197. 198. 199.
200.
Alex glanced at Siilva - waiting for confirmation that all others had finished winding their own timetellers.
2 hours. Tight, but manageable.
Alex unsheathed two swords from his side – tossing both sheathes away as he peered down through the glass ceiling, watching as a group of guards mercilessly stabbed a young, silver-haired boy like a baker poking holes in their bread. Whispers arose around him as others watched the commotion in disgust.
He gripped his blade tighter – itching to move but waiting for the signal. Down below – the torment continued, screams now echoing in the silent night.
Finally, he spotted Siilva throwing up his thumb. Ready.
Alex took a deep breath – letting sharpness overtake him. Raising a fist high in the air – he signaled for Siilva to release the explosion. Moments later A deafening boom rang out – heralding their assault.
"Aahkrha Maan!" he roared the command as he jumped down – two dozen robes following closely behind him.
----------------------------------------
Aliso jumped back – jerking away from the falling shards of glass and head rolling by, only for his chains to play matchmaker for the ground.
Thud!
Pain overwhelmed Aliso’s senses – his face kissing the ground, shards of falling glass pelting his backside; cutting through skin.
Fighting through the pain, he rose again, dizzy, then recoiled as his eyes locked with another – lifeless. Attached to the auctioneer’s detached head.
Serves you right, Aliso gloated, rearing to punt the head away – into the battles burgeoning all around him– but stopping as his eyes caught yet another pair staring at him. Silver mask masked much of his mug, yet murderous maroon eyes – masquerading mild midst the auction - sent shocking shivers, spine and soul-shaking.
My suitor – the man willing to spend five gold tickets (however much that was) on me. He wants me. Aliso's throat felt like dry ice as the man rose from his seat, dagger unsheathed.
Wind blew by from Aliso’s left, and moments later the terrifying man’s attention was violently pried away – arm jerking up and barely managing to block two swords arcing down from overhead.
Before his soon-to-have-been-master could respond, the blue-coated assailant was zipping off again – death blooming from the tip of his blade as he tore through the audience like a gardener sheering hedges.
Colours splashed upon the pillars – streaks of red, blue, and white painting the once dull brown as the man danced along the rows of the amphitheater, a trail of bodies falling behind him; upon their corpses, wounds blossomed like flowers sprouting on trees after a Soakstorm.
Moments later, the blue-coated man – no longer just blue, gifts from his slain victims adorning his jacket – stood among a garden of corpses, blood seeping into the earth – a river of surprise and fear washing with it. Wiping the blood off his face and blades using the clean shirt fallen corpse, he turned to look at the sole survivor of his onslaught – his original target, who managed to disappear into the fleeing crowds.
Aliso uttered a prayer of thanks under his breath. Whoever the man in blue was – he saved him from a fate he could certainly live without.
Shouts tore Aliso’s gaze away from the tapestry of death. To his right – a barrage of flames and stone quickly fell two guards. To his left – a unit of red and white surrounded the remaining two guards – who quickly crumpled under a series of coordinated strikes – aimed directly in the gaps of their armor.
Screams echoed around the chamber – the audience fleeing in strides, trampling over each other as they bulldozed for an exit.
He breathed a sigh of relief – then looked down at his chains, contemplating how to shake them off. As he sat to look for an opening, a new wave of guards came rushing from backstage – a few eyes lingering in his direction.
Uh oh.
Panicking, Aliso began looking around – desperately trying to pry his chains off. He rolled as an arrow arced overhead – a stray shot meant for one of the approaching, red and white-robed terrors.
I don’t have time, they’ll kill me.
An idea sprouted into his mind – and strapped for time, terrified and desperate he chose to commit to it without a second thought.
Jumping forward and grabbing the auctioneer’s head in his hands, he rotated it until a mess of blood and torn muscles stared back at him – the open neck wound where his head was divorced from his body.
Taking a long, deep breath, he shoved his face in.
----------------------------------------
Alex glanced at his watch. 198. Time to move.
He slid between the first barrage of arrows then effortlessly decapitated the second with a flourish of his blades – shafts bouncing off his chest uselessly as he sliced through another swath of guards blocking his way.
