Arialas, Brian Duvall [fiction novels to read TXT] 📗

citizens even more.

 

Rosalyn let the wind blow through her hair. I technically didn't lie... She thought to herself, these guys are scavangers... Rosalyn turned her gaze to the bandits riding beside her. The Crimson Storm.. they were some of the most notorious ravagers known. The stories that were told in fear of them; canabalism, rape, even mutation. Rosalyn bit down on her lip. She was one of them now. It's survival of the fittest.. she told herself. She throttled her bike harder and zoomed off to the front of the group.

 

 

The grass below his boot crumbled with his steps. The wind blew through his short and shaggy hair. A pair of white gloves covered his hands. In his left, his fingers gripped around the handle of an oak cane. Frederick had a smirk, ear to ear. He looked at the sunset, the grave infront of him casting a small shadow across his feet.

Frederick shoved the head of his shovel into the topsoil. He repeated this action, accumulating a small pile of dirt to the side. Sweat started to lace his forehead. He let out a sigh of relief as the shovel hit a solid metalic object. Frederick reached in and pulled with a heave. A brass casket rose out of the ground.

Frederick opened the container and smiled at the corpse inside, "Yes... this will do fine..."

A Tip of the Hat

 Rosalyn jerked awake at the sounds of hollering. She quickly got up and grabbed her backpack. She had slept in her clothes in case of this very occasion. The scouts had returned with the location of a job. She hopped on her steambike as one of the men slowed next to her, "This 'yer first raid ain't it?" He smirked.

"Yeah, that obvious?" She laughed nervously.

"Just make sure ye' keep up and it'll be all golden!" He laughed and zoomed off. Rosalyn follwed behind.

The gang rode in what roughly made out a V, a trail of dust blowing up behind them. A bell rang from a large tower that barely peaked over the horizon. The men whooped and sped up. Rosalyn grit her teeth and gripped the throttle.

They came up on the small settlement and pulled out their rifles. Rosalyn's eyes lit up. She looked to the man towards the center of the gang and he nodded. She exhaled slowly as she began to lift into the air. She flew into the town as the men shot those who resisted. Rosalyn made her way through the town, floating like an angel above the Hell below. She gripped her fists as he advanced through the streets. She lifted up large crates of supplies and made her way back to the convoy. She made this trip multiple times, stacking the crates on the transports.

 

 

Maxwell awoke and sat up slowly, his hair sticking out in every direction. He let out a wide yawn. The sun shot through the window to his small apartment. Maxwell stood up and walked over to the dresser, selecting his outfit for the day.

Once he was dressed, he grabbed his bag and walked out into the city. He made his way to the pharmacy, the sun burning bright over the clear sky. He pushed open the plank that worked as a makeshift door. John smiled, "Morning Maxwell, sleep well?" The man, about Maxwell's age of late twenties, was wiping down the counter. His silver hair fell elegantly over his face, meeting with his pale skin. His eyes were a sharp green, and Maxwell often found himself getting lost in them.

"About as well as you can sleep on old paper." Maxwell joked as he sat his bag on the counter, unpacking viles of elixirs.

"Sometimes, if you focus exceptionally hard, you can almost feel cotton." John chuckled.

"Oh I'd kill for some cotton!" Maxwell sighed as he sat a vile on display.

"While there is no cotton for comfort, perhaps I could show you the surprisingly delicious food that you can get, if you know the right people?" John smiled, his pearl white teeth showing.

Maxwell found his face turning crimson, "Uh.. Yeah that sounds like fun.." He stammered.

John chuckled and placed a hand on Maxwell's shoulder, "How's eight sound?"

Maxwell nodded, "Good..."

John chuckled and went back to his spot at the counter, leaving Maxwell in a daze.

 

Maxwell spent the day crushing herbs and stirring liquids. The store rarely had many customers, but they made enough to keep it running. Maxwell set the remedies and medicines on display as the sunset made its way into the sky. John grabbed his coat and tossed Maxwell the keys, "Lock up when you leave?" Maxwell nodded.

Maxwell grabbed his coat and blew out the lanterns. He closed the doors as he walked out, locking the door. The night air was as cold as the day air was hot. The temperature fluxuated throughout the cycle, burning in the day and freezing in the night.

He looked at his pocket watch, "Better be off to John's..."

 

 

 

Rosalyn sat on the back of a steambike, watching the dust fly up behind her. The wind blasted against her cheeks, only making the cold night are worse. She looked to her driver, his face was hidden by a bulky gas mask. She observed the other bandits, they all bore some form of mask. She lifted her chilled fingers to her cheek, brushing them against the bare and blushed skin.

She was jerked out of thought by the sounds of whooping and hollering. She turned and saw the camp rising over the horizon. As they pulled into the dirt road, she hopped off the bike and dusted herself off. The men were busy at work packing in the score.

