The Town of Escaped Slaves

Previously

I obeyed the voice, as it was as real as anything I’d ever heard. It was, in the very real sense of the word, an epiphany. Of course I needed to turn around and go back. Not only was there business to be done, but surely, as I walked, I may likely find food. I assumed that after being informed of all the religions, it might have been some god suddenly speaking in my ear. It seemed as likely as anything.

As I continued back I realized that the cultists’ bar lay ahead less than several hundred feet away. It was still the very darkest night, and so I couldn’t easily see it. I just had the faintest inkling that it was there. Just behind some of the tents and shacks; yes, right there I could faintly make out an outline, which was probably the line of its roof showing against the dark.

I felt certain that things would be better, when suddenly I heard the voice again, and this time recognized it. “Jack, come over here.”

I turned and saw Bishop standing against a small stand, on which there was a plate of warm food and a candle burning so that I may see his face. “Bishop? I never thought I’d see you here?”

“You didn’t think I’d follow you?” He said. “Of course I would. Now eat, so you will have strength to free your new friends.” Bishop stressed the word “new”, as though he held it with some form of discontent.

“Are you not happy that I’ve made allies in this other world?” I asked. “What is a person without people close to him?”

“No one, I suppose. I can’t stay long, but I brought you this, eat quickly, and I will tell you why I’ve come and how you will repay me.”

I bent over the food and let it waft into my nostrils. Then I grabbed it from the table and bit into it; a loaf of warm bread, just like I used to eat in the engine. I finished it, and Bishop handed me a glass of water. After I’d finished it (it was all so good, I think there may have been a sort of drug placed in the food that would rejuvenate me more than regular food had any right to) Bishop asked me if I was sated. “Yes,” I told him.

“Once you free your friends, I want you to leave this town, and take the stairs back up to Rasputina.”

“Why?” I asked, “She’s the slave master, isn’t she?”

“She is,” he said, “But she has something that the engine wants. I’ll tell you what that is when you are up there. Do not worry; she will not hate you for running away, and you’ll be given duties not outside of what you can do. She doesn’t want harm to come to you; she recognizes your value, just as the engine does.”

“What?” I asked, “I just want to find out who I am, why there are others of me? Doesn’t the engine know?”

“It may know, and it may answer all of your questions in due time. But for now, you must trust that what I tell you to do will be good. Please. I think you might be able to come back, the engine said it’s afraid it has wasted a valuable asset.” He turned and looked at something in the dark, something I couldn’t see but I think he was definitely afraid of. “I have to go now. Do what I have told you.”

“Free Arthur and the woman, and then go see Rasputina,” I said.

“Yes,” he said, “Then I’ll see you again to tell you exactly what you must do. Goodbye, friend,” he ran towards that object he was afraid of, and when he stepped into the absolute dark, he was gone.

I waited for a moment and then looked back at the roof of that building, the bar, with malice and contempt. I would even get my sword back, I reasoned, the one that had taken from Livingston. Perhaps Rasputina would like to have it back, as a memento. Maybe, I thought, I would tell Rasputina that I had only witnessed it, and had run.

Would I tell her of this city? Would that ruin everything?

I strode back to the bar, and stayed just behind a tent, so that I could peek around its side and see the front door. It was still open, as it had been before, amid the tiny slits beside it. It was far too dark inside to see anything other than a few tables and shadows. But I listened for noise, and nothing threatening emanated from inside.

I crept up, my back hunched and my legs bent so that I felt like I was moving as a shadow, until I reached the front door. I stayed to the side and peeked in through one of the slits. Inside I glimpsed a more definite vision of the few tables and chairs, as well as a body lying in front of the bar. Some more searching revealed another by the door to the cell (which was now open) and the two bodies I had already seen on my way out, that had been dispatched by the man with the steel mask.

I stepped inside boldly, not caring how loud my foot fell or how hard I breathed. I felt assured that I was not going to be caught, or killed. I had escaped death so many times, that I was now filled with a sense of abandonment.

Nothing greeted me but silence. I looked at the bodies again and found a sword lying on the ground. I grabbed it, not thinking of my not knowing how to wield it, simply that I felt strengthened through the possession of a weapon. It was temporary, I figured, until I found Livingston’s sword. For they surely had it still, I thought.

I first went to the cell that lie through the steel hole, but found it empty. I called into it and heard my voice echo off into the dark, perhaps too far for my taste, and I stepped back into the main room of the bar. I looked at the room that had the long table in it, and my eyes could only see the darkness.

And then I dared to look behind the bar counter, where I witnessed a door I hadn’t seen before. I climbed awkwardly (my landing was too loud, even given my present bravado) over the counter, and then tried the handle.

I knew well that I knew nothing of what was beyond the door. I had never been behind it, and for all I knew, it led somewhere completely alien, some new world that I could not imagine, like the jungle I had journeyed through or something worse.