Armed with only bows, they made for a poor challenge.
Looking over the battlefield, his eyes caught sight of the stage – where a boy desperately sought to loosen his chains. Alex took a step to help – but his attention was diverted as a torrent of flames rolled over him – his coat catching fire.
“FLAMES: TORRENT!” a pair of voices screamed out in unison.
Throwing his blades away, Alex hit the ground and rolled – attempting to douse the flame as it danced across his blue coat. From the corner of his eyes – he saw two armored men, hands outstretched and flames dancing off of them.
He tossed his coat off, revealing grey chain mail underneath. Unarmed – he continued rolling around, using the benches for cover – dodging another torrent of flame as he yanked a dagger free from a fallen body. Waiting for his moment – when the magus’ had to recharge – he blitzed forward.
The first guard threw a haphazard jab – which Alex smoothly caught with his left hand. Using his momentum, Alex yanked the man to the ground – smoothly slitting his throat in the process.
Blood spluttered into Alex’s face – but he was already moving again, forgoing subtly for power. He threw his dagger forward, distracting the other magus as he grabbed for his thrown blade. Picking one up and wielding it double-handed– he swung with all his might, cleaving through the armor. Where one man stood, now two halves – as the top clattered to the ground.
He turned his attention back to the boy – and came to a stop.
The child was screaming – another head plastered atop his own – chains ripped from the ground and weaponized as he charged the oncoming reinforcements – scattering their lines as they dove away from the flinging chains.
A grin flushed Alex’s face.
What a moronic, brave kid…
Let’s see if I can give him a hand.
----------------------------------------
Aliso didn’t charge from fear. Or anger. Or even rage.
He charged out of shame – ashamed of himself. Ashamed that he gave up – and ashamed that he got help after he gave up. He was angry. Angry that he fought alone all this time – and help came when he abandoned it. And he was hopeful – almost unable to grasp that he had a chance at freedom.
Absorbing all the blood had been the correct decision. Disgusting – but correct.
Unfortunately, brain blood tended to… cloud judgment.
The infusion of blood spiked his adrenaline – and body filled with newfound power, he made the incredibly stupid decision to charge their lines instead of running away.
His decision was gratified instantly - immediate satisfaction upon watching surprise creep upon their faces as his flailing chains caught bodies, limbs and weapons – followed by a drop in his stomach as a boot thudded into his chest, sending him reeling back.
The blow managed to knock Aliso back to his senses – and for the first time, he realized how deep in enemy territory he ended up. Fortunately, only a few combatants circled him – the rest distracted by other battles.
One threw a spear – catching his leg as he tried to dodge out the way, pinning him to the ground.
He turned – readying to fight like a child denied dessert, but instead, he was met with a pile of dead bodies – all six guards instantly downed. In their place stood a tall man wearing a blue, red, white and black outfit. A white mask covered his face – the mouth left open.
“Brave,” He commented, “or incredibly stupid.” He proffered a hand forward, helping Aliso up – who quietly winced as he stood on his good foot. He rotated some external blood there – working to heal it.
“Either way, I admire the boldness.”
Who are you?” Aliso blurted out.
“Names Alex. And I’m here to help. Here to save you.”
Aliso scoffed upon hearing that. “Look mister, I’m grateful for your help, really, but you’ll have to forgive me for being… skeptical.”
Alex nodded. “And you’d be right. We have other goals in coming here – but all that should matter to you is that we can save you. Now, decide. Going to come with or go on your own?
Aliso laughed a bit – despite the circumstances. “You say that like I have a choice.”
“We all have a choice, kid. But now’s not the time to wax philosophic.” He nodded left – where some of the audience had escaped out of. “Follow them – but turn left instead of right once you hit the corridors. Keep to the sides and avoid the patrols. Keep running left, into the atrium, and past the doors. From there try to get out of the carnival. We have carriages and Churll nearby – located in small clearings, ready to escape.”
