Metal Deep 3: Infinite and Forever (3 page)

Largo agreed, “It probably would. Actually, just about any of you should be able to handle this, but I want
you
to go. I have my reasons, not the least of which, it’s just time for you to get out of the house. I don’t want you losing touch with the rest of the world. That’s when bad things start to happen to our people.”

There above the world, beneath the incredible firework display, I knew what he meant.

The firework finale started, and I don’t think anyone was watching as the sky boomed with rolling shadows of every known color. The girls were watching us, and listening to the conversation.  I would have done the same thing. I’m a total eavesdropper. Maeve looked proud, Kata looked excited, and Sway looked like I was about to be thrown into a meat grinder, and she liked it. I’m still trying to figure out if we’re really friends.

“So, Falor, huh?” I said observing the note, “Never heard of it. Is it close?”

“Not in the slightest.” Largo said.

“Can I take the
Skipper?
” That was the name we, well I, gave the car with the
Skip
drive Maeve and I stole from the Vipers.

Kata cleared her throat, “Well, that’s not going to be possible for a while.”

I gave her a questioning look.

“We took it apart.” Sway said unapologetically, “We wanted to see how it ticks.”

Awesome. “So I guess there’s an Amalgam bus I need to get tickets for, since I have no money, means of transportation, or flying armor?”

“Come now,” Largo said, “I know you’re still somewhat new, but I thought you knew me better than that.”

He tossed me a little black box with a metallic green bow, which he had just pulled form his pocket. I opened the box and out fell a silver key into my hand. It had the words:
KAWASAKI: NINJA ZX-10R – GREEN/BLACK,
written on the keychain.

I was stunned. “You got me a motorcycle?”

“We got you a
fast
motorcycle.” He said proudly.

“And not that it needed it, but we might have made a few tweaks to it.” Sway added.

Kata grinned, “Not quite as fast as
Skipping,
but close.”

I stood and stared at the key. My last car was old, and broken. I’ve never driven anything new, much less, cool. Despite a heavy case of speechlessness, I was able to throat out a quietly sincere “Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.” Largo said from the distance. I hadn’t realized everyone was leaving. I looked as he disappeared with the girls down the edge of the trail, “Just grab the stuff on your way down. You know we keep you here for all the heavy lifting.” The girls, even Maeve,
that traitor
, laughed.

I didn’t care. I was too excited about my new motorcycle. I hurried and grabbed everything in both arms. The faster I was done, the faster I would see my new ride.

SONS OF HADES

I traveled for more than a day almost non-stop. Every once in a while there was a pit stop for food, gas bathroom, and a little rest, but overall I worked that bike to its limit. I had tunnel vision concerning this little outing. I wanted to get it over with, so I could get back to Maeve. It was all I could do to leave her that early morning from the ferry parking lot. I watched her start to disappear in my rear view for only a few seconds … then I realized - I didn’t know how to work the clutch to change gears, so it
really was
all I could do to leave as the bike moaned wearily in first gear. So in the middle of my big emotional goodbye, my girlfriend had to give me a quick crash course on Motorcycles 101. I am a goober!

Falor was tucked away behind a
Shade.
It was a barrier that helped keep out Slates. I found it by following a series of rivers. Largo’s instructions were exact and spot-on. I would have been in trouble if he hadn’t have been, because Falor was
out there
. Early before sunrise, still in the sunglasses that hid my eyes, biker jacket and gloves that hid my arms, I rumbled the bike Maeve and I jointly named Clutch, through the gates of Falor.

Around the village, great waterfalls of all sizes and power cascaded into rivers that ran down, around, and through Falor. Lush grasses rippled beneath the moonlight. Trees reached their fruit bearing branches high into the mists of the falls. Along every land bridge and dry mountain crevice, little homes were nestled deep inside the moonshadow as their inhabitants slept. Closer inspection revealed that a few homes had burned down along a Southern corridor that led down into a ravine. I started to investigate, when off to the North, a single light burned to life.

I followed a cobblestone path that took me toward the new light. Slowly, I parked Clutch and made my way to the door. I was about to knock on the maroon tiger-face knocker when it opened, and on the other side, a boy no older than thirteen, held out a hand bearing a pale orange stone fragment.

“Stay back, Street Viper.” He said, “Falor is under my protection. Get on your bike and leave now, or face the consequences.”

“Whoa, easy there Slugger,” I said, taking a step back, “A guy named Largo sent me. He said you were having some problems.”

“Nothing I can’t handle.” The squirt said determinately. “Now get back on that…” He paused after craning his head to look around me. He took one glance at Clutch and almost squealed. “That’s cool.” He gushed.

Damn straight it was.

“Want a ride?” I asked hoping to get him to calm down.

He looked to me, and then to the motorcycle. He put his hand down and nodded. For a kid who should be worried about zits, homework, and girls, he wore the weight of worlds. He invited me into his home and made an amazing citrus tea for me. He admitted that he knew I was coming, but it wasn’t him who sent for me, rather one of the village elders. He had been named Falor’s new protector, but it seemed there were some who were having issue over the appointment, and so that’s why Largo was called. I couldn’t blame them. He was little more than a boy. I mean I wasn’t the oldest rooster to strut this side of the henhouse, but he had no business being, what essentially was, a sheriff.

I guzzled tea by the pot, while he told me about the attacks from a couple nights ago. There had been a raiding party made of fast cars, bikes, and semi-trucks from the South end where the homes had been burned. It sounded exactly like Street Vipers. The gang was led by two men. One just seemed like another Viper douche, but the other was described as being covered in oily metal skin, he had one hand twisted by the disturbing metal, the other was some kind of bionic claw welded to him, just above the wrist.

