Courage

Chapter 1

There were flames. There were so many flames. So much pain... so much anger... my anger.

The night of Sandra’s murder surged into Aerigo’s consciousness the moment Rox passed out in his arms. Sandra’s charred corpse, the stink of burnt flesh, hundreds of voices screaming in the night air--all of it from over 610 years ago, six lifetimes to the average human--it smothered his awareness of the world around him. The campsite and the nearby forest transformed into a burning Drio full of death, panic, and anguish. Rox was now Sandra. Durians ran all around him and the flaming houses. Something was burning the side of his face, too. He didn’t remember that. Not one detail of that night had granted him the mercy of expunging itself from his memory.

It was Roxie’s forehead. The sudden realization made the replay of his memory vanish like a lifting fog. The village of Drio turned back into the surrounding willow forest, lit by a sleepy dawn. A dead campfire lay at his feet, with crude sketches in the dirt, a stick Rox must have used to make them, and the spent poison darts nearby. A canteen lay propped against the log holding him up.

Aerigo placed a hand over Roxie’s forehead, then pushed back stray strands of dark blonde hair and tucked them behind her reddened ear. Gods, her whole face was red and burning up.

Taking Rox in one arm, he retrieved the canteen and opened it. He held it above her forehead and let the water cascade down her face. The liquid slid down her neck, into her hair, and onto Aerigo’s forearm. It felt lukewarm. He took a sip, uncertain if it was just Roxie’s face that had warmed the water so quickly.

He spat on the dirt. It was warm enough to take a bath in.

Aerigo cradled Roxie’s head and shoulders in the crook of one arm, freeing his hand, and used both hands to screw the cap back on as he tried to recall the cooling incantation that Yayu used to create his “fridge.” All he could think of was how hot to the touch Roxie felt.

Something bumped his arm, knocking the canteen from his grip. It plopped on the ground with a sloshing thud, and its cap popped off, spilling its precious contents in a pulsing glug. Aerigo didn’t care about the water; Rox had just rubbed her face.

“Rox?” he called hopefully.

She lowered her hand and squinted. When their gazes met, Aerigo felt a spark of hope. Her beautiful dark brown eyes stared unfocused a moment, and then she fell unconscious, taking his hope with her. All the muscles in her face relaxed and her body went limp.

Aerigo stared, waiting for Rox to move again. But she didn’t. He tried giving her a gentle shake.

Nothing. Her head just settled back in the crux of his arm. He picked up the spilled canteen, splashed her face again, and waited, his heart racing.

Still nothing; just water trickling down her cheeks, making it look as if she were crying.

Aerigo screwed the cap back on, tightly this time, then shook it. It sounded hollow enough for there to be maybe a third left. He needed to search for more, something colder, but there was no time. He gently lay Rox on the ground, swiped up both darts and pocketed them, then collected their packs and the second canteen with painstaking slowness. He willed his limbs to move at the superhuman speed they were capable of, but he felt too stiff, too sore, too spent to move any faster than an old man. Straining to lift his arms above his head, he looped a pack and canteen over each shoulder, noting that the second canteen had no more than a few sips left. Finally, he cradled Rox in both arms. She felt like a dead weight. Few types of poisons were able to affect an Aigis so quickly, and there was nothing Aerigo could do to stop it, much less slow it. This knowledge made it harder to control his mounting panic. All he wanted to do was sit there and cling to Rox while he hoped and waited for someone else to rescue them. Not even Baku could help them right now.

Aerigo willed himself to stand. His calves, hamstrings, and quads burned and begged to stop the strain. He gritted his teeth and pushed the pain aside. The body would keep going as long as the mind willed it to, so long as he had sufficient energy.

Aerigo’s legs gave out and the impact stung his kneecaps. His vision went black with fuzzy colors pulsing to the racing beat of his heart, and his head spun. He leaned back against the log, willing himself to stay conscious. If he passed out, he wouldn’t wake for hours, maybe even a day or more. Roxie’s corpse would be the first thing he would open his eyes to.