He hesitated for a moment, then continued. “I shouldn’t be telling you this – and it’s not fun to say, but we can’t save everyone. Also, and this is important, it’s a first come first serve – provided you bring a relic along with you.”
“A relic?” Aliso asked – preparing to run in the direction indicated.
Alex rubbed his chin. “Yeah – I don’t know how to explain a relic.” He shrugged. “An item, artifact, anything that looks important should be a relic. Normally, they’d be hard to find but right now they should be everywhere.”
The tall, masked man looked back down at Aliso. “Good luck kid. Hope you make it to the other side. Sorry, I can’t help anymore.”
Aliso shook his head. “No. Thank you. You gave me a chance – and I promise not to waste it.”
And with that – he was off.
----------------------------------------
The wide hallway was a warzone – one that Aliso managed to survive by ducking, dodging, and diving past lances, longswords, arrows, and debris flying about. Twice, debris managed to turn his ankle and once a wayward arrow cut his thigh – but the youngblood managed to heal the minor injuries using his excess blood – although his store was beginning to run low.
Finally, he reached the atrium. The dome was wide – though not nearly as wide as the auditorium from whence he came. The large doors were blown open – revealing a gaping entrance guarded by two giants, bodies scattered around them.
Shit.
Taking cover behind fallen debris, Aliso began to recount his options. Unfortunately, his mind was beginning to feel fatigue settling – constant blood absorption and rotation was fairly difficult – and so brainstorming solutions was slow.
Too weak to beat them, too slow to run past them. Won’t be able to absorb the blood I’d need from those bodies before they kill me. What can I do?
… I need a distraction.
Taking a breath – he picked up the fallen shards of glass around him and slit his wrist. Dizziness immediately took over – but he let the blood flow out for a solid minute, before absorbing some nearby blood - belonging to the bodies crushed by the debris. He absorbed just enough to expel the nausea and seal his cut.
Whispering to his own blood – currently a puddle in the ground at the moment – he spoke a Command, relying on imaging and conviction to make up for his lack of volume. “Diventar Unero!”
The blood moved, covering his body like parents gift-wrapping presents. It pulsed – molding exactly to his form – before jumping off, reforming into a lifelike version of himself – save for any distinguishing details and made of blood rather than flesh.
Aliso pointed to the right – directing his blood twin to walk in front of the guards while he moved from cover to cover, closing in on the pair of guards without being spotted.
The clone obliged – swinging its arms wildly as it approached the suddenly straightening giants – stopping before the pile of corpses. They looked at it suspiciously – beckoning it to move forward.
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Shit. Aliso thought – recalibrating his plan. He hadn’t expected them to show mercy – he expected the dumb oafs to give chase and clear a path for him.
This is about to become so much harder. Shit.
He commands it to walk forward, a new plan forming in his head. He sends the blood boy careening forward then left, exploding the blood before it got close enough to get swatted.
The giants roared as blood showered their faces. In the moment of distraction, Aliso dashes between the two guards – using the blood around their feet to quicken his step just enough to dash out of view before they could recover.
They didn’t even look behind them. Aliso realized, a stroke of luck – as he sprinted away from the burning auction house.
----------------------------------------
Tents and attractions burnt to cinders all around him as chaotic fighting broke down everywhere – dozens of skirmishes seeding the battlefield. Crystalline light still shone from above – giving an impeccable view of the chaos to those with a bird’s eye view.
Unfortunately, Aliso had no such gift, so he had to rely on slowly moving through the burning landscape – hiding behind crates, and tents or burying himself in dead bodies to stay un-noticed as patrols roamed.
When Aliso dreamt of freedom – he saw visions of valiant escape, righteous retribution. Of open skies and fresh air as he slowly walked towards the gold-burning horizon.
Instead – the sound of freedom was horrifying, hollow, and hideous screams serenading the night air as he eloped with his lover, away from his bride – destiny.
Fire was rolling in waves – burning the circus to cinders. Aliso wasn’t sure who was making those flames – but whoever was channeling it had no regard for any life.
Creatures ran about in stampedes, bodies of slaves, slavers, and the new group of uniformed warriors littered the ground, numbering at least a few hundred.
