Chapter 32: He’s Known As Turk

He rode in at dawn on a black day, and I knew he had come, but I kept still on our bed. As the air between the belly of Turk's destrier and the fated ground reverberated with clouds of dust, I pressed my lips close to the nape of Eris's neck. She slept feebly, her lungs too wasted to draw satisfying breaths. I'd known for too long how her inner body would betray her without the resources of Haven. When Turk and I spoke on the hills above our mausoleum, he asked me of the city's fall, and I told him all I could of the meeting in the conflux, of Caduceus and Nashandra, of Tarion and his pompous wife, and of Matias and the old tarrasque. I told him of all the mentors and masters I had from the day he left me at Haven's door, even the elder urchins who showed me the art of thievery. But at all times my mind was on my love, my sweet, dying love.

Please forgive me. This is hard. I will tell you of the vagabond prince and his war for redemption, but you will need to bear with me. I lost everything when I lost Eris, and no spade could pierce the crust that grew over her bones. But I will try to speak more of her life than of her death. She was alive when Turk came, though she was quickly growing weak. She slept, shallow breaths whistling faster than the beats of her heart, and I leaned close and looked at her in the soft light of our lantern, losing myself in the lattice of minute lines in her skin, each caressed by her thin and wispy black hair, white and clear at its roots. I exhaled a little too strongly and she stirred, then looked at me and smiled. Her eyes barely opened, but she knew I was fawning over her and she kissed me, reaching for my lips, landing on my chin. I returned the kiss and held it, then pulled our blanket over her cold shoulders and rose.

Turk smiled broadly when he saw me. Though his hair and beard had begun to frost, his bronze eyes were mean and bright as ever, like mine, only the hue of the exemplary Sun. We hugged as strong men do; brothers and comrades, fathers and sons, knights errant in service to a common queen. But I would liken us rather to convicts who survived the same cruel warden. I saw him dismounting on the gradual slopes that swung northward over the outskirts of former Haven. Along the coastline, a serpent of rock gouged deep into the earth, its ridge forming the spine of those long slopes. We stood near that ridge, looking out over the black ocean that stretched on eternal until it blended with the black sky. There was a deep gurgling sound from the massive docks beneath the water. What the conquistadors who ravaged Haven were doing in the dark below was a mystery to me.

It triggered memories of my arrival from the continent, a time that I avoid because of the panic it induces, being that I can remember no more than a few faded images painted on a wall that rises higher than I could ever climb. Looking back on those days could be likened to waking up inside a coffin and pounding on the inside of the lid, with no one outside to hear your screams or fists begging for light and air. Looking back on those days is feel for red red red red red blue and deep deep exotic purple bruise on me, touching you, can't feel me, can't feel through... this... immortal, this immortal dream, this immortal darkness, this immortal regret, this immortal lie, this immortal wound, this immortal apology, this immortal thievery, this thievery, this thievery, this thievery THEY STOLE IT! they stole it. I was stolen. I belonged to a mother, came from a father, came from a thousand fathers' grandfathers, came from the dust, came from the stars, came from a home where people sat in chairs to eat dinner and discuss the minutiae they endured every day as if it were significant, little precious moments claimed to be the stuff life was made of, never mind achieving anything meaningful just pay the levies and heed the warnings and tread carefully lest you be ostracized and don't you dare NO don't you dare drop the party line, tow it, tow it, TOW IT! Is it any wonder they abandoned us to a slow grave that crept up from ..., --- (0:00 AION STEP ENTRY LOG) beneath us to consume us like a sludge !ON like a slug !POTS I can't tsum peek gnisaelereleasing they left us and we're scum in the eyes of those Devils but did they have to strike at the womb? The womb! Millimons of years of uninterrupted motherhood, fathers prowling on the outskirts, the true evolution, not the longer antennae to feel more vibrations in the air and why are there still climbers then but the father staying close without eating his children... eating his children... eating his children... without eating his children, instead being a dad and making a family with a mom if Gaia is the mother, if Ouranos is the father, then is Tarthas the uncle, is Tarthas the grandmother, is Tarthas the man the father would slaughter but he cannot without recourse so he refrains while the man stares through the slightly parted curtains at the mother who dances with the mop and broom, promising with bewitchment to a path transcending root and sapling and oh how hard was the fall, how hard was the fall, no, tarthas is the house, tarthas is the house after our parents fornicated, adulterers, so overburdened by the bounty of their lust to seek a quiet place in another's home, wrecking the delicate balances there, and how did the other father and the other mother come to know you shot a tenacious missile that weft and waft and swerve brought scorching across a foreign sky after eons of tread-of-light's-foot and come racing hungry, ravenous, a tiger who slept its way into Raksha's den and put a spear into the little frog's hand, so that when the red flower bloomed our surface would be shattered by their falling sky, us victims of their vengeance them heroes of your hunger and wethey a blot on a red inked ledger... how hard was the fall, sinners all, to laden mother so a'bursting from her womb and all a' clambering for food she didna had, and we have runoft dad, in the days of Saturn's joy we ignored devious Set, who was our prince, and in dark caves he and Inanna conspired, rise the Devils and the technomage, and the ennui rose, and saurian and winged battle and prophet and sage and bibble and babble, so came the rabble, Anpiel is not a tyfloch goddess but she's the closest thing we got and something's telling me she ain't a thing of folklore but she's REAL and I think I hear the ringing of bells in the market square and we all come to their to be fair, and the carnies are their and you and I are there and there ain't nobody but the Turk's crew followed him, circling around me, likely ensuring I was alone. He rode his destrier straight as a spear, rearing it to a fine halt that framed him against the orange stain in the sky. We spoke briefly, testing the water, and it was warm as the sapphire shores of Elvedon's cream colored beaches. We embraced, spoke joyful words, and after meeting his crew (a few of whom I vaguely remembered), we spoke of deep truths.

