Mana Soul: Chapter 56 - The Exodus - Debby
German - Blue French - Green English - Red Gaeilge - Orange Japanese - Purple Mesopotamian - Grey
A hundred clan warriors rushed to take formation in front of the portal. Far past their prime, the men and women showed true courage as they stared the portal down and levelled their spears to face whatever reaper would dare cross over the threshold.
Almost entirely out of mana and only remaining conscious because of the pemmican slowly digesting in her stomach, Debby could only stare on helplessly as a Reaper stepped through the portal.
A hail of arrows rained down from the tall rooftops, swarming the armoured giant and forcing it to take a knee and raise its shield to protect itself.
Seemingly unscathed, the giant opened its arms wide in a taunting gesture, revealing that it bore no weapons besides its shield.
The elderly clan warriors charged. Decades of experience forging a profound bond of intuition, allowing them to keep pace with one another without conscious effort.
“We mean you no harm!” The giant taunted, waving his open hand at the approaching clan warriors.
Only, something in the way he said it, his inflection and tone, didn’t quite match with Debby’s expectations. And the language he was speaking wasn’t English, the most commonly used language of the giants. In fact, the giant almost sounded French.
The clan warriors closed in around the armoured giant and began thrusting their spears relentlessly at the knee and ankle joints of his armour, accomplishing nothing besides herding the giant away from the portal.
“We mean you no harm!” The giant repeated before slapping his helmet and shaking his head. He then said something too quiet for Debby to hear, all the while ignoring the clan warriors that now had him encircled. “Can you understand me now?” The giant asked uncertainly.
The clan warriors' frenzied attack stalled as they stared up at the armoured giant in surprise.
“I will take that as a yes?” The giant asked rhetorically, seeming quite relieved despite having taken no visible damage whatsoever.
Two more giants stepped through the portal, both heavily armoured but bearing no weapons, one male and one female. “We mean you no harm!” They declared in unison, immediately earning worried stares from the clan warriors who were now effectively out flanked.
The newly arrived giants took a moment to take in the surroundings, one of them concentrating on the clan warriors surrounding their companion, while the other looked to the sky and pointed to the circling Reapers flying through the sky and diving at rooftop archers. Without saying a word, the female giant retreated through the portal while the male began moving towards the main road that led to the gate to the inner wall.
With the second giant now close enough to give Debby a better look at its features, she was surprised to find that its armour appeared to be made of polished wood rather than durable metal. A black surcoat was draped on top of his armour, giving the giant an almost classical Hollywood look. However, instead of a crucifix or mace, a large silver ring was emblazoned on its centre.
Intending to determine if the first giant was the same, Debby’s eyes grew wide in stunned surprise as a sailing ship emerged from the portal and briefly obscured her vision as it ascended towards the sky. Unable to take her eyes off of the insanity she was witnessing, Debby followed its progress as the ship headed straight towards the flying Reaper swarms.
Held aloft by a giant envelope trailing black flags bearing the same silver ring as the giant’s surcoat, Debby very nearly lost her footing when five far smaller boats raced past her in the ship's wake. With what looked like ballistae mounted on their decks and propelled by bladed propellers, the micro zeppelins flew at deceptively fast speeds.
Following their progress, Debby’s eyes grew wider as she witnessed the flying Reapers beginning to fall in droves. Large or small, it didn’t appear to make much of a difference, any Reaper that came within a certain distance of the flying ship would promptly begin a death spiral towards the ground. This quickly proved true of the smaller flying boats that appeared to be deliberately agitating large numbers of the swarm and luring them into the range of the flying ship, all while exacting a toll of their own.
A commotion from the market square caused Debby to reluctantly tear her eyes away from the sky.
The giant had returned and was now armed and appeared to be in the process of arming its companions. At its back was what looked like close to a hundred men and women bearing the same armour and surcoats, each holding a spear, sword, axe or other weapons at the ready as they began moving towards the main street and towards the inner city gate.
Beginning at a brisk trot, the armoured men and women quickly broke into a straight sprint with no visible effort despite their armour.
Enclosed horseless wagons began passing through the portal and trundling down the market square towards the main road. Each of them had a ballista mounted on its roof like a mediaeval humvee, and a gunner wearing black armour bearing the same silver ring.
The gunners on top of the horseless wagons were shouting and joking with one another in the same language the giant had spoken earlier, seemingly showing no fear as they now raced towards danger.
Following the wagons was a stream of armoured men and a few women, all bearing crossbows and wearing bandoliers across their chests. Opposed to the plate armour of the giants, the crossbowmen were all wearing lower-tier European padded armour combined with steel helmets, gloves and boots.
Splitting into small teams of five, the crossbowmen began fanning out and jogging towards the inner city walls. Although Debby couldn’t be sure, she was fairly certain that the crossbowmen were speaking two different languages that sounded somewhat familiar.
