After leaving the hostel, Norman quietly tucked the smoked meats from his bag into his clothing. The threadbare attire had many pockets underneath the folds of fabric. Norman would have done this sooner but he didn’t want to walk around smelling like meat. But he no longer had the luxury if people were willing to steal food from him.
Norman felt bad about stealing the clothing but he had no other choice. He would find a way to repay the people he stole it from at some point. Seeing how hard the people worked around this zone, losing a set of clothing had to be rough.
Norman spent the rest of the fading light of the day walking through the city streets to get a feel for the place. There was an ever-present haze of dust that got kicked up as people walked. But it seemed to only rise to around knee level before settling down to the ground again. This made everyone appear to have been wading through orange water as the dust coated the bottom of their clothing.
The buildings inside the city were small, squat, and utilitarian wattle and daub structures for the most part. Norman wasn’t sure he would call it an improvement over the mud hut buildings in the smaller villages he had come through to get here. It seemed not everyone could afford the more expensive building materials though. Norman passed a few buildings still made of mud. Although, they weren’t as nice as the mud huts from the smaller villages. No, these buildings seemed like more of an afterthought.
As Norman moved further into the city, the houses changed from wattle and daub to sandy-colored brick. These new homes looked to be larger and much better constructed.
Had Norman accidentally stayed in the slums? It might help explain why he was robbed almost immediately after arriving.
Norman’s exploration came to an abrupt halt shortly after getting to the area that contained the fancier brick buildings. A pair of men wearing the white tabard of the Brotherhood over their clothing stopped him.
“Where do you think you’re going?” One of the men asked him pointedly.
“Oh, I was just admiring the architecture of the town.”
The man shook his head. “No, no, no. This part of town is reserved for true believers. If you want inside, I suggest you go speak with your local clergy and join the Brotherhood. Now be off with you before we call the knights over.”
Norman turned around and left, not wanting to get into an argument about being in the wrong part of town. This was certainly going to make his attempts to gather the information he needed that much harder. Then again… those men did tell him how to get inside. The question was, how important was it for Norman to gather this information?
No, Norman did not go down and join the Brotherhood. That was too much even for him. Joining the Brotherhood would be a betrayal of everything Norman stood for. So Norman dusted off some old skills and simply broke into the building in the middle of the night to steal one of their precious tabards.
It was a close call. As he was inside looking for the item, he heard footsteps on the second floor of the building, but Norman grabbed what he needed and fled before he could be discovered.
It didn’t take long the next day for Norman to realize he hadn’t quite thought his plan through completely. He was hiding in an alley near the Brotherhood’s zone and was about to put on the tabard when he realized all of the Brotherhood people walking around inside the restricted area weren’t wearing head protection.
“Fuck!” he cursed under his breath.
It wasn’t that he was worried about being seen without a headwrap on, he had been keeping his hair shaved. It was the fact that the sun was going to fry him if he wasn’t wearing it. He didn’t have whatever protection from the sun that the Brotherhood enjoyed. Once the sun started adversely affecting him, Norman would stand out like a sore thumb.
Rethinking his decision, Norman quickly stuffed the tabard back into his clothing and left the area. He needed to come up with a solution that didn’t involve him becoming sun-touched.
He was about halfway back to the hostel when he heard a shout from behind him. Norman looked back and spotted two Brotherhood knights pointing his way. When Norman looked down, he saw part of the tabard he had stuffed inside his clothing dragging behind him. Somehow it had fallen out while he was walking and he hadn’t realized it.
Norman bolted for a nearby alley but one of the knights was a dexterity classer. The man rushed past Norman before he could even take two steps and kneed him in the gut.
The blow doubled Norman over and caused him to gasp for air.
As he was trying to catch his breath he felt the man jerk the remaining material out of his clothing.
“What do we have here? A deserter? Or some piece of trash that thinks they can disguise themselves as one of the faithful? No matter, After a few days in the purification box, we will get our answers.”
The man didn’t wait for Norman to reply, he simply grabbed him. Norman wasn’t able to resist as one of the men tied his hands behind his back. Each of the men grabbed him by an arm and dragged him through the city until they reached a building made of black stone.
The building stood out amongst the tan and red of everything else, making it appear almost ominous.
