First winter rain
I plod on;
Traveller, my name.
- Basho
Zavala discovered that if there was one thing that hurt more than climbing a mountain in a blizzard, it was coming down the other side. The pressure on his knees and ankles was exhausting, and it was difficult not to slip on the snow. In his weaker moments, he considered just sitting down and trying to slide down into the village on his backside. It would have been faster.
By the time he reached the the bottom, he was visibly limping and leaning heavily on his spear for support. Izanami, by contrast, seemed energised. She darted back and forth around Zavala's shoulders, chirping excitedly.
[Look how many Light Bearers there are!] She squealed over the neural link. [Look at all the Ghosts!]
[Mm-hmm] he responded, noncommittally. He headed for the centre of the settlement, avoiding eye contact with anyone. He was far more interested in reaching the fire he could see ahead of him than making friends. When he finally reached the open-air hearth he sank down on to a free seat. He closed his eyes and exhaled slowly, wincing as feeling returned to his joints.
"Where'd you get that spear?"
Zavala reluctantly turned from the warmth of the fire to regard the person who had spoken to him; A burly man dressed in patchwork armour and a ragged cloak, a ghost floating at his shoulder. Zavala was tired, he was in pain, his ghost hadn't had a chance to heal him yet. Zavala wasn't in the mood for this sort of rudeness. A 'hello' would have been nice.
"Fallen." The word seemed strange coming from him, his tongue felt too big in his mouth. It had been so long since he had spoken to someone other than his Ghost.
"I can see that," the other man replied. "I mean did you fight one for it, or did you just find it?"
"What's it to you?"
"It's a good weapon, those shock blades are hard to come by. The best weapons should go to the best fighters, that's how things work here."
Zavala rose from his seat by the fire. The other man was taller than him by a good half-head but Zavala wasn't intimidated. He'd fought far worse than him during the long trek to the Traveler. "And you're one of the best fighters, is that what you're trying to tell me?"
"You only just got here, you haven't had training."
"You have no idea what this spear has helped see me through. It's mine. I'm not giving it up." He turned back towards the fire, "Now, if you don't mind? I'm very tired."
"I do mind." The man stepped forward and made a grab for the spear. Zavala reacted instantly, spinning on the ball of one foot in order to bring the bottom of the spear around to the back of his assailant. He then struck him hard on the back of his ankles, before pushing forward and up, sweeping the would-be thief's feet out from under him. The man landed heavily on his back, while Zavala pointed the butt of the spear at his sternum.
Zavala heard laughter and slow, sarcastic applause coming from his left. "Oh Iakin, when are you going to learn? Just because someone is shorter than you, that doesn't mean you can take them." The new speaker shambled over and Zavala double-took at his appearance. If the man he had just flattened was big, this new speaker was enormous. He wore armour, crudely painted in orange and white, topped off by a horned helmet. The horned man leaned forward, placing his hands on his knees. "You need to get your balance sorted out, Iakin."
"Piss off, Shaxx," Hissed Iakin.
"I'm not the one lying on my back with a spear pointed at me. You piss off. Go on." This Shaxx person nodded to Zavala to step back. "Let him up."
Iakin scrambled to his feet and stalked away.
"You've got slush stuck to your arse, Iakin," Shaxx called after him. "You're welcome." Shaxx turned to Zavala and held out his fist. "Nicely done!"
Zavala stared at Shaxx's extended fist for a couple of awkward seconds, unsure if he was supposed to do something. Shaxx gently took Zavala's wrist and lifted it up, then bumped his fist against Zavala's.
Understanding flashed across Zavala's face. "Ah. Sorry. I've been on my own a long time."
"That's okay. You got a name?" "Zavala." He looked back at the retreating Iakin with an expression of distaste. "Are they all like him here?"
"Nah. He's all ego, that one. Light-drunk. He thinks he's hot shit in a champagne glass but he's just tepid crap in a cup. What you did was the best way to deal with him." Shaxx started chuckling again. "You probably didn't see the look on his face, you were too busy. Beautiful."
Zavala's lips twitched into a small, lopsided smile . "I've had some practice."
"Were you alone all the way here here?"
Zavala looked at his feet and responded with a mumbled, "Not all the way."
Zavala wakes before his Ghost has a chance to rouse him. Their shelter that night had been a hollow beneath the roots of a gnarled, long dead tree. The landscape is still bleak but at least sand has given way to grass and the occasional (very occasional) tree, which is an improvement. He isn't sure why that is an improvement, he has no memory of having seen plants before, he just knows it is. He mentally runs through the list he goes through every morning.
'Here's what I know: I was dead, now I'm alive. I died in a crash. I'm an Awoken. My name is Zavala. I don't think that was always my name but it's the name I have now. My Ghost is called Izanami. If I die again, I can come back but only if I protect my Ghost. Dying hurts. We follow the Light to find the Traveler.'
He pushes himself into a sitting position, stretching and working out the kinks in his muscles. [Ready?] His Ghost asks in his mind. [We've got a long way to go today.] They always have a long way to go. He gets to his feet and picks up a spear which serves as his one and only weapon, then begins walking, forcing his tired legs to stretch themselves back into usefulness. As they travel, he scans the horizon, looking out for Fallen or possibly bandits. Izanami assures him that human bandits are a menace on the road to the Traveler but they haven't seen any yet, Fallen are the main problem so far. Zavala would like to avoid them, if at all possible. Zavala is alone and Fallen always travel in groups, so dying would be inevitable. Dying hurts.