His kindness to Eris was almost overwhelming. He instantly knew her exact sickness, and when we told of our foraging among the surface ruins for blankets, clothing, light and food, he was perplexed by the absence of medicines.

"I heard rumors they were being made less accessible to lazarets on the surface," Turk said, "but I had dismissed such rumors, thinking the Board above such inhuman exploitation."

"He never said it openly," my love then said to Turk, "but my father made many compromises in his later days, serving clients he had scorned in years passed.He hinted at many things that raised my suspicions."

"He may very well have served such men and women to curry favor, so that you might receive your treatment."

I took Eris's hand. She squeezed mine tightly and looked up to me, a smile that I could understand on her lips. Then she offered its purpose.

"My father told me I could trust the Lion of Elvedon," and she turned to Turk. "Aren't you him? Dark of skin, bright of eye, many of my walk called you the Warrior of the Sun."

"Who was your father, dear?".

Turk speaks with a cadence I admire. Brevity with grace, power with restraint, threat with promise. Hearing him speak bears the aspect of being comforted by a fist. Even Eris seemed captivated and confused, and responded to him in a tone that was eager, yet held back at the last moment.

"Matias, the cobbler."

Turk nodded knowingly then, and I could see in his eyes the subtle shifts that are hidden to most not born of the Batch. I saw movement in Belial's eyes, and I know he saw movement in mine, and whenever I spoke with Lord V in person, it almost felt like looking into a mirror. And Turk, well, his were somewhat strange to me. Though I could see them shifting, he could feign a different feeling than he would later reveal. I imagined that in a healthy sky, the moon and Sun would have a similar discourse.

"I don't know your father, dear girl, but I've encountered your mother."

"Recently?". Her hand coiled around mine like a milk snake. It loosened when Turk shook his head.

"It was some time ago. I don't know how this will impact you, but she never took another man. Know that she left for a cause, not for a lack of love."

There are times when a man gives to a woman what he perceives she will want, not detecting the nuance of need between lovers. I assumed Eris would want another tight squeeze of the hand, or an arm over her shoulder, but she rejected both. I think, looking back now, that she wanted me to remain there, unmoving, trusting her to have the strength to bear the loss of both her parents, and the reminder of her father's heartache.

It took some doing to convince Turk to let us feed him and his band. We had a small surplus from the city's stores, and had been living adequately on our daily fungus harvests. Eris ground a bowl of mushroom caps and boiled them into a sauce to dip rice crisps into, and I grilled flank steaks cut off a nighthound I shot on one of our strolls. We ate above ground, Turk's crew eating and patrolling in shifts. This is when I met the angel Abdiel.

He flew in low, begrudgingly, having spied out the land for a wide berth around us. He landed in a huff, and it was a while before he acknowledged Turk's efforts to draw information out of him. For an instant I saw nothing special in this tyfloch, until it dawned on me, and Eris as well, that he was wonderfully clear of any rot. His face, long, dog-like snout and big black eyes with thin ear slits, was smooth-fleshed and clear. His neck, long and thick, rising out of prominent trapezius muscles, was tawny and clean. His arms were sleeved in armored fabrics, but his gloves were half fingered and his fingers too were healthy. And his wings! Oh, his wings. Uncovered, brilliantly plumed, deep to light hues ranging from grey to blue to green, like the beaming of the moon through the rocky veil at night.

