Chapter 68: Wake

Michael was packing his things, laying out his arms and armor on his bed pallet to make them easy to put on when he was done. He’d finally gotten a new shield from the quartermaster, though it was singed and dented, so had spent a good chunk of the previous day fixing it up as best he could in the way he’d been taught by Dugan. Marcus approached him from behind. “This could be it,” he whispered as he got close. “It being me dying to the smell of your breath?” he asked as he carefully wrapped his hand mirror in cloth. “No asshole, this could be our chance to leave.” Michael stopped packing and looked at him. So much had happened since the last time they’d talked about it. “I’m not certain I want to leave.” “We’re still prisoners, Mike. We have a bit of freedom, but I don’t want to fight and die for these people. It might not be Earth, but there’s a world out there.” “A world where most people seem to want us dead.” He shook his head. “Not everyone. Stent drafts us, Svict kills us, Tusinia enslaves us, but Swandia lets the parents choose what happens. There's mercenary work there too, closing rifts that bleed from Old Hume and fighting wars to their south. We could make a free living there.” “Where’d you learn that?” “Playing dice and shooting the shit with the regulars. All they do is talk shit about other countries if they’re not gossiping. Now all they’re talking about is some new king to the northeast that conquered two other countries in a single campaign.” Michael thought about the map on Bayle’s wall. “We’d have to travel through Svict to get to Swandia, and they kill lifetakers on sight.” “Seems about as risky as fighting a war to me.” “Bayle doesn’t seem the type to let us go easily. He was stronger than us, and his Titles and Deeds... he’s definitely got more tricks up his sleeve.” “He can’t watch us all the time. We’ll be further from Stent lines than we’ve ever been before. If his guard drops we can make a run for it. If we wait too long it’ll be winter again and we can’t make it then.” “I’m still not even sure that I can heal our brands, and I can’t exactly test it.” He shook his head. “If it’s what you want to do, my offer is still the same, I’ll see if I can heal your brand, I’ll say nothing that leads any trouble to you, but for now I am staying.” Marcus sighed. “I love you man, but you’re a pussy and it drives me crazy.” Michael looked back at him with an eyebrow raised. “You love a man?” Marcus chuckled. “Fuck you.” He shook his head. “Don’t make a decision right now. We have plenty of time to talk about it.” “Have you talked to the others about it?” “Davi’s down, but Pyotr and Ollie refuse to leave without you.” “Dammit, they don’t have to do that.” “Davi and I wouldn’t want to leave without you either.” “But you both would.” Marcus shrugged. Michael couldn’t blame him, he’d been clear about his intentions from the start. The only reason he didn’t bring up deserting more was because he was waiting for a good opportunity. Trying to run away from hounds and horses in the body of a child was certainly not ideal. Now that they were a bit more grown up and travelling with only a single handler though, it was clear the situation had changed. The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings. He finished packing, and made his way down the stairs to meet everyone. The Penitent rooms below them were empty again. Whether they were dead or just on a mission he didn’t know. He hadn’t really bothered to even introduce himself. Considering his interactions with non-lifetaker penitents lead to death in five of six cases, it didn’t seem like a smart thing to do. He made one more visit to the infirmary, but all the men there were ill with fevers that he couldn’t help. After that he made his way to the front gate where everyone was waiting, armed, armored, and with packs slung over their shoulders. “Checking the infirmary?” asked Bayle. Michael nodded. “Good.” He glanced over everyone, quickly assessing their readiness. “Let’s go.” As they left the fort Bayle set the pace himself with the rest of them following closely behind. They passed a number of incoming and outgoing soldiers and supplies as they moved across the road, most of them taking a moment to acknowledge and exchange salutes with the Knight Lieutenant. Bayle moved at a fast pace, not one they couldn’t keep up with, but one that was right on the border of it. They moved non-stop for nearly four hours before he had everyone move off the road to take a break. While everyone took some time to eat and drink, Bayle had nothing, instead using his time to write in one of his notebooks. Because of their pace they hit hostile territory quickly, and were walking on a very wide road that had been carved through the forest. Michael could see what looked to be the impressions of hundreds of boots and hooves in the ground as they moved. It seemed they were moving in the wake of a much larger portion of their forces. In Michaels mind that meant they were probably safe, but Bayle very suddenly halted, holding up a hand for them to do the same. “Horses,” he said simply, and pointed to the group then to the edge of the road. They all followed him, crouching down in the thin brush near the road to stay hidden. For two minutes Michael heard nothing then, faintly, he started to hear the sound of horses moving toward them at a rapid clip. Michael had already assumed that a number of Bayle’s Titles and Deeds granted increased awareness, but that confirmed it. After another minute nearly twenty mercenaries riding piebald horses and wearing thick armor made of interlocking rectangles of steel passed them. As they left them behind, Bayle stood up and started walking back onto the road, making another quick note in his book as they moved. “Where were they from? I haven’t seen armor like that before,” asked Michael. “They’re from Creant, up north. I think,” said Crick. “I hear they actually send their kings out to fight.” He shook his head. “Crazy fucks.” They walked for around another hour before stopping for a final break. This time Bayle ate with them, though he seemed much fresher than all of them, even Michael. “We have a little less than two hours of daylight left. We’ll walk at least another hour, then find a place to camp for the night before the light is gone.” They all nodded, and Marcus glanced at Michael. The road they’d been walking on finally broke through the large forest they’d grown used to walking through and they found themselves in a wide open plain dotted with only a scattering of trees and hills. Michael felt oddly exposed without the forest nearby, but did appreciate being able to see the open sky for a change, and while he couldn’t hide in the woods, neither could anything else. He did not want the surprise of another jagged elven arrow in his back. They crested one small hill, and Michael stopped in his tracks. The green hills and clear path he’d expected at the top of it was instead a scene of horror. There had been a battle there. Tan uniformed bodies littered the ground, their flesh covered in flies or being torn into by massive vultures. Huge patches of ground were singed black by fireballs and lightning strikes, and almost none of the bodies were whole. They’d been blown apart. He couldn’t see the end of it from where he stood, and when the wind changed and blew the air from over the battlefield into his face he nearly gagged. He forced himself to step forward, and his foot landed in something soft and yielding he yanked it back in surprise causing a cloud of flies to buzz up and around him. He flinched and swatted at them as he stepped backward. He hit Pyotr as he moved and Pyotr patted the back of his armor causing it to clang a bit. “It’s okay brother. Eyes forward. I'm with you.” Davi and Marcus were still behind Bayle and moving forward across the carnage, but Ollie had also hesitated at the top of the hill and stood near them. Michael and Pyotr gave him a mild shake and he nodded. They managed to get themselves walking just as Bayle was turning around to check on them. Michael had seen death since he’d arrived. He’d even seen some before he’d arrived. That was different though. He’d seen only a few dead a time, and never...rotting. He kept looking, unable to look away even as he dodged around chunks of bone, fallen banners, and globs of viscera. He stopped again as he saw a vulture tearing into a corpse with a cloud of flies around it. Some trick of perspective, or his imagination made it seem like it had just bit off a man’s entire head. That wasn’t possible. The absurdity of it almost made him laugh, then he as he focused on it he saw gold letters start to float around it.