Strength (30 page)

Chapter 23

An unsettling fog greeted Roxie and Aerigo when they entered Phailon, changing their movements from urgent to wary. Half the population seemed to have gathered on the streets and sidewalks, all gossiping and trying to make sense of a fog that existed only inside Phailon’s walls.

The street lamps and building windows poured out modest light, and the evening sun’s rays could be seen clawing at the top half of the buildings through the thinner patches of fog. The air felt chill, putting everyone in a state of unease. No one spoke above a whisper.

Roxie hurried along behind Aerigo, having difficulty keeping up. Every block was clogged with nervous people. Both of them were moving at what felt like a fast jog to them, but was faster than a human could run, and she found herself beginning to fall behind. She couldn’t navigate the crowds as smoothly as Aerigo. She reached out with her mind to keep track of his path, but couldn’t sense him anywhere.

Roxie couldn’t even sense the people she brushed by. “Aerigo! Stop!” His silhouette stopped and turned around. “I can’t see!”

“What do you mean?”

Roxie stood a handbreadth from him. “Try to locate me with your mind.” Aerigo’s brows furrow in concentration, then his eyes widened.

“It’s the fog!” He brought his hands level to his chest and pressed his fingertips together. “Bear with me a moment,” he said and closed his eyes.

Roxie rubbed the goose bumps on her arms.

Aerigo stood quiet, concentrating, then spoke in a commanding voice. “Ghedus ard mora
non
!” He flung his arms sideways as he spoke the last syllable, and his voice echoed along the city block. People looked at them.

The fog began to recede and Aerigo stayed still with his eyes closed and arms outstretched. Shocked and excited whispers could be heard all around them as the fog dispersed, but then they turned into gasps and cries of alarm. The fog paused in its retreat and hovered in place. Aerigo grunted, his face creased with strain, veins pulsing in his temple. The fog started creeping its way back over them.

Gasping, Aerigo snapped his eyes open and him arms fell limp at his sides.

“Are you okay?” Roxie asked.

He grabbed his canteen and took a big gulp. “I’ll be fine. I just didn’t put enough energy into it.” He rubbed his temple and looked at the blotched-out sky. “We need to make a detour to Rooke’s.”

“What for? I thought we were going straight to the center of Phailon.”

“We will after Rooke’s. C’mon!” Resuming their fast jog, Aerigo backtracked two blocks. Roxie took hold of one of his hands, not wanting to take any chances. He glanced at her, but said nothing as he accepted it.

***

The fog had grown thicker by the time the two Aigis slipped between sliding glass doors. Aerigo called out Rooke’s named and a gruff voice yelled, “Be right down!” Catching a hint of fear in Rooke’s voice, Roxie and Aerigo exchanged concerned looks.

Rooke zipped down his spiral staircase holding a newspaper. When he clapped his eyes on his guests, his feet became rooted to the bottom step. Roxie thought he was going to have a heart-attack, but the stout man broke into a tearful smile. “Thank the gods you’re here!” He slipped past his desk, dropped the newspaper, seized Roxie’s hands and kissed them. He turned to Aerigo and hugged his friend. “In all my life I’ve never been happier to see both of you!” He stepped back. “What stroke of luck brings you back on an evening like this?”

“Something’s going on,” Aerigo said. “Rox and I have been sent here to investigate.”

“Thank Leviathan!”

Literally
, Roxie thought.

“Why’d you come to my store? Shouldn’t you be trying to get to the bottom of that eerie fog?”

“I need to borrow your kulinga,” Aerigo said.

“My kulinga? You can run faster than the thing.” Rooke sounded like he was reluctant to part with his vehicle.

“The fog is blinding. I need to see where I’m going and to conserve energy.”

“Fine. The two of you can use it,” Rooke said resignedly.

“Rox is staying with you.”

“I am?” Roxie said. “No, I’m not! You’re taking me with you.” Maharaja had told her to stay at Aerigo’s side at all times. This had to be one of the worst times to ignore such guidance.

