Chapter 35: A breach in Sector C

John did a good job in diverting their attention away from the amphitheater, the horde followed him like a cohesive tail, trailing throughout the streets. He made sure to skirt the library and the plaza, so as to not draw any unwanted ire. 

Even from where I stood, hundreds of meters away, I could see the flames burning in their eye sockets flickering like an ocean of fireflies against the stark contrast of decrepit walls. 

I kept my distance, it would be a shame if I ruined all of John’s hard work. The thin metal roofing creaked below. I sighed and sat down with my back against a chimney. “Let’s not push it further.” I whispered. We hadn’t seen any flesh golems ever since beginning our skirmishing campaign either. Not that I was complaining. Simple was nice. Simple was safe.

I took a peek inside my satchel. The ammunition depleted at a rapid pace. I needed to go back and restock, or risk running out soon. 

Joanna and Samara were both interested in the layout of the place, so I’m sure they’d spare a few people to join me. Samara herself would probably join me on the little excursion, which was reassuring. 

Although she was a bit… much sometimes, she was competent, and the others listened to her word like it was law. Still, I’d much rather have Joanna with me, but her blessing made her a bad fit for any activities outside the sanctuary. She apparently needed to stay inside to act as a nucleus for the spell formation. According to both bigwigs, her blessing was a particularly powerful defensive tool, even for big shots. 

I fished out a can of foreign peaches and pried it open with the misericord. The summoning time for the dagger had shortened in the days of the skirmishing. The more I used magic, and the better I acquainted myself with the veil, the easier things came to me. I still had no idea how to infuse the bullets with magic. No one did. I suppose the Layered empire kept their secrets close to their chest. 

The conserved peach burst in my mouth, sending sweet juices spraying against my palate. I shut my eyes and savoured the flavour. Times of quiet and calm had grown increasingly rare these last few days. For some reason I was always sent out on scouting missions. Maybe because Joanna wanted someone she trusted to report back to her, maybe because the magnification aspect of my wand came in handy. They hadn’t told me straight out, but I suspected it was a mix of the two. 

While I slurped up the peach juice sloshing around in the can, the last stumblers turned a corner a hundred or so meters off, and left sector C. Before starting the campaign our so called leaders drilled the layout of the city into our brains, just to make things easier. I was pretty sure if someone woke me up in the middle of the night and asked me what the safest route between D and C were, I’d be able to tell them it was the butcher’s alley. 

Joanna and Samara had divided up the city in four pieces, with a bunch of sub-pieces used for strategic planning, but that was above my and most others’ pay grade. Each sector occupied a quarter circle of the city, with the amphitheatre as the center.

I shook the can dry of liquid then packed it inside my satchel again, it could be useful down the line. I’d never been much for keeping things, but a few weeks spent in a severely limited civilization forced you to become creative. A can with some holes could be a nice shower head, or a drinking can, if you didn’t riddle it with holes. The potential use was limited only by my creativity. 

I summoned my status.

Name: Caleb Kane

Race: Human (91%) ??? (9%) 

Title: One of reviled flesh, Outsider’s mark

Blessing: W??ver

Acclaim: Whisper

Accolades: Silent Scream, Battle-worn thimbles, Cherished blasting wand, Embrace of Innocence

The unknown part of me continued to grow. Not that worrying about it would help. I would know in due time, for good or worse.

I sighed. “Best get going.” 

If I was away for too long the others would worry, and I couldn’t have that. The atmosphere was already tense enough as it was, with Samara questioning Joanna’s leadership at every turn. 

Honestly, it all seemed like a tantrum. She wasn’t used to not being in charge, and she made everybody suffer for it. Giving Samara the attack squad pacified her for a few days, tops. Then she was at it again. Forging alliances, currying favour with the valuable personnel in the group. Her blessing was made for politics, and she didn’t let it go to waste.

I hated the games she played. Joanna was the sole reason the amphitheatre was safe. She alone held the authority to command our sanctuary. Whatever Samara did, whatever she offered, it would never eclipse that of Joanna’s sanctuary. 

With nimble feet I crossed the gap between two buildings. One misstep and I’d be sent hurtling down to the ground below. I didn’t know how well I’d hold up from a fall like that, and I didn’t really want to find out. It was sure to hurt like hell. 

The streets below swished by in a flash. 

I’d come to know sector C especially well these last couple of days. It was my very own sector after all. I kept close tabs on it at all times together with Yusuf. I had to pick up most of his slack, but with the magnification it wasn’t that bad. I didn’t mind helping the dude out, he was my closest friend here apart from Joanna. We spent most evenings together, shooting the shit or playing Empire native games. 

