Journey to the End of the Night

Twinkling lights from the distant palace shrank behind them until they blended with the stars. Soon they rode from the stones lining the inner urbs to the beaten paths and wild grass beyond. Dave and Watermann rode furiously into the inky black, bleeding and flowing over the earth. Their horses whined as they rode for what seemed like hours. Eleanor guided them through the byways and little groves of woodland until they allowed their shoulders to sag a little. The small, hiccuping sobs of the girl crying into the mage girl’s robe accompanied them. Her lop-ears twitched and remained fringed at the edges with dirt and grime. She cried and cried until she tuckered herself out. Only their black silhouettes cutting into the night sky remained. The gentle trot brought them back to this new earth.

Peace settled into their hearts. The three took off their bandannas. Two sighed in exhaustion.

But, as the old saying goes, para bellum.

“Watermann. After we set up camp, we’ll take turns at sentry.”

“Understood.”

“Eleanor.”

She tilted her head, yawning a little.

“Yes?”

“Take care of her.”

She nodded.

Her soft breathing sank into the fabric. Eleanor ran her hand through the girl’s hair. The staff hung tightly bound and secured before her. Winding ways brought them into a forest and obscurity from potential hunters. They set up camp, and Eleanor stole Watermann’s half-tent as the two soldiers shared a single abode. Even after a dinner-less night, their weary bones collapsed onto the damp shelter ground. The poor private stood outside with the fire as solitary company. Nothing came of it. He woke up his commanding officer, and he took the early morning shift. Dave took some time to look around and found a small spring some ways ahead. He took the horses and allotted their graze and drink for the trek ahead. When he returned, the fire was simmering into embers. As he stoked the flame, he heard the faint voice of Eleanor coming from her half shelter.

“Change… huh?”

Drowsiness and weariness strained her voice. She mumbled something and went back to sleep.

The lieutenant took out his lying pocket watch and checked the time.

12:38 P.M.

Her eyes sparkled in the silver that made up her face. Preserved in halide memory forever, silent, unmoving. Beloved.

He gazed beyond the canopy at the rich and starry night sky.

And a little further beyond that.

“We would know, wouldn’t we?”

Faint rustling disturbed his brooding. Dave grabbed his rifle from where he had laid it and silenced his breathing. He waited as the noise crept steadily, and he kept his rifle steady. His finger moved from the guard to rest on the trigger. It came out of the bushes, and he sighed in relief as he stared into the beady eyes of some wildebeest-like animal.

“Go on. Shoo. Shoo.”

It nodded a few times and left. Very smart, that creature.

Dave held onto his rifle for a few moments. It was always good to be vigilant. Mentally cataloging every squeak and gentle whisper that moved through the black ensured a dagger or mace wouldn’t find itself in your collar during observation duties. The lieutenant had seen his fair share of split carotids and blue faces sprawled on the cloth of the red-stained stretchers. Some still called it crippling paranoia. Only silly bastards kept that term.

He worked up the nerve to wipe the sweat from his brow. His hand jittered and jerked as he removed his officer’s cap in search of refreshment. Dave only noticed it when he brought his shivering hand in front of his face, dangling his rank in the air.

The rhythm of his lungs hitched a bit. And again, the trees grew to encompass the whole earth, shading him from the starlight as their spiny fingers grasped more and more. That enormity, the lone steward on his island. Sole witness, even from similar crucible-fellows. He swallowed and put his hat back on.

Change, it seemed, also worked in retrograde.

When the morning broke through the leaves and the rest awoke, exhaustion was not the only thing weighing heavily on his mind, sealing his lips. His batman came out through the tent half with circles under his eyes. They nodded to each other.

No one had bothered them for the rest of the night. Dave called over Eleanor, who was pawing at her eyes trying to wipe away the grogginess. She joined the others in making a breakfast from what little remained of her provisions and their accumulated poverty. Watermann and Dave reloaded their rifles. Eleanor threw on her robe, stashed within her recovered bag, and joined the lieutenant at the planning stump he’d so graciously designated. The two charted a course using her knowledge of the surrounding area and broke camp. He wanted to ask where she’d learned all this stuff, but seeing her eyes lose the joie de vivre, even for just a moment as he brought up the subject, shut him up quick.

Riding along the paths allowed him to think. Watermann had almost exhausted his magazine, and Dave pestered his brain to make the math work. At this rate of exhaustion, they’d run out of ammunition. The lieutenant sighed. Sure, they had maybe 120 to 200 rounds of ammunition total in their webbing and pockets, but they couldn’t afford to get into fights haphazardly. Suppressive fire cost them the most. Dave was on the lower end, and Watermann had his fair share left. The rounds being different calibers made his lower lip fall. Lamia’s disorganization bit them in the ass once more. Even in another world.

He didn’t look back much, but Dave could feel Eleanor bore a hole through his rifle and into his back. Her eyes looked almost enchanted, focused on every motion of the cleaning, loading, and locking of the bolt into battery. The beast-girl’s gaze remained reserved, but she joined Eleanor’s distant curiosity. They dared not touch it, lest the arcane and super-scary staff boom again. That’s what Dave thought, at least.

Watermann glanced at the pair, and they quickly turned away. Eleanor pouted, and the girl followed suit. A sour look crossed his face, and though he kept riding, he stole glances every so often at the pair behind him. Like a night watchman, guarding the orchard as the local rascals conspired and plotted with their grubby little fingers. Of course, Dave also saw her somewhat mischievous glint from the corner of his eye while staking out the ground—God knows why. But he needed the private’s attention on the rear, not his superior’s behind.

“Stop dilly-dallying. Keep your eyes clear.”

And so, at his officer’s behest, Watermann ceased his thoughts and squared his shoulders.

They rode onwards. Dave did his best to avoid the main roads and wandered through the countryside in a general direction. Enough to know, but hopefully incoherent to their potential pursuers. But his mind kept coming back to the problem of the girl. Both of them.

He thought about the situation from an outsider’s perspective: two military-aged men bearing arms are riding with an unattended orphan and a girl who insisted on both her maturity and usefulness.

No, definitely not a good look.

The right thing to do was to call upon some higher authority or law of the land to take them in. Eleanor was useful now, and he wanted her company, but he also worried about her parents. Where could they be? Why would they leave such a girl to fend for herself? Dave could see how rough she looked when they first met; her profession spoke volumes. Mage-at-Arms. Not something even a pimply rascal would proudly declare. They would throw him into the loony bin. Rightfully so. Like Watermann had suggested, once they entered the next town, they could deposit her. It was always an option.

But if she did, the mage would only return to her base state. Even though she was a thief, he flinched at the mere thought. As a father, as a brother. No—he couldn’t. Dave sighed to himself, drawing a stare from his subordinate. His face fell immensely at the mere mention. It was like being in a dugout under fierce bombardment, holding on to something so precious. He just had to keep moving. Just had to keep on moving.

Finally, out of the winding plain and groves, another city was within their sight. They took no time to relish the splendor. Two girls and his private were relying on him.