Wasting Little Time
#6 of The World Over
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Holy crap! The next chapter in "The World Over" series!
Yes, that's right, I got off my lazy, university-work doing butt and wrote the next chapter for you all. Please, hold your applause. You can worship me later.
I suppose I should say right now before you start reading, that this kind of chapter is what I like to call, "getting the hell on with the story" because introspection, and overdeveloping characters is a pain in the proverbial butt. If there are some details unclear, good, it means you can make those little things up yourself (less work for me) and if you find yourself in anyway distressed or wanting to beat me for not spelling things out for you, not only can you eat lemons, you can also rest knowing that no one made you read the story in the first place.
Again, in case you've missed it, I've set up a mailing list for the story so that anyone interested in receiving updates about story progress etc can have it sent right into their inbox. If you want to be added, send me an email with something along the lines of "add me" in the title and I'll be sure to do that, as well as send you the previous issue of "The World Over" update.
Thanks for your time, enjoy the sixth chapter.
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Wasting Little Time
That morning was the last moment the trio spent in Vivel, city in the mountains. After what they had experienced, done, felt, and wanted to do, they were all of anxious, annoyed, ashamed and raring to get the hell out.
Sara didn't leave the room, but Miria took Varian into town to market and picked up as much food and supplies that they thought the three of them would need for the trip out of the mountains. Their destination lay to the northwest. Malken was the next city, and lay just outside the mountain range, right between the grassy meadows trailing from the rocky slopes and the sandy desert. Sara couldn't wait to see the sand again. Miria's hover should be waiting there for them too, if she was right about that... thing in the engine room.
It wasn't until just before noon that Miria and Varian got back. She had managed to bring his mood up again, and he was smiling. He hardly even remembered the events of the previous night at all it seemed. Though it was the same Varian, it almost seemed like something was inherently different.
"Look at this Sara," he said proudly, holding his cane to her. She realized then. He wasn't walking with a stick anymore. It was a real cane. Polished, blackened, and hand carved. "Miria bought it for me. And there's something special about it too, watch." There was a small button on the end of the handle that when he pressed it, the base slipped off to reveal a long, thin, and perfectly polished sword. The sheath dropped to the floor with a clank, but no one really paid it mind. Then he took a few practice swings and carved the air with it, making stinging sounds as the blade passed perfectly from his head to his toe. "Now all I need is practice!"
He was beaming, Sara realized, and for a moment she was so incredibly happy for him that she cracked a smile too. With that smile though came her feelings, all welled up. During their absence that morning, she had a lot of time to think of what she had done, what she had used him for. She wished beyond comprehension that she could take it back. But she couldn't. In the end she had simply had her way with him, ridden him like nothing more than any other toy she might have stashed at home. She had cried so much while they were gone her eyes hurt, and now she didn't have any tears left.
"Varian sweetie, can I talk to Sara for a moment? Can you wait downstairs? We'll be packed and down in a few minutes."
Varian could read her eyes. He didn't even need to read her thoughts anymore. Sara was on the verge of exploding with grief, and he couldn't help but think that he was the cause of it. He nodded to Miria and left, sheathing his rapier and clicking the cane back into place. He then hobbled off down the stairs, loudly, so that they knew when to start speaking again.
"I know what you're going to say Miria. I don't want to hear it again."
But without any provocation, Miria wrapped her arms around Sara in a tight embrace.
"He's the sweetest little thing I've ever seen Sara. He's like a child again. Five years old, maybe. I can't remember ever seeing anyone so excited in my life. He told me that that little sword was the first gift anyone had ever given him. He said that he couldn't wait until he could show it to you." Her eyes became weepy now, and she struggled to continue. "Think of it. His first gift! And all he wants still concerns you. I... There's no point in me telling you this. But here's what I think. I think that he's trying to be close to you. I think that he wants so desperately to be close to you that he doesn't know what to do anymore. When I asked him about it, he doesn't actually know what to think of last night. He wants to grow up, he said, so that you'll like him. I don't care about what you did last night. But I care about Varian, and do you know what he told me? He searched your feelings last night, during your bout, to find out if you really liked him. He didn't find anything. Damn it Sara. Nothing! He's the greatest little kid I've ever seen and he found nothing. He only wanted..." she sniffled, "He only wanted to know that you like him."
