The Infinite Road to Kataal (Chapter 5-6)

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Chapter 5 – To Be Known

I am trapped in a memory. Similar screams, though I am certain they are my own. The same lithe figure putting himself between harm and the harmed.

Enforcers are often all muscle and bluster. Large men and women who have found themselves on the side of failure in their pursuit of more glorious endeavors. Failed out of Sovereign armies, failed out of the royal guards of this imperial house or that. Filled with nothing but an overwhelming urge to find someone smaller to impose their strength upon the lesser. Small men and women, despite their size.

So it is that Silas makes short work of the two men. A flurry of blows erupt into the ribs of the first and by the time the second is aware they’re being attacked it’s too late. The large man tries to grab Silas, but my friend drops into a surprisingly low crouch and explodes upward with a vicious force. The next instant the two men are on their backs like the girl who Silas is now helping to her feet.

All the eyes in the hall go wide as the implication of what Silas has done comes to them. Cursing his altruism, I step in. “My apologies,” I say loudly, approaching the Collector with hands raised. The man has taken a few steps back and is wearing a look of pure indignation. I doubt he has ever dealt with such rebellion from such a small town. Indeed, most of those in the street, those that live here, look positively cowed.

It would have been something wonderful to throw the man low and let the street wolves have at him, but that is not the way. There are always more forces a Sovereign can throw at a rebellious little town. Even those that hide underground can be razed low.

“My friend, he doesn’t do well in crowds. His father brought him to one too many orux fights as a child, the commotion still blinds him.” I pass Silas a look to play along and he simply glares at me.

“We’ll be on our way, just like that.” I motion for Silas to follow, but just as I slip around the man I am surprised. Sure, I’ve lost a step in my year back home, but beyond that, I have simply forgotten. Forgotten the cruelties that lay within the world. Forgotten the laws that dictate that only those who are willing to do anything will survive in the end.

Forgotten the purest fear of a life hanging in the balance.

Still, I cannot help but laugh as the Collector pins my head under his arm, knife poised at my throat. Each rack of laughter causes the soft flesh at the side of my neck to meet the tip of the man’s knife. The thought of having it pierce me because I cannot control my humor only serves to make me laugh harder.

“Really not the best time, Jinn,” Silas chastises me.

“Listen to your friend,” The Collector says. His voice is high and nasally in a way that makes it hard to take him seriously. Slowly, deliberately, I get a hold of myself and force myself to remember that death could be on me in a moment. There are so few guarantees in life, not the least of which is life itself.

“I know filthy fucking Adventurers when I see them,” the man sneers, pointing the blade quickly at Silas then back at my neck. “Thinking you can do what you want without consequences. Thinking you are outside the Sovereignty, thinking you can do whatever you want without repercussions because you are not the ones who will face them?” The man spat and I felt a small amount of it mist my ear.

I groan.

Partially at the gesture, and partially because Silas is slowly approaching. “I think it might be a good time to be still,” I plead. “Think this through for a moment perhaps?”

Silas stops and sighs. “Words, eh?”

“Worth a shot.” Then to the Collector I add, “I agree sometimes we act before we think. There are many troublesome Adventurers out there, but would you believe me when I say we’re some of the good ones?” I tilt my head up and smile at the man who only deigns to snarl down at me.

“You’re all filth,” he asserts.

“Right,” I sigh. “You’re right Silas, words are wind.”

He smiles. Permission given, permission taken. He leaps back with feline grace, prowling back to one of the Enforcers, intent on an exchange of hostages, when the whole street is stilled with a word.

“Enough!”

The people who have congregated to watch the morning’s entertainment part in perfect unison, nearly a practiced motion. From the split between them emerges a domineering woman, no older than myself surely, but hard as steel. Her hair is black as night, eyes silver like the morning, squinting in annoyance. She is wearing tight clothes all black and grey and fit for movement—function not fashion.

I like her immediately.

“Who in all the hells are you?” Her voice rings like a horn through the streets, those in the town have their eyes cast down, stilled by her appearance. Behind her are a number of Enforcer types of her own, though without as much pomp about them. I have no doubts they could fight properly should they so choose.

“We’re no one,” I rush to say. “Just a couple of no ones who found the need of a night spent in your town. We appreciate the accommodation and we will be on our way.” Though I say this, the Collector still has the short bit of cold steel poised to split my neck.

