Chapter 9 - Living with the Big Lie

No more was said for the rest of the morning as Jingle and Jangle led them across the empire. After being punished all morning by bumping and bouncing along the road, which skirted the edge of a wood, Throug practically fell off of the wagon when Jask stopped for a break at noon, only just keeping his feet under him.

     “Tired?” Jask asked.

     “You could say that,” Throug replied.

     “Here, catch,” Jask said, splitting a loaf of bread and tossing half of it to Throug.

     Throug tried to catch it. It bounced off his outstretched arms. He bobbled it back and forth between his limbs, unable to get it under control. It eventually fell to the ground and rolled in the dirt. He sat down next to his fallen lunch. He picked it up and wiped off as much of the dirt as he could, but there was grit in every bite that he took.

     After wandering into the edge of the forest to take care of his business in private, Throug pulled himself back onto his spot on the wagon’s bench.

     Without a word, Jask released the brake and gave the horses the signal to go. The road happily jostled them around as they got on their way. Bored with his surroundings and wanting to forget his discomfort, Throug searched for something to talk about. Most of his ideas would quickly lead back to uncomfortable subjects, but then he had a bit of inspiration.

     “Who was Jawn Frenik?” Throug asked.

     “Can’t remember my name, but you can remember the alias that I gave you.”

     “It seemed important to remember my own name,” Throug said with a smile, but Jask replied with a frown.

     Throug cleared his throat when he realized that his joke had not been taken well.

     The old wagoneer said nothing, only chewed on his pipe. Just when Throug had given up on getting a response, Jask said, “He was my best friend. I talked him into supporting the royals. He didn’t survive the Ridge as I did.”

     “I’m sorry,” Throug said.

     “I don’t want your sympathy. I was the one that talked him into making that stand, not you. I have to live with that every day.”

     “You wanted something from me or you wouldn’t have given me his name. There are plenty of names out there, but you gave me Jawn’s.”

     Jask chewed his pipe with greater fervency.

     After several silent minutes, he said, “I guess I wanted you to know his name. I wanted you to know about my friend’s sacrifice.”

     “I used to try to remember the names of all the emperor’s victims, but there were too many. I then tried just to keep count. That worked until the Ridge.”

     “They weren’t all victims,” Jask said. “They were casualties. They were martyrs. They stood and fought. They faced their enemy and didn’t run and hide.”

     “I never ran nor hid,” Throug said. “I just admitted defeat when I came face to face with it. Then had my nose rubbed in it for nineteen years. Your friend and everyone else only had to face defeat once then die, while I got to be tortured by it every day.”

     “It always has to be about you,” Jask said.

     “You make it about me all the time. You give me an alias that turns out to be your dead friend’s name, question me about the rings, and ignore my injuries while making me work for free.”

     “I didn’t ask for you to be here,” Jask said.

     “Really? It seems the only person on this wagon who didn’t ask for this would be me. I have a feeling you could’ve walked away, but the fact I’m here now says you didn’t.”

     “I could just leave you by the side of the road.”

     “Go ahead, old man,” Throug said. “Leave me in your dust and run away. Is that what happened at the Ridge? That’s probably why you’re alive and Jawn is dead.”

     Jask pulled on the reins hard to stop the horses and set the brake after the wheels came to a stop.

     “I stood my ground. I didn’t give up,” Jask said.

     “The only survivors of the Ridge dropped their gear and ran when the dying started. The last thing Jawn saw was probably the back of your head.”

     “You don’t know what happened.”

     “I think I do by how you’re reacting. You hate me so much because we are peas in a pod. We both gave up.”

     Jask’s punch did not come as a surprise, but the strength of it did. The strike sent Throug over the side of the wagon and onto the ground. Jask followed soon after. Throug rolled to keep from getting landed on, then swept Jask’s legs out from under him. The old wagoneer rolled away and avoided Throug’s next attack, which would have been a boot to the face.

     They scrambled to their feet and faced each other, both looking for an opening.

     Throug threw a punch that landed, but he had forgotten that he did not have a fist. His stump glanced off Jask’s jaw, causing Throug more pain than he gave. Throug cradled his aching stump, his mouth open in a silent scream of pain.

     Jask took advantage of the opening and tackled Throug to the ground. Throug threw a forearm blow to the old wagoneer’s head, which caused the man’s grip to relax enough that Throug wiggled out of it. Jask got to his hands and knees then leaped at Throug. Throug rolled out of the way just in time to avoid a knee to the groin and a forearm to the chin.

     They traded blows as they lay on the ground, which grew weaker with each one thrown until they were more pushing than hurting each other. They lay back on the dusty road, breathing heavily.

     “I could’ve beaten you if I was in my prime,” Jask said.

     “Of course, you would’ve. I would’ve been a child.”

     Jask chuckled his cough-like laugh and kept laughing. The sound melted Throug’s icy defenses and he joined the old wagoneer in his amusement. Their laughs eventually died away.

     “I still hate you,” Jask said.

     “I can’t be bothered with such strong emotions for you,” Throug replied.

     “I wanted you to be a monster. I wanted you to be the one to take the burden of Jawn’s death, but it is still mine to bear.”

     “That was why you agreed to take me on this little trip,” Throug said. “Wasn’t it?”

     “It was.”

     “That’s pathetic,” Throug said and they both fell back into laughter.

     Jask sat up slowly and rotated his shoulder to work out some discomfort. “I guess now that we’ve gotten this out of our systems, we can get back to work.”

     “I guess,” Throug said. “I won’t try to punch you if you don’t try to punch me.”

     “Deal.”

