Krav and his companions strapped Shi-Toh to a post and debated just what to do with him. Greenblatt and Gaya were discussing how to go about it. They didn’t trust him to give them insightful answers that would lead to the death of his clan. Ulrich and the Pit Lords were well versed in torture, and promised they could get him to talk. Krav liked that idea. Torturing the four eyed… well, one eyed fuck, sounded like fun.

  The others were deliberating in the tent, but Krav sat in front of Shi-Toh. The boy was drawing shapes in the sand, trying to remember how Lenny was so good at drawing flowers. That had been the first question he asked Shi-Toh; was Lenny still alive? The answer was yes, and Krav didn’t think there were any more questions that mattered. He remained quiet as he focused on his art.

  Shi-Toh didn’t like that. There was an uneasy calm about the kid. He cleared his throat and asked his own question. “What are you going to do to me?”

  “Me? I might shove my axe up your ass and fuck you with it until you bleed out. They just want to ask you some questions though. Can’t have you bleeding to death before that happens.”

  Karmic hells, he sounded just like Jackmaw. The boy hadn’t even looked up from his drawings, he just said it like it was nothing. Shi-Toh asked another question. “Would you consider sparing me if it meant getting your brother back? I can do that for you. I have no place amongst the Gordo clan after this. Even bringing you with me would be no good.”

  “I got this far without you. What makes you think you’re not just another obstacle on my way to Jackmaw?” He still didn’t look up. The circles being drawn were crude and awful, as if done by a manic child. The boy was shaking as he drew. Shi-Toh recognized it as something akin to withdrawal. He had seen it a hundred times in the faces of the Gordo clan between raids.

  “Please,” Shi-Toh said. His time with Jackmaw had taught him that the only way to deal with a psychopath was to appeal to their basic instincts. Thirst, hunger, boredom, they were all things he could manipulate to appease Jackmaw and get him to come to the table. He didn’t know Krav, though, didn’t know what he wanted besides his brother. “I can tell you the plans I’ve come up with to kill Jackmaw. I’ve probably gotten closer than anyone in the whole wasteland.”

  “Once I’m done digging your guts out through your ass I’m going to cut his head off. I’ve had a lot of time to think about this, trust me.”

  “You’ll have you to wait,” Greenblatt said. He appeared behind Krav and grabbed his shoulder. “We’re ready for him.”

  Krav did the honors of cutting Shi-Toh down and dragged him by the hair to the tent. The feathered man protested the whole time, screaming and grabbing Krav’s wrist to prevent him from tearing his scalp off. Pain flared in his head like a thousand needles slowly being dejected from his brain, but the worst was yet to come.

  In the tent, the main players waited for their victim. They stood around a large wooden table. It was stained pink with blood, and Shi-Toh realized this must be where the jungle savages prepared their meat. He had run ins with cannibals of every shape, and he wouldn’t put it past the warrior women and their guests to devour him.

  “You’re going to butcher me?” Shi-Toh asked as he was thrown on the table. A plethora of blades and racks surrounded him. “Go on then, I’ve lived a terrible fate, what’s one more tragedy”

  Ulrich hit him so hard, his head spun. He felt drunk and on the cusp of sleep, then something jammed into him. It felt like a small piece of scrap metal jutting into his neck. The thing didn’t pierce his skin, but it hummed and then delivered a powerful shock that pulsed in his neck and chest. Greenblatt pulled it away and admired his invention.

  Pain flared and resonated from where he had been electrocuted. He was gasping for air as his muscles spasmed in confused delays. Strong arms grabbed at his wrists, and they tied him down to the table. The same done to his legs, and then he was surrounded by faces filled with a grim determination.

  “Nothing personal,” Boris said. He placed his heavy shield on Shi-Toh’s chest and let it stay there. It wasn’t much now, but depending on how long they were planning on keeping him here, it would surely suffocate him.

  Mateo flicked the needle of a syringe and injected it into Shi-Toh’s arm. It was a drug the Pit Lords called Bliss. As the plunger depressed, the feathered man felt a warm sensation, then he relaxed like he was going to piss himself. Bliss was commonly used in sexual services to enhance the experience. It made its users heart rate slow and nerve endings become more sensitive. During torture, it amplified the pain.

