Dark Sanity
Chapter Twelve

The Way to Allay

During the following weeks, Gunthrel taught Flint how to use the mechanical armor that he and his fellow guards had been using for decades. Flint eventually discovered that they never needed the life-support system—it was simply used for purifying air so they could breath as though they weren’t wearing armor. In time, Flint fully understood the machinery in Soalace and was able to help build power suits and flamethrowers for the steamwalkers.

The flamethrower was, without a doubt, the most powerful weapon available when using a power suit. However, it would be equally dangerous for him and the guards of Soalace to use it should they come into contact with hordes of lurkens. Flint knew that they needed long-range weapons too. So he convinced Gunthrel to start manufacturing soal-based bullets, titanium rifles, pump-action shotguns, and double-action magnums. They weren’t just getting ready for a fight—they were getting ready for a war.

As soon as two magnums were constructed in the engineering sector, Flint grabbed them and spun them with delight.

“Those are a bit too small for my power suit’s hands,” said Gunthrel.

“Don’t worry, I made these for myself,” replied Flint. “The shotguns and rifles will be perfect for you and the others.”

With the exception of one shotgun and rifle, which were custom designed for Flint, every weapon made in the engineering sector was triple their size. The steamwalkers inside their power suits were thrilled to have these new weapons. Now they had ranged firepower and didn’t have to worry about using flamethrowers unless a few lurkens would evade their shots. And with Flint teaching them how to use these guns, they became marksmen.

In time, Flint assisted Gunthrel and the others in constructing firearms instead of simply instructing them on how to craft them. It helped him keep his mind calm. And while he worked beside Gunthrel, he told him about his life back in Desonas, as well as his experience within the dreamtime. Gunthrel could hardly believe Flint’s tales, especially about how he’d been betrayed, but he knew that Flint was telling the truth. Flint earned a great deal of respect while he helped the steamwalkers manufacture weapons and bullets.

After another week, Gunthrel made a special power suit for Flint. It was essentially the same design as the other armors, except it was tinted black.

“Do you like it?” he asked.

“I think it’s incredible,” said Flint. “But, to be honest, I wouldn’t be much of a gunslinger if I wasn’t on foot. Rest assured, there will come a time when I’ll use it. But for now I’m going to play cowboy like my days in Desonas.”

“Sounds fun,” said Gunthrel.

Flint had been wearing overalls most of the time since working in the Core; however, now that he was a part of Soalace’s military, he felt it was time to wear something that suited him. He took the tattered clothes he’d worn when he first arrived at Soalace and decided to ask Darla, one of the many tailors in the city, if she could help him patch up his clothes.

Fortunately for him, many people in Soalace admired him because of all the things they’d heard about him ranging from being Heart of the Core to the military mastermind against the lurkens. Darla was one of them. He used a platform that brought him near Pardashan’s throne room and found her shop nestled into the granite. Flint removed his old cowboy clothes from a knapsack while he entered her store.

“Why hello there, Flint,” said Darla, an extremely pale lady with blonde hair.

“I’m sorry to bother you, Darla,” he began, “but could you fix my clothes? They’re a bit old and damaged.”

“I could try,” she said, taking a look at the clothing on her counter. “Here in Soalace we don’t have too much leather. But I’ll scrap up what I can find and will try to fix it, unless you don’t mind me crafting a new one with other materials?”

“Do whatever you’d like,” he said, unconcerned. “I’d just be happy to wear something like this again.”

“All right, I’ll do my best.”

“Thanks a lot, Darla,” he said. “I owe you one.”

She waved a hand and replied, “With you getting ready to kill all those lurkens? No, you don’t owe me anything.”

Flint smiled, bowed, and exited her shop, returning to the dark abyss to continue crafting weapons. And within a few days, Darla visited him in the engineering sector, proudly presenting the refurbished cowboy garments to him.

“This is unbelievable,” he said, astonished.

