The Last Lands

CHAPTER 10-NEVER SIMPLE

Always stay away from Consumers, Busco. They're dangerous folk, they'll steal your soul and kill you soon as look at you.

That's what they always said. Everyone hated Consumers. The lowest of any and all races in New Peridios. It was by law all Consumers had to keep their heads covered at all times, so much so that no-one really even knew what was under there. Busco wished he could still be ignorant of that. It was illegal for them to feed in New Peridios, whatever that meant. That didn't mean they still didn't, although Busco was never quite sure what it was they ate. He was sure that it wasn't blood like the Vampirics. It was perfectly legal for them to consume blood and they were never reviled. He never knew what made the Consumers so different, until today. The last of the wraps fell to the floor. His hands in their ragged bonds came back to rest before him, and Busco at last saw the Consumer for what he was.

Grey skin was stretched over where Kad's eyes should be, rendering them featureless. On the top of his hairless hair was a throbbing, stretching extension of skin and flesh. It was a mouth, tongue-less, with long needle-like teeth, similar to the ones embedded in his gums. It moved, like a worm, stretching away from his scalp. He was smiling, from both mouths.

What is this?

Sickness gripped Busco, tugging at his spine.

“Wh-wh-wh-wh-what the...?” Khol struggled to say, blood seeping to his eyes.

The Silve'Lok turned all attention to him, a curious hatred forming in his evil eyes. It muttered something, perhaps closer to a language than what the spider-riders said, but through its feral jaws it was more of a curse than anything. Kad braced himself, his lower mouth salivating. The jaws opened wide, and the demonic mouth pulsated. A roar of sonic scratching filled the room, an ethereal light flashed before them. The Silve'Lok yelled out, his body tightening. Kad's body grew taut, his thin muscles stretching. The mouth on top of his head throbbed, and the light passed through it.

It's eating something, what is it?

Master Gybalt grabbed him pushing him up, and away from the conflict.

“M-master, what is he?” He gasped.

“Later, we have to move!”

Sir Douglas struggled to his feet, beckoning Khol to follow. Still the consumer's mouth throbbed. The light grew thicker, the noise grew louder. The Silve'Lok buckled, falling to a leg, its arms moved as if pulled by a puppeteers strings. It tried to fight against it, but it was failing.

It's energy...he's feeding off of his energy!

Busco watched with morbid fascination. The more ethereal light that was siphoned, the more Kad's demeanour seemed to change. Their weak, lanky prisoner was now standing tall, his body did not change dramatically, but he seemed stronger somehow. The Silve'Lok tried to step towards him, but its energy was rapidly dissapearing. It cursed a final time, fangs bared, when it melted down, becoming another surge of metallic liquid.

Kad had no time to react, as the stream came flowing towards him, reappearing inches from his face, his claws coming in to the jugular. Busco went to move, but the pain in his thigh screamed, and he stumbled towards one of the equipment laden desks. He needn't have worried though, as this new, stronger Kad was able to feint past the Silve'Lok, dodging the claws almost effortlessly. With a grotesque grin, his wrists burst through the rope that bound him, and he punched the creature in the face.

Busco expected to hear a similar crack as every bone in the Consumer's fist shattered, but it landed true. The Silve'Lok was stunned, knocked back into more equipment. Kad shook his hand, his smile hiding any pain. He poised his body, ready to feed once more. The Silve'Lok, however, had let one of its arms extend as it was sent flying. Its hand was still laying by Kad, and before he could notice, a dozen swords were emitted. Jutting out like silver spikes, the blades punctured everything around. One the electrical cubes was pierced, its glowing screen turning black and sparks flying. It sent a jolt down the arm to the Silve'Lok, who retracted it back. Kad slumped by a desk, having been caught in the arm and leg by two different spikes.

Through gritted teeth, he poised his other mouth again, draining more energy from the creature. Busco watched as the wounds began to heal around the edges, but before the wounds could close properly, the Silve'Lok broke free again, his extended arms reaching for Kad's tattered clothes,hoisting him up, and throwing him to the wall. He landed with a dull thud near Khol and Sir Douglas, who rushed to protect him. Another blue flash struck the Silve'Lok, sending it back towards the end of the room again. There was a crash of sparks and shunting metal, one of the cables struck it, and it began to jolt and convulse.

“You got it, Master!” Busco shouted.

