Kitabı oku: «The Puzzler’s War», sayfa 5
7
Twinkle Eyes
Anyone watching the two figures from afar would have thought them a farmer and his wife tottering along on a dirt road, though on closer inspection the watcher would have realised something was certainly amiss. Galinak had torn the bottom of his overalls, from the knees down, and tied the material around his feet. The farmer’s wife was a hefty lass, so the corset fit, just barely, across my ribs. I’d tried Galinak’s trick with the hem of the dress but a miscalculation on my part now meant the dress was indecently short. On the bright side, I had enough material left to tie around my bald head to protect my cranium from the unforgiving sun. Actually, come morning, we discovered hair was beginning to grow on both of our bodies. Mine was a shade between white and golden; Galinak’s was ginger brown.
We had resumed our journey after a relatively comfortable night in front of the hearth, which by another stroke of luck featured an old built-in flint, now safely in Galinak’s pocket. He had suggested we simply stay on the farm and “start our own family” but by midday the stream of jokes died to a mere trickle.
We found some berries on the side of the road that tasted awful but were nourishing enough. Water was a concern, but our bodies proved to be incredibly resilient, taking on way more than what I would guess my previous one could have endured.
A little after midday we passed another abandoned farm, but this one was completely ruined. Worse, there were obvious marks of violence, including the bones of several livestock, fire damage, and enough signs to indicate that, in Galinak’s words “something really big blew up this rusting hut.” He was the first to spot the deep imprints on the ground where the garden must have been—two parallel chain lines, twice a man’s height in distance from each other.
“Some kind of a machine.” I pointed out the obvious but Galinak was not in the mood. He tested the ground with his fingers.
“Deep on dry earth. Means this thing was heavy, huge. It takes a lot of energy clips to move such a vehicle.”
We exchanged glances. “A kind of war machine then,” I said. “Nothing else is worth such energy.”
“A war machine?” Gailnak looked around. “We only had light dusters in the Hive, and that was Tarakan Valley we’re talking about.”
Rafik said that the City of Towers was preoccupied with a conflict, but this area is far from the city. Could there be a connection?
“I know these machines existed before the Catastrophe,” I said, the memory flashing through my mind. “They were called Tanks. I heard they found a field with those things far to the west. The machines were smashed and burned, but the metal was so thick they couldn’t even salvage it, so they just stand there in rows now.”
“So, a local gang gets its hands on a working war machine with enough energy clips to operate it and runs around destroying small farms?” Galinak shook his head. “That doesn’t make sense.”
“An advancing army, then,” I said quietly.
“Makes more sense with the other farm being abandoned,” Galinak agreed. “They knew about the threat. The first family ran away, these ones chose to stay and protect their land.” He shook his head again. “Poor sods, must have been like kicking a puppy.”
“Yes, but whose army?” I asked.
Galinak shrugged. “We can’t connect the wires on this one.”
“We should have tried to go back to the bunker.” I gestured toward the destruction around us. “This would have surely been part of what Rafik would have briefed us about.”
“Well, if I wasn’t sure before, now I know for a fact it’s you, Twinkle Eyes.” Galinak chuckled. “Ready to die just so you could learn something you didn’t know before. We’ll find out soon enough what’s going on, so let’s look around a little more and move out of here.”
Galinak’s remark might just have been a barbed jest, but he was right. I was already feeling the familiar tingling sensation growing in my mind; curiosity. I might have been coerced into this mission by the Tarkanians, but I also wanted to know—hell, I needed to know—what was going on, and it was worth risking my new life to find out.
There was nothing worth looting except a few pieces of wood we collected for a future bonfire and several rusty nails. I tied the nails with the frills from my dress and decided to find a way to add them to my crude club at the first opportunity. Not the greatest upgrade to my fire power, but every little thing helps.
“We should follow the imprints.” Galinak pointed at the deep grooves leading northeast.
“No, we should go northwest,” I said. “Following a war machine and armed troops with a club and a dress may leave the wrong impression.” That one rewarded me with another chuckle from Galinak. “The farmers who ran must have tried to reach some kind of a safe haven. I think there’s a large village a day or two from here.”
Galinak looked skeptical. “You deduced all of that from a set of imprints?”
“No,” I admitted. “Something has been bothering me for a while now. This area is familiar. I think I’ve passed through it.”
“Not surprising.” Galinak dusted himself off. “You chased Vincha all over the place.”