“I’m so happy you like it,” she said. “Just make sure you kill plenty of those lurkens with it on.”

“Believe me, I will.”

He went straight to his bedchamber and put the clothing on. Afterwards, he attached his holster and bandolier, filling them with soal bullets. Lastly, he holstered his titanium magnums. He didn’t have his hat, but this was good enough. Flint looked slightly older, and he could feel it in his bones. Though, just as he’d told Pardashan, he still had a few more years left in him.

Flint was ready to decimate the lurkens. He knew that this was the path he had to take in order to get his life back—the life that had been stolen from him by the tribunal. Flint thought to himself, setting things right and bringing justice to those who had abused the law, as well as the sanctity of life, was his final objective. But to do so, he had to first help the steamwalkers get back their territory where myriad rich veins of titanium lay. This was the only way to allay his soul, he eventually concluded—the way to getting his old life back; only then would he be able to return to the realm of space.

And so the time had finally come to embark on his journey into the molten chasm. He traveled to the dock where dozens of steamships were suspended, vibrating. Pardashan stood on the summit of the city, watching groups of armored men board their hovering vessels. Among the cadre of hunters was Flint who had Gunthrel and four others beside him. Once they were aboard, they turned and gazed up at their leader.

“Brothers,” began Pardashan, “we’ve lived in Soalace since birth, as our ancestors before us. This great city has given us solace. And it has enriched our souls with soal. But the lurkens threaten our magnificent city. They swarm throughout the entire underworld and plague our once thriving undertunnels that stretch to every continent in the world. Just a few weeks ago we didn’t have the courage to leave and take back what is rightfully ours. But one man changed our path. One man—a surface dweller, an under dweller, and an offworlder—changed our destiny. His name is Flint Cross. And today he fights beside us. Today we fight for the same freedom that he fights for! Today we begin the eradication of the lurkens!”

There were many cheers and praises.

When the army grew silent, Pardashan called out, “Flint, do you have any suggestions before we embark?”

“I am honored you seek my advice,” said Flint. “I suggest we stay close to one another and in the light. When or if we enter dark tunnels where there is no light, use the flares in your armored suits. Shoot every lurken with your ranged weapons unless they manage to get within melee range, which I think would be a good time to use your flamethrowers.”

Some of the men laughed, sensing humor from him.

“That is all,” added Flint.

“Then it is time,” said Pardashan.

He stepped into his mechanical power suit, which attached to his skin and sealed once he sat inside, and then stomped onto a steamship. The militia cheered as he activated his steamship, being the first to leave Soalace’s dock. Shortly after, the army followed him. Earth’s chasm lit up as though the sun was rising inside while the steamships glided through the undertunnels. It was the first time in centuries since the army of Soalace had gathered together like this.

Flint had never been a part of their underground expeditions; he was astounded and truly inspired by the sight of so many ships united. Even though this hadn’t originally been his war, it reminded him of the insurrection he ignited in space decades ago, and it made him yearn to leave even more.

“One step at a time,” he whispered to himself, taking a deep breath.

It wasn’t long until he and the army passed Soalace’s boundaries. The colorful lava lamps were no longer around. Now they had to rely on the light coming from their steamships, guns, and armor. They still had decent vision, but it was disturbing for most of them to enter places in the undertunnels that had no light since it was a reminder that the lurkens had taken over these areas and drained the energy inside. Flint spotted slime dripping along the granite, causing him to grimace.

Suddenly, an ear-piercing chant of hisses and growls filled the cavernous undertunnels. It was as though thousands of lurkens had been waiting for them, hiding within the shadows. They pounced toward the steamships from the jagged ceiling and walls. Several armored men winced; though most of them aimed their rifles and fired.

“They’re everywhere!” bellowed Gunthrel, shooting at the creatures.

“All the better,” said Flint, blowing them away with his magnums.

