Chapter 8
It’s annoying that we didn’t get a chance to truly rest before continuing our journey, but safety takes priority. I mull over what the Broken One called us, and decide it must be some kind of rank in their organization, and a fairly high one judging by Evaline’s reaction. I’m going to guess their ranks are more of a merit thing than anything else, if the fact that the Broken One only backed off when I retaliated is anything to judge by.
We fly very high up, just above the cloud cover. Evaline doesn’t say it but I can tell she’s worried about us being spotted. I silently fly higher and she follows. The extra altitude can be used to glide, so I can at least partially relax as we fly. When Evaline still had to run, I had plenty of time to experiment, so I know that if I angle the glide just right I can eat up miles with minimal movement or altitude loss. Evaline mimics my flight, but stays alert. I manage to fall asleep while flying, somehow keeping a consistent pace. Eventually, Evaline brings me to awareness through the link.
We’re soaring high above a city, partially hidden in the patchy cloud cover. Even from here, I can smell the city. A disgusting amalgamation of sewage, food, and too many people in the same area. The overall result is sickening. I do my best to push away the scent, and look to Evaline. Is this the capital? Is this Auria? She looks back at me, No, this isn’t Auria. Auria is so incredible, you’ll recognize it even though you’ve never been there. I’m not quite sure what this city is called. I’ve been gone for so long, this might be a new settlement. Let’s find somewhere to land.
We wheel around in the sky for a few minutes, before diving into thick smoke surrounding what I assume is some form of shop. The smoke is enough to at least hide our silhouettes as we swoop down on the city. I land first, and quickly tuck away my wings. Evaline lands behind me while I look around. We’re in a sketchy part of town, and the alley we landed in is even worse shape. The danger is palpable, and I watch a couple of red-eyed, flea-bitten rats scuttle behind a pile of garbage. I look back at Evaline and chuckle,
“This is quite the place. Do you have any plans now that we’re in town?”
“Um… no, I didn’t really have any plans for after we got here. Let’s just look for the nearest royal official.”
She seems uncertain, but I trust her judgment, so I stay silent. She leads the way out of the alley, and I fall into step beside her. We seem to be making our way through the city, to the richer neighborhoods, better maintained, although the alley rats seem to be unavoidable. I decide to try and break the silence.
“Why are we looking for a royal official? Shouldn’t anyone who can help work?”
Evaline reddens, and looks away. She seems reluctant to answer, and we fall into another silence, significantly more uncomfortable than previously. Eventually, she speaks, although in a voice little more than a mumble,
“The royal official will know my connections.”
I’m puzzled, and mull this over, even as silence reigns again. So she has connections, apparently important ones, if the royal official is anything to judge by. I had never wondered just who Evaline was in Auron. Her expansive knowledge of the area, as well as understanding the culture here, could only come from a local. However, if she had royal connections, then she isn’t just anyone from Auron.
By now we’ve reached the city center, and stand in front of what is obviously a government building, if the complicated seals and marble facade have the same meaning as on Earth. Evaline charges into the building, seeming almost relieved. I reluctantly follow, wondering at the architecture of the grandest building I’ve ever seen, even though that doesn’t mean much. Once I make my way inside, I see Evaline heavily engrossed in conversation with an official bedecked in cream robes with a cloth belt embroidered with gold who seems to be holding a thick book of some sort. The man almost looks like a priest, but I guess the similarity is coincidental.
Eventually, Evaline turns around and beckons me forward. Up close, the man is significantly less impressive. I can see the small stains on his robe, and notice the faint glow coming from him, what I assume to be some kind of Radiance being used. The man is obviously very nervous, and begins to sweat profusely. I look between the man and Evaline, confused. I wonder what Evaline had to have said to unbalance the man like that. Before I can say anything, the man misinterprets the brief silence, breaking it himself.
“Princess, if I may, when do you plan to leave for Auria?”
I whirl around, looking for the princess, before I realize he was addressing Evaline. I stare in shock.
“Princess?!?” I nearly shout, voice full of incredulity. Evaline looks ashamed.
“Yes, Princess, I was planning on telling you once we made it to the capitol.”
“Wonderful, just wonderful, and you thought I wouldn’t put it together before then?” I snarl. I know I’m being unfair, but I’m too hurt to care.
Evaline doesn’t meet my eyes. I grunt in frustration, pushing aside the armored guards that surrounded me at my outburst. I storm out of the building, barely keeping myself from spreading my wings and flying off right there, in broad daylight. I don’t want any attention though, so I settle for a brisk, aimless walk away from the city center. Even so, I get a few strange looks, storming out of the government building like I did. They quickly fall away as I make my way to the poorer parts of the city, everyone being too occupied by their own work to pay me much attention.