“I think I just stunned it, for now.” He shouted back. “Aeinon! How are we looking?”

“Like we should get the Hel out of here, Gybalt!”

“Let's go!” Khol shouted, hoisting Kad up.

“It'll just catch up to us if we don't kill it.” Master Gybalt said desperately.

“Lock the doors behind us as we go!” Sir Douglas shouted.

“With those blades, there's no guarantee it won't just carve through them. We have to think of something.”

“I'll only break my sword on its skin. The only weak points I can see are its eyes, but I'll never get a true chance to strike it without aid.”

The Silve'Lok struggled away from the Nexos current, its body still jolting, but unable to pursue. It's breathing was ragged, as if it was in pain. Behind it, was a generator, still churning power through the room.

That's it.

Busco turned to his friend.

“Khol, that generator over there. Can you make it explode?”

Khol looked horrified at the notion, and tried to snort in protest, sending speckles of blood out.

“Will that do it?” Sir Douglas asked, hopeful.

“We have to try.” Master Gybalt said.

He pressed the key-card into Busco's hands.

“Head for the exit, close the door behind us. I'll teleport us out just as it explodes.”

“But Master, I c-ca-ca-”

“Don't try to make it explode Khol. Just do your thing, as if you were back in the class-room.” Busco said, as reassuring as he could muster.

Sir Douglas handed Kad over to Busco.

“Come on, let's get out of here.” He barked, before turning back to Gybalt Ganders. “Don't do anything stupid, Gybalt.”

“You think this is stupid?” Master Gybalt said with a smile.

Khol gave a helpless look to his friend.

Come on Khol, you can do it.

“Concentrate, Khol!” Master Gybalt shouted.

Busco and Sir Douglas heaved Kad upwards, passing through the door.

“Now, close it!”

He pressed the green key-card into the slot, the last he saw of Khol was him taking his stance. Master Gybalt was whispering to him. The door slammed shut, and the two men limped along with the unconscious Consumer in tow. They followed the black line, stumbling and crunching over the pile of skeletons before the door. They gently placed Kad, and Sir Douglas readied his sword, waiting by the doors.

“C'mon, Gybalt, c'mon, c'mon, c'mon...” He muttered.

Busco looked back at the unconscious Kad. His second mouth had retracted a little. He almost looked peaceful. Busco reached over and pulled his cloak, obscuring it. From within the bunker, a deep explosion rolled. The ground trembled, metal screeched. Then, behind them, was a flash of blue.

“Close the main doors!” Master Gybalt shouted.

Obediently, Busco stood up, slamming his fist on the red button. The flashing light and klaxon sounded again. The doors creaked and screamed as they moved again to submerge the facility in darkness. Busco looks down at his Master, who had his fist pointed at him. The wave of blue energy coated him, pulling on him, and suddenly, he, Kad and Sir Douglas were outside in the blinding daylight, on top of the hill directly above Sector 30. Seconds later, an exhausted Master Gybalt and Khol appeared.

All of them drank in the canyon air, smiling and laughing. Each of them was bleeding, but joy passed through their mouths. Busco scrunched up grass between his fingers.

Oh, I've missed the sound and feel of you!

Master Gybalt rubbed the back of Khol reassuringly.

“You did it!” He said.

“That's good work, Groken.” Sir Douglas smiled. “Did you kill it?”

“I don't think we should stick around to find out.” Master Gybalt said, stretching his back.

A shadow was cast on Busco, as someone stood directly behind him.

“Good luck in your search, Quinn.” Kad smiled from under his hood. “Don't forget, you owe me a new sword.”

“Hey!” Sir Douglas called, as the Consumer bounded away, barely seen with some new speed.

Before Busco could get to his feet, the Consumer dissapeared, leaving only a rustle of grass and leaves behind.

“Oh, damn it to Hel.” Sir Douglas said.

“D-don't be too hard on him, Sir. He did save us, in there.” Khol interjected.

Sir Douglas nodded bitterly.

“He's still a killer, Khol.”

Busco thought about their cryptic conversation the night before.

“I don't think so.” He said absently.

Sir Douglas fitted him with a look, but remained silent.

“Forget him, we have to start making tracks.” Master Gybalt said,

“We have wounds to treat first.” Sir Douglas growled.

“We can do it in a moment, but for now, I'd say it's time to-”

Before he could finish, there was a scream, one of horror and agony.

