A Good Servant Chapter 23

A Good Servant – Ch. 23

By Laura S. Fox

Gay Erotica

Intended for Mature Audiences Only

This story contains graphic depictions of sexual intercourse, strong language and it is not meant for readers who are less than 18 years of age.

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Chapter Twenty-Three

Cory knew what fear felt like. He remembered the way the hot iron had branded his flesh, the searing pain. As he could still recall being asked the same questions by the Trainers about Xavier's disappearance, over and over again.

But this, this was a new kind of fear, sister to despair, deep and wide, threatening to swallow him whole, down to the last fiber of his being.

He leaned against the metal wall of the long corridor, breathing hard, and taking in the image of the lifeless clothes on the ground, the grotesque aspect of their positions as if they had just been scattered around by an enormous impatient hand.

Xavier seemed to be the one with the cool head. The former Ruler crouched and raked his fingers through the whitish dust, bringing them to his nose to smell the strange substance. By now, all the three of them knew what that was. The people of Teran, the guards, turned to fine dust. Cory dreaded to think that everyone inside the city had shared the same fate. But deep down, he knew, that was the truth.

"I can only surmise that this is the result of a weapon of mass destruction in action," Xavier said out loud.

"What kind of weapon would that be?" Ayn mumbled.

Unlike Xavier who was inspecting their surroundings with cold eyes, Ayn was almost just as shaken as Cory was. And that had to stand for something, seeing the rough life the man had led up till that point. Ayn must have faced death before. But now he was scared, too.

"The kind of weapon that the scientists in Aeria are working on as we speak," Xavier straightened up.

"But if the weapon is not yet built, how come ..." Ayn questioned, his words fading away, as he was taking in his surroundings with frightened eyes.

"Oh, that was not the weapon that is yet to be constructed. It was just a small-scale prototype," Xavier replied. "And this was a trial run," he added, as he scanned the long corridor with a frown etched deeply on his forehead.

"A trial run? How do you know?" Ayn mumbled.

"Because we're alive," Xavier said, turning to look at Ayn, and then at Cory.

"But that means," Cory spoke with difficulty, "that once the weapon is ready ... Everyone will be dead?"

Xavier nodded gravely.

"How the fuck can we deal with this kind of thing?" Ayn almost shouted, kicking a small dune of dust at his feet furiously, making tiny speckles fly around.

"Any weapons we could wield would be ineffective," Xavier confirmed what all of them knew already.

"Then what are we doing here?" Ayn asked, his voice rising gradually. "What are we going to tell the rest? That there's no point? We got all up for nothing? We will just die on our feet, like these poor shmucks? Without a chance to fight?"

Xavier took hold of Ayn, as the man was struggling, swinging his arms, and moving around like he was drunk.

"Listen to me, Ayn," Xavier's voice was just as loud, but calm. "Everyone knows the risks. And at least we know what's coming our way."

Xavier's voice and firm grasp seemed to get through Ayn. The man was now breathing hard, but at least he was calming down.

"How are you?" Xavier turned toward Cory.

The former servant waved, trying to look away.

"Now it's not the time to lose our heads," Xavier began speaking, without letting go of Ayn's arm. "It's time for us to think how we are going to go against this."

"There's no weapon to go against this thing," Ayn pointed out, but he wasn't shouting anymore. "There's no point for us to be here."

"We should still get the weapons we've come here for," Xavier spoke. "They might not help us against the weapon the Trainers want to build, but they will help us carve a way to get to them."

"The Trainers are immortal," Cory recited from his place, his voice drained of emotion.

"That may be," Xavier nodded curtly. "But that doesn't mean that they cannot be stopped. We only need to find a way."

"What are we going to tell the others?" Cory asked.

"We won't destroy their morale by letting them know of this," Xavier replied.

"But how are we going to haul all the weapons without them knowing?" Ayn was the one to ask now.

"As long as we don't let them see, they won't suspect anything. Quick, let's get organized. Let's start bringing weapons to the door. It is the surest way to streamline the process, without letting anyone sneak a peek inside."

"What the hell?"

They turned to look at Marcus who let himself in, followed closely by Edgar.

"What the fuck happened here?" Marcus murmured.

