[Warbinger Returns Arc]

Chapter 05

The Roaring Path

Richard backed away as the headlights of the monster train began to light the tunnel ahead of him. He felt Sparlyset’s weight shift on his shoulders as her hands rose to cover her ears against the buffeting noise. He did the same, letting the blanket bear her weight as the colossal train roared into view and he was forced to his knees by the vibration.

Its height of ten storeys or more rose well beyond the small frame of the tunnel opening. The outer lights flashed the tunnel as they streaked by. Richard struggled to lift his head enough to even look. The mountain shook with a ferocity that served the machine’s name. Pebbles leaped into the air and stones as big as his hand rattled against the ground until they broke apart. Fear gripped him and he tried to crawl on his knees and forearms but his bones ached. His eyes bulged in his head so he clamped them shut. There was no way to tell if he was making forward progress. The stinging of rock against his arms faded to nothing in the violent vibrations until he no longer felt anything.

He was starting to doubt they would make it out of the tunnel alive, when suddenly the entire kilometre length of the train had passed. The rumbling subsided slowly.

Richard’s entire body was numb. The distant chugging of the train chased every thought from his head until he wasn’t sure he was even awake. The only thing he felt was a shallow, but persistent fear that pulsed through his body every time he heard the chug of the Leviathan Train’s distant engine.

A weight shifted on his back and something warm touched his face. Richard opened his eyes. Blurry rock greeted him. He shut his eyes and rolled them around to try and fix his sight. He opened them again to look at the recessed lamps in the train tunnel flickering and buzzing at the edge of his vision. A gentle voice encouraged him from his back, but he didn’t understand the words.

“Leviathan Train, Sparlyset.” he said, catching his breath in pained lungs. “I hate that godforsaken thing.” As Richard regained his senses he was relieved she was feeling better than him. She continued to tap him encouragingly until he struggled to his feet. He defied his wobbling knees and tried to shake the pain off.

He was standing at the far end of the tunnel; he’d crawled farther than he thought. “We have to get through this passage to reach your village?” he asked her between ragged breaths. He coughed up mucus from his throat and spat it into the dirt.

She tapped him once.

That made him anxious. “Are you sure there’s no other way?” He paused to collect himself and she tapped his chest once for ‘yes’. “It looks like the Leviathan Train brought an entire tunnel with it. This isn’t your mountain pass anymore.”

Three taps.

She leaned so he could see her face over his shoulder and pointed into the tunnel. There was nothing he could read from her expression, just her big pink eyes and smooth nose that turned up a little at the tip. He could feel her determination to make it home, though.

He shrugged beneath her weight. There was no harm in looking. On its normal schedule the train could come around again in an hour or longer but in this world Richard couldn’t know if it would return at all. It could crash somewhere… and obliterate whatever it hit, or it could disappear and never be found. He hoped no one was stuck on board.

Richard nodded to reassure himself as much as her. “We’ll take a look at least.”

The tunnel was even wider than it was tall to contain the train’s generous girth. He was familiar with the tracks; he’d taken the Leviathan Train before. It always had a way of agitating his nerves. Row after row of colossal rails lined the bottom of the tunnel. Richard was glad to see that although the concrete tunnel walls were marbled with the mountain’s natural stone, the maintenance paths remained in their proper place.

“Do you see that, Sparly?” He grinned with one finger pointing out an indent in the tunnel wall where stairs led up from the base of the tracks. Sparlyset tapped him once.

Satisfied, Richard braced himself for the drop down to the tracks. It wasn’t far, but he wanted to avoid tumbling backward onto Sparlyset if he lost his balance. “Hold on tight.” he said. She tightened her hold around his shoulders, and he hopped down. His boots landed firmly on the track.

The way back up looked a lot longer from the bottom. Richard was reminded of the dirty pit as he stared up at the way they’d come. This time, there was no going back. He looked forward, towards the iron-grate stairs that would take them out of the pit of rails. He stepped off the track to walk in the gravel. Lights flashed overhead but the tunnel was dark in places where others had burned out. The air had an unpleasant metallic taste. Richard sucked his tongue to try and get rid of it, but the taste wasn’t going away any more than the burning in his wounded shoulder.