Yet somehow familiar.

Sareta...?

“Oh for X's sake, what now?” Master Gybalt said, wearily.

Below them, there was a rumble, an unseen tremor. There was the screech of metal and something inhuman.

“Never simple, eh?” Master Gybalt said, wiping at his head, baring his bracelet.

“Below us!” Sir Douglas shouted, sword raised.

The metal below them creaked and whined, unleashing a maniacal roar of terror. There was a sheer scratching sound, as swords groped at plates of metal, and the Silve'Lok scrambled to the surface. It shrieked again, catapulting itself up, and onto the hill. It shone glaringly brilliant in the sunlight. It shielded its own eyes, sparkling in a light it had not seen for presumably millennia.

“Get ready.” Gybalt said, calmer than he perhaps should have been.

He punched the air, unleashing his blue light, but even in its dazed state, the Silve'Lok was too quick. Surging, half liquid now, the spatial energy sent by Master Gybalt went flying past, dissipating into nothing above a gleaming canyon. The Silve'Lok had his eyes locked on the mage now. Busco readied himself, every part of his body was hurting, but he was softly reassured. The sounds beneath the ground calmed him, soothed him, strengthening him with every breath. He pulled up with his hands. Great mounds of earth sprung up from around him, and he called them to him. It applied itself, coating him like earthen armour. He left two holes in front of his eyes so he could still see, his peripherals growing dark. The earth was cold, even damp, but he felt a strength not felt before.

He tensed his muscles, letting his energy flow through it. The earth hardened around him. He felt the soft soil turn hard as stone. The silver hand came at them, and Busco intercepted it, interlocking his fingers with the claws. The creature snarled, pulling back, scratching at the rock armour, but Busco held it there. With his spare hand, he coiled a fist and struck the Silver'Lok, again and again. The creature recoiled, stunned, but wriggling like a wild animal. Its hand still locked in Busco's, it struck him in the chest with both feet. The metal struck the stone that collided with his chest, temporarily expelling all air out of him. He fell backwards, the soil turning back to its old state.

The creature spun its extended arms out, wildly swinging. One of them struck Master Gybalt, sending him flying. Khol was in a daze, unable to move. Sir Douglas decisively parried the bladed arms, but he was losing ground, and all the while, Busco became increasingly aware of a pulsing sound from behind them, growing louder and louder.

A clear blast of energy swiped down like a sonic boom, blasting the Silve'Lok in the back. It was lifted off of the air, flying away from the near-exhausted Sir Douglas. Khol yelped, and Busco craned his sore neck backwards, expecting to see the Consumer at their rescue, but instead beholding a desert Eve in a denim jacket, holding a cursed sword. The air between them crackled. The Eve wavered, her sword dropped to the ground. Her body slumped, her breathing struggled to escape. She was as tired as the rest of them, and in far more serious pain. The Silve'Lok bounded back to its feet, affixing its new foe with a snarl.

“Sareta...” Busco called out weakly.

Her long ears twitching, her muscles in her arms throbbing. She groaned in pain, the sword sinking into the soil. The Silve'Lok bounced towards her, its feral claws extending. With a weak yell, she lifted the Sword of Seconds, colliding with the claws, sparks and gleaming light spilling out like fireworks. She lurched with the sword, swinging it from her right. The blade struck its neck, the metal scraping the silver. The force sent the Silve'Lok back a few paces, and she struck again, knocking it back further. With all of the strength she could muster, she threw the sword at it. The tendrils still gouging her arms grew taut, as the Silve'Lok rolled out of harms way. The sword sunk into the dirt, and the Silve'Lok sent its out extended arms at her. She managed to pull back the sword in time, but the force sent her flying backwards.

Khol called out, managing to catch her in his burly, furred arms. She began to struggle.

“Get off me! Get off get off get-” She screamed.

She wriggled free off of his grasp, shuddering in agony. She bellowed in anguish, and another crackle of invisible lighting surrounded her body. She struck him in the nose with her elbow, and something between the spaces of the bodies exploded. The impact launched Khol backwards, crying out pathetically. Her legs buckled again, giving way until she slid almost fully to the ground, only just keeping herself upright. The Silve'Lok grinned maliciously.

No...Sareta...

Like a missile, the creature flew. Blades appearing on its forearms, its claws enlarging. Busco placed his palm on the earth.

It's so quiet now...

