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The Waystation Ch.110
🕑 Added 2023-12-27 09:00:05 +0000 UTCChapter 110
From Bad to Worse
Rose shot out of the keep's doors; shadows gathered around her as she blurred across the ground. She stumbled here and there; her wings fluttered occasionally as she struggled to stay upright. Her class came with a natural balance increase, but trying to stay balanced without arms was almost impossible, especially at speed.
She heard the shouts, heard the demanding voice calling for her to be captured again, and felt true panic.
Rose’s mind just could not accept her arms were gone, and she kept trying to catch herself with them as she sprinted for the stairs to the top of the wall. The gate was out; it was closed and guarded, and she couldn’t exactly fight her way out, could she?
It was a horrible joke. The armless rogue.
Leaping from the top of the walls, her wings blurred as she tried to slow her fall, but she landed hard and almost fell. If she fell, it was over.
She’d be caught, and then there was no hope, no escape, no running.
Just HER.
She ran on, jumping the small moat easily with the help of her wings, then panicking as she felt one foot threaten to slip from beneath her as she landed.
Three hours later, Rose was still running. Her whole body ached, and her lungs screamed for air, but she couldn’t risk stopping, not even for a second.
They would be coming, and she was still within their borders.
Weeping as she gasped along, Rose cursed the gods, the fae, her family, and everyone else. The curses felt hollow the longer she ran.
It was a waste of breath, so she stopped, her vision swimming as she sprinted along a road.
Her arms were gone. Properly gone. There was maybe one person on this planet who could regrow them, and he was the one person least likely to help her.
The old instincts rose, telling her that, of course, she could talk him into it or leverage her sister’s love to get it done.
She gasped at the thought of Lily.
Would Lily help her? Would she forgive as she had always done before? They did say she could go to them if she ever wanted to… so maybe?
Rose heard sounds behind her and ran even faster. Someone was coming, and no matter how scared she was, Rose refused to turn and look.
Fear and pain became her world as the snow began to fall, and her world narrowed to two things.
Running and keeping the shadows pressed against the stumps of her arms.
The pain grew, and her mind began to drift as the first day turned into the second; blood began to pool in her boots, and more shadows had to be used to staunch the blood there as well.
On the third day, she stumbled, rolled down the embankments, and crashed into the bushes and brambles. She wept then, her wings trapped beneath her as she stared up into the falling snow.
There was no way to get back up, and as the night started to draw in again and the cold began to numb her body, Rose finally accepted she was going to die for the second time.
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“We need to go now!” Wendy yelled as she scrambled out of Scruff’s bed and slammed out of the cottage. “Mum! Mum!”
“Get the Express ready!” A Multi-Bell appeared in a flash. “You’re off to get her.”
“Right, who’s coming?” Wendy asked as she started to mentally tick off supplies in her head.
“Take Lily and Scruff; we don’t have time to wait for anyone else. Drive straight there and then come back once you have her. DON’T STOP.”
Wendy nodded as Lily buzzed by on her way to the Express, pulling her armor on as she ran.
“By the time you get back, we will be ready!” The Multi-Bell snarled.
“For what?” Wendy asked as another one of the Multi-Bells held open the door for Scruff, who was fully geared already.
“Someone touched one of my people,” The real Bell appeared, glowing like an angry red sun, “What do you think we will be ready for?”
Wendy nodded, feeling her own rage starting to rise as the shock faded.
“GO!” Bell ordered, and the two women sprinted for the Express as if all the hounds of hell were behind them.
The ramps dropped around the Express as Wendy pulled herself into the cab.
Lily was pale and shaking, but she couldn’t tell if it was fear or fury behind it.
Probably both.
“You know where to go?” Scruff asked as she looked between the two of them.
“We can feel it,” Wendy said grimly as the Express rolled down the ramp and into the snowy landscape.
The last thing she saw was her Dad, walking towards the city through the snow, the delicate blue flames of Fae fire beginning to burn around him as he slowly sped up.
==============
Rose couldn’t cry anymore. She’d tried for hours, but she had nothing left. All she could do was hold on to her shadows as the snow built up around her.
It was a strange feeling, waiting for death. The last time, she had barely had time to think about it, but now… now she felt she understood it better.
The thing about dying was that it was lonely. She was lonely.
Rose didn’t imagine there was much more to see on the other side than she had already seen. More than that, no one was waiting for her there.
