Chapter Two - The Proposal
“Sonovabitch” hissed the old man, flexing his arms and palms to relieve the burning. He couldn’t see them in the dark of the room, but he knew they were charred. Already? He thought. Did it really start that early?
He was seated squarely on his ass, the cold of the stone numbing the sting of the impact. He gathered himself with the waning sputter of old machinery like discarded trebuchets or dusted hemming machines. Repeating thoughts of age or purpose, what’s the point, echoed in the air around his head - the concerns he carried since the day he embarked on this penultimate journey. I came to find the kid, he thought, and that’s what I need to do. I might, might, need some time, but...baah I’ll be fine.
He staggered onto his feet, creaking towards the hallway ahead of him, his arms cooling with the wind. The old man stared down the stretch towards the tattered doors, searching for Lunix. What he saw held him in place, rooted in the stone like an inexplicable flower, blossoming to spite the the paradox. He saw an orb of molten orange and bloody red blazing towards the streets outside, towards another orb - a pure, pale, bright, light in the sky. And he knew he had to follow.
He treaded the fire towards the chill of the town, exiting the pillar to find Lunix immediately to his left, sprawled bare in the snow. Ah damn, thought the old man, turning him over, he’s not going to like this. Not one bit.
The old man bent low with his hips tucked and knees wide, straddling the boy’s right arm over his left shoulder. Groaning with dormant strength he supported Lunix.
“Hey...” Whispered the boy. “What...where...”
“Shut up, I’m trying to help” the old man grunted.
“My...my family. Luna...”
“You can’t help them.”
Lunix briefly radiated with warmth, like a flickering torch, before he nodded off on the shoulders of the old man as the old man marked two footsteps in the snow towards the village. Two footsteps that quickly filled up with the light flakes flurrying down from the dark skies.
***
The boy began to show signs of life as the sun entered the horizon over the mountains surrounding the city. The old man had almost forfeited, sleep calling to him from the crevice in the back of his mind. The crevice in which he shoved the mistress of sleep into nearly three days ago - preparing, planning, anticipating this moment. The old man watched the cot on which the boy lay, hunched over him trying to recognize any movement. He’ll be up soon, he thought.
He watched the boy for a moment longer before gathering the logs of wood by the foot of the bed. He walked over to the makeshift fireplace in the wall of this small alcove and sparked a modest flame. Tired of hunching over, the old man took a seat by the fire in a rickety rolling chair, gutting a fish on a plank that rested on his lap, with one eye always on the boy.
When did my life get reduced to babysitting, he thought. I didn’t ask for this. It was his job, his destiny. That’s what he told me when he left. When he supposedly went to rescue the realm. Rescue what, exactly? There’s only ever been war, for decades that felt like eons. For a whole lifetime, my life. He told me he would save us, that’s what he promised when he left me back. When he left on his own. And now he’s dead - has been - I’m sure.
And now here I am, flushed away into this desolate underbelly of the kingdom. Babysitting.
The old man listened to the rush of the murky water that surrounded him. The glare from the fire highlighted the clinking hollow bottles and shuffling waste that rattled downstream with the current. At least it sounds like a river sometimes, he thought. Too bad I can’t even dip my toes in. Could be a deformed mutant in there for all I know...nothing that ends up floating along in a sewer can be stable or safe...
