Chapter 44: 53. Wanted

Pak

(Incorporeal)

 

The bell in my ear finally fades, and I hear a familiar call – something between a screech and a growl, distant, but rapidly approaching. Cabbage swoops in as a bird of prey, targeting the human guard’s head. The guard ducks and sprints wildly for the safety of the city gate, leaving his helmet behind. Cabbage adjusts his wings to blunt his sharp dive, then loops in the air for a soft descent, landing beside me with barely a flutter. Somehow, in this strange liminal space, he can see me.

“Mrrrrooooh?”

His eyes shine with worry.

“It’s okay,” I eek out, cut short by a violent coughing fit. Each convulsion sears my bones, but it’s a dry cough, without blood… which would be encouraging, I guess, but I’m not completely convinced that I’m not already dead.

“Mrrrrrrooh.”

I sigh. He’s right. I can imagine there might be pain after death, cruel as that would be, but corpses don’t just disappear. He nudges at my hand, but passes through it. His feathers and fur puff out, ears pressed flat to his head, eyes wide and dilated.

“Mrrroooh?!” he frets with a little hop. My eyes well up.

“I don’t know, buddy. I wish I could explain it. I’m so sorry…” I sputter and gasp for breath, invisible tears streaming down the sides of my head.

“Prrr?” Cabbage chirps meekly, searching my face, eyes darting between me and the weapon. He goes to nuzzle me, but stops short, knowing I can’t be touched. “Prroooh!” he cries. I hate seeing him so afraid.

A tiny vibration shakes the earth.

“You have to go now,” I say through labored breaths. “I’ll call for you when I’m somewhere safe, okay?”

The metallic clang of the guards’ metal boots catches his attention. He snaps his gaze towards the city, then back to me, then lifts himself into the air with a powerful kick, unfurls his wings, and flies away. Before long he is as any other bird, a silhouette in a sun-setting sky.

The human steps into my incorporeal thigh to retrieve his helmet, empty metal and sweaty feet dousing my flesh. Two others flank him: the gold elf from before, and another human, older, hair tied up in a bun, her suit made of leathers, gripping a board and a pen.

“This is where he vanished,” the man says, his voice muffled, like he’s speaking through a pillow. “The citizens who were helping to detain him…”

I laugh, but they don’t seem to hear me.

“…said he pulled a knife, and then stabbed the ground – right there – and he just disappeared, like he was never there in the first place.”

The one in leather scribbles down notes, then stops, tapping her pen against the board.

“And we’re sure he didn’t just… slip away?”

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The man sighs. “Best as I can tell, no. They had him surrounded, so, I can’t imagine anyone would’ve missed that…”

“Didn’t leave any footprints, either,” the shiny elf chimes in.

“It’s pretty rocky out here,” the woman says. “Hard to see footprints in this light.”

“No blood trail, either, though,” the man grumbles.

“Goddammit,” she mutters, rubbing her forehead. “It doesn’t make any sense. You’re telling me he had a weapon the whole time, one that can stab into a bloody rock, and instead of defending himself with it, he just… disappeared? What did they do, beat him into another dimension?”

“H-he was struggling pretty hard,” the man says, scratching his neck. “Violent type. Pretty sure he sliced up a few of them. They had to subdue him, for their own safety. They should all get medals, if you ask me.”

The leather-clad woman sighs. “I’ll get this report sent up. Got to be someone who knows about whatever weird magic this is.” She turns and marches away. The other two follow like eager dogs.

“I heard the Widow did something like this, once.”

“Inform the night shift when they get here,” she say, ignoring the man entirely. “Got to keep everyone on high alert…”

Their voices fade in the distance. I lay here, broken, alone, in a body that does not exist. How long do I have? I force myself upright, inch by agonizing inch. I’ve never been outside the Wall before. The land is flat and bare, and I don’t know how far it stretches out like this. I should have thought this through.

 

Idiot.

 

I wince at the voice, shut my eyes, and shake my head. Ignore it. It isn’t real.

They’ll be looking inside the city, too, but probably not as thoroughly. They think I’m some sort of spy. It wouldn’t make sense for me to go back inside.

I pull the weapon from the ground, so weak I can barely grip the handle, and half-crawl, half-limp back to the gate, praying that whatever mysterious protection or curse this is will last for long enough to secure my passage. The pain muddies my thoughts. I have to find somewhere safe…

Just outside the gate, a shimmer catches my eye. It sticks to the dirt, its crevices, its protrusions, streaking into the city – a path of light painted on the ground. I start to follow it. I have no other leads. It feels as if it was somehow curated just for me.

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