Memories
“They say he vanished in a puff of black smoke, right there, from the wagon, and that his mother spat fire at the crowd trying to kill her.”
“You're full of shit, Garb.”
“Just telling what I heard!” the man grabbed his tankard and took a long gulp. He glared at his friend. “You know how people are. One World Destroyer and they see the end of the world.”
“It is what the Church teaches,” said the other man and stared into the fire. “Bad business people like them. Thank the god we have pious men and women who hunt them down. They'll catch this runaway and burn him at the stake like he deserves.”
A moment of silence passed between the men.
“I still can't believe they let him escape, Val.” Garb took another sip from his tankard. They had a piece of meat rolling on the fire and their horses were tied to the back of the wagon. They weren't far from the near by town where they'd gotten some supplies and heard the rumour they were now chewing through.
“Them city folk don't know how to deal with people that need to be killed,” said Val. “They think they need to be paraded through the streets. What they should do is just kill them on sight like they do in smaller towns.”
“You know that's not true, Val,” said Garb. “Town folk are so bored that a World Destroyer is something everyone wants to see. The whole town gathers around to see their deaths. They're just as bad as city folk, if not worse.”
Val grunted something and shut up.
Adan wiggled his way into the back of their wagon and started to rummage for things he could use. There was a loaf of bread that his hands found immediately followed by a thick quarter of cheese. He was careful to keep an ear out for the two men. If they found him he'd be dead.
“Do you think they really have powers?” asked Garb. Having gotten into the wagon their voices came a bit more muffled but still clear enough to be made out.
“What? That they can disappear in a puff of smoke and breath fire?” Adan couldn't see the men any more, but he could imagine the look of ridicule on the man. His hands found some dried meat that he packed in his little sack of things.
“It's what the Church teaches. 'Beware for their abilities come from Desolation.'” A direct quote from scripture by the sound of Garb, which was a bit of surprise for a travelling goods hauler like him.
“You'd think that they'd be able to do something special,” said Val. “There's so few of them that it would be hard for one to do anything if they didn't have some trick up their sleeve. Since they come from Desolation it must be something horrible. But I've been to one of those executions and if the weird eye had any power and he needed a reason to use it, then it was then and there, but all he did was burn up screaming.”
I wish I had some power. Maybe things wouldn't be so hard. Maybe I wouldn't need to sneak around in the dark and steal from passers by. Maybe I wouldn't need to hide in the woods from every other human.
Wishful thinking wasn't something Adan did often, but sometimes he allowed himself that luxury. His fingers were still wrapped up, but they had had time to heal and there were days when he thought maybe it was time to free them. But the time had not been right yet. Barely three weeks had gone by since he'd killed the old man and stolen his belongings. He continued to search the wagon for useful things.
“Maybe he didn't want to reveal them. Wants to keep people thinking none of them have any powers,” said Garb.
Val laughed. “If you were going to be burned alive, would you not escape no matter what it took? No reason to keep hiding things at that point.”
“Maybe it's not a power that would let you escape,” said Garb.
“Then what good would it be?” Val laughed again. “I'd be pissed if I had some magical power that was useless. I'd rather not have it and just live a normal life.”
“If you were born of Desolation you wouldn't think like that,” said Garb. “All you'd think about is destroying.”
“And how much death and destruction have the World Destroyers done so far?” Val did not sound too impressed with their achievements.
“There's Cievman,” said Garb. “He started it all and killed tens of thousands in his mad war. He's the reason the Church stood up from the ashes and declared those weird eyes to be from Desolation.”
“That was two thousand years ago. What have the World Destroyers done since then besides maybe survive long enough to become no worse than ordinary bandits?” Adan could hear someone poking the fire and some grease from their piece of meat sizzling as it fell in the hot coals. He started crawling towards the back of the wagon. He'd gotten food and some other useful things. It was time to go. But he didn't want to get out of range of hearing the two men. They were talking about some interesting things so he hid under the wagon, behind a wheel to listen in some more. The horses gave him a curious look as he crawled past them, but didn't make a sound.
“It's because the Church hunts them down,” said Garb. “They don't have time to make anything big.”
“Maybe so, but if they're from Desolation as the Church says then they should be able to do something more dramatic,” said Val.
“Are you questioning the Church?” Adan could hear the agitation in Garb's voice. It was clear Val wasn't as fervent about his beliefs, which was interesting in its own right, and that was starting to rub his friend the wrong way.
“No. That's not what I'm doing,” said Val. He had realized how close to the line he was getting and now wanted to sooth his friend to avoid a fight. “I just haven't seen much harm in them for myself. You know me. I'm the type who questions his own mother if she tells me there's a dark skin in town. I have to see it with my own eyes.”
Garb grunted. “You're a suspicious bastard, I'll grant you that.”
“Keeps me from being hustled,” said Val with a small amount of pride in his voice.
“The meat done yet?”
“Just about,” replied Val.
