Wixon's Day Read online

  “How’s the city been,” Marquos murmurs, “Since I was last here?”

  “The same,” Teri says, “Lonely. I’ve missed you.”

  “A lot, by the looks of it.”

  “You’ve got a bit of life to you. Guys around here have no imagination, they act like the green ether is an excuse to be lazy.”

  “I’ve been thinking about you for moons. You have no idea. I thought I’d bring Red here and then I’d be with you and everything would reach some sort of happy ending. I even convinced myself that you might come with me…stay with me.”

  “You could stay with me,” Teri sighs, patting Marquos on the thigh, “Unlikely, right? Who’s Red?”

  “A little girl I picked up in the Metropolis. I was bringing her back to her parents.”

  “Did they hire you to do that?”

  “No.”

  Teri shifts, tilting her head back to look up at Marquos’ beaten face and inspect his injuries once more. She holds a hand up to gingerly stroke his cheek and comments “That must hurt like hell. Who did it?”

  “The Border Guard.”

  Teri sits up suddenly, pushing herself off Marquos, and gives him a serious glare. She demands “What are you talking about? What happened?”

  “Have you seen them around here?” Marquos asks. “I’ve been running into them on the waterways. There’s been a lot of fighting around Thesteran, apparently. Kand rebels have come over from Byfraze and they’re practically at war.”

  “The Border Guard don’t come through here. The Border Guard don’t have anything to do with anyone unless it’s damned serious, Marq! Was this girl you rescued a Kand princess or something?”

  “No,” Marquos smiles lightly, “It’s nothing to do with her, that’s the Mine Guard’s affair. You don’t need to worry about it. I got a hiding, but I got away alive and they’re not after me anymore.”

  “You’re a fool, Marq, you’re going to get yourself killed out there,” Teri shakes her head, “It’s not worth it, all your mindless wandering.”

  “I can guarantee the stars in the North will prove you wrong.”

  “You haven’t a damned clue what’s in the North. Seriously, don’t get yourself killed for this,” Teri stares imploringly into his eyes. He smiles back. After a short pause, he responds “Can you tell me something honestly, Teri? When you think of this country, and of us as Estalians, what does it mean to you?”

  “I don’t,” Teri replies. “You know the difference between us and the saps in the Afta territories on the continent? Or the Kands? It’s not that we have a country, it’s that we have the Guards. And that isn’t really anything to do with us anyway, we just happen to be in the area that they police.”

  “People don’t care, do they? Acting for the sake of your kin, because we are all part of the Estal Empire, it’s just not done…”

  “I don’t like where this is going,” Teri shifts uncomfortably. “People don’t talk about stuff like this unless they’ve got involved in something serious. We’re Fielders, here, the only time I hear people babbling on about being Estalian or acting for the good of the country is when someone from the Guard wants something big done. I don’t give a damn about the Estal Empire or whatever people we might be the same as out there…I don’t want you to, either, because it’s obviously got you in trouble.”

  “It was forced on me. The Border Guard accused me of betraying this country. As though I had some duty to them.”

  “They are the country,” Teri rests her head against his and closes her eyes, “You’re almost making me glad that you’re going North where they won’t be able to get you.”

  Marquos pauses, thinking back to all that Highness Elzia told him. Thinking about the Gracian Kingdom. How no one really knows what is going on outside their own towns. He asks, “Do you know who’s in charge of the Border Guard at the moment?”

  “Is there someone in charge?”

  “Supreme Commander Felez. Have you ever heard the name?”

  “No. We mostly just deal with the Mine Guard, and I only know a few people from them. What difference does it make?”

  “That there is a central control, we don’t appreciate it, but there is.”

  “Why should we care? It certainly won’t matter in the Deadland.”

  “Come with me.”

  “No,” Teri sighs, “I’ll be dreaming of you coming back. And imagining you staying here next time. Whilst you dream of me wanting to leave. We shouldn’t do this to ourselves.”