Not even the big burly man was in the mood to joke anymore. Edgar, just like Xavier, crouched to examine the nature of the fine dust covering everything.

"Is this how the entire place looks like?" Edgar inquired, his voice not trembling one bit.

Cory admired the scientist. Maybe Ayn and Marcus had faced violence before, terrible things, but they were still mute in the face of what the Trainers could do.

"We have no reason to believe that it would be any different. Marcus, Edgar, we need to keep this to ourselves," Xavier spoke.

"But what the fuck happened?" Marcus insisted. "Is everybody ... dead?"

"It appears that a device was used to destroy every living being in the area," Edgar explained. "That is why we could not see any birds in the sky. Or hear any of the desert creatures that should be out at this hour."

"A device?" Marcus boomed. "How the fuck do you fight a device like this?"

"The full-scale weapon is most probably being built in Aeria as we speak," Xavier spoke.

"Aeria? Why? Why are they building such a thing?" Marcus demanded to know. "And I'm asking again, people, what kind of weapon can we use against this ... device?"

"We will not use a weapon," Edgar said with conviction. "We will use a strategy."

"A strategy?" Marcus turned, and the others turned to look at the scientist, too.

"Yes. It will involve getting into Aeria and, of course, sabotage," Edgar replied.

"And how are we going to get inside? Without letting the Trainers know we're on to something?" Ayn was the one to speak now.

Edgar pushed his glasses up his nose and watched the others through the now scratched and dusty lenses.

"We have a little ace up our sleeve. I was the one to design and work on the gate system."

***

There was nothing left of the happy banter that had accompanied them on the road to Teran. Marcus was staring ahead, his hairy hands gripping the wheel tightly. Next to him, Edgar was scribbling down something on a small notebook he had found in one of the lockers in Teran, along with other writing supplies.

Cory didn't have to look to know that Ayn and Xavier were both deep in thought, too.

"How can we know for sure that what we think about this is correct?" he began speaking, just for the sake of breaking the heavy silence.

"There are no weapons on the entire continent for something of this scale. The Trainers are the most powerful beings," Xavier replied.

"We don't even know if they are `beings' to begin with," Cory said, burying his face into his palms.

"That is true," Xavier confirmed.

"What happens if we cannot destroy them?" Cory continued.

"Let's focus on the present. Right now, we need to derail their plans of turning everything that breathes on the continent into fine dust," Xavier said.

"How come they want to do this now? The fucking scumbags," Ayn mumbled, rubbing his fists with a hard expression on his face.

"It is not a question of want," Xavier placed one hand on his lover's back, in assurance. "It is a question of means. And that tells us something."

"That they couldn't do it by themselves," Cory continued Xavier's train of thought.

Ayn looked up and stared at Cory.

"So they're not all powerful?" Ayn asked.

Cory shrugged.

"That could be, I think."

"Yes, I also believe that to be the truth," Xavier confirmed. "All my life, ever since I was barely getting into the education system they prepare for Rulers, I heard about the project. Nothing of its nature, or what it could entail, but its importance was obvious. For us, too, as a consequence. This," he raised his damaged hand, "might just have been part of it. What the purpose was, that I cannot tell."

"Could it be that other Rulers suffered the same modification as you?" Cory asked.

"Again, this is a question I have no answer for," Xavier said. "But I am afraid that, in my stead, Lucas could be used to fill in the role I was prepared to play. For what is worth, I'm sorry, Cory. But I do think you deserve to learn the truth. Or, at least, to be prepared for it."

"It is all I'm thinking of," Cory said with small, self-defeating laugh. "And what I'm afraid of most."

Ayn made a small non-committal sound.

"All I want to know is whether you're truly and thoroughly fucked or not," Ayn said.

"That is not something we can know the answer for right now," Xavier replied.

"So, all in, until the end?" Ayn turned toward his lover.

"All in," Xavier nodded.

Cory remained silent. At least the two had one another. And what he was terrified of was that even if, through some miracle, they saved the entire existence on the continent, he would still not save the man he loved.

But he kept quiet. He watched fondly as Xavier pulled Ayn close into a hug. Throughout his short existence, he had made friends, and he had known love. Somehow, in the final hour, that had to be enough.

