Engines of Obsession: Chapter 8

Chapter 8: Cautionary Tale

Saying "We'll leave tomorrow morning." with so much determination sounded really great, Turner reflected. Unfortunately, in practice it was a lot harder to get moving that early.

First, the salvage from the machine had to be sectioned off and divided up. Turner was surprised at how much there was, even if they ended up with less than half the total weight of it. That much bronze and brass was worth a lot of money, even if it were just melted down for scrap.

Tarnlow had insisted that Turner and company be there when the search of Henley's workshop completed. While that didn't take long, it was a further delay that put them well into evening, because of all the other tasks that had to be done.

Lord Gantston had also wished to speak to them, mostly concerning how to transport everything, and what their plans were. Turner didn't really mind that, because the man had offered to take the scrap off their hands and give them a note of credit instead. While Turner was sure they could have gotten a lot more money selling it themselves, this eliminated the need to find a way to carry it all back to Sparston.

By the time Turner and the others had planned their route, it was bedtime for almost everyone. This meant that the next morning had to be spent resupplying and preparing for the trip. It was nice to have some actual cash on hand for once, but a town this size couldn't replace Turner's bullets. That would have to wait until they arrived at Sparston again.

So once again, the four freelancers were on the road later than Turner would have liked. This time, no friendly farmer offered a ride. Every hand was needed to make up for the lost manpower, and to try salvaging the fields where the battle had torn up the land. It had been a potato crop, which was fortunate - potatoes were hardy, tough crops. It would still be a frantic rush to get everything ready for harvest, though.

It was already midday by the time the last lumpy wall-remnant of Hodgeworth vanished behind the group. They weren't stopping. Turner had counted on a late start, so he'd had everyone fill up on a hearty breakfast, and now the group was breaking out trail mix, bread, cheese, and other snacks to eat on the move.

It wasn't ideal, yet not a one complained. The events of the two nights ago had settled in on everyone's mind, and no one was in a hurry to dally or make light of the situation. They all felt Turner's urgency... but only now had they started to wonder about it.

Turner had glimpsed the Wellright brothers speaking quietly from where they lagged behind. Here on the road, before the forest, Turner saw no need for scouting, so Milo and Martin had some time to themselves.

Surprisingly, it was Martin who ended up approaching Turner and Nora. Mostly Turner... Nora was more like Turner's shadow, to most people. It was a perceptive person who thought her anything more, before she spoke.

"So um, Turner," Martin's high-pitched voice broke in. "Me and my brother have been talking. We know you said this had to be taken care of but uh... we're heading to Sparston. Can't some other group take care of it? It isn't... it isn't like you to do something like this." He swallowed, before finishing the thought. "Something this dangerous, I mean."

Turner didn't turn to look at Martin. He walked on, only seeing the stocky hunter in his peripheral vision, and continued to nibble on a small stick of cheese he'd sliced from the provisions. It was several moments of silence that answered Martin, before Turner finally replied.

"Martin," he started. "Why did you and Milo decide to go freelance? I know your father passed away, but why join me and Nora?" Answering a question with a question wasn't Turner's style, so he added for clarity, "I need to know you can understand my reasons before I try to explain."

Milo wasn't far behind, and Martin, while he had asked, still didn't like to talk. So Milo took a few hurried steps to catch up and take over. "We already told you some of it," he reminded.

"Yeah," Turner agreed. "Your father was a hunter, but he died. You were looking for work and something different, because your village didn't need you any more." It wasn't like Turner had never asked anything about his companions, but he wasn't willing to share his secrets. He let others have their own. That's why he never pressed and let actions speak for them.

Milo and Martin exchanged a glance before Milo sighed. "Not just a hunter. That's what he did for fun, I think." He gestured to his brother. "Mom died having Martin, but dad... he was always something more than just another villager. Retired soldier, he said, but he wouldn't ever talk about it. I think he wasn't just an infantryman though. He knew a lot. Taught us how to read and write, and never really wanted for money."

Martin did have something to say there. "We weren't rich," the younger brother clarified. "But the house was solid, and you've seen the rifle." He paused, kicking a stone off the still-muddied side of the road. "I think he spent most of it getting the house and stuff, but I'd bet he had a pretty big pension."

A nod from Milo agreed, but then the lanky hunter picked up the story again. "Anyway, that's just how we learned to shoot, and read, and all that. It isn't why we're out here." He took a swig from his canteen and sighed, silent for a time. Turner didn't prompt him. He could tell Milo was putting his thoughts together.