His lack of energy didn’t go unnoticed though. Many complained, and I could see that it got to him. The circles under his eyes and grown deeper the last days. He was probably up half the nights worrying, and the other half coughing his lungs out. 

Many urged Samara to take him out of the scout group, to put someone more able bodied on it. But she refused to let him go. I suppose she wanted one of her comrades in all sectors to keep track of things, and the movements of Joanna’s Order. 

It was clear to see that Samara showed favouritism to her own close confidants. The fighters that Joanna had command over were mostly left on the sidelines and back on the home turf, much to the displeasure of the young hothead, Samuel. He wasn’t that much younger than me, only three or four years, but I liked to think of myself as way more mature than him. 

He almost forced Samara to take him with us today, but Hugo stepped up to calm him in time. He said something about the honour of carrying out the Order’s work. A bunch of mumbo jumbo if you ask me, but Sam swallowed it whole. 

Despite the amphitheatre being filled to the brim with literal children, everyone pulled their weight. The more I thought about it, the more unnatural the order of things at the library had been. With each day I grew more convinced that Samara was the reason. I hoped the weight of their deaths plagued her every night as she laid down on her soft bed. 

I jumped over another gap.

Out the corner of my eye, a flash coming from below caught my attention. “Shi-” I exclaimed and twisted my torso to the left. The wind pressure of the projectile brushed against my cheek and ruffled my unruly hair. 

I slapped down on the opposite roof with unsteady feet and threw myself to my belly, just past the lip of the overlapped sheets of metal, to get out of view.  

There was no crack, no boom. Only silence as the whistle of the projectile faded into nothing. I panted and unholstered the wand with shaking hands. “Who are you?” I shouted.

 “Been a while, Cal.” I recognised the voice, it was deep and raspy, but I couldn’t quite put my finger on where I’d heard it before. 

I whirled my head around to confirm I was still alone on the roof. 

I was. 

I hugged the wand to my chest, clicked the chamber open to confirm that I had a bullet loaded, and took a breath. “Why’d you do that?” I asked, perking up my ears. 

“Wha? Try and skewer you?” His voice bounced against the walls from below. He shot at me from inside the gap. Sneaky bastard.

I got up in a crouch with the wand tightly pressed against my shoulder. I peeked over the edge for a moment. He wasn’t in the street. “Yeah, that.” 

He chuckled. “Well, we’re enemies ’n all.” 

“Do we have to be?” 

“Ya know, I’ve been thinking ’bout that m’self. You’ve got a thick stink on you. How come ya hang around those plebeians?” 

I snuck across the roof, making sure to avoid the creaky parts of the sheets. “You guys never tried very hard to convince me…” 

“Take this as our formal invitation then,” another voice chimed in. This one female, high pitched and sharp like a blade. 

I whipped around, looking for the speaker. Still there was no one. 

I recognised this voice too. She had been in the library. I was sure of it. But there had been a bunch of people there.

“Not the warmest of welcomes,” I said and crouch walked alongside the roof’s edge. 

“Ah, don’ be like tha’,” the man said and spat. 

“What’s in it for me?” I stopped moving around and closed my eyes to listen. 

A pair of footsteps sounded from the room below. They moved toward the sound of my voice with calculated steps. 

I gulped and stepped backward, as soundlessly as possible. Against my better judgement I glanced over the edge down to the street. The man was still nowhere to be seen. 

The deep voice burled. “How ‘bout this then. Ya get to live. Tha’ ought to be enough incentive,” he hissed his S like a snake. 

Where the fuck is he?!

I kept my silence and summoned the dagger. I kissed the blade and whispered, “Just once let this work out,” and chucked it to the other side of the building. Metal clattered against metal. 

The footsteps hurried to catch up to the clamour. The man rumbled again. “What’s ’a matter, Cal? Cat got ya tongue?”

Cheeky fucker… 

I crept back and resummoned the dagger, then put my ear against the metal and took a breath. 

Think, Cal. Think. 

Below, the woman’s footsteps kept creeping around in a bid to sneak up on me. She’d already long since passed where I was though. Seemingly every floorboard creaked under her weight. Her steps sounded light and unpracticed. 

I grabbed hold of my satchel and sorted through it in haste. Empty cans, full cans, a few undergarments and spare clothing pieces, bullets. A thick layer of soot packed the drainpipe lining the roof’s edge. 

That’s it, I mused. 

I skewered the empty peach can with my dagger, creating small holes along its sides. I used the soot to fill the can. After a few handfuls, the can was packed to the brim—save for the constant leakage. 

I lobbed it high into the air a few paces to my right, rolled left, then peeked over the edge. 

“Jackpot,” I whispered.