Sara couldn't speak. Despite her terrible amounts of crying earlier, she found that they sprang from her eyes anew. Now it wasn't even about guilt. But out of that sadness came something else. She found that she really did like Varian.
"I'm sorry," she finally squeaked.
There was an audible sigh from Miria, who loosened her grip on Sara's shoulders and let her go. Even then however, Sara didn't look Miria in the eyes. She had a new respect for Miria though, that much was for certain.
It came as a surprise to Miria when Sara asked it, but she had to smile at the simplicity of the question.
"How... old is Varian?" she asked softly.
"He's 19."
"What! That old! He's older than me! But he's so... so..."
"The posters all say he's 15, and that he's human. I know. He showed me. But he tells me that even though he can't remember any of his past, he's sure that he's 19."
"But... what--"
Miria pressed a finger to Sara's mouth then to hush her. "You'll just have to find out from him. I won't say any more." Then Miria leaned over, kissed Sara's forehead and began to pack.
Sara too packed up quickly. Food, water, blankets, all inside a backpack. Sometimes she amazed herself. As they closed the door to the room, Sara turned and looked at the giant lioness. Somehow she had evolved too. From would-be rapist with a fetish of being full, to a mother figure. She was glad Miria had come along. And as the door shut, clicked to place, Sara smiled, because she was really happy to be travelling again. Miria smiled to inwardly as well. She was just glad to help.
And so they left. The hard feelings were gone. Varian kept showing off the great sword and the sheath it came in, the craftsmanship, skill and time and effort, and pointed out the flawlessness of the blade. He didn't even bring last night up once, and for some reason, Sara didn't think about it either.
Over the next few days the three of them kept a steady pace over the mountains. Varian made good speed, all things considered, with his new cane, though he still had to be carried when climbing the rocky terrain. He insisted though that he could manage just fine on every other path. He did too. He outdid the expectations of both Sara and Miria in that respect. He seemed tireless, an inexhaustible supply of energy and exuberance. Though when they lay down to sleep each night, he was asleep before Miria could give him a little goodnight kiss.
He was so peaceful when he slept lately, thought Sara. And her nightmares had gone as well. She didn't know why, they just didn't come back anymore. Perhaps the war was over? Each day she found herself more and more attracted to Varian's boyish charm. He was so like a child lately that she wondered if he had ever had a past, if he was simply a child in an adult body. Because he didn't remember anything from back more than a few months when he was rescued, she didn't rule out the possibility.
And there was still his telepathy.
He had become stronger as of late. Sometimes when he sat alone for a moment, for whatever reason, he would faze out, completely and utterly leave the mortal plane for a moment, as if by some intrinsic force, his soul was torn from his body, transported elsewhere, leaving his body empty.
On one such occasion, Sara found him sitting by a slow moving stream off their path with his leg in the water. Beside him was a pile of fish, dead, by then, and he was staring off into space with a blank stare, as yet another fish was removed from the water and piled atop the old ones. When she approached another step, Varian jutted awake and looked around, unaware of the pile of fish beside him.
When Sara had told him what she had seen, he said that he didn't even remember coming to the stream at all, much less fish without a hook, bit, or even string.
When the event was relayed to Miria, she simply had to take it at face value. She still wasn't sure what to believe about psychic powers.
It had been 10 days. They crested a large mountain, larger than all the other ones prior, and then looked out. From where they stood they could see a town, Malken, at the base of the mountain, long strips of green fields and at the end, near the horizon, glossy gold sand, glistening in the fading light.
They would make it to Malken by sunset. "Thank goodness!" Miria had cried on the run down the slope.
Behind the town she could see her hover, just out of reach of the rocks. And it looked like it had made the trip easily.
Varian had started walking down the slope second, after Miria began to bolt at her fastest pace. Sara was last, and caught up with Varian.
"Varian?" she said quietly.
He could sense what she was going to say, but allowed her to say it anyway.
"Hmm?"
"I'm sorry for what I did to you in Vivel. I didn't mean to... to trample you like that. I never would have done it if I thought you'd be hurt by it." She didn't even have to finish explaining.
Varian turned to her with a smile so great she could help but feel uplifted and cheered. Then he turned away and laughed his way down the hill to follow Miria's example.
She wasn't quite sure what that meant, but she felt strangely cured by it. He didn't even have to say anything. Just that look. And his eye. The blandness of it. The cold greyness and vast emptiness. Somehow she could see more than that. There was some profound happiness in his eye that day, and she didn't mind that he didn't give her an answer. She liked that he could smile. She liked his smile.
