly do whatever he saw fit. That was the very nature of being a servant.
Rika continued with what she was doing, letting her hands do the work and leaving her mind to the thinking. Chaz and Hahn were sitting off to the side with their lanterns, being nice and quiet and possibly even catching up on sleep lost after Wren had made his call to them. The numan girl wiped her hands on her slacks. “Wren, would you ever sacrifice yourself for a slim hope if Zelan requested it of you?”
“Yes, certain circumstances permitting.”
“Circumstances?” That question had come from Hahn, hovering around at the very edge of the conversation.
“I would have to be assured a suitable replacement was at hand and then I would carry out the order. Please understand my reasons. Life, to an android in regards to another android has relative value. It is not sacred; merely forces like gravity and heat.” Wren looked blank, which was his usual expression. “Inherent in that is the reason why this android ‘army’ you mention would be so dangerous. At the basest level they would not fear destruction or hesitate to take a living life. Regard for the living would have to come from a conditioned outside influence.”
“We have to get back at Siren,” Chaz mentioned pensively, though darkly, “him and all his servants. I can’t believe we were sucker-punched into this situation.” He folded his free arm under his sling and lowered his head, staring at his crossed legs. “We were so careless…”
“But we thought everything was over and done with!” Hahn protested, the first person to raise his voice in the spaceport for some time. He slammed his curled fist down against his knee for emphasis. “This was supposed to be finished three years ago! I agreed to come and help you guys explore a worldship, I never wanted to be an exile from my own home with an army just sitting on the doorstep!”
That was quite an obstacle between himself and his wife with his child-to-be. No wonder the young scholar seemed so weary and stressed. Rika looked over to him with sympathy. She wasn’t certain exactly when it had happened, but Chaz had stepped down from his position as their leader and she had picked up the slack. There was nothing else for it, really. “Things can just be hard sometimes, you know? They’ll start to look up again someday; you just need to keep holding on.”
“I would like to hear further details of this android army, if that is possible.” Wren asked calmly, unaffected by Hahn’s little outburst. As he said this his auto-repair function was reawakened and immediately began its own internal repairs. Thankfully, the percentage of his damages slowly started to drop.
“If you think Siren’s going be the leader of it, that’s not true. I guess he’s much smarter than that. If Siren were hanging about on Motavia we would have singled him out a long time ago, but he stays way up there on Zelan where it’s nice and safe, making more soldiers to add to the army. We can’t even get close enough to touch him, not without doing the very same thing we did last time and you know how that went.” Chaz explained bitterly.
“Do you have an estimation on the size of the enemy?” Wren asked Chaz. The hunter seemed to be the authority on this part of the bad news.
Chaz took a folded piece of paper from his pocket and scanned it quickly, under the light of the lantern. Raja’s overtly calligraphic text was difficult to read. He also had his own unpleasant experiences to draw from. “Well, I hear it grows daily. New recruits and stuff; Siren works constantly and probably doesn’t need sleep. That’s about eighty to a hundred soldiers, but I’m not counting reprogrammed robots and their leader is extremely cautious about casualties. I don’t think they’ve lost a single android since they turned up.” He sighed. “Their leader; he’s the one who did this to me. He’s the one who turned me into this… cripple.”
“The Marauders?”
“Yeah,” Chaz answered without really thinking. “That’s what some people have heard them calling themselves. If you go up to the hunter’s guild right now you’d find a dozen different reconnaissance missions about Siren’s army. Everybody wants information on them but there’s just not enough to go around, and it’s too dangerous to dig up fresh information. I’d dive right into those missions if I could, but in this state…” He trailed off, unable to finish that sentence. Soon enough he realised something. “… How did you know the name? Nobody’s mentioned it yet.”
“It was an educated guess. That name was often heard during the Collapse Wars due to the Marauder ability to persevere despite heavy adversity. It was also noted for its synergy between palman and android soldiers.” Wren informed them, reaching his memory back into the past. Everything from long ago was just trying to creep back into the present again. “Many centuries ago, when I was merely an infantryman it was the name of the unit I became assigned to. Androids are not very creative. We revive what we are unable to reproduce.”
Chaz smiled sardonically. “You should sell all the information you know about them to the hunter’s guild. I did. All that’s left of that money is what’s keeping us going. Isn’t that ironic?” He laughed aggressively at the incongruity of it all.
“Chaz, please,” Rika said softly, “calm yourself down.”
He did as he was told, but anybody could see that the unstable wretchedness was still right there, just beneath the hunter’s skin. Chaz became perfectly stoic, his face smoothing out into something that was almost cold righteousness. “I’m only interested in one thing right now, and that’s killing the commander of this marauding army. I have to get back at him for what he’s done to my arm. I’ll relearn the sword with my left hand, if I have to, and once he’s dead I’ll move up to Siren and avenge the deaths of Rune and Demi. I have to, because if I don’t-”
“Honey…” Rika began.