***

"How do you think Cory is holding up?" Ayn questioned his lover.

Xav had seemed unable to sleep, and, without a word, Ayn had woken up and followed him. Xav didn't seem surprised to hear him talk.

"He's fighting a lonely struggle," Xav said simply. "We're here, together, and we might have a chance, but who knows what they could have done to Lucas. I do not dare to think about it."

"Do you think that you know, they got him on their side or something?" Ayn asked the question that had stayed on the tip of his tongue for the entire journey back from Teran. For Cory's sake, he had kept silent.

"They might," Xav said. "And, if that happened, we might have a tough call to make."

"We can't have his head!" Ayn protested.

Xav turned to look at him, in the faint light of the stars. Ayn could barely make the other's profile, let alone stare into his eyes. But he knew his lover enough to understand that the look he must be throwing was not a kind one.

"Of course not. But we might have to keep everyone from having his head," Xav said slowly, speaking every word like he needed to make sure Ayn understood its meaning.

He nodded curtly.

"Anything he might end up being guilty of, it was done against his will."

"Could you turn him, you know, the way he was?"

"There's no way to tell, at this point. But no matter what he is now, and what he does, he will always be my friend."

"I'm with you," Ayn placed both hands on his lover's shoulders, squeezing them. "Anyone who dares to get close to your friend, he's going to have to go through me first."

"I appreciate your loyalty," Xav took one step closer. "Let's hope that we won't need to use it to fend off the others. As long as Lucas breathes, I believe that he is still himself beneath the surface."

Ayn pulled his man into a hug now. He liked it best when Xav was leaning in, like right now, letting himself go a little. He pushed his hands into the longish strands. Xav needed a haircut. Probably most of them required one. Later.

"You know," he said, as he pulled Xav's head back a little, and angled it to that perfect point so that they could kiss, "we've never really done it out in the open, like this."

"Are we doing it, then?" Xav asked with a small chuckle.

"We sure are," he answered. "It's like our last night alive, or something."

"Are you trying to kill the mood here?" Xav laughed.

"Nah, just stating a possible fact. We should fuck to last us forever."

"We sure should," Xavier confirmed.

They could joke, even now. They could hug, and they could kiss. And Ayn was undoubtedly not the kind of man to let an opportunity pass him by. For good or for worse, Xav, the man who had been trained all his life to be the First Ruler of Drena, was in his arms, was the lover of a man dragged from the depths of the desert, and now he cared not for going back to that white city that knew no love.

And if that wasn't the biggest middle finger he could show to those scumbags in Drena, he had no idea what else could.

"I thought you were bent on jumping me," Xavier brought him back to reality. "What were you thinking about just now?"

"That maybe I got screwed over that day when that asshole caught me and dragged me to Drena, but I am sure screwing those scumbags over now, by screwing your brains out," Ayn said with a small laugh.

"There's a lot of screwing going on in your mouth, and none where it matters," Xav pushed his hands under Ayn's t-shirt, raking his blunt nails over the skin.

"Bend over, and you'll see screwing," Ayn teased.

"What? No foreplay?" Xav's laugh was low and heady, sending eddies of pleasure straight into his groin.

He let himself down at the man's feet.

"You won't last through my foreplay," he warned, as he fiddled with the man's zipper to pull his cock out.

He had no trouble taking Xav deep. The man was used to Ayn's rough technique, but he still squirmed and huffed and moaned when his lover began bobbing his head to and fro. Ayn knew he could be efficient if he wanted to. After all, he had learned from the best. That, and they also needed something to use as lube.

"Ayn, please, not so ..." Xav moaned, but Ayn didn't let go, despite feeling Xav's fingers locking into his hair and trying to stop him.

The man was bucking his hips now and trembling. Ayn drew with expert moves all of Xav's essence, holding it into his mouth. Xav was still shuddering as Ayn got back to his feet.

He spat into his palm and nudged his lover to turn. No words were needed, and Ayn could feel his cock throbbing into his jeans, as Xav made a one-eighty, and pushed down his pants.

Good thing he was an expert at pulling his one-eyed monster out of his jeans with just one hand. He was busy using Xav's jizz to lubricate the man's hole.

