Path of Dragons

Book 3: Chapter 33: Eber

“I don’t like it,” said Carmen. “Seems too…I don’t know…”

“Gonna need a bit more’n that, boss,” Colt said, kneeling beside her. His stump of a hand rested on his knee while he shielded his eyes with his one good hand. “Looks like a normal town to me.”

“I know. I think that’s what’s bothering me. It just seems too peaceful.”

“It ain’t like the school,” he said.

Indeed, they’d spent most of the past few days scouring the area for any major threats, and they’d found nothing. In fact, it felt like they’d found a pocket of peace that hadn’t been touched by the apocalypse at all.

And Carmen knew better than to accept that. It had been more than four years since the end of the world as they knew it, and though Carmen hadn’t seen everything Earth had to offer, she’d certainly seen enough to know that nobody had escaped unscathed. So, the peaceful village at the edge of the forest sent up all sorts of red flags. However, no matter how she looked at it – and she’d studied the place as closely as she’d ever studied anything – it was just a normal village with a population approaching two-hundred or so.

The most unbelievable part of it was that they all looked so happy. Or at least content. Certainly, they didn’t walk around laughing like clowns or anything. Their emotions seemed normal enough. But there was none of the dejected misery that seemed so common in the wake of the World Tree’s touch.

Then again, Easton looked the same at first glance. It was only when one dug a little deeper that they would find the corruption below the surface. The inequality. The classism. The fascist policies. The spineless dictator running it all.

“You’re doin’ it again, boss,” Colt said.

“The face,” he answered.

Annoyed, Carmen forced the grimace to fall away. She’d recently been warned – by her number two, no less – that the other refugees had begun to fear her. Part of that was because of her ferocity in battle that saw her charging any enemy with a berserker’s fury. But the other part was that her resting expression suggested anger. It had gotten to the point where everyone thought she was perpetually on the verge of flying off into a rage. They didn’t deserve to live in fear of the person leading them, so Carmen had vowed to fix the issue.

The results were so far mixed.

She glanced at Colt, her eyes flicking to his missing hand. He rarely acknowledged the disabling injury, but every now and then, Carmen noticed him reaching for something with the stump. Or struggling with his sword belt. He’d even asked her to make a slightly shorter sword – called a wakizashi – that was better suited for one-handed use. The result was Second Chance, which he’d so far put to good use despite his infirmity.

More than once, Carmen had overheard him telling Miguel that the sword wasn’t important. Only the swordsman. He’d even gone on to say that a proper fighter would be proficient with every weapon he might be forced to wield. Even his bare hands, if necessary.

Carmen could get behind that attitude. She hoped to give Miguel a peaceful life, but that just didn’t seem possible in their new world. So, if that was the case, then she intended to prepare him for a violent life as best she could. If the world was going to try to kill them, then she intended to give him the tools to survive.

That was the biggest change from the old world, she thought. Not the monsters. Not the magic. Not even the non-human settlers she’d heard about. Rather, the most impactful difference was the proliferation of violence. Before the World Tree had touched Earth, war and violence were far off concepts that she’d never expected to experience. Sure, she had opinions, and lots of them. She routinely criticized the wars that were fought abroad. But she’d never really conceptualized the idea that she might one day have to fight for her own life.

Pacifism was an easy policy when no one threatened you.

Now, she realized how naïve she’d been in her bubble of peace. The moment her life was – or worse, Miguel’s – on the line, any notions of morality or rules of war disappeared. In those moments, it was kill or be killed, and brutality was the only proper response.

Whether she liked it or not.

“I don’t think we have a choice,” she admitted, glancing back to where they’d left the other refugees. They were more than a mile away, holed up in an old Dollar General whose building was more or less intact, but Carmen could well remember how exhausted they were. “They don’t have much left in them. They need rest. Safety. They need to stop running, if only for a little while.”

Indeed, ever since they’d been chased from the school – or really, since they’d been exiled from Easton – it had been one crisis after another. Carmen had lost count of how many battles they’d fought. Most were against mutated animals who saw them as an easy meal, but there had been a couple of encounters with opportunistic bandits, as well. But the school had nearly broken them.

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To think they’d found somewhere safe only to have it snatched away? It was a wonder they hadn’t already given up.

“And you, boss?”

Carmen shrugged. “I’ll keep going as long as I have to,” she said, though she felt just as exhausted as everyone else in the party. “We need to do this, and if it turns bad, we’ll just have to deal with it.”

After that, she sent Colt back to fetch the others. In the meantime, Carmen continued to watch the small town. Nothing stood out to her as abnormal – aside from the fact that they weren’t miserable – so when the others joined her, she led them down the slope of the hill and toward the main gate.

