Chapter 5: Dead Men tell No Tales
2nd of Benathus, 414 EC of the Fourth Rekindling
12:49
Sleep ferried the two men off despite the bare, cold floor that they laid on, inviting them to the land of dreams and fantasies. Its calm embrace felt dishearteningly short, however, broken by a tap on their shoulders. They woke in a jump, scurried to their feet while the boney claws of that avian machine retracted, hiding once again under its cloak.
“Have little fear.” The librarian sunk down, until its head was only a bit taller than the men. Certainly, an improvement on their necks, as its height before was both intimidating and unreachable. “We have arrived. I detected the location half an hour ago and assumed the wooden structures to be artificial.”
The men looked at one another before staring at the machine in unison
“Why… So much time? Were we out so long!?” Wyatt asked first, his hand folded in front of him.
The machine tilted its head slightly, resting its “cheeks” on its cloak-covered shoulder in an eerily perfect 45-degree angle.
“You two have been asleep for hours.”
“…R- Really?” Willem rubbed his forehead, “It felt only a minute at most!”
The avian machine rose again. “Many hypotheses can be reached. Mere fatigue, exhaustion from acclimating to a new environment, and… How it should be said…”
The floating machine stopped, reaching into its cloak for another giant piece of parchment. As long as it was tall and as wide as a man’s shoulder, the machine traced its claw along the parchment’s length, its joints ticked as it moved. It came to a conclusion, and returned to the men and addressed them directly.
“A malfunctioning day-night cycle. Lingered effects from when Sol was still active. Every creature has a “rhythm” they follow. This is assuming sapiens have changed little since the disappearance.”
“Sapiens?” Wyatt whispered, confused.
The librarian rolled up the parchment and descended. “Your species, I assumed. Why, what are you then?”
The men exchanged a few blank blinks.
“…We’re people?” Willem said with no confidence at all, nearly stuttering, “Well- I mean… I guess we’re “us” or…?”
“That’s not what it’s talking about…”
“If it’s species like “frogs” or “birds”-“
“A little more specific.” The librarian hummed, its eyes never leaving the boys.
“R- Right! So, like… Uhm…”
Willem stuttered into silence, as the librarian clawed its beak in muse.
“Sapiens is the second part of the scientific name of your kind. Homo Sapiens, as you were called, with Homo being the word used to… Differentiate intelligent species from animalistic ones. Though the actual classification is… complex. Sapiens… I suppose it could be said that your specie’s name can be translated to… Clever people. The language used might still be around, or an equivalent of it, and you were just uninformed.”
“I understood very little of that.” Wyatt sighed.
“…Do you know what babillian is?”
The men were confused again. The librarian took this as a sign of ignorance and visibly bent its back… Or well, what resembles its back.
“Let’s save discussion for another time. I will wait here as long as necessary. Do take your time, young ones.”
The marbled door slowly cracked open, and the men put on their protective layers. Willem jumped towards the exit quicker than Wyatt, eyes still glued to the bookkeeper.
“Did you improve your speech?” He asked with pride.
“I’ve had hours to consider.” It responded without unnecessary movement, “In that time, sentence structure, vocabulary and certain… Nuances… Can be inferred.”
“I see…” Willem muttered, “That’s like… Super smart, right?”
“For more specialized models, it would take mere minutes.” It responded, though in all of its infinite patience it retained that same ambivalent tone it always has, “No matter. This is satisfactory.”
The machine paused and looked at the opening gateway leading to the outside. Cold air immediately rushed in, burning the duo’s fleshy faces; the rest of their bodies were spared thanks to their weather gears. Meanwhile, the librarian stood, stared and mused, as if contemplating something about the new landscapes, as well as the snow its library had landed on.
“Nihil mutatum est.“
The machine muttered, a coded response. It stood motionless still, only moving its eyes and scanning everything, scrutinizing even the tiniest details about its surroundings. The ticks from its body echoed, nothing satisfied its inquiry, making it despondent. It stopped, turned to the duo who were mentally preparing for the return trip.
“I have a request.”
