Erol himself was not sure of what he had seen just a few minutes before. The creature looked as massive as a bear, with large shoulders and a round back covered in bristly hair. But its big paws looked like they belonged to a wolf. Its huge eyes, shimmering with the colors of the clouds, haunted his mind.
Was the beast blind? the archaeologist wondered before he saw fit to leave the shelter in relative safety. He hadn’t heard it lurking near their hideout, but there was a good chance it was still around. Perhaps on the lookout for the little pink gnomes to feast on.
Erol and Suzanne finally emerged under a firmament worthy of the Underworld. In the east, the first rays of sunlight pierced through clouds of blood and gold. Renaissance’s fires were reflected in the hazy sky above them. They looked like the northern lights, except made of lava. The sky was as beautiful as it was terrifying.
All around, they were surrounded by a bleak landscape, as if the forest had been eaten away by a gigantic inferno or a fiery cloud had annihilated everything before it turned into a fossil. The earth was covered with a black dust so fine that the slightest step sent a cloud of ash flying through the air, disappearing before it even hit the ground again. In some places there were shy, sclerotic groves made of dark, crooked trees that were devoid of any foliage and folded on themselves. The sap on their roots indicated that they were still alive. At least, the one that had given them shelter was. No birds were singing. Erol could no longer hear the sound of the wind. The storm had left behind an ocean of emptiness and silence.
“Without the trees, you’d think yourself on the Moon,” Suzanne commented, grabbing a handful of the ashes at her feet before letting it slip through her fingers.
Erol found the young woman’s remark very interesting. “Is that true? Is it a fact that men in the past walked up there?” If he had to imagine the surface of the moon, Trisstiss was the best representation he had in mind.
“Yes. From the memories I have, there were cities up there.”
Erol had looked at the moon many times. He had never seen megacities. Nevertheless, Suzanne must certainly be telling him the truth.
He realized that this was the first time that they could actually have a conversation together and he asked himself what else she could teach him that sounded delirious. But the mist that escaped from his mouth brought him back to reality. He was shivering. The black desert of the early morning was a frozen plain and he was shirtless, weakened while the village was still a few hours away on foot.
Like him, Suzanne was heading for the remains of the gutted hot air balloon. The storm had torn the fabric apart and the remains now hung on the branches of a black tree. The wicker basket stood at its feet. The control panel was in pieces and a dribble of gas escaped from the steel vessel, whistling. When the smell of propane reached his nose, Erol froze. “No reason for this to blow up in our faces, right?” he asked. But before Suzanne had a chance to reply, he tore a piece from the remains of the balloon to make himself a scarf.
Suzanne took a few steps backwards: “The burner seems to have been torn off. Let’s just avoid creating any sparks. Is there anything we need to get from inside?”
The search of the trunk that once stood under the control panel was fast. The iron lid creaked open, revealing some European airman’s gear, an empty canteen and a knife, which the archaeologist offered to Suzanne. They could now head west to the town that bore the same name as the county: Trisstiss.
But first, Erol inspected the ground in search of the monster’s traces. He found nothing, however, and began to think that perhaps this latter had been the fruit of his imagination.
After almost an hour of walking, they reached a path that they almost missed because it faded into the landscape. Erol could nevertheless see old horse tracks and rubber wheel marks between the visible asphalt paving stones.
“Aren’t you hungry?” His own stomach had been growling constantly since their departure from Renaissance. They hadn’t had the time to take any provisions with them, but a few edible lumps were still at the bottom of his pocket. A very limited number. As the young woman pointed out to him, the rest of their journey would prove to be very difficult if Marian had already left Trisstiss. “Do you know how to hunt?” he asked her then.
“No. And in my time, we ate very little meat.”
“Ah. So no chance you would be able to get us that rabbit over there.”
The rodent jumped a few dozen meters ahead of them, in the shadow of a dune of black sand. It was all skin and bone. Erol drew his weapon before handing it to the young woman who had shown some prowess at Bacchus’s Lair, but she recoiled in terror.
“Is there something wrong?” Erol asked; he kept expecting the white-eyed monster to appear behind him.
“I just remembered that I killed a man with this gun.” Her eyes immediately filled with tears. The adrenaline that had allowed her to contain her emotions during their escape and their crash in the middle of Trisstiss had finally dissipated from her organism.
Erol hugged her awkwardly between his arms and then reassured her: “You did very well when we were there. We had no other choice.”
“Why does everything keep getting worse by the minute? I have this feeling that it’s all an endless spiral towards barbarism.”
Suzanne drew away from his embrace before drying her tears. Erol saw her trying to gather herself but when her lips moved, no sound came out of her mouth. She wanted to tell him something.
“We shouldn’t stay on the road,” he resumed. “Let us press forward until we find shelter and then, I think we should have a little discussion. But for the moment, we need to save our strength.”
Suzanne nodded and they resumed their march westward. It was getting warmer and warmer and the weight of the leather coat was beginning to make itself felt on Erol’s shoulders.
