Chapter 46: Liminal Life
What is between a graveyard and a place of life? Is it a battlefield? A shovel? Death?
If I had to say, it would be a place of absence where absence should not exist. Like a home with no furniture. A heart with no blood. A transitional empty.
Creaking the door open, Vega held her pickaxe in front, prepared for any hiding people to attack. As the light of the sun came in, the tower’s first floor showed a lack of opponents. Opening the door completely, she stepped in, noticing the door was also massive, in proportion to the size of the tower. Her mouth closed in suspense and her eyes opened in search.
No dust or cobwebs. Like all the contents had suddenly disappeared the moment she opened the door.
“...alone.” Vega said aloud, hearing her voice bounce off the walls. She couldn’t even hear her friends outside.
Rhythm was not a thing here. Even in a desert or icy tundra there is rhythm because there is a life that can be. A hardy and strange song, but a song that exists there no less. Yet here, there was no rhythm. Her presence didn’t even start a song, let alone add to.
There’s a vanishing feeling in this tower, as if no one or anything can be here. Not because it's inhospitable, this tower was created for a purpose. Much like a sun bringing no light, the feeling is a dreadful dullness. A lack of life. A wasteland of someone’s creation.
There is no one to help.
One part of the tower, that being a bony scrawny ladder, ascends up. Shaping to the look of a rib cage, this ladder didn’t creak or croak. The ladder was so thin you could your eyes into making it disappear. Hell, in this tower, nothing appeared.
Wishing to find that discovery, that one that kept her going, Vega climbed up the ladder and punched open the trap door above. Soon as she peered her head through, an eerily similar sight was in front of her. Nothing and a nothing ladder.
What about the third floor?
Nothing.
What about the fourth?
Nothing.
The fifth?
Zero of zeros. Hole within a hole. Dark in a dark. Nothing.
All of her enthusiasm decreased on each floor and by the fifth, all she could do was look up at the ladder. This was it, the last one. And then it would be the sixth floor and that would be it.
“This… this shouldn’t be.”
But it is.
“Why?” Vega turned her head, as if the Voice would be talking behind her.
Don’t ask me. I didn’t build this place.
“Not like that. I mean-why me? What is so important about me?” Vega put her head on her knees, looking like a puppy that’s been kicked too many times.
Silence. A lifeless silence was left, and Vega had to endure it.
“You know what. Be like that.” Lethargically getting up, she took a moment to built up enough motivation to step up the ladder. One foot, then a hand, then the next thing and the next thing and so on. The Voice wouldn’t matter, that’s what she falsely believed.
Croooooo…
Her hand pushed on the trap door above her for only a second, and a precise sound was made. Pitter Patter. Brist. Croooooo.
“No! Not now…” Her eyes became heavy, as her whole body felt drenched in tar and weighed a thousand tons. Her right hand let go for only a moment, as she crushed her hand around the ladder. Holding on in fear of becoming consumed by the Voice, she fought fiercely against the overwhelming emotion. A memory from a place she never lived.
I miss you Kaliber.
Vanished. The heaviness in her body and mind, all of it vanished. Her eyes stayed wide open for a while, taking all of the experience in. This was the first time she didn’t suddenly lose control of herself. Even better, she properly got a crucial bit of information.
“Kaliber. Failure. And I miss Kaliber. This is the first-first time I got more than one word!” Dancing around like a wheel downhill, Vega showed a wonderful love of this change. Of this curiosity. Cartwheeling, backflipping, and of course, moonwalking all around the room.
In her mania, she ran up the ladder and busted through the trapdoor. She could hardly care if the room had jackshit in it. What could possibly stump her?
A yellow page of pulped paper on the ground.
“...not what I was expecting, but we’ll work on it.” Her mood cooled a bit but she still pursued the paper with vigor.
Feeling like a cloud in her hands, the paper was remarkably slippery and it fell from her hands a few times.
“Come on paper-paper, I’m not gonna hurt ya.” Her voice softened, like she was talking to an aggressive cat that simply needed to be shown love. She slowed her approach and, finally, held onto the paper.
This wasn’t another deed or official type document. Nor was it written in Tripolian. In an Iozian script, the paper read…
“To Ena,
Whatever you do, don’t try and leave. I know you are scared and alone but you are strong. When I return, I promise that all will be better. You will be better. Give me a few months. All will be better.
I won’t leave you. I won’t become distant.