He ignored her. “-Then I don’t have any right to call myself a protector of Algo. If I can’t do something now then I should have just died with the others.”
“Major Warren was an outstanding doctor and medic, and a passable soldier, but tactician he is not. If he is not receiving strategic orders from Siren and has decided to fabricate them himself that would be a focal weak point concerning his army.” The android hypothesized, surmising that he could jump to a conclusion on this one.
Beside him Rika raised her eyebrows in surprise. “Nobody mentioned the commander’s name either. Another educated guess?”
“That is affirmative.” Wren replied and then slowly struggled to his feet. He could move again without inflicting damages upon himself, and that was a great relief. His three friends stood also. “I believe that I do hold a great responsibility over what has happened to Algo. I was the one who awoke and underestimated Siren. I was careless. As such, I would do anything to restore order to the system. If it is your plan to fight Siren then I shall go with you.”
“It wasn’t just you who failed; we all failed.” Rika sighed quietly, as Hahn wandered over to the computer terminal Wren had used earlier. The numan girl haphazardly shoved her hands into the pockets of her pants. “Losing you was like losing a member of the family.” She muttered.
“We’re glad you’re back, Wren.” Chaz added.
“Hey guys, I just had a kind of unsettling thought.” Hahn announced from over at the dead computer monitor. It sounded like he hoped it didn’t mean anything, and everything was probably fine, but if it wasn’t this antsy feeling crawling all over his skin was perfectly justified. “When Wren sent out that signal to us did he send it to specific locations, or was it anywhere with a working computer system available to him?”
Wren was right there to answer for himself. He was not sure of the relevancy of Hahn’s strange question. “The signal was issued to every system within broadcast range, save for Zelan.” He said.
This reply was no comfort to Hahn. He made a very strange face, like he was trying not to be sick. “So that includes the machine centre or the plate system too?” He ventured.
After a few moments the realisation spread from Hahn to the other members of their small group. It was like a black curtain, dropping dread upon them. Rika looked to the entranceway, where the faint tinny patter of hundreds of raindrops bombarded the metal surface of the spaceport. The storm was still raging outside, but that wouldn’t stop someone from travelling if they were really determined enough. “Do you really think-” Rika started to say.
“-We’ve already been here nearly three hours!” Chaz cut in.
“Hahn, how long do you think it would take for the Marauders to get to this spaceport based on the last place we saw them?” Rika snapped.
The brown-haired man threw up his hands. “I don’t know! Maybe several hours if they left immediately after getting the message? Less if they used special transportation, like a hydrofoil or floaders? They might have missed it anyway; I almost did. It is the middle of the night after all. I was only thinking-”
A strident crash emanated from the entranceway to the spaceport. Wet metal hit the floor. Distant, indistinct voices followed right afterwards. Rika, Chaz and Hahn turned towards the sounds like a trio of hunted animals, bristling at the thought of confrontation. Seconds later they could hear the echo of footsteps, Wren was able to count at least six bodies provided they were all standing on two feet. It looked like their realisation had come just a little too late.
“We have to leave.” Rika decided, dropping her voice to a whisper. There was no way she was going to let her words develop an echo now. “Is there another way out of the spaceport besides the front?”
“There is a potential exit at the back of the docks; along the launching strip for the vehicles. This area is open-air, as you should recall. We can escape from there.” The android explained.
“Wren, in your condition right now any more exposure to water could kill you! It’s too dangerous to let you leave here!”
“I am not concerned about myself. You must leave this place.”
“We can’t stand here and argue all night!” Hahn hissed.
Oddly enough, it was a distinctly feminine voice which called out to them from the entranceway of the facility. It should have been vaguely familiar to Wren, but at the time he did not pause to consider this. There were more important things to be concerned about. “Hello? Is anybody in there? We’re looking for a wren-type who seems to need some help.” Nothing could mask the sound of guns being loaded right after the girl had finished speaking. It was a cold, evil sound. A more masculine voice said something and then two others laughed.
Rika moved to the end of the room, peeking out into the corridor slightly. Her eyes narrowed a bit. “Wren, do you think you can run?”
“I am capable.”
“Good, let’s get out of here. We’ll follow you. Lead us to the exit.”
So they ran, away to the back of the spaceport. The echoes of their boots on the hard metal floor immediately gave them away, so shouts of surprise and alarm were heard from the soldiers at the doorway. They knew their training. Like dogs they gave chase, guns at the ready.
And at the front was their captain, weapon in hand, shouting.
“Don’t let them get away!”
