Chương 6: 5-Bfarjalla

Jenna studied the city from the vantage point provided by Bob's floating form. It was nothing but a mass of ruins, burned buildings, and wrecked cars cluttering the landscape. She guessed most cities in this world now looked like this. The architecture, cars, and general layout of the city suggested a technology akin to Earth's in the fifties. Lots of wrecked mechanized tricycles—Jenna guessed they were the equivalent of motorbikes in this culture.

A half-torn advertisement bill announced the city's name as Bfarjalla. It had obviously seen better times.

"We should go down, Bob. I don't think approaching it by air is the safest course—it makes us too visible," she softly told her friend. The massive form of the late Otra the Committed glided gracefully down, touching down without making a sound. She climbed down from it and watched as it flickered back into Bob's War Form.

"You want to play it physically, then?" she asked him.

"I feel safer in this form when exploring," Bob answered.

"Damn, I am so out of shape. I can't just fiddle my stats about as easily as you do, you know."

"Says the man who creates a new power each time he sneezes," she nudged him.

"Why do you think she came here?" Bob asked.

"I have a better question for you, Bob. Why hasn't she escaped to another plane? It is what I would do if I had just stolen the most valuable artifact in the universe," she answered.

"Make the track as cold as possible. And how the hell is she capable of doing it? I thought only abominations could cross freely between planes." Bob thought about that for a moment.

"Well, she either has something to do here or she does not care the least about being followed. Considering our luck and the beating she gave us last time we met, I am betting on the second." They both set off down the deserted, ruined streets.

"We know all about the life-cycles of cities during Activation," he said, while he studied the nearby buildings.

"What happens afterward? All the old dungeons have starved to death, and the Essentials have been Pulled by the Tribulation. There are no humans around to produce more Essence," he went on.

"What happens to these places? Do they just become graveyards? Or does the Compendium still have a use for them?"

"I think we are going to find the answers to your questions very soon, Bob," Jenna answered.

"This place is not empty. There are still signs of life around, both Experiential and Essential."

"Makes sense," Bob agreed.

"If the normal rules of Biology still apply, scavengers would eventually move in to pick the bones of what was a city. Both the human and inhuman kind."

"Yes, I could see that," Jenna answered.

"Human survivors would risk exploring the city to look for supplies and food, and Essentials would follow them. Then, the cycle begins anew."

"Not far now, I think it is pulling us toward that grocery store," she pointed towards a ransacked building, which had been barricaded to protect it from looters. Something about the building felt off. She enhanced her perception and studied it closely. Most of the building was in a ruinous state, but the materials used to barricade it seemed fairly new. She put all her freebies into her hearing, and suddenly the heartbeats of thirty human beings became obvious to her.

Most of those hearts were beating at more than 100 beats per minute. They were afraid.

"There are people in there, Bob, and they are hiding from us," she softly told him. She approached calmly, her hands raised up and shouting in Vorian, "We are friends. We mean no harm." No one made any attempt to greet them or ease their passage. Jenna caught one of the chains blocking her passage and pulled with her full strength, yanking it off the wall. Dust fell around her. She had taken half the wall off along with the chains. A chorus of surprised gasps could be heard inside the darkness.

A child began to cry. Probably not the most diplomatic move, she admitted to herself. The scene inside reminded Jenna very much of when they met the three farmer families yesterday. Forty people of different ages, dirty, wounded, and malnourished. Oh, my God. Are all people like this in this world? What is Earth walking into if we lose? she thought.

"Let's do this like yesterday, Bob," Jenna told him. Bob took out his flute, sat down, and began to play. Thirty minutes later, the refugees had calmed considerably. Jenna was talking with Belena, the group's leader, who gave her considerable information once she decided she could be trusted.

"We came from Hrofnir, a hamlet twelve leagues west of here," she said, speaking in the emotionless, monotone voice of a shell-shocked soldier.

"The Tribulations had been encroaching on our land for the past six months, and we voted to leave everything and try to reach the Reclamation. It seemed the only safe bet."

"The trip was horrible," she sobbed into her hands.

"We lost two-thirds of our people on the way."

"What happened?" Jenna asked softly. She did not want to pry, but she needed to know the dangers they faced.

"We made our plans focusing on the Tribulations and their troops. Thanks to the Gods, they are predictable in their movements," she said, looking at Jenna with teary eyes.

"We did not take into account that wild dungeons are sprouting again. Most of them disappeared during the first Tribulation wave, but mankind has survived, and we are feeding Essence back to them. Most of them are low-ranked, but we no longer have magic with us. The system was locked eight years ago, and no more Einheriar have come forth to replace those who fell." Jenna knew that Einheriar was the Vorian word for Avatars.

"So you got attacked on the way here?" she went on.

"The very earth opened, and a horde of pig-like monsters attacked us. Young Jaral watched them devour their family right in front of her," Belena said, gesturing at a pale eleven-year-old who stood quietly, looking into the distance, while an elder woman tried to talk to her.

"Galda, our rune-sage, has been trying to piece her mind back together for the past two days. I don't think it can be done."

"She saved our lives, that one," Belena said softly.

