The Zombie Knight Saga 6 Vi. | 'Of Iron Promise...'

He awoke slowly. His eyes only opened halfway as he regained consciousness. He could already remember everything that had happened, but he wasn't ready to think about it. He hid in the warmth of his bed a bit longer, the lulling tug behind his eyes telling him that nothing mattered just yet. It was all okay for a few more moments.

He took a long breath and sat up. It was still dark outside. No. That couldn't be right. He looked at his clock. It was dark again. He must've slept the whole day.

'Garovel?' He waited for an answer but received none.

He could sense the dreadful thoughts there, the familiar, anguished throes. But he ignored them. It was strangely easy--uncomfortably so, even. But at the moment, he much preferred a vaguely unsettled feeling to whatever those pangs would bring. At the very least, he wanted to wait until Garovel returned.

Hunger drove him downstairs, despite how sore he still was. He found his mother in front of the refrigerator.

When she noticed him, she frowned. "Your school called," she said. "Why did you miss cla.s.s today?"

He lowered his eyes. "I... wasn't feeling well... I stayed home and slept."

"Are you being bullied again?"

"I've never been bullied..."

"You're too quiet, sweetie. If you were a bit more outgoing, I'm sure they'd stop bothering you."

"I'm not being bullied, Mom..." As difficult as it was to talk to her, he couldn't help being a bit glad, still. She was showing concern for him. That was rare enough on its own.

Her brow furrowed. "Well, whatever the case, if you're going to skip school, then at least get good at it. I used to call the school and pretend to be my mother when I was your age."

"Are you... encouraging me to skip school?"

"Don't be stupid, sweetie. Of course you should go to school. But I can't force you to go, so if you're going to skip, then do it in a way that they don't end up calling me while I'm at work. I nearly lost a client because of the interruption today."

Hector just looked at her.

"Hold on." She left briefly and returned with a small box. "I made you plenty of notes." She handed it to him.

"Uh..." He was usually able to figure out what he wanted to say after a bit of fumbling, but this time he had nothing.

"Or you can just call ahead and pretend to be your father. Or do something creative. Whatever."

Incredulous, he stared at his mother. "Uh... is Dad okay with this...?"

"Of course. You're old enough to make your own decisions about your life, sweetie. You'll be eighteen in a couple years, and then you'll be on your own. It's best you learn to start being responsible for yourself now. G.o.ddess knows you've been a burden on your father and I long enough, already." And she left him there.

He wasn't sure what this feeling was. At once confused, distraught, and still faintly happy to be thought of. It wasn't exactly pleasant, but he wondered if causing trouble would earn him further attention. He immediately discarded the notion.

Back upstairs with turkey, cheese, and tomato on toast, he sifted through the notes she had given him. Her signature was on all of them, as were a plethora of different excuses, usually involving some kind of sickness. Impressively, some were paired with forged doctor's notes with the dates left blank. Some for P.E. Some for band. Some for chemistry. He might have been genuinely amazed, if he were actually enrolled in any of those cla.s.ses.

Still, he supposed the generic notes could be useful. He smirked. He never would have expected this from his mother. Strange as it seemed, she may have just helped him and Garovel save someone's life.

He sat back as he finished eating. Every part of him ached, but his hands had the worst of it for some reason. He couldn't remember putting them through anything worse than the rest of him. They throbbed enough that he felt the blood pumping through the veins between his fingers. He rubbed his hands together.

There it was again. That grainy feeling. He held his hands under the lamp at his desk.

His eyes narrowed. "What is this?" Specks of dirt littered his palms. Only, it couldn't be dirt. The color wasn't right. They were dark and gray, not light and brown.

Without any ideas, he wiped his hands on his pants and eyed his bed again. Perhaps there was something more productive he could do, but he couldn't think of it, so he went back to sleep, hoping Garovel would be there when he woke up. And in fact, he was.

'Sleep well?'

Hector breathed deep. "Yeah... surprisingly. How'd, uh... how'd it go with Bohwanox?"

'Fine,' was all Garovel said.

He tilted his head at the reaper.

Garovel waved a hand. 'We didn't quite see eye to eye, but we were cordial. Trust me, it could have been far less pleasant.'

"About what he said in the hospital... um..."

'You're thinking he had a point.'

"Didn't he? If we hadn't intervened, Colt might not have killed those other three policemen..."

Garovel was quiet for a time. 'You're right,' he said. 'In fact, I'm almost certain he wouldn't have killed them.'

Hector reared back. "Certain?"

