End of the Line, page 2
“And our training demands a critical eye on those so ...gifted.” She continued.
Of course, it does, Emilio thought. But he remained silent and offered no comment.
“As the Escritora said, you are not under arrest or suspected of a crime. We have simply been tasked with escorting you from one location to the next and ensuring your safe arrival.”
“Of course,” Emilio replied, folding his hands in his lap. “With that understanding, may I ask again, where am I being escorted to?”
"Our ultimate destination is the Fugue Academy," Lyric answered. "We departed Carver’s Town while you were… incapacitated." She glanced at the Inquisitor leaning against the rear doorframe.
Emilio’s unnaturally green eyes glanced toward Cortez and then back to Lyric. He inclined his head ever-so-slightly toward the man in silent inquiry to the young woman. Lyric’s shoulders rose and fell almost imperceptively as they concluded their silent exchange. She dropped her gaze to shuffle through a sheaf of papers and recovered a small map.
Lyric continued, “Our current destination lies at the Northern Gate, where we'll switch to ground transportation and head to the Academy."
Emilio looked down and picked at a non-existent thread on his pants."The High Lecturer does not like to be ignored.” He glanced back up to Lyric and mused with a faint smile, “Guess I shouldn't have turned down that professorship." His attempt at mirth wilted under the room's oppressive atmosphere. "Right, so that brings me to my next question. How did I come to be in Carver’s Town to begin with? The last thing I remember I was outside Inez…."
Esperanza shifted on the couch, and answered, “We found you in a clearing, unconscious, surrounded by splintered trees. There were no injuries on your person or indication of what happened.”
Emilio frowned, “I was simply… laying in the middle of the forest?”
“In a clearing,” Esperanza corrected, “by a fire.”
“And you found me how?” Emilio asked.
Esperanza smoothed her robes, “The locals of Knot’s End advised us that you had been tasked by King Eskill to deal with an issue in a fishing village.”
“Mmm, yes, which I did.”
Esperanza gestured to Lyric, who pulled out a rough sketch and handed it to Emilio. It appeared to be a strange sigil.
“You were laying in the middle of this sigil that was scorched into the earth.”
Emilio’s eyebrows knotted together. He studied the crude drawing cautiously. It seemed familiar, but he could not place it. "That seems to be a binding circle,” he turned the sigil around and frowned once more. He reached toward his vest pocket.
Jalin stood upright at the movement.
Emilio held out his hands. “Just glasses, Inquisitor,” he continued. He recovered a pair reading glasses out and settled them gently on the bridge of his nose. He examined the symbol Lyric displayed. “Definitely a binding... of a sort." His brow furrowed. He tilted his head to the side, "Typically, one would use salt to confine a hostile spirit. But salt should not have caused that area to burn…” He narrowed his eyes and looked closer.
It’s off. Something’s missing. Or added?
His head swam and his eyes hurt from concentration.
"What were you doing in the forest, Kane?" Jalin demanded.
Sweet Styx’s embrace must why must you be so loud?
"I don’t remember,” Emilio shrugged finally. “After banishing the Fantasma, I was heading back to Inez to reassure them all that it was safe. I wanted the children to sleep without fear."
"Fighting the boogeyman, were you?" Jalin scoffed.
"Yes, actually," Emilio replied flatly.
Jalin narrowed his eyes, but before he could speak, Esperanza interjected with curiosity. “A Fantasma? Truly? How severe was it?"
The Voca’s interest in the spirit was to be expected. The Voice of Hil was charged with the exorcism of the undead. Their ways tended to be far more brutal than his own.
Emilio took a deep breath and tried to pull the memory from his broken mind. Fragments. That was all he had.
"The entire area surrounding the home seemed warped… by fear. Everything had been impacted: trees, grass, rocks… everything. I expected to deal with a Screamer, or possibly a Howler, not a Fantasma. Banishing it required considerable effort, but I managed the Misericordia."
Esperanza's face displayed a mix of shock and curiosity at his actions. "The Banishment of Mercy? For a Fantasma? Surely, if it was so dangerous, one should use the Exorcismo?"