His head throbbed now too, and as he reached the platform and climbed up he could feel the strain through his entire body. The smoke, the climbing, the flashing lights and blaring sounds, they were all beginning to get to him. He stopped with one foot on the stairs, the metallic tap of his boot punctuating his exhaustion as he hung his head with one hand on the railing. He felt sick.

Sparlyset rested her chin on the edge of his shoulder. Her long ear brushed the side of his head as she said something quietly to him.

“One day I hope I’ll understand your words,” Richard said. Her chest pressed against his back as she squeezed him with her arms, and he sighed. The first step was to get her home. Every step after that… he hoped would be less steep. He pushed up the stairs.

The walkway ended at an iron door that protested with a loud groan when he tried to pull the handle. The knob turned with his hand, but the door was stuck. He yanked it, and it resisted. It creaked until it felt like it would give, but he gave up when he thought of being flung backward and falling on Sparlyset.

He untied the sheet and set her down against the wall while he tried again. She looked at him with her head angled in concern as he put a foot on the wall to brace himself. She spoke a simple word to him as he pulled the handle. The door creaked. The frayed shoulders of his shirt where he’d cut off his sleeves were tight on his arm as his muscles bulged from the effort.

The handle suddenly snapped off with a crack and Richard tumbled backward into the railing. He dropped the knob to catch himself and released the breath he had been holding. Letting himself slump against the rail, he rubbed at the pain in his hand. The door made a high pitched whine as it slowly swung open to show the flat stone wall on the other side. The other half of the doorknob was stuck deep in the rock.

He covered his mouth as he coughed. “Probably just a supply area or something anyway,” Richard said dismissively as he brushed himself off. The look on Sparlyset’s face was just as sad as the one she’d worn when she suggested he leave her behind, but she hadn’t drawn anything in the dust this time.

There was a walkway that would have led to another door farther ahead, but part of it was missing, and part of it lay broken in the gravel below. He secured her onto his back and returned to the tracks. More of the light fixtures above had faulty bulbs that flashed intermittently. He turned his head away from it and tried to ignore the deep pain in his head. Gravel shifted irritatingly under his feet as he walked. The steady crunch put him into a sort of daze, like a hypnosis. Every time he tried to collect his thoughts the light flashed at the edge of his vision and he lost what he’d been thinking. So he just walked without thinking, with only the occasional hoarse cough to seize his attention.

Richard walked the gravel path until he was no longer aware of the crunch beneath his boots, or the ache in his head and chest. He barely even noticed the soft tapping on his shoulder. Without thinking he raised his arm and took hold of the railing. Stairs again. Iron grate stairs. He blinked himself back into the moment and listened… felt… vibrations in the tracks.

Sparlyset spoke, and Richard almost believed he could understand her. He thought she said, “The Leviathan returns.”

He sighed from exhaustion, but for a moment he felt a connection with Sparlyset rooted in that brief moment of comprehension. It reminded him of his mission, and his boot found the first step. He would get her home, no matter how many times he had to face the Leviathan Train.

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They reached another iron door on the platform. Gravel was shifting and clacking below as the tracks shook with increasing force. He tried the handle, and the door groaned open. He was pleased when an open room greeted him on the other side, and he breathed a sigh of relief.

Long off-white bulbs in the ceiling lit the square storage room, except at the back where roots had taken the bulb’s place. There were shelves of parts lined up against the wall—bulbs for both the service room and the main tunnel, various tools, cables and things Richard didn’t recognize. He quickly scanned the room for anything that might be of immediate use, but nothing stood out. It did strike him that several of these things might have been useful in escaping the pit.

Sparlyset shifted on his back, indicating that she wanted to be let down. Richard was glad for a chance at a break, even if it would only be long enough to let the train pass. It was close now, but the closed iron door did a decent job muffling the noise, if not so decent at softening the vibrations.

He set her down and sat across from her while she pulled her legs crossed. The dust and dirt that covered her did little to sully the charm of her soft features as she stared at him. It was that look she often gave him, that flat expressionless look that made him feel as though he needed to try harder. It couldn't be easy for her to have to rely on him, a stranger from another world, in this way.