Flint reloaded and continuously blasted every lurken he saw with one hundred percent accuracy, as though he were an automaton. He was even more accurate than the armored men, and they had sensors and extra lighting built into their mechanical suits to help. Flint holstered one of his magnums, steering the steamship while shooting lurkens with his other gun.

A few lurkens boarded the hovering vessels. The armored men, however, burned them to ashes with their flamethrowers. Innumerable flickers went off as fire and bullets dispersed. The steam produced by the vessels created a dense haze. Fortunately for Flint and his comrades, by the time it clouded their vision, the remaining lurkens withdrew. Once the hisses and growls faded, the militia cheered.

“This is only the beginning,” said Pardashan. “Be proud, but do not let this small victory blind you with arrogance. Stay alert.”

“What next?” asked Gunthrel.

“The molten chasm is upon us,” said Pardashan. “I think it’s time for us to split into two groups.”

“Are you sure?” asked Flint.

“Trust me, Flint,” said Pardashan. “I know these undertunnels better than anyone. When we reach the molten chasm the path will become much more narrower, making it difficult to fly all of these steamships through.”

“Which groups will stay, my Lord?” asked one of the steamwalkers.

“Those who are above shall follow me,” said Pardashan. “The rest of you who are lower will land on the ridges and enter the undertunnels on foot.”

“A ground and air assault?” said Flint. “I like it.”

“Flint,” called out Pardashan. “You shall be the one to lead the ground force. As always, be careful.”

Flint nodded.

“Let’s move out!” commanded Pardashan.

The vessels hovering near the ceiling continued to fly ahead. In the meantime, Flint and his army descended toward the lower ridges. Once they landed and docked their steamships by the jutting cliffs, they disembarked and stomped onto the cracked ground. Most of them started using their flamethrowers, burning away the dense cocoons and oozy slime that clung along the walls.

Moments like this made Flint wish he were using the power suit Gunthrel had made for him. He nevertheless loved being free, relying on his own body. This time he had his shotgun out. It wasn’t long before he and his men heard hisses again. The steamwalkers fired into the darkness using their heavy rifles. Fortunately for Flint, the armored men were so tall that he didn’t have to worry about them accidently shooting him. He also fired, manually pumping his shotgun while each shell dispersed into the slimy lurkens.

Despite how many lurkens were being blown away, dozens upon dozens of them kept coming out from the shadows. At times Gunthrel and his fellow steamwalkers had to use their flamethrowers when the fiends got closer than they wanted them to be. Flint eventually ran out of shotgun shells and lifted his rifle whose sling was around his chest. With his rifle he was able to shoot down many more lurkens.

Flint and his militia pressed on, sporadically firing at the few beasts that mindlessly approached. They eventually passed the molten chasm and entered a dark tunnel on the right, reaching an ancient subway. In fact, after walking through the tunnel for a mile, Flint saw a rundown steam train.

“I didn’t know you use trains,” said Flint.

“Used,” said Gunthrel. “When the lurkens spread, they ruined most of the tracks with their slime. Then they took over the subway system our ancestors had built.”

“We’ve got company!” shouted one of the steamwalkers, firing his rifle.

Hundreds of lurkens sprang out from the shattered windows and unsealed doors of the decrepit train. The militia launched flares and fire at the fiends. Flint climbed to the top of the train and shot them from high ground; the flares made it much easier for him to see. He jumped from car to car, firing his magnums. One of the fiends approached him from behind, ready to bite his neck. Gunthrel, however, spotted the creature and shot it down.

“Watch your back!”

“I’ll try,” he said to Gunthrel, startled. “Thanks.”

Flint turned back to the front, reloaded, and continued to jump from car to car. He and his army pressed on, letting their flares guide them.

“Damn, this train is long,” said Flint to himself. He eventually noticed massive amounts of slime on the next car and cursed under his breath. Flint jumped down, rolled to the side, and shot at the train. “These bastards make everything their home.”

“They have no conscience,” said Gunthrel.