I spoke to him, and he said nothing until he'd spoken to Turk, and had then been commanded to thank us for our hospitality. Eris liked him. She smiled at his rudeness and lack of deference towards Turk. I was curious to see if his attitude brought merit along with it. Turk's others were less striking, but still impressive. A massive tarrasquin who seemed somehow familiar, a pair of lucien twins, each beautiful and deadly, an antagarthan who looked far more likely to make martyrs than to be one, and two human men with glowing pupils that indicated bodily adjustments.

The fire was bright, and somehow the sky seemed glad for it. There was a grayness to the air, and even the high ceiling beneath the stars. The mists and fogs that often clouded vast stretches of midheaven were clear, and I could see flying beasts soaring slowly overhead. Another nighthound crested a ridge on the borders of the necropolis, sniffed at our cookfire, then fled when it saw Turk's saurian partner. The conversation revolved mostly around the fall of Haven, and Turk expressed misgivings over the riots that ruined the city from within.

"I expect something far worse took place," he said in between bites. He and his crew were intelligent enough to chew quietly, which I and Eris both appreciated.

"What could it have been?" my love asked.

"We suspect Lord V has made a play," said one of the lucien sisters.

"And would Thirty-Third Day gain by Haven's destruction?".

Turk shrugged, then dipped a rice cake in Eris's sauce. "I don't think it was Vi," Turk said. His followers all looked at him with surprise. Abdiel was at a distance on watch, but as his ears were healthy, he heard, even far as he was. A healthy tyfloch is a fine friend, and a baleful foe.

"This take is new," said the lucien who spoke before.

Turk shrugged again as he swallowed. The man ate slowly, savoring each bite, while the others wolfed their food down. It made Eris happy to see our cooking well received, but I was happy for Turk's measured behaviour.

"On our approach, we saw no signs of travel." His reasoning was plain and undeniable.

"Might they have invaded by water?" asked the tarrasque. I remember struggling to remember his name.

Turk looked to me. "The submersible dock is a large entrance," I said, "but heavily guarded."

Turk nodded approvingly. "Vi would lose too many fighters in the assault on the dock to take over the city quickly. Had he come, he would have come over land, and enlisted Belial's help."

"Belial's dead," I said.

Turk seemed oddly sad. He told his crew to eat more slowly before replying to my comment. "The targs needed to be put down, even if they kept invaders at bay. Belial tried to focus their animal nature inward for the good of Haven's surface dwellers. But he was very old, and very tired."

I felt a sudden urge for answers. "I was taken captive," I said, "and brought before Belial. He had eyes like ours."

"Like ours?" Turk responded quickly. "Or like yours?".

"He was of the Batch. I could tell, somehow."

The Batch. If I could explain this thing, I would. I suspect that you have heard the term, and as our minds abhor gaps in knowledge, you might have formed a picture of what it might mean completely disparate from mine. Perhaps your guess might help after all, it is difficult to see the picture when you are in the frame.

After we ate, Aja and Medea, the lucien sisters, tended to Eris, administering a panacea that eased her pain and bolstered her stamina. Abdiel and the saurian patrolled while the others built partitions around our mausoleum to hang camouflage drapings from. Turk and I spoke atop a hill overlooking the necropolis.

"Did you speak with Belial?", he asked, his tone uncharacteristically soft.

I shook my head and took in a deep breath. The gentle breezes coming up the hills carried smokey vapors that reminded me of Caduceus's cooking. "He tried to smash me to pieces. Then I was put in a cell with my commanding officer. He activated a kamikaze satchel. I woke in what looked like a bedchamber, though I was bound to the bed as if I were in another cell."

"Did you speak with Belial?"

I looked at Turk. We had been looking over the field of graves; contained within an ancient wooden wall broken by rusted bronze gates and pocked stone towers. Now we looked at each other, staring into even more desolate warscapes than Tarthas could boast, behind the fires of our hellforged eyes. I hadn't meant to dodge Turk's question, I only wished to linger in conversation with the father I saw so infrequently. That he pushed passed my desire for friendship hurt, but I did not deny him. I could not pick and choose when to admire him for his brevity and focus.

"I had an audience with him, but he spoke only a single word, and I do not believe he spoke it to me."

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"What did he say? How did he sound?"

I shuddered at the memory. "He said the name of his majordomo, and his voice sounded like the death rattle of a mute."

