WE BECOME THOUGHTLESS

five | and then there was light

long way down // robert delong

Alistair was a list maker.

Because unfortunately a mindrenderer was impervious to the sometimes deadly threads of mindrendering, he had found other ways to make sense of his own mind. Lists. When things got too out of hand, when his thoughts were a jumble of halfway words and lightning fear, he would try to find the last remaining piece of sense in him and compile a list.

As the falling ship tossed him from side to side, Alistair's heart shattered against his ribcage. He was sick with fear as he felt the ship lurch beneath him, as the wind cut across his face with the intensity of daggers.

Breathing in, he began to form a list.

1. Get away from the Welish boy with the axe.

2. Find a railing to support yourself on.

And 3. Don't think about the dead soldier.

But when he blinked, Alistair could see the steel-edged sword protruding from the soldier's back from where it had entered through his stomach. In one end, out the other. Like one of the magic tricks performed by the travelling circus back in his hometown, albeit considerably more sick and twisted.

The boy with the axe seemed to be having a harder time though. When Alistair turned his head to see lightning flash and cast a white outline around the warrior's body, he could see his fear in all its fine detail. His anger became terror in an instant, quick as a blink – he didn't look like he wanted to attack anymore, only that he wanted to survive.

Despite having spent a good chunk of his teenage years in Weles, Alistair really didn't know much about it. He did know, though, that just the sight of one of Chrysos' balloon ships was enough to make a Welish warrior seize up with fear. And this was probably the boy's first time in the air – if it were Alistair in his place, he would've fainted by now.

The ship was thrown to the side, forcing him with it. For a moment he was certain he would be tipped over the edge, but his shoulder caught him on the railing and was knocked from its slot, making a heart-clenching, wet crack. His entire body went numb with pain for a moment, a blissful moment in which he could've been floating in some subliminal space, until he felt it in its entirety.

Terrible pain.

Alistair's throat cracked against a high shout. He didn't care what happened next, he couldn't care in the slightest when his shoulder was knocked loose and throbbing with rhythmic bouts of pain, all he wanted was for it to just stop.

The girl and the soldier were still fighting in the dark, hand-to-hand after having their weapons thrown over the edge of the ship. Every flash of lightning revealed to him where they were. The girl was on top of the soldier, hands clawing at his throat. Another flash of lightning and the soldier had pulled the girl's arm behind her back.

How are they still fighting?

How on earth are they still fighting?

Rain pelted the deck and sounded like shattered glass. It was so fierce, he could feel the skin bruise beneath all the layers of fabric pulled over his body. The idea that he would be alive after this to even have bruises was laughable in its morbidity.

The Welish boy went tumbling into the railing next to him, forced by a sudden uplift of wind. His hair flew wildly around his face. There was no room for any other kind of emotion in his expression – only terror, pure and untouched. He looked so unbearably human, Alistair thought guiltily. How many times had Chrysos drilled into him that the Welish were closer to animals than people?