The Thirteenth Watcher: Epilogues (Cont.)

Duty

A plume of smoke rolled from the lips of General Marcus West. It had been five years since the events that had ended with nothing but a warm, washing light as the sun rose overhead, transporting him back to his very office. The city had continued on without him and he found that he had not been fired, much to the shock of many of the upper levels who had remembered signing a form saying that he had abandoned the army. It must have been a dream, however, for there he was and for some reason they couldn’t help but promote him quickly to his new position.

West stared out into the distance, his bulky figure casting a towering shadow out into the wastelands of Azurat. He often came to watch the sun and wondered where the others had gone to. He saw Thyrus every so often, as he had devoted his time to practicing magic within The Dome once more. That was one part of town that West never needed to worry about policing. Everything was peaceful now, for most criminals had spread the word about the burly, fast moving soldier who seemed to know exactly what was going on in their minds before they did. It was a nice perk, West decided.

He laughed as he watched the second sun sinking behind the rocky crags of Orc Mountain. It was a small jagged peak from this distance, but he knew it was going to be back to its glory one day, as the orcs who had survived were setting about rebuilding their sanctuary. One of the guards slowly marched up to him, huffing as he tried to regain his breath.

West turned towards the red-faced guard, “Robbery over near Sharat Lane?”

“Ho….how…….how….”

“Save your breath, son. Come on.” West stepped down from his perch and began walking through the streets with a leisurely pace.

“Sho….shoul……”

“Shouldn’t we move faster? Nah? He’ll probably be heading out of Sharat by now and I’m sure we’ll run smack dab into him. Catch your breath.” West puffed thoughtfully on his cigarette and pulled out his new pistol, beginning to load it, just in case.

The young man was regaining his breath as he stared up at the massive giant that was Marcus West. “Sir…sir…it’s a pleasure to work with you….”

“Sure it is,” West said with a snigger. He knew what heroes were, and he was nothing compared to most of the ones he had met. They had never asked for much sacrifice from him, in fact, in reflection, he thought himself the weakest of the group he had once known.

“They….they say….that amulet….round your….neck…gives you powers….”

West stared down at the clear gem that hung from a gold chain, a smirk on his face. “This old thing? No. Used to have a few little powers, back when it belonged to an old friend. But not now that I’ve got it. Lost its power several years ago. Don’t really know how I got it, just fell into my lap one day when I woke up.” West smirked and patted the young man on the head. “Stand right there.”

The General marched a few steps forward and held out his arm after a few seconds of waiting, the dull sound of running steps in the alley near him not slowing as his arm came up. The thief was caught right in the throat and crashed into the sand with a loud yelp. The cigarette flew from West’s mouth and snuffed out in the dirt. “Oh…now you’ve got me mad……”

Friendship:

The blast echoed through the entire room as a body was hurled like a comet against the wall, rubble spraying everywhere as the body crashed through the solid concrete, splintering bricks and mortar as well as girders and cable. The wall caved in several blocks more as only the heavy metal boots of the hurled figure remained outside the wall. Dust clouds billowed from the crash site and filtered out through the several new skylights that had been made through, judging by the scorch marks, magical experiments. After several seconds, the figure in the wall began to move silently, clumsily up through the debris, pushing blocks out of the way with a mechanical methodology.

“Sorry about that Prorian,” Thyrus said marching out into the dust filled hall. The wizard coughed several times as he reached a hand out and the golem grasped it and pulled itself free of the debris. “I guess I’ve advanced quite far with all these fire spells haven’t I? I’m sure the powers granted me have something to do of course with realigned thaumaturgical fields and the harmonious balance of nature allowing me to have greater thauma-induced powers. Afterall, the total influx of magical waves has been off the charts recently, which indicates that nature must be running far smoother than the wizards of the Academies have their own powers running. Not that I mind.”

Interesting. The mechanical word was the only thing that Prorian could say, but it was enough to encourage Thyrus to talk and he felt at times like someone was listening. West was usually not at all interested and only seemed to discuss the problems with Azurat city, while none of the others ever returned to be seen again. Samden had visitted once or twice, whenever the dictations of peace called him to do battle or resolve conflict in Azurat, and it was then that Thyrus really flourished in his thaumaturgical discussions. He sometimes wished that he was back in the days of old, with friends around that actually responded, rather than talking to himself. It had never bothered him before, but now he knew that there were those out there he could talk to and it made him want to be around them more.

“Such is the way of the wizard, hey?” He stared at Prorian as the golem marched slowly through the sand and picked up its missing chest plate. Thyrus sighed, “You know, there was a time when you weren’t the only thing I had to talk to you big bunch of scrap…ooo…dear me…that was nasty to say. Not that it has feelings, but still.” Thyrus glanced around the room. “There is so much in the world that we put aside for the sake of duty and work. You know, I used to think that all this was the high life, but I was wrong. And now that I know better, I have to do only this. But isn’t that the way? We only learn when it is too late?”