Chapter 20: Boys and Their Macho Ways

“Tork, did your team get those charges set in the assembly line like I asked you to?” said Leon without breaking stride.

Tork gave a thumbs-up sign with his claw while holding Rachel with the other. “It should be ashes by now, old boy.”

“Good man,” said Leon, but Éclair was hardly listening.

As they ran from the shadow of Gregory Industries, Éclair felt conflicted. Seeing everyone, being rescued, leaving that dreadful place made her feel free enough to fly. And on the other hand, losing Grafael, the one person who was there for her when Zand left, the only man she could depend on for protection and comfort...

Even if it wasn’t technically correct to refer to him as a man, Éclair hardly cared. To her, Grafael T’Macor would always be a man - a proud and noble man worth more than a thousand other men put together.

Éclair could still remember the day they had met more than five years ago in the mines. A group of scavengers had come for her food rations that night. She had been given barely enough food to keep her on her feet, and if she lost what little she had, she would’ve starved. Only one person even gave a damn to what happened to a starving, orphan girl. Only one man had the nerve to do anything about it.

Wounded and half-starved himself, Grafael possessed an uncompromising sense of honor as he stood against the scavengers. There were at least a dozen of them, and they came at him with energy knives that pierced even his hard scales. Éclair still couldn’t quite understand how he survived that night from all the blood he lost.

Wounded or not, Grafael still beat those men within an inch of their lives, and yet, he spared them. He knew they were just hungry souls themselves, and when hunger sets in, even the most rational of beings can be driven to the brink of madness; Éclair knew that for a fact. Needless to say, those men never bothered Éclair or Grafael after that night.

Éclair could still hear Grafael’s cries of agony when she nursed him back to health, sharing what food she could spare. She heard him whisper in his sleep. He said strange things in his delirium. To Éclair, it sounded like, “Mother.” And then, at other times he said, “Father.” From the pain in his voice, Éclair lacked the heart to ask him of his dreams.

When Grafael came to, he made a pact with her for nursing him back to health. They had been together ever since, even after Leon rescued them and took them to the Ministry of Fire. Éclair had never known that Grafael had spoken to Zand until he had said the words only moments before. Now, she felt certain that her heart would never fully heal if a soul as pure and honest as Grafael T’Macor had died for such a worthless creature like herself.

Éclair was only vaguely aware of moving. Tears still streamed down her cheek to be taken by the wind. They were on foot and running at speeds equal to that of racehorses. The smoking peak of Gregory Industries slowly lost its foreboding presence with distance. Even so, Éclair would always remember the place with dread ... not only for her short capture, but for what she had left behind.

“Éclair,” came the voice of Ryan Uruks.

Éclair met Ryan’s intense, red eyes that felt both feral and warm at the same time, like a wolf that had been tamed to love only one master. “He’s still alive! You know that ... don’t you?”

It took Éclair a moment to realize that Ryan had been crying as well. Oh, the lives you have touched Grafael T’Macor. Truly we are all lost without you.

“Ryan, you don’t understand. The only reason he’s back there right now is because of me. I’m the one who killed him!”

“But he’s not dead! I know he’s not going to die here!”

Éclair wanted to believe him, but her experiences in the mines had confirmed for her once and for all that fairy tales are not real. ‘Happily ever after’ didn’t factor in this world that killed without distinction.

“But do you really know that?”

Ryan paused for a minute as if to think of something clever. Then he somehow managed a smile despite everything, and he said, “I don’t know, but I believe ... I believe in Grafael.”

Once again, Ryan had a way with words that left Éclair awestruck. Whether from his naiveté or his inspiring and dramatic ways of saying things, Ryan Uruks was a very strange boy.

“We’re almost to the rendezvous site,” interrupted the voice of Leon Lurranna.

Éclair turned to Leon’s dark, captivating visage, a face that could tempt stars to fall. She felt herself drawn to his dark eyes yet again, but immediately rebuked herself. Now’s hardly the time for such triviality.

“Éclair, can you go much further?”

Éclair swallowed hard. “I’ve made it this far, haven’t I?”

Leon nodded slowly. “There should be medical equipment on the Mecha-Titan. We can treat you and the others when we get aboard.”

“Please don’t waste your time on my account,” interjected the panting voice of Tork. “Fit as a fiddle, I am. Healthy as a newborn calf.”