  “I will be back. I have to get Red back home.”

  “Where is she now? Did they take her up there?”

  Marquos shakes his head, looking away. He mumbles his answer, “No. I’ve left her in what I hope are good hands…in return for doing them a favour. I don’t know if I’m doing the right thing.”

  “You never do,” Teri kisses him again. He kisses her back, and they slip into another affectionate embrace. They hold one another, going quiet, enjoying the simple pleasure of each other’s warmth. Teri never presses for details of exactly what he’s involved in, never questions why he’s talking so strangely or where these desperate thoughts of lasting companionship have come from. The issues aren’t important to her, living in the moment, enjoying the time that he is there without thought for what has been before. He loves her for it, and as they stop talking again he concentrates wholly on her, lets his mind finally go blank.

  Marquos leaves before daylight, with Teri preparing herself to return to work without sleep. By the time he reaches the outskirts of the Meth Fields, the sun is starting to seep through the clouds. It gives just enough light for him to take in the splendour of a passenger ferry resting in the river outside the city. The boat stands three stories high, a huge water-wheel to one side and a tower of a chimney in the middle. It was once painted with majestic decorations in white and red, but time has not been kind to it. The wood is cracking, the paint peeling and all the trimmings caked with the incongruous dirt of the air. It is rare to see a boat so large that has been so carefully crafted, and Marquos slows as he rolls past. He cannot tell from looking at it whether it is still in use or has been abandoned. It’s hard to imagine the need for such a large passenger boat now, as people don’t like moving around, and on an ordinary day he would board it and scavenge for parts. But he is not desperate for things to trade, and has somewhere to be. A small way north is a canal that was constructed to lead onto a river in the North, now poorly maintained but still passable. That is where Marquos must turn away from civilisation.

  The pilot steers the Hypnagogia into the canal and moors it to a tree a small distance from the turning. The day is at its lightest now, the subdued haze that it brings. Marquos scans the area, hidden by trees from the outside world. If any boats pass on the river, they won’t see him here. He hasn’t seen a moving boat all morning, though. Marquos perches on the deck and peers at the trees, seeing no sign of life. He takes out his looking glass, a telescopic brass tube with curved glass in each end, and begins scanning what gaps he can find in the trees. Still no movement. Marquos heads away from the copse on foot and climbs onto a rock, looking out at the limited horizon. Nothing is moving out there, and the further he looks from the water the more dead the world seems. Nothing but bare tree trunks and lonely rocks. Marquos stops looking for people and starts trying to spot any traces of life; a flicker of green grass or the petals of a flower. He occupies himself in this futile search for some time, oblivious to the passing day.

  When the light grows dim, Marquos heads back down to his boat. No one has come. He eats on the deck, watching the daylight fade through the clouds, then takes out his flute, plays his usual tunes, trying not to think. Still, his mind wanders. He begins to doubt the Kands. He can see Elzia’s face and hear her voice telling him of the Rosenbault Project. A story with a little hope and a lot of meaning; the perfect scheme to draw him away. The easiest way to get him to leave the group without kicking up a fuss. Regret seeps in. The Kands are not goi
ng to show, he has been set up. They had no intention of finding Red, and no intention of ever seeing him again. An elaborate ruse to get him as far away as possible whilst they relocated their base. He thinks of Elzia again, her natural beauty, and wonders if it was that alone that convinced him to go along with it. Then he thinks of Teri, and the fine night he spent with her, and how deep down she was rejecting him. Just as Nicole did.

  Marquos lays down his flute as he ponders what has happened to him. He has never felt so desperate to have someone join him on his boat before and feels a sense of overwhelming dread sweeping over him at the thought that he will have to make the journey to the Deadland alone. And what for? It seemed so clear before, that he should see the lava flows and the stars, and brave the dangers that no man dared, but now he sits thinking of how lonely it will be. If he makes it back alive he will still have no lasting friends. He sits on the deck, not sure of his place in it all, and mutters to himself, “What else can I do.”

