Chapter 20

Ayn marched toward the man in charge of the local market with a purposeful stride.

“Hey, man,” he greeted the merchant, and the old man humphed instead of a reply. “I need some of the good stuff. Medicine, antiseptic, antibiotics, anything you have.”

It was the third settlement he was visiting, and he had to ignore the way his throat was getting tighter, just as his chest with each denial that the people had things like that in stock. Refusal would not have been a problem, seeing that he had good means of convincing people to give him what he wanted, but no one seemed to have what he needed.

“We’re keeping those,” the merchant made a small gesture, like Ayn was dropped from the sky. “For the cause, as it seems,” the man added with a toothy grin. “They say we’ll get paid well. The fortunes in Drena are all for us,” the man said, raising his hands toward the sky, as if, any moment, the said fortunes were starting to pour from above.

“Cause? What cause? Don’t piss me off, old man. I don’t have time for riddles. Any medicine you have, shell it all out, or I’ll do it. And trust me, if you’re thinking yourself pretty, you won’t be when I’m done with you.”

The man started laughing, a sound that soon lost itself in an ugly cough. Ayn could feel his muscles flexing on their own accord. He pulled out his knife and held it swiftly at the man’s throat. The old sack of bones wasn’t laughing anymore and he was just watching Ayn warily.

“I swear,” he gulped. “They come, they take everything. It’s for the cause, they say. What do I know?”

“What cause are you talking about?” Ayn squeezed the man harder, making him yelp in distress.

“The cause, The One,” the man fretted a bit more. “They say we’re going to war. But what do they know? They stand no chance against the Trainers in the White City. They will be culled like harvest. They won’t even know what hit them. They’re stupid! And they took all my merch ... All, all, all, they left nothing! So go ask these warriors about your damn medicine and let me be!”

“Where are these guys?” Ayn shook the merchant one more time.

“Go to Nadaia’s tent. You’ll find them there, planning to take over the world,” the man spat in disgust. “They convince the youngsters, people stupid like you, but they won’t convince me. The desert has nothing to give!”

Ayn pushed away the man and began walking again. Whoever these so called warriors were, he was going to give them a piece of his mind and of his shiv, if they dared not to give him what he needed to save his lover.

There were, indeed, a lot of people gathered in front of the local ruler’s tent. The men living in the desert were as organized as they could be, and still remain free people. The ruler’s role was just to tell people how to schedule their raids, and to keep in touch with other settlements. So the fact that there was so much ruckus at that moment was strange indeed. Who were those warriors and what could they want?

Cory was certain that Tora was mistaken somehow. But that could not stop him from trying. Getting on his feet, he held the pendant the old woman had given him in one hand and raised it above his head, so that everyone could see it.

“Good people, do you know what this is?” he called out.

There were whispers and people started exchanging curious looks among themselves.

“You are part of it,” he continued. “The people who are hard at work lose their lives digging under Drena, in factories all across the coast. Those who keep our Mother’s memory alive are held as cattle, and forced into the most abject shape of slavery. But they are not dead! They are waiting!”

“Waiting for what?” one young man in the front row asked.

“For you to join them,” Cory answered.

“What business do we have with these people?” another asked. “The workers you’re talking about, they have it easy. Three meals a day and all that. And who are those you say they keep The One alive? The women in Tresalt? They’re nothing but sheep, with nothing left for them except to pray,” the man spoke with disdain.

“I won’t mind visiting that place next time when I’m on the raid,” someone from the back shouted. “No sweeter women anywhere else,” he laughed, and others join.

“Is this all you think of your brothers and sisters?” Cory could feel his anger rising.

“They’re not our brothers and sisters!” the men protested.

“Everything we are, everything we have, is here! Our brothers and sisters are right here, in the desert! Everyone else is the enemy! Yeah, sure, the women in Tresalt have it rough, but they don’t have to worry about what they’ll eat tomorrow. And others? You talk about the workers? They’re nothing but the spawn selected and bred by the Trainers! With help from people like the one you have next to you!” an older man spoke.

Cory did not have any doubt who they were talking about. Edgar was probably much more uncomfortable right now than when they had been in Tresalt, under the scrutiny of young women.

