We found more stones. Red, beautiful, shinning. Derset, Sadri and Valia think we could at least sell these things. I concur. The funds would further my journey. But we can't sell the Red Stones if we can't get out here, can we?
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The wagon hauled in silence. The men marched in soft steps and humbled heads- treading carefully on the pale grass. Even the wind abandoned them, not a rustle.
Fredrich sat on the back of a wagon. His numb back yearned for a flat lie. The other wounded prevented that. He understood their needs. But the wagon was already too crowded for comfort.
He dragged his leg. It was splinted now, some broken spear tied to it. The pain still throbbed, pulsing where his shin was shattered. Gren assured that it would heal. Not too broken, the Vanadian said. Fredrich hoped that was indeed the case. His life didn't need being a cripple to further its misery.
They had been travelling south ever since the fall. They were to meet with King William of Hadea, he was told. To rally. To recompose their lost unity and retake the wall. The Centurion talked about it with hopeful tongue. As if it was certain. Fredrich knew better. It was impossible. The wall was lost and thousands of them were slaughtered for it.
Being in the wall for close to a month, he thought that he was not a stranger to death. But what he saw today, that goes beyond death. It was torment. Stuff nightmare fodders on. Men burning and screaming- their own men. Soldiers still in their armor bitten in half by Maulers. Body parts scattered in pools of blood. He had enough. This whole thing was madness. Madness beyond madness.
He would have run if not for his leg. More than half of the defenders perished in gruesome ways today. Tens of thousands of lives lost in one attack. How could that Centurion talk about retaking the wall without a wince? How could he lie like that? Or perhaps he didn't lie. Perhaps he did believe that it was possible. If that was the case, then all the more reason for Fredrich to run. They were insane. All of them. Insane.
He rested his head on the wagon's wall. It provided small comfort though he still longed for a proper position. He patted his torn trouser and felt the bulge on his side. It was the book Ice had given him. The thing survived where men didn't. He didn't even know why he kept it. It was light, yes. But keeping useless thing wasn't his chosen quirk.
Soon it sat on his lap, peaceful. How better it would be for him to become like the book. Sometimes he wished for that. Just sitting in languish, not caring, unconcerned of the horrors this world gifts.
Fredrich wetted his thumb with saliva and flipped. The same strange language was written. It curled in long lines instead of being separated by spaces. Symbols were seldom repeated. Sometimes the handwriting was hurried as if the writer was in panic.
"What's that?" Came a voice beside. Fredrich tilted a look and a man was reading the book with him. The man's face was swollen, his cheek full red. A white bandage wrapped around his head, spot of red where on of his eyes should be.
"A thing you need not concern yourself."
"Shouldn't you be friendlier? Just trying to strike a conversation." He sucked his lips. "This sight is miserable enough to be silent all the way."
"Shouldn't you be miserable too? That eye of yours don't look functional."
"Oh this" He pulled the bandage down and showed his eye. It was minced, the socket itself shattered. "Beast got me good. Claw to the eye. That bastard is good. I'll go blind, said the surgeon. Nothing he can do."
"Good for you then. You'll have a way out of this mess. They'll discharge you early and you can return to wherever you are from. An eye is a good trade for escape."
"What you talking about? Escape? No friend. That beast who took my eye still prowls out there. I want to take its eye too. I'll gouge the thing hard, screaming beast on my lap."
"You desire revenge then. They say revenge is a lesser form of insanity. Revenge gets people killed."
"But what is life without revenge? Revenge is a comfort for the dammed, a fodder to further commitment. Without revenge I'll be miserable like you."
"Like me?
"Yes, you. Miserable thing you are. Are you not furious that the beast broke your leg?"
"An artillery projectile broke my leg."
"Ah that does happen sometimes. Them Vanadians think themselves as smart. Well they are. But sometimes their calculations are off. But it ain't them who attacked us. The beasts. The Ninevans. I will slay them all."