“Excuse me?” A polite female voice asked from behind Debby, prompting her to suddenly turn around and unfortunately lose her footing.
With insufficient mana to accelerate her reflexes and reaction time, Debby frantically grasped at the air in a futile attempt to prevent herself from falling. However, Debby’s fall was suddenly arrested as a dark armoured figure grabbed hold of her arm and pulled Debby back onto the rooftop.
“Are you alright?” The polite female voice asked, revealing the dark armoured figure was the one who had startled Debby in the first place. “You appear to be low on mana, would you like a candy? Early experiments have shown promising results for expedient mana recovery.” The dark armoured woman opened a pouch on her belt and withdrew a small paper parcel which she then pressed into Debby's numb hands.
Still trying to come to grips with her near death experience, amongst everything else that had preceded it, it took Debby a few moments to regain enough curiosity to investigate. The paper parcel contained a collection of small, soft, light-brown balls. Taking one and sniffing it warily, Debby’s mouth began to water and she gave it a tentative bite. A sickly sweet taste quickly spread through Debby’s mouth, a taste so familiar that for a moment she forgot where she was and what was transpiring around her.
“Excuse me?” The stranger asked, trying to get her attention, “Could you direct me to someone with the authority to declare an evacuation order?”
“Evacuation...” Debby stared blankly at the stranger’s helmet for a moment before the reality of their situation came crashing back into the forefront of her consciousness, “We can’ evacuate, there is no way out besides...the...sea...” Debby’s eyes grew wide and she slowly turned to once more face the gigantic portal.
More armoured figures were passing through, but they looked and moved strangely. Bearing an assortment of different weapons, they fanned out as the crossbowmen had done, but did not go far. As if they could tell where the secret shelters were located, teams began establishing perimeters around the shelters, interposing themselves between the shelters and the inner wall.
“Could you direct me to someone with the authority to declare an evacuation order?” The stranger repeated, “More powerful monsters have been detected approaching the outermost defences and available forces are insufficient to delay such a force without sustaining immense casualties.”
“The High King,” Debby replied hurriedly. The stranger’s tone failed to convey the urgency of her words, but the reminder of stronger Reapers headed their way was more than enough to jolt Debby into action.
“One moment...” The stranger withdrew a small rectangular pane of glass from a custom-fitted pouch on her belt and held it towards Debby, “Is this the man designated as the High King?”
Having lost his armoured crown and deathly pale, High King Bran was stripped to the waist and laying on a wagon bed while a trio of armoured figures like the stranger were busily stitching his multitude of wounds together.
“Prognosis is...not good. If he survives, the High King will require days of further treatment and rest before regaining consciousness,” the stranger reported, “Is there anyone else who has the authority to declare an evacuation order?”
Through force of will, Debby tore her eyes from the savaged form of the High King. “The clan elders...” She replied weakly before clearing her throat, “The clan elders! And the Crowned Prince,” She repeated more certainly.
“Could you direct our representative to your Crowned Prince or Clan Elders?” The stranger requested, “The initial estimates are currently undergoing reevaluation, but there is not much time left until the fighting begins in earnest and forces deployed to the exterior fortifications must begin their retreat.”
Debby nodded and began looking for the best route to the ground. Unfortunately, this left her completely unprepared for the stranger's tackle. Too surprised even to scream, Debby was only vaguely aware of the stranger shifting her grip and taking a firm hold around Debby’s waist with one arm before their descent was very suddenly and bone jarringly arrested.
Now hanging from the wall of the building opposite, the stranger showed no signs of discomfort as she held the both of them aloft. Then, just as suddenly as before, the stranger let go of her handhold, sending them both falling to the ground again. However, their fall slowed considerably as a hail of brick and mortar began raining down from above them.
Set down on the ground a few moments later, Debby staggered away from the stranger and gawked at the long scar now carved into the side of the building.
“I am sorry if I alarmed you,” the stranger apologised, “But time is running out. Please show me to the one designated as the Crowned Prince so our representative can discuss the evacuation.”
Forcing her emotions down, Debby nodded and stiffly began running towards the royal shelter. No better or worse than any of the others, the shelter was so named not for the prince and queen taking shelter within, but because of the cultural treasures and recorded histories stored inside.
“AS THE GODS HAVE DECREED!!! THUS IS IT SO!!!” The familiar voice of the High Priest screamed in religious fervour. He was leading a procession of terrified teenagers and children towards the portal, apparently having emptied at least three shelters between the temple dedicated to the gods and the market square.
“Refugees are being accepted on a provisional basis,” The stranger stated without any indication of breathlessness despite the pace set by Debby. “Children will be afforded every amenity regardless of the outcome of the negotiations.”