“I want you to stay safe,” Aerigo said, pointing at the floor.

“But can’t I help? Isn’t this what all that training was for?”

Aerigo thought for a long moment, then looked at Roxie and Rooke individually. “If it gets too dangerous, I’m sending you right back here.”

“Let me go find my keys,” Rooke said. “I’ll be right back.” He disappeared up the stairs.

Roxie picked up the newspaper left on the desk. The text consisted of a tight complex of squiggly and angular lines. She wondered what it said. In the center of the page was a large photo of a man holding a fish nearly the same size as himself in both hands. He wore a big grin on his shaggy face. “Can you read this?” she asked Aerigo.

He stood behind her and peered at the black and white page. “No. I haven’t learned to read every language I’ve picked up,” he said regretfully. “I haven’t really had the time to.”

“Do you like to read?” she asked, leafing through the pages.

“It’s an essential skill, but I’ve never really read for pleasure.”

Rooke came down the stairs jingling the keys in one hand. He reached the desk and tossed them to Aerigo, who caught them with one hand. “I expect to get my kalinga back in perfect condition, you hear?”

Aerigo nodded.

“And since I’m doing you a favor, could you do me a favor and check on Gem for me? I just want to know if she’s okay. I tried to phone her, but the lines are down.”

“Where is she?”

Rooke bent down behind his desk and rummaged around, then popped back up with a large piece of rolled parchment. He untied the string and unfurled it on top of the desk.

The parchment had a detailed map of Phailon drawn in black ink. The title and the map’s key had been written in the same language as the newspaper with a calligraphy pen. Phailon itself was built inside a circle with a wall and moat surrounding it. And the streets were laid in a tidy grid fashion, the roads running north-to-south or east-to-west. Some roads near the wall were curved, and a few close to the heart of the city went diagonally.

Rooke turned the map so both Aigis could read it right-side up and tapped a thick finger on the page. “We’re here,” he said, pointing at the bottom-right quadrant. “And Gem is here.” He moved his hand to the upper-left quadrant. “Gem’s clothing store is across the street from Trent University. You can’t miss it. It should take no more than twenty minutes to get there. The bike’s out back.”

Aerigo grimaced but he nodded. “I’ll make sure your wife’s alright.”

“Thanks,” he said. “Gem’s probably buried herself in her work room. It’s likely she hasn’t noticed this fog. Don’t forget to take care of yourselves in the process. I’ll have fresh clothes waiting for you whenever you get back.”

***

There was a lone kulinga in the little parking lot in the back of the building. It was white and resembled an oversized Sea-do with aerodynamic curves and no wheels. Sitting on the black leather seat were two round, shiny helmets.

“Are you sure it’s a good idea to find Gem?” Roxie asked.

“It’s not a good idea,” Aerigo said. “But I can’t say no to him. He and his wife have done too much for me.”

“But still,” Roxie said and dropped her voice to a whisper. “Isn’t what we originally came here to protect far more important?”

“Since when are you the expert of right and wrong?” Aerigo snapped.

Roxie flinched. “I’m sorry. I—”

“Stop,” Aerigo said gently, turning around. “I apologize. I shouldn’t have snapped at you.”

“It’s okay. You’re under a lot of stress.”

“Maharaja didn’t agree with me going here and now you’re questioning my choices.” He picked up a helmet and handed one to Roxie. “I’m just trying to keep everyone alive.” He clapped the other on his head as he took the driver’s seat. When the key turned in the ignition the machine made a low whirring noise that slowly got higher in pitch. Aerigo looped the straps of his pack and canteen over one shoulder and under the other.

Roxie secured her pack and canteen, and looked at her visor. “In high school I always tried to help everyone with whatever was wrong. It was hard—trying to make everyone feel happy, that is. But I still tried, determined to show everyone that things will turn out okay. However, some people just didn’t want to be cheered up.” Roxie stared at her skewed reflection, her face squashed and stretched like a deformed banana. “In the midst of my efforts I lost my best friend. She’d committed suicide. I failed to save her.”

