Everwinter: The Forerunner Archives (13 page)

"Go spit, you bloody fools!" the man screeches through gritted teeth. "Do your worst! I am ready for the end."

"I just hope you are ready for what
comes afterward," Jude retorts. And, without a second's more hesitation, he pulls the trigger. The shot is deafening, the vag collapsing in a splash of blood and brains. 

It’
s over.

He should feel elated. He'd done the Children's go
od work, hadn't he? Then why does he feel...
nothing?

"Well done, Jude," the familiar baritone of Blaine
proclaims with a hearty slap to the back. "You are becoming more a Child of Mutanity than I'd ever hoped for. When we find the last human, I want you by my side when I pull the trigger!" He turns away then hesitates, turning back. "Who knows? If you keep this up, I might just let
you
do the deed yourself."

Jude gapes, jaw wide. "Th-thank you, High Deacon!" he stammers with a bow.
He can't believe it! Back in Krakelyn, he'd been a nobody. Worthless. And now...

He'd be a world hero if he killed the last human!

Still, something isn't right. Inside of him. He feels something at the back of his mind, irritating, like a sliver. A question keeps forming in his thoughts, and every time it does, he pushes it away, suppresses it. 

Who caused the mutations?

It isn't a question he has the answer to yet.

But he will
, eventually. The last human will know. And Jude will make them tell. That itch is strong at the moment but, like the question, Jude forces it down. They are getting ready to move again. He doesn't have time to dwell on it.

If Jude had been in normal frame of mind
–a sane frame of mind–he might have known what that itch meant. 

But, of course, he wasn't.

That itch was guilt.

17.

"Is that it? Is that Venecici? Did we make it?"

Altair shakes his head, but I'm hardly disappointed.

We're in the south!

The road is surrounded by tall, thin tre
es with broad leaves at the top. A vague impression of tall buildings can seen between them intermittently. A warm, salty wind ruffles and cools the shaved sides of my head, whipping the rest of my hair all over as Altair slows down the Forerunner plow machine. There are other people and vehicles on the road now. Lots of them, in fact. All eyes are immediately drawn to our ride, but it’s hardly the only oil fired engine out here. We don't stand out too much. 

Not yet, anyway.

"Better cover up," Altair suggests. 

Traylor and I do so
reluctantly. 

None of the other
travelers we see are covered, all openly exposing their mutations to the sun. The Children of Mutanity must have a strong presence here.

Altair points dead ahead. "What you see through the trees is the city of Apollyon,
” he says, “but we won't be traveling to it. We will use the Coastway, bypassing the cities themselves until we reach Venecici. It is the safest route, Juno."

"Oh," is my reply. I see Traylor's disappointment mirroring my own. We're in the so
uth and we can't even explore!

It hardly feels fair.

"You can still enjoy the view though," Altair offers, guiding our vehicle off the Canyonway, avoiding a grouping of travelers stopped at the intersection. They're reading a large wooden sign with directions to the various ports. I know from my Father's map of the world that the southern cities are technically separate entities, but they occupy nearly the entire coastline, blending and melding together. Disputes over land arise constantly.

I don't have time to read the whole sign, but my eyes are quickly drawn to Venecici, an arrow pointing in the direction we're headed. Apollyon is the central community, with the other cities spreading out from it in either direction al
ong the coast. Venecici is furthest east.

The road–the Coastway–
rises dramatically ahead of us, cut directly into the side of a sandstone wall rimming the beach. We can't see much at first–the trees are still thick here–but as our sputtering vehicle begins to climb, the trees fall below us and I realize Altair's last words–
"You can still enjoy the view"
–were not quite apt enough.

I am
flabbergasted
by the view.

Traylor too.

Living in the north my entire life, I'd met many people from the south. I'd heard the stories that they actually live in structures left over by the Forerunners–a blasphemy in Krakelyn–but nothing prepared me for what I was about to see. From everything I'd been taught as a child, and comparing it to what I’m seeing now, it’s a wonder my Father's men hadn't waged war on the south.

The thought makes
me smile.

We reach the highest point in the road, the coastline visible for miles around. A white sand beach extends along the waterline as far as the eye can see, boats and ships just snowy flecks among
the blue. Behind the beach lies civilization.

Lots of it.

I gasp, staring in wonder at a massive metal tower so tall it must surely scrape the sky. The structure is skeletal, having been outfitted with hundreds of glass windows at one time. Now, only a handful of the panes remain intact. The rest are probably broken, vandalized, or scavenged for other projects. It’s said that the Glass Gardens in Krakelyn are constructed of Forerunner glass, but I've never seen a building like this one in the north. Through the open window frames, I see movement within. Despite it being mostly wide open, people are living in that tower!

"They're living in a structure built by the Forerunners!" I blurt,
finding it impossible to mask my disbelief.

"The most affluent of Apollyon's citizens live ne
ar the top," Altair offers, my own tour guide. "Most of the glass is still intact up there."

I look and see that he's right.

The sight sends memories of home flooding to me. My family, the most affluent in Krakelyn, had lived in the fanciest Manse, atop the highest hill in the city. And I’d always been ashamed of that fact. What made us better than anyone else?

Well,
Father always says I have an inflated sense of morality.

The rest of the city of Apollyon radiates outward from the tower in spokes, the buildings becoming more destitute as one le
aves the coast. There are other towers, other Forerunner constructions, but none quite so lovely. Further down the coast, a white tower rises like a stalagmite from the earth, terminating at a jagged point where it had broken off. The whole thing looks made of milky glass, or diamond maybe.