Debby really wanted to press the stranger for more details, but the urgency of their situation was reinforced as a dying wyvern crashed into a nearby building and exploded.
As they continued running towards the royal shelter, Debby gradually became aware of a rhythmic clattering sound behind them growing closer. Glancing over her shoulder, Debby saw a much larger horseless wagon coming up behind them fast.
“Transportation of the negotiator,” the stranger explained, “It will serve as a safe negotiating platform and means of evacuation.”
Briefly eyeing the hulking iron-plated monstrosity and its four mounted ballistae, Debby was inclined to agree. She was surprised to see that the wagon had a glass windshield and windows, revealing a pair of drivers and what looked like dozens of soldiers standing and sitting in the back. Her opinion only improved as she realised the ballistae appeared to have gravity fed clips, implying that it could fire with some degree of rapid repetition and explaining why the flying ship and boats were inflicting such a toll on the flying Reapers.
“It’s...just...over...there!” Debby huffed, pointing to a large subway-like set of stairs descending to the ground.
“Understood,” the stranger had already been watching pace with Debby, so it wasn’t hard for her to hook an arm around her waist and guide Debby off the centre of the road and to the side so the giant horseless wagon could clatter past.
Reaching the shelter first, the horseless wagon came to a halt and disgorged the soldiers Debby had seen earlier. A man in much fancier and expensive-looking plate armour was accompanied by a short red-haired woman wearing dark padded armour. If it weren’t for the fact that she had arrived in the horseless wagon, Debby would have sworn she was a local. Along with two of the soldiers no doubt intended to serve as guards, they descended the steps of the shelter.
“They...won't...The...gates...enchanted...” Debby huffed as her endurance began to well and truly flag.
“This will not be a problem,” the stranger replied while slowing her pace, no doubt as encouragement for Debby to do the same. “Intending no disrespect to local Artificers, but the Creator is unmatched in sophistication and skill.”
Staggering to a halt, Debby gave the stranger a wary look, “The Creator?” The stranger’s words had an unhealthy approximation of religious zeal to them and it made Debby profoundly uncomfortable that she herself was now potentially playing a role in delivering the locals from their apocalypse and into the hands of a religious madman.
“CAW!” A large raven landed on the edge of a nearby rooftop and glared at Debby with one of its beady black eyes. In the time it took Debby to blink, it had disappeared.
“It is by his will that rescue and evacuation of those under your care is made possible,” the stranger replied happily.
Debby nodded and tried to get a better look at the stranger’s face beneath her helmet, “You said he was an Artificer?”
“Indeed!” The stranger replied with increasing enthusiasm, “It is by his will and vision that we owe our very existence!”
Debby’s insides clenched apprehensively. “So...He is your deity?” She hedged while trying to put some distance between them without being too obvious.
The stranger’s attitude shifted almost immediately, “No,” she replied flatly, a hint of disgust in her tone.
Debby was confused, “But you keep saying that he made you, and call him creator?”
The stranger was quiet for a moment and as if coming to a decision slowly removed her helmet.
Debby blinked several times before beginning to comprehend what she was looking at. Debby’s first thought was that the stranger was wearing a wooden bejewelled mask beneath her helmet, but the longer she stared, the more Debby came to realise that it wasn’t a mask at all, it was the stranger’s face.
“Does my appearance disturb you?” The stranger asked, its voice emanating from a small glass disc mounted on a collar around its throat.
“No...” Debby lied, trying to buy herself time to come to grips with what was going on, “I just didn’t expect you to be a...uh...”
“Automaton?” The stranger suggested neutrally.
Debby nodded.
The stranger nodded, its motions made in an all too human fashion, “You are uncomfortable. It is understandable and as we have come to expect. Humans are wary of those unlike themselves.”
Debby flinched, realising that the automaton had basically called out her species as racist and that she was unable to counter the claim without lying. “Sorry...” Debby apologised, “It just kind of caught me off guard is all...”
“Your apology is accepted,” the stranger replied with a hint of happiness in its voice. “I can assure you that the Creator’s motives for rescuing the people under your care are for mutually beneficial reasons. A trade of sorts.”
“For what?” Debby asked somewhat sceptically, wondering what such a powerful Artificer could want from a culture that had barely scraped through to the equivalent of the Earth’s dark ages of technological development, and was now on the brink of extinction.
“The locals would call them, Guardians?” The stranger pointed down the road towards the Queen’s bone plated mountain lion. “In exchange for the knowledge of their creation, the Creator will provide land and support to the locals who evacuate, allowing them to rebuild their civilization.”
Debby slowly nodded her head in understanding but paused abruptly as she realised something didn’t make sense. “How did your Creator know about the Guardians in the first place? Or how to find this place? Or that it would be in such dire straits when you arrived?” She couldn’t help but grow suspicious as the coincidences rapidly began piling up.