“I’m sorry to hear,” Aerigo said.

“It hurt a lot to lose my best friend. And it still does. But my grandmother told me something worth keeping in mind. She said, ‘no matter how hard you try you can’t save everyone, and at the very least you should save yourself. You’re no use to anyone if you’re dead.’” She looked at Aerigo’s visor. “It makes sense to me.”

“It does. I’ll keep what your grandmother said in mind. Now, please put on your helmet and get on.”

Roxie attempted to squeeze her helmet on, but it wouldn’t fit past her nose and ears. She pressed it down with her fingertips but stopped when the helmet got wedged against the bridge of her nose. “Can I have a little help, here? I’m afraid to break it.”

“Keep your eyes closed.”

Roxie squeezed her eyes shut. There was a thunk atop her head and the helmet slipped all the way on. Something pressed lightly against her eyelids, preventing her from opening them. She flung her arms out. “Aerigo! I can’t—” Her vision returned. “See?” She stopped talking and went blind again. “What the—?”

“These are specially designed helmets,” Aerigo explained, his voice sounding mechanical through the helmet. “These kulingas move really fast and stop almost instantaneously. You don’t want your eyes falling out of their sockets when you stop like that.”

“So how am I able to see?”

“There are sensors in the visor picking up sound waves. It creates a three-dimensional picture which is translated by another instrument that projects the image through your eyelids. The images look like what we see when using our minds to search for people, but on a blue scale.”

Blah blah blah, physics, blah blah blah.
“Forget I asked.” The hum of the kulinga was now loud enough to create a small bubble of vision. Aerigo took Roxie’s hand and helped her onto the bike, and she wrapped her arms around his waist. The kulinga lurched a few inches into the air. Roxie squeezed Aerigo’s waist. “Whoa! It floats!”

Aerigo let out a tension-releasing laugh. “I keep forgetting you’re so new to everything.”

“You’ve come across a lot of cool stuff in your lifetime.” Roxie eased her grip and peered over one of Aerigo’s strong arms. He pushed a button on the control panel, twisted a handle and backed out. At the touch of another switch, they were moving forward. He turned onto the street and floored it. Roxie clutched tighter as they flew down the wide streets lined with nervous and confused people. Their only clue that the fog still existed was the haziness to their helmet vision.

***

From high over the mountains next to Phailon, Nexus watched his prey move deeper into the city. His chest swelled with pride. ‘
The time is now, my warriors! Attack the city!’
And only to the Elves,
‘Cast it into the ocean!’

Two distant silhouettes rose over the edge of the cliff, flapping their great wings. They arced over the city wall. In his mind’s eye he watched three trolls leave their hiding places within the city. They hit the crowded streets swinging their weapons.

Brago and Greigo, the two black dragons, descended into the streets opposite the failing sun and opened their dagger-toothed jaws, unleashing a great inferno from deep in their bellies. They dived at the closest buildings, which were a hundred feet tall, and razed them with their fire, claws and tails. The stone buildings crumbled as if made out of brittle clay. People, chunks of rock and flaming debris splattered everywhere. Screams and the crash of crumbling buildings cut through the fog.

Moving from one building to the next at a steady pace, they spit fire and lashed out with their armored tails, killing people and leveling buildings. Slowly, they advanced toward the city center, leaving a wide scar of flaming rubble, dismembered and steaming bodies, and smears of blood in their wake.

***

The three trolls killed humans with every swing of the club or axe. They left a bloody, flesh-strewn trail behind them. Their giant bodies, layered with muscle and covered with a tough, olive-green hide, were getting redder with every kill. Durgil, the lead troll, let out peals of laughter that sounded more like grunting, and licked his lips every time blood splattered onto his face. Grauss and Harat wore big, fanged grins as they killed.

The humans ran but the trolls were faster, their ape-like arms giving extra distance to their stride. The only people who could get away were those riding strange metal things that sped faster than any troll could run, but they scarcely cared. There were plenty more to kill.