Chapter 44: Atlas

Chapter 44: Atlas

“A Gentle Knight was pricking on the plaine,

Y cladd in mightie armes and silver shielde,

Wherein old dints of deepe wounds did remaine,

The cruell markes of many a bloudy fielde;

Yet armes till that time did he never wield:

His angry steede did chide his foming bitt,

As much disdayning to the curbe to yield:

Full jolly knight he seemd, and faire did sitt,

As one for knightly giusts and fierce encounters fitt.”

- Edmund Spenser, The Faerie Queene (1590, 2nd Era)

Erec’s axe splattered into the diseased corpse of the biggest fucking lizard he’d ever lain eyes on. It was twice the size of a steel wagon; and died a slow, painful death from a dozen wounds, some deep, others surface level.

His breath was like burning ash, and an inferno still raged inside. Yet it was coming to an end, struggling to continue to swirl. For the first time, that anger was sputtering out of fuel.

This was thanks to them. Thanks to the others that he followed.

Due to them leading him, he got to fight and kill. He’d sent his axe through several beasts and now had an annoying blinking in the corner of his vision.

[Take it easy, buckeroo. You went above and beyond! This will show favorably on your yearly evaluation.]

That damn buzzing. Irritating but useful.

Several times in the fights, its warnings had provided him precious opportunity to deliver powerful blows. He splattered the skulls of these lizards, yanked off limbs, and coated his armor in their blood.

Glorious. But he wanted more—he tried to stoke the rage further.

The rest of the humans stared at him from a distance. They let him finish off this creature alone. Good.

He’d claimed it as his kill and wouldn’t have suffered another to take it from him.

And now it was time to assert his place—Erec took a step towards them; his legs shook. His whole body shook. He found himself unable to move the way he wanted as the hell inside of him burned out.

[Stabilizing legs. Calm down, alright? Sometimes it’s best to ask for help.]

They reached the steel caravan once more—Boldwick gave a quick Knight’s salute to one of the guards stationed atop a wagon. Like that, once more, he was safe inside of the wagon walls. Robin handed off Erec to Gwen so that she could get her rest. Not that Erec minded, he regained some use of his legs after the trip. It was simple enough to take off his Armor and let the older girl escort him back towards their little encampment.

Everyone gathered around the fires was now asleep and a fair distance from the dying embers in the fire pit. Garin slept next to Olivia; their sleeping bags were close, yet with enough space to fit another person. What sweet nothings had they whispered before finding their rest? Erec sighed.

Erec spotted a fluffy tail poking out from the quilted fabric. Munchy could escape if he wanted to. Could flee right into the wasteland.

But why would the fat squirrel leave its sole source of treats?

Gwen settled him down near the fire, making herself too close for comfort next to him. Her shoulder nearly touched his as she leaned in and poked the dying embers with the stick. At the night's end, it was only the two of them.

Even with the pure exhaustion, Erec felt terrified to sleep.

What if he woke up and that white stag charged in and killed his friends before he could lift an axe?

Gwen leaned even closer, jostling him. She’d violated his personal space. Her shoulder touched his, her face almost close enough to feel her breath on his. “Hey, you look like someone went and threw a pile of shit on your door.” His heart started to hammer.

Erec squinting at her. “You’re not from a noble house, are you?”

“Aw, shucks. What gave it away?” she snorted. “Some of’em act so stuffy all the damn time I can’t really deal with it. Gets on my nerves and makes me wanna scream. But... You and Bedwyr, you aren’t that way, y’know? You’re both something in between, and I’m not gonna lie, that interests the hell out of me.”

“So that’s why you want to date him.”

“Well, of course, he’s easy on the eyes too. Lots of girls want him, but I don’t think he’d fit in with their circles; as good as he is at acting, it’s all a show. You could call him the greatest performer in the Academy—if you looked at it through my lens. Break past the surface, though? You'll find he’s tired.”

“Tired?”

“You ever hear of that old-world story about the god who holds up the world? My Ma told it to me now and again growing up; she was fascinated with the damn thing.” Gwen shrugged as she disregarded his question; once more her skin brushed his. How could she not be aware of how close she’d gotten?

Erec shook his head, unsure of where this was going. Should they really be talking about old-world gods with the priests sleeping so close? They were out of the walls, but still, it alarmed him. An instinct in his gut that he resented.

“There’s this god named Atlas—he held up the world, kept it on his shoulders. All day, all night. Now, the priests might proclaim it to be some manner of ‘blasphemy,’ but those old world gods were stories for a reason. The way my Ma told it, they held lessons for those who came after. Do you know why he kept holding the world up, Erec?”

“No clue. Was he afraid of it dropping?” Erec scooted a bit away from her, breaking the point of contact. Blissfully, she didn’t scoot back towards him.

Being around her gave him a weird feeling he couldn’t quite place.

“It was a punishment. He wronged the other gods—waged war on them. But you’re right too, in a way. Once it was up there in his hands, he was too scared to let it go. Didn’t want to drop it and hurt all those people.” Gwen stared deeply into the fire.

“Sounds like a bad punishment. Why didn’t they just exile him or kill him during their war?”

“If they killed him, he wouldn’t have suffered. I always thought the worst part about it, was that he was all alone. How do you think it feels to sit there holding up the world by yourself? To watch everyone else live their lives while you kept the world from dropping? Y’know, I bet it’s real lonely.”

Gwen lapsed into silence as the fire sputtered and died. Erec stared long into those burning coals. Even after the girl wandered off to find her sleeping roll.

Inevitably his gaze returned to that ever-present darkness, that space beyond the steel safety net of their Knights. Was it a trick of the light, or did he catch a pair of red eyes staring back?