Native Fray Chapter 3: Absolute Pin
Frenzied laughter suffocated the alley of tents as the two stared. The moonlight’s beautiful illumination enriched the blade aimed at the poor soul’s neck. The hilted beam of light slowly grew closer to him as it led its executioner, his eyes full of fire. Three cautious paces were followed by an explosive dash forward towards its target. The sword barely misses his throat as he dodges and circles behind his opposition. In what seemed like instinct he swung the sword behind him hoping to cut something, anything, but he missed once again as his target was already 15 feet away. Another dash immediately followed as he began a frenzy of well placed strikes. He swung beautifully, only to feel his blade enter emptiness and his target still standing.
“You can keep up the running. I’ll get you eventually, you prick.” Ephraim said, pulling his disarrayed hair back. He began pacing left and right as he stared down Geoffren who didn't move an inch. Ephraim’s eyes seemed to analyze every bit of Geoffren, his brain plotting his next attack. The blade laid below his waist, casting a light on the mud under them.
“All I gotta do is cut that stupid throat, then I won't hear that stupid mouth.” Ephraim said as his paces continued. The blade was the only light in Geoffren’s eyes as he looked completely void. He wanted to be in Zultor’s tent, laughing for hours. It terrified him that someone so much weaker posed such a threat. His reputation, his best friend, his life would be all gone if Ephraim or any of those other soldiers opened their mouths. He couldn’t think of a clear solution, other than kill them all. He dissociated in thought as he hyperfocused on the blade.
“I can kill Ephraim here, and no one would have to know. I don’t remember a single one of those other soldiers that may have seen me kill their comrades, I don't even remember the ones I killed. If I turn myself in, will it be better? Will Zultor, the Auspex, and all the others understand where I was coming from? What if I just ran awa–” His thoughts were interrupted as he noticed the blade was missing from his line of sight. He turned to his left just in time to react to the light in his face. Ephraim swung downwards at Geoffren as he blocked the hilt with his arm. Ephraim used his left hand to slug Geoffren as he blocked that attack too. Ephraim kicked Geoffren in the stomach and reset his blade. He charged in, stepping on Geoffren’s foot to hold him in place and swung at his neck. Geoffren ducked and lifted himself into the air, throwing Ephraim off balance. Ephraim managed to grab his cloak as both went into the air. Before Ephraim could stab Geoffren the blade was kicked out of his hands and sunk in the mud.
“If I let go now, he’ll never come down.” Ephraim thought as he held on tight. Geoffren shook Ephraim like a burning match as his grip only tightened. He began climbing up his leg and tried to punch him in the face. The punch was weaved but Ephraim wrapped his arms and put Geoffren in a headlock, sending the two into a barrel roll. They flew through the air spiraling and struggling. Ephraim made sure not to let go as they sporadically zipped through the air. Geoffren desperately grabbed at Ephraim’s arms to release himself as he began to lose consciousness, the culmination of being choked and spinning mid air got to him first.
“I’ll beat him one day.” A drunk Raygal murmured to himself as he trudged to his tent. The gusts of air and grunts above caught his attention to the mid air bout. His mood mellowed as he continued his trudge. “On my way, General.” He murmured again before collapsing.
The two struggled longer until Geoffren managed to get out of the headlock. Ephraim gripped his cloak and managed to land a punch on Geoffren, sending them spiraling downwards towards an empty tent. The two crashed into it, kicking up dust and smoke. Geoffren worked his way back onto his feet as he dusted himself off before creating a vacuum of air in his palm to collect all the dust and pocket it. Ephraim was scrambling on the ground looking for any kind of weapon, anything to harm Geoffren. Ephraim looked back to see Geoffren staring at him scour the ground like a rodent.
“You don’t gotta fight back, it’s all good n’ well to me!” He said continuing to scrounge.
“You think about your actio–” He said before pausing. The abrupt pause immediately alerted Geoffren to the worst possibility. Ephraim kept his hand in place without moving a muscle. Geoffren held the dust in his hand ready for the next move. With incredible speed Ephraim spun around and aimed down sights, Geoffren reacted in time and released the dust. Geoffren changed positions and hid behind the dust waiting for the shots to ring out, but heard nothing. He waited longer, still no gun shot. He exited the dust quietly and confused. He quickly turned behind him as he heard manic footsteps racing towards him, realizing it was just other soldiers messing around. They ran and merrily sang stumbling everywhere. Geoffren acted normal until they left, as did Ephraim who attacked Geoffren with a shovel as they walked away. Geoffren fell in pain as the shovel slammed into his back. Ephraim struck him relentlessly as Geoffren attempted to slowly crawl away.