'Colt wasn't just in disguise. He was an actual policeman. The other officers knew him. That kind of infiltration takes time to establish. It's not something you throw away unless you absolutely have to. Rofal must have really wanted her dead.'

"Well... he got what he wanted..."

'Yes...' Garovel frowned. 'How are you holding up?'

"Oh... um, I, uh... I-I'm okay."

'Hector.'

He rubbed his cheek with a shaky hand. "I, uh... I've been trying not to think about it..."

'Better to think about it here and now, instead of when you confront Colt again. Or Rofal.'

"W-when will that be?"

'I'm not sure. We're in the business of saving lives, not taking them.'

Hector looked at him heavily. "You would want me to kill them?"

'It's too soon to give my opinion,' said Garovel. 'I will need to observe their circ.u.mstances much more, first.'

"But...?"

'But... what are your thoughts on the matter? Could you purposefully kill someone? It's not what you signed up for.'

"You wouldn't force me to do it?"

'No.'

"I don't know... I don't want to kill anyone."

'Few do.'

"I guess if... if... killing Rofal would spare innocent people... and if there's no other way to stop him... then... maybe I could... but I'm not sure what it would take to convince me that... y'know... there really wasn't another way..."

'Heh. Part of me thought you'd be ready to go rip their heads off the second you woke up.'

"I mean, I am angry... but..."

'That's not you. I know. Would have been interesting to see, though.'

Hector nearly smiled at that.

'Anyhow, I need to gather more information. And I think I know where to begin.'

"You do?"

'The state of play is changed,' said Garovel. 'Four police officers murdered in a single day. Even Rofal can't keep that quiet. All of Brighton is in shock, right now. The police will be feeling the pressure to respond. I'm sure they'll have a few leads for me.'

"Hmm. You should be careful what leads you choose to follow. I think Rofal probably has another cop in his pocket. Maybe more than one."

Garovel c.o.c.ked an eyebrow at Hector. 'Ah... huh. Yeah, you may be right. That might explain why Colt was so quick to blow his cover. He wasn't Rofal's only agent.'

"Exactly."

'Well spotted, Hector. I'll keep that in mind.'

He tried not to blush. "And, uh... there's something else." He rubbed his hands together.

'What are you doing? Hatching an evil plan?'
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"No. Just... wait a second... There." He showed his palms to Garovel. "Can you tell me what this... uh... this crud on my hands is? It's starting to bother me..."

Garovel leaned in. 'Specks of something? Where'd they come from?'

"I don't know. They just keep showing up... And my hands already ache like crazy. It's not like the normal soreness."

The reaper's eye sockets widened. 'Oh...'

"What? Is it something bad...?"

'On the contrary, this is unexpectedly good news. I guess it was a stress trigger. Do you have any idea what the specks are?'

"That's what I've been asking you!"

'Oh, sorry. They could be pretty much anything.'

"You're not being very helpful, right now..."

Garovel laughed. 'You're right. Let me start over. Hmm. Essentially, what's happening is that your ability is manifesting itself.'

"Ability? What kind of ability is this? It's just... powdery s.h.i.+t."

'That, my friend, is the beginning of a materialization ability. Creating something from nothing, that is.'

"Uh... whoa..."

'Right now, though, you're only able to produce trace amounts of it.'

"Trace amounts of what?"

'Hard to say at this stage. Let me have another look.'

He held his hands up again.

'Materialization is typically based around raw elements. This is something dark gray in its pure form. Maybe iron? I don't think there's a way we can be certain yet.'

He licked his hand. "Yeah, that's definitely metal..."

'Tch. Having a sense of taste is cheating.'

"I didn't realize we were competing."

'The reason blood tastes metallic is because of iron-containing hemoglobin in your red blood cells.'

"What does that have to do with anything...?"

'I just wanted to say something smart.'

"Okay, um... about this ability..."

'Hemoglobin is what allows blood cells to transport oxygen.'

"Garovel..."

'Oh, fine. What do you want to know?'

"How does this ability work? And, uh... what can I do with it?"

'What you create is yours completely. You have dominion over its existence. For instance, if you create a fully iron sword, you could then destroy it utterly, leaving no trace. But if you came upon an iron sword which already existed, you wouldn't have that same power over it, because you didn't create it.'

"What's mine is mine completely... Hmm..."

'That's the principle of it, anyway. You shouldn't get too excited, though. Servant abilities grow extremely slowly. Even very simple objects will take practice to create.'

"How much practice?"

A beat pa.s.sed as Garovel eyed him. 's.h.i.+tloads.'

