Chapter 2

That evening, Athos was fast asleep once again, much to her relief. The shed was roomy and warm, if dusty. There were no unexploded rounds in sight; the caretaker must have disposed of it already. This place will do for a couple days. The stew was bubbling along in the pot as some kind of replacement for soft music in this wilderness. It will be ready shortly.

A little while back, she had discovered an abandoned vegetable garden some way behind the shed. The weeds were tall and most of the produce had been harvested, presumably by the guy who left the dog behind. But she did find what little remained, some undersized onions, ginger, spuds, bitter gourd. After a day of hauling and stressing over her partner, cooking was a welcome change, therapeutic even.

She had also found a handful of sour oranges on a scraggly low tree, but she squeezed out the juice knowing a teeny bit of tanginess was better than tasteless water; she had taken some from the brook and boiled, a few drops of the tart juice in a jugful would do.

“Mm-hm!” She finally took the stew off the fire. The dog meat was tough and somewhat stringy, but not something a hungry vagabond couldn’t chew through. The stew was more a flavored soup, but it was better for sipping through a straw, which Athos, now awake and leaning against the wall, enjoyed much more now than last time out in the elements in that camphor grove. He also picked through the bits of meat in the stew and asked where she got the pork. She would not answer.

For dessert, they cleared the last of the dried fruit and biscuit. They were now totally out of food.

“I will scout for a farm tomorrow,” she told him. “You stay here.” Weak smile. “Sorry. We won’t be having breakfast, that I’m sure.”

Athos was having a light fever, so she steeped bits of ginger on some of the water she boiled. “Come on now…” she chided seeing him make a face at the tea. “We can’t be picky out here.”

“I can sleep this away. Nothing smelly, please.”

“Hah…Won’t ‘ya do this for me, just this once? Think of all the trouble I’ve had with you this whole day!”

Athos stared at her in surprise, and Taran quickly regretted saying what she just said. But… it’s true! Caring for him was no cakewalk, especially with the horse gone, and… Puff. “I-I’m sorry, Ath. But please, just take this. Just… Just get well. Please.”

He kept eyeing her for a short while, but then, “No, Taran, I’m sorry.” He pressed his lips onto the mug and sipped, wincing the whole time. It pained her to see him lke this.

“There,” she said with a kiss on his hair. She did not like doing something remotely feminine as that to him, but she can’t help it. “You will be fine now, bud.”

She reached out and held his hand. She began to sing him a lullaby… actually her rendition of a soft country song she had heard on the radio back in Treverorum. Athos was never one to like music, but she did not care.

Oh… the shine of my eyes

Ohhh laughter of my heart

Oh, the ring in my voice

Will you… Will you

look my way once?

Anyway, it calmed him down and helped the food slide smoothly into his stomach.

Before bed, Taran has already given him the last of the antibiotics and replaced some of the bandages by cutting off part of her own clothing. The one bottle of whiskey they spirited out of the sergeant’s tent she split between disinfecting their injuries and making him numb with drunkenness.

“Through the straw,” he insisted. “Through the straw. Can’t swig. Will throw up the dinner.”

“Muh… Such a spoilsport. This could be your last drink on earth, you know. Ahahaha!” And she put the whiskey into the bowl with the straw.

There was some dry hay in the corner, over which she spread the tarp she had used as a roof to make a bed for herself. Athos will be fine on the stretcher. As soon as she finds other people tomorrow, she pledged to herself her comrade will be in a proper room within that same day.

Athos took a while to fall back asleep. She could hear his breathing from where she was lying. But he did calm down little by little. She tried to keep her eyes open. She must not sleep until her buddy did.

A cold gust blew through the night, sneaking through cracks in the door and chilling the wits out of her, though there was no rain. She was glad to be inside.

“…”

Athos was already snoring. Good. She can finally close her eyes.

The thin metal roof crackled in the wind and threatened to peel apart. Taran found herself slipping in and out of sleep. It was hard to get a good shut-eye with all that noise… But there was another sound. Groaning. Wait… Hey… Athos?

