The Infinite Bk. 04 Ch. 10

The bloodthirsty younglings staggered back, screaming as though acid was being poured straight into their sinuses, while the elves tried to cover their noses, and tears streamed down their cheeks. "There is an opening!" Noah said, pointing to a gap in the reptilian ranks. "Now follow me!"

They set off in a desperate sprint, trying to escape the beasts and the stench. They ran through the monster pack and disappeared into the jungle, not stopping until they were far away from the forum. Back beneath the canopy, they arrived at a section of the city set at a slightly lower elevation, leading it to become absorbed by the neighboring swamp. They halted to catch their breath and make sure none of that horrific odor was clinging to them.

"What in the name of the spirits was that?!" Aithorn exclaimed while wiping away tears.

"Ammonia," said Noah, "a colorless gas found abundantly in nature, and extremely caustic and hazardous in its pure form. I came up with the idea when you and the other knights of Uther were using dogs to try and hunt Valia and I down. Anyway, let's keep moving. The smell may have scared those beasts off for now, but they could come after us."

"I don't understand," said Aithorn. "I thought you couldn't use alchemy. You told me you could barely use any spells at all."

"I can use it under rare circumstances. Did you notice the water I created, how you couldn't feel it? That was a very special kind of water from my world, and it took a lot of careful runecrafting to get it right."

Listening to him, Valia sighed. She understood Noah's reluctance to share the true nature of his magic with others, but she never liked watching him lie to people. "Going around this swamp will take too long," she said. "How about we go over it?"

One elf, Orville, clapped his hands together and cast a druid spell, causing a bridge of roots to rise up from under the water, though it was more like a balance beam than an actual bridge. Regardless, they moved across, beginning their hike into the swamp. As they progressed deeper and deeper, the elves continued summoning bridges for the group, keeping them safely out of range of the water. At least, that's what they thought.

It was when their guard was lowered that a cry of anguish was heard, everyone turning their eyes to an elf warrior with a small spear lodged in his eye socket. He fell off the bridge and into the water, where he was seized by grabbing hands and dragged away.

"No!" Aithorn shouted as he drew his bow and tried to kill their newest foe.

They were ponaturi, aquatic goblins that made their homes in both fresh and saltwater. They had similar features to their land-based cousins, each a meter tall with a bipedal, humanoid body, but this race had webbed digits, tadpole tails, bony fins, and gills on the sides of their necks. They also possessed intelligence above that of animals and were adept at using tools and weapons against physically-superior enemies.

"Everyone, move!" Noah shouted as a volley of spears was hurled at them.

They raced further along the bridge while using druidism to extend it, moving from tree to tree as fast as they could. The ponaturi were relentless with their spears, and there was little room to dodge or maneuver. Attempts to retaliate with arrows and magic accomplished little, as the ponaturi could rise to the surface, throw a spear, and disappear within the murky depths in just a fraction of a second. Noah and the team wore cloth armor made of elven silk, capable of stopping arrows and the like, but each landed blow still felt like getting stabbed, and the pain and force of impact could easily ruin one's balance.

One of the elves cursed and jumped high into the air, landing among the branches of a tree. "Up here! We'll move through the canopy!"

The other elves agreed and climbed up into the branches, but Noah, Valia, and Aithorn remained below, trying to fend off the ravenous ponaturi. Though the elves could move effortlessly among the tree branches without ever having to touch the ground, Noah lacked their mobility. Even if they helped him traverse the distance with druidism, he'd just slow them down, and something else would attack them while they were vulnerable. Valia used her steel body to shield Aithorn, while Noah avoided injury with his illusions.

"Lord Aithorn! Lady Valia! Just leave him! We're not shedding more elven blood for a human!" one elf, Torbin, shouted.

"Aithorn, go," Noah ordered.

"I'm not abandoning a comrade."

"I'll catch up, just get in the trees."

"Don't expect me to go with him," said Valia.

"No, I need you to protect me for a minute." After releasing his magic, Noah held out his hand and conjured a hooded grey cloak. As he put it on, Valia circled around him, deflecting spears with masterful strokes of her sword. "Torbin, you're a paladin, right? Try doing something useful and hit me with your strongest spell!"