Fredrich scoffed. "With what? With one eye and half a brain? Look you. No offense, not my intention. But look at yourself and look at us. More than half of our comrades have died. What remained are broken men with shattered wills. Revenge? Slay them all? One look at us and the Ninevans would laugh in derision. What do we have, really?"
"King William and his Hadeans. He is King Timothy's brother. He should at least share the genius."
"King William doesn't have arms. And he is not good with military affairs no matter how terrifying of a warrior he was in the past. King Timtohy, yes. That man could rally farmboys into toppling a kingdom. But his brother? Forget your revenge. Better put your mind into other sorrowful things."
The man stared at him long and hard. The castigating look was warm on his skin, crawling and itchy. Nevertheless Friedrich returned an equally blatant stare.
"Let's not be friends" The man said returning to a slouch.
"Let's not" Friedrich said.
The march never got any jollier. In fact, the downing of the sun pressed an even more dreary atmosphere. The wagon he was on became lighter though. More space was made available as the injured which had turned into corpses along the way were buried. Every hundred steps and a new cairn would rise, futilely remembering yet another dead man.
Their line grew thicker as Steelsword and Apple legions joined them. Like the Rooster, these people wore faces of horror. Armors thick with dried blood. Crumpled shields. Broken spears. Fredrich didn't dare prying some more.
The afternoon retreated into night. A horn blared, followed by several others. Camps were set though tents were in short supply. Those with minimal injuries just lit campfires and hunted for what little game there was. Most returned with nothing.
Food was distributed, molded hard tack. It fit to half of his palm though the thickness was generous. Fredrich eyed the food coldly. Hard tack was a staple part of their paltry ration. He had grown to tolerate the toughness and the staleness. Or at least he hoped. One bite on the thing changed his mind. He could never get used to this. Nobody could.
"Told you he is here" Trest's voice. Fredrich swayed his head.
Trest and Gren were beside the wagon. Like with the hard tack, he hoped that he had grown to tolerate the two. But unlike hard tack, his tolerance was true. They saved him after all. Wounded, chased, they still dragged him away from danger.
Trest pulled the thin cloth draped on his shoulder a little. A skinless rabbit was in there. Trest looked around. "I found it. Good eh? We also found a good spot at the edge of the camp. We will share this with only two others. Thin men, don't worry. The pot's already cooking and we share a little wine."
"Thank you. I never got to thank you for..."
Trest grabbed Fredrich. He was slung like a sack, his stomach on Trest's shoulder. Shock clouded the pain on his leg and he screamed only after a few steps. The two just laughed.
They arrived after several hundred grunts from him. The fire was built on an elevated hill, stones placed around it. There were two more people huddling, Castonians like him based on their dark hairs and eyes. One had a bandaged arm while the other was spotless.
Trest dropped him in a flat portion of the ground. The fledgling grass pricked his bottom's skin. His leg's ache was worse now, the splint moved by Trest's recklessness. Good thing the campfire was warm. He had prepared for a night of shivering but it seemed this one would be better.
Trest handed the skinned rabbit to Gren. The Vanadian skewered it with a shattered splinter of a spear and laid it on top of the fire just beside the pot. Both took their places on his side after.
"These are Herth and Victor." Trest said. "Castonians like you eh? Blood of iron. Body of iron. Iron for breakfast. They helped me with this rabbit. We snared two actually." Trest eyed Gren. "But someone let go of the other one."
"It was a mistake." Gren said. "It slipped alright? The fur is just so fine."
"The more reason for you to hold into it. Fine fur. Could have fetched good gold in the market. Nobles loved fluffy things."
Gren just pouted and Trest sighed. Fredrich pulled his leg into a better position. A torment still, but the pain wasn't throbbing.
"Where are you from?" One of the Castonians asked him.
"Solon" Fredrich responded, not taking a look.
"Ah good place. Mining city. Victor here is from Greenwater."
"Marquis Erik's city. Beautiful sand. Fine fishes especially tuna." Fredrich raised his head. "And you?"
"Anthapis. City of Grains."
