(OsiriumWrites) Death Smith - III - Chapter 1 (Weightless)
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CHAPTER ONE Weightless
Somewhere Above the North Sea
LANCE
‘Perhaps you were born under a bad sign . . .’
Lance pushed the lingering memory aside as he inhaled sharply and tried to ignore the taste of his own blood in his mouth. He spat out as much as he could, adding to the mess in the sink. He steadied himself and opened his eyes to face his reflection in the mirror in the cramped airplane bathroom. He looked like a mess, standing there as the metal world around him occasionally shook.
‘I’ve definitely looked better.’ He touched the scars on his chest, recalling the pain he had experienced when Iyas repeatedly stabbed him. Despite having encountered the horrors of the Rifts and the monsters within them, the dagger had been the most terrifying thing he had ever experienced. ‘At least the stitches are out,’ he thought.
Lance’s lips curled in disgust as he said, “Iyas . . .” The word felt like poison. He could still remember every moment of his betrayal, the nonchalant way the man had killed Mira and cut the white-shard out of her. Weeks later, he still wasn’t free from his memories of the assassin, or the poor girl. Just as with Thomas, Lance could feel the remnants of Iyas and Mira in his own mind. He frequently had dreams of their lives, glimpsing brief moments and interactions, or even experiencing their deaths as if they were his own. The connection wasn’t as strong as with Thomas, but it was still there, threatening to contaminate his thoughts or control his actions.
Lance tried to reassure himself as he washed the blood from the sink, saying, “At least the coughing is getting less frequent.” He wasn’t sure if it was due to an injury he had sustained or if there was something else wrong with him. He feared it was the latter, since he had experienced similar symptoms when he first created Ash, although it hadn’t been as bad then. ‘It’s only pain. Push onward.’
Then he accessed his Inventory and went over his equipment, supplies, and the remnants of Iyas and Mira. He forced himself to stare at their icons for a while, demanding that he adapt and numb himself to them. He had to because he couldn’t go back to being the person he was before. If he did, he knew he would lose more people he cared about. It was a painful realization but one that he had to accept.
Lance tried to push aside his regrets and focus on the task at hand as he rinsed his teeth one last time before getting dressed. It felt odd not to put on armor when facing danger, but he knew it would only hinder him for what was to come. ‘Don’t look back. You have a job to do,’ he thought solemnly.
Mend Wounds
[You have used Mend Wounds Level 2 at the cost of 15 Mana]
[Current Mana 330/345]
Lance’s body glowed blue as a wave of healing energy knit together his minor injuries. He could feel the tingling sensation around his chest, indicating that he had not fully healed from the damage Iyas had inflicted on him. As the light faded, it took the fatigue with it, and Lance stepped out of the lavatory, feeling renewed but tense.
Glancing out the window as he headed toward the cockpit reminded Lance that he was in the sky, relying on a chunk of metal to stay aloft. He tried not to think about it. Arriving at his destination, he found Brian and the pilot. Brian, his personal fixer, had his feet propped up against a window while sipping on a beer. A half-empty bag of chips lay discarded between Brian and the pilot.
“Morning, sunshine. Did you have a pleasant nap?” Brian greeted Lance with a smile. He seemed relieved to have some company, especially since their pilot couldn’t speak English. He had assured Lance that he completely trusted him, even though the man smelled strongly of alcohol, more so than Brian did himself.
“It’s past midnight.”
“Alright, we can skip the pleasantries,” Brian said, exhaling briefly and clearly suppressing several swear words. “I guess you’re a nervous flyer. Alcohol can help with that. It has something to do with the altitude,” he lied, pulling out a flask and drinking nearly half of it before offering some to Lance. When the young Rifter declined, Brian offered it to the pilot, who finished the rest. Brian then returned to his beer.
“Are we nearly there yet?”
“Deset minuta. Postoje lakši načini da se ubijete,” the pilot said, tilting his head toward Lance. He then held up ten fingers to indicate that they had ten minutes left until they arrived at their destination. Afterward, the pilot shook his head in disapproval.
“What was that about?” Lance asked as he shifted his attention toward Brian.
The fixer simply shrugged his shoulders as he finished his beer. “Something about the weather?” He gave Lance a reassuring smile, as if to say that he had everything under control. “Just get that hell-spawn friend of yours ready in the meantime. I’ll join you in a minute.”
Taking one last look around the cluttered cockpit, Lance saw that the seats were held together with duct tape and that there were Post-It notes with scribbles on them next to important-looking instruments. He hated flying under the best of circumstances, but this . . .
He shook his head as he left the cockpit and walked down the length of the plane. There were crates and boxes everywhere, all securely fastened as well as two vintage cars. Brian had told him that he was transporting these cars to sell in Norway, in order to make the flight seem as legitimate as possible. Lance caught sight of Ash sitting in one of the cars, “practicing” his driving skills.
Lance shook his head and got into the passenger seat. “Are you ready?” he asked. His silent companion just nodded. Ash had grown a lot since Lance first created him through his “Death Forge” Skill and was getting better at expressing himself. However, he didn’t experience fear. While he had a self-preservation instinct and so did his best to avoid injury, he would never hesitate when the situation called for it.
