“We finally got within sight of the town. The fields were empty. Haven’t even been turned. The city walls are still intact. We didn’t see any smoke, or sentries, but Lars still took over an hour sneaking up to a tree tall enough that he could look over the wall.”
Augie took another deep drink. “Inside the walls, he said that most of the buildings looked intact, but there were smashed carts and wagons and bones. Bones everywhere. Apparently people kept coming to Passholdt for quite awhile.” Another drink.
“And crawling over everything were those... things. There weren’t any people or animals. Just them. They were sprawled on the roofs, shambling through the buildings, picking through the bones. Hundreds of them. Thousands, probably. Lars said that as he was climbing down, he snapped a dry branch. Just one as big around as your finger,” Augie held up an index finger to demonstrate. It was shaking slightly.
“He said that the ones nearest to him whipped their heads around towards him and started shrieking. That spread through the whole town and they all started running towards us. Well, he dropped five meters straight down to the ground and we grabbed the horses and started running.” He looked at the remnants of the bridge and a shudder went through him. “And they still beat us here,” he whispered. “We were damned lucky they started from inside the town.”
Master Payne turned away and looked at the bridge. “Well, no one will get caught by them from this direction. Unfortunately, this leaves us in a bit of a predicament.”
“Us?” Agatha gestured over the chasm. “What about the townspeople?”
Augie looked at her. “For all we know those were the townspeople.”
“You don’t know?”
“How the devil would I know?”
Agatha nodded. “Losing the bridge will certainly make it more challenging, but it does mean that they won’t be expecting anyone to come from this direction. That’s good.”
Master Payne looked at her blankly. “Good for what?”
“Our attack on Passholdt.”
Abner blinked. “Our what?”
Agatha shrugged. “Attack might be the wrong word,” she conceded. “But we have to do something to try to save the people of Passholdt. I guess the first step will be to analyze one of these corpses and see if these creatures were once human. Perhaps we can—”
The concentrated glares from her assembled listeners finally registered, and Agatha’s monologue stumbled to a halt. “No?” she asked.
Master Payne sighed and removed his spectacles. “Many newcomer Sparks make the same mistake, Miss Clay. But I confess that I’d thought you more... grounded[31].”
Agatha was confused. “I don’t understand.”
Payne nodded. “We are actors, Miss Clay. We only pretend to be heroes.” He spread his hands and his spectacles hovered in midair. “We are fakes. These are tricks. Our lives, the lives I am responsible for, are dangerous enough without questing for adventure. We are Sparks, yes, but pitifully weak ones, and we know this. It is this knowledge, the knowledge of just how weak we are, that keeps us alive.”
Agatha interrupted, “But the town—”
Payne snatched the floating spectacles from the air and slammed his great fist down upon a wagon yoke. “At our next stop we will inform the Baron’s people. These are his lands? He can keep them clean!”
Agatha tried one last time. “But—”
“BUT NOTHING!” Payne roared. “For all we know, those things are... are some new form of revenant, and the only thing that can be done for them is to kill them!” He wheeled about and looked Agatha in the eye. “Could you burn down people? Women and children? Even if you knew—you knew, that they had irrevocably become monsters?”
Agatha tried to step back, and found her way blocked by the side of a wagon. She swallowed. “I... no...” She looked down. “I don’t know,” she whispered.
Payne stepped closer. “The Baron can. The Baron has. I respect him for that, but I do not want to be him. No sane man would.” He grasped Agatha’s chin in his hand and dragged her eyes back up to face his own. “Now you drop any ideas you have about being another Othar Tryggvassen, unless you want to leave my show and manage your heroics on our own. Do you understand?”
“Yes!” Agatha wrenched her head from his hand. “Yes, I understand!” Tears filled her eyes, “But I don’t have to like it.” She turned to go and found Zeetha blocking her way.
Zeetha reached out and grasped Agatha’s shoulders. “Remember this,” she hissed. “Remember this union of understanding and rage. This is the balance that will keep you fighting. And to make sure you remember this occasion—” Agatha’s eyes widened in fear—until Zeetha slung a comforting arm across her shoulder. “A drink.”
As a relieved Agatha was led away, Payne turned back to the rest of the circus, who were busy not meeting his eyes, until he clapped his great hands together. “I don’t like it either,” he announced quietly. “But I like dying even less. Move out.”
At this, a collective sigh went up from the group. They dispersed and soon the wagons began rumbling down the hill. Payne stood apart looking out at the ruined bridge until Abner came up and coughed discreetly.
Payne nodded without turning. “Is the warning sign posted[32]?”
“Yessir. Of course, we’ll want to post another at the turn off.”
Payne nodded again. Now that the bridge was out, there was no reason for anyone to climb the two-kilometer slope. He hoped the Baron would take care of this soon, but it was quite possible that he would abandon the road, and simply increase the amount of air traffic to the area. Payne had seen it happen before. He gave a final pat to the ancient stonework before he turned away. It had been a very good bridge.
Abner continued. “I told Dr. Kleeporg to preserve one of the monsters. I thought the Baron might want it[33].”
Payne again nodded. “Good. Now let’s get moving. I want us as far as we can get by morning. Anything else?”
A voice rumbled from above his head. “Vell, now dot hyu mentions it...”
The two men spun in surprise. The green Jäger was squatting on the roof of the cart, a huge grin smeared over his face. “Hello dere.”
Payne visibly pulled himself together. He had found himself facing far worse while traveling in the Wastelands. “My humble thanks,” he said sincerely. “You really helped us here.”
The monster soldier looked pleased, and graciously inclined his head. “Eet vas only fair. Vun of hyuor pipples help us, so ve tink ve shood help hyu beck, jah?”
The Jäger with the triple bladed pole arm unfolded himself from under the wagon. Both Payne and Abner would have sworn there was nothing there.
He looked smug. “End ve did eet mitowt killink ennybody hyu know! Pretty sveet, hey?” The grin he gave the two men was so alarming that they involuntarily took a step back, directly into the arms of the purple Jäger who had materialized behind them. He slapped an affable hand upon each of their shoulders. This elicited a small scream from Abner.
Payne rallied and grinned back. The Jägers mentally gave him an “A” for effort. “Pretty sweet indeed. As a token of our esteem, if you need any supplies—”
31
Grounded was the term used when a Spark was sane enough to function on a day-today basis. It says a lot that many people, including Sparks, are unfamiliar with the term.
32
Regular travelers throughout the Empire were issued warning signs by the Empire and required to post them, as well as report on problems they’d encountered. The penalties for anyone except the Baron’s troops removing a warning sign usually involved becoming a warning sign yourself.
33
In addition to rewarding travelers who posted warning signs, the Baron’s agents were known to pay well for unusual specimens. Initially, there had been a number of people who had decided to “put one over” on the Baron by constructing and selling him fake madboy tech and handmade chimeras. The Baron bought them all, and the counterfeiters had a good laugh—until these same fakes appeared at various museums and auction houses, where they made the Empire significantly more money than it had paid out.