One of the knights unlocked an iron gate in the structure. They untied Norman’s hand and tossed him inside.
After the gate slammed shut, the guard that had kicked him stepped back up to it. “Pray to Apolon for his mercy and you just might make it out with your mind intact.” With those ominous words, the man left.
The cage Norman found himself in was larger than a normal prison cell but not by a whole lot. The walls of black stone rose about eight feet high and the ceiling was made from a lattice of iron similar to the door. Norman realized this room was purpose-built to let the light of the sun beat down into it and any unfortunate soul trapped within. With the black walls to absorb all the heat, the room was sweltering and Norman already had sweat pouring from his brows.
Norman cursed himself for being stupid and rash. Had he just taken his time he could have found an alternate way to gather intel on the Brotherhood. But now he was going to die in this shitty prison with nothing to show for his effort.
Norman checked his clothing to get an inventory of what he still had. The knights had taken his head wrap but hadn’t bothered taking anything else from him. Norman had a bottle of water and a few days' worth of food. The water wouldn’t last though. Norman wasn’t sure why the men hadn’t searched him. Maybe they didn’t care or they knew anything he had on him wouldn’t be enough to get him through this torture. Either way, he wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth. As Norman was considering activating his get-out-of-jail-free card, he heard a voice from an adjoining cell.
“Stick near the shaded wall. Just be careful not to touch it, or it’ll burn you pretty badly. The heat may be uncomfortable but it is better than being directly in the sun.”
“Wha- Who are you?”
“…American? You sound American?” The voice asked tentatively.
Norman wasn’t sure how to respond to that question, so he just answered truthfully. “Uh, yeah. I’m from Colorado initially. You?”
Norman heard a near-manic laugh escape from the man in the adjacent cell. “I never thought I would hear another human’s voice. Not after I got stuck in this place. I’m originally from south Cali. Names Pedro.”
“Uh, nice to meet you, Pedro, I’m Norman,” Norman replied as he moved into the shaded area of his cell and sat down in the little shade available. Pedro was right, even with the heat radiating off the walls it was slightly cooler than standing in the sun.
“Norman, Norman, Norman,” the man replied, saying the name over and over as if afraid he might forget it. “It’s so good to meet you. So, what did the Brotherhood get you for?”
“I got caught stealing one of their tabards.”
Norman heard Pedro suck in a breath. “…sorry bout that. They are rather fond of their fancy packaging.”
Norman couldn’t help chuckling at Pedro calling their surcoats ‘fancy packaging’. “Not your fault. It isn’t like you created the Brotherhood.”
“…uh, yeah,” Pedro chuckled weakly.
“So why are you in a fancy place like this, Pedro?”
“Oh, the usual. I pissed off some of the higher-ups. So now I get to sit in time out until I cooperate again.”
Norman paused at that. “You’re a member of the Brotherhood?”
Norman heard Pedro snort. “Nah, fuck those guys. But I have a skill that they need me for. So they can’t actually kill me. So I get stuck in here as punishment,” he laughed at that. “Not that it does them any good.”
“Oh, how so?” Norman asked in confusion.
“Oh, lemme show ya, it's easier than explaining. I need to touch you to activate my ability though, we should be able to reach through the bars in the ceiling.”
Norman looked around for a bit, but eventually spotted a hand waving at him above the wall from an adjacent cell. The man seemed a bit off, but anyone that hated the Brotherhood was ok in Norman’s book.
“You’ll need to grip the bars and push your arm through as far as you can. It’s gonna suck and you’ll probably get burned, but you’ll feel better afterward, trust me.”
Norman wasn’t sure he would go so far as saying he trusted the man, but he didn’t see much of a downside. He wrapped his hands in some of his clothing and lept up near the adjoining wall. He gripped the hot iron bars in one hand and gritted his teeth as the heat of the metal seared his skin even through the wrapping. Without waiting, he shoved his arm through the hole and aimed it toward Pedro’s.
As soon as their bare skin touched, Norman felt a cooling sensation run through his body, and the heat of the bars stopped scalding his skin.
“There ya go, Norman. It’s not much, but it should keep ya from dying from heat stroke or going the way of the poor sun-touched.”
