They decided to light a fire – this was a safe enough area. Kirwyn collected firewood, but struggled with the damp kindling. He dug a pit to place it all in, and using a vial of oil Alana had collected, along with a burst of Loma’s rifle, it was soon crackling. When the meat was cooked starvation got the better of Loma – she tentatively took a bite of the pork, but immediately spat it out and dry heaved – much to the delight of Alana. Kirwyn offered her one of his red cubes, which she nibbled on.
Alana told her about their first meeting, and of the GMH.
“In Avalon, we have genetic screening, to prevent things like that happening. You don’t have any…” she trailed off gesturing to Alana.
“Oh no. 100% bog-standard human.”
“Good.”
Loma smiled, looked up and saw a cloaked figure approaching. She readied her rifle and shouted in surprise. The figure raised two bony arms, resplendent in stony jewellery.
“I mean no ‘arm,” cried an old woman’s voice. “I just would like to stay by yer fire if that’s alright?”
“We’re very busy. Find your own fire,” called out Loma.
“I’ll be on my way then.”
Alana and Kirwyn glared at Loma in disbelief. Alana ran up to the old crone – who lowered her hood respectfully revealing an ancient, pleasant face.
“She’s just joking,” said Alana. “You can sit by the fire, have something to eat.”
Loma was deadly serious. She could barely tolerate two mainlanders, with their slow minds and thuggish speech, never mind this new one. She placed her rifle across her knees and watched the newcomer warily.
The old woman tore into the boar-meet with gumption. On every finger she wore a black ring, and on her arms were also thick black bands made of stone. The other three sat in silence, watching her while she ate.
“You’re strange travelling partners if you don’t mind me sayin’ so, ain’t not a common thread between you.”
The three sat in silence – Alana had advised them to keep their identities secret for as long as possible.
“We’re – ambassadors,” said Alana. “Representing different interests, we’re going to Moortown to oversee a treaty, as neutral advisors.”
“Is that so?” cried the old lady in astonishment.
“Yes,” said Alana happily. “I am Meredith, I represent the Ranger Kor of Retragrad. This is officer… Loma of Chester, and this is Kermit, of the Tacitus munks.”
“You are a arch-munk?” she said looking to Kirwyn. Kirwyn woke up from a day dream and looked to Alana in surprise.
“Uh, yeah,” he said, after some time.
“Could you pray for me, give me blessing for my journey? I’ve made it many times, but it’s a long one and I’ve never been so old as this minute.”
“Of… course,” said Kirwyn, touched. He knelt down and held her hands. He closed his eyes and mumbled under his breath. The old lady held her eyes open, enthralled. He put two fingers between her eyebrows “protect her on this journey,” he said, then went back to mumbling. He kissed both her hands and then got up to go to his seat. She got up to follow him, grabbing both his hands and shaking them.
“Thank you. Bless you,” she said, beaming from ear to ear. Kirwyn suddenly felt immense guilt. He smiled then looked to Loma who appeared extremely confused – and Alana who seemed to regret the ruse, yet was still smiling faintly.
“I’ll leave you to your business,” said the old woman to the group. Alana weakly tried to get her to stay but the old woman was insistent. “I wish to end my journey as soon as possible, now I am warm and well fed, and blessed! I could not sit a moment longer, I bid you farewell, one and all!” Alana and Kirwyn said their goodbyes, Loma nodded upwards slightly. The old woman put her hood back on and floated out into the darkness.
15
They soldiered on through barren, grassy plains. In the distance they saw mountains. They walked by an old, low stone wall. Alana saw a flash, she immediately ducked down and hissed at the others to do the same. After a while, laying low, she retrieved her rifle and propped it up on the wall, looking down the scope.
“They haven’t seen us – I don’t think,” she whispered.
“Who are they? How many?” whispered Loma.
“Three of them. Look like raiders. Yeah they’re raiders.”
“How can you tell?” asked Kirwyn.
“Trust me. I know what I’m doing,” she said, staring down the scope.
“Can we go around them?” asked Loma.
“We could—” said Alana, sliding back behind the wall. “We’d have to go into more dangerous territory. And then these guys would pick off the next group who walked through here.”
“Take ‘em out then,” said Loma, gravely.
“Wait!” said Kirwyn peeking over the wall. “We don’t know if they’re raiders. They could just be travellers, like us.”
Alana wiped her face in frustration. “They’re not travelling, they’re lying in ambush. I wouldn’t have even seen them except – one of them lit up a cigarette. They would have shot at us if we kept going.”
“You don’t know that, not for sure. They could just be hunters.”
“There’s no game around here.”
“Maybe they’re bad hunters.”
She grew weary of this and turned to their leader.
“Loma—”
“Let me talk to them,” said Kirwyn earnestly, staring at Loma. “Let me try.”
Loma paused. She shrugged her shoulders and sighed. “It’s your life. Good luck buddy,”
“Loma,” said Alana coldly “This is a terrible idea.”
Kirwyn leapt over the wall, raising his arms.
Alana crept down even lower. “Fucking moron,” she uttered.
“Hullo there!” he cried, waving his hands above his head. He jogged and skipped along, his white robes flapping in the wind. A shot was fired, scattering up dirt by his feet. He ducked behind a shrubbery. More shots were fired from the raiders’ position, whistling past him.
From behind him he heard four deep cracks in the air. The firing from the enemy camp was silenced. He lay prostrate on the ground. Alana kicked him lightly.
“Get up,” she barked. He did so. Loma walked ahead of them, hands casually held behind her back. They explored the enemy’s position. Three ragged warriors lay dead, their skulls open and bleeding on the ground. Two men and a woman. Alana crouched down and searched their bodies for valuables. Kirwyn looked away. She unearthed a sidearm, a large brassy revolver.
“Look at this,” she said, tapping Kirwyn on the chest with it.
The revolver had a chain at the handle – there was a skeletal human finger attached, the bones glued together. She rattled it in front of him like car keys.
“Hunters?” she said enthusiastically.
Kirwyn looked away.
Alana emptied the revolver, taking the bullets one by one for herself, she spoke calmly as she looted. “This isn’t a monastery. This is the real world. People are true to their nature here, they’re animals. They don’t care about manners – how nice you are. They’re here to survive and get what they want. They’re animals Kirwyn, we all are. The sooner you learn that, the longer you’ll survive. I mean look at them:” She gestured to the fallen raiders. They were a formidable looking bunch, even when dead. They wore brown leather masks with goggles sewn in, their knuckles were bare, scabbed. They were armed to the teeth, covered in white scars over lean bodies.