CHAPTER 27

  "The Dead Light?” Pilgrim’s voice cleaved the silence beneath Rina. "Imaginary Heir who's never on Nameless?”

  For some long, strained breaths he was silent.

  "Heir who doesn’t inherit?” The man's voice was serious as a grave; his body forceful, swaying back and forth on the stage like a tree.

  Panther, thought Rina.

  Rina herself had come from a world of rules in flux, no matter what any Sebi said. This had been the way in Sebu for many, many years, and was all the more so with unification and independence. She was the daughter of a land that, according to her rokkism, because of the broken Contract, the entire world seemed desirous either to rule or to destroy. The rigid died, and quick.

  She looked at Ran, saw Nail and Fritz flanking him, narrowed her eyes. Both were prepared to strike in any direction, their vitals calming in a sea of spike.

  She looked back down at Pilgrim. What about you? What will you do next?

  -----------------------------

  "’It doesn’t matter?’ this idiot says.” He pointed at the middle Word. The smiley one. "In-shaking-credible. Why all this, eh?” Pilgrim gestured at the Canton towers, decked in red. To the candy stands and decorations. "What’s all this shit for? Huh?” When no one spoke, he screamed, "ANSWER ME!”

  The crowd gasped, flinched like a single organism. A dog thumped on its nose.

  And Nail thought, What is happening?

  "No answer for me, huh? Been here a couple of weeks now, and do you know what? What I’ve seen more than anything else? What I’ve seen more of here than I ever did anywhere else on Nameless?”

  Nail waited with the entire city.

  "Delusion.”

  The word circled the crowd in echoes while Nail once again in his life sensed that uncomfortable, wonderful feeling of truth tearing into lie. And this from a copulator!

  "Your own buildings. Alright. Alright. Answer me this, fools, you idiots. If Heir, whose name is Heir, doesn't inherit, then what are you? The shaking maw are you?”

  Again, no answer.

  Pilgrim shook his head, "Given? No. Blood-vomit you ain't.”

  Wordheal’s gasp was more a drawn-out hiss. Nail would have joined, but not for the same reason. Nothing was more offensive to the Rock than the familiar, mannish way they spoke of Heir. How gross to think that man was One, and that One had vomited blood.

  "Oh," Pilgrim grinned, "that gets the gasp? How's this? How many follow this,” he gestured toward the cowering Word called Urba, "pointy, ugly guy on the ground here? You all that stupid? Who got the Contract? The Rules? Were Heir’s eyes blue? Green? What am I even saying? I must be nuts to talk like this out loud.” He spat on the ground. "The Dead Light? You’re all disgusting.”

  There was a wail. "Don’t listen, Wordheal! Close your ears!” It was the thin fellow who’d tried to snatch Pilgrim from the crowd before. Now he pointed at the man on the stage with curled lips, "You! You shut your mouth! You dare to ruin this Gift! You don’t know anything about this city! You’ve been broken by the broken, 'Wayfarer.’” This last came out as a sneer. "You’ve had too many Red Isles whores! I’ve heard about you. Always you are loved by credulous women. Always seeking out play with children like a buffoon! Unity is impossible with selfish men like this! Do not, listen! Wordheal! Strength. Strength. We need strength! Not this effeminate--whaa!”

  Pilgrim had descended the stage in large strides, and the wormy man had fallen onto his backside, arms flailing up. But Pilgrim pulled him to his feet, grasped his shoulders like an old friend. "Honest,” cried the Given. "Honest! Honest, stupid, groveling guy!” He turned to the Words. "Your dog is more honest than you!” He released the man, climbed the stage. "I can’t speak, Sitor? Why not? And here I was simply following the Text, which say all Given are read and known by Lector. Women, men, all ages, poor and not poor. Fool me!

  "I don’t know this city? It’s not so special. Seen dozens just like it. Thousands more dot the history books. All dust now. Sitor here thinks you’re doing great, but Heir was speaking about you when he said, 'they loathe the weak.’ Look in the south! The single shelter, bare as bones, run by Given working night and day!”

  Nail’s warrior-awareness sharpened, and he wondered at it, until he noticed the crowd. No more fear or embarrassment, but scowls, and the hissing of air through gritted teeth. The city was catching up to its hero’s screed. But why was Nail's battle-sense stirring as if in response to a single enemy? He noticed Sarge staring at him, his face tight as he held firmly to his wife and Tek. Nail nodded. You too, friend, eh? You too have seen the bloodlust of the crowd?