“Fire resistance?” Norman asked in awe.
“Not quite. But it works similarly. It’ll remain active for a week. You wouldn’t want to stick your hand in a fire or anything though. But you should surprise the guards by being alive when they finally come back for you,” Pedro chuckled again. “Any time I get a chance to fuck those people over, I take it.”
“Why not just leave then?” Norman asked.
“Ha, as if those asshats would ever let me go. Their entire organization is built off a lie they force me to perpetuate.”
Norman frowned. “You don’t have any other skills, do you?”
“A few,” Pedro replied nonchalantly. “What good would their god be if he couldn’t protect his chosen, blah blah blah.”
Norman groaned. “You’re Apolon, aren’t you?”
“Oh, shit? You’ve heard of me… um, sorry about that. Normally anyone that hears that name is on the Brotherhood’s shit list. Pedro Apolon Sanchez at your service. But only my Ma ever called me by my full name.”
This didn’t make any sense to Norman, why was their supposed god locked in a torture room? And why was he such a seemingly reasonable man?
“Why are you here, Pedro? Not in the cage, but in this place?”
“You mean, Beskara? Or the wasteland?”
“Both, either, whatever?” Norman replied, sitting down to rub away the headache that was building after this revelation.
“Well, after the end of days, as my Ma called it, I learned I was gifted with the ability to heal and protect. So I set out to help those in need. After a year and a half of travel, I came across the wasteland and soon after that, the city of Beskara. But I suppose they renamed it after the Brotherhood took over to Apolonia. A ridiculous name, that I had no say in mind you. Anyway, back to my story. After I arrived, I knew these people needed my help. I did what I could to ease their suffering. Eventually, a man that belonged to a small order of monks approached me. He convinced me that my talents would be put to better use if I assisted them.”
“And you believed him?”
Pedro sighed, “He was quite convincing. I believe the man had some sort of magic that assisted with this. Anyway, I helped them grow, and at first, this new Brotherhood did good things for the city and the people. Once their power grew enough though, they stormed the Chief’s home and killed him. After that, they took over. I loudly decried these actions, and the new High Priest locked me up for my actions. They only let me out now when they need to make use of my power. And when I refuse to cooperate, they toss me in here as punishment.”
“Fuck,” Norman replied.
“Fuck, indeed, my friend.”
What Pedro had told him was a lot to unpack.
“What will happen to me after I get out of here?” Norman asked
“Hard to say. If you survive, which you should thanks to my skill, the knights will see you as blessed be me,” Pedro laughed. “Most of them don’t know who I am, and I like to keep it that way. Chances are they will take you to see whoever is in charge.”
“I thought you said the High Priest was in charge?”
“He was. But I haven’t spoken to him in years. So either he doesn’t wish to see me anymore or someone else took over.” Norman could practically hear the shrug in those words.
Norman decided to ask a question that had been bugging him since he resurrected himself. “Ho- How many years have you been here, Pedro?”
“Hmm. I think I’ve been here nearly nine years. It’s hard to tell, but that’s probably a good estimate, why?”
“Uhh, just curious.”
FUCKING HELL!
Norman had hoped maybe a year or two, three tops had passed since he had died, not nearly eight fucking years. It was no wonder shit had changed so much since he had last been alive.
“Thank you for talking with me, and for the buff.”
“My pleasure, Norman. I wish you the best, I doubt we will meet again as I see my jailers coming to release me.”
Norman could only nod to himself as he heard the cell next to his open. The smiling face of a sun-kissed Spanish man in his late twenties peaked across Norman’s door for a moment before it was hauled back out of sight by a gauntleted hand.
Without thinking about what he was doing, Norman rested against the blistering stone of his cell. He didn’t feel the heat thanks to Pedro’s buff though. Norman had a lot of thinking to do after this bombshell of information. It didn’t seem like Pedro was lying about any of this, why would he? Pedro did seem a bit off, but that could be explained away by being held captive for so long. Norman may have attributed his actions to being sun-touched if it wasn’t for Pedro’s magic.
If Pedro wasn’t lying, then who the hell was responsible for the Brotherhood’s actions? According to Pedro, Norman was probably going to find out soon. He rubbed the claw hanging from his neck unconsciously. He would be ready.