The machine reached out, handing over the long-extinguished thurible on its spindly metallic claws. The artefact looked pristine, like someone had polished and shined it over the last few hours. It was placed into Willem’s hand, who gave a question in return.
“What… is it?”
The machine retreated once the thurible was returned.
“I was instructed by a collection of very respectable people to, when the time comes, spread knowledge as far as I could. I have little understanding of the people of this time. More data is required before I can fully integrate. Before then… Can you help me gather those who are willing to learn?”
“…We could, but-“
Willem spoke with uncertainty, but Wyatt cut him off. His eyes narrowed as he approached the machine.
“I still don’t trust you or what you’re saying… Honestly, today has been a little too crazy for us. So tell us straight: What do you want?”
The librarian shook like it was caught off guard. “…I speak only the truth-“
“I don’t know what kind of knowledge you’re spreading, or why you’re spreading it.” Wyatt gazed at the landscape around them, “There are… a lot of people out there who don’t know any better. If you hurt them-” His line cut short, as Willem had smacked him up the head
“H- Hey!” Wyatt grunted. “What in Sol’s name was that for?”
“You’re being rude, for one. This… Person saved us from falling to our deaths, and shared a warm place… Why are you questioning their intentions now? We would’ve probably died in the dark.”
“Willem, that’s barely a person- I mean, look at it! What if we were stupid and now it’s going to crush our village or something?”
“Wyatt!-“
The librarian’s clicks cut short the duo’s banter. It stood still, letting the spider-like machine come out from the shadow. It lowered its main body for the men to ascend, housing them in a newly installed platform for passengers.
“… Wyatt’s concern. It is valid.” The avian machine said and lowered itself. “I will provide a summary. In times past, the exact year escaped my memory still, Sol was taken away from the world for unknown reasons. I was built only a few years after that, encased in this eternal archive as its keeper. My creation, as well the creation of this archive, was at the behest of scholars and rich men alike. Their directive was simple,” it paused for a moment. “Preserve and distribute knowledge to survivors, in-case of total societal collapse. I was designated an emergency protocol, to be awakened and served this goal and hidden in the deepest depths for protection against vandalism. My activation was… delayed for many years, either by my own faulty detection, or tampering.”
Its thin, metallic claws scratched its face, under the eyes and above its beak.
“This body is not my own, a mere puppet under my control. I fear exposing my true body would invite harm, both from the elements and conscient agents.” It bowed slightly. “My apologies for the deception.”
The duo listened, finding the exchange to be strangely sincere. The librarian didn’t change its tone, made little movements and its face was hard as a statue, but what it spoke sounded truthful. Perhaps it was gratitude for having sheltered them, perhaps it was humanization for the machine spoke of itself, the two men softened, especially Wyatt. He confirmed it with Willem, who simply nodded.
“I don’t really get it, but…” Willem hid the thurible in his pocket, “This goal is important to you, right?”
“It’s akin to an obsession, yes.” The librarian answered. “A construct like me exists to serve a goal. It is, in more human terms, akin to a kind of fulfillment. It will be the only thing I’ll ask of you. So, I plead for you to accept.”
“If that’s so, we’ll help!–”
“Just say “yes” or “no”.” Wyatt cut them off, pulling Willem by the hood, “Next time, let’s have conversations where the weather isn’t deadly… Like behind closed doors, for example.”
“Who taught you hospitality?” Willem yanked out of his friend’s grasp.
“Like… No one.”
“Do use the automaton for easier transportation.” The beaked librarian interjected, slowly floating away, “Practice caution.”
The men looked at each other, then the spider-like construct in silent deliberation. Eventually, they relented and climbed onto its head before it stood to its full height. The machine sinks its long, thin legs into the snow, taking measured steps towards where its passengers assumed to be their village. It bobbed slightly, so the men had to grab their seats to keep steady.
“This feels new!” Willem muttered. “Like we’re flying… We’ll have to sell the experience for a profit back home. I must pay Hubbs back somehow.”
“You cannot just think of money in this situation! Come on, imagine what this means for the village… More importantly, for us! Honestly, Willem, this whole thing has been a major pain in the side for me. Imagine all the tourists, the adventurers, the big rich people coming to our town and probably trashing it… Don’t get me wrong, the money would be nice, but you can’t tell me that’s not a little bit annoying.”
