Lost Rain
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Restless - Chapter 9
🕑 Added 2025-01-14 22:19:35 +0000 UTCAN: 4/4
Also, I probably should have put this beforehand, but here's a content warning for Sensitive Content for the rest of the book.
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Moll and Clyde entered the fight with a bang. Clyde, the ever-cheerful man, lunged towards the beast. His power activated as his form melted away into something like a cat, though much larger and covered in black fur. Right, shapeshifter.
Moll was quick to follow. Before, she had been holding back. All I’d seen of the woman’s power was simple fireballs and focusing her fire to a superheated point. Now though, she went all out.
With a snap of her fingers, great walls of fire covered every approach, incinerating countless Shiev as they encircled the central square. The fires also blocked out this group's entourage from coming to help as we made our move.
Such a feat seemed to be quite draining for the woman. She slowed down and only slung the occasional fireball to assist the fight against the Death Knight. Each ball of fire exploded against the armored behemoth, not causing much harm but throwing off attacks just enough to help the melee fighters.
As for the two remaining… heroes? Thieves? I don’t even know anymore. The two remaining super-powered individuals let out a shout as reinforcements made themselves known. It seemed to reinforce their crashing morale, inspiring both to fight even harder than before. Such a scenario was perfect for me as their attention fully went to the fight.
As soon as Clyde and Moll made their move, I made mine. With all eyes on the behemoth undead, I approached the still rapidly decaying body of the gunner. I kept my eyes down, focused entirely on my goal. They were counting on me to get this down, and I wouldn’t disappoint the two. They were my only way out.
Tears sprung to my eyes as the horrid scent of decaying flesh reached my nose. I choked on puke as I reached within reaching distance of the half-decayed body. She was well and clearly dead, and yet the decaying force spreading through her body hadn’t stopped. It wiggled and wormed through her skin like thousands of worms, corrupting her body into a black mass of flesh.
I barely managed to get myself to look away as my attempts to hold back bile failed. After several long moments, and my stomach emptied, I wiped my face and approached once more.
I tried to keep from breathing through my nose as I crouched at the dead gunner’s side and poked through her pockets. As I stuck my hand in, I felt her entire hip cave in as the rotten flesh collapsed into a squelch of rotting ichor. Said rotten ichor covered my hand, warm to the touch.
I squeezed my eyes shut at the horrid sensations and tried to put myself anywhere else but here. It didn’t work. I snapped my eyes open once more and shifted to check a satchel fall next to the rapidly decaying woman. Focusing on the job helped my raging heart and mind.
My rot-covered hand riffled through its contents as I wished for nothing more than to wipe off the substance. The bag was half full of ammunition belts for her crank gun, but buried beneath all of that I found something tightly wrapped in fabric. I withdrew it, wiping what I could off on the fabric as I unwrapped it with shaky hands.
A silver gleam reflected the raging walls of fire all around me. That was all I needed as I stuffed the object into my pocket and moved away from the rotting corpse as fast as I could.
I spared a glance up to the rest of the battle, only to find things not going well. The axe-wielding man was no more. What remained of his skull was crammed down into the rest of his body, resembling one big pile of meat and shattered bones. The Grave Knight had gotten a nasty hit in with its makeshift mace.
The other water-controlling person was still up and fighting, though a glance in his direction revealed the man to be in dire straits. His entire body was barely being held up by what looked like sheer force of will. The Grave Knight had thrown a rock at some point, cleaving the man’s arm and half his torso off in one fell swoop.
Moll and Clyde were in a better state. Moll incinerated every object or bolt of acid sent at her, keeping herself safe. Each incineration caused the surrounding walls to flicker erratically, showing the pure force she put into each blast.
Clyde was worse off being in melee with the corruptive creature. His black panther shape was more than agile enough to dodge every one of the Grave Knight’s clumsy strikes though. While the creature was big and powerful, its limbs seemed to be stuck in a state of rigor mortis, causing each movement to be relatively slow.
My heart pounded in my chest as I shakily got to my feet and ran back for the cover of the alley. As soon as I ducked into it, I collapsed against the side of the alley wall, feeling a deep sense of shame as I abandoned the two to the fight. I barely managed to keep myself stable enough to let out a shout to inform the two before ducking back into safety.
