Book 3, Chapter 12 - Meeting the Highwaymen Again (1/2)
A solitary wisp of smoke rose up from the desert, a stream reaching up to meet the setting sun.
The crimson light of the dying sun kissed the distant horizon, melting into a hazy red line. The boundless expanse of desert was pregnant with a sense of desolation. Dusk in the wastelands was as majestic as it was wild, and the solemn whistle of the wind was one’s only companion. It was the perfect representation of life and death in this desolate, post-war world.
The sound of an engine broke the lonely silence.
A vehicle was flung from the top of a dune, kicking up a lengthy plume in its wake. The sound of a woman’s terrified screams followed. It struck the ground with a thud. The machine’s four massive wheels churned the sand like gnashing teeth, and paired with the guttural roar of the engine it was like some ancient metallic beast. In a blink it shot forward ten meters.
The vehicle leapt from dune to dune like a rampaging beast. It bounced and pitched over the bumpy wasteland terrain, until with a pathetic whine it came to a halt on the upslope of the next rise.
The dune buggy’s door was flung open. A pair of lily-white legs poked out searchingly.
A beautiful girl, her hair a tousled mess atop her head, flopped out. Her face was pale as a sheet, and her legs trembled. Unable to stomach the rumbling in her guts, she keeled over and violently empties their contents into the sand. When she recovered, her face was a mask of bitter anger.
The buggy only had two seats. The driver was a short-haired young man with a pair of goggles fit snuggly over his face to protect against the sun and sand. A thick cigar of wild tobacco hung from the corner of his mouth. His look and actions could be described as ostentatious, but his features were that of a delicate youth.
“You bastard! You did that on purpose!” Autumn managed to rise on shaky legs and threw a handful of sand at the driver. “I’ll kill you, you thug!”
The handful of grit looked as though it would strike the man unawares, but strangely it all stopped in midair as though caught in jelly. Autumn stared in surprise. As she gaped, the sand was flung back her way and splattered against her face and clothes. Some managed to find its way into her mouth and nose. Her hair became a sandy mess. Already unstable, the shock of it sent her reeling backwards and she plopped down into the sand. She had never been more confused or more furious in all her life.
The young man lifted his goggles up so they sat on his head and stood on the buggy’s frame. The setting sun cast his face in stark light and dramatic shadow. A strange expression crossed his eyes as he looked out over the wastes. He felt the hot, dry air whip by as it danced along the rugged terrain. He felt like he was in a dream. It’d been years since he’d looked out over a scene like this. Like a memory from another life.
He was different. His mood, his thinking. The setting sun and the desolation it enveloped looked beautiful to him now.
“I blame you. You! It’s all your fault!” Autumn angrily picked herself up from the sandy pit. “Why must we use this damn contraption? Why didn’t you listen to me and just buy a camel?!”
Cloudhawk plucked the cigar from his mouth. He looked at her like she was an idiot. “Those things are slow as shit, and not any nearly as satisfying to drive. This is how we get around out here.”
“And did you not know that cars need gas? Gas which we don’t have? It’s still a long way, what are we supposed to do now!”
“Honestly, even when I was young and dumb I still had more sense than you. At least I was smart enough not to throw sand at my betters and constantly get in their face.” Cloudhawk stepped down from the buggy. He flicked the final inch of his cigar into the sand and extinguished it with a boot. Autumn couldn’t believe that the repugnant man was as well-behaved as he claimed to have once been. “Let’s make a bet,” he said.
“A bet?”
“I bet that I can keep this thing running.”
Autumn gave the vehicle a careful look. The dune buggy was small, just large enough for two people, with nowhere to hide an extra can of gas. Fuel was rare, where was he supposed to find more?
“A hundred eboncrys. If I win, that’s my prize. If I lose then I’ll chop that off what you already owe me.”
Autumn knew this scoundrel had some trick up his sleeve. However, she was curious to see how he’d do it. Happily she answered. “Fine! A hundred eboncrys? It’s a deal.”
“Deep pockets!” Cloudhawk gave her an approving thumbs-up.
He placed his hand against his chest for a moment, and Autumn watched curiously to see what he’d do. After a few moments a light peaked between his fingers. It glimmered from his palm, and as he stretched out his arm the light began to ripple like the surface of a pond. Cloudhawk reached in. When he pulled back, a heavy can of gas appeared from the rippling space, clutched in his hand.
He opened it up and started refilling the buggy’s tank. “One hundred eboncrys. Don’t forget.”
“Ho-…. How did you do that?” She couldn’t believe her eyes. “You can just pulled things out of thin air?”
“I’m awesome, right? Believe me, lady, you ain’t seen nothin’ yet.”
Beasts didn’t need gas, this was true. But they did get thirsty, hungry, and tired. Those were limitations that didn’t apply to a machine. So long as he had gas, they were set. Cloudhawk made sure to pack enough for their trip to Fishmonger’s Borough.
Autumn was taken aback by his strange methods. She’d heard of people with strange abilities like this, the ones they called demonhunters. Was this despicable man one of them? Her elders always said she should keep far away from demonhunters, for they could never live together in peace.