“No. Vincha never went rural on me,” I said. “I think I passed through here when I was younger, with LoreMaster Harim.” The mention of my mentor’s name brought up a rush of emotions. He was the one who took me from my family home to the upper towers of the City of Towers and made me the flawed man I was now.
“Fine, lad.” Galinak walked to me. “We’ll do it your way.”
We kept on walking, finding a wider road and following it till night fell, but we did not stop. My sight made the night as clear as the day, and although we only ate a handful of berries we picked up on the side of the road, our new bodies did not show any sign of fatigue. Even the soles of our feet hardened enough to make walking more comfortable, and we were able to move faster.
By midday the dirt trail merged into what was once a paved road, now with only patches of dark material remaining as a testimony to its former glory. This was where we found another unmistakable track of the war machine, and this time we had to follow it. Since we were now on lower ground, there were many more trees and tall bushes, and they hid the village until we came upon it. For some childish reason I took pride in spotting it first.
It was certainly a place I had visited before. It used to have a protective wall and the houses within climbed up the steep hill. The hill must have kept the villagers in shape while acting as a natural defence from three sides, but that natural defence and the high walls and guard towers did not stand a chance against a war machine.
We waited for what felt like a long time, hidden among the vegetation, noting the enormous gaps in the reinforced wooden wall, the remains of three guard towers, and the lack of what was once an impressive front gate.
“Well, at least they did not burn the place down,” Galinak whispered next to me. “Any ideas why?”
I shrugged. “I have no clue.”
He shrugged back and spat at the ground. “Let’s find out.”
I stopped him with a touch, scanning for heat signatures. “There are no humans that I can see, but there are some animals roaming around in there.”
“You can see all the way inside?”
I nodded. “Just be ready for a fight.”
Galinak’s smile was full of bad intentions. “I’m always ready for a fight.” He waved his cleaver to emphasise his point, then surprised me by ripping a nail from my dress and ramming it halfway into my club. “Now you’re ready too.”
8
Peach
People were still glaring at me when I sat myself down on a wooden stool next to a tiny table that, by the look of it, had not been cleaned for a long time. With a sinking feeling in my stomach, I realised that there were about twenty men around me, and the only females were two tired-looking prostitutes entertaining four uniformed men in the far corner of the room. I was a woman, in perhaps not the most attractive vessel, but this felt like a remote place, the sort in which men hold the bar just a notch above “breathing,” and sometimes not even that high. With those ladies entertaining the guards in full view of the rest of the men, and the alcohol flowing, sooner or later I would get unwanted attention.
I lay the neo-flex plastic sack on the sticky floor and placed the power sword in my lap. There was no music, just the soft murmuring of conversation and the loud and lewd chatter of the drunken guards. The rest of the men kept openly staring at me, some of them with disconcerting approval. I was careful not to make eye contact with any of them, although it dawned on me that soon I would have to choose a companion or have the most aggressive of the men make an approach.
One of them was downing his drink quickly, his body language betraying his immediate intention of trying his luck with me. It was right then that I spotted the figure I had seen near the truck when I was surveying the place. His cowl was off but I recognised him by the limp. He had a lean, rugged face and a greying ginger beard.
My profession is an odd one. It involves meticulous planning, but no matter how careful you are, many times the plan fails and you find yourself in the midst of deadly chaos. In moments like these, you have to learn to trust your instincts. I was up and walking even before I had made a conscious decision to do so, slinging the power sword over my back as I rose from the table. It was easy to follow the limping man to the table, as people moved aside respectfully when he passed them. I guessed that like myself, the man knew to trust his own instincts, because he whirled around just as I approached. My size, sex, or appearance did not make him less wary. I noted that one hand was holding both cups while the other went to the butt of an old-looking revolver stuck in his belt. There was another figure sitting near a table behind him. That one’s face was still hidden inside his cowl.
“Hello,” I said in a cheery voice, “I wonder if I may share your table for a bit.”
The man looked down at me, noting the sack I was holding in one hand and the sword on my back, then he lifted his gaze and studied the faces of the men staring at me. He must have concluded I was seeking protection rather than company because he turned his green eyes back at me and simply said, “No,” in a quiet but resolute voice. I didn’t blame him for not wanting to play the role of a gallant knight.
“Oh, c’mon Trev,” the man sitting at the table said cheerfully, “give a lady a break and pull a stool for yourself. Your leg’s too stiff to be under this low table anyways.”
The taller man shut his eyes briefly, nodded, and moved aside. He laid two cups carefully on the table, then went to retrieve another stool. I sat myself in front of the other man. His round face smiled at me from inside the cowl he was wearing as he extended his hand.