All that there was, was a staircase leading up. I could see it, because at the top of the staircase, was a lamp, burning bright to my eyes which were adjusted to the dark.

I took to the staircase and climbed step by step towards the light. The sword in my hand shook a little, and I realized I was sweating on my forehead. I felt a drop trickle past my eye to my cheek, and took the last set of stairs in two bounds.

At the top of the stairs, I saw the lamp illuminating a bedroom. On the bed lie someone’s corpse and I saw a strap tight against the back of the body’s head, so that I conjectured they were one of the cultists.

I looked to the far end of the room and saw a bookshelf, and on the second shelf was Livingston’s sword. I strode over to it past the bed and grabbed it, dropping the sword I had been holding to the wayside.

I drew Livingston’s sword from its sheath and saw it gleaming still; so the poison still persisted, I guessed.

I left the room and went down the stairs. It seemed when I arrived in the bar room that I was alone, and went to the front door, disappointed that Arthur was not there, but glad that I had not seen his body (or the woman’s.)

Once I exited the front door, I saw three of the cultists standing, with swords drawn. The man with the steel mask was at the head of them, and in front of that man was Arthur, kneeling with his hands bound. “Do you want him to live?” The man in the steel mask asked.

“Yes,” I said.

He raised his hand and pointed it at me, and for a second I thought that flame would burst forth from his finger, but instead his three cultists stepped forward, swinging their blades in the air.

I held my breath and raised my blade. I prayed for strength to get through, and blinked.

It came instinctually to me, as I parried the first thrust, and then cut through the fabric of the cultist who had attacked first. I knew suddenly that I was aware of these techniques. He stumbled backward, and I heard him die, his voice croaking in the thin air, and then I was on the other cultists, who were surprised at my sudden speed and deftness with the blade.

It was unfair, I realized, for them. I needed to nick them once to finish them, and they would need to do some form of damage I think that they would have been unable to deliver.

I defeated the final two, and rushed to attack the man in the steel mask, but he stepped backwards and with a turn vanished into a bright shattering of light and spectrum. I saw a rainbow for a second, and saw stars, and then he was gone. I heard the words “as expected” hang on the air for an instant and then silence.

Arthur did not say anything, and I feared they had finally killed him, but I crouched down and he looked up at me, and I saw that they had sewn his mouth shut. “Why would they do this?” I asked him, not quite expecting an answer.

He shook his head as if to say, I do not know, and I grabbed one of the fallen swords, and held it to his mouth.

“Shall I do this?” I asked, “So that you may speak?”

He nodded, and I slowly began to cut at the ties that held his lips closed, hoping that he may speak.

The town of escaped slaves awoke as I cut the last, and I realized that it was brighter out. The lights on the ceiling above that had been dim before, were now like tiny moons above. I saw some people leaving tents, which looked upon the scene and gasped. A woman screamed, and a crowd formed. Arthur wiped at his face, and I saw a tear drop from his eye as he roughly pulled the string from his lips. “I believe we must flee, before whatever authorities they have arrive to stop us,” I told him.

“There are no authorities but the Nemologists, and there are three of them dead on the ground. The others will not stop us on our way out. What have they to fear? The old man told me that the only way out leads away from Rasputina and the slaves above, so that they will not fear us betraying their secret,” Arthur spoke carefully, and kept his mouth mostly open so that when he spoke his words flowed together, and while he did not properly speak any of the words he said, I knew what he was speaking well enough.

“What if I told you I needed to go back up?” I asked him then, as honestly I did need to return.

“I would say that you were crazy, but if you must, you must. Will you return?” He asked.

“Yes,” I said, “Will you wait for me? It may take me weeks to do what I may do, or even longer.”

“Yes,” he said. “You are the only friend I have.”

“I have one question before I leave,” I said. “Where did the woman go, and the old man?”

“The woman fled with the old man back into the cell. The old man said that there was some dark passageway that was hidden by the dark, that would take them into Sykport, and that they would leave me here. He said he knew of a country that I should go to if I were to escape, called Zion, and then vanished, when some Nemologists appeared to capture me,” Arthur looked at the crowd. “You may leave now, I’ll explain something to them that will make them believe this was a misunderstanding.” I saw that his lips had healed, and there were only streaks of blood where the thread had been. “Go!”

I ran away from him into the crowd, and left them gasping at Arthur, who I could hear addressing the entire crowd.

I looked and saw the aperture on the wall where the stairs had led us down, and began to work through the city towards it. The opening was not large, but on my way there, someone (he looked like a criminal, although I cannot explain why) knocked into me. I fell and heard glass break, and then stood quickly and drew my sword, which scared him off into the crowd.

I reached into my pocket and felt the broken shards of the bottle. I pulled them out to look at them, and then saw on the inside curve, lettering. I pulled out the pieces from my pocket until none remained, and reassembled the bottle so that I may read the message.

Someone had written, “Do not trust Bishop.”

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