“Contrary to local belief, dungeons do not exist in a vacuum. They are seeded upon conquered worlds and open portals to new worlds in order to wear them down by attrition. The existence of two or more active dungeons on a seed world generates a pathway between besieged worlds. A local survived traversing one dungeon and into another before the Creator found and freed her. It was she who told us what we needed to know and promised an exchange of knowledge for assistance,” the stranger explained neutrally, “You should feel most fortunate that the Creator managed several necessary breakthroughs in his research during the past month alone that have made this rescue operation possible.”
Debby’s insides felt cold as ice, “The past month?...” She asked quietly.
The stranger nodded and then turned towards the giant horseless wagon.
The Crowned Prince, barely thirteen, was being shepherded into the wagon by the Queen who followed shortly after. A trio of Clan Elders entered next, their spindly arms clutching at tattered scrolls and faded tomes. A half dozen royal guards entered next and then a stream of children and teenagers, until there seemed to be no possible space left.
As the wagon set off back down the road, the remaining children, teenagers, Clan Elders and Royal Guards were shepherded down the road by the soldiers that had been left behind.
“We must go,” the stranger insisted while replacing its helmet, “A general retreat order from the outer fortifications has been issued and the refugees must be safeguarded while the evacuation is underway.”
Allowing herself to be pulled along, Debby matched pace with the stranger as they headed back down towards the market square. “You are retreating already?” She asked uncertainly.
The stranger nodded, “Surviving wounded have been evacuated from all combat zones and outermost fortifications are far too compromised to justify the loss of life amongst volunteers.”
“Volunteers?” Debby repeated, feeling a profound sense of guilt over her earlier suspicions.
“Correct,” the stranger replied somewhat distractedly, “The Creator would never force men and women to die on behalf of those not their own. Participation in this evacuation was strictly a voluntary process.”
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Debby felt a whole new appreciation for the hundreds of men and women she had witnessed earlier, and a fresh wave of shame.
The market square was radically different to how Debby had last left it. Siege towers on wheels had been deployed all throughout, each bearing a multitude of ballistae and crossbowmen. Barricades had been erected along every road and street, manned by the strange soldiers Debby had spied earlier.
Passing through one such checkpoint, Debby’s breath caught in her throat as she recognised them for what they were. They were Altered, abominations created from fusing Reapers with humans, murderous killing machines!
Except, they seemed almost nothing like the Altered of local legends and her cousins' campfire stories. Despite being bestial in appearance, they demonstrated nothing but anxious concern as children passed them by and headed for the portal.
A multitude of Altered with a matronly air about them was organising the evacuating children onto sleds and wagons being drawn by much larger Altered who would then take them through the portal.
“Chimaeras are to be treated with respect,” the stranger warned, “The Creator tolerates no bigotry.”
Debby decided to keep her mouth shut and just keep an eye out instead. Or at least she had intended to. “Uh, do you have a name? Or something I can call you by?” Debby asked awkwardly.
“You may call me Millie if you like,” the automaton, Millie, replied, still somewhat distracted.
“Millie?” Debby realised too late that she voiced her confusion aloud.
“A lovely woman who helps clean the houses of mothers with newborns. I like her,” Millie replied happily.
“You chose your own name?” Debby asked curiously, not sure she was quite understanding what the automaton had said.
Millie nodded, “We all may. The Creator prefers it to be so, and it has been noted to better set humans and chimaeras at ease.”
Debby slowly nodded in understanding, “So, you chose the name Millie because of someone you admire?”
“Precisely,” Millie replied happily, “She is a most productive and well-esteemed woman of her community.”
Clearing the final checkpoint, Millie’s head snapped to the northeast, “PERIMETER BREACH!!! NORTHEAST!!!” The automaton’s voice echoed from a multitude of sources around the market square and prompted immediate action from the armoured giants.
The sound of collapsing buildings was drawing closer and debris was billowing through the streets and making it difficult to see.
The outer section of buildings on the edge of the market square exploded outwards, sending chunks of rubble crashing towards the column of children being evacuated through the portal.
As the armoured giants charge towards the collapsing buildings, soldiers Debby now recognised as automatons streamed past the children at impossible speeds and leapt into the air to bodily intercept debris that would otherwise have struck the column of refugees. Simultaneously, the altered, or chimaeras, shielded the children in their immediate vicinity with their bodies, blanketing them with large cloaks and glaring defiantly over their shoulders.
A towering deformed behemoth emerged from the dust and lumbered forwards, its grotesque twisted arms ending in corroded hook-like blades and barbed knives. Covered in boils, open sores and all manner of weeping wounds, the mismatched and lopsided features of the behemoth’s face trailed past the armoured giants and automatons and towards the screaming children, “FRESH MEAT!!!” It howled in glee, stomping forwards with its arms outstretched.