"Damn, it's a wonder how you can still have a damn tight hole with all the love I'm giving you," he whispered, as he worked the improvised lube in and out Xav's ass.

"Complaining?" Xav teased, but it was clear, by the way, he was speaking that he felt proud to hear that.

"Not in a million years," Ayn chuckled as he positioned himself behind his lover.

Xav was a real fighter; that was what Ayn loved most about him. But he knew how to give in, too, and Ayn loved that, also. With a muffled curse, he buried himself deep into Xav's tight ass, his fingers digging into the man's hips.

"Fuck, who could've known you'd be such a perfect bottom?" Ayn murmured.

"I should remind you that your ass is treated quite regularly with the same type of affection from my part," Xav replied with a small laugh.

"Ah, damn, Xav, you always talk too much," Ayn replied.

Quickly, he pulled the man up to him. Being almost the same height, it was easy for them to do it like this, on their feet. The most rewarding part was that he could use his hands, too. One to grab Xav's growing erection, and the other, to tease the man's nipples, under the tight t-shirt.

"I'm so lucky to have you," he said quietly.

Xav turned his head to kiss him.

"Same here. Now fuck me as you promised. You know, until others have the same fantasy of doing it out in the open, and the place gets rather crowded."

"You don't have to tell me twice," Ayn brushed his lips against his.

He knew well how to take his lover for a ride. That was something he might have learned along the way, but it was clear he was now better even than his master. Xav's moans were growing in intensity, and it was liberating for both of them to voice their pleasure like this, where no one could hear them.

"Fuck, I'll always love you, Xav," he whispered, as he began climbing the path of no return.

"I'll always love you, too, Ayn," Xav moaned back, as he started coming.

Only one man, one man in the entire universe, could make him feel like this. Ayn held his lover close, as he poured all of him inside Xav. Knowing that the man felt the same made it all worth it. Even going to war, a war they might not win.

***

Sleep was not his friend, and it wasn't going to be for as long as this was going to last, Cory thought, as he laid on the improvised cot, in one of the humble dwellings the people of Haven had put at his disposal. Not far away from him, Edgar's rhythmic breathing should have lulled him back to sleep, too, but his head was still too full with the dream he had just had.

For all that was worth, it could have been a good dream. The best kind. His body deep in slumber, he had awakened as if he was still in Drena, in Lucas's household. He should have been happy for still being able to remember one of those blessed days.

The dream had been vivid, too. It had felt as if Cory had just gotten out of bed, busy already with putting things in their places, straightening the sheets, opening the windows, and starting the day as the servant of the household.

The only difference to that position was, of course, that Cory had just gotten out of his master's bed, not his own, and his body was still aching. It was a pleasant ache, turning his bones to butter, and the blood in his veins to pure fire, as he remembered the night before.

Lucas was always a demanding lover, Cory from the dream thought fondly. It was a good thing that he could sleep in as much as he wanted. As the master of the household, Lucas was not at all demanding, a contrast to his draconic whishes as his servant's lover. Cory had spent the night prior with his hands tied to the wooden headboard, while Lucas had been busy driving him to the heights of ecstasy and keeping him on edge for what might have been hours.

"Have mercy, Master!" he had cried out, only half-joking.

For all his demands not to be considered a real master by his lover, Lucas surely loved to be called as such when bed matters were concerned.

"Ask me nicely, Cory, and I just might," Lucas had teased. "You know I do this for a good reason. If you were to come once, you'd go to sleep and leave me unsatisfied."

"You know it's not like that," Cory had glared, slipping out of his submissive role.

"Oh, are you mouthing off to me?" Lucas had chuckled, and changed the angle of his thrusts, making Cory cry out in ecstasy once more.

"I wouldn't dare," Cory had moaned softly, his eyes moist from too much edging and arousal.

Lucas from the dream had looked down at him fondly and finally settled into a rhythm that allowed them both to reach completion. Cory knew the sheets were soaked through by now, and that he should have gotten up and changed them. But Lucas had just pulled him into a tight hug, moving only enough to let Cory's wrists free. They had slept till morning tangled in an embrace.

