Fortune's Crossing

Callan met the first gildgrown head on. He couldn’t stop them all; some of their members pushed past him into the fray behind him. He hoped that they were ready, but he knew that nobody ever really was.

His own oddly-proportioned foe hacked down at him with a strange blade, a double-edged cleaver that looked like it was torn from the bark of a tree. Callan smacked the incoming weapon away with the back of hand then sent a fist into the warrior's gut. He felt its organs collapse under the force of his blow and the gildgrown folded around his fist. Callan threw him backwards, spinning at the same time to see who needed help in the throng of fighting bodies.

Where’s Halari? He punched one gildgrown in the knee, then snaked an inescapable arm around its neck as it fell and wrenched it upwards and to the side. Even as its corpse fell, he was already moving. Melokon’s Fire urged him to unleash its power, to burn these foolish enemies alive and flay their flesh from their charred bones, but there were too many of his militiamen in proximity to them and he didn’t want to risk striking one.

‘Maybe if you were stronger…’ the skull whispered as he was too slow to stop a gildgrown from blasting yellow smoke into the face of one of his fighters. It turned to find another victim just in time see Callan’s Charged right fist smash through its mask and into its head cavity. ‘Where is she, Callan? She’s already dead.’

Shut up! Callan cried out and lunged for another gildgrown, sending his left fist through its back and out the front of its chest.

He tore through more gildgrown, backing up whoever he saw needed the assistance. Sometimes he was too slow, as fast as his Blessing made him, but he saved more of his men than he lost. But where was Halari? He knew they’d been separated right at the start, but how far had she been moved?

Nearby, Callan saw Dalvo keeping a group of men together, shouting at them to stay close. And they listened, staying back-to-back while they fended off an assault.

Callan snapped one gildgrown’s back over his knee, then its neck with a merciless hammer fist to the face, whipping its head back so far it almost tore clean off completely. He whirled to look for Halari or others to assist.

Instead he found the barrel of a gun aimed at his face. His vision filled with a yellow smoke, but besides a small tickle in his nose, nothing more happened. If a gildgrown could look shocked behind a mask, it was this one.

“No witnesses,” Callan whispered, then he caved in the gildgrown’s chest with the heel of his boot. It crumpled to the black stone, mask gurgling as it tried and failed to pull in air. He left it to die on the ground, walking off to search for more.

The last gildgrown cut down two of the Scrag Fort merchants before he reached it. It swung out at him, but Callan caught its wrist and crushed it, then caught the blade while it fell and swung it upwards. His strike caught the gildgrown under the chin and messily cleaved all the way through.

Its body dropped limply to the stone while its head flew off in a random direction. Callan studied the battlefield and those who remained. Where was Halari? He dared a look at some of the corpses, but she wasn’t among the ones in view; her auburn and dark green was hard to miss, so it was a relief he didn’t see it among the prone corpses.

Some of the men around sat empty-eyed on the ground, others tended to their own wounds. A short distance way, Dalvo and a few others from his force stood with their backs to him, all staring at something he was unable to make out.

Callan dashed over to them, hearing sounds of a fight. Why weren’t they helping? He pushed through them, ready to attack again.

And saw Halari.

Oh Great Dragon… Callan paused for only a moment to take in the scene. Halari, clearly having gone feral from battle terror, stabbed at the corpse of a gildgrown with relentless fervor. Her eyes were wild, her face and clothes were covered with blood, and her arm moved on automatic.

He glared at the men and started a word to chastise them for not helping- or stopping- her, but he cut off when he saw the looks on their faces.

They’re mortified, he realized. Some were pale, slightly green. Dalvo looked on to the scene without the same fear as his comrades, instead bearing an uncomfortable, hard expression. He even looked at Callan and grimaced. For him, Callan figured that Dalvo knew instinctively that Halari might lash out if he tried to interfere. The others were horrified, but this kid was just smart.

Callan moved up behind Halari and caught her wrist firmly, then wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her off the corpse. She kicked at him, screaming that she wasn’t done, that her enemy was going to get up, that it wasn’t enough yet.

“Halari, it’s over!” he said, turning her to look at him. “It’s enough, you got it!” She didn’t see him, her pupils were huge and flying about frenetically in her face, and she struggled to pull away from him. He shook her gently and turned her head to meet his gaze. “You did it. It’s over.”

“No, nonono,” Halari whimpered, coming back to reality slowly as she stopped struggling. She looked over at her handiwork and went pale. “Oh gods…” All the blood drained from her face; the sickly complexion contrasted heavily with the splashes red liquid on her skin.

“Let it all out,” Callan murmured as she coiled in on herself. After a traumatic event like these last few minutes, he knew normal people either began to weep uncontrollably or…

Halari hurled her lunch up onto the toes of his boots.