Sareta had enough energy to look up the assailing creature.

Please, help me, Busco.

Its claws were almost upon her. The earth beneath him was silent.

Please, make it stop!

He sent what adrenaline he could down to fuel his legs, instinct taking over. Part of his body was bare, but the rest was still coated in earth.

One last push!

He turned the soil back to stone, and made it to her just in time. The silver claws sunk themselves into the stone, ripping it apart. Fire bit into his flesh, his wrists and chest were heavily lacerated. As he fell, he could see another blast of energy miss the Silve'Lok, and within the brilliance of the light and the screeching of air being sliced, he was suddenly by Master Gybalt's side again. He fell to the ground, his torso becoming very, very wet.

So warm.

*********************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************

There was the clash of swords and blades, and another roar. Energy crackled around him. People were screaming.

Why am I so cold?

He dreamt of red eyes and silver hands. Spiders legs were wrapping themselves around him, and all around was fire. Master Se called to him, but the silver hands were already there. The world grew so loud and then, suddenly, so quiet.

Where am I? Where is everyone?

His hands were numb, but his senses were active. He could hear the dull hum of running Nexos energy in the generators beneath the halls. There was the scent of ink and oil, old books and trinkets.

That smell, I know that smell better than any.

It was home.

Master Se was standing with her back to him, at her workbench, as always, tinkering away. The old bookshelves were as filthy as before, and the floor covered in boxes of old parts. A glass case was at the far wall, rare artefacts 'loaned' from the Academy scholars, waiting to be fixed before they could be returned. Master Se's tail flcikered under her black Master's robes. She turned a single yellow eye to Busco.

"You're early." She said, barely turnign away from her work. "That's a new one."

Busco laughed, relieved to see her again. His clothes were torn, but the flesh was not.

"Master? How are you here? You're-"

"Busy? Of course I am. What do you want? You want to ask me something, I know that face."

Busco gulped heavily.

I can taste blood. Why can I taste blood?

He stretched his fingers far apart from one another, lightly touchign his own chest.

"Then it was just a dream?" He whispered. "I dreamt you died, and I...I was so upset."

Master Se laughed.

"Good." She joked. "I'd be very annoyed if you weren't."

The two shared a laugh again.

This is what home sounds like. What it feels like.

Master Se sighed, putting down some contraption onto the desk, and placed her clawed hands face-down, lifting herself up slightly.

"You shouldn't be here yet." She said sadly. "It's too early."

"But...I want to be here." Busco said, feeling tears fill his eyes.

Slowly, his old mentor turned to see him, with a warm smile.

"You'll be alright kid." She said, fighting back tears herself. "I know you will."

A great light began to shine behind her, slowly consuming her until all was white.

"You're strong, but you're stronger when you let others help you." Her voice said, gently fading.

A peaceful chill spread through him, but suddenly it grew colder, and colder.

Pain speared through his chest, and he felt his body convulse and rock.

People were shouting his name from a hundred miles away, but soon even their echoes faded. His breath was drawn out through a gaping mouth, his lungs rasping and reeling, and he fell backwards into shadow. Light and darkness melded and fused, sometimes a breach broke through, he heard the sound of rain on a tarpaulin, smells of blood and damp cloths, and could feel an array of needles pulsating in his chest. Then, darkness would envelope him again, his pain would fade, and he would dream of nothing and no-one.

*********************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************

He awoke covered in sticky sweat. The bedsheets were damp, and the wet smell filled the tent. In a panic he groped at his chest, and coiled in agony. He heard the scraping of a chair somewhere, and the spilling of metal and glass equipment. The wooden cot squeaked as he slammed his back down.

“Oh, damn it to Hel!” He heard a woman mutter.

His throat was coarse and cracked. His tongue had turned to desert rock. He tried to reach out in the blurred room, but his arms were so weak. Every part of his body ached beyond reckoning.

“Busco? Can you hear me?” The woman's silhouette said.

He tried to respond, but nothing could come through his lips.

“Are you awake? How do you feel?” She asked, growing dimmer.

I'm fine. I'm just tired, Master Se.

He fell through to the abyss. There were no dreams this time. A warmth came over him as he wandered through black, swirling clouds. There was something nudging at his shoulder, gently, but firm.

“Busco?” A deep voice said.

Who is that? It sounds familiar.

