008 – Exit

***

“I can’t believe we dumped the gold.”

Malisent and I huddled at a window. Thick clouds formed on the side of the station and blew over the valley. The mountainside was wet with freezing rain. Once the weather cleared, we could descend the rocky slopes.

“Look, I didn’t have a lot to work with. I had to maximally utilize the minimal resources at hand.”

“I could think of better ways to spend that coin. You’ve really lost your wits to forget about money. We can’t spend it out here, but it would have bought us a comfortable passage home.” She extended her good arm toward me. “Give back my familiar. She’s done her job. Orma, come.”

The black snake unwound from my neck and slid onto Malisent’s hand.

“How did you teach a snake to understand verbal commands?”

“I’m a witch. You’ve really forgotten everything, haven’t you?”

“Yeah. Sort of. A lot of things. Tell me. What was our, um, relationship before this?”

Malisent held the snake near my face. Orma hissed threateningly. “What do you mean by ‘relationship?’ What are you suggesting, minion?”

“You know. How well did we know each other? Were we friends? Acquaintances? Next door neighbors?”

“I didn’t even know your name before this mission. You are a mere novice in the Void Cult, an expendable minion. It’s only due to your amnesia I allow you to speak to me so casually, since you seem to have forgotten the proper way to address a superior officer. Otherwise, I would cut you down for your insolence. We were not friends… or anything else.”

“Good. Great. Fantastic. I mean it’s not really great. It’s downright sociopathic on your part. But I’m glad we’re strangers. It makes things easier.”

My revivification had erased Strythe’s personality and replaced it with my own. Although his body lived on, he more or less died. I worried Malisent would resent me for what happened to him. But since those two were strangers, it made explaining what happened safer for me.

“What are you talking about?”

“Well, this is going to sound pretty crazy. And it is crazy, but bear with me. You see, the reason I can’t remember anything is because I’m not really Strythe. He and I sort of swapped places when he touched that big crystal. Our minds that is. That’s why things have been so confusing. I’m another person in his body.”

The news had a stronger effect than I intended. Malisent rolled away from me like an acrobat. Her sword flew from her sheath. She kept it pointed toward me and backed away several paces.

“You’ve been possessed! I should have known something was wrong. Strythe was too stupid tie his own boots, much less mount a rescue by himself. What are you, daemon? Speak your name.”

“Daemon? What are you talking about? I’m a normal person. My name is Ariman.”

“So you’re a ghost?”

“I don’t know what that is. Look I was a technician visiting this power station. An accident blew out one of the mana-collectors and knocked me out. And… And… And none of this is going to make any sense to you, is it?” I could tell my original language was getting mixed in. Strythe the novice lacked the necessary knowledge to discuss these topics.

“If you’re a restless ghost, what desire keeps you from oblivion? Why are you rooted to this world, spirit?”

“Hey, listen. I don’t have amnesia, but I don’t know how anything in this era works. I can’t explain anything to you. I was hoping you could help me figure it out. How I died, how my mind survived, how I woke up in someone else’s body: it’s all a big fat mystery to me.”

Malisent eyed me distrustfully. She approached with her sword in hand.

“Don’t move.”

She placed her clenched fist against my chest. A prickling sensation spread out from the point she touched me, almost like an electrical shock.

“I’m no exorcist or necromancer, but you don’t feel like a typical possession. You’ve enkindled your inner fire.”

“What’s that mean?”

“It means you’re no longer a novice. Strythe was stuck in the first stage of his training. It was doubtful that blockhead would have enkindled his natural spark before it faded away. Somehow your possessing him accomplished what he couldn’t. Now you can become a real magical swordsman.”

“That sounds nice and all, but swords aren’t really my thing. I’d like to avoid fighting and monsters in the future.”

“You have no choice. No matter what’s happened to you, ghost, you’re still bound by Strythe’s duties. He’s a member of the Void Phantom Cult, therefor you are as well. There’s no exit from our group except through death.”

“Yeah. I was worried you’d say something like that.”

“The rain has stopped. Prepare to march.”

Admitting to being from the past might not have been the best idea. It killed the happy mood from defeating the troll chief. Malisent no longer trusted me. She stayed at a distance of at least three sword-lengths and never took her eyes off me, as if she expected to catch me doing something ghostly. We hiked in silence down the gentler side of the mountain.

The tribe of trolls fell into turmoil with the death of their leader and the destruction of their idol. They did not organize parties of warriors to search for us or meet us on the slopes of the mountain. Bad weather made the skies gray and grounded the giant birds that inhabited the summit of the superstructure. Moving away from the station, I could clearly see that the docking tower was gone. The mergestone building measured only about a hundred meters tall after losing the topmost spire. It looked strangely incomplete.