They were completely dehydrated by the time they finally arrived at a boulder above the road. The boulder was inclined by forty-five degrees and rested on a landslide of rocks and iron. A metal sign, riddled with unidentifiable collision marks, told them that the village of Trisstiss was a short distance away. Once there, they would hopefully be able to find some respite and get something to drink and eat. But before, Erol proposed to his partner that they take a much-needed break.
Suzanne climbed and took a seat at the edge of the rock. Her legs swinging in the void, she scanned the horizon. With a wave, Erol signaled that he was going to join her and when he climbed on the perch where the young woman with mother-of-pearl skin was seated, he found her upright, but her shoulders were hanging low. “Don’t you wish to take some shelter from the sun for a few minutes?”
Suzanne shook her head. “Is there nothing in this world but hostile territories and cities in ruin?” she asked, a hint of sadness in her voice.
“The shores of the west-east are rather welcoming this time of year. They are close to the ocean. But what stands before you is all that the High-Lands have to offer.”
Suzanne continued: “What are we going to do once we have found Marian?”
“I was thinking of returning to the capital. Renaissance is the only place I have ever really known…”
“And if the city has fallen during the night? Seen from the sky, the situation seemed rather catastrophic.”
It was precisely what he was most worried about. What was the point of reaching the technomancer if he had to live the rest of his life hunted down like an animal by the Inquisition? He would never be safe in the High-Lands. Even in the East, hidden in the mountains. Or beyond, in the plains that belonged to the Slavs.
The questions continued to ring in Erol’s head. Perhaps he might be able to join the black river that slithered through the Balkans. But to land where? The north perhaps? The Nordics would slice their tongues off. They were even more heinous than the Inquisition. The west was out of reach although the Colonies were the promised land. At least until the next eruption. To the south then? Shandalaar or the free Arab ports. The south was an option. His very last one, however, because escaping to the south would mean having to climb the highest mountains of Europe. Or crossing the luminescent sea. It meant almost certain death.
Suzanne was waiting for an answer. He could see it from the small wrinkling of her nose and the way she frowned. She coughed. The yellow snow had started to fall again. The storm had brought the ashes over Trisstiss.
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From one of the pockets of his jacket, he brought out a stained handkerchief whose edges were decorated with a golden trim that crumbled once in contact with the air. He made a makeshift scarf before handing it to her. “Marian will know what to do,” Erol lied, trying to reassure her. “The technomancers always have an answer to everything.”
“You seem to be putting all your hopes on him. I have trouble believing that no other person is able to bring any clarity on what brought our world to its demise.”
“One thousand years separates us. It’s one hell of a long time for everything to go back to the Stone Age.”
“You didn’t find any pertinent information when you rummaged through his files? On me or on the Dammastock?”
“He left a few things in his office. Everything is in his head unfortunately. On that note, are any other memories coming back to you?”
He saw her hesitate.
“You were about to tell me something earlier.”
She finally answered him: “Some thoughts are haunting me. Violent dreams and other visions that are a bit more pleasant.”
Every detail of Suzanne’s past life was relayed to him. He heard about a Tom, about a Lionheardt Corporation, and about Josias, some sort of project about rockets to be employed at the planetary scale in an underground compound under the Dammastock. It was a lot of information to digest.
“I am also thinking about the gardens … regarding the Inquisition’s coat of arms. You told me that you recognized it,” Erol asked, as he tried his best to keep a balance sheet in his head. What he wouldn’t give for Octave to have been there to keep track of everything.
“Yes. I saw it in a dream. The same dream where I was shot in the stomach. The symbol was identical to the logo flashing on Tom’s computers: a circled triangle.”
“Strange. But this might be nothing. They may have found that symbol some place. In a compound, for example.”
“I thought they—”
“Oh, das arschlochs do their own searches too. They are a bunch of disgusting hypocrites, if you want to hear my opinion,” Erol joked, wiping away the sweat that was beginning to beaded on his forehead. “In any case, that is why they are chasing down my cyborg master.”
“They are tracking me now.”
“Yes. And since the only common tie between you, Marian and I is the Dammastock, I am wondering…”
Suzanne voiced something that was bothering him too. “Do you think they know about the missiles?”
The world had not been healed, Tom Lionheardt’s plans had failed. His project, if it had seen the light of day, must still be under the mountain. “Seeing they didn’t receive this information from Marian … or from me…,” Erol followed up. He cursed the night when he had infiltrated his mentor’s office. “They were drawn to you. The nun saw clearly through everything the moment she laid her eyes on you.”
But another question was ringing in his head. Once again, Suzanne had arrived at the same conclusions. “Focused on the Dammastock as they are, I am convinced they’re aware of the project orchestrated down there. Do they know that these missiles have an ecological purpose?”
“Certainly.”
“They are not weapons… Tom did not make weapons!”
That Tom who appeared in her dreams. And not only… “Didn’t he ask for your help in your dreams?” Erol inquired.
