The Future - 1

Wick blinked into existence upside down and twenty feet above a pile of hay. He was covered in slime. He flipped gracefully in midair, redirecting his fall to the grass beside the hay bales. The slime from the portal coated every inch of his body. With the slightest pull of will, two of the many wooden beads that made up his bracelet released sparks of light.

One of his hands held a long wooden staff. His fingers on his other hand twitched. All the slime and its accompanying putrid stench slid off him like rain on waxed leaves.

He walked past a row of gossiping guards who were pointing to an odd group of five people thirty feet away.

Two of the group were women and both were pilgrims of the Limitadus. The first woman was bald and wearing fighting leathers latched with a few dozen knives. The other was a pretty young woman with ghostly white hair. One of the other companions was a man decked out from helmet to boots in plate armor. He was a full head taller than Wick, who was fairly tall himself.

Another was a thin loon plumin, one of the bird-people. His ink-black neck and head craned over the edge of the cart he was sitting in. He carried a ledger in one wing and a pen in the other.

The fifth member looked to be a regular human, save for the fact that his skin was a rich clay-red and his hair was the color of dark tree bark. His attention was focused on leading the khosa lizard to pull their cart. The khosa's tongue flicked the air.

People were waiting in line to use the entry-end of the wormhole.

Seven years earlier, the wormhole of the southern border of Vandia had hundreds coming in and out on a daily basis. Now, there were only a few dozen. Every single one of them were busy whispering about the odd group of five. Many had frightened expressions. It was expected. Times were dark.

Wick was on his way to the group when a gate guard stopped him. "Hold, sir. Please remove your mask to state your name and business in these parts."

Wick kept his black mask on. "My service in war has left my face disfigured. I'm sure it isn't something you'd like to see."

The guard's jaw tightened. "I'll have to insist."

Of course, the man was just doing his job. Wick couldn't blame him, but the inconvenience at having to craft an inventive lie was still annoying.

If he told the guard what they were really here for, he wouldn't believe the story. Worse, if the guard did believe it, then unnecessary rumors would spread among the crowd of witnesses. He had two days to finish his business before going back to the capital, and he had to be discreet.

The giant man in fully plated armor was thirty feet away. He blurred, reappearing next to the gate guard. His voice was deep but came across tinny beneath the helmet covering his face. "He's with us."

The gate guard's eyes widened in a mix of shock and wonder. He snapped a sharp salute. "Uhm. Yes, sir, Captain Greenlast. I didn't know. But I thought there were only five in Zero Squadron?"

Officially, there were only five, Wick mused.

Captain Greenlast laid his gauntleted hand gently on the guard's shoulder. "At ease, young man. You did your job well."

The guard blushed and bowed. Wick and the armored man left the exit-end of the wormhole to join the group. He turned to Greenlast and asked sarcastically, "At ease, young man? The guy is probably ten years your senior."

Greenlast rubbed the back of his helmet self-consciously. "Do I really have to wear this whole getup? The summer humidity makes this nearly unbearable. Only those without skills wear armor like this on the front lines. Everyone else gets to wear their military uniform. Why not me?"

"Other than being a symbol of hope, you know why," Wick reminded him. He grinned. "Just think of this as another opportunity for growth. Maybe you can adapt your body to withstand high temperatures. It could start with this."

That shut up the captain's complaint quick. The man was always looking for new ways to improve. The woman with ghostly white hair hopped on to the cart silently. Her sad gaze was fixed on the distant silhouette of Grey Mountain.

The other woman, also a pilgrim, was already on the cart, leaning back in a bale of hay lazily. She busied herself juggling ten very sharp knives with one hand, which made the plumin next to her look very nervous since her eyes were closed. The woman opened one eye. "You two done bickering like old wives? Get on the cart."

Greenlast walked beside the cart, nodding politely to the red-skinned young man. He said, "No sitting for me. I'll be walking alongside it. Wick, can you summon twice the normal gravity for me?"

"I'll have to do it in spurts," Wick replied. "At two times, I can't make the links last longer than a few seconds. It's a lot of Source Points either way."

"Don't be a miser," Greenlast snorted beneath his helmet. "It's not like you're lacking in SP."

It took five of Wick's beads to thrum with power. His fingers twisted, and the magic scattered. He frowned. Even with perfect memory, he was still unused to the feeling. The beads warmed again, each with their own unique skill. Wick twirled his fingers, but this time with sharper, more confident gestures.

The air around Greenlast thickened, and the captain in full armor grunted. He began to walk on the road, his steps labored.

The knives stopped juggling, reappearing in the many latches on the woman's fighting leathers. She snorted, "We finally get two days to relax and you're training?"

"As a limitadi, you should be joining me, Vein. Dawn, too," Greenlast managed to reply, his movements sluggish.

Dawn, the woman with white hair, didn't seem to hear him, her gaze still focused on the distant mountain.

"Khosa happy to leave now," said the clay-colored young man. His voice was gruff, like boulders grinding against each other. His hands caressed the giant lizard lovingly before hopping on its back and taking the reins. "Wick serious to leave now, too?"

Wick looked to the plumin who sat next to Vein on the cart. "Tavli, how are the preparations?"

"Let me see if I got a reply," answered the bird. The loon plumin checked his ledger, wrote a few scribbles, and whistled three notes approvingly. "Just got a message back. The entire city is throwing a celebration in Captain Greenlast's honor and has invited us to stay for a week."

The redskin man looked worried. Wick gave him a placating gesture. "Don't worry, Redboy. We won't be staying longer than twenty-four bells. That's all we need."

Vein closed her eye again, folding her arms against her chest. "You mean that's all you and the captain need."

Wick drained his SP and doubled the gravity around Greenlast once more before jumping on the cart. Seven years. Wick could have returned two years earlier, but if he had, the war might have never ended.

He nodded at Redboy. "To Outlast."