Don’t. Pass. Out. Stay. A. Wake
. He mentally chanted a syllable per beat of his pounding heart, breathing in with the first phrase, and out with the second, both lasting a second apiece.
Don’t. Pass. Out. Stay. A. Wake.
The combination of the chant, his heartbeat, and breathing helped draw his attention away from his lightheadedness.

He was dimly aware of Rox slipping in his arms. He curled his fingers around her overheating body and held on tighter.
Stay awake. Stay alive. Save Rox.

Aerigo had no idea whether a few hours or a few seconds had passed by the time his vision returned and he felt able to stand. The time had mattered. But he couldn’t focus on the time lost. He held out a heavily muscled--yet weak--arm, bowed his head and shut his eyes. He focused on the “door” to Kismet and felt an insubstantial doorknob form under his palm. He wrapped imaginary fingers around the knob and braced for the hard part, for he’d released too much power to even stay standing last night. His reluctance to practice using that power had hurt his ability to control it; it utterly drained him every time, and took him days to fully recover. The few hours of sleep he’d gotten might as well have never happened.

The slightest push with his mind caused the door to push back, physically sending him reeling backwards. He fell onto the one-foot-thick log and, under both Aigis’ combined weight, it snapped and splintered as if it were made of crackers. Aigis being bestowed with superhuman strength meant that their muscles were far denser than what Roxie’s home world was used to. That denseness also gave their bodies a certain degree of impermeability, but for some reason those poison darts had no problem burying themselves into Roxie’s hand. That meant the darts must have been specially made for him. For taking down an Aigis. Nexus hadn’t expected him to die in Phailon. He’d expected exactly what Aerigo had done, and planned accordingly.

Aerigo sat up, gasping for breath and still clinging to Rox. He tried mustering the will to get back on his knees, but the harder he tried, the farther he sank backwards, until he fell all the way onto his back. He just felt too tired, too sore, too weak to get back up. There was no magical remedy for an unknown poison slowly consuming the amount of time Rox had left to live. He had no magic or power to ease either of their pain. He was a warrior, not a healer, and he no longer had the strength to get to people who were healers. But if he could just get to Kismet, this day might not turn out to be a repeat of 610 years ago. There just had to be hope left for Rox.

As if in answer to what his heart yearned for, Aerigo felt an energy stir within, something
very
powerful and beyond his ability to control. It felt like enough energy to fuel a whole planet. He knew it’d been there all this time, but he’d never known the energy was that frighteningly immense. Tempted as he was to use this huge sea of energy to save Rox, he formed a mental cage around this new energy and didn’t let it out, couldn’t let it out, fearing a repeat of history. Power could be a good thing, but too much begat disaster. To his surprise, the energy didn’t even test its confines. The power he’d released in Phailon always wanted out. This newer power instead sunk back into his core as quickly as it came. Except for a trace.

That trace of energy passed through his mental cages as if they didn’t even exist. Aerigo felt like he had a second skeleton within him. It brought him upright. He clung to Rox and either he or the energy pulled his legs to him, then shifted his weight and hoisted himself to his feet. He felt compelled to stretch out an arm. He obliged, marveling at how light his arm felt. What
was
this energy? It was... amazing--no! He had to be cautious of it. It was far too much for him to control, and he had too much power to begin with. He mentally relocated the door to Kismet once again, took a deep breath, and pushed as hard as he could.

The door yielded and Aerigo fell shoulder-first onto hot pavement. He’d managed to pivot mid-fall so Rox fell beside him, but she let out a pathetic moan that tore at his heart, paralyzing him with guilt. He hugged her tight as he tried to squeeze out the guilt strangling his heart.
It’s all my fault that she’s in the condition. If I’d just listened to Maharaja, this never would’ve happened.

But then Leviathan would have lost his icon and Phailon would’ve crumbled off the map.

What else could he and Rox have done? Ignore Nexus’ minions destroying Phailon just so he and Rox would survive a little longer? But then why had Maharaja told him to forsake Phailon’s plight? How was he supposed to block out millions of people dying needlessly while he put Rox through her last bit of training? And how could he have turned a deaf ear to Leviathan? All other Aigis were dead, and Leviathan had no way of knowing when he ran out of time to put his army together.