The Voca’s concern was just. In the whispering corridors between life and oblivion, some spirits curdled into Screamers. Reflections, whose final earthly screams, like souring milk, became wretched things that echoed their own demise. But the Fantasmas, weren't mere echoes. They were death throes given flesh, the last lingering breaths sculpted by the darkest emotion a soul could carry. A Screamer might evoke fear, a chill skittering down the spine. But a Fantasma became fear itself, a walking monument to terror.
El Cucuy. A monstrosity. Something that Hil’s Faithful believed should be extinguished the moment it took shape.
"Destroy it entirely?” Emilio shook his head. “That's not my approach, Voca," he said, his voice steady but tinged with a sense of weary resignation.
“Of course not,” Jalin scoffed. “You might need it later.”
Emilio paused. He had no interest in enslaving the tormented souls of this world. That was not his calling. And it was not the spirit’s fault that it had become what it had become. It deserved a chance at redemption. For peace. But now was not the place for this philosophical argument. It would be both futile and potentially hazardous.
"Regardless, the creature was vanquished… .” He looked briefly to Cortez and then back to Esperanza, “Then… I was here."
“Bullshit,” Jalin said simply. “I will tell you what happened.” Jalin moved forward and leaned on the side of the couch. “He tried to contain this so-called boogeyman, but it was too much for him. He got sloppy and his binding circle blew up in his face! I’ve seen it before with would-be Necromancers, and he is not any different, just another freak among the fold. Look at him… I bet that thing’s power was so great that it knocked him senseless and took a portion of the forest with it! Don’t bother denying, I’ve examined your bag, Kane. You aren’t fooling anyone! Medical paraphernalia, my ass! I know ritual components when I see them. It's obvious he was experimenting with powers beyond his grasp, and now he’s worried he’s been caught,” he added with a smug look. “Admit it Doctor, you fucked up.”
There were many things that Emilio Kane was willing to tolerate. He was used to being bullied and tormented by others for the sake of what he was. Avoidance, threats, and even physical injury were all part of the life that had been assigned to the Fugue Academy. Such a life made many of his kind angry and bitter, often turning them into the very things they were accused of being.
It made Emilio careful. Careful and precise. He knew what he was capable of, and dedicated his life to the safety of others because of that. He attended Fugue Academy and endured years of service and training through the Imperium’s regimented course of scholarly teaching. He learned the histories of The Reach and the Imperium. He wrote his thesis on the horrors of the Corpse Wars and the spells the Necromantic Generals used to command their armies. He even went so far as to create spells that allowed one to accomplish many of the same effects without having to take innocent life.
He was a researcher and a physician.
A healer and a guardian of the lost.
What he was not was a fuckup.
He sighed deeply and stared at his hands. “Does the prejudice of your Order impact your ability to think critically, Inquisitor?” Emilio said. “I’m honestly curious.”
Jalin’s face darkened. “What did you just say to me?”
“The Order would not send a -competent- Manos and his… entire retinue… to escort a single man. Even he is a Necromist.” Emilio’s tone was careful, measured, and cold. He continued, “By the admission of your Scribe, my files show I am neither an essential officer of the Court nor a known threat to the Realm. And yet, a Manos, Voca, and Escritora were sent to bring me back to the Academy.” His eyes shifted and locked on Jalin’s. “Not to the Capital. Not under arrest. Not in custody. The Academy. The place of education for the Imperium.”
Jalin ground his teeth and seethed.
"Do you know what that tells me?” Emilio continued. “It tells me your Order assigned a Voca and an Escritora to reign… you… in. I’m not the dangerous and unpredictable one here; you are.” He gestured to Lyric and Esperanza, “These… competent… members of Hil’s Faithful have been assigned to watch over you because you must be incapable of completing a simple escort job without injury to the person you have been assigned to! So demean me… I’m used to it. Tie me up. Punch me in the face. Kick me in the gut. You won’t be the first… or last. Demean my work; it’s typical of the short-sighted and superstitious. But I assure you there is only one fuck-up here, and I’m looking right at him… Manos.”