He blinked himself awake, the aid-tent becoming whole again. It smelt of dampness, blood and metal. There was someone next to him, his hand gently placed on Busco's shoulder. At least, he was pretty sure it was his. His body was almost numb. Something on the man's wrist sparkled. A jewel of some kind.

“Busco, can you hear me?” Master Gybalt said again.

His eye-lids weighed more than tonnes, but he forced them open. He could just about move his head, but nothing below it. It was there, he could feel life in his toes, at least, but he wasn't strong enough to move it yet. He groaned at the pain, moving himself upwards to the rough pillow behind his head.

Master...?

“It's alright, don't move if you can't.” Master Gybalt said. “Ruroro said you awoke earlier, I though I'd come see how you were.”

Busco tried to focus his eyes on the mage. His hair and beard were somehow more dishevelled before, but he looks clean. There was a small scratch on his forehead, and his eyes were sunken and tired, but filled with a concern he had not seen on him before.

“What...what happened?” Busco asked weakly.

Master Gybalt moved his hand. He looked at his young student carefully.

“What do you remember?” He asked softly.

Busco tried to prop himself up on his elbows, but the stinging in his chest stopped him. He winced, trying to think back, trying to decipher what was and what had been a dream.

I remember Sareta's face. Her eyes, pleading me to help, then she was behind me, and in front of me was...

“I got hit.” He winced.

Master Gybalt nodded.

“That was a brave thing you did.” He said sagely. “That move with the earth armour as well, it...”

He paused for a moment, eyes drifting away to another realm.

“Well, I think Master Se would be proud.” He finished, smiling.

Busco formed a small smile. The fires in his dreams simmered, leaving only the warmth. He imagined her smiling at him, most likely after she had berated him for putting his life so needlessly in a risk like that.

You would have done the same thing, Master.

True, but I'm older than you, Quinn.

His smile turned to pain, as something flared in his arms. He began to struggle in his bed.

“Easy, easy.” Master Gybalt said, reassuringly holding his shoulder again.

“Sareta...” He managed to say. “What happened to her?”

Master Gybalt looked down at his boots gravely, and scratched his cheek.

“After you fell, she seemed to summon the last of her power, and sent it to that creature. He was knocked off, into the canyon somewhere. In fact, she unleashed so much, she knocked all of us on our asses.”

He tried to smile at Busco, but the Nocterran only looked at him with concern.

“By the time we got back to our feet,” He continued. “She was already gone.”

Busco felt something sink inside of him.

“I'm sorry, Busco.”

“Then there's nothing we can do?” He asked his mentor.

Master Gybalt sighed.

“That fool Aeinon wants to say behind and look for her. He's right, she does need to be separated from that sword. Somehow...”

Staying behind?

“Does...does that mean we're leaving, Master?”

Master Gybalt murmured as he nodded. Busco felt a strike deep inside, his guts dissolving. He struggled himself up, leaning on his elbows. His torso was a mass of bandages. Blood had seeped into some of them. He remained silent, but stared at Master Gybalt, straight in the eye.

“I know you think there's something you need to find here Busco.” Master Gybalt said, his voice dark and stern, his eyes were ice.

Busco shivered.

“But you need to let this go. Okay?”

Busco nodded meekly.

“Okay.”

“I'm serious.”

Master Gybalt moved in closer, his omniscient eyes seeing past Busco's eyes, and what was beyond there. Busco could only nod.

“Alright then.” He stood himself up. “By happy coincidence, Captain Rihlat will be back tomorrow morning. If you're up for it then, we'll board his ship tomorrow night.”

Oh great. That guy again.

He slept for most of the evening, only awakening when Khol and Artie came to see him. Khol had been bandaged up himself, but not nearly as severely as Busco, and Artifae listened to their stories with growing awe. Busco could barely keep his eyes open, and fell asleep just as Khol had told them about the great metal doors beneath the hills.

The pale daylight roused him not long after dawn. The tent was empty and dark. He managed to swing his legs off of the bed, and with great upheaval, was able to sit upright. His head was swimming and his bladder was full to bursting. Shortly after relieving himself outside, Ruoro came into the tent.

“Ah, you're finally up.” She said cheerfully. “How do you feel?”

Busco winced.

“Like I've been clawed near to death.”

She chuckled as she examined him, looking directly in his eyes. Hers looked brighter, the dark circles around them had all but vanished, so too had her cough, seemingly.

