Book 3, Chapter 65 - Tasks That Must Be Taken (1/2)

Night crept over Sandbar Station. The borderlands town was a sea of twinkling lamplight.

Ever since elysian soldiers were stationed in the outpost things had become calm and stable. Morale was better, and the markets had become a safe and lively place even after dark.

A withered and unobtrusive figure sat in a corner, cradling a bottle of alcohol with an iron walking stick resting by his side. He took gulps of the foul liquid while keeping himself upright, wisps of dwindling white hair swaying comically as he did so. His bloodshot eyes, dim from drink, stared into the light of a fire in front of him.

Passersby hardly looked at the pathetic beggar as they walked the market.

There was nothing strange about a crippled drunk in the wastelands. You could throw a rock and hit six just like him. The old drunk sloshed the bottle’s contents in frustration, thenthrew his head back and drank its contents, all while miraculously avoiding falling backwards. When it came to the final drop he smacked the empty bottle against his teeth to draw out its savory contents.

It would be unthinkable if the truth was sitting right there. This sad drunk was the same man who, just six years ago, shook heaven and earth with what he could accomplish. Now he was a casualty of the wastelands, like so many others. He chucked the empty bottle away and had another handed to him before the first hit the ground. He took a couple gulps, smacked his lips in contentment, and only then noticed the figure who had come to block his firelight. She was dressed in a ragged cloak that hid her face, but her ratty clothes couldn’t hide her majestic air. A pair of eyes – bright and clear as the full moon – looked down on him with clashing emotion.

“Thank you.” The old man managed to say. He spared her a brief look. “Do you know what you’re gonna do next?”

“Continue,” Selene replied.

It didn’t really answer his question. How was she supposed to continue? Continue tracking down her father’s murderer? Continue her father’s search for answers?

The old drunk didn’t ask, he already guessed the answer. She was so much like her dad. He opened his mouth and another slurred mess of words spilled forth. “I know a place… might be where Baldur’s remains are buried. You might as well look for your answers there. After all, you’ve gotten strong… but you haven’t inherited his full legacy yet.”

Selene turned the question back on him. “What’s your plan?”

“Me?” The drunk chuckled, revealing his yellow teeth to the firelight. The mirth died away just as fast as it came. “Now I’m out here there’s no plan to go back. Nothin’ back in the elysian lands for me – nothin’ to do with me anymore. Not interested in getting involved in your mess either. That lad Cloudhawk has the right idea. Gotta say I’m interested in his secrets, though.”

Selene looks him over for a minute then continued in her soft voice. “You of all people should know sometimes destiny makes a quiet life impossible. Cloudhawk is one of those people. The more he runs the more tangled up he gets. He tried to escape the wastelands by going to Skycloud, and this is where that brought him. He ran away from the elysian lands for the comfort of the wastelands, but found us instead.”

He filled his mouth with another gulp of booze. “Well I’m eager to see how he fucks both places up, hehehe...”

Selene wasn’t here to convince him of anything. He was in this condition because Baldur dragged him into it. How else could one of the most illustrious characters in Skycloud end up drunk and despondent on a wasteland street corner? This old man wasn’t that grand Warrior Saint anymore. He was half dead, both body and soul, waiting around for time and booze to finish the job. No one was going to help him, except himself.

Selene returned to the shop. When she got back Cloudhawk was already gone.

Gabriel was in a corner, absorbed in his knitting when she walked in. He didn’t even raise his head. “He went to Adder’s bar for a drink.”

***

Cloudhawk walked through the streets with a belly full of bitter complaints. He was surrounded by freaks and psychos!

An insufferably stubborn woman hellbent on revenge, a down and out drunk, a literal psychopath, and a scramble-brained nitwit. The only one even halfway normal was Barb. Things were unbearable!

Cloudhawk wasn’t sure what life had in store for him in the future, but the prospects were making him anxious. He decided to drink the edge off at Adder’s bar and speak with Luciasha.

She was a good, normal, common woman. She wasn’t involved in any crazy shit so Cloudhawk hoped spending some time with her would make him feel better. No burdens or pressure to deal with.

He was looking forward to a quiet drink when he walked into the bar. The scene he was met with almost made him jump back.

Luciasha was tending bar while a familiar man was speaking merrily with her.

The two seemed close, laughing and talking without a care. The young man she was with had his back to the door, leaning on the bar with his right arm. A bandaged left hand held his glass of alcohol.

“Squall!”

“Cloudhawk, you’re back!” Luciasha was excited to see him again. The last few days since he’s been gone she’d missed his presence. She was surprised when Squall arrived too out of the blue, and predicted Cloudhawk would be showing up. Now he was here, just as he said. “What a coincidence you two would show up together. We should all have dinner together!”

Cloudhawk stared at Squall his eyes narrowed. His face betrayed nothing, but he walked in a way to make his weapon more easily accessible. If it was just Squall, Cloudhawk was confident he could handle him, but the Warden had already spotted the masked man nearby. His tar-black skin and burly build gave him away immediately. The pulses of resonance Cloudhawk felt from him just confirmed it. Blackfiend.

Cloudhawk had walked in to a circumstance he was ill prepared for.

Luciasha, happy and oblivious, bounded off to prepare some food. She didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary.

The two men, meanwhile, sized each other up for a second. Squall finally smiled. “Think we can talk over a drink?”

Cloudhawk shrugged. “I can’t refuse Asha when she looks so excited.”

Squall nodded. “Take a seat.”

They chose a nearby table and sat across from one another.

Inwardly Cloudhawk was working out Squall’s motive. He had to admit, the guy was getting harder and harder to see through. Was he here to try and abduct Autumn? Was he here to show that he had access to Asha? But he had to know his Highwaymen didn’t have any power in the Sandbar.