His slow journey through the carnival grounds was methodical – safe and relatively unperturbed until cries up ahead alerted Aliso of an unseen patrol approaching.
Hiding in a wooden crate nearby, he watched through tiny holes as the guards rounded up other fleeing slaves – killing the rowdy ones and dragging the rest along. Aliso wanted to help – but doing so would be throwing away his only chance at freedom.
He sat in the box for several long minutes, before eventually relaxing as the patrol moved on. He left his haven – moments away from setting on a dead sprint – before a voice called out behind him – different from the rest. Recognizable.
“Oi, daft mates, on’t lettum ‘scape!” it screamed, horse and angry – moving away from his location as it went with the patrol – a small, terror-inducing jingle accompanying his departure.
Aliso felt his blood run cold, as another voice called out. This too recognizable, albeit dim amidst the shrieks of battle.
“… will not hurt them.” It said softly.
No. Aliso thought. I can’t. Not again. I can’t go back.
Escape was so close. Just a step away.
The former rang out again. “Har! And I s’ppose yere going to stop me, that right?”
“Yes, I will. Because someone has to.” the latter voice replied – resolve in his tone.
Aliso contemplated hard and long – even turning back to continue running – but one step forward he stopped again, agony filling his soul.
Agony that escape was so close he could taste it.
Agony that he was rejecting it all the same.
Agony that he was going right back into the fray.
Agony that he might be too late for it to matter.
----------------------------------------
“Why” I demanded. “Why can’t we help?”
For months – I had been helping my mother take care of her garden, watching as it bloomed into something beautiful. Now, I watched as she brought a candle close to them, letting the flames begin to singe the leaves.
My mother turned to me – a tender warmth in her eyes. “Because dear, sometimes the best thing we can do is to let it go. Becomes sometimes – our good intentions pave the way for more suffering.”
I glared at her – refusing to budge on the issue. “But we can save it!” I protested.
She smiled at him – full of warmth and pride. “And then what, dear?”
----------------------------------------
For years – Aliso would remember that day, that moment. It would sprout unbidden in his mind. He never understood what his mother was trying to explain that day.
He would understand soon.
Aliso arrived at Teddy and Bobby Portus circling each other – waiting for the other to strike. Teddy was off to the left, bleeding from his eye and leg where puncture wounds oozed blood. He held a small, golden dagger in his right hand.
To the right – Portus stood, sneer on his face and baton tossed to the side. He had a dozen small cuts lining his body – but his tough scaly skin allows him to brush off most blows. “Fought well, slave.” He taunted –short arms beckoning Teddy forward.
Teddy watched cautiously – not falling for the bait as he eyed the Ishara for a trap. He scanned the surrounding area, catching a glimpse of a short, white-haired boy standing on the crest of the hill.
As soon as he saw Aliso – Teddy’s stance shifted. He moved – keeping Bobby’s attention as he sent signals to Aliso – ones that only friends working long, dangerous mining shifts in pairs could understand.
Leave, he signaled with his eyes. I can handle him.
“Scared, coward? ‘Fraid yere next?” Portus cackled, cold and grating, swishing his tail to indicate the plethora of corpses lain about them. “Fine-a job protectin’ em – I’ll say.”
Aliso took advantage of the gloating – using the sound of his nemesis’ booming voice to muffle his own footsteps as he approached the green tormenter from behind. The idea was sound, but with adrenaline coursing through his veins, and emboldened by his desire to help – Aliso underestimated the man who’d enslaved them for months. Had he been his normal self – he would have noticed the myriad of traps littering the ground, hidden beneath the rubble and bodies.
But he wasn’t his normal self – and he didn’t notice the traps until they zapped him to his knees – consciousness a distant relative as his mind wandered to emptiness.
Portus turned to Aliso – face splitting in a wide grin. “Whadda we have here, eh?” He raised his tail, preparing to cleave Aliso.
Aliso closed his eyes – unable to bring his arms to protect himself. Fear wrapped its cloak around Aliso – dressing him for his dance with death.
