“Take
care.”
With two simple words, Blue turned and descended the temple stairs, his
gait casual, but his mind in turmoil. At the bottom of the steps, he forced
himself to stop, to breathe deeply and to consider the situation. Yes, he could
admit that he was afraid of the nightmare he was walking into. He regretted
losing the temple in the bargain.
When Harata had left that morning, the Night’s Herald went about the
task of preparing to leave as well. He packed his few belongings, some food, and
water. He couldn’t help but take his time about it, dreading what was to come
when he finished. He would go to see Makoto.
After returning to the world from Elysium, his sentence weighing a bit
heavily on his soul, Blue realized he’d be leaving his home someday. When the
nightmares began in earnest, his fears were confirmed. He’d assumed it
wouldn’t be difficult to find someone to watch over the place when he was
away. Most of the others had aspired to inherit the temple, and had been
disappointed to learn that Blue, nearly always silent and never popular, had
been the one to do so.
He chose Makoto to be the temple’s guardian. Yet, it hadn’t been an
easy choice. There were others far less ambitious, but they’d moved on to
other occupations outside the reaches of the city. Makoto was still nearby,
serving at a large and populous suburban temple. He’d sprung at the chance to
return and claim Blue’s place.
While it was supposed to be a temporary arrangement, Blue could see from
the other’s eyes that it would be anything but. They chatted idly over the
business of the place as they strolled the grounds, the afternoon Prime Sun
radiating its midsummer light, the Black Sun pulsing out its heat. Finally, in
the early evening, Blue turned to begin the long walk to the Industrial Sector.
Makoto looked at him without warmth and said,
“I wish you the luck of the gods on your journey.”
His tone of voice stated, I wish you dead.
Blue said only,
“Take care.”
He’d never return to the temple. Even if he did, it would no longer be
his. The Night’s Herald took this as a sign that his life would change
irrevocably. The thought bought a bit of a shudder, as it turned his mind to his
fears and to the nightmares.
Blue hadn’t been surprised that Harata’s face was the one of the
Clanless. He’d seen enough in his dreams to point him toward that conclusion.
Of the others he was still unsure, though he had some ideas about a few. How
would these people change him? They would come and fill up the silence of his
world. They would distract him from his faith. The test of their presence was
already oppressive, filling him with anxiety. He’d seen their faces lined with
tears, streaked with blood. He’d seen death.
He’d seen himself, his own face drawn and pale. He was in Pandemonium.
What would he do that would send him to such a hell? What betrayal of his
faith, of the Task, would cause such a fall from grace? Blue was doomed to fail,
doomed to be so heinous a force that he’d be denied even reincarnation. He’d
stand judgment in Pandemonium, and he would become the antithesis of all he
dreamed to be.
The Night’s Herald forced himself to take a few deep breaths. What was
to come would come- regardless of any anxiety or fear he felt. The path toward
that day stretched out before him, and he would walk it with stillness in his
soul. He would face the onslaught of humanity, the trials of the Task, and all
the dangers that waited. Blue promised himself that he would remain true to his
faith. The best way to begin was to accept the things that were, without fear or
regret. The temple was gone, the future was filled with potential pain- but this
was simply life in a transitory world. His duty now was to find Harata and guide
him in his flight from Mianuus.
Blue had been waiting in the dim alleyway for quite some time. The
Clanless was late by now, and the Night’s Herald was beginning to wonder what
happened. It was possible that the Clanless had been tailed. He could have been
caught and taken back to the police station. There was also the possibility that
he’d been mugged- or worse. The slums surrounding the Industrial Sector were
notorious for their violence. Perhaps meeting here was a mistake, but there
really weren’t any other options.
The Night’s Herald was weighing the idea of looking for Harata, when
the Clanless appeared suddenly in the orange glow of a streetlight. There was
someone else with him; it appeared to be a girl. Blue stepped out of the shadows
to meet them. The young woman at Harata’s side shied away as she spotted him,
cringing against the Clanless.
“It’s ok,” he told her calmly. “This is Blue. He’s another
Champion.”
She felt the hot, buzzing feeling she’d had earlier. As it grew in
intensity, she worried that she might pass out again.
“I feel… funny.”
“It’ll pass. I feel it, too.”
Blue studied the woman. It looked as if she was wearing Harata’s
clothes. She was of average height, a little on the tall side, maybe, and seemed
to have a nice figure. Her hair was long and very straight. The light from the
streetlamp was weak and orange-tinted, but it appeared that her hair was…
purple? A dark shade, like violet maybe, he thought. It was strange. She’d
obviously been badly beaten. There was dried blood on her bruised face.