"I'm not a healer, you fool!"

"Just do it!"

Confused and cursing, Torbin aimed his hands at Noah and fired a beam of holy energy. Noah gritted his teeth as the mana fried him, burning like radiation, but he endured the pain while spears continued bouncing off Valia's sword. Then, without warning, the bridge underneath them snapped as a great behemoth broke free of the water. It was a colossal fish, rising up with its long body and lunging for whatever prey it could catch. Noah and Valia avoided falling into the water, but they were helpless as the fish grabbed Aithorn with its jaws and splashed back down.

"Lord Aithorn!" the elves exclaimed as the fish swam off with its sharp dorsal fins cutting through the water.

"I saw how he went in its mouth. He may still be alive," said Noah, wincing from the lingering pain.

"With enough magic, I can reach him."

"We'll both go." As Valia activated the power of Zodiac, Noah looked to the fleeing fish and focused his mind. 'Come on, you've done this before. Think back to your training and get it right!'

He and Valia then took off, shooting through the air as if flying. Speed, strength, balance; Valia had enhanced them all, landing and leaping off the smallest footholds she could find. Tree roots, stumps, and boulders were all stepping stones, and no matter what angle she landed or how small or slippery the surface, she never fell or even paused. She could dance on the head of a pin with perfect balance.

Even more impressive was Noah. Not only was he leaping like her, but he was also swinging from branches and vines, traveling even faster than if he were to run on regular ground. He fumbled a few times, but his recovery was so fast, it was almost impossible to tell that he'd even made a mistake.

The elves in the trees watched with wide eyes, unable to believe the acrobatics he was pulling off. He had clearly experienced some kind of strength boost, but that wasn't enough to explain his coordination. Every flip, every twist, every landing and dismount--it was incredible. Even the natural grace of the elves paled against what they were seeing, and they realized they couldn't catch up if they wanted to.

Noah and Valia were closing in on the fish, ready to slice it up into sashimi, only for a bolt of lightning to steal their thunder, courtesy of the man they were trying to save. The creature exploded in a visceral burst, leaving Aithorn submerged in the bloody muck. Wielding enhanced strength, Valia pulled him out of the mess with one hand.

"Thanks for... coming back... for me," he panted as mud and fish guts oozed down his face.

"Just promise you won't give us a hug in gratitude," replied Valia as she set him on his feet.

"Hey Aithorn, over here."

Aithorn turned, and Noah took his picture with his phone. "What is that?"

Noah showed him the screen. "Something that'll make Elisandra laugh so hard she'll fall off her throne. At least, I like to imagine it will. Can you move?"

"I think so."

"Good, then let's get out of here."

It was getting late in the day, and everyone was hungry, exhausted, and drenched in sweat, gore, or mud. In Aithorn's case, it was all three. They decided to set up camp in the ruins of a stone house and used druidism to fortify it against any late-night prowlers. A stream was nearby, letting them clean their clothes and bodies, and gathering food was a simple endeavor. As the sun set, the noise of the jungle rose without limit, surpassing the evening ambiance of the Anorvan Forest.

Noah and the elves sat around a campfire in the stone house, eating in silence. He was used to the quiet, as the elves still had not quite warmed up to him yet. The silence was also due to everyone's exhaustion. This journey was both physically and mentally draining. They had to be on their guard without pause, and were already down three team members. Casualties in combat were inevitable, but these elves had known each other for centuries.

"How did you do that?"

The sudden question came from Torbin, the elf who wanted to leave Noah behind.

"Hmm?" Noah grunted, in the middle of pulling flesh off a rib.

"How were you able to save Lord Aithorn?"

"That cloak you saw is something I invented. It converts holy energy into a full-body monk enhancement. I used it to defeat Prince Seraph of Uther."

"Even with such a garment, there is no way you should have been able to move through the swamp like that," said Fourn. "Strength is one thing, but I've never seen agility like that before."

"A lot of it is simply thousands of years of experience piloting a human body. It gives me great hand-eye coordination. It also helps that I've spent a lot of time in space."

"Space? What's that?" Olivia, one of the two healers, asked.