“No one chose to be made by the Trainers!” he spoke loudly. “My friend here, Edgar, can teach you how to make weapons. I know Drena and its weaknesses. You say that you don’t care about the women in Tresalt. But what about the children that are raised there?”

“I don’t have any child there,” the older man spat.

“But I do,” a local took a step forward. “And I want to know what this man with the pendant has to say.”

A few others joined the man who had spoken last. They were looking at Cory expecting something. No, if he was to look closely, they were watching him like their hopes were hanging by what he was going to say next.

“You are the warriors, my friends,” Cory spoke. “You will be the hand that will slash through the unjust ruling of the Trainers. You are the ones who will bring the dawn of a new world!”

There were murmurs again. Edgar and he had worked on this speech for hours, wondering if they were going to reach these men’s and women’s hearts. And he knew one thing. That from the first second he had begun talking, he started to believe, too.

“I’m with this guy,” a short woman who could not be one day over 25 years of age hurried to the front. “For so long my mother and my father and my grandmother and my grandfather, and their parents, too, have waited for a sign. Do you think having food on the table is everything that matters?” she continued, pushing a mop of black hair away from her forehead. “You want the lives of those miners and those women? To eat and sleep and forced to live like animals? Here we are free. And maybe that seems little. But can’t you see the truth? We are the ones who’ll take down the injustice. Or else our freedom is nothing but a dream. I wasn’t born to live like I’m asleep. For how long do you think the Trainers will let us live? My mother used to say: it will come a day, my child, when we’ll be asked if we are ready, ready to fight for The One, and on our answer the future of all this world will rest. So, I’m asking you, my brothers and sisters: are you ready?”

Cory was staring, his eyes wide. That was the power of faith, there, in front of his eyes. Other men and women stepped forward, joining the speakers. He could feel his heart beating in his chest. And, for once in his short life, it was with pride.

It hadn’t been easy, but now they could round up everyone capable of fighting and organizing them. The ruler of the settlement had let them inside her home, and together with Edgar, he was trying to strategize the next move.

“Who the fuck are these guys?” he heard someone yelling outside.

Maybe his ears were playing tricks on him, and he had spent way too much time in the desert sun, but he felt like he knew that voice. Could it be? Edgar stared at him, wide eyed. He could tell that the scientist was not used to this rough way of living. Neither was he, if he was to think about it, but getting used to people who spoke their minds was too little an inconvenience to really consider. Edgar was trying to put on a brave face, nonetheless. Cory made a small gesture towards his friend, and stepped outside.

“I need that fucking medicine and I need it now,” the same voice commanded.

Cory squinted and blinked a few times. Was it really possible? Were his eyes seeing what he thought they were seeing?

“You seem like a healthy lad to me,” the old woman in charge of the settlement spoke to the stranger. “What do you need that medicine for?”

“Ayn!” Cory yelled, and the newcomer turned on his heels, and remained there, stunned.

“Cory? For real?” Ayn smiled and hurried to him.

He was pretty certain he could not breathe, that was how tightly Ayn was hugging him. But he was hugging back, with all his force, too.

“What are you doing here? Where’s Lucas? Did you two guys run away from Drena?” Ayn began showering him with questions.

“No, unfortunately,” Cory mumbled. “I am the only one who got away. Lucas took care to send me away after ... ah, we have so many things to say to each other. How are you doing? And where is...”

He did not feel brave enough to ask. Ayn’s face fell.

“He’s home, I mean, my home. But ... he’s in a bad situation,” Ayn breathed out.

“Bad situation? What happened?” Cory asked, his heart tight.

“It’s a story at least as long as yours,” Ayn joked, but his eyes darkened. “I need some medicine for him. He’s gravely ill. And now I hear of some warriors setting to fight against the Trainers and taking all the good stuff off the market.”

Cory caught Ayn’s arm and squeezed in sympathy.

“Well, good thing you know these warriors then,” he joked.

“You?” Ayn’s eyes grew wide. “Damn! A lot of things surely have happened since we last saw each other. Are you as handy with a gun as you are with a spatula?” the former slave joked, earning a punch in the shoulder from Cory.

“None of a kind, and frankly, I don’t know how much of a warrior I am. But come, I want you to meet someone.”