“Good man,” Lance said as he Ash shifted gears. He couldn’t help but think, ‘At least he isn’t getting any worse,’ remembering the one time in Ireland when he had allowed Ash to drive. He was just about to give him some pointers when he heard Brian’s footsteps coming closer.
“Just a few more minutes, kids. Gear up. It’s time to strap into those panties and put on your Dora the Explorer backpack,” Brian said, trying to lighten the mood. He stopped when Ash made eye contact with him, his gaze devoid of emotion. “Or you could continue to traumatize me with that stare of yours. It’s not like I wanted to sleep peacefully ever again.”
Lance patted Ash’s shoulder and signaled for him to get ready and stop teasing Brian. He wasn’t sure why, but Ash seemed to have taken an instant dislike to the fixer. ‘Is it because he sees Brian as a threat, or is it something innate?’
They both wore civilian clothes suitable for colder weather. Ash had on a jacket with a hoodie that covered much of his face, but his pale skin was still noticeable.
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Lance had dyed Ash’s hair and eyebrows brown and applied some makeup. The goal was to make his companion look as normal as possible. In the first few days after being stabbed, Lance had kept Ash on standby in his armor. Once he had felt strong enough to walk on his own again, he had gone shopping and given Ash a makeover. However, the changes were not permanent, as they would be erased when Ash was returned to his Inventory.
No doubt Brian was already suspicious of his ability to store and retrieve monster corpses, and the fact that Ash never spoke nor ever seemed to let down his guard didn’t help the situation. To avoid raising Brian’s suspicions any further, Lance chose to keep Ash close and in civilian attire.
“Speaking of gear, are you sure you got everything that I asked for?” Lance asked as he watched the fixer produce another flask from his pocket and start drinking again. The man held up a single finger to let Lance know that he was getting to it.
Brian wiped his mouth on his sleeve and stashed the flask away. “Yeah, I did. Fergus delivered the items you wanted a few days ago and secured transportation and housing for you. Only the best, of course.” The fixer then retrieved a parcel from his jacket and handed it to him.
Inside, Lance found several passports for him and Ash—American, German, Greek, Andorran, and even two Brazilian ones—as well as a list of points of interest and several stacks of Norwegian currency. “Andorra?” he asked, glancing at the unfamiliar country listed on one of the passports.
Brian explained, with a smug, satisfied expression on his face, “Andorra is a micronation nestled between France and Spain. It’s landlocked and not officially part of the EU, the GRRO, or any major Rifter agency. That makes it perfect for someone like you to hail from, without too much paperwork attached to your name. Clever, right?”
“Yes, I’m impressed. Did you make them yourself?”
Brian shrugged and said, “No. I don’t know the guy personally, but I know someone who knows someone who’s related to a friend’s sister’s friend. You know how it is. Here,” he added, handing Lance back his cracked smartphone. “Your phone isn’t as high-tech as I would have liked, but my friend made some adjustments to it so it’s as anonymous as can be. You can still take it with you into a Rift. I’ve already programmed in the important numbers and coordinates for your pickup in a few minutes. Any questions?”
“Did you do all this sober?” Lance asked.
“Well, I’m not a two-pot screamer, that’s for sure,” Brian replied with a grin. He raised an eyebrow when he noticed that Lance didn’t understand the reference. “Just trust me, kid. You came to me for a reason. I might not always act like it, but this is what I’m good at . . . And let’s face it, you don’t have any other options.”
“And what about my other request?”
“That will take some more time,” Brian said, his smile fading. “It’s doable, but it’s hard to make from scratch. I know you’re set on the specifications, but the thing you’re asking for will probably break your arm the first time you use it . . . If it doesn’t just blow up in your face first.”
“Don’t worry about my arm,” Lance interrupted. “Just finish it as soon as you can.”
A moment later, flashing lights in the cargo hold signaled their approaching destination. Brian grabbed two bundles and oxygen masks. ‘Here we go,’ Lance thought, his stomach churning as Brian prepared for their departure.
Lance stood at the edge of the rampart, peering over the edge into the darkness. Clouds streaked by, and he could feel the primal pull in the back of his mind, urging him to jump out and spread his wings. ‘Don’t forget you hate flying,’ he thought, even while simultaneously having to resist the strange temptation.
Lance noticed Ash out of the corner of his eye, standing at the edge of the rampart beside him. As always, his companion showed no fear nor hesitation. Both were equipped with parachutes, oxygen tanks, and masks—though the latter two were unnecessary for Ash. Still, Lance wasn’t about to broadcast to the world that his friend didn’t need to breathe.
“Are you sure we can trust these?” Lance asked, speaking through the small communication device beneath his mask. He shifted his gaze toward Brian, who had strapped himself into a seat and was giving him the OK signal with his hands.
“It’s fine,” Brian reassured him. “And the equipment is made from Rift-materials. Hell, I packed it myself. Trust me, it should be fine.”