She had focused on one thing all her life, even her second one. Getting ahead. Getting the loot. A big score. Once she got that, Rose had planned to settle down and even raise a family.
Maybe a crew or even her own gang.
Now, as the snow fell onto her cheeks and she lost feeling in her legs, Rose finally got it.
The score she had been chasing her whole life had happened, and she never even noticed.
She remembered training with Bert, how he had encouraged her and cheered her on. He wasn’t a bad sort. Wendy, always joking and taking the piss, that weird farmer, even the walking skeleton.
Right now, she remembered the warm bed the most.
They hadn’t turned against her or driven her out… she’d just left.
Angry and jealous, she’d walked away and taken as much as she could with her.
For what? Her own place? Rose would have laughed at herself if she could, but she was far too tired for that.
After all that, her big win was a bunch of cult nutters who cut her bloody arms off to use for parts!
Rose found she could cry just a little bit more.
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Martha raged, her vinelike limbs tearing into her attendants like whips. They screamed and cried, but it didn’t help her feel any better.
The pale arms on the slab of stone in front of her were beginning to smell. She could see the first signs of rot starting to spread through them.
“Have the searchers found her yet?” Martha asked the weeping men and women around her.
“No, First One,” They said in perfect unison.
“Tell them to send out more teams. She must be found. Alive.” Martha turned away as they fled and started again.
Pushing her mana and skills to take control of the dead flesh and incorporate it into herself. She had done this a hundred or even a thousand times before. Never had she encountered the slightest trouble.
Stone, wood, metal, or flesh, she took ownership of it in seconds.
But now, she was denied. The needed flesh would not answer her call, and without it, she was cut off from her forces and the blessed people on the other continent.
The arms refused to accept her, even separated from the cursed creature.
“Damn it!” Martha screamed and smashed the stone table, tearing one of the recalcitrant arms to shreds as she did so.
Even then, she failed to take ownership of even a single drop of blackened blood.
Abandoning the attempt, she extended her spiderlike legs and climbed the tower of the keep around her until her head was level with the highest windows.
A blindingly white landscape stretched around her as far as her eyes could see.
“Where are you, little Rose?” She muttered to herself as she searched for any sign. “We need you, after all.”
Anger flared in her again, but she pushed it aside, reaching into the minds of the searchers.
The ability to take control of her followers was still new to her. It had almost been an accident the first time it happened. She was merely resting on top of a building as the town below was saved, the wails and screams like music to her ears. She had watched two of her people dragging a small child to the sacrificial square where they could join the People and wanted to tell it not to cry.
She thought about how it was in her arms, even if it was carried by another, and suddenly she was there.
Looking out of another’s eyes even as she looked out her own.
It was like a door had opened in her mind, and she simply stepped through.
These days, there were thousands of doors, all of them held open just a crack.
She heard them all, her people, and they, in turn, could hear her.
Her blessed ones.
All she needed was for the way to open to the old continent once more, and she could add so many more doors.
That had been her plan and why she had chosen to harvest Rose. She could open the way with just a little of her flesh, of the fae power.
It had seemed so easy!
Her eyes were drawn back down the tower to the last remaining arm.
“Yes, yes,” She smiled. “You must give me that power.” She skittered and dropped back until she crouched over the flesh, her vines spreading like wings around her as Martha pushed and pushed at the flesh.
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“Dagon!” Bert yelled as he burst into the throne room, wreathed in blue flame. “Where are you?”
“He’s not here,” A woman sat at a small desk off to one side and glared over the top of her glasses at Bert. “What do you want?”
“We need his help,” Bert said, glaring at the woman, “He’s been playing stupid bloody games while people were dying.”
“So what?” The woman kept up her glare, eyes narrowing. “What would you care?”
“Sorry,” Bert frowned. “Have we met?” He focused on her at last, taking in her attire.
“No,” She sniffed. “Come back later.”
“You’re from Earth?” Bert frowned, taking in her clothes, the clipboard, and the ballpoint pen she tapped irritatedly against the desk. “You are, aren’t you?”
“Leave, dickhead,” She spat on the floor. “I won’t help you.”
“What the fuck is your problem?” Bert asked. “Someone piss in your cornflakes?”
“I’ll tell you what my problem is!” She snarled and flung a hand out.
Lights swirled and moved in the room, but the flames of the fae pushed them back.
“Well?” Bert asked, “I’m fucking waiting!”