Bile rose in my throat once more, though this time inspired by disgust in myself. I was so weak. So very weak. There was nothing I could do about this situation. Even the revolver at my hip felt incredibly weak. It wouldn’t even scratch that- that abomination.
I squeezed my eyes shut, praying it would all just be over. That the sounds of battle would end. That I‘d go back home to Voth Prime. That-
”Jasper. Jasper! Can you hear me?!” A voice called out, drawing me from my self-disgusted reverie as I shook my head. The rushing blood brought back some semblance of awareness.
Moll stood over me, grabbing my arm roughly as she tried to get me up. When'd she get here? I forced myself to my feet, glancing past her to see Clyde running over in his black panther form. Behind him, a wall of fire rose into the air, separating us from the town square.
Mid stride, he transformed back into a man, his clothes reforming around him in an instant. His stride turned haggard as he grasped at his side, his eyes twitching in agony. A scent clung to the air- one of rot. ”D-did you get it?”
I mutely nodded my head for a moment as an all-encompassing whine seemed to fill the air. My blood ran cold-
I shook myself out of it and forced myself to speak. “Y-y-yeah, I got it.” My rot-covered hand dipped into my pocket, taking out the statue from within. The action slathered the statue in goop.
“Good, good. Son, you- you hold onto it, yeah?” Clyde gasped roughly as he shifted. His entire side was soaked black with blood. He’d been hit. Bad.
How?! He’d been leading that beast by its nose the entire time, too nimble to get hit? How?
”Clyde!” Moll turned panicky as she moved over the man and forced his hand up so she could see the wound. “H-how bad is it?”
The man forced a smile to his bloodshot eyes as he laughed. The laugh turned to a cough, splattering his bandana with blood. She pulled off the fabric of his clothes, revealing black flesh and the gleam of white bones. “I-I’m afraid this is my last ride, dear.”
”No- no!” Moll’s hand lit up in flames as she pressed it toward his side, attempting to cauterize the wound.
Clyde gently grabbed her wrist before she could touch him. His thumb lovingly caressed her skin as the flames on her hand flickered out. “It’s already infected me.”
”I- I- I-“ Moll broke down into tears. Each fallen drop hammered my heart and mind. The strong woman I’d seen all this time breaking down- it- it hurt in a way I wasn’t prepared for.
“It’s okay, my dear… go on. With Jasper. Get a nice farmstead somewhere like we always talked about, yeah?” Clyde coughed again, this time sounding more violent than the last. “I’m afraid I won’t be leavin’ here.”
”No-“
A heavy footfall pounded just outside the alley as a screech rose into the air. A stench of burning flesh followed shortly after. Even with my head barely working, I could tell what was going on. The Grave Knight was trying to get through the wall of flames. To get to us.
”Everythin’ will be fine. Trust me, my dear. I'll hold off that beast longer so you two can escape. Never forget, I will always love you.” The man winced as he used his power once more before either of us could say anything. He shifted in a mere moment, turning back into a black panther.
Without clothes covering him, I could see how truly bad he had been hit. His entire side was rapidly decaying to whatever poison the Grave Knight used. Fur rapidly fell out with each moment, joined by flecks of black blood. His skin gave way as his ribs poked through the wound grotesquely.
The black panther gave one last loving look toward Moll then ran off, turning the corner of the alley. Shortly after, more pained screams came from the Grave Knight.
I felt sick as I watched Moll’s face collapse. Then her eyes met mine. Eyes full of sorrow. “I-“
Moll shook her head roughly, using her powers to burn her own skin. The pain seemed to bring some kind of clarity back to her mind. Her grieving eyes took an angry hint. “I- I won’t leave him. Not after all this time.”
”What-“
She pulled a piece of paper from her pocket and crammed it into my hands. “Here’s the address of the client. T-take the statue to him and he’ll pay you. Then you’ll be set for life, okay? Aim for the wall separating this half of the city from the other and run.”
My hand subconsciously gripped around the piece of paper. “What-“
”Run! Run, Jasper, run!” Moll ordered shoving me toward the opposite end of the alley. “Don’t ever look back!”
My brain got all the urging it needed as my legs started to work overtime, sprinting towards the mouth of the alley. I sped by even as my brain struggled to catch up with the situation. From behind I heard the squeals of the Grave Knight, followed by explosive blasts of fire.