The battles in the station had practically shredded our clothing, and the tar and smoke finished the job. Before we left, we ransacked the clothing room for new outfits. Malisent took a grisly coat made of cured animal skin and fur, which made her look even more psychotic than usual. I donned a cloak and a felt hat with a wide brim for the voyage. One of the polearms served as my walking staff. We also brought a rolled up tent of oil cloth.

I hated being in the woods under normal conditions. Now a long trek through the forest stretched out before me, menaced by man eating monsters, my only traveling companions a leery witch and her venomous serpent.

We marched through the morning across the muddy valley. Power Station Thirteen dwindled behind us, but still loomed over the surrounding lands for many kilometers. We had not escaped its domain by midday.

“We’ll halt for the gloam,” Malisent announced. “Some types of monsters emerge to hunt in the dark.”

We stopped at some craggy rocks jutting from the soil. The rains had swollen the streams and filled a pool nearby with fresh water. Malisent built a small fire in the shelter of the rocks. We ate the meager rations salvaged from the haversack, dense loaves of bread wrapped in leaves and twine. The food wouldn’t last more than a few days. I choked down the dry crumbs.

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“I wish you’d salvaged one of the mercenaries’ crossbows. We’re going to have to scavenge for food on the trip home,” Malisent said as the gloam passed and the sun returned. She stood up and stretched. “Why don’t you clean up? Scrape the tar off. We won’t have another chance for awhile.”

I must have looked pretty bad. Tar and soot covered my face. At least I had no hair to get fouled up with the sticky stuff; Strythe kept his head shaved. At the edge of the pool I leaned over to see my face, but the gentle ripples and murky water made it hard to see my new features. Nothing stood out as exceptionally bad or good.

I dipped into the water and washed away the filth. Our supplies came with small balls of lye soap strong enough to irritate the skin. The cold water sapped my heat and left me shivering. After cleaning up, dark bruises became more obvious, especially on my arm and shoulder where Browsk grabbed me. I also had burns and blisters from the fires.

“How long are you going into soak in there?” Malisent stood at the edge of the pool.

“Hey! Rude. Don’t creep up on guy in the bath.” I covered myself with my hands and dipped into the pool until the water touched my chin.

“Such modesty, princess. You should be more worried about monsters than peepers.”

“I got enough worry for everything.”

“You’re covered in burns. We need to treat your wounds before they get infected. Now that you’ve enkindled, you’ll heal much faster than a mundane person. But medicine will still help.”

“Throw me a towel or something first.”

She rolled her eyes at me. “I’ll be at the campfire. Hurry up.”

I scooted to the edge of the pool and dried myself off. Just as she said, I should have been more worried about monsters prowling the wilderness. One approached me at my moment of weakness.

“Human trick!”

“Gah! Nimblesto. Don’t go jumping out of the bushes at me. You almost gave me a heart attack. I thought you were a real monster for a second.” I ignored the little thief and kept getting dressed.

“Human trick. Baby no treasure. Baby break. Human lie, trick, cheat.”

“We can’t win ‘em all, Nimbly. I’m sure there will be other idols for you to vandalize.”

“Human give treasure.”

“Sorry. I’m fresh out. Your fancy gold buttons will have to do.”

I limped away from the pool. Malisent used a rock as a pestle and ground up a concoction of leaves and roots. She heated the gooey paste over the fire until it changed from green to bright orange.

“Oh, no. You brought that pest with you,” she groaned.

“He’s on his way home too. What’s that stuff?”

“You don’t know much about surviving in the wastes, do you? Well don’t eat anything out here. Most of the plants on the continent are poisonous. But that also means many of them have medicinal properties. This salve will help the burns on your legs and arms.”

I spread the slime on my burns and then wrapped them with long strips of bandages. The medicine must have done something, because all my wounds started to itch and tingle immediately.

“How is that you’re ignorant about everything? Magic and money. Being a ghost doesn’t explain that. Are you the ghost of a five year old?” Malisent asked as she watched me apply the salve.

“No. I was an adult. I’m just a very old ghost. Things were different back in my day.”

“How old?”

“I don’t know exactly. What year is it?”

“Year one seventy three,” she stated “of the twenty third millennium.”

“Wow. I’ve got a lot of catching up to do. My era was sometime before that.”

“That’s impossible. Before year zero was the age of legends. The continent was a paradise unpoisoned by monsters and miasma. The civilization of the Ancients created fantastic wonders.”

“Ancients, huh? What kind of wonders?”

“The were a race of powerful immortals who created underwater cities and flying cloud-ships. Their fortresses still stand in remote places across the continent. The great citadel we just departed is their handiwork. As is the powerful guardian of the labyrinth.”