She got up and went over to him, only to find that he was bleeding again. How much damage did he actually get?! There was little choice, she got the service knife and tore a strip off of her tarp, and then tried to remove the used bandage she had ripped off of her clothes.

“Taran…”

“Stay down. Stay calm. You got this.”

“Sh… Sh-Shoot me.”

“Heh?”

“Shoot me now. Please.”

“Shoot you with that? A shot? You want another shot?”

He shook his head in frustration. “The swig was no good. The pain… It comes back… stronger after… after it wears off.”

“What?”

“Just shoot me…”

“Get to the point!”

He struggled to raise a finger at the luggage. “There is… There is still a loaded magazine. Get my pistol. You know how to shoot it… Please…”

Her eyes widened in shock. “No! No-no, Ath… Ath, are you out of your mind? We’re almost out of here. We’re almost out of this hovel. We will make it.”

“You will…” Pant. Gasp. “You will. Not me. I’ll die from this pain… right now.”

“I got no one, Ath. You know that! You gotta go on! Do it for me! OK?!”

His breathing became dangerously shallow. She had enough. Ignoring his moans, she carefully removed part of the bandage near his right rib and replaced it with the tougher tarp she soaked in the leftover whiskey. She fixed the splint, as well. The bleeding had abated somewhat, but it was still there.

She whispered in his ear. “Do it for me, bud. Stay with me.” She gripped his hand. “We gotta go back to Treverorum. We will have our fun times there. I don’t give another air about Four-Leaf anymore. We will be back. We will throw our own party. Hear that?”

She saw him nod weakly and smile. He gripped back. She broke into a snicker, and then, a chuckle. “Good boy…” she said in a breaking voice.

She rubbed his hair with a tender hand and with the other held his in a firm grip. She hummed the lullaby she was singing to him earlier. But the drowsiness was coming back. She ended up nodding off right there sitting next to him, still holding his hand.

Your hand is kinda like a girl’s, Athos had once told her. I mean, it’s tough, too, I don’t like getting punched by you, to be sure… but your fingers are longer, sort of. The palm of your hand is, softer I think. When you hold me normally, your whole hand just feels softer than usual.

“…”

“…”

“Taran?”

“…”

“I… I’m cold.” Puff. “Can you…” Pant… “Can you sleep next to me? Keep me warm.”

“…”

“I mean…” Pant. Heave. “We’re not boys anymore… right? We’re men… Adventurers… Come on… Taran… Lie with me…. Like a true brother…”

“…”

Taran turned her face to the ground. Without lifting it one bit, she got to her feet and went to get her tarp bed to cover her buddy with it. She will be sleeping right on top of the hay.

“Taran?”

“Hm?”

They were sitting in the army truck with the conscripts, shaken by the bumpy, unpaved road. They were all crammed, it was muggy, and there was a lot of rough chatter. Their column was riding towards a certain highway Four-Leaf said was inside her territory and which they could use to pincer Five-Moon’s forces from the south, whilst her own warlord army closes in from the veldt to the east of enemy land in Byskie.

“Taran, I’m not feeling well.”

“Need meds? I got them.”

“It’s not that.”

Something feels off.

Taran stared at him, trying to see what was bothering him, and then she realized it was not about him himself. She looked around and saw the grunts talking and laughing. They don’t seem to be taking this mission too seriously. “Ath,” she told him, “don’t you mind them one bit, OK? We’re adventurers. We’re pros. Let them die if it comes to that.” She gripped his hand. “We will survive. OK?”

“That’s it.”

“What is?”

“Should we be really sitting with them here, in this exact same operation?”

“…”

“Where are the other adventurers from last night?”

She haven’t thought of that. Well… they must have been scattered among the different units of the attack force… blended in with the conscripts like them. “Dunno. But who cares? If they are adventurers, they will survive, too. Eh— We don’t have to be worked up over them, right? The two of us, we do our own thing, we win. Got it?”

The wind did not let up. The roof kept on rattling, and Taran kept on drifting in and out of sleep. The hay was coarse and itchy. She kept hearing Athos groan on and off. Was he still cold? Did she fail to patch him up?