Oh, it was so late! Cory thought as he moved around the house to see about his chores. How come he had slept in so much? It was only normal for Lucas not to wake him up when leaving for his workday, but it was ... too late.

He stared at the large clock on the wall. There was something odd about it. It was an ancient piece of furniture Lucas had brought with him from Aeria. Its precision was, as Lucas had said jokingly, legendary.

Suddenly fascinated by the object, Cory moved near. For a while, he could not tell what was not quite all right with it. And then, he realized. The clock was working backward.

He stepped away from it, stumbling over a chair, and almost falling on his back. Then the door to the room opened, and Lucas walked in, seemingly preoccupied. He went straight to his nightstand, rummaging through the drawers as if he was looking for something in particular.

"How come you're home?" Cory asked. "What time is it? The clock ..."

Lucas didn't seem to hear him. He was still busy looking around, now his attention turned to the large closet. Crouched over an old box, another souvenir from Aeria, he was now looking through some papers, yellowed by the passing of time.

"Lucas," Cory called tentatively.

Again, the man seemed too absorbed with his search. His hands were moving frantically, scattering the papers around.

"If you could tell me what you're looking for ..."

"He cannot find what he's looking for," suddenly, a voice spoke.

Cory turned to see someone seated at the further corner of the room. His heart clenched when the apparition stood up and began walking toward him. He knew who that was.

"What he's looking for," the grey hooded shape towered over Cory, "was taken from him, and it will never be given back."

"You're lying!" Cory shouted.

By all means, he should have been shaken with his audacity. No one dared to raise his voice at the Head Trainer.

"I know who you are," the grey hood spoke. "I know all about your little games, out there in the desert, with other misfits like you. You will never win."

"Lucas, what did you do to Lucas?" Cory steeled his resolve.

The Head Trainer straightened up, pushing his hood back, letting Cory see the inhuman shape of his face, the deep-set dead eyes, the broad forehead on which ashen skin stretched too thin, almost giving way to the bone beneath.

"Look," the Head Trainer pointed at Lucas, and Cory turned.

Lucas stood up and now began looking around until his eyes fell on Cory.

"No," Cory whispered, as grey lifeless orbs set on him.

He had awakened drenched in cold sweat. So he was warned. Lucas was not the same man anymore. Was that what the dream was trying to tell him? But dreams could only be born from a person's subconscious, so maybe that was just what he feared most. It could not be that the Head Trainer was entering his dreams. He had never heard of such a thing before. So it was his choice to believe that the dream was nothing but his fear trying to get the best of him.

"Don't worry, Lucas," he spoke into the dark. "I'm coming for you."

***

"What is it with him now?" one of the Trainers asked, pointing at Lucas, thrashing in his sleep, still seated on his iron chair.

"We practically carved out an important part of his memories," the Head Trainer explained. "His mind is still struggling to adapt to the loss. It is a natural process."

"It is a sign of instability," the Trainer spoke again. "And we're relying our existence's grandest work on an unstable mind?"

"Brother, do not doubt our decision. Are you against it, for some reason?"

The Head Trainer strained to watch into his brother's eyes. But the grey hood stayed low, covering the Trainer's face.

"Only if it endangers what we have fought for all our existence," the Trainer replied.

"Do not doubt," the Head Trainer repeated his words from earlier. "What we needed from Lord Lucas, we took. Now nothing can stop up. The shipment from Aeria is due over the next five days. The test was concluded. Soon, we will be free."

Other Trainers in the room murmured, repeating the words.

Why the doubt now? The Head Trainer pondered. He rarely dreamed. But dreams meant nothing. They were but a reminiscence of things that had never happened and never would. Nothing was unsettling about them. The part of him, just as of his brothers, the only that was keeping them tied to this wretched world, had to be to blame.

It didn't matter what he thought he felt during the dream. That luminous presence, a danger to him and his brothers. She was no longer here. Not a trace of her, for so much time. The fact that he could still remember her was of no consequence.

Otherwise, the dream made no sense. He could not remember to have ever been interested in visiting Lord Lucas's quarters. Some Trainers paid house visits, but not the Head Trainer. It had something to do with his station if he was to think correctly.

He dismissed the dream. Fretting over connotations of what a dream could mean was the sort of thing usual to the mindless gossip between servants or slaves. It meant nothing.