I’m grateful that the fashion here seems to be the same as on Earth, or at least close enough that my T-shirt and jeans blend into the crowd fairly well. For some reason, that makes me think of something else. Auron is the name of the country I’m in, but I’m not entirely sure what the name of the planet I’m on is. I think about the problem for a while, and it serves to distract me from my anger. It also distracts me from where I’m going. By the time I decide not to worry about it for now, I’m thoroughly lost, deep in the crime-ridden slums of the city. I see predatory eyes all around me, human, but self-serving, assessing me as the confused, easy target I am. I know I could put up a decent fight, if even a small portion of the locals have any control over Radiance, as the open use of it in richer areas implies, then my nearly-nonexistent skills may not be of much use.
I look around, trying to find my way back. I see what might be a better-maintained building to my left, along a long avenue, and I set off in that direction. I notice the eyes following me, and quicken my pace. It’s getting dark, and I don’t like the notion of wandering an unfamiliar city in total darkness, no matter how angry I am with Evaline.
I walk even faster, and I notice a specific set of eyes in an alley just ahead of me. A set of indigo eyes. I panic, and do my best to contact Evaline through the link. I hold out hope as I get a thin, tentative connection, and a sense of the general direction that Evaline, but I think she’s too far to be of help. I draw my swords, and advance on the eyes, hoping against hope that I’m mistaken in what the eyes belong to. Sadly, I am not, and the wolf-like Twisted leaps out of the alley. It slashes at me, and I dodge, still in the familiar-unfamiliar fighting style of my Shift. I’m quickly inside its range, slashing at its exposed underbelly. The swing goes wide, and it tries to capitalize on the opening, although I dodge again.
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Near-simultaneously, the Twisted and I speed up our attacks. I swing left, dodge right. It slashes, feints, then tries to bite. It catches a blade for its trouble. I swing again, opening up a wound on its shoulder. My follow up of shoulder-bashing it, surprisingly enough, doesn’t backfire. The creature is stunned, and I use the advantage to plant my sword in its skull. I feel a wash of nausea as I realize that however monstrous the creature may be, it was human at one point. I’m sick in the gutter, mostly bile, although an almost unrecognizable part of the stew joins it.
I turn to leave the alley, but something makes me look back. Another set of indigo eyes stare at me balefully, something that might resemble contempt within them, at least that’s what I interpret it as. The reminder that these things may still have some semblance of human emotion does nothing for my conscience, and I nearly puke again. However, I don’t have time for philosophy. The Twisted is advancing, and it’s obviously kill or be killed, and I don’t currently want to die. I slash at the Twisted, hoping to end the fight quickly. No such luck. The fight drags on longer than with the first Twisted, and it manages a lucky shot on my arm and yet another on my head. I grimace at the wounds, but the fight still isn’t serious enough for me to unfurl my wings and risk someone finding out.
I manage to dispatch the Twisted, more reluctantly than with the first. I stumble out of the alley, looking like some drunk, or perhaps the victim of a mugging. Either way, the only help I get is a few pitiful looks, intermingled with some disgusted ones. I don’t care, glad to be back within the protection the crowd offers. I start stumbling back to where I thought I felt Evaline earlier, too tired and fearful to continuously adjust my heading. I pass yet another alley, quickening my stumbling pace a little as I do so. Eventually, I come upon the government building that I was at earlier. I see a couple guards near the front steps, a massive comfort for my weary eyes.
I, mostly unsuccessfully, straighten up and even out my stride as I walk up to the guards. They bar my way, looking at my sorry form with disgust.
“What are you doing here?” says the first, a burly, ruddy-faced man. It’s obvious he doesn’t care.
I try to speak once and fail, then try again, at a mumble,
“I am a friend of Princess Evaline. She’s probably looking for me.”
The explanation doesn’t seem very believable, even to me. The ruddy-faced guard shares the sentiment. His companion, however, looks at me curiously, then turns to the other.
“He might be telling the truth, sir,” His voice comes out strangely high, and I look at him closer. He is very young, maybe fourteen at the oldest.
The older guard draws out of earshot, beckoning the younger to follow. They have a short, heated discussion, where I hear the younger nearly yell,
“But sir, he called the princess Evaline!”
The older man snaps something, and the outburst is quelled. With that, the guards turn around, and the older man apologetically says,
“Young man, even if you are telling the truth, our orders are clear. We can’t let anyone in after midnight, except for the royals.”
Dejected, but unsurprised, I turn away, resigning to stay in the alleys for the night, despite the danger. I hope that I can find somewhere somewhat safe to sleep, but I doubt it. I meander away from the richer, well lit part of town, back to the alleys of the slums, where I first fought the Twisted. I find an alley blocked with the back wall of some kind of shop, probably a clothing store, judging by the piles of chewed, but soft cloth strewn around. I grab a larger piece, then look to the roof of the building. It is low, and seemingly accessible. I manage to climb the wall without using my wings, no small feat. I find a warm chimney, sheltered by the walls of nearby buildings, and curl up against it, risking spreading my wings to maintain warmth.
