[Warbinger Returns Arc]

Chapter 11

Aboard the Train

It was a… mobile home. Parked in a dirt plot littered with broken wood and shredded cloth. The back end was propped up awkwardly on a pile of straw. Richard opened the door, and the musk of sweat and tobacco rushed out. He coughed and turned away.

“Chrisk?” he called. “You know this thing has windows.”

A couple of townsmen in leather armour loitered nearby, watching them.

“They are dismayed by the loss of their tower.” Sparlyset whispered to him. She sneezed on his neck. “But there is naught we can do.”

“Maybe you should wait out here.” Richard said. “It smells horrible in there.” He banged on the door. “Chrisk!” He didn’t want to go in either. It smelled like an ashtray in a gym bag.

Sparlyset shook her head, and leaned towards one of the guards. “The other human rests inside?”

The guard lifted his head from the rock he was poking at with his foot, causing the brush-like bar of hair across his head to wiggle. He turned his hand palm-up, and then he was back to kicking idly at his rock.

“Don’t these two have something they could be doing?” Richard asked.

“The day’s troubles have the elders fraught with disorganisation.” Sparlyset answered.

He banged the door again. Something fell with a clatter in the mobile home. “Chrisk, it's time to go!”

“I–I passed…” he stumbled over a collection of empty cans that rolled to the entrance and banged down the steps into the dirt. “The bloody… What the hell did they do to me?”

“I thought you had the Rite of Tongues? You told them about the train, didn’t you?”

He hacked a cough, and Richard backed away from the door. “I guess.” he stumbled down the steps and fell face-first into the soft dirt.

Sparlyset whispered into his ear again. “See why all were impressed by your endurance in the Rite of Tongues?”

Richard shrugged and helped drag Chrisk to his feet. The man lacked the strength to even brush the dirt off, and just trailed after them while they made for the edge of the village.

The low sun scattered purple and red light across the Oval sky. Despite the drastic vibrance of the sky compared to the afternoon blue, the Earth looked no different, as if it weren’t really there and Oval’s sun couldn’t reach it. Townsfolk swept up in the excitement loitered around, murmuring about the Rite of Light. But only Lamet’s brother, cloaked and casting a long shadow, stood directly in their path. He glared disapprovingly at both of them.

“Congratulations, Sparlyset the Lightweaver.” Dorshemet said.

“Thank you.” Sparlyset responded warily.

“Do not get the wrong idea, I am still putting my trust in a more capable Lightweaver from Nook Valley or beyond, but you have proven yourself stronger than you were, and that merits recognition, even if it is late.”

He turned and pointed his hand down the path. “The elders await.”

“Very well.” Sparlyset said. His words, bittersweet though they were, did seem to improve her mood.

The elders were seated in a semicircle in the grass near the edge of town. They sipped hot liquid out of tiny round cups. One that Richard recognized as the red-haired woman from his arrival turned her head towards them.

“It seems,” she began, “that not only is the ancient Lightweaver destiny real, but it begins this very day. You have surprised us, Sparlyset. We did not believe you would do well. We thought your grief weighed too heavily on your shoulders for you to carry the burden that fate has left for you.” The old woman smiled. “But we have been proven wrong.”

“Thank you, elder Annelet,” Sparlyset said. “But fear grips me tightly. Like the jaws of a dragon, the sharp fangs of pressure bleeding me of courage in this ultimate moment.”

“Then it is well you do not face Warbinger alone.” The old woman smiled. “The human, Richard, would carry you where your legs cannot, even if they faulted only from fear. You will make your parents proud.”

Annelet looked at Richard over the rim of her cup. “And you, young man who appeared in the forest suddenly, plucked from his world like an egg from the nest, thank you for giving Sparlyset a new reason to smile.”

Richard tried the palm-up gesture in place of a nod.

A blue-haired elder laboured to stand and then shuffled closer with a wooden box in her hands. “I am elder Coremet. A pleasure to meet you, young Richard.”

