Pantaloons do the legs justice, they keep the waist high and the ankles deep, perfect for running across black water. Dushyanta kept his wit’s end, racoon circles, banana eyes, and hair like a lion: arid and loose, oily and shaggy. Haza was almost no better if not for the fact she was getting sleep. Peeled corns under bleeding calluses mapped Dushyanta’s feet, brighter than his skin, as white as his hair; which in fact was yellowing as black poked from the roots. He could see the makeshift letter of the city’s “front door”. A grin filled with exhaustion carried its way all until Dushyanta heard the buzzing of a growing economy.

  “We made it, Princess, you’re finally safe…” Dushyanta said, his back waning from the stress. Cracked lips begged for water, his clouding eyes could swear to see the visage of a Ben Krow running to meet them. Holding up the toppling Dushyanta, Ben let Haza fall gently off Dushyanta’s back as he asked: “Can you walk?” Without a word she began to follow. A trek of less than three buildings across five corners led them to a motel not all too nice. With the smell of cigarette smoke and alcohol permeating the air. Cracked walls and roaches saying hello from time to time. A trucker or two, one prostitute in daylight, and a pimp in the back handling the cash. Four lines of red and a busted key that needed shimmying to work. As Ben and Haza walked in, Dushyanta was dropped off on the stained sheet-less mattress filled with holes and protruding springs. A towel was used at the end as a pillow with the blinds for blankets.

  “It gets cold here, surprisingly,” Ben chuckled as if a frightening flash flooded his brain. With a quick shake he asked Haza if she wanted any water. Although she nodded no, he still brought her a glass. She bothered not to look down at the glass, instead she watched Ben funnel tap down Dushyanta’s throat. Pausing every time he noticed Dushyanta choking.

  “Ben, we’re in grave danger…” Haza said quietly.

  “I know…I should be dead right now, but I’m not. I fear they are watching me, whoever they are.”

  “…”

  “Once Dushyanta recovers, I will ask him to take you across towards the bridge. It sounds ridiculous, but if you take a ship from there it leads to this giant gate in the middle of the sea. It’s hidden by the mist, but you can see its shadow in the distance, the very tip of it peaking out from the tops of the clouds. They say if you enter the gate, nothing can reach you, but you can’t come back. I think you’ll be safe there, no?”

  “…” Haza took a sip of water, so little it may have been better to not bother at all. “Why not, I can’t see anywhere else in the world I will be safe. Ben, be careful, very careful.”

  “I’ve died once protecting you, why not again?” Ben wore a sorrowful smile, unsure how to feel. “Dushyanta! Have you come too?”

  Dushyanta placed a hand to the cup, ‘no more’ he signed. Rolling up to a seated position, a straining migraine plagued his entirety. Deep seated illness, a foggy stench of rotten food not in the vicinity of the room. A pungent odor that wouldn’t leave, the rushing pump of blood racing through his mind, the black butterflies entering his sight. Their faint murkiness of disintegrating age, turned to wilting flowers germinating upon his own skin. No fear. No shaken emotion. Was this perhaps acceptance?

  The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  “Princess…Haza, can you read to me my future…please?”

  “You already know it,” she said with eyes so radiant gold. Wisps like the most beautiful luminescence the ocean could craft, made of gold. Heavenly light blinded Dushyanta not, rather the bright light that he saw was all too comforting.

  “Ben, I entrust it all to you…”

  “What are you talking about? Hey! What does he know? Haza!” Ben gripped her shoulders. Haza was as still as a doll, merely watching the pale face of a dying man.

  “The bridge…that was your plan, ey Ben?”

  “Dushyanta…” Tears welled up in Ben’s eyes. Squeezing them shut, biting his lip, he couldn’t stomach facing Dushyanta any longer, a man he dearly looked up to.

  “It will be…Ben, it will be… Now then, let us plan accordingly, whilst time is short,” Dushyanta said, the blur of his hands cementing the inevitable.

  Ben said: “They are watching me. So how about this…”

  “What should we do?” Akli asked. Hands hanging above his head, with bruised and bloodied ribs.

  “Quiet, I’m thinking…” Horo whispered.

  “Sure been thinkin’ for a while.”

  “Oh could ya shut the fuck up for one second!” Horo hissed.

  “Can it faggot,” Akli spat. After a quiet moment, he took a deep breath. “I’m sorry…I should’ve just told ya to blast em.”

  “I’m sorry too, if I wasn’t so brash, we would be with the others…somewhat safe.”

  “Ya still believe in fate?”

  “Can’t say I trust the damn thing.”

  “Agreed, neither do I.”

  “Huh?!”

  “I don’t believe I got any super power or nothin’. Rather it's just sometimes I’m lucky. All I do is get lucky sometimes. I see an arrow and follow it. Don’t know what the colors mean, or anything really…”

  “You got to be fucking kidding me.”

  “That’s how I landed on this,” Akli said whilst holding his hands free from the shackles. “I trust myself, not something some-random bestowed.”

  “How…?”

  “Stole the keys, simple.”

  “That doesn’t answer anything,” Horo added, pleading with his eyes to be freed too.

  “Yeah I got you.”

  The two lads jumped up massaging their wrists as they walked through the cobbled halls of the musky dungeon. Lesions upon their legs didn’t stop them from building up to a run. The wet patter of clattering feet, shifting trousers, and whipping hair; matted at the ends. When a guard approached, two fists smashed against a poor soul's face and stomach; putting the fellow to sleep. Stripping the man strapped with a sabre, Horo carried off with his gear. Akli pressed forward to the confiscation room. Grinning like a boy in a toy house. Akli tossed Horo’s pistol to him, shaking to find anything more useful.

  “Just a bunch of junk,” he said.

  “I’ll protect you, Akli. So: just lead the way.”

  “Roger that!”

  The two were like drunk barbarians, turning over the underside. By moments to the steps of sunlight, they had taken care of twenty average soldiers, twelve dungeon guards, and one lieutenant. Once at the bright lights they saw to put their backs against one another. For they had a crowd which the two were more than willing to deliver an encore for.