“Well, good news is your wounds aren't infected.” She said, undoing the bandages. “They'll still take some time to heal though. Bad news is, you'll want to check in with St Sunadaell's when you get back”

“Great.” He said with gritted teeth, “Is that where you trained to be a medic? At the hospital?”

She smiled at him.

“Actually I never trained to be a medic. I wanted to be an apothecary. I studied pharmacy at university, then had a two week secondment to St Sundaell's, and hated it.”

She smirked at the memory.

“So how come you came here to be a medic?”

She shrugged.

“They needed one.”

Busco smiled.

“Well I think they got a good one.”

Ruoro laughed, a surprisingly high-pitched, nurturing chatter.

“Your Master spoke very highly of you. Fighting a monster! Not many students can say that, can they?”

Busco's smile faltered, but he fought to keep it.

“No, I guess not.”

“Your knight friend as well, If anything, he was even more impressed than your Master. He said it was very brave of you to keep putting yourself in danger like that to protect people. I'd have called it stupid myself, but he's been talking about it non-stop.”

She gave him a playful glare as she undid the bandages around his shoulders and set about to rebinding them.

“I guess it's a good thing you're here then.”

“Yeah.” She chuckled. “'Spose I should start chargign people if they're gonna be off fighting monsters and mysterious spider-men.”

“Oh, they told you about that too?”

“That's all anyone's been talking about since you guys got back.” She said with a sad sigh.

Busco watche dher carefully, remaining silent.

“They told me about Sareta too.” She said, not looking at him in the eye. “That's a shame, she was a really sweet girl. 'Course, it would have been nice to have someone help out around here, even if it's just another woman to talk to.”

Busco spared a final thought for the Desert Eve, her naïve smile lighting up the beach.

It'll be alright, Sareta. Sir Douglas will find you. I know that for a fact.

Just before midday, Busco said his goodbyes to her, and stiffly wandered out of the tent. The daylight was scorching, beating upon his bandaged chest and arms. His right leg was still, almost limping. There was a bustle of movement around him. The air was excited, even more so then when The Luxoria passed by. There were large groups of miners, their clothes and equipment were clean, but they were rearing to go. A small crowd began to assemble outside of Mahaan Blare's house.

He staggered towards them, standing on the outskirts. Many people were shouting questions at the brown bear.

“Blare, is it true?”

“Blare, tell us!”

“Are there really other people here?”

“What, like actual civilizations?”

Mahaan had his large paws up, trying to soothe and reassure the crowd. His voice was booming, but the words were drowned out. The faces within the crowd were fearful and devious.

“They better stay where they are then.”

“I'm not sharing any of my silver with 'em!”

“What if they come lookin' for us?”

“Who are they, Blare?”

Busco watched the crowd cautiously. Labourers and miners of all species and creeds barged past him to join the hysteric masses.

Looks like Ruoro was right.

“Boils? Warts? What does that mean?”

“If they're dangerous, we should kill 'em!”

“Yeah, teach those Boil-Worts to mess with us!”

Boil-Worts? That can't be what people are calling them...

He was trapped in a daze, only broken out by a gentle tapping on his shoulder. He whirled round in a panic, to see a smiling Artifae standing next to him.

“Can you believe all that?” He said with a cunning smile.

“They don't seem too happy to hear there's people already living here.” Busco said darkly.

“No, I guess they don't like the idea of them stopping from mining the silver up on the Tooth.”

Artie shrugged, turning away from the ever-growing crowd.

“How you feeling?” He asked Busco.

Busco shrugged.

“Pretty sore.”

“Yeah I bet!” Artie laughed. “After fighting all of those monsters!”

The two began to walk back to the beach-head.

“All this time, and I've just been lifting one heavy thing to another place, and then to a different place after that. How come you've been getting all of the adventures?”

“I didn't exactly ask for them, Artie.” Busco grimaced.

“Pfft. Even so, now you're on your way back, loads of cool scars and stories to tell everyone. You'll finally be the coolest kid on campus.” He said with a snide grin.

Busco remained silent, thinking about heading home. It was only a week or so they had been on this strange new land, yet the thought of seeing New Peridios again felt alien. It felt like a mistake.

He's here though. I can't go back until I find him. How long do I have until the boat leaves?

They crested the hill. Busco looked towards the sparring hill, still misshapen after he and Sir Douglas thought, scanning towards the horizon. The sky was beautiful beyond words. The sea lapped gently before the wooden huts.