“Hahaha! You do bleed red. Fooled me.” Ephraim said as he swung. Geoffren turned to kick Ephraim’s leg but took a swing to the face. Ephraim fell but was fast to get up. Geoffren stood to face him, his forehead bleeding profusely. He occasionally wiped his face as he backed up.
“You’re blessed that this country cares for nothin’ but power. Strategy, tactics, common human fuckin’ decency are all overshadowed by this dumbass manipulation shit.” Ephraim said as he approached Geoffren with the shovel.
“I never got the praise I deserved, but you and that asshole a year ago come in and you’re worshiped like fucking gods.”
“I’m nothing like him.” Geoffren quietly responded.
“Oh please, everyone loves you. But they don’t know you. I do.”
“Ephraim, you're well decorated for a non-manipulator. You stayed in your lane, that’s smart. You realistically could never stack up to a manipulator–”
“I did a number on you though! I’m killing Zultor’s prized errand boy for his crimes against humanity. You’re a fuckin’ monster you prick. You do nothing good for this war! I had my doubts about you, I thought that maybe you weren’t that bad. But no, you’re a fuckin’ monstrosity. You kill your own men in cold blood, you don’t care, and you’re celebrated for it. We’re at your fuckin’ party right now!” Ephraim shouted as he advanced. Geoffren grew nauseous as he backed up into a pile of crates. His blood loss was terrible, this fight wouldn’t go on much longer at this rate.
“And your face…you don't even care. Everything I've said is just through one ear and out the other.” Ephraim seethed.
“You never actually listen to me. Even when people were dyin’ you still just ignored me.”
“Bet I had manipulation, bet I was stronger than you, you’d listen.” He continued before swinging the shovel once more. Geoffren barely dodged and circled behind Ephraim again. His double vision frightened him as multiple Ephraim’s swung at him.
“Avoiding responsibility once again.” Ephraim said slowly turning around. The disgusting shovel carried no beauty equivalent to the blade but was just as dangerous in both of their eyes. Their clothes were just as dirty, soaked in mud and dust and they smelled terrible. The two looked like they had come back from an actual battle. Geoffren looked like a zombie, he was bloodied, resembling something that had just crawled out of the ground. He began wiping the dirt and blood off of himself until Ephraim launched mud in his face. He had used the shovel he was dragging to gather mud and throw it. Geoffren reacted to the following swing on instinct. He blocked it from hitting his head but was knocked to his feet. As he tried to scramble up, Ephraim came behind him and pressed the shovel’s handle to his neck, strangling him. He took him back down to the ground and locked his legs around him.
“Just die you fuckin’ shirker!” Ephraim exclaimed.
“I can’t see and I'm blacking out! He’s gonna kill me!” Geoffren thought as he fought his grip. Geoffren struggled to wiggle out as his eyes burned from the mud. His head swung around as he fought for his freedom. He swiped his head into Ephraim’s hand as he grappled with him. Finding an opportunity, Geoffren bit into Ephraim’s hand causing blood and flesh to gush around his teeth. Ephraim shrieked and let go in pain. He angrily looked over at Geoffren as his eyes teared up. Geoffren wiped his eyes, spitting out a piece of Ephraim’s hand.
“You…cheap prick.” Ephraim said, holding his hand.
“Are you done?” Geoffren asked. Ephraim responded by getting up and arming himself with the shovel. Geoffren sighed as he prepared for more. Ephraim’s hand bled everywhere as he tightly gripped the shovel. The shovel was the last hope he had in this fight, literally holding onto his last bit of hope.
“Just drop the shovel, Ephraim.” Geoffren said in an almost worried tone.
“Why would I do that? It’s gotten me this far. It also makes this more painful for you.”
“I would have much preferred the gun honestly…”
“Ha. That would’ve killed the satisfaction, and I didnt wanna bring any attention to us.” Ephraim responded. Geoffren’s neck snapped into perfect posture upon hearing that.
“You…don’t want anyone to know about this…” He clarified.
“ I’d get tortured to hell for killing a soldier my commanding general loves.” Ephraim spat. Geoffren’s entire mood changed. His back became straight, his stance wide, his senses peaked to perfection. Ephraim witnessed the change he incited in the poor soul while his hands began to rise towards Geoffren. The temperature dropped and the air grew thin, Ephraim began to grasp what little bits of air he could as it seemingly was sucked out of his lungs. His skin went blue and his heart rate slowed, he couldn’t stand up without wobbling around. Geoffren’s hand was shrouded in air as he balled it up into a fist. He blitzed forward before Ephraim could react, punching him in the stomach with the air pressure he had gathered. Ephraim’s eyes rolled back and grew bloodshot from the intense pain. His mouth instinctively built up saliva to protect from the abundant amounts of vomit that left his body. He fell flat on his back unconscious.