— — —
By the time my flight instinct calmed down enough for me to stop running, I’d gone a dozen blocks. From behind, the sounds of battle had entirely ceased. Clyde and Moll were- my mind blanked as the comforting sensation of my feet pounding the ground took over every fiber of my being.
Was running away like a filthy coward all I was good at? All I would ever be good at? Why? Why was I made this way? Oh Great Lord, why?
I ran back then too. Away from my grief after Vayne died. I ran, becoming a courier so I could run even more. Too scared to face myself after my brother never came back. Too scared to face my grief.
And then I ran yet again. Once the shades attacked. I sprinted for all I was worth, abandoning Melissa to death.
Just as I was now. Running. Why was I picked as a Herald? Why not someone better- someone braver? Someone like my brother. Like Clyde. Like Moll? By the Pyre, anyone else? Why choose such me? Why?
Even as my mind whirled in turmoil, my body still moved. I still hadn't looked back. Moll’s last words seared into my mind, pressing down onto me with their full weight. Don't look back.
So I didn't.
And still I ran.
As I always did.
As I always would.
Until the world would let me run no more.
I tripped, tumbling over a pile of loose rubble. My body tumbled uncontrollably, scraping and scratching as I banged against the road, crashing into a section of collapsed building held together by meat webbing. All over my body, I felt several bones snap and break. A sharp pain pierced through my leg, impaling all the way through the limb.
I bit back a scream as the pain brought my mind back. Back to my horrid situation. The scream faded as I stared down at a piece of metal stabbing all the way through my kneecap.
It wasn’t the only one. Another piece of metal had gone through my chest just next to my heart. A laugh--a broken laugh lacking in any mirth--bubbled up from my bruised lungs as blood seeped out of the wounds. It turned into a wretched cough, shooting agony throughout my chest as my lungs seized and tore on the metal stabbing me through.
The blood oozing made me feel sick, and yet I found some relief in the pain. As if an affirmation that I was still alive... though not for much longer, from what it felt like. It wasn’t just the pierced sections of my body that were hurt. I’d broken several bones in my fall. This body was bigger- it had more force then I was used to upon falling.
I tried to move, but the sheer pulses of agony through my body kept me still. My laugh grew louder, breaking as my voice cracked sharply.
Blood leaked from my body, slowly turning everything cold. That blasted cold. Oh, how I hated it. I'd kill for an ability like Moll's- to generate warmth wherever I was at any given moment.
It was fitting, in a way. A life of running put to an end by tripping. Injuries sustained not from a battle as countless warriors of the Slarin Republic had but from my own stupidity.
My head hurt. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad? Dying, that is. The priests had promised believers would be sent to a heavenly paradise, right? One without fear. One without pain...
Self-disgust welled up in me once more as spots grew on the edge of my vision. A scream erupted from my throat, “WWHHHHYYY?!!!!”
The broken scream echoed off the surrounding buildings, replaying in my ears several times. I felt myself breaking- shattering as I had once before. Back when I was pulled from that tomb of ice. Back when I saw the countless dead. Back when I was envious of them, laying in peace.
Still, the echo bounced back.
I wasn’t expecting an answer as my world grew hazy.
And yet one came as my vision faded.
A soothing wave of warmth washed over my body. It was pleasant, so very pleasant. As if the hand of my loving brother was on my shoulder after waking from a nightmare. As if a warm hand offered to pull me from the confines of that coffin of ice. As if-
I blankly stared at the night sky. At least I wasn’t cold anymore.
Then, with a cacophonous boom that barely reached my foggy mind, the sky lit up. The pure darkness above vanished, replaced by radiant light as the sun appeared far on the horizon.
The warmth of the rising sun caressed my broken body and bruised mind. I was dying... tears leaked down my face. If only I could've been brave just once in my life. Everything faded under the warmth of the sun.
Comments
Alexander Belousov
Love the story so far. Great story telling. One of the things that I appreciate about your writing is lack of politics. Lots of writers look to put themes from contemporary politics into their stories. To say that I hate it with a passion would be an understatement. I am not reading fantasy to think about modern day issues. Again, thanks for writing!