“Can’t we just hire people to, uh, clean up?”
“…You are… Absolutely not thinking this through.” Wyatt paused and sighed.
“It’s only been a few hours! Imagine all the things we could do… We can even move into the city! The big cities, with running water and walls and everything you can buy!”
“I know that! Just… Let’s discuss this when we get home.”
“Alright! You promised!” Willem gave thumb-up, making the other man groan.
After mere minutes, the duo was taken to the edge of their village. The familiar sight of insulated wooden walls under thatched roofs, half buried under the snow, greeted them. The streets were lined with torch posts and other features of a fairly active village at the very limit of civilization. The construct lowered itself, dropping off its passengers and watched as they went back home with quiet steps.
The village was utterly silent.
They made some initial assumptions, like maybe it was downtime when people were asleep in their homes. But this silence was too overwhelming, like they had followed the examples of ancient heroes and plugged their ears with wax. Human lives could not have been this silent, even here they would be active enough not to be this quiet.
A foreboding sense blanketed the men, like preys during a hunt, keeping silent as not to be discovered. The pressure got to them, and their instincts as living creatures kicked in. Something was wrong, and they assumed that a single misstep would end them. The machine noticed this, and followed them with thumping steps like a bodyguard. It helped scan the village, just as the men went door to door looking.
“…Where’s everyone?” Willem asked first, eyes peeled for survivors.
“I’m not sure.” Wyatt grinded his teeth, “I don’t like it.”
“Should I scream…?”
“Wait what do you mean- Willem!-”
“HELLO? IS ANYONE THERE?” Willem bellowed
“WHATAREYOUDOING-“
Willem’s voice rang through the empty streets, bouncing off walls and roofs, resonating so loudly that even Wyatt was shocked. Yet, no sounds returned except for his own echo, not even the cries of animals. There is just silence in its simplest, most plain form.
They stared, too stunned to move, but not the construct. It saw something, and suddenly bolted away. The men didn’t get even a second to suggest otherwise, as it was already out of views. They shook themselves back to attention, and checked for signs of… anything at all. First, they checked the houses, and Willem made some concerning observation.
“There’s… No smoke from the chimney.”
“Wait wait wait- Don’t just go towards it!” Wyatt chased after him, pulling him back by the shoulder. “What do you think will happen, just breaking and entering like that? People could just be sleeping, or…”
“Wyatt, there’s clearly something wrong. The least we can do is check!”
“I’ll… I’ll do it. Just stand back and don’t do something stupid.”
“You’re… fine.” Willem tried to refuse, but just shook his head and sighed.
Wyatt trudged towards the closes house to the right, with his friend but 2 paces behind him. Slowly, painfully they ascended the porch, with Wyatt’s resting his knuckle on the door for a moment, gathering his confidence. The two quieted down, and let Wyatt knock on the door.
“Hello?”
One second past, then another. The anticipation was killing him. Wyatt swallowed and knocked loudly again.
Knock, knock, knock.
“Excuse me! Missus Pauline-“
OnthewallgoresplainedlikeofferingtotheprofainegodshernecknearlyrippedofffromherheadinadisplayofbrutalitytherewasabsolutelynodenyingshewasDEADDEADEADasifshewasdisplayedsotoprovethepointatwhatlevelofinhumanitywouldonehavetobetokillheronherbedandleaveherbleedingonthebedherentrailsleavingapathonthegroundherchildrenonherarmstheireyesockets-
Wyatt slammed the door shut. His tongue was paralyzed. He could still smell the metal in the air. He barely composed himself before taking two steps away and sat down with a thumph.
“W- Wyatt!? What on Sol’s name happened…” Willem put a hand on the door.
“Don’t open it!!” Wyatt shouted, catching his mouth as if to breathe, “Please just… Walk away.”
Willem stared, then patted his back. “Breathe. I… I won’t open it, so just breathe.”
They sat together for a moment, waiting for Wyatt to stop hyperventilating in the biting cold. He gasped, clearly in shock of what he had seen, and momentarily forgot how to breathe. Moments later, he shakily rose with Willem’s help, asking.