“No!” Teddy screamed – dashing forward with his arms outstretched, preparing to tackle Portus as the scaley Ishara brought his tail down on Aliso.
Then – silence. Aliso peaked his eyes open – and watched in horror as Portus shifted his blow at the last moment, reversing the swing of his tail just before it landed on Aliso.
Sending his tail backward, upwards.
Into the soaring body of a shaggy, orange maned man.
The tail caught Teddy’s neck – ripping off his head clean off. Momentum launched the corpse forward, crashing atop Aliso.
“Fool!” Portus cackled – wiping the blood from his tail.
No. No, no, no.
Aliso – recovering from the electrical trap – cradled Teddy’s body in his arms, muscles spasming as he did so. He sat in shock – both physically and emotionally.
No. No, no, no, no, no.
Pools began to coalesce beneath his eyes, soon transforming into deep oceans, then rivers running rivulets across his face.
”Probably coulda killed meh, if ta took ain’t take the bait, har har!” Portus turned to Aliso – malice burning in his eyes. “Shame. Won’t see the profits from sellin’ ye, but better a batch dead than a batch free.”
He waltzed over slowly – purposefully, letting the dread build in Aliso – who sat unmoving, tatted body clutched limply in his arms. Expecting Aliso to jump forward at the taunt – he approached cautiously. When an attack failed to materialize, the lumbering Ishara assumed Aliso was still incapacitated from the earlier trap, and began limping forward – no longer needing to hide his injuries.
“Ima enjoy this.”
Aliso – for his part – simply sat there, as his once rival approached. His body had long since recovered from the trap – only now his mind lay buried beneath an ocean of indifference.
Every action he chose was the wrong action.
Saving Syfla? Wrong.
Killing Ithanki? Wrong.
Escaping the village? Wrong.
Helping strange travelers? Wrong.
Hiding from the hunters? Wrong.
Escaping into a tree? Wrong.
Resist orders? Wrong.
Help a friend? Wrong.
Every action.
Wrong.
His body began to sink.
Beneath the weight of Teddy’s body, resting atop his own.
Beneath the surging ocean of emotions (filling) his heart.
Beneath the weight of his past, actions foretell a future of failure.
Sink, sink, sink. His body began to sink.
Sinking into acceptance.
As Portus approached – death shadowing his footsteps – Aliso was ready.
Ready for the second time today.
Ready to just give up – and let it all fall away.
Ready to let his suffering end.
Ready to stop fighting.
After all, why keep fighting?
----------------------------------------
“And then, we do it again!” I rebuked.
My mother's smile withered – as she slowly looked upon her garden again. “No,” she said softly. “We can’t.” She turned to look at me. “What happens one day -when we’re not here? Will the soil irrigate itself? Will the plants survive without our blood? Do they live because they deserve to, or because we deserve to?”
Aliso looked at his mother blankly as she continued. “The garden lives because we feed it, Aliso, because we take care of its needs. What will happen when we leave?”
She looked back upon the garden – smoke rising from the flame childishly learning to dance upon the petals.
“Then why?” I demanded, tears welling in my eyes. “Why are we burning it – why not just leave it?”
“If we leave it, maybe the Garden will live. But in doing so – what of the plants nearby? Will the garden not deny them of their nutrients – desperate to survive? Without plants – which animals will approach the now barren wasteland? Without animals – who will pollinate the leaves and trees? Imagine – an entire cycle disrupted, because of our inaction.”
“Then why help it at all – if we’re going to abandon it!?” Tears flowed freely across my face as I gave in to my sorrow.
“Because Aliso. They’re a part of our journey.”.
----------------------------------------
As Portus's tail rose in the air, Aliso remembered Teddy’s final words.
Because someone has to.
Scream caught in his throat, loss caught in his heart, and rage caught in his head – Aliso fought against the Madness for a second time that day.
Aliso exploded forward, Teddy's golden dagger – pried from his cold hands – shining as he swung wildly at the reeling Portus.
Aliso had absorbed Teddy’s blood – which soaked Aliso in the aftermath of his death – supplying him with some external blood, enough to strengthen his body.