All the parties hold their breath, waiting for any number of eventualities to play out. Finaly, the woman says, “All of you, come with me.” She turns and parts her guards in the same way she parted the onlookers. With a scowl, the Collector releases me and thrusts me forward into Silas, bringing up the rear of the procession with the two Enforcers. The woman who had been knocked down flashes a smile as we pass and Silas stands a little straighter as we march into the silent wake of the mysterious woman.

***

“Sit.”

Whatever quality her voice carries, it lends itself well to command. Her eyes sell it further, allowing no resistance. We are in a massively opulent office, if it can be called such. There is a bar cart in the corner larger than some bars back in Pelos. The room itself is nearly as large as my entire farm back home and wrought directly from the stone peak in which it sits. All around are massive open windows leading to balconies that spill out onto the view of the five roads that creep away from Tremakis into their respective valleys. The five of us sit awkwardly, five men cowed under the scornful eye of a disappointed mother.

I can’t help but smile as the woman—the leader of this small town—pours herself a drink, refuses to offer one to any of us, and stands above us all.

“Corelis,” she says tersely, focusing on the Collector. “What have I told you about causing trouble?”

The man shrinks for a moment before realizing he had two massive scapegoats and sitting straighter to deflect the blame. “Your subjects need to learn proper respect for those under the purview of their Sovereign.”

A self-satisfied smile crosses the man’s face before being crushed in an instant. “Are not all the people of this town, by definition, under the purview of our Sovereign?” Corelis’s teeth snap shut audibly at the retort. “That’s what I thought. Here,” the woman reaches behind her and tosses him a massive bag of coins. The weight of it is no problem for her, but it forces an audible huff from the Collector as he holds it greedily to his chest. “A little extra, for your trouble.”

Corelis looks from the bag to the woman before signaling for his Enforcers to follow him out. The two large men glare at Silas one last time, but he ignores them pointedly. It only serves to inflame their anger, but before they can do anything rash, the Collector whistles at them and they are on their way.

They have left us in the nest of a viper all alone. Stillness is survival.

Finally, blessedly, the woman speaks. “I hope you both have enjoyed Tremakis,” she says down her angular nose at us. “Because you will be here for a long while working off the debt you have just incurred.”

I balk. “We didn’t ask you to pay them off for us.”

“We had it under control,” Silas agrees.

“Did you?” she asks leaning forward. “Tell me, how long do you think you had before Corelis realized there would be no repercussions for giving you a new smile?” She drew her finger across her throat in emphasis. “And how did you intend to keep word of this from getting back to His Ascendency the Sovereign? What would you rats have done when they sent back a cadre of Enforcers to make examples of the rest of my people?”

We have no answers, so we give none. Silence is all the affirmation she needs. “So no, you didn’t ask me to pay them off, or to save your literal neck. But I did because I have my own people to worry about. You Adventurers blow into a town like a storm, uncaring what you leave in your wake. If only about one thing, the Sovereignty is right: the world would be better off without Adventurers.”

It’s a proper scolding and we know it. Despite what we may strive for, we have always been liable to take the liberties afforded to us as Adventurers. We do not always leave places better than we find them—hardly ever truth be told. But we try. That’s more than most can say. And that has to be worth something. Right?

“Well I’m sorry to disappoint you, but we have no plans to stay in this town, beautiful though it may be.” I smile at the woman and rise to my feet. “Just swindle a few more suckers, work the masses a little harder and your books will be balanced in no time. Now if you don’t mind…”

I gesture for Silas to rise and follow, but she stills me once again with her words.

“Where will you go, Jinn Rialgo?” I turn and find a knowing smile spread across her hard face. “I suspect you won’t get far if I tell the Sovereign who has graced my town.”

I am silent for a time, too long for any lie I could conjure to be worth anything at all. “How do you know?” I ask in a small voice.

“Oh please,” she laughs. “Fame does not come without it’s dark sides.”

My heart is hammering so fast that I do not register the knock on the door or the familiar face that glides suddenly into the room.

Chapter 6 – Machinations of Chaos

Silas is not the type to be struck dumb. Silent by choice often, but hardly ever completely wordless.

Seeing Wrenn renders him instantly catatonic.

Ever the master of her own emotions, Wrenn brushes past us both and marches straight to the front of the room and offers a small folder of papers to the other woman. “As you requested, Mayor Falvia.”