  Another cocktail of drugs came in the form of chakras. The Disciples had concocted their own form of intoxicants for psychological torture. The combination was known to increase sweating, raise your heart rate, and slow your vision. Paired with the Biss, the drugs fought each other in Shi-Toh’s system. He felt like he was too hot and too cold, too light and too heavy. His nose congested to the point that he couldn’t get an atom of air through it, and his throat closed until it felt like he was breathing through a straw.

  “Please!” he choked. “I… I can’t…”

  “Answer my first question and I’ll try to help,” Greenblatt said. He had a mixture of herbs and salts the Disciples told him would help with the symptoms. “Where is the rest of the Gordo clan?”

  “Long… story…. I need… I can’t…” At this point, the feathered man’s eyes were bulging. His eye sick with wasting disease squirted tears and leaked a yellow fluid from the pressure building in his sinuses. The tent felt like it was falling in on him, and he knew he’d die soon.

  Greenblatt rolled his eyes. He gave the signal to Ulrich, and the pit lord snapped one of Shi-Toh’s fingers backwards.

  “Fuck!” he screamed through his tightening throat. “They… went to… the meet point!”

  “What meet point?” Greenblatt demanded. He held the herbs within reach and taunted him with release.

  Shiela held the feathered man’s head in her hands and checked his pulse. It was erratic, beating out of sync and thrumming at inconsistent intensity. Some pumps surged through his neck, and some felt like an emptying hose. “At this rate you’ll lose him. Give him a little bit.”

  Greenblatt shoved the salt and herbs in one of his nostrils. The relief was minor, but instant. Shi-Toh felt that nostril open slightly, and he desperately sucked air in through it. His throat opened a bit, and his heartrate steadied.

  “What meet point!” Another signal to Ulrich, and he grabbed a second finger.

  “Wait!” he begged, his voice hoarse with strangulation. He couldn’t get a full breath in between his clogged throat and the shield on his chest. “We meet in an old town. They called it Footfall once, but it won’t appear on any of your maps. It’s near the twin suns.”

  In all of his travels, Greenblatt had never heard of Footfall. Then again, he stayed far away from the ominous twin suns. “Who are you meeting there?”

  “A group of traders. They come from outside the valley. There’s a path between the twin suns that’s traversable, but very dangerous.”

  Rumors of people outside of the valley were common. But the stories they had all heard were that if there were people outside, they were probably worse off. The valley was protected by its mountains, everything on the other side had to be irradiated to the point of mutation. It was widely considered that no one was alive outside the valley, but the speculation was always there.

  “Who are these people? What makes the journey worth their time?”

  Shi-Toh laughed, then winced as the shield depressed on his chest deeper. “You wastelanders have no idea what’s going on outside of your little valley. The world is a much bigger place than you can ever believe.”

  Another nod and Ulrich broke another finger.

  “Fuck!” Shi-Toh winced. “The shale! They want the damned shale!”

  At the mention of the god blight, Gaya perked up. She had questions of her own, but her guests were in charge of this phase of the plan. She would get her chance to ask her questions.

  Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.

  “What the hell could they want it for?” Greenblatt demanded. He leaned on the shield to emphasize his point.

  “The shale is the main energy source outside of the valley, and you have it in its purest form! Get this thing off of me and I’ll tell you everything! Please!”

  Shi-Toh was turning purple beneath the weight of the shield and his rising desperation. Greenblatt watched him for a time. It was fun torturing someone who deserved it, although he couldn’t tell if that was the crystals in his eyes talking or not. With a nod, he allowed the shield to be taken off of him, and he told his story.

  The people outside of the valley gave the Gordo clan their weapons in exchange for the shale. According to Shi-Toh, he came from outside the valley and kept his connections as he immigrated to what was known outside as the Green Hell. He came to this place with the express mission to secure the shale for his contacts on the outside.

  Jackmaw Yapyap and the Gordo clan were the perfect coconspirators. A bloodthirsty band of raiders strung out on wastelander drugs weren’t Shi-Toh’s first choice to hand guns over to, but it turned out for the best… all things considered. Supplying such a depraved group of people meant having some of the most powerful allies in the valley, and they could protect the hoards of shale Shi-Toh’s contacts from outside demanded.

  With the discovery of the Emerald Expanse, their plan was coming to a completion. Shi-Toh could set up a supply line from the shale to the twin suns, and he and his people would be able to have a steady supply of the shale. In exchange, Jackmaw would receive weapons that outclassed even the technology he currently possessed. In their endgame, Shi-Toh would be the most powerful man outside of the valley, and Jackmaw would be the most powerful man within it.