  7

  Marquos wakes aching from falling asleep on the deck, and morosely leaves the small group of trees. The fields open up before the canal, and Marquos can see a small group of buildings up ahead, crumbling from disrepair. It is already clear that the hills ahead are abandoned and left to waste. There is no one in them. There hasn’t been for many seasons. Weeds rise up around the walls and cling to the brick as though hugging it for warmth. They are barely alive, sharp sticks of plants. The air feels colder here, and a whistling wind picks up shortly before the sun’s light starts to penetrate. Marquos shivers as he steers the boat carefully north. He starts playing his flute again to take his mind off the Kand no-show. Before long, the canal comes to a lock and he has to stop, climbing out to work the gates. The canal rises up a tall step, over a hill, and he has to climb a long ladder to reach the top. As he pulls himself over the lip onto the top of the lock, he looks up to see a large man stood at the far gate, leaning on the pump with a huge bag over one shoulder, and jumps back, startled. Marquos stands the figure off for a moment, fists clenched, as he takes in the familiar face.

  “What are you doing here?” the pilot demands, angrily approaching Copin. The Kand laughs loudly at him, launching off the pump and replying “What, we said we’d be waiting at the first lock didn’t we?”

  “Like hell!” Marquos snaps, “I waited all day yesterday for you.”

  “I know, I know,” Copin grins, walking up and putting a friendly arm around his shoulders. Copin is a bear-like man, with large soft features and a thick curly beard. He has a carefree expression, mouth always turned to smirks that suggest he has never taken anything seriously in his life. He explains with conspiratorial tones, “We were watching. Hart thinks you’re being followed. We scouted all out ahead, all out behind and everywhere in between and we couldn’t find a trace of the blaggard. He’s obviously waiting for you to regroup with us, or take him somewhere, or whatever he thinks you’re involved with, but I guess he’s got way more patience than us.”

  “What makes you so sure there’s something out there?” Marquos asks warily.

  “Me? I don’t know. It doesn’t bother me, and I told that to Hart, if there’s anyone following you let them come up to the Deadland with us and see how they cope. We’ve got nothing to hide. Hart’s not convinced, though, so she’s falling back and waiting it out for now.”

  “She?” Marquos frowns. “Wait, what? You came up here to use my boat, how can you stay out there in the wilderness? How did you even get ahead of me here?”

  “We’re good at what we do,” Copin says, “Couldn’t keep it up forever, though, one more day and you’d get ahead of us. I couldn’t believe you were still heading north, personally. I told her time and again that you’d bottle it, and if you didn’t have us with you you’d just turn back. But there we had it, stirring this morning to see you trundling off ahead.”

  Marquos glares back at him, “I didn’t come up here for you.”

  “I know that now,” Copin smiles, “You’re a whole other side of crazy. Enough chatter, though, it’s cold out here. Let’s get the baby moving.”

  Marquos and Copin work the pump together, the massive step taking a long time to fill before they can open the gate and set back out on the Hypnagogia. What can be seen of the distance ahead of them is desolate, with limited patches of dry grass and dead trees scattered across uneven hills. As they drift along, Copin asks “Is this what you expected of the North?”

  “We’re not there yet,” Marquos mumbles back. Copin laughs this off, and the pilot asks, “Have you ever been this far?”

  “I don’t know many people who have. The Kands who’ve been up here are the dangerous ones. Dangerous in the head, I mean. Dangerous men do not survive long.”

  “I’ve met a few people who’ve come down from the North. Some who used to live in Yerth and headed south to find more light.”

  “You’ve met conmen and delusionists. If they didn’t try and kill you and steal everything you own then I guarantee they were talking with their arses instead of their mouths. It takes a special sort of creature to survive the Deadland.”