The excruciating pain in his head woke him, everything else hurt too. His ears were aching from the air pressure and breathing spread the pain all throughout his body. His dry eyes made it painful to blink as he was fully starting to come to. He tried to reach for his stomach, which was the epicenter of the pain, but the ropes didn’t allow him too. He was completely bound with a cloth in his mouth. The cloth was soaked, and so were the rest of his clothes from his profuse sweating. He groaned in pain as he tried to escape, every single movement suffered, even the thought of moving hurt. Only light from the cuts in the cloth covering him showed through. He could hear the camp ruckus from afar outside and he attempted to groan louder. Nothing more than a squeak could be conjured up. He started to bounce and shake his dungeon to draw attention to no avail. The wooden floor splintered his feet, running away just became even harder. His deep breaths grounded him, how did he get here? He thought back to the last thing he remembered. Geoffren taking stance, he got dizzy, then here. The thought enraged him, he tried untying himself. His hand burned against the rope from the bite Geoffren took out of it. More struggling insued as his rage built up. He fought harder and harder, labored more.
“I’ll grab you something from the mess, General!” A familiar voice said. He stopped in his tracks to listen.
“I’m not hungry.” Another familiar voice responded.
“Oh, well where are you going?”
“Gonna have a smoke alone. I’ve had enough noise for today.” The voice said as their footsteps grew closer. The cover opened as Geoffren walked in and closed it behind him. Ephraim’s rage grew seeing his face again, why was it always him? Geoffren took the cloth off and the berating began.
“You fuck! Yer so fuckin’ dead! I swear on my grandmother yer dead! Yer gonna have to kill me if you wanna get rid of me you fuckin’ wannabe hard case!” He yelped with his weak voice. Geoffren’s stared till he was done, the silent response enraged him even more.
“You sorry, ugly, stupid piece of shit! You ain't worth the shit from a coyote’s—” He went on for what felt like hours. He breathed heavily after his rant and built up a sweat from doing it.
“Where am I?” He asked.
“A stagecoach outside of camp. Somewhere we can talk in peace.” Geoffren responded. He pulled out a cigar and began to smoke. Ephraim coughed from the stench.
“Sorry.” Geoffren said as he created a vacuum to gather the smoke in his hand.
“What the hell did you do to me?”
“Hit you with the air pressure in the surrounding area. You’ll be fine in a week, but your stomach will be sore for a while.”
“That had to be loud, someone had to have heard you do that.”
“It was no louder than a balloon popping.”
“How the hell did that not kill me?” Ephraim thought.
“Why am I alive?” Ephraim asked.
“Because you won’t talk.”
“You know I wont?”
“Mhm.” Geoffren said, taking another long puff.
“You tried to kill your commanding general’s favorite soldier.” He added as the smoke traveled from his mouth to his hand.
“Course.” Ephraim sighed, shaking his head.
“Big bugs like Zultor are very decisive, very quickly.”
“Only for pets like you. He couldn’t give less of a shit about any real soldier.”
“You believe that?”
“I had to. He’s your pal but I know him better than you could hope to. I couldn’t bet on him doing the right thing.
“The right thing is?”
“Jail you, even better, torture you till your own fear kills you. Yer a man in a high place with friends in even higher places. It makes me hate you so much. I can’t even coexist with you, Geoffren. I need you dead.”
“And that was your gamble? Kill me or be killed? Feel like you had no safe bet.”
“My gamble was to tell Zultor, or handle it myself. I wanted to believe he’d have a heart. But he’s just like you, I know he is. You all abuse your power and it’s horrid.”
“You chose to fight me instead of telling Zultor? Your best bet was to just act like you never heard or saw anything.”
“Why be such a hard case now, prick? Your plan seems to shittily inquire me while you hide behind a higher-up who’s domesticated you.”
“Having someone else fix my problem, or at least stop it before it starts, keeps me safe. It’s an opportunity you can’t afford for obvious reasons.”
“You never even wanted to fix my shit you bitch, shut up. Relying on stronger people has done nothing but fail me. You were blessed with incredible ability and do nothing. Yer such a powerful, higher person. You look down on people and you treat them like trash because of it.” Ephraim said as he choked up.
“So you attacked me because you—”
“Because I wanted to be that person! The person that could help their soldiers. That could avenge them. The person that didn't have to ask for anyone stronger or higher than them. A person that could fix his own fucking problem!” Ephraim exclaimed weakly. His head fell as he fought for breath. The light from the cigar illuminated Geoffren’s dead face, he took another puff before putting it out. They sat in silence and he swirled the smoke in his hand. His eyes followed the flow of it while he waited for Ephraim to speak more. Ephraim looked up as Geoffren focused on the smoke.