"Her magic held them away for long enough for the rest of us to escape. She refuses to lead, but she has been keeping us alive for the last twenty years."

"How did you end up here?" Jenna asked, trying to change the subject.

"Akiros. He and his bloody army were camped in the middle of our path. We had to take refuge in the city; we had run out of provisions, and we had many wounded. Then we met Hron and his group, who had taken refuge in this old grocery shop, and they were kind enough to let us in." Jenna looked around. So, there were two groups, not only one. She spoke with Hron, a middle-aged man who told a similar story. They were a split group from the families they had already met yesterday, also trying to reach the Reclamation.

They had also been trapped by Akiros's actions. Bob and she had a quiet talk, apart from the others.

"Dawn is nowhere here. It is the same as yesterday. A brief ping, I catch enough of her scent to know she was here, and I lose her. It is as if she were playing with us—but there is a pattern here."

"It is the second time she has led us to people in need of rescue."

"Do you think she is using them as a distraction?" asked Bob.

"No, Bob," Jenna answered.

"I think she is testing us. Gauging our reactions."

"And how are we going to react, Jenna?" Bob asked.

"We are going to save these people, of course," Jenna said. Then she called the attention of all those present.

"One moment of your time," she said to the frightened Vorian.

"We can't remain here. It is too near Akiros's army. We are going to escort you away from here."

"This child can't be moved. She will die if we do," Galda the rune-sage told her coldly. This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

"My friend and I are magicians. We are not walking out of here. We are teleporting," Jenna explained. Then she went to Bob to make preparations. Hron approached them and spoke quietly.

"Please, do not take offense at Galda's behavior. She cares deeply for children, and she is taking that young one's plight very badly. She is an honorable, strong woman. I have known her all my life, and she is the best of us all." Jenna tried to reassure Hron, but something fluttered against her mind. A thought. Something was wrong. She tried to recall what it was, but could not. She felt as she did when she entered Brainstorming mode. She had more important things to do.

She closed her eyes, focused on the blood link, and contacted Billy.

"We are coming now, Billy. Tell everyone to be prepared. We are returning with refugees," she explained.

"We did not have time to look for Dawn. We found these people only one hour ago." She could feel Billy's puzzlement through the link.

"Jenna, what are you talking about? You have been in that city for three days. I was growing worried because I couldn't use the Blood Link to contact you. I was about to go looking for you." Jenna felt a cold shiver run down her spine.

"Billy, contact us again in ten minutes. If we do not answer, we have fallen into a trap." Then she turned towards the Skillmaster.

"Bob, something is very, very wrong. Our memories are being manipulated." At that same instant, the ground started shaking, groceries fell from their stands, and people screamed and hugged each other.

"Calm down, it is only a tremor," Bob said.

"No, it is not," Hron screamed back.

"The People from Below are about to attack. It always starts like this." Then, a huge section of the floor blew up, and monsters in the shape of humanoid pigs jumped agilely out of it. They were armed with cruel butcher's implements and wore aprons covered in blood. Their squeals were loud enough to hurt. The Vorians panicked, holding their loved ones and trying to avoid the hole in the floor. The only one who kept her calm was Galda, who kept holding the traumatized child. The child was having a seizure.

Galda looked at Jenna with contempt from across the room. Do you see what you have done? You have brought them here! Jenna's mind tried to tell her something, but her thoughts were quickly smothered by the need for action around her.

"Bob, try to keep them away from the non-fighters. I will try to rally with Spirit those who can lend a hand!" she ordered through the Blood-Link"Not many of those, Jenna," Bob answered back.

"Most died the last time these things attacked us." The last time they attacked us? We have been here only five minutes. This time, Jenna's mind managed to catch the fleeting thought. Her mind was being manipulated in real time.

"Can you hold them for a second, Bob?" Jenna told him. Bob did not even bother to answer back; he was in full action mode. His Palooga ball jumped between monsters' heads, he dodged attacks with Dance of the Butterfly, but there were too many monsters around—he turned into a shadow and scuttled over the walls, materializing at the other side of the mall and releasing a cannonball attack that went through the bodies of four monsters. The child screamed again.

A new batch of monsters jumped from the very same hole, howling in fury. Jenna steeled her mind, putting all her powers into mental defense, and a fog was lifted from her thoughts. Suppressed memories came running back into her conscience. … reaching the mall for the first time. There were more people around, and in better condition… … having been locked into this mall for three days, continuously fighting the pig-things… … the girl Galda was caring for, having a seizure before the attacks… …

burying the corpses of the thirteen farmers who had fallen during the attack in the backyard… … and Galda, always Galda. Everyone knew her and respected her. She had been an important part of everyone's lives for the last twenty years. But that was impossible, wasn't it? These people came from two different places. Galda could not be part of both… With a final effort of will, Jenna pushed her influence out of her mind and stood up. Galda was no longer with the girl.

She was standing a mere three feet apart from her. They were in a small spot of calm in the middle of chaos, the farmers and Bob trying desperately to hold the never-ending surge of pig-things.

"It is not pleasant growing hungry, is it?" Galda asked her emotionlessly.