I fall asleep quickly enough, slipping into dreams that, for the first time in a while, are peaceful. I wake up the next morning to the sun hitting my face and an alley cat licking my hand. My neck is sore, and I stand, shaking off the cat’s affection and stretching. The sun begins to warm my wings, and I pause, soaking in the morning’s warmth. Said warmth begins to make me drowsy again, but I realize that I’m plenty exposed up here and fold my wings before anyone has a chance to see me. I clamber off the roof, pausing briefly as the tailor’s wife emerges from the building to empty a chamber pot. I make it to the ground, more quickly than I got up.
I’ve hardly touched the cobblestones when I hear a clatter behind me, and whirl to see a Twisted, looming and smug, in front of the door to the tailor’s shop. I begin to draw my blades when I hear someone else’s boots hitting the ground behind me. I turn again, seeing one of the Broken Ones blocking my only other exit. I begin to spread my wings, trying to escape, but I’m not fast enough to keep the Broken One and Twisted away. I hear a solid, metallic clang, and notice that the Broken One just bashed me with the hilt of their sword. It’s the last thing I notice before a cold, heavy darkness descends upon my consciousness.
I swim in and out of awareness, and even when I am awake, I am confused. I feel a sensation of movement, but I’m not sure if it is real or imagined. Days pass, I’m not sure how many, and the movement persists. With how consistent it is, I become progressively more sure it is real, and I wonder where I’m being taken. After a while, I stay awake long enough to make sense of the sounds around me. I hear the jostling of cargo, the creak of cart wheels, the unnervingly quiet footsteps of the wolf-like Twisted, which seem to be what the Broken Ones use as horses. I hear voices, too, low and strange, probably Broken Ones. The lack of any other sound is telling. I think we are in the Ghost Sands again.
The cart stops, and I hear more active talking, loud enough to make out,
“-skids, so we can get past this awful sand,” barked out as an order, unforgiving. The cart is tipped on one side, then another, and soon we’re off, skating along the sand. The cart makes better progress, although the sand swishing is a repetitive, rolling sound, slowly lulling me back to sleep.
When I next wake up, we’re far deeper in the desert, and the voices of the guards are hoarse, thirstier. They call out to someone else, and they call back, and I hear a large, wooden creak, likely a large gate. The cart starts back up again, and I hear the runners switch to a harder surface, probably cobblestone. We stop again, and light floods the area. I can see, for the first time, the other prisoners riding with me. They also seem to be ill in some way, and when I try to flop away from a man with weeping, open sores, I can’t move. The rusted chains that wrap around my wrists and ankles, now visible in the dim light, are plenty long, but I can’t move.
I must be weaker than I thought. Right now, my atrophy makes sense, so all I can do is go wherever the Broken Ones take me and hope they bring me some food, so I can rebuild my strength. The Broken ones quickly do just that, forcing a Twisted, one of the large, gorilla-like ones, to carry me to a cell. It’s a strange feeling, being this close to a Twisted without it attacking me. The arms of the twisted are strange, full of ropy muscle and simultaneously covered in fur and slimy. It’s disgusting, and I’m glad to be out of the creature’s arms. I look around the cell I was deposited in. A hole in the ground, too small to fit through, serves as a toilet, at least I assume so, judging by the stench. The room is windowless, maybe two paces across, if that, but longer on the side of the one barred wall that faces a narrow hallway, and another cell, a mirror of mine. There is a cot in one corner, a sink, and nothing else.
I don’t think I’ll be getting out of here anytime soon, even if I wanted to. The Twisted occasionally cross my line of sight, patrolling the corridors. Eventually, a Broken One, seeming meek and uncertain, a student if I’ve ever seen one, leaves a tray by a small slot near the bottom of my cell door. The tray is piled with a gray goop. I eat it reluctantly, and grimace at the taste. It tastes like dust, or undercooked potatoes. It does give me energy, though, enough to stand up. The ceiling of the cell is lower than I thought, close enough to be uncomfortable. I try to use my Radiance, and something stops me. It feels like that dam I built against the flood of Radiance that had been pouring out of me has been reinforced, strengthened so much I’ve lost control over it. I struggle yet again, futilely.
With my Radiance currently out of the picture, and my muscles having wasted away from the long days in the cart, I do the only thing I can do. Train, and try to get back to my previous strength so I can escape. While the ceiling of the cell is too low for me to stand comfortably, the walls are far enough apart to allow me to do some exercises, as long as I face the bars. I work out for about an hour, with more breaks than I would prefer. By the time I’m finished, I’m doused in sweat and far too tired to do much other than sit down on my hard cot and try to sleep.