The Waystation Ch.35 (Patreon)

Chapter 35

The Way Back I

“There’s a whole world out there,” Bell said in a sing-song voice.

“I like your road,” Bert said, trying to change the subject. He and Bell were once more in the control tower of the Waystation. The expansive circular stone room was lit by the see-through crystal walls that gave a full view in every direction. He drummed his fingers on the armrest, hoping that this ti–.

“There’s a whole WORLD out there,” Bell said again.

“Okay! I get it!” Bert growled. This had been going on all morning. Ever since Percy had left.

Bert had liked the Lich King of the City of the Dead. They had got on for some weird reason, and Bert would miss the creepy hooded bugger. As the Waystationers had said their goodbyes, Percy had asked a favor.

A big one.

“I don’t see why you are acting like you didn’t agree to this,” He said over his shoulder to Bell.

“I’m not,” She said. “I just like annoying you,” Bell grinned. “There’s a wh–”

“If you shut up about that, I’ll let you drive,” Bert said hopefully.

“Okay!” She giggled and took over control.

“I just hope this isn’t a wasted journey.” He got up and went to stand by the windows looking towards the City of the Dead. He was going to miss the place, as weird as it was to say. “They won’t let us in if they are even still there.” He shook his head.

“So why agree in the first place?” Bell asked idly.

“I figured they had a right to know.” Bert shrugged.

When Percy had asked for a favor, Bert had assumed he wanted a few private barrels of Death Mead. Or maybe to take someone with him when they leave. Instead, Percy had asked them to drive across the Deadlands and look at the city that had caused it all. If it was still there, what were they doing? Did they care about the death and destruction they caused? And, more importantly… were they going to do it again.

Bert had, reluctantly, agreed. So had Bell. That didn’t stop her from taking the piss every few minutes from then on. A pixie was a pixie was a pixie. Always. Even if they agreed with what you were doing. He had often wondered if some pixie DNA had ended up in his genetic code; maybe that was why he always felt the need to poke and irritate people.

Or maybe he was just an asshole with a poor survival instinct?

Probably the second one.

The Waystation was currently making its way back through the vast canyon they had navigated on the way in. It was significantly more leisurely this time. Bell had made a lovely, wide road as they went by the first time. It used up the resources they collected and made it easier this time.

Unfortunately, the easy driving tended to let her get bored.

“There’s a wh–”

“That’s it; I’m driving!” Bert growled.

“No!” Bell fought him as he tried to take over.

They didn’t notice as Way Way followed along the roadway they had laid out as they began another round of bickering.

Flashes lit the crystal walls as the bickering escalated to another slinging match.

Bud looked up at the flashing lights in the control room and sighed. He was proud of his sighs. It was difficult to do without lungs, and he had practiced it extensively.

“Should we worry about that?” Mic’ali asked uncertainly. His lack of attention cost him as Tru’nal took the opportunity to sweep his legs out from under him. He went down with a yelp as Tru’nal planted her foot somewhere, making every male wince in sympathy.

“Back to work!” Bud called as he returned to watching his team train. The young orcs were coming along really well. With his leadership and a few suggestions from Bell, they had transformed into quite the combat team.

And if they ever seemed to slack off, well, Bud just threatened to go get more suggestions from Bell.

They didn’t want another session with her training them, EVER. After the first and last training session with Bell, they had crawled into bed and not woken for a day and a half. Bud had enjoyed seeing their faces when he later told them that Bell had trained the Caretaker for weeks.

They had gone pale.

Bud looked back at the distant City of the Dead once more before putting it behind him for good. It had been strange to be in a city full of people who all looked like him.

He had even done some shopping quietly. And Percy had assured him it would all work out great… but. Bud wished he could frown in consternation. It looked very cathartic.

He was still, at heart, a minion. Bert and Bell had done their best, but some parts still remained. To make this change… he wanted their okay. What irritated him was that he needed it.

All he had to do was ask, but he hesitated. He wanted to wait until he found a way not to need their permission. That thought felt dangerous, but it was easier to think about every time.

Soon.

“I am glad to put that place behind us,” Lowes said as he stood on their balcony.

“It was… different.” Reed agreed. “At least we can leave the room more now.”

“A whole city of the undead, and we left it better than we found it.” Lowes frowned.

“WE didn’t do anything. WE hid in our room like children.” Reed laughed.

“Yes, we did,” Lowes shivered. “They give me the creeps.”

“The assassin scared of a corpse?” Reed laughed. “The delicious irony of that.”

“That’s not irony. Besides, I am not afraid of the dead. Just the undead.” Lowes huffed.

“Well, now we are going away from all the scary undead,” Reed said as he came up behind his husband and hugged him.

“But why this way?” Lowes said. “Why not onward, into other lands they have never seen.”

“Afraid of crossing your tracks?” Reed asked seriously. An old adage said that an assassin that crossed their own tracks was dead before the sun rose and set.

Lowes laughed. “There is nowhere I do not cross my own tracks. Or would, if I left any.”

“Nothing to worry about then,” Reed said and yawned.