Flint and Gunthrel blasted the remaining lurkens side by side while the rest of the army spread apart, launching more flares. They eventually reached a part of the darkened tunnel that had collapsed. They had no choice but to climb atop the train. Flint decided to go inside. It was spacious, and he was excited to explore it; however, he quickly became disinterested due to the cocoons inside, so he exited and joined his comrades above.

“If only we could use one of these trains to travel faster,” said Flint.

“It would be safe and efficient if all the lurkens were gone,” said Gunthrel. “Sadly, that is not the case. But perhaps one day.”

Flint nodded, liking that idea.

Once they passed the area of the tunnel that had collapsed, they jumped back down. The steamwalkers then launched another set of flares and cautiously searched the tunnel. More hisses and growls filled their ears. They spotted some of the lurkens hiding in the corners and fired at them. A huge sinkhole lay in the center area where they were fighting. Flint gasped at the sight of it. Just when he thought he’d reached the deepest region in Earth, there was still yet another chasm.

Flint reloaded his magnums and continued to blast every lurken in sight. He was starting to feel drained but pressed on. The slimy fiends were relentless. They wouldn’t stop coming, and they showed little fear. Luckily for Flint and his army, the lurkens weren’t too smart.

“Will they ever retreat?” asked one of the steamwalkers.

“They don’t know the meaning of retreat,” said Gunthrel.

“Too bad,” said Flint, blasting them with ease. “I’ll do this all day if I must. I won’t stop until they’re gone, or until I’m dead.”

Gunthrel laughed and replied, “That won’t happen.”

“Why is that?” asked Flint, still firing.

“Because you’re the Heart of the Core.”

Flint smirked. “You always know how to motivate someone,” he said.

“It’s a gift,” said Gunthrel, blowing a creature’s face off with his bulky shotgun. “Watch out for the sinkhole!”

“I spotted it already,” said Flint.

The others, who didn’t know yet, observed and noticed the sinkhole. They launched more flares, this time toward the sides so they wouldn’t fall into the central chasm. For the most part, they were easily defeating the lurkens with their ranged weapons. Only a few armored men were wounded due to the acid that a few fiends had managed to spew on them before getting burned to ashes.

After passing the abysmal sinkhole, they left the subway in the undertunnels and walked over to a precipice. As soon as Flint and the others approached the cliff, they spotted the second army of men who were on their steamships. Pardashan flew his vessel down to where Flint and Gunthrel stood.

“Excellent work,” said Pardashan.

“Thank you, my Lord,” said Gunthrel.

“Where to next?” asked Flint.

“Follow the ridges,” said Pardashan. “You may need to climb a little, but there should be another tunnel ahead.”

Flint and the other steamwalkers complied, following the narrow trail along the ridges of the dark chasm. And, as Pardashan had assumed, they had to climb since parts of the trail were severely damaged. When they started to climb, however, they heard more hisses. Another horde of lurkens pounced out from various holes nestled into the jagged walls of granite and scuttled toward the steamwalkers.

“Obliterate them!” commanded Pardashan.

The army on the steamships aimed their rifles and fired at the lurkens. Some of the men climbing held on to tiny ledges while shooting with their other hand. Flint was among them, using his magnum. He blasted six lurkens with one gun, holstered it, and continued to climb. Shortly after, he used his other hand to hold on to the granite, pulled out his second magnum, and shot down another six fiends.

“I’m on a roll,” he said, grinning.

“How many did you get in total?” inquired Gunthrel. “A hundred, two hundred, or maybe three?”

“Shit, I don’t know,” said Flint, climbing beside him.

“Ah,” uttered Gunthrel with amusement. “Well, you’d know if you used the power suit I made for you.”

Flint chuckled, reaching a place to stand. “How many did you get?” he asked.

“Six hundred and fifty-one.”

Just as Flint whistled, another horde of lurkens pounced out of the tunnel ahead. Gunthrel used his flamethrower, setting them on fire. The creatures screeched and fell.