“Brak’s my name, and this pile of scowls is Trevil, my cousin.”
I took his hand. It had calluses, and his grip was strong. “I’m Peach.” I said the first name that came to my mind.
“Now that’s an interesting name, Lady Peach.” Brak pulled one cup from the edge of the table and nursed it. “And quite a foreign accent.” His eyes were shrewd and calculating. “You’re not from here.”
“This doesn’t seem to be a place that people come from,” I answered, making a show of glancing around.
Brak chuckled as he sipped his brew. “Phew.” He shook his head at the taste, spit the liquid in his mouth back into the cup, and spilled the entire contents to the dark, muddy floor. “That barkeep is pissing in his own brew. Trevil, go frighten the bastard enough for him to pour us something decent, and get a fresh cup for Lady Peach as well.”
Trevil, who had just sat down next to us, stared at Brak with a discontented scowl.
“Yes, that’s just the right face.” Brak indicated his cousin. “Now aim it at Rikus and get clean cups as well.”
Trevil rose without a word and made his way back to the bar.
“Don’t mind him,” Brak said cheerfully, “he’s the brooding, silent type. Sometimes when we’re on the road, he just sits there for days without saying so much as a word to me.”
I had the feeling those days were filled with Brak’s own words.
“Are you the owners of the truck outside?”
“Indeed, we are. And my guess is”—this time Brak made a show of turning his head around—“that you are looking for a fast way out of this heavenly retreat.”
I couldn’t hide my smile. “Is it that obvious?”
“It’s all over on your face, and it’s only reasonable. Even I hate this mudhole, and this is where Trev and I trade plenty of metal. Where do you need to go?”
“Tarka—” I remembered Malk’s reaction when I first said the name of the city. He did not recognise it, and I’d had to show him the emblem on the coins for him to understand. “The City of Towers.”
Brak whistled softly. “That’s a bit of a trek, Lady Peach, but my guess is your immediate concern is to get out of here before they realise you snuck in. Climbed the walls, did you? That’s an impressive feat, especially for a lady your size.”
“How did you—”
Brak leaned forward on the wooden table, which creaked under his weight. “There are two gates in and out of this place, and if you were to try and come in by yourself through either of them, you’d be spread on a guard’s mat right now, excuse my language. You are in the wrong place and need to get out of here.” Brak leaned a little closer and lowered his voice. “Now, we’re willing to help you out, but I’m afraid it will cost you metal.” He tilted his head inside the grey cowl. “I’ll say the contents of your coin bag and what’s in your little sack. No exceptions.”
“How do you know I have anything of value in the sack? Maybe it’s filled with old clothes.”
“Oh, I have a keen sense of hearing, Lady Peach, and I heard the tinkling of metal when you placed it on the floor.”
My heart sank. Losing all of the currency I had in this world was not a good plan. But I was desperate, and this Brak was shrewd enough to sense it. For all his gallantry and pleasant chatter, this man was not one to be letting go of a business advantage.
“I have fighting skills, and I’m good with my sword,” I said. “I can buy passage by helping you protect the truck, standing guard at night and such.”
Brak shook his head. “I’m sure you can swing that sword of yours just fine, Lady Peach, but we have no need for extra guards. Trevil might not be much of a talker, but he sleeps very lightly and can shoot a flying bird’s head off with his pistol. We’ve been travelling this route for three years now. We have our resting spots; friendly farms and places along the road we know are safe. Passengers cost us in fuel and speed, so if you want to travel with us out of here, you need to pay.”
Trevil came back with only two cups. He laid one at his cousin’s place and kept one to himself.
“Oh Trevil,” Brak admonished in a light-hearted tone, “that was a little unkind. And we were about to seal a deal here, weren’t we, Lady Peach?”
He tipped the cup in my direction.
I bent down and fished out the porcelain cup from the sack. “Nice find,” commented Brak. He poured me a measure from his cup and added, in a matter-of-fact tone, “It came out of the sack, so it is a part of your payment.”
I sniffed the liquid and the stench of the badly fermented alcohol hit my nose like a fist. Ignoring the data streaming through my mind, I let some of the contaminated drink pass my lips.
“Not a lady’s drink,” remarked Brak with a wry smile. He pointed at the other patrons. “The bartender here brews a mean one, meant to knock them out before they get sozzled enough to try and knock each other out and ruin the furniture. But if you travel with us, you won’t have to get used to the brew, the occasional hound stew, or the company some of the lads here are planning to give you.” Brak raised his cup. “Do we have a deal?”