Tork trotted while carrying Rachel in his arms. Despite being more accustomed to flying, he still moved with surprising speed and grace considering his injury, and all while carrying an 18-year-old girl.

“Do you even know what a calf is?” asked Ryan.

Tork had to think about that for a bit. “Well ... no ... I mean ... I’ve never seen one, but they are referenced many times in Ancient Earth literature. What I can’t decide is whether they were used as a food resource or worshipped as deities.”

“A little of both, actually,” commented Leon as he ran. “Our ancient ancestors weren’t marked for their intelligence.”

Éclair had almost forgotten about the wellbeing of her adopted sister, a fact that filled her to no end with shame. “How is she?” she asked gently.

Tork’s countenance became more serious. “She may have a mild concussion, but as far as I can tell, she’ll live and make a full recovery given the proper treatment.”

“How can you be certain?” asked Éclair in concern.

Tork smiled a little, and said, “I’m a Dragon. We just have a way of knowing these things.”

Éclair had almost forgotten that the Dragons were a race as mystical and mysterious as the Sages. A Dragon knew things that most people could only guess at. They never explained how they knew, only that they knew, and that was enough for the Elemental leaders of the past, so it should have been enough for Éclair.

“I’m sorry for questioning you,” said Éclair quickly. “It’s just that...” She trailed off, unable to finish her thought as grief set in.

“I understand,” said Tork with a knowing smile. “She’s your sister ... if not in blood, then in the ways that matter most.”

“Yes,” agreed Éclair quietly.

“There it is,” declared Ryan as he pointed ahead.

They soon came across an alley that led into an underground tunnel which served as an entry point into the Undercity. Shortly after, Éclair beheld the craft. She had heard many stories about the fabled machines that held the title of Mecha-Titan, but she could never have imagined the scope of such a creation. The machine that stood before her was at least the size of a large house.

It stood about four stories high on mechanical legs that resembled a quadrupedal creature from Ancient Earth. At the rear of the machine was anchored a tower with a massive cannon at the top arranged in such a way that it resembled a scorpion’s tail.

At the front of the vehicle was a mechanical depiction of a lion’s head. The eyes glowed orange, and blue flames shot from the mouth as if the machine were breathing. What served as a lion’s mane were two spinning disks with spikes that rotated like buzz-saws.

The silver and black plating now sported hundreds of scorch marks from the battle. On the side of the technological beast were bright pink letters that read, Lioness. On the back of the monster in the open cockpit sat two familiar figures that made Éclair’s heart soar with glee. Even Kavic was a welcomed meeting when compared to Lord Gregory.

“Thisimius!” cried Éclair, barely able to contain her surprise or her joy.

“Éclair, ye bonnie lass. I ken those blighters wouldn’t get the best of ya, dearie,” called down Thisimius.

The Ogre was as bulbous and greasy as ever. In other words, Éclair had never seen a more magnificent sight than that of the rotund Thisimius climbing down clumsily from the ladder of the Mecha-Titan. As Thisy landed to the ground hard, he held out his arms warmly, and Éclair buried herself into his large and comfortable bulk.

Éclair shivered slightly with joy as Thisimius held her tenderly. “I didn’t think I’d ever see you again, Thisy. I didn’t think I’d see any of you again.”

Thisy looked down at Éclair jovially. “Codswallop, lass. I doubt that even old Scratch himself could stand between these young’uns and ye.” Thisy gestured to Ryan and the others.

As Thisy scanned the faces of all that were present, he said, “Where be the young Wingless lad, Grafael?” When no one answered him, Thisimius sighed sadly. “I see. Lost another one, have we?”

“He’s not lost!” shouted Ryan. “He’s still alive! We have to go back and save him!”

“Ryan, stop it,” said Leon sternly. “You know full well that’s not a part of the mission.”

“Screw the mission! Grafael is still alive, and we have to help him!”

“I’m afraid I have to agree with young Lurranna, here,” said Thisy in a grave voice. “Grafael is one tough son of a bitch, but did ye see how many mercs are back that way, laddie? Hundreds if not thousands of ‘em, and every single one of ‘em armed to the teeth. Besides that, the war is still on, and if we don’t hurry, it might be too late to stop the fightin’.”