From,
Kaliber.”
“Kaliber and Ena.” Vega opened her jacket and pulled out one of the letters she had found. “Ena was friends with Kaliber. One was Ioz-Iozian and the other a Tripolian. Were they family?”
The idea of a family stuck with her. Could she call the party her family, Vega shook her head and kept focused on the letters.
“That couldn’t be true, because the deed stated she was a ghost. And yet, one of the letters states that she-she was adopted by the family… but the deed says she doesn’t have a family…” The whole mystery was too confusing to be self securing. In a moment of anxiety, Vega anticipated the voice’s return.
Offput, the Voice did not return. A creeping threat overshadowed her. Although she could accomplish these things alone, she needed some help for now. Vega raced down the stairs and returned to the first floor.
“Turn it to the left!” Bolato commanded Florato, who was pushing the back end of the wagon.
“I am!”
“No, my left!”
“What does that mean?”
“Okay, from where my position is, turn to where I’m turning it, okay?” Bolato leaned his head from behind the wagon, seeing Florato had done the same.
“Oh! Now I get it.” Florato, upon heeding his advice, helped push the wagon into the tower, just when Vega climbed down the ladder.
“...what the hell are ya doing?”
“Oh.” Bolato breathed in two big breaths before continuing. “We don’t have anywhere else to put this thing so we’ve decided to put it in here.”
“Did I say ya can put it in here?” Vega pouted, in a surprising amount of annoyance from her.
This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it
“I’m sorry? We don’t exactly have a hideout or a warehouse to store it in.” Bolato walked around the circular room, gesturing to all the empty space. Florato lay on the back of the wagon and put her hands on her chest in an affectionate plea.
“Sorry Vega, we didn’t know to ask. Is it okay if we can put the wagon here?”
“...sure. But not for the other towers.”
“Why are we talking about towers right now?” Skaldi entered with Amir and Valiato, speaking with an ‘out of the loop’ tone.
“Nothing. Nothing to worry-worry about.” Vega scratched her head, funnily enough finding a spider in it. “Huh. Anyone want to eat this?”
Valiato raised her hand but Amir put it down slowly.
“Oh well. Find-finders keepers.” She smiled and handed the spider to Kaliba, who immediately gobbled it up.
For the next twenty minutes, the team took on the mundane process of putting their gear into the rooms and floors of the tower. Foldable chairs here, some stolen trinkets there, and whatever they could place to make this a pseudo home.
Even though no amount of objects and material could remove that distinct sensation. As if when they were in there a piece of their soul silenced. Not unrecoverable, yet it was seeping into their heart’s fabric.
On the first floor, there was only the wagon and a table that Bolato constructed out of deconstructing its roof. Laying out all the plans that they had stolen so far on the table, they lit the room with candles. Amir constructed four tin hangers that he struck into the roof of the room and added those same candles along with a bit of incense.
A vague speculative mindset was in their heads, as each person wondered what information and perspective they could provide. Bolato, being the most experienced in the field, led the discussion.
“Going to be a long time till we will be able to get out of here. Det had a fleet and a legion but not enough to do naval battles. He’d likely march to the coast, taking down the bandits and raiders. It could be months till we get out. What day is it again?”
“The sixteenth, I think.” Skaldi answered.
“We need to get the plans to the Oligarch, Vega, you said you had to transport a box back before we left Core, right?”
“Yep-yep.” Digging deep in her chest, she pulled out fist sized obsidian box. “For a strange-strange yet skilled man!”
“Alright, that’s gotta be our ticket out of here. We have Vega acting as our front. She gets a layout of the bank and for at least a week, and we plan the heist.” Skaldi illustrated with flamboyant pride.
“They’ll mobilize a navy, break the blockade, contact Det or anyone to tell them about the situation, and we can get out of here.” Bolato added, much to Skaldi’s dismay. Always moving. Always going. Why couldn’t they stay for a bit?
“We take them by surprise, grab what we can, and get out before they even know what hit them.” Valiato spoke with devilish intent, like a tiny demon.
“Calm down sweet pea.”
“Alright Ska.”
“Not only that-that, deal with Tripolians and cripple them hard.”
“I've never been a part of a heist.” Florato said, drawing everyone’s attention. They anticipated a conflict. “But that sounds like a plan. I like it.” Everyone smiled and nodded as Amir went up to the plans and began to read them off for Valiato to translate. Each time he finished it would take her a couple seconds to relay the plans.