I did not like the sound of that. The people of this age must have fallen into a bad state to consider a big stone slab to be a wonder. No airships or golems either. A technological regression had befallen them.

“I guess that makes me an Ancient ghost. But you’ve got some facts wrong. We weren’t immortals. We were normal people pretty much like you, but significantly less murderous. And there was no magic. We used science to learn about the world and build machines.”

“Are you telling me you’re as old as the citadel?”

“It was built two hundred years before I was born. But at the time scale we’re discussing, that’s pretty darn close to a yes.”

My story was too crazy for her to fully accept. I couldn’t blame her. I wouldn’t believe it either if it hadn’t happened to me. She still treated me with a degree of suspicion.

“What you claim goes against the teachings of the Saints. You could be burned at the stake for repeating those words. Or worse. When we get back to human lands, you would be wise not to discuss your origin with anyone but me. Say nothing about Ancients or being a revived ghost.”

“Ah. Okay. Thanks for the heads up.”

I didn’t know why people would want to kill me for something like that, but Malisent was the native of this era. I had to rely on her guidance for now.

We packed up our things and continued to march. Power Station Thirteen was close to the prime meridian, so the gloam fell exactly at noon. We had the latter half of the day to travel along the banks of the river.

Malisent said, “The trolls caught our mounts and butchered them for their feast. So we can’t take a long overland route. Downstream, at the mouth of the Spitpoison River, we’ll find an abandoned human settlement. From there we can sail across Brimwater Gulf to the Sandgrave Peninsula. We can meet up with the other cultists at the Doveblood docks. That’s where my two former traveling companions are going.”

“Man. Who named these places? The tourism bureau?”

“Life in the colonies is hard.”

“What’s your village called, Nimblesto?” The little monster trailed alongside us, jogging over the rocks to keep pace.

“Village ‘village.’ ”

“That’s straightforward at least.”

“Village secret. Nimblesto no tell humans,” he said. “Goblins home castle. Trolls come castle. Trolls chase, beat, kill. Goblins go village.”

Nimblesto’s tribe had a longstanding grudge against the trolls. He went to raid the station for both treasure and vengeance. He had certainly delivered a serious blow to the trolls, who lost their leader and magic baby statue. Maybe the goblins could return home to expel their enemies in their weakened state.

Near sunset we came to a small collection of structures on the banks of the Spitpoison. A long pier projected into the water. Floating rope bridges connected the pier to several shacks built from bamboo and reeds.

“More goblins,” Malisent said with distaste.

Our arrival caused an alarm. Several tiny figures darted in and out of the shacks. The goblins armed themselves with sticks tipped with sharpened rocks. Two or three ran off with woven baskets strapped to their backs, trying to save their treasure from being stolen by larger folk.

“Is this your village?”

“Village secret. Girlgobs home village. Boygobs fish. Boygobs go swamp, river, pond.”

The goblin tribe was desperately poor and always on the edge of starvation. They gathered bugs, frogs, fish, and crayfish to eat, using nets or baited hooks at the ends of long strings. They also harvested nutritious but unappetizing pondscum in clay buckets.

The goblins wore leather loincloths and caps decorated with all sorts of knick knacks: shells, feathers, stones, antlers, the skulls of small creatures, stolen sequins, buttons, beads, buckles, and bent silverware. Nimblesto’s arrival caused quite a stir, as did his fabulous red cap. His dyed cap with a pointy brim and blue cockade was the height of goblin fashion. His cloth coat also impressed. The excited goblins danced around him, chattering and squeaking in their native language.

Nimblesto told his tribe members about us, so they did not attack or flee. The goblins leered at us from several meters away.

“It’s getting dark. Let’s rest for a spell at this dock,” Malisent said. “You can sleep while I keep an eye out for trouble. Goblins are cowardly, but they’ll slit your throat if they catch you unaware.”

“I’m sure Nimblesto has told them to, um… uh…” I spied him sharpening his new knife on a whetstone and giggling with his friends. “Yeah. On second thought, one of us should stay awake. Just in case.”

We walked out onto the goblin sized pier. It was a rickety thing, but it gave a good view of the river and surrounding land. Nothing could sneak up on us in the night. We didn’t enter the little shacks for fear of getting fleas. The goblins kept a few crude rafts made from logs of some lightweight wood, similar to balsa or cork. Rafts like that wouldn’t have a long lifespan, but they were incredibly buoyant and easy for the goblins to construct with primitive tools.

We sat down at the edge of the pier. My body was injured and tired, but I was more exhausted from sleep deprivation than exertion. I fell asleep immediately.