The next few mornings stretched on, the heat of Thea’s crimson sun bearing down with more intensity than the claustrophobic darkness of the Underkingdom ever did. The lush plant life of the jungle more than made up for this issue, however. Marcus had never been much of an outdoorsman (it was always Mari who’d spurred him on to take a Highland hike or camp in the wilderness back on Earth), but he had to admit the jungles of Arasaka had some charm to them.
The flowers of the Fengui trees, for example, which only blossomed once a spindle-legged giant flea (Mian’tat) pollinated them, struck Marcus with their beauty. Each petal opened to reveal row upon row of crimson specks dotted with earthy browns and whimsical cyans – and he made short work of picking some for Mari whenever he happened upon them.
She’d look at him with a girlish scoff as he offered her the flowers, ignoring the openly belligerent scoffing of her Tigran commander behind her.
“I see someone’s getting used to this world already,” she said. “Looks like my soldier boy hasn’t lost his gentlemanly side.”
Marcus sometimes had to admit that this wasn’t some romantic getaway. They were renegades – and he was complicit now, too. He was reminded of this every time they formed up and forced the refugees down in the long blades of grass and moss to avoid some of the larger predators of the jungle, and some of its nocturnal residents – namely the jet-black, one-eyed ravens that watched the youngest of the Yokun with hungry eyes.
“Tikasuan,” Karliah spat as she tossed a throwing knife, catching one in its wing one night. “Rats of the sky.”
She didn’t stop to accept Marcus’ thanks. Instead, she traipsed over to her own little tent she’d set up for the night, sequestered beside her Tigran sisters.
“Ah, don’t worry about Karliah none, lad,” Marvin told him, gesturing to a log he was sitting on next to his makeshift bonfire. “She’s that way with everyone.”
Marcus smirked as he pulled up a seat beside the human former-farmer. “I’ve not even suggested that she’s a kitten yet. I wonder how she’d take it.”
“Heh, the first time she met me, she all but scratched my eyes out. Trust me, lad: the fact she hasn’t really tried to tear you to pieces yet tells me she trusts you enough.”
Marcus watched the guy rubbing his hands by the fire, chewing on some Shakesitan rib.
“How did you get involved in all this, Marvin?” he asked – his old curiosity taking hold of him.
The human looked back at him and gave a half-hearted shrug. “Ach. My story ain’t a special one. Nothing as grand as leadin’ rats into the fires of war or dueling with dwarves in the depths of the earth. Me maw always did used to say that those two were as bad as each other, y’know…”
He drifted off for a second, and Marcus drifted with him – both men hearing nothing but the croaking of toads and the whistles of Arasaka’s nocturnal life while the rest of their camp lay down to rest for the night.
“She was… well, she was a good woman, me maw,” he sighed after some time, staring into the fire sullenly. “Y’know she was our town alderman, way back when.”
“Your society here has women in positions of authority, then,” Marcus stated with a smile. “The words of the Yokun prince had me thinking that maybe the humans here are as stuck in the past as their lizardman counterparts.”
“Heh. If you’d seen me maw, lad, you’d question the definition of ‘woman.’ Gods, she was a tough ol’ lass. Stronger than any man I knew, and with twice the appetite, hah!”
He looked sheepishly around as though the spirit of his mother were watching him, timidly trying to show that he didn’t mean any insult.
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Marcus could already guess the rest of the story. But still, he let the guy go on, looking into the embers of the bonfire alongside him, visualizing the tale as it was told.
“Aye,” he said. “My village was on the coast of Kadalka – called the ‘Jewel of the North’ by the scholars and tourists. Used to be a popular destination for visitors. Sandy beaches as far as the eye could see. Good food, too – freshest fish in all of Thea, me maw used to say.”
He heaved a sigh from his powerful, heavyset chest. “And then, well, you can probably guess the rest.”
He tapped at the number burned into the soft flesh of his neck, recoiling slightly, as though he could still feel the heat of the brand.
“Yokun slave ships used to sail the oceans openly back when I was a lad,” he said. “Back before the Emperor’s trade restrictions on ‘live goods.’ Meaning me and my brothers and sisters, you understand.”
Marcus watched him hunch his shoulders out of the corner of his eye.
“…They came, they broke the town guard – nothing but a buncha boys, really. The rest of us – women, children, anyone… they took. They muzzled us like dogs and stuck us in the holds of their black ships, and I watched ’em drown the sick and the elderly outside.”
“How old were you?” Marcus asked.
“Fuck… six at the time. Old enough to know I was in for a world of shit. Old enough to know what was happening was wrong. But not old enough to understand why any of it was going on.”
He threw the bones of his meager meal into the fire, watching it flare and flame for a second before it simmered down again.
“Truth is, I still don’t understand,” he said quietly. “I still don’t understand why they can’t just leave us alone.”
“Some people say difference breeds hatred,” Marcus said. “Divisions between people are almost as natural as the air we breathe.”
“But we’ve managed to come together,” Marvin pointed out, gesturing to the sleeping force in their little private patch of the jungle. “Yokun, Tigran, human… hell, even Tauron.”
“You all share the same pain,” Marcus replied. “It’s what gives you a common purpose, and a common enemy.”
“A common enemy…” Marvin trailed off, whistling up at the blooming purple flowers that lined the tree branches above them. “Y’know… you sound more like her than ya think, lad.”
Marcus followed Marvin’s eyes to Mari’s tent, where her bug-lantern was still lit. Waiting for him.
“I suppose some things are just learned by osmosis,” Marcus chuckled. “Mari and I have been together for… since we were kids, really.”
“What was she like as a kid?” Marvin asked, evidently glad to be changing the subject.
Marcus was more than happy to oblige. “She was giving orders on the playground before I was. When we first met, it was because I’d gotten into a scrap with a bully, and she came between us.”
“A mediator even as a young’un.”
Marcus smiled at the memory. “She later told me she’d booby-trapped the bully’s schoolbag when he wasn’t looking. Homework – ruined. Boy spent the next few days in detention while we laughed at him from outside. She was always shrewder than me.”
Marvin gave a hearty laugh at the thought. “That sounds like Maria, so it does. But y’know, son, she talked about you all the time, too.”
Marcus cringed. “My life wasn’t anything to write home about.”
“On the contrary,” Marvin smiled. “She told us all about your speeches and debates. Your battle reenactments and support. How you used to stay up till all hours listening to her go on about the people she tried to help back in your world. She told us she couldn’t be what she is today without you, mate. And that’s probably the best compliment.”
Marvin’s face grew serious then, in a way that gave Marcus pause.
“Cherish that, son, will you?” he said. “Don’t let love like that go. Some of us… well… some of us wish we could get another chance to see the people we loved again.”
“I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t cherish her,” Marcus replied quietly. “And for the record, Marvin, I’m sure your mother is proud of the man you’ve become.”
The old farmer stiffened but didn’t immediately reply. He was so engrossed in the fire that, at first, it seemed he hadn’t heard those words at all. Marcus reasoned that this was as good a time as any to hit the hay.
“Get some rest,” he told Marvin. “We’ll be approaching the Southern coast tomorrow. You can tell me how it compares to your home’s beaches.”
Without waiting for a reply, Marcus walked back to his and Mari’s tent, not knowing how in that moment the bulky eyes of his fireside companion followed his every step, fixated on this man he’d heard so much about, as though he couldn’t even believe he was real at all.
“G’night, Marcus,” he finally said, before laying back on his log to sleep.
***
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