After leaving the hostel, Norman quietly tucked the smoked meats from his bag into his clothing. The threadbare attire had many pockets underneath the folds of fabric. Norman would have done this sooner but he didn’t want to walk around smelling like meat. But he no longer had the luxury if people were willing to steal food from him.
Norman felt bad about stealing the clothing but he had no other choice. He would find a way to repay the people he stole it from at some point. Seeing how hard the people worked around this zone, losing a set of clothing had to be rough.
Norman spent the rest of the fading light of the day walking through the city streets to get a feel for the place. There was an ever-present haze of dust that got kicked up as people walked. But it seemed to only rise to around knee level before settling down to the ground again. This made everyone appear to have been wading through orange water as the dust coated the bottom of their clothing.
The buildings inside the city were small, squat, and utilitarian wattle and daub structures for the most part. Norman wasn’t sure he would call it an improvement over the mud hut buildings in the smaller villages he had come through to get here. It seemed not everyone could afford the more expensive building materials though. Norman passed a few buildings still made of mud. Although, they weren’t as nice as the mud huts from the smaller villages. No, these buildings seemed like more of an afterthought.
As Norman moved further into the city, the houses changed from wattle and daub to sandy-colored brick. These new homes looked to be larger and much better constructed.
Had Norman accidentally stayed in the slums? It might help explain why he was robbed almost immediately after arriving.
Norman’s exploration came to an abrupt halt shortly after getting to the area that contained the fancier brick buildings. A pair of men wearing the white tabard of the Brotherhood over their clothing stopped him.
“Where do you think you’re going?” One of the men asked him pointedly.
“Oh, I was just admiring the architecture of the town.”
The man shook his head. “No, no, no. This part of town is reserved for true believers. If you want inside, I suggest you go speak with your local clergy and join the Brotherhood. Now be off with you before we call the knights over.”
Norman turned around and left, not wanting to get into an argument about being in the wrong part of town. This was certainly going to make his attempts to gather the information he needed that much harder. Then again… those men did tell him how to get inside. The question was, how important was it for Norman to gather this information?
No, Norman did not go down and join the Brotherhood. That was too much even for him. Joining the Brotherhood would be a betrayal of everything Norman stood for. So Norman dusted off some old skills and simply broke into the building in the middle of the night to steal one of their precious tabards.
It was a close call. As he was inside looking for the item, he heard footsteps on the second floor of the building, but Norman grabbed what he needed and fled before he could be discovered.
It didn’t take long the next day for Norman to realize he hadn’t quite thought his plan through completely. He was hiding in an alley near the Brotherhood’s zone and was about to put on the tabard when he realized all of the Brotherhood people walking around inside the restricted area weren’t wearing head protection.
“Fuck!” he cursed under his breath.
It wasn’t that he was worried about being seen without a headwrap on, he had been keeping his hair shaved. It was the fact that the sun was going to fry him if he wasn’t wearing it. He didn’t have whatever protection from the sun that the Brotherhood enjoyed. Once the sun started adversely affecting him, Norman would stand out like a sore thumb.
Rethinking his decision, Norman quickly stuffed the tabard back into his clothing and left the area. He needed to come up with a solution that didn’t involve him becoming sun-touched.
He was about halfway back to the hostel when he heard a shout from behind him. Norman looked back and spotted two Brotherhood knights pointing his way. When Norman looked down, he saw part of the tabard he had stuffed inside his clothing dragging behind him. Somehow it had fallen out while he was walking and he hadn’t realized it.
Norman bolted for a nearby alley but one of the knights was a dexterity classer. The man rushed past Norman before he could even take two steps and kneed him in the gut.
The blow doubled Norman over and caused him to gasp for air.
As he was trying to catch his breath he felt the man jerk the remaining material out of his clothing.
“What do we have here? A deserter? Or some piece of trash that thinks they can disguise themselves as one of the faithful? No matter, After a few days in the purification box, we will get our answers.”
The man didn’t wait for Norman to reply, he simply grabbed him. Norman wasn’t able to resist as one of the men tied his hands behind his back. Each of the men grabbed him by an arm and dragged him through the city until they reached a building made of black stone.
The building stood out amongst the tan and red of everything else, making it appear almost ominous.