Rattle.

“…”

Rattle.

Groan.

Moan. Groan.

Groan. Groan groan groan.

“Taran…” he wailed. “Take me back to Treverorum. Let’s return. Now! I can’t stand it here!

“Taran!”

She sat up and saw what was happening to him. The blood was starting to pool under the stretcher. She failed. Her ministrations have all failed. His face was going blue. “Taran… Taran…” He went on calling out to her. No. Not me. What can I even do?! Stop calling me! Taran… Taran… Taran… I can’t take you to Treverorum… How many days will it take just to get to the coast? How long will they slug it out at sea before they could land in Guahan, let alone Treverorum!? Taran… Taran… Taran… Not me. I failed you. I failed. I failed! She pressed her open hands hard against her ears, but she could not look away, could not avert herself from seeing the agony. Taran! Taran! TARAN!

She made for the luggage and found the magazine and pistol. Athos was right. She knew how to fire this. She went over to him and shot him in the heart.

“…”

She gazed at her buddy’s face. It seems he was still alive for a second. What… What could possibly be in his head right now? His expression was hard to read; it looked like one of disbelief… or relief… she wasn’t sure. But he was staring lazily at nothing, like someone who was about to doze off.

Her mouth fell open and trembled. What… What did I just do?! Athos… He is in a pool of red—she did not want to even call it what it really is—but he just went on staring at nothing. The light in his eyes was gone. He is… He is… He is gone.

She flung the awful pistol away in disgust and sank to her knees with a bitter wince and laid herself out fully on his cold form. Oh right, he felt cold. He wanted her to warm him… to lie together… as true brothers. She can do it now, she can warm him now, even as the blood from his chest soaked up her breasts. But she was also bleeding, all over, her heart was also bleeding, her sharp cries bled out of her gritted teeth, and tears bled out of her eyes. Bloodshed was being paid for bloodshed.

She spent the rest of the night fighting the wind whilst she dug a deeper pit in that tiny yard close to where she had buried the dog. She was an adventurer, but she was no “man,” and especially with the exhaustion of these past days, the hole she can dig can only get so large. She had the body scrunched up in an awkward fetal position and wrapped it in both stretcher and bed. In the end and with some effort, it barely fitted in the hole. She hurried to cover the grave and when she had finished, she sat down on the damp soil leaning against the withered hedge. “What just happened? What is happening?” she heard herself mutter. With that, she finally allowed her frame to go limp. She was sinking back into that strange border between wakefulness and sleep in which she was stewing the whole time sleeping on the rough hay.

They say that, in a person’s final moments, his life flashes by before him. Then why is she the one seeing things?

“Taran.

“See this grenade? It’s a find! Look here… It’s a copy, but I can tell it was copied directly from an original.

“Taran.

“You know how to make jerky. Heh. I’m the one older than you, but I can’t quite pull it off. Some man I am. You still look quite boyish right now, to be honest, but you look like you will grow to be pretty buff.”

Taran…….

Maybe she is going to die also, in her sleep…

She woke up to a harsh midmorning sun stinging her eyelids. It was quite hot already. She was still alive.

The truck driver belted out to the country music playing from the speaker. He was loud. He could do so. He was alone in the cab, in a truck which was alone on a dusty road that cut through the scrubby vastness of the veldt towards Port Lilan. There were two radio stations airing from the capital; fresh hostilities between Four-Leaf and Five-Moon saw a few days of broadcasts canceled, but gone were the days when there was just one station, which had to close for weeks, back when the Republic of Ozhakoland was new and a pushover to the warlords who overran the veldt at will. He popped open a can of beer and carried on with the singing. His mate in the seat next to him, a drum-fed auto gun, won’t be complaining.

Meanwhile, back in the hold, Taran was busy helping herself to the tins of peaches and lunchmeats (which she consumed as is), having gone without food the whole morning. She was able to secret herself inside when the driver, having stopped in the middle of nowhere, opened the door to the cargo and took one of the adult diapers before taking a dump in the bush. If all went well, the truck should be at the capital by evening.