“I'll go grab us more beer,” said Garb. Adan took that as his cue to leave the two behind. He made his way from behind the wagon wheel into the nearby bushes. He stopped to let Garb get their drinks. No point in alerting him by moving. Adan watched the big man climb into the back of the wagon. He hoped the theft would go unnoticed until morning. He'd be far away by then.
He saw the figure of him come back out without any sign he'd noticed food missing. Adan watched him go back to the fire before starting heading away from them.
Who's Cievman? Sounds like he's the one to blame for all of this. He started the trouble. He ruined my life. With the Church.
Branches scraped his face. It didn't bother him. He'd run through enough forests to expect them. There had been search parties after him, but he'd managed to keep ahead of them. Killing the old man had brought them closer, but he'd managed to keep hidden from them. The dogs hadn't been able to keep up with him, though that was mostly pure luck. It had rained on several days. Even though that made him miserable it also washed away any trace the dogs could follow.
The darkness made it hard to see. Even though the moon was full very little of its light made it past the tree tops. Adan stumbled more than a few times. He didn't dare set up a fire for fear it would attract the two men he had just stolen from. Though they were just a pair of wagon drivers, if they saw him, at the very least they would beat him to within an inch of death for stealing from them. Most likely his eyes would convince them to kill him.
He stopped under a large tree. It was where he had planned to stay the night. There were two large stones right by the tree between which he could squeeze. Beyond them there was enough space for him to curl up and sleep in relative safety and comfort. The stone scraped his skin as he crawled into the hideout, but he figured it would be worth it. He curled up and fell asleep after a while, leaving going through his haul for when there was light.
It wasn't often that he had dreams. Even with his memory few were the kind he could remember after waking up.
He stood on the edge of a cliff, looking down on a battlefield. The men looked like ants as they rode across the open plain and crashed into the line of infantry men. A man with brown hair stood next to him, dressed in armour that was decorated with enough gold to buy a small village. A beard covered much of his jaw and upper lip. He frowned as he watched the battle unfold below him. The sound of a horn had both of them look up to the horizon. More men were coming to support the infantry.
The man in the armour frowned. “There is no avoiding it then.” His voice had a heft to it. Almost like his entire life had been slowly marching towards the point in time and now that it was here, he wished it wasn't.
Adan watched the man put on his helmet and draw out his sword. It was a beautiful thing of shiny steel and embedded jewels. The helmet covered much of his face and brought Adan's attention to his eyes. They were like his. Multicoloured that should have seen him dead as an infant. But there he stood, a man well into his thirties, in armour, wielding a weapon befitting a king.
The man muttered something Adan could not make out. He pointed the sword at the advancing army. The next thing Adan saw was a blue ball of flame burst into being in the middle of the advancing army. It expanded, engulfing the entire force. A barely visible wave washed away from it, ripping the clouds in the sky, before finally reaching where Adan stood. The sound was deafening and made the ground shake. It forced him to put his hands over his ears. After a moment he put his hands down. It sounded like there was a tiny whistle being blown in his ears.
It was difficult to see what had happened to the attacking army. Too much smoke and dust drifted in the air. The bloom of fire was still burned into Adan's eyes and he could see the shape of it when he closed his eyes. When he opened them again the wind had blow much of the dust away. There was no sign of the advancing new enemy.
The man next to him sheathed his sword and took off the helmet. You could tell from his expression he had not enjoyed doing what he had done. He turned to look at Adan. “The past is the future.”
“What?” It was all Adan could think of to say.
The man leaned in. A strong arm grabbed Adan by the shoulder. “What was will be again. You are important. Never forget that.”
Adan snapped awake in his little hiding place.
A dream?
He shook his head and tried to shake the feeling of dread that had come over him. The memories of the dream started to vanish. A ray of sunlight hit the edge of the crack that he'd crawled in through. Adan yawned and grabbed his belongings before crawling out. He stretched and put the bag down and sat down to examine his haul from the previous nights robbery.
The loaf of bread and cheese made for a quick breakfast. Adan ate more than he should have, but he still had an uneasy feeling over the dream and the bread was too tasty to leave it at one slice. It was his second slice that he looked through the other stuff he'd taken. There was a flint, some dry kindling that would make starting a fire easier. A new knife that had a wooden handle and a blade that looked like it had never been used. It cut a small wound in his thumb when he tested it for sharpness.
He wrapped the thing in cloth and hid it on himself. Then he frowned. He couldn't shake the dream.
Who was that man?
It was all he could really remember well from the dream. That face. The eyes. They weren't something he'd forget easily.
The past is the future? What sort of nonsense was that? What did it even mean?
He shook his head.
Just forget it. It was a dream. I've got bigger things to worry about. Like staying alive.
He finished the slice of bread and packed everything in his sack. He headed deeper into the woods, away from the road. The two wagon wranglers would notice they'd been robbed. They might search the nearby areas or inform a patrol going by. It was better to lay low for a while and let the thing blow past. Then there'd be an opportunity to rob someone else.