"Never been there though stories travel far. They say your Earl is as wide as a barrel."
The man laughed. "Earl Vernice. Yes. Fat man, but kind. My father is his squire once. Still is but he's more like the Earl's assistant or something now. It is indeed a miracle how a man as fat as him got to live long."
"Not really. Hadeans often overdose with wine but I've seen ones wilt into old ages."
"Oi." Trest said, halfway to a grunt. "We Hadeans do not overdose with wine. My father, maybe. Or his father before him. But not us younger ones. The thirst remains, I must admit. It's just the supply of wine has dwindled."
"So it not that the practice is lost but the supply. Interesting." Gren said.
Trest just shrugged and poured what appeared to be diluted wine into his mouth. The liquid dripped to his thick beard. A grunt followed, louder than Fredrich was comfortable with.
"They say Snow Legion were wiped." One of the Castonians suddenly said. The man named Victor was leaning to the fire as he sat, fingers intertwined and face blank.
"The whereabouts of Stallion Legion is unknown too." Gren said as he drank the cup passed by Trest.
"Stallion?" Fredrich asked. "Isn't that the Tulosan Legion?"
"It is. A legion consisting purely of Tulosans. Cavalry half of them. Nearly a thousand knights in their ranks."
"And Grand Master Henry's boy?"
Gren winced. "Casualties of war. Great loss though. He is a taled to be a match to his father. Good with the horse. Splendid, in fact. The second youngest Prefect Knight in history just a month older than when Grand Master Henry himself became a Prefect. And now he's lost. Gone."
Vane. Fredrich had brushed fate with him a few times. His mother, after all, was a close friend of Grand Master Henry's wife. Vane was a tall man, he remembered. Pious and righteous. Too righteous in fact that he gained Fredrich's annoyance. But Vain's loss was indeed a great one.
Fredrich grabbed Gren's broken spear and struggled rising. He limped his way into the dark grass.
"Where are you going?" Trest asked.
"Urinating."
"Need help?"
"I do but I won't. I'll have my privacy unstained thank you."
A few dozen steps winded him. He descended the hill and found a flat surface. He looked up. The campfire wasn't far but his way up would be a heartless struggle. Maybe he should ask for Trest's help then.
Fredrich sighed and downed his trouser. He drizzled on the grass, sparks tickling his spine. It felt good relieving himself after a whole day of riding in that wagon. Other men would just urinate like dogs. But he prided himself in having the decency to urinate in private. The last drips were not long after. He pulled his trouser and buckled the belt.
"Pissing in the dark all by yourself despite being injured. That's the most Fredrich thing I could think of." A voice said from behind. Familiar. Swift. Sharp. It was Ice.
Fredrich turned. Ice looked battered with bruised face and slacking posture. "You survived."
"The mind is still slow. When I left Ninev, I was a prime candidate for the Fifteen First-rate Councilors. A mere thing like that can't croak me. But I must thank you for hauling me at least that far. I was not fully conscious. But I saw Fred. What you did to that Sentinel. One hand and you snapped his neck. A Sentinel dying like that to a human. Who are you?"
"So you saw" Fredrich nodded slowly. "I don't understand. Really. What you saw, what I did. I don't understand any of it. I just did it."
"Well I do have a guess." Ice nodded. "You want to know?"
"Information is always welcome."
Ice raised his finger. "But first let me do a test. I will try to kill you and you must try to survive." He looked around. "This may end up as murder but it's not murder if nobody sees the act."
The words were still forming though in his mind when Ice threw a shard to his chest. Fredrich avoided just in time. The shard lodged on the ground, cutting it deep.
"Are you crazy!?"
Another shard flew. This time it cut his arm, the pain was immediate. It wasn't a joke. Ice really meant to kill him. He ducked and avoided another.
"You can dodge even with your leg. Seems to me we have to up the test. I'll come to you Fred. And I'll cut that neck of yours."
"No."
Ice leapt. The Ninevan was upon him in a blink, forcing a shard to his throat. Fredrich saw the shard nearing, gaining speed as it aimed for his neck.
