12 Miles Below

Book 3. Chapter 32: Like Father, Like Son

Before I could ask what it was even talking about, my body seemed to yank my soul back into place, everything turning back into life.

The world and color surrounded me again, and the armor’s deadly clutching hand fell down at my side, limp. My body didn’t waste even a moment and was already drawing in fresh air, leaving me gasping and wheezing. The weight of the armor was now everpresent, forcing me down into my knees as I hacked away for air at the same time, everything felt too heavy to move. On both my sides, I heard the sound of rolling cylinders and realized what Journey had done. It had ejected its fuel cells. All of them. All at once. Too quickly for To’Aacar’s middleware virus to inform him in time to counteract the order.

Without power, the suit was now nothing more than a heavy lump of metal. Every occult fractal was equally powered off, leaving me stranded with no defenses. But I would live for another day, so that’s a win in my book.

I coughed and hacked some more, my throat feeling sore, all the while my arms strained to keep me upright.

I tried to stand up, but the weight was insane. Nearly four hundred pounds, all distributed around my frame. So long as I didn’t move and kept kneeling upright, I could use the chassis itself to support the weight. But the moment I tried to stand or raise, I was fighting against it all.

Just keeping myself from falling flat on my face was a challenge on my core.

But I was alive. First thing’s first, I needed to get dangerous things out of my way, least I fall and impale myself on my own sword. With slow and steady movements, I managed to sheath Atius’s sword back on my belt. At least my arms were light enough to somewhat move, so long as I took a good break in between breaths.

With that out of the way, I now needed a new plan. No way around it. I’d need to take the suit off if I wanted to go anywhere now. It would be a long process, but better be out of the suit and mobile than to remain trapped here.

There was that distinct sound of occult behind me, and I felt my hairs stand on my neck.

“Well, well, well. Trying to escape your execution, are we?” To’Aacar said. “You can’t weasel your way out of everything, Winterscar.”

I tried to turn my head around to get a good view of him without falling flat on the ground, but that was harder than I thought. In the end, I didn’t need to. The Feather walked calmly around, until he was face to face, while I remained rooted on my knees.

He looked just as beaten up as the last time I’d seen him. Face still clawed off by the knightbreaker round he’d taken on our first encounter. Chest sliced through, exposing the internal circuits, many of which were glowing red hot, giving him a seriously goulish appearance. The halo was nowhere to be seen, since I’d sliced that in two.

My mouth started running off before I could even think. “How about we call it a draw today, and try another round tomorrow. We’re all pretty tired and it’s getting late.”

He grinned. “Begging for your life? Futile, but entertaining.”

"If you kill me, there goes your entertainment.” I coughed, still finding it hard to talk. “But I'm still open to putting all this behind us as a misunderstanding.”

He scoffed. “Absolutely not. You are dying in the next minute, no exception.”

“In that case, do I get a dying wish?"

He laughed and extended a hand. "What could you possibly wish for?"

"I wish you’d go fuck yourself. Respectfully.”

That one remaining eye seemed almost amused. “Crass insults really are all you have left. Yell to the void all you wish." To'Aacar said, the metal hand gently caressing my cheek. ”However, all insults need to be rectified eventually.”

“Who’s insulting you? Me? Gods no, I’d never dream of it. Swear on my life.” I said. “I’m just suggesting that you dying a miserable death would be great entertainment for everyone else.”

"I wonder how I should kill you." The Feather said. "A more ironic death, or something painful? So many possible ways."

"Are you planning on talking me to death as your next new thing?" I asked. "You’re off to a good start here. How about you just get it over with, or are you waiting for me to die of old age?"

He stood up, looking down at his hand as if contemplating what to do next. "No, I’m passing time for the guest of honor to arrive." The metal hands tapped my forehead lightly, "I think, given everything you've done, you deserve a more personal end. Something fitting for the moment." The hands clicked together, and he knelt down again.

I think it was at that moment I realized I was actually about to die. Funny how that works. It just didn’t seem real at all.

"Let’s see. That human you cared about, your father was it? Do you remember how he died?" The fingertips roved over my chest plate and down to my stomach. "Right here. Yes, I think it would be most appropriate.”

The metal hand reached back, the fingertips glowing occult blue. I knew what was coming. There was no dodging it. I stared at him down, not wanting to look away.

The hand cut straight through Journey’s dead armor, into my gut and out my back.

Only sound was my wet gasp, and a crack of bones. Oddly painless, considering there was a metal arm impaled through my stomach. Then I realized everything from my torso down had gone numb.

His hand must have gone through my spine. My body started to slump forward and I couldn’t hold my balance anymore. Only staying somewhat upright because his arm was in the way. I could see blood flowing away over the machine’s hand, dropping down at the lowest point.

I was dying. I mean, I knew I’d die eventually, but one moment I was doing solid and the next, everything had gone to shit and there was nothing I could do about it.

He extracted the hand slowly, while I wobbled, feeling my strength fade out quickly. I slumped, falling down. A bloody metallic hand clamped down on my shoulder and held me still, keeping me upright for a little bit longer, leaving prints in my own viscera. “Like father. Like son.” He said, close to my ear. “Goodbye human."