She followed soon after.
They found a cheerful inn that night, and the keeper even gave them a room for half price because they told the grand story of their adventures together over dinner that kept the whole place entertained for hours afterwards. Varian didn't add his perspective however, for fear that people would find out his secret. He had the distinct feeling that they would not be welcome if his secret were known. It made the story no less entertaining. Miria was an excellent storyteller. At the end, which was the present moment, where she even began pointing out who was looking at her breasts, she received laughs, cheers and applause.
It was a happy evening, and each of them went to sleep content. With full bellies, smiling faces, and pleasant dreams.
In the night however, Varian woke with a start. Sweat poured from his head and for a moment, he felt a tingling sensation in his hands. He looked down and saw skin. Pale, not dark, just pale skin. Where was his fur? What happened?
Varian...
He searched his face, no muzzle, his ears were on the sides of his head, he had lips again, his nose was small and white, not long and black. He felt behind him, his tail was gone, as were the animalistic joints in his legs and feet. He no longer had claws and then he felt something trickling down his face. He felt there, dabbed his finger in the liquid and held it in his vision. Blood! Thick and red, dripping down his face, all over he now realized. It covered him from head to toe. His legs and arms were covered in their old scars and they were fresh, like a dagger had just recently cut them. He felt the hot sting of whiplash on his back. When he sat upright in fear his joints ached with soreness. When he cried the unfamiliar tingle of tears on skin flooded his senses.
Varian...
His tears were hot, stinging on the way out and down and only made it hurt more. The salt got into his wounds; they turned red and bled harder.
Varian...!
What was that voice? Both his eyes were open. He had all his vision back, he could see clearly.
Varian...!
"I'm coming!" he said loudly to the voice, crawling on his hands and knees, smearing blood along his calves and the hard wood floor beneath him.
"Varian!" came the voice again. It wasn't surreal anymore. He could hear it. It was outside! It called again, softer.
"I'm coming! Don't go!" he called.
With the noise of his voice, Miria woke. Her eyes opened and strained to see in the darkness. "Mmm... Varian? What are you--" she stopped and screamed, for what she saw before her was not the Varian she knew, but a human boy, slit all over his body, cut and bleeding everywhere, and crawling for the window.
"Varian! Varian!" softer still.
"Please don't go! Where are you?" he called, rousing Sara as well. She had little difficulty seeing in the dark, and what she perceived was terrifying. It was... Varian! His old self! But that wasn't possible!
"Varian!" called Sara, frightened.
With that he collapsed, as though every ounce of strength was gone from his body. Miria was covering in the corner but Sara came to his side as quickly as she could. He looked as though he was unconscious. There was no real sign of life. But then his hand twitched and he pulled himself up. His hand grasped the windowsill and hoisted his aching body so that he could see outside.
Varian...
He managed to make one glance outside and saw a figure on the horizon. But as he tried to make it out the sun crested the edge of the world and the figure disappeared in a haze of red and gold.
"No!" he yelled, not even sure what he was missing. Unsure of who or what the figure on the horizon was. As a bulbous glow peaked, the figure disappeared and Varian collapsed for real, unconscious. His eyes remained open; his skin disappeared and was replaced with his fur. His form transformed before Sara's eyes and the horrifying process was redone. Thank heavens he wasn't awake for it, because the sickening sounds repeated, making Sara want to vomit.
When it was over, the sun was well over the horizon and the stains of blood on the floor and on Varian had disappeared. Sara turned him onto his back and was petrified with fear at the sight. He was completely oblivious to the world, unconscious, devoid of movement, yet his eye remained open. His one piercing, grey, blank eye remained open to cast its stare upon her. This time though, there was nothing in it to see.
He was not smiling.
"What's going on Sara?" yelled Miria.
"I don't know!" she said quietly, staring at Varian's body.
"You do! Tell me! What's going--"
"I don't know God damn it!"
Miria silenced, and both stares were cast down upon Varian, who seemed to be reaching wakefulness.
"Varian!" cried Sara. "Are you alright?"
"Who was that? Who called me?" he asked softly from his place on the ground.
"What are you talking about? The only one who called you was me, right Miria?"
Miria nodded sheepishly from the corner.
"But there was someone outside. Someone on the horizon. She was calling me."
Sara shushed him, propping his head up on her lap and stroking his hair out of his face.