“Operation Stomach Breaker. Main goal, burn Iozian fields of both crops to feed themselves. Secondary goal, steal and destroy enough Silphium to cause a population crisis within the Oligarchy, crippling their growth and… starving their people.” Valiato’s words were exact to how Amir read them. Cold. Calculated. Worrisome.
“What will this do?” Bolato encouraged her, shooting her a brother-like smile to continue translating such venomous ideas.
“Destroying their fields will cause mass famine, resulting in their armies being undersupplied and needing to be recovered. Destroying Siliphum will cause a baby boom, resulting in the death… of many mothers, therefore… reducing the population of Iozians.”
Woooooo! The end times are here! Everyone, time to celebrate!
“Holy shit.” Vega blurted out, unable to contain the amount of shock the news brought. “This is like… bad. Like… the worst thing possible.”
“So that’s what Operation Stomach Breaker is about.” Skaldi’s hands rested on his head, as an anxiety induced headache ached. “Definitely in the top ten of worst things I’ve been a part of.”
“What’s number one?” Vega asked, trying to change the subject and keep things humorous.
“Might be this. No, who I am kidding, it is definitely this.”
“~Valiato, we are going to get through this.~”
“~I hope so.~” She gave him a hopeful look, that of a light optimism. Vega couldn’t stand this. Kaliber was so close and now she had to return to old duties. She needed to have time to find out. She needed to fix these problems.
She needed to lay all the cards on the table.
“Wait. One more thing. What about the Assassin? Ya guys don’t think… that they’re here with us, right?” Everyone looked around, as if they had completely forgotten about her. Everyone except Skaldi he scooted beside her.
“Fairies can travel distances easily, but they'd need to know where we are first before.” The elf presented like a historian, with drags and paces to add to the truth of the information.
“What do they look like?” Vega requested, pulling out a bit of paper to remember this key bit of knowledge.
“It’s been a while, but they can only look like a person they’ve seen before. They can’t make new appearances, it has to be based on a person. And… they always have uneven eyelashes.”
“Always?”
“Always.”
“Still, that puts a wrench in our plans. And we don’t know what time table we’re working on.” Bolato checked the plans next to Amir. “Nothing about time or when it's supposed to take place? Any planned invasion?”
“He would have said.” Valiato answered.
“Sorry guy-guys, but I couldn’t grab everything. Too many plans.” Vega sadly spoke. Florato went to her and rubbed her back, knowing she shouldn’t have that weight on her.
“Definitely not right now, or for the next two weeks. It's going to take time for them to recruit folks and to properly organize.” Bolato held an open palm as he circled around the table.
“Past those two weeks, we’re probably working in the dark.” Skaldi cynically added. One hand was attached to the side of his head, nursing the headache.
“~Ari Amir, do you know anything about how long they’d probably take? They’re wondering.~” The kid asked the huge Tripolian.
He scratched his hook nose, getting a bit of his green makeup on his finger. In deep thought and memory, Amir constructed an argument and details key for their understanding. Taking a pencil and paper, he wrote down his thoughts as best he could and handed them to her.
“The soldiers I recognized as both Clan Utiamir and Galabag. Strong warrior culture. Galabag is proud, quick to anger, but definitely skilled. I’m not so sure about Ultamir, they are more disciplined, more than Galabag. I think I remember a time they took over a fortress just by talking, but I don’t quite remember. Definitely richer than Galabag, that’s for sure.”
“Sounds just like him, that’s for sure.” Skaldi snickered, taking in the translation better than the previous.
“As for time, Tripolians usually wait for orders from high command before they act. Unlike a legion which is more autonomous, their forces are linked together. I doubt they’d send a raiding party as that’s best for quick attacks meant to weaken. Even for Tripolians, they’d never want to destroy this city. At most pillage, but never destroy it.”
“That’s good news. But that leaves out time. We need time.” Bolato said quickly.
“~What does it all mean Ari?~”
“~Runtaii knows that his forces are weak and he knows he can’t destroy us without forfeiting all the food and silphium he is ordered to destroy. Operation Stomach Breaker is a blade pointed at us and at him.~”
“Runtaii, their commander, knows he can attack us without starving us both.” Valiato relayed.
“Hmm.” Bolato didn’t rejoice just yet. The news was good but they need everything to declare a final plan.