I didn’t have a choice. But on the other hand, I’d found a ride out of this place and some company to gain information from. Not a bad deal, especially since I knew that if I had to, I could always rob them later. In my peripheral vision I saw Trevil glaring at me and guessed he was hoping I would refuse Brak’s deal.
I raised my cup, clinked it softly with Brak’s, and drained it in one go. Rising to my feet I said, “Your cup, your sack, you carry it all. Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to rest in your truck’s cabin.”
9
Twinkle Eyes
We found the dead bodies halfway up the hill. They were probably laid in a neater file before animals had dragged some of them aside. The smell was strong, but our bodies immediately reacted by reducing our sensitivity to it. Still, it was not a pretty sight.
“Between forty or fifty of them,” Galinak said. “A slaughter, yes, but where’re the rest of them?”
“Taken?” I said, then added, “Slaves?”
Galinak shrugged and we moved on.
We ended up spending the night in the highest house on top of the hill.
Looters had done a thorough job of going through the village, but still they left plenty of stuff behind for us to use. I found a pair of worn boots that fit. One even had real leather lining. In a different house I got a cloak and some clothes, old and torn but definitely a step up from what I’d been wearing.
On the downside, I was attacked by a dog who was either protecting its turf or had grown a taste for feeding off the remains of the slain. Galinak reacted fast, but not fast enough. The bite I received wasn’t painful—my skin healed surprisingly fast—and we did end up having dog stew for dinner. So I wasn’t complaining.
It was Galinak who found the three moonshine bottles in the cellar. He insisted I rub some of it over my rapidly healing wound. It stung a bit, and I used the cloth of the farmer wife’s dress to bandage my arm. The rest we drank.
“Are you going to do things different?” Galinak asked me unexpectedly. We were sitting around the burning hearth, trying to consume enough moonshine to be able to eat Galinak’s dog stew. My body resisted the first few mouthfuls, but with enough resolve, mind always triumphs over matter.
“What do you mean?” I took another swig from the bottle.
“Some Trolls I used to know, when they had a close call, a brush with death, they swore they’d do things different for the rest of their lives. A few of them actually changed their ways, but most of ’em couldn’t shake the habits.” Galinak drank some more. “You and I didn’t just have a brush with the grim reaper, we grabbed his bony arse and gave him a wet smacker on his lipless mouth, but now we’re alive again. That sort of thing changes your outlook on life.”
I did not know what to answer, so I reversed the question. “What are you going to do differently?”
Galinak shrugged and filled his mouth again, then passed the bottle. “Not sure. Guess I won’t take orders from nobody no more.”
“Was there ever a time when you did?”
He chuckled. “You only know the old, wise, and tender me, Twinkles. I used to be obedient, a little more respectful to authority, but now—” He sighed. “What about you?”
“I remember promising myself in the City Within the Mountain, just before we went on the mission, that if I ever got out of there alive, I’d find a nice lady and have a family of my own.” I gestured at my body. “Not going to happen with this body now.”
“You said you were from around here. Maybe go see your folks, visit your family?”
I took another deep pull from the bottle and shook my head. Things were starting to get misty in my peripheral vision. “My story is not so different from Rafik’s, you know. One day you’re living happily in some remote little village, the next day you wake up with these.” I pointed at my eyes, momentarily forgetting this was not my old body. “My dad had coin and influence where we lived, and the people there were not as zealous as in Rafik’s village, so no ax or hot pokers for me. But a marked son was a major blow to the family. I was locked in a room for a whole month before LoreMaster Harim came to our house. Then I was whisked away. I know now that this was the right thing to do for all involved, but for a thirteen-year-old boy who loses his family in the blink of an eye …” I took another pull from the moonshine. “I was … crying every night for a long time, then I got angry for a while, then I got over it. Years later I got word my dad had passed away—they didn’t even tell me how. My older sister was already married, and my mother and two younger sisters moved to another part of the land for some reason. That’s the last I’d heard.”
“Still. Family,” Galinak said. “Maybe once we figure out what to do and”—he wiggled his finger unsteadily at me—“what not to do. We could track them down, have a meet, you know …”
Even in my state I registered Galinak said we when talking about tracking down my long-lost family.
“I never got to thank you, Twinkle Eyes,” he suddenly said. “You saved my life, twice.”
“What are you talking about?” I swallowed another mouthful of the bitter drink, ignoring my body’s warning regarding my current condition.