“Nice to meet you.”

“In this village I have the unfortunate responsibility of raising these flighty children, my Dorshemet and Lamet. A near impossible task, I must say. But, I am also the keeper of old things. Anything that is not the Lightweavers’s domain. This box contains an artefact of ancient Alakana. The empire still stands, but much has been lost to ruin over the millenia, and for devices like these, those ruins are the only places that remember them.”

He accepted the box from her. “Thank you.” It was a very plain box, just bigger than his hand and very light. Pulling the lid open revealed a silver bracelet with a rainbow sheen. He cocked an eyebrow.

“Do not be fooled by its appearance,” Coremet warned, “That is a powerful tool called a Grasping Glove. It will aid you whenever things feel just out of reach.”

He picked it up carefully with two fingers. A gentle vibration emanated from it, as though it were singing into his hand. “Is that the magic I feel?”

Elder Coremet’s eyes widened. All the elder’s spoke the same word at once, “Mantira,” with varying emotions mixing in the murmur from surprise to awe. Dorshemet glowered under the hood of his cloak.

“You see it?” Coremet stepped close, took the bracelet from him and held it up to his face. “You see the magic in it? Like a rainbow over the waterfall? It sings where your skin meets its surface?”

The elders exchanged puzzled glances. Annelet spoke next, waving her finger at Sparlyset. “Child, the rod. The rod!”

Sparlyset started on his back and nearly fell off as she began digging around in her bag. Her bag that was much smaller than the rod that she withdrew from it.

“That bag is magic too.” Richard said. “And that rod…” he said as Annelet took it from Sparlyset and pointed it at his nose, “ it didn’t have that rainbow sheen last time I saw it.”

“By the grace of Light,” they whispered. Coremet continued, “you have been granted mantira, a blessing from the gods!”

“He lacks understanding of mantira’s significance, elders.” Sparlyset said. “Return my rod to me, and I will enlighten him myself. We need not endure your elaborate deliberation.”

All the elder’s turned their palms up. Coremet clicked the bracelet around Richard’s wrist and tightly gripped his hand while Sparlyset tucked her rod away. “Save our worlds, and return our people and yours to their homes. If you cannot, pray delay enough for Dorshemet to return with help. Do not throw your lives away,” she said to Sparlyset.

As they walked, with Chrisk dragging his feet behind, Sparlyset spoke up. “I am jealous of your mantira,” she said. “A righteous gift that permits the bearer to see enchantments. Only Coremet is so blessed in all of Mount Flange.”

“Is it that useful?” he asked. He found it hard to imagine they would be stumbling over enchanted objects that needed to be spotted.

“No.” she laughed, tapping him twice. “Typically not. We are astonished to witness the first non-puren ever known to receive the gift, but the chance of stumbling upon enchantments in our day-to-day life is astonishingly low.”

“I thought as much,” he said.

Dorshemet scoffed. “A human would never understand, and neither would a legless layabout. For an adventurer like myself such a boon would lead to riches and power.” The irate puren glared at them through the corner of his hood. His blue eyes were narrow under a deeply furrowed brow, and his face glittering hotly with anger. “Our village could prosper from the artefacts I could find. We could establish a new empire!” His tail swished behind him, knocking dust into the air.

“If you were possessed of the talent to find artefacts you would not need mantira so desperately to acquire even a single one.” Sparlyset growled.

He stopped and spun around dramatically to face them, his cloak rippling as he did. He pointed his finger at Sparlyset, and Richard interrupted as his mouth opened. “Can you two stop arguing?

“Yes, please do.” Chrisk mumbled. “My head hurts enough as it is.”

Sparlyset tapped him three times, but she did so with a grumble very close to his ear. Dorshemet lowered his hand and gave them an extra long glare before continuing down the path. If his sister Lamet was as abrasive as he was, Richard was not looking forward to meeting her. But, there may still be time for them to become friends when Warbinger was behind them.