Ayn followed Cory, shaking his head and not believing his eyes. Cory seemed taller somehow, his soft features hardened, probably from too much time spent in the sun. His clothes were different, too, and he blended in with the other people of the desert, despite his golden hair.

“Ayn, this is my friend, Edgar. He is a scientist from Aeria, and the one putting up with all my lack of skill in handling all this war thing you’ve probably heard people talking about.”

Ayn’s eyes fell on a man who seemed thin under the rough clothes he was wearing. If he had thought of Cory to blend well with the environment, this guy was anything but. His intelligent eyes were taking in everything with a sort of wonder that Ayn would have resembled to a child’s if it were not for the inquisitive look in them.

He also seemed more delicate and of a weak constitution. A scientist? Not exactly the type to make it out in the desert. But again, who would have thought Xav was going to do so well in the desert after living in the lap of luxury in Drena?

“Guys, I’d love to hear your war stories,” he smiled, as he shook hands with Edgar. “But I have a serious situation back at home. Xav ... he’s...”

He could not bring himself to say it. His smile died on his lips, and he noticed how Cory and Edgar exchanged quick glances between them.

“What seems to be the problem?” Edgar spoke in an affable voice.

“He ... got his thumb cut out, and now he’s fighting an infection,” he said quickly.

He had no idea how he was going to explain the metal ends wrapped around Xav’s bones, who knew to what extent.

“I am not exactly a medic, but I have knowledge of the human body that makes me believe that I can be of assistance,” Edgar spoke. “Plus, I think we can spare a little medicine from what we got so far. It is, after all, for a good cause,” the scientist turned toward Cory, as if he wanted to ask for the former servant’s approval.

“You know how to make Xav well?” Ayn grabbed Edgar’s arm and shook the poor man, something that seemed to give the guy a bit of a scare. “Sorry,” he let go of the man.

“No problem. I suppose I need to get myself acquainted to the human touch a bit more,” Edgar shook his head, like he needed to face a serious problem.

“We need to move anyway,” Cory said. “How far is your home, Ayn?”

“We’ll have to drive all night since it’s already late, but we’ll get there,” Ayn said with conviction. “Are you guys coming? How many of you are there?”

“Besides Edgar and I? None.”

“That’s one hell of an army,” Ayn joked.

Everything seemed a puzzle, but there was no time to talk about anything else except for saving Xav. But what if this scientist could not save the man he loved? He worried so much. What if he needed to say everything so that Edgar could know what to do? After a short moment of deliberation with himself, he spoke again.

“There’s just one thing you need to know. About Xav.”

“Yes?” Edgar encouraged him.

“It’s kind of strange,” Ayn added. “He...”

He was probably not breathing at all, as he began explaining to Cory and Edgar about the bracelet and then what happened after Xav had tried to leave him. He could not get over that thing easily, but there was no time to think about that. With his heart as small as a berry, he waited the verdict. Cory and Edgar were staring at him, visibly surprised, and a bit scared.

Edgar was the first to break the silence.

“Some sort of mechanical intervention seems to have happened. That makes me believe that the medical problem should be addressed at the same time with the mechanical one.”

The way the man spoke was making him feel more at ease. Cory was still silent, and was staring at him wide-eyed.

“Have you guys ever heard of anything like this?” Ayn opened his mouth. “I mean ... He is Xav, after all, right?”

“I doubt that this type of intervention could have altered the human nature of the person we are talking about,” Edgar replied. “But forgive me if I feel a bit at a loss here. Who is this Xav person? Don’t tell me...” he turned towards Cory, and the former servant nodded slowly. “Oh. I see. Maybe that is why the First Ruler must be selected with extreme care. I doubt just any ordinary human being could be subjected to this sort of modification.”

“We didn’t have the time to tell each other the entire stories of our lives, either,” Cory offered with a sympathetic smile. “And I didn’t even properly introduced Ayn to you, Edgar. He used to be a slave in the household I served, while I was Lord Xavier’s servant. He ... sort of ... took Lord Xavier away with him. And forgive me if I don’t understand much myself.”

“Eh, you know, one thing led to another,” Ayn smiled. “We’re like this now,” he explained, linking his hands together.

Cory burst into laughter.

“What did you do, Ayn?”

