He could feel the wry smile beneath the beard on the old man’s face. “You are right, of course. We have a use for you and the knife you carry.”
Gods be damned, the knife again? True it was powerful, perhaps even otherworldly, but why did it all come back to this knife? This token gift from a small, poor mountain town? Was Johan a man with a knife, or was he just a knife with a man? Seraphina gently squeezed his hand as a reminder of what it was she had said.
“Why join you?” Johan asked. “You know we won’t join the Army or the Riders. Why should we do anything you ask?”
“Because lad, our paths are the same, and my way offers a chance of victory. Yours likely only offers a useless death.”
“Don’t call me lad,” Johan said with unmistakable bile in his words. He felt it now, clear as day. Caspar was simply a messenger. He didn’t know all the answers either. He was being used. They all were, or at least, they were in the process of trying to be. “Since you know where we’re from and what I am, you won’t call me ‘lad’.” Johan hated being used.
“You’re right of course. My apologies. Men, join me. Come with me to the tower in the center of the city, after a good rest and all those other things I promised. Hear what we have to say. All of you. Make your decision then.”
Johan and Esgona each doubted every word for their own reasons, but let it be. They held no power here. They only wanted what everyone else seemed to want: the destruction of the force that had destroyed their home. They still had no idea how that would be done. Caspar, and apparently others, had an option.
“Alright, sir. We’ll go tomorrow, after all the great things you promised have passed. I think we need a little celebration at this point, sleepy or not. Then, off to your tower.”
“Good choice, fellas. My dear, as you seem intimately tied to this band, you are welcome to join as well.” No response from Seraphina. “Well then, onward to Bankoor, sirs. Then, onward to victory!”
He sped up, rejoining his two riding companions, already headlong into a new conversation with them. “Caspar!” Johan called after him, the volume in his voice enough to draw the attention of everyone in earshot. The Chief Rider turned, somewhat perturbed by the interruption of this new conversation, eyes awaiting the reason.
“If you try to fuck us, you won’t like the results!” There was no bravado. It was the truth as Johan saw it.
No response. No nod. No smirk. No visual cue at all. Just the quiet recognition of a man who could make his life very easy, or very hard.
In silence now, the tired and lucky survivors of the Paieleh River Valley continued to the haven of Bankoor and the uncertainty that lived there.
Johan didn’t enjoy threatening a senior Rider, but he knew he had to be taken seriously. What had been a simple plan of finding his friend and seeking his revenge was starting to take shape, and no force on earth would stop that.
Seraphina whispered to him as they walked. “Do you trust him?”
Johan shook his head. “No,” he said matter-of-factly. “I trust Skerd more than him. If the knife is important to Skerd, it must be important to a lot of people.”
“Is it important to you?”
“Revenge is important to me. That and finding Aryu.”
She believed him. “Do you think he’ll find you here, in such a large place?”
Johan smiled. “For a man who can fly, anything is possible.” He held her hand and squeezed, silently indicating that despite his strong answer, he was still concerned.
She returned the gesture and the two carried on. The valley was now far behind them, though never out of memory, and their tired footsteps headed for Bankoor.
Chapter 22
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Going HOME
After the rough flight (and rougher landing thanks to the extra weight of Crystal) onto the smoldering deck of HOME, Aryu folded his wings back against himself as the wind on the deck threatened to carry him off once more into the blue abyss.
Crystal was on the move already, heading for what appeared to be a hatchway to the lower decks. Most of the robotic soldiers stationed up top had been lost as the base listed and tossed them into the sea. Others were badly damaged and could do nothing to stop the two. The few working models that were left didn’t seem interested in interfering as they clearly had their own orders of putting out fires, fixing broken comrades and generally doing anything they could to solve the problems created by Aryu and his friends.
He didn’t see what had happened to Nixon and Sho. He feared their confidence was wrong and now Sho was at the bottom of the ocean. How he’d ever get out of his armor so quickly without the Power was something Aryu couldn’t figure out, and after Crystal told him for the tenth time to stop worrying about it and follow her, he figured there was no help for it now. They had to keep going and assume the other party was fine.
Once inside, Aryu figured if ever he wondered what the hallways of his own personal hell would be, it wasn’t too far off from where he was now. False, buzzing lights flickered annoyingly as the white/gray walls lit up with red lights on button-filled panels. A warning alarm shrilled into the air and the smell of smoke was everywhere. They clearly had succeeded in catching the enemy by