One of the knights unlocked an iron gate in the structure. They untied Norman’s hand and tossed him inside.
After the gate slammed shut, the guard that had kicked him stepped back up to it. “Pray to Apolon for his mercy and you just might make it out with your mind intact.” With those ominous words, the man left.
The cage Norman found himself in was larger than a normal prison cell but not by a whole lot. The walls of black stone rose about eight feet high and the ceiling was made from a lattice of iron similar to the door. Norman realized this room was purpose-built to let the light of the sun beat down into it and any unfortunate soul trapped within. With the black walls to absorb all the heat, the room was sweltering and Norman already had sweat pouring from his brows.
Norman cursed himself for being stupid and rash. Had he just taken his time he could have found an alternate way to gather intel on the Brotherhood. But now he was going to die in this shitty prison with nothing to show for his effort.
Norman checked his clothing to get an inventory of what he still had. The knights had taken his head wrap but hadn’t bothered taking anything else from him. Norman had a bottle of water and a few days' worth of food. The water wouldn’t last though. Norman wasn’t sure why the men hadn’t searched him. Maybe they didn’t care or they knew anything he had on him wouldn’t be enough to get him through this torture. Either way, he wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth. As Norman was considering activating his get-out-of-jail-free card, he heard a voice from an adjoining cell.
“Stick near the shaded wall. Just be careful not to touch it, or it’ll burn you pretty badly. The heat may be uncomfortable but it is better than being directly in the sun.”
“Wha- Who are you?”
“…American? You sound American?” The voice asked tentatively.
Norman wasn’t sure how to respond to that question, so he just answered truthfully. “Uh, yeah. I’m from Colorado initially. You?”
Norman heard a near-manic laugh escape from the man in the adjacent cell. “I never thought I would hear another human’s voice. Not after I got stuck in this place. I’m originally from south Cali. Names Pedro.”
“Uh, nice to meet you, Pedro, I’m Norman,” Norman replied as he moved into the shaded area of his cell and sat down in the little shade available. Pedro was right, even with the heat radiating off the walls it was slightly cooler than standing in the sun.
“Norman, Norman, Norman,” the man replied, saying the name over and over as if afraid he might forget it. “It’s so good to meet you. So, what did the Brotherhood get you for?”
“I got caught stealing one of their tabards.”
Norman heard Pedro suck in a breath. “…sorry bout that. They are rather fond of their fancy packaging.”
Norman couldn’t help chuckling at Pedro calling their surcoats ‘fancy packaging’. “Not your fault. It isn’t like you created the Brotherhood.”
“…uh, yeah,” Pedro chuckled weakly.
“So why are you in a fancy place like this, Pedro?”
“Oh, the usual. I pissed off some of the higher-ups. So now I get to sit in time out until I cooperate again.”
Norman paused at that. “You’re a member of the Brotherhood?”
Norman heard Pedro snort. “Nah, fuck those guys. But I have a skill that they need me for. So they can’t actually kill me. So I get stuck in here as punishment,” he laughed at that. “Not that it does them any good.”
“Oh, how so?” Norman asked in confusion.
“Oh, lemme show ya, it's easier than explaining. I need to touch you to activate my ability though, we should be able to reach through the bars in the ceiling.”
Norman looked around for a bit, but eventually spotted a hand waving at him above the wall from an adjacent cell. The man seemed a bit off, but anyone that hated the Brotherhood was ok in Norman’s book.
“You’ll need to grip the bars and push your arm through as far as you can. It’s gonna suck and you’ll probably get burned, but you’ll feel better afterward, trust me.”
Norman wasn’t sure he would go so far as saying he trusted the man, but he didn’t see much of a downside. He wrapped his hands in some of his clothing and lept up near the adjoining wall. He gripped the hot iron bars in one hand and gritted his teeth as the heat of the metal seared his skin even through the wrapping. Without waiting, he shoved his arm through the hole and aimed it toward Pedro’s.
As soon as their bare skin touched, Norman felt a cooling sensation run through his body, and the heat of the bars stopped scalding his skin.
“There ya go, Norman. It’s not much, but it should keep ya from dying from heat stroke or going the way of the poor sun-touched.”