The hand withdrew, then slowly moved to my armor's collar and up to my neck. Darkness began to cling on the edges of my sight, slowly expanding. Blood had started to seriously pool by my paralyzed legs.

The metal hand pulled up and I was dragged up with it. Off my knees and into the air. He brought me closer, watching me silently with that single eye. I tried to spit at him, but mostly just blood leaked out my mouth and dribbled down my chin.

All I heard was the sound wet droplets hitting a puddle underneath me, and heavy footsteps as he took his time to walk me up to the cliff, where he held me over the abyss. Waiting. Smiling.josei

I gurgled, trying to talk.

"Hush,” To’Aacar said. “Have no fear, I’ll send one of the lessers to collect your body once I’m done with your friends. I still have a use for your head.”

A moment passed, while the feather remained watching the rock pillars up ahead, waiting. I found out who the guest of honor he’d been talking about was.

Lord Atius raced into view from the side of a pillar, snapping his head in every direction looking for where his opponent had run off to. Sagrius and two other winterscar knights followed behind him, each racing as fast as their armors could sprint. The chosen knights must have been either defeated, or whittled down enough that Sagrius could come with two others like this.

The moment they saw us, the group bolted into a dead sprint straight for the Feather, weapons drawn.

To'Aacar laughed, raising me up. He didn't even have the decency to look at me as he let go. How cold is that? A casual shove and that was all.

Atius tried to reach out his hand for me, nearly making it in one last leap forward. Getting stabbed by To'Aacar in the process, but being defended by the Winterscar knights all striking out a moment later against To'Aacar, piling against him.

Whatever happened, he didn't make it in time.

I fell.

Blood trailed behind me, like a wet ribbon. Sounds of fighting fading away, replaced only by the howling wind in my ears. Seemed to go on for ages really, even though the full fall should be less than a minute.

I saw someone else leap off the cliff, falling in a perfect swan dive straight after me. A knight.

No. Not any knight. Sagrius. The captain of my guards.

The crazy bastard had jumped off after me. In freefall, he twisted around, spinning climbing rope and throwing it expertly onto the cliffside, showing he at least had some kind of plan besides a suicidal leap of faith.

He folded on himself next, accelerating downwards, faster and faster, one hand stretching out to grab me in freefall.

Closer. Closer. That hand nearly reached my boot.

And then he was yanked away all at once.

The rope had come to an end, throwing him into an impromptu arc against the cliffside. He crashed hard into the rock wall, fracturing parts off, spinning wildly for a moment before he got his bearings again and held still against the sheer cliff.

The last I saw of him was that faceless helmet, staring down at me. I had no relic helmet, no magnified view or vision. He faded away from my sight, just another small blur among the wall.

The forest stretched before me, upside down from my vantage point as I fell, with the artificial sunset spreading wide across the three sources. Most surface scavengers died either in a bed surrounded by family, or alone, surrounded by broken metal and the white wastes. I should consider myself lucky that this was how I’d take my exit off the stage. The world down here really was beautiful.

One last ragged breath.

Life went on before me. The trees holding massive flocks of birds who flew around agitated. Many of them scrambled away into the trees, escaping the silhouette of a predator flying nearby, massive wings outstretched, somewhat visible even this far off.

Ironic that my last sight in this world is the one thing I never thought possible up until I saw it with my own eyes a few hours ago. The birds swirled around the trees, spreading out through the forest and vanishing away.

It's been a good run. I did pretty well for a regular human, all said and done, considering what I was up against. Obviously I regret everything and if I could do it all over again, I'd have opted the path that didn't end up with a metal hand skewering me in the stomach, and getting thrown off a cliff like trash.

I hope Journey’s next user is more fitting for the old armor. I wish I could have left it one more message, to make sure it knew none of this was its fault. The panic and terror in that old spirit was something I felt more worried for than my own incoming death.

Maybe I should have retired early. Settled down, leave all this scrapshit to Kidra. Instead I’d let it all go to my head, thinking I was the invincible hero in all this. See the thing about knights and heroes - they all die eventually.

Oh well. These last few months had been enough to fill me with accomplishments for a lifetime, so it all worked out in the end. Perhaps I didn’t actually regret anything. Maybe if I did it all over again, I’d end up falling down this cliff anyhow.

Except I wasn’t falling anymore.

Instead of the ground rushing up to splatter me, I was soaring above the treeline somehow and none the wiser on how that had happened.

I could still feel my groggy body shutting down, the ribbon of blood now dripping under me as my feet dangled above the open air, which meant this wasn’t my spirit flying up to the afterlife or a hallucination conjured up by my dying brain. No, something was holding me in the air, pale and delicate looking hands wrapped around my chestplate, as far as I could see from what little sight I had left. Someone was holding me?

Surreal.

With whatever last bits of effort I had left, I tried to turn my head, to see what was going on. I got a glimpse at what looked like a shimmering wing, reflecting the artificial setting sunlight, from the edge of my sight. But that was all and my head dropped back down, letting gravity take hold.

My eyes closed on their own, sleep growing fast through my mind. Fogging up everything, and slowing down my train of thought to nothingness.

Like a soft blanket whispering ever so gently... that it was time to let go.

Next chapter - In strange company, walking upon strange lands