"Aw, c'mon..."

'The thing about servants, though, is that they don't die, which gives them ample time to hone their abilities. Suffice to say, they can become very powerful. Frighteningly so.'

"Those other reapers you mentioned... the ones involved in wars..."

'Yeah. This is the main reason why their servants are so dangerous. And why we will keep our distance.'

"Right..."

Training was simple enough. It required concentration, Garovel told him. Focus, clear his mind, and begin by imagining simple metallic structures. He tried a sword, but Garovel said that was too complicated, so he imagined a cube. Garovel said that was also too complicated because of the straight edges and perfect symmetry. He relegated himself to an amorphous lump, in the end.

Garovel told him to maintain this state of meditation for as long as possible without letting his mind wander into anything else. He managed an hour and sixteen minutes. The reaper seemed impressed, though Hector thought he could do better.

Afterwards, the only discernible progress seemed to be that he could make the specks disappear and reappear. And seeing as he hadn't thought to try beforehand, he wasn't sure if that really qualified as progress.

He wanted to try again, but there wouldn't be enough time before he had to leave for school. Instead, he stood and went for his bag. He pulled out the welding mask.

'I guess that's yours now, unless you've thought of a way to explain that bullet hole.'

He rolled the mask over in his hands. "This... isn't..."

'Hmm?'

"I need more than... just a mask... don't I?"

'What do you mean?'

"My brain is my weak point," he said. "I need something strong... something that will actually protect my head..."

'Ah! That would be fantastic. But what, exactly? And not to sound pessimistic, but I don't see how you could get your hands on anything that strong. Your metal might serve one day, but not anytime soon.'

"I have to rejoin the carpentry club."

Garovel's brow receded. 'You're just full of ideas today, aren't you? It's starting to annoy me.'

"I'm sorry... I'll be sure to act stupider from now on."

'Most of the elements in the periodic table are metals, you know.'

"That's very interesting, Garovel."

'You piece of s.h.i.+t,' he laughed. 'I have thousands of years of knowledge and experience.'

"I'm sure that'll come in handy one day."

'I hope you start s.h.i.+tting metal t.u.r.ds.'

"That... th-that's not really gonna happen, right...?"

'Beats me. I don't know anything useful.'

He readied himself for school. He was a bit dubious about bringing the mask with him, wondering what might happen if someone caught him with it, but he decided to take the risk. In the event of some emergency, he would be glad to have it.

To Hector's surprise, Garovel accompanied him.

'I thought you had leads to chase down at the police station,' Hector said.

'What, are you trying to get rid of me?'

'Y-you know I'm not...'

'Hmm. I guess I do.' Garovel was quiet for a moment. 'Honestly, I'm concerned about you. After what happened, I think you should rest a bit. We both should. Because if we go out there again, and things go badly again, I don't want you to... well...'

'Lose hope?'

'Is that so ridiculous?'

Hector eyed the other students on the bus. They were rowdy this morning, ha.s.sling the driver and throwing paper. 'I'm terrified of making things worse again...'

'As am I.'

He met Garovel's gaze. 'So... what, then? We just... we just wait?'

'Until we're ready. Yeah. Rest is important, Hector, even for us. Take it when you can get it.'

'But school just seems so... insignificant, I guess. Like... why am I even bothering...?'

'I think you're looking at this the wrong way.'

'It wouldn't surprise me...'

'School is a respite.'

Hector eyed the reaper doubtfully.

'Comparatively, that is. You're probably going to see many terrible things, Hector. But your time in school is a chance to relieve yourself of that mindset. For a little while, at least.'

'Hmm...'

'Moreover, school could be of profound help to us in the future.'

'Um... I find that hard to believe, Garovel...'

'Well, perhaps not the methods. Your grades are unimportant. For our purposes, you don't need a well-paying job, and going to college would actually be a major hindrance. You won't likely have enough time for proper studying, let alone sitting through lectures.'

Hector laughed under his breath. 'It's a good thing my teachers can't hear you.'

'Though, if I'm completely honest, I actually would like you to receive a higher education, albeit more slowly. Perhaps one or two cla.s.ses at a time. A small enough workload that it won't clash with our more important goals.'

'I'm getting mixed messages here...'

'We respond by making ourselves better,' the reaper said. 'School can be a major source of information, if you allow it to be.'

Hector bowed his head at that.

'I don't think I need to remind you how important information can be to us.'

'No, you don't...'