***

"Dion, wake up," John nudged him gently. "I'm going with the next team to cover some ground. Scout around."

"I'm coming with you," Dion said with determination, as he sat up, and dusted his pants.

It was more of a force of habit than anything else. There was no point to try keeping his clothes clean now that they were deep in the mines, where dust and grime should have been good friends to him by now.

"Good," John said shortly. "Then we could make a team. It would be more efficient this way."

His man's voice was a tad strained. Dion tried to make John's face in the faint light of the torches. They were rationing everything, and there was just one torch actually, now. It almost gave no light at all, but the men found a little comfort in its flickering flame, so, for all that was worth, it performed a vital role.

"All right, let's go," he said and slid his hand into John's larger one.

He was a bit surprised when John pulled him a bit too quickly after him. What could be wrong? He wondered.

They had a small torch with them, which John had modified by wrapping a long strip of cloth seeped into tar to last longer, while giving little light, and quite smelly fumes. Dion didn't complain.

"What should we be looking for?" Dion asked. "I must remind you that my experience with being a miner is close to naught," he added.

They were walking for some time and barely took a corner when John pushed him with his back against the wall. The torch fell at their feet, dying without a single sigh.

"Hey, the torch ..." Dion tried to point out the obvious when firm, impatient lips caught his mouth.

John's hands were on his hips, lifting him off the ground, soon on his ass, making him wrap his legs around his man. Dion didn't need any other explanations to know what was going on there. John's hard erection was grinding against his crotch and was making his manhood twitch with sudden desire.

"Don't worry, I have matches," John whispered during the single second he allowed Dion to breathe before catching his lips in another passionate kiss.

John's moves were hurried as the man pushed down Dion's shirt from his shoulders, followed next by the pants, making the clothes fall into a heap at their feet.

"Aren't you afraid someone might come?" Dion whispered, feeling vulnerable all naked like that.

"Do you think others aren't doing what we're doing?" John chuckled. "I want you, princess. Who knows when I get another chance to have you?"

All rational thought and fear of getting caught drained away from his mind, as John began kissing his neck, making him throw his head back. John's lips were rough, and a bit chapped from not drinking enough water, but, nonetheless, they felt like a balm on Dion's skin. John was busy raining kisses over his naked chest, going lower until the same rough lips wrapped around Dion's cock, now entirely awakened by the experience.

He could not remember ever coming so fast. Or maybe he could not remember much anymore.

"Turn, baby," John said, his voice filled with urgency and strained with desire. "I must have you or I might not ever come out of here alive."

He needed no other incentive. Dion turned with his back at his lover, resting his head against the cold wall. So strange, he thought, the wall wasn't smooth here, and it smelled of earth, and was soft, like the fields worked by farmers in early spring.

John's tongue wormed its way deep inside Dion's ass, and he forgot everything in a split second. He was bound to get hard again if his man was going to go at it like this. His fingers began digging into the soft soil the wall seemed made of, while John made love to his back entrance, pushing his tongue inside over and over again, in his quest of making the tight ring of muscle give up to the intrusion.

"Hurry," he murmured, wanting John so badly that nothing else mattered.

He almost howled in pleasure mixed with pain, as John quickly obeyed, and began pushing at his back. The man was using all the restraint he could be capable of. But even John, the gentle giant who had saved him from being miserable and lonely for his entire life, could not hold back anymore.

So Dion arched his back, standing on his toes so that he could impale himself into the man's mighty sword. He wanted this, the same way he wanted water or food. Oh, no, it was more than that. It was a need, but a craving, too, and, for someone who had been denied having another man's affection all his life, Dion was sure no one would care if he took, and took, and took.

"Baby," John cooed, but his voice was now strained, low and turned into a moan.

"Fuck me, John," Dion demanded, pouring all the tenderness, love, and want for his man into his words.

There was no way he could keep quiet. Even if he bit his lips through, the desperate sounds he was making were now bouncing off the walls. They were doubled by John's hitched breathing, his low, masculine growl. One time, Dion had seen a strange movie showing animals in heat. He was sure he and his lover were no different, but that didn't make him feel less.

It made him feel free.