“Um, excuse me,” said the polite and reasonable voice of Viceroy Kavic. “I don’t mean to interrupt, but there is something transpiring of a certain significance that you might be interested to hear.”

From what Éclair knew of Kavic, he never spoke up unless there was something worth taking notice of. Temporarily forgoing the debate, everyone soon ascended to the top of the Mecha-Titan. Kavic activated the comm signal and Éclair heard muffled voices with a little static interference, but still discernible.

“I repeat, this is Wielder General Konamay speaking, we request the presence of Minister Sorric to negotiate a ceasefire. Code Niner-Niner-A-twelve-C-Beta-Beta-Ace-Six-Six-Zero-Pavo-One-One-One-Terra-One.”

“What’s that stuff he’s saying?” asked Ryan.

“It’s a psionic code,” explained Éclair. “It’s used in communication to confirm that a commander is not being influenced by telepathy. A psionic code is implanted into every Elemental commander’s brain so that it’s impossible for him to say the code while under the influence of another. It’s a way of confirming that the orders are not being controlled by the enemy.”

Kavic switched off the communique, and said, “If what this transmission says is true, a ceasefire has been issued, and this General Konamay is requesting his Minister to negotiate a peace settlement with the Ministry of Fire.”

“Have you heard the Fire Minister’s response?” asked Leon.

“From what I’ve been able to decipher over the last few minutes, Saria Kaves is already en route to the battle site via carrier transport with fighter escort. Fighting between the two Ministries has stopped all over District 8. However, it may be temporary seeing as how neither side has withdrawn yet.”

“It’s Eramar,” exclaimed Ryan. “I know it is. He came through for us and managed to arrange a ceasefire.”

“Possibly,” said Leon, but with much less optimism than Ryan. “However, this doesn’t change our mission. There have been incidents of ceasefires between Ministries in the past only to have them abruptly end a few hours later and the fighting to resume in earnest.

“And we mustn’t forget about Lord Gregory. I have little doubt that he’s already scheming of a way to get the fighting started again, and in wartime, there is little need for much provocation for either side to continue the violence. Although, this may give us the chance we need to get both Ministers together and to present the evidence we acquired, thus ensuring a lasting peace that not even Lord Gregory can interfere with.”

“And what evidence is that, pray tell?” asked Éclair.

“A journal,” answered the familiar voice of Rachel Kaves.

Éclair forgot herself for a moment and immediately engulfed her cynical sister in a hug. Poor Tork looked startled enough to lay an egg while Éclair smothered Rachel in his arms.

“Rachel! Rachel! You’re alright! You’re alright!”

“Yeah. Yeah. That’s disgustingly sweet of you. I’m fine, now get off me! I was only unconscious, not dead!”

Éclair extracted herself slowly, but she could’ve sworn that she detected a slight grin pass over Rachel’s face. “As for the evidence,” said Rachel, still in Tork’s arms. “While we were in the computer room, before that Goblin bitch got the jump on us-”

“Wait, wait, wait,” said Ryan, waving his hands. “Are you saying that Silvia did this to you?”

Rachel smiled dryly at Ryan. “Um, let me think ... uh ... Doy! She’s a conniving little she-demon who kills people for a living! It’s kind of her job! Now that we’ve eliminated the obvious, can I get back to my briefing?”

Éclair tried not to show any reaction. So, Silvia sided with her father after all. Hopefully we’ve seen the last of her. I still don’t know how I’d feel if I was forced to kill her.

Ryan said nothing as he took a step back sullenly.

“As I was saying,” continued Rachel. “I managed to hack their encrypted database using the spikes that Thisy gave us. In it, I found Lord Gregory’s personal voice journal. It detailed all of the dirty little deeds that creep has been up to for the past few years.”

Rachel pulled out a black flash drive about the size of a bean. “When this baby goes public, not only will it end the war, but from what I saw, not even the Emperor is going to be all too pleased with our ‘honorable’ Lord Gregory.”

“Thisimius,” said Leon. “Can you broadcast the data on this chip from here?”

Thisimius shook his head. “I’m afraid not, laddie. The communications dish got fried during our assault on Gregory Industries. We can receive signals, but we can’t send any out. Plus, the effects of the Water Ministry’s EMP haven’t worn off, so your personal communicators won’t get the job done either.”