Children ran up to Rosalyn, coming up only to her thigh, "Rosalyn! Do you have any stories for us?" They cried.

Rosalyn chuckled and hugged the group, "Of course I do sillies, but first we have to make sure we got what we went for." The children groaned in a unison of disapointment. Rosalyn smiled, "Now go on, it's cold out here." 

A man walked up behind Rosalyn and rested his hand on her shoulder, "Motherly intuition?" His voice was soft and smooth, a Russian accent greeting her ears.

Rosalyn turned and smiled at Art, "Not all bandits are barbarians." 

Art chuckled, "Nor are they as pretty as you." He gently brushed a strand of hair behind her ear.

Rosalyn's cheeks turned a bright shade of crimson and she nervously stammered, "Oh.. n-now you're just being n-nice... I'm tough, no need to t-treat me any different."

Art sighed and laughed, "You are different, though. You have remorse... Don't let that go.."

Rosalyn looked at him confused, she'd never seen him show any sign of vulnerability or consideration, "Sure thing.. I gotta go tell a story to the kids..." She ran off, leaving him in the dark of the night, illuminated by the oil lamps in the streets.

 

Rosalyn sat down in the middle of the circle of children. The metal floor was cold to the touch, but they were used to it from several nights spent listening to Rosalyn's tales.

"Now, here we were, riding throug the barren desert, a vortex of dust blowing behind us," Rosalyn spoke with an awe in her voice, the children's eyes lighting up, "I look up and see this towering beam of light shooting into the sky with buildings rising around it. We ride into the strange city and notice roads made of glistening diamonds that reflected the moonlight."

"As we walked through the streets, a man in a crimson red suit walked out and greeted us, 'Welcome to Helios!' he said, with great excitement and a warm smile, 'The City of Great Fortune!'" Rosalyn's eyes glistened with the same whimiscal imagination as the kids she spoke to, "He told us that anyone could get rich doing whatever they wanted here. I stepped up and asked, 'But we cannot live here, for we have children at home and a town of our own!' The man laughed and smiled, 'We'll load up your carriages with food and gems!' The end."

She looked at the children who were smiling widely and cheering. Rosalyn couldn't help but feel tears burning in the back of her eyes as she thought about the truth of how they got their score. She looked at the children, filled with their innocence and childish oblivion. Her heart ached for that iggnorance she once had, unaware of the darkness of her own world.

 

As she made her way to her flat, Art ran up behind her, "Hey Rosie!" He shouted.

Rosalyn turned, "Art, it's late! You'll get frostbite!" She grabbed his hands, warming them with her gloves.

Art panted, a look of worry on his face, "They're after you, you've gotta run!"

Rosalyn cocked her head, "Who?"

Art hesistated, "...The Crown."

Rosalyn's eyes widened, "What?! How? Why?" She began to panic, her head darting in every direction, her breathes short and heavy.

Art grabbed her shoulder, "Calm down, Rosie!" He stroked her cheek gently as she gradually calmed down, "Pack a bag, I can give you a ride to Galton, decent sized city but under the radar."

Rosalyn looked into his eyes, "Thank you..." Without thinking she pressed her lips to his, their body heat melting together. The world around them stopped, the air silent and still, time frozen. A surge of love, happiness and longing filled Rosalyn's heart as she broke the kiss.

Art stared in a daze before shaking his head, "Go get your things."

She nodded, "Right."

 

 

 

Maxwell jerked awake to the sound of motors. He looked out the window and saw a steambike with a trail of dust following behind. He turned his head, seeing the oddly familiar figure on the back. Her hair flew fluidly through the wind with great elegance. He turned and saw John fast asleep. Maxwell silently got dressed and made his way outside where the bike had stopped.

As he walked out, he stopped dead in his tracks as he saw Rosalyn, "Rosie!" He ran up to her.

Rosalyn turned around, her eyes wide, "Max?!" They greeted each other in a warm hug. Maxwell stepped back and Rosalyn looked at him, "I forgot this is where you live!" She smiled widely.

"What are you doing back? I thought you had a great gig going for you?" Maxwell turned his head to Art, "Who's this?"

Rosalyn's cheeks reddened, "Oh, that's Art... a friend from work." Art looked at her, and she replied with pleading eyes.

He nodded, "Rosalyn was hoping to move into the city."

She sighed a breath of relief, "Yea, we're heading to Vasp in a bit, stopping for some coal and water."

Maxwell frowned, "So you're not staying?"

Rosalyn looked at him with an apologetic stare, "Sorry Max.. I can't..."

Maxwell looked at Art and saw the familiar tattoo on the man's arm. He grabbed Rosalyn and pushed her towards the house, "Rosie get back! He's with the Dark Cats."

Rosalyn sighed, "Thanks for trying Art..." She stepped around and showed Maxwell her tattoo, the same as Art's.