“Enough!” Dagon roared as he unfolded out of the thin air like a cutout come to life. “Fiona, please control yourself.”
“Dagon, finally!” Bert rounded on the entity. “Did you know this was happening?”
“Of course,” Dagon grinned. “Why do you think I was trying to help?”
“Help?” Bert laughed. “Did you consider just opening that multi-dimensional yap of yours and just telling us?”
Dagon paused and then started to speak, only to pause again.
“That did not actually occur to me,” He frowned. “You must understand I do not experience time in the same way as you.”
“Shut up!” Bert goggled at the man, “All these bollocking games occurred to you, but just telling us didn’t?” He took a step forward, “They cut off her arms, Dagon.”
“Already?” Dagon looked confused. “That shouldn’t have happened for another month!”
“He probably caused it,” Fiona spat on the floor again.
“Who’s little Miss Friendly?” Bert asked sarcastically.
Her ballpoint bounced off the side of his head as Dagon laughed.
“That introduction will have to wait, little lord,” He waved his hands as images appeared around him. “I can offer no aid at this time, but I will when the time is right.” With another wave of his hand, Bert found himself back in the snow outside the Waystation.
He stood there, fuming for another few seconds, wondering if the Waystation was strong enough to slam it into the damn throne room before he caught himself and made himself calm down.
He had things to do.
==============
Rose listened to the noises as they came closer. Voices talked of her, and they sounded… wrong. She knew that sound. The human voice was never meant to sound like that. The People were coming.
She tried to drag herself further into cover, tried to run, tried to die, but nothing worked anymore. She could only lay there and hope she passed before they found her.
No matter what, she would not help them again.
Never again.
“Tracks!”
“Here, covered with snow, but still here!”
“Hurry!”
The group came closer, the voices getting louder as they approached the edge of the bushes that half hid her from view. Rose closed her eyes and waited; all they needed was the right angle and-
“Look Out!”
Rose’s eyes snapped open as a light played across the bushes, snowflakes glinting in the air as they fell.
“Run!” Fear in the voice now.
“YOU FUCKING DARE!” A voice roared through the night as something heavy passed, the ground rumbling.
Screams filled the night as Rose recognized the voice.
Wendy. It was Wendy. What was she doing here?
Rose tried to call out. To let them know she was here. All she managed was a pathetic gasp, lost amidst the screams of the People as Wendy vented her fury on them.
“Got her!” Rose recognized that voice, too; feeling vines of steel wrap around her body and raise her gently, the rogue began to weep. “Wendy! Lily! Get back here; she needs healing!”
Rose passed out as two women ran back towards her.
Nightmares took Rose the moment she passed out. One second, she was on the road, clasped in vines, and the next, she was back on the stone slab, watching the axes fall.
It all seemed to happen in slow motion, the axes slowing until she could feel each layer of skin sliced through, each fiber of muscle part. The bones in her arm shattered beneath the strike, and Rose screamed.
The scream blasted out of her, taking every drop of mana with it. She remembered the way the two butchers had been blasted away from her, their last remaining human parts shattering in the blast wave.
Just like before, she scrambled to get off the table, to run, to get away.
But this time, she stopped, frozen in the air as a man appeared.
No, not a man. A god.
“Hello, Rose.” Death smiled at her.
“Let me go, damn you!” She snarled and fought, “I need to run!”
“You already did,” the god laughed and snapped his fingers.
Rose remembered everything all at once. The whole run, the way her skills failed her after the first day. Too weak to keep them running, her shadows had fled… and another set took their place.
“You did that?” She asked.
“I owed your Lord a favor or two,” Death nodded as he settled himself onto the stone slab she had so recently vacated.
“I’ll let him know you helped me,” Rose said immediately.
“Don’t bother,” Death smiled again, and she was struck by how warm it was. Wasn’t Death supposed to be scary?
“Well, thank you,” Rose added lamely.
“Don’t thank me just yet,” Death said seriously. “We need to have a little chat, you and me.” He rose, walking towards the rogue.
“Why?” Rose tried to back away but was still held still by the very air around her. “What about?”
“Oh, this and that,” He grinned. “Mostly about the past, the present, and what may yet come to be.”
“Can’t I just go back? I want to see my sister!” Rose wailed as he put a companionable arm around her shoulders.
“Sorry, kid,” Death gave her a little squeeze as the world around her began to swirl and change. “I wasn’t asking!” He laughed, and they were gone.