“Thank you, Elmira.” The self-styled mayor opens the folder, eyes darting over lines of information of some kind.

As her eyes slow and she moves to close the folder, Wrenn—or Elmira as she was playing as—asked, “Will that be all?”

Mayor Falvia smiles. “As it turns out, I have finally found help for you.” Folder still in hand, she gestures between Silas and myself. “A few troublemakers have found their way into our town and into my debt. I’m sure you can find jobs for these fine, young gentlemen?”

Wrenn sniffs as she looks between us. Between the change in her name and the absolute stony regard she gives to us, betraying no hint of recognition, I almost believe we simply are looking at some replica of our old crewmate. Could it be simply a mimic of some sort? Or perhaps just someone who looks so alike our old friend that our minds are making hopeful leaps?

But then she speaks and all doubt is washed away. “Thank you, Mayor. I can think of many things that will keep these boys busy.”

I scoff, though I feel I should be clapping, so perfect is her performance. “While I am not one to dash the fantasies of such fine women as yourselves, I fear you still have not realized that we have no intentions of staying in this city.”

“Do you forget that I know—”

“Know who we are?” I cut the mayor off. “Congratulations. And if you plan to stir up the countryside with tales of an outlaw resurrected then you are welcome to it. However, if you know who we are—” I let my eyes flash to Wrenn “—who we really are, then you should know we have escaped far tighter spots than vague threats in some back-country town.”

Falvia’s mouth purses into a thin line in annoyance. Say one thing for being out of practice, I still know how to call a bluff. When she doesn’t say anything else, I move to leave with Silas, though my friend is still rooted to the floor. Slowly, like moving a mountain, I begin to pull him toward the door.

“I need your help!”

My third time being still by the woman’s voice. There is such a gentle quality to it that I did not realize it for what it was sooner.

When it comes to me finally, I laugh. “You have an Artifact?”

By way of answer, Falvia hooks her thumb under the chain about her neck and pulls out a bejeweled pendant. It’s unremarkable save for the swirling indigo gemstone beset into the center. I feel it thrum as though it is calling to its kin hidden against my own chest. Weak though it is, the power of Chaos is never inconsequential. In fact, I have often thought the weaker Artifacts serve better in the long run. Thinking of some I have wielded and how close they brought me to the Brink, my knees nearly buckle. Before I can think better of it, I ask, “What do you need?”

Wrenn’s eye flash in warning, but whatever angle she’s working here, we are in too deep to simply leave her to it. Besides, through all my bluster, I do prefer to remain a ghost of Adventurer’s past if I can help it. Eventually the Sovereignty will learn that Jinn Rialgo is not dead, that that hallowed ghoul walks among them again… but not yet.

Mayor Falvia seems to relax a degree, moving to the bar cart to pour another drink and this time offering one to the three of us. Silas still has not spoken, I have to take his glass and hand it to him which he accepts slowly. Wrenn is doing her best not to meet his prolonged gaze for fear of giving herself away. Though if Falvia notices anything odd about his manner, she does not let it on.

“Do you know of Sovereign Martic Almerius?”

It sounds vaguely familiar, but of the hundreds of Sovereigns that divvy up the continent into their little pockets of power (and the amount of turnover within them), it’s impossible to keep track of each one. “Haven’t had the pleasure.”

Falvia nods, taking a slow drink. I follow suit, not wanting to be rude and find the liquor smooth and bitter as it coats my chest. “A desolate region out here, more rock carrying the echo of ages than anything worth ruling in truth, but the capitol of Raltumra is an object of moderate fascination.”

My eyes go wide and Wrenn does her best not to shatter her teeth as she works her jaw. “The Great Slight.” I say, stories rolling through my mind.

“You know it.”

“I’m familiar.”

In truth I have tried no less than four times to work my way into the game, but each one has been rebuffed or waylaid by the machinations of Chaos. Call it selfish, but the competition calls to me. The prize money never appealed to me, but the winning?

“My daughter was selected.”

My smile drops. “I’m sorry.”

Volunteering for the Great Slight is one thing, reserved for those of us that embrace our madness and accept our fleeting mortality. Tributes are a different matter. They are little more than fodder for the entertainment of those involved. And those that come to spectate.