“On this thing?” Lowes said.

“You do make a good point,” Reed said. “But it would be better made after a late breakfast!”

Trav froze as he felt something wrap itself around his foot. He pulled gently, only to find it gripped tighter. He felt another something wrap around his other foot.

“Scruff!” He called. “Scruff!”

“Trav?” She asked, coming through the cottage door and wiping blood off her hands.

“Help!” Trav said pleadingly.

“What are you doing creeping around my fields?” Scruff narrowed her eyes suspiciously.

“Scruff! Please!” Trav felt more things wrapping around his legs.

“What were you doing?” Scruff asked again in a bored voice.

“I just wanted to say hi!” The young noble squeaked as the vines began to increase their pressure.

“Spare me, Trav.” She sighed. “I know what you are now, remember?”

Trav grinned. “Old habits, you know?” He changed, his skin reddening as hooves replaced his feet and muscle filled out his chest. The horns grew in last, completing the Satyr transformation. He went to walk forward and frowned, the vines still holding him in place.

“These are some of my new babies,” Scruff beamed. “Steel vine.”

“Very nice,” Trav said, “Mind letting me go?”

“What are you doing here, Trav?” Scruff crossed her arms.

“Can’t I come to check on my friend?” Trav said innocently.

“You haven’t even come by in days.” She narrowed her eyes. “Even then, it was just when you wanted something.”

“Come on, Scruff!” Trav smiled endearingly. “We are buds!”

“You know what I just figured out, Trav?” Scruff asked with a smile. “I just figured out why you got me out of that place. Why you brought me here.”

“You were in trouble,” Trav said placatingly. The vines had started to pull. He was having trouble staying upright now.

“The traditional gift that one gives the Fae for their favor, Trav?” Her face was hard now, no emotion showing. “A child. A human child.”

“Hey, it worked out for everyone!” Trav said. He tried to pry one of the vines off and thought it worked until it wound around his arm instead. A few frantic minutes later, he found himself bound in vines as strong as steel. They began to squeeze.

“Stay away from here, Trav.” Scruff said as she looked down at him. “If you need something, send an orc.”

He nodded frantically.

Scruff clicked her tongue, and the vines released.

“You can’t tell Bert,” Trav pleaded. “He’ll kill me.”

“You are what you are, Trav.” Scruff sighed. “I won’t tell on you unless you make me.”

“I won’t!” Trav scrabbled off the farmland. “Promise.” He was just getting to the steps up to the bridge off Trailer One when he heard her.

“You were my only friend, you know?” She said it sadly.

“Only the Fae matter,” Trav said defensively. “It’s how I’m made.”

She simply stared at him, her eyes red with unshed tears.

He turned and walked away.

============

“Sure this is a good idea?” Bert asked Bud.

“They are not likely to have any better option for fighting someone higher level,” Bud shrugged. “You are going to go easy on them, right?”

“Yup.” Bert’s eyes scanned the open space in front of the Barn, the orcs shifting nervously in their gear. Mic and Ric were on either side of Gor. Sal and Tru were hanging further back, their bows strung and ready. He had spent a few minutes before this crafting a new set of bolts for his crossbow. They were padded, but they would still hurt.

It was blunt weapons all around, but a blunt piece of metal swung by an orc was still a blunt piece of metal swung by an orc when it hit you.

“Thing is, if you're ready, you’re gonna take us out,” Gor’tal said. “So we need to kind of get the jump on you.” He grinned as he rolled his hammer in one hand and adjusted his grip on his shield.

“Good luck with th–” Bert cut off as Slothy slapped him into the air. As he spun in the air, he just had time to see her snigger before curling back up. He hit the floor hard, rolling as the Orcs charged and arrows whistled through the air.

They cheated.

Bert grinned.

This was his kind of fight.

He slammed aside the daggers that Mic had thrown with his shield and sent a pair of bolts through Gor’s legs at the archers. He rolled back and flipped onto his feet. It would never not feel awesome to be able to do that. He dodged the first two blows from Gor before he had to block one with his shield. As he did so, Ric dashed at him from behind. Bert used the force of Gor’s blow to drive him into a spin and slammed his own shield into the side of Ric. Dancing backward, Bert ducked and dodged the arrows, firing his own crossbow at the distant archers, forcing them to reposition again.

Mic and Ric dove in from the sides, and Gor pressed his attack. Bert changed his prosthetic into its grapple version. It gave him a free hand and a non-lethal attack all in one. He found himself using it more and more often.

He dodged and blocked, spinning and laughing as the orcs became increasingly frustrated. He noticed Tru’nal moving to flank him, creeping along between shots. Casting the Chill rune in his palm as he blocked another attack, he let the icy substance build.

Tru’nal squeaked in shock when the snowball hit her in the side of the head. Bert’s chuckling laugh sent her over the edge.

She grabbed a blunted greatsword from the rack of weapons that Bud had prepared and stalked toward him; the blade held out behind her at an angle.

Bert grinned as he continued to block the other orcs. When she got close enough for them to notice her, they darted back in surprise.

