Johan sprung back down, knees bending deeply as he hit the ground. Further proof he was never likely going to let this go. Before he left, though, Esgona thought he might try to get somewhere first.
“Johan, wait.”
Johan turned, walking back over to where Esgona sat and followed the moving cart along, waiting. “I have a request.” Johan smiled. This was just what he wanted to hear. He likely didn’t even care what it was. The fact was, Esgona was in some way admitting he needed him for something. He would be simply insufferable now, but it couldn’t be helped. “Whatever useless plan you’re putting together in that brain of yours, I’d like to hear it first, before you go do something stupid.”
“Now why would I do that? What could I possibly owe you?”
“You don’t owe me anything. I’m just saying that if you come up with something and think it might work, telling me may trigger something useful, something about what I’ve seen that doesn’t seem needed now.”
“Aw, isn’t that sweet. Why so caring?”
“Because, like it or not, we’re all that’s left of our home…”
“Us and Aryu.”
A quick-telling glance told Johan that as far as Esgona was concerned, the jury was still out on Aryu O’Lung’Singh.
“We are all that’s left, Johan. It’s no secret my feelings on this whole thing, but I’ve seen what they do to people. It’s not right. I don’t want that to happen to anyone if I can stop it. Somewhere out there is someone smarter than you who is planning something better, but until I meet them, you’re all I’ve got.”
Johan considered the truth in the words, then nodded. “Fine. Have it your way. If I come up with anything, I’ll let you know.”
That was enough of this conversation, and Esgona turned away to get some rest. He’d swear this was the early stage of an alliance. The thought made him sick.
-----------------------
After two days of hard travel, the caravan reached the village of Huan.
It was burned to the ground.
There was still smoldering and the crackle of random fires in the buildings they saw. Something or someone had hit hard and fast. It wasn’t long before their arrival.
Small groups were sent out to see if anyone had survived and hopefully see what had happened. Johan set off with one and searched the village perimeter. Esgona stayed back with the caravan.
It wasn’t a large village. Maybe half the size of Tan Torna Qu-ay, if that. Huan was clearly a merchants’ town, as most of the buildings were meant for trade and sales. The homes here were small and not meant for large families or extended stays. Although set in a beautiful valley junction, the soft roar of the Thunder Run barely audible in the distance, no one ever wanted to stay here long. It was too far removed from most things to be livable, and the winters could be legendary in their nastiness.
As they followed the perimeter, Johan made mental notes of the landscape. One side of the village gave way to a sharp drop off that led to a small stream which was likely a raging torrent in the melting season. On the other side of Huan was a sloped, open field that gave rise to two massive mountain valleys higher up. An individual road was visible between each one. The one slightly to the north was the intended route of travel for the majority of the caravan.
“So, are you still planning on heading past the Run?” one man with an aged hunting rifle asked Johan after about ten minutes of searching nothing but wrecked buildings and dying fires. He was a slight, middle-aged man with short black hair and quick, darting eyes under bushy brows. Johan nodded and kept scanning the terrain making mental notes. “Is that so? Well, that does seem like a shame. To make it this far only to die on the road ahead.”
Johan looked at the man, who was staring him down, clearly looking for some reaction. Johan said nothing, but was intrigued at what the man might have to say.
“Oh yes, you’ll meet your end on that road, I promise you that.”
“What makes you so sure your road is any safer?” Johan asked.
The other two had stopped now, wanting to hear both sides of this confrontation.
“Well, there’s strength in numbers for one thing,” he answered, “and for another, even without being chased by the mechanical monsters behind us, the way along the Paieleh is cursed to misfortune and desperation.”
“That’s your argument?” Johan asked, smirking. It was clearly foolish to have listened to the man in the first place. “Curses and misfortune? Good gods, look at us all. Look at this village! I’d say the evil is spread pretty evenly right now. I’ll take my chances, thank you very much.”
The man simply huffed a response and the group continued their search.
The world was a large and complicated place. The gears that turn in all corners at any one point in time are tremendous. No act of God or fate had brought Johan this far. No act of divinity had brought Aryu to him the first time; it was just the way it had to be. Johan Otan’co always knew he was destined for something beyond the life of dishonor his father had bequeathed him. And since he hadn’t found out what that something was yet, it was simply because he had not done what he must in this life, and that was enough for him to put one foot in front of the other every day.
If there was a god left in this world, Johan was inclined to believe that as his search group looped back around to where the caravan waited, god bore a striking resemblance to that of one Cadet Rider August Stroan of the Inja Army.
Stroan