“Dreams? They don’t feel like dreams. It seems to me that he’s trying to tell me something. I am persuaded that he is alive.” She tapped her temple, right at the spot where her implant was located. “Do you think that the Inquisition or someone else might have found him in a cryogenic device too? That he is being held somewhere? That perhaps this is how they came to know about…,” Suzanne asked.
“It is possible,” Erol admitted. “But Marian also knew about the compound’s existence under the Dammastock. And I doubt very much that one day he went and kidnapped your boyfriend…”
“Nevertheless, there is nothing about him or about this subject on the net. The information must have leaked or else…” he heard her whisper.
Erol followed with his eyes the young woman as she fell into the dust. She landed without a sound, bending her knees to cushion the shock. There was a feline-like elegance to her jump.
“Talking about Marian…” She resumed. “What does he look like?”
“Marian? These days he is more machine than human. Based on what I know, he used to be a giant before age … atrophied him? I don’t know what the right term would be. In any case, he was known for being a hell of a colossus with ebony skin.”
“Ebony skin?” Suzanne repeated. His answer seemed to have surprised her.
“I mean yes. It’s not the most common skin color here, but … at the end of the day, it’s not the type of detail we worry about too much in these parts of the world. Wasn’t it the same in your time?”
“Did he wear a yellow suit?”
It was a strange question. Obviously, Erol had not known Marian during the time when he was made entirely of meat and bones, but he had never seen him wear a suit. And even less, something yellow. “Why all these questions?”
“A big man with black skin and a yellow three-piece suit visits me in my … dreams. I have the impression that he doesn’t belong there and he settles in like some sort of observer. Kind of like Thomas.”
“An individual intrudes your mind when you sleep?” Erol asked, having recognized the type of trick that was typical of technomancers.
“Do you think it’s him? Marian. That he’s trying to contact me?”
Erol finally admitted that he had no idea, but that there was little chance that Marian and her visitor were the same person.
“One thousand years of cryo-sleep does leave their mark after all,” she said. “I have this impression that I am somehow incomplete … that a part of me is missing.”
“In any case, if you don’t know what caused all this,” he resumed, pointing at the black desert with his hand, “your contemporaries imprisoned you in that box much earlier.”
“No idea. But yes, most certainly.”
She finally began to walk towards the path.
Why do I have the feeling that all of this will end very badly? Erol thought, before joining her and resuming their journey. He had definitely gotten himself in some fine trouble the day when he had decided to rummage around the technomancer’s affairs.
The cadaverous trees grew in number as the hours passed by until they formed a very dense forest. The road, now entirely paved, became more winding and bumpier before finally reaching a hollow path dominated by sinister hooded figures. There, a curious fog enveloped the trunks. A thin wind was blowing, and it had the effect of making the leafless peaks dance above the two travelers’ heads. On the path, the wisps tangled up among themselves, forming humanlike silhouettes. In front of Erol’s eyes, white specters were flying around.
The sun suddenly disappeared under the black branches forming a busy dome. Darkness fell little by little as a deathlike silence reigned in this floral cathedral as a shadow hovered above the two lost figures. It had been following their movements for several minutes now. The dust muffled its steps, and the sound of the wind hid its breathing.
However, Erol’s instinct thwarted its tricks and his glance finally landed on the animal. By reflex, he stopped Suzanne and, without removing his eyes from the darkness, he murmured: “Don’t move…”
“What did you…” she began before seeing the creature. “Zut alors! This wolf is huge!”
Its fur dark as the night, the carnivorous beast stood in front of the adventurers, remaining completely still and seated.
“That is a wolf? I thought it was a verdammt bear. Still, it has a strange way of hunting us,” the scholar concluded, having taken his sword out of its sheath.
Suzanne, who had grabbed her gun, mentioned how strange the beats looked. Its eyes were a milky shade with subtle nuances of gray. They shone in the darkness although not the slightest source of light reflected off them. And not once did the wolf blink.
“It’s the one from before. Wait! Give me this,” Erol ordered, exchanging his blade for her gun. Suzanne placed her hand on the archaeologist’s arm, prohibiting him from aiming at the creature.
Before the tomb raider could release the slightest protest, the lone hunter disappeared into the darkness, veiled by the fog. Only his eyes remained frozen for a moment before they too faded away,
“Are you crazy? This beast will jump on us before we reach the village!” Erol said, scanning the surroundings for the monster.
“Please calm down. That wolf is no ordinary animal. If it had wanted to, it could have caught us by surprise rather than disappear in the shadows,” Suzanne answered. “But look, it already walked away.”
In fact, the beast seemed to have disappeared behind the fog. Plunged into the darkness, Erol shuddered as an icy chill began to take hold of him.
When the chimneys and roofs of the hamlet of Trisstiss came into view at the top of a small hill overlooking the sinister woods, night had just fallen. Through the fog, Erol could see a few faint glimmers of light behind the discreet windows. However, the center of the village was flooded with a powerful orange-yellow glow that pierced through the fog. A strong smell of burned electronic circuits invaded his nostrils.