Falvia does not cry, but I can hear the tension in her voice as she continues. “She is good. I should have raised her to be hard, ruthless. Like me. But I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I wanted her to have a better life—one where she could choose what she became. Now…”

She lets the implication linger. I offer Wrenn a smile, but she does not return the gesture. There will be time to figure out her angle here and how we have ruined it once again for her, but first, I have a contest to snake my way into. 

“What can we do for you?”

***

“Wrenn, we know you’re mad—”

Once we’re out of sight of the mayor’s office, she storms off. Silas is hot on her heels, still in a daze. I do my best to keep up, but the days on the road and all the stress that has followed Pelos suddenly weighs me down. What had come over me and possessed me to accept helping Falvia? I don’t know her daughter, I owe her nothing. It feels suddenly that I have not slept in years. I thought to find peace in Pelos, but here I am, thrust into the fore of another adventure.

Perhaps it’s time to admit this is who I am. That no matter what I claim to desire, I am not ever going to be content with a life of contentment.

But it’s Chaos. Not the Sovereigns, not these small towns and their petty squabbles. Chaos and Kataal—to stop, to find.

Persist, my love.

We wind down a portion of the spire, coming to a ringed hall with doors shooting off randomly to both sides; into the stone and out toward the valley. Wrenn throws open the creaking wooden door to one of the valley-facing tenements. One of the more desirable ones no doubt. Life of luxury within the service of this self-styled mayor.

She tries to throw the door closed behind her, but it’s performative. Surely, she knows Silas and I will follow. As we enter she is pacing back and forth, muttering to herself. We stand by the door, shutting it gently behind us. We are stock-still as we wait for the raging winds to come and shake us so.

“Mad…” she finally says with a small, humorless laugh. “Mad?” Daggers are thrown my way, eye to eye. I meet them with a flimsy shield of wooden resolve. I have the sudden feeling that they both (and perhaps the world at large) may be better without me. For the past year, Jinn Rialgo has been dead. Perhaps he should stay that way.

“Chaos Alive!” Wrenn shouts and pulls me back to myself. “I can’t have anything! Nothing without you coming to ruin it, Jinn.”

I wring my hands, refusing to look at Silas. Old wounds that I am attentive not to pick for fear of leaving fresh scars. They are not mine to open, so I remain quiet and quiescent.

“What are you even doing here? How did you find me?”

I realize she is speaking to me. It has taken me until now to realize how much she is trying to ignore Silas. I oscillate between making to answer and feeling as if I should leave them alone. Nearly three years have passed since they have seen each other. Who am I to be a voyeur upon their reunion? It feels perverse in a way I can’t quite describe.

Moving past my own sick feeling, I answer, deciding I will leave them time to be alone (should they want it) after this. “We had no idea that you were here, Wrenn. Or should I say ‘Elmira?’” She rolls her eyes at me, but I press on. “I was doing my best play-acting at a life of peace and quiet. Honest. I was back in my hometown far to the south, Pelos. Silas was—” I look over at my statuesque friend and quirk my eyes. “Actually, I have no idea where you had been hiding.”

Wrenn scoffs. “How long have you been traveling together again? And you haven’t even caught up?”

Silas shrugs slightly and I do as well. I smile back at Wrenn. “It hasn’t come up.”

“You boys are—” Wrenn lets out a shriek and begins pacing again. “The idea that you both thought you could be separated is laughable. I surprised you didn’t race off to Ormosis together!”

The window at the back is closed, but the wind rushes out of the room all the same. It is an effort to draw my next breath for fear of disturbing the stillness. All the will I possess is used to not chance a glance at Silas then.

Ormosis is a chain of beautiful islands far out to the west. Islands they had planned to run off to together. Though I never told them that I heard them conspiring together to leave me. It had been during our vague stint as pirates, we were all growing tired of the constant struggle; against Chaos, against the Sovereignty, against other Adventurers, and as was growing more common, against each other.

The life of an Adventurer is only glamorous so long as you convince yourself it is. Eventually, everyone comes to possess a pair of leaden feet, ones that ache to sit. To still.

To settle.

I know that I am the wedge in their relationship. And though I spend my life reminding Silas he is no longer indebted to me, I know there is an internal sense of pride or duty or something akin to them that will not allow him to abandon me. No matter how many rocks I throw his way.

“What happened to retiring in Pelos?” Wrenn finally asks.

I nod at the chairs that ring the small reading nook by her door. Stacks of the things spill over one another as if their owner is too greedy for their contents to treat them with care. “Can we sit? It’s been a long road.”