"It is the realm above the sky, where all worlds and stars reside. If you go high enough, higher than any creature can soar, you'll reach an environment devoid of air and gravity. There is no ground, no sky, no up or down, nothing but the earth behind you, and a sea of stars in front of you. Of course, there is still sunlight, but it's severe enough to cook you instantly, while being in the shade will freeze you just as fast, and unless there is something for the light to shine off of, you are in the dark. You're just floating in a black vacuum, reaching infinitely in all directions.

But when you're up there and look down upon the world, you realize how small and fragile it is, how it's supposed to be protected, not fought over. You don't see borders or nations, no groups or races, just a collection of tiny creatures living on a tiny blue marble, fighting over tiny imaginary constructs. Imagine being so high up that you look down on the Anorvan Forest, and it's the size of your thumb. Imagine leaving this world, flying through hundreds of millions of miles of empty darkness, and landing on another planet. I've done it so many times that it's boring."

Everyone was listening intently, caught between fear of the deadly unknown, and intrigue as to what existed beyond the sky.

"But how do you reach space? How do you possibly survive it?"

"Well without magic, we have to use flying metal ships, propelled by fire. To survive outside your ship, you must put on a special airtight suit that encompasses your entire body in thick fabric, and you wear a helmet with a glass visor. On your back, you carry a big metal tank of compressed air to breathe from. If you're out there and your tank runs empty, you die. If your helmet cracks or your suit gets a tear, you die. If you get separated from your ship with nothing to propel yourself or push off, you're doomed to float into oblivion and die.

In order to realistically survive in space, mankind built massive colonies, cities wrapped in steel cocoons. Think of Sylphtoria, and imagine a dome big enough to encompass it completely, and seal it up airtight. That's the kind of scale I'm talking about. Depending on the timeline I was born into, I could spend a lot of time in space.

Moving with super strength, like what you saw earlier, is just like traversing an environment with reduced gravity. You can't just run; you have to move in all directions, pushing off one surface to launch yourself to the next, using your arms even more than you use your legs.

Of course, wherever there are people, there is violence, and space is no exception. I've fought in wars in zero gravity, on the moon, and on planets I wasn't even born on. I joined them because, frankly, they were pretty interesting, and I was bored. That isn't to say it was always fun. Sometimes fighting in space was a real pain.

A long time ago, I was in a lunar war, fighting over mining rights for the moon. The soil was saturated with this very powerful, valuable substance called helium-3. We used it to power everything, from our ships, to our machinery, to our weapons. Understand, these worlds didn't have magic, so it wasn't simply like casting a spell. We had to engineer every solution for every problem.

Anyway, this was the first real conflict in space at the time, so the technology and methodology for fighting were a bit rough around the edges. Warfare in open space is easy; you just fly around in your cozy ship, killing your enemies from a distance. In the lunar wars, there is some gravity and ground to walk on, so we all had to travel on foot a lot of the time, and keep in mind, we were always in clunky space suits. One tear, one crack, empty tank, remember?

Picture a crossbow that loads itself and can launch dozens of bolts in just a few seconds, with the strength to punch through steel. Those were our weapons. Little fighting was done face to face. The casualties were unbelievable, not just because of the fighting, but the constant betrayal. We killed our buddies in the field just to steal their air supply."

This left the elves aghast. The fellowship among elves was one of the most important foundations of their society, not just because of how long relationships lasted, but because their low birthrate meant every death was a great tragedy. For one elf to take the life of another wasn't simply murder, it was a crime against the entire race.

"In the reports, it was referred to as "friendly fire" and "accidental weapon discharge," and it happened a lot, but nobody at the top wanted to acknowledge it. I remember this one guy on my squadron, a good guy, nice guy, who loved to talk about his kids. He had a speech impediment, which made it especially funny when he'd say his daughter's name, Dorothy. He called her 'Dowoty,' and the rest of the squad loved to tease him about it, called him 'Baby Talk.'

So, one day, we're in battle, trying to take a base built into a mountain. We're charging this place on foot, ducking behind boulders and in crevasses while explosions are going off everywhere. Picture the ground as just white sand and rock, utterly devoid of life, and though the sun is shining, the sky overhead is utter blackness. Everything is just white, black, and sterile.