'You're right to be skeptical, I suppose,' Garovel said. 'Most of what you learn will probably never help us in the slightest. But there will undoubtedly be a small amount which WILL be useful. You can't really know when or where you'll acquire it, but for our undertakings, it's entirely worth the effort. Wouldn't you agree?'

He stared distantly at the seat in front of him. 'Some tiny thing could be the difference... between saving someone and... not.'

'I've made my point, then?'

'Yeah...'

'Good.'

Hector waded through the day like bog water. Everything seemed a painful bore, but he persevered. Listening to everything that was said in cla.s.s still felt like a gigantic waste of time, but he hoped that feeling would go away if he ignored it long enough. He didn't know how Garovel could float around him so patiently the whole time.

'Alright,' Garovel said between cla.s.ses. 'I'm going to help you make a new friend.'

Hector shut his locker. 'I don't like the sound of this...'

'Too bad. Four hours, we've been here. I've watched you walk past about five hundred different people and not say h.e.l.lo to a single one of them.'

'Is that all it takes to make a new friend? Saying h.e.l.lo?'

'It's a start. Real friends.h.i.+p takes time.'

Hector tried not to sigh. 'W-what do you want me to do?'

'Don't look so scared. We'll do something easy. Just find someone you know and say hi to them.'

'...Right now?'

'Right now.'

He grimaced and looked among the pa.s.sing faces. He knew quite a lot of them, actually, but he wasn't jumping at the chance to tell that to Garovel.

'How about her?' said Garovel. He pointed to blond Jenny Friedman, with whom Hector had attended middle school.

'f.u.c.k no!'

'Why not? What's wrong with her?'

'She's a girl!'

'What?! I had no idea! Eww! Keep her away from me, Hector! Don't let her touch me with her girl-cooties!'

He pursed his lips. 'I... just... agh... There's just no way... Talking to a girl is way more difficult...'

'Why?'

'Because! They--! They're--! I don't know! It just is!'

'Fine. What about him, then?' The reaper pointed to Micah Chamberlain. 'I remember him from the other day. Seemed nice enough.'

Hector's face soured as he strained for an excuse. Nothing sprung to mind, and he gave a defeated sigh. 'Alright, I'll... try...'

'You're not moving.'

'I'm... just... waiting for the right moment...'

'There isn't one. Go on.'

'B-but... uh... what do I say after h.e.l.lo?'

'Don't worry about it. I'll help you.'

He made his way through the crowd to Micah's locker. When the other young man turned and saw him standing there, Hector was so afraid of looking like a deer in the headlights that he just blurted the word out. "h.e.l.lo."

"Hi," said Micah, friendly but a bit hesitant. "Uh... who are you?"

'f.u.c.k me, what do I say?'

'Your name. Say your name.'

"H-Hector Goffe."

"Oh! You're the guy I accidentally hit during the food fight! I'm really sorry about that. I meant to find you afterwards and apologize properly, but I forgot. I hope you're not too mad."

Hector was the deer now.

'Tell him you're not mad.'

"N-no... I'm not mad."

"I didn't ruin your s.h.i.+rt, did I?"

"I've, uh... I've had worse..."

'Pfft.'

"Well, uh, I'm Micah."

"Yeah, I know. We... we, um... have a couple cla.s.ses together."

"Really? I never noticed. I guess that makes sense, though. You seem like the quiet type."

'Pfft!'

"Yeah... I have a little trouble... uh... speaking my mind..."

'A little, he says!'

"You should come sit with me and my friends at lunch tomorrow. I'll introduce you to everybody. Unless you'd rather not. It's fine, either way. Hey, you alright? You look a bit red in the face."

Hector averted his eyes.

"Whoa, are you blus.h.i.+ng? I've never seen a black person blush before. That's pretty awesome. Kinda hard to notice, at first. Holy c.r.a.p, not anymore, though. You're like a tomato, now." Micah laughed. "Am I making it worse? Should I stop talking about it? I'll stop talking about it."

Hector just stood there awkwardly, fighting the urge to flee in abject horror.

"But, um, yeah. Come sit with us tomorrow. I promise not to throw things at you. Anyway, I gotta get going. Seeya later?"

He managed a nod. He leaned against the row of lockers after Micah was gone.

'That went surprisingly well,' said Garovel. 'What do you think?'

'He's way too friendly,' Hector thought, wide-eyed. 'This can only end in disaster...'

'Oh, just calm down, drama king. If you don't like him, that's fine. There are plenty of other people you can be friends with.'

'No, that's not it at all... I mean... I've, um... uh...'