“You know me. He was too good to waste, right?” Ayn allowed himself a small joke. “We’re ... well he’s my man now.”

“Well, at least it’s good to know he’s not a prisoner. I doubt he would have taken that well,” Cory smiled. “Frankly, I don’t know how you managed. I’m trembling a little, only at the thought that I’m going to see him again.”

“I heard that Lord Xavier tends to have an overbearing presence,” Edgar expressed his thoughts out loud.

Ayn shook his head and chuckled with mirth.

“You guys should drop the Lord stuff. He’s one of us now. He’s mine,” he said with pride, earning looks of wonder from both the other men.

“Well, then we are counting on you, Ayn,” Edgar spoke again. “I would not know how to behave in the presence of the First Ruler of Drena. I’m afraid that being cooped up in Aeria for almost all my living years didn’t exactly make me good company for such select people.”

Ayn patted Edgar on the back, making the young scientist cough, as if taken by surprise.

“I like this guy,” he said loudly and laughed, earning an enthusiastic nod from Cory. “Let’s go, warriors,” he joked.

His heart could finally slow down a bit. Never in his life had he been a believer, but it was like someone from above had led him to Cory and Edgar. This was even better than medicine. He was bringing back home with him a healer, if what the scientist was saying about his knowledge of the human body and mechanics, was true.

Cory was hesitant, as Ayn jumped from his van and gestured for him and Edgar to follow. He hadn’t seen his former Master in what seemed like years, even if only a few months had passed. Such a change had taken places, not only with all of them, but on the inside, too. But was Lord Xavier a changed man, too, as Ayn had said? He wanted to believe that was the case.

Edgar, next to him, seemed a little bit more preoccupied by something else. The scientist was mumbling something to himself, deep in thought.

“It looks like we’re here, ready to meet my former master,” Cory forced the words out, trying to sound much more energetic and confident than he was.

“The medical problem might not be without complications,” Edgar spoke, totally oblivious to Cory’s distress. “It really puzzles me. I cannot wait to see that.”

Of course, now the responsibility rested on Edgar’s shoulders and his knowledge. Cory chided himself for being so silly sometimes. He was merely a support character at this point, and the least he could do was to avoid burden Edgar with his issues.

Ayn hurried them.

“Come, come, time’s a wasting,” the former slave called for them, and Cory hurried to follow him.

Edgar continued his mumbling, but followed, as well.

Contemplating his inevitable demise was proving to become a tad boring, Xavier thought. Even that damn woman’s presence would have stave off the black thoughts, but Myra needed a few hours of sleep, too, and he had been the one to insist that she needed to go home and rest, since there was no room for her to sleep in Ayn’s home.

His former self would have not cared less if Myra was going to have a stiff back by trying to sleep in the only chair in the room. But that was not him anymore. Lord Xavier, the First Ruler of Drena, was a memory of a distant past now.

The thought of having to die eventually was not as much troubling for him, as was the thought of how much Ayn was going to suffer. And that thought was particularly difficult to take in. What could he do to prepare Ayn for what was to follow? The throbbing in his arm was just getting worse. Myra had changed his bandages, dressed the wound as much as she could, ignoring the hardened pieces of metal sticking from his shattered bones.

So the woman knew. Yet she had said nothing and continued to treat him like he was no different from her. Maybe she was not such a bad choice for Ayn, after all. Her soft touch could comfort the young man, after he was gone.

But no matter how selfless he was trying to be, in his own mind, he could not deny that the image of Ayn in Myra’s arms was just leaving him angered and exhausted. There was nothing rational in his reaction. He didn’t want Ayn to grow bitter and lonely, did he? Yet, he could not stand the mere thought of the man he loved being embraced by another.

He needed to make amends. With Ayn, and with himself. And that meant that when Myra was going to come again, he was going to make her promise, on the faith she had for that deity she had spoken about in her stories, that she was going to take care of Ayn. And help him forget.

It was barely dawn, but he could not sleep anymore. There was also a lot of noise outside. What could be? Was that Ayn’s voice?

His heart made a small leap in his chest. He was going to see Ayn again. That made him grateful. But who to thank for the comfort of living enough to see his lover one more time? Myra was a wise woman. Faith was something to hold on to, in the darkest of hours.