Compared to their attackers, though, their current state was nothing to complain about.
Aryu had tumbled through the air in an uncontrolled spin, only to deftly gain his balance and land. Confusion was on his face as his ears rang. He had never expected such an event from his actions, but when his eyes focused in the poor light, he saw Johan on the ground several paces from where he’d been, moaning and looking as if he’d been kicked by a folme. At least he was still alive and conscious.
The two attackers were nowhere near as lucky. The one with the weapon was almost entirely gone above the ankles, which were charred and tossed about in the roadway behind the blast. The other, although still in one piece, was missing all the clothing and skin from the front half of his body. His face stared out at them both in the illumination of one of the street-side houses. It was a black and grotesque visage with no eyelids, nose, or lips. Seared eyeballs glared at the scene like a wide-eyed gawker.
Aryu had no other reaction other than to vomit at his feet until his stomach (which really didn’t have much to hold) was empty. Had he the means, he likely would have done so all night. He had never killed anyone before. Now, although he had zero intention to do so, he had killed two men in an instant, based only on the assumption that his friend was in danger. That triggered another wave of dry heaves as he realized he might have simply misunderstood the situation. Perhaps there was no trouble at all? What if these two men were innocent? He doubted it, but it was still possible, wasn’t it?
No, he thought, that was a gun. There was no good intention here. That was a weapon of the Old.
The calm realization in his own mind blinded him to the fact that the very loud and bright explosion had awoken everyone in this quadrant of the city who wasn’t already awake and milling about. Now the area he occupied with his damaged friend was filling up as people hurried to see what had gone on.
Windows opened above him and doors opened on the streets.
It took little time for him to be brought back to the here and now as someone screamed at the terrifying image of the corpses down the road. That face was enough to drive nightmares into the most stalwart of souls.
Aryu reacted as fast as he could. “Get up if you can, we need to go!” he shouted to Johan as he ran to him.
“Holy shit man, you had better stop screaming!” Johan said as he came to his knees, face and arms singed and cut, wounds bleeding. His hands went to his ears as he gingerly tried to look around through the flash burn. It was unclear if he recognized his savior in this current state, but he had enough wherewithal to know he may still be in danger.
The crowd grew more brazen and began shouting at Aryu to get away. More than one person looked ready for mob justice that only chaos can create so efficiently.
Recognition dawned across Johan’s face as Aryu pulled him to his feet. “Aryu? You have got to be fucking kidding me! Aryu!”
“Yea, yea, it’s Aryu, now get to your feet and help me.”
“How…?”
“Later, Johan, I promise, now let’s go.”
Johan could barely see and his ears rang even at low volumes, but the situation steeled him against these ailments. He started walking, instinct driving his feet forward.
The crowd was lost in the horror and no one had the moxie to follow them as they faded into a dark alley down the road. Rumors of army attacks and demon creatures invading the town grew at a speed only a hysterical crowd can propel.
When he was as confident as he could be that they were no longer followed, Aryu asked the drunk and shocked Johan where they could go to hide out.
“No problem, I think I own an inn now,” he replied with a smirk.
Aryu thought he was kidding.
Chapter 11
-----------------------------------
The Shortest Night
Although there was nothing left of the Ark 1 after the blast, the connection between huge southern explosions, armies of ancient making, and a mysterious mutant with a sword that spoke of power and death if you looked at it the right way was a simple step to take.
The fact that this was all erroneous was trivial in the mind of a bloodthirsty crowd.
Aryu had since sheathed the mysterious weapon to aid in their escape. It was obvious that Johan had been stunned thoroughly and needed a place to rest.
They emerged from the dark alleys to what could pass for a major thoroughfare, the street well-lit even at this late hour. People and carts bustled everywhere. A modicum of recognition hit Johan’s face and he told Aryu the place he was looking for was only a few blocks away.
“Do you like it? It’s all mine, now,” Johan said with great drunken pride as they entered the inn. Johan started tending to the cuts and bruises he could see with shaking hands and unsteady washing practices. Eventually, Aryu helped as he told Johan the basics of what had happened when he had made it to Tan Torna Qu-ay. Johan likely wouldn’t remember it all, so Aryu kept it as brief-yet-detailed as possible.
By the time he reached the part about being saved by Nixon, along with Esgona, Johan seemed to show little effects of the booze, his anger burning off the spirits as Aryu spoke.
“They were just using the village to bait you home? For what? Why you?”
Aryu didn’t know, explaining all he could