Esperanza was not quick enough to stop Jalin as he surged forward. The Manos moved with the speed of a cat and was instantly on his feet. Far quicker than Emilio had accounted for. With a flick of his wrist, the mechanical device on his arm activated, and with a click, the blade swung free.
A gut-wrenching -thunk- stopped Jalin mid-stride, his arm restrained. As he looked down, he found the blade embedded in the wall. There was not enough room for the weapon to swing freely. It held fast. Not only had the blade jammed, but also the gears had locked up because of the sudden halt. Angrily, he unclasped the straps on his arm and drew his knife on Emilio.
As Jalin closed the distance between himself and Emilio, the room burst into light.
With her hand in the air, Esperanza held a beautiful gold and red flame in her palm.
“You will STAND DOWN CORTEZ,” she said. Her words carried an undeniable power that Jalin could not resist. He dropped to one knee.
“Witch!” Jalin growled through gritted teeth but made no move forward.
Disregarding Jalin’s remark, Esperanza shifted her focus to Emilio. One might have anticipated a smug expression on the Necromist’s face. Yet, Kane sat as he had, poised and focused on the Voca as if patiently waiting in line. “Have you lost your mind, Doctor?” she inquired, her tone carrying a blend of concern and intrigue.
Emilio carefully folded his hands in his lap.“Voca, I have been kidnapped, bound, gagged, assaulted, and threatened.” His eyes glanced toward the window and quickly noted the sunlight outside, “All before lunchtime.” He looked back at Esperanza. “If this man had his way,” he said and motioned to Jalin, “I’d be dead.” His shoulders rose and fell slightly. “I am fully aware of my situation. I am simply tired of being abused. If I am going to die, I prefer to do it on my feet rather than in fear.”
"I'm unsure which of you is the most stubborn," Lyric said quietly.
Jalin shot Lyric a scathing look, still unable to break free of Esperanza’s magic.
Emilio chuckled a little. “Whichever of us is older, I would presume,” he offered. He sighed and looked over at the young Escritora. “Forgive me, Ms. Wax. You seem to be a polite and learned young woman. I have spent my life in fear of the Order for a simple matter of divine fate. A fear carefully curated by the Temple and their Scribes. “ He nodded in her direction. “By you. So please forgive me if the yoke of fear I have been saddled with chafes, and I tire of wearing it.”
Lyric's shock was apparent, but she remained quiet and shifted her focus to Esperanza and Jalin.
Esperanza watched Jalin, the Inquisitor she had been assigned to. A silent exchange passed between them. He closed his eyes and lowered his head in an unspoken resignation. She lowered her hand. The light faded and returned to normal.
As the room fell into a heavy silence, interrupted only by the rhythmic churn of the train wheels, Cortez slowly rose. Sheathing his knife, he shot Esperanza a chill glare, but her expression remained unmoved. Turning around, he pulled his scoring blade from the wall. With a few practiced repairs, the blade relocked. Ignoring them all, he made for the back door of the railcar.
“Jalin …,” Lyric whispered and reached for his elbow.
“Don’t,” came the reply. He glanced at the young woman and reached for the handle on the back door of the caboose. It did not budge. Cursing, he attempted to wrench it free, to no avail. With a growl of frustration, he turned on his heel and strode to the opposite door. It refused to open, eliciting another string of curses. He pounded on the door and stared through the small window there.
"What's wrong?" Lyric inquired.
"The doors are jammed! Those idiots must have locked us in when they added the extra cars!" Jalin spat. Pressing his face to the glass window, he peered out only to recoil in horror. With a swift strike from the butt of his knife, he shattered the glass. A foul stench filled the car, a sickening blend of decay, blood, and the moans of dying animals. It was a scent all too familiar to all of them.
Jalin quickly pulled a kerchief from his vest and covered his nose.
Lyric blanched, setting her papers aside, and pulled her scarf over her mouth and nose.
“Ough!” Emilio gagged and buried his nose into the curve of his elbow.
Esperanza’s eyes widened as the odor reached her. She exchanged a knowing glance with Emilio. They both stood and turned their attention to the door.
