Chapter 8
The rest of the night passed quickly, and the two went to bed early. The following day, we sat at the table with a cup of coffee. “Okay, so the plan for the day is to get the bikes and trailer downstairs,” we said. We chatted about the plan until the coffee was finished, then headed back to the back door. A window suspiciously lined up with the door. Looking more closely, we found an eye hook bolted into the cabin's frame.
“I bet this is how they got supplies up and down,” Mike said as he went out to his truck and found a poly, which he hooked onto the eye bolt. The next few hours saw us working to get the bikes down the stairs, using plywood ramps, and slowly letting out the winch on the truck while walking the bikes down. The last thing down the stairs was a small, two-wheel platform trailer that was attached to the back of one of the motorcycles for carrying extra gas and camping gear, which we might need depending on road conditions.
Finally, we got the equipment down, closed up the window, and took the poly down. I let Mike into the armory and walked over to the infirmary. I grabbed eight of the reds and two of the blues just to be thorough. I walked in to find Mike putting on his plate carrier and checking his rifle. Mike owned a Colt AR-15, which he had across the back of his bike, and had strapped a pistol to his chest that looked like a Glock 17. I wasn’t a Glock fan personally, but I respected that it was a solid, reliable platform.
I looked at the magic armor, wondering how it worked. Clearly, the jump armors would be useless on this trip. Walking along the line, I stopped at the set that was supposed to offer easier lifting and greater protection—it looked like it might fit me. I grabbed the pants and slid them on; they were surprisingly more flexible than they looked. I slid the top on and was about to look for straps when suddenly, the armor lit up with an azure light and secured itself in place.
I felt a tickle in the back of my mind—in the same spot where I would hear Igni. The best way I could describe it was that it felt like a mental light switch; with a shrug, I mentally flipped it. The armor lit up again as Mike stared at me. Out of curiosity, I walked over to the M60 and lifted it up; I nearly tossed it across the room because of how light it seemed to be. Next, I held it one-handed, and Mike whistled, “Oh yeah, I have got to get me one of those.”
I laughed and put the M60 down, then walked over to one of the twins. Placing my hand below one side, I gently tried to lift it. It didn’t budge at first, but after applying more force, I was able to lift the front. Using both hands and squatting into the proper position, I lifted it up. The armor flared a brighter blue, but the bike came up feeling like one hundred pounds—a bit heavy but doable. Holding it for a few seconds to make sure it wouldn’t suddenly get heavier, I set the bike back down and mentally flipped the switch off. “That was impressive. How long can you do that for?”
I didn’t know, so I explained that the armor pieces used a magic stone to power them for non-mages, pointing at the flap on the armor that hid it. Mike walked over and opened the flap, then looked at me in confusion. “Jack, there's nothing in here, buddy.” I took the top off and looked under the flap myself. Sure enough, it was empty. “That's weird. I could have sworn that's what Kiara said would power it—unless you're a mage.”
Mike gave me a look as if I were being stupid. “You said they all kept calling you a mage, right?” I nodded. “Yeah, I’m guessing because of my advanced tech.” Mike shook his head. “You said they had breach loaders and revolvers? Then, while your gear would be advanced, I don’t think it would qualify as ‘akin to magic’ for folks who had both. And you can talk to your magic wolf?”
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Igni barked happily, “Yep, more steak!”
I looked down at her. “Not until we get to the outpost, Igni—and I’m not even sure they will have any there.”
Mike sighed. “Have you ever considered you are, in fact, a mage?”
I snorted, “Doubtful. I think I would notice if I could just point my hand at the wall and say, ‘Firebolt!’” A small ball of flame cut me off—about the size of a golf ball—that shot out of my hand, splashed over the wall, and flashed away. I stared down at my hand and flexed it, then looked at Mike, who was also staring at my hand. “Oh, that was just like my small fire starter—woo, you can do fire too!”
“Okay, I am going to have to ask about that, and I’m not going to say the F-word while we are in a room full of explosives.” Mike nodded, and we quickly finished getting ready. I grabbed a FAL and a Tac-45, strapping the former to the bike and the pistol to my rig. Not knowing just how good the armor was, I slid my plate carrier over the armor's top.
I slid the necklace on, and we wheeled the bikes down the corridor and out into the ruins. I ran back inside and activated the armor again. I picked up the trailer and ran it down the hallway, setting it out past the ruins. Then, I carried the two bikes through the ruins before turning the armor off again. Mike unhooked the trailer, and slowly, I led the way toward the road.
The drive through the woods was slow going, but eventually, we pulled out onto the dry pack dirt road. “This road has to be hell when it rains,” I agreed, and we took off down the road, heading the same way the refugees had gone. We traveled with nothing of note happening for about five hours when Mike gestured to the side of the road. The road rounded a bend, and a ridge line pattered out at the road, but before reaching it, there was a fork creating a protected pull-off, a fire pit, and worn-down grass. A pile of rocks about seven feet high half-blocked the entry, showing that this was a regular overnight campsite.
Pulling in, we shut off the bikes. Igni hopped off the back of mine, then ran off into the nearest shrub. Mike pulled a small propane grill off the back and opened a cooler, pulling out a few burgers. He got it all set up on nearby rocks while I watched the area. “So, where are we headed?”
I shrugged. “No idea. All I know is that it took four days riding this way on the road—assuming 30 to 40 miles a day for the mounted patrol, I would say 120 to 160 miles.” Mike nodded, flipping the burgers. “We’ve been doing around twenty-five miles an hour, so we’re an hour or two out from the location on our bikes.”
Igni sat right below the grill, looking up with puppy-dog eyes. Mike looked down at her. “You know, for not being a dog, you sure got the puppy-dog eyes down.” Igni's only response was to tilt her head.
I laughed, “I see food wins out over pride, huh? Shut up—he has burgers!” Mike got the cheese out and added it to the top. A few moments later, the burgers were ready; both of us added the toppings we wanted, and Igni ate hers without a bun. Two burgers for us and three cheesy patties for Igni, and we were cleaning up.
We came out of the woodline an hour and a half later and saw the settlement.
I hadn't known what to expect, but I was pleasantly surprised. The village had a paved road leading into it from the opposite side from which they had come in. There was a solid wooden palisade built around four intersecting streets; each street seemed to have thirty buildings—ten on each stretch. This number varied depending on building size, but it was a decent-sized population. Halfway out in the clearing, they could visibly see a stone wall about a quarter of the way toward being finished and actively worked on. Mike took in the view, then turned to look at me. “Well, let's go meet the neighbors, shall we?”