The watchman on guard saw them well in advance, so when the group of refugees arrived, they were greeted by a trio of people. One was a woman with gray hair and a curiously unlined face. The second was a short, balding man with a bit of a paunch and a thin mustache. And the final member, who stood in the center, was a blonde woman who looked like she knew how to work for a living. She had a raw and unfiltered look about her that suggested that she was no stranger to hard living.

“What do you want?” the blonde woman asked, her tone neutral.

“Shelter. Even if it’s only for a night or two,” Carmen answered. “I’m a high-level blacksmith, and there are a few Scholars here with various skills. We’ll work in exchange for shelter.”

“No.”

“No? That’s it?”

The woman responded, “You don’t want –”

“We could use a Blacksmith,” said the grey-haired woman. “You can make weapons and armor, yes?”

“I can.”

“I don’t think this is a good idea,” said the first woman.

“Noted,” the paunchy man stated. Then, he grinned at Carmen. “I think we’ve come to a consensus. Welcome to Eber. Yes, I know – an odd name, but it’s the one we chose. I’m Wendell. Come on in. We’ll get you settled, and then you can show us your skills in the forge.”

“Uh…alright,” Carmen said. Her sense for danger was ringing loud and clear, but it was a testament to how much she and her group of refugees needed a few nights of safety that she pushed right past it, convincing herself it was paranoia. Still, she resolved to be on her guard. She didn’t have an inspection ability like the guards back in Easton, but she was sensitive enough to ethera to have a sense if someone was far and away stronger than her. And from what she could tell, none of these people – the watchman included – were. So, if they wanted to cause trouble, she would be in a good position to respond.

And that wasn’t even considering Colt, who was significantly stronger than her in combat, even if he was a few levels lower.

No – despite the alarm bells ringing in her mind, Carmen didn’t see how they had much choice in the matter. So, without further ado, she let herself be led inside, and the other refugees followed.

As they traversed the town, a few of the residents took notice. Most cast smiles in their direction and, overall, seemed happy to see the newcomers. In fact, quite a few offered them food or water, and they seemed eager to welcome the refugees into their town.

But there were a handful who stared at them, blank-faced.

However, Carmen’s curiosity at that only extended until they were escorted into a longhouse where they found that a feast had been laid out. The long, wooden table was laden with all sorts of food. There were vegetables of every type, venison, some sort of fowl, and even what looked like fresh-baked bread.

Which was curious, because Carmen hadn’t seen any wheat fields or vegetable gardens at all. Still, she didn’t really make the connection, largely because she was suddenly so ravenous that she could scarcely think. So, she and the others – including Colt, who was uncharacteristically nonchalant about security – dug in. Before long, they were all laughing and enjoying what Carmen considered the best meal she’d ever had.

Soon enough, though, the meal was finished, and she leaned back and groaned contentedly. “I think I ate too much,” she said. Then, looking around, she asked, “Have you seen our hosts?”

As Colt grabbed another piece of crusty bread that had been slathered in butter, he said, “No, boss. I think this is all for us.”

Even though she was full, Carmen continued to eat. As she did, there was a part of her that screamed that something was wrong. However, with all the food so readily available, she couldn’t stop herself. And eventually, that voice grew thinner and thinner until she could scarcely hear it.

Eventually, the grey-haired woman, who introduced herself as Wendy, came to collect them. Then, she showed them to another longhouse where they could sleep. The refugees all accepted that with no small degree of gratitude, which they expressed vociferously.

At last, it felt like they’d found somewhere safe. Somewhere they could finally rest.

That night, everyone – including Carmen – slept like logs. It didn’t hurt that the beds, which were arranged in two separate rows along either of the longest walls, were more comfortable than anyplace they’d ever slept. So, when morning finally dawned, Carmen arose more refreshed than she’d felt since Silverado.

However, it seemed that everyone wasn’t as content as they’d appeared to be.

“Where is Diana?” she asked, referring to one of the other refugees.

Colt looked around. “I didn’t even hear her leave,” he admitted. He shook his head and added, “But I guess she wanted to keep goin’. She said she had family out there somewhere. Probably went to find them.”

Carmen narrowed her eyes. That didn’t make much sense. None of them were in any condition to travel, especially alone. But she dismissed her concerns, saying, “People aren’t always rational, are they? You never know when someone’s going to make a really bad decision.”

Colt agreed with her, remarking that it was sad state of affairs when someone was so accustomed to misery that they couldn’t accept solace when they found it.

After that, Carmen was shown to her new forge. It wasn’t in great condition, but it was much better than anything she’d had available to her since being banished from Easton. So, it wasn’t long before she got to work. As she did, the other refugees all tried to make themselves useful as well.

In the back of her mind, though, Carmen’s doubts were screaming that she needed to escape. However, it only took the memory of the meal she’d eaten the night before to banish those doubts. After all, she was full, and she was safe. What else did she need?