They reached the train station just before the sun dipped below the mountain peaks. Rays of mauve light still illuminated the entry, but whatever had kept the place lit before had failed. The inside was dark enough that Richard pulled out his flashlight. The ground’s gentle rumbling kept a cloud of dust hovering low in the air as they made their way down to the landing.

“The Leviathan returns.” Sparlyset said.

Dorshemet moved closer to Richard and spoke with apprehension in his voice as the rumbling increased. “I have not seen this beast, What should I expect?”

“Steel.” Richard replied. “A kilometre of roaring steel.”

“A kilometre? It cannot truly be that great.”

Richard shook his head, and as an afterthought turned his palm down. “It’s not so much the size that scares me. It’s the speed. It’ll pass in seconds. You won’t have long to send us aboard.” He stopped walking where the tiles turned to warning-yellow. “One last thing is bothering me. Chrisk, you said when you jumped from the train you weren’t even in the tunnel, and the rest of the men didn’t land with you?”

“Yeah the train was in Hometoll, passing over Spring. You know where I mean. I know it’s fast, but…”

“For only the briefest moment, Warbinger intertwined our worlds. A force here holds that fragile weave in place, weak but whole enough that a new way may be woven.” Sparlyset waved her hand around in the air, a gesture he could only see by the silhouette before his flashlight.

“Could you be any more obtuse?” Dorshemet spat. “I swear you learned to speak from those books you hoard.”

The ground shook considerably. The deep end of the tunnel was becoming lit by the approaching headlamps.

“My meaning, dear stunted Dorshemet,” she retorted, “is that I must cast Intertwine upon the Leviathan before you Bound us aboard.” Her hand began to glow with pink light only bright enough to reveal itself.

“Then you had best be ready, it comes.” His voice cracked from fear. Fear that distracted him even from Sparlyset’s stinging tongue. Richard felt it too; the Leviathan’s roar gnawing at his composure.

He reached out and grabbed Chrisk by the arm.

“There is no way.” Dorshemet muttered as the train came into view, the locomotive large enough to house his entire village. The sound of his boots distancing from the tracks echoed in the dark. “That cannot be it. Nothing… nothing is that…”

Its light was like a petrifying gaze from a hundred eyes. “Be ready, Dorshemet!” Richard called.

Sparlyset released her spell. The train was possessed by a rose glow that spread throughout the station, illuminating the cracks and outlining the pillars and benches in the dark. The walls shimmered in every colour.

“Dorshemet?” Richard called, yelling to be heard over the train. He could feel his hand clamming up against Chrisk’s arm.

“I… G-go!” Dorshemet shouted. The caboose passed as he touched Richard’s arm and he felt his body rise into the air. Then he was in a chamber blindingly bright and his boots returned to the ground.

“I can’t see.” complained Chrisk.

Richard blinked as if it would help his eyes adjust. He could hear murmuring voices around them and struggled to make out the shapes.

“Who the hell are you people?” a man shouted.

Richard squinted at his surroundings. They were standing in the middle of Caboose Park, a colossal train car where the employee resort was. The park was a man-made forest of palm trees and grassy hills, where passengers could take picnics or swim at the false beach. The massive resort complex was visible in the distance. The layered curvature of the main building made it look like a stack of plates from a distance.

A man in the navy blue Leviathan Train uniform frowned at them with his arms crossed. “A filthy HDF grunt and… what are you supposed to be? You know this place is employees only right?”

“They just appeared out of thin air!” someone called.

Chrisk tapped Richard on the side of his arm with the back of his hand. He was grinning confidently. “Let me take care of this.” He stepped in front of the dozen or so people who had noticed their sudden appearance. “Don’t worry everyone, I know I look like shit but through the dirt and dishevelled hair I’m actually Chrisk Bonnair. I told you I would find help for this crisis didn’t I?”

A new murmur rippled through the crowd. This time someone exclaimed, “Oh, it’s Mr. Bonnair!”