“Six hundred and fifty-nine.”

“Yeah, yeah,” said Flint, rolling his eyes. “Keep bragging.”

Gunthrel laughed and continued to shoot the remaining creatures with Flint. By the time the others reached the top, the lurkens in the area were dead. This time Pardashan and his forces docked their steamships by the cliff where Flint’s militia stood and joined them as one army.

“We shall rest here for the remainder of the day,” said Pardashan. “Provisions are on our vessels. Take them only when needed. Gunthrel, assign your best men to form three squadrons to patrol the perimeter in shifts while the others rest.”

Gunthrel obeyed, beginning to gather a watch group.

In the meantime, Pardashan went on, “We have finally begun to taste victory! Get some rest, eat when hungry, and remain steadfast!”

The militia listened to Pardashan. The three squadrons Gunthrel had formed took turns patrolling the areas. They took lamps from the ships and placed them around the perimeter and occasionally launched flares farther away to make sure no lurkens were prowling about. But no creatures attacked them. This was a miracle to Flint and the steamwalkers. They were expecting multiple surprise attacks, and yet they had several hours to recuperate.

On the following day, they shut off their lamps and moved out. Pardashan led the army into the tunnel ahead. Upon entering the next section of the undertunnels, they noticed that it was completely covered in slime. They couldn’t even see the walls. Only parts of the ground hinted a base of granite since it was jagged.

Flint stared at the sight and gulped heavily. The slime was so thick that it made him feel as if he were stepping into the nasal passage of a gargantuan beast. But he knew that wasn’t the case, it simply appeared that way.

“Do not be frightened,” said Pardashan. “This is telling us that we’re getting closer to the second city.”

“How much titanium is in there?” asked Flint.

“Enough to build a thousand vessels,” said Pardashan. “But beware, Flint, the old city is where the sentient lurkens dwell. And I assure you, they will not give up their territory without a fight. Nonetheless we shall prevail. Men, ignite the undertunnels!”

Over the next few days, the army blew fire on the thick slime until they could see their precious granite. Afterwards, they pressed forward and repeated Pardashan’s strategy. As they drew deeper and closer to the ancient kingdom, lurkens emerged again to defend their lair. The steamwalkers, unyielding, obliterated the horde.

Flint and his comrades experienced several battles each day. Fortunately for them, hardly any men were lost. They rested when needed and then continued their expedition. Flint thought the city was only a few days away based on what Pardashan had said before. On the contrary, it ended up being more than a week’s worth of traveling through the undertunnels. He wondered to himself, perhaps it was only a few days away if they’d been using the train he had found before? Nevertheless, he held himself together and fought with as much passion and determination as the steamwalkers.

And at long last, after two weeks’ time had passed, they reached a cavernous tunnel that showed them the entrance to a primordial city. The steamwalkers launched another set of flares, approaching with caution.

“This is it,” said Pardashan, “the elder kingdom of Allay.” He gazed up at the colossal gates with an emotional expression and added in a frail whisper, “You shall finally be at peace, Clarienus.” His face soon returned to its usual stern look. “Bring out the crates. We need all of the remaining ammunition, flares, and lamps at our disposal.”

The steamwalkers who had crates attached to their armored backs swiftly spread out and laid the crates down. Others burned the slime that surrounded the city’s entrance. As they did so, however, an ear-piercing chorus of hisses and growls rang behind the oozy, stony walls. The militia reloaded with haste and saw the largest horde of lurkens arise from the gates. Flint felt distraught for the first time since the war had begun. Not wavering, he took out his rifle and targeted the fiends.

“This is the alpha and omega of our war!” shouted Pardashan. “We stand together in the chasm of death, and we shall give it life once more!”