She extended a finger and started to trace a shape on the ground. There wasn't enough dirt here to leave a proper mark but he still recognized the circle. She always drew a circle to represent herself, but this one was much larger. Then she pointed at her eye and drew smaller circles within the first.

“Your eyes?” he asked to confirm he was following.

She nodded, and then crossed each eye out with a horizontal line. He had no idea what that meant, but there wasn't really a picture for him to examine; he was just following her finger. He looked at her face and her eyes were shut.

“Your eyes shut…?”

Sparlyset suddenly lay down and crossed her arms over her stomach.

“Are you tired?” he guessed.

She pushed herself back up and held her hand out palm down. A look of frustration crossed her face, and he had no way of knowing whether he was the cause. He assumed he was. She pointed at him.

Richard winced as the train grew louder and for a moment he had to forget trying to communicate with Sparlyset and cover his ears. His eyes watered so he squeezed them shut and hunched over. Fear jabbed at his mind, commanding his attention as the entire world seemed to tremble and the deafening roar of the Leviathan Train overtook them. Even through eyes held shut and a thick iron door he could see the colossal train. His mind's eye forced him to see the monster that tore across the world and sent the lights into a frenzy like startled fire beetles. The bulbs and tools on the shelves rattled like the gnashing of teeth.

At least before, the train was under control and when people told him his fear was unfounded there was some truth in it. Now the thing was loose and no one could know what might happen. Curse Forgeron the Martyr and his damn designs, Richard thought.

His hands were clammy over his ears. The train was passing and its tremendous reverberations faded with it, but he kept his hands up and his eyes closed. He released his breath and swallowed spit tainted by the metallic taste in his mouth. It hurt going down. His throat felt raw. He coughed into his hand and when he pulled it away from his mouth he found it dripping with blood.

A soft touch on his wrist made him raise his head. Sparlyset’s hands, he knew. He opened his eyes. While he had been cowering from the train, she had moved closer to him. She took both of his hands and squeezed them. Her grip was fierce, despite her hands being so much smaller than his. That fierceness was reflected in her face, and he realised she was about to do something.

She gave a curious look to his bloodied palm before withdrawing a tiny pouch from her clothes and emptying the contents into his hand. It looked like a nut. He squinted at it. Not a nut, but some kind of dried plant matter compressed into a ball, judging by the vague leaf shape he could only just make out mushed into the side. A tiny hair-like tendril snaked out of the plant ball and tickled the blood-stained parts of his hand.

She stole his gaze with her bright pink eyes and held it with a look of determination he was afraid to look away from. She lifted his empty hand to her lips. Before he could question what she was doing, she bit into his hand with canine teeth much sharper than he expected. The pain was considerable, but as he reflexively pulled his hand back she held on tightly until blood was drawn and the sharp sting turned into a dull throb.

She looked curiously at the blood again, but she only hesitated an instant before moving his bleeding hand so it dripped into the plant ball. Drops of his blood clung to her lip until she wiped it away with a dirty sleeve.

Richard held his hands the way she left them, one bleeding into the other. The purposeful way she moved warned him not to do anything he wasn't told to do, or else he might ruin something.

She bit into her own hands next, and barely flinched at the pain. Her bleeding palm brushed his raised hand aside and she let the silvery drops of her blood leak into the plant thing and mix with his own.

The little bundle hydrated itself on their blood, sprouting chubby blue leaves that pulsed with red and silver veins. Richard's eyes widened as more little roots sprang out of it, wriggling like worms through the blood pooled in his palm and sucking it up like tiny vacuum hoses.

Sparlyset cupped her hand over his and her humming brought a pink glow over them. She spoke to gain his attention, and when he looked at her she made a motion of putting something in her mouth and swallowing. Then the glow stopped.

She drooped, as though all her energy was suddenly syphoned away. But the look on her face as she told him in pantomime to swallow the bulging, wriggling plant was stern.

He stuffed it into his mouth and swallowed. It didn't go down. Worse, it tasted fouler than Geoff's overcooked bulbsprout and liver casserole. Sickly sweet and sour like the smell of mould, but with a hint of varnish and blood. That liver had definitely gone off, and remembering it brought bile and half digested jam and crackers back up into his mouth.