“…What did you see?”
Wyatt paused, eyes darting between his friend and the door. Crimson flashed in his vision, reminding him of the deathly stare from that poor woman. She did not speak, nor hear and, most horrifying of all, was no longer a person. Just an empty vessel, its essence and potential ripped from her grasps.
“…She’s dead.” Wyatt shook. “Missus Pauline is dead.”
“I see… Come on.”
Willem took his friend away from the house, their head raced faster than they could run. The deathly silence… Did it mean everyone here was dead? Survivors perhaps, but where? Could they find help? Too many questions, too little time to answer. As his friend was still in shock, Willem’s began to rack his brain out.
“I’ll… Call for help. Or… Something! Just stay here for a bit.”
“Willem.” Wyatt grabbed his shoulder. “I… Don’t do that.”
“If- Miss Pauline could still be alive.”
“Willem, the entire village could be dead!” Ever the pessimist, Wyatt shouted. “What good is calling for help when we’ve already tried calling for people!? Not to mention… What if the thing that killed them comes for us!?”
“They… They can’t be dead.” Willem clenched his fist. “That’s impossible.”
“Think logically Willem. If they were alive-“
“My parents are alive! You can’t just say they’re dead!”
Wyatt stared, unsure of what to say while Willem gritted his teeth.
“…Willem… AARGH!”
Something pulled hard on his feet, and Wyatt eye-level suddenly fell to Willem’s ankle. He blinked before noticing the black mucus on him, his legs ensnared in the ooze. In his frozen stupor, Willem had to come in and clawed at the mucus.
“Wyatt! What is this thing!?”
Wyatt glances at the barely sentient pile of ooze, trash and filth crawling up his legs. Wherever it touched, pain stung his skin and made him wince. He kicked his leg, trying to remove the creature.
“Get it off! It’s clawing at me!”
Willem pulled and punched at it, but his fists just sink into the ooze. The black blob crawled up to Wyatt’s thighs, drawing blood and staining the pristine snow red. Desperate, Willem pulled out an ice pick from his pack and aimed at the creature. He jabbed the sharp end at its main body, piercing through it.
The blob rippled in pain, stuck to the ground like a leech on a hook, Willem grunted and pulled, making the creature release Wyatt and leaving him with a bloody leg. Then, he threw it to the side, slamming it on the densely packed snow and left it buried there. His heart was still pounding; he rushed over to his friend and went to check on the injured leg. The puncture wounds were deep, not life threatening but would hurt like hell.
Wyatt winced and huffed, before sitting up and grabbing his leg.
“You’re gonna be… fine?” Willem offered, though he wasn’t sure himself.
“I don’t feel fine!” Wyatt snapped before shouting in panic. “It’s still… Alive!”
Willem looked back and watched the black blob crawling out of the snow. It coalesced into a larger, droplet shaped from and rolled closer. Willem put the ice pick between them and the creature. It stopped, stuck to the ground and circled the two at a slow pace. Sizing up its new opponent, the blob’s amorphous body rose to the height of Willem’s chest, now a lot thinner like a branch. The man wasn’t deterred, so the creature dropped down to its fatter, shorter form and rolled away
“…What in the damned…” Willem muttered, before kneeling and returning to Wyatt, “The bleeding! Stop it!”
“Already stopped… Or at least.. It’s slowing. I’ll manage.”
“Don’t just pretend like it’s not a big deal! Let me see the-“
Willem paused as he saw the black-blob creature roll back, and this time it brought its little friends. Five of those blobs now stared him down, barreling towards the duo. They formed a perimeter, circling around the two men with spikes growing from their bodies. Willem panicked, while Wyatt watched on with helpless concern. The armed man tried to break out of their clutch with his friend in tow, but the creatures brandished their spike and drove them back into their kill circle. There was no way to escape, especially if those blobs attacked at once.
“Wyatt…” Willem readied his ice pick. “I’ll… Run them off and get them to chase me. You just get inside one of the buildings and hide?”
“Wh- Excuse me, are you stupid? They’ll eat you alive!”