The steamwalkers cheered and fired at the swarming lurkens who scuttled toward them with blind rage. Myriad flashes of light flickered as guns went off. Screeches and screams filled the cavernous lair. Flint and Gunthrel, as usual, fought side by side. This time Pardashan joined them. Only a few of them died. The horde of lurkens fell, but then another swarm emerged.

“Is there no end to them?” asked one of the steamwalkers.

“They will keep coming!” replied Pardashan. “Nevertheless, we will keep pushing until they either become extinct or withdraw into the deeper regions of the undertunnels!”

One of the fiends suddenly crept up from Pardashan’s flank and spewed acid on him. He blasted the lurken with a shotgun shell and gasped in great pain as parts of his gauntlet and skin melted.

“My Lord!” cried out Gunthrel.

He, Flint, and several others rushed to aid their leader.

“I’m still alive,” said Pardashan, rasping through his tinted helmet. “Press on and show these beasts no mercy!”

Gunthrel roared and charged forward, ramming himself into one of the stony gates. The strength of his attack caused a part of the gate to crack. Others followed his spontaneous tactic, charging toward the gates. They repeatedly slammed their armored fists into the walls until the entrance collapsed.

The army launched their remaining flares and infiltrated the infested city. Most of them fired from long range while others blew flame on the slimy walls and ceiling, disgusted by the sight of slime. The raging inferno soon spread, causing cocoons and several hidden lurkens to catch fire. In due time, the entire city was lit up like a furnace.

Flint ran along one of the many bridges and stopped at its crest, firing at several lurkens that were climbing from the sides. While shooting, he recalled his experience in Panzo Mine. He gawked at the architecture and had a terrible feeling that Brock and Bas had probably begun to accidently dig into this region. There were no other areas in the undertunnels that had the same architecture as this within Panzo Mine. And he remembered seeing veins of titanium. Flint felt queasy and shook his head, trying to stay focused. He reloaded his magnums and continued to fire.

The hisses and growls soon faded. Pardashan and his men cheered while they walked across the bridges.

“I doubt any of the platforms still work,” said Pardashan. “The city may have water, but it has fallen asleep without soal. It is time to climb down to the Core and awaken our long lost kingdom.”

With the exception of Flint, the steamwalkers jammed their fists into the granite and climbed down. Gunthrel, however, approached him and playfully cleared his throat.

“Care to join me?”

“I would be delighted,” said Flint.

He climbed onto the armored back of Gunthrel who then descended to the abyss. Only a few lurkens attempted to attack them. Flint swiftly blew them away using one of his magnums while hanging on Gunthrel’s pauldron. They soon saw the ground and leaped off the old wall, landing on slimy grating. Oddly, this area wasn’t as infested with slime as the other areas. The militia nevertheless remained vigilant, entering the inactive Core.

Flint gazed at the chamber in awe. Without a doubt, it was twice the size of the Core in Soalace, and it was the biggest lair he’d ever entered in the undertunnels. The silence inside the chamber gave him a creepy chill.

“I have a bad feeling about this,” he said.

“Relax,” said Gunthrel. “It seems safe here.”

The lights embedded in the jagged walls abruptly dimmed on, and steam filled the once lifeless chamber. Many of the militia stepped back, hearing a deafening screech. At that exact moment, a pale green-skinned humanoid woman emerged from a plinth. She raised her hands while hissing and thousands of slimy lurkens peeked out of holes in the granite. The armored men lost their morale, realizing how vastly outnumbered they were.

Pointing his magnum at the sentient lurken, Flint shouted, “Draw them away or I’ll put a bullet of soal in your skull!”

“Put your weapon down!” exclaimed Pardashan, removing his armor.

“What?” replied Flint, startled.

“She’s my sister,” said Pardashan. Sᴇaʀᴄh thᴇ Find ɴøᴠel.nᴇt website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

Flint felt his heart sink. His eyes widened in disbelief, utterly baffled. He slowly lowered his weapon, taking a deep breath.