"Harder, faster, deeper," he chanted, and behind him, John was obeying his demands with every thrust.

Dion's fingers drew long deep trails into the wall, as John started coming inside him, dragging him along. Now they were both a heap on the floor, probably dirty and undoubtedly sweaty, but happy and unafraid.

"How come it gets better every time?" John was the first one to speak.

Dion giggled.

"I don't know. I thought the novelty would wear off, eventually."

John pulled him gently by the hair at the back of his head, to kiss him again.

"Wear off? I don't think so. You're like an addiction to me. The more I taste you, the more I want you."

"Such a glutton," Dion teased. "Good thing this wall is so cold. I was frankly afraid we might make the air catch fire," he joked.

John turned slightly and pressed his hand against the wall.

"Light up the torch," he told Dion, rummaging through his clothes for the matches.

Without a word, Dion obeyed, his hands now accustomed to finding things in the dark. He stood up and guided the torch toward the wall. Next to him, John was pressing his fingers into the wall.

"I have a feeling I know exactly where we should start digging," John murmured. "We should tell the others," he added, in a determined voice.

"Is this a way out?" Dion asked, touching the wall again.

"Could be. It's the best thing we've come across so far. Let's hurry."

They barely took two steps, when John began laughing.

"First, let's just put some clothes on. I might not be a surprise for my mates, but I'm sure they would love a bit too much to see me flaunting my beloved in the buff."

They were still snickering as they were dragging their clothes on.

***

"Do you know how to reach Aeria?" Cory asked Marcus, as the others were moving about, loading the van with all that was necessary for their trip.

"I've only been once," Marcus said curtly. "Nothing worth stealing there. Even if the scientists there may come up with all kinds of crazy devices, if we don't know how to use them, there's no point in grabbing them."

"So do you think you can take us there?"

Marcus pointed at Edgar, who was busy checking his compass.

"Trust my intuition and your friend's genius, and we'll get there. But we need to time our arrival. I suppose we don't want a welcome committee."

"Do you think someone might know what we're planning?"

He had no idea why he was asking Marcus, of all people, these things. Maybe he didn't want to make the others worry about him. But Marcus was the kind of guy made from sterner stuff than most, so he was the most likely to offer him an answer that wasn't going to consider his feelings.

"If the fuckers in Drena know, then we're fucked," Marcus said matter-of-factly. "Who knows what kind of freakish weapons they might have. But the thing is no one has bothered us so far. That could mean that they don't know shit. And we need that surprise element. We need it badly. Especially since we have no idea what we're going against."

"That's good to know," Cory murmured.

"Hey," Marcus said firmly, "don't go around like your dog died or something. People look up to you, as scrawny and pretty as you are. They think you're something. Someone. So c'mon, chin up and get ready to face the music. Some of us might get on with this thing because of boredom or something, but there are true believers everywhere. You don't want them to change their mind, right?"

Cory squared his shoulders and looked Marcus in the eyes, even though he needed to strain his neck a little for that.

"Are you a believer, Marcus?" he smiled, feeling a little better with the man's rough encouragement.

"I might just be, pretty boy," Marcus grinned, too. "Because frankly, I don't recall ever feeling this motivated to go bash some heads in. Truth be told, those freaks must be pure evil. Never saw one myself, but I heard stories. If they won't make much shadow on the earth, I won't cry for them."

"That's great to know," Cory patted the man's arm. "And, Marcus, I'll make sure not to let you down."

Marcus was right. People followed him because of what they believed. And bad dreams could not stand in his way and his determination to do what was right.

***

Marcus had been right after all. They had to drive in turns, with Ayn, and even Xavier, behind the wheel for hours. But now they were close, and Edgar had suggested that they would make their entrance into Aeria, just a couple of hours before dawn.

The plan was crazy, but Cory believed in the scientist. The others seemed to share his belief.

"Let's let the van here, hidden from view," Edgar recommended. "It is a bit of hike to the gates, but there's no surveillance at the gates. I don't believe anyone suspects what we're planning to do."

"That might be just wishful thinking," Xavier pointed out. "But it is our chance to throw a span in the works, so there's no point to dally. Let's get inside, and we'll see if we get to live and fight another day."

