GRAVESKIES

Chapter 7

Ryujin, Willow and Sawyer were drafted to the Rakian fronts.

The trajectory that the train followed slightly detoured towards the heart of Akan, since the Varians had destroyed the majority of borderland railroads, during their short-lived attempt at invasion.

The train shot over borders; traveled across wide, elongated Akan in only two hours. Trees flashed like ghosts in half-second slips. Cities lived in snapshots, as mere kisses of smoke. They soldiers were on their way to hell.

The closer they got to the Rakian borders, the fewer settlements emerged in their path. The battlezone stretched over lands the armies hadn't yet touched, evacuated red-alert areas. Deserted fields. Cliffs sharp like fangs, striking and proud against a sea of nothing.

When they approached the fossils of the farmer towns Rakia had already disemboweled, disturbed fever dreams flashed by Ryujin's eyes. Smoke. Demolishment. The ruined towns flaunted a sickening void of human presence, but a bit further down the road...

A maze of bloodied corpses hung over a grainfield from strung-up ropes, like drying clothes. Not all countryfolk had escaped the Eastern wrath in time. A teenaged soldier threw up on the metallic floor of the train. Was Rakia even to blame for this, or was this just the naked face of war?

Their stop, and the current military base, was Wrecks— a small village surrounded by wide, wavering fields. Half of the day, shadows enveloped Wrecks, because a massive, sharp cliff arose from the right side of the city and stretched high to sink its teeth into the sky. A huge waterfall poured thunder from the top, into a stream that ventured in the distance, slinking into the crude, mossy plains.

East Akan was splattered with such geographically unreasonable, senseless areas, influenced by the proximity to Rakia. Rakian geography denied the laws of reason, it did not substantiate prediction, and semblances of its unique phenomenons spread beyond the neighboring borders. Since magic had always been at liberty in the careless land of Rakia, it had ingrained itself in the composition of its wildlife.

They were fighting a monster that had never been dissected.

Wrecks had been evacuated, as had a majority of the Easternmost regions. When climbing out of the train, sack of clothes in her hand, Ryu saw armored troops as far as her eyes would reach, drilling, patrolling, transporting supplies.

"Why would they choose this place?" She followed Faust Kran as he strode out of the Generals' wagon. She wouldn't have access to any information during the strategy-making process, so she scrambled to get in a quick word. "This village is so small it can barely be used as a military camp. The only advantage is the cliff."

Kran turned and raised an eyebrow. "Scavenging for intel before you lose me to the council of strategy?"

"Shut up. Obviously. Storyteller won't let me participate in the discussions, but my life still depends on this fight. It's only natural I'd want to know our plans."

"I knew you only come to me if you need something," he teased.

She jabbed him. "Is that what you think?" Jab. "That it?" Jab. Jab. "That it, huh?"

To counter her merciless assault, Kran grabbed her by her armpits and lifted her in the same way one would hold up an undisciplined cat. He spun her around until she smacked his hands away.

Ryu straightened up and adopted a posh, sober tone. "Well, I'll have you know, General Kran, sir, that I'm here because I trust you. I think whatever you'll say in that council has a high chance of being true. So, prattle on about your first impressions."

General Kran smiled. "Alright, kid. So be it. Wrecks, then?"

"Wrecks. The Rakian fucking frontline."

"As I see it, it's a delicate situation. The closest fortified city is far away. If we retreated up to there, we'd be giving up a dangerously large portion of Eastern Akan."