“I can't leave yet.” He said, almost a whisper.

Artie looked at him seriously.

“Khol said something about you guys fighting a monster made of silver.” He said. “Was this the guy you were looking? The silver-hands man?”

Busco shook his head, agitated.

“No, Artie. That was some monster from the Old Age.”

Artie snorted.

“Then that's some weird coincidence, huh?”

Busco ignored him, walking towards the coast-line. There were still people running towards the settlement. There were more boats here than before. Most couldn't fit onto the small dock-space, and had anchored out at sea, with small skiffs rowing towards them.

“So you didn't find him?” Artie asked.

Busco sighed.

“No. I didn't.”

He turned suddenly to his friend.

“Can you keep an eye out for me? Let me know if you see anyone like that? A Mountain Eve with silver hands. Can you do that for me? Please?”

Artie snorted again.

“You want me to go around looking for an assassin with metal hands? No thanks Quinny.”

“His name is Sylo Teht. Just if you find anything about him. For X's sake, don't talk to him or confront him or anything.”

“How am I supposed to let you know if I see him if you're back in the city?”

“Send a message or something, bribe a sailor, come back and see me, I don't know!”

Stress muddled his brain, his skull began to hurt, but no more than his flesh. He sank onto the sand, and Artie gently crouched to be beside him, studying him. The two fo them studied the shore-line together.

“I don't know what to tell you man.” Artie said gently. “But you're gonna be over there, and we're gonna be here. If he's still here at all.”

Busco began to grit himself with anger, but the pain forced him to let it pass. He let his head calm itself. He remained silent, but tried to feel what letting go was like. It was painful, but he began to feel a little better.

“Look, Quinny, what if we found him? What if you and I were strong enough to defeat him? Whoever this guy is, I doubt it would be easy, but let's just say we did. You really want to live the rest of your life knowing you killed someone? Got your vengeance? Isn't it enough to just know you can live your life, free of him, and he'll be stuck here, scratching mosquito bites on his ass?”

Busco looked down to where the soil met the sand.

“He killed her, Artie.”

“I know. I'm sorry.”

The two friends said their goodbyes on the beach. Artie hugged him a little too tightly, and Busco bowed away.

“Make sure you guys come see me again, okay?”

“We'll try.” Busco grinned. “Don't get yourself hurt out here, huh?”

Artie grinned his typical grin, and began to make his way back to the settlement. Outside of their hut, Master Gybalt, Khol and Sir Douglas had assembled their gear. Gybalt Ganders Douglas Aeinon shook hands.

“Sure you want to do this?” Master Gybalt asked.

“I have to.” Sir Douglas said, tightening his sword belt. “Someone needs to find her before it's too late. Or even if it is.”

“Well, I left most of the coins I was going to pay you back at the academy. If you want the rest, you'll have to come see me when you get back.”

“I will.” Sir Douglas said, squinting in the sunlight.

They turned their attention to Busco as he approached, greeting him with warm smiles.

“I was just about to come see if you were up yet.” Master Gybalt said.

“How you holdin' up, Quinn?” Sir Douglas asked.

Busco waved his hand from side to side, signalling so-so­, but made sure to still smile at them.

“I hear you're not coming with us, Sir.” Busco said.

The Old Dog shook his head slowly.

“I'm going to find Sareta.” He said gruffly. “And if I can find a way to capture or kill that silver monster, well...”

Busco held out his hand, working to keep it steady.

“Thanks for looking after us, Sir Douglas.”

Sir Douglas beamed, taking his hand with a firm grip.

“You did well, Busco. I look forward to seeing how strong you get next time we meet. That reminds me, by the time you'll get back, it should be the annual Hran'Thru tournament, right?”

“We might just miss it. It's on the first of Quintus.” Busco said, a little sadly.

“Right. Well, if your wounds heal, you might be able to sign up for it.”

Busco laughed.

“I think I've had enough fighting for a little while, thank you Sir.”

The two shared a final look of companionship and respect before Busco stepped away. Khol said a near tearful goodbye to him, and was volunteered by Master Gybalt to take Busco's belongings to The Narwhal. Master Gybalt and Khol went on ahead, and Busco readied himself.

“Quinn.” Sir Douglas said from behind.

Busco looked round. Sir Douglas was holding a silver knife out to him by the blade, its handle pointed towards him.