“Give me something better then, or we’ll both die! It’s either we die or I live, or you live. Pick and choose!”
“Well normally I’d choose myself to live!”
“Really!? I’m trying to save you here!”
“I’ll figure something out… Watch your back doofus!”
One of the creatures launched at Willem. The man had mere moments to choose, and he chose poorly indeed, holding his hand out and letting the creature gnaw on his forearm. Willem winced, nearly collapsing from the pain. He narrowly managed to pry it off, but the other creatures were already approaching menacingly. A third one was already sizing him up and lunged at the man.
“Tsk!-“
Willem clicked his tongue, ready to intercept the attack but…
The ground beneath him shook, and the four-legged machine came galloping on its thin legs. Its footsteps were like wounds on the earth, its whirr a battle cry. The machine mercilessly stabbed at the blobs of mucus before they could retreat, skewering each and every one of them. Like popped fruits, the blobs spilled their inside, full of half-digested bone, gore, trash and filth. Their foul ichor stained the snowy floor.
Willem grabbed Wyatt, pulling him away from the machine’s massacre. With all five predators skewered and popped, it smeared its legs on the snow, peeling of the ichor like cleaning cooking utensils. It turned to the men, paused for a moment then knelt down next to them.
“W… What is it doing?” Wyatt leaned on his good leg, the other still sputtering blood from the various holes.
“I’m… Sure it wants us to get on it. I think it’s saying that it’s not safe here or… Something.”
“I can imagine, but… You don’t want to go, right?”
Willem pondered for a moment. “No… I don’t… Not before I see my family.”
Wyatt felt like he had bile climbing up his throat. He swallowed to keep the sickening sensation under control, but found he had no hearts to tell Willem that was a bad idea. Their chances were slim at best, not to mention they’d be long gone if they had survived. But Willem was insistent on confirming their immediate survival, even if visiting his home would only bring regret. Wyatt knew that…
But he also knew there wasn’t a single drop of doubt in Willem’s eyes. Fear, anticipation, everything else was present behind his narrow eyes under the goggles. But there was no doubt in his decision to ascertain his family’s current situation. An uncomfortable truth was preferable than a conjecture, despite Wyatt’s doubt about his companion’s thought.
“Let’s just call for help. There’s no reason we should be heading in so recklessly. I mean–” Wyatt lifted his bleeding leg. “If these things can do this, I don’t think it’s really wise to go further.”
Willem stared back with eyes widened, fists clenched and in shock. He was conflicted for sure, and Wyatt hoped that this would tip him over to sensibilities. He spoke with a cold tone, only slightly wavering from the leg pain.
“The rail town is right there. I’m sure they weren’t hit as badly. If anybody can take care of things here, it’s them. Trust me…”
Willem interrupted him with a hand on his shoulders. Wyatt was shocked, but ultimately regarded Willem in the eyes.
“Wyatt… I don’t want anyone else to find my family before me. If– If they’re gone, I want to…”
He did not finish, but Wyatt knew what he meant. “Should they be gone, I want to say goodbye before their bodies are turned to ash and memories“, he imagined that was Willem’s train of thought. Wyatt sighed despite the cutting cold.
“Willem, I…”
He gazed at his village for one last time. Villages like his existed out of stubbornness, braving against the elements and beasts, so the death of one was already a tragedy. The death of all had just erased them off the map, the only proof of their existence remaining were the two young men. Ironic, now they have no other choice than to move to the city regardless of their wants. Like a monkey’s paw closing its digits, their dreams fulfilled, at a terrible cost…
Wyatt sighed, grabbed Willem’s hand and held it closely. “Let’s go see them.”
“We won’t linger for long.” Willem said it like a painful promise. “I’ll pack, and we’re going to get outta here.”
Wyatt nodded solemnly, and the two men climbed atop the four-legged machine again. After letting the passengers take their seat, the ferry construct rose to its full height, “eyes” darted across the landscape, spreading its light scanning for further threats. Willem patted its dome, shouting.
“Please go North until I say stop!”