"We were up the hill when it happened," Milo said, starting with a sudden and vague sentence that didn't just catch Turner's attention. Nora's head tilted, though she didn't say anything, just giving the subtle hint Turner knew. She was listening.

More absorbed in trying to convey his story, Milo didn't react. "Dad was letting us try some practice with the rifle. Fifty rounds, that's it. You know how expensive ammo is." Milo inhaled, and Turner heard the hitch in his breath. "We sort of saw it happen. Sort of. The river... it was pretty swollen already, from the rain. People were prepared for a flood if it started raining again, or upstream. So when it got sluggish and we heard the rumbling, everyone started heading uphill."

Turner frowned, but it was Nora who actually spoke. "It wasn't just a flood, was it? Something more toxic?" she asked, eyes now looking more at Milo than the road. Turner knew she was an excellent listener, yet she rarely let on that she was paying attention. With how she was staring now, even Milo couldn't miss the focus in her eyes.

Milo shook his head, "No... no it wasn't." He took a deep breath. "At first, the river did surge a little. Not much, just enough to tell something was happening. Then it... it didn't burst through the valley like a flash flood. It sort of... tumbled through. Crawled, even. Not water, but a thick grey sludge, almost black in places."

No more questions were asked as Milo continued. "It was slow," he explained. "Slow, but... heavy I guess. Relentless. It was like a flood that crashed through the valley in slow motion. Anything close to the river collapsed, even stone walls. Just crumpled like rotten wood. Up higher, it wasn't as heavy. There, it tore down fences, posts, anything wooden... but buildings survived, at least. But it didn't matter. Not after what came next."

Nora spoke again at last, in a soft yet serious tone. "Poison."

Milo nodded. "It passed after a few days. Just slowly draining away. We tried to move on, but the ground was caked with greyish-black. Even turning it multiple times, it looked off. We'd gotten a lot of the harvest already, but the village had to rely on us through the winter."

Martin finally interjected, "We still wouldn't have made it through, except some died."

It was a sobering thought, and Milo nodded in agreement. "Yeah... a bunch of the villagers could tell the water in most of the wells was fouled. They tried boiling and then straining it, then boiling it again. It still tasted off. They started vomiting. The shakes. Then they died a few days later."

Turner nodded, as did Nora, before Turner asked, "And... your father was one of them?" His tone trying to be gentle, though the young man felt rather awkward at the moment. Turner was not the best at being delicate or comforting, and he knew it.

Milo smiled with genuine, if strained amusement. "Nah. Thank the Pale Lovers, he was taken in a less horrible way. Died almost instantly. Boar while hunting that winter. We got the boar. It fed the entire village for a couple weeks, but after that it was up to us." His smile faded. "We wouldn't have hunted it if we weren't desperate. So I guess, in a way, the Black Tide did kill him."

"We're lucky it was winter by then," Martin interrupted. "Milo is trying to tell you how awful it was, but he missed the smell. That sludge smelled of rot and... something. Bad eggs and burning. And it lingered after. Not as strong, but the earth, the stone... even the water, before it was boiled and cleaned as much as we could. Everything smelled off after that."

Milo nodded. "We all weathered the winter, but come spring... everything was still poison. People were leaving. The village just... wasn't going to last." He nodded toward Sparston, the direction the group was walking. "Most migrated to other villages. We headed for Sparston, trying to set up there. Turns out, even just selling in the city is rough if you don't know anyone. So we decided to go for the odd jobs. Nobody would hire us for that, either."

He inclined his head toward Turner and Nora. "You two know the rest. We're here because we ran out of options. We could go be hunters in the forest, or in another village, but... one day we really want to find out what that stuff was. Why it happened to us. It wasn't natural."

It was a sobering story. Yet Turner had a question that nagged at him. "Did you ever find out what caused it? Did you want to find out?"

Milo and Martin exchanged a glance before Milo spoke again. "Yes... but also no? We're... worried. And even if we did, we weren't sure you would be willing to pursue that. You were so careful, up until now, that you wouldn't take any job with too many unknowns. Martin and I were thinking we'd hang with you and learn a few things before asking. Then if you said no, uh... break off on our own."

Despite Milo's hesitation, Turner waved off the reluctant admission. "Relax, plenty have done that before. I've heard I'm too cautious plenty of times." He nods to the north. "But this? Finding out more information is how we can decide if something is safe or not. I... probably wouldn't have jumped on the idea until we had more money on hand. Like now. But I don't want to lose the trail on this thing, if we pick it up again."