     Jask got to his feet and offered a hand to Throug, grabbing him by the forearm.

     Before Jask pulled Throug to his feet, he said, “I miss my friend and the life I lost all those years ago.” He brought Throug to standing. “It is my biggest regret.”

     Throug said nothing because there was nothing he could say to lighten the man’s load. The two silently agreed to keep their burdens to themselves as they continued their journey. The road tried to jostle them into talking but both kept their silence, even as they ate dinner by the side of the road where they made camp for the night.

     Jask always kept his hands busy fixing bits on the wagon or Jingle and Jangle’s tackle. Throug studied the tools on Jask’s bandolier. They looked like the punches, round knives, bevelers, and swivel blades of a leatherworker, but in Jask’s hands they manipulated metal as though it were leather. Throug found himself transfixed by the deft way the old wagoneer worked. If the items he was working on were metal, the old wagoneer would wear gloves.

     “How does that work?” Throug asked.

     “The gloves turn metal leather-like.”

     “I figured that part out. You haven’t been caught with these?”

     “The power is so low that it does not seem to trip any alarm bells.”

     “But you could grab a sword and make it useless,” Throug said.

     “It is not that powerful. Well-forged steel is unaffected by the gloves. Believe me, I’ve tried to use them that way.”

     “I didn’t think any Ixafore item was below the emperor’s notice.”

     “The emperor is not all-powerful and all-knowing.”
     “Don’t tell him that,” Throug said. “He’d probably kill you for saying such a thing.”

     “He is always welcome to try,” Jask said. “He failed to kill me at the Ridge and I doubt he’d be successful with you at my side.”

     The sarcasm dripping from Jask’s words stayed Throug’s tongue in his mouth. He watched the old wagoneer work until he fell asleep.

     In the morning, Throug woke up with muscle ache that was even worse than it was the day before. The sun was up early and was all light and no warmth. He longed for just a bit more sleep. He felt a tickle deep in his chest.

     Jask had them going early, with only a small breakfast of some old bread that Throug choked down. At midday, they stopped in the ruins of an ancient Ixafore city. Throug got off the wagon and stood in the shadow of a crumbling tower.

     “Want anything to eat?” Jask asked.

     “Not hungry,” Throug said as he looked around.

     The chill he had caught this morning still flowed through him. It gave his aching muscles an uncomfortable massage. The sun kept its warmth to itself and started to wrap itself in clouds to hide its light.

     “Have you been here before?” Jask asked as he rummaged about looking for something to eat.

     “No, but I visited so many places just like this when I was looking for the rings,” Throug said.

     “The Ixafore left so much behind,” Jask said.

     “They left nothing worth all the trouble.”

     “We’d probably be better without their paraphernalia. Men like the emperor would not be able to gather so much power. The world would be a better place.”

     “Men like the emperor would find other ways to cause death and destruction,” Throug said. “The now is not the fault of the past, it is the fault of those of us who live now. The emperor would’ve used a sword to accomplish what he did with magic.”

     “A sword is a dangerous and terrible weapon, but it cannot slaughter entire armies by itself. I saw what the emperor did at Effus. That was the work of one single man with terrible power. Power he found. He did not create it; he did not suffer the trials of imagining and forging it. He picked it up like a rock and instead of bashing a single man with it, he bashed most of a continent.”

     “Evil finds a way,” Throug said.

     “It does,” Jask replied. “C’mon, we have a schedule to keep in Sculpik.”

     Throug got himself up onto the wagon’s bench.

     “We love chaos as a people,” Throug said as Jask released the brake. “We all love to tear things down. The emperor was inevitable. Eventually, he would exist. Do you think it matters to the commoner who sits on the throne? The only ones it affects are the nobility and I’ve noticed that they have a tendency to bend with the political winds.”

     “Not all of them,” Jask replied.

     “Not all, but most.”

     “What about all those killed for playing with Ixafore magic?”

     “You play with fire then you should expect to get burned.”

     “That’s rich coming from a man who has lived spending the emperor’s coin.”

     “I survived. I would not call it living,” Throug replied. “I feared every day. I feared the emperor calling me into his presence to toy with me. I feared his little minions coming to teach me who was in charge. I feared having to kill those who came seeking revenge for my failure. The emperor told me that thousands would die if I were found dead. I killed hundreds to save thousands.”

     Eventually, the road led to the top of a hill that looked out over a pristine valley. The Cryllyk Mountains could be seen off in the hazy distance. A moment of wonder washed over Throug, and then his gaze fell upon the crucified man near the ford of the river that wandered through the valley floor.

     As they drew near, the smell of rotting overwhelmed him. Throug put his mouth and nose into the crook of his arm to try and block the smell. Jask worked harder to keep Jingle and Jangle under control and Throug could see his jaw muscles clench as the old wagoneer chewed on the stem of his unlit pipe.

     Throug could not look away. This poor soul did not have a sign decrying his high crime, but it did not take too much imagination to decide what he was accused of.

     “His legs are broken,” Throug said without thinking. “Why would they break his legs, isn’t being crucified enough of a punishment?”

     “It speeds up the process,” Jask said.

     “What?”

     “You can’t use your legs to push yourself up and breathe if they are broken.”

     Throug looked back at the man. “Both a blessing and a curse.”

     “You could say that,” Jask said. “Still not a clean way to die. I’d rather go out with a weapon in my hand than nailed to a tree.”

     “We can’t all choose the way we die.”

     “No, but we can try to have a voice in it.”

     They headed up the side of the valley. They crested the top and found themselves staring at a roadblock manned by a platoon of imperial soldiers.