The machine took a few minutes to process the request, then its legs began to move. Thnk, thnk, thnk. It walked slowly and carefully, swaying as little as possible, climbing onto roofs and smoldering walls without breaking any. The duo saw more black mucus creatures, all of which were dispatched with clockwork efficiency. Willem’s eyes took careful moments to instinctually remind himself of what area his house was at, until he suddenly shouted.
“Please stop!”
The machine came to a screeching halt
“We’re there?” Wyatt stared back, having just tied a length of cloth above his thigh to stop the bleeding.
“Please…” But Willem didn’t answer, instead addressing the machine. “Please let us get down.”
The machine dropped its passengers off, before rising again and standing there vigilant. Willem looked around, not frantically but there was a certain rush to his words.
“It’s around here somewhere.”
The taller man turned left and kept walking in a trance, his steps uncoordinated and meandering. Wyatt followed, limping ever so slightly. He pats Willem’s back, huffing from the slight exertion.
“Take your time.”
Willem nodded.
“I will.”
He wrapped Wyatt’s arm around his shoulder, helping him trudge along. A welcomed assistance, but neither of them had much to say right now, approaching a (presumedly) gruesome scene. Willem’s family cottage was in the middle of a sporadically placed row of housing. An impressive house by the village standard, its wooden log walls more exposed to the snow but much less vulnerable to it. Every time Wyatt came here, he felt like stepping into a mansion. It had always welcomed his presence, but he wasn’t sure of its hospitality at this moment.
“…Your grandfather was an architect, right?” Wyatt suddenly asked, just to break the silence.
Willem did not respond. He approached his former home, touched the door, and stood there for a few seconds. He stared, he mourned, his hand frozen on the ornately crafted doorknob.
To do or not to do. To see or not to see.
Wyatt stood by the side and watched, each second passed made him question his decision to come here. The dead woman’s stare still haunted his vision, and the idea of seeing Willem’s family in that state was worse than that. He had no family of his own, so he thought he had no rights to stop his friend from seeing his, but was also afraid for Willem’s state. Determined, he grabbed Willem by the wrist.
“I… I think I can go first.”
The two men both got their hands on the doorknob. They locked themselves in a silent debate, both sides unwavering on their idea of what was best. Wyatt pushed his own reasoning first.
“You won’t like what you see.”
“That’s why I have to see it. I want to know the truth. They are my family, Wyatt.”
Willem balled his freed hand into a fist. A lump forms in his throat, nearly choking him. But there was nothing really there, not even bile or vomit. His mind couldn’t think, his body was sluggish and weak. His movements spurred by pure determination.
“…I’m sorry.”
Wyatt said with a downcast gaze, pushing Willem back. The taller man stumbled, catching himself on the wall. His heart was pounding, like it was trying to rip out of his ribcage and run to where none of this tragedy ate away at him. Willem clutched at his coat, where his heart should be.
“I’m going in.”
“W– Wait–!”
Willem pushed his friend aside and turned the doorknob. A foul concoction of odor hit him all at once, of blood, rot and gore. He gulped, peering inside deeper. Of course, there was no mystery of what had happened. Crimson, stained on the floor and furniture, mixed with the pale pink of things that should never be seen. Both froze; the thought of prayers once crossed their minds was now dashed away. No divinity could change it now, no god would care enough to revive these dead.
Wyatt closed the door, giving Willem a moment of silence. But the taller man simply nodded.
“…It’s done. We confirmed it. Let’s go get help.”
With grim acknowledgement, they returned to their ferry. The machine knelt again to let them climb up, but before Willem can help Wyatt manage with his injured legs, their ears rumbled as their hearts beat just as hard.
Boom!
Wyatt came to his senses first, scanning the landscape for the source of the explosion. Somehow, Luna returned at this very moment, shining her faint ghostly light for them to take in more of the gruesome scene.
Boom!
A second explosion. A bright and sparky orb rose into the air quickly, paused for a moment before bursting into immense sound and force, blinding the two men immediately by its scorching light. The four-legged machine stirred into action, looking strangely hesitant after witnessing such power.
As their senses returned, the duo debated silently with one another. They soon came to the only logical conclusion, as a third explosion appeared. Now more prepared, they recognized it was fire and combustion, and there was only one kook who could cause such a thing.