He held it, not about to release his stomach onto himself in front of Sparlyset… she collapsed on the ground in front of him.

He leaned towards her and swallowed as hard as he could, and the vomit returned to his stomach, wriggling plant and all. His throat was sore and dry but he ignored it and turned Sparlyset onto her back. She was breathing like she'd only fallen asleep.

The plant moved in his stomach and he nearly heaved up again. Pain developed in his midsection and he squeezed both hands on his gut as the world began to tilt. He collapsed near Sparlyset. Every wriggle of the plant in his stomach pulled darkness over the edges of his vision and made his head spin.

As he lay on the ground, clutching his belly for relief, all the shelves around him flew into the air. They spun around and shot lightbulbs at him that exploded into radiant bursts when they struck him. Extension cables slithered off their hooks and snaked around his body, wrapping him up in a cocoon of untethered extension power.

Sparlyset twirled into view, gracefully sleeping with her hair over her face. Her hair grew longer and engulfed everything until he floated in a pastel pink field that stretched on endlessly. The cords around him loosened and slithered away through the strands of hair swaying in a windless breeze. A field of flowers blossomed from her locks, all smelling gently of her. That scent of dirt and dried blood he could smell from her when she was on his back.

A tree appeared, built from iron doors. It was too far away for him to take the knobs in his hand, and he couldn't move, so he exerted his will at them. They gave him a heavy rattle in reply.

“You can’t open us,” the doors spoke in Geoff's rough voice, “your will is weak.”

Upset by the challenge, Richard tried to exert his will again. The doors laughed at the attempt.

The ground began to rumble. Everywhere he looked was Sparlyset’s blossoming hair. If the Leviathan Train was in her hair, he had to leave. He exerted his will against the doors but they refused to budge and mocked him for his weakness.

“Geoff would never make fun of me for being weak,” Richard told the tree of iron doors. “He was always stronger, but he never once looked down on me.” The doors groaned, laughing to themselves. “Stop using his voice!” he shouted.

The doors went silent. As he observed them, their knobs quietly rotated back and forth, but they were otherwise still.

And the rumbling in the ground grew more intense. The chug of trains came from all around him, concealed in the waves of Sparlyset’s hair. Miniscule leviathans squirmed and scooted through the pastel wisps like tufts of grass until he was surrounded. He coughed, an act that deeply pained his throat.

The empty sky lit up with stars of all different shapes and as the thousands of tiny Leviathan Trains crawled over him the stars shook and flashed. He writhed beneath them but they clung to his body, their wheels carving grooves in his flesh. How could something that size not fly off the tracks from the slightest disturbance? Some of the stars burst and sprayed gouts of sparks through the false night while others swung like pendulums in the trains’s violent disturbance.

Richard coughed roughly until his throat was hoarse. The familiar metallic taste of blood filled his mouth.

Iron.

“Stop laughing!” he shouted at the iron door tree. The doors roared with laughter. The tree’s branches blossomed into countless incandescent bulbs. They rattled and rattled as the trains chugged and roared across his body.

Iron in his mouth. Iron in his throat, in the air, in the trees. Everything was suffocating, metallic iron. Even his mind throbbed against the cacophony like a prisoner in an iron cage that was far too small.

“I need your help, Sparlyset.” he cried, tears running down his cheeks.“I need your soft touch against this iron.” He didn’t know where she was, but he reached out. Her hand found his, and all the tree’s iron doors flung open with a crash. A plant lurked inside, pulsing with an eerie red and silver glow. It burst from the iron shell, scattering scraps in every direction. The swarm of tiny Leviathan Trains turned their locomotives fearfully towards it.

A fleshy blue tree with bulging leaves and thick veins loomed over the pastel field and spoke in a booming voice, “The Rite of Vitality guards his body from you insignificant pests!” It was Sparlyset’s voice. He was shocked he understood the words. “Flee or die within his bolstered form!”

The trains exploded into millions of tinier centipedes. Any that touched his body screeched and burned away to nothing, while the rest fled. The fields of hair receded. The stars winked out, except the long ones. He lay on his back, staring at the lights in the ceiling of the supply room.

His head still throbbed and spun, and his throat still ached, but Sparlyset lay next to him tightly squeezing his hand.