“Who told you?” Geoffren asked.
“That yer some cowar–”
“No. That they saw me kill those men.”
“You’ll just kill them.”
“You believe that?”
“I know that.” Ephraim said. Geoffren thought about the men he killed, the boy too. The feeling swirled inside of him like the smoke. There were no lies behind the mask, he felt guilty. His dreams, his thoughts, his heart, all revealed his true feelings about his actions. Geoffren never lies to himself.
“Ephraim. Just tell me.” He said finally looking up.
“No. I know you. This is my way of protecting them. It’s the least I can do.”
“I won’t hurt them. I just need to talk to them–”
“Talking ain't an option anymore. It’s life or death now, Geoffren. You can either kill me or I kill you. Only one of us comin out alive.”
“Ephraim…are you listening to yourself.”
“Loud and clear. I’ve made up my mind.”
“You won’t win this. You have nothing over me.” Geoffren said, trying to get him to understand.
“It doesn't matter, I am going to win. I will make well and sure that yer dead soon, Geoffren.” He said.
“What about the other soldiers? You told them not to worry and that you’d take care of me?”
“Haha, you want to know to ease your mind. I ain't gonna tell ya.” Ephraim responded. Geoffren sighed when he realized the job wasn’t done. He began to consider his next move, it would be the most vital.
“Killing him here would fix him but would create so many more problems. Hunting down all those soldiers would also just do nothing but create problems. I could try talking to them, but that wouldn’t help much.” He pondered. They sat in silence while he thought until he had his plan.
“Ephraim, let's get you back to camp and fixed up by Evanglow.” Geoffren said.
“The healer? Yer gonna get me healed?”
“Yes, of course.”
“Why? Yer bluffin’.”
“I’m serious. C’mon.” Geoffren said as he began to untie him. “You won’t attack me right?” He asked before fully letting him out. Ephraim remained silent.
“Ok.” He said as he pulled the last rope off. Geoffren exited the stagecoach supporting Ephraim. He carried him around the edge of camp to avoid anyone seeing them. Ephraim winced in pain with each step until he finally grew tired.
“Can’t you just float me off the ground or somethin’?”
“Can’t you just not try to kill me?”
“Bitch.”
“We’re almost to Evanglow’s tent. As far as everyone else is concerned you drank too much and fell down a hill. It’ll explain your pale color too.”
“Hmph.” Ephraim responded. The two proceeded toward the tent, only steps away at this point.
“General AWOL himself!” Zultor shouted as he walked around the tent. The two froze in place trying to keep composure. Ephraim’s shivers stretched to Geoffren’s body. The two feared for the other next move.
“Please don’t say anything, Geoffren.” Ephraim thought.
“If he says anything I should be fine right?” Geoffren thought.
“Where’d you go last night, Geoffren? You said you were gettin’ some food.”
“You saw how drunk I was and expected me to come back?” Geoffren responded.
“Haha! Good point! I figured you had passed out and filled your diaper with shit.” Zultor laughed. He looked over at Ephraim and reeled at his condition.
“Ephraim, are you alright?” He asked. Geoffren looked over at him anticipating his next words. Ephraim swallowed and answered.
“Yes, I’m fit. Just had too much last night, rolled down that hill over there.” He quietly responded.
“Hahaha! Typical of you, huh?” Zultor said.
“We’re here to see the sawbones. Fix him up so he’s ready for action.”
“Evanglow? He’s not here right now.” Zultor said. The two looked at each other in utter confusion.
“Where?”
“He’s on a special mission I sent him on with that sniper, Kelnick, about two days ago.”
“Christ almighty. When will they be back?”
“Real question is when are you going to get there?” Zultor said smiling.
“Excuse me?” Geoffren said as his eyes closed.
“I’m sending you to South Carolina to fetch them! You’ll be able to handle it. Kelnick is one of Auspex's favorites. Can’t have him dying. You’re good to leave in about…uhhhh…Ten minutes.” Zultor said, staring at his watch. Geoffren wanted to rebel, he wanted to tell Zultor he doesn't want to go, but he just couldn't deny him for some reason.
“Can I at least have some help?” Geoffren asked with a faint smile.
“Bring the one that follows you around all the time.” He responded. Geoffren took Ephraim to his tent to rest as he prepared to leave for his next duty in South Carolina. He threw his cloak on and prepared to extract Evanglow and Kelnick from South Carolina.