“Should?”
“It’s okay. How hard can it be? It’s basically just falling for a short time before you pull on a cord. It’s not rocket science, right?” Afterward, the fixer struggled to keep his oxygen mask in place, quickly taking a few swigs from his now-half-empty flask.
Brian’s involvement in folding and packing the parachutes made things even more unsettling for Lance. He had to suppress the desire to get back into his seat and demand that Brian find him another way to Norway. He understood why they had to do it this way—to leave no trace, they had to jump out of the back of a cargo plane in the dead of night.
‘Louis . . . Connor . . . Kira . . .’
Hearing the names in his mind stirred something within him. The remnants of his friend began to surge upward, invigorating him with anger and the desire to act. It was still an unfamiliar feeling, but he had gained a better grasp of what was happening to him over the last few days. He understood that it was a side effect of using white-shards and his Class, but he was grateful to have even just a small portion of his friend’s emotion and courage with him.
“Are you ready?” Lance asked Ash as he flicked the switch on his communication device to remove Brian from the call. He was grateful for what the fixer had done for him thus far, but he wasn’t looking forward to more of the man’s “helpful tips.” He still remembered the vague description he had given him about their jump altitude and the best time to pull their chutes.
Ash nodded and held out his hand, making a fist. Moments later, Lance did the same, fist bumping while staring into the dark abyss below. When the bell rang, Ash simply stepped off the edge, followed by Lance, who had to practically throw himself out of the plane.
[You have retrieved an item 3x]
A few seconds later, Lance was grinning from ear to ear. A large part of him was still screaming in terror, but too many of Thomas and the birds’ memories and emotions were at the forefront of his mind. He saw Alpha and Bravo gliding past him as they basked in the freedom of the open air.
He chuckled as the two crows drifted toward Ash, who was falling with all the grace of a bag of dirt. No doubt Ash was unconcerned by this. The man was simply observing the ground approaching him and waiting for Lance’s sign to pull the chute.
Lance reminded himself once more, ‘I hate this,’ as he felt another surge of avian memories and instincts. In the corner of his eye, he saw something speeding by, only to slow down and drift toward him. ‘Icarus,’ he thought. He admired the way the peregrine falcon soared through the sky and occasionally showed off its skills before shifting his gaze toward the ground beneath it.
“Almost,” he said through the communication device while also making a hand signal to Ash to prepare. He wasn’t sure at exactly what height he was supposed to pull his parachute, but he didn’t want to take any huge risks. Not with zero skydiving experience, in the dark, and above unfamiliar terrain.
“Now!” Lance yelled as he pulled his chute and soon after felt a strong force seizing him by the shoulders.
A few minutes later, Lance and Ash were sitting on a boulder beside a dirt road. Lance stored his avian companions, the oxygen tanks, masks, and parachutes in his Inventory. They had buried the communication devices because they didn’t possess any Rift-materials so couldn’t be stored. It was still pitch black, but due to their attire, they would look like normal hikers to anyone who might happen to pass by. The only thing out of the ordinary was Ash’s steel axe, which he was sharpening.
“Are you okay?” Lance asked when he noticed Ash repeatedly pausing to look upward. No doubt the man was still trying to process his journey from the back of a cargo plane without having ended up splattered on the ground.
“Yes.” Ash’s voice was as deep and unnatural as ever.
“That’s good to hear,” Lance said as he went over the plan with Ash again. They would be picked up within a few minutes by Fergus and two locals. The latter, Brian’s right-hand man, had overseen getting everything Lance needed to a secure, mobile location. The fixer had assured Lance that he had carefully chosen the locals and that everything from transportation to facilities would be top-notch.
‘Still, I have a bad feeling about all of this,’ he thought as he remembered the worn-out state of the cargo plane that had transported them from Ireland to Norway. Brian had smuggled Lance and Ash on the plane, with no paper or electronic trail that could connect them to the aircraft itself. ‘The thing with that fixer is that he does what he promises . . . . . .but only just barely. That cheapskate better come through.’
He would be able to have a fresh start in Norway as long as he kept a low profile. He needed a little more time to become strong enough to take down Kira and the others. A while later, they saw lights in the distance, indicating that their ride had finally arrived. Even with Lance’s heightened Perception, he couldn’t make out the car due to the bright headlights and the darkness.
“Just as we discussed. I’ll do all the talking,” Lance said as their ride pulled up in front of them. When he saw the car, his expression turned sour, and he cursed under his breath. It was a white Citroen AX, the ugliest two-door he had ever seen. It had dents on the back and a mismatched red door on the right. It was also making a sound as if it were begging to be put out of its misery.
In the front of the car were Fergus and a Norwegian lad who looked barely a day over eighteen. Both men looked terrified to be picking up two Rifters in the dead of night. Ash’s unnaturally pale skin, intimidating stare, and the fact that he was sharpening his axe only added to the tension. The only saving grace was that Fergus looked even more scared than the Norwegian lad.
“Ash, remind me to punch that fixer in the mouth the next time we see him.”
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Copyright: OsiriumWrites