That. Callan helped her stagger over to a nearby short wall and held her hair back while puked up her breakfast into the ruined structure.

Then the prior night’s dinner.

Then yesterday’s midday snack? She groaned, shaking hard, then dry heaved.

Quite a lot for such a lean frame, Callan thought. Part of him felt guilty for being level-headed in this moment, but he’d seen all of this before. He gestured for Dalvo to approach. The shorter man prodded at a massive bruise on his face, flinching as he touched the sensitive skin.

“Find some water and a cloth,” Callan said softly. “Then tend to the wounded if you have nothing in urgent need of attention yourself.”

“Yes, Great Flame.” Dalvo nodded dully and saluted before walking off to complete his task. His pick, looped back into his belt, was bloodied on both ends.

Halari slowly rose from where was knelt and sat onto the lip of the short wall, leaning onto the short, broken pillar at its end. She said nothing, her face was distant, and everything from her legs to her fingers trembled.

And she was staring at the body.

“Halari.” Callan crouched down in front of her, cutting off the view to the butchered gildgrown. It seemed to startle her back to focus on him and snap her out of her stupor, but she still shook like a scared fawn. “You’re alive. Say it.”

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“I-I’m alive,” she whispered, blinking as if coming awake for the first. “I’m alive. Oh gods…”

“Are you hurt?” Callan asked.

“No, but…” Her face scrunched up like she wanted to cry, but no tears came. “I… what I did…”

“You haven’t killed a person before.” Callan said. It wasn’t a question. “It’s no small thing.”

“I didn’t… kill that thing, Callan, I…” Halari tried to cry again, but her eyes stayed dry. “I carved them like a piece of meat. I slaughtered them. I thought people only did that when they were angry, but I was just scared.”

“You did what you had to in that moment.” Callan took a canteen of water and a cloth from the returned Dalvo, who saluted again before going to help anybody injured.

“I didn’t have to do that,” Halari whispered.

“In that moment you weren’t capable of anything else,” Callan said. He gently dabbed at a streak of blood on her cheek. “There’s no such thing as killing in cold blood, Halari, there never has been.”

“And now I can’t even cry over it,” Halari said, never taking her eyes from Callan as he cleaned the blood off of her. “Why?”

“Because you aren’t sad,” Callan said, wiping away a splatter that covered her from her left eye brown to her chin, “are you?”

Her face fell but hardened. “Does that make me horrible?”

“No,” Callan assured. “It shows you’re dedicated to the reason behind what you did: protecting your home.”

“Callan, will it… get easier?” Halari asked, voice small. She already knew the answer, he realized, so lying to her wouldn’t help.

“Yes,” Callan said. “Especially as you become more and more sure in the reasons why.”

She went quiet after that and allowed him to finish getting her cleaned off. Between the gore on his hands and her face, the rag didn’t stand a chance; both were still a couple of ghastly sights that desperately needed to bathe.

“Can you stand?” Callan asked, rising and holding his hand out to her. “I need to have a word with Kurt, and I’d like to have you at my side.”

Halari nodded and took his hand, then stood.

Trade master Kurt sat uninjured before his largest caravan trawler, a tank of vehicle that looked like a brick with wheels. He wiped the head of his thick maul weapon with his own black cloth lovingly like it was his own child. When the two of them got close enough he glanced up just as they stopped in front of him.

Callan kept his composure, deciding only to grab the man by his thick jacket collar and slam him into his vehicle’s outer hull instead of throwing him across the street like he’d initially wanted. Kurt wasn’t a small man, but Callan held him up with one arm.

The Scrag Fort’s exhausted force bristled immediately, but their leader waved them down, clearly surprised at being restrained in such a way. Callan saw that some part of the man understood what was happening and probably didn’t want any more trouble.

“Your attempt to be a devious businessman cost lives,” Callan growled. “This all could’ve been avoided if you had just been upfront from the start. Now…” He gestured to the bloody wreckage around them, and Kurt grimaced. Granted, the trade master could never have suspected this kind of an ambush, but Callan wanted to redefine negotiations going forward.

“So, with my good faith gone,” he continued, lowering the man and brushing off the man’s jacket, “we are going to renegotiate our previous bargain. Along with the two trawlers, I want two crates of bolt action rifles and ammo to match.”

“I can do… one crate,” Kurt relented, raising his hands defensively when Callan’s draconic eyes flared. “You don’t understand, my people… reputation’s all that matters. If I make bad deals on top of letting my train get ambushed… They’ll cut me out. And whoever takes this train from me might not even deal with you.”

Is the Fort really so unforgiving? Callan wondered. He glanced Halari, who shrugged, face still very distant.

“Very well,” Callan said, “but I want a surplus of ammunition to make up for it.”