  -------------------------------------

  Most of what the goof said was lost on E. She didn't know the Given code. Still he berated them. An unending barrage of repudiations mixed with Text-talk.

  Some, only a few, nodded, looked at their feet. Some, the fewest, smiled, if sadly. Glad and not glad to hear it.

  Damn strange Given.

  Her own anger had evaporated with the building, not to mention Pilgrim’s manic laugh. She thought of First’s northern walls. A similar security concern for Wordheal?

  She looked again at Pilgrim, and marveled, for only one like E, one who had stared down her own wrath in verbal form for decades, would appreciate how well he wielded words. Nothing like that fool Vox, trembling and babbling and spitting. Not even like her. Sizzles leading to kaboom.

  He slung anger like knives, bending razor-words like she would would beauty, awaiting the right reactions as she would attacks. He hit after gasps and between, growls, never allowing the ear or mind a rest. It almost seemed like he went over the top with it. As if by his antics the Words, and Wordhealers, would zero i only on him. Why would he be distracting them?

  Pissed her off how good he was at all of it.

  But the majority of the Wordhealers were done with this. Soon she and Ran would be surrounded by a riot. E’s escape, with Ran, had suddenly become frustratingly more difficult or simple, depending on how the next few minutes shook out.

  "And the name 'Wayfarer,’ you little shaker,” Pilgrim turned back to Sitor. " Given judge me worthy of it. They gave it to me. Someone like you can't take it, though I don't deserve it.” He turned and paced, and in the light and shadow of the red decorations the bird across his back seeming to live, to beat its broad, wings.

  "The Dark Light? Dumb city. You think 'Given’ means you’re given something? Heir didn’t inherit? Hmmm? Was he a mirage, then? A hologram? Your brains are mirages. Dumb pillarsha--”

  "He’s not Wayfarer!” a woman screamed somewhere near the front. "He can’t be! I remember now. Yes, yes I do! I saw him. Pilgrim, I mean. I saw him and he’s nothing like this ugly, bald man. He’s a spy! From First! Only those animals could ruin such a sacred day!” The woman spoke so quickly that the words were on top of one another, as if trying to loose them before she could think on them.

  Witch, thought E, who was no stranger to propaganda. It had uses. Here, now, in this circle of psycho rokkists, for example, it had helped break the man's spell over the mob.

  "Not really Wayfarer,” said one.

  Another, "Would Wayfarer curse this way on the day of all days? Even if he had a gripe?”

  "He’s a First!”

  "You’re scaring my kids, shaker! Gift’s for kids, not your rokkist obsessions!

  "Fool!” Urba shouted, juiced by the crowd’s turn. He stood, shook a fist. "Did you really think you could con Rokk’s Gift? The city of Wordheal? Did you think you could peddle your Sebi idiocy to rational Given? You're Blind’s whore! First's agent!

  "Look around you at this city, Comprehend, to the extent your tiny mind, can. Do you see it or are you as blind and vicious as your Sebi rokk? Buildings built for Rokk’s glory, wealth for his fame, our magnificent gifts, our size, our status!”

  Wordheal cheered.

  Pilgrim regarded the Word as he might a fly, but then something hit him, exploded across his back. A soda or shake. Some drink. E couldn’t tell.

  Laughter consumed Central, but Pilgrim had eyes only for Urba.

  Now, stupid! E thought. Grab the kid while they tear this loser apart. E trembled, looked again at Pilgrim.

  Tear him apart. A mob had done as much for her teacher, long ago.

  This is the one . . .the one life my city gets. E hardened her heart. Sorry, dude.

  Another drink flew toward Pilgrim. This he dodged, and it exploded across the ground.

  "Back to your First friends! Give them your 'true Given’ shit!”

  "Rokk or no! MY freedom! Got nothing to do with you!”

  "You think you’re more Given than me? I built this city! What have you done? Walked around shaking every iris you could find! Blech. White eyes. Gross.”

  His face as they pulled the cords, pulled his arms. Her damn heart softened.

  I have to get out of here.

  Someone had gotten behind her, breath down her neck. How sloppy. She turned.

  Ser Pau! From the shelter! Hooded in a scarlet robe. She was flanked by two other Given E’d worked. Apo, the musclehead lapzu with the twin tattoos of serpents that looked as if they were about to swallow his eyes. The small blue eye man was Berea.

  Ser Pau did not look at E, but to the stage, her green eyes misting.

  The strange shine pulsed about her again, no longer trying to hide.

  "Right then,” she whispered, cracked her neck. "Let’s do the rokkdamn thing.”