Portus – caught off guard by Aliso’s unexpected recovery and speed – barely managed to jump back, belly inches from splitting open. In response, he swung his tail wildly – blow careening over Aliso’s head, who flattened to the floor and used his earlier momentum to continue sliding as his blood supply dwindled.
As he slid – he began to absorb the blood from nearby bodies – victims of Portus’ brutality.
Ironic, Aliso mused, that your own hedonistic tendencies will be your undoing. He kept low to the ground – approaching under the cover of Portus’ own belly, the organ bulging so far out that Aliso could use it as cover, blocking Portus’ view.
Aliso stabbed forward again – this time from the large man’s blind spot, burying the golden dagger straight into Portus’ gut.
The Ishara roared – swatting blindly with his tail and catching Aliso on the shoulder, grazing his head and sending him careening to the side – dagger clattering away. “Bloody bastard!” Bobby spat – spittle flying far through the air.
Panting, Aliso dusted dirt off, as the two of them circled each other. Turning back to his adversary – who was keeping a bloody hand close to stem the waterfall of blood leaking from a hole beneath his stomach – he began to strategize.
Shit. He’s a few paces away – and I’ve lost the element of surprise, so a frontal assault again will fail. I could try to fi-
That was as far as Aliso got – before he found himself charging again, the calm composure momentarily achieved, shattered, as he watched the definition of evil…
Pick up Teddy’s head…
And bite a chunk off.
Portus grinned as Aliso fell for the taunt – loosening a device from his belt and clicking it. Between them – two massive explosions rang out – frying Aliso, who was caught in between. The youngblood emerged on the other side a burning corpse – skin charred entirely, revealing muscle and bone exposed in some places.
Portus’ grin lasted all of two seconds – before the cindered body of a young, silver-haired boy barreled forward – barely stopping as Portus’ tail, swinging down from above, nearly ripped his arm clean from his body.
Slowed and weakened by blood loss – Portus watched in grim horror as Aliso crashed into him, sending the both of them tumbling backward.
Aliso rotated around Portus – pinning the larger man’s arms down with his legs as he sat on his chest like a child playing atop their father. Arms free – he threw his one good arm straight into Portus’ chest – circulating all the remaining blood (which had been circulating in his legs and body, to keep Portus locked down) into the blow.
He succeeded – shattering through his tough scales and grabbing ahold of his heart. The emerald-scaled Ishara screamed unholy murder – but Aliso cared not.
“Every morning, the devil comes by my cage to wake me.” Aliso's sermon began, emotionless – the boy dodging slightly as Portus attempted to bite his arms off.
“For him, silence is never an option as the thud of his hooves are heralded by the sounds of bells clanging, wandering whistles, and the jingling keys. In the background, the devil sings his daily tunes as he prances about from one cage to another.”
Pump. Pump. Pump. Pump.
Portus began thrashing – arms and legs flailing wildly like a fish out of water as the bloodflow in his body slowed.
Pump. Pump. Pump.
“Some in my position may make the proclamation ‘God cannot exist, for under his watchful gaze such cruelty should not exist.’”
Pump. Pump.
“I agree with them, for if he is real, then God is cruel to have allowed such an ugly bastard to have been born.”
Pump.
Bobby’s thrashing redoubled – his expression twisting from one of rage to one of pain and fear. Upon seeing that, Aliso switched tactics. He began reversing the blood flow.
Pmup. Pmup.
“Others may fear him, but I have never feared the devil. I only pity him, for ‘what is the devil but an angel who hath received no love?’” Blood begins showing Aliso’s backside – fountaining out the wound in his stomach – further strengthening his body.
“Please.” Portus croaked out – blood leaking out of every orifice. “Spare meh – and ye can have all my tickets.”
Pmup. Pmup. Pmup. Pmup.
“No, Devil, know through fear you control me not.”
A miracle occurred – as Portus managed to roll over – flattening Aliso. Had the miracle come earlier – he could have lived. But it was too late – for Aliso’s body – enhanced by the blood absorbed from Portus – would not bend beneath such meager weight.