It was the opening he was waiting for.

The second snowball splattered against her face the second that Gor stepped aside.

Ric laughed in surprise and received a backhanded slap that sent him stumbling away as Tru’nal stepped into the ring of space forming around Bert.

With a roar, she swung the sword at him. He deflected it quickly and stepped into her next swing. His shield sent her sprawling, but she rolled up and came again. With each clash, she improved. They went back and forth for fifteen minutes before Bert stepped past her, swinging back his shield to send her sprawling again. She shifted her weight at the last second, her sword hilt slamming into his side and driving up into his ribs. He felt them crack and grunted in surprise.

Tru’nal turned with a wide grin on her face, only to freeze for a second before dropping the sword and yelling in surprise.

“I got a level!” She grinned. “And I got my second class!”

Bert congratulated her and took a second to summon a carcass and heal his ribs.

As Tru’nal got the vacant expression that Bert assumed meant she was looking up her class options, Bud called the rest of them together.

“So, what did you do wrong?” Bud asked, looking at the assembled orcs.

“I should have fired more often,” Sal’ali said, looking at the floor. “I left him too much room to move.”

“We need to make more attacks from out of sight,” Mic and Ric looked at each other and sighed. “He blocked us too easily.”

“I should have hit him harder!” Gor’tal grinned.

“Bert, what do you think they did wrong?” Bud asked.

Bert looked at the orcs and thought through the fight a little more.

“You need to fire less, not more.” He said, looking at Sal first. “It’s not your job to pin me in place. Let me forget you are there, then kill me for the mistake.” He turned to the two rogues. “The dual attacks were good, but as you said, you need to get behind me more often. Also, don’t attack the same place. If Mic goes low, Ric goes high. Also, try and chain your attacks as well. As Mic falls back, Ric comes in. That way, I get no chance to rest.” He smiled at them and then turned to Gor. “You need to remember your shield is a weapon as well. I hit people as often with my shield as with my weapon. Also, you look at Ric and MIc just before they attack. It gives them away and gives me an opening.”

They all nodded.

“But that wasn’t the worst thing you did wrong,” He looked at their surprised faces. “When I tagged Tru with that snowball, what was I doing?”

“Being a massive dick?” Sal said sarcastically.

“Exactly!” He saw the shock on her face. “I was intentionally trying to piss her off. She was moving to flank me, letting me forget she was a threat. So I taunted her into attacking me, which she did. That was stupid.” He held up a hand, “But the worst was when you let her attack me, and the rest of you watched.”

“But, it was a duel!” Gor said.

“No,” Bert shook his head. “It was a fight, and you all should have used the opportunity to attack the moment I thought you were hanging back.”

“Is that honorable?” Sal asked.

“Not at all!” Bert laughed. “That is the point. When you are fighting for your life or someone else's, you do whatever gives you the easiest win. Cheat, ambush, lie, threaten, be a dick, whatever it takes to make it home alive.” He watched them as he spoke. They didn’t like it, but he seemed to be getting through to them.

“Do you care nothing for honor?” Tru’nal was apparently done with her class selection.

“Nothing,” Bert said. “Honor is the privilege of the powerful. They use it to pretend they are following a code.” He scowled at the group, “We are not a big power in this world. We are the nobodies who get stepped on if we let them. They want you to use the code of honor so they can keep you from doing all the things that threaten them.” He looked at the orcs, seeing doubt on every face.

“Where we come from, Honor is the great leveler,” Sal said angrily, “a peasant can challenge the highest of nobles to a duel. If they win, there is nothing the nobles can do!”

“Yeah, they won’t win,” Bert said. “The Noble has better weapons, better armor, better training. They have eaten good food all their life. They are stronger, more rested, better nourished, and better geared.” He watched the young orcs figure it out, one after another.

“It can’t be!” Sal argued, “If that was the case, why would anyone care about honor?”

“Because the powerful tell them it matters,” Bert shrugged. “And it is a great idea. A code of honor. It makes sense to us all. It appeals to the sense of fairness and equality that we all have.” He laughed bitterly. “It’s just bullshit. We are not all born equal. Some are born rich, while others are born poor. Some are born in peace, others into war. Some are born to loving parents, and some to hateful ones. The world is not fair; life is not fair. Don’t spend your life thinking it is. You will die still waiting for a fair shot.” Their faces looked… lost. “It is our job, as people, to make it fair. To make it as close to equal as it can get. We will never succeed, of course. But the effort matters. The little changes build into something that matters.”

“Is that your code?” Sal’ali asked quietly. “Fairness and equality?”

“Don’t think I have a code,” Bert said. “But I always try to be fair and treat people equally, if I can.”

“That is a good code,” Sal’ali said. She looked thoughtful. “I would follow such a code.”

That got a round of agreement.

“It’s a pity you have a rope fetish,” Sal sighed, “because otherwise, you would be a remarkable man.”

“I don’t have a rope fetish!” He yelled. Her padded arrow bounced off his forehead. He grinned. “You’re learning!”