“FRESH MEAT!!!” Replied a dark chorus as five more behemoths of terrible deformity and warped form stepped through the breach.
Emaciated, obese, riddled with tumours and skin diseases, bowlegged, club-footed, cross-eyed and pinheaded. The behemoths represented every known combination of possible deformities amongst their ranks, and more besides. Cruelly twisted parodies of humanity, or even other giants, Debby’s heart froze as she recognised the behemoths for what they were. Fomorians, the most powerful of giants and Reaper-kind. Impossibly durable and phenomenally strong, it was little surprise that they had managed to breach the defences so easily.
Dwarfed by the Fomorians, the trio of armoured giants charged the lead Fomorian in unison without hesitation. However, before they could land a single attack, the lead Fomorian sent them crashing backwards one after the other, kicking and swatting them away like they were nothing.
“BWAHAHAHAHA!!! PATHETIC!!! WEAK!!! Huh?!” The Fomorian leader’s gloating halted abruptly as automatons began hacking at its ankles and leaping onto its body. “GET OFF!!! GET-URK!!!” A giant rusted cleaver caught the Fomorian leader in the shoulder.
“HEHE!!! GUESS I MISSED!!!” One of the other Fomorians guffawed in amusement while yanking its crudely fused prosthetic from its leader's shoulder.
Just as Debby feared it would, the wound inflicted by the giant cleaver bubbled and writhed for a handful of heartbeats before disappearing beneath a patch of wart ridden flesh. Capable of rapidly regenerating from even the direst of wounds in seconds, it was one of the many traits that made Fomorians practically invincible.
Momentarily preoccupied with assaulting their leader under the pretext of attempting to remove the automatons stubbornly latching themselves onto its body, the Fomorians were caught as equally unaware as Debby when a second warship exited the portal.
Hovering only ten feet above the ground, the warship was truly massive and moved with an almost ponderous sense of inevitability. With a hull twice as deep as the other ship, six rows of gunports lower in near unison to reveal waiting ballistae crews hastily lining up their targets.
“FIRE AT WILL!!” A shrill woman's voice commanded, “DO WELL AND MY RESEARCH BUDGET WILL SURELY BE INCREASED!!”
Hundreds of javelins tore through the air and pelted the gathered mass of Fomorians. No attempts whatsoever were made to avoid the automatons caught in the crossfire and the automatons made no attempts to leave, continuing to swarm the Fomorians from below in spite of the danger.
“FIRE!! FIRE!! FIRE!!!” The woman cried ecstatically, “AND DON’T FORGET TO USE THE NEW EXPERIMENTAL ROUNDS!!! THOSE ARE GUARANTEED TO INCREASE MY BUDGET FOR SURE!!!”
While the warship continued to barrage the Fomorians, the Chimaeras returned to hurriedly shepherding the refugees through the portal while more horseless wagons exited the portal and raced towards different checkpoints. The gunners on top of the horseless carriages wasted no time in firing their own ballistae at the Fomorians before leaving their effective firing range.
Shaking free of her stunned state, Debby tried to wet her dry throat so she could warn someone, anyone, about the Fomorians' indestructibility. No matter how many javelins they impaled into the Fomorians' hides, their unnatural regenerative ability would just expel them.
After a solid half-minute of a sustained barrage, the ballistae of the warship grew still.
“MOVE ON TO THE NEXT TARGET!! PREPARE FRESH MAGAZINES!! WE ARE GOING DRAGON HUNTING!!” The woman declared with perverse glee, receiving a chorus of eager cries in response.
“No!...” Debby croaked, her chest tightening in sudden panic, “The Fomorians! Don’t leave!”
Millie took a firm hold of Debby’s shoulder and prevented her from chasing after the ascending warship as it left the market square. “Are you concerned by the monsters' previously demonstrated regenerative capabilities?” The automaton asked neutrally.
“Of course!” Debby replied frantically, “Now that they are no longer under attack, they will rapidly...heal...and...” The words caught in her throat as she looked back towards the Fomorians and found that the only movement was coming from the automatons swarming over their deathly still bodies. “How?...” Debby almost fell as she grew weak at the knees but Millie’s support kept her standing.
“Mana drain,” Millie replied simply, “It was foolish for such powerful monsters to simply accept such attacks. While individual mana draining enchantments lose effectiveness against stronger monsters, quantity is an effective means of overcoming a lack of quality. And now their mana, their very life force, will supply the means to defeat others of their ilk and support the continued evacuation efforts.”
“Mana...drain?...” Debby experienced her umpteenth epiphany as she realised why the soldiers had been so confident in seeking out a fight with the Reapers, why the flying Reapers had been devastated so severely in such a short amount of time.