Kurt rubbed his forehead in thought, then nodded. “I can make that work. We’ll bring them next week, but first we nee—"

“We do this now,” Callan said. He grabbed the cases of Flame Cells from near where he’d tossed them before the fight and handed them to Kurt “Otherwise all this blood was spilled in waste.”

Kurt nodded, clutching the case in a way like he was scared Callan might take them back. He waved for his own bloodied, exhausted men to unload the agreed goods from their vehicles, which Dalvo and a few others with vacant expressions behind bloodied faces sorted and loaded. As much as Callan knew the men needed to go home and rest, the Quarry needed this trade and all others to come, so he hoped they’d make it just a little longer.

When all was exchanged and done, Kurt took the remains of his people, loading the ones he lost in the attack rather unceremoniously into empty cargo beds. Then they were gone, rumbling into the bleak horizon without another word; their vehicles disappeared around the turn of a hillside.

“My lord,” Dalvo said softly, coming up to his side opposite Halari, “what should we do with our… dead?”

“How does your people lay the dead to rest?” Callan asked.

“There’s a stretch of land west of the Quarry,” Halari murmured. “The families take their loved ones there and mine them a grave in the stone.”

“Then we’ll take them back,” Callan said, “and let them rest at home.” He patted Dalvo in the shoulder encouragingly. “Now, there’s something I need to see.” He walked over to the corpse of a gildgrown laying spread eagle on the stone. Judging by the thick hole in its chest, he figured one of his own men brought this one down.

Callan reached down and grabbed its mask by the mouth tank, then pulled it off. He saw Halari step up behind him out of the corner of his eye, morbidly curious to see her enemy in the flesh.

The gildgrown resembled a mummy inside its rags. This one, a man judging by the bone structure, bore rough, shrunken skin around its eyes and lips. His teeth were latticed with those golden tendrils while the whites of his empty eyes were really colored more of a pale yellow. Everything about him looked preserved from decay instead of healthy, living flesh.

“What’s in the tank?” Halari asked.

“It may not be best to open it out here,” Callan said, giving it a gentle shake. He heard a noise like sand swishing about inside. “We’ll take it back and examine it safely.”

“Good idea,” Halari said. “Let’s also pile their bodies and burn them.”

Callan glanced at her and wasn’t at all surprised to see some anger in her distant expression. She glared at the corpse, looking tempted to attack it despite her prior disgust, but she held herself back. Even still, he could tell this might be something a deep part of her had to see for closure to this battle.

“I’ll get the kindling,” he said.

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A somber company returned to the Quarry in the evening, newly traded goods and fallen comrades in tow.

This is always the hard part, Callan thought as the families of the dead were brought to identify their loved ones. Three of the five deceased only had siblings, but a couple had full families.

All wept cried and wept over their bodies. A few cursed him for pulling their sons, brothers, nephews into an ambush, others thanked him for bringing them home. Callan bore everything stoically, but Halari finally did manage to find some tears. She stuck close to him, even defending his choices from the venomous words of the grieving.

“People of the Quarry,” Callan said to a large crowd before the steps of the Temple, “as you are aware, our trade with the Scrag Fort was assaulted by the gildgrown. The five heroes who gave their lives guaranteed that their neighbors and comrades made it home when they could not. For that, there is no amount of gratitude we give them to make up for their sacrifice. For their sake, we must move forward to honor them. The threat is real, but today we showed them defeat and we must keep fighting until your home is safe. I ask those to here to look for courage in your hearts. Your home needs you…”

The bulk of the people nodded at his words, but in the back, partially hidden by throng, he saw Telero standing with his growing group of faithful. There still weren’t many to their number, but was he going to make a scene here? Capitalize on the losses?

Halari’s brother merely glared at him while he spoke, but as the crowd dispersed, Callan saw him approach the mourning families and speak to them. More than few prayed with him.

Smart, Callan thought. “How are you feeling?” he asked Halari, who stood beside him on the landing.

“Exhausted,” she said, wiping her puffy eyes. “How do you get past days like this?”

“However you can,” Callan said. “Sleep will help, try to get some rest.”

She nodded, then she walked up and hugged him. “Thank you. For everything.”

Callan gingerly returned the embrace, terror building as his arms wrapped around her carefully. His ring glittered angrily in the blank light of the dying day, and the skull screamed at him from a deep corner of his mind to let her go, to get away from her, to run as far away as possible. But Halari seemed to need this soothing moment of peace; who knew what was roiling in her mind from her ordeal just earlier in the day?

She parted from him a moment later, then gave him a tired, sad smile before walking off towards her home.

She’ll have nightmares tonight, Callan thought, watching her go, but they’ll fade quickly. She’ll be alright.