  Marquos thinks of the stories he’s heard, and the travellers who have told them. Stories told around campfires or in riotous bars, over dozens of drinks. He remembers a particularly scrawny face, explaining that Yerth rests at the crest of a cliff, looking out to a small volcano that is always steaming. The man left for lack of food in the North, so he had said, but others had stayed. Marquos scratches his head thoughtfully; if all those tales were lies, then is he one of the first of his generation to brave this journey? As though speaking to his thoughts, Copin pipes up, “You know Goreth was impressed by your company. He thought you were tough. At least in the head. If Goreth thinks you’re tough, then you’re probably a lunatic like anyone else he takes a shine to. It makes me think you’ll get us all killed out here, but it should be a funny tale to tell if we survive it, huh?”

  “I’m not aiming to get anyone killed,” Marquos replies defensively.

  “Right, right. You just want to see the North. You’re a scavenger, aren’t you? You think there’s something valuable up here?”

  “Not in a material sense,” Marquos says. “I just want to see the mountains. I heard that if you get beyond the ruins of Yerth then the air is clearer. Up in the mountains, they say you can see the night sky. Really see it. And they have rivers of fire that pour from the volcanoes, lighting up the terrain.”

  Copin stares at Marquos for a moment, unsure if he is being serious. The Kand suddenly bursts out laughing, slapping a hand into his thigh, and roars “You’re the maddest one I’ve met!”

  “The maddest what?” the pilot replies, taken aback. Copin’s nature is disarmingly casual, his voice so loud and cheerful that it’s hard to take offence, but Marquos feels affronted. The Kand does not answer the question.

  “Yerth is real bandit country. They love the old ruins up there, we’ll be lucky to get through alive. Hrute only knows what lies beyond, probably the less civilised bandits. This will get us some of the way,” Copin shakes the large bag at his feet. Marquos does not bother to ask what it contains, as Copin goes on “Hopefully high spirits will take us the rest.”

  “Do you think we’ll find Rosenbault?” Marquos asks.

  “We’d better do. Believe it or not your little trip up here is the first opportunity I’ve had to come to the North since I got word of his location. I’ve been waiting a long time for this.”

  “And where did you hear of his location, if everyone’s too afraid to come up here?”

  Copin looks back at Marquos as though the pilot is testing him, and murmurs “I just said that anyone you have met is not likely to have visited the Deadland. I found a man who had been running with Norgang bandits outside Yerth. He had heard rumours of Rosenbault’s lab, and roughly pinpointed where it might be, but had found no reason to venture there himself.”

  “Why not?”

  “Did you miss the part about him running with
Norgang bandits? He was a lunatic, like everyone else up there. He returned from the North because it was not violent enough for him. Not enough people, he said. And yes, I did trust that he was telling the truth about the lab.”

  Marquos pauses for a moment, before asking “You’re a doctor, right? Do you think you can work with Rosenbault?”

  “Fat chance,” Copin shakes his head, “I’m a physician. I’m a doctor of people, he’s a doctor of this world. I’m no fool, I don’t think he can heal anything, but I do think I can learn a lot from him. If not about the world around us, then at least about what the Border Guard have been up to. A lot of resources went into his project, so he’ll have some idea of where they came from. And how they might have been used since he was shut down.”

  Marquos ponders how much difference it might make to their rebel effort. He wants to ask how well their campaign is actually going, but Copin speaks first.

  “You like Highness Elzia, don’t you?” the Kand asks brashly, and Marquos raises an eyebrow. “Of course you do. Everyone does. She’s beautiful, she’s smart and she seems to care about everyone. I hope you don’t think that coming up here on some insane venture on her behalf will win you some favour with her. She’s royalty, even if she doesn’t dress it, she’ll never be interested in you like that.”

  “The thought hadn’t crossed my mind.”

  “Mm,” Copin smiles, “I don’t believe that. It crosses every man’s mind. Certainly crossed my mind. Stout little minx, that one.”

  “It’s not why I’m here, I already told you, I came to see the North.”

  “Maybe you’ve got a death wish.”