  They were so close now, only for Shi-Toh to fuck it all up. His friends outside would side with Jackmaw if they heard there was a schism between them. It was an easy choice, cut him out of the deal and capitulate to the brain-dead warlord. The seven-foot-tall red skinned demon of a man didn’t have enough intelligence to overthrow them. He would be happy raping and pillaging while they left him alone. And they would be happy to take a bigger slice of the pie.

  “It’s that simple,” Shi-Toh said. “There are people outside of the valley who need the shale, and I was going to be the one to supply it to them.”

  They all stood around Shi-Toh trying to wrap their heads around what he was saying. Their world felt so small now, and they didn’t even understand the half of it. Shi-Toh had left out much, but they didn’t even know the questions to ask to get those answers out of him.

  Krav spoke first, and he got straight to the point. “So then… are we going to kill Jackmaw Yapyap or what?”

  “Kill him and then what?” Shi-Toh asked. “He’s a symptom of your culture. You’re governed by warlords and ruled by violence. What hope do your people have? Another Jackmaw will rise to power… and I fear I’m looking at him.”

  All eyes in the tent looked at Krav. Nala in particular felt convinced by Shi-Toh’s words. She had seen him do things that only a raider warlord would do in her worst nightmares. Greenblatt and Ulrich scoffed, but the other Pit Lords had remembered the boy from the Pit. They remembered how he was able to survive something designed to kill him, and the brutal way he killed Douglas Grave.

  There was truth in those words. Not enough to turn his allies on him, but enough to stir their doubts. Krav licked his teeth and spat on Shi-Toh’s chest. “After I kill him and free Lenny, we’re going to go back to our old way of life. We’re going to travel the valley trading fortunes for food. We’re going to do right by Rufus.”

  But even as he said the words, he felt like they were lies. How was he supposed to return to that life now? He was more than a bodyguard, and Lenny had to be more than a sage by now. Jackmaw Yapyap and the Gordo clan had forced them to ascend beyond their capabilities, and to go back to that wouldn’t be so simple. Still, he persisted in hopes that one day he and Lenny could get so high, they could sit around a tent and talk to Rufus all day long.

  As if he could read Krav’s mind, Shi-Toh turned and stared at him with his one good eye. “Your life isn’t that simple anymore. Even if you kill Jackmaw, you’ll have Gordo assassins after you. Kill them all, and word will get out that there’s someone in the valley capable of wiping out entire clans. Raiders will be trying to recruit you, trying to kill you. You’re destined to shed blood for the rest of your miserable life.”

  “It’ll be worth it to have Lenny back,” Krav growled. He loomed over Shi-Toh with madness in his eyes.

  “You don’t understand. I’ve spent time with your brother; he wouldn’t survive such an onslaught for long. He’s safer with Jackmaw.”

  Krav slammed his axe into the table and Shi-Toh shrank into himself. Ulrich snatched the boy by his arms and Greenblatt aided the Pit Lord in subduing him. The others in the tent stayed back.

  “We can’t kill him yet!” Greenblatt cried.

  Crazed eyes barreled into Shi-Toh and metal teeth glistened with saliva. He fought against the strong arms that held him back, spitting venom as they tried to drag him away. “He’s not! He’s not safer with that scab head! I’m going to tear his veins out with my teeth! I’m going to rip his head off of his spine!”

  Ulrich gave one great heave and pulled the boy away from the table. Greenblatt grabbed his axe, and the two of them were able to get him out of the tent. The Pit Lord tossed him to the earthy soil outside, and he tumbled to his knees. As he stood back up, Ulrich slapped him hard in the chest. It wasn’t meant to do any damage, but it knocked the wind from Krav’s lungs and left him sputtering for air on the floor.

  “I’m sorry,” Ulrich said. “But I can’t let you rage on like this. We’re all here to help you, and you’re messing it up!”

  “Let me…” Krav coughed, “Let me kill him.”

  Greenblatt knelt next to the boy and rubbed his back while he tried to get a hold of himself. “I know your pain, Krav. But there are things in this world we can’t change. He’ll get his due in time. I’ll make sure of it. Listen to Ulrich. We are all here to help you out.”