“I think you're forgetting this.” He said.

Busco took it quickly.

“You look after yourself Busco.” He said with a knowing smile.

“Come on, you lazy gits.” The undead Captain Rihlat roared at his crew, busy hurrying barrels and crates off of his ship. “We won't have long to drop all this stuff off.”

Master Gybalt greeted the captain, and was welcomed aboard. Busco made sure not to look the captain in the eye, but he did seem interested anyway. He took one last look at the beach, and the jungle, breathing in the coastal air.

I'll be back. Someday.

The night was a deep indigo. The Silver Tooth sparkled under a full moon, which glowed a pale pink. The jungle was alive with insect and bird sounds, and gentle rustling under the canopies. The star-speckled sky was marred by only a smattering of white clouds. The distant sounds of the camp-fire left as the orkan traipsed through the jungle, but the smell of smoke still lingered on his clothes.

He brushed the storm of flies away, cursing under his breath. The other hunters in a party jokingly told him to watch out for Mountain-Monsters and wart-covered natives. They were on the slopes of the Silver Tooth, not far from a creek filled with strange, large and slippery reptiles. The sour taste of their meat still hung on his mouth, as he spat to the ground. The salamander's aroma carried along the wind, smelling much better than it tasted. His thoughts were of lamentation, how they ignored the large herd of sheep on the mountain for something more exotic.

He walked further into the jungle brush than he probably needed to. They were alone on this land, but the Ship-Shine muddled his mind slightly. He hoisted his breeches down, and relieved his bladder. He tried to relax, but the sounds of the jungle became intense in the pitch-black. Leaves began to rustle in front of him, and he willed himself to stop, but the stream kept going. He muttered nervously, as something was stalking towards him. He stepped back, urine splattering on his shoe. He tried to call out, but the leaves groped at him, the roots below striking at his ankles. He stumbled but did not fall, his eyes trying to adjust in the darkness. Whatever was coming towards him was slow, but determined, larger than he would have liked. He pulled up his breeches, turning back to his fellow hunters. The orange glow of the camp-fire was dimmed. He opened his mouth to shout out, when it came for him.

It was a silhouette, tall. Not a beast like he was expecting.

“Wh-who are you?” He growled, trying to hide the fear with aggression.

The figure stepped forwards. Under the moon's glow, he saw it was a woman. An Eve. Her hair was dishevelled, and she looked gaunt. Her body was covered in dirt. She was a little taller than him, but much thinner. She wore a denim jacket, that was torn in several places. She carried the smell of blood. The orkan snorted.

“Are-are you okay?” He asked.

Her large eyes were distracted, almost focused on something beyond him, until he spoke. Her eyes snapped to his. He gulped, a little unnerved, but glad to see a woman around these parts. She wasn't hard on the eyes, either...

“You lost, girl?” He asked, trying to seep some bravado into his voice.

Still, the woman was silent.

“You hungry?” He asked. “Why don't you come sit with me and my boys. We've got some food if you want. We're real friendly, too...”

He felt emboldened, stepping towards her with a grim smile. She did not move. He raised a hand to her.

“Hey, you can hear me? Come on, it's alright...”

He meant to grab her wrist gently, if only to bring her into the moment, but something was wrong. Her wrist was cold, metallic. As he touched it, she recoiled, baring her teeth like a wild animal. There was a heavy sound, as something large scraped along the ground.

“What the-” He tried to say.

Something glinted in the light. A sharp pain struck him in the chest, the air from his lungs was drained instantly. His chest became wet.

“What...what are you...” He choked.

The smell of blood was everywhere.

There was a dull light, a clear shimmering around the skewered orkan and the sword that was stuck into his torso. He gulped and gagged, as whatever energy was stored in his body was drained, absorbed by the sword. The clock in the middle spun backwards slowly.

Tick, tock, tick, tock.

The noise, it's getting quieter.

She slid the Sword of Seconds out of the orkan, as he slumped down with a final whimper. The sounds of the forest returned. The sword felt less heavy in her hand, and the dull aching in her body started to subside.

Tick, tock, tick, tock.

The two hunters by the camp-fire began to get louder, calling out for their comrade. The coils in her wrist still burned, but the sword felt more comfortable in her hand, now. She gritted her teeth in what could be a wolf's smile, and slowly stepped out of the jungle to meet them.