  ----------------------------------------------

  Ran clawed at his burning throat, barely able to mumble, though it did not stop him from repeating, "What should I do? What should I do? What should I do?”

  "Your father and I will move first,” someone whispered into his ear. Nail. "Stay glued to my back. You understand, lad? Keep with me. Hold your mother and brother. Get ready.” Nail’s voice was confident, solid amongst the clamor, and Ran thought of an ancient general.

  Pilgrim continued to dodge. Some still landed, but these were soft things. People now threw shoes and purses and even a few bricks.

  Ran looked at Tek, whose face was set, determined. He wriggled against Kiyo’ arms, trying to free himself, trying to get to the people throwing things at Pilgrim. "Nod!” he cried. "Nod! Nod!”

  Ran had done this.

  No, that’s not fair! Ran fought back. Ferapa threatened me!

  Pilgrim was up there only because of him.

  This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  It’s his fault! He can’t keep his mouth shut! These people don’t want to hear it! Just shut up. Back into the crowd. Shut up and give them what they want!

  Pilgrim was willing to do this to protect him. He told the truth. Even Ran's brother, his little brother, was willing to fight. Wasn’t Ran ashamed?

  "Shut up,” Ran hissed. "Tek’s a dumb kid. He doesn’t understand.”

  Wordheal began to chant. At first it was, "Broken like First, broken like First, broken like first”, but soon it became simply, "Broken, broken, broken.”

  Heracla had curled into a ball. Ferapa sat on the ground, still as death. Urba and Sitor lead the crowd.

  "Broken, broken, broken.”

  "Hear, fool?” said Urba.

  They're telling the truth, Ran thought in his panic. Only about them. He made them say the truth and they don't even know it! Pathetic.

  "Broken, broken, broken.”

  What was he thinking? Stupid rokkists stuff. They'd be killed. Not even for anything. Just stomped to death in a riot. Ran was so tired. Always fighting. Truth and lie, at the same time, he fought. The truth was worse\. SO much worse.

  "Broken, broken, broken.”

  "So-called Wayfarer!" said Urba. "They judge you not only Broken, but Poison! Just like the Firsts. Poison in Heir's mouth!”

  Ran was not alone.

  "No.”

  He just wasn’t like his family.

  "I’m not. I’m alone.”

  Like the Words.

  "Alone," he whispered.

  Pilgrim spasmed, howled, threw his arms at the crowd and screamed, "YEEEEEEEEEEESSSSSSSSS!” The hum of mic feedback silenced the crowd, ground into Ran's teeth. "Think you’re smart? Like you caught me? That I don’t know? ME?!” Now he turned, spinning around and pointing as food and drink dripped from his jacket. "You, poison, and you, poison and you and you and you and you.” He turned to Urba and the other Words, "poison that Heir choked on.”

  "But I’m blood-vomit too. Given! Bard to Heir! The only difference between you and First is they don’t pretend to be Given!”

  No more shouting, or chants. Almost as one, like a great beast, it began to growl, to moan and stamp and grunt and snarl.

  Ran thought of the day Tek had brought him home. The only time he’d heard the wailers.

  "You--" Urba began.

  Pilgrim howled again, and Urba stumbled back onto his butt. The bald man pointed to each of the Words in turn. To Urba he said, "Smug.” To Heracla, "Useless.” Finally, to Ferapa, "Empty. How badly have you misled this city? You think it’s hidden?” Pilgrim bent over them, "Nameless is known by its author. You can't hide what you've done..”

  Ran felt Nail’s grip strengthen. "What now?” he asked, for he could tell from the Rockman’s face that running was no longer an option.

  Nail didn’t seem to hear. His sliver eyes raced about, as if he were looking for an old friend. He took a deep breath and said, "I have to do some things soon you won’t want to see Ran. Forgive me for misleading you.”

  "Huh?”

  "Everyone is Given.” Pilgrim showed no fear even as the crowd crawled closer every moment. "To death or life. That’s your error. It ain’t status, or class. It’s not. It’s you. You are either broken, the poison He drank, and the blood-vomit that came with Him, or are only poison still.”

  "Enough,” someone said weakly.

  "The Text is nothing to you.”

  "Enough,” the weak person was louder now.

  "You see suggestions where there are commands and tips where there is life--”

  "Enough,” the now standing Ferapa screamed at Pilgrim’s back.