Now, because we're in space and there is no air, there is no sound. We had a way to communicate with each other with our helmets, but the entire ground could be blown sky high, and it would be dead silent. All you can hear are the voices of your guys right next to your ear and your own frantic breath. God, you have no idea how loud you breathe until you're in a space suit. After a while, you even start hearing it in your sleep, and all your nightmares have the sound of your noisy breathing in the background.

At one point, I see Baby Talk zipping through the air--figuratively--like a housefly. His backup tank has been hit and is releasing all its compressed air, which, in reduced gravity, produces a great deal of propulsive force. So he's flying around, arms and legs flailing, hitting the ground over and over, and we can all hear him screaming swears in our helmets with that fucking speech impediment.

When he finally stops, I go over to help him. He has a big crack in his helmet, and he's losing air fast. We all had repair kits for stuff like this, so I helped him patch the leak, but as soon as his suit is stabilized, we both saw that red light in his helmet. It's a warning that both his main and reserve tanks were almost depleted.

It's bad enough if it happens when everything is fine and you can just refill your tank, but when you're in a battle, and everything is chaotic, and you see that red light, then the claustrophobia sets in, and you realize that suit is now your coffin. We called it 'red madness,' because once it hits you, there is nothing you won't do to save your life. It's the kind of fear that erases love, loyalty, everything. The most primal drive.

Next thing I know, he's on top of me, holding up a rock to smash my helmet so he can steal my air. Fortunately, we're on the moon, so it's not like he's sitting on me with much weight, and I manage to push him off, but he's not going to give up. He was originally the nicest guy in the squad, but that guy, Baby Talk, is gone. Now he's just an animal fighting for survival. He's lost his weapon, I still have mine, and I manage to break open his helmet. The blow missed his head, so he didn't die instantly. At least... he doesn't die from my attack.

Dying in space is quite the experience. Baby Talk swelled up like a croaking frog as the vacuum pulled at him from all directions, trying to rip him apart. The blood in his veins vaporized, the sweat on his face boiled, and I could see his skin burning from the cosmic radiation--you don't need to know what that is. Apparently, Baby Talk tried to hold his breath, which led to his lungs bursting from all that air trying to escape. You're supposed to exhale in this situation, because it gives you a few more moments in which maybe someone can save you, but I guess he wanted to die faster.

I remember him moving his mouth in his dying moments. Maybe it was his death rattle, his body spasming from the pain. I always assumed he was trying to say his kids' names one last time. All that came out of his mouth was red sand. Anyway, I certainly couldn't blame him. I'd done the same thing to a few friends when things went south. Death didn't frighten me, but I wanted to see how the war would end. Dying before that would be like losing a good book before I could read the final chapter.

Not too long after that, I was in an aerial battle in open space. I got blown from my ship and was jettisoned in just my suit with no way to control my trajectory or speed. I couldn't even turn around and look at the moon or Earth as I left them behind. I was shooting into the infinite blackness, facing forward.

It was the most alone I'd ever been, and there was absolutely NOTHING around me but the darkness and the stars in the distance. It was like I was the only thing that existed in the entire universe. There was only me, only me and my air tank, depleting with each passing second.

Your mind goes to weird places under those circumstances. I felt like my thoughts were stretching out beyond my mind. I've never been able to recreate the precise feeling of hurtling through space like that, even when I repeated it in another lifetime. It just didn't have that same feeling as before. It was actually pretty pleasant, peaceful, until my actual death. That was rather painful. Sometimes, I'll think back to the war and wonder how it ended."

Noah then sighed, winded from talking so long. Everyone was staring at him with wide eyes, eyes filled with fear, confusion, sympathy, and countless other emotions.

"How did you all live with it?" Aithorn asked. "How did you live with killing your comrades, your friends?"

"Don't get me wrong, there was a pretty high suicide rate. For me, it was easy. I've lived long enough to lose countless friends and family, and I've killed more people than I dare count. It doesn't really affect me anymore."

"So you really feel nothing with their blood on your hands?"