'C'mon. Spit it out. You can do it.'

'Please... stop... patronizing me... I'm trying my best here...'

'Sorry. I know you are. What were you trying to say?'

'I've always wanted a friend who was... uh... well, friendly. I mean, like, y'know... the opposite of me... Not that, uh, I didn't want any other type of friend, but just. Really outgoing people... they always intimidate me, but...'

'I see. So you're thinking it's too good to be true.'

'Basically, yeah...'

Garovel shrugged. 'Maybe it is. Maybe he's secretly a total d.i.c.k.'

'What the...? This was your idea!'

'Yeah, and it's worth seeing through. But you still shouldn't get your hopes up too much. Better to be pleasantly surprised than bitterly disappointed.'

Hector had to nod at that as he started for his next cla.s.s.

At the day's end, it was time to pay a visit to the carpentry club once again. Strangely, he hadn't been dreading it. He knew it would be terrible, but something about the necessity of it, the unavoidability, made it easy to just accept.

He entered the workroom to the sight of a dozen familiar faces and a handful of new ones. He heard the chatter dull as a few people noticed him. Lance Alexander approached him straight away.

"Please tell me you came to return the mask."

"Sorry," Hector said. "I lost it."

"Geez. Well, could you at least tell that to Ms. Trent? She didn't believe me when I told her you took it. She gave me detention."

Hector nodded. "I'll tell her."

Lance eyed him. "I'm sure you won't mind if I go with you."

"Just... show me where she is."

Lance led him into the back room where the club instructor sat at her desk, marking quiz papers. She looked up as they entered. "Hector?" she said. "What brings you here?"

"It's like I told you," said Lance. "He's the one who took the mask. Then he went and lost it."

"Is this true?"

He gave another nod. "Yeah."

Ms. Trent glared at Lance. "Did you bully Hector into saying this?"

"Of course not!"

"You'd better tell me the truth now. If I find out later, I swear to G.o.ddess I will have you suspended."

"I didn't bully anyone!"

"He's telling the truth," said Hector. "He, uh... he tried to stop me, actually." 'Why does everyone think I'm being bullied?'

'You do look very bulliable.'

"Alright," said Ms. Trent. "Lance, you're off the hook. Hector, you have three days' detention, and you'll have to pay a fine to replace the mask."

Lance took a relieved breath and left.

"Uhh... but I don't have any money..."

"Then your parents will have to pay."

Hector frowned. "W-what if they don't?"

"They'll pay if they want you to graduate. The school will withhold your diploma if you have any outstanding fines."

He didn't think that would make a difference, but he kept his doubts to himself. He could worry about it later. "I, um... I also came here for another reason."

"What would that be?"

"I'd like to rejoin the club."

"Oh, is that so? Well, all you have to do is start showing up again. I'm still not sure why you stopped."

"Ah... just... personal reasons..."

Ms. Trent wasn't the type to pry. Or perhaps she just didn't care very much. Hector had never quite figured her out. But whatever the reason, she didn't push the issue and let him return to the workroom with the others.

Four or five students sat around each of the black tables, absorbed in various group projects, with a few extra people hovering around the machinery at the back of the room.

He approached the nearest group, but as soon as he got close, three people left. Only Lance and a guy he didn't recognize stayed, but after a moment of apparent confusion, the stranger followed the others.

"Popular as ever," said Lance.

"You're... not going with them?" said Hector.

Lance looked at him for a long moment. "You could've really screwed me over, you know."

Hector didn't say anything.

"Let me know if you need help with something," said Lance, and then he left as well.

With the whole table to himself, Hector glanced around again. Only the new members spared him the occasional look, and he could see a couple of them asking the others about him.

'What's with this atmosphere?' Garovel said. 'It's annoying.'

'It doesn't matter...'

'Want me to suck their souls out through their eyeb.a.l.l.s?'

'You can't do that.'

'No. I could try, though.'

He smirked faintly.

'I'll get you to tell me what happened sooner or later.' At Hector's persistent silence, he changed the subject. 'Anyhow, are you sure you can make something for your head here?'

'It won't be anything amazing, but yeah... I just need some materials.' He paused, blinking. 's.h.i.+t. I completely forgot...'

'Hmm?'

He looked toward the corner storage room, around which was a caged enclosure with a hatch and a countertop. 'I'm an idiot. The materials aren't free... If I want some metal, I'll have to pay for it... or steal it, I guess... but I really don't want to do that again...'

'Aha. That time already, huh? I was wondering when we'd need to find some startup capital.'