Milo's nod showed agreement, but also a frown. "And... you didn't answer my question. Why are you so quick to leap after this thing's owner? You saw what that thing did. Most people would be running the other way. Especially you. Uh, no offense."

Turner's expression hardened, and Nora gave Milo a sympathetic, thin smile before walking on ahead. This left Turner to explain his own reasons. A wave of emotions passed over his face, before he sighed. "Since you two are coming along, I should try to explain some of it."

Once again, Turner made a gesture northward. "Like I've said a few times, I was born up north, in a small village. Then I was orphaned. Thing is, the entire village was wiped out. Not a natural disaster or even a raid... something - or things - just rampaged through and killed everyone. The whole village. Mom shoved me into a half-finished cellar, hid the door, but..."

He trailed off, skipping some of the tale to get to the important parts. "I wasn't found for three days. By then I was almost dead. Couldn't even see straight." Turner glanced at the two brothers, giving them a tired smile - the kind that never reached the eyes. "Adventurers found me. Not 'Lancers like us, but actual adventurers wandering the lands and exploring, solving problems because they could. They were led by a woman named Elina Vale."

Milo and Martin halted, then stumbled as they hurried to catch up to Turner and Nora, whose stride hadn't faltered. Martin squeaked, "As in Vale's Sentry? As in the Vale? Do you know what happened to her?"

The shake of Turner's head gave Martin the answer. "No more than anyone else. I was still in the orphanage when she vanished. I only saw her three times after she dropped me off there, but it was her and her friends who nursed me back to health on the way there. I have a suspicion, though."

Turner jerked his thumb back toward Hodgeworth. "I never saw who or what murdered my village, but I know they had blades. So at first I didn't really think there was a connection. Vale wasn't just wandering around 'doing stuff' like people think, though. I was with her for a few weeks, and even though I was pretty young, I remember it clearly. They'd passed through my village hunting someone. And they hadn't seemed surprised by the death left behind."

The two brothers exchanged a look, and Milo cleared his throat. "You think it might be related to that... thing?" An obvious question, but one that still had some incredulity in the tone.

Again, Turner shrugged. "Maybe. I don't know what they were chasing, but... Vale was a lot like me. In the weeks I was with them, I never once saw her make a move unless she was sure she and all her companions could handle it." He glanced back at the brothers with a chuckle. "I know she has a reputation for leaping into danger, but she was really more like me. Everything planned."

Then Turner's face took on a more somber expression, the smile fading. "Except when she was chasing whatever it was. Whomever. She visited me just before she disappeared, you know. And I heard her mention an airship. She had technology like that ready to go, but when she saw me she... she said it might be the last time. She knew the western wilds were dangerous, but I think she found something."

He let out a long sigh, then glanced back at the other two. "It may not be the same thing. It's a pretty long shot, but maybe not that long. That... thing was dangerous, but imagine if there were a dozen of them? Where are they coming from? What could be so bad that she'd give up her caution? What could be strong enough to take her and her friends out, without any survivors?"

Turner grunted in frustration. "I left the orphanage two years later. I've been looking ever since. I want to survive so I can find a real clue, and this? This is the closest I've gotten to anything strange enough to be even a hint. Everyone wants to know what happened to Vale's Sentry because she was a hero. But for me, she was my hero. I owe her my life."

Milo and Martin walked on in silence for a few minutes, absorbing that. Turner knew he'd thrown them a story that took a while to digest. Elina Vale was almost a folk tale at this point. Even the two village boys had heard of her. He doubted they'd ever met someone bold enough to claim they had known her.

Milo broke the silence with a call toward Nora, who was now several yards ahead. "Graves! Did you know all this? Are you okay with it?" It was a clumsy attempt to get Nora to open up like Turner had. Even Turner could see that.

Nora's reply was quiet, thanks to the short distance, but firm. "I go where Turner goes," she explained without hesitation. She'd said the same thing many times before, which doubtless annoyed the brothers. Only this time, after a few more steps, she halted and turned about. The blonde leaned against her walking staff, looking back toward the trio catching up with her now.

"Aside from that," Nora added in a firm tone. "I've never felt anything more wrong than what was in that thing. I know Turner doesn't like to think about real magic, but I believe in my feelings. This task may walk us right into the embrace of the Pale Lovers, but I have to do it. That thing? Something about it was wrong. I felt it. Grana Thess felt it."

Nora turned around and resumed walking forward, letting the others catch up.

"It was evil. Real, unambiguous evil."