"Is... is that what I think it is?" Lyric coughed.
Emilio nodded grimly. "Ghoul Rot... the cattle cars must have ghouls inside."
Shunted
“We need to stop this train!” Esperanza shouted. She looked around the caboose cabin for the emergency pull. A rope-like cord ran along the top edge of the windows from the front of the car to the tail. Pulling the cord would alert the Engineer at the head of the train to an emergency in the tail.
“We have to alert the Engineer!” She reached for the cord and pulled. There was tension on the cord, and then… SNAP.
It broke free in her hand.
She stared at the useless item as it lay limply in her hand and draped across the length of the caboose.
“Sabotage…,” Lyric whispered.
“We need to get out of here and find a way to stop this train,” Esperanza replied. She dropped the cord and started examining the car.
“I’ll check this side,” Emilio said as he joined her. While they may have been opponents philosophically, the occupants of the cattle car made them compatriots of fate at the moment.
Jalin gestured to Lyric. “Open the windows. If they don’t open, break the glass before we all suffocate from rot!”
Lyric nodded quickly and started on the windows on her side of the train. None of them opened. “Glued or sealed shut!” she shouted.
Jalin scowled, discovering the same on his side. “Wax, wrap your hand and use the butt of your dagger to break the glass….”
The sound of broken glass answered his instructions as Lyric broke open one of the windows. “Already ahead of you, Cortez,” she said and moved to the next window.
Jalin nodded with a hint of appreciation as he watched the Scribe work. Then he looked at Emilio. “Someone wants you dead, Kane,” he commented and moved to re-examine the rear door and window there.
“Just like every other day of my life…,” Emilio quipped. “I have nothing on this side. No other call cord to the head of the train or brake lever.”
“Same on this side,” Esperanza confirmed. She met Emilio in the middle of the car while Lyric finished busting open the windows. The air was still rank with death and rot, but at least it was moving now.
Jalin pressed his face against the rear door window. His eyebrows rose, and his lips curled into a smile. “There’s a brake wheel on the rear platform!” He stepped back and examined the doorframe. The door had a single window embedded in it. Two smaller windows flanked the doorframe on either side. Hanging next to the door was a long metal stick. One end sported a flat end, and the other a heavy axe-shaped hook.
The brake stick.
Jalin grinned and reached for the item.
“You’ll be useful,” he said. He hefted the stick to gauge its weight and the distance in the car, then swung it deftly into the window. Glass shattered and flew out the rear of the caboose, littering the tracks behind them. Nodding, he quickly broke the remaining glass free from the frame.
“Wax, grab my long coat and get over here,” he ordered.
Doing as commanded, Lyric grabbed Jalin’s long, faded leather coat and brought it to him. He took it from her, draping it over the bottom of the open and now empty window frame, covering as much of it as possible.
Jalin took a knee and knotted his hands together. “Out you go,” he said, boosting Lyric up to clear the door’s window. She winced as her hands found remnants of glass, and she climbed outside.
The wind blew past her as she stood on the platform, her hair ripping free of its secure knot and whipping wildly around her face. She scrambled to secure it as the landscape dashed by on either side. Kneeling, she examined the lock on the door. The metal there had warped and melted. She frowned.
“Get the door, Wax,” Jalin shouted against the wind.
“I can’t, the lock’s broken!” Pivoting, she turned her attention to the brake wheel. She gripped the wheel and tried to turn it, but it would not budge.
“PUT YOUR BACK INTO IT!” Jalin shouted at her.
“I AM! IT’S JAMMED AS WELL!” She shouted back to him.
Jalin stretched his neck in irritation and looked up. A brace bar ran along the top of the car. Gritting his teeth, the Inquisitor leaped up, wrapping his hands around the bar, then lifted his legs and swung out the narrow window. He landed soundly on the platform next to Lyric.
“Lend me a hand,” he said. Without awaiting a reply, he advanced to the wheel. Lyric stepped up, and together, they attempted to move the round brake wheel to no avail.
Esperanza approached the rear window and watched the pair struggling with the wheel. She scowled and looked out the window and down at the lock.