  Ran watched a smile pull at the corner of the bald man’s mouth as he turned to face the Word, and he said, "Your skyscrapers are your headstones and your mouths are your graves. Jealous, disobedient, envious, murderous kids who not only allow evil but vacation in it. And you’re worried about First.” Pilgrim lowered his arm and, so gently that Ran barley heard, even with the speakers, said, "But for the stranger, me too.” He pulled the mic from his ear and the pack from his pocket and dropped them, and then spoke no more.

  Ran braced.

  -------------------------------------------

  Nightmaster exulted. "Fatty! I'm done gearin' em up. Get your blood, Fatty!”

  "Redhead?!” Reduke salivated within the dark of his scarlet hood. Nightmaster was close. Reduke knew not how he knew, but he did. Nightmaster was never close like this, not outside of the Fair.

  "I’m not expecting you to survive this, Chubs. Too hard to tell you all apart this close, but you do you, if ya can.”

  Reduke smiled. As long as he got her. . .and the blue girl. . .and the scarf. . .

  "Give me some time before that. . .” Nightmaster’s voice trailed off.

  Panicked, Reduke hit his head, trying to get his train of thought back.

  "Stop that!”

  "Sorry.”

  "Fat moron.”

  "Sorry.”

  "Valens' here. How?”

  "What should Reduke--?”

  "Plan has changed. You are nothing if not lucky. I need chaos. It yet elude us, but then, Valens won't get it either.”

  "Elude?”

  "The shit I got to work with. . .”

  --------------------------------------

  "Who the maw is that?” Rina cursed. So awed by Pilgrim’s courage had she been she hadn’t noticed the young man in the suit and glasses. He was behind Ran. Why didn’t those two turn? Unless... No time. Rina sent a cascade of blue dust swirling across them, and all three reacted.

  "You two snakes. . ."

  She delved deeper into glasses. Shinasshu! Surrounding him so subtly and elegantly that even she was tempted to look away. Glasses-kid raised his hand.

  Rina felt the shine pulse. Another figure slid behind Fritz. A team? He was going to kill her!

  Rina drew Doe, and like a missile, dove.

  --------------------------------------

  Nail turned, looked for the shiner. The shaker was there, the attack imminent. He pushed shine into his fist. One and Only, may your Clarion resound.

  Behind Fritz, the boy with the glasses resolved to visible from nowhere. Someone had destabilized his shinasshu.

  A green cloud, broad and shaped like a mushroom, shot across the surface of his sun. He turned. "Fritz?”

  ----------------------------------------

  A chur of purple, invasive, alien, like a little jerk it tore through her. Straight into her ocean, already churning, it dumped, and what had been a storm flowered instantly into a hurricane, and ripped her shinasshu cycle into pieces like wet tissue.

  Violation. Her insides seemed to repulse her, as if coated with rancid oil.

  Something, someone had just forced a shit-ton of shine into E.

  The air above her crackled with her spilling, green shine. It hung there, a strangely serene emerald tear the size of a house.

  They ooed and awed as it climbed higher and higher.

  Without her consent, it exploded.

  --------------------------------

  Ringing, screaming and heat.

  After a few seconds, Ran peeled his face off the pavement as some woman cried, "Oh, Rokk! Oh, my Rokk!”

  "Deathcloud!”

  "It’s here!”

  "Get outta my way.”

  "Tezm! Tezm! TEZM!”

  The focused and hardened anger Wordheal had been gathering just for Pilgrim suddenly burst in all directions.

  Someone kicked Ran in his face as they ran past.

  "KILL!” the voice came over the speakers. Urba? "Guard! KILL IT! KILL--"

  "Damn!” This was Fritz shouting above him. Another explosion, but this time farther off.

  "Stay back! Back! Hot! Weapons hot!” a new, hard, disciplined voice added.

  Ran tried to crawl backwards. People tripped over him, stepped on his hands.

  Suddenly the ground was not there, his body violently turned until he was staring into the purple, sweaty face of the ugliest (big nose, brow eyes), grossest fattest dude he’d ever seen.

  "Got little meat. SHIIIIIIIII!”

  The grin vanished as the fat man himself was heaved away as easily as he had heaved Ran. Ran was back on his butt before he saw the man disappear, cursing, into the crowd. Someone had flung him like a toy. That someone now stood above him.

  "Rina?” She held a gleaming sword little bigger than a long dagger. Old Nesgoh? Though Sebi like short swords too. He’d seen them in a book.

  He’d never seen one as beautiful as hers. The base of the blade, flowing up from the hilt, two crisscrossing palms, each stretching opposite to form the guard, each studded with large bright rubies that looked like a ripe fruit.