"There was no one outside Varian. We didn't see anything."
"But... there was someone. A girl," he looked somewhat saddened and Sara couldn't help but feel a little agitated. She stifled her thoughts though, because he looked like the pain of transforming again was still there.
"Are you alright?" she asked, tenderly.
He nodded meekly, really unsure about that point.
"Come on. We'll all feel better with some breakfast," said Sara, picking Varian up from the floor. He was stiff, and winced when she groped him under his arms to hoist him up.
Aside from all his other injuries, his leg seemed to be in a worse condition, as he could barely stand on it even with his cane in hand. This was distressing to him, as he wanted so much to be able to play with the button to release the sword. Buttons have that effect on people. Sara, after a great deal of coaxing, convinced Miria that Varian was safe, and that everything was alright again, that she could come out from the corner. Sara had to wonder though, about how Miria had made it to her age without becoming a withering mass of pulp. Her constitution was sorely lacking, for someone so large anyway.
After a short meal of bread, eggs, fruit, jams and jellies, juice and milk, which was far more than they had eaten in a very long time, they paid for their stay and decided that it was time to leave.
Before that however, Sara wanted to mark down on her map where she had travelled so far. She hadn't done so since she had left her hometown weeks ago.
"Let's see..." she pondered, Varian and Miria hovering over her shoulders to see.
Sara circled Galvest, on the far east side of her continent. That was her hometown, and her starting point. Miria made a mental note of this. Then she drew a line northwest from Galvest to Lesharad, where she had picked up Varian, and then another line travelling west-northwest to Falnas, where they had stayed with the doctor. From there it was due south to Jafnir, where, Varian remembered, he had first realized his abilities in a fight against the locals. He recounted that he didn't like that town. After that Sara drew a line northwest to Beraag, where Miria felt she had to chime in about her sexual experience with Sara, whom cringed at the thought and nearly crumpled the map in her fingers. From Beraag they had travelled south-southwest to the southern mountains and then due south again towards Vivel, upon which none of them commented. Lastly, she drew a line northwest to Malken, and marked down their current position. It would be one more rise northwest, of approximately 12 days to the Port of Girard. From there they would sail across the sea to the next continent, of whose name was not marked on the map.
"That's quite the travels Sara," said Miria, "How long have you been on the road?"
"Well... I'm not sure. I lost count on your hover... I think. Let's see. Ten, 10, 14, 15, 20, and... 8, I think. So...77 days... two months, 16 days... 8 weeks and two days I guess. Give or take."
"Already! A long way! And look, you've crossed nearly the entire continent!" exclaimed Miria.
"Almost. There are a few cities that I'll hit on the way back. They're too far south for me to get to without seeing the other continents first."
"The other two are islands?" asked Varian, looking over the map, clueless.
"Yes. I don't know their names. This is an old map, so even some of the cities aren't named yet, except on our continent."
"What's this one called?" he asked.
"We get the ever-so-creative name Drix," said Sara, who narrowed her eyes sarcastically.
Varian looked as though he expected more, but when none came, he had to ask, "That's it?"
"Yeah, that's it. Stupid isn't it? The creator didn't have a lot of imagination did he? Stupid Xinilef. He must have been drunk."
"Oh come on you two. Name's shmames. Let's get going! I've never been to The Port of Girard before," said Miria, going for the door.
She held the door open for the two of them, thanked the innkeeper again, blew a kiss and then shut the door behind them, marching proudly off to her hover, waiting, in all its monstrous glory, at the edge of town.
They all hopped on, or were hauled on in Varian's case, and were off as soon as the dust was cleaned out of the engine room, which Miria still did not permit the others from viewing.
Sara went to the cargo chamber and stroked her hover again, saying things like "I missed you baby," and "I'll never leave you alone again." The rest made Varian blush, so he hobbled up to the top deck to look out on the horizon, where the sun was beginning its ascent into the sky.
When the hover began its massive engine, the whole thing shuddered to life, shaking Varian enough so that he fell to the floor and was, for a moment, in intense pain as a fiery tingling sensation crawled up his lower body. He winced and grimaced and pulled himself up.
Something was wrong though. He could feel something different on this hover. Like there were too many passengers. He shook it off though, when he recalled the thing in the engine room, powering the mammoth hover.
And so they took off, at a pace that they were unused to with all the walking lately.
Things were looking up again, just like the sun was rising.