  After everything they had been through, it was hard not to trust him. As his collapsed lungs slowly restored themselves, Krav breathed deeply and tried to sort out his racing brain. The budding crystals behind his eyes tried to convince him to kill Shi-Toh, but he calmed himself with the help of his friend. When Greenblatt finally handed him his axe back, he did something unexpected. The boy hugged him.

  Greenblatt stood stunned for a moment, and then he wrapped his hands around Krav’s shoulders and squeezed. It was a gesture neither of them had felt in quite some time, he realized. The warlord of Kiva Noon had been on their journey from the beginning; he had been the only one of Krav’s companions to meet Rufus and Lenny. If anyone had the honor of embracing Krav in a time like this, it was him.

  “Don’t worry,” he said. “I’ve already hatched a plan I think you might like. If I can trust you to not use it yet, I managed to craft you something. I’d like to show you.”

  Krav nodded, and the Black Thumb led him away. Ulrich watched them for a time, and his heart swelled for better days. He watched their backs, and he was reminded of Talin the Great. The warlord of the Pit Lords had given him a second chance at life. Back then, he was just a lost child, like Krav was. It was Talin who restored his faith. Ulrich smiled, then returned to the tent.

  Shi-Toh looked at him, and his mood turned. The feathered man started chuckling to himself, then he asked, “Where did he learn that insult? Who taught him to say scab head?”

  “I’m not sure. He’s been saying it ever since I met him.”

  “There’s only one other man in this whole world I’ve met who calls people scab heads.”

  The tent filled with Shi-Toh’s maddened laughter, and Ulrich resisted the urge to beat his face until it was a pulp. He gave the order to Boris, and he put the heavy shield back onto his chest. That was enough out of him for the day.

  Footfall. Lenny had read signs that this was the town’s name once. He would have been marveling at the buildings of the past if it weren’t for his mood. Their ancestors had managed to create some wonderful architecture that wasn’t recreated anywhere in the valley. It put their tents and wooden shacks to shame. To a primitive mind like Lenny, it looked like they carved their buildings out of solid stone. With the mask on, and intoxicants pumping through the tank, he touched the wall and saw its composition.

  It wasn’t carved from any sort of rock. The people who built this place had ground up stone, then mixed it together with water and clay, then rebuilt the stone to their needs. It seemed like a foolish process to Lenny, but he couldn’t argue with the results. The ancestors were strange people, he thought. For a moment, he forgot Krav and Rufus were dead.

  When he turned, he saw the town of Footfall before the formation of the twin suns. Outside one of the blown-out windows, he saw a bustling settlement like a paradise. The people here were clean, and they wore strange clothes that weren’t made of anything you could scrounge up in the valley. They rode large vehicles that floated just above the floor and glided along paved streets.

  Some of the buildings were taverns, one was a medical clinic, another a trading post. What could have caused them to give all of this up? The prosperity he saw was enough to pang his heart. Why did Lenny have to live in a world where men like Jackmaw Yapyap were allowed to exist? Was it really fate? Was it Really destiny? Or was it the choices made by people long dead, who didn’t have to deal with the consequences of their actions?

  It sickened him. Maybe that’s all life was. Maybe the winds of fate didn’t bend to Jackmaw, maybe he simply had the strength to grasp them in his hands and break them. If that was all it took, then Lenny wanted to do something about it. Surely there was a choice he could make to ensure that a hundred years from now, people like Jackmaw Yapyap would never hurt anyone again.

  As he thought about what he could do, he stared out the window. The streets of days gone were calming, and they helped him piece together his plan. But someone was walking in the road who didn’t belong. It was that girl, Mac. She wandered into the clinic building and disappeared behind its doors. When Lenny pulled the mask off, he saw Footfall for what it really was, a decaying ruin. He followed the girl.

  In the clinic, he found her unloading her satchel onto a dust covered desk. She had a lot of goodies, most of it drugs Rufus had always promised to let him try. He crept up behind her and asked, “What are you doing?”

  Mac jumped and turned. When she saw who it was, the look of shock faded from her face. “I was cooking something up for Jackmaw and the clan. Want to help?”

  “Honestly, only if it’s going to poison them into an agonizing death.”

  “It won’t be pleasant,” she admitted. “Death isn’t what I want though. Death is too easy.”

  That got Lenny’s attention. He joined her at the desk and looked over her supplies. She had a large quantity of needles, some of the clan’s signal flares, and a pile of strange mushrooms. Lenny was no chemist, but he had an idea what she was trying to produce.