  "What happening?” Ran said flatly.

  "Come!” Rina held out a hand as bright blue dust poured out of her eyes.

  "Gah?”

  "We’ve. . .” Her head snapped up and she spun, her blade pulsing azure as it sliced a hand-sized ball of green shine in half. The two halves of the ball spiraled off to each side of Ran before they curved upward and exploded. Rina crouched, sword above her head, free arm held out, as Ran was, once again, pulled off of his feet.

  "Run lad,” said a calm Nail before dissolving back into the crowd, silver eyes fixed on Rina’s back. The Rockman had placed Ran where he could see Sarge, Kiyo and Tek sitting above the stampede on the stage

  He bolted, weaving through the thinning crowd as the air buzzed heat, sounds and alternating shades of blue and green.

  It was like one of those dance clubs on tv. A terrifying, deadly, dance club of deadly death.

  Tek, who had evidently been searching for Ran, spotted him and squealed, "It’s her, dude! The broad from the valley! GREEN! I told you it was shine!”

  Ran turned. Fritz, now sporting the most alluring long red hair that spun around her and mixing with strands of sparkling emerald water that only made her pale skin more desirab. . .

  The maw was he doing! He slapped his own face.

  Fritz loosed a dazzling array of strikes at Rina, who no longer held her sword, for all that mattered. So fluid and tight were the women that what they did looked recited, choreographed. Fritz was taller, her limbs longer, and she lashed out like a brawler, or at least like whatever Ran thought a brawler’s lashes might looked like. Knees, elbows, fists, her body square with the ground.

  Rina was like a wisp of smoke, a leaf on the wind, seemingly pouring her body around Fritz’s attacks, all the while questing for strange angles.

  Somehow Ran was able to follow them, and something inside him stirred, growled, felt normal. Might have just been his sore throat.

  Rina’s veiled blue arms grabbed the collar of Fritz’s jacket, but the redhead brought her hands together, coated in green, and smashed downwards to break the hold. Rina pulled back with several lithe steps and shifted to her left until she stood directly between Ran and her foe.

  Fritz wound back and the green covering her arm pooled into her hand. She threw it like a ball.

  Rina raised a blue arm, and the ball glanced off of it, spiraling harmlessly away from them but dangerously toward Ran.

  There were uglier ways to die. Déjà vu?

  "Nuts!” Fritz screamed. "Down, kid!”

  Ran snapped back to reality as a wall of iron closed around him and, again. Back to the damn ground. The bolt sailed past the air his face had occupied moments before and exploded against one of the large speakers next to the stage. Sparks and pieces flew in all directions.

  "Stupid time to daydream,” said Pilgrim with a grin. "Stupid."

  "P-Pilgrim?”

  "That boy!” Urba’s voice warbled with the damaged speaker. "Him! That one right there! Under the spy. With the invaders! Get him! Get his family! Get everone!”

  Pilgrim’s eye spasmed. "I really don’t like this guy.” He whistled through his fingers. "Ser Pau, B, Apo, get 'em out of here!” There was a crack, the bald man sprawled against the nearby steps.

  "Sorry, mate,” said Fritz. "Really. Truly.” She grabbed Ran by his shirt, "Don’t fight me. I don’t want to hurt anyone. Maybe the skinny Word, but not anyone else. Not really.” She dragged him but only a few feet before she stopped. "Of course.”

  Nail stood before her, immovable as all the world.

  Fritz held up a hand instantly filled with a ball of sparkling green water.

  Nail stepped forward. "I am not impressed. I won’t be distracted like Rina.”

  "Ya get one warning.”

  "You are the 'Deathcloud’ this city fears so much? The one who razed Tezm? You are said to be quite ruthless.”

  Fritz smiled. "I’m good at killing.”

  Nail smiled back. "Yes. An entire city. Women, children, all. I knew one like you once, narokk. We called him 'Innocentblood.’”

  Did Fritz’s lip tremble? Nail moved like a whip, there then not, throwing his arm to Ran. Fritz was faster. She lifted the dark green bolt and plunged it straight into Nail’s chest. It exploded. Smoke erupted like the wings of they follow in silence around Nail.

  Ran cried out. Was he covered in E’s shine?

  Fritz’s blinked, shocked by his horror. "S. . .you had to see that...I-I. . .” She looked up. "Shaking lying Rockman pillarshaker!” A huge hand ripped her wrist away, taking a chunk of Ran’s shirt with it.