“…Hubbs.”
The men muttered and tapped the side of their ferry. The mechanical arachnid approached the source of the explosion, careful not to cause collateral damage. It arrived just a few paces from where the blasts came from, and Willem patted for it to stop.
“Let us down, please.”
The machine complied, letting them descend from its head. The men approached the hut, and immediately noticed how charred the landscape was. A circle of melted snow surrounded the hut, the ground scorched black with tar and soot. The soles of their shoes became searing hot, their footings unsure as if they were stepping on ice. Nervously, they approached closer.
When they were twenty or so steps away from the hut, they finally spotted something dire. The silhouette of a man sitting near the door of the hut, absently looking up under a hood. He was dressed in the same black undergarment, wearing the same orange cloak, tied together by the same impressive sash. The same kooky mage that had given the men their first artefact that set them on this journey.
“Hubbs?” Willem rushed over, leaving Wyatt to limp after him.
Hubbs did not respond, which deterred the man a little. He kneeled next to the old kook and shook him. His voice tinged with desperation.
“Please… Please be alright.”
Despite the shaking, the old man did not respond, just absent mumbling from under his hood. Willem continued to shake him, until Wyatt finally dragged his feet over and touched Hubbs’ hands.
“He’s cold… Willem, I don’t think…”
Wyatt paused. Something told him that it wouldn’t matter to try and stop his friend. Instead, he simply sighed and reached for Hubbs’ hood. But at that very moment, the old kook’s hand suddenly curled around his! A hushed whisper soon followed from the destitute body.
“Boys?”
The duo quickly uncovered his hood, revealing Hubb’s tanned face. What was a fine visage befitting any man approaching his middle-years now turned pale, blank and cold, and that would not be the worst of it. The right side of his face was scorched off, cheekbone exposed, an empty eye socket, meat seared off and showing bones. His sheer determination to remain conscious, even talking, was a miracle all by itself. The one good eye darted between the men – Wyatt first, then Willem. The old mage managed a grin with his bone exposed face.
“You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
Wyatt swallowed hard and looked at Hubbs with some level of finality. However, Willem only hurriedly took his hand.
“Hubbs? Hang on! We’ll call for help–”
The old man swatted his hand weakly, resting it limply on his side.
“No. I’ve long passed my end.”
Willem went to grab Hubbs’ hand again, but Wyatt stopped him. A silent exchange was made, as words were pointless at this point, leaving the grieving man to bite his lips under his mask.
“…How long do you have left, Hubbs?”
“…What an insensitive question… Let’s say, not long.”
It seemed the kooky mage’s sense of humor was the only thing that remained intact about him. One last act of defiance against the grim reality, one last rebel against nature from the old miracle maker. Wyatt balled up his hand into a fist at that sight. Only Willem remained active now, his mind raced for solutions.
“Wyatt, we’re going to carry him onto the beast.”
Despite Willem’s resolution, neither men before him budged. Reluctant acceptance seemed to have come to them earlier than to Willem, who pushed further, pleading.
“…Wyatt. We have to save him.”
“That’s assuming we can do anything at all. Sit down, Willem, and…”
“No! No, we’re not leaving him here to rot!”
He shouted and pleaded, but neither complied.
“We have to at least try something! If we can save him, or even if we only have a chance to, we should try and do something.”
“This is the least painful way to for him to go! What don’t you get?”
Willem had no answers. But it seemed the old kook still had some strength in him yet.
“I’ve burned myself out. Don’t argue about embers. You two… Make the most of this…now.”
“Hubbs?” Willem kneeled, tugging his cloak, “Wait, don’t–”
“Relics… in my house.” He whispered back, the spark in his eyes started fading away, his fiery iris unfocused and dimmed, “Free… free of charge.”
Willem continued shaking Hubbs to wake, ignoring his words.
“Hubbs? Hubb–!”
Wyatt finally pulled him back, looking downcast and in despair. No words were said after, as the men paid respect to the dying mage, taking in his shallow breaths and giving the old man some solace in his final moments. Until there was no more, and the final puff of smoke from his breath dissipated into memory.