"The name of his steward? You mean the ennui? He spoke to Phanes in an audience with you?"

My stomach tightened when I realised the implications of Turk's impatience. "No. He said the word tau. I assumed that to be the ennui's name."

"What happened next? Tell me all."

I narrowed my eyes, feeling a sudden ire towards Turk. I told him curtly of Belial's rage after the ennui's death, and he pressed me for the details of my escape. When I held back from answering, he put a hand on my shoulder.

"I'm sorry, Victor. I've been afield a long time. Humor me, and then we can speak as friends."

We spoke of the encounter in full, and Turk seemed to know something of the condition of my legs, but said nothing with words on the matter. He laughed at my bucket attack, and commended me for my composure.

"Your lieutenant deserved what you gave him. It's a pisspoor officer who gets his men killed deliberately."

"Eris called you the Lion of Elvedon," I said, when my tale was told. He nodded impatiently. "How does one earn such a title?"

"What do lions do, Victor?".

"They devour."

He nodded again, this time more humbly.

"You have quite the pride."

"You've met the tarrasque, when first you met me. He's become like a son to me, which makes you brothers. Do you ever think back to your days at the labratorium?"

The Dolomite sanctum, where I was raised for a time, is a place to forget. I said as much to Turk. The mad necromancers and warlocks of that place were my fathers, in a way I'm uncomfortable contemplating.

"They cared for you," Turk reminded me, "in their peculiar way. They gave you your finest gifts. I never told you, but I worked with them closely, long ago. They were not always as you remember them."

"I barely remember them at all."

"It was a painful time. But your life has improved. Eris is beautiful. A grim, bony little thing, well suited to you. And she loves you as much as you love her. That much is plain."

"You knew her mother."

Turk's face takes on a certain aspect when he does not relish answering a question. "Somewhat. I contacted her on a matter which I heard you became entangled in. It regarded a crystal to be read by a jinn."

My head swirled. "You..." I couldn't continue the sentence.

"She sent her husband's old friend with the item. That you stumbled upon them as you did was fortuitous."

"You keep well informed." I felt foolish as soon as the words escaped my mouth. Yes, Turk keeps well informed.

"Nothing new. Have you the crystal? I asked a common friend to look after you. Last I heard from him he'd tried to read it himself, but saw nothing. Then I heard that Haven had fallen under its own weight. These are stressful events, my boy. I'm hoping for some relief soon."

"I have the crystal." I wanted it out of my possession, despite my wife's protests.

"Have you activated it? A mausoleum such as yours is likely to house a jinn."

"I saw some macabre images that I did not understand. You're welcome to look at them yourself."

His eyes opened a little wider. "I don't expect I'll see anything. But I'll look with you, if you'll suffer the images again."

"Will you take it from me afterward? I want to be rid of it. Only don't tell Eris. She says her father died protecting it."

I caught a mischievous glint in Turk's golden eye. "I may have another crystal of a similar shape you can replace it with. Does it look like a lotus petal?"

It was an odd question, but I remember he asked with a certain seriousness. It was, I supposed, a petal shaped thing, so I shrugged and nodded. We went down to the mausoleum, where Eris was nearly asleep, the lucien girls holding her hands. She smiled at me, and though she was fatigued she seemed relieved of her pain. I went to our bed and stooped over to kiss her, hearing long, deep breaths coming from her chest. I thanked the lucien girls when she was asleep.

"She is holding onto life with all she has," said Aja. Aja had a softer glow and was more prone to smiling. "The remedy we gave her will have a lasting effect, but she will need an ongoing supply."

I remember both the girls looking to their leader, and he nodded gravely.

"Will you come with us, Victor? We're going down into the city."

I felt a surge of restlessness, but alongside it rose my fear for Eris. I pictured myself in her state, waking alone, a drop of dew in a desert. Eris would take such loneliness hard. There was no way I could leave her.

"My place is by her side."

"There is medicine in the city, Victor. Medicine she needs to live."

I turned to Turk, looking soulfully into his eyes and making sure the lucien sisters had a moment to absorb the meaning of the moment. "Would you bring some back for her?". Turk flashed a glare, then nodded.

Eris then opened her eyes and rose, lifting her torso off the bed and propping herself on her elbows. It had been months since she had the strength even for this simple motion.

"Go with them, Victor," she said.

I asked if she was certain, and she said yes.

"I feel stronger already. I'll be able to take care of myself, and you need to have some fun."

She was not wrong, and though I feared that when we returned to the necropolis, I would find the mausoleum of the nameless family restored to its original purpose, I went.

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