The countryside is lightly policed even now, and everybody who lived there or so much as passed by had to be armed. But livelihoods were still being made, mostly by pasturing or mining (or growing opium poppies), and supplies purloined out of the many armies that had rolled over the land in past years have been hoarded and were now being traded everywhere. Five-Moon’s underlings were also active in counterfeiting, and quite a bit of bootlegged merchandise were also coming in from Byskie. With the relative peace these days, the capital has seen a surge of population growth and held a booming market for all goods, licit or otherwise. Taran had heard of Port Lilan even back at Treverorum shortly before they sailed for Ozhakoland. This country shouldn’t be too bad a place to desert into.

Let’s see… What else do we have here? Oh, matches. Pork and beans. Noodles. Some of these were just repackaged stuff from Aquileia. Detergent. Toothpicks. She filled her bag with cribbed supplies and took some more of the canned fruit. Ooh. Pineapple. Well… There’s no use just letting it sit in the bag when her tummy still has a bit of room. She opened a can and emptied the contents onto her open mouth.

The midday heat began to ebb and Taran had her fill. The empty tins lay everywhere at her feet whilst she leaned against the crates and let her eyelids grow heavy.

“…”

The driver’s singing grated on her ears even if muffled by the partition between her and the cab. It ruined the otherwise enjoyable broadcast.

“Ath…”

She bounced a bit along with the cargo over a rougher section of road. It made the tins jangle.

“Ath,” she muttered, “I got us a truckie. See? We can live for a month on this haul…”

Jangle… Jangle…

“There’s… more than enough room. I could put a hundred of ‘ya in this place. It’s a little hot… but we can cut a window for ‘ya to the side. See? The wind must be fresh outside…”

Jangle… Jangle…

“The guy running this thing… he’s on his lonesome. Listen… we can take him down. You go for the throat, I… I will cut his feet tendons. He ain’t scary.

“We can do this. We’re an awesome team… aren’t we?”

“…”

It seems the truck has rounded a sharp curve, and Taran slid on the floor where she sat. A box or two fell off the top of the crates. But that was all. Soon enough, the going was smooth again and the rattling has ceased.

The driver’s singing grated on her ears even if muffled by the partition between her and the cab. It ruined the otherwise enjoyable radio broadcast.

“…”

“You keep sayin’ I’m an amateur, Aths. You keep sayin’ I need to be in a pair to be effective.

“Curses, Ath…

“Do you have to… Do you have to be so right just when I don’t need it to be?”

“…”

“I really need you now, Ath. We can take this truck down.” A sharp breath escaped her in lieu of sobbing. Her eyes were still dry, they were too mad. “You dared take the fall, Ath. You left me alone.”

“…”

“But you know how to run this thing, right Ath? Heh.

“You got to drive a buggy before, din’t ‘ya? This shouldn’t be too different

Ping—!

Taran jumped and stared in shock at the sunlight streaming through the hole punched by the bullet just now. The crate about two feet away from her was already spilling a cascade of beans on the floor. What’s with the racket—are they being mugged? It was then that she noticed the truck has actually stopped. A roadblock?! Not good. Her ears caught the staccato puffs of a semi-auto rifle from outside. Not good, not good!

A whole army truck—likely stolen from an abandoned column of one warlord’s defeated army—was straddled across the road, blocking it completely. The driver would have turned round if he saw it from afar, but it had been hiding in the bush and only rolled onto the road as soon as their victim was close enough. There were at least eight men in the truck, and at least three have already jumped down, but the driver was feeling cocky in the face of death. He sprayed rounds through his windshield and onto the ground, killing one attacker, but the rest simply dodged and waited for him to run out, which he did. Thinking he would be still reloading, two guys closed in but were stopped by pistol fire. It was no use, the rest of the gang disembarked. There’s was no way he could stop all of them with anything other than full auto.