“Back in the City Within the Mountain. If it wasn’t for you, negotiating like that, we would have just ended up Lizard chowder.”
“Ah, that, but we did end up as Lizard chowder.” I passed the bottle back, and Galinak drank some more before continuing.
“Yea, but they extracted our minds.” He pointed at his head. “That’s because of you. And now, here I am back in the living, again because of you.” He passed the bottle back.
“To be honest, Rafik told me you were coming with me before I managed to ask,” I said, and checked the bottle I was holding. It was empty.
“I’m sure that those rust-fucker Tarkanians wouldn’t have just sent me alone on this mission.” Galinak opened the second bottle. “Nah, I know why I’m here, Twinkle Eyes. Here’s to you, and here’s to life.” He raised the bottle and drank deeply.
I vaguely remember slurring words of infinite wisdom as we went through our second bottle. The rest of the night was a bit of a blur, containing many old stories, tales of Salvationist adventures, more than a few lurid songs, then smashing through a wooden door and eventually passing out blissfully on the stairs to the cellar.
Waking up in a bunker filled with poisoned air was worse than what I felt the following morning, but not by much. Galinak was nowhere to be seen, so after washing my face and drinking boiled well water, I slowly began exploring the rest of the house. On the second floor I found an old hunting rifle under a pile of debris. There were no bullets, so it was probably more useful as a club, but I kept it anyway.
The makeshift ladder leading to the attic creaked, but bore my weight. The roof tiles had several bullet holes, and rays of light penetrated the gloom. Still, without my enhanced sight I would not have noticed the footsteps marking the dusty floor and the fact that one of the floorboards was slightly cleaner than others. Moving it earned me a splinter but was absolutely worth it. As if the bag of fifty metal coins I found, the two water skins, and the steel hunting knife were not enough, I carefully pulled out two other items of interest. The first one was a live snap, not a drawing, of a family of seven who hugged and smiled happily at me despite the creases. I guessed the snap had sentimental value to whoever hid it here or whoever was meant to find it. I kept it without really knowing why. And there was a map. This, too, was not a crude hand drawing, but rather a pre-Catastrophe-era, fully detailed folding map.
Memories surfaced and flooded my consciousness as I spread it on the floor. I knew maps like this. My LoreMaster was an avid collector and used to spend hours in his tower, bent over with his nose stuck in them. I heard his voice lecturing in my ear, “Great cities fall into great ruins in a matter of years and towns or villages vanish into the woods in even less time, but mountains, rivers, and lakes remain, more or less, in the same place. With enough attention to detail, old pre-Catastrophe maps could prove extremely valuable.”
Before we parted ways, LoreMaster Harim gave me a map and list of his hideouts, telling me to use whatever I found to keep the Guild of Historians alive, but I had failed both him and the Guild by being torn apart by Lizards in the City Within the Mountain.
I turned my attention to the map I was holding and magnified it tenfold with my sight. This newly awakened memory gave me an idea of where we were, and I marked the village on the thin paper with a circle made by a piece of coal I found on the floor. Now I just had to figure out where we needed to go.
I looked up and examined the roof of the attic, and I spotted a trapdoor. There was no ladder in sight, but a successful, and quite daring, balancing act over several pieces of piled-up furniture meant I could open the trapdoor and stick my head through. Getting my body up there required a bit more work, especially when Galinak still hadn’t shown up, but I didn’t care—I was acting like a man possessed. When I finally made it to the top of the roof I was in a kind of euphoric ecstasy. Childish. Stupid. I know. But it felt good to seek a solution to a mystery and then solve it. I desperately needed to know why I’d been given my life back, and walking away without finding a way to answer this question was not an option for me. I began experimenting with my vision, zooming in and out, trying to see as far as I could and to memorize the topography.
At the edge of my enhanced vision I saw the distinct silhouette of the City of Towers, my old home.
“Hey!”
I stopped zooming and turned my head down.
“Look what I found.” Galinak was sitting bareback on a horse. “Took me ages to tempt him to come over, but once I got my hands on him, he became very obedient.” If Galinak was suffering any setbacks because of last night, it didn’t show.
This was definitely the best day of our new lives, so far.
“Well done,” I shouted in reply. “Now let’s gather what we can carry. I know where we can go and gear up.”
“Really?” He danced the horse in a circle. “And where is that?”
I didn’t bother to shout back. Instead, I turned to study the hills to our north.
“We are going to visit an old friend,” I whispered to no one in particular.