“~If he strikes, he destroys the food his armies need to march and to live. If he doesn’t he keeps the food and can regain his strength. Given reasonable estimate, he’d attack… on the thirtieth of the first month.~”
“First month of the new year. On the thirtieth day.” The kid relayed. Everyone breathed a sigh of relief. Skaldi’s headache soothed and Florato gave Vega a couple more pats on the back.
“...that’s… that’s really good news.” Bolato let out a weight within him. Finally, he wouldn’t have to worry about war, he thought. Finally, all they’d need to do was give then someone else would do the rest.
“Hell, the watchmen and the bandits would never give us a hard time when we give them the plans.” Skaldi chuckled madly, this was their big break!
“See? Everything worked out alright! We just gotta get the plans to the Oligarch and we’re golden.” Florato laughed all of her nervousness out of her system. Smooth sailing from here on out.
Nothing. This news alleviated nothing for her. Vega felt loneliness. Sure, she was surrounded by people and yet she felt unchanged. Why did she feel lonely? Because she knew there was more behind the surface. There had to be something, it couldn’t be this easy.
The scarecrow understood it in her fibers and her wires, that this isn’t how it's going to go. And yet, she was helpless to say what she wished to say. No words or changes. Her soul cried out. To help them. But she couldn’t. She couldn’t ruin their mood. A self persecuting thought took her.
Why couldn’t she just enjoy this? Why did there have to be another problem to solve? Why did there have to be a mystery to discover?
Why couldn’t her efforts be enough?
Useless. Useless to stop their foolishness.
Everyone headed up the ladder, in a relaxed daze, like they were drunk on the good news. For now, they’d rest up, enjoy the city for a few hours and send Vega to take care of business. To do her job and deliver the box along with the plans.
Skaldi’s foot met the ladder, then his hand, then his foot. The scarecrow sat on one of the chairs as the last candle burned, close to burning up.
“Hey Skaldi?” Vega’s eyes kept to the wall, believing that he would refuse her request.
“Yeah, what is it?”
“...can we finish that song before we give the Oligarch the stuff?” She closed her eyes, believing that he too would leave.
“…Actually yeah. I’d like nothing better.” Skaldi stepped down from the ladder and sat beside her. Her eyes were that of surprised relief, that Skaldi too was present. Even if he was too happy to be cautious, he had that caring look on his face. That he was going to be there even when things have simmered.
He brought her the guitar along with the lyrics that had both written. Cheesy and emotional, they had shared an intimate creation. Beside his chair he grabbed a cup of whatever beer that survived the ship’s destruction.
When Skaldi turned to her, Vega knew two things as he sat beside her.
He wouldn’t leave her. He won’t become distant.
“Hey Vega? You okay? Are you dead?”
“No, I'm ready to live. Live for more than others.”
“Geez. That’s kind of creepy.” Skaldi chuckled once more, laying the lyric sheet flat on the arm rests between them. The paper shared both of their styles of writing, a collaborative blend. Vega joined in a light giggle.
“It is kind of creepy dude. But I’m okay with that.”
“Ha. Why’s that?”
“Life is-is pretty scary sometimes. But life being absent is scarier.” Vega strummed her guitar. Hearing one string was out of tune, she went to fix it.
“Scary to go it alone. But I think we both have begun to deal with it. Flaws and all.” Skaldi reclined, having his hair cover his nose. He blew from his mouth and made the hair fly back to his eyepatch. “We take it as it goes. We’re on the path.”
“Can ya promise me something?”
“Alright. Shoot.”
“Promise me that whatever happens, we’re not gonna leave each other, okay?”
“Why do you ask that?” Skaldi sat straight up, detecting Vega’s shift in mood.
“Look at where we’re at. We’re in a city that is surrounded because the Oligarch deserted it. And we’re in the tower of a per-person who's not here.”
“That is true. But why a promise?” Skaldi leaned in with a silly face. “Sounds to me like you’re a pussy.”
“I don’t have one of those.”
“I would say go get one but that applies more to balls.”
“Heh. Look, I want to make sure that none of us have to leave even though we might be-be physically apart. Ya got that?”
“...you know. That might just be the sweetest thing you ever said. Yes Vega, I promise that whatever happens, we’re not gonna leave each other.” Skaldi held out his fist, which Vega responded with her own.
The scarecrow and the elf fist bumped. It was very cool.
“Thank you.”
“Yep. Now, let’s live for ourselves and for others!”