“Hi. Sorry I’m late. I ran into something,” Harata said. “This is
Ayame. She’s the Champion of the Dauern.” He spoke the words with pride.
“Nice to meet you, Ayame,” Blue replied politely. “Are you all
right?”
“I’ll be fine,” the Dauern replied, a little coldly. Up close,
despite her swollen features, the Night’s Herald recognized her from his
dreams- the beautiful girl with the violet hair. So, she was the Dauern.
“Well, we’d better get moving,” he said in a businesslike tone.
“We’ve got to get over to the train yard and on tonight’s Overnight before
it fills up with employees.” And guards, he added silently.
They moved on in silence, out of the slums and into an area filled with
factories and warehouses. Harata was glad to be leaving the poverty-stricken
neighborhood. He’d seen terrible things in the fading evening light. The
ancient tenements sagged against each other, threatening to tumble down on
passers-by. Their windows gaped like hungry mouths with broken glass for teeth,
ready to devour human life. These buildings were the guardians of the
destitution all around him.
The pavement was cracked and full of potholes. In places it was missing
altogether, exposing the cobblestones of bygone days like the organs of a gutted
man. In some places, a recent rain had left the potholes filled with muddy
water. Harata watched a stooped figure of indiscriminate sex squatted at one of
the puddles to drink. A dog was urinating on the street beside the person.
Broken glass was everywhere.
Harata was glad when the shroud of night curtained off most of his
surroundings. Many of the streetlights were broken, and some of the tenements
seemed to be without electricity. The streets grew darker and more threatening,
but the Clanless blended into his surroundings so perfectly that no one bothered
to look at him twice. He shuddered, realizing that this was where he
belonged. This filthy, disease-ridden slum was his home, or should have been.
The frightening people he was seeing were his Clan. He felt filled with despair.
Now that was behind him. The factories were shut down for the night, save
for those that had night crews working. It was easy to avoid the pools of light
surrounding them. Harata felt protected by the darkness. Night had become an
ally.
The train yard was sunken below the level of the streets. It was guarded,
of course, but not nearly as heavily as the station. The three found a slope
which was covered in vegetation. It was dark there, a ways from the main area of
the yard. They picked their way down as silently as possible, pausing at the
bottom to check for oncoming guards. No one was in sight, but a patrol would be
along sooner or later.
Blue had learned that tonight’s train was number “N309”. They were
too far from the assembled locomotives to see any of their numbers. They’d
have to get closer.
“Walk, don’t run. We’ll go between those two,” he
indicated a couple of trains not too far away. “They’ll offer some cover.”
Blue’s voice had been a barely audible whisper.
The three stepped out into the yard. Harata forced himself to look ahead
and walk at a steady, almost casual, pace. People walk around here all the
time, he told himself. It’s nothing unusual. He just hoped that it
was too dark to make out Blue’s distinctive garb. Why hadn’t he changed
clothes?
For Ayame, the walk seemed to take hours. She felt sure that the guard
would come at any moment, yelling and waving his arms. She was brimming with
adrenaline, and wanted nothing more than to take off into a run. She didn’t
even know where she wanted to go, except that it was far away. Anyplace else
would be fine.
They reached the trains without being accosted. The yard was
well-organized, so it was surprisingly easy to find the train in question.
“N309” sat benignly on its track, waiting to be steered toward Central.
Getting into the train was not difficult, as it was unlocked for the
crew, who’d be boarding in a matter of minutes. It was very dark inside, and
they bumped their way past cabins, through a lounge and kitchenette. Where could
they hide? There didn’t seem to be anyplace that would remain untouched
throughout the journey. Finally, they stumbled upon a set of bathrooms. Their
eyes had adjusted a bit to the lack of light. Without a word, Blue started
rummaging in a nearby supply cubby. He found something flat and started
scrutinizing it. Finally, he opened a stall and said softly,
“Get in.”
Neither Ayame not Harata put up any argument. Blue hung the “Out of
Order” sign he’d found on the door. He then closed the door and pushed the
latch slightly closed, enough that it wouldn’t fly open and expose them, but
so little that it wasn’t obvious the stall was occupied. A slight shove would
get the door open.
The Night’s Herald opened the pack he’d been carrying and handed
Harata and Ayame a couple of longish knives.
“This won’t work,” the Clanless protested.
“Have you ever tried to use a toilet marked ‘Out of
Order’?”
“We didn’t have running water where I grew up. We
had outhouses,” Harata replied.
“I haven’t,” Ayame offered. She sat on the edge of the toilet, her
head throbbing. She didn’t want to go any further. This was as good a place as
any.
As it was, there was no more time left for argument. The crew had begun
to board the train.
