Bus Terminal, Chapter 20

*copyrighted material*

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    It smelled of wetlands, clammy, and too cold for mosquitoes. The sun was setting above the calm waters that came from the Instauration river, here a frozen salt marsh that led to a corner of the lonely sea. It hailed from time to time to the point that reindeer pelts and skin stench with sticky grime. Getting here had taken days, days of traversing away from Mt. Mowaki, not out of its domains but at the edge of its lowlands. The farther the Renou and the Rootstocks could go after the battle, the better to collect their thoughts and resources.

    Wyatt lay flat on his stomach surrounded by a meadow. Arms crossed and head tucked, eyes peeking from beneath shadows as the sun went down. He breathed, transfixed by the moment the enormous star came in contact with the water. Then he felt the weight of his brother’s heavy butt on his upper back. The eldest Elsner sibling snorted as Calvin bounced up and down over him. They've had time, just a few days but time still. They’d spoken of their separate quests to get to one another. From the first appearance of the Defenders before the boy at the hot springs with the Red List still between his hands to Wyatt’s death and rebirth for the decisive battle. And then further back to the years that they had spent without each other's company. The holidays, and ordinary days. Filling their conversations with anything that came to their minds from that time. The scandal of skidding airplanes on the runways due to rusty and breakable tools that

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almost shredded Jesse Mcallister's aerial safety campaign, or the shoe-shining clients with expensive chrome watches and golden dentures that calmly spoke about their current hired hitman. They mourned Nelson's death too and even the oddity of the unreceived letters and packages Wyatt sent while living in Yorkwich was a topic of discussion. 

    The latter twisted and pushed his little brother to the ground with a single shove, both snickering. However, it was his own new and highly connected ethereal nature that kept him from fully trusting this said doctor and her army of rebels. Not even Krishanu could stop him at times, not his moves or thoughts. Besides the Dahlgrest family, and the representative of the Renou Community of Bartleby, Ávrá Kappfjell, had spoken about them in ways he trusted blindly, a tale of betrayal wasn't simply dismissed coming from people with principles.

   Quarrels between him and the Rootstocks’ leader had been occasional ever since he’d woken up and cropped his beard with a knife before her men with distaste on his face. He’d rise like a zombie, and open his mouth to demand fresh water to drink, something felt off in his behavior. 

    The Renou villagers were of his liking though, they’d taken care of him, fed him, and given him a robe of their own. His hair and eyebrows grew to a deranged speed, like some sort of wolf-man with white follicles here and there. He'd fallen from heights he could not have survived. But he did. Not by the holy hands of the Defenders of Shine but by those of their people, the Renou. The Renou soldiers had gathered beneath him at the last moments of the battle, just then did their disobedient actions make sense, their precipitation towards what would come. How did they know? They just did. Carrying him asleep out of Fort Yggdrasill as walls fell. However, entering the inner ward of Yggdrasill had been impossible. The Visitors, Jesse Mcallister, and his soldiers had entrenched themselves into the core structure, closed like a solid steel safe box for who

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knows how long. The seraphic arrow had made their battlefront servicemen tremble and flee out of the structure and to the nearby forests. Forests were mined with pitfalls, whether those had fallen on their way into the battlefield or out, they still had been effective. Good enough for the Rootstocks and their allies to escape. There was no time to find out what the military would do next, their trip for safety had begun that same day.

   Here at the Eastern lowlands and close to the shores, they’d be at peace. These precarious grounds were even less traversed, the territory of the long-dreaded Sea Renou, the most powerful sorcerers of the country described by the government as the conjurers of the sea, dangerous but pacifists altogether. Sons and daughters of the Saami Vikings as well, but who served other purposes that were not spoken about.