[Wait!] Izanami sounds nervous. [I'm picking up…wait here. Don't move. I mean it, not a muscle.] She materialises and floats ahead, sending out beams of light. Zavala wonders what has her rattled, she doesn't normally come out unless she absolutely has to. During their first few days together, she was at pains to tell him how perilous the Road was for a lone Light Bearer. 'Better that no one knows what you really are,' she'd said. 'Warlords will try to recruit you, humans will be afraid of you and humans have a nasty habit of trying to kill things they're afraid of. No. We keep our heads down until we reach the Traveler.'
Zavala wasn't sure why things would be better at the Traveler. The pull he felt towards it was undeniable but he couldn't put the 'Traveler means safety' on the list of things he knows. He doesn't know that, not for certain. It's a guess, a hunch. He goes along with it because what else is there? He has no desire to join with one of these Warlords Izanami has told him about. 'Head for the Traveler,' gives him some sense of purpose at least.
Izanami finally turns and zooms back towards him and dematerialises again. [Shit.]
[What's wrong?]
[This area is mined. Quite extensively.]
Zavala peers at the ground ahead of him, looking for any sign of the trap Izanami had just described. [Is it the Fallen? Can we go around?]
[I don't know. I'm not sure how far it extends. Shit!]
[All right, calm down, we just need to -] Zavala's train of thought is interrupted by the sound of a Fallen skiff entering the atmosphere. "Shit." He casts around for an escape route, there's little to no cover here and he'd really rather not die today. [Which way?]
[Just run, we'll figure out a way around later.]
Zavala turns on his heel and runs back in the direction they just came. It doesn't take long before he hears the sound of a transmat and then pikes coming towards him. He risks a glance over his shoulder and sure enough, there are three dregs riding pikes bearing down on him.
[I'm getting a gun this time, Izanami. I don't care how many times I have to die for it, I'm getting a damn gun!] He begins zig-zagging across the ground in an attempt to avoid any incoming fire.
[Just keep running, we'll find-] There's a sudden explosion behind them and Zavala finds himself thrown forward. He lands heavily and looks behind to see what happened. One of the pikes has exploded, leaving a flaming chassis and pieces of shrapnel behind.
[Guess the Fallen didn't put the mines there then?] Zavala scrambles back to his feet and resumes running. He clambers up a nearby hill, hoping he'll be able to take some cover from any Fallen pot-shots. The Fallen are screaming and yelling in a language he doesn't recognise. He wonders if they blame him for the mines, they sound furious. He carries on fleeing when his stride is suddenly interrupted by something grabbing his ankle. He falls flat on his face and looks down to see a hand extending from what looks like a patch of grass. The grass patch raises its head to reveal a masked face which hisses at him angrily.
"Stay behind me and keep your head down." It's only then that Zavala notices the sniper rifle propped up on a bi-pod. He's literally tripped over a camouflaged sniper wearing a ghillie suit with real vegetation sewn into it. "Thanks for leading them right to me, dumbass. Stay back, stay low." Zavala crawls to a spot that he hopes is unobtrusive enough. A shot rings out and one of the Dregs falls from its pike. A group of vandals begin advancing and the sniper fires again and again in quick succession but not hitting any of the targets.
[They keep missing!] Izanami complains silently over the neural link. [They do know that rifle has a scope on it, right?]
Zavala studies the direction the sniper is firing and how the Fallen try to evade. [They're doing it on purpose. They're herding them towards the-] There's another explosion and various Fallen body parts rain down from the sky. [-mines.] There's more angry yelling and gesticulating but the remaining Fallen retreat and eventually transmat away back to their ship.
Zavala turns to the sniper to thank them but finds himself pinned when they suddenly spring over to him, straddle his chest and hold a knife to his neck.
"What are you doing all the way out here by yourself?"
"I could ask you the same thing." Zavala replies, keeping as still as possible.
"I'm a ranger. I range. The clue's in the name." Zavala thinks the voice, though heavily filtered through the facemask, sounds feminine. "You're no ranger. What are you doing out here?"
[Think, Zavala,] entreats Izanami.
[I'm thinking.]
[Think faster.]
"Are you a scout? Did Fulgrim send you?" She presses the knife harder. "Answer me!"
"I don't know who that is!" He takes a breath before speaking again, "I…I was traveling with some people. We got separated." He winces. It's not a lie, not technically. There were other bodies, long dead, on the ship Izanami found him in and there were sure to be other passengers who had survived the crash. He just doesn't mention that it was his first death that had separated them.
"I haven't seen anyone else out here."
"I've been alone a long time. I promise you I'm not a scout. I don't work for anyone. In fact, I could use some help."
His assailant relaxes a little before taking back the knife and sheathing the knife. "Okay. To be fair, if you're a scout, you're a pretty shitty one. No offence."
"None taken." Zavala shrugs. "Can I get up now?"
"I'll take you back to the Ranger Station. We'll figure out what to do with you there but I swear, if it turns out you work for that Warlord, I won't even waste a bullet on you. I'll open your throat. I can do it."
"I believe you." Zavala can't resist smiling.
"Something funny to you?"
"I'm sorry," he says, looking her up and down in that grass suit she's wearing. "I've never been threatened with murder by an angry shrub before. It's a new experience for me."
She snorts and stands up, offering Zavala a hand up. "What's your name?"
"Zavala."
"Zavala who?" She removes her helmet.
He finds himself staring, taking in every detail of her face; the broad nose sprinkled with freckles, the epicanthal folds around her large brown eyes, the jet-black hair secure in a coiled braid at the nape of her neck. It suddenly dawns on him that this is the first human face he's seen since being resurrected.
"Uh," he stammers. "Just Zavala."
"I'm Alexandra Ivanova. All right, Just Zavala, stay close, don't wander off." She taps an ear piece and begins speaking with someone on the comm. "Yeah. Yeah it's me. They tried, they failed. Five kills, the rest retreated. They'll try again, they're getting bolder." She glances back at Zavala. "And I picked up a stray."