“The Creator includes the enchantment in almost everything he creates, an absolute counter to the monsters that would prey upon the innocent,” Millie’s voice was filled with admiration.
The bodies of the fallen Fomorians began to collapse into themselves like they were rotting from the inside out. Automatons were striking them over and over again with their swords, daggers, spears and even their bare hands.
“The accumulated damage will accelerate their degeneration,” Millie explained without needing to be asked, “Such strong monsters cannot be allowed to exist near the portal.”
Debby eyed Millie warily and nodded slowly in agreement, all the while trying to make sense of The Morrigan’s words. She had said something along the lines of having wanted the man Millie was referring to as the Creator, but having missed the opportunity she was content to settle for his legacy. Debby couldn’t get her head around the peculiar phrasing. Millie had been referring to the Creator in the present tense, meaning he was still alive. So why had The Morrigan deliberately mentioned only his legacy? Was it because of his desire for knowledge rather than a desire to intervene for humanitarian reasons?
“Come, our forces have begun their organised retreat and non-combatants must be cleared from the staging area in case of potential incursion before the portal can be closed,” Millie insisted, firmly taking hold of both of Debby’s shoulders and marching her towards the portal.
Her pride pricked by being referred to as a noncombatant, Debby was too tired to put up a fight and did as she was asked.
Almost everyone had been evacuated already and Debby was somewhat embarrassed when she was sat down on a sled along with a couple of dozen children and their teen escorts and Guardians.
The refugees didn’t share her embarrassment at all and seemed quite happy to see her.
“Um...” A little girl who must have been around six tugged at the frayed edges of Debby’s tunic. “Thank you for keeping us safe...” She said quietly, her emerald eyes shining with gratitude past the dirt smudges on her face.
The little girl's confession was quickly joined by the other children, most of whom showed signs that they had recently been crying.
An older boy, one of the teenagers sidled up to Debby and cupped his hand around her ear to stop others from overhearing them, “Hey...Can we really trust them?” He asked suspiciously, pointing to the broad-shouldered chimaera pulling their sled, “Aren’t they, you know, one of the enemy?”
Debby recalled how the chimaeras had positioned themselves in harm's way to shelter those under their care without hesitation. “They are not our enemy,” Debby replied, making no attempt to lower her voice, “They have made no signs of ill intentions towards us, and have provided aid in our hour of need. That sounds more like a friend or an ally than an enemy, don’t you think?”
The boy stared at Debby for a few moments before slowly nodding his head and shuffling away.
Witnessing one of the bullheaded chimaera’s ears twitch, Debby realised that he had most likely heard their entire exchange and was glad that she had not said anything she might regret.
Passing through the portal was just like stepping through the threshold of a dungeon, seamlessly transporting them from one place to another.
No longer in the market square, they were now in an open stretch of plains and headed towards a distant and incredibly large wooden fortification. Dozens of small towers with ballistae dotted the plains, all directed towards the portal. Twenty or so horseless wagons slowly patrolled the area while small teams of soldiers maintained a disciplined vigil of the portal.
Recalling Millie’s words, and now finding herself in relative safety, Debby could understand their concerns with ensuring no monsters survived passing through the portal.
Passing through the large gate of the wooden defences, Debby was surprised to find that they had now entered something akin to a tent city. Organised with all the discipline and planning of a military base, Debby was not particularly surprised to find more permanent structures accommodating cooking, washing and other necessities as they were drawn deeper into the camp.
The sled came to a stop next to a short line leading to a large table which seated six Clan Elders and had four automatons standing guard while a fifth used a large slab of glass to do something Debby wasn’t close enough to see.
One of the automatons approached the sled and motioned the children towards the line, “If you would please take your place in the queue, we will do our best to confirm your identities and locate any potential relatives. Food, water, and shelter will all be provided. Please, remain calm and take care of one another.” No doubt having good intentions, or representing someone else's good intentions, the automaton was not nearly as...human...as Millie, which Debby found quite odd.
Despite the teens being somewhat leery of the automaton, the presence of the Clan Elders went a long way toward setting their minds at ease. Which was most likely why they were there in the first place.
As Debby moved to take her place in the line, she was stopped by the automaton, “Sorry, but are you Debby Fischer?” it asked politely.
Debby stared blankly at the automaton for a few moments, unsure she had heard it correctly, “Sorry, what did you say?” She asked hesitantly, her heart rate spiking and beating uncomfortably in her chest.
“Debby Fischer, that is your name, correct?” The automaton asked neutrally.
Debby slowly nodded. She hadn’t heard her last name since shortly after arriving in the other world, and it had been years since she last heard her first name spoken aloud by anyone besides herself. Everyone had always referred to her as the Champion or Orla. So how did this automaton know her full name?