  Fritz’s drew back her other fist and slammed it into Nail’s face. The emerald water crackled against a wall of yellow fire, and the punch came to nothing.

  "Oh come on!” Ran screamed. "Is anyone not a shiner?”

  "Cool!” Tek screamed.

  The warriors regarded the boys, resumed their stare-down.

  Nail clicked his tongue. "Your rashin is wasteful. Undisciplined. You’ll have to up it if you want to hurt me.”

  Fritz blinked, "Alrighty.” She jumped, thrust both of her legs into Nail’s chest in a powerful dual kick. Of course, her feet exploded, and Nail flew back twenty feet before effortlessly skidding to a stop. Never left his feet.

  The Rockman looked down at the smoke curling off of his chest and began smoothing out the wrinkles in his shirt with yellow curls of flame sparking off his fingers.

  "I get it!” Fritz’s screamed. "Got it, ok? Hard to hurt.” She took a step away from Ran and cracked her knuckles, "Piece by piece, then.”

  She charged, a burst of green bubbles from her heels, and then she stopped. The concrete between her and Nail sparkled, as if it mixed with tiny flecks. Blue flecks! Fritz cried out as her feet sunk into the pavement as into wet sand. Nail’s as well. The sparkling vanished, and it was concrete again.

  "Ah that felt so gross. What did you do?” Fritz fumed, prying at her legs.

  "I didn’t do this!” Nail cried. "My shine is yellow, dolt!”

  "Dolt!? I’ll kill ya!”

  "You really can’t control yourself at all, foolwoman?”

  Shimmering blue, Rina landed next to Ran, sword in hand.

  "Forgot about you.” Fritz sighed. "I really don’t want to fight you.”

  Rina raised an eyebrow, "Consider yourself lucky. I should return that cheap-shot.” She sheathed her sword, grabbed Ran’s shoulder.

  "’Cheap?’ Fair and square!”

  Rina gritted her teeth. "I’m referring to earlier! When you tried to blow me up in the air above you!”

  "I didn’t know you were up there!” Fritz looked somewhat hurt. "Someone--"

  "DON'T MOVE, FREAKS!” This was a new voice. A trembling one. A group of about thirty CityGuard had surrounded them. They wore deep black, reflective riot armor, gray visors staring out from black helmets. Each held a rifle, rare, expensive looking weapons, and pointed them at Ran and the shiners.

  "I’m not going anywhere without Ran! Get off me!” Sarge screamed from a long way off. Ser Pau and the other shelter staff were struggling with his family, trying to compel them to run. Behind the wall of advancing visors, he saw yet more Guard dragging Pilgrim’s unconscious body away.

  "What did I do,” Ran said hopelessly, "to deserve this?”

  "We’ll be gone soon Ran,” Rina said, not unkindly.

  "I don’t want to go anywhere with you,” he whispered, and embarrassing tears filling the corners of his eyes.

  "I know."

  "WE'LL KILL YOU ALL!” the lead officer’s cry sounded more a plea than a threat. "DON'T SHAKING MOVE!"

  "What?” Fritz mocked as she pounded away at the concrete with a green fist, finally freeing one of her feet--Nail had already ripped his out with two simple grunts and it was plain to all this annoyed her greatly. "Gonna shoot in a circle? Who trained you morons?”

  "Ran’s not going anywhere,” said Nail.

  Rina tightened her grip.

  "’Cept with me,” said Fritz.

  "THEY FOLLOW IN SILENCE FREAKS!” the Guard cried, his weapon shaking. "DON'T MOVE!"

  Ran remembered the day he’d arrived in Wordheal. Nothing but a succession of fears, one superseding the other. Scared of the world, of himself, of Tek, Fritz, etc, etc. Everything so normal, and he didn't belong there at all.

  Above all of these, however, one stood out. The most real. The one he’d so often tried to shake as nothing but a fever dream. He almost felt it all now. Tek’s scavenging stick--he’d thought it a knife at the time--to his neck, Fritz in front. Death everywhere, and the desire to vanish.

  To be free. Free open spaces. Clouds. Stars.

  He closed his eyes, "I want to leave. I want out. Out. Out. Out."

  His throat burned.

  Though shut his eyes registered he vivid image of a thousand-thousand spiraling stars against black nothing overpowered him. Awed him.

  Well, that’s weird. He opened his eyes.

  Nail and Fritz’s own eyes were wide, disbelief, fear or both, he did not know. From the stars, humming in his mind, an orange light was pulled, and this filled him with delirium.

  The world slid, and where he was was not where he had been.