“Yes,” Chrisk nodded. “I was separated from the others, but we’re here to get us back to Hometoll and once we do, searching for them will be easy. Everything will be alright soon, don’t you worry yourselves.”

Everyone was pleased by his short speech and most returned to whatever they were doing in a hurry. The first man remained behind. “Is there anything I can do to help?” he asked. “We still have our hands full trying to keep the guests distracted from the crisis but if you can get us out of here…”

“Does that radio on your hip work?” Richard asked.

The employee pulled the radio out of its holster. It was a handheld model, much more advanced than anything HDF got access to. “Works on the train, but we can’t reach the city.”

“Alright here’s the thing,” Richard leaned closer and lowered his voice. “I have no idea how we’re supposed to stop this train or get it home, but I know it’s the key to what’s going on… I guess you don’t really know what happened… Well forget about it for now. I think it will help to make an announcement letting everyone know once progress has been made, right?” He repeated the last bit for emphasis, then asked, “Can you get me on a tram to the locomotive?”

“Yeah,” he swung his arm for them to follow. “This way. We’ve been limiting travel so everything is easier to manage, so there’s a tram here already.”

A green bird fluttered overhead, its orange belly reflecting light like copper. The train employee flinched. “Hey, hey do you know what that thing is?” His eyes pointed at Sparlyset. “A bunch of those things got in here and they’re freaking people out. A big problem in the Game Car.”

Sparlyset explained the creature, but the man hadn’t performed the Rite of Tongues. Richard looked at Chrisk. “That might sound better coming from you.”

Chrisk shrugged. “Cannon Raptors. We already knew they roll up into balls and drop their scaly bellies on your head to concuss you. That’s the ‘big problem’ he mentioned. I don’t think we figured out they ate you alive after though, thank the Martyr.”

The employed paled.

The tram station was an outdoor—as much as it could be while being on the Leviathan Train—platform of white marble. A three-car tram was idle on the tracks. While they boarded, the helpful employee called a conductor for the tram, and then radioed someone about the birds. “I have to stay here,” he said, “but you can find someone else with a radio pretty easily if you need to. The conductors all have them at least.”

Richard nodded and thanked the man, and he left.

“I’m getting off in the next car.” Chrisk said. “My family should still be in our hotel suite. Thank you again for all your help. And the weird alien magics, I guess. Do those Rites last forever?”

“Yes,” Sparlyset replied.

“I guess if any purens ever visit my hotels I'll be able to serve them!” Chrisk laughed.

“I thought so, you own the Bonnair Hotel chain!” Richard said. “What were you doing jumping out of the Leviathan? Shouldn’t important people sit pretty while grunts like me do the dangerous work?”

Chrisk bobbed his head. “That’s why the rest of the team was maintenance guys. Strong men all, and brave, but I thought we’d get help faster having a big name on the team. Or I might have been able to pull some labour from the hotels to help if need be. I don’t know, but in a crisis, the only people who are important are the ones who can help. What good is the name Bonnair if we all starve on a train in an endless loop?” He tugged his collar. “Not that we would have actually starved… the train is entirely self-sufficient, but you know what I mean.”

The conductor boarded and gave them a hesitant nod. Soon the tram lurched to a start and they were on their way. They passed through a bright tunnel into the next car. It was a city street, though almost every building was a hotel. A few shops huddled in the centre, where the tram came to a slow stop at the circular platform that divided the car into four quadrants.

“I hope you find your family well, Mr Bonnair.” Richard said as the man stood up to debark.

“Chrisk is fine. And thank you both.” He held out his hand and Richard took it. They shared a firm shake and Chrisk said, “Don’t forget to go back for those guys I lost.” He stepped off the tram, and it chugged to a start.

“You got it, man!” Richard called out.

Richard turned around. The tram had been empty besides them; they hadn’t given anyone else a chance to try to board. But now another man was standing in the tram with them. The man turned around, and a smile crossed both their faces.

“Geoff?”