Wrenn hesitates but eventually relents. When my legs meet the plush comfort of the seat I feel instantly as if I could sleep, perhaps forever. I lean forward, straightening my spine to remain alert and walk Wrenn, step by step through the long road that has led us here.

Thankfully, by the time I finish, she has softened a degree. I know her world is easier when I am there to blame for all her problems, and admittedly, there is some historical truth to that, though Chaos (as it always does) plays its part. She drops her head into her hands rubbing furiously back and forth. “It’s always something with you, Jinn. Isn’t it?”

She tries to hide her smile, but as my face cracks, so does hers in kind. My heart swells at the dram of normalcy I feel then. Perhaps things will never be the way they were before. Such is the nature of the passage of time. Still, those little moments where we reclaim the memory of better days long past are beautiful things. Wonderous, though fleeting they may be.

“So here we are. And I know we have soiled your plans here, for that we apologize, but know it wasn’t intentional. Chaos itself had machinations far beyond our comprehension.”

Wrenn shakes her head at me. “You’re the only person I’ve ever known to attribute any sort of greater plan to Chaos. You are aware the nature of Chaos itself is inherently random, right?”

I look around the room and find that while he is still catatonic, Silas has at least relaxed a degree. Hopefully soon he will be able to string a few thoughts together rather than abandoning me to this reunion all alone. “I know you’re going to think me crazy, and perhaps I am. But I can’t shake the feeling that Chaos is taunting me.”

That is enough to finally shake Silas from his reverie. “What?” He spins on me so fast I almost flinch, expecting a blow.

I spread my hands and look between them. “I know it sounds mad, but I can’t ignore the pattern of facts, nor can I ignore the feeling I have about it all. Chaos loves Adventurers, does it not? Without us, the world threatens to be oppressively pedestrian.” I hold my hand up in askance to still the barrage of questions I can feel coming from them both. “Rightly or not, we were some of the greatest to do it. If anyone is worthy of Kataal, it was us.”

At mention of the Undying Land, both my friends share a look. If my mania is the reason they separated, it’s only right that it is also the reason they are brought back together again.

Pushing past their tired objections, I say, “If Chaos has a champion among us, there is no better group to choose from. And look at the facts, I retire to the sleepiest of towns in an effort to let the world turn on without me and I can’t even have a single year before everything has gone to shit again. Why Pelos? The town could not be more inconsequential.”

It sounds even crazier out loud, I can hear it. But despite my friends’ exasperated looks, I feel better for having voiced it aloud. It’s like letting the top off a pot slowly before it has the chance to boil over and further stoke the fires below it.

Bracing for their objections, I sit back and relax.

“Is your ego truly so large?” Wrenn whispers. “Chaos Alive, Jinn, I have met Sovereigns with more self-doubt. Honestly, I’m surprised that little play-acting role didn’t suit you longer,” she adds, referring to our last stint before our attempted retirement. “Do you really believe that of all the people in all the ages of the world that Chaos has chosen you to be the target of all its efforts. Beyond that, do you believe a literal God that had wreaked havoc across the world since the beginning of time has the will or attention to find some plan to bring you back into the fold? Are we so sure you ever truly came back from the Brink?”

Perhaps not. Hearing all the arguments I have made against myself now thrown at me in such a way is almost comical.

Knowing it is not the time to push the issue, but still not entirely dissuaded, I raise my hands. “You’re right… it’s just been a lot lately. I’m weary, Wrenn.”

“We all are,” she agrees.

“What of this business with Falvia?” I ask, changing direction. “Do you truly mean for us to go to Raltumra on some half-cocked rescue for a girl we don’t know?”

“Oh please. I saw the way your eyes lit up when you heard mention of The Slight. You’re practically slavering to help.”

She’s right, but just then I am too tired. “Can it all wait to the morning?” I ask.

Wrenn nods, then realizing I am aiming to leave her alone with Silas, she stands. “My neighbor across the hall is out for some time. I can set you up in their apartment for a few days until we find something more permanent. There are beds for both of you,” she adds, looking furtively at Silas.

Not knowing whether to join me or stay, Silas stands awkwardly.

Making the decision for him, I leave the room with two small nods, barging into the place across the hall. I hardly make it all the way to the edge of the bed before collapsing. Chaos itself could not wake me from such a slumber.