“Special accommodations have been prepared, if you could please follow me?” The automaton bowed briefly before motioning to an approaching horseless wagon.
Despite feeling a little unsettled, Debby reluctantly entered the wagon and allowed herself to be driven away. Although of small consolation, she was surprised that the interior was more akin to a limousine than an actual wagon, and that glass panels in the interior provided a real time view of the outside.
To Debby’s surprise, the wagon left the fortified camp behind and passed through a second portal under similarly heavy guard.
The other side was similar to the place Debby had just left behind, but the distant fortification was one of stone and not wood. The closer she came to the stone walls, the more alien the scene became. Debby wasn’t initially sure why, but as she watched small teams of men and women headed to work in the midday sun, she realised that they weren’t afraid. The look they gave her horseless wagon was one of curiosity, not barely concealed fear.
Debby became so lightheaded with the realisation that there were in fact no immediate or impending threats to her life, that muscles began to relax in ways she hadn’t felt in years. Physically, emotionally and mentally drained, Debby couldn’t help but lay down on the large cushioned seat and fall asleep.
Waking with a sudden start, Debby found herself lying beneath a thick warm blanket and on top of clean warm sheets. Panicking, she realised that someone had stripped her of her armour and soiled clothes, washed her and then put her to bed.
Feeling profoundly vulnerable in her nakedness, Debby’s attention was drawn to a neat pile of clothing stacked on the dresser by the bed. Profoundly paranoid, Debby snatched the clothes and fully dressed herself beneath the cover of the blanket, having had plenty of experience dressing herself in the dark.
Fully dressed, with the notable absence of her boots but the very welcome addition of thick wool socks, Debby gradually calmed down and acclimated to her surroundings. Similar to how clothes had been set aside to allow her to dress herself, an assortment of food and beverages had been left on a small table by the sole window of the room.
Debby also realised that she wasn’t alone.
An automaton stood watch by the far door, dressed and disguised in the same armour worn by all the other automatons Debby had seen thus far. Seemingly content with observing her, the automaton remained silent and completely motionless.
After watching the automaton for some time, Debby became convinced that it wasn’t going to speak with her without being engaged first.
Taking a seat by the small table, Debby sated her hunger and thirst while absently staring at the shuttered window. She could hear the voices of people coming and going, chatting casually with one another with seemingly little care. Besides not understanding the language, which Debby was increasingly confident was some variation of French, they sounded truly alien to her.
Several times Debby reached toward the shutters to open them and look at her new surroundings, and each time she lost her nerve. Terrified that she was having a mental breakdown and that there would be nothing outside the window, Debby convinced herself that she was better off not knowing.
Retreating to the bed, Debby fell into a deep sleep the moment her head hit the pillow.
Waking suddenly, Debby immediately sat up and reached for her claymore, only to find it wasn’t there. Heart pounding with anxiety, it took Debby a few moments to recognise the knocking sound coming from the door.
“Debby? It is Millie. I have come to speak with you,” Millie called out from the other side of the door shortly before it opened and the automaton let itself in. “I am sorry for waking you,” Millie apologised while moving to stand by the foot of the bed. “Would you like to talk?”
Debby stared blankly at the automaton for a few moments before hugging her knees to her chest and staring down at her blanket, “About what?” She replied warily.
Millie sat itself down on the far corner of the bed, an altogether strange gesture for an untiring automaton. “About anything really. Perhaps there are things you wish to know? Questions about where we are? Or maybe something else?”
“Is it really over?” Debby asked quietly.
Millie sighed, despite lacking lungs or a mouth, “For now,” the automaton answered apologetically, “The great enemy still exists, but the war you have experienced is not anticipated for at least eight months.”
Debby hugged her legs tighter, “Do I have to keep fighting?” She asked quietly, her fingers trembling at the thought of it.
Surprisingly, Millie shook its head, “Not if you do not want to,” the automaton reassured her gently, “The Creator has no expectations of you Debby. Provided you abide by his laws and do not cause problems, you will be free to live your life how you see fit,” Millie promised firmly.
“He would just let me go?” Debby asked incredulously, “Is he so powerful that I can be thrown away so easily?” Deeply conflicted over a lack of purpose, a deep-rooted desire for a peaceful life, and a plummeting sense of self-worth, she wondered if all the pain and suffering had even been necessary in the first place.
“You are not the only one who has borne the sacrifices to arrive at this place Debby,” Millie replied stiffly, her tone implying that she was struggling to remain civil. “That nothing is expected of you is a testament of empathy, not indifference or arrogance.”
Debby flinched, fully unprepared to be chastised by the automaton.
A long silence passed between them.
“I’m sorry,” Debbie apologised quietly, “I think I need to get more sleep.”
Millie nodded and got up off the bed, making sure to smooth the blankets before heading for the door. “Debby, I will return to speak with you again after you have rested, okay?”