He said they were demanding access to the caves. That’s one of the big no-no’s around there. Apparently, the caves under the waterfalls were something of a big deal. They were supposedly home to scattered tombs and hidden artifacts, meant to be hidden away, especially from power mad maniacs like Street Vipers.

We took a walk out in the darkness to survey the damage. He asked if it would be better to wait until sunup so I could get a better look, but I just smiled and told him it was fine. I know he thought I was odd for having kept my glasses on, but I didn’t care. I wanted to keep my secret safe for as long as I could. I know it’s a bit like a child feeling hidden because they cover their own eyes with their hands, but I would be happy to live in the fantasy for as long as it would let me stay. As they say: “Ignorance is bliss.”

I saw where the Vipers rumbled in through a sandworm garden, and tore up another patch of field. About ten homes were lost, as well as their version of the neighborhood convenience store. I asked if anybody was hurt or killed during the raid. He said nothing, just lowered his head and took me over to a pavilion in the middle of a four-way cobblestone road that was centered between four adjacent waterfalls.

On tables of wood decorated with amber threaded silver, three clear boxes sat covered with blue and red wildflowers. Housed in each box were the bodies of three old men, laid peacefully to rest in violet robes lined with silver etchings along the hems of the sleeves.  They looked like they were sleeping. I half expected any one to suddenly open their eyes and ask to be let out of their glass casket. Save the wrinkles around their aged faces, there seemed to be nothing wrong with them. Certainly nothing that would have caused them to have died violently.

“They did this?” I asked talking about the Street Vipers.

“Yes,” He said. “And if they return I will see to it that they pay.”

“Who were they?”

The kid stopped and clutched the orange gem he carried with him at all times. He answered trying to hold back a tear, “My brothers.”

There seemed to be quite the age gap between the elders who had passed on, and this kid. His parents must have had him in a nursing home.

“I’m sorry.” What else could I say?

We walked in silence back to his home. Now I realized why he lived alone. The rest of his family was gone. I knew how he felt. As we entered back into his home, I was looking for anything to change the subject. My attention turned to the glowing orange shard he held. It had a similar vibe as the stones in my hands, so I asked, “Is that a Dragonstone?”

He lifted a proud chin. “Never seen one before, eh?”

“Not like that.” I said somewhat dodging the question. I wasn’t entirely truthful, but it wasn’t a lie either.

He became excited, and turned into a machinegun of random facts. “It’s actually a shard. It’s the family stone. I mean anyone could use it. There are some extremely rare stones, they say, only certain lineages have the ability to use. It’s also said that is because they made deals with the Dragon who gave us the stones. I don’t’ think I believe the Dragon myth. The caves teach us using such a stone would be bad.” His eyes narrowed, “Of course every stone use has its price, but this thing is just an heirloom passed to the one responsible for protecting Falor and her secrets. But it’s mine, and I’m the only one who’s going to use it.”

I became excited myself, and I ignored his rambling superstition. “And you know how to use it?’

He did not seem as excited. Actually he looked a little afraid to answer, “I do.”

“Could you teach me?” I asked quickly. “I would love to give it a shot.”

His face hardened into an expressionless mask. “The use of this particular stone is the responsibility of my family. Trust me when I say, this is not the stone you want to mess with.”

“Fair enough,” I conceded disappointedly. I remember being that young. Everything seemed like a matter of life and death. I decided I would win his favor later. If he knew how to use that shard of a Dragonstone, then certainly he would be able to teach me so that I could figure out mine. Then I could go back home to Sway, with a “Suck-It-Wench” the size of the moon.

As the sun started to rise, I was feeling tired. He gave me one of the spare rooms, which I assumed had belonged to one of his late brothers, and he then offered me a snack. I inhaled an entire basket of Marmalade Danishes in just a couple of minutes. He watched with amusement saying he’d never seen anyone eat like me. I’m sure that was true. I told myself I’d find a way to pay him back for the food and hospitality.

On my way to the room I realized we had gotten so busy I had forgotten to ask his name. After I had finally asked, I watched as he puffed up with pride. Duty laced every word. Conviction etched his face. “Hades…” He said, “Scion Hades of the Hades Clans of Oldwood ... Protectors of Falor, and keepers of the Calodan Shard.

“Hades? Like the god of Hell?” I said not able to hide my disbelief.

“Like the ancient family name the stupid myth was likely contextualized from. We think there was a distant cousin who got into some debt with some imaginative Greeks, and thus came the negative legend as recompense. Really, your guess is as good as mine. It’s sometimes a stigma, but we have spent centuries trying to turn it back into a name of honor. We are proud of our family and of those whose name we share, family or otherwise. In fact, I was even named after one of the founders of Falor. He was the first to ever use Dragonstones, and he was the first, and greatest, Infinite to have ever lived. I hope to one day revive the ways of the Infinite. I want to bring honor to the name.”

“Not much of an Infinite if he’s not still living.” I joked.

Scion did not share my humor.

It was that kind of crowd. I tried to recover. “Well he sounds like someone in whom the Hades family
should
be proud.”

Scion shook his head, “Oh no! Scion wasn’t a Hades.”

I was paying more attention to sucking the marmalade residue from my glove, than to what he was saying, as I asked, “Well, okay who was he?”

My body involuntarily stopped breathing after he eagerly answered, “He was a Thantosa.”