Chapter 16: Climb

“Heroes never die. That’s their curse. They have to live on for the rest of us.”

-Urius Roto, Elandran scholar, 161 U.E.

Yin was in and out of sleep, sweating and vomiting. The second-hand vivimancy Lax gave her was shoddy. It just made the pain worse, and her skin blistered from the contact with the med-patches. He said she had a bad concussion, but that he couldn’t afford to hire a doctor. Yin let him take whatever money she had on her towards that end, but it wasn’t much. She hadn’t thought she’d need a healer when she left the bar.

For most of it, though, she was alone. Tossing in bed, one second hot, the other cold. She was always thirsty, but threw up everything she drank.

She could hear Lax arguing with his wife outside the door. The woman was not happy with her presence. She said that they had enough mouths to feed and that spending any more on healing for some freak could wipe them out. She warned that if Lax did not get his act together, she would leave with the children.

Lax told his wife that everything would be alright and that he would take care of it. The woman clearly did not believe him, and left spitting colorful curses that were abruptly cut off as the sliding door to the kitchen slammed shut.

One night passed, then a second. The vomiting stopped, and the pain receded. Her ribs no longer screamed at the touch. Not from any of the medicine Lax tried to force down her throat, but rather her own healing factor. Once she could keep down food, her healing was further increased. She shoveled down bowls of soup and ate heaps of bread. Lax’s wife brought her food every few hours, though she groused and grumbled whenever she came in.

In the morning after the second night, Yin was well enough to attempt standing up. It went poorly. She fell on her face with a muffled cry and was unable to get back up. The door to the bedroom crept open, and one of Lax’s children snuck inside. He looked to be six or seven, with a head of springy, tight curls.

“Need help?” the boy asked, a finger jammed firmly up his nose.

“No,” Yin growled. She got her hands beneath her and struggled to heave herself up. Her arms shuddered with the effort. She was too weak. She sank back to the floor with a sigh. “Yes.”

The boy took the finger out of his nose and bent down to help.

He wasn’t much use, but Yin managed to hoist herself back into bed after some trial and error.

“Mom told us we weren’t allowed in here,” the boy said.

“Then why did you come in?” Yin asked, rubbing her sore chest.

“I wanted to see the monster. Properly, I mean.”

“Not very clever to call the monster a monster.”

“Sorry, I guess. You don’t look that scary, though.”

Yin snorted. “Thanks, I think?”

The boy nodded seriously. “You’re welcome.” He stuck out a small, chubby hand. “I’m Gin. Dad says he named me after his favorite drink, but then Mom gets mad at him. What’s your name? Do you have one?”

Yin declined the handshake. “Why wouldn’t I have a name?”

Gin shrugged. “I dunno. I didn’t think monsters had names.”

“I’m not a monster.”

“Really?”

“I’m a person.”

“Oh. Then why are you all green?”

“That’s just how I look. I was like you when I was little, but then a bad man did things to me, and I ended up like this.”

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

Gin looked her up and down skeptically. “But why?”

“Because the bad man wanted someone to hurt people for him, so he made me.”

“Why?”

“Because that’s what bad people do. They hurt others.”

“Is that what you do, then?”

“No. Maybe. I… I don’t know. Do you really need to ask so many questions?”

“I guess not.” The child paused for a moment. “How old are you?”

“Knock it off.”

“Why?”

“Just stop it. I’m not in the mood.”

Gin seemed to get the message. He backed up a step. “Dad said you got hurt pretty bad. When I get hurt, Mom tells me to take medicine and rest a lot.”

“Great tip,” Yin said. She got her legs into the bed and slowly laid down, wincing every few moments at the pain. “I’d like to follow it, if it’s all the same to you.”

*****

Stephan was exhausted, but he couldn’t sleep.

He stared up at the ceiling, covers gathered around his waist, one arm over his forehead.

Yin had been gone for days. He’d looked everywhere, unable to find any trace. It wasn’t unlike her to go off and sulk for a while, but for this long? Something wasn’t right.

I should have done better, Stephan thought. If I’d just explained things, she never would have done this. What if she’s not coming back? What if she got into trouble, and she needs my help?

The more he tried to push those thoughts away, the more intrusive they became. It was four in the morning, and he suspected he wouldn’t fall asleep for another few hours yet.

Amaline had recovered from the worst of her injuries and returned to work. Stephan had closed down the bar for the time being so he could focus all his energy on finding his daughter. Even with the daily grind off their minds, however, Amaline was taking on too much to pick up his slack. Between cooking, laundry, cleaning, and shopping, she’d still found time to go out for long hours in search of Yin with the help of her new pet. So far, they’d been about as successful as Stephan.

She’ll be alright, he told himself. Every time I’ve doubted her in the past, she’s showed me up. This will be no different.

A muffled sound outside his room made him jerk upright. It sounded like footsteps.

“Amaline?” Stephan called. “You really need to get some sleep. I thought I told you to go home.”

He got no response.

“Amaline!” he shouted, louder this time. “If you don’t rest, those wounds will never get better!”

The footsteps stopped.

Stephan had a bad feeling. He put his glasses on and reached for the pistol under his pillow.

The door burst open. Two men entered the room, shrouded in darkness. A wildkin and a lubbard, it looked like. Revolvers glinted in the sparse moonlight, angled at Stephan.

By the time Stephan got his Rivello out and undid the safety, they’d have unloaded half-a-dozen rounds into him. He raised his hands in capitulation and took a few deep breaths, trying to get his careening heart under control. He wouldn’t have many moments to take charge of the situation.

“Okay, gentlemen, no need to get hasty,” he said. “If you agree to let me live, I’ll show you where the valuables are. I have no intention of dying tonight, so I can get with the program.”

“You Stephan Lordling?” the lubbard asked.

Stephan nodded.

“This stuff belongs to the boss now,” the wildkin said, thumbing the hammer of his revolver with a clawed thumb. “Our job is to bring you to him.”

Boss? What’s he talking about?

“This boss you mentioned,” Stephan said, “who is he? Did I do something to offend him?”

The lubbard snorted. “Killed a good number of his people. He’s going to have a fair bit of fun with you, mate.”

“What? I…”

Oh. Pontus. Shit. Should’ve known I’d get into trouble for that one. So he answered to someone else, some kind of crime lord. If I let them take me to him, who knows what will happen. Then again, if I resist, they’ll kill me for sure.

“I see,” Stephan said. “I’ll come with you, no trouble. Just let me get dressed.” He threw the covers aside and stood off the bed, wearing only his boxers.

“You can do without,” the wildkin said with a grin. “Come along, or you get one to the leg. After that, next one goes to the cock.”

Stephan sighed. He eyed his wardrobe longingly. “Fine. Lead the way, gentlemen.”

At least it doesn’t seem like they have Amaline, he thought. They pulled him out of the room and shoved him roughly down the stairs. He stumbled, but retained his footing all the way down. She must have gone home like I asked her.

Stephan was hauled out of the bar at gunpoint and crammed in the backseat of an old, beat-up rumbler that smelled of smoke. They took off down the empty street, the lubbard behind the wheel, and any possibility of escape went out the window.