“And while it is true I may not fear the devil, that doesn’t mean I don’t hate you.”
Pmup. Pmup. Pmup. Pmup. Pmup. Pmup. Pmup. Pmup.
On top of him, Portus begins vomiting out blood and convulsing. His body begins to explode in places – veins unable to take the backflow of blood.
Abruptly – Aliso throws Portus off himself – the fat body convulsing as it tumbles through the air.
Aliso walked over – perverse pleasure rising as he watched his tormentor try to crawl away from him in terror – vocal cords exploded. A part of him felt sick – sick at what he was doing. Yet that part was quelled by the righteous anger and satisfaction burning within.
His job was done, Portus was dead. There was no need for him to stick around. In fact, doing so was detrimental.
First come, First Serve. Alex had told him.
He was wasting time sticking around.
Still…
“No,” Aliso growled. “Death is too easy for you. I need you to suffer, suffer like you made all of those people suffer!”
Kneeling over – and gently cradling Portus in his arms, he buried his hands into the Ishara’s chest for a final time – focusing on the blood around his brain, draining it clean. Portus – no longer able to scream – thrashed around violently, but Aliso stayed the course.
He moved his other hand over Portus’ mouth – cutting his palm open with his teeth and letting the blood drain into the open mouth of the dying man – who began gurgling on the stream of blood pouring down his throat.
Finally – Portus stopped thrashing – body convulsing once and going limp. Aliso – looking over by chance, found his vision stumbling upon the half-eaten head of his old friend.
“AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH” Aliso screamed – ripping into the body, his outlet as anger tore him apart from the inside.
Finally – he stopped. Beneath him, the once terrorizing form of Bobby Portus now carpeting the floor around them.
Then – only then – did Aliso let himself openly weep for his friend, himself, and his shattered innocence.
----------------------------------------
Aliso arrived at the destination point late – obviously.
Crowded around some ways ahead of him – in a small clearing, outside of the burning remains of the carnival – was a mass of bodies, clamming over each other furiously as they vied for control at the front, where a few red and white-robed warriors stood and held them back. Behind them – a large cart full of people began to roll away.
That’s one of them. Aliso realized, dread kicking in as he set into a dead sprint. I have to get on it.
Adrenaline – and no small amount of external blood – coursing through his veins, eyes focused on the cart pulling further and further away– Aliso realized too late that he was going to crash into the crowd ahead.
At the last moment – he leapt up, leapfrogging over the clamming crowd. Carried by momentum and far more power than he meant to use – Aliso soared through the air, before crashing into the ground and rolling to a stop.
Aliso heard the clatter of hooves come to a halt behind him, as a voice called out. “Oi, there mate, where’d you come from, eh?”
Aliso stood unsteadily, ears ringing from the crash and dizziness threatening to topple him like a brisk breeze threatens a poorly stacked house of cards. “Carnival” he croaked out, stepping towards the man sat atop one of two giant, black creatures. Behind them was a giant caravan – the one he had seen leaving.
“Well, I’ll say, helluva way to show yourself! Sorry kiddo – no more room on this one.”
“Wait!” Aliso managed to cry out, digging through his pockets and grabbing a handful of tickets – gold and silver, looted from whatever remained of Portus’ corpse. “I have these.”
The man eyed him suspiciously – jumping off his pack mule and snatching the leaflets from Aliso’s hands.
“Well, I’ll be, honest to goodness tickets.” He looked down at Aliso – eyes thoughtful. “Well, it ain’t no relic. But then again, who’s to say this isn’t just as valuable…” He nodded at Aliso, then back at his Caravan. “Well, no reason I can’t take one more person.” He pocketed the tickets Aliso had given him. “But just between you and me, let’s just keep this a secret between us, eh” he said with a wink.
For once, Aliso thanked the world for its corruption. Walking towards the back of the Caravan, he toyed with the dagger in his pocket. His last link to Teddy – who was carrying the gold-bladed weapon when he died.
I’m sorry. He thought – as his mind drifted into unconsciousness atop the rolling wheels of the caravan.