“Fire resistance?” Norman asked in awe.
“Not quite. But it works similarly. It’ll remain active for a week. You wouldn’t want to stick your hand in a fire or anything though. But you should surprise the guards by being alive when they finally come back for you,” Pedro chuckled again. “Any time I get a chance to fuck those people over, I take it.”
“Why not just leave then?” Norman asked.
“Ha, as if those asshats would ever let me go. Their entire organization is built off a lie they force me to perpetuate.”
Norman frowned. “You don’t have any other skills, do you?”
“A few,” Pedro replied nonchalantly. “What good would their god be if he couldn’t protect his chosen, blah blah blah.”
Norman groaned. “You’re Apolon, aren’t you?”
“Oh, shit? You’ve heard of me… um, sorry about that. Normally anyone that hears that name is on the Brotherhood’s shit list. Pedro Apolon Sanchez at your service. But only my Ma ever called me by my full name.”
This didn’t make any sense to Norman, why was their supposed god locked in a torture room? And why was he such a seemingly reasonable man?
“Why are you here, Pedro? Not in the cage, but in this place?”
“You mean, Beskara? Or the wasteland?”
“Both, either, whatever?” Norman replied, sitting down to rub away the headache that was building after this revelation.
“Well, after the end of days, as my Ma called it, I learned I was gifted with the ability to heal and protect. So I set out to help those in need. After a year and a half of travel, I came across the wasteland and soon after that, the city of Beskara. But I suppose they renamed it after the Brotherhood took over to Apolonia. A ridiculous name, that I had no say in mind you. Anyway, back to my story. After I arrived, I knew these people needed my help. I did what I could to ease their suffering. Eventually, a man that belonged to a small order of monks approached me. He convinced me that my talents would be put to better use if I assisted them.”
“And you believed him?”
Pedro sighed, “He was quite convincing. I believe the man had some sort of magic that assisted with this. Anyway, I helped them grow, and at first, this new Brotherhood did good things for the city and the people. Once their power grew enough though, they stormed the Chief’s home and killed him. After that, they took over. I loudly decried these actions, and the new High Priest locked me up for my actions. They only let me out now when they need to make use of my power. And when I refuse to cooperate, they toss me in here as punishment.”
“Fuck,” Norman replied.
“Fuck, indeed, my friend.”
What Pedro had told him was a lot to unpack.
“What will happen to me after I get out of here?” Norman asked
“Hard to say. If you survive, which you should thanks to my skill, the knights will see you as blessed be me,” Pedro laughed. “Most of them don’t know who I am, and I like to keep it that way. Chances are they will take you to see whoever is in charge.”
“I thought you said the High Priest was in charge?”
“He was. But I haven’t spoken to him in years. So either he doesn’t wish to see me anymore or someone else took over.” Norman could practically hear the shrug in those words.
Norman decided to ask a question that had been bugging him since he resurrected himself. “Ho- How many years have you been here, Pedro?”
“Hmm. I think I’ve been here nearly nine years. It’s hard to tell, but that’s probably a good estimate, why?”
“Uhh, just curious.”
FUCKING HELL!
Norman had hoped maybe a year or two, three tops had passed since he had died, not nearly eight fucking years. It was no wonder shit had changed so much since he had last been alive.
“Thank you for talking with me, and for the buff.”
“My pleasure, Norman. I wish you the best, I doubt we will meet again as I see my jailers coming to release me.”
Norman could only nod to himself as he heard the cell next to his open. The smiling face of a sun-kissed Spanish man in his late twenties peaked across Norman’s door for a moment before it was hauled back out of sight by a gauntleted hand.
Without thinking about what he was doing, Norman rested against the blistering stone of his cell. He didn’t feel the heat thanks to Pedro’s buff though. Norman had a lot of thinking to do after this bombshell of information. It didn’t seem like Pedro was lying about any of this, why would he? Pedro did seem a bit off, but that could be explained away by being held captive for so long. Norman may have attributed his actions to being sun-touched if it wasn’t for Pedro’s magic.
If Pedro wasn’t lying, then who the hell was responsible for the Brotherhood’s actions? According to Pedro, Norman was probably going to find out soon. He rubbed the claw hanging from his neck unconsciously. He would be ready.