    The Sea Renou, another faction entirely yet close to inland Renou, specialized in freshwater fishing and sea mammal hunting with the help of handmade tools, which included nets, boats, spears, and more. The Sea Renou had been informed early on of the conditions their close cousins were in, concerning the Roanoke government and they’d agree to guide doctor Mulhouse, Wyatt, Calvin Elsner, and his pet fox out of the lands safely while Matriarch Ráfi, Woodbone, and Cobra would lead other operations at the mountain. Yet the agreement disclosed the use of their village or their boats. Primarily because they wanted nothing to do with the war and secondly, because none of them shared their blood heritage. However, the Sea Renou were still close acquaintances and had their subversive tactics to navigate through the country despite their old ways and ancestry. One of them was keeping an old and sidelined bus terminal still running for them and their allies in secret which followed a road to the nearest town on the East coast. Some rumors spoke about how the Sea Renou had enchanted the road to keep travelers protected from any enemies, disguising it into a simple dirt road that led nowhere but more fields. Unlike the inland Renou, there was a lot of secrecy around their cousins for the

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general public, too little knowledge about their traditions and practices. The inland Renou respected such decisions knowing exactly their origin.

    Change or no change in him, Wyatt would not submit his little brother to the thick of it. He’d be the same, disfigured in a rhetorical sense, yes. Made ugly, but in his purest self still a brother. Protective and humorous but with a sixth sense keeping him vigilant. He would rather have had Calvin cross the border to Norway for safety than keep him in for a war that had nothing to do with any of them both. That had been his final wish before death but not even his death had been respected, the sort of powers he had now was what Dr. Mulhouse needed to win every single battle of a war that his ghostly enslaver was determined to finish using him as a pawn. He’d call her an opportunist at best, dragging his younger sibling into matters that were far beyond a child’s grounds of reasoning calling it fate. Taking him to the frontline as if it were her own. She did not apologize and that did not help it. For some reason, this didn't feel like the Renou villager’s fault either, but that of hers and Krishanu's quest for whatever enlightenment the Defenders of Shine wanted to recover after failing to their cosmic queen time after time.

    Krishanu materialized before the momentarily blithesome pair as they fidgeted with grass blades between their fingertips and spoke of memories of Edna Watts’ hysteric banters back at the runways.

    He looked daggers at his human host and said, “I request a private skull session. Do I have your attention? Or should Defenders lay down the law?”

   Wyatt glanced at Calvin and gestured for him to help the Renou scale and gut their next meal as Woodbone and some villagers had returned with baskets full of fresh fish. One of them wiggled off the basket and fell into Carol's hungry and salivating jaws. 

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    The boy left knowing well the latest argumentations running around the camp had him take the starring role. This was not exactly how he envisioned his alliance with the rebel forces, not with Wyatt’s rise from death or with Krishanu overpowering him. Not with himself as the epicenter of what he understood to be a twenty-three-year-old elaborate plan for him to end up meeting the Rootstocks’ leader some way or another. So, the stars had conspired, but what for?

    “Spit what you want to say, old bag of bones. What’s the catch? Saving the world? All goodie, huh?”

    “Excuse me? Bag of bones? I’ve put all my efforts into restoring the old ways of the organic order. That’s my purpose.”

    “I’ve understood that just fine now that we are somehow intertwined. You know I’ve been eavesdropping a little because well, you have been clouding the rest of our shared consciousness ever since then.”

    The phantom’s hard stare softened a little. He crossed his wrists and huffed, yet not impressed. “You are not exactly an adept sleuth, I’ll keep what is necessary to myself.”

    Wyatt stood his ground. “That’s where I have an issue. Because you are keeping more to yourself than you should. My brother told me your sight for all possible futures is solid and that all events before that are a mystery to you. Although, I think that’s not the case from wherever this hunch of mine is coming from . . . ”

    “HA! Do you think you can beat me at my own game, human? Silly you.” He burst maniacally, “Your existence belongs to me now. And guess what, I’ll make it worthwhile, even for your petty little soul.”

    “What does that even mean?”He frowned.

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    “You’ve got your mucky little secrets, you and the Dahlgrests have not wasted time. Tell me, have your investigations been fruitful in the past years? Have they discovered Andrew and Harriet’s whereabouts and their evident lack of parental behavior? You certainly know well about the latter, but I’m also aware you’ve found nothing but dead ends in the last three years.”

    Krishanu’s deprecating words moved him in no way. But the phantom could easily trace his gaze back to Calvin in the background, fearful the kid would listen.

    “So,” the ghost continued. “Are you eager to know what truly happened with them and Mr. Stassie? I can take you on that path.”

    “W—what would you even get out of all that?” Wyatt was starting to feel discouraged but thoughtful about the offer.