The silence after the continuous rifle fire was itself threatening. Taran got to her feet and prepared to bolt when the door opened. There were no second thoughts. She grabbed the door and slammed it at the attacker, who dropped hard on the asphalt. As soon as she was out, she bounded away from the truck with the loot and made for the scrub off the road, not looking back, not looking back on the attackers who found her, the miniature founts of dirt kicked up by gunfire hard on her heels.

No… Why!? Her eyes began to water and she lost track of where she was going. A root tripped her, and she hit the dry earth with a thud. The cans and stuff rolled and scattered all over the ground in front of her.

No, no, no nonono!

This is her curse. For murdering her Athos. Blood shall follow her wherever she is. There will be no respite. No… Please no… Why…? She wept into the dust where she fell, not bothering to get up, perhaps hoping those goons would catch up to her and do her in. Or maybe… The fight shouldn’t be too far behind, maybe a stray bullet would do the trick.

Yes. Yes, I deserve this. I deserve this!

The racket was gone. There was now only the breeze whistling through the bush. But she waited. She waited right there for anyone who would come after her. But no one did.

Athos…

What am I doing? Who exactly am I talking to...?

“...”

Taran got up after about an hour of waiting. It was getting late in the afternoon. She decided to find another road.

Taran got herself a triangular rock from a dry creekbed and in an instant she knew what to do. The thing already had pointed corners, and it took a quick burst of knapping to make a caltrop.

“You know,” Athos had said, “For me the most valuable skill around is to make fire from stones. I’ll teach you sometime. You can cook, you can warm yourself, you can set an enemy jeep on fire.”

Oh Athos…

Taran held out the thing against the afternoon light. Was it good enough? It looked sharp, but she had to make sure the points would not be so fine so as to be brittle, it needed to be propped up regardless of which face fell on the ground.

Ow…

OK, that was sharp. She stared at the bloodied thumb she had just used to test the firmness of the point. Yep, it was firm. Good. She stuck the thumb in a fold of her jacket to stop the bleeding. Now, all she has to do is wait.

About half an hour in, hiding in the roadside bush, a sense of dread began to creep into her. Was there any certainty that anyone would be driving down this lonely highway? What if she just walked? That would get her closer to Lilan, at least. It’s not like the stuff she plundered would run out so soon, right?

But she did not have to wait so long.

Just before sunset she spied headlights approaching from the north. This is it.

She was a rookie adventurer, to be sure, but at least a year’s worth of prior experience in the field had honed some of her skills, for instance, timing a good punch, a good kick, or a good shot… or throw.

It was another truck, only bigger, and it was hauling timber. From her hideout in the roadside scrub, she estimated its speed as it hurtled towards her and tossed the spike at the exact moment. To her satisfaction, there was a loud pop. The truck went on for about hundred yards more and then stopped. She leapt from the bush and made for the pile of timber, on top of which she could spend the night. She squeezed herself into a groove in the heap whilst the driver changed the tires. She will probably be at Port Lilan before midnight.

Curling herself among the rough timbers, she felt a surprising comfort. The gentle sway of the truck’s motion over a comparably smoother road lulled her to a more restful sleep.

What if she ends up oversleeping, though, and wake up long after the truck had parked at the capital? They actually have cops there, don’t they?

Are they going to find out she murdered someone? Is this how justice will catch up to her? Is this perhaps how she will end…?

Hey… What…?

Huh?

It was something bright. Wait, is it morning already? It took her a while to realize, waking up from a deep sleep, that a flashlight was being trained in her face. “You the one who busted my tire?”

“Gurrrh…”

“Hey.” She felt herself being yanked up, but she was still drowsy.

In a moment, however, the light finally got through to her. She was now staring at the bewildered face of a man behind the flashlight. “How did you get aboard? Did you bust my tire?”

The fellow was wild-eyed at her, although he did not sound too mad. But the other truck guy from earlier had a gun. Certainly, everybody out here in the veldt will have some kind of defense, given the situation over the past month. Well now… is she going to fight?

In the heat of tension, they stared down each other for what felt like a full ten minutes. In the end…

“…”

No, thought Taran. I deserve this.

She put up both her hands in the air.