The same warm force jolted his being. It flowed and it engulfed every bit of his soul. He felt it from his scalp down to his soles, from one tip of his finger to the other. His eyes again exploded with blue light.
The shard melted. In one swift flick of his hands, Fredrich formed a wall of ice around him. He needn't think as if the knowledge of making ice was always part of his memory.
Ice hand was frozen and he smiled beyond the wall. "So this is cold. I finally felt it."
Fredrich panicked the moment he realized what happened. Ice crystals formed from his hands, shooting in random.
"Help! I can't...help!"
Ice laughed. "Easy there. Still your hand and breathe slowly."
Fredrich followed and his hand stopped flinging ice. He looked at his palm. Cold air danced on top.
The ice wall soon melted into nothing. Ice's cupped his own wrist with the same wide smile. Fredrich's eyes went back to being dark.
"What was that?"
"Let me ask you who your parents are." Ice gestured to the grass. "Sit and let's talk."
Fredrich sat despite his leg. More accurately, the shock of having that power again forced him to sit.
"My mother" He said. "Is Celine Beyron."
"You are Earl Beyron's grandson? Then that means you are the heir of Solon, the next Earl."
"Hardly. My brother is the next heir. I am a noble in name only. My father is Daltan, the acting Earl of Solon."
"And your father is not from Solon I suppose?"
"He migrated from Canton just after the Cull."
"He's not from Canton Fred. He's from Ninev just like me."
Fredrich shook his head. "You must be mistaken. He..."
Fredrich paused. He didn't have evidence to deny Ice's guess. If that man was indeed a Ninevan, then he wouldn't know.
"That's right. I think he's a Ninevan, a runner just like me. But instead of siding with the humans, he hid." Ice produced crystals on top of his palm, beautiful blue crystals. "The Grand Consul made it into law to prohibit commoners from breeding with Gifteds. Of all his laws, this is the one that has the most teeth. The punishment is death for both mother, father and child. All other people involved in hiding the crime would also be executed along with their family."
"That is dark."
"It is. One of the reasons I left that dammed place. But do you know why mingling Gifted and Commoner blood is prohibited? Because sometimes their spawn would grow into a special brand of Gifted called Deviants. Deviants have gifts not included among the fifteen known gifts."
"And you think I am a Deviant?"
"Yes. If I'm to guess you gift is stealing any Gifted's gift and making it your own. You stole that Sentinel's strength and you stole my icegift. Now that is just powerful."
Fredrich shook his head once more though Ice's guess was sinking to his mind. Perhaps Ice was right. "Let's throw the doubts and say you are correct with your huge assumptions. What now?"
Ice allowed a small window of silence. The Ninevan sat on the grass in front of him. "Aside from Shadow himself, there is only a single known Deviant in the world. She is about your age, a girl named Crystal. She is a councilor, a high-ranking one. I heard Shadow is still coaxing her in joining the Resistance."
"I'm not asking about this Crystal person. I am asking about me."
"Deviants are important to us. I will report this to the Eternal Pair. Let's see what designs they have for you."
"I don't want any part of this. I feel it in my bones, whatever designs they may have for me, it would be dangerous."
"Choices, Fred. You don't have it. I think you'll have a great role in this war."
"But I don't want to. I just desire finishing my two-year conscript time. I mean, yes I have a unique thing in me but I am not versed in fighting. I would die somewhere and I don't want to die. So please. Just forget about what you saw."
Ice just smiled to that. "Die? Yes you could. It is war after all. But I don't think you will die, Fred."
"And what makes you certain?"
"Do you know why the Grand Consul wants all the Deviants killed?"
"Because he hates them? As for why I don't know."
"Wrong. Very wrong." Ice's smile widened. "He doesn't hate Deviants. He fears them."
Fredrich stared blinking at Ice.
"Yes, Fred" Ice continued, voice cold. "The Grand Consul, the head of the enemies. He is afraid of you."