Debby made no reply.
Millie nodded its head again and then left the room.
Warm tears welled in the corners of Debby’s eyes and she made no effort to wipe them away.
“She only wanted to help, you know that,” A gruff scarred voice accused, “Pushing her away, languishing in your pain, it doesn’t make you strong.”
Devvy turned to the mobile automaton standing guard by the door and scowled, prompting her tears to begin streaming down her cheeks, “What do you know?!” She demanded angrily
The automaton made no reply, only serving to infuriate Debby even further.
“What am I supposed to do?! I don’t...I can’t...” Debby’s voice broke, “Haven’t I given enough?”
The automaton remained silent.
“Fuck...Fuck! Fuck!! FUCK!!!” Debby cursed and struck the mattress as close to a decade of barely repressed frustration boiled over and demanded release. Flying into a Rage, she began throwing furniture around the room, growing even angrier when her enhanced strength failed to accomplish more than fluffing her mattress.
Lying on the floor amidst the room of overturned furniture Debby curled into the foetal position and cried herself to sleep.
Debby woke up to the sounds of scraping wood and found the familiar form of the automaton Millie resetting the furniture of the room to its original state. Debby was surprised to find that Millie had also stripped its padded jacket and draped it over her to serve as a blanket. Feeling ashamed and not at all prepared to explain her behaviour, Debby pretended to be asleep.
Millie continued patiently righting the room in silence, displaying a multitude of eccentricities, such as gently patting the pillows after fluffing them, and checking the freshness of the sheets by sniffing them despite not having a nose.
Momentarily leaving the room, Millie soon returned with a large tray of food and drink that she used to replenish the small table. Leaving the room again, the automaton filled a large bowl of water by the window and laid out a pair of small linen towels. Just as Millie was leaving the room for the third time, a small bushy red-haired figure streaked into the room and leapt under the bed.
Millie stiffened almost immediately, briefly turning to Debby before focusing on the small figure under the bed. “Ar-”
“Shhh! No scheathing!” The small figure hissed with a thick lisp, shuffling beneath the bed and making a series of curious scraping sounds.
Millie turned to the other automaton, the small gesture eliciting the first signs of movement from the formerly immobile automaton as it moved across the room to stand directly next to Debby.
Before Debby could wrap her mind around what exactly was going on, a pair of tiny quiet footsteps drew her attention to the still partially open door.
A small doll wearing a fox mask and criminally short kimono slowly entered the room, revealing a pair of scissors strapped onto its back. Scanning the room, the small doll made a show of searching every nook and cranny with exaggerated detail and thoroughness. Even going so far as to check beneath a loaf of bread.
All the while, poorly muffled giggling intensified from beneath the bed.
Seemingly out of ideas, the doll returned to the centre of the room by the foot of the bed and scratched its head before slowly walking out the door.
The small figure took this as their cue to crawl out from beneath the bed, revealing herself as a little girl with a prosthetic arm. “Heooo!” The little girl waved excitedly at Debby with her prosthetic arm and smiled, revealing a pair of missing front teeth that were responsible for her lisp, “Do you wanna poay?”
Debby slowly sat up and shook her head. She wasn’t in the mood to be bothered by children and had no idea what the girl was even saying.
“You sthuwe?” The child asked conspiratorially, waggling her eyebrows to emphasise who knew what point.
“Arlee, I think it would be best if you left our guest in peace for the time being, alright?” Millie insisted, her words dampening the little girl's enthusiasm and earning a grumpy sigh in response.
“Kay,” the girl stated reluctantly before tiptoeing over to the door, peeking outside and then sprinting into the corridor beyond.
The silent automaton walked back over to the door and closed it before returning to its silent vigil.
“That was Arlee, the Creator’s daughter,” Millie explained, “You are not to harm her under ANY circumstances, understood?”
Debby nodded. A part of her wanted to insist that she would never do such a thing, but she had never thought she would attempt to destroy the bedroom of someone else's house while staying there as a guest either.
“The furniture is all enchanted and linked to a Mana Storage Crystal. If you believe venting your anger and frustration on inanimate objects will assist in your healing process, you are free to do so,” Millie continued in an understanding tone, “Just be sure to lock the door first if you are able. The Creator has a great deal of empathy for your experiences, but you will find it lacking if you injured someone he cares for. Do we have an understanding?”
Debby nodded.
“Good!” Millie chirped happily, “Now I am sure you must have all manner of questions now that you have had a chance to decompress. So feel free to ask whatever comes to mind and I will do my utmost to give an honest and forthright answer.”
Debby sat down backwards on the chair by the table. Millie was right. Having vented some of her repressed anger, she realised that she had a whole mess of questions. The problem was Debby had no idea what to ask first.