"Your man has a point," Marcus spoke, nudging his friend, Ayn, in the ribs. "Just for the record, all of you," he pointed at the others, "are the finest men I wish to die side by side."

"Let's not talk like we're doomed to fail," Cory was the one to speak now. "If there is one thing I understand, after reading the old books, and putting two and two together, is that the Trainers are a proud kind. They might not suspect at all what we're trying to do. And that only because they think they are superior, and no one could challenge them. They raise the Rulers of Drena as their brightest minds, but even that seems to be a pet project, at best. For sure, they don't suspect a party like ours getting ready to end their reign."

"Yeah," Marcus laughed, "we're just a band of misfits from the desert, after all."

The words, while spoken casually, had an ominous meaning to them. They reminded Cory of his dream. He pushed the dread threatening to raise its ugly head down to where it came from. Now the time was ripe for being a believer, not someone keen on hesitating.

He was aware of the sounds their feet were making on the gravel that seemed to be ever present around Aeria. But it wasn't disconcerting, and it didn't make his heart beat faster, or his ears prickle with apprehension.

Edgar explained to them in a low voice that they were going to use the so-called failsafe ladder that was supposed to be used only when the gate system was inoperable for some reason. The rest of them followed closely, as the scientist led the way.

It was a little hard to believe that their entrance was not going to cause a ruckus in the dormant city, but it looked like everyone was still asleep when they set foot on the other side. A row of shadows, they hurried along the walls, until they reached Edgar's residence.

"They didn't even bother to close the doors," Edgar huffed in righteous indignation.

The room Cory knew was a total mess. It was clear that the Trainers had tried to make sense of what Edgar and Cory had been up to.

"What you are going to do is bold and crazy," Xavier commented, addressing Edgar this time.

"Yes, I know," the scientist nodded, as he started searching through his closet.

"Well, just know that we got your back for a hasty retreat," Xavier pointed out at the concealed gun he was carrying.

Edgar seemed a bit distressed at that reminder.

"Let's hope that it doesn't get to that. The people living here are peaceful. They are not armed."

"Let's hope that they don't give up any trouble, then," Xavier replied in kind.

They were all silent, and only the sounds made by Edgar as he continued to rummage through his clothes filled the room. When the scientist finally spoke, everyone turned to look at him.

"It's not long until morning. It would be strange for me to make an apparition on the morning call, but I'll make my move before that."

"Are you sure no one will notice you?" Cory asked.

"I told you, Cory. Everyone here is the type with their heads up in the clouds. And I will make my intervention short and efficient."

"Are you really trusting your girlfriend that much?" Marcus asked as he leaned against a bookshelf heavy with old tomes, making it heave.

"Ahem, she is not my girlfriend," Edgar blushed. "But, yes, I trust Lena. She's our best bet right now."

"I think you're batshit crazy," Marcus chuckled. "You think no one will sound the alarm, the moment they see you."

"They won't see me. They simply won't look. As long as I'm dressed like them, and I wear my hat low like this," the scientist pulled his high hat so that it almost covered his eyes completely, "they won't suspect a thing. On most days I lived here, if someone had asked me if I saw Mr. X or Ms. Y, I could not have told them for the love of all that is."

"Just be careful, okay?" Cory said, touching Edgar's elbow lightly.

"You can count on me, Cory," Edgar nodded. "I used to think my work was everything. But you showed me that there is much more to the world than that. I feel like for the first time in my life I have a purpose. And I am willing to do what it takes to fulfill that purpose."

Cory pulled Edgar into a hug.

"Good luck, Edgar," Cory said. "See you in a bit, then?"

Edgar nodded gravely.

"You can count on me. I'm sorry my house is such a mess," he gestured around. "I hope you guys won't be bored while I'm away. If everything works fine, by lunchtime, I will be back and by nightfall, we can put our plan into action."

Cory knew it was not only his wish to believe. He truly thought Edgar's words spoke the truth and the fact that they had a purpose. He was going to face this new day without dark thoughts. And strange dreams involving the one he now could call his archenemy were slowly slipping from his mind. The Head Trainer was going to have the surprise of his existence the moment he was going to discover that his war machine was damaged beyond repair.

TBC

Author's note:

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