“It sounds like a pretty stupid deal.”
“You don’t have to tell me.”
Johan agreed that north was the safest course of travel. He found a scrap of worn-out paper and a charcoal pencil and sketched a rough drawing of the route he planned on taking from memory of the maps they’d studied for their quest.
“Two weeks travel north from here is a branching valley that leads into the Hymleah Mountains. If you go west it follows the Paieleh River to the Blood Sea.”
The Paieleh River was famous for its eddies and whirlpools. Boating on it was unsafe and possibly lethal. There was a road that followed it down the mountain valley. Aryu explained that revenge was foremost in his mind and that this route took them away from the advancing army, not to it.
“I have every intention of joining you on that mission, Aryu, but now is not the time. Most people here are going north. Look at this place,” he quickly glanced to the window, the hubbub below clearly audible, “these people are running scared and in a state of total disarray. We need to find a place where the threat of the Old can be addressed strategically. Remember what Stroan said? He was with a band heading north. The Inja Army doesn’t just march off into the depths of the mountains without a plan, and I certainly can’t see that plan having any use where we’ve been or farther north. The Blood Sea seems as good a place as any to start looking.”
The Blood Sea. Somewhere on its shores were said to be great cities and well-traveled highways, but the trek there from here was so long and dangerous. It wasn’t a trip many made on a whim. It was also beyond the Inja borders, a place where the world had moved on without them. But first was the river valley. Once the torrent of water crashed over the great Hymleah headwall in a waterfall called the Thunder Run, it wove through the deep valley before emerging at the Blood Sea, another three weeks of steady travel at least. The valley was prone to flash floods. You could go for days on the road mere feet from the river with no way out if a sudden rise occurred upstream. Long caravans of traders and travelers had been lost to the river’s emotional outbursts. The valley even in the best of times was prone to rockslides and on more than one occasion the greatest of the most fearful beasts imaginable, the Ruskan Stalker, had frequented the valley for a quick, trapped meal of helpless travelers.
Johan looked determined. A man with a plan. “We’ll travel to the village of Huan, the last stop before we enter the Thunder Run. After that, there’s not much other than rock and river for the next few weeks. We can assume that since it’s the most useable route out of the mountains to the northwest that it will be well-traveled right now, and unless something goes wrong, we’ll be alright for supplies. We can align with a larger group and pull our weight to go with them.”
“You know you’ll be trapped in the valley should anything happen,” Aryu said, thinking of a million horrible scenarios but voicing none.
“We’re trapped here. The only difference is that there, the enemies we face are ones we’ve faced before. Time and nature.”
“And Ruskan Stalkers? I don’t recall ever facing one of those on our travels, only one Hooded Stalker scared away with a puddle of water.”
“Moat,” replied Johan defensively.
“Whatever, it doesn’t count anyway. Ruskans can be two or three times bigger than those, with a nasty streak to match.”
Johan was not fazed. “No matter how big, Stalkers’ weaknesses are well known, and bringing the big ones down isn’t an unheard-of feat. At the very least we can jump in the river as a last resort.”
“The deadly river? So dangerous no boat can travel it?”
Johan’s lip curled in a half-grimace, half-smile. “That’s the one.”
Quiet nothingness passed in their little room for some time, each of the three weighing more possibilities than they'd ever thought they were capable of. Unsurprisingly, Johan spoke first, a natural leader. “There are a couple of things that need to be addressed before you go, Aryu.”
Aryu had a feeling this was coming. There were a lot of unanswered questions Johan likely had about many different things. Aryu said nothing as he waited for the first salvo.
“First off, do you know what those men who attacked us had in their hands when you… intervened?”
Aryu shuddered at the memory of the two disintegrated bodies. The stare of the one with the remaining head returned to his mind’s eye, wide and accusing. “A gun. They had a gun.”
“They did not have a gun, Aryu. Guns don't explode like that. It was an Ark 1.”
A hint of recognition sparked in his mind. “Isn't an Ark 1 a weapon of the Old?”
Johan nodded, causing Aryu to run cold. “It is. A very prolific one from the last age of mechanical weapons. Gone for an endless number of years. But I promise you, it was what I say it was.”
“So what does that mean? Could one of those still be around after all this time?”
Johan shook his head. “They used what was called a battery. A thing that holds power for use later. Batteries can't last this long, even the good ones from the old days. Besides, would anyone around here even touch anything from that era?”
It was a good point. They had been slightly leery of the little lights at the bar in this town when they'd come through the first time. An old mechanical weapon likely would have caused a riot in the streets before this Army of the Old had arrived.
“And that power is why it exploded?”
“That and a really