“I know you can hear me, Clarienus,” called out Pardashan. He dropped his weapon and cautiously walked over to the pale green woman. “It’s me, your elder brother. We didn’t come to harm you.”

Clarienus stooped to a hunch while she sniffed Pardashan, faintly growling. The hordes of lurkens stayed slightly hidden but still hissed at the remaining army.

“Can someone please explain what the hell is going on?”

“Flint,” began Pardashan, “I want you to keep your mouth shut until I resolve this.” He stared at his sister and continued, “You still remember me, don’t you? We are not here to harm you, Clarienus.”

Gazing upon him with teary eyes, she growled ferociously.

Pardashan went on, “I know you feel I’ve abandoned you, but I am back.” He showed his frail palms, surrendering. “Please—”

She abruptly swung one of her claw-shaped hands against Pardashan’s face, gashing his left cheek deeply. Flint instantaneously lifted his magnum. Gunthrel, however, lowered Flint’s hand, shaking his head at him.

“We are not here to harm you,” said Pardashan, kneeling. “Please believe in me as you always have and command the lurkens to leave this place.”

Clarienus stared at her pitiful brother, crying and roaring in anguish. Shortly after, she hissed and waved her arms as though she were performing a ritual. Little by little, the lurkens jittered back into the holes. Their sadistic growls faded, and then they were gone.

“Now!” yelled Pardashan.

Gunthrel targeted Clarienus and shot a tranquilizer dart into her neck. She screeched in pain, staggered, and fell to the slimy floor, unconscious. Pardashan gently lifted his sister and rejoined his army. Not a moment later, the steamwalkers burned whatever slime remained on the steam engines and grating.

Flint, meanwhile, gazed at the armored men with a crazed look. “Can someone please explain what the hell this is all about?”

“Do you think soal always existed?” said Pardashan. “Soal was once no different than the metamorphic rocks deep within Earth.” He gently laid his sister down and put his damaged suit of armor back on. “When our ancestors abandoned the surface and created the undertunnels, they knew that they’d need a new source of power to live. And in most cases with science, to get what you want, you must play with fire.”

Flint began, “Are you insinuating that the first time you created soal, it was—”

“Poisonous,” finished Pardashan. “It mutated our ancestors. Though most of us remained sentient, others lost their humanity and rapidly turned into lurkens. Not all of them, however, are monsters.”

“Like your sister?”

Pardashan nodded, lifting Clarienus and placing her over his shoulder. “One day, in our ignorance, toxic soal was produced in this city,” he said. “We had to evacuate. Being the ruler of this city, my sister felt that it was her, as you put it, duty, to stay until her people evacuated. She was foolish—altruistic like you. I believed she’d leave; however, she…she never did.”

“So, you’re going to take her back to Soalace?” assumed Flint, staring at Clarienus with a crazy look on his face. “And why didn’t you tell me any of this before?”

“This isn’t your war, Flint Cross,” said Pardashan. “While you may have chosen to stay and help us, you entered a realm that you’re mostly ignorant of. And I’m positive that we’ll be just as ignorant when we reach yours.”

“My realm,” muttered Flint, almost forgetting about the sole reason he’d been helping the steamwalkers. “Yes, I suppose you’re right.”

“But don’t think for a second that I’ll be as selfless as you,” said Pardashan. “The war you started is yours alone. My people will be led to paradise, as you promised. You’ll get what you want—returning to space. From then on, you are on your own.”

“So, you’re really going to do it?”

“What’s this?” replied Pardashan, shaking his head. “You’ve been here for three years and still haven’t realized that I honor my covenants?”

Flint barely understood what was going on, especially after learning that the mutants he’d been killing were once human. Upon realizing Pardashan was a man of his word, however, he let everything go. Instead he gave a faint nod, grinning. Pardashan was as much an honorable man as he. Flint became full of life. This was, without a doubt, the path to regain his freedom. He’d helped fight a war that was never his just to taste freedom again, and now he was ready to face his own war.

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