The sensation of having a second skeleton dissolved. Aerigo pushed himself to his knees while holding Rox in one arm, then scooped up her legs and slowly got to his feet. He felt pebbles, dirt and sand clinging to his sweaty arm, back and shoulders. He still had no shirt on, ever since the troll sliced his last one. His vision faded as if he’d stood too fast, but he recovered within several heartbeats and gained a headache. Once he could see, he tried to gauge where exactly on Kismet they were.

Tall city buildings, sky scrapers, paved roads, and an unsettling quietness surrounded them. Hot air that stank of bad water filled his lungs with every breath. It had been centuries since the last time he’d breathed in this foul air. It wasn’t city smog; the whole world’s air had the same polluted quality. He needed to get out of it fast, or the air would kill them both instead. The Kismites, the people who inhabited Kismet, were humans just like the people on Earth, but with more technology. The air was deadly to them as well.

Aerigo forced himself to breathe normally, even though each breath both gave and took a little more life. That wasn’t the worst of his problems. He didn’t have a clue where in Nostrum City he was. Yes, he’d been here before, but that was centuries ago. On top of that, it had been upgraded and expanded upon. Every block looked just as tall and grey as the next. His last grain of hope lay in the fact that there were many hospitals populating Nostrum. All he had to do was find the closest one. He began to walk.

Aerigo navigated the empty sidewalks and tried to block out the pain in his knees and ligaments. He missed the energy that had helped him to his feet back at the campsite, however he refused to try and duplicate the results. He was still standing, and that would have to suffice.

No one else was walking anywhere. Many cars zoomed by in a constant flow, but no one stopped for them. Their vehicles were on auto-pilot and cruising at a hundred miles an hour, far too fast for any passengers to bother peering through their tinted windows.

What time is it?
Aerigo looked skyward. It shone a sickly green between grey and brown clouds. The golden sun beating down on his left side was the only hint of anything healthy in the universe. He gauged it to be about midmorning.

Slowly and unrelentingly, Aerigo put one square of sidewalk after another behind him, stopping at least once a block to lean against the side of a building, catch his breath, and regain his vision. Trudging around in hot, humid, and healthy air was hard enough in his state. Doing the same in Kismet’s toxic air kept him on the brink of his physical and mental limits. He eyed every block of sidewalk with a strong desire to lie down and shut his eyes. His determination to save Rox kept him on his feet.

* * *

After a quarter of an hour, Aerigo’s efforts were rewarded with a helpful street sign. He had only half a mile to reach the nearest hospital. He gained a boost of energy and began walking a little faster, despite the burning stiffness in his legs. The large holographic sign with white letters fill him with hope. A half-mile was nothing.

Aerigo passed under the sign and stopped for a badly needed drink of water. Sliding against the side of a building, he dropped to one knee and propped Rox against his raised leg. She was breathing just as heavily as he, and was just as sweaty. White foam had collected in the crooks of her mouth. Aerigo hesitated between his own need for water and hers. He needed enough sustenance to get her to the hospital, however Rox needed help to survive the trip there. He felt her forehead, then unscrewed the cap and poured the warm liquid over her face until nothing came out. He discarded the canteen on the sidewalk and reached for the other. They wouldn’t be needing the empty one again. If she survived, they’d be going straight to Nexus. Aerigo opened the second canteen and tried to get Rox to drink some water. Her swallow reflex worked a couple of times, but most dribbled back out of her mouth and down her neck. He managed to save a sip for himself and swallowed it gratefully.

Aerigo discarded the second canteen, wiped Roxie’s mouth with a thumb, and held the side of her burning face. She looked beautiful, even on the brink of death. He hugged her head to his chest. “Please pull through for me, Rox,” he whispered.
Don’t let this all be for nothing.
He scooped her up, heaved himself to his feet, and winced at the stiffness in his limbs.