    “It doesn’t matter to me if you are fascinated by the idea, or not because it’s simply the right road to take. For you, and my special purpose. I just want us both to be comfortable on the same ride.” His words were met with agreeable silence, he could tell by his sweltering eyes that he knew it to be true. Partially because they were now the same. “Very well then. Just so you know, by the end of it I will have made out of you a warmonger. You are a Reindeer King now, half a mortal half a divine instrument. I won’t let your potential go to waste when I've waited for centuries for the chance to lead this battle.” Those were his final words before vanishing entirely, jewel-like particles floating out to meet the dying rays of the sun.

    Dinner was ready and went on in silence between the brothers until the next morning. Two days later they were both summoned to the last council—under a twisted tree, at noon— before the bus trip that’d take them out of Mt. Mowaki and continue their journey to Bartleby. Once their hometown, then a battlefront, and for last, what became the Rootstocks’ headquarters with control over the city at least 65%. Dr. Mulhouse would take charge of the situation without the

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help of Ráfi, Woodbone, or Cobra from here on, they had already started their plans to preserve Mt. Mowaki at its best version in hopes that’d give them an advantage. That included maintaining order between those who could access their territory and those that could not in war times. Cutting all ties with the town hall.

   Mickey, evidently obsessed to maintain authority in the trio, was cautious with her words to explain to Wyatt and Calvin what they didn’t know would be crucial in regard to the Visitor’s sudden surge of power.

    “Three years ago,” She began. “The military started experimenting with plant-based drugs, but not just any drugs. But those the Renou villagers ingest to have proper communication with Defenders of Shine and forest sprites amongst other useful effects too, like sharpening the user's senses.” Mickey picked up a small lime green twig with baby leaves from the ground, by now, the well-known magenta leaves could be spotted everywhere here in patches. “These are called abterra leaves. Infused with commonly used painkillers and other substances give the subject the effect of unlimited stamina to all organs, functioning in uncanny ways even after being critically wounded. We are not talking about immortality but the closest to describe it is longevity in some way or form. Chemicals boosted the cerebral cortex and act upon the nervous system to neutralize it, which means little to no pain when inflicted. By now you understand why even Wyatt failed to beat one of them. A daily dosage is enough to keep them on the loop of unlimited strength and numbness.”

    The realization hit Wyatt hard on the brain like a mud brick. “The Dahlgrest told me their recent victims were either drugstore owners or well-known in the pharmacy world.”

    “Could they be trying to take over those businesses to replenish themselves?” Calvin scratched his head.

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    “Doesn’t the government control that already?” The older sibling inquired.

    “Maybe not all of it. There’s still a lot of gaps to fill in our investigations.” Mickey pointed out. “They first ran tests on stag beetles, their reports say they inadvertently kept ripping off their wings and legs at the beginning but I’m not sure how they fixed that. We’ll have to keep on looking for the time being. The Dahlgrest could be of help too, I’ll have my team get in contact with them.”

   “Can I do it myself when we get to Bartleby?” Wyatt asked. “I know them well and might refuse if you do it. They’ll help if they know my brother and I are alive.”

    “Sure thing. I’ll reach Ávrá Kappfjell from the Renou Community of Bartleby if needed. Strengthening our alliances would be a great exercise either way.”

    Later that day they were escorted by the tall and long-haired Sea Renou guardians, and they said farewell to their colleagues. Woodbone, being the most moved by them, reached out to Calvin for a hug and handed some snacks to Carol on her trip to a big city. They entered a wasteland of some sort, small and inconsistent with their past surroundings. The deserted bus terminal was up ahead and their guides welcomed them in, passing through its rough-looking, dark, and dusty corridors until the bus was right in front of them. They boarded and waited. Aside from Mickey, Wyatt, Calvin, and his fox on a leash, no one else showed up except for their peculiar-looking driver. A man with green eyes and white sideburns, not old enough for him not to look out of place, yet, appropriately uniformed and with a driver hat cap on his head. They left the terminal not long after the man took the steering wheel, fifteen minutes or so into the ride, Dr. Mulhouse exploded in laughter. To later present the man as her husband. Mr. Rolf Mcallister. Co-leader of the Rootstocks’ movement and once part of the Mcallister kindred.

END OF BOOK #1