"It is like an ache that can't be denied. Ignore it, and your own body will betray you, you will lose mass, your bones will become brittle…you will die."

"That is for you, the lucky ones who subsist on food," Galda sighed.

"I eat memories," she paused for a moment.

"Do you know what hunger does to me?" Jenna had not lost her time while she prattled. She had been examining with her Compendium senses, but no information came back. An Essential, then. Probably a Core from a dungeon with the hatchery tag, perhaps its lone survivor, coming to the city to hunt and feed, like a puma that has been displaced from its natural habitat after a fire.

"You are creating those monsters," Jenna accused her, "building them from the child's memories. That is why you chose the most traumatic ones."

"Time to feed," Galda smiled, and this time it was not a human smile at all. Jenna felt the brutal impact of Galda's powerful mind against her own. God, she is strong. Definitely a Core, Jenna thought.

"So many memories, and so painful ones. They burn like good liquor," Galda crooned, like a child who had discovered a box of chocolates.

"Betrayal, with powerful notes of regret and low self-esteem…Exquisite," Galda's eyes were almost turned in her back, showing only the whites. Her body language suggested she was sampling a precious perfume. George Brinkman screeched and jumped out of the hole, hanging from the ceiling with inhuman agility. A new George Brinkman, very different from Jenna's old psychologist. This one was gaunt, wiry, and sported two enormous fangs.

"You still owe me for the last session!" it screamed. Jenna felt her legs turn to water.

"Fear, hopelessness, understated physical pain. It pairs very well," Galda said, in full critique mode. Bonnie climbed out of the hole. The same Bonnie who had hit her every night for six years in the foster home. An ogre-sized version of Bonnie, with huge fists covered in blood.

"Darling, you are an all-you-can-eat buffet," Galda said approvingly.

"Don't you have even a single good memory?"

"Oh, I have a few. You just have not looked deep enough," Jenna answered, steeling her mind and using Recollection. She could feel Galda's mind inside her, like a hose draining a swamp. She summoned the Chant and threw it down the hose. Galda tried to sever the connection, but it was too late; the Codas trampled through her mind like wild horses, using Galda's own powers to manifest in reality. Suddenly, they were not alone anymore.

Beral the Torchbearer swung his torch, holding all the power of the sun, towards Brinkman, who burst into flame when it reached him. The creature escaped howling from the shop, turned into a living ball of fire, and ran zigzagging along the street until it fell down on the cold ground and moved no more. Belegrin, that stupendous champion who kept winning battles after death, faced the pig-men, fighting them all at once without missing a stride. Whenever her spear moved, her foes fell by the score.

Bonnie roared and raised her fists in anger, seconds before both her eyes were pierced by arrows shot with such precision and speed that they struck at the same time. Arala the Huntress had taken down her prey once more. Galda screamed and tried to flee, her limbs elongating and her face shifting into something that could no longer pass for human. She did not run for long. A sword wielded by a majestic figure covered in glowing runes beheaded her as she tried to run past her.

"Valor, Jenna, keep the faith!" Elariana, the First and Last Amazon, saluted her sister, her sword raised in the air.

"I will, sister," Jenna softly answered, her eyes tearing up. Then everything went away: the elves back to the Chant, the nightmares, back to wherever Galda's magic had called them from. Only the moans of the wounded and the dying remained. Jenna felt sick. That monster took the very thing that defines us, our memories, and turned it into a weapon. She suddenly heard a child weeping. It was the one Galda had used as a medium. She knelt slowly beside her and hugged her. She let her fall asleep in her arms.

Then, as gently as a mother entering the bedroom of one of her children, she took the child's memories from the last week and whisked them away. She glanced at Galda's corpse, no longer even vaguely human—a gaunt humanoid with spindly limbs and a lamprey-like mouth as its only facial feature.

"May you choke on these memories, beast. May you choke on them in hell forever," she muttered. Elsewhere Elariana, Queen of the Elves, suddenly woke up. Her mind recalled last night's events. After Ereld's fifth successful attempt at mooning her in public, she had summoned him for a private interview, which had quickly devolved into a shouting match.

The discussion had gone on for hours, both calling each other elven insults, which managed the difficult feat of being artistic, beautiful, and incredibly cruel at the same time. It had all ended with both of them in bed, a fact not excessively shocking in Elven culture, which considered the bedroom a continuation of the battlefield. Elariana sighed as she considered the results of the evening. She had lost.

Ereld had sacrificed his most basic principles, turning himself into a Consort for a night, in order to defend the rights of other male elves. There was no way she could deny him now without besmirching her own honor. She would have to make concessions. Nice ass, though.

"What is the matter, Ela? Can't you sleep?" Ereld asked her softly. Elariana sighed. He was kind, too. This one was going to be problematic. Perhaps he would consider becoming an official consort? Somehow, she doubted that.

"If you must know, I had a dream," she said quietly.

"I fought beside my sister against a great evil, in a foreign world."

"A nightmare, then?" Ereld asked.

"No," Elariana smiled on her pillow, before drifting back to sleep.

"Not a nightmare at all."