"They call it kimberlite," Altair chimes in, noticing my scrutiny of the build
ing. "A very rare material, nearly indestructible. It does have one weakness though that few know of. That's why this one is broken, all these centuries after the Forerunners built it."

"Bloody ashes," I whisper un
der my breath. This tower is nowhere near as tall as the first we'd just seen and, though breathtaking, seems a little less lovely for that reason

"That tower marks the city of Losang," Altair says, continuing his guided tour as we continue along the Coastway
. The traffic here has ground to a trickle, especially compared to the clogged arteries we can see down below. It's mostly pedestrian traffic, mixed with the occasional oil fired machine or horse-drawn cart.

We pass the kimberlite tower
.

"This is a separate city?" I ask, skeptical. "How do you know? Everything just runs together down there!" I already know
that fact from my Father's map, but I'm hoping Altair might add to that knowledge a bit.

Altair shrugs. "It’
s a problem for the cities. Growth has been almost nonstop for as long as anyone can remember. New routes through the Bleaklands are discovered all the time, drawing northerners down to the booming commerce." He shrugs again. "Progress."

"And I thought Krakelyn was a busy place," Traylor speaks up from behind us. There's only two seats i
n the vehicle, so he’s making do in the back of the cockpit. Age before youth.

Altair lets out a noise that might have been a laugh. "Traylor, this is only a fraction of what these cities used to be."

I look down again, seeing the congested streets and milling crowds. "Are you serious?"

Altair nods. "Just as in Krakelyn, there were mass suicides and murders after the Final Judgment. Almost half the population was gone overnight."

"Bloody ashes," I mutter. I see smoke near the outskirts of Losang. There seems to be a riot going on.

"Children of Mutanity," Altair says bitterly.

I lean out the cab just a bit to catch a better glimpse of the chaos. "How can you tell?" I ask, unconvinced.

Altair shrugs. "Who else would it be? T
he southern cities have the most dedicated Watchforce in all of Eversummer, the one thing that the separate cities share amongst themselves." Altair pauses to clear his throat. "No one usually messes with them, but that’s who they’re fighting with, I think."

My eyes go wide. "But... Why? How can such a
n insane group of people exert so much influence?"

Altair sighs, his shoulders sagging. "How indeed. People were scared after the Final Judgment, Juno. The gods turned their backs on us. Nobody had answers, but the Children had order. They filled the niche of authority left vacant when our religion failed
us. Most people just wanted to get back to some sort of stability, and the Children provided that.” He shrugs sheepishly. “Sort of.”

I finally pull my eyes away from the c
acophony, disgusted. "I hate this new world," I say.

Altair says nothing.

The Coastway brings us over more ridges and down a few valleys along the cliffs. Finally, after passing more Forerunner towers and congested cityscapes, the road dips severely, running down to ground level once again. Dead ahead, the last city on the east coast appears: Venecici. The whole thing is built in steps, wedged between two massive cliff faces in a box canyon. There are large buildings visible, probably Forerunner constructions, but nothing near as grand as in Apollyon.

"Is this place safe?" I ask as we approach, noting the generally run down appearance of the city. The buildings are mostly stucco and thatch constructions, painted in different fluorescent colors at each level.

"As safe as any other coastal city," Altair insists. "Appearances can be deceiving, Juno."

"They can also tell the truth," I quip back with a smirk. Altair just shakes his head.

Venecici rises ever higher as we get closer. My eye is immediately drawn to the structure at the very height of the city: a cylindrical building, domed at the top. It reminds me of the grain silos on the farms outside Krakelyn. There's something sticking out of it, like a giant eye-seeing lens.

"What is that?" I ask, pointing. "Is that where we're going?" We're supposed to be headed to a laboratory of some so
rt, to find this Ursa woman; this domed silo looks scientific enough to me.

Altair shakes his head. "That is a skytower," he says. "It no longer functions, but was once used to observe the heavens. It's a museum now."

"Oh," I say with a slouch, somewhat disappointed. The skytower is the only interesting looking building in this city. I'm about to ask more, when Altair suddenly guides our ride off the main road, following what could only be described as a cattle trail through the dense green foliage growing here.

"Um, where we going?" I ask, ducking as a broad
green leaf almost slaps me in the face.

"We have to go the rest of the way on foot," Altair responds. "And I'd rather not leave this machine where the Children
of Mutanity might find it. Despite our quick arrival, I am certain word of our escape is not far behind us."

"Are there Children here?" I ask, paranoia prevalent in my tone.

Altair sighs, watching the path ahead of us. "Juno," he says, "the Children are everywhere now."

18.

After ditching the plow machine in the jungle, Altair leads us back up the path and onto the Coastway. We join the general cacophony of pilgrims going about their day, trying to blend in. Very few people are covering themselves now t
hat the Children of Mutanity have effectively outlawed the practice. Traylor and I stick out like sore thumbs. Luckily, Altair came prepared.

Using a kit in his pack
and a few juicy fruits he finds in the jungle, he creates a thick paste, grayish, that dries quickly in clumps, adhering to our unblemished skin like face paint.

We look like mutants!

Well, mostly. 

Anyone who takes a
really
close look might not be fooled, but it's good enough for our needs at the moment. That doesn't mean I'm not paranoid though. Every eye that glances our way is a potential threat, and I eye the person right back as an intimidation tactic. It doesn't always work that well, but it doesn't matter. We've been walking the dusty red road for an hour now and no one